#Original Amber Drop

[thequeenofsastiel]

It's the way Louis completely ignored Armand in 2x02 when Armand tried to ask him to not be that cruel to Daniel that's getting me. Armand would NEVER ignore a command from Louis(setting aside in 2x05 when Armand was only able to do so because Louis deeply insulted him and violated his trust, which shattered something inside Armand and made him lose his goddamn mind, and then as soon as Louis reassured him of their companionship, reverted back to obedience; ETA also if it hit one of his hard boundaries, but we've only seen him have one of those so far). The fact that Louis was capable of completely dismissing Armand's words says SO much about their D/s dynamic.

[show-tunes]

So long to this wretched form

[thymewayster]

Really good Twitter thread originally about Elon Musk and Twitter, but also applies to Netflix and a lot of other corporations.

Full thread. Text transcription under cut.

John Bull @garius

One of the things I occasionally get paid to do by companies/execs is to tell them why everything seemed to SUDDENLY go wrong, and subs/readers dropped like a stone. So, with everything going on at Twitter rn, time for a thread about the Trust Thermocline /1

So: what's a thermocline?

Well large bodies of water are made of layers of differing temperatures. Like a layer cake. The top bit is where all the the waves happen and has a gradually decreasing temperature. Then SUDDENLY there's a point where it gets super-cold.

That suddenly is important. There's reasons for it (Science!) but it's just a good metaphor. Indeed you may also be interested in the "Thermocline of Truth" which a project management term for how things on a RAG board all suddenly go from amber to red.

But I digress. The Trust Thermocline is something that, over (many) years of digital, I have seen both digital and regular content publishers hit time and time again. Despite warnings (at least when I've worked there). And it has a similar effect. You have lots of users then suddenly... nope. And this does effect print publications as much as trendy digital media companies. They'll be flying along making loads of money, with lots of users/readers, rolling out new products that get bought. Or events. Or Sub-brands.

And then SUDDENLY those people just abandon them. Often it's not even to "new" competitor products, but stuff they thought were already not a threat. Nor is there lots of obvious dissatisfaction reported from sales and marketing (other than general grumbling). Nor is it a general drift away, it's just a sudden big slide. So why does this happen? As I explain to these people and places, it's because they breached the Trust Thermocline.

I ask them if they'd been increasing prices. Changed service offerings. Modified the product.

The answer is normally: "yes, but not much. And everyone still paid" Then I ask if they did that the year before. Did they increase prices last year? Change the offering? Modify the product?

Again: "yes, but not much."

The answer is normally: "yes, but not much. And everyone still paid." "And the year before?"

"Yes but not much. And everyone still paid."

Well, you get the idea. And here is where the Trust Thermocline kicks in. Because too many people see service use as always following an arc. They think that as long as usage is ticking up, they can do what they like to cost and product.

And (critically) that they can just react when the curve flattens But with a lot of CONTENT products (inc social media) that's not actually how it works. Because it doesn't account for sunk-cost lock-in.

Users and readers will stick to what they know, and use, well beyond the point where they START to lose trust in it. And you won't see that. But they'll only MOVE when they hit the Trust Thermocline. The point where their lack of trust in the product to meet their needs, and the emotional investment they'd made in it, have finally been outweighed by the physical and emotional effort required to abandon it. At this point, I normally get asked something like:

"So if we undo the last few changes and drop the price, we get them back?"

And then I have to break the news that nope: that's not how it works.

Because you're past the Thermocline now. You can't make them trust you again.

[gay-dorito-dust]

may I perhaps request a hurt/comfort fic with viktor? Maybe a scene where reader manages to finally find him after he disappeared from the academy in s2e2? thank you in advance and no worries if not !! ^-^

The undercity.

You knew you weren’t meant to be there in the slightest and you weren’t exactly looked upon with reverence nor respect either as you carefully curated your footsteps on the filthy ground, bundling your cloak tighter to your chest when you felt the many, many eyes of the Zaunites that hide in the pitch black of alleyways waiting to strike. However you were on a mission and you weren’t leaving Zaun until you knew he was okay or if he shooed you away with that soft voice of his, a voice that made anything sound more appealing but also painful at the same time.

Viktor had left the academy some time ago and it seemed as though you were the last person to find this out, seeing as everyone else had just assumed you knew about his departure, only showing a look of confusion when you tell them you didn’t and how they grimaced upon hearing your plan to search all of Zaun for him.

‘Reconsider!’ They’d shout.

‘No! I have to see him, you don’t understand!’ You replied sharply as you shrugged them off of you as you made your way to the door.

‘Why?’ They then ask and your hand stopped at the door handle.

‘I need to see him!’ You admitted. ‘I need to see if he’s okay, I need him to tell me to my face if my company is unwanted but most of all I want to see him if this should be the last time I ever get to see him in his current state. I need to engrave his beauty into my mind in fear that I’d forget what he looked like, allow me this time to do so and I’ll be back should he not want me.’ You finished as you opened the door, not heading another word of warning as you took the path that’ll lead you towards Zaun, to where Viktor may be.

You have been here for far longer than you or the locals would’ve liked, recently you had the unfortunate chance encounter with some men who were looking for a fight for the sake of enacting violence, luckily you managed to escape them by passing through some alleyways and scaling some makeshift buildings with less then bad foundations; most of which made you feel as though you’d fall through if you weren’t in a constant state of motion, increasing your risk of injury and or potential death should you not be carful and constantly thinking on your toes.

Ever since having been driven off of your original course you were left wandering an unfamiliar area of Zaun, an area where huddles of people wore closes and pressed themselves close to the walls as you walked past, however their eyes would still remain on you long after you left their sight that it almost felt as though you were being followed. You felt so uncomfortable in this particular area then you did in any other, which was funny considering you were in Zaun, that you constantly looked over your shoulder just to make sure you weren’t being followed that you didn’t realise that you were on a collision course with another cloaked figure.

At least you didn’t realise until you were on your ass and looking up at the figure who held onto a very familiar cane that you could recognise anywhere as an array of emotions overcame you.

‘Viktor?’ You asked barely above a whisper, hoping that you weren’t making this up after going through countless dead ends in your search for your beautiful, amber eyed man.

‘Y/n?’ The cloaked figure asked back, dropping the hood to reveal shoulder long chocolate locks with hints of white underneath, accompanied by the very pair of eyes that you have been searching in every cloaked figure since the moment you came to Zayne, and almost getting killed for it but you didn’t care. ‘What are you doing here? It is far too-‘ Viktor didn’t get to finish his day as you lunged at him into a tight hug, burying your head into his shoulder and almost recoiling from how cold he seemed to be now.

‘Thank god you’re okay!’ You said as you let a few tears leave your eyes and drop to soak the cloak that covered Viktor’s form from your eyes. Viktor sighed and his free hand against your back, rubbing it soothingly as he allowed you to cling onto him as tightly as you did, that and getting all the emotions off your chest that he knew was there and have been building up since. Viktor left the academy to a reason and didn’t think that there would be anyone reckless enough to follow him, but he seemed to not consider you in this decision as Viktor was more then aware that you’d gladly follow him into the depths of hell should he ask it of you, and yet here he was cradling you against him as he waves away his followers so that you both could have a moment of privacy without prying eyes and ears.

After having you fill of the hug you pulled away to look into his eyes. ‘Why did you leave?’ You asked, looking deep into his eyes searching for an answer adequate to satisfy your curiosity.

‘My time there has ended, there was no need to overstay where I’m no longer suited nor needed.’ Viktor shrugs as his soft voice graced your ears as you furrowed your brows. ‘I need you Viktor.’ You confessed as you held his face, stroking his cheeks as you saw him melt into your touch. ‘I needed you and I don’t care if I’m being selfish by saying it because it’s true! If nobody at the academy cares, I’m the one who does care damn it! I came all this way for you Viktor doesn’t that mean something?’ You were desperate to know how he felt, to know the inner machinations of his unique mind but also feared that he might not view you in such similar lighting.

Viktor opened his eyes to look at you and found the beauty he always saw in you every time and felt touched by your actions, while he wanted to scold you for being reckless to follow him into the depths of Zaun, regardless of your own health and wellbeing. How long you had been in Zaun looking for him, Viktor didn’t know but from the state of your clothes and lack of any injuries, you couldn’t have been in Zaun for less then a couple of hours at the very least.

‘You’re reckless coming here my dorogaya.’ Viktor chuckled as he rested his head against yours, smiling softly. ‘Very reckless indeed to follow after me but I can’t say that I’m not touched by your actions, it’s rather endearing and bold that those actions could make anyone fall for you.’ He mentions the last part softly, too softly for you to hear. ‘And besides you shouldn’t tether your worth on someone like me, you should see your own worthy because I can promise you that what you’ll find when you do will be more than rewarding.’

You groaned, feeling as though you weren’t wording yourself as well as you would’ve liked. ‘As reckless as I might be but I wouldn’t change my mind if I were to relive this moment a thousand times more.’ You said as you looked in his eyes, finding you forever there then you did anywhere else in your life. He made you feel safe, seen and appreciated in more ways then one that you felt comfortable within his presence that you were bound to start feeling something for him, so seeing him alive and well as he could in a place like Zaun had your heavy heart lighter then ever. ‘Finding you, knowing that you’re safe is all I care about and now knowing that you’re okay you can send me away if you don’t want my company.’ You finished as you put distance between yourself and Viktor.

Viktor blinked at you in confusion. ‘I don’t want you to leave.’ He says as he catches you by the elbow, drawing you back towards him. ‘I could never ask you to leave as that wouldn’t just be cruel to you but cruel to what remains of my heart, whether it beats still or not is uncertain, what I am certain of is that if it did it would still very much beat for you regardless.’ You swallowed thickly as you felt the butterflies flood your stomach, but tried to suppress your innermost feelings to focus on Viktor and his words.

‘Really?’ You asked. ‘You’re not too busy playing Jesus to spend a little time with your dear friend.’

Viktor smiles as he gently tugs you along as you both began walking down an alleyway at your own pace. ‘More than enough time to remember just how much I missed your sarcastic comments and unique laughter. Now let us catch up on where we left off my darling.’

[k4vehrtz]

⸻ NOSTALGIA !

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! nanami k. + gojo s. / m! reader

warnings — nsfw content / unprotected sex / alcohol consumption / smoking / consent check-ins / established dom+sub dynamic / light bdsm / 3some / oral / deepthroating / cum swallowing / fingering / double penetration / creampie / brief nipple play / exhibition . ✦ . wc — 2.2k . ✦ . notes — bdsm tag -> nami + reader's dom/sub dynamic is very heavy. vv special thank you to felix for letting me use his thirst for this :) <3 not proof-read!

cherry sweetness — the sweet scent of creamy vanilla with hints of ginger, spice mulled wine and pear invades your nostrils as soon as you enter nanami’s office. “glendronach…original, at least twelve years old,” you murmur, brows pulled together to form a crease in the centre of your forehead as you glance at the inconspicuous bottle of liquor on the mahogany desk. “…‘nami,” and there’s that pout, expresso–scented lips jutting forward in discontent, “didn’t know we were entertaining guests today.”

there are three glasses on the desk — each squared and stubby and filled with a deep amber–red gold liquid. definitely glendronach, you think and nanami promptly confirms this. “perfect with a rich, dark chocolate — like the ones you’ve been eating all day,” he answers slowly, gently as he glances at you over his shoulder, utterly unperturbed. “i didn’t know either, but — you remember ‘toru, right sweet boy? he decided to…let’s say drop in.”

and you absentmindedly nod in response, leaning forward with your fingers curling around the edges of his desk. “no,” he all but rasps as he sits back down on the plush leather seat behind his desk, patting his thighs sluggishly. near–silent disapproval. “i need my boy with me right now; fully.”

to which your lower lip quivers in response as you drag your fuzzy sock–covered feet towards nanami, straddling his lap with ease. an apology is hot on your tongue, replacing the comforting remnants of the expresso–flavoured chocolates. but it never makes it past your lips; not when nanami’s cherry–sweet lips lock with yours. he’s at least sipped the whiskey, you think, you can taste it on him but when you reach back for a glass yourself, he pulls your hand away.

“not yet dollface,”

satoru. he’d let himself in again, now leaning against the door to nanami’s office. where nanami’s voice was slow, almost sensual, ‘toru was faster; saying as much (or as little) as he chose to in the minimum amount of time. but you don’t linger on it, nanami’s hooking his finger beneath your chin, turning your head so that you’re facing him again.

“think you’re up to taking the both of us today?” he asks, lifting a thick brow over the rounded rim of his glasses. and ‘toru — never one for silence — quickly adds: “just like the old times? i’m feeling nostalgic.” nanami, though, rolls his eyes at that, mouthing, ‘only if you want to’ before dragging his lips against yours again.

his lips are warm against yours and when your lips part after being prompted by a gentle nip his tongue slithers into your mouth. your teeth clash momentarily — and only momentarily — before he falls into a rhythm while satoru watches intently at the side. one moment you’re swapping saliva and the next he’s sucking on your abused lower lip before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“he needs an answer sweet face, a sober one.” satoru explains, rounding the desk to push the window behind the two of you open. and then goes on to fumble in his pocket before pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. he releases the flame, it’s bright, and he tilts the contraption toward the cigarette, igniting it and bringing it to his parted lips while quenching the initial flame.

your gaze flickers between the two men you’ve known since your college days. memories of heated bodies pressed against one another moving to the rhythm of whatever song glided around the room flooding your mind. and you swallow, adam’s apple bobbing in your throat, “…yeah, i’m feeling nostalgic too.”

rich, creamy silky–smooth and slightly nutty mixes with the bitter dark chocolate and expresso in your mouth. “black forest cake,” nanami muses against your lips, snaking his tongue inside your mouth once more. and satoru scoffs, blowing a cloud of smoke in your direction in the process, “black forest gâteau.”

and nanami, too caught up in tasting the whiskey and chocolate on your slick, kiss–swollen lips makes the conscious decision to not scold satoru for that. it peeves him though; that much is clear by the glare he retorts and satoru throws his hands up in surrender, cigarette dangling in between his lips.

then he kneels behind you, delicate fingers curling around the curve of your ass. “nanamin,” it sounds like a breathy whine but it’s the farthest thing from desperate, “d’you feel how wet he is?” and he stands up, startling blue eyes meeting yours, “…all this from a little kiss?”

mockery — his voice is thick with mockery and shrouded in the scent of nicotine. satoru’s mocking you in that same, banana milk flavoured sweet tone he uses. and your cock twitches — throbs in your boxers. angry tip smearing pre-cum on the cotton, forming the wet patch ‘toru had previously had his eyes on. it’s almost challenging — as if saying is this all it takes to reduce you to a puddle?

and you may be tipsy enough for your movements to reflect nanami’s acquired sluggishness but you’re not tipsy enough to be without shame. so, warmth rises to your cheeks and crosses the bridge of your nose at the implication. “no,” you drag the ‘n’ sound, your delivery strained and needy as you disentangle yourself from nanami who leans back, unfastening the buttons of his shirt before disregarding it on the floor.

“you know how he is,” nanami drawls in a low, matter–of–fact tone, swallowing another mouthful of whiskey. “eager and ready to please,” he continues, a heavy hand on your hips, guiding you to your knees to which you oblige.

satoru exhales at that, nodding in agreement as he disregards his cigarette in the ashtray on nanami’s desk before turning you to face him. and he stares down at you, a mixture of emotions hidden behind the blue of his irises. a groan slipping past his lips as he stretches his languid limbs before he speaks again, “nanamin is so old fashioned, don’t you think?” it’s a rhetorical question; he takes your chin in between his fingers, bobbing your head so that it appears as though you’re nodding along to what he’s saying.

he purses his lips and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t cross your mind to stand and take his lips into yours. you don’t though, it’s only a thought, nanami’s taught you better than that.

“but, then again, you’re just his softheaded boy, needin’ a big, strong man like nanamin to take control and fuck you into the mattress — or any surface, really, i’ve heard the stories.”

you swallow the lump in your throat (muddled words you don’t dare whisper), bringing your trembling hands towards the crotch of his skinny jeans. nanami kneels beside you, warm lips pressed to the shell of your ear, his breath pricking at the sensitive skin.

“slowly,” guidance, “just like i taught you,” whispered guidance.

just like he taught you, you slowly unzip satoru’s jeans, nails curling around the band of his boxers before you separate it from his skin and free his cock. and his cock is heavy in your hands, pulsating even. it’s standing at full mast, curving inwards slightly. where he’s lacking in girth (something nami has a lot of) he makes up in size and it’s almost intimidating.

“focus doll, you’re going to take all of me down yer’ pretty throat.” tooth achingly sweet voice — satoru again. and then there’s nanami’s firm warning, “a few strokes and then you can start taking him in your mouth, baby, don’t overwhelm yourself.”

drunk or otherwise inebriated, they still care for you in their own way. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach, a warm feeling that pulsates throughout your body. and perhaps nanami’s current actions — he’s moved behind you, freeing your cock from its confines as he pulls your cheeks apart to toy with the bejewelled plug in your hole — contributes to that feeling.

the specifics don’t matter though. what does matter is the pleased groans that each stroke of satoru’s cock elicits. purposeful touches; alternating between the length of his cock and simply fondling with his balls. it’s enough to make him cum (which all three of you are aware of).

and after a few minutes — you don’t know how long it’s been, truthfully — his bright pink tip that’d been seeping pre-cum is spurting thick clumps of cum onto your hands and face. and when it does land on your face you gasp, breath catching in your throat. nanami had been timing it, you’re sure, because he cruelly pulls the plug out at the same time without warning. thus, resulting in the desperate, filthy noise that slides out of your kiss–swollen lips.

despite this, nanami clicks his tongue and shakes his head in that same near–silent disapproval. “what do good boys do?” and you answer immediately: “clean messes, not make them.” earning yourself a pleased hum from the elder man. his praise is almost like a drug in the way it gets you going.

with this new buzz, you slowly push your tongue out, licking any remnants of ‘toru’s cum before turning your attention back to his cock. slow licks at first — almost like a kitten, really. then you work your way up to taking the pink tip in your mouth, sucking on it, experimental licks now and then.

“good god,” satoru, who is by no means a religious man, grunts under his breath as he traces shapes on your hollowed cheeks. “you’re doing such a good job.”

more praise that makes you feel warmer inside. perhaps it’s a mixture of their affections and the whiskey that left you feeling as though you’re floating. you’re not sure but whatever it is, it’s encouragement enough to keep you going.

while you continue to take more of satoru’s cock into your mouth; your lips are practically stretched thin around him, nanami’s fixated on fingering you. it started with one thick digit grazing against your prostate with precision but soon turned into two and two then turned into three. and every so often you shiver — not from him fingering you but because he drips some of his drink over your hole. it’s so obscene…but every time it happens your gummy walls clench around nanami’s fingers in the way he likes. he really does know you best.

“i’m going to—” it’s a warning, but it comes out muffled and difficult to decipher.

“it’s hard to understand you when your mouth is filled with cock, baby.” nanami counters knowingly, a tinge of mockery to his otherwise coolness. and satoru laughs, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he doesn’t understand you either, before slowly pushing your face into his neatly trimmed pubes. it’s not every day he finds someone capable of taking all of him, and he will use it to his advantage.

so, you’re left like this; mewling around satoru’s cock as it hits the back of your throat, nanami’s fingers assaulting your prostate, and your own cock pulsating until finally, you succumb to the pleasure of it all. ropes of cum splattering between you and satoru while you gag around his cock until he orgasms for a second time, shooting his load down your throat.

it tastes something in between salty and sweet but you can’t quite explain it. all in all, it tastes good and you wouldn’t be opposed to more of it. but, as it turns out, they have other plans.

“colour?” satoru’s voice again, from above you, as he slides you off of his cock with a ‘pop’ sound. and as your chest heaves in an effort to catch your breath you respond, “green.” to which they both grunt in acknowledgement.

nanami — he’s got thicker, slightly calloused fingers — is the one to reposition you. bending you over the desk while satoru brings a half–empty glass of whiskey to your lips and you swallow the remnants of the liquor with ease. then he disappears behind you with ‘nami and you curl your fingers around the edge of the desk in anticipation.

which is, all things considered, short-lived. you can feel them, both of them, pressing the heads of their cocks to your hole. and your lips part, eyes flickering shut, as a string of moans slides off of your tongue when that tight ring of muscle is breached. it’s an immediate feeling of fullness — one you’ve only experienced with the two of them.

they don’t move immediately; giving everyone time to adjust and to savour the moment. the feeling of their cocks throbbing against each other as you clench around them is mind-numbing. no one’s speaking anymore, it’s only grunts and groans that border on being animalistic as each of you relieve the tension of your lives in your own way. it’s a mutually beneficial affair.

and when they do move, you’re choking on your moans. salty tears cascading down your heated cheeks at every creak of the table you’re lying on top of; hard pecs to cold wood. a squeal every time they decide to pinch or twist the sensitive bud. it’s nothing short of pornographic.

not grazing your prostate or touching it in one way or another is impossible like this. but somehow, they hold out, pivoting their hips against your ass until the only sound that echoes throughout the office is the slick clapping of their thighs against the fat of your ass as it ripples from the impact it creates. and then they’re cumming — hot semen pouring into your ass and being pushed impossibly further into you by way of their equally erratic thrusts. you’re seeing stars at this rate, and it’s only round one.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (4 of 4)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: brief discussion of verbal, emotional, and physical injury canon-typical swearing, protective Simon, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

You might not be his anymore, but Ghost doesn't believe so. When you reach out to him, Ghost makes every excuse to come over, knowing that he can get you back if you just realize that you've always only been his.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

Simon stands in the middle of your living room.

