#They aren’t coming back and I still love them

[fluoneia]

“this is dumb.” jinx mumbled. you grin, taking her hand in yours.

“it’s not!” you exclaim, dragging her into the open space. classical music played through the speaker, although buffered and a little distorted, still able to make out it was a slow song.

“i’m not.. slow dancing!” jinx huffs, crossing her arms on her chest. “i don’t even know how!”

“this is a staple in date night. couples slow dance!”

“not this couple.” jinx makes a hmph! sound, tilting her head up. “i don’t dance.”

“come on, i’ve seen you dance when you’re creating your little gadgets.”

“they’re not gadgets, they’re bombs. that kill people?”

“gadgets, bombs, whatever.” you say with a tut of your tongue. “come on! it’s just us. i’m not gonna judge you.”

“but you’ll make fun of me!”

“teasing you is just what i do.” you’d shrug. jinx groans in annoyance, moving to stomp away, before you grab her wrist. “come. i’ll teach you.”

jinx narrows her eyes at you.

“come on.. for me?”

she is silent for a second. then she makes a dramatic groan of fake frustration and saunters back to you.

those stupid eyes of yours could make her do anything.

“this is not out of my own volition.”

“you’re here, aren’t you?”

jinx deadpans. “whatever.” she makes a tch sound with her lips. “how do i do this stupid dance?”

“there’s no right way,” you say simply. you guide her hands onto your waist, your arms sliding onto her shoulders, hooking them behind her neck.

“wha—!”

“just relax.” you say softly, soothingly. with an annoyed huff, she tightens her hands on your waist.

“follow what i do.” you say. without another word, you take a step to the side, hand grabbing onto her torso to guide her to do the same. “don’t overthink it.”

“well, i am. this is so stupid.”

“it’s romantic.” you tease, raising a brow. jinx frowns. “just follow me. alright?”

“yeah, yeah.” she says quietly.

slowly, but surely, she finds the rythm as you both take steps around the open space. and slowly, she begins to smile. enjoy it, as she figures out the steps as you and the music continue on.

she lets out a sigh of relief.

her arms slide over your waist, her arms wrapping around you.

“this is.. actually kind of nice.” jinx whispers.

“see?” you beam up at her. “told you.”

“you don’t have to ruin it by being a smartass.” she grumbled.

you both find silence after a while. you treasured moments like this with her— where she was truly herself, and not some made up persona zaun believes her to be.

she was soft in her heart. and she was yours. yours to hold, to dance to songs like this in eachothers solitude like nothing else mattered.

because nothing else did matter with her.

.. but, she was still jinx, after all.

she yelped as she stepped on the end of her own braid, stumbling to the side.

and, therefore, caused a series of events. she dragged you down with her as she fell, crashing into a box where her work-in-progress smoke bombs that still had a sensitive trigger.

your eyes widen.

“oh, shi—“

BOOM!

you coughed as smoke filled the room, the sounds of the smoke bombs exploding beside the both of you deafening out the music.

“i told you this was dumb!” jinx waves her hand in the air, coughing.

slowly, the smoke dissipated, and the music started to become louder once more.

you turn over, seeing jinx with powdered ash all over her face, exclaiming in frustration as she brushed off her clothes. her gaze turns to you with a huff.

“that’s it. we’re never dancing again.”

you’re silent for a second.

then, you laugh. and you keep laughing till your stomach hurts.

“what the hell are you laughing at, huh?!”

“oh..” you wipe your fake tears, “oh, just, i fucking love you so much.”

jinx feels her eyes widen. her breath catches in her throat.

“whatever, dumbass!” and her voice crack is just so damn cute as she pushes herself off the floor, stomping away from the scene. “this was dumb! i’m never doing any cheesy romantic stuff with you again!”

“hey, date night isn’t over!”

jinx pauses. she turns, blinking. “where the hell do you think i’m going right now? i’m getting our stupid damn food.”

and you laugh again.

“stop laughing! ugh!” she slaps her hands on her thighs as she storms back toward the kitchen. “stupid dancing! stupid music!”

she kicks the record player to stop.

oh, date night couldn’t have gone any better then you imagined.

for @16spades omg this request was so cute i couldn’t help myself

[unknownogre]

“What?!”

The hero looked to Nuvian with a very puzzled expression, the half-elf bard just smirked a bit and gave him a wink. Up until now he was the model of virtue, always helping the hero make the right choice so the people would love him. Telling the best stories so his path stayed true…so the works coming out of his mouth right now were jarring at best.

“Yes, let me toy with him for a while. I think I can get three or four weeks. Two months if I use this new healing spell I’ve been trying to learn on the side. Oh I think his screams will be wonderful…a symphony for the soul if you will.”

Nuvian smile as he moved the villain over to make sure his heart was still bleeding and offering some stabilization without waking him up. The hero was just dumbfounded at the moment.

“I…I was just going to kill him.”

Nuvian didn’t even look back as he made sure to search the Villain’s pockets and remove everything but enough clothes to leave his modesty intact. He moved like he was an expert at this, like it had been done a hundred times and this was simply business as usual. Even his tone was as light and warm as it ever has been.

“Oh, I know, but that was never the plan my dear friend. This was the plan. This has always been the plan.”

The rest of the party was recovering. They had all been just hurt enough to have to stay behind for the final battle leaving only the hero and his trusty bard to face the boss alone. None of them grievously injured…but just enough so they wouldn’t be at full so they weren’t strong enough to walk through the barrier.

“The Plan? You need to talk to me Nuvian. I want you to explain everything right now!”

The Hero panicked, had he just been manipulated this entire time? Were his motivation his own? Panic…worry…dread. He said he’d never be a puppet again. Not since escaping slavery.

“Oh it was simple. Keep you good, get you strong and get to the villain. Kill him, won’t help you feel better. You know it needs to be done though. If you did this, you’d lose part of yourself. Which is fine. You’ve only killed monsters up to this point, mindless hunks of meat that deal out constant aggression. They have no emotions, no anything. They are easy to kill. Sentient beings on the other hand, well that isn’t you cup of tea. Don’t worry, your quest was yours alone, I didn’t need to make you do anything. I was just along to get to this point.”

At this point the Hero didn’t even notice Nuvian hoist the Villain up on their horse and secure them to the saddle. The bard then turned to his friend and walked over to put a hand on his shoulder. The Hero’s eyes locked with his friend and oddly enough he found comfort in them. This was the man who had saved his life, who sang by the fire at night to quell the restless spirits that banded together to remove the Villain from power. He was there, it couldn’t have all been a lie could it?

“Listen, you aren’t the only one this bastard has hurt. On top of that he knows things, things no one but me knows he knows. So I want some answers. I get to have fun while I rip them from his flesh. I’m a nice person my dear Hero but I’m not a good one. Do you remember the corrupt mayor that we punished last year?”

The Hero nodded and then froze.

“What did you do to him? We left him in a jail cell and moved on. The city was supposed to do what they needed…but then you had business. I…I watched you get on a boat and leave. We met up a month later.”

Nuvian just smile and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. He then motioned for him to sit down in the batter throne they found the villain on while Nuvian sat in the stewards spot.

“Well, I did have business, but I just had the ship drop me down the river and I looped around back. I then hunted down every noble that supported the Mayor, I tortured them to make sure there were no hidden secrets, and then I tortured the mayor till his body gave out. I did some of my best work. A demon actually came up from hell to have me autograph a square of his flesh after his body gave out and his soul hit its final destination. It was really an honor. Shows I’m on the right path. Most polite pit fiend I’ve ever met. Didn’t use my real name of course, not that stupid. We had a laugh over it, all in all a great time.”

The Hero was still stunned but honestly he didn’t feel bad about it. He didn’t give the go ahead for this, but he knew if anyone deserved those fates it was that pedophile mayor and his lackies. Reason was starting to return, and the more Nuvian talked the more the Hero realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t know his friend, he just didn’t know ALL of his friend and that was okay because he was finding out now.

“Alright, if that is what you want to do I’m not going to argue or stop you. Come find me when you are done though okay, I want to take you out to the tavern for a drink.”

Nuvian just chuckled and brought his friend in for a hug. He knew the Hero wasn’t naive and thus why he was chosen as a traveling partner and one to help him get to his goal. Find, capture, break and then murder the Villain. The process took three years, but three years of well spent effort.

“Deal.”

The bard said as they parted ways and he turned to head out of the place before the rest of the party could try and press their morals upon them. Nuvian could only chuckle as he head the Villain groan in pain. Oh it was going to be SO much worse in just a day’s time…he couldn’t wait.

'You can't kill him!' 'Ugh I am so sick of this idea that killing this monster would make me just as bad as he is!' 'What? No I'm saying I can keep him alive for DAYS while I torture him' '…'

[xoxxbilliexoxx]

Friends? Just Friends?

After years of being friends with Billie, the sexual tension comes to an all time high and can’t be ignored any longer. You finally let her teach you exactly what it feels like to be with a woman

This is super long but I promise it’s worth it ;)

Y/N Pov

I walk over to the speaker, turn it on, and ask Billie what playlist she wants to hear. It’s a chill Sunday afternoon, and after Billie and I woke up around noon, we’ve been lying in bed watching TikTok and yapping. Billie slept over last night after a late night at a friend's party. It seems like these days I don’t spend many nights without Billie in my bed, or me in hers. We’ve been friends for years but a while ago we both expressed how bored and lonely we each had been, and started hanging out almost all the time. Now a few months later, she's definitely my best friend, always attached to each other's hips. I finally pulled myself out of bed a little while ago, and now it is unfortunately time for my Sunday routine. Billie knows it well by now since she’s been forced to be a part of it week after week.

“Let's do some bossa nova this week, I’m in the mood to move my hips” Billie laughs back at my question. We’ve bonded over our love for international music and it has been slowly added into the Sunday routine, choosing a different type each week once I finally force myself out of bed, cleaning up my room while Billie's lazy ass stays under the comfy sheets goofing off on her phone and telling me all her crazy thoughts. She starts seductively moving her hips beneath the blankets as she laughs and hums to the Brazilian guitar purring through the speaker. I look over at her as I lean down to pick up the dirty clothes that have accumulated in the corner of my room, laughing back at her.

As I stand up and try to turn around, I feel my foot slide out from under me, seemingly having been planted on a dirty pair of underwear I missed. I hit the floor with a loud thunk and Billie darts to the corner of the bed, not even trying to hide her laughter as she tries to calm down long enough to ask if I’m okay. I turn my head to follow her voice, and all I can see is her head extending off the bed, hovering over me, leaving me laughing just as loud as she is. “Oh my god, I will never not make fun of your clutsy ass ending up on the floor” she yells out between her giggles, trying hard to catch her breath as she points down at me laughing more as she mocks my fake hurt face.

I grab the first thing I can find next to me and throw it at her face before pretending I’m mad, yelling for her to quit being a bitch and help me get up. She dramatically dodges whatever it is coming for her face then leans her hand up catching it. As she opens her hand and realizes it's my black thong I wore last night, she acts as if shes absolutely disgusted before she laughs and throws it back at me. “Bitch don’t you ever throw ur crusty ass panties at my face again,” she says with a tight smile, letting me know she doesn’t actually care. I open my mouth gasping at her words, “crusty? Whose panties you calling crusty cuz they sure as hell aren’t mine” I say, before standing up from the floor and grabbing them to add them to the laundry bin. “My kitty is nice and clean, and so are my underwear,” I add, as I turn to her, knowing she hates when I call it my kitty.

“Yea yea,” she laughs, before jumping off the bed, “I bet it is,” she whispers, leaning her head close to mine before winking and walking to the bathroom. I take a second to look for something next to say, not coming up with anything. Billie and I have always walked a fine line of flirting and just joking around as friends. It's clear we both do it, but we’ve never acknowledged it. Instead, it just stays in our presence, like a thick tension we pretend we don’t feel. I feel it all too well though, always holding an intense attraction to her, since the day I met her. Quite honestly it was even before that, when I was still just a fan of hers and never thought I’d end up her best friend. That is another whole story though.

Ever since I told Billie I thought I might be gay, the tension has only grown, yet we continue not to recognize it, like we are both terrified of what might happen if we do. I decide in a split second to be bold, regretting the words as soon as they come out of my mouth, “Nice and clean and with no one to show it to,” Billie whips her head back at me with a smile, toothpaste spilling out the sides as she laughs and wipes it away, rubbing it shamelessly on the big t-shirt she slept in. I giggle a bit before finding my confidence again. Maybe this damn bossa nova is getting to my head but I feel the tension as thick as its ever been. I catch a look in her eyes that I haven’t seen before, like shes thinking about what I look like under these boxers. “No *girl* to show it to”, adding emphasis to my words as I correct my previous statement.

I turn around and walk towards my desk as silence falls between us. I begin picking up all the makeup on my vanity, continuing on with my cleaning, letting the bossa nova fill my head again. I can hear Billie finishing in the bathroom, clinking her toothbrush on the side of the sink before setting it back in the cup and walking into my room again. She settles on the edge of the bed in criss-cross, watching me clean and hum along with the guitar.

“So you’ve thought more about it then, huh?” she asks me delicately, knowing we haven’t talked about it in a while. I look into the mirror and find her eyes on the bed behind me, eyes that have already found me. I turn around to face her before I shrug my shoulder. “I mean I think about it constantly, I just feel so nervous about it all. I really think I’m into women but I don't know where to go from here” I answer her, but continue on after a brief pause. “Actually, I know I’m into women, regardless it's scary as fuck…. Women are scary as fuck” I laugh out. “You’re cute,” Billie says with a little giggle. It comes out in a friendly way, but the way she continues to stare at me after she says it doesn’t match the solely friendly tone of voice. I pick up a shirt lying on the bench of my vanity and throw it at her head, harder than the panties this morning. It hits her right on the forehead and she sprawls out on the bed dramatically, acting far more hurt than she was. “Oh stop being dramatic and get ur lazy ass up, it's time to go downstairs and clean the kitchen,” I say as I walk over and pull her up by her arms. As I let go and walk out of the room with Billie following behind me, I turn to look at her, “at least it wasn’t another pair of my nasty crusty disgusting thongs” I saw with a big mocking smile, puckering my lips sending her fake kisses like we always do when we are making fun of each other. Yet again we have managed to completely ignore the tension we are both choking on.

TIME JUMP TO THAT NIGHT

Billie and I are sitting on the couch waiting for our postmates to arrive and watching some shitty rom com on that we both picked from the image alone. We already had cold vegan pizza for dinner and are on our second bottle of wine. This is just another classic sunday evening, junk food, wine, and a postmated dessert to finish off the normal routine. When I first met Billie I watched as she drank her sodas and water while everyone else around her drank mixed drinks and beer. She made it clear publicly that she didnt drink, and when I finally asked her why she told me she had no problem with alcohol or the idea of drinking she just hated every drink she ever tried.

One night when we very first started these constant sleepovers she tried a taste of my favorite wine and loved it. A few weeks later she and I shared a bottle and I had the privilege of watching her experience the drunk world for the first time. Nowadays, we usually each have a glass every Sunday night, and occasionally we will have a girl's night and drink more than a few glasses while we watch shitty movies. Tonight was turning into one of those nights, having just stocked up on our favorite when I went to Target earlier. I walk into the kitchen to pop open the second bottle and ask if Billie wants more. She excitedly grabs her glass and runs into the kitchen after me, purposely sliding with her socks on the kitchen tile as she laughs.

The couple of times Billie has ever been drunk have all been with me, and it’s very clear she is a goofy drunk. This girl is already the funniest person I know when she is sober, but being around her while she's drunk has my abs hurting from laughing. She is quite a lightweight, with her infrequent drinking and her tiny body, so usually we just finish a bottle and a half, before we get messy drunk. We both enjoy being just past tipsy, still in control, still with a filter to our thoughts, but just a little more light-hearted and silly.

When we finish the movie and go in for a refill before starting a new one, we look at each other shocked when we pour out the last drops of the second bottle. “Did we drink all of that?” Billie laughs, her cheeks rosy and her eyes big. “Ruh roh” she yells out before laughing and lifting her glass to take the last sip. “I think we just broke our pathetic previous record,” I giggle back at her. “Should we open another??” she asks me, her words making it clear she is leaving it up for me to decide. I can tell she’s never been this drunk, yet I know she’s nowhere near dangerous drunk, or even messy drunk. “Fuck it let's do it” I shout a little too loudly before I grab another bottle out of the fridge.

TIME JUMP (Smutty time)

Our empty wine glasses are sitting on the coffee table in front of us as we lay under the blankets and watch the movie the TV put on automatically after our first movie finished. We are about 20 minutes in and it's becoming incredibly clear this is not at all similar to the cheesy straight rom-com that came before it. I feel my breath catch in my throat and all the wine-filled blood run to my center when the TV fills with the images of two women making out, one being thrown on the bed while the other climbs on top of her. As the sex scene keeps going, I remember that this is Netflix, and they are putting straight-up soft porn in their movies now.

I feel the pool forming in my underwear as I watch this graphic, incredibly hot lesbian sex scene play out in front of me. My drunk face must not be hiding what I'm feeling well because as Billie turns to look at me, she lets out a loud laugh. “Baby you look like a deer in headlights,” she says, still quietly giggling, her drunkenness showing through in the sound of her laughter. I swallow loudly before looking at her and then back at the TV. The moans get louder as we watch one of the girls reach her peak, the other continuing to go down on her. I shift awkwardly on the couch, trying not to make it too obvious how much that affected me, how turned on it got me. The combination of the wine, the hot lesbian sex in front of us, and the sexually charged tension Billie and I shared earlier is making it impossible for me to look Billie in the eyes, too scared of what I might say or do. Billie is still staring at me as my eyes stay glued on the screen, the scene still playing out. I feel her torso lifting up from the couch and getting closer to me before smiling and whispering, “You wish that was you, huh? Sitting here wondering what it must be like to get fucked by a girl… or fuck a girl yourself” she stays close to me, swallowing and giggling before continuing. “It's fucking incredible, better than you could even imagine,” she says matter of factly. The tension is as thick as it could possibly get, almost like I could see it taking over my entire body, and just by looking at Billie it's clear she feels it too.

Before I can stop myself, I spring towards Billie. My momentum picking up as I get closer. Realizing what I’m doing, I pause, scared to move at all. Billie grabs my face, pulling me the rest of the way to her and our lips crash together. Months of building tension all explode at once as our tongues slide against each other, eagerly slipping between one another's lips, no longer hiding how badly we want each other. “Show me, Billie,” I say, pulling back enough to get my words out and swallow. “Show me what it feels like to be with a girl,” I finish. “you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say those words” she confesses as she stands up, pulling my hand to follow her to my room. We both lightly stumble down the hallway, giggling from the wine and the anticipation of what is to come.

As we make our way into my room I turn on my favorite lamp- it has a dark pink light bulb that glows so nicely in my room at night. I throw myself onto the bed and land right next to Billie, both of us taking a second to laugh at my ridiculous jump before getting quiet again. She turns on her side to face me and I do the same. My hair falls in front of my face as I turn. Billie’s hand comes up, brushing it out of the way before kissing me again, pulling me in tight against her as our legs dance together. Her leg finds its way between mine and as our kiss gets heated again she pushes up against my core. I let out a slight whine as Billie’s hands hit my waist, pushing me harder against her thigh and pushing her tongue into my mouth.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so horny, been so wet, or wanted someone more in my life. Billie’s head finds its way to my neck as she begins placing light kisses against my skin. When she bites down and pushes her thigh against my clit harder, I let out a deep moan that I swear has been growing in me for months. “Mmmmhhhmm, Billie…” I huff as I begin grinding my hips shamelessly against her thigh, begging for any pleasure at this point. Billie's shorts have slid all the way up her leg, leaving her thigh bare and able to feel my soaked shorts gliding against her as I move my hips faster.

I feel her wet lips hit my ear, biting it gently as she breathes out. It is as if my body is on fire, every single nerve ending I have lighting up at once, every touch suddenly feeling sexual. I am melting at her every move and she hasn’t even touched me yet. If this is what it feels like to be with a girl, I want it forever. “Billie please” I whine out, desperation filling my voice as I grind my core harder against her. My wet shorts rub tightly against my clit with every move I make and I feel like I could cum from this alone. A slight embarrassment creeps up, slowing my hips as I realize how close I am to cumming, just from her thigh against my pussy. I grab the back of her head as she continues sucking and biting on my neck. Quiet moans continue spilling from my lips as my head begins to race. Is this a thing in lesbian sex? Am I crazy for doing this? Should I stop?

As my mind continues to take control and ruin my pleasure Billie interrupted the thoughts, almost as if she could hear them out loud. “Don’t stop grinding on my thigh until I feel your cum drench my skin, keep going for me Y/N I know it feels good” Her words are exactly what I needed, making my pussy clench tightly. I grab her chin and pull her into a deep kiss as her hands snake under my shirt and reach my bare chest. She squeezes my big boobs hard before pinching my nipple, giggling as I yelp into her mouth. She continues toying with my hard nipples as I pull away from her lips, too caught up in the pleasure to keep kissing. Each time she pinches and pulls at my bud I groan louder and move my hips faster. Billie catches on quickly, continuing her fun on my boobs, dragging me closer and closer to the edge, flooding every part of my body with overwhelming pleasure. I find my way to her neck, needing to feel closer to her, placing open-mouth kisses all over. I earn a quiet gasp from her when I hit a sweet spot, and latch on tighter.

