#and makes sure EVERYONE is drinking when they should >:(

[levans44]

underneath the tree

pairing: steve rogers x agent!reader

summary: Everything is where it should be: a giant pot of mulled wine simmering quietly on the stove, colorful bags of icing and sugary sprinkles strewn all over the cookie decorating station. Even an old-timey record player crackles softly in the corner, one you’d thrifted on a whim in hopes of teasing a certain someone about it.

Except that certain someone wasn’t… here. 

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, first kiss, light angst

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey friends, this one’s a holiday special w/ pure fluff (and a pinch of angst b/c who am i without it?) feedback is always welcome! thanks for reading and happy holidays 🎄✨

“Santa’s… Favorite… Ho.” 

The words glitter in bold, obnoxious cursive, smack dab across the chest of your favorite red-haired assassin. 

“Good one, Romanoff.”  You smirk, biting back a laugh as she levels you with a deadpan stare, betrayed by the faint twitch at the corner of her crimson lips.  

Your very first time hosting a Christmas Party. 

Or, as Nat lovingly dubbed it—a ’Derelict’s Christmas.’ 

It’s a tradition you’re determined to start this year, for anyone on the team without family during the holidays—a way to make sure no one spends this time of year alone.

And, naturally, another opportunity to humiliate your coworkers. 

The rules were simple: everyone had to show up in the ugliest, most eye-searing sweater they could find. No exceptions.

And I mean ugly, Nat. A basic red sweater is not ugly. 

Even Bucky’s adhered to your law, donning a laid-back penguin wearing sunglasses, sprawled beneath the words ‘Chill Vibes Only.’ A festive tinsel garland spirals around his left arm, which will undoubtedly be the subject of jokes he won’t live down until well after New Years.

Wait, does this make you the Winter Wonderland Soldier?

As you glance around your living room, soft, warm light dances off the mismatched decorations adorning the walls—the kind you’d spent all week setting up—and you can’t help but feel a distinct melancholic warmth reserved for this time of the year.

Everything is where it should be: a giant pot of mulled wine simmering quietly on the stove, colorful bags of icing and sugary sprinkles strewn all over the cookie decorating station. Even an old-timey record player crackles softly in the corner, one you’d thrifted on a whim in hopes of teasing a certain someone about it.

Except that certain someone wasn’t… here. 

Your eyes flick to the door for what must be the tenth time in as many minutes.

No luck. 

You try to tell yourself it’s just traffic, that he’ll walk through any second. But the party flows on, cruelly indifferent—drinks flowing, laughter bubbling—Sam’s already made his second sappy toast of the night and is well on his way to a third. With each passing minute, the excitement in your chest grows heavy, twisting into disappointment.

Sure, he’s probably got a million other things to do. Even on Christmas. 

But when you’d brought up your little soiree, he’d agreed with a gentle nod of his head, and smiled in that boyish way that made your heart flutter.

Sounds fun, I’ll be there.  

It’s not like him to just leave you hanging. But when there’s no work emergency and everyone else is here, it’s hard not to take it personally. 

Your mind feels exhausted, steaming like a train running low on fuel, huffing its way to its final station, desperate to come up with more excuses. You’ve run out of them about two drinks ago.

You’re about to prepare your third, slumped against the kitchen island with a cutting board under you, when a quiet voice cuts through your haze.

“Not feelin’ the holiday spirit?”

You start at the interruption, the lime