He is blood-drenched. Lead-hungry.

Full of venom. Full of fury.

His gaze sweeps over the busted television, the broken bookshelves, and the massive hole in the wall. There are bent picture frames empty of their glass. The photos within are either missing or partially torn. Whiskey stains the wall, running down from the impact point in little ribbons of amber.

Simon’s hands curl into fists.

This is so much fucking worse than what he originally thought. The living room doesn’t even scratch the surface. The kitchen is completely trashed, so is your bedroom where your boyfriend decided to shred up your clothes in anger.

Your… “boyfriend.”

That fucker should be grateful he isn’t here to face Simon. If he were, Simon would make him suffer. Make the prick eat his teeth.

On the phone, you were delirious, each word running together anger, frustration, and a fear that Simon felt in his gut. It sat heavy in his ears. That was enough for Simon to forget all responsibility and come to you.

Otherwise, Simon would not have come. You are not his woman anymore. That obligation to comfort doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to your boyfriend, but he’s the cause of all this suffering.

Why should you seek that bastard out?

No. Simon is glad you called him even though the circumstances turn his stomach and fill his veins with sludge.

He turns around and finds you lingering nearby. Your eyes are red with irritation, and your cheeks are puffy. Simon longs to pull you into his arms, yet hesitates only because you might push him away.

Simon unclenches his hands, flexing his fingers. “You’re breaking up with him.”

He’s not going to step around or sugar-coat this. Simon has always been blunt with his words, and this will be no different.

Your back straightens, hands clasped in front of you, fingers curled around the neckline of your sweater. “Simon—”

“It’s not a suggestion.” Simon lifts his arm, indicating the disaster of an apartment. “This is who he is. This will happen again.” He drops his arm.

Your chest expands. Deflates. “But—”

“Don’t defend him.”

“I’m not,” you snap.

Simon strides forward but you do not retreat. You stand tall, staring up into Simon’s face. Though your cheeks are stained with your tears, you’re beautiful.

“Next time it won’t be the wall or your television. It will be you he hurts.” Simon shakes his head. “And I won’t allow that.” You open your mouth as if to interrupt but Simon is having none of that. “I’ll kill him before that happens.”

“No. You won’t.”

“I will,” he growls. “I’ve never lied to you. Think I’m lying about this?”

Simon watches your throat bob as you swallow. He knows you understand. Fucking hell, he might be distant at times, even cold or blunt, but he never lies to you. Simon has always told you exactly what’s on his mind. Sometimes it has been to his detriment.

It is one of the reasons the two of you broke up. Simon didn’t want to end things. He respected your wishes, but even upon leaving, Simon still considered you his. The issue was with him and how he communicated with you about things. Emotionally, he was fucking distant. Not all the time, but enough that it seemed like he didn’t care.

That’s far from the truth, but Simon didn’t see any of it until you put it all out in front of him and decided to leave. Only then did he realize, and he did fucking everything to work on himself.

Fresh tears develop in the undersides of your eyelids. That’s it for him. It’s over.

Simon moves in, clasping the sides of your face with both hands. “Do you understand?” he asks softly, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

You don’t nod or even make a sound.

It’s not enough. Simon needs confirmation.

“He will escalate. He will get worse. You will be a target. Tell me you understand.”

There is a sniffle before you speak. “I know,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly.

Simon sighs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. You’re warm. A beacon of light in the disaster of a room. He leans in, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. He inhales and his lung fill with you.

With a final squeeze, Simon places a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls back, but just enough to look at you. “I’ll clean up.”

“I can help.”

Simon shakes his head. “No. Sit. I want to do this for you.”

Your brow softens, arms falling away from him as you step back and glide to the sofa.

Simon tackles the bedroom first, shoving all your damaged clothes into trash bags. He organizes everything, making sure nothing is out of place, that it appears as it did before your boyfriend trashed it all. When he’s done, Simon returns to you, putting you to bed.

“Don’t leave,” you murmur, and Simon doesn’t. He curls up next to you, holds you until your breathing becomes shallow and slow.

Only then does Simon unfurl himself, slipping away. He doesn’t leave the flat. He shuts the bedroom door and gets to work, picking up the shattered glass, sending the television to the large rubbish bin. He orders you a new one and schedules it for delivery. He sweeps the floor and returns everything to your kitchen cabinets. Anything that is torn or broken gets trashed. Simon works through your clothes last. Sitting on the living room floor, Simon shifts through every one, trying to see if anything is salvageable. Most of it is, but there is plenty he has to toss.

Simon works until there is nothing left. It’s incredibly late, the time creeping close to the rising of the sun. Returning to the bedroom, Simon kicks off his shoes and removes the balaclava. You’ve seen his face countless times, and showing it now is normal.

When Simon slips into the bed beside you, and your body shifts, turning in his direction. He slides over into your reaching arms. The moment your bodies come together, you sigh with pleasure, and the noise goes straight to his groin.

But Simon won’t. He won’t push. This is not about him.

Sleep floods in, and it is your soft hands caressing his face that eventually wake him.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, voice harsh from dreaming.

“Morning, Simon,” you reply, resting your chin on his chest.

This is how mornings used to be. It sends Simon into memory and the days when he knew he was in love.

Was?

No.

Is. He still is. He still loves you utterly. That never stopped for him.

Your hands are not idle. After caressing his face, they move downward. The shift in your motions sends little shivers through his spine. They are visible and sharp. You inhale, and Simon begins to lean in. You mimic him but pause before your mouths can meet.

“Do you have to go?”

Simon captures one of your wrists with his hand, caressing the pulse point there with his thumb. “I can stay as long as you like.”

The smile that spreads across your face warms him everywhere. He wants to savor it forever. Your gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth. Then, your head shifts to glance at his chest and stomach. He might be wearing a shirt but Simon feels bare under your attention.

As your gaze returns to his face, Simon’s resolve melts away.

Fuck it. He’s doing this.

Grabbing the back of your neck, Simon closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours. There is no hesitation or resistance. You melt into him, and Simon has to hold back a moan. Every kiss is tender. Sweet. He’s missed this—missed you so fucking much it’s a raging inferno under his skin.

There is no part he leaves untouched. His hands roam everywhere, seeking closeness. Seeking your warmth.

“Simon,” you whimper against his mouth.

“I’m right here, love.”

You push upward, swinging your leg over his body, straddling him. Simon is momentarily stunned but you’re already returning to him, pressing you lips to his. He groans and grips your neck harder as your hips rolls against him.

“Simon,” you repeat, and his name on your lips is shifting him around, turning his insides out, revealing all his weaknesses.

His hands and your hands tug and pull. Moving clothing. Shoving bedding aside. When you start to sink down on him, Simon has to break the frantic kissing to breathe deep, to praise you in all the ways he knows how.

Your hands are solid against his chest. An anchor as you rock back and forth.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Fuck,” he repeats, elongated the vowel as your pussy lightly squeezes him.

Above him, the air from your lungs releases from you in little sighs that creep into his ears and burrow in the folds of his brain. They are collected there. Remembered.

Using his grip on the back of your neck, Simon pulls you right back in, claiming your mouth. You open for him perfectly, your hips momentarily stalling as all your attention shifts to this one connection.

But Simon needs that movement. He craves it like the birds need the wind.

Wrapping his free arm around your waist, Simon flips you onto your back. There is no pause between the time Simon flips you and when he starts to thrust. It is instant. An impulse. A driving force that overcomes him.

Your fingers claw at his back, your legs hooking around the backs of his thighs, drawing him closer. If that is what you want, Simon will do it. Happily.

Pressing his forehead to yours, the two of you exchange breaths. The bed strikes the wall in repeated thuds, pleasure pooling in the base of Simon’s spine.

“Don’t—” You inhale. Exhale. “Stop.”

Growling, Simon presses his mouth to your neck, his pace increasing until his thrusting becomes an erratic, desperate thing. He hears you moaning, feels your pussy clenching down to keep him inside.

It’s too fucking much.

Simon’s own release roils up from the depths. His hips grind forward, creating a seal as he comes. His entire body shivers as one of your hands cradles his cheek. The touch is so soft he almost doesn’t recognize it at first.

But then you curl your fingers under his chin, guiding his face away from your neck to stare into your eyes. He starts to pull away, but your feet stay locked over the back of his legs, keeping him inside you.

Simon smirks.

He has you.

It might not be perfect or even solid, but he has his way in.

You haven’t said it, but you don’t need to.

You are his.

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[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 14

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 13, Part 15

Warning as usual. There is blood and gore in this chapter!

Staring up at the Archon parading around in human form, you lick your lips and note how even those minor injuries were healed. Your body aches with phantom pain, some wounds healed too rapidly. 

"I don't mind answering some questions, can I get your name first?"

A small smile plays at his lips as his hand is held out in front of you. "My name is Zhongli, I'm the Funeral Parlors consultant. It would be a pleasure to hear yours, outlander."

So he is aware of your origin, well at least partly aware. If he's not going to pull any punches then why should you? Besides if it all goes wrong, you can blame it on the bloodloss that you're still recovering from.

"I'm Y/N, and you're correct that I do not originate from this world. You must not be a normal person either, in fact you look identical to this statue. This one portrays Morax the Geo Archon, but I'm sure you know that, Rex Lapis."

Getting a good look at the statue from your proximity, it was obvious that Zhongli was Morax. You could make the excuse of it being game logic on why no one makes the connection, but that wouldn't work anymore. Maybe the statues are imbued with power that prevents anyone from this world to recognize the similarities?

"So it seems you are more knowledgeable than the traveler was when they arrived here. I should have known considering how the Electro and Geo particles surround you with zeal. Perhaps Teyvat is charmed by the features you share with the Holy One."

His step forward and angled head to look you in the eyes have you staring at glowing amber hues. The red eyeliner and outlined iris make it uncomfortably clear how intensely he's examining you.

"The curve of your lips, a stature so familiar, you resemble the creator so much. Teyvat must be bewitched and awed by an individual so alike as you. If only I could see your face in it's full visage, only then would I know for sure..."

Anyone would feel flattered or embarrassed with how seriously Zhongli studies you, but dread is the only thing you feel. You know that behind those honey-coated words is a trap just waiting for you to spring.

Too bad for him; the last thing you plan to be is predictable.

"My, my what a compliment! A devout and faithful follower like yourself is comparing me to the creator? You should pray for forgiveness to the merciful creator. I'm a servant for them, just in a different league than you. My connection with them is strong enough that Teyvat graces me with qualities alike yet inferior to the Everlasting One."

Zhongli returned to his perfect posture at your words, the flash of envy couldn't hide. "Oh?" Narrowed eyes and a lofty tone that encourages you to smile wider. "And what position could an outsider like you hold?"

"Well, as an Oracle of course! Really, just how dumb are you? An outlander that is incredibly knowledgeable of the Creator? It's painfully obvious." There's no reaction to your test insults, which is fine that wasn't the last you had in store.

"I'm from the world that the Creator is recuperating in. It's due to that, that I can speak to them much more freely than everyone here. Even Teyvat pales in comparison. That's why Teyvat is so attached to me, my aura is overwhelmed by the creators."

Honestly, you had Chongyun to thank for that one. You weren't sure how you were supposed to explain the whole Teyvat clinging to you without sounding repetitive. But if Zhongli was that easily fooled, he wouldn't be one of the victors of the Archon war.

"Then enlighten me on why the glorious creator would need an Oracle of your caliber to spread their word. Surely that's the least you can do." He's fully dropped that faux-polite tone in contrast to the technically proper speech. 

"Gladly! It's become common knowledge that the elemental monsters and animals have started to act strangely. Add in the leylines that change from out of control to perfectly calm in a matter of minutes or weeks. These are all signs of the Creator's upcoming appearance! They need to be sure of who in this vast land they can properly trust."

"That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen. A wily and fresh child like you wouldn't do the best job." Hard like stone, Zhongli refused to even blink at your words. A god like himself would never falter after thousands of years spent perfecting his worship. 

But did he really have to insult you at the same time?

"So you refuse to believe it because of my supposed inability to properly carry out any duties assigned to me? You don't even know all that I had done to arrive here! Surely you should know just how rough the waters were..."

The hand that covers your mouth does a poor job of covering the sly smile. Zhongli stares at you in silence, the wind swaying around the floating chunk of rock that you both stand on.

"Just what are you trying to imply?" His voice is as soft as a whisper but cutting like the sharpest steel.

"Why explain it when I can show it?" Silently rejoicing at such a convenient set up, you peer into your bag and grab the item you've been saving.

Shimmering brightly in the harsh glares of the sun is Beisht's scale, still in pristine condition despite your perilous journey since that day you got it from the sea-leviathan.

It feels like ages ago. Just how much time has passed since you arrived on Teyvat? How much more time will you spend in situations like this? Weeks? Months? YEARS?

The existential dread is quickly pushed away by your beaming smile at Zhongli's reaction to the singular item. The rocky exterior finally breaks at the proof of your 'abilities'. His lips part at the bright teal color and he blinks incredulously at it.

Really, how could you pass up the chance to rub it in?

"Surely a human of my caliber would be capable of this much. I mean, a perfectly intact scale from a leviathan that managed to avoid the whole Qixing that isn't dyed in blood? Child's play for a servant specifically chosen by the Creator. I never doubted the creators' choices!" 

Holding the scale in front of you, you smirk at the man with as much snark as you hold in your heart. "The same can't be said for you, Mr. 'That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen.' Because the Creator is capable of choosing anyone they want, for whatever reason they desire."

Silence envelopes the area as you stare at him, a beat passes with no movement until a gruff chuckle leaves him.

"The more you speak, the closer I come to a conclusion." Recovering quickly, Zhongli's gloved hand rises to tap his mouth contemplatively. "You're either something far worse than I've seen in a long time, or a hope for the Creator's return."

That white outline around his iris seems to spin with the malicious joy that he refuses to show. It's like his body screams that he'll either enjoy your presence or your destruction. Nerves and anxiety grip your heart but ignoring it has always worked better for you.

"Maybe I can say the same thing about you considering your past, but I see you still aren't convinced. And how could I ever let you, one of the longest standing worshippers, have doubts about me? So tell me, were Beisht and her husband devout or sacrilegious beings?"

The answer he'll say is obvious, not only because you hold such a confident stance showing that you know the answer but because of Zhongli himself. A noble dragon that willingly bows to someone would feel ashamed at the thought of resorting to lying to boost his own pride.

Quite ironic how you hold so much trust in his answer due to the acolytes' faith in the creator. The same faith that led you to this position, and the same thing that'll keep you from ever exposing the truth of your identity. A constant force preventing them from meeting their 'beloved' creator.

"You met Beisht in the flesh, there's no doubt that she is solemn and serious in her worship. The same can be said for Osial, it was one of the few things I could agree with the leviathan. Even still, I'm the superior believer. After all, I'm the one who is left after all this time." 

"Yet I met Beisht before you."

The scoff and know-it-all tone he used pricked at your nerves long enough to cause an annoyed response to slip out. Unfortunately, that seems to be what Zhongli was baiting for as he laughs, the low sound making the rock platform tremble.

"That's if you're even an Oracle. You may be from that world and even heard about Teyvat from the Creator, but for all I know, you could have been banished here for us acolytes to execute. Whether it be for avenging the Creator or entertaining them."

Damn, it was almost scary how fast he turned the situation around. But how could you falter now? Getting tongue-tied at such a crucial moment would be a pathetic way to lose your life.

"And what will you do if I truly am an Oracle? When the creator's return is delayed months, years or even decades due to your rash actions, what will you tell the creator when confronted with the consequences of your own actions?"

"Then you should work hard enough to prove to skeptics like myself. To put blind faith in whatever is dubbed the creator's is a fool's belief. Temptation and sin ravage Teyvat from the long drought of the Creator's presence."

For a split second, sorrow clouded his eyes. He's hiding something. It’s important and you can feel it in your soul. The only thing that really stains his and Venti's reputation is their war with Khaenri'ah. It must be connected to that. 

But it's too early to try digging in for information on that. He doesn't even believe you to be the Oracle, how could you possibly get that out of him? What if he's under a contract and must stay silent on the matter?

Lost in his memories, Zhongli doesn't realize how your face pinches in frustration. You'll have to get his approval as the Oracle before you can even- 

Oh.

Oh, why didn't you realize this before?

A grin spreads across your face as you circle in on the heart of the problem and the perfect way to fix it.

It's not that Zhongli doesn't believe you to be the creator's Oracle, he just doesn't want to believe it! He's envious: envious of why a random outlander like you got such a nice position in comparison to him who probably spent most of his life molding himself to the creators standards.

All that's left is to reel him in and you know the perfect way how.

"Prove myself? I've done plenty to prove myself, but what about you?" Mockingly, you tilt your head as your empty gaze peers into Zhongli's eyes, digging deep into him. He focuses back on the conversation at your shift in tone.

"If anyone should have to prove themselves, it should be you." This time it's you who takes the bold step forward. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? And try to keep in that temper too so that I can finish my words. A dragon your age should know such simple things."

"As Morax you were quite powerful, though a brute to be completely honest. Still, you knew your limits well and paired up with the Lord of Dust before the Archon War, who served as the 'brain'. Tell me, just how did it feel when you found her as nothing more than a statue that day?"

Your words have a strong effect on the imposing man, his fist trembling at the mention of such a beloved god, one whose death still pains him. Paying no mind to his pain you ask the monumental question.

"Just how much resentment do you hold against the Creator for her death?"

A hand slams you against the Statue hard enough to bruise your skin. It doesn't squeeze around your throat but there's no need to as the Geo begins to petrify your legs, locking you in place. The Statue is in a constant state of healing in defense to the bruises on your neck.

"Just what are you trying to imply by saying that?" Cold and apathetic is the voice that flows from the stoic man. It's what you would imagine Morax would sound like before Guizhong taught him how to care for humans.

"C'mon, that's the second time you've asked me that. Don't make me speak the obvious-" A shuddering gasp leaves you as he tightens his grip. But it's gone just as fast; a flock of birds tackle Zhongli.

You can only watch in shock as what was only 4 to 5 birds grow to become at least 15 birds of all kinds attacking him. The throbbing of your neck being healed as the Geo instantly releases you is overshadowed by Zhongli swatting at the birds as he takes continuous steps back.

But that's all it took for Zhongli to fall off the edge as the birds flew away cawing happily. Standing and staring at the spot where Zhongli fell off in shock, you begin to chuckle. It grows to a giggle before you're laughing hysterically as you buckle to the ground. Loud peels of laughter ring around the area as you hold your stomach from the ache of laughing so much.

To think Teyvat took the initiative to help you out for once. Why couldn't it do it sooner? Was it only after gaining some power from activating a new nations statue of the seven that it could? You couldn't focus on the question anymore as the look on Zhongli's face when he fell came to mind again.

The sight of his eyes blown wide and a split second of pure panic sent you straight back into a fit of laughter. The ground far below you shakes as a Geo pillar constructs a bridge high enough to reach the stone you sat on. 

The sound of footsteps make you open your eyes and giggle at the sight of a disheveled and annoyed Zhongli. Annoyed is still an improvement compared to his enraged state earlier. With giggles slipping out, you stand back up and laugh louder at his appearance in full view.

His hair was pulled out of his rattail with his earrings nowhere to be seen. Bits and pieces of the weaker cloth of his suit were missing, giving him a poor look that didn't match his flawless posture. The red marks and light cuts only added to the joy you feel at his expense.

"Are you finished laughing, Y/N?"

"For now at least. I would suggest buying a new set of clothes but I don't think you have the mora for it!" Zhongli only lets out a long-suffering sigh as you crack up again.

You would be scolding yourself for not taking the chance to escape while he was away but it was better this way. You didn't need the information about Khaenri'ah, it was nice to know but the information wouldn't help you live.

The main reason you stayed was because running away would prove Zhongli right to be suspicious about you. It would let him know that you're scared and have something to hide. Plus, that would mean having to escape Liyue the same way you did Ei, just in a worse situation.

That's not something you want to repeat.

"Alright I'm done laughing." You say while wiping off the budding tears from the corner of your eyes. Zhongli sends you a look that screams that he doesn't believe you but you shrug it off.

"Really, that question was more of a test if you will. My main job is simply to see who the Creator can trust. Your relationship with the Creator beyond that is between you and them." 

The calm and peaceful tone you use is such a contrast to the one you used earlier that Zhongli is clearly apprehensive. Paying it no mind you continue to speak. 

"If you truly want a reason to at least try and believe me to be the oracle even if you don't fully believe me, then I'll give you one. I'm sure you still have the stone dumbbell from Guizhong that you've never been able to open. I know how to open it."