As I kiss her harder, biting on her skin, continuing to pull moans from her, she suddenly pushes her thigh in a new angle right as I speed up my movements, throwing me over the edge. I grab her tight, pulling her as close to me as she can possibly be. My head is still nuzzled into her neck, my mouth hanging open as loud moans pour from my lips, lips that continuing lightly connect with her skin. My legs shake as she grabs both my hips and continues to move them for me, allowing me to ride out my orgasm for as long as possible. I hold my breath, shocked at the pleasure I am experiencing just from her thigh on my body. A light hum sings from her lips as I finally come down from such a powerful orgasm. I hold her tight as I catch my breath, needing to feel her close to me, trying to process the feelings I am beginning to understand, feelings I felt for her for a long time. Billie giggles as she rubs my back, helping ground me and letting me take my time with my descent back to earth. I finally pull my head from out of her neck and grab her face, needing to kiss her hard before anything is said, trying to gather my thoughts. I let my back fall onto the mattress as I laugh and breath out, still shocked at what was happening, shocked that Billie, my best friend, the girl I’ve secretly been attracted to for years, just pushed me to the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

“there ya go baby,” Billie says as she climbs on top of me, grabbing my chin, pulling me in for an intensely hot kiss before placing her lips on my forehead. “now let me clean you up” she whispers in between kisses, kisses that started as pecks and are now becoming more and more sloppy. She lifts my shirt up and I grab it, pulling it over my head needing to be free. “Can I see you too Billie?” I ask, a slight innocence and vulnerability peaking out of my words as I hold my fingers at the base of her shirt, slightly sliding it up. She smiles and sits up, tugging the shirt over her head and reaching behind her, immediately taking off her sexy black lace bra. My heart skips a beat when I watch her perfect big boobs drop to their natural, beautiful position. I lay myself up on my elbows pulling her closer, needing them in my mouth. I kiss lightly before wrapping my lips all the way around her nipple, circling my tongue around her bud as one of my hands plays with her free boob. “Ooo baby fuck… y/n mmmm” she sings, her hands pushing my head towards her as I continue on exploring her breasts.

She pushes me away and lays her own lips on my chest, eagerly moving down my body. “I need to taste you, mama, take these slutty little shorts off for me” She pulls at the waistband as I lift my hips up, helping her slide them off of me before laying back down. Her words make my pussy clench, pushing out more of my juices. She grabs both my thighs gripping them hard as she spreads them, groaning loudly as she sees my wet core for the first time ever. I swallow hard, the vulnerability of my exposed pussy hitting me all at once, wanting to hide from her, covering my face with my arm. Billie clearly senses my emotions, knowing me all too well. She places a light kiss on my upper thigh, then another on the other side. “Oh y/n you’re so perfect… sexier than I could have ever imagined,” she kisses my upper thigh again before continuing, “and I’ve thought about it a lot” I whine at her words, the hunger pushing away the vulnerability, and right as I’m about to beg for her tongue, she latches on. Still so sensitive from my last orgasm, I’m unable to hold in any of my moans, immediately drunk from the pleasure yet again. I grab her hair hard and push her against me as my hips buck. “Fuck Billie your tongue feels so good” my moans interrupt my own words, throwing my head back as her tongue circles my swollen clit. “oh baby, fuck Billie please don’t stop, fuck” my words fuel her on as she gets even more intense. It feels like she’s devouring me, eating me alive like she's been starved forever. She comes up for air and we make eye contact. I swallow back my drool as I stare at her, unable to process just how sexy she looks. Her eyes look black from her massive lust-filled pupils and her chin is covered in my cum, dripping down as she licks her lips. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good, mmm I can’t get enough of you” and with that her tongue is back on me, flicking and slurping, swallowing and circling, tasting every inch of my core.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get better, two fingers pump into me, filling me perfectly. I gasp and shake underneath her, beginning to feel overstimulated by the pleasure she gives me. I feel as if im floating, like this is all just a fever dream, it cant be possible for sex to feel this good. “God, fuck, baby. Fuck Billie yesssss” I struggle to get my words out as my hands dart around the bed, trying to find anything to grab hold of, something to anchor me to this bed as I feel my stomach contracting. “I feel you pulsing on my fingers mama, let go for me, cum on my fingers like the good girl I know you are” Her voice is raspy and low, sexier than I’ve ever heard it before. Her nasty words flood my mind and I scream as I feel her lips wrapped around my clit again, sucking and licking as she curves her fingers upward and hits my g-spot. She keeps devouring me and moaning into my pussy as she speeds her fingers up and I feel like I’m about to black out. Thank god I live alone because I don’t think I’ve ever been louder in my life. “Billie Im about to cum, fuck it feels so good please don’t stop” She smiles into my cunt as she flicks her fingers inside of me, doing a come here motion as she pumps them in and out, stimulating me in a way I have never been stimulated before. It feels like she knows my body better than I even do, like shes been fucking me like this for years. She keeps up the motions of her fingers as she flattens out her tongue and pushes it hard against my clit, moving her head side to side. “Oh my goddddd” I scream out as I begin shaking underneath her, being hit with my second orgasm, one that is somehow twice as strong as the first. “Fuck Billie yes fuck” I can’t get all my words out before needing to scream and moan again. “Im cumming baby fuck, f-fuckkkkkkk”

the last of my sentence turns into a deep moan as she keeps going. Keeps plowing her fingers into me, keeps moving her tongue side to side on my clit, keeps lighting me up with intense pleasure. I feel a new sensation as she continues to overstimulate me. It’s something I’ve never felt before and it's stronger than any orgasm I’ve ever had. “Wait billie, fuck, please oh god” She lifts her head up from my clit but speeds up her fingers. My eyes are squeezed shut and my lungs are frozen, unable to breath. I feel like my body is full of stars, like im no longer all the way here. My knuckles ache from how tightly im grabbing the sheets but somehow the pain fuels my orgasm more as it continues to take control of my body. “Billie stop I think i’m about to—” I can’t get my words out fast enough before the gates open and I pour out all over her chest and fingers, squirting hard. I try to move my hips but she grabs me, holding me where I am as I continue spilling out onto her. Screams meet with the wet sounds of my pleasure and I can’t take it any longer. “Okay okay billie fuck im done, im done” I say as my back returns down on the bed and I feel air fill my lungs again. My legs continue to shake and my pussy clenches around her fingers in a rhythm, like it has a heartbeat of its own.

She lays her head down on my thigh as she slowly pulls her fingers out of me. The movement causes me to groan and shake again, a clear indication of just how overstimulated I am. She looks at me, making sure I’m watching as she licks her fingers clean, moaning at the taste of them. As I sit up on my elbows and watch her lick her lips I look down to see her boobs covered in all my juices, wet and dripping, as sexy as they could possibly be. She catches me looking and smirks. “If I wasn’t so fucked out I would be licking my juices off those sexy boobs” I say with a new found confidence. She crawls up me and kisses me softly, letting my tongue slip between her lips and around hers. “You taste good don’t you baby” she moans, before pulling me tight against her naked wet chest. Our boobs rub together and our connection feels electric. “You know I’ve never squirted before, you’re the first” I say, glowing from all the pleasure I just experienced. “I didn’t even know sex

could feel that good” i laugh admitting it then feeling embarrassed. “Welcome to sex with women” she giggles as the words come out, “I feel lucky to be the first of many for you baby, I’ve been wanting you for so damn long, I gotta admit it” she kisses me on my cheek and grabs my nipple playfully making me yelp. “I been dreaming about this for a long time too, Billie” I confess with a smile, looking back at her. “Good things there’s a whole lot more firsts for me to have” I say playfully as I grab her boob again.

I pull her closer to me, both of us back on our sides facing eachother. I crave a type of intimacy with her that I have avoided with every one of my partners for years. Maybe I really am gay and it’s just because shes a woman. Or, maybe, if I let myself really think about it, its because its Billie. My hand falls over her body onto her bare back and my fingers begin lightly dancing over her skin. She snuggles into me tighter and humms. Being in Billie’s arms feels like home. My cheeks flush as I realize that the love I feel for her is not the love you feel for a friend, it is so so much more than that. Its the type of love that terrifies me, or at least it has in the past. For some reason I don't feel scared at all right now, I feel quite the opposite actually.

I continue rubbing her back as our breathing slows, both melting into one another. She breaks the silence with a silky voice, “I think I could stay like this forever” my heart skips a beat at her confession, bringing a calm warmth throughout my body. “I’d like that a lot Billie” she lifts her head from the crook of my neck just long enough to place a kiss on my forehead, before snuggling back into me tighter. We lay like this for a minute before I interrupt. I giggle quietly to myself and she looks up with a curious expression, her eyebrows knit together but a smirk on her lips, “what the hell are you so giggly about?” she says, laughing with me now. “Does this mean,” I giggle again slightly more bashfully this time, before I continue. “Does this mean I get to learn all about lessssbbiiann sexxxxx with you?” I can’t help but say it in a goofy, slightly mocking tone, emphasising my purposefully ridiculous word choice. “Sure does baby girl, sure doesssssssss” She laughs out, matching the playful energy. “Ooo la la” I sing, pulling a laugh from both of us as we lay back down. I can’t help but feel overwhelming excitement for whats to come.

Should I continue on with the story??

[moonstruckme]

Omg 8k! I’m so happy for you love! May I request hot cocoa for poly wolfstar with the prompt “new years party” or “baking together”? (whichever one you choose!)

Thank you lovely!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 728 words

“Well, what are we supposed to give them? Crackers?” 

“I don’t see what would be so wrong with crackers,” says Remus, sounding already weary and increasingly vexed. 

“Only crackers, though?” Sirius is in a restless mood, his excitement for tonight’s party mounting and the volume of his voice along with it. “I just don’t see how it can be possible that there aren’t any grapes left anywhere in town. Was there a grape plague I didn’t know about?” 

“They were sold out. I don’t know what to tell you. Crackers will be just as good.” 

“That’s a completely different food group, darling!” 

“Sirius,” you call, hoping to spare Remus from further irritation (and thus spare Sirius from the consequences), “can you come tell me if this looks alright?” 

You’ve strung lights all across the ceiling of the sitting room, strands of blue and white overlapping and casting the whole space in their glow. Sirius’ eyes seem to glimmer as he comes in, admiring your handiwork. He’s in his outfit for the party already, though you’re both waiting until later to do your makeup together. You’ve got plenty of time; it’s only just getting dark outside, and no one is expected to arrive until at least eight. 

“This looks amazing, sweetheart,” he says, audibly relaxing. “It’s perfect; you’ve done beautifully.” 

“You don’t think it’s too dim in here?” you joke. 

Sirius grins as he walks over. You’re a couple of feet taller than him on your step stool, but he doesn’t seem to mind, touching his lips to your navel while his hands hold the backs of your thighs. You predict him and set your hands on his shoulders, sucking in a breath when he pulls you away from the step, lowering you down. 

“How’d you manage it?” he asks, looking back up at the lights while his hand runs absently up and down the dip of your spine. A few of the white strands wink in and out, twinkling above you like stars. “I can’t even see any of the hooks.” 

“They’re in there,” you tell him. It had taken you a while to figure out how to hide them well, but the abundance of lights ended up covering for you in the end. You take a piece of Sirius’ hair between your fingers, admiring the blue sheen on it. “Baby?” 

“Hm?” 

You press a kiss to his lips, gentle and loving. “Keep in mind that you’re the one who forgot we’d need food until the last minute,” you tell him sweetly. 

Sirius pouts. “Why do I have to remember everything?” 

“Because you’re the only one of us who wanted to have a party.”

“You said,” Remus recounts as he comes in, still sounding vexed but fond around the eyes, “and I quote, I’ll take care of everything.” 

“Doesn’t bloody sound like me,” Sirius mutters. His hand is still moving affectionately over your back, though. 

“Dove.” Remus graces you with a smile, ignoring your sulky boyfriend. “The lights look lovely.” 

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder before pulling yourself from his arms. You take Remus’ hands and look up at him with your sweetest, most imploring eyes. “Can I ask you for a favor, please?” 

Remus narrows his eyes at you like he knows what you’re about, but his lips twitch as he holds your fingers. “Hm?” 

“You know that trifle you make for Easter?” You wait for him to nod. “If I went to the store and got the stuff, do you think you might be able to make it again tonight?” 

You look to Sirius. “That’d be good, right? It might go nicely with the champagne.” 

Sirius grins at you. “Brilliant girl. I’m remembering now why we keep you around.” 

You turn back towards Remus. You can feel the power of Sirius’ pleading look adding to yours from behind you. After a long moment, your boyfriend capitulates with a sigh and a kiss to your head. 

“Alright. I’ll make you a list.” 

“Thank you, my love,” Sirius says, saccharine sweet. 

“This party is more trouble than it’s worth.” Remus turns, too slowly to conceal his smile. “If anyone tries to make me sing karaoke, I’ll shut the whole thing down before midnight.” 

Sirius’ expression looks crushed. “But—” 

“Shh.” You pat his shoulder, watching Remus go. “James’ll harass him once he gets here. Pick your battles.” 

[thecoochiefairy]

mouthy. onyankapon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 blackfem!reader, drabble, onyankapon, grumpy!onyankapon, sweet!onyankapon,dominant!onyankapon, angry sex, drunk sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ link. link. link. link.

sorry y’all, i been celibate and just want the testosterone of a black man. i beg.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: you come back from the club, mouthy, tipsy and blabbering to your boyfriend. all that talking has onyakanpon give you just what you’re asking for.

STRAWBERRY FLAVORED MARGARITAS ALWAYS MADE YOU HORNY. You made the terrible decision of making that your choice of drink when agreeing to a girls night out, knowing where you really wanted to be— in bed, cuddled up to your man. But you missed your friends, and Onyankapon missed you even more. 

Although you were always together, his weekend routine felt incomplete without you. He had already gone to the gym, got something to eat, and took Cupcake—your American Bully—out for a run. The minute he left you to walk out the house in that fuschia dress, he knew you’d be trouble. The gold jewelry accents as your dark hair fell in crimped waves, the scent of Miss Dior along your throat that he couldn’t pull away from, skimpy heels combating the entire look together—he would have broken someone’s neck behind you. 

As you stumbled into the women’s bathroom, the dark red lights added onto the energy you felt of the song playing within the club—PHAT by Dababy—buzzing your entire body as you wanted to shake ass with your girls. But first, you had to have a little fun. 

You leaned yourself into the full body mirror of the bathroom, bending down as you arched your back into the camera, taking salacious pictures of yourself. They were faceless, only showing the curves of your body in the dress. You sent them to Onyankapon, a small, tipsy grin along your face. 

mama <3 : 

don’t i look pretty?

He was now within the mirror, clippers in his hand as he faded the sides of his head, beard trimmed down as well. You weren’t there to protest the cut, loving when his facial hair was more full, whether it was in between your fingers or deep in your— 

Back to the point, LARGER THAN LIFE by Brent Faiyaz was his current choice of album. He glances down at his phone as he sees the message, eyebrows furrowing. The sight of you under red lighting, filthily posing for the picture. It made him more irritated than anything. 

my ony <3 :

my pretty ass baby. drink some water.

The message back makes you feel a bit deflated. You wanted more. Your mischievous eyes glance around, seeing you were still alone in the bathroom. With that, you latch your fingers onto the top of your dress, pulling down the fabric to have your breasts spill out, nipples hardening from the air. You snap the picture, holding one of your tits in your palm, your brown lined Cupid’s bow lips also within the photo. You press send, sitting along the countertop of the bathroom, awaiting for a response.

Your phone buzzes after five minutes. You look down, seeing only a couple of words. 

my ony <3: 

yeah, aight. 

You can’t help the grin that spreads along your face. With that, you notice that your phone battery is lower than expected, and you know your friends aren’t ready to go home. You sigh, shutting off your phone in risk of it dying, heading back to the section to try to shake off some of this inebriety. 

Onyankapon goes to text you again, but this time it doesn’t seem to go through. It was in your habit for your phone to die, but tonight wasn’t the time. He even went as far as calling you. Straight to voicemail. Of course, your friends weren’t answering either. His eye could’ve twitched.

Getting your key into the door was your current mission hours later. Your phone was buzzing from the amount of missed phone calls as you turned it back on, a giggle stifling from your lips as you continuously shuffled your keys around, desperately trying to find the oversized Hello Kitty one. Your feet ached, heels high and tall as your ankles trembled, wanting nothing more than to be barefoot. 

When your eyes finally register the pink key—assuming you’d touched it a thousand times—you lean against the door as you swing it open, holding yourself up by the bottom of your feet. They felt extremely heavy. You step inside, slowly pushing the door to close, locking it behind you. The LED lights in your condo were a dark purple, blaring to the low beat of the music playing around the walls, PARTYNEXTDOOR accompanying your ears. He’d probably fallen asleep. 

Despite all the noise you’d been making, you try to tip-toe with your heels, realizing that your mission was successful. That’s you turn your head towards the kitchen, anyways.

You freeze momentarily in your steps, eyes widening. You knew he’d be angry, but you wanted to make a sneaky escape into bed next to him— Alas, your plan had failed miserably and you turned to face him with an innocent smile.

“Ony, baby—Why are you awake?” 

The room seemed to shrink in size because of his imposing figure. It didn't matter how many tattoos covered his muscular body—you would always remember his face card. Strident jawline, dark eyes that gave him the expression of annoyance or solemnity, but the tattoos that decorated his cheek made him stand out amongst men. His brown complexion shimmered under the light, as if he had oil on his skin. 

He just blinks at you, brows furrowing with obvious irritation. You were supposed to be home at ten. It was now two in the morning. He crosses his arms as you could see a vein straining on his neck, also glancing over the lipstick printed ink of your mouth tatted along his throat.  He was pissed.

“And where the fuck has your ass been?”

His silky black durag has a knot tied within the back of his head, shirtless, upper body exposed as his black sweatpants hang on his hips. He’d just woken up after dozing off.

You pout slightly, not liking his attitude. “The girls wanted to be outside longer. I wasn’t driving, so I couldn't tell them no.”

“The girls know you got a crazy ass nigga at home. You could’ve at least picked up my fuckin’ calls.”

“My phone was in my purse,” you try to defend, now walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Did I wake you?” 

Despite his annoyed demeanor, his arms make their way to your waist. He’s gentle, but you could pick up the way his fingers dug into your skin. 

 “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“Cupcake likes to cuddle,” you refer to the large dog, “Don’t be mean to her. She loves you just as much as I do,” you rub his beard, scratching it affectionately. 

He grunts lowly, “Gimme’ your mouth,” you standing on your heels as you give him a peck on the lips. 

You then groan, leaning down as you rub your ankle, “My foot hurts,” you pout, “Ugly bitch at the club stepped on my toes!”

He couldn’t help but soften up at your comments, a gentle hand rubbing at the back of your neck soothingly.

“She stepped on your shit on purpose?” He asked, brows furrowing.

“She gon’ say ‘bitch, move’ when she was all in my way. I didn’t move, so she stepped on my heel. Should’ve busted her fuckin’ head open,” you talk shit about the random girl in the club, “Baby, my feet hurt…” you repeat more softly.

“You gonna go back and fight her?” He poked fun, now lifting you up by your thighs to release the tension off your feet. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, yelping, ‘wee!’ as He carries you to the living room, setting you down on the couch.

“Lemme’ see. I’ll ice your little ass foot.”

“Can you rub it? With the ice? Think they’re red,” you request, carelessly throwing the shoes in opposite directions, feeling the bottom of your feet throbbing even more. 

He hums, “Hollon’, baby,” disappearing into the kitchen as you wait on the couch. Cupcake comes running into the living room, jumping on you immediately. You giggle, hugging her head as she snuggles up against you, having the zoomies as she takes back off into her kennel. 

Ony returned with a bag of ice, leaning down in front of you, placing the ball of your hurting foot in his lap.

“You really couldn’t leave early?” 

You shake your head, “They wanted to hit up the after hours. I said nooo, my man wants me home. They said your man lame, you’ grown! I said, I am! But I miss my man! But ooh, baby, they had lemon drop shots for two dollars! Maybe that’s why I’m so drunk…” you ramble.

He listened attentively to your rambling, tilting his head to the side. He had a small smile on his face, his expression gentle at your drunken blabbering. He loved listening to you talk, even if you were saying nonsense.

“And you bought ‘em? You know you’ a light weight. You can’t handle your liquor, baby.”

“I had water too!” You protest, “But it was too late. I’m not like—super drunk, but because I’m home now, I can just…float,” you say with a hum, tilting your head, “….You’ happy to see me now?”

“Happy as fuck. I was about to go down to that club and shoot that shit up about you. Tryna’ get fucked up in that pretty ass dress, too. I got your pictures.” 

Your slender eyes blink at him, glimmering under the light, “I’m pretty?” You knew the answer, but your floaty mind wanted to hear it anyway. 

“Don’t be playin’ stupid with me.” 

You lean forward, poking your lips out as you sigh, “You’re so sweet. Gimme’ a kiss.” 

He leans forward, placing another soft, slow, kiss on your lips. He pulled back to look at your face, his large hands cupping your jaw, his brown eyes scanning your expression.

“‘Love your non-listening ass. Even when you come home later then I tell you to.”

Your demeanor changes, not liking how he worded that sentence. A reminder, your system was sugar-rushed off of several lemon drops.

“Tell me?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Tell? Don’t be funny, lil’ boy. You ain’t my damn daddy.”

"Lil’ boy?" 

He raises an eyebrow at you, “You’ talking shit?"

“Big shit, actually,” you roll your eyes, pushing away the ice he holds, “I don’t wanna talk to you no more.”

"Yeah? You don't wanna talk to me? Let your fuckin’ feet hurt then.” 

“That’s fine!” 

He becomes slightly agitated from you childish responses, gripping your ankle in his hold to keep you down, “Chill out. You’re still tipsy.” 

“And? I don’t give a fuck about my feet, you, or my mouth. Come shut me the fuck up then, bitch-ass-nigga.”

It’s like you won’t stop talking. Your mouth fires off curses as you attempt to stand from the sofa, wanting to just get out of your clothes. He hears that trigger word, bitch, a word he asked that you never called him. It was the ultimate disrespect. 

He stares you down for a moment. His gaze was intense, intimidating. But there's now a glint of amusement in his eyes, and a humorless chuckle follows.

You go to walk away, but he’s faster. 

He clutches you by the back of your neck as he twists you around, gripping you up as he kisses you, opening up your mouth as he sloppily puts his tongue in. You’re stunned for a moment, hands gripping for his skin, but it’s the alcohol that has the kiss throb in between your legs—You’re spent. 

He pulls back, his hand still on the back of your neck as he presses a kiss under your jaw, before grunting against your ear, “Big ass fuckin’ mouth,” he sharply gruffs, “Come suck some dick. Finna’ shut you the fuck up.” 

His voice is assertive, deep in your ear. You can’t help but be a little excited. You wanted this type of reaction from him. You’re kneeling yourself down without having to be guided, tugging for his black sweats, watching as his dick springs from beneath the material. His tip is a dark pink, veins prominent as it slaps along his belly button. Your mouth waters. 

You wrap your fingers around the base, staring up with your dark lashes, cheeks warm and red as you dig your teeth into your lip, “Want my mouth on you, baby?”

Your inner thighs throb again as he lightly smacks your cheek, gripping your jaw open to separate your lips, “You fuckin’ heard me. Don’t play right now.” 

He watches as you take him fully into your mouth, throat humming as you swirl your tongue around his tip, eyes closing as you nod your head back and forth. He reaches back, tangling his fingers through your hair as he guides your movements, dark eyes watching each time you take him deeper.

“Make that shit sloppy as fuck,” he grunts. 

You open your mouth wider at that, eyes dropping low as you nod your head back and forth, tip dragging along the roof of your mouth, sliding deeper in your throat. Your saliva begins to increase, jaw aching each time his balls slap along your bruising lips, yet you moan in pleasure, wanting more—needing more. 

Your eyes are practically stars to him. They glimmer under the lights of the living room, music strumming in his ears as you hollow your cheeks, back arching, ass poking out of your dress as you lean forward to be as close to him as possible. You watch him like a movie, his baby pink lips halfway open, head falling back as he groans, tightening his fist along your hair. 

“Oh shit,” his low voice moans, “Suck my fuckin’ dick just like that, baby. Need my shit messy.”

He knows how much you like him praising you on, your lips firmly wrapping around his tip, molding your mouth around it as you slovenly suck, the sound echoing along the room. Your jaw burns even more. But the sight of his large hands encapsulating your curls, inked abdomen tightening as he watches your every move, your saliva warm from how hard he’s thrusting in your mouth, it’s like a drug. An addiction. He slows down, holding your hair with both fists, pulling himself out of your mouth as you stick your tongue out, awaiting to catch him again. His tip slaps along your jaw, the giggle leaving your lips captured by your intoxication.

He feels your hot breath on his tip as he looks down at you, seeing your tongue hang out of your mouth, wet and glistening in the dim light. The sight alone sends a jolt straight to his already throbbing dick. 

"You're gonna swallow every last drop I got for you." 

His words were firm, almost demanding as he watched you take him back into your mouth. This time, he held onto your head aggressively, fucking your eager mouth at a slow pace, allowing you to savor the taste of him.

You drag saliva along the veins of his dick, pulling your mouth back as you hum, “Feel good, baby?“ 

“Feel good as fuck, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. Tryna’ get fucked like a princess,” he grunts back to you, watching as your thumb runs over his tip, rolling your hand in a motion all the way down to the base of his length. 

You circle your tongue back around his tip, sliding your lips around before pulling his length all the way to the back of your throat, the walls of your breath swelling as you gag, melting in his pleasure.

“Gonna nut, baby? Talk to me.” 

"Finna’ nut all in that pretty ass mouth, baby,” he promises to you, and he does, his voice dropping to a low growl as he pushes you further, forcing you to take his entire length between your lips, the inside of your mouth becoming warm. 

When he pulls back, his dick slides out slowly for you to lap up any leftover drops of cum that dribble out. He then tugs on your hair, bringing your face up to meet his. 

You instantly stick your tongue out to show that you swallowed, giggling as you run your tongue against your lips, “Cleaned you up so good.”

You know he’s sensitive. You flick your eyes up as you kiss his tip, the giggles faltering off your lips like nothing as you tipsily moan, “Pretty ass dick, baby.”

“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy.”

He grunts as he pulls you up by your hair, smashing your lips against his in a kiss. You’re encapsulated by his mouth, tongue thrusting in between your lips, the feeling making your eyes roll back, moaning as you open your mouth wider. You loved kissing him. His dark pink lips were full, nearly overlapping yours as you made out with him. 

He pulls you back, fingers around your throat as he commands, “Get on the sofa. Spread your legs.” 

Ony’s already on his knees as you bend over the black velvet furniture. You spread your legs as you arch slightly, face hiding within your shoulder, eyes turning back to meet his. He’s trailing kisses along your thighs—it’s torturous at this point. Your pussy throbs as he’s blowing his breath against your core.

 He spanks the skin of your ass as he growls, “Nasty ass. Always wanting me.”

He’s already down there, his lips wrapping around your clit, bottom lip dropping lower to rub against the entirety of you, tongue swirling to spread you open. You reach your palms behind, spreading yourself for him, forehead kneeling against the furniture as you breathily whine, “Yeah, baby. Always love when you eat my pussy.”

“Watch that fuckin’ mouth,” he warns in between your flesh.

He’s eating you like desert—Licking you from bottom to top. His hands find their way to your hips, pinning you down to the couch as he shakes his head from side to side, deepening his tongue against your folds. He halts as he comes up, pulling your face towards his as he grips your chin, commanding, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth,” the moment he says it, your tongue sticking out as you drop saliva in between his lips. He accepts it, going back down as he coats it along your pussy, the feeling making your thighs tremble. He’s rough. And sloppy. Just how you liked it.

Latching back against the sticky walls of your pussy, you become more wet as he French kisses the throb of your clit, head swaying up and down as he flattens his tongue against the overall of you.

He’s lapping you up like a thirsty man. His tongue is thick and heavy against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. His tongue continues its assault on your pussy, licking you in circles until you start squirming underneath him, desperately trying to hold your mouth.

His hands leave your hips, moving to grip your ass to expose more of your dripping entrance to him. Without warning, he buries his tongue deep inside of you, his lips sealed tight against your wetness as he starts fucking you with his mouth.

“Pussy tight as fuck, baby. Even on my tongue,” he grunts.

“Come fuck me, Ony,” you pout, “I’m so fuckin’ horny,” you almost cry at the pressure between your legs.

He doesn’t talk shit like you expect him to. Instead, he pulls his mouth away from you, your body lightly jumping as you feel his tip sloshing around your opening, patting against it, kissing the outside of your walls. 

“This’ what you want, huh?” 

He brings his hand around the front of you, palm clutching around your throat to pull you up closer to him. You try to nod your head, pushing your hips back to relieve the friction. You thought you were going to faint. 

Your mind is still buzzing. Every inch slowly sinks into you, an ache itching in the depths of your walls, making your hips tremble as you gasp lightly. You push your body forward to escape, which only makes Ony grip you back, rolling his hips forward as he tsks, “Nuh-Uh, don’t do that,” making your eyes flutter shut as you whine, “Ooh, fuck. Daddy.” 

Your whining makes him grunt, spanking you in response to your mouth, sensitivity spiked as you whimper. He smacks his lips, “Cut that shit out. You’ crying for my dick, take all of it.” 

The heaviness of your ass drops against his abdomen, air spurring in between your hips, the suction making you quiver in response.

You turn your head, jaw dropping lightly as you suck in a breath, moving your body to adjust. You lift your hips as you watch yourself, eyes flicking up to meet him as you slide back down, listening to the skin connect, stomach cramping as you shudder out another whine. 

“Gonna take all of it,” you desperately gasp, digging your fingers into the material of the couch, beginning to swirl your hips around as you fuck yourself, walls gushing at your eagerness. Each time you come up, his tip coats with more of your cream, moans progressively losing sense behind them each time your ass claps against his hips.

"Needy ass fuckin’ girl," he grumbles, gripping onto your waist tightly. "I be’ spoiling you too much.” 

His right hand reaches onto the left side of your waist to get a good grip on you, dropping you up and down to watch your bodies move in sync, matching your rhythm as he starts fucking you harder. With every thrust, he slams into you, filling you completely, making you gasp out loud. He leans down, whispering in your ear, "Pussy wet as fuck. You hear my pussy? She’ talking. Just as loud as your fuckin’ mouth.”

You do listen, skin slapping against each others, your pussy squelching and sloshing as he now has a hold along the back of your dress, using that to tug you down, the air secretion igniting loud sounds with it. Your cheeks are red, something that usually happened when you became shy, turning your head back towards the wall as you moaned.

"Don’t be all shy now. Look at me. Need to see your face while you creamin’ on my shit like that.” 

The command is sharp, leaving no room for refusal. He feels you tense under him, your inner walls trembling around his dick. He keeps pounding into you, your juices flowing down his shaft and onto his balls.

When you don't obey immediately, he spanks your ass to make you shriek, hard enough to leave a bruises before demanding again, "Look at me."

You instead kneel your head against the sofa. It’s not long before he becomes impatient, and he pulls you to stand flat on your feet. He keeps your back perfectly arched, rubbing his tip along your folds as he’s already sinking back in, making you lightly groan. He then takes your arms, palms tight around your wrists as he pulls them back and raises them slightly above your body, thrusting his hips forward, skin loudly echoing together as he gives you mean—almost enough to bully you—thrusts. 

The moans you give are shocking, standing on your toes to escape from him, pussy tightening as the back of your thighs sting, friction against his hips, arousal dripping against his balls and abdomen. 

“Agh—fuck—baby, ooohshit. Oohshit, Ony,” you’re rambling to him, unable to move as you’re trapped in this position.

"Shut the fuck up. I ain't wanna hear none of that noise." 

He goes back to pounding you, ignoring your high pitched squeals, the arch of your back deepening as you want to jump out of your skin. 

"Quit fuckin’ running. Take this fuckin’ dick. You’ wanna be grown, be fuckin’ grown, big girl,” he talks, skin harshly meeting with his, his dick painted with your arousal, ignoring the way you messily sob, a darkness in your vision as your eyes are staring into the back of your head. 

“Ooohh, daddy. Ony—baby. Fuckin’ me so good, baby. Fuckin’ love you. Oh my god, love you, babyy.”

“You’ need more? You’ still talking?”

You feel defeated, senseless as he continues to fuck you, uncaring if he’s mean about it.

Yet turn your head, erotically giggling in between your manic episode, unable to stop your mouth from talking.

“This your pussy, Ony. You’ hear her? She missed you so much,” you whimper, wanting him to forgive you from your insults earlier in the night.

“I don’t wanna hear all that."

He picks up the pace, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You sing to him, gasping and whining pathetically. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, drowning out everything else. He feels you tighten around him, your walls clenching down on his length.

"You' gonna cum? Or you' just gonna keep talking?"

“Baby…” you softly cry, “Ony, keep talking to me, baby…be nice…” you whimper, missing that side of him. 

You’re sorry for coming home late. You’re sorry for talking shit. You’re just sorry. But this punishment feels all too good.

"You' sorry now?" 

His tone is mocking—he knows he's got you right where he wants you. 

"Keep talking. Mean it.” 

He continues to fuck you mercilessly, his words cutting through the pleasure like a knife.

“Sosorry, baby. Sosorry, Daddy. Fuck me harder. Wanna cum all over your dick. Fuckkk, cum in me. Don’t stop,” your eyes well with tears, digging your teeth into your lip.

He releases your hands, his fingers stretching around your throat as he pulls your back to meet his chest, mouth along your ear as you stand back on your tip-toes, taking everything he gives you.

You messily moan as you lean back against his shoulder, using the strength you have in your hips as you circle your ass around, wanting to match his rhythm, jumping as you feel him spank you again. You were in a lustful haze.

“Look at you’ taking my dick, baby. You love it?”

“I love it,” you whine back, face warm as you take his other hand to put it in front of you, putting it in between your legs as you want him to rub your clit. Sometimes you were bold. Sometimes you weren’t.

You can hear the arrogance in his chuckle along your ear, his fingers rubbing in circles against your clit as he grunts, “Cute ass,” which makes you whimper, putting your head down to hide your warm face.

Your mind falls back into the fuzziness of before, the intimacy of it all making you feel drunk again, your legs feeling numb as he fucks your brains away. You feel yourself wanting to go limp, hooking an arm around yourself to hold his head from behind, his lips latching along your throat. 

You’re whining, “Babby,” gasping in between, warning him, “I’m—I’m gonna cum…”

“You’ think I don’t know when my pussy about to cum? Look how tight you’ getting,” he grunts, spanking you again, your ass probably red by now. 

You can’t stop the orgasm that comes, pathetic moans leaving your lips, your hand shaking as your brokenly whine into his mouth, body wanting to collapse as he grabs for your free hand, trapping it under his that clutches your throat you keep you in place.

You’re stuck in place again, creaming heavily on his dick, gushing and cumming in intense waves, pushing out the arousal as your eyes clutched shut, body trembling to ride out the wave. 

“Ooh, that’s good as fuck, baby,” he grunts, “Cum just like that.”

You seem to sober up the minute your orgasm behind to subside, and your eyes are terribly heavy, just wanting to sleep. You feel a kiss along your neck as your legs come off the ground, being carried as your wrap your arms around his neck. 

“You’ ready to cuddle?” Is all he asks. 

Your eyes peek up despite how tired you are. You ask, “That’s it? Am I ready to cuddle? After you did all that?” 

“Do you need it again?” 

“No.”

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” he kisses your forehead, “Let’s go to sleep.” 

[justkending]

It's just a papercut... (Drabble)

Summary: Mission one-on-one with Bucky? It's been done before. So why is this one different? Why is he acting weird and not letting me storm off in a rage at his cold shoulder? Also, was the one bed necessary?

Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 7000+ (It's a long one...)

A/N: I've been spending a lot of my time on Character ChatGPT AI, and a secret agent conversation made me say, " Yeah, I need to put this into a Bucky fanfic." So here we are🥰 Did it turn a lot more emotional than I planned? Yes. Do I regret it? No. Enjoy, my loves!!

_____

“Jesus! The goal is to survive the mission, and from the likes of it, bullets aren’t even going to be the thing that finishes the job!” I shout over the whipping wind as Bucky maneuvers through cars in the foreign country while outrunning the guards we just escaped from on a motorcycle he stole in front of a shop.

“Shut it!” he shouts back, taking another sharp turn that has me clutching on as if one wrong blow of the wind will have me ending this chase with a case of road rash on my entire body. “I’m losing them.” 

“And likely me with them,” I grumble, and he shoots me a quick look in the rearview mirror, showing that he heard my remark and didn’t care for it. 

I look behind us and see one of the jackasses we were running from has joined us in motorcycle theft, and I curse under my breath as I come up with a plan.

“Goon, five o’clock!” I announce as I dig into my boot for a small handgun I keep hidden. 

Bucky looks around and clocks him. His teeth grit together as he kicks the speed up, weaves through a few cars, and turns down a new street, but the man following seems to be just as skilled in bike chases. 

“Still on you!” I shout and let out an annoyed groan, realizing that at some point in our mission, I’d lost my backup weapon. 

“I see that!” Bucky groans, and as we pass a fruit stand on the street, he knocks it over with his metal hand, causing a traffic stop and the motorcyclist to have to drive over apples and pears, making him to lose his balance some. 

However, it wasn’t effective enough. “I got it,” I sigh as Bucky takes another sharp turn, and I clutch onto him. “Do me a favor and try and stay straight for 5 seconds!” I complain, and he complies, although begrudgingly. 

I point my fist towards the bike, and as the man makes mean eyes at me, I wiggle my fingers at him with a grin before shooting a taser shock out of the widow bite Nat gifted me. 

They shoot across and cause his entire bike to seize at the overload of electricity. He flies off the bike as it stutters and gives Bucky and me a clean escape down an alley. 

A few alleys later and a quiet spot away from the chaos that had just ensued, Bucky and I hop off the bike and hide it behind a dumpster. I catch my breath as I throw my backpack over my shoulder and watch as he covers the bike more with the lid of the trash before grabbing his own pack. 

“We need to lay low for the night,” I note, adjusting my backpack and looking into the dead-end alley. 

He sighed, taking in the area, and I could see the pistons firing in his head. “There’s a hotel not far from here that’ll work. Not shitty, but also not anything fancy.” He immediately starts stalking away, not waiting for me to follow. 

I huff in annoyance as he leaves me, and I fasten my backpack, buckling it across my chest before jogging to catch up with his long strides. 

We don’t say much as we get to the hotel. Both of our minds coming down from the adrenaline and running through the last pieces of the mission.

While in the lobby of the hotel, I get a call and move to take it, seeing it’s Steve checking in, and I leave Bucky to handle the check-in process. 

“Got it. We’ll head to the airport in the morning,” I nod and turn around to see Bucky confirming something with the clerk, and I turn back to the phone. 

When he finishes checking in (fake IDs with real payment thanks to Stark’s ways), he turns and waves his hand toward the elevator in a quick action. 

“Yeah. We’re fine,” I note, feeling a stitch in my side but not wanting to check just how bad the damage is until I’m behind a closed door. “He’s being a dick as per usual,” I chuckle lightly as I start my walk to the elevators. “No, Steve. I don’t need you to call him and reprimand him. You know-... Seriously, Steve. Leave it… I said it as a joke more than anything-” He cuts me off again, ready to always put Bucky in his place with the cold shoulder he seems to love to give to only me. 

When I make it to the elevator, where Bucky is holding the door impatiently for me, I quickly say, “Losing you! Getting in an elevator so I can’t-” There’s a protest on the other end. “What was that? It’s cutting out.” I say in stuttered beats to play it off before hanging up. “Steve says hi,” I say to Bucky as I lock my phone and shove it in my back pocket. 

“Sure,” he says back, and I’m not sure if it’s unconvinced or unbothered… or both. Either way, his face is still stoic.

“You really need to lighten up,” I sigh in a deep breath, annoyed that he never relents his tough guy act around me. 

“Don’t feel like.” 

“Do you ever?” 

The elevator is silent. The only sound is the mechanics of the metal box moving up. It eventually dings, and as I go to step forward, I grimace slightly so as I step wrong, causing pain to go up my side, but I quickly brush it off. 

“What was that?” Bucky says behind me as he steps off the elevator last. 

“What was what?” I ask, looking carefully at the room numbers and acting ignorant. 

“That look. You flinched.” 

“Yeah, no,” I shake my head. “Your eyesight must be getting worse with age.” 

“My eyesight is fine,” he grumbles, pulling my arm back as I pass the room, realizing he never told me the number. “We’re here,” he turns to the door and presses the key card to it. The color changes from red to green, giving us access. 

“I call the shower first,” I shout, shoving him out of the way and unbuckling my backpack as I rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it.

All I hear is an exasperated sigh on the other side and a shuffle of footsteps as he shuts the door, locks up, and moves into the room. 

I let out a sigh of exhaustion and relief to be done for the day and turned the water on to warm up. If there is one thing I’ve learned about going on missions with Bucky, it’s that the man’s superhearing is just an excuse for him to be nosy. He listens to almost EVERYTHING. 

So, with the water running and him hopefully distracted by the hotel views, I undress and focus on the shower. As soon as I took my shirt off, I was shown exactly what I worried was the problem. 

Down my side is a semi-jagged cut going up my rib cage. Close to four inches long, if not less, but angry and red. I hiss and quickly bite my lip so as not to make another sound. It’s not bleeding anymore, which tells me it’s not deep, so with the proper cleaning and care, it’ll be fine in a few days. I use my time in the shower to clean it and wash the rest of the day away with it. 

When I come out, I rummage through my bag for a first aid kit. I usually pack a travel-size one given the job, but I can’t find it in my pack. I change into a pair of clean shorts and a tank top I packed (light and takes up minimal space) before checking in the mirror to make sure my cut wasn’t prominent through the light-colored tank. When I feel comfortable enough that Bucky won’t ask questions, I straighten and fight the soreness that’s taking over my body now that I’m not going 100mph. 

I walk out, and when I see that Bucky is lying back, arms over his eyes on a king-size bed, I immediately take in the fact that it’s the only bed in the room.

“Um,” I start, hands out as I assess the space. “What’s this?” I ask. 

“A bed,” Bucky answers simply and sits up tiredly as he looks at me, leaning back on his forearms. “You ran straight into the bathroom before I could tell you, or you saw for yourself.” 

I cross my arms and flinch again when I graze my cut, but I roll my shoulders as if the full-body soreness was the only issue. 

“Well, did we not have another option or-” 

“What was that?” he cuts me off. 

“What was what?” I look right at him and furrow my eyebrows. 

“You made that face again.” 

I roll my eyes. “I’m sore,” I shrug, scoffing and even I know I’m a horrible actress right now, so I don’t make eye contact. 

“That’s not a sore grimace. That’s something else,” he sits up straight now and tilts his head down, assessing me. 

“Stop that.” My arms tightening around me under his gaze only makes a smirk appear. “Stop. It’s weird.” 

“No, what’s weird is why you’re being so weird,” he remarks with a face. 

“Good one,” I sass, turning and going to his backpack now. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” He stands quickly from the bed and looks at me over my shoulder as I unzip his bag. 

“I think I put something of mine in here. I can’t find it in my bag,” I note, dunking my hand into his things. He steps up, pulling my shoulders to get away. 

“Stop going through my stuff. You’re worse than Sam,” he notes, tugging me away, although gentler than how he is typically. 

“I just need-” I feel the small plastic box I’m looking for and tug it out, quickly holding it behind my back. “Nevermind. I found it.” 

“What are you talking about-” 

“Nothing! Just give me one minute. I need to brush my teeth,” I jab a thumb behind my shoulder as I walk backward to the bathroom, his steps matching mine. “I’ll be out in five minutes,” I note quickly as I turn on my heel and run back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it again. 

Instead of seeing the door handle budge like I expected, he bangs a fist on the wooden barrier. 

“Y/N, open the damn door! What the hell did you take out of my bag?”

“My toothbrush!” I lie. “I must have gotten our bags mixed up when I packed them. 

“How could you do that? Yours is brown, and mine’s black,” he notes. 

“A very dark brown,” I note, lifting my tank top and sitting on the bathroom counter to get a better look in the mirror of my cut. “Just give me a second-” 

“You’re being weirder than normal,” he groans in frustration on the other side. 