Those last words have Zhongli staring at you intensely as you gaze off into the distance. The Dragon-Queller tree is visible through the fog with its glowing blue branches and yellow leaves.

"How?" He breathes out, scared to trust but scared to lose this opportunity too.

"It requires a naturally grown glaze lily cultivated by the Creator. That's because it requires a 'pure' glaze lily and the only one who can grow such a thing at this day and age is the Creator. All the natural glaze lilies have died after all."

Zhongli's shoulders slump at your words. It seems he started to let his guard down after he fell off. He must no longer view you as a threat or, at most, an annoyance. That's okay with you, underestimation is the most useful viewpoint they could have for you.

"Should I even make an attempt to ask you why it can only be unlocked with that? You're only telling me this as a last resort to keep you alive, correct? Even if I told you that I would keep you alive without that information, you wouldn't believe me. As childish as you may be, foolishness does not seem to be a quality you hold."

"That may be true, but if you really want an answer to that first question then I'll tell you." You look over to lock eyes with him and smile. It conceals every sneaky and vicious thought you hold. "I have no clue. The Creator instructed me to use it as a last resort, if you want that answer then try praying. Perhaps you'll get an answer."

You would like to know the answer to the stone dumbbell too. After all, you only made up the solution! Seeing as Zhongli spent all these years after Guizhong's death, failing to unlock it, it's a good bet that it'll never open. 

It's silent as you both get lost in your own thoughts. Unlike before it wasn't tense, it was more comparable to the silence you would spend alone in your apartment. The nights you would only be accompanied by the thoughts of the 'what-if' situations. Thoughts that would only stay thoughts just as the past would be just that, the past.

Wanderer learned that the hard way too. You wouldn't let yourself hold so many regrets before your inevitable death. Even in Liyue you weren't truly safe, so wouldn't it be best to speak to Zhongli while you still could?

"I have questions about Khaenri'ah… Well, the better way to put it is that the Creator has questions about them. It's one of the few things that they mourn the most. A whole nation devoted to worshiping solely the creator, destroyed by the Archons that swore their life and loyalty to the creator. So will you explain it to me?"

His eyes fill with the same sorrow you saw in him earlier. It seems you were right in guessing that his line on blindly trusting things labeled with the creator was connected to Khaenri'ah.

"I have spent all my years after that day asking for forgiveness, for some way to atone. It was one of the few contracts that I did not properly balance in equivalent exchange. I regret signing it, not for myself but for my beloved God."

"So it's a no."

"It's an agreement not to speak of it."

"Then don't speak about it." Zhongli seeds you a questioning glance as you mischievously smile at him. "Just listen to my words and don't look away. I'm quite sure nodding and shaking your head doesn't count as breaking your silence."

A huff of amusement leaves him at your solution. His eyes close with his lips curling into a small smile. He nods his head in acceptance, not having the drive to poke holes into your stubbornness.

You were quite confident in the conclusions you've drawn so far. Genshin Impact was nearly the sole reason you were living back on Earth. Family and friends were nonexistent, you had given up hope on making any new connections as well. The only thing you did when you weren't home was work and your work made you be everything but yourself. So combining everything you know from the game with everything of the cult that you've learned thus far shouldn't be too hard.

"When the Archon War broke out, I'm sure most of you were merely looking to keep your people and nation alive. The original design of having the gods powered solely on their people's worship paled in comparison to Celestia's offer of power by obtaining a spot in a group of seven. At the end, you all had a choice. Accept your spot by accepting a Gnosis, or go against them similar to how the Dragon King once did."

Zhongli perks up at the mention of the Dragon King. Not many people know about the original Dragon King. Most people assume it's Azhdaha when in reality, the original was a far greater dragon.

"You all must have been quite against it. The only God you would all bow under would be the Creator who had left before those events to sleep in my world, yet Celestia probably whispered to you all that it was allowed on Teyvat because it was approved by the Creator. That the Gnosis was a reward for all your hard work and as Celestia was the first descender, all of you accepted it.”

The way he begins to stare at you is invasive, like he's just dying to jump you to get every bit of knowledge you hold on the topic. He's starting to suspect you.

"Yet when Khaenri'ah was revealed to exist years afterwards, everything was thrown into confusion. I'm sure you and the other Archons were fine with their presence as Khaenri'ah worshiped the Creator, but was Celestia?" 

A sly smile creeps upon your face at the memory of when it was revealed that Khaenri'ah  wasn't the first civilization to be turned into hilichurls. No one liked Celestia so you had no problem pinning almost all the blame onto it.

"I'm sure they were enraged, especially as Khaenri'ah grew more and more bold with their inventions. Gold in particular was quite dangerous seeing as she not only created life but also Durin and the Golden Wolflord. And even that was unintentional!"

You laugh cheerfully as Zhongli chuckles in surprise at your words. Had you successfully deterred him? Probably not, but he hasn't stopped you so you'll keep going till the end.

"Celestia ordered you all to aid them in destroying Khaenri'ah but you all refused. How could any of you harm a nation so devoted to the creator even if they refused to worship Celestia or the Seven? But that Gnosis you all accepted comes with a price. A price that serves as leverage and a control device."

The thoughts of what Beisht told you on how Celestia had caused them to forget the original way of worship resurfaced. Celestia was just too suspicious for that to be the only thing they had done. It would take a lot more than that to force the Archons to listen to them.

"That Gnosis was like a drug. It gave you all so much power, tasting and making you feel like you're on top of the world! Just for it to come crashing down when the unpleasant side effects hit you. It corrupted you all like poison forcing you to wage war against Khaenri'ah. My best bet is that it was like mind control. What do you say?"

He looks at you with a blank expression, as if trying to see the secrets you hid in your soul through your eyes. But there's no response from him, not even the occasional nods that he was giving before.

"Well if it was mind control, perhaps it made you believe that Khaenri'ah had plans to overrule the Creator and create their own human god. Or maybe it made them out to be traitors to the creator. Perhaps both? That doesn't really matter, what does matter is that only after the war was in full throttle were you all brought back to your senses."

You didn't have any proof of that last part, it just seemed like something Celestia would do. Not only to prove their superiority but also force the Archons to put their best effort in defeating the people of Khaenri'ah to save their nations.

"After the war ended, you all wanted to get rid of it but Celestia wouldn't allow such a thing. Even if you most likely tried to find some loophole, Celestia doesn't play nice. It would make sense if they threatened to give a punishment similar to what they had done to Khaenri'ah. So long as none of you destroy or throw it away, they'll leave you all be,”

Venti was a god, no matter what fans said, there was no way he would lose to Signora. It made more sense if that was his way of 'handing' it over to the Tsaritsa. There was also Nahida who threatened to break her Gnosis to one-up Dottore. That was always funny, you would kill to have witnessed that in person. 

"Of course none of you would actually use it or even desire it in your vicinity. Everyone wins when the Tsaritsa uses her various methods to acquire the gnosis'. And thanks to the traveler appearing during that time, Celestia was probably too busy freaking out over that to pay too much attention. For a while at least."

Finally looking back to Zhongli, you smiled proudly. "I must be pretty close right? At no point did you laugh at me like you did with Alice so I'll take that as a good sign. And even if I'm wrong, everything will be solved when the Creator descends."

Stretching to loosen the tension in your back, you applaud yourself for the brilliant thinking. It's not like anyone can actually fake gold blood for long when even hair dye didn't exist yet. You're basically leaving all these loose ends to the you that would be believed to be the Creator. Which is never going to happen!

"Would the Creator scorn me for asking you once again if you're truly an oracle?"

"I'm sure the glorious creator would be fully justified in doing so, but I'll scorn you in their stead.. And don't get it twisted, it's not because of your feelings concerning Guizhong's death. It's how you, by your own negligence, offended the Creator!"

An utterly baffled expression paints his face at your accusation. Unrelenting, you point your finger at him with a serious face that you haven't shown him till now.

"Did you really believe that the creator wouldn't realize? Just how little you changed from that brute of a dragon that saw humans as plentiful yet insignificant as dust? To think that you believed yourself to be comparable to the primordial dragons."

Zhongli stiffens at the mention of the primordial dragons. After all he is the prime of the Adepti who's exuvia is a dragon, not a primordial dragon. Wouldn't it be fun if he held some sense of inferiority when compared to the primordial ones?

Zhongli sits on the ledge of the rock with his elbows on his legs and his hands covering his face. It was time. He would question just what you were talking about and you'll explain the elemental sacrificing that he forgot. That'll be the end and he'll have no choice but to support you! 

Smiling knowingly you approach him and lean down to see behind the shadow casting over his eyes. Your eyes twinkle victoriously as his breath leaves a cloud from the crisp air.

"I should have known that the creator would not forgive me for failing to arrive on time."

What? 

"How could I have been beaten to that shooting star by that astrologist? No matter who may have been her master, I failed to arrive on time."

Zhongli sulks there as he continues rambling to himself on 'missing' the shooting star due to his old age. Was he seriously talking about how you lost him the first time to Mona?!

Memories come back of you using the last of your wishes on his banner and being greeted with Mona instead. The first 50/50 you lost and was forced to use nearly all your primogems to get him. A fact that you never let Zhongli forget through your adventures.

Just what would he do if he knew how you always switched to a different character whenever his idle starts to play? Would he sew his lips together in repentance? That must be the difference between a true believer and a fake believer...

Holding back a sigh you begin brainstorming on how you were supposed to bring the conversation back to the sacrificing. Zhongli is too lost in his own head as he begins to continuously blame himself for any mistake he could have made.

"Being unable to answer the travelers' questions must have worsened their view on me too."

"That and how you were willing to let Liyue flood if they couldn't defeat Osial."

"Human life may be precious but they're as numerous as the dust that make up stone. I would rebuild Liyue for the rest of this long life until I cultivate a nation that I could humbly present the creator with."

"Then shouldn't the creator just grind you down and raise a different Adepti to their exact liking? You should work hard to be exactly what they desire to be truly loved."

"Are you saying that the Creator loathes me?" He finally looks away from the sea of clouds to stare at you. Sparing him a glance, you listen to him grow more panicked by your silence.

"Do they wish to see me crumble and be reabsorbed into the earth for my mistakes, for my sins? Was it the way I mechanically went through the motions of worship for the few years after Guizhong's death? Or does my benevolent god crave me and my nation to fall for aiding in the destruction of Kh-?"

Abruptly Zhongli grasps at his chest where his heart lays as he coughs. More out of politeness than concern you rub his back as fluid flies from his lips to his closed fist.

The thick inky plum colored fluid stained his fist with droplets of crimson swirling within it. His coughing fit slows to a halt as his hand slowly releases the clothing over his heart. Harsh breathing and a shallow pained groan is all that can be heard as he cleans himself up.

“Pardon me-” 

“Was that a warning from Celestia or a side effect if you get too close to speaking?"

"The implication is the same no matter what it may be from." He whispers as you begin to move back to return his personal space. Yet his now ungloved hand is what wraps around your grass stained sleeve.

"Now answer my question." Determination and a barely concealed unruly emotion simmer beneath his composed surface as he asks. "As an oracle, tell me what I have to do to earn their forgiveness. What must I reap to begin repenting for the sins I sowed?" 

Eyes widening at the sight of the disheveled man, you stare at him quietly. The messy hair, cut up clothing and grip tight enough to keep you still all while being careful not to bruise.

Hook, line and sinker.

"Is that a question for me to answer? Am I the god that you wronged? If you wish to communicate with the creator yourself, then there is a way. A method to begin regaining the pebbles that make up the mountain of trust you once shared with them."

You grab the arm that connects to his hand wrapped around your own and pull him up. He obeys the silent command and stands up, his gaze never faltering from your form. Silent and towering like the mountains he's created, he simply listens.

"Celestia has hidden more from you than you originally thought. But I'm sure you already know that. Offer yourself to the merciful creator and they'll surely hear your pleas of forgiveness. Whether they forgive you or not is up to them."

Releasing your hold on him, you turn to survey the area. Now where could you have him perform the sacrifice? His free hand comes to rest on your shoulder for your attention.

"What must I offer of myself? My blood? My body? If need be, I'll even be willing to offer my life. My life is worthless without them. I'm nothing more than a grain of mineral if not for them."

"There's so many things you can offer, but if you want to make the most impact, then you'll offer up your body parts. Your life may be precious but just how much longer do you have left?"

"Then will the private temple I have built for them work? We can head there immediately." He points south to the sole unnamed mountain in Minlin. You vividly remember unlocking the teleport waypoint there.

"The only way I'll know is when I see the interior. I'll meet you there Zhongli!"

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you close your eyes and calmly imagine what the scenery around the waypoint looks like. The rocky feel of the floating stone changes to a lush green beneath your feet. Opening your eyes you're greeted with a valley of viridescent brustles with degraded stone ruins at the edges. 

"To think that the Creator even allowed you access to the waypoints. They must treasure you greatly." He appears at your side in a matter of minutes. His tone has a hint of longing and bitterness.

It's sweet like the flavor of a childhood candy that you would sneak behind your parents backs. Almost sweet enough to make up for the starvation you would face later on as punishment.

"Instead of focusing on that, why don't you show me that private temple you created? As the Geo Archon, I hold high expectations for you."

"This temple is the one I created for me. If you want the glamorous shrine built for the mass and appearance then you're better off viewing the public one that the Qixing now control."

He walks down the hill until the grass is tall enough to cover his calves. You follow behind him and stare blankly at the plain that is covered with a healthy amount of tall marigolds. Just as you're about to repeat the question, the earth begins to rumble.

It starts with just one stone rising from the ground, until it multiplies into a roof like structure. You watch in awe as a temple surges out of the mountain with the slightest bits of dirt falling off it.

Stone of high quality and clearly careful upkeep shines with small cracks from the passage of time. Gold, silver, and bronze layer the nooks and crannies of the pillars that keep a roof over the doorway.

Marveling at it, you follow Zhongli into the temple... He couldn't kill you in it, right? Surely you could still teleport even if he locked you in it… Teleporting without using the map might not work due to the focus and effort it required, but doing it with the map has never failed you yet.

The inside was even more impressive; statues of all kinds surrounded the hallway. It was you, always you, just in different poses, clothing and materials. From thin robes crafted entirely from Cor Lapis, to suits made of Noctilucous Jade.

Arriving at what seemed to be the main room, you're greeted with a huge statue comparable to the public one in Inazuma's plaza. Sunlight bathed your statue from the skylight above it.

Your body was made of Cor Lapis decorated in an Archon-like robe made from Noctilucous Jade. A fresh Glaze Lily sat in your palm as Silk Flowers adorned your head in a crown like structure. You sat on a blue stone throne that seemed to grow brighter as you approached it. The sleek yet dense mineral looked like the magical crystal chunks you would give to the blacksmiths. 

"Be careful to not venture too close to that one, the elemental energy may leave it to join you." Zhongli warns as he steps into the middle of the room. Smiling casually to hide your amazement, you head back to him.

"What an impressive statue, the Creator is feeling quite pleased with the display but still wishes to see your true remorse." Digging into your bag, you brought out the ceremonial knife and the handbook you took notes on.

"Go get the softest cloth and lay it on the ground. This ritual is simple, you'll cut off whatever part of your body you wish to offer, pray, and wait for a response. If 10 to 20 minutes pass with no response, then you can leave it at that or offer more in hopes of a response."

Closing the book and shoving it back into your bag you offer the knife to Zhongli. He looks up from where he laid the gilded gold fabric to stare at the knife before letting out a drawl laugh.

"That knife will do little to my scales, Y/N. A ceremonial item is to be bathed in liquid gold to be used so I have more than enough weapons that can actually cut my skin."

Scoffing, you stuff the knife back in as he leaves and returns with a variety of weapons. The largest was an ax that smelled faintly of blood. Was it used to sacrifice someone not too long ago? The thought makes you uncomfortable, yet you're no longer alarmed at the thought.

My, have you changed.

You move to stand away from the center closer to the exit. Zhongli's bare hand turns to a pattern of black and amber hues. Shedding his thick coat, his flexed muscles in draconic form are left in full view.

If you were back on Earth, you would have killed to view this. An Archon’s skin was something the majority of the players wished for, for quite a while. Even now, you would love to see his true Archon form, but the thought of actually living was far more tantalizing.

Rolling up his sleeves, he chooses a sword and examines it carefully. Without fear he raises it high and slices downwards cutting his hand off cleanly. The ruby liquid sprays onto the floor as the droplets drip off his sword and dismembered limb simultaneously.

It doesn't matter how many times you witness or smell blood, it still disgusts you. The only blood you truly cherished in shedding was the one that left that man's body when you stabbed him in that cold alleyway.

His hand lands onto the expensive textile with a wet thud as the ivory bone sticks out. Zhongli lays the sword down gently resisting the urge to groan in pain. Gritting his teeth he returned his attention and gaze back to you. You, who stayed in perfect position ahead of him, clad in gems and minerals carved by his own hand.

Closing his eyes, his lips followed the adored pass time of praying with intensity. Too lost in his regret, joy, and infatuation his words slipped out clear like the perfectly carved jewels he’s crafted for you.

"My god, my god. For I have sinned against you so. The mistakes I cannot fix or change, I pray for your forgiveness." Your unmoving, unchangeable eyes stared at him with an expression so familiar to him, one who worshiped you in this temple for centuries.

"From allowing myself to be tricked, to the lack of devotion I felt to you in Guizhong's death and finally with how I treated a servant of yours with disdain. Envious, I am envious to an extent that I shouldn't hold to my righteous god like you. Even now I still haven't broken the habit of referring to you as 'my' god."

Once again, just like the first time, Teyvat seems to overwhelm you with his feelings. You stare at his back as his lips murmur the words of devotion without an end in sight. Silently, you accept his offering, this first one was only to put the last nail in the coffin of you being an oracle. 

The sky darkens as Zhongli's hand crumbles into a pile of primogems that dissolve into the air. Blue and purple stars dance across the sky as a lone gold star makes its way closer. 

You didn't plan to always accept his offerings. After all you did lose a 50/50 to him and was forced to put up with his paranoid possessiveness in regards to your creator self. Shouldn't you make him lose a few times to even the score?

The gold star shines brighter and bigger as Zhongli gazes at it with a smile purer than anything he's ever felt since his creation at your hands. It flies through the window enveloping him and the whole room with a beaming light.

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

When his eyes open, the skylight shows the sunny sky but he can already feel his connection to you stronger. The brilliance you bore shines beautifully in him like a star he wished to keep hidden for only him to see.

It worked, it worked! There is no need for him to be wary or envious of you for claiming to be so close to the creator anymore. In fact, you were a sign specifically designed for someone like him. A sign that the creator had not grown complacent in simply watching Teyvat, you were now showing interest in coming back soon. And through you, he can find out details about the creator that were kept secret all these millennia.

A wide and joyful grin is bared with obsession tangling within it. He turns his head to where you stood and his smile drops abruptly when all he's greeted with is an empty spot. 

He built this temple for him and the creator to enjoy in privacy due to his possessive nature born from his dragon lineage, yet the sight of Y/N who up and vanished after fulfilling their duty struck his core like the abyssal gunk that used to constantly corrupt his body.

You may have left, you may think that he wouldn't treat you, a fellow devoted servant well due to his earlier behavior. And he understands that, he truly does but that simply means he has to rectify his mistake before it's too late. You were a mere human while him, a god. 

Finding you before any terrible consequences from his mistakes won't take too long.

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

Unaware of the dragon's changing tune, you eye the Dragon-Queller tree from outside the temple with interest. After all the work you've done thus far, indulging yourself with a nice close up of the magnificent landmark would be a good treat for yourself.

This one took a while and it was edited by the same jerk. I really hope all the work was worth it and that the next part can be done faster. But as my college is starting this early Sep, it might be even longer. Genshin's lore is a hot mess so I tried my best to keep it simple while touching on the important parts. All the lore I put in is almost completely accurate. If you don't include the sagau parts. If your name is italic then that means I couldn't tag you. I manually put everyone so hopefully this fixes the notifications problems. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0

[fleursbending]

𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥, 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲. | Neteyam Sully

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : Hi, I was wondering if you could write a Neteyamxhuman!reader where the reader takes the bullet for Neteyam, so they transport her soul to her avatar and they become really emotional upon waking up and seeing her human body, dead and they all (sully family and metkayina clan) have a funeral for her human body. Neteyam comforts her and mourns with her??

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : neteyam x human!reader (eventual na'vi!reader. sully family x reader, ronal x reader (platonic).

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : thank you @karmascale for requesting this! this was a challenge to write and i hope i did your request justice! i did a few minor tweaks just to make the story flow better. this slightly deviates from the original plot in the movie! feedback is once again, much appreciated - i love hearing ur guys thoughts! this piece is my prized posession 😭😭😭 if there's any mistakes pls lmk! reader is gn!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : atwow spoilers, blood, funeral, angst, mourning/grief, eventual fluff, gsw, death, detailed descriptions of pain/slipping in and out of consciousness, seizure.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 5.6k words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @odessa-is-my-queen

closely helped me through writing this so here is something to listen to if you want to get even more immersed ↷

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄. That's the only thought that had been drilled into his mind ever since your body had struggled to stay afloat after jumping off the ship.