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” I hiss as I put the sanitizer spray on it and bite my knuckle to suppress the pained groan I want to let out. “Jesus,” I mumble under my breath, but the next thing I know, the door is swinging open, and Bucky’s staring at its handle in confusion before back at me. “Hey!” I look at the door and back at him. “They’re going to charge us for that.” 

His eyes immediately go from annoyed and over it to concerned and confused. 

“What the hell is that?” He points at my stomach, where I’m frozen on top of the counter, shirt lifted, showing my entire torso and cut on full display. 

“A paper cut,” I say after a moment of trying to come up with an excuse. Why a paper, out of all things, left my brain, I don’t know. But it did, and here we are. 

His concerned face drops some, and he deadpans from my injury to me before marching to me and turning me at my shoulders to face him and get a better view. 

“When did this happen?”

“Wild guess, but likely when the guards we fought to get out pulled a knife on me and played dirty,” I sigh, realizing I wasn’t talking myself out of this one anytime soon. “But that could be a stretch,” I add.

He again looks up at me from my injury with an incredulous and agitated look. 

“Let me see,” he sighs, bending down to get a better look and looking at the injury from a head-on angle. 

“It’s just a scratch, Barnes. I’ll be good as new after a little disinfectant and ointment. Nothing a bandaid can’t fix,” I brush off, turning on the counter to grab the kit. 

He stops me in my turn by placing a hand on my knee and turning me back around to where my legs hang off the counter. I’m sitting with him in between my legs. 

“They used a serrated knife,” he notes, taking the first aid kit out of my hand and opening it, instantly getting to work as if I wasn’t doing it myself two seconds ago. 

“Um, excuse me, but I can-” 

“I know the things you can do, Y/N. You don’t have to tell me,” he says sternly, grabbing gauze and another bottle of something I didn’t know the contents of and tipping it onto the gauze before bending down again. This time, his eyes found mine as he looked up at me from his now crouched position. “This is going to sting. That sanitizer you were using before is shit. This one actually does the job,” he notes, and I’m a little stunned by the turn of events. “Ready?” 

Never in my life did I think Bucky Barnes would be this gentle and considerate with me, but I’m not going to stop a good thing from happening. 

“I don’t think it can hurt more than the knife itself,” I smirk and nod when he gives me a look. “Yeah, yeah. Do your thing, Doc.” I gesture to him, looking up at the ceiling as I prepare for the sting. 

I don’t feel it instantly, and just as I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, the cool liquid hits my cut, and I hiss, grabbing his wrist in a tight hold out of instinct as I hold him back. “Jesus H. Christ,” I grit through my teeth. “What the hell kind of acid did you just put in-?” 

“It’s Banner-strength disinfectant,” he cuts me off, gently dabbing the cut even as I hold his wrist. His touch is soft, but the sting is anything but. “You grabbed my first aid kit. I had him make it since you tend to get hurt easily, and we’re not in the cleanest country.” He’s fully concentrated on my cut. 

“What?” I asked, surprised, grabbing the kit's container and seeing that it indeed was not mine. I brush over the fact he had Bruce make it and packed it specifically for me as I look over at my bag, still slumped against the wall from my rush to take a shower, and realize I must have accidentally unpacked my own. 

“Relax. Tensing doesn’t help,” he adds, bringing his free hand to my thigh and giving a light squeeze to distract me. I hiss again as he pads over an agitated area. His face drops some, and he gives me a look. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell me about this as soon as you knew? This was not far from being infected in a way that could have been a lot worse than just an irritating sting.” 

“When was I supposed to tell you?” I sass, throwing my head back on the mirror as I focus on anything but the pain in my side. “As soon as we got off the bike, we headed here. You didn’t say a word to me, and I was in my own head. Honestly, I didn’t even realize it was there until we were checking in and I was on the phone with Steve. Adrenaline must have kept me from realizing it.” 

He mumbles something under his breath, and I hear the word, reckless in the middle of it. 

“Watch yourself,” I warn, kicking my leg a touch, skimming his rib cage. “There can easily be two injured people in this room.” 

“No need for both of us to get stupid injuries,” he grumbles. 

I scoff and shove his hand away from me, jumping off the counter as he stands and glares at me. 

“Sorry for getting stabbed,” I sneer up at him, stepping into his space. “I’ll make sure to ask the bad guys next time to keep the knives at home. Oh! Or better yet,” I exaggerate. “I’ll tell them my partner said I’m not allowed to get into fights with men triple my size, so if they can just play gentle so I don’t end up with any battle scars, that would be greatly appreciated.” I smile wide and fake before dropping it and brushing by him to the bedroom. 

I catch the tail end of his eyes rolling before I hear him stomping behind me. 

“I need to finish patching you up. If it’s not done properly, you can get sick.” He comes up behind me, but I stop abruptly, and he runs into my back before holding my shoulders to steady himself. I turn to him, not breaking the space. 

“I know how injuries work, Barnes. This isn’t my first time in the field, although I’m sure you believe otherwise,” I scoff in anger. “Just,” I put my hands up, stepping away in frustration and groaning. “I’m going to get some air,” I try and push past him to leave, but his hand wraps around my arm and holds me shoulder to shoulder by his side before I can get my feet past him. 

“No. You’re going to let me finish patching you up. Now…” he stares at me with his Sergeant's eyes. “Sit. Down.” I struggle to fight my stubborn retort, but he sees it brewing and raises an eyebrow in challenge. 

I groan in protest loudly and pull my arm out of my grip before moving to the edge of the bed and sulkingly wait for him to finish his job- that I didn’t ask him to do, by the way!

“Good girl,” he mutters with a smartass smirk, and I take a breath in to yell something at him, but he goes back to the bathroom to grab the kit we left behind. 

“Cyborg headed-ass, caveman, son of a bit-” I mumble, and he comes back in, shooting me a look that says, ‘really?’. “Oh, sorry, did you hear that?” I say with fake regret. 

He rolls his eyes and crouches again by my knees to get a better angle at the cut, and I lean back, my hands flat against the comforter as he works quietly, and I stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands on my stomach when he’s been nothing but cold to me. 

As he’s patting the tape over the piece of gauze he fashioned over my cut, I look at him calculatingly. He notices my gaze on him and awkwardly starts putting his things up, sneaking glances at my stare here and there. 

“What?” he finally asks. “Stop staring at me.” 

Instead of an answer, I just stare harder and raise an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side as I analyze him deeper. 

“Cut it out,” he growls, standing and moving to put the kit on the counter. “You’re creeping me out.” 

I let out a single laugh and shook my head before lowering my tank top and looking out the window. “You’re so fucking confusing,” I state, standing as I straighten my clothes. 

“I’m confusing?” he asked rhetorically. “You’re fucking confusing.” 

“Come up with your own lines,” I throw an exasperated hand out, waving him off. “I’m getting air.” 

I don’t know what provokes him, but he steps in front of me, his towering figure shadowing over me. 

“No,” he says, looking at me sternly. 

“I don’t remember asking,” I sidestep him and move to the door. I manage to open it maybe a foot before it’s slammed in my face, and I feel Bucky’s chest pressed to my back. I look up, and his hand is splayed flat on the door. 

“I said no,” he says lowly. His voice is just over my shoulder, and I hold back the shiver that threatens to take over my body. 

“And I said, fuck off,” I say just as lowly, looking up at him, tilting my head back. “Move.” 

“We need to talk.” 

“And I need to put a good three blocks of this city between us so I don’t add another person to the stabbed today club. I’d rather stay on Steve’s good side.” I jut my arm back to elbow him in the ribs, but he dodges it with a smirk. 

“Real mature,” he sasses, and I can see a touch of playfulness in his features, and that makes me even more furious. 

“You’re one to fucking talk!” I turn and shove him in the chest, and he relents, putting his hands up in the air as I shove repeatedly in vexation. Each shove and each curse I send his way has him taking one slight step back with a grin. “Stop smiling!” I grunt as I push him harder, and he laughs. He fucking laughs!

My eye twitches, and my hits become more forceful. Nothing close to what I’m capable of, but I’m not looking for a full-on brawl. I just want to smack him enough to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. 

“Y/N,” he says calmly in between hits to his rock-solid chest. A chest, I’m sure, will give me bruises if I keep this up. 

“No! You don’t get to talk!” I point at him after shoving him one more time and successfully making him falter a few steps back at the power behind it. “I’m walking out of this room to get some air, and you’re going to stay right fucking there. Right there!” I point to the floor under his feet. “And not keep me from leaving this God damn suffocating room. Got it?” 

I know my eyes are wild, and I know the emotions I’m feeling are written clear as day on my face because his sly smirk falters, and he takes a deep breath in, hands still up in surrender. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters out as his gaze falls to his feet. 

“What?” I ask, shocked and slightly out of breath from exerting myself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says a touch more clearly as he clears his throat and looks up, hands coming down and eyes avoiding mine. 

I blink a few times and throw my hands up. “I can’t do this.” I let out a breath and turned back to the door. 

“Y/N, please don’t,” he says, and I stop. I surprise myself, but I stop, turning back to him slowly. 

“Why?” There’s a long pause that follows my question, and I wonder whether Bucky even knows why he’s asking this. “Genuinely Bucky... Why are you so insistent on me staying in this room right now?

He runs a nervous hand over his beard and shifts his weight to one foot as he throws one hand up in a single wave. 

“I don’t need you getting hurt again,” he states, still avoiding eye contact. 

My eyebrows narrow in confusion, and I cross my arms, popping my hip to the side as I stare at him. “We’re in a hotel. Not a battlefield.” 

“It’s better we stay in here than wander around. The guys who were after us are likely still hunting us, and it’s best we don’t show our faces in public spaces,” he notes. 

Ok, that’s a logical reason, but something tells me this is a more emotional reason on his end. He’s not sharing everything, though…

“Ok…” I drag out and look at the balcony. “Then I’ll go out there.” 

I walk promptly to the balcony, surprisingly not being stopped by him as I brush past him and jiggle the door handle, finding it stuck. “Fucking hell,” I grumble under my breath as I pull the handle and push it up and down to try and get it to work.  

A hand comes behind me and takes the door handle for me. I stare at it, not turning to acknowledge how Bucky expertly pushes it just right for it to open.

“I had the same issue,” he says, pulling his hand back and nodding his head to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.” He steps back, quiet and sinking back into his usual stand-offish behavior, but now with more nerves and awkwardness. 

I give a grunt in acknowledgment and shut the balcony door behind me before sitting in a shitty lawn chair. I don’t turn to see if he’s still standing there watching me, but instead, I focus on the city view in front of me. It’s not a well-off country, so the views aren’t more than rundown buildings and vendors in the street shouting for people to buy their things over their neighbors, but it’s fresh air away from the man that makes my blood boil. 

__________

Fifteen minutes later, I feel a little calmer. Although still annoyed, I’m more confused than anything. Why the hell was he acting so strange, and why do I feel like some kind of serious conversation was going to-

“Y/N?” I hear the door open with a creak and turn to see Bucky with wet hair, a change of clothes, and soft eyes focusing on the door that’s obviously broken. “God, this place has gone down in quality,” he notes, leaving the door cracked as he comes onto the balcony with me. 

“Been here before?” I ask, turning back to the view ahead. 

“Once like 8 years ago,” he nods and moves to stand by the railing, his arms crossed over the edge of it, and his gaze now focused on the same place mine is. “Must have gotten new management.” 

It’s silent for almost five minutes after that. No words, no looks, no sounds. Just silence outside of the city noise. I debate, standing and going back into the room if he’s going to continue to go radio silent and not explain his strange behavior earlier, but just before I stand, he speaks up. 

“I don’t know why,” he says, and a crease forms between my eyebrows. He continues to stare off into the city. I wait a few moments, and he continues. “I don’t know why you stress me out more than the others.” 

Great. So that’s how this is going to go. 

I stand and silently move to go back into the room, but his hand clasps around my wrist. 

“Please, just let me find the words,” he asks, and I can hear the plea in his voice. 

I look back and up at him and his eyes are in the puppy dog form I’ve seen only a select few times. Ones that have never been directed at me but have held no truer emotion than requisition. 

“Ok…” I drag out, moving back to the lawn chair and sitting quietly as he drops my wrist almost hesitantly and leans against the railing, fidgeting with his hands. I’ve never seen him like this, so I give him the space. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes before just unloading everything. 

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt,” he starts. “I mean, I don’t like seeing any of my friends get hurt. It’s no decent person’s interest to watch friends and family get harmed, but it’s like a nagging in my head. No,” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words. “It’s like having pins and needles surrounding your lungs, and every time you try and take a breath to come down from the terror- the pain of seeing them hurt- the needles poke and stab. Making it nearly impossible to take a deep breath and ground yourself. And that’s only a part of the pain that comes with it.”

I stare up at him. My eyes are likely wide as I take in what he’s saying. He glances at me once before looking back at his hands. 

“I know I’m an asshole to you. I know that,” he says, cringing as if the truth behind it hurts him. “I don’t know why. At least, I say that to make myself not think about it longer than I can probably handle, but I’ve talked to my therapist about it, and she says it's a protective technique my brain finds more plausible than just dealing with the confusing feelings I have towards you.” 

My eyes shift back and forth as if trying to understand the words. 

“Feelings towards me?” I repeat. “Like annoyance?” 

“No,” he sighs, and then he chuckles a soft laugh under his breath. “Well, yes. Sometimes you can be annoying, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it endearing most of the time.” 

My eyebrows raise at that. Where the hell is all this coming from? 

I shake my head in disbelief and lean back in my chair. “Barnes, you’re giving me a bit of whiplash, and I’m not sure-” 

“I like you.” 

My mouth is still open from where my sentence was going, and I blink once. Then twice. Then, a third time, as I tried to understand if I just heard him right. Because if he meant it as a friend, I’m shocked. But if he meant it otherwise… I’m hallucinating. 

His eyes find mine, and this time, he doesn’t look away. He keeps eye contact, and I can feel him trying to read me. 

“I-Is there more to that sentence?” I ask, my brain trying to make sense of the situation and short-circuiting ultimately. 

“Yes, but from the looks of it, you’re still trying to translate those three words.” 

“Good observation,” I nod, pursing my lips and sinking into my chair.

“I’ve been known to make them,” he smiles a tight-lipped smile. I’m actually grateful for his quip at this moment. 

“Bucky, you have to understand that those words don’t make sense with how you treat me-” 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he pushes off the railing and steps forward just in front of my chair. “God, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why it’s taken me this long to apologize for the way I’ve acted this long, but for some reason… When we were fighting today, I saw a man get the jump on you. I was seconds from leaving my own fight and coming straight to you to handle it for you, but you quickly turned the situation around. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen you in that scenario, yet something about it…” He pauses, looking up at the sky, throwing a hand through his hair. “It freaked me out. It freaked me out far more than it has in the past.” 

He looks at me in a sincere way and moves to sit in the busted up, rusted, and metal patio chair that looks like it very well could have been here when he came 8 years ago. It creaks as he turns it in and angles his body toward mine. His elbows rest on his knees, and he looks down at his hands again. And as he talks, I realize he’s breaking it down not just for me but for himself—these emotions and sudden changes. 

“Maybe it’s because I knew if I didn’t get to you, you were on your own. We didn’t have a backup. I couldn’t call Steve or Nat, or Wanda to come in and help where I couldn’t. And then the actualization that if I couldn’t get to you, if no one was there to back you up, there was a chance I’d end up regretting everything all because I can’t seem to come to terms with my feelings.” His eyes find mine again. “And then that cut,” his eyes drag from mine down my torso to where my knife wound lays under my tank top. “It was like a final piece to knock some sense into my head.” 

He looks at me, and I can’t explain it, but I want to hold him when he looks at me like that. 

“Seeing you hurt reminded me… You’re human. You aren’t invincible even if you can take on three men triple your size attacking you at once. It’s a skill I’m glad and impressed that you have, but it doesn’t guarantee someone won’t get the jump on you again, and I’m not sure I can handle that.”

I stay in silence for a moment, taking in the information and processing it all. I must have been quiet for a while because a soft “Y/N?” makes me look up from where I’ve been staring blankly at the balcony. 

“You ok?” he asks gently, carefully. 

I nod and run a hand up and down my arm from a slight breeze blowing with the sun setting in the distance. 

“Trying to…” I started, but I didn’t know what words were meant to follow. “I’m a little shocked,” I say, eventually looking at him. 

“I can’t say I blame you. It’s a 180 from our normal conversations,” he takes a deep breath and smiles softly at him. “Do you need a minute?” 

I shake my head. “No…” Then I scrunch my nose. “Well, maybe.” 

“That’s ok,” he nods, sitting back in his chair, and it weakly groans in protest. He takes in the fact my legs are up to my chest now, and I’ve wrapped my arms around myself. “We should go inside. It’ll get cold soon.” He stands and motions for me to head in first, then offers a hand to help me stand up. 

I look at it before taking it, standing, and walking in with my arms still around my middle. As soon as we’re in, I turn and catch us both off guard by being chest-to-chest with him after he shuts the balcony door. I don’t move, though, and neither does he. 

“Since honesty seems to be the focus of the night,” I look up at him. “I’ve always admired you…” His face softens at that. “But I’d be lying to both of us if I said how you treated me didn’t affect that original feeling.” He nods in understanding and slightly cringes to himself. 

“I wouldn’t hold it against you.” 

“Why did you- Why did you not like me at first?” 

He shrugs a touch, but there’s no uncertainty behind it. “I saw you as young and naive. I saw you as someone who seemed to make almost anyone love you, and all you had to do was exist around them. I think a broken part of me was envious and confused by that trait, and I used it as a reason to be hateful to you instead of taking advantage of the kindness you freely give and allowing myself the gift of that. I didn’t think I deserved that.” He sighs, his hands going into the pockets of his shorts. “I convinced myself that your kindness was nativity when I’ve learned quite quickly that you’re anything but naive.”  

I sigh, nodding my head as I turn and move to sit on the edge of the bed. “You wouldn’t be the first person to misinterpret my kindness. It’s why I tend to fall into becoming a stubborn ass when people don’t appreciate that kindness. Hence why I haven’t been the perfect person in this relationship myself,” I motion between us. “I should have recognized where you could have been coming from and continued to kill you with pleasantries, but you didn’t seem to respond well to it.” 

“It wasn’t your job to recognize that or fix it. It was mine to stop being a stubborn ass myself and talk to you rather than make assumptions,” he shifts on his feet. “I thought I was self-preserving when I was actually self-sabotaging. Something I’m still working on recognizing.” 

“It’s a process,” I sigh, knowing the steps well enough myself. I consider the conversation and take a deep breath, relaxing in my spot as I come to my conclusion. “Bucky?” He looks at me, hopeful and attentive. “I forgive you.”

I watch as his body stiffens at the declaration before slowly relaxing.

“I don’t expect you to just be fine with everything I’ve done the last-”

“Many years?” I chuckle, lighting the mood. “Yeah, but why would I want to waste any more time when I get it? I get your reasoning, and I can’t say I blame you.” 

“But you should blame me,” he moves to sit on the comforter next to me, our knees brushing. 

I shrug, turning to face him better. “But I don’t.” He starts to talk, and I cover his mouth with my hand. His icy blue eyes looked down at the motion before back at me. “I swear to God, Barnes. You take two steps forward, and it’s like you feel guilty for making progress and regress.” He flinches slightly at my words, and I feel I struck a nerve. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-” I take my hand back.

“No, you’re right. It’s something I’m still working on. I mean, small things are easy to accept and move on, but this,” he gestures to me. “A part of me doesn’t believe I deserve your forgiveness after the caseload of shit I’ve given you, but-” 

“But it’s my forgiveness to give, so I’ll decide if I want to give it…” I look at him as if waiting for him to connect the dots. He smiles and nods as he looks down at his hands. “You catching on?” 

“I’m catching on,” he looks up at him again. “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” 

We look at each other for a little while, and the atmosphere is new. It’s not tense. It’s not awkward. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s like we’ve come to a point we’ve been actively avoiding for years, and it turned out to be a really nice point.  

“So…” he starts, and I decide to break the seriousness of it all. 

“Why is there only one bed, Bucky?” I ask with a smirk, turning and patting the comforter we’re sitting on.

He looks at it with me and smiles with a laugh. “It wasn’t intentional, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Feels a touch intentional. Not letting me leave the room or demanding I stay close kinda plays into the fact you’d be forced into sharing a bed with me. Another way to secure me close by,” I tease.

“Or…” he drags out, and his hand comes up, pushing a wayward hair behind my ear and casually taking his hand back. “The receptionist told me they didn’t have any two-bedroom rooms available right now because there is a festival in town this weekend, and they’re booked up.” 

“Seems legit, but not sure if I believe you,” I grin a touch bashful and look around at the room as if I’m surveying it and not slightly melting at his touch. 

“Believe me or not,” he shrugs, standing and stretching. “Either way, we’re sharing a bed tonight, sweetheart.” He winks. He fucking winks at me and moves to the other side of the bed, getting his side ready for sleep. 

This new side of him is not one I was ready for, but seeing it makes me think about what I haven’t gotten to experience sooner. So I say that. 

“I knew you were a lady's man back in the day, but I never thought I’d see the flirt you were rumored to be,” I turn in my spot on the bed and look at him from the end of the bed. 

“I don’t flirt with everyone,” he says, throwing the blanket back and adjusting the pillows. 

“Well, yeah, obviously, but-” 

“Just people I’m attracted to,” he says, cutting me off with a telling grin. “And women I’d like to flirt back.” 

My mouth drops, and I let out a laugh. A genuine laugh. 

“Was that a move? Did you just make a move on me?” I smile like a teenager at him, partially in disbelief and partially in interest. 

“Did it work?” he chuckles, sitting on the edge and scooting into the bed but not fully getting in it. 

I shake my head with a smile and laugh again. “Honestly, I have to say yes.” 

His smile widens at my confession, and he leans back on the headboard, two pillows propped behind him. 

“So you’re saying I have a chance if I keep it up?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy. It’s not going to take just a flashy wink and a flirty comment to get my attention fully. I like to be sought after.” 

“Good to know.” 

“Is it?” I ask incredulously with a smirk as I move to my side of the bed and throw the covers back enough to sneak under them. 

“Can’t give away all my plans,” he shakes his head, and I turn off my bedside lamp. 

“Wouldn’t want you to. I like being surprised,” I lay down and nuzzled into my pillow before turning on my side and looking up at him. “Must say, your surprise tonight was a pretty good start.” 

“You think?” 

“I think,” I nod and debate on my next idea, but I decide what the hell? Who’s it hurting? “Feel free to say no, but if we are sharing the same bed, I tend to be a cuddler unconsciously, so if we-” 

“Yes,” he says simply a large grin he doesn’t seem to care to hide marks his handsome features. “Yes, please.” He nods, moving under the blanket. 

“That answer was a little too fast to believe that this hotel didn’t have other beds.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shimmies under the blanket, and I feel his leg brush mine. 

“Listen, normally I wouldn’t, but I learn I sleep best when I’m with another person, so-” 

“You don’t have to give me a reason, doll. I’m happy to lend the support.” His arms are quickly wrapped around my middle and I’m turned to where my back is pressed against his front and I’m not going to lie… It’s a perfect fit. “Night, Y/N.” 

“Night, Bucky.” I smile putting my hands on his around my middle and laying back into him. 

This was a good start to something possibly more…

Ending A/N: I wouldn't be opposed to doing one more scene for this little drabble, but let me know if that's something you guys would be interested in :)

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

[lady-griffin]

Jinx's Hallucinations + Ekko

Before Act III drops, I wanted to talk about an aspect of Timebomb that I'm quite fascinated by -

Ekko isn’t a trigger for Jinx’s hallucinations.

He has even stopped her hallucinations – not intentionally or anything, but more than once Ekko's presence seems to have a nullifying impact on Jinx.

Which is odd, right?

One would assume due to their history Ekko would be just as triggering to Jinx as anyone else, if not more so, and yet the opposite seems to be true.

In Jinx's first reunion with Vi, she quickly becomes overwhelmed and has an episode due to a whole combination of factors, but notably because her hallucinations of Mylo and Claggor start attacking her, largely because she's starting to breakdown and is getting overwhelmed (a self-perpetuating cycle).

Jinx can't even begin to calm herself down, in fact she yells at everyone to shut up, because she needs to think.

Then she hears Ekko’s hoverboard and suddenly the hallucinations are completely gone.

Jinx isn’t sure if what she heard was real or not.

Which is a great detail, since it indicates Jinx is aware that the voices she hears aren’t “real," meaning she knows other people can’t hear them too. So, it's rather telling (at least for me) that she asks Vi to confirm if she too heard the hoverboard sound.

It's also impressive Jinx was able to instantly recognize the sound of Ekko's hoverboard, despite her being in the midst of a mental breakdown and unable to think properly.

It’s almost like Jinx’s brain went into fight mode or something, because seemingly all the hallucinations stopped at once because there’s now a much bigger threat Jinx needs to be on guard for – Ekko is heading her way.

I really can't emphasize how much I love that.

While not traditionally romantic, in any sense, this shows the amount of respect Jinx has towards Ekko and the threat he poses to her. He’s someone she actually has to take seriously when fighting.

Which is a bit unique for Jinx.

Throughout S1 we saw Jinx being far more scared of her hallucinations then actual real, physical threats, but in this moment it’s like her brain recognized Ekko as being the far greater threat than her hallucinations.

Which he is - but that’s also true for many of the other things Jinx faces and isn’t scared of.

Jinx does “glitch out” while fighting Ekko and the Firelights in “When These Walls Come Tumbling Down,” - but it’s more of an asset than a problem, as she easily dodges the Gorilla Mask Firelight (at least I think it’s a gorilla).

Then when Ekko disappears, Jinx's psychoses come rushing back; obviously, this has less to do with Ekko himself and everything to do with him taking Vi, but nonetheless, it's still a slight repetition of the pattern that keeps happening between them.

In "The Boy Savior," during Jinx's bridge fight with Ekko, she once again specifically doesn't experience any hallucinations; even though she was just experiencing them not too long ago.

Mylo was this 'demon' on her back that while she could initially argue against, the more upset she became, the bigger his presence was.

She saw Caitlyn as this devil figure, laughing and mocking her and her psychoses even blocked Vi almost entirely from her sight; whether literally or symbolically, Jinx clearly wasn’t fully aware she was shooting at Vi, despite her obviously seeing Vi and then shooting in her direction.

Then Ekko bursts onto the scene and suddenly no more hallucinations. Which is just...

I honestly don’t know what this is. I really don’t.

To be clear, I absolutely love this whole thing despite not knowing what it is exactly, because honestly, I'm just fascinated by this dynamic, because for whatever reason, Jinx isn't triggered by Ekko nor does she hallucinate him.

In S2, Jinx’s hallucinations have significantly decreased, but in “Paint the Town Blue," she's suddenly bombarded with pretty much everyone’s voices because she’s beyond upset and panicking about Isha being taken by the enforcers.

She sees pretty much everyone - Silco, Vi, Mylo, Claggor, Sevika, and Isha.

Jinx seeing Vi, Sevika, and Isha shows us that she can/does hallucinate people who she knows are alive.

In addition, Isha being one of her hallucinations shows us that Jinx doesn’t need to have negative or even complicated feelings towards someone for them to become a part of her psychoses, as Jinx largely thinks/feels positively towards Isha.

Though it should be noted, the hallucination of Isha isn’t acting aggressive towards Jinx, not like the others are.

Finally, Ekko or Vander are the only two she doesn't hallucinate, but we know Jinx has hallucinated Vander in the past, making Ekko the odd one out when it comes to Jinx's hallucinations once again.

Which for the millionth is absolutely fascinating to me.

Because why?

Why doesn't Ekko trigger Jinx? Why isn't he one of her hallucinations? How come he's the only one we've seen having the ability to stop Jinx's hallucinations altogether (even if it's completely unintentional)?

For whatever reason, Jinx’s mind has seemingly categorized Ekko as being different than everyone else and while it’s obviously not this big thing the show brings your attention to, it’s also clearly there, albeit subtly.

And yeah...

I don’t really have much more to say, I just wanted to talk about this interesting aspect of Timebomb before we get to the last and final arc of Arcane.

[mimikittysblog]

The Princess - Bonus Ending

Full story! ♡

Pairing: Mafia! Husbands! Poly! Ateez x Fem! Wife! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst if you squint really hard.

Synopsis: You found the traitor.

Warnings: Death, Violence, very slight MxM, some descriptions of gore. ⚠️MNDI⚠️ If I missed anything then please let me know!

Word Count: 1.8k Words

A/N: Hehe surprise! An extra ending 🤭 I wanted to add this on in the actual fic, but I liked where it ended off too much. So I decided to make this into a bonus ending where you could read it if you want, or just ignore it if you don’t. Hope you enjoy this too!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

It has been a little over a week since your kidnapping. Things also have finally gone back to normal.

Except…

“Joooooooonggiiiieee!!!!!”

The yell for the captain of ATZ can be heard throughout the entire mansion, along with the sound of stomping pretty pink high heels.

“Oh my.”

“Well aren’t you in trouble”

Soon the door to Hongjoongs office was bursted open revealing the little fireball of which they call ‘Their Princess.’

“Oh princess.. whats the matter??”

That question only made your frown grow and eyebrows furrow even more.

“You promised we’d finally go shopping today! You said you wanted to dress me up! I’ve been waiting in the living room for over an hour!”

“Oooohh good luck with that!”

“See ya later our troubled husband! Hope she goes easy on you!”

The boys in the room quickly scatter, but of course not before giving you a sweet kiss and a compliment to your pretty outfit.

“Oh darling.. I’m so sorry!! I got caught up with work! Things have gotten so hectic princess.. there are these idiots that are always giving us trouble! And just….” As he kept going trying to give you reasons he notices your expression hasn’t changed at all, which makes him sigh.

Ever since your kidnapping, your husbands have become too anxious. So now they can’t even put their trust into any new body guards. Especially since the one that has ratted out your existence is still unknown.

So they took it upon themselves to always be your chaperone when you go out. As much of a hassle you thought it would be, it honestly just gives them an excuse to be around you even more. So in the end you just let them do it.

“I’m sorry our princess.. I mean it I’m very sorry…” he says as he gets up and makes his way over to you, pulling you close.

“Do you still want to go now..?”

“Can you go?”

“I have to make it up to you, don’t I?”

“And those idiots??”

“Hmmm well.. why don’t you tell me what I should do to them sweetheart?”

“Hmmmph. Well if they’re giving you guys so much trouble and they’re idiots, I don’t see why you can’t just kill them off and take what you need. We have the resources and manpower, plus you’ve done it before! You did it literally a week ago. You’re ATZ for goodness sake. No one is above you!” You say like it was nothing.

And you were right.

Hongjoong chuckles as he sits down and brings you into his lap.

“While you are correct my love, unfortunately what we need from them, requires them to still be alive. For now.” He explains.

“Ughh fineee…” You groan.

As you opened your mouth to speak again. That’s when a loud shrill screech disturbed the peacefulness of the moment.

“What now?!” Hongjoong barked.

“Oh! That must be my doing!” You said with what can only be described as a maniacal glint in your eyes.

“Oh?”

“Come Joongie! I’ll show you! Then we’ll go shopping!”

“Whatever you desire Princess.” He says with a kiss to your new diamond ring.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“LET GO OF ME!! LET GO!! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG?! UNHAND ME AT ONCE!!”

“Then why did you run?”

“H-huh..?”

Here in the middle of your grand foyer, was a girl being held down by two men on her knees. Behind her, every single one of your maids stood their sights straight down.

While in front of her is where you stood. Tall and proud. Wearing a stoic expression however the glint from earlier still in your eyes.

“Princess?? What do we have here?” Seonghwa asks.

Your husbands have all now gathered around you on top of the staircase. Simply enjoying the show.

You spin on your heels to look up at them with a wide cheshire grin. “You’ll see my loves!”

“Sirs..! Sirs please!! Please help me! She’s mistaken!”

SMACK

“Don’t you dare speak to my husbands.” You growl. “Ugh look at what you’ve done! You’ve gotten blood on my new ring!” Your finger now slightly dripping blood from where the diamond cut her cheek.

“Oh no.. No worries sweetheart, we’ll make you a new one.” San tells you.

“Oooh! Alright Sannie Thank you!”

“Please.. why are you doing this?? What did I do wrong?”

Your laugh then rings out throughout the foyer. Echoing beautifully off the walls.

“Stop your pathetic little act.” You say as you crouch down to her eye level.

“I know you were the one that snitched about me.”

At this revelation your husbands became even more interested than before. They all perked up and blood boiling again now that they finally have the culprit.

“What?! Who even are you??!”

They’re so angry they want to just run down and tear her limb from limb. However they know you have something plan. So they just let you have your fun.

You smirk widens at Wooyoungs question. As you know how reality shattering it is to her.

“W-what..? You don’t.. recognize me?? Sir Wooyoung! I’ve worked here for years!! ..None.. of you recognize me?” She asks pitifully.

As she looks up at all of them, she sees nothing but fury and confusion. Not a single one of them having any knowledge on who she is.

SMACK

“I told you. Do not. EVER. Speak. To MY. Husbands.”

You then got up and turn back to your loves above you.

“My darlings. This here. Used to be one of our maids. And she thought that by getting rid of me. She could have all of you.”

“What?!”

“How absurd!”

“How stupid is what that is!”

“No! Its not true! It’s not! It wasn’t me!!! I-I would never betray any of you!” She continues to plea.

“Then why. Did. You. Run?”

“I-I didn’t..”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your absence ever since I was returned home? Hah! It’s what gave you away! And you actually thought they would? and what?! go searching for you?!” You laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“The day after I returned home from my kidnapping. I realized we were short staffed. It didn’t take me long to realize it was you. When I asked, Kim said you resigned due to health. I didn’t believe it for a second. So I had them search your room. And look what I found!”

At your signal, The head maid Kim stepped forward and gave you a pile of letters.

Love letters.

“Hmm. I’m sure you can guess what these are. You wrote them. Each and every one of them. You didn’t hide them very well. Not sure why you didn’t even just burn or take them with you.” You scoff.

“They’re quite romantic actually… If. They weren’t addressed to my beloveds.”

Her blood has gone cold. She doesn’t know what to do. She can only kneel there looking up at you as she fears her fate.

Unfortunately her fate was sealed the second she began writing these letters.

“I-it’s not.. no… I-I never even gave it to them! Please!! It’s not what it looks like.”

“You thought once you got rid of me. You could swoop in and take my place. However once I came back alive, you decided to run. Thinking I would never suspect you. You then also believed that any of my husbands would realize you stopped being around and come looking for you! Because somehow you have convinced yourself that they’re in love with you! They don’t even know you!!”

“THEY LOVE ME!!!”

SMACK

“Oh. That was the hardest one yet.” Mingi whispers to Yunho. Who nods in agreement.

While on the other side of the staircase Yeosang whispers to Jongho about how this maid is insane to ever think that.

“100%.”

“They don’t. Why would they?” You start then throwing her letters in her face.

“Why would distinguished men like them ever waste space in their brains for a lowly pathetic slut like you? Let alone space in their hearts.”

“…I just..”

“Enough talking. You’ve said far more than you deserve. And frankly I’m bored already.”

You then extend your hand out. One of the henchmen that was holding her down then hands you a syringe.

The girl then panics at the sight of an unknown syringe.

“Wait no please! Whats in that?! What are you gonna do to me?!”

“You could’ve had anything you wanted in this mansion. Anything. And I promise you. I would’ve happily given them to you. My clothes. My shoes. My jewels. My gold. Anything. I’m just that generous.”

You open the syringe cap.

“However the thing you decided to covet? Were the only things that were forbidden. My. Prized possessions. My husbands. And for that. You must suffer the consequence.”

Before she can even let out another sound of protest you injected her straight in the neck.

You and the men holding her down then stepped back as her screams quickly filled the foyer. Her skin and flesh melting straight off of her bones.

“So thats what she ordered acid for.” Hongjoong then mumbles.

“You knew she ordered acid?” Wooyoung asks

“She used my card.” Hongjoong shrugs.

It was a ghastly sight but none of them were even slightly bothered.

Well.

Of course the other maids were.

Once her screams come to a halt. And she was nothing but a pile of goop on the once spotless marbled floor.

You laughed.

Your husbands then descended the stairs.

Once your laughing fit was over you addressed the other maids who were still standing there. Mortified of what has become of their once friend.

“Now all of you. Remember my words. You are free to ask anything you want from me. I have more than enough for multiple lifetimes so I’ll be happy to give it to you. However. If you ever even for a nanosecond think. You could replace me or take any of my husbands away from me. Well. Ask her how that turned out for her.” Fire resonating deep in your voice.

“Thats all. Now all of you clean this up please!” You then say with a bright smile as if the past 20 minutes or so didn’t just happen.

“Come now darling. I believe I owe you a shopping trip.” Hongjoong then says as he puts his hand on your lower back.

“Ah yes!! Lets go! May all my beloveds come with?? Then we can have dinner?”

“Why not?” Yunho says with a bright smile.

Your husband then all lead you out to the car.

“You know no one could ever take us from you. Right Princess?” San says softly to you.

“Of course! I would never let them.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. We wouldn’t either.” Yeosang says.

“They literally can’t our love. You have us all wrapped around your pretty delicate fingers.” Wooyoung adds as he kisses your ring finger.

“I know.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

© mimikittysblog 2024

Tagging: @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @bee-gremlin @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity @puppyminnnie @borahae-reads @spenceatiny18 @justconniez @rosydipity @vtyb23 @beccaskz @boredlol914 @ntlmundy @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @ateezswonderland @peachyy-jooniee @robertsbbygirl @hanniehq @smally97 @pixie0627 @haven-cove @jaerisdiction @btskzfav @bbyunicornbby @tinybada @cecilleasworld @mudent @mortal-advocate @jjcanwrite

Those who are italicized I could not tag for some reason :(

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Given we have finally gotten news regarding the anime what do you think about it being an adaptation of the manga?

I have some mixed opinions since we'll be seeing the same story for the 4th time at this point (game/manga/novel/anime) but there does appear to be some differences with each especially with each unique Yuu. I do think the OBs and fight choreography is best animated over a slice of life show.

I'm not expecting any major changes from the manga if any at all but I'm happy to see it animated at all. I do hope it is successful so that the other books get animated. I feel like we are in a purgatory of early TWST with how often we go back to the earlier books in different mediums.

[Referencing this news!]

Gonna be honest with you, I’m kinda numb to getting yet another adaptation of the main story (a story that, mind you, we've already heard ad nauseum). At this point, it really does feel like a never-ending purgatory or time loop where we are forced to relive Heartslabyul over and over and over 😅 Of course, I'm still looking forward to seeing the anime and watching some of the more complicated scenes play out (fights, flashback sequences, playing magift/spelldrive, etc.). However, I think I would have preferred something new...? For example, vignettes, the event stories, etc.

The anime being an adaptation of the manga is... fine? But that means the anime may also have the same issues that I have with the manga. Those would be:

We will never really be able to fully bond with or know Yuu on a deeper level since Yuu is constantly changing between books/seasons. We won't get to see how the Yuu of Heartslabyul interacts with characters in later books, we won't get to see how the Yuu of Octavinelle handled the Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw conflicts, etc. We won't see any of them grow or change as a result of interacting with the NRC cast. This sucks particularly because if you really love a particular Yuu, you know they won’t be sticking around.

Despite the Yuus being designed as foils for the OB boys of each respective arc, no special meaningful interactions come out of it. The reader/viewer is just left to draw the parallels but there is never a moment where Yuu and the OB boy reconcile about their similarities/differences, which would actually justify the frequent changing of the POV character.

Barely any alterations are made from the game's story, since the manga isn't allowed to deviate in significant ways. No matter how different the Yuu is, they cannot ever make a decision or even have dialogue that would actually change the story in interesting ways.

General time constraints (manga arcs are 20 chapters, seasons have a limited number of episodes).

Limited showing/screen time of some characters. Because the adaptation will be of the main story, some characters that make very bad first impressions (hi, book 2 Leona… hi, Sebek without the vignettes…) will maintain those bad first impressions and won’t have a chance to redeem themselves simply because the bonus content (vignettes, event stories, etc.) aren’t adapted. Other characters won’t get as much focus simply because they aren’t the OB boys. The former would mainly be a concern for anime/manga-only fans.

Most of my disappointment comes not from reliving the same story, but that we are reliving the same story with minimal changes. I would enjoy adaptations more if they actually played around with the source material and explored new avenues! It feels like a missed opportunity, you know??

As I said earlier in this post, this is NOT meant to be overly negative; this is healthy skepticism. I'd describe myself as still excited, but not as excited as I would be if the anime were about something else set in the Twst world. Hope that makes sense 🙏

I would also caution readers to take my concerns with a grain of salt; for all we know, maybe the anime will add new scenes or fix some of the issues I pointed out. We should wait until the anime is out to judge its content and quality for ourselves.

On a positive note though 🤡 M-Maybe we will see. Shirtless L*ona animated… because… y’know… Episode of Savanaclaw technically canonized it… HAHAHAh JK… unless…? 🥺 👉👈

[puckinghischier]

okay so…not that anyone asked but i have some…thoughts about this discourse surrounding jack’s signing last night

and honestly….i’m sad. i’m so insanely sad that so many people who claim to love this team are so quick to assume jack is a lost cause asshole. i think so much of it is entitlement. and yeah, as people, everyone deserve kindness and overall base level social behaviors. but where is that for jack right now?

where’s the grace and understanding that he’s tired. they likely had a day full of practice and drills and workouts before this signing. i mean, did he even get to go home before he was expected to sit and sign autographs for hours? why was he alone? why didn’t they put him with someone else? i know the answer is likely because he was the most sought after signature there and they didn’t want to make his line even longer, but still. i feel like jack has been very open and intentional with the fact he doesn’t like to do media. he wants to play hockey and go home.

and yeah, he also knew it came with the territory, but it doesn’t matter. if you sign up to be a teacher, you know there’s going to be early mornings, but that doesn’t mean you have to like getting up early. if you agree to work in healthcare, you know there’s going to aspects of the job that are gross and unfortunate, but it doesn’t mean you have to like cleaning up bodily fluids. the same can be said for these guys. they signed up to be professional hockey players, they knew media and signings and events were going to be expected of them, but it doesn’t mean they have to like it.

but back to entitlement thing. i think it has become so normalized to create personas for real people in our heads that people are quite literally unable to separate the fantasy from reality. and i mean, i’ll even say i contribute to the problem. all fanfic writers do. we create these idealized and fictional versions of these men, but the ability to differentiate between the two cannot be lost in the process. but i think it has been. i think there’s this unrealistic expectation thrust upon all of them, but especially jack.

he’s popular, he’s cutie, and he’s good at hockey. of course he’s going to have a mass following. but…he’s just a guy, y’all. he’s a guy that has bad days, good days, who gets tired, who has a social battery. and last night, i think that social battery had just run out. do you know how long he’s been watched and in the media? do you know how long he’s been the most watched hughes, the expectations he’s carried on him for years?

i just think there needs to be some compassion and grace here. going back to the whole “people pay to watch me play” incident is a little excessive, imo. i mean, are we going to hold every single player to everything they’ve ever said in the box? does it define who they are and their character? i have not once seen anyone berate and question quinn’s character when he told someone they were “fucking nothing”. which, if you really want to get down to it, is worse than what jack said.

but no, jack is expected to be this guy with rainbows coming out of his ass all the time, apparently. i think the concept of social cues and situational awareness has been so lost because of the screen culture right now. people do so much communication through screens and phones that they forget, people aren’t always enthusiastic and bright, even if they add an exclamation point to their text. last night was not something jack chose to do of his own accord. he was told to do it, and he did it. he made sure the kids had a good time and felt cared for. he signed everything that came across his table. could he have been a little more chatty? yeah. could he have maybe smiled a bit more? yeah.

but seriously, he knew he was going to have to sign a million different items and see a million different people. the whole point of a signing is just that. if he was even remotely going to get out of there on time, there’s no way he could have had any meaningful conversation with every single person. and i feel like he’s said before he prioritizes/likes kids? i could be wrong, so don’t hold me to that.

but the point is, this whole situation is so sad and such a good example of how gossip blogs only care about getting likes and reblogs and attention. they don’t care about these players, no matter how much they claim to. and people are so quick to take everything they read for fact. personally, i think jack is just…antisocial.

i think he has a persona on the ice because he’s in his element, he’s comfortable, and he’s excited to be there. when he’s with his family and around his friends, he seems to be an overall happy guy. but around strangers? strangers that want to talk about his stats, how he played in this game or that game, that are shoving their items in his face to sign, people that he’ll likely never see again? he doesn’t give too much away.

and before people mention the being snippy and short with the workers, i wasn’t there so i didn’t see what happened. if he was, i’m not defending that behavior, but i don’t think it’s because he thinks he’s above them or thinks he’s “god’s gift to hockey” like i’ve seen thrown around so much today. we have all been snappy with people we shouldn’t have before. it doesn’t mean someone is this terrible person with a high horse attitude. i think it’s a combination of fatigue, stress, and maybe even some anxious energy that had been built up and made its way out.

anyways, i’ve said enough i think, and this will be the first and only time i talk about this, but i had too many thoughts swirling in my brain to just keep them there. be nice. show grace. you’re allowed to be disappointed if you attended last night and felt like he was maybe dry and dismissive, but please step back and put yourself in his shoes. not every person has a social and yappy personality. some people don’t speak unless they have something to say. and that’s okay!!!

and for the love of god, quit giving gossip blogs what they so desperately crave

[vityaposting]

WRITING REQUEST HIII

what about reader going to viktor to get augmented for a non physical reason - like maybe mental illness or addiction or something (idk dealers choice) and viktor slowly getting to know them over time. eventually reader overcomes their problem, and viktor realises that he likes reader just the way they are - unaugmented or not.

don't feel obligated to do this lol just saw that your requests where open

HI!!!! i love this request so much i decided it needs to be a multi chapter thing (4 or 5 probably?) i got broken up with yesterday so i ATE this prompt up lol

how to heal a rusted heart - mh!viktor x gn!reader - part 1

wc: 2100

You approach Emberflit Alley with no small amount of trepidation. The house is smaller than you expected, shoddier on the outside; shutters hang from foggy, cracked windows, and ivy like claw-scratches makes its way up the worn brick walls. You know—as does every Zaunite you’ve ever met—that there is more to the Machine Herald’s residence than meets the eye. You don’t know exactly how—somewhere, some way, there is a massive laboratory tucked behind the house’s unassuming facade. Maybe a separate underground sector, or even a pocket dimension supplied by the Herald’s knowledge of thinning the barrier between tech and magic. All these speculations are, of course, rumors—you’ve never had a reason to solve the mystery yourself. Until today. Today, you’d snapped.