The once crystal clear blue waters were now tainted with an angry scarlet colour. Neteyam did not know what the source of it was. His heart had sunken, missing a beat when your head had not popped out of the water to cheer with the rest of them.

"Wait, where's Y/n?" Neteyam, panted as he tried to catch his breath.

Prior to all this, he had expressed how you should have gone back to Awa'atlu. But your eyes had a fire that even he couldn't shoot down. His family by definition was yours as well. You just couldn't sit this one out, not this time.

Your struggled gasps answered his question, your head bobbing back underwater only to resurface seconds later.

"Nete, I think I've been shot." You groaned in pain, as you struggled to stay afloat.

"You are such a skxawng, Y/n!" Neteyam cried, immediately swimming over to your side as he helped hold your much smaller body up.

"Hey, that's not nice." You tried to retort jokingly, only to cough up blood right after you had finished your sentence.

You weren't supposed to be there. Your link machine was experiencing issues, Norm was fixing it. Tuk, and Kiri, had brought you out to the ocean as you waited. You've been begging to see baby Ilu's ever since the Metkayina clan allowed you, Norm, and Max to stay behind after Kiri's seizure. Now seemed like the perfect time to do so, but they couldn't have been more wrong about their decision.

When you three had seen Lo'ak rushing off to warn Payakan about the tracker. Your friends not trailing too far behind him, you all joined too. You believed Lo'aks words from before, you didn't know such brutal consequences would come from such actions.

It was you and Neteyam who fled to drop the tracker further away, only to witness in horror as your friends were trapped in a net, being lifted by Ikrans and dropped on the large ship.

Only months ago were you all held captive, but the stakes are larger than life now. You were horrified. Neteyam curated a plan, only on the ship to cut them out of their restraints. Then you'd all head back together. But Lo'ak wanted to save Spider, and a sky-person turned Na'vi was blocking your freedom back into the water.

You weren't supposed to be there. He thought he got you out there safely, how stupid of him to think that.

His amber eyes caught sight of your gunshot wound when he and Lo'ak pulled you on top of Tsireya's Ilu. His world was crumbling around him, and all he could do was apply pressure.

"It hurts!" You grunted, the pain like nothing you've ever experienced before.

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry, Y/n." Neteyam shushed you, trying to give you some comfort while calming his own worries.

His father's words began to repeat in his mind from the training lessons he used to teach his kids when they were far younger. This one focused on sky-people and the type of weapons they use. The damage it can cause.

"Son, a bullet wound is deadly - only if there is an exit wound."

How did a bullet even hit you? It should have been him. Now he felt like he was paying the price.

Neteyam cursed to himself, yaymak.

"We must bring Y/n back! They can help them there!" Lo'ak interjected, trying to get everyone's attention. He was worried for his friend who wasn't even in their Avatar body. The tensions were through the skies that gloomed down on you all.

Tsireya, clutching onto her dear friend for life - nodded hastily. Yipping at her Ilu, they made haste back to their village.

Neteyam previously thought his greatest loss was the time he missed out with you. But now there was a chance of truly losing all of you. He couldn't bare the weight that train of thought held over him.

When his parents had told them that they'd have to leave all they'd ever known. He knew you wouldn't follow in their footsteps. They didn't even have a foolproof plan. And it would be too dangerous for you, your avatar was not ready yet.

He wanted to stay, but his family needed him now - more than ever before. They wouldn't allow it anyway.

"I will wait for you, Nete." You had told him, speaking so softly. Your words were full of warmth, full of promise. You sounded so sure, and it reassured him so much. He was utterly devoted to every fiber of your being. You already encompassed his entire mind. Each decision he had been making lately that would benefit his future, always circled back to you.

If he closed his eyes he'd still remember every minor detail of that day. The day he had to say goodbye. It was gutwrenchingly beautiful.

You stood on a tree trunk, and he wanted to curse Ewya for having to make humans wear masks. Because as your tiny hands grasped his face, his fists clenched in sheer desperation to caress yours. But he couldn't, not with that damned mask in the way.

Instead he opted for tucking a stray braid behind your ear, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. His hands hovered over yours above his face, before grasping them. You'd never get over how they dwarfed yours, how it felt to bask in his warmth. It felt like a reminder from Ewya that you were destined to be together.

You could see the tears he was trying not to shed, and feel the way his hands were slightly shaking. His ears laid flat, tail hung low. And it felt like a punch in the gut, a harsh reminder of not knowing when he would come back here.

The fear of not knowing when you'd be in each other's presence again.

His gaze kept traveling between every feature of your face. The boy did not have any artistic ability in his bones, but he'd be utterly dumb to not remember every minute detail that he had fallen for.

This wasn't earth, there were no devices that could reach as far as they were hoping to go. No mailing system. They'd have to rely on their trust for one another this time.

With purpose, you held his chin. "I. Will. Wait. For. You." You had annunciated every word.

Determination flickered in his eyes, and his hands held onto your mask, the part that covered your cheeks. You blushed, he'd never done that before.

"I will wait for you, Y/n." He declared as his forehead met yours.

"Come on, bro!" Y/n suddenly said, wait what?

His shoulders were being shaken, and he was brought back into the harsh reality.

"Hop on!" Lo'ak tugged on his arm, as he and Spider waited for him. Neteyam swung himself onto his Ilu. They raced back to shore.

He briefly saw Ronal ushering a member of the Metkayina clan who was holding his Y/n, into a mauri.

He started to head towards them with Spider when he realised Lo'ak wasn't following. He quickly turned around and beckoned him over, only to witness him hopping back on his Ilu.

"What are you doing?" Neteyam hissed at him.

"I have to go back for Tuk and Kiri! They are still there, mum and dad as well." Lo'ak explained.

"I'm coming with you." Spider walked back over, Lo'ak wanted to argue about it - but knew they didn't have time.

He could see the conflict in his older brother's eyes.

"I got this brother. I know that doesn't feel reassuring. because I usually don't. But this is our family, I won't fuck this up." Lo'ak insisted, he didn't want to risk a slim chance of potentially losing anyone else.

"Lo'ak...-" Neteyam tried to change his younger brother's mind.

"Please, trust me. You're going to regret not being here if Y/n gets worse." Lo'ak contested, he knew he was right.

Neteyam shut his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Contemplating his choices, he knew what he had to do.

"Go, but be alert. This isn't a raid back home!" Neteyam said.

Lo'ak nodded in acknowledgment, turning his Ilu and heading back to the ship in the distance along with Spider.

When they were nothing but a speck in the distance, he quickly rushed over to the mauri he saw Y/n and Ronal enter.

He rushed in, his heart somersaulting at the sight before him. You were pale, too pale. Your chest barely rises up and comes back down. He could tell you were on the verge of losing consciousness.

"Please mother, let me ask for the humans!" Tsireya begged as she continued to try to stop the bleeding.

"Fine, go get them." Ronal allowed it, continuing to do her ritual.

Tsireya was about to get up, but Neteyam stopped her.

"I can do it." He mumbled.

He made sure his comms were on the channel that had a connection with both his parents, Norm, and Max.

"Norm, Max.-" his voice choked up.

"I don't know what you are doing right now, but Y/n is dying. I need you to come to the chief's house, now! I don't- I don't know what you need to bring but just what you can! Please!" Neteyam pleaded as he fell by your side, his fingers running through your hair.

Blood splatter was speckled on the inside of your mask, and you blinked slowly in response to his barely there touch. Gazing up at him, a pained smile graced your face.

"Neteyam, is that you?" You asked.

"It's me, I'm here," Neteyam replied, tearing up at your whimpers of pain.

"We're on our way! Eta is 3 minutes!" Norm's rushed voice sounded through his comms.

"Tell her we are here. I am here." Neytiri's voice sounded forced, holding in the emotions she was truly feeling at that present moment.

"Okay, okay. Mom is with you, she is rooting for you. You hear me, Y/n? We all are!" He hoped his words were giving you strength, he felt like anything he could potentially do wouldn't be enough. Neteyam could only pray to Eywa that his mother would be okay after what she had just heard.

Neytiri loves you like you were her own, to this day she cannot pinpoint why she held such prejudice towards Spider but not you. Maybe because his father killed her own and the fact he had destroyed her clan's sanctuary.

Your mother and father were fierce, in a sense they were seen as warriors through her eyes. Alongside Trudy, they had pioneered the revolution against Colonel Quaritch and his followers. Y/n's mother had worked side by side with Grace, while your father worked on the front lines.

Right before the battle, she had confided in Neytiri.

"I am with child. If anything ever happens to my family, please take care of her." Neytiri took this newfound information in and agreed, deep down only hoping for the best. They were some of Neytiri's and Jake's greatest allies.

But Y/n's father was killed taking a stand, and with too much sorrow in her heart. Y/n's mother carried you to full term. Only to pass away after being with you for the first three months of your life. Neytiri nurtured you alongside Neteyam. She too just like Neteyam, could only pray to Ewya that you'd be okay.

"I'm scared," you spoke so quietly that if he wasn't as close to you as he was. He wouldn't have heard you at all.

"It's okay to be scared, I've got you. You're going to be okay." Neteyam emphasised with you, trying to offer more alleviation to such a dire situation.

"We're here- fuck." Norm cursed, as Max unpacked a few things.

"Nete, I'm tired. I want to go to sleep." Drowsiness was tempting you, and the pain was beginning to fade into nothingness.

"No! You must stay awake!" Neteyam tapped on your mask, but your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You started to seize.

Ronal and Tsireya continued to chant, as Norm turned her on her side.

"There's too much blood, Max!" Norm shouted.

It poured out like a languid waterfall, strangely just like some of the ones back in the forest. He felt the dread tugging at him, he was losing you.

He held your head to stop you from potentially hurting yourself even more when suddenly your body slumped. Your breaths come out in wheezes.

Neteyam could no longer hold back his tears, he had never felt so helpless and petrified. He wished the rest of his family was here, in a room full of people - he felt stranded.

Max clocking onto this, pitched out a thought. "I don't know if it will work, but I have an idea." He held a flashlight above Y/n's eyes as he spoke.

"What is it? We'll make it work." Neteyam insisted. He would do whatever it takes to be able to rid you of this agony.

Ronal eyed the boy, understanding his struggles. Then stared at the humans who were fumbling over Y/n's body, using foreign devices.

"You wish to transfer Y/n's soul to their avatar," Ronal replied as she listened to your heart. It was weak, but still persisting.

Max gaped at her, the Tshahik must have put two and two together.

"We cannot save Y/n from these injuries, they are fatal. That is the only way." Max further explained, not meeting Neteyam's eyes. He knew what he was suggesting was an ultimatum larger than life. But he could not see any other way, you were already advancing further in succumbing to your wounds.

"What you are asking of me is something that has only been done a few times, not once has it been performed in our clan. As the Tsahik I cannot guarantee this will be successful!" Ronal protested as she continued to tend to you however way possible.

Tsireya continued to plug Y/n's wounds, listening in, as Neteyam hesitantly let go of your hand. Moving to Ronal, he kneeled down before her.

Ronal noted one thing, the eyes she was looking into were drastically different from how she remembered them moments ago. Now it was untamed, yet persistent.

"I know my family has caused enough destruction. I know you never wanted us here in the first place. You believed we would not do our part, and I cannot fault you for thinking that way. We have learned your ways, adapted like my father did." He then motioned to you behind him.

"So will Y/n. In your eyes, sky people come from demon blood, but their parents fought on Toruk Makto's side. They made a difference, just like Y/n has started to do here. Y/n is an excellent fisher and healer. The children in this clan have warmed up to them. Because that's the effect they have on people! I swear, if you give them this second chance, they will be forever grateful. And if it doesn't go the way we wish for it to, I will not put the blame on you. The decision of whether or not she passes through the 'Eye of Eywa' only lies with our great mother." Neteyam held his chin up high, not bothering to wipe away the tears that began to stream down his face.

Ronal looked at Neteyam for a few more beats, before shifting to look at you.

"Prepare them for travel, we do not have much time before they get too weak for the transfer." Neteyam cried out in relief, thanking the great mother as he moved back over to you.

"Stay with me, just a little more Y/n," Neteyam begged, squeezing your hand encouragingly.

"I can't feel anything Neteyam, please I'm scared." You whispered to him, and he tried to put on a strong face. But he couldn't even imagine how scared you must be if he was already paralyzed with fear. All he could do was pet your head. and give you continuous kisses on your hair and forehead. Ewya, please be with us right now.

"Where are they?" Neteyam could hear his mother calling for them outside.

"In here!" He beckoned them over.

"Tsireya, get your father and gather whoever can come with us. We must leave to the Coves of the Ancestors, now." Ronal advised her child.

She quickly halted what she was doing and dashed outside of the mauri.

Neytiri's hand fell to her mouth at the sight of you, weeping as Jake whispered comforting words to her.

"Mother." Neteyam looked up at her, not knowing how to proceed from here.

"Ronal, may I bring her on my Ikran?" Neytiri in just a single moment changed face. Time was of the essence.

"Yes, you have not been where we are going. Follow along with us." Ronal commanded, gathering her things and getting ready to ride.

At this point you were slipping in and out of consciousness, but Tsireya had been able to temporarily stop the bleeding. Neytiri cradled you in her arms as she walked outside, calling for her Ikran.

The Sully family and Metkayina clan made their way to the Cove of the Ancestors. Ronal could not shake the feeling she had thought. That no matter what - they would end up holding a funeral there tonight. She dared not to voice such feelings.

Neytiri stayed leveled, flying closely side by side with Jake and Neteyam. She kept looking down at you through the short journey, checking on you. She wasn't the only one who was doing so though. Neteyam as well kept a close eye on you. Sometimes his Ikran would brush too closely to Neytiri's. She let it slide this time.

The last time Neteyam was here, you were in your Avatar body. You both had a deep love for sacred places to the Na'vi, and this one wasn't any different. Neither of you has heard of the place before, but it didn't squash the appreciation you both had for it. He recalls not just being in awe of his surroundings, but also of you. Your eyes held something remarkable, full of wonder. You'd given him one of your big grins, the one that only comes out in times like this. Your deep appreciation for monumental sites like this made him think of how your heart was just pure gold.

"You'd make a great Tsahik one day", is something he had cheekily said to you. In return you gave him a smack on the shoulder, scolding him. He harbored such great memories from that day, he loved it. He could only desire to relive that instead of all this.

The wind swooshed in her ears, but Neytiri faintly heard you say, "I like it here." She grinned down at you tearfully.

Truthfully, you don't know much about where you came from, to you - Pandora was and always will be your home. Nothing could compare to the beauty it beholds.

"Me too," Neytiri spoke wistfully.

You all were approaching the spirit tree, submerged in the ocean. It glowed like no other. The clan began to make a circle around it, linking their arms.

"Jake, we have their avatar!" Norm called from a rock not too far from the tree that they were safely able to land on. They had left before everyone else to get there ahead of time.

Jake flys down to them, retrieving your avatar.

Neytiri and Neteyam go to the same rock. They step off their Ikrans as Neytiri treats them like a feather. Your whimpers of discomfort do not go unnoticed.

Ronal and Tonawari approach them with a large leaf of sorts.

"You may place her in here," Tonowari told them.

You looked peaceful, too peaceful. You were placed in the leaf, as Ronal began to float you closer to the Spirit tree. The Sullys closely followed behind their Tsahik.

"Jake, attach their avatar to the spirit tree" Ronal ordered.

Jake nodded, placing a mask on your Avatar and activating it - an idea of Norms and Max as you would be underwater for an unknown amount of time. He connected your queue to the tree, the closest he could to the surface.

"We must put them to sleep for the ceremony to start. If you'd like to say anything to them, now is the time." Ronal gave you moments of privacy, swimming over to members of the Metkayina clan to further explain what was going on.

Neteyam couldn't remove his eyes from your Avatar that was shifted with the current of the ocean. Swaying whilst attached to the Spirit Tree, he'd never seen your Avatar look so lifeless.

Jake waved him over, "Neteyam, they are asking for you."

Tuk was crying, her head leaning against your own. You quietly spoke to one another, even while in agony - you managed to make the youngest Sully giggle.

Neteyam drew closer to you, even if you were facing away from him. Like clockwork, you felt his presence. Your head slightly turning to acknowledge him.

Tuk moved back, latching onto Lo'ak as she cried into his shoulder. The entire Sully family have given words of encouragement to Y/n, Jake especially - explaining the process and how it felt passing through "The Eye of Eywa". He could only pray you'd get that far. He was truly hoping this wouldn't be a repeat of Grace Augustine.

"This is not goodbye. When you wake up, I will be by your side the entire time. You are not alone. Oel ngati kameie." He stated, headstrong - like his father.

Neteyam wanted to wipe away your tears, he wanted to lean his head against yours without the obstruction of the mask. He realised that very soon, it could be possible. If you make it through this, that is.

"Neteyam I-I, Oel ngati kameie." You stuttered, voice cracking. That was all you can manage.

Ronal expectantly surveyed the Sullys, Neteyam nodded. It's time.

"We will now begin the consciousness transfer. Neteyam, connect them to the Spirit Tree. You may rest for the time being, Y/n." Ronal announced, everyone, witnessing their mighty Tsahik.

Your eyes fluttered shut, Neteyam looked at his family, before taking a deep breath and bringing their limp body to the Spirit tree.

His eyes widened as one of the leaves reached out, attaching itself to your back. Eywa, are you here? A comforting hand met his shoulder, his foundation. His family.

The Sullys linked their arms as Neytiri and Neteyam held onto you.

The Spirit Tree was alive, its light brightening a tenth fold. Flickering, as it seemed to react to the chanting of the clan. The Sullys could only cling onto each other more tightly as each leaf on the spirit tree lit up. It was fascinating to witness, they were just hoping it would work.

Before they knew it, the lights ceased. Ronal from above the surface halted everyone, before diving down to where you were. Tonowari, Tsireya, and Ao'nung trailed behind. They all looked to you expectantly, hoping for any sort of sign.

Gasping you awaken, struggling to catch your breath as you immediately check your surroundings. Neteyam almost choked on the water as your eyes opened, he tried to get your attention but you were too lost in your own world.

You were in the water, but how were you breathing? The mind-numbing pain was gone, and you definitely felt different. You were trying to remember and process whatever had just happened. Oh yes, the ceremony. It must have not worked, you're still wearing a mask.

By instinct your hands move to cover your face in shame, instead, you see that it's your avatar's hands. You tilt your head down, the legs, feet! It's all blue. Did it actually work?

Neteyam swan closer to your side, pointing upwards. Signing to you to swim up to the surface, you nodded. Detaching your queue, you made your way to the surface - the Sullys except Neytiri followed behind closely.

This time when your head pops out from the water, there is no bullet wound. You weren't bleeding out, you were truly Na'vi. You've miraculously been given a second chance at life.

You removed your mask as grateful tears streamed down your face. You gaped at Ronal and the Metkayina clan, "Thank you, thank you so much." You spoke to them all, signing "I see you".

When you reached Ronal, you brought her into a hug. The soon-to-be mother of a 3rd child was in shock, looking at Tonowari. The man could only grin, urging his mate to return the hug. And so, she did just that.

"Y/n!" Tuk screamed in delight as she swam over to you, you disconnected from Ronal. Mouthing "thank you again", she let a smile slip as she took in your words.

You hugged Tuk, looking at Neteyam over her shoulder. He was looking at you, differently. It was expected that he was always more attentive towards you. It felt all too similar to when he tried to remember every piece of you before parting ways. He was in disbelief.

Neytiri came up from behind Neteyam, a large leaf in her grasp as Jake helped console her.

Neteyam let Y/n lean their head on his shoulder as he squeezed you, kissing your cheek. They all realised what exactly, or who Neytiri was carrying.

Your human body.

You didn't want to look, it felt far too strange to do so. While your avatar still held features very similar to that of your human self, most of what resembled your parents felt futile. It just wasn't the same anymore, and it never would be again.

You felt grateful that you were already aware of how it felt to live amongst the Na'vi in an Avatar body. Navigating this body isn't rocket science, you've been in and out doing so these past few months.

Tsireya comes, with a handful of flowers and seashells. She delicately spreads them around in the leaf.

"In our village, we give back energy to the ocean, the sea will allow their past self to rest peacefully." Tsireya indicated to the ocean floor beneath you all that held a yellow glow.

Neytiri leans her head down, kissing your now-closed eyelids. She felt a sense of deja-vu creeping up on her. Her family follows her actions, all of them kissing your eyelids, their own unspoken version of goodbye. As Neytiri and Jake brought your human body down to the sea anemone that awaited for you, all you could think and wish for - was more time.

You didn't understand why the circumstances had to be like this. As you watched that version of yourself begin to disappear, it physically felt like a part of yourself went with it.

Y/n no longer felt naive to Pandora. They knew more than most about this beautiful luxury. Now that they'd been gifted with a body that was stronger, and more capable. They would stand with their chin held high and fight. Just like their parents had done.

Slowly everyone disperses, making their way back to Awa'atlu. Neteyam can see how drained you are, he silently beckons you to follow him. They make their way back to his Ikran, flying back home.