Your chest still burns with the fury of it all. Betrayal. And to think they’d claimed to love you. Sickly-sweet self-satisfaction rises like bile to the back of your throat, putting a little more power behind your knock on the door. You’d been right. Paranoia, your doctor had proclaimed years ago—a not-uncommon symptom of your particular ailment. Well, was it true paranoia if you were always proven right in the end?

It doesn’t matter. After tonight, you won’t care.

A thickly-accented voice cuts through the speaker above the knocker: “You may enter.”

Ominous. You push away your trepidation, another instinct you’d be free of sooner rather than later. The door is heavy steel—you have to use your shoulder to pry it open, but once you’ve managed its weight, it swings inward for you on well-oiled hinges.

You emerge into a wide space thick with the stenches of metal and oil, cast under an ambient glow in various shades of orange. Lights flicker at you from lanterns on the walls, from faint bulbs hung across the ceiling. A lab bench spans the entire length of the room, which seems impossibly large compared to the house’s outer facade. A pocket dimension it is, then. Maybe. You still can’t be sure. The equipment littered across the bench is foreign and complex-looking.

The whistle of steam and clicking of gears greets you before the Herald himself can.

He’s tinkering with something. Something sharp. He sets it down, turns on his stool, lowers his hood and pushes his goggles onto his forehead. You aren’t quite sure what you expected the Machine Herald to look like under his armor and mask. If he even takes them off at all. Whatever you expected, this isn’t it.

“Good evening,” he says levelly. His voice rumbles in his throat, his accent lending the greeting a soft, alluring quality. He tilts his head, an oddly innocent gesture, considering his reputation. “With what can I be of service?”

The words you’ve been rehearsing for hours lodge themself in your throat, and even a heavy swallow can’t force them out. The Herald is unblinking. Molten orange pupils burn into yours, piercing against his dark scleras. His face is pale and his features sharp—he’s beautiful, you note, not completely willingly—and his frame is thin and willowy beneath his cloak.

“Well?” he prompts, and shame floods you, reminding you why you decided to take measures this drastic in the first place. “Nobody comes this deep into the Lanes just to visit me. Not to say I mind the solitude.”

He doesn’t want you here.

You’re here for a service, scolds the rational side of your mind, a side which seems to grow more and more powerless with every passing week, with every friend you lose, with every burst of rage and every bridge you burn. A service he openly advertises. He allowed you to open the door. He could have… have death-rayed you.

“Mister… Machine Herald,” you begin, horrendously embarrassed at how your voice quavers. The air in the lab is muggy. You wrap your arms around your middle anyway. “I’ve heard of the… the services you provide, and I—”

“Viktor,” he interrupts. “Viktor will suffice.”

You cough. His eyes narrow.

“Go on. You seek augmentation.”

“Of the… unconventional variety, I guess you could say. Less of a physical augmentation and more of a…”

“You are at war with your own mind,” he observes. “I can see it in your eyes. Come closer.”

And you do, because there’s something in the rumble of his voice—which is so close to a growl you feel weak in the knees—and the sharp glow of his eyes that draws you in like a moth to a lantern. He gestures to the second stool at his side. You wonder who it’s normally reserved for. Patients? Experimental subjects? A partner, perhaps—or has he always only worked alone?

“You’re tense. Relax.” He speaks with such calm authority that it’s impossible not to listen. “I will not touch you without explicit permission. If it’s only emotional suppression you seek, I may be able to offer a solution that does not require me to lay hands on you.”

You don’t know why this disappoints you.

He tilts his head as he gazes at you, one gloved hand fidgeting with a trinket on his workbench. “Tell me. In detail. What is it you want out of this? What causes you such pain?”

“Everything,” you say. It’s almost a whimper. He raises an eyebrow. Clearing the embarrassment from your throat, you try again. “Everything is… is so much. I’m scared. All the time. I can’t love anyone anymore, I… I’m afraid they’ll all leave me.” Oftentimes, they do, you neglect to add. This won’t concern Viktor. He has no reason to care. “And it can change on a coin. It’s like you said. It’s like being at war.” A war between your body and your brain, you’ve realized, would never be one worth fighting. This, however, seems to be the only way to put an end to things. You look at Viktor plaintively, hoping he isn’t judging. If the rumors are true, he removed his ability to judge long ago.

“Ah,” he said after a silence that seemed to stretch for eons. “I understand.”

“My doctor says it’s an… ailment.”

“That may be,” he says. “As such, you have a right to want to heal it. Procedures with the intent to alter emotions are harder and riskier than procedures focused on the physical. I am happy to give you what you ask for, but you must be aware of the potential consequences. Do you intend to eliminate all emotions, or… only their extremities?”

“Only the extremities.” Life will be much easier, you think, if you never have to love another person again. Amicable acquaintanceship, however, hurts nobody.

“Good,” he hums. “Complete removal is difficult. If I weren’t so stubborn I’d nearly say it was impossible.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried,” he says plainly.

“And you failed?” You don’t know what emboldens you to say it.

“I simply have not yet succeeded.”

You look at him, then, really look at him. And behind those beautiful eyes that glow with the light of a hundred fires, shine with the darkness of a hundred polluted Zaun nights, you almost swear you see your own loneliness staring back at you.

“It’s risky,” he continues. “In the case that something goes awry, do not say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course,” you whisper.

“May I take a closer look? I’d like to get a feel for the incision site.”

You nod a silent confirmation and bow your head, gripping the sides of the stool. He wheels himself closer. Lifts his hand. You hold your breath.

The Herald’s hands are gentle when they card through your hair, pushing a few strands away from your forehead. His demeanor now is a far cry from the terrifying villain you know him to be—the chaos-wreaking force of evil most of Zaun insists he is. You wonder, as your breathing calms, exactly how many of the tales are wild fantasy, because this soft touch is the realest thing you've felt in a long, long time.

“All I can promise you is that I will be careful,” he murmurs, tracing a line from the center of your forehead to the crown of your hair. “This particular procedure is immensely detail-oriented, even in comparison to the others I’ve performed. To dampen your emotions, I will be altering your limbic system, in the simplest of terms. However, if I am not meticulous, I risk damaging other functions, such as reasoning or memory.”

Truth be told, waking up without any memory of the hurt you’ve endured doesn’t sound too awful.

But, you realize as a shiver runs down your spine—you want to remember this.

“There is another option,” Viktor goes on. You’re forced to draw your attention away from his soft, prodding touches. “Implants in the form of pills. Those, however, I’ve not yet managed to make permanent. They’re finicky, and they don’t last long. You’d have to take them twice a day—one separate medication for each emotion you wish to suppress. I imagine it would all be a hassle. This, however… if you consent, I can perform the entire procedure in one process, and your desired results will be immediate.” He draws his hand back, lightly scratching your scalp—it’s enough to relax, but not enough to hurt. “You don’t have to decide today.”

“No, no. That’s alright. I’ll take the… the surgery.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Finality settles over you like a chilly breeze as he pulls away. You’ll finally be free. Free of heartbreak, of fury, of flaws. There’s something in his mechanical gaze that unnerves you and enthralls you simultaneously. Something human.

“Being that this is a complicated procedure,” he says, “I will have to schedule it in advance. I will reserve an entire day for you and I cannot free the time for a week. A week from today. Is that alright with you? I can give you the medication to temporarily curb your symptoms in the meantime, if you like. It’s experimental, but I am relatively sure of its safety.”

He looks so hopeful. You know the joy etched in the lines of his sharp face is nothing more than the joy of scientific innovation, but it’s endearing all the same. The Machine Herald of Zaun’s urban legends is a completely different person. You find it hard to believe that the cackling, murderous tyrant rumored to haunt the Lanes even shares a name with the man in front of you. There’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and a few locks of hair sticking up haphazardly from beneath his goggles. You find yourself cracking a grin for the first time in days.

“No,” you say. Your chest feels lighter. Just a bit. Enough to be noticeable, enough to instill the certainty that trusting your life to the Herald is the right decision—malicious cackle, terrifying armor, death laser, and all. “No, I’ll be alright.”

He crosses his arms over his lap. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he says softly. “But the ache in your heart… someone put it there. I know the feeling. You are not the first to be driven away from loving altogether. I once thought I had a simple fix. I… do not know if it was the foolproof solution I thought it was. I will perform any procedure on you that you wish. But you should know this. Metal is perfection, yes, but love… love can rust the strongest steel.” He swallows, fiery eyes flickering. “I thought I’d warn you. However, I do my best for all my patients, and you are no exception.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. You’re grateful for the lab’s low lighting—it’s unlikely Viktor can see the blush crawling up your neck. “I—thank you.”

“Do you still want this? Even considering the risk?”

He looks at you so softly. He must look at everyone that softly, you realize, but the knowledge doesn’t make you feel any less warm. “Yeah.”

He gives you a businesslike nod, and you can see the Machine Herald’s persona sliding back into place. Cold. Unfeeling. For a moment, though, you saw the truth. “Thank you. I will see you one week from today—be here as early in the morning as you please. I’ll walk you out. Be safe out there. I can only complete the procedure if you return to me in one piece.”

What a gentleman, you think, but you say nothing. You accept with a small smile.

His hand brushes your shoulder as you reach for the handle of the door. Your whole body sparks, as if you’re a machine already.

“Goodbye,” he says. “And best of luck. I will pray that the next week treats you kindly.”

You almost want to hug him goodbye—out of thanks if nothing else. You hold yourself back. “I’ll see you then.”

The last thing you see before the door shuts behind you are his eyes. Two pinpricks of light in the darkness of the Lanes. Mechanical though they are, you realize they still crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

[aerynwrites]

Simple

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

A/N: the absolute feral nature I have been spitting out fics has been wild. I think i've hit 3 fandoms in the past three weeks and i just...idk wtf is going on lol. I will definitely be revisiting this character though bc..I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR!!! Hope you all enjoy <3

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: graphic depictions of injuries, blood and gore, canon typical violence, nightmares, mentions of death and dying, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

It was supposed to be simple. It was simple. A simple exfil mission, in and out - one and done. It’s the only reason they’d asked you to come along. 

You’re a base medic. Well, technically you’re a field medic too, but you mainly stay on the base. Tend to soldiers there - it’s what you’re good at. 

You aren’t supposed to be here, in the middle of the desert in a humvee now flipping through the air as if time has slowed down. 

It was supposed to be simple. 

The explosion hit without warning, sudden and all at once just as Soap was telling some stupid joke. Just as Ghost was smacking the back of his helmet. Just as you were all laughing after a successful mission with no injuries for you to even worry about. 

It felt like you flew hundreds of feet up in the air. The explosion knocking the wind from your lungs as the humvee is sent careening skywards. Loose items - rifles, packs, abandoned helmets…they all become projectiles inside the crammed space. 

It feels like you’re watching it all in slow motion, your friends bodies being thrown against their seatbelts like rag dolls. The world outside tumbling around you all. The way an arm slings across to cover you, as if that will stop the inevitable. 

Then it’s all over in an instant.

Metal screeches against metal, screams of agony cut short, glass shattering, fire roaring, the smell of burnt oil, and then-

Silence.

Silence, except the ringing ion your ears. Silence, except for the vacant thud of rubber against metal as you slam your boot into the vehicles door.

Silence when you call out their names. 

Complete and utter silence as you step out into the inky black night of the desert, the only light being that of the moon and the fire around you. 

“Lieutenant Riley!” You call out, your comms busted, “Report!”

Your voice is muffled to your ears, and for a moment you hope that he is calling back to you and you just can’t hear it. But as you squint through your swimming vision, the eery stillness of the overturned humvee makes panic settle in your chest. 

“Captain Price, status!”

More silence. 

FUCK!

You’re lurching back to the humvee before you can think about it, reaching in and grabbing the first tactical vest you can latch onto. 

It’s Soap. 

It’s your friend that never ceases to make you laugh. It’s John ‘Soap’ McTavish and he has a fucking pice of metal sticking out of his abdomen and he’s not - oh thank fuck, he’s breathing. 

You pull him several yards away from the crash, ever aware of the smell of gasoline filling the air and - 

You have to get the others.

You pull them all out of the smoking wreckage. 

One, two, three, four-

Price, Gaz, one of the drivers (DOA) and-

Ghost.

Ghost is the last one you pull out and you’re all the way to the others when he blissfully regains some semblance of consciousness, but you aren’t even able to dwell on that. Wide eyes flickering to everyone else who’s either unconcious or dead or about to be-

“Sergent!”

The booming voice startles you from where you dazedly stand over the bodies of the team, and you can’t even find it in you to respond. 

Before you were working on autopilot - get them out, get them away from the wreck, assess, form a plan…

But now it’s all gone out the goddamn window. 

You’re not a fucking field medic. You can’t do this. Your heart pounds in your ears, blood rushing through your veins, chest heaving with breaths you can’t even take. 

The shrapnel in Soap leaves a red stain getting bigger by the second. Price’s arm is bent at an unnatural angle, blood trickling down the side of his head. Gaz’s leg looks like minced meat, bright white bone protruding from-

The world spins on its axis as two strong hands grip the straps of your vest, turning you around to face a very bloodied and angry Lieutenant.

“Sergent I expect a fucking answer when I talk to you!”

You shake your head, Ghost’s voice a million miles away. And only now do you seem to register the warmth trickling down your face, dripping into your eyes, you reach a hand up, fingers coming away red and sticky with blood. Your blood -

“I-I can’t do this,” you manage to whisper, voice pitching higher as the panic sets in further. “I can’t fucking do this-”

A harsh jerk from the man before you startles you slightly back into focus, head swimming again as a gloved hand comes to grip your chin in a firm grip. 

Dark eyes capture your own through the all too familiar mask, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your face from where he stands so close. 

“Pull it together,” he bites, gaze cold yet somehow not completely unkind. “You’re here. Which means you were picked for a reason. So quit your bloody whimpering and help them!”

He shoves you away from them with those final words, pushing your medical pack into your arms as he does so.

“Save them,” he says, pointing behind you to his team, your friends. “That’s an order, sergeant.”

So you do the only thing you can think to do in this moment. 

You follow orders. 

———

Six hours. 

Six hours is how long it took for a med evac to show up. Six hours of patching up your unit. Six hours of watching, praying they didn’t succumb to their wounds. Six hours of you and Ghost waiting for the enemies to show up and finish you off. 

Six hours of life and death. 

You should be thankful it was the former. 

Yet, you’re finding it hard to give thanks. 

It’s hard to be grateful when sleep evades you, nightmares pouring in like a raging river - blood filling your vision both waking and sleeping. 

Even weeks after, you can’t look any of the 141 in the eye. They’ve all thanked you, seeking you out after they woke up. Price’s smile huge, clapping you on the back but always careful to avoid his arm that’s in the sling. Soap tried to hug you when you were summoned to his hospital room, but the wince of pain from his bandaged up abdomen wouldn’t let him. Gaz even sought you out on his own, hobbling on his crutches ‘thank you’s’ falling from his lips like rain.

Thank you for what? You had to stop yourself from asking. 

You were a coward. A bloody fucking coward that was ready to let them lay there and bleed out. They’d all be dead if it wasn’t for Ghost snapping you out of a panic like a parent yelling at their child.

Ghost…

You have yet to see him since the incident with of you being hauled away to medical as soon as you landed. And at this point you can’t tell if he’s avoiding you or you’re avoiding him.

Maybe both. 

————

The nightmares are constant since you’v returned, but they’ve never been like this one. 

Tonight’s is the worst. 

In all the other’s it was just a replay if what happened except maybe you were hurt too or frozen and unable to move, but…tonight’s is different. 

The scene in front of of you is familiar but worse. So much worse. Price, Gaz, and Soap all lay before you in the sand, blood pooling around them, except this time they’re not breathing. That steady rise and fall of their chests is missing and their glassy too-fa- gone gazes stare blankly up at you. 

Blood rushes in your ears, heart thudding out of control in your chest and when you try to reach out to save them - to help them - your body simple won’t move. And when you blink there’s another body there this time, black and white skull balaclava staring up at you now too, that disappointed look etched permanently on his brow. 

No, no, no…

You try to reach out again, but that same invisible force clings to you, and this term you feel it creeping upwards, starting at your feet and crawling up your legs. 

You blink again and they’re all standing in front of you, blood covering them eyes still glassy as they circle around you.

“How can you just stand there?” Soap asks, voice broken and angry from behind you.

“We need help, sergeant!” Price’s voice is next from where he stands in front of you.

“Help us-”Gaz…

“Snap out of it!”

Ghosts voice is loudest of all, and finally you’re able to move, only to see the teams face swirling around you, insults and cries for help filling your ears, drowning out everything else. It all blurs into one, voice melding together in a morbid cacophony of cries. Your hands snap up to your ears, desperate to escape from the onslaught only for two stronger hands to drip your wrists keeping you from relief.

“Oh no,” Ghosts voice oozes malice. “You’re not escaping that easy.”

You close your eyes, not daring to look at the bodies around you, at the manifestation of your failure. 

“Wake up!”

The words seem deafening before it’s like a bucket if ice cold water being dumped onto you. Your throat aches as you launch yourself upwards in bed, body drenched in your own sweat as hands collide with a solid mass in front of you. 

Hands grab you again, and you can’t stop the way you flinch reeling backwards in an attempt to get free. 

“Let go!” You cry, salt on your lips as you realize you’re crying. 

“Stop, stop - it’s me, I-it’s Simon, now-” a harsh jerk of your arms shakes you out of your panic, just alike all those nights ago. “Stop!”

Simon?

Your eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, and though it takes you a moment to realize where you are, you relax ever so slightly when you recognize the familiarity of your quarters. The bed beneath you, sheets tangled haphazardly around your legs. The bedside table, the book you were reading, the window across the room with faint moonlight streaming in, the clock reading 2am, Simon sitting next you hands still wrapped tightly around your wrists-

Wait…Simon?

Your mind repeats his name over and over, and as of sensing your’ve come back down his grip on you loosens as he speaks. 

“Back with me?”

You shake your head, still reeling from your nightmare, heart still pounding chest heaving as you take in deep shuddering breaths. 

“What…what are you doing here?” You ask, voice small as you speak through the tears. 

Simon shrugs, looking away from you now as he lets your arms go entirely. 

“Heard screaming,” he says simply. “Worse than usual. Went on longer.”

He doesn’t offer much else, and it’s in this moment of thick silence that you are finally able to see past the tears to really look at him. It’s hard in the darkness, but your eyes have adjusted enough to see the white bandages still wrapped around his right arm, a result of the nasty gash he’d sustained in the crash. You can even still see the remnants of the head injury too, the skin above his right eye much darker than the rest of his face. Mottled with bruises and stitches…

In fact, it’s only now you realize he’d come to you with his mask off - which, what’s underneath doesn’t wholly surprise you considering you’ve seen it before, being a medic and all but it switches something inside of you. 

Him laying himself bare to you, coming to you in the middle of the night to check on you after everything you’ve done. Everything you failed to do…

The damn breaks and the tears flow freely once more as your shoulders shake with harsh sobs. 

“I can’t do this,” you cry out, curling in on yourself as Simon reaches for you once more, confusion etched into his features. 