Everyone's asleep. You had tried to do so yourself, but you only got a good hour in before being awoken by the thoughts circling your mind. Poor Neteyam was exhausted, so it didn't take much for you to escape from his hold and make your way outside.

You let yourself sit on the shore, gazing up at the twinkling stars and endless skies. Squinting your eyes, you saw someone making their way back. Ronal.

Her cyan eyes widened seeing you, hopping off her Ilu she walked over.

"Can't sleep?" Ronal inquired at the obviously distraught child.

You shake your head, no.

Ronal sighed, "I understand, today has changed your life. It is good that you have such a strong support system."

All you could muster was a grin, "Thank you, Ronal. I know I've said that countless times today. But I don't know what convincing it took, but I will forever be in debt to you."

This time, it was Ronal who shook her head.

"I am your Tsahik, you have proven to not be useless here. But that Sully boy, he begged for me to do whatever it takes to save you. I'd like to believe Tonowari would have done the same for me if I was one of the good sky people. You are essential to Metkayina, you are one of us now."

She let her hand linger on your shoulder. Before you could get a response in, Ronal was already walking away back to her mauri.

You looked over your shoulder, she'd done the same.

Speaking it out didn't feel enough, therefore you signed it instead.

"Oel ngati kameie." She did the motion in return.

As she walked inside her mauri, someone else caught your attention.

Your Neteyam.

He darted over to you, a worrisome expression plastered on his face.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" He blurted out, lifting your arms to check if there were any wounds.

"I am, not physically though. Thank you for worrying about me, Nete. I am mourning what I've lost, what those demons have robbed away from me." You explained to him, your hand movements were erratic as you were still trying to come to terms with everything yourself.

Neteyam clenched his fists, before bringing you into his embrace. You leaned your head over his heart, listening to the steady rhythm. It dawns on you, you could've lost this.

Your grip tightens, truly taking him in as you bring your hands through his braids. You could've lost him.

He seemed to be coming to terms with the same realisation. You heard him sniffling as he breathed you in. You made him lean back, your thumbs following his tears as you gently brushed them away. He nuzzled his face into your hands, his body shaking as he tried to conceal the depth of his emotions.

Neteyam tried to speak, his mouth opening only to close again. You let him reign his thoughts as you continued to gently caress his defined cheekbones.

You gazed into his eyes, they were dark, lost. He seemed worlds away from you..

"I simply cannot live in a world that doesn't have you in it." Neteyam spoke through clenched teeth. Like uttering those words was a physical blow to his gut.

"Nete...-" You tried to offer words of comfort, only to be cut off.

You let him - because you understand him.

He exclaimed. "You are my home! You are my person! It should have been me, Ewya worked her miracles today. But seeing you now, compared to how you just were. I keep doubting if you are even real."

Neteyam could not meet your coaxing eyes, his hands were gripping your arms for dear life. Truth be told, when he had woken up and you weren't there? He had thought the ceremony was a sick joke he had curated to cope. His heart almost gave out when he went outside the mauri only to see you sitting in the same spot you always seemed to endeavor.

"And you are mine, I am here. I am real." You carefully removed his hands from your arms, placing one on your cheek and the other on your heart.

"The great mother has given me a second chance, all thanks to you. Do not beat yourself up for something that was out of your control. We've already lost so much time, I cannot afford to dwell on it any longer." Your words settled in his soul, making itself an oasis there. It was like a thwack to the back of his head, just like the ones you'd do when you scolded him.

You're really here. He could breathe.

You were right, it all has already happened. All you can do is move forward. That you can both do, together. As a pair, you were an unstoppable force.

His eyes that were so lost a few moments ago opened, with newfound sparks of hope. A new sense of purpose. Behind all that flickered rage, directed at the sky people. They would pay for what they've done to you if they crossed each other's paths in life again.

You beamed at him, he looks so radiant at this moment. He let you lean your head on his shoulder as he held your hands in his. He traced random patterns on yours as he looked down at them.

"Tanhi, I forget even now your hands are still smaller than mine." He smirked at you as you snarled at him.

"Shut up, skxawng!" You giggled and he could only grin in return, giving your hands a gentle kiss or two.

Between one another you talked about your favourite memories of when you were human through the rest of the eclipse. Neteyam chuckled at one he was specifically fond of as you continued to rant about it.

As his nose nuzzled into yours, your cheeks became a deeper blue hue at his actions. He couldn't be more grateful for the Great Mother and her ways. Neteyam decided to take this whole experience as the beginning of something else entirely.

Eywa has secured a lifetime with you. His father was right, his family is a fortress. He will no longer take that for granted.

Neteyam may not become the Olo'eyktan like his parents were preparing him for. But wherever either one of you went, the other always followed. He will protect that honour for as long you'll let him, and he hopes it lasts for this life and every other one that the world demands of him.

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡

[frostironfudge]

Devour - Bucky Barnes

Summary: the new pics of seb have me in a vice grip so here is Bucky on a Mediterranean getaway with you

Pairing: mafia!bucky x fem!reader

Word Count: 880

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, sm/ut, or/al fem receiving, dirt/y talk, allusions to previous smu/tty times, d/s vibes, sorta mafia bucky?, sorta soft moments, also prinţesă means princess (romanian)

A/N: this picture got everything to life for this drabble @sebsgirl71479 thank you for this picture

Main Masterlist

The heat is sweltering.

Drops of sweat mimic the condensation on your pink drink’s glass. Taking another sip you grumble the ice watering down the sweet and sour concoction. 

“Something amiss?” Bucky’s tone is light teasing from behind you. 

“Drinks all watered down.” You pout, still not turning to look at him, too comfortable in the lounge chair, kindle resting on your thigh. 

The breeze finally comes in drawing out a sigh from you and your eyes close. Soon enough the sun’s heat diminishes and your breath hitches. 

The scent of amber and bergamot fills your senses urging your eyes open. Bucky leans over you, gold sunglasses perched atop his head.

Your eyes trail over his stubble growing in, as he swallows you watch his throat and then follow that trail to the necklace that half dangles still caught in his white tank top. 

That same necklace that grazed your kiss bitten lips last night, soothing the heat spreading over your skin. 

An easy smile on his face, his ring clinks against the glass. “Here,” he says handing you the replacement drink and he stands, “Can’t have my best girl pouting can I?” 

You roll your eyes and he pinches your cheek a habit he formed early on both out of endearment and knowing it annoys you. 

You admire his outfit, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Fuck the drink you want to drink your man in. 

“See something you like prinţesă? You have that look on your face.” Azure eyes that put the Mediterranean seas to shame glint with mischief. 

“Oh, I see something I love.” You flirt back, admiring the way his eyes crinkle as his grin takes over. 

“A moment ago,” He returns to his original spot, the one where he hovered over you.

“You seemed as though you saw something you want to devour.” He smirks, head dipped low, lips brushing below your ear, you whimper. 

The pendant of his necklace brushes over your sternum. Cold against warm.

“Bucky—,” Your words meld into a moan when his lips trail down your neck, he leaves open mouthed kisses and your hands find his shirt tugging on it wanting him closer. 

“A little temptress in this swimsuit of yours,” his larger palm traces from your knee up your thigh and you arch but he only continues over your body till he pinches your hardened nipple through the fabric, “Fuck.” 

He reclined the lounge chair further back, caging you in, your leg now wrapped around him. 

Bucky’s lips are on yours, needy, frantic, cock straining against his pants and your hands wandering but pulling him closer. 

He chuckles into the kiss as your fingers aid in the fall of his sunglasses and his hair coming loose from the bun. He loves how needy you become for him. 

How beautiful you look sun kissed and kiss bitten from the night before all of his marks proudly displayed across your chest, shoulder, the one he left on your inner thigh. 

Bucky growls as a particular grind of his hips makes you moan as your clit begs for more attention. 

“Please, Bucky, please,” You plead pushing the soft blue shirt off of his shoulders. 

“Want to taste you, my temptress.” He cups your jaw, thumb stroking your lips, you suck on the tip of his finger. 

“I want to taste you too.” You nip at the flesh, Bucky smirks above you. 

“I’d have whipped this outfit out sooner.” He laughs when you huff frustrated, then groans as you grind your hips to his, smirking up at him when he affixes you with a pointed glare to behave. 

“I’ll eat you out right here, prinţesă.” He says in warning, hand moving to cup your mound. He can feel the heat of your skin, his own favourite concoction waiting between your thighs. 

“Is that supposed to scare me?” You raise a brow, “Because if I remember right, no one else sees what belongs to the White Wolf.” 

His eyes blaze with something deeper than lust, his possessiveness and protectiveness for you a known fact in his ruthless world. 

“Hmm, well if anyone does see,” He kisses your cheek, then trails his lips down your neck, over your chest the warmth of his mouth preceded by the cool necklace over your abdomen. Bucky settles between your thighs, pushing them apart but pulling you close. 

Nose brushing over your clothed cunt and the sight is so erotic you can’t help but moan. 

“If anyone does see you pleading and pleasing me they know you are mine temptress. As they should.” 

The fabric is peeled away and your folds are soaked, he hums pleased before his tongue runs over your aching cunt. 

You keen as his lips latch onto your clit, your fingers tangle in Bucky’s hair. 

“Which one of us is in for a treat?” Bucky questions rhetorically as you tremble beneath him, his rings digging into your thighs. 

Bucky moans, at your taste, “We’re to remain here my temptress. I want to have my fill. You will give me how ever many I want won’t you?” 

You nod.

“My good fucking girl.” He praises, mouth back on you, your moans pleasing his ears and your taste satiating as well as growing his hunger for you. 

-x-x-x-x-

Bucky Taglist: @slutforsexyseabass @almostcontentcreator @stevesmewmew

[viatrixtravels-a]

"..."

Those words helped loosen up her previously tense demeanor, lips now curved upwards into a small smile.

"Thank you. I value our friendship as well. You were one of the first people I met when I first arrived here in Teyvat. I was at an all-time low back then and it was partially thanks to you and Amber that I was able to pull through."

His expression softened to a more genuine look. "I promise. I'd never do anything to hurt you or your brother. You both mean a lot to me." He might joke around and flirt with the pair, but he treasured their friendship above all else.

[szariahwroteit]

FUNGIRL A Trent Alexander-Arnold + Original Character Erotic Series.

Chapter 2

18+ Minors DNI

In the week that saw Trent photographed by paparazzi on a rather intimate date with an emerging model, Amber had gone radio silent. Completely ignoring him was as mature as she was willing to be.

Every message and FaceTime went unanswered; he followed her on Instagram before she promptly blocked him, confident that this time would be the last.

Although Amber understood that he wasn’t looking for anything serious, the fact that he’d stepped out so publicly with a woman felt as though he was claiming her, and in a way, shitting on her.

“Are you going to walk around looking like a sad puppy?” her older sister Natalia smirked empathetically.

Unlike her younger sister, who had left their hometown in Los Angeles to study law in Harvard before moving to London when she was offered a job within one of the most reputable firms in the city, Natalia stayed home in Los Angeles with their parents and younger brother.

By no means was it her proudest moment, but one night Amber officially reached her breaking point. She needed to get the hurt she felt off her chest, and her older sister offered an ear without any judgment.

“Maybe,” Amber pouted as she made her way back into the office, smiling politely at the familiar faces she passed as she returned from her lunch break. 

“You're way too cute to have any man making you feel this way,” Natalia smiled empathetically. 

As Amber made her way back towards her desk, the floor’s receptionist called her name and waved her over. “Amber! You have a delivery,” she said, holding up a medium-sized cardboard box and a small bouquet of pink roses.

Amber’s heart skipped a beat as she approached the reception desk, her mind racing. Could it be from Trent? She quickly squashed that thought, reminding herself of the last week’s events. Still, a flicker of hope ignited within her as she took the flowers and box from the receptionist.

“Who are they from?” Natalia asked curiously, her face contorting into a curious frown on her sister’s phone screen as Amber turned away from the receptionist to make her way over to her desk. 

“I don’t know yet,” Amber replied, carefully removing a small white envelope from the flowers. Inside, she found a white piece of card with something scribbled on the back of it. Turning it over, her heart skipped a beat.

“Call me when you get these. - Trent,” she read aloud, her voice tinged with surprise and a hint of disbelief. The words echoed in her mind, stirring a mix of emotions that she had been trying to suppress. 

“What’s in the box?” Natalia asked, leaning in closer, her curiosity piqued.

Amber carefully set the flowers down on her desk, propped up her phone and opened the box, her heart racing with anticipation. Inside, she found an unmistakable ox-blood box and instantly froze.

“No fucking way!” Natalia gasped into her sister’s ear-pod, her voice barely above a whisper. “He brought you Cartier?”

Amber’s hands trembled slightly as she lifted the lid of the jewellery box, revealing a set of beautiful diamond earrings. 

The earrings were absolutely beautiful, dancing against the low lighting of the office floor. As the daughter of a high-powered lawyer and a former beauty queen turned relationship guru and therapist, she knew luxury. Her childhood was one filled with debutante balls and societal engagements. 

But this was different. The diamonds she held in her hand symbolized so much more than beautiful jewellery. 

“Diamond earrings!” Natalia exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and caution as she watched Amber’s face drop.

“I…I don’t want them,” Amber stammered, her heart racing for a different reason now. “This is too much. It feels wrong, I have to send them back.”

“What do you mean?” Natalia asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“We’re not together, I’ve been avoiding him since the pictures of him came out on the internet. If this is an olive branch it feels wrong.” The idea that Trent thought she could be brought made her skin crawl, that her pride and self respect came at a price no matter how beautiful the jewellery was. 

The gift, or olive branch, or whatever he thought this was, felt as though it had been given as a means of balm for the hurt she felt and keep her in a place of wading. A means of keeping her around and, most importantly, as if that was what he thought she wanted from him.

Amber’s vision blurred slightly as she fought back tears. “I don’t want to be someone’s consolation prize,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t want to feel like I’m being bought or have a price, this doesn't make up for my feelings.”

Natalia sighed, her expression softening. “I get it, Amber. But maybe he’s trying to show you he’s serious about wanting to make things right. This isn’t just a random gift; it’s a statement.”

“Or it’s a way to keep me there without actually keeping me,” Amber countered, shaking her head. “I don’t want to fall for it. I need to stand my ground.”

“Then do that,” Natalia encouraged, placing a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder. “But you should at least talk to him. You owe it to yourself to hear him out instead of beating yourself up about it. You can’t just ignore everything and pretend it didn’t happen.”

Amber took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “I know you’re right. I just… I don’t want to keep hurting myself. I don’t want to be vulnerable with him.”

“Then set your boundaries,” Natalia suggested. “You can tell him how you feel without giving in. You’re stronger than you think.”

Amber nodded slowly, her resolve hardening. “Okay, I’ll call him. But I’m not keeping the bag. I’ll return it, and I’ll make it clear that I don't see him as a meal ticket.”

“Good plan,” Natalia said, her voice filled with support. “You deserve to be treated with respect, not as a prize to be won back. Stay strong and call me later, I love you.” She continued before ending the Facetime call. 

Placing the lid back on the orange box, Amber packed it back into the bigger cardboard box it was delivered in and placed it safely beneath her desk. 

With a newfound determination, Amber picked up her phone and dialled Trent’s number. As it rang, she felt a mix of anxiety and empowerment. She was ready to confront him, to voice her feelings, and to reclaim her power in this situation.

“It’s me,” she said when he finally picked up, her heart pounding. “Trent, I don't want it.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and Amber could almost hear Trent processing her words. “What do you mean?” he finally asked, his voice a mix of confusion and concern.

“I mean the bag,” Amber clarified, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her. “I don’t want it. I don’t want any of this. It feels wrong, and it feels like you’re trying to buy my forgiveness.”

“Amber, I—” he started, but she cut him off.

“No, let me finish,” she insisted, her heart racing. “I’ve been avoiding you because I needed time to think. I saw those pictures, and it hurt. I know you said you didn’t want anything serious from anyone, but those pictures suggested otherwise. So I’d rather quit while I’m ahead.”

“Amber, please,” Trent interjected, his voice rising slightly in urgency. “I never meant to hurt you. Those pictures… they were a mistake. I was trying to figure things out, and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“Exactly,” Amber replied, her voice firm. “You didn’t think about me and I wish you did,” she sighed sadly. 

“I know,” he said, his tone softening. “And I’m sorry. I should have communicated better. I should have been more considerate of your feelings. I just… I got caught up in everything, and I didn’t handle it well.”

Amber felt a pang of sympathy for him, but she quickly reminded herself of the hurt she had felt over the past days. “Please just give me an address I can send the purse and flowers and I’ll be out of your hair, Trent.”

Thankful for the current scarcity of staff on the office floor, Amber squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled the phone away from her ear before hanging up abruptly. 

She knew if she stayed on the phone to Trent any longer her true feelings were liable to slip and she refused to take any more blows to her pride where he was concerned. 

Hours away from the capital in Liverpool Trent sat completely stunned. He gathered Amber wasn’t impressed with his recent antics, based on her silence over the last week or so, but the hurt in her voice had caught him off guard. He had expected anger, maybe even some tears, but the way she had calmly stated her boundaries made him realize just how serious this was. 

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He had thought the bag would be a way to bridge the gap, a gesture to show her he cared. But now, it felt like he had only made things worse. 

“Fuck me,” he muttered to himself, sinking into the edge of his bed as he took a seat. 

Trent stared at his phone for a long moment after Amber ended the call. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, her words echoing in his mind.

"Please just give me an address I can send the purse and flowers and I'll be out of your hair, Trent."

Out of his hair? Those were fighting words if he ever heard them. He wanted to argue back, to tell her she was being ridiculous and that he cared about her more than any bag or public appearance could prove. But something in her voice stopped him cold.

She wasn't asking for apologies or promises, or even his attention. She was setting boundaries, making it clear what she would and wouldn't accept from him moving forward.

Trent sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process everything that had happened. What made matters worse was that he liked Amber, she was a beautiful woman and a pleasure to be around in more ways than one. 

Each of their encounters had been intense passionate, exhilarating...and sometimes messy. But he loved his life as is, he loved the freedom to do as he pleased without consequence or explanation. 

To Trent, going to dinner with a girl he’d been introduced to by a friend was him exercising his freedom as a single man, a man without consequence or explanation.

As one of the brightest stars in football, he had always been in the spotlight, and he had revelled in it. But now, he was faced with the reality that his actions had consequences, and those consequences were hurting someone he genuinely cared about.

He leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling as he replayed the conversation in his mind. Amber’s voice had been steady, but the hurt was palpable. He had never intended to hurt her; he had just been trying to navigate his chaotic life, and in doing so, he had.

Trent picked up his phone again, scrolling through his contacts until he found Amber’s name. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button. What could he say that would make any difference? He had already hurt whether or not it was in his intention to, and now he was left with the aftermath of his choices.

He thought back to their time together—the laughter, the late-night conversations, the way she lit up when she talked about her dreams. She was more than just a pretty face; she was ambitious, driven, and had a fire in her that he admired. But his admiration didn’t outweigh his desire to do as he pleased.

His desire to look for those same qualities in other women. 

Trent felt a pang of guilt wash over him as he acknowledged the truth of his actions. He had taken Amber for granted, assuming she would always be there, waiting for him to figure things out. But now, he was faced with the reality that he might lose her for good if he didn’t change his approach.

He set his phone down and stood up, pacing the room as he tried to gather his thoughts. He needed to do something meaningful, something that would show Amber he was serious about wanting to make things right. The bag and flowers had been a misguided attempt to bridge the gap, but now he realized that they were just superficial gestures. What he needed was to confront his own feelings and be honest with her.

After a long fortnight of football matches and travelling, he had plans of spending his hard-earned weekend relaxing, but instead, he now stood trying to map out the quickest route to drive from Liverpool to London. 

His decision was impulsive, but he couldn’t shake the hurt in Amber’s voice from his mind no matter how hard he tried. The way her Southern Californian accent lacked its usual charm. 

Letting out a sigh, Trent stood from his bed and made his way into his closet to find something appropriate to wear. He rifled through his clothes, pulling out a crisp white shirt and a black sweatsuit. 

As he dressed, he mentally prepared himself for the conversation he hoped to have with Amber. He needed to be honest about his feelings, to show her that regardless of whether or not wanted to do as he pleased, he understood the gravity of his lack of consideration. He wanted her to know that he cared about her.

Once he was dressed, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. The drive from Liverpool to London was about two and a half hours, but he was determined to make it in less time. He needed to see her, to talk to her face-to-face. 

As he drove, he replayed their last conversation in his mind, trying to anticipate her reactions. Would she be open to seeing him? Would she even want to talk? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the road ahead.

When he finally arrived in London, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the frost-bitten city. 

As he drove towards the city centre he came to a humbling realization, he’d sent the gifts to her office building not because he knew that’s where she’d be, but because he didn’t know where she lived and he was able to obtain the office’s addresses with a google search. 

Every time they’d been intimate it had been in the confines of a hotel room, a fleeting moment of passion and desire before he went on his way again, before he went on to the next. 

Pulling onto the side of a street, Trent pulled out his phone sifting through it until he found Amber’s contact again. 