“Can’t do what? What are you-”

“This!” You sob, gesturing around you wildly. “I’m not meant to be here. Not after…not after what happened-”

A sharp intake of breath cuts you off as your lungs struggle for air against your cries but Simon doesn’t stop you. Warm hands just fall to rest lightly on the tops of your thighs, as you cry, anchoring you here. 

“I failed them. I failed you-”

“Hey.” His voice is firm, his patience wearing thin as he watches you fall apart in front of you. “I won’t hear any of that.”

You shake your head, aware now that his hands have moved up to cradle your face is his calloused palms, thumbs wiping futilely at your tears. 

“But it’s true,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “I’m a coward.”

Thick fingers press into your jaw, not enough to hurt but enough to bring some alertness back into your emotion fogged brain. 

“Would a coward have pulled four men twice their size from a burning wreckage?” He asks, breath warm against your cheek from how close he sits. 

“Would a coward have kept four men alive in the field with barely enough medical supplies?”

You open you mouth to argue, tell him that it only happened once he ordered you to do it, but he persists, not letting you speak. 

“Would a coward have sat there for six fucking hours keeping her men alive under the threat of enemy fire?”

He pauses then, eyes searching your own and giving you a firm shake when you don’t respond. 

“Would a bloody fucking coward have done that?”

His voice is uncharacteristically soft for the words he speaks, and before you can think, you find yourself saying the first thing that comes to mind. 

“No…” the word is barely audible, whimpered out softly. 

But Simon hears you. Because, of course he does. 

On hand slides form you cheek back to tangle in your hair as he pulls you towards him, cradling your face in the crook of his neck.

“No. They wouldn’t have,” he affirms, moving to wrap his other arm tightly around your middle as your cries finally start to subside. 

“Now,” he says after a while, arms never leaving you, “can that coward nonsense and try to get some sleep.”

You watch in slight confusion as he pulls away only to adjust himself to lay next to in the bed, tugging the covers to readjust them from where you’d tossed them away in your sleep induced panic. You want to ask what he’s doing - tell him that he doesn’t have to stay but he seems to read your mind - or rather your hesitance as you watch him.

He pauses just as he’s lifting the covers, eyes finding yours in the dark. 

“You want me to leave?” 

You shake your head almost immediately, the last thing you want is to be alone. 

“No, I just…” you trail off, moving to slip beneath the sheets.

There’s a small moment where both of you pause, neither of you quite sure what to do or how far to go. You’re the first to break the momentary tension, scooting so you’re pressed against his front, hands against his chest as you rest your head in the crook of his neck. You feel as he lets out a deep sigh, one arm slipping beneath the pillow you rest on while the other moves to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.

“Thank you, Simon,” you whisper.

His arm tightens around you, and you swear you feel his lips brush against the top of your head. 

“Anytime, love.”

And for the first time in weeks, you both slip into a dreamless slumber.

[honeychamomile1]

Not So Pretty

JJ Maybank x ex!fem!reader

Summary: No one, I mean no one, can be okay after a break up and that is just something that is shown to be proven not told.

Warnings: Light violence, mention of glass shattering, drinking underage (it’s JJ after all), crying, comfort, etc.

Note: Part three of “Pretty” series! I hope you guys enjoy! Also, @sunndroppp this is my apology for being so late! Please forgive me lol. :)

👉 Series Masterlist 👈

John B

“John B.” I heard in a sing-song voice, a tiny laugh escaping the person who was trying to disturb my sleep.

I opened my eyes with great effort, eyes fluttering a couple times before I had a clear visual of who was interrupting my slumber.

“Whoah, what the heck, man?!” I blurted, sitting up quickly, pulling the blanket with me to cover myself with its warmth.

JJ Maybank was standing over my bed, his face previously only a couple centimeters from mine. He laughed, mouth opened wide in a smile as he startled me awake.

“It’s nothing personal, I just wanted to wake my buddy up.” He explained, chuckling again.

For a second I almost questioned why he was acting this way; acting like everything was okay after he abandoned the one girl he truly loved, but I couldn’t know how he deals with his feelings, and I didn’t want to ruin his day by bringing it up; the last thing I wanted was to uncover feelings he previously buried.

Instead I only rolled my eyes, reaching up to rub the sleep out of them. My mouth opened in a yawn. “What do you want, JJ?”

He smiled and nudged my arm with his elbow. “Don’t know, you tell me.”

I glared at him. “You’re telling me that you woke me up for no reason at all?”

He smirked but his lips wavered. “Not for no reason, you can still make me breakfast now that you’re up.”

I grabbed the nearest pillow I had nearby and threw it at him, the object successfully hitting him right in the chest.

“Make your own breakfast, Maybank.” I teasingly snarled, and he laughed, walking out of the room so he wouldn’t annoy me further.

When I later went down stairs, I saw JJ sitting on the counter, a beer bottle in his hand. The same hands she used to kiss and hold, guiding him where she wanted to go while giggling at his complaints.

I laughed half-heartedly. “Already drinking somethin’?”

JJ huffed, a smile being forced on his lips as he looked at the glass in his hand, almost like he didn’t realize it was there until now. “Yeah, I guess so.”

My eyebrows furrowed, confusion flooding my senses. “You okay?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, taking off his hat with his free hand, ruffling his hair strands before putting the cap back on. He then seemed to flip his usual emotion switch on, a very forced smile stretching his lips. “‘Course, why wouldn’t I be?”

I felt a look of uncertainty surround my features since I couldn’t help but show it. No one, I mean no one, can be okay after a break up and that is just something that is shown to be proven not told.

“Nothing,” I started, and felt a sarcastic comment come up my throat. “Not like you just broke up with someone or anything.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, giving the impression his teeth were clashing together uncomfortably. It twitched, not seeming to be unlocking any time soon. “Shut up.”

Normally when JJ told me that kind of stuff I would laugh and refuse to do so, teasing him by pushing his shoulder. He would normally give me that kind of come-get-me-grin, testing me once again to see if I’d dare to make my response something along the lines of ‘make me.’

But this was serious, his voice stern as he looked, more like glared, at me. His hands turned white as he squeezed the beer bottle’s neck. For some reason my chest tightened in fear of it shattering, picturing glass particles everywhere like flickering lights. Of course, I knew JJ was strong but not that capable capable to break a glass bottle, but the fear was sitting in me nonetheless.

“Why?” I asked, confusion taking a seat next to the fear in my chest. “I am telling the truth, aren’t I?”

JJ’s jaw was still locked, eyes set on a wall across the kitchen, silently asking it a question and waiting for it to answer.

“Aren’t I?” I repeated, trying to squeeze the answer out of him like squeezing the juice out of a lemon, and I awaited the sour response of the truth.

“And what if you are?” He suddenly snapped, blue eyes making sharp eye contact with mine. I didn’t flinch, for I couldn’t do so, and I wasn’t scared enough to do it in the first place. There it was, the sour taste on my tongue.

I am never scared of JJ, and today will not be the time that changes.

So I stood my ground, looking in right back in the eye as he continued his outburst. “That doesn’t change anything, because I’m over it.”

His voice was so straight, straight as a line, not wavering whatsoever. But I knew him, and that last part of what he said had a dip in tone. “Yeah right.”

He slapped his eyes away for mine and back to the wall in front of him, legs swinging softly back and forth. His boots that still covered his feet-the fact alone bothered me a little- softly hit the cabinets below the counter, it closing and opening, closing and opening, closing and openi-

“Stop that will you?” I blurted, gesturing to his feet but instead is stopping he just jumped off the counter all together, setting the beer down on the surface he was previously sitting on and starting right for me.

His hands, the ones she used to hold grabbed me harshly by the shoulders, a face with nothing but rage fight in mine. His eyes darkened, they shined with anger as he dove me to the ground, the harsh kitchen floor beneath me.

A flashback to when we were younger, his tiny body squealing with laughter as he playfully pushed me down, the grass smacking my back as I attempted to wrestle back.

But this moment wasn’t playful, and if I didn’t stop him, I felt the growing fear he would actually hurt me.

“Hey, hey, hey!” I shouted, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him off me. I met his face, his eyes, and saw soft tears laid over them.

“Hey, man, what’s wrong?” I asked him softly, our legs bending to stand up again, my hands still on his shoulders to hold him steady.

“I-…sorry.” He swallowed, his hand lightly pushed mine off him before shooting to his hair, the blond strands being tangled within his fingers. I was worried he was gonna pull his hair out the more he pulled; I could almost feel the harsh tugs on his head on my own.

“Hey, no need to be sorry, tell me what’s going on.” I assured, and I felt my eyes following his body as he walked further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he roughly rubbed at his eyes, making the areas red quite quickly.

He then covered both his eyes with his palms, fingers touching both of his ears. “I-I broke up with her.”

This is information we both already knew, but seeing him with this much emotion flowing within him it wasn’t something I didn’t expect. I often believe that this was a stage of healing, of communication about one’s feelings before they discuss what the next step will be. And that part right there, the statement that JJ made, was a topic sentence to ease into the deeper meaning on why he broke up with her, not just the statement of action.

“I was so stupid, B.” He grumbled out, each breath he took seeming to increase pressure on his face with his hands.

I didn’t say anything, I chose not to, for I was worried I would interfere too much with the non-stop emotions flowing through him. So I stayed put, my feet gluing themselves to the ground on their own. I could have stepped forward, touched his shoulder affectionately and attempted to provide some comfort, but that would make him uncomfortable, and that was one of the last things I wanted. So I continued to stay put.

“Breakin’ up with her like that,” he continued to ramble, eyes still covered with his hands as he shook his head, disappointed with himself. “She must be broken, man.”

This time I wanted to respond, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, Pope was talking to her; he said she was crying.”

JJ shook his head harder. “Don’t.”

“Sorry, but it’s true.” I pried, my feet deciding to unstick and step forward, getting only a little bit closer to him. He needed to know the truth; what he did to her.

“I’m so upset with myself.” He said suddenly, clearly wanting to change the subject, and once again the statement is true. Gonna be honest, he was stupid, and he does look upset, so both statements just add to the pile of negative thoughts that are running through his head.

“Why’d you do it, man? Because I know it wasn’t because you stopped lovin’ her.”

“Not like I ever could.” He grumbled once again, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He finally took them out of his hair, I noticed almost right away, his strands left pointing to and fro in the air.

“Stop avoiding the question.” I stated. I had enough. I know I reacted confused and determined before, but now I’m feeling impatience forming within my chest, replacing the previous emotions. I want him to answer me, and I want him to answer me right now.

He sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Yet stupid things have good outcomes?” I quoted the motto he claims all the time, raising an eyebrow, testing him.

He huffed, right hand coming to his hair strands again. “My dad.”

The words were breathed out roughly, and I was lucky I heard them because I don’t think he would want to repeat it if I asked him to.

“Look, I get it man, but you can’t break her as a way of protection.” I informed, knowing how wide of possible reactions he might have, but I say it anyway. Because not only did it need to be said, but also he isn’t protecting her in the right way.

“I know, but it was the only way I could think of, how else am I supposed to protect her? Let him beat her up like he does to me?”

I couldn’t help but step back at his outburst. My mind was so blank it couldn’t even picture it, the man who called himself JJ’s dad laying any sort of hand on her.

The thought couldn’t help itself but slip into my brain, picturing his hands on her, pure fear in her eyes as she cried for help, begging for her lover that left her broken inside.

“Don’t talk like that.” I ordered at him, forcing myself to erase the image from my mind.

“Well if I haven’t broken up with her, that imagine would’ve become reality. So I left her.”

The fact that he shrugged afterwards, like the answer was that simple; almost like it was normal for him to do that.

“What about the whole time you were together? You weren’t worried about your dad then.”

“Well he wasn’t exactly mindful of her was he? He knows, John B,” JJ almost snapped right back at me.

“Does it even matter at this point, does it, J? I know you’ll do anything to protect her.”

“Yeah, I do!” He blurted. “And that thing I did was leave her. She deserves someone better, someone whose father doesn’t beat them up. Someone who can love her and not worry about his father hurting her.”

I couldn’t help it, I pulled him in towards me and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, bringing him into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” I whispered.

“Y-you were right, I’m not okay. I-“ he paused, a shaky breath aruptintg in his chest. “I miss her,” he breathed out in a soft whimper.

It was a soft moment, a side I didn’t really see of JJ except when we were kids and he scrapped his knee.

He learned to dig it deep down within himself as he got older, but I always knew that certain things made him crack, and she was one of those things. One of those beautiful, precious things that didn’t deserve to be hurt in any way.

“It’s okay,” I whispered again, not quite knowing what to say. I didn’t want to say something and spark any anger in him, so I continued to soothe the best way I could.

It seems to work, JJ’s breathing calmed down as his fingers practically dug crescent moons into my arms.

“…JJ?”

The body I was holding tensed up, stiffened into a board even.

He pulled away, eyes wide with pure terror, and confusion took over me, looking around, but seeing no one. No one at all.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” I asked, his hands sweaty on my arms before he pulled them away, his breathing picking up a bit.

He swallowed thickly, and I could almost feel how dry his throat was.

“N-nothing, I thought I heard someon-something.”

________________________________________

People I wanted to tag!

@immyowndefender @stephstephstephsteph @tairodriguess2010

________________________________________

Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!! 🫶🏻

[sj-ficrecs]

fic rec 16!

SO! i haven’t been reading fic in a long time bc i’ve been reading books BUT, discovered this fic rec in my drafts from 2022 lol oops!

This is purely a fic rec blog, always reblogging fics I enjoy. usually Bucky x reader, sometimes Steve x reader, Chris Beck x reader, etc. So check out more I’ve reblogged on this page. :)

PREVIOUS FIC RECS HERE! // Q & A

Bucky x reader:

A Correspondence of Obligations by @pellucid-constellations prince!Bucky x princess!reader

“ Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls.”

Sky Full of Song by @wkemeup pirate!Bucky x pirate/siren!reader

“Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship; on the ocean where you belonged, at the side of a captain you swore loyalty and heart to. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed.”

Starting Gate by @navybrat817 motocross!Bucky x reader

“You attract the attention of your coworker's friend who just happens to be a handsome racer who plays for keeps.”

Oath by @softlybarnes (part of the Sugar series but can be reader alone) 40s Bucky x reader

“Bucky finally proposes to Y/N.”

Awake My Soul by @foreverindreamlandd​ Bucky x reader (Zombie apocalypse au)

“It’s been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you’ve learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He’s been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren’t telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you’re put at risk, he’ll stop at nothing to keep you safe.”

No Such Thing by @sanguineterrain college athlete!Bucky x reader

“You’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular running back. You don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? Turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: James Barnes is insufferable.”

Appointments by @buckycuddlebuddy Bucky x reader

“bucky barnes, finally being able to live freely in 21st century, accidentally gets a fuck buddy and starts to rediscover himself. the only weird thing about this situation is that you have to make an appointment to get railed by him.”

Recipe for Disaster by @seventven dad’s best friend!Bucky x reader

“your dad’s best friend bucky knows you have a crush on him. your parents invite him to join your family for the annual winter vacation”

In the Embers by @foreverindreamlandd Firefighter!Bucky x Fem!Plus Size!Adopted Rogers!Reader

“Bucky Barnes. The boy next door. Your brother’s best friend. The guy you’ve been in love with for as long as you can remember. Unrequited, that is, seeing that he only thinks of you as a sister (at least, that’s what you always thought). It’s been about a decade since you’ve returned home and reunited with the boy - now man - with stunning blue eyes and a smile that still puts a million butterflies in your stomach. You never expected to come back, thinking that you’d spend the rest of your life as a famous artist in Los Angeles with your boyfriend/manager. But things change, life gets messy, and now you’re back in your childhood bedroom living with your mom and working at the townie bar to make ends meet while you try to figure out what the hell to do next. The one thing that hasn’t changed? Bucky Barnes is still the boy next door, and there’s no running from him this time.”

Love in Four Acts by @chouettedubois neighbor MCU Bucky x nurse!reader

“You’re a nurse living in Brooklyn. You’ve got a crush on your next door neighbour who doesn’t seem to know you exist. One day his cat finds its way into your apartment, forcing you both to finally meet. That’s when you learn that he’s James Buchanan Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier. Well, there goes your chances. Or maybe getting close to a superhero isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds.”

Plaything part one + two by @captain-buckyyy virgin!Bucky x reader

“bucky’s innocence is just too much for you to resist”

calamitous love series by @classylo princess!reader x commoner!bucky

“Reader is a modern princess under immense pressure to marry before she takes the crown, she choose her Prince Charming four years ago… but he didn’t choose her back. He left her with a broken heart and her kingdom to rule alone. Four years later, reader is in an arranged engagement with a man who she can see herself loving… one day… everything seems to be falling into place until her original prince shows up at her engagement party determined to win her back before her wedding day.”

Not Even a Little by @intrepidacious roommate!Bucky x reader, modern au

“The problem of living with Bucky is that he makes it impossible not to fall in love with him. Even though you could list several hundred reasons why it’s a bad idea. And you have.”

Followed You by @cwbucky Bucky x reader

“You meet this guy named Bucky through Instagram. Even though neither of you knows what the other person looks like, you two immediately connect. Things get complicated when you start your new job at Stark Industries and you catch a glimpse of the handsome Sergeant Barnes.”

Matched by @nony-bear Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader

“Bucky Barnes always dreamed of settling down with a mate but after decades of trauma leaving him a grumpy old man with a robotic arm he’s convinced no one could love an alpha like him. Begrudgingly he follows his therapist advice and enrolls in the Swan Program a mate matching program offered but the new aged bio-tech company Mate-Tech”

Body Talk by @boxofbonesfic trainer!Bucky x plus size!reader

“You’re determined to come out of this breakup a better you, but Bucky likes the you you are.”

King in Your Story by @sinner-as-saint viking!Bucky x princess!reader

“Everyone in your father’s Kingdom knows that the Vikings often raid the castle’s warehouses. They take anything they want. Food, gold, weapons. Although they never seem to hurt your subjects. But you had had enough. Given your training, and your need to defend your Kingdom, your father agrees to let you trap the Vikings and bring them in for negotiation because this habit of theirs needs to be stopped. You hated the Vikings, and you thought you always would. Until the moment you met a pair of blue eyes which made your world stand still. Bucky was the Chief of his people; muscular, rough and tumble, and arrogant. Not to mention a shameless flirt, and he got on your nerves the most. But you knew it from the very day you laid eyes on his very handsome face that no matter how hard you tried, some part of you couldn’t fully hate him, nor resist him - even if he was the rival.”

Oh Baby, Oh Baby by @tooearlyforthis Bucky x reader

“As a new recruit, y/n isn’t allowed to go on all the missions yet. To make matters worse, they left behind another, someone that she had despised ever since she first stepped foot in the compound - James Buchanan Barnes.”

Before You by @m4tthewmurd0ck prince!Bucky x baker!reader

reader is a baker who happens to work at a shop the royals enjoy getting baked goods from :)

Steve Rogers x reader:

Rising Tide by @pellucid-constellations surfer!Steve x reader

“A relationship built up from the ocean floor, you and Steve had lifetime worth of memories—most best friends did. But things were beginning to change, unspoken feelings creating a rift that cast a shadow over the bond you called home. Unfortunately for you, rip currents are often hardest to spot in the dark”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Breakfast ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 640ish

Summary: Logan wants to show you how much he appreciates you.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Logan still wasn’t used to this. The quiet, peaceful mornings that happened when he woke up and you were still in arms. You were still asleep, lips parted slightly, a stress-free face, and your warmth radiating off of you. A small part of Logan believed you would disappear one day because you would figure out that you were too good for him, but you never did. Logan was always thankful that you continually stuck with him. He needed to show you that he appreciated it.

Logan’s face nuzzled into your head. He inhaled deeply, enjoying your scent, before kissing your head and pulling away. You let out a moan, your body following his.

“Logan?” You rasped, still half asleep and not bothering to open your eyes.

He softly shushed you. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered. He kissed your head again as he gently pushed you back into the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back. Sleep.”

You whined but slipped back to sleep. Logan smiled softly, staring at you for a few more moments before getting out of bed. He pulled on some sweatpants and headed to the kitchen. He was going to make you breakfast and bring it to you in bed. It was the least he could do for you. Unfortunately, his vision of a perfect breakfast in bed wasn’t going as planned. Most of the fruit you had was rotten; he had to remake the pancake batter twice now, and currently, the pancakes on the stove were burning.

“Shit,” he muttered, trying got stop the flames from spreading. 

When the flames suddenly disappeared, Logan spun around. There you were, standing in the doorway with a smirk. Any other time, he would be checking out how you were only wearing his flannel, but right now, the only thing on his mind was the ruined breakfast.

“So this is what you left me in bed alone for?” You teased.

“You aren’t supposed to be out here,” he responded with a slight whine, coming over to you. “Go back to bed.” He turned you around and began guiding you back to the bedroom.

“But I can help. It looks like you might need it.”

“Nope.” He easily picked you up, causing you to let out a squeal. “You’re going back to bed.”

“But—“

“Nope.” He gently dropped you down on the bed and leaned over you, pinning you to the bed. “Don't move.”

“But I’m not tired."

“Don’t care. Don't move.”

“Or what?”

“You don’t want to know, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I do.”

Logan sighed, head falling to your shoulder. "Please, sweetheart… let me do this.”

You could tell that this breakfast meant a lot to him. You carded your hands through his hair for a moment, allowing him to relax. “Okay,” you whispered. “But if I smell smoke again, I’m coming out before you burn down the house.”

“Deal.” He pulled back enough to peck your lips. “I won’t be much longer.” 

Logan gave you another brief kiss before hurrying from the room. He needed to finish what he set out to do. Once the breakfast was finally finished and placed on a tray, he went out and used his claws to cut some flowers. He placed them neatly on the tray before heading back to the bedroom. You were still on the bed, sitting up and reading a book. You put it down as soon as he entered. Logan knelt on the bed and placed the tray over your lap.

“Thanks, babe,” you smiled at him. “Care to tell me what all this is for?”

“Can’t I do something to show how much you mean to me?” He responded, kissing your cheek. 

“It’s wonderful, Logan, thank you.” You reached over and pulled him in for a kiss. "I love you.”

“I love you more, sweetheart.”

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Freedom far away - H

I think I'm nearly there; the end! Though, I feel personality changes in as I keep write Agatha and Rio ... SSSSHT

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

Part A | Part B | Part C&D | Part E | Part F | Part G | Part H | Part I&J | Part K | Part L | Part M | Part ?

The longer you stayed, the more the strange tension that had first hung between you all began to dissolve, replaced by an ease that both comforted and unsettled you. It wasn’t the answers you had come for, but it was something else—something warmer, something real.

Rio sprawled out on cushions on the wooden floor, her head propped up by her hand as she laughed at something Agatha had said. The sound was bright, almost childlike in its glee, though there was an edge to it that made your pulse quicken. Agatha, in contrast, sat with her legs crossed, her expression carefully composed, though the occasional smirk betrayed her amusement.

"You two are impossible," you said, shaking your head as you watched them bicker over some trivial detail. "Sometimes, I don’t know how you can stand each other less love each other."

"Oh, it’s not standing—it’s thriving," Rio quipped, her dark eyes glinting mischievously as she threw a casual arm over the back of a mountain of cushions. "Agatha keeps me on my toes, and I keep her… entertained."

"Entertained?" Agatha scoffed, raising a brow, not taking her eyes off her book. "Try exasperated."

"You love it," Rio teased, her grin widening as she reached over to tug at Agatha’s sleeve playfully.

Agatha’s sharp gaze softened ever so slightly, and for a moment, you caught a flicker of something raw and unguarded in her eyes. She quickly masked it with a roll of her eyes, brushing Rio’s hand away with feigned annoyance. "You’re incorrigible," she muttered, though the corners of her mouth curved into a faint smile.

You watched them with a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Their connection was undeniable—intense, magnetic, and filled with a depth that made your heart ache. You wanted to be a part of that, to share in the love they so clearly had for each other. Your cheeks burned as you took it all in. Their ease with each other was too different the rigid decorum you were accustomed to, and yet it only deepened the strange love you felt growing for them.

Rio tilted her head, clearly sensing your lingering look. "Still reacting like this after everything, pretty lady?" she teased, her grin widening. "You’ve already chased us down, asked all these questions, and even admitted you love us. Surely, a little casual behaviour isn’t going to scare you off."

You couldn’t deny the lingering culture shock of seeing Rio lounging so casually, her feet almost carelessly close to the table. You exhaled slowly, shaking your head at your own absurdity.

"You’re so different, and sometimes it feels like I’m the one out of place here."

Agatha’s sharp gaze softened ever so slightly, her smirk deepening as if she found your flustered honesty amusing. "Out of place?" she echoed, tilting her head. "Doll, you’re sitting here with us, aren’t you? That’s hardly out of place."

Rio stretched out further, her posture even more relaxed as she flashed you a knowing grin. "Exactly. You fit in here more than you think, pretty lady."

You glanced between them, feeling the tension that had been knotting in your chest begin to ease. Their casual confidence was infectious, and though part of you still felt out of your depth, another part began to wonder if they were right. Maybe you weren’t as out of place as you feared.

Shaking your head, you let out a breathy laugh. "You two… I don’t even know how to describe it."

"Describe us?" Rio interjected, her grin widening with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Oh, please do. I’m dying to hear how utterly charming we are."

"Charming isn’t the word I’d use," you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. "Frustrating might be more accurate."

"Frustratingly charming," Rio corrected without missing a beat, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. "But go on, don’t stop now."

Agatha chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. "She’s catching on," she murmured, her sharp gaze flicking to you with amusement. "Doll, you might just surprise us."

"Do you two ever stop?" you asked, exasperation laced with affection as you leaned back in your chair.

"Stop what? Being devastatingly and frustratingly charming?" Rio asked, feigning wide-eyed innocence that only made her grin more infectious.

Agatha rolled her eyes but smirked nonetheless. "Infuriating is the word you’re looking for, doll," she said dryly, though there was no mistaking the fondness in her tone.

"Infuriatingly charming," Rio declared triumphantly. "I’ll take it."

Agatha let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and rich. "Careful, doll. Keep this up, and you might actually start enjoying our company."

"Too late," you admitted without any hesitation. The words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your cheeks flush under their combined gazes.

Rio’s smile softened, and for once, there was no teasing in her expression. "Well, that’s good," she said, her voice warm and genuine. "Because we’re starting to enjoy yours too."

A quiet laugh escaped you, and before you could overthink it, you stood and crossed to where Agatha sat. Without ceremony, you flopped down beside her, the cushion beneath you sinking slightly as you settled in. Your shoulder brushed against hers, and you couldn’t help but notice the faint scent of floral clinging to her.

Agatha arched a brow, her sharp blue eyes flicking to you as a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Comfortable, doll?" she drawled, though there was no real bite in her tone.

"Yes, actually," you replied, tilting your head to meet her gaze with a small, teasing smile. "You make a good shield."

"A shield?" she echoed, amusement lacing her voice as she leaned back, closing her book. "From what, exactly?"

You didn’t answer, instead glancing over at Rio, who was watching the two of you with an expression that could only be described as delighted. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and she didn’t hesitate to shift closer, effectively sandwiching Agatha between you.

"Perfect," Rio said brightly, her grin wide and unapologetic. "Now I get to see you both up close. It’s like my birthday."

Agatha rolled her eyes but didn’t move, though you noticed the slight stiffening of her shoulders. After a moment, she let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning discomfort. "Honestly," she muttered, "if you’re going to crowd me like this…"

She trailed off, her arm lifting and draping casually around your shoulders. The motion was fluid, almost dismissive, but the weight of her arm sent a rush of heat to your cheeks. You stiffened, the warmth rising from your neck to the tips of your ears as you tried to focus on anything but the fact that Agatha was now holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rio’s grin widened as she leaned her chin on her palm, clearly enjoying the scene. "Well, isn’t this cosy," she remarked, her tone dripping with amusement.

Agatha’s smirk deepened, her fingers tapping lightly against your shoulder. "Cosy enough for you, doll?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

"I…" You faltered, the words catching in your throat as your face grew impossibly hotter. "It’s… fine," you managed, though your voice sounded embarrassingly high-pitched even to your own ears.

Rio laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained as she reclined against her cushion. "Oh, you’re precious," she said, her dark eyes twinkling. "I think I like this side of you, pretty lady."

Agatha chuckled, the sound low and warm. "She’s full of surprises," she murmured, her gaze flicking to you briefly before returning to Rio. "Wouldn’t you agree?"

The conversation shifted after that, flowing naturally as you all fell into an easy rhythm. Rio’s wild gestures and exaggerated stories filled the space with laughter, her energy infectious even when it bordered on overwhelming. Agatha, in contrast, remained sharp and composed, though her biting humour and occasional soft chuckles hinted at a depth she kept carefully guarded.

Despite their differences, their connection was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but feel the strange love toward them grow stronger with each passing moment. Sitting there between them, with Agatha’s arm still draped around you and Rio’s teasing gaze never straying far, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time: belonging.

"You’re awfully quiet," Agatha remarked suddenly, her piercing gaze cutting through your thoughts. "Something on your mind, doll?"

You hesitated, your fingers playing with the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. "Just… thinking," you said softly, glancing between the two of them. "About how different you are. And yet, how… perfectly you fit."

Rio raised a brow, her grin turning sly. "Are you saying you admire us, pretty lady?"

"Maybe," you replied, your voice steady despite the warmth rising to your cheeks. "Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out how you haven’t driven each other mad yet."

Agatha laughed, the sound unguarded and rich. "Oh, trust me, we’ve come close," she said, her tone lighter than you’d ever heard it. "But somehow, we always find our way back to each other."

Her words struck a chord deep within you, and you wondered if they felt the same way about you. Did they notice the connection forming between the three of you? It felt fragile yet undeniable, and for now, you chose not to ask, content to let the moment linger, warm and unhurried.

Time had passed, and the tension that had once defined your visits to Agatha and Rio’s surreal home had softened into something far more comfortable. You spent more time in their world, wrapped in their unique blend of wit, charm, and enigmatic allure. You had begun to understand their quirks—the way Agatha masked her emotions with biting humour and Rio’s unpredictable energy could shift from playful to commanding in a heartbeat.

Sometimes, both women disappeared, citing 'business' that required their attention. Though they never explained in detail, you suspected it was tied to their magic. Occasionally, you heard whispers of Lord Rio at your household—visiting the court or being spotted in the city. Those moments left you both flustered and intrigued as you wondered what she was up to in your world while you lingered in theirs.

One morning, your grandfather summoned you to his chambers. The moment you stepped inside, the heavy atmosphere made your chest tighten. He sat at his desk, a letter open before him, his expression as stern as ever.

"You wanted to see me, Grandfather?" you asked politely, though a part of you already dreaded what was coming.

He gestured for you to sit, and you obeyed, folding your hands neatly in your lap. For a moment, he studied you, his piercing gaze weighing heavily on you.

"There is an important matter to discuss," he said finally. "A marriage proposal has been brought to my attention. From the royal family."

Your stomach dropped, and your carefully composed expression faltered. "The royal family?" you echoed, your voice quieter than you intended.

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. "It is a significant opportunity for our family. To marry into the royal line is an honour and a privilege."

Your thoughts raced, panic clawing at your chest. The idea of marrying someone from the royal family—someone you did not know, someone who was not Agatha or Rio—felt like a weight pressing down on you.

"I…" You hesitated, searching for an escape. "What about Lord Rio?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted your impulsiveness, knowing your grandfather would not accept.

Your grandfather frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. "Lord Rio?"

You nodded quickly, forcing yourself to sound composed. "He is well-respected, is he not? A foreign lord with influence and intelligence. Surely, he would make a suitable match."

For a moment, your grandfather said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Lord Rio is indeed an impressive individual," he admitted. "But he is a foreigner. Marrying him would not bring the same advantages as joining the royal family."

Your heart sank, though you struggled to keep your disappointment from showing. "But surely… there is value in forging alliances beyond our borders," you argued weakly, knowing your words held little weight against his unwavering logic.

"Enough," he said firmly, cutting off any further protest. "You are a noble daughter of this household. Your duty is to strengthen our family’s position. A marriage to the royal line achieves that."

You bit your lip, your hands clenching in your lap. "And what if I do not wish to marry at all?" you asked quietly, the words slipping out in one breath.

Your grandfather’s eyes darkened, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Wishes have little place in matters of duty," he said coldly. "You would do well to remember that."

The conversation left you feeling both trapped and defiant. Your mind swirled with thoughts of Agatha and Rio. Their world felt like freedom compared to the suffocating expectations of your family. But what could you do? The love you felt toward them had only grown stronger, but it seemed the ties of duty were tightening around you with every passing day.

You needed to see them, to be in their presence again. Perhaps they would know what to do—or perhaps simply being near them would remind you of the courage you so desperately needed to find within yourself.

You did not even realise you ran out of your grandfather's study and were running until your lungs began to burn. The sound of your grandfather’s angry shouting echoed faintly behind you, but you did not care. You just kept going, your feet carrying you instinctively toward the only place that felt safe anymore.

The entrance to their realm came into view, the shimmering gate glowing faintly in the daylight. Without hesitation, you passed through, the familiar sense of comfort washing over you like a warm embrace. It was as though the air was cradling you, soothing your frayed nerves even as your emotions overwhelmed you.

Tears welled in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they began to fall—slow, silent drops rolling down your cheeks. Tears started falling drop by drop, staining the collar of your dress as you walked toward their house. It stood there as it always did, serene and otherworldly, its soft glow contrasting with your turmoil.

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open. The silence inside was palpable, the air still and expectant. You stepped inside, your legs feeling heavier with each step. When you reached the corner of the room, you could no longer hold yourself up. You sank to your knees, wrapping your arms around them as you waited for them to return.

You did not know how long you stayed like that, your tears soaking into the fabric of your dress as you sat in the stillness of their home. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and before you realised it, sleep claimed you.

A soft touch pulled you from the haze of slumber. Gentle fingers brushed your shoulder, shaking you awake with a care that felt almost reverent.

You blinked your eyes open, and the first thing you saw was Agatha’s face hovering above you. Her piercing blue eyes, usually guarded, were filled with an unspoken concern. There was no smirk, no teasing remark—just raw, unfiltered emotion. It startled you almost as much as the tenderness in her touch.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry. She crouched down in front of you, her hand lingering on your shoulder as her eyes searched yours.

The flood of emotions you had been holding back broke free. Without thinking, you threw yourself into her arms, your hands clutching at the back of her robe as you buried your face in her shoulder. A sob tore from your throat, followed by another, and another. Sobbing, you tightened your embrace around her.

Agatha froze for a moment, clearly startled by the sudden embrace. But then, slowly, her arms came up to wrap around you, holding you close as you cried. Her hands were gentle, one resting on the back of your head while the other rubbed soothing circles against your back.

"Shh," she murmured, her voice softer than you had ever heard. "It’s alright, doll. Let it out."

The sound of her voice only made you cry harder, the weight of everything crashing down on you at once. The pressure of your family’s expectations, the suffocating proposal, and the fear of losing the connection you had built with these two women poured out in a torrent of tears.

Agatha didn’t pull away or try to quiet you. She simply held you, her embrace firm and reassuring as you let the storm within you rage. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel everything without restraint, knowing you were safe in her arms.

When your sobs finally subsided, you pulled back slightly, your face flushed and tear-streaked as you met her gaze. Agatha’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. Her expression was soft, her sharp features unusually tender as she looked at you.

"You’ve been holding this in for a while, haven’t you?" she asked gently, her tone free of its usual teasing edge.

You nodded, your throat too tight to form words. Her hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before she pulled you back into a hug, resting her chin lightly on the top of your head.

"Good," she said softly. "I’d hate to think you didn’t trust us enough to let it out."

The words hit you harder than they should have, and you clung to her even tighter. For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe again.

You hadn’t realised Rio was there until her voice broke the quiet behind Agatha. Turning your head slightly, you met her gaze, and what you saw there startled you—a mix of anger… and was that jealousy?

Rio said nothing as she stepped closer, her movements fluid and purposeful. She reached out, her hand resting lightly on the top of your head in an almost comforting gesture, though her intense expression said otherwise. Her dark eyes seemed to shimmer before they glinted fiercely, a predatory light flickering within them.

Her eyes gleamed sharply.

Without a word, Rio drew a dagger from her robes—a weapon you hadn’t seen for some time, its sleek blade catching the faint light of the room. She tilted her head, her voice dangerously soft as she asked, "Who do I need to torture?"

Despite the tension of the moment, a soft laugh escaped you. The absurdity of her statement and the fact that Agatha’s arm was still wrapped securely around you made the situation feel oddly surreal. Your laughter was light but genuine, and it caught Rio off guard.

Rio pouted dramatically, her expression shifting into something almost petulant. "I’m not joking," she whined, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her dagger. "If you don’t want me to do it, Agatha always can. She’s much better at getting rid of problems anyway."

Agatha sighed, her hand moving to rub your back as she spoke gently. "Rio," she said, her tone laced with exasperation, though a fondness was underlying it. "You’re not helping."

"But look at her!" Rio retorted, gesturing toward you with her free hand. "Someone made her cry. That deserves retribution, doesn’t it?"

You shook your head, a faint smile still tugging at your lips despite the lingering ache in your chest. "I don’t need anyone to be tortured," you said softly, your voice steady but kind. "I just… needed to be here."

Rio huffed, crossing her arms as she tucked the dagger back into her robes. "Fine," she muttered, though her tone was far from resigned. She leaned down slightly, her face close to yours, as she added, "But if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, you let me know."

Her declaration was so fierce, so unapologetically protective, that it sent a strange warmth coursing through you. You glanced up at Agatha, who was watching Rio with a bemused expression, her lips quirking into a half-smile.

"She’s serious, you know," Agatha said, her tone carrying a teasing edge. "It’s not often she gets this… worked up."

Rio straightened, her pout returning. "Worked up? I’m perfectly calm."

Agatha chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Of course you are," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Perfectly calm, with a dagger in hand and murder in your eyes."

Rio rolled her eyes but said nothing, choosing instead to plop herself down on the floor beside you and Agatha. She rested her chin on her palm, her gaze softening as it lingered on you. "Still," she murmured, her tone quieter now, "whoever hurt you better hope they never cross me."

You couldn’t help but smile at her words, though they were spoken with deadly sincerity. The knot in your chest began to loosen for the first time since you’d arrived. Here, in their surreal, star-lit realm, you felt a strange sense of belonging—a place where you could fall apart and still be held together.

You felt Agatha’s lips press gently against the crown of your head, a gesture so unexpected it sent a pleasant warmth coursing through you. The soft touch of her lips against your hair lingered, and you realised, to your own surprise, how much you liked it.

Agatha pulled back slightly, her gaze meeting yours momentarily before flicking to Rio. "Help her up," she said simply, though her tone had an unspoken tenderness.

Rio moved to your side, her hands firm yet gentle as she helped you to your feet. But before you could steady yourself, she pulled you into her embrace, her arms wrapping around you with an almost possessive edge. The unexpected closeness made your heart race, and before you could process the moment, Rio leaned down and kissed your forehead.

It wasn’t soft or fleeting. It was deliberate, lingering, and filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. The way her lips pressed against your skin spoke volumes, and you could feel your face flush deeply.

"Rio," Agatha said, her tone carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement. She crossed her arms and raised a brow at her companion. "Really? You kiss her forehead before I do?"

Rio pulled back slightly, her grin wide and unapologetic. She glanced down at you, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "First one wins," she said playfully, directing the comment at Agatha rather than you.

Your cheeks burned hotter at the exchange, but Rio didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she enjoyed your reaction too much to stop. She shot Agatha a challenging look, her grin growing wider as she added, "You snooze, you lose."

Agatha rolled her eyes dramatically but didn’t bother to hide the smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, how mature," she drawled, turning away with a flick of her wrist. "Perhaps I should let you handle this, then."

You watched as Agatha moved toward a small cabinet in the corner of the room. With her usual flourish, she waved her hand, the faint purple haze of her magic shimmering in the air as a teacup floated toward her. It settled gently on the table, steam rising from the fragrant brew within.

She returned with the tea in hand, her expression softening as she offered it to you. "Drink," she said, her voice calm but firm. "It’ll help."

This time, you didn't hesitate and took the cup, the warmth seeping into your hands as you cradled it. Agatha sat down beside you, her gaze steady and encouraging, while Rio settled on your other side, her playful grin giving way to a quieter curiosity.

"What happened?" Agatha coaxed gently, her eyes searching yours. Her tone was free of its usual sharpness, replaced instead by a genuine concern that made it hard to look away.

Rio leaned in slightly, her presence as steady and reassuring as Agatha’s, though her approach was more casual. "Take your time, my lady," she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of protectiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. "We’re not going anywhere."

Their combined attention was overwhelming but in the best way. You felt safe enough to speak for the first time in what felt like hours.

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the tea in your hands steadying you just enough to begin. "It’s… about the marriage proposal," you started, your voice faltering slightly as their attention sharpened on you. "A royal family has made an offer for me."

Rio’s brow lifted, her casual demeanour shifting into something more focused. Agatha’s expression darkened, her sharp gaze growing colder.

"My grandfather called me into his study to discuss it," you continued, your words spilling out faster now. "He talked about alliances and duty, all those things I’ve heard before. And then—" you hesitated, the memory of your desperation making your cheeks burn "—I panicked. I told him to consider… to consider Lord Rio instead."

Rio’s eyes widened, her grin spreading so quickly that it was almost comical. She leaned back with a triumphant laugh, her dark eyes glinting with pride. "Did you now?" she drawled, her voice thick with amusement. "Oh, my lady, I knew you had excellent taste." She turned to Agatha, her grin practically splitting her face. "Did you hear that? She picked me."

Agatha rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched in what might have been a smirk. "Yes, Rio, we’re all terribly impressed," she said dryly, though her attention quickly shifted back to you, her piercing gaze softening slightly.

Rio didn’t stop, clearly relishing the moment. "Marrying into the royal family, huh?" she mused, her voice playful but carrying a dangerous undertone. "And yet, you suggested me. I’m flattered, my lady. Truly."

You couldn’t help but feel flustered under her burning gaze, her words only adding to the heat already burning in your cheeks. "It wasn’t—" you started to protest, but Rio’s grin silenced you, her satisfaction radiating like a tangible force.

The playful air around Rio didn’t seem to extend to Agatha. Her expression had grown darker as you spoke, her hand tightening slightly around her teacup. Her voice was low and firm when she finally spoke, carrying a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"He has no right to force you into anything," Agatha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She set her tea aside and reached for your hand, her touch warm and steady. "You are not a bargaining chip, not some prize to be traded for alliances."

Her words were fierce, but the kiss she pressed to your hand was surprisingly gentle, the contrast leaving you breathless. When she looked up at you again, her blue eyes glinted sharply. "You’re ours," she declared, her voice quiet but filled with a conviction that made your heart race.

Rio’s grin softened into something warmer, though no less mischievous. "Agatha’s right," she said, leaning in slightly. "You’re not going anywhere, my lady. Not unless it’s with us."

You felt the weight of their words settle over you, heavy but not unwelcome. Despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you—confusion, fear, longing—you couldn’t deny the comfort their presence brought. Here, with their unwavering attention and fierce protectiveness, you felt more at home than you ever had in the confines of your own family.

Agatha’s fingers lingered against yours, her touch steady as she studied your face. "You don’t have to decide anything now," she said softly, her voice losing some of its earlier edge. "But know this—we won’t let anyone take you away from us."

Rio reached out, her hand brushing lightly against your shoulder. "And if your grandfather insists on pushing this," she added, her voice carrying a dangerous undertone, "he’ll find that he’s underestimated just how far we’re willing to go to keep you safe."

You couldn’t help but smile, their words filling you with a strange, undeniable sense of belonging. For the first time since your grandfather had brought up the proposal, you felt… at peace.