Part of him knew she didn’t owe him her time or attention, but he still felt compelled to reach out. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button once more. What could he say that would make any difference? He had already hurt her, and now he was left with the aftermath of his choices.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to send a text instead. 

Trent: Amber, I’m in London. Can we meet?

He hit send and waited, his heart racing as he stared at the screen. The minutes felt like hours as he watched the three dots appear and disappear, a constant reminder of his anxiety. Finally, his phone buzzed.

Amber: I’m busy, Trent.

The response stung, but he refused to let it deter him. He quickly typed back. 

Trent: I understand, but I really need to see you. Please, just a few minutes.

He waited, his palms sweaty on the steering wheel. After what felt like an eternity, she replied. 

Amber: fine. 

Trent let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as her previous message was followed up by an address to her apartment building. 

Amber: Meet me at my place in 20 minutes.

Trent's heart raced as he typed a quick acknowledgement. He quickly entered the address into his GPS, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. This was it—his chance to make things right, to show Amber that he genuinely cared about her feelings.

As he drove through the bustling streets of London, he couldn’t help but think about how selfish he’d been, not only to Amber but the others. The laughter they shared, the way she challenged him, and the warmth of her presence. He had been so caught up in his world that he hadn’t considered how his actions would affect her. 

Arriving at her apartment building, he parked and took a moment to collect himself. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. This wasn’t just about the bag or the flowers; it was about their connection and the trust that had been shaken.

He walked up to the entrance and buzzed her apartment. After a moment, he heard her voice through the intercom. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

There was a pause, and he could almost hear her weighing her options. Finally, the door clicked open. He stepped inside, his heart pounding as he made his way to her floor.

When he reached her door, he took a deep breath and knocked. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway, and he felt a rush of nerves. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if she slammed the door in his face?

But the door opened, and there she stood, looking both beautiful and guarded. Amber’s expression was a mix of surprise and wariness, her arms crossed over her chest as if to shield herself from whatever he might say.

“Trent,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” he replied, his heart racing. “Can we talk?”

Amber hesitated, her eyes searching his face for something—an apology, a reason, a sign that he understood. Finally, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter. 

The apartment was cozy, filled with soft lighting and the faint scent of vanilla. It felt like a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the chaos of their recent interactions. 

“Sit down,” she said, motioning to the stylish small white couch. He took a seat, feeling the weight of her gaze on him. 

“I’m sorry for everything,” he began, his voice earnest. “I didn’t think about how my actions would affect you. I was caught up in my own world, and I didn’t consider your feelings at all.”

Amber remained silent, her expression unreadable. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and it made his chest tighten.

“I thought sending the bag and flowers would help,” he continued, frustration creeping into his voice. “But I realize now that it was a stupid move. I was trying to fix things without really understanding what I needed to fix.”

“Trent,” she finally spoke, her voice steady but laced with emotion. “You can’t just throw gifts at someone and expect everything to be okay. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I was an idiot. I thought maybe if I showed you I cared tangibly, it would make up for everything.”

Amber’s expression softened slightly, but she still looked guarded. “You hurt me, Trent. Seeing those pictures… it felt like a slap in the face to have you tell me you don’t want anything serious with anybody and then be out so publicly with someone. I feel worthless.”

“You’re not,” he insisted, leaning forward. “You’re not worthless, Amber. You’re an incredible woman.”

“Just not one you care to take seriously,” Amber said, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “I’m just sex to you Trent.”

Trent felt a sharp pang in his chest at her words. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re so much more than that to me. I’ve never seen you as just a fling. I care about you, Amber. I really do.”

“Then why did you let the world see you with her?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “As a man who’s adamant he wants to be single, why claim her like that? Because I’m just pussy to you, worthless, replaceable pussy.”

Amber couldn’t even articulate the idea of her not being enough for him, it hurt entirely too much. But deep down that is exactly how she felt. 

Trent's heart ached at her words, the raw pain in her voice cutting deeper than he had anticipated. “Amber, please don’t say that,” he pleaded, his voice trembling. “You’re not just sex to me. I’ve never treated you like that. I was trying to figure out my life, and I messed up. I didn’t think about how my actions would affect you, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“Maybe this should be it, Trent.” Amber interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion. “Maybe this is where we draw the line. I can’t keep putting myself in a position where I feel like I’m not enough for you. I deserve better than that.”

Trent felt a wave of desperation wash over him. “No, please don’t say that. I don’t want to lose you. I know I’ve messed up, but I want to make it right. I want to show you that I can be better.”

“Better?” she echoed, her eyes narrowing. “What does that even mean? Do you think a few nice words and a bag can fix this? You think I’m just going to forget how you made me feel? How I've made myself feel?”

“No, I don’t think that,” he said, his voice earnest. “But I want to try.”

Amber shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please don't say things we both know you don't mean.” 

“Amber, I mean it,” Trent said, his voice filled with urgency. “I know I’ve hurt you, but that wasn't my intention.”

“The thing is Trent you did and it's both our fault, when you told me you had no interest in anything serious I should have listened.” Amber pointed out painfully, her voice soft. “But I let myself hope for something more. I thought maybe you’d change your mind, that we could be something real. And then I saw those pictures, and it shattered everything.”

Trent couldn't bear the look on Amber’s face, standing from his seat he strode over to wear she stood clutching her body for some form of comfort in such an uncomfortable situation. 

Amber’s breath caught in her throat as Trent pulled her body into his arms, allowing her to cry into his chest as he held her. 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured again, feeling the warmth of her body against his and the weight of her tears soaking into his shirt. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was foolish and thoughtless, and I can’t express how much I regret it.”

Amber’s sobs began to quiet as she leaned into him, her body trembling with the release of pent-up emotions. “This isn't right, this isn't what you wanted,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. “You shouldn’t have to feel obligated to comfort me.”

Trent tightened his grip around her, unwilling to let go. “Stop,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “If I didn't want to be here I wouldn't be.”

Amber searched his gaze, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all she found was a deep-seated regret and a flicker of hope.

Laying her head against Trent’s chest, she allowed herself to be fully vulnerable for the first time since the fallout. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat provided a sense of comfort she hadn’t realized she craved. 

“Come back to Liverpool with me tonight, spend the weekend with me,” he murmured into her hair, his voice low and earnest. “Let’s talk this through, away from all the noise and distractions. I want to show you that I’m serious about making things right.”

Amber pulled back slightly, searching his eyes for any sign of insincerity. “You really think that’s a good idea? After everything that’s happened?”

“I do,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I want to prove to you that I can be better. I want to show you that I care about you, not just with words, but with actions.”

She hesitated, her heart torn between the desire to believe him and the fear of getting hurt again. “What if it doesn’t change anything? What if we just end up in the same place?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said, his voice steady. “But I need you to give me a chance. I can’t fix this without you.”

Amber took a deep breath, weighing her options. The thought of spending the weekend with him was both thrilling and terrifying. She wanted to believe that the dynamic could change, that he could be the man she wanted him to be. But the fear of being hurt again loomed large in her mind.

“Okay,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come with you. But I need you to be straight up with me, if this isn't what you want I’d rather you let me down easy.”

Trent nodded, his expression earnest. “I promise, Amber. I’ll be completely honest with you. I don’t want to play games anymore. I want to be real with you.”

Amber felt a flicker of hope at his words, but she still held onto her reservations. “If there are going to be other women I’d rather not know,” she said in complete disbelief of her own words as they left her lips.

Trent made her feel pathetic, but still she couldn’t bring herself to fully cut ties. 

“I understand,” he replied, his voice steady. “I won’t put you in that position. I want to focus on us, on what we have. I know I’ve messed up, but I want to make it right.”

Amber nodded slowly, feeling a mix of hope and apprehension. She was stepping into uncharted territory, and while a part of her was excited, another part was terrified of the potential heartbreak that could follow. “Okay,” she said, her voice firmer now. “Let’s see where this weekend goes.”

“Let’s,” Trent smiled softly as their eyes met, the tension between them easing just a bit. He could see the flicker of hope in Amber’s eyes, and it filled him with determination. This was his chance to prove himself, to show her that he wasn’t the man his actions suggested.

As Amber gathered her things in preparation of an impromptu weekend in Liverpool with Trent, her heart fluttering in her chest as he sat comfortably on her bed watching her. 

“Come here,” he said softly, gesturing for her to join him. Amber hesitated for a moment, her heart racing as she considered the implications of moving closer to him. But the warmth in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes drew her in.

She walked over and sat beside him, feeling the familiar spark of connection that had always been there between them. Taking her hand into his, he guided her on top of him so she straddled his lap, her cheeks flushed as he gazed up at her. 

“Where are the earrings and flowers I sent?” Trent asked, a hint of a smirk present in his voice. 

“I threw the flowers in the trash and the earrings are in my closet,” Amber replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her stomach. She felt a mix of defiance and vulnerability as she looked down at him, their positions shifting the dynamic between them. 

Trent raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “You really didn’t like the earrings?”

“It’s not that I didn’t like them,” she said, her tone serious. “It’s just… it felt wrong. Like you were trying to buy my forgiveness or something.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I get that. I thought it would help bridge the gap, but I see it fell flat. I want you to keep it, though.”

Amber's heart raced at his insistence. “Trent, I can’t.”

Trent’s gaze was unwavering, and he leaned in closer, his voice low and sincere. “You can and you will, it’s yours.

Instead of continuing their back and forth, Amber climbed off of Trent’s lap to continue packing for the weekend. 

As she moved around the room, gathering her essentials, she felt Trent's eyes on her, a mix of admiration and concern etched on his face. The tension in the air was palpable, and Amber couldn't shake the feeling that they were at a crossroads.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Trent asked, breaking the silence as she folded a few clothes into her overnight bag. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

Amber paused, looking over her shoulder at him. “I’m not doing this because I feel pressured. I’m doing this because I want to,”

As present and in the moment as Trent was, he allowed his eyes to slip and study her figure as she stood in an oversized tank that showed off the swell of the sides of her breasts and a pair bicycle shorts that looked as though they’d been painted on. 

The idea that he’d made such a beautiful girl question her worth didn’t sit right with him, regardless of whether or not he was looking for anything serious with anyone. 

By the time Amber had finished packing a small Louis Vuitton duffle bag, outside was completely dark. Making sure all of the lights in her apartment were off, she followed Trent out into the evening. 

The drive from just west of central London to Liverpool took about two and a half hours, but the time seemed to fly by as they talked and laughed, the tension between them slowly dissipating. Amber found herself relaxing in Trent’s presence, the warmth of his smile and the sincerity in his voice easing her worries, if only a little.

As they drove, they discussed everything from their favorite movies to their childhood memories, and Amber felt a sense of normalcy returning. It was as if the weight of the past week was lifting, and she could almost forget the hurt that had lingered between them.

By the time they got to Trent’s neighborhood the nighttime had completely taken over, Amber sat in quiet awe as she took in each large, beautiful house they passed. 

This would mark the first time she’d ever been in Trent’s space and she couldn’t help but wonder what the premier league star’s house would look like. 

Trent parked in the driveway of a sleek, modern house that stood out among the others on his street, its clean lines and expansive windows inviting curiosity. Amber felt a flutter of apprehension and excitement as he turned off the engine and opened the door for her. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said with a faint smile, leading her up the stone walkway. The house was impressive, a testament to his success, but it felt oddly warm and inviting. 

As they stepped inside, Amber was immediately struck by the spaciousness of the living room. High ceilings, contemporary art pieces adorning the walls, and minimalistic furniture created an airy atmosphere. Cozy textures were layered throughout, and soft lighting cast a gentle glow, making it feel almost intimate. 

“Make yourself at home,” Trent said, casually tossing his keys onto a nearby counter. Amber wandered further into the space, taking in the details—the bookshelf filled with an eclectic mix of novels, the framed photos capturing candid moments from Trent's life with his family.

“Wow, this is really nice,” she remarked, turning to face him with a genuine smile, feeling a little more at ease. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

He chuckled softly, leaning against the kitchen island. “Thanks. It’s taken some time to make it feel like home. I travel a lot, so I wanted somewhere to come back to that felt… personal.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Amber replied, her gaze drifting over the sleek appliances and the small touches that hinted at his personality. “It feels lived in.”

“Exactly,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Want something to drink? I think I have a decent bottle of wine stashed away somewhere.”

Amber bit her lip, considering. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

As Trent disappeared into the kitchen, Amber took a moment to absorb the environment fully. The artworks scattered throughout the space hinted at a sensitive side she hadn’t quite seen before, the mix of personal and professional resonating with her more than she'd expected.

“Here we go,” he returned a moment later, a bottle of red wine in hand and two glasses dangling from his fingers. “I hope you’re a fan of Merlot.”

“Always.” Amber smiled as he poured the rich, deep liquid, the aroma filling the air.

They settled on the couch, their knees almost touching but with enough space to allow for the tension that still lingered in the air. As they shared the wine, they spoke lightheartedly at first, their laughter echoing through the living room.

But as the evening wore on and the bottles dwindled, the atmosphere shifted subtly. Amber felt the weight of their earlier conversation press upon them, and she realized that they would have to address the elephant in the room sooner or later.

“Trent,” she began, twirling her glass nervously. “I appreciate you bringing me here and wanting to make things right, but I need to know what you really want from this.”

Trent set his glass down, his expression growing serious. “I want to be honest with you, Amber. I like you and I want to continue seeing you, but I also need time to figure things out.”

Amber felt her heart race as his words hung in the air, the weight of his admissions settling over them. “You like me?” she repeated, searching his eyes for any trace of insincerity, but all she saw was earnestness.

“I do,” he said, leaning slightly closer, his voice low. “But I also know I’ve messed things up. I want to be real with you moving forward, but I can’t promise some fairytale outcome overnight.”

Her pulse quickened at his honesty, the mixture of hope and uncertainty swirling inside her. “So, you’re saying you want to see where this goes?” 

“Exactly,” he replied, his gaze steady. “But I need to do it right this time. I don’t want you to feel like you have to earn my attention or that I’m keeping you at arm’s length. You deserve better.”

Amber couldn’t help but smile slightly at his words. The vulnerability he was showing was so different from what she’d experienced before with him. “I just don’t want to go back to feeling like I’m not enough or like I’m something to do when there’s nothing to do.”

Trent reached out, taking her hand in his and squeezing gently. “You are more than that. You have to believe me.” 

His touch sent a shiver up her spine, igniting a chemistry that had been brewing between them all along. Still, the remnants of her heartache loomed heavy. 

Pushing all rational thought to the back of her mind, Amber leaned into Trent pressing his lips against hers as he melted into his seat, swiftly pulling her body on top of his. 

Lost in the moment, Amber felt the warmth of his body envelop her. The kiss was electric, igniting every nerve ending as she responded instinctively to the heat radiating between them. It was unlike any kiss they had shared before—fueled by the pent-up emotions from their tumultuous journey, each brush of his lips against hers whispered promises of something more.

Trent’s hands found their way to her waist, holding her firmly yet tenderly as though she might slip away if he didn’t. She reveled in the feeling of being wanted, the way he kissed her with a desperation that mirrored her own longing. The world around them faded, leaving just the two of them tangled in each other and the weight of their unspoken feelings.

As they pulled apart, breathless and wide-eyed, Amber searched Trent’s face for a hint of what he was thinking. “I—”

“What is it?” he cut her off softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“I want you to fuck me,” Amber murmured, her heart racing at the audacity of her words. It felt both liberating and terrifying to voice what she desperately craved. 

Trent's eyes darkened with intensity, a mix of surprise and undeniable hunger flickering across his features. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and taut, like a bowstring ready to snap. 

Amber nodded, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her. “I need to feel something real right now, something that reminds me of the connection we have. It’s been too much chaos lately, I just want to feel you.”

And feel him she did. 

Amber lay back on the plush sofa, her legs spread wide as Trent knelt between them. His hands gripped her inner thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin as he gazed up at her with hungry eyes.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he groaned, his breath hot against her dampening pussy lips. "I could eat this sweet little pussy all day."

Trent dove in without hesitation, his tongue delving deep to taste Amber's arousal. She let out a sharp gasp, hips bucking slightly at the sudden sensation.

"Oh god... Trent..." Her voice trailed off into a moan as he worked his magic, lapping and sucking with increasing fervour.

He alternated between long, slow strokes of his tongue and quick flicks against her sensitive clit. Amber's head thrashed from side to side, her shiny black hair splayed across the cushions as she struggled to maintain coherence.

"That's it, baby... just like that," she panted. 

Trent's hands slid up Amber's body to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over the hardening nipples. He suckled harder on her pussy, determined to make her come undone.

“Like this?” Trent asked raising his head, his chin and lips glistening with her arousal as he puckered them and allowed a bead of his spit to fall into her clit, before sucking it back into his mouth, his eye’s never leaving hers. 

Amber's eyes widened as Trent's saliva hit her sensitive clit, the added moisture sending shockwaves through her body. "Yes, god yes..." she whimpered, arching into his touch.

Trent continued to lavish attention on her sex, alternating between sucking and licking in a relentless rhythm that had Amber teetering on the edge of climax. She could feel the pressure building inside her, coiling tighter with each pass of his tongue.

"I'm so close... don't stop," she begged breathlessly, fingers tangling in Trent's tapered curls.

He obliged, as he devoured her pussy like a man starved. The room filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and wet slapping noises as he ate out Amber with wild abandon.

Just when it seemed he might push her over the precipice at any moment, Trent pulled back slightly. “Reach down and spread pussy open for me,” he instructed. 

Amber's heart raced as Trent commanded her to spread her pussy open for him. She instinctively tried to close her thighs, but he held them apart with a firm grip.

"Please... I'm so sensitive," she whimpered, feeling exposed and vulnerable in that moment.

Trent didn't relent, his intense gaze never leaving her face. "That's the point, beautiful. You're mine to play with right now."

With shaking hands, Amber reached down and grasped the swollen lips of her sex. She parted them slowly, revealing the glistening pink flesh within. A trickle of arousal escaped, dripping down onto the sofa cushion below.

"There you go," Trent purred approvingly, leaning forward once more to lap at her juices greedily. His tongue delved deep into her folds again, swirling around her clit before tracing up and down each side of her slit.

The added stimulation from spreading herself wide made everything feel even more intense for Amber.

Amber's head thrashed back and forth as Trent worked her over, the combination of his skilled tongue and her shameless display pushing her to the brink. "Oh fuck, oh my god... I'm gonna cum baby!" she wailed.

Trent responded by redoubling his efforts, sucking harder on her clit while thrusting two fingers deep into Amber's twitching channel. He curled them just right, rubbing that sweet spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids.

With a keening cry, Amber shattered once more beneath him. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around his invading digits as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over her. This time, Trent didn't pull away – he kept eating at her sex until she'd ridden out every last tremor.

Only then did he withdraw his fingers and sit back on his heels to admire his handiwork: Amber lying spent and sated on the sofa, thighs still parted in invitation.

“More,” she breathed, her fingers gently tracing over her sensitive pussy as their eyes met. 

“More?” Trent repeated. 

Instead of offering him a verbal response, Amber sat up and moved over onto her hands and knees, a deep arch in her spine. She wanted him to fuck her until the hurt and embarrassment she’d felt over the last week were wiped clean from her mind. 

Trent's eyes widened at the sight of Amber presenting herself so wantonly. He swallowed hard, his cock throbbing in response to her display. 

"Fuck, baby... you're incredible," he murmured, a low growl building in his chest as he pulled off his pants and boxers. His rigid erection sprang free, thick and pulsing with need.

Trent positioned himself behind Amber, running the head of his dick along her soaked folds teasingly before pushing inside. She was still sensitive from her previous orgasms but welcomed the stretch as he filled her gradually.

"Ohhhh shit..." she moaned, arching back into him before he abruptly pulled himself from her. 

“I need you in my bed,” Trent growled, his voice thick with desire, as he quickly grabbed Amber's waist and spun her around to face him. He claimed her lips with a fierce kiss, tongues dancing as they both breathed heavily through their noses, the tension crackling between them.

“Let’s go,” he said, his breath warm against her cheek, as he scooped her up effortlessly, causing her to gasp in surprise. His hands gripped her thigh while she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the unmistakable heat of his body against hers.

With a powerful stride, Trent carried her upstairs to his bedroom, their breaths mingling with the urgency of their need. He kicked open the door, quickly stepping inside before gently setting her on the bed. 

Amber's heart raced as he stepped back to admire her; the flush of passion coloured her cheeks, and her body gleamed with a sheen of perspiration, the sight of her drove him wild. 

“Can I return the favour?” she asked, eyeing his long, thick cock that hung heavily beneath them. 

“You want to?” Trent asked taking hold of his length, slowly stroking from tip to base and back again as Amber crawled to the edge of the bed. 

Amber's eyes widened at the sight of Trent's impressive erection, her gaze locked onto it hungrily. "Yes," she breathed, reaching out to wrap a hand around his shaft. "I want to taste you."

Without waiting for an invitation, Amber leaned forward and took him into her mouth, moaning softly as he filled her oral cavity. She began to bob her head slowly, savoring the saltysweet flavor of his precum on her tongue.

Trent let out a low groan as Amber worked him over with skillful lips and tongue. Her free hand fondled his balls while she sucked gently on the tip of his cockhead.

"Fuck... just like that," he encouraged through gritted teeth, fingers tangling in Amber's hair. "You're amazing."

Emboldened by his praise, Amber increased the pace of her ministration.

Trent watched in awe as Amber made a mess on him, saliva and pre-cum coating his cock as she took him deeper, the warmth of her mouth and her eyes never breaking contact with his driving him wild with lust. He could feel the heat pooling in his belly, every flick of her tongue sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through him.

“God, Amber,” he gasped, tilting his hips forward to meet her mouth as she sucked harder, pulling him in deeper until her throat constricted around his length. 

In response, she moaned, sending vibrations through his shaft that had him groaning louder. The sight of her on her knees, completely absorbed in pleasuring him, was more arousing than he could have imagined. 

“Breathe through your nose, baby,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to let her catch her breath. “You’re doing so good, so messy for me.”

Spit dripped from Amber’s chin gathering on her chest and flat stomach as she allowed Trent to have his way with her mouth and throat. 

Reaching between her own legs, Amber gagged as her fingers came into contact with her clit, instantly sending a chill down her spine as she refused to break eye contact with the man before her. 

As Trent's cock slid deeper into her mouth, Amber felt a surge of pride and desire. She loved the power she wielded with her lips and tongue, the ability to make him groan and tremble beneath her touch. Her own arousal grew with each thrust, juices dripping down her thighs as she sucked him harder.

Trent tangled his fingers in Amber's hair, guiding her pace as he rolled his hips against her face. "Just like that... fuck yes," he panted, eyes locked on hers as she worked him over.

Amber moaned around his length, sending vibrations through his shaft that had him gasping for breath. She could taste the salty tang of his precum mingling with the musky scent of their combined arousal filling the air.

Lost in the moment, Amber forgot about everything else  Trent's fame, their complicated relationship status, even her dreams for a more meaningful connection. All that mattered was pleasing this man who stirred such intense passion within her.

Amber’s mind turned to mush as Trent fucked her throat, his hand gripping her hair into a messy ponytail as she took him. 

Trent hated how selfish his thoughts may have sounded, but there was no way he was actually going to allow Amber to walk away. His interest in other women didn’t take away from what he felt towards her. 

Pulling her mouth off of him Trent watched in awe as a string of her saliva ran from her lips to his hard dick. 

As Trent pulled out of Amber's mouth, she gasped for air, eyes glazed with lust. He was so hard and thick in her hand, the head glistening with saliva. 

"Hmm... you taste amazing," she purred, stroking him slowly as she looked up at him through heavy eyelashes.

Trent shuddered at her touch, his breath hitching in his chest. "You're fucking incredible," he rasped, reaching down to help her off the bed. 

Amber let him pull her to her feet and then turned around to present herself once more. She spread her legs wider, giving Trent an unobstructed view of her dripping pussy.

Trent stepped forward, his eyes locked onto Amber's glistening sex. With a reverent hand, he cupped her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her back against him.

"You're so ready for me," he growled approvingly, rubbing the head of his cock along her slick folds. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget your own name."

Amber shivered at his words, a thrill running through her at the promise of rough passion. She reached back to guide him inside, but Trent wasn't having it. Instead, he gripped both of her hips and slammed into her with one powerful thrust.

A sharp cry escaped Amber's lips as she was filled to the brim by Trent's thick length. He didn't give her time to adjust before pulling out and driving in again, setting a relentless pace that had them both panting within moments.

"Yes... just like that!"

Trent grunted with each powerful stroke, his hips snapping forward to bury himself in Amber's heat again and again. He could feel her pussy clenching around him, her inner walls rippling along his length as he claimed her thoroughly.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, sweat beading on his brow from exertion. "Take it all, baby."

Amber moaned wantonly, pushing back to meet every thrust. The slap of skin against skin filled the room as Trent thrusted into her with abandon, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

He reached around to thumb at her clit roughly while continuing to piston into her slick channel. The added stimulation had Amber seeing stars within moments.

"Oh god... I'm going to cum!" she keened loudly.

Within an instant Amber was beneath Trent, their foreheads pressed against the other and her legs over his shoulders as he buried himself inside of her, making her take every last inch of him as he bottomed out. 

“Trent, you’re so big!” Amber squealed, the indescribable pleasure she felt accompanied by a dull ache. 

"Shhh, take it," Trent whispered against Amber's ear, his hips never ceasing their relentless rhythm as he pistoned in and out of her clenching heat. "Your little pussy was made for my cock."

Amber whimpered, trying to catch her breath between cries of pleasure as Trent's thumb rubbed merciless circles over her hypersensitive clit. "Don't stop..."

With a guttural growl, Trent slammed into her one final time, holding still as his release hit. Amber felt each hot spurt of his cum filling her to the brim, marking her insides with his claiming essence. "Fuck yes... give it to me," he panted, grinding against her to prolong the sensation.

As Trent slowly withdrew, his softening member slipped free with a wet sound, followed by a trickle of their combined fluids onto the bed sheets below.

As caught up in pleasure as he was, Trent noticed Amber had rolled away from him, putting some distance between them in his spacious bed, an action he didn’t approve of. 

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Trent pulled her body against his, turning her so she faced him as they both lay catching their breath. 

As their eyes met, a moment of vulnerability passed between them. The haze of passion began to lift, revealing the reality of their situation. Amber's heart raced, not just from the physical exertion but from the emotional weight of what had just transpired.

"That was... intense," she breathed, her cheeks flushed as Trent tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Trent smiled softly, brushing his thumb along her cheek.

“Yes.”

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Nevermore - Remastered

Another Spooky Season remaster, this time featuring some awesome original art from @spaced-goddess. Go check her blog out!

“Alright now, up we go,” came Mrs. Winthrop’s soft voice, as she picked her onesie-clad student up from the classroom floor and placed her onto her desk, their school principal looking on as she did. “Can’t be having a talk with you while you’re crawling around on the floor.” 

Amber didn’t resist. She didn’t say anything, didn’t fight back against her teacher’s choice of words - after all, walking without tripping seemed to have become her latest challenge, and she had the carpet burns on her knees to prove it. Without a word of protest, the girl allowed herself to be picked up and placed on the desk, hiding her blushing face away as much as she could. 

This was a far cry from the girl who first arrived in Mrs. Winthrop’s preschool classroom on Halloween day, half a year before. That Amber was headstrong and defiant, fuming constantly that some saboteur had seemingly drugged her and messed with her brain, leading her down a road of failed tests and embarrassing accidents. She was furious that she had to drop out of the college and come here to relearn her basics, and she let everyone around know it. 

That Amber was proud. She was sure of herself. And even through all of her setbacks, she was confident. “Whatever,” she would snarl, “fine.I’ll just re-do some stuff and get out of here. I’m still an adult. I’m still better than all these dumb little brats.” 

As the school year wore on, though, those “dumb little brats” could actually keep up with their preschool lessons. And Amber? Not so much. 

While her classmates learned their numbers and letters and shapes, Amber just stared blankly, trying and failing to understand what the teacher was talking about, only to be distracted by the slightest hint of a pretty bird or a squirrel outside the window. Again and again, those “dumb little brats” ended up having to help her with shape blocks and stacking rings, while they played with their ‘advanced’ toys. Again and again, they would have to remind Amber to use the potty - or, more often, tell Mrs. Winthrop when the girl had an accident. 

Maybe, if Amber had known that she was under a witch’s curse, she wouldn’t have been so shocked at how it all turned out. Maybe, if she had heard the incantation, heard that the spell would lower her abilities to the level of her maturity, she would have understood why her stubborn attitude wasn’t getting her anywhere. But of course, these were truths she never would have accepted, or believed. 

“Amber, sweetie,” Mrs. Winthrop began, “we need to talk about your progress.”

The girl said nothing. Her face was turned away, her hands hidden between her legs.

“Now now,” the principal chimed in, a stern air of authority in his voice, “your teacher made you a very special potty chart, don’t you remember?”

Amber turned her eyes briefly to the wall, turning them back just as quickly. It was embarrassing for her to think about - the way her teacher had set it all up to help encourage her re-training, the whole class cheering her on like their little sister as she proudly donned her training pants. But of course, her results were anything but encouraging, and she was soon taken out of pullups altogether.

“Do you think you did a good job with your potty training?” Mrs. Winthrop asked.

The girl hung her head in silence. 

“And do you think you’ve been doing a good job with your preschool lessons?” the teacher added. 

“N-no,” Amber finally muttered, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

“And do you know what we’re going to have to do now?” came the principal, his arms crossed as he stood in front of the girl.

“Am I… Am I gonna havta stay in preschool again next year?” Amber's voice began to crack. 

Mrs. Winthrop let out a heavy sigh. “No, honey… I’m afraid it doesn’t look like you’re ready for preschool at all.”  

The girl was in shock. “B-b-b-b-” she stammered, “but… but I’m a big girl! I’m a big girl!”

 “Oh?” the principal offered flatly, “And what do you think makes you a big girl?”

“‘Cause - ‘cause I’m…” Amber took her hands out from between her legs, trying to emulate the “I’m this many!” gesture that her classmates would often make. She wanted to show that she was nineteen… or was it twenty now? Was twenty more than nineteen? Would she need to use more fingers than the other preschoolers did? After all, she was a lot bigger than they were. But then again, they were a lot smarter than she was…  

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Winthrop intervened, motioning the girl’s hands back toward her lap, “I think the poor thing’s gone and confused herself again.”

It was at that moment that another set of footsteps made their way into the classroom, and they belonged to Tom, Amber’s college boyfriend. Through all her failures and misadventures, he was the only one who stuck by her, seeming to enjoy having to take care of her more and more. And now, here he was again to pick her up from school.

“Daddy!” the girl blurted out instantly - he’d encouraged her to start calling him that, and it came naturally to her now - “They tolded me I can’t go preschool! They tolded me I’m not ready! But I’m a big girl! Big girl! Big girl big girl BIG GIRL!!” Amber shrieked, pounding the desk with her balled-up fists as the tears began to stream down her face.

“Oh my,” Tom turned to the two adults, unfazed, “has she been causing trouble?”

“Ah, you know how she can be,” Mrs. Winthrop shrugged, “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for her, trying to keep up with these classes with the level she’s at.” 

“Maybe,” Tom nodded, a wry smile beginning to form, “or maybe she just needs a change and a nap.

“Up we go, princess,” he turned to the girl, lifting her from the table and into his arms, “time to go home.” 

“BIG GUWL!” Amber kept shouting, hands still waving in the air, “BIG GUWL! BIG GUWL!”

“I’m sure you will be one day,” her boyfriend-turned daddy assured her, patting her padded bottom, “but for now, we’re gonna find you a nice daycare, and first we gotta change you out of that stinky diapy.”

“But I’m not stin-” the girl protested meekly, before freezing halfway through.

That, of course, was when the smell and the sensation hit her. Of course she was stinky - she'd probably filled her diaper while shouting about what a big girl she was, while insisting that she belonged in a preschool where she was nothing more than the pants-pooping laughing stock of the class. 

As the last remnants of her pride crumbled away, Amber started to imagine just how far she had left to fall. She wondered, as she was carried away from that classroom for the last time, was she going to be the laughing stock of her daycare, too? It was all too much for her mind to handle, and so the girl simply started to bawl. She cried, helplessly, like the little baby she had become. She cried, helplessly, like the little baby she had now been for months. She cried, helplessly, like the little baby she was going to be for a long, long time.     

[mikeymadisonsvibrator]

Marks

Tara Carpenter x Amber Freeman

Word count: 1277

Summary: What Amber and Tara were actually up to when "grabbing Tara's inhaler from Amber's room".

Warning: lesbian situationship!

Mild smut under the cut 🕺✂️

(repost cause something odd happened to the original post 🧟‍♀️)

As the last party-goers stumbled out of her house, Amber guided Tara upstairs, tugging at her hand, leaving their friends downstairs. Tara struggled, barely keeping up, with both her crutches clutched under one arm. "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure it's on top of my desk," Amber said, trying to remember the exact location of the inhaler Tara came here for.

Tara looked back at Sam, who was frowning at the sight of them. She tapped her watch while sternly looking Tara in the eye, signaling her to hurry. She had a bad feeling in her gut, like shit was about to go down, so she wanted to get out of here and back on the road as soon as possible.

Sam sighed, knowing they were gonna take their time anyway. She wasn't blind. She saw they had something going on. The lingering touches, the charged stares, and... Her mind traveled back to a few days prior, when she had visited Tara in the hospital. Maybe she had been better off blind.

---

As the elevator door to Tara's private floor opened, she heard whiny grunts coming from her sister's hospital room. Sam's heart dropped. She rushed to open the door, mind obviously jumping to the worst-case scenario. With wide, adrenaline-filled eyes, her gaze fell on Tara. Her eyes went impossibly wider as she saw Amber, pulling her hand from under Tara's hospital gown, fingers sticky. Tara was red as can be, surely a mix of embarrassment and the previous actions she was enduring. Amber, of course, just had that signature smirk on her face, shamelessly, no, challengingly staring at Sam. The older sister had mumbled something about them being unbelievable as she closed the door again, waiting in the hallway for Amber to leave. Tara had sworn they weren't dating, but that fact only made Sam more disturbed.

---

As the duo reached the top of the stairs, Tara simply shot Sam a soft smile and a thumbs up, though, she didn't look worry-free, either. See, deep down, Tara knows Amber's secret. But everytime she tries to gather her thoughts and actually try to confirm it, she feels ridiculous. Honestly, her head cannot wrap around any of her friends having the ability to murder people in cold blood.

Though, on those addictive nights, when the both of them are alone, with Amber knuckle deep inside Tara, she sees it. Even through hooded, pleasure-blurred eyes, she still sees it. The teeth-shattering clenching of her jaw. The horrifyingly psychotic grin on her lips. The narrowing of her cold eyes, as she studies every muscle in Tara's face, taking in the sight of her edging on the border of pleasure and pain. Amber is psychotic. Yet Tara can't help coming back for more. Amber's got her wrapped around her finger. Around multiple, on a lucky night.

Tara snaps out of her thoughts at the sound of the bedroom door closing. Amber's hand slips out of hers. "So," she starts, walking towards her desk, fetching the inhaler. She holds the device between her pointer finger and thumb, toying with it, wiggling it from side to side. "Were you really in need of this?" She steps closer to Tara, who is still standing in front of the closed door. "Or did you just need an excuse to... see me once more?" She smirked as she stood right in front of the smaller girl, looking down at her.

Tara felt the squeeze of her lungs, begging to be pried open again. She also felt the increasing dampness of her underwear, clinging to her skin. "Both," she muttered out, looking up at Amber's piercing eyes with her own, desperate, doe-like ones.

Amber hummed at the pretty sight, leaning in closer, hovering over Tara's lips after she licked her own. "Open up, baby," she spoke suggestively. Fully aware of Amber's habit of spitting in her mouth, Tara complied almost immediately, sticking out her tongue slightly. It was one of those more lewd things Amber introduced her to, and she eventually grew to love, now even more than Amber did, arguably so.

Amber scoffed and shook her head softly, smirking down at the younger girl. She looked down at her hand holding the inhaler as she brought it up to Tara's lips. She sighed, teasingly. "Always such an eager slut."

Tara blushed furiously at her slip-up and rolled her eyes at Amber's misleading games, but finding the humor in it nonetheless. She quickly wrapped her lips around her inhaler, looking back in Amber's eyes. The medication filled her lungs, and she let out a satisfied sigh. She felt the heat slowly move away from her cheeks. It traveled down to her core instead when Amber muttered out a soft, yet possessive praise, tucking the inhaler in the latina's back pocket, not missing the chance of giving her ass a good squeeze.

Tara couldn't stop the little whine that escaped her lips. Her body was extra sensitive, still on-edge from the brutal attack she endured a few days ago. She wasn't sure if it was pleasure or pain she felt. Then again, with Amber, she never really knew.

Amber's hand traced the line of Tara’s jaw, fingers cold and firm, forcing Tara out of her own head again. The smaller girl's big, brown eyes looked up at Amber, who's smirk deepened, as she leaned in, her breath ghosting over Tara's mouth before she closed the distance. Their kiss was slow, almost teasing. Amber’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the sharp edge of her demeanor, but her kiss held that same power, her dominance. It made Tara's knees buckle, her crutches dropping to the floor as she vulnerably steadied herself in Amber's arms, reaching up to hold her face.

Amber bent through her knees slightly, gripping at Tara's thighs, picking her up. Tara whimpered, feeling her body's injuries burn and ache as Amber's grip pulled at her skin. The pain slightly ebbed away when Amber's back met with her mattress and Tara now straddled one of her thighs. She immediately ground down, rutting her hips eagerly, sitting upright. She had one hand grabbing Amber's shirt, and the other against her mouth, biting at her nail. Finally, she had an opportunity to release some of the ever-growing tension for Amber between her thighs.

Amber loved the sight of the girl on top of her. She looked desperate and sensitive and vulnerable with her eyes rolling back into her skull. Her little, whiny, pained huffs were the cherry on top. Amber could feel the yearning between Tara's legs radiate through the multiple layers of clothing between them. It only riled her up more, angling her thigh perfectly for Tara to grind against. Her ears feasted on the pitchy, broken moans rolling off her lips. They reminded her of the ones Tara released a few nights prior, after Amber had slid the knife into her stomach for the first time, and she desperately tried to crawl away on her kitchen floor.

At that memory, Amber lifted up Tara's shirt, biting her lip at the sight of the stitches on her stomach, and the soft abs rippling underneath them as the latina continuously rutted her hips against Amber's thigh. She traced the forming scar tissue with her fingertip, admiring her work.

Tara frowned at the feeling, snapping out of her blissful state. Suddenly, the gut-wrenching reality of the situation dawned on her again. Killer on the loose. Friends dying. Organs ripping. Blood pooling. Stitches pulling. Grinding on her number one suspect's thigh.

She halted her movements, her eyes opening, immediately darting to that familiar, psychotic smirk aimed at her.

"You've always looked pretty, covered in my marks."

[viktorsheraldry]

I just want a fic of Viktor loving Jayce so much that he forces him to live after the last episode.

He would just give Jayce one sad smile after Jayce said they’d end it together, maybe caressing his cheek softly and mutter an ‘I love you’ to Jayce, before Viktor ends up ejecting him out of the astral plane and using the rune himself.

Jayce had his mother and Cait to get back, and he just couldn’t stand to pull him away from them even if he selfishly wanted to have the man all to himself.

So he goes through the agony of being unmade and made again but feels so warm knowing Jayce will live another day and be around the people he loves. One sacrifice for the good of the whole in regards to Jayce.

Only he doesn’t end there. He winds up somewhere in the same world, body still gleaming with the metal of the Hexcore but the sinister almost no there edge of a vast being is absent from his mind. He still has his powers, but they are more organic than before, not like they were sucking the life out of him at every turn.

He lives a quiet life over the next 5 years, helping people in his travels in an effort to atone for the misguided and corrupted ways he tried to hand out peace. Viktor would think often on Jayce, hoping he was doing well and good for himself.

It wasn’t until he was in the outskirts of Noxus, helping build prosthetics for the less fortunate, that he sees Jayce again. He stands near Mel, a smile on his face and hands sweeping out as he talks about something or other. It hurts but Viktor is glad he looks good, healthy even. He watches from afar at the market till he passes, amber eyes shadowed underneath his hood. It was the closest thing he could find to their original blanket.

Viktor turns away to grab a few of the fresh fruit lining the stand, intending to return to his temporary accommodations he’d been given. But spares a glance back to Jayce, one selfish last look for he hopefully never sees Jayce again. He burns for the man so furiously but knows it would be best for him.

Hazel eyes widen as they connect with his. Viktor steps back as Jayce calls out to him softly, hands reaching out to him. Viktor can practically see the tears brimming in his eyes even from half away across the market.

He takes another step back, eyes darting away to look for an escape route. They jerk back when Jayce barks his name louder, more demanding for his attention. Jayce’s looks pleadingly but there’s also an edge of something more, authority perhaps. Promise of chase if Viktor makes a run for it, but a glance at his leg tells Viktor he has a high chance of getting away if he makes the dash now.

Viktor doesn’t even turn back to Jayce, dropping the bag of fruit and dashing through the streets and into one of the many alleyways of the sprawling city, ignoring Jayce’s increasing frantic cries

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!DeafReader

Summary: Part two to deaf reader

Warnings: none I think

WC: 3.5k

Author's note: for the ones who requested @perfectartisanwerewolf and @freakshow2501. How y'all enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes.

Moving to New York had been a big change. With everyone getting accepted into in Blackmore University, everyone packed up and moved. Everyone had to wait a few weeks before actually moving, with everyone's injuries and unable to do anything it wasn't until summer break till you moved. Once everyone was healed.

Your fingers had healed, slowly but surely. They still ached sometimes but the doctor had said that was normal. They only really ached when it was cold out.

With Sam finding an apartment with three bedrooms. You had planned to get your own apartment but with not only Tara trying convince you, so had Sam to room with them. The original plan was for them to find a roommate in New York. Although the more Sam though about it. She didn't want to be living with a stranger. You moving in with them was the best and safest option.

"Y/nn?" Tara had loved every second of you living with her. Everyone was still settling into the new apartment. Your room was basically across her own. The few weeks of living together with her sister and you have been honestly the best. If she tried really hard, she could forget what happened last year. She knew it wasn't healthy. But she had tried hard to move on. Move on with her sister and you. Her friends. It was all she needed.

Her own healing process took a bit longer. Her leg still caused her pain from time to time. Times when she'd walk for too long. The ache it brought would make her want to cry. The ache brought back the horrible memories of that day. How it had been Amber in that mask. How it had been Amber to almost kill her. Her once best friend.

On those days you were a great help, helping her with her leg. Always offering a leg massage to relieve some of the pain. It always helped. With your hands fully healed it also helped you with your fingers, as you've said before. The constant need to move them, you had hated it having them binned together so tight. You had said that it had quickly become stressful. The need to move your fingers and being unable had quickly become too much at times for you. The day you got the bandages off, she had seen the way your shoulders seemed to drop the stress they carried for the past weeks.

Having your hands massaging her leg had become a way for you to move your fingers. Exercises them as you said. She couldn't complain, your massages had quickly become one of her favorite past times. She also worried about you. Making sure you would go to your physical therapy, after the bandages and little casts were off. She always made sure you had gloves on you especially when it was cold out. She knew the cold caused your fingers an ache.

Having you live not only a few feet away from her had also brought her more peace to have you closer. Since they moved in. She's either spent the night in your room or you in her room. She has yet to gather the courage to ask you out on a date. She could say she's great at reading you. She could see how often you had your arms around her, yes you had always been a touchy person. But you were never this touchy with anyone but her. That was something she always treasured. The way you had a different smile every time you looked at her. The looks you both shared, the way your eyes said so much.

She just hoped she was reading things correctly.

When you didn't turn around and continued to do what you were doing she stepped into the room. She took in the room, you were quick in making your room feel like home. The boxes that once filled the room were now gone. She also took in that your hearing aids were being charged on your drawer next to your bed. So you couldn't hear her.

*

You wanted to be done unpacking as soon as possible. Seeing all the mess that came with moving was beginning to bug you. As soon as you were done with your room you would offer your help to Tara. Sam was also almost finished with her own room. You were now just fixing up your pictures. Most of them being of you and Tara. Some with Mindy, Chad, Wes and Lev. You missed Wes and Lev a lot. They had always been super nice to you.

Turning around to put some of your pictures on your desk. Only to get startled, seeing Tara leaning on the desk.

Where are your spare hearing aids?

You smiled with a shrug. You thought you had packed them with your chargers and lap top. But you had unpacked that already. Maybe you left them at home. You tried to remember where exactly you put them.

Tara wanted nothing more than to kiss your pouty lips as you concentrated. With a smile she shook her head walking towards you gently pushing you to sit on the bed. Digging in her hoodie (your hoodie). Cupping your cheek to make you look up at her. She moved to put on your hearing aids. Purposely moving closer hearing the small hitch coming from your throat to turn them on.

"You left them in my room back in woodsboro." Tara could never get over how you looked at her. The gentleness in your eyes, it always made her heart race.

The smile she got in return just made her want to kiss those lips. Wondering what they'd feel like on hers. Feeling your warm hand on her cheek, her head moving to lean on your palm.

"I really like the sound of your voice."

The blush that covered her cheeks, leaning closer just a tad bit closer. Seeing you not pulling away was making the bravery she felt in this very moment grow. The way you were looking up at her as she stood between your thighs. It was giving her all the strength and courage to do what she had been dreaming about doing. Giving you a chance to pull away just in case she was reading everything wrong. But that didn't happen, instead the hand still cupping her cheek pulled her closer. Closing the small distance in between them.

The feeling of your soft lips on hers, the fireworks, butterflies in her stomach going absolutely crazy. Her hands taking their place on each side of your cheeks, your own arms wrapping around her waist. Her heart jumping into her throat at how effortlessly you picked her up and put her on your lap.

"Fuck."

The way she sounded had you pulling away. Your hearing wasn't the best but Tara was right in front of you, on your lap. So you were able to hear how breathless she was. Her lip stick was a mess and most likely on your lips as well.

"Will you go out on a date with me?"

The words were heard loud and clear. You couldn't believe it, not only did you just kiss the girl you've been deeply in love with. With a beaming smile you brought her down for another kiss.

*

Tara had been a nervous wreck the whole day. She was finally going out with the girl of her dreams. The girl she had been longing for, for so long was finally going out on a date with her. She wanted this date to go perfect. So she had asked Sam to help her set everything up. With that she looked herself over making sure she looked good.

The last thing she expected when she opened her bed room door was to see you standing there. A sight that had her smiling, the happiness she felt in this very moment. Nothing could ruin how happy she felt. The adorable sight of your hand raised to knock and your other hand with a single rose, a sweet but shy smile on your face.

"For you." You signed too nervous to speak. "You look beautiful."

Your style had always been the baggy style. It had been a look she loved seeing on you. Especially loving how your clothing fit on her when she "borrowed" them. Right now you were dressed a bit more formally, for you at least. But you still looked absolutely stunning.

"Thank you. You look beautiful to." Leaning forward placing a sweet kiss on your cheek. Loving the way you bashfully looked down. A clear blush on your cheeks. Quickly putting the rose in a cup of water before taking your hand.

Making sure you had everything, including your hearing aids. She lead you out of the apartment. Her nerves being replaced with excitement.

*

The drive to where ever Tara was taking you had been a half hour drive. You had tried to get more information on where she could possibly be taking you. But with a smile she had refused to answer your questions.

Until you saw the bright colorful lights. Ever since moving New York you had been wanting to go here but things had been busy with your therapy that you still had to go to. You had promised your mom that you would keep going. With school almost starting up again. You just never had the time.

"Oh my god is that the New Yorks state fair!"

The smile on your face had been everything Tara wanted to see. She knew taking you here would be a great idea. Parking Sam's car couldn't have been quicker.

*

You were having a blast. You had gotten on rides with Tara. Who also had such a big smile on that beautiful face. Taking food breaks here and there. Refusing to let Tara pay for everything.

"Can we go play some games?"

It wasn't rare that you fell back on your sign language when you were in a crowded and loud place. It was often hard for you to focus with so much noise. So with a smile Tara interlocked your fingers with her own and lead you to the shooting range. You had been eyes the big stitch bear. And damn it she was going to win it for you.

Thanks to the shooting classes that Sam had signed her up for. She didn't have to try so hard. Successfully shooting the six bottles for the big prize. Taking in how excited and happy you looked hugging the stitch. Laughing when you pulled her in for a hug. Cheeks flushing a the feeling of your lips on her cheek, close to her lips. As you softly whispered into her ear.

"Thank you."

*

You had made it your own mission to win Tara something. And you may have gone a bit over board. The basketball game you were able to win her a few prizes. With the prizes you won and the big prize she won you. You both had walked back to the car to leave all the things in the back seat.

"Come on. There's one more thing I wanna show you." It was getting late and the weather had gotten colder. Yes she should have worn another sweater. But she wanted to show you one more thing before the night ended. At the sudden halt coming from you not moving she turned to look at you. Only to see you taking off your coat.

"Here you go." The warm coat that filled her nose with your scent had her almost wanting to bury her face into the warm coat.

"But you'll be co-" Stopping herself as you showed her the hoodie and sweater you had on. With a shake of her head she pulled her own arms in the coat. That fit her more like a dress and took your hand back in hers.

Not far from where Tara parked the car, there had been a nice little baking store. One where she knew you'd love. Baking had always been something you loved to do in your past time. The shop didn't close till midnight so she had plenty of time. She had the best idea to ask you officially to be her girlfriend. Being with you had been everything she's ever wanted. Your smile directed at her. Being the cause of your happiness. She's been in love with you for so long.

*

Entering the bake shop you felt your stomach growl at the sweet smell. The fair food had been delicious but that had been two hours ago. And all that walking had built up an appetite.

"Hello welcome to Honey's Bakery! What can I get started for you lovely ladies."

With the shop being mostly empty, the soft music of Taylor Swift playing in the background. Your hearing was a bit better than back at the fair. The hearing aid doing its job in helping you hear a bit more clearer. It wasn't the clearest but it did the job. Letting your ears be pleased with the sound of Taylor Swift's Enchanted. Letting Tara lead you to where ever the mid age woman was leading you.

Seeing all the plain cup cakes and decorating supplies it was then did you realize what you would be doing.

"We will create each other's cup cake."

So with that you were in your own little station decorating a perfect cup cake for Tara. Doing your best to draw a little babadook doll. It wasn't your best work but it was coming out pretty good. You tried to look over the small divider separating you and Tara to see if she was finished.

"Hey! No pecking." Blocking you from seeing her cupcake with her body.

"Let me see. I'm done with mine." You handed her your master piece. Watching the the excitement in her eyes.

"Oo! That looks so good. Thanks baby."

The pet name had your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. Then she handed you her own cupcake. One that had a small writing. 'Be my girlfriend?'

This was it. The courage and determination she had for so long to finally ask you that question. Yea she shared a kiss with you but she wanted to make sure. That you knew she wanted to be with you, forever. You were her endgame. And she had to make sure that you knew that. Judging by the way you smiled down at her and lightly pecked her lips.

"As long as you're mine as well."

*

You had been dating Tara for a month now. And you honestly never been happier. The moments you shared with Tara had been so refreshing and just lovely. You couldn't be happier. Sam had been so supportive of the relationship. The bond you had with Sam had been a strong sister bond. Obviously not as strong as her and Tara. But strong nevertheless.

College had been something you had been excited and nervous about. But as the weeks went on, school had gone as expected. You had a completely different career path than Tara did. With her law classes and your veterinary classes. You both were busy. But never too busy for each other. Always taking time in each other's day to get together.

Like today, for lunch you were waiting in the quad. Waiting for Tara to get to the table as well. Sam had agreed to drop off some food for you and Tara before heading off to work. You had been let out a bit early. So you sat alone. Tara had texted you that her professor wanted to talk to her after class so she would be a bit late.

The slight vibration of the table shaking, from a book being slammed on to the table grabbed your attention. You looked away from your phone. Seeing two girls standing in front of you. Their lips were moving, you had turned off your hearing aids the moment you stepped out of your class. The halls tended to be too loud.

But you weren't stupid, the mannerisms of the two girls weren't nice ones. You had been deaf for quite a while now. It wasn't rare for you to get made fun of. To be teased in such a way that left you feeling humiliated and vulnerable. The way two girls moved their mouths, the way they did weird motions with their hands was anything but friendly.

~

Sam had loved the moment you and Tara finally got together. You were sweet, caring and protective of Tara. You were also trustworthy. If she felt comfortable and sure of someone being with her little sister. That someone would be you. She knew she could trust you.

Since her sister and her friends stated college, things had mostly stayed the same. Instead of Tara going off to some parties like she had said. Tara stayed home with you. Baking, cooking, watching movies. Or sometimes even going out to explore more of New York. Sam much preferred Tara being with you than out by herself at a frat party.

You moving in with them had been the best decision she could have made. She wasn't sure why she almost let a stranger move in instead. It also helped that you were a great cook. You had always helped around the apartment. You were honestly the biggest help repairing the sisterly bond between Tara and herself. With you in the apartment it made it feel more homey with all the delicious food you cooked.

She can't deny that she's grown quite protective of you as well. So when she saw two girls yelling at you. As you sat on the table looking uncomfortable. She picked up her pace to get to you.

"Hey! I'm talking to you. Aren't you going to fucking respond. Are you a fucking killer just like those psycho sisters." 

Placing the pizza and bag of two drinks on table. Getting the attention of the two bitches. "You mean the same sisters who aren't afraid to put two bitches like yourselves in your place. Now walk away before I do something I for sure won't regret." The fear on the two girls was hard to miss. And she thrived in seeing how scared the two girl got.

"You're still standing here, why?"

It was all she had to say before the two girls basically ran away. Turning back to face you. You now looked relieved.

"You okay?"

"I'm okay, thanks."

With a nod Sam decided to wait for Tara to get there. Asking you questions about your classes. How you excitedly answered her questions. Her sign language skills still weren't the best so she appreciated you going a bit slower, so she could understand.

She didn't have to wait too long till Tara showed up.

"Hey baby." Placing a kiss on your cheek, your smile was much more relaxed at the sight of Tara. Sam could only smile at the sight of the two. "Sam? Thanks for the food but shouldn't you be heading to work?"

Tara could read her sister like an open book. "What's wrong?"

"Just some girls being assholes." That took her attention from her sister to you. Who refused to meet her gaze, pretending to not hear but she saw the moment you turned on your hearing aids when she got to the table. She knew you didn't have any more classes and neither did she so she gathered your things along with the pizza and sodas.

"We're going home. We'll see you later Sam."

With a nod Sam was on her way, leaving Tara and you.

*

"What did they say?" She had waited till getting to the safety of their apartment.

"What they always say Tar. It's nothing new. Can we just cuddle and watch some movies?" You had already moved to go to your room to change into some more comfy clothes. Tara right behind you. Her words getting stuck in her throat momentarily at the sight of your bare back before it was covered by a hoodie. Your smooth toned legs for show as you also got rid of your jeans before putting on some loose sweats.

"I promise I'm okay." You know stood in front of her. Your strong arms wrapping around her body pulling her closer. Leaning down lightly kissing her nose. Smiling when she adorably scrunched her nose.

With a sigh, she let it go. Promising her self that she'll ask Sam when she gets back from work. A moment of relaxation is what you both needed.

The rest of the day was spent cuddled up together. Basking in your warmth as she laid her head on your chest.

Your hearing was never the best. Life without sound had been hard. It hadn't been long till your mother was actually able to afford hearing aids. Without hearing aids it had been hard for you to get used to life without sound. The moment you actually got your hearing aids and heard Tara's voice for the first it truly had sounded so heavenly to your ears. From that moment your favorite sound had been Tara's voice.

To this day it still continues to be your favorite sound.

:)

[urhoneycombwitch]

lulu idk how to properly explain it but “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” rly screams reader teasing steve when they’re hooking up post- or mid-s4. something very goofy but also a little angsty abt it… because you both know he shouldn’t have gotten out of these situations but he somehow has. this while they’re having passionate rushed life affirming sex 🫶🏻if that makes any sense hehe xox han

foreword: Han I can’t tell u how perfect this is for the drabble I’ve been planning in my head for days now. paying homage to S4 Steve with this one!!! (4 u my beloved @stevenose )

wc: 1.4k

cw: hurt/comfort, oral (R receiving), description of injuries, lightly unresolved angst

___

Something’s different, this time.

You can feel it in the way Steve touches you, a bit rougher around the edges, crowding you back against your bedroom wall, stealing the breath from your lungs with the force of his kisses.

He’s adhering to the routine, still, can’t really fault him for his hunger- it’s been two weeks since he’s been by; you figured he was busy with trying to find a new job after the mall fire and plus, Steve’s not the calling type. Not with you, at least.

Which is fine. It’s been a cordial friends-with-benefits, emphasis on the benefits, since your collective senior years. After Nancy Wheeler dumped the King of Hawkins High, you were the one to pick up the pieces. It’s been a mutually beneficial arrangement for the last few years, a familiar fling to expend pent-up energy with no strings attached.

Steve’s always been a really attentive sexual partner (has you to thank for that, really- you fucked him when he was still spoilt high school royalty, all bravado but none of the skills to back it up until he was taught), but the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s hungry, has you squirming.

“What?” he asks, between kisses with tongue that part past the seam of your lips. “What’s up, hm?”

Steve’s hands are splayed on the wall at either side of your head, his eyes lust-blown, black nearly overtaking amber irises. You shift against the steady weight of his body against yours, slipping your hand up up up to cup the side of his face.

“This new?” Your thumb catches the white-lined split of his lower lip.

Steve kisses your fingertip, dismissive. “Doesn’t hurt any more. Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s not an answer,” you start, but Steve sighs so piteously and with such conviction that you kiss him again.

It’s not like he hasn’t shown up with minor injuries, before- there was a month straight where he had a new bruise every few day. He was squirrely about their origins and then they faded and you forgot all about them.

You’re finding it hard to hold on to any strand of coherency now as Steve takes the skin of your neck between his teeth, denim-clad knee slotting at the apex of your bare thighs; He’s still fully dressed, while you’re down to just undies and bra.

Half a bra, now, as Steve slips one of the straps from your shoulder to release a breast, dipping down to suck your nipple into his mouth.

You hiss when there’s a flash of teeth, hands shooting to grip Steve by the long strands of his auburn hair. He moans in response, vibrations sending shockwaves to your core, hips bucking to grind into his waiting thigh.

Steve kisses across your chest, hands sliding up your back to undo the bra clasp. He drops it to the floor, then latches on to your other nipple, cheeks hollowing out with the force of his suction.

You can feel the ridge of his split lip. When you tug at his hair, hard enough to tip his head back, he comes off your nipple with a wet pop.

“What?” He whines it, this time, petulant, pawing at your lower back to take more of your weight onto his knee. “Honey, what? Jus’ lemme take care of you, for chrissake.”

Steve buries his grumbling into your clavicle as you pet through his hair, caution in your tone as you say, “Heard about the mall fire last week.”

“Yeah. Crazy news for a small town, huh.” Steve doesn’t even pretend to sound interested, instead sinking to his knees and pressing your hips flat to the wall with his big hands.

“Thought maybe you’d tell me-” sentence bisected by a brief gasp as Steve noses into your clothed pussy, stuttering out the end- “-a-about it.”

“Nothin’ to tell, angel,” Steve says, pulling your underwear down and off your legs before sliding a hand under your knee and slotting it over his shoulder.

He leans in, nose bumping into your aching clit, tongue wet and warm at your entrance.

Any argument that you’d been leading up to is erased from your mind the second he starts sliding his tongue in and out of you, strong and quick, wetness gushing out to greet him.

“Steve-”

He places a hand over your stomach, thumb deftly finding the pulse of your clit and rubbing in tight circles, and you’re gone- thighs trembling around his ears, stomach muscles rippling under his palm as your orgasm curls you inwards.

Steve coaxes you through it with his mouth and fingers, wringing out every last bit of pleasure. He leaves a trail of wet kisses as he ascends your body, a sharp-sweet tang of you as he licks into your mouth again.

“On the bed,” he says, voice low. Half-lidded eyes watch you obey.

In the few seconds that it takes Steve to close the distance, some of the fog clears from your mind, hand at the middle of Steve’s chest before you get flattened on the mattress and really lose all sense of decency. “Hold on. You’re not even gonna take off your shirt?”

He grins, all charm, leaning some weight into your hand- “Could be kinda kinky. See if you can make me cream my jeans. It’s your favorite pastime, after all.”

Your resolve is nearly gone as you pull him in by a fistful of shirt to keep kissing him- but when your other hand trails up his ribs and Steve flinches away, your blood runs cold.

“Steve.�� It comes out more authoritative than you mean it, but you figure firmness over fear is preferable right now, so you don’t soften. “Take off your shirt. Now.”

He straightens with an eye roll, but when he sees that you’re not fucking around, he sighs and reaches behind his neck for the collar of his shirt. “Fine. But I’m not too pretty after boxing, last week, you should just know th-”

Steve’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath, your eyes roving over his bare torso for the first time that night.

Even in the soft light of your bedside lamp, it’s bad. The left side of his ribs are mottled with bruising, some areas wine-purple, yellows and greens wisping around his waist.

You shove at his shoulder, and he half-acquiesces, letting you catch sight of a bootprint in the tender flesh of his lower back before knocking your hand away, gently- “Hey- they’re fine now, okay? I’m not hurting any more. Took some Tylenol before this, so I-”

“That is so not the point.” On your feet now, arms crossed over your chest, tears springing to your eyes- “Bullshit you got all that from boxing. These are like- like hospital-grade injuries, Steve.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, sits on the edge of your bed, still in his jeans- “I know, sweetheart. I got checked out by the paramedics, at the mall- they said there’s nothing to do but wait it out.”

You step closer, until you’re between his parted knees, his hands coming to rest on your bare hips again as you say, quiet and hurt- “You weren’t gonna even tell me? About being in the fire?”

His thumbs stroke hypnotic across your skin. “Didn’t wanna upset you.”

Your head hinges back, eye-roll of your own as you scoff to the ceiling, then back to him, trying to wall in your teary emotions with forced stolidness- “Look, I probably don’t have any right to say this to you, seeing as we’re just fooling around and I’m not your mother, but… I’m worried about you, Steve. You keep showing up on my doorstep more fucked-up than last time and I just…”

Steve pulls you in again, hugging around your middle, side of his face pressed warm to your bare stomach; you continue.

“I don’t want you to just fuck your way out of these situations, any more.”

He kisses just above your navel. “Okay. Deal. From now on… not including tonight.”

You’re going to protest, you really mean to, but then Steve’s kissing his way down again- and your argument melts away with the rest of your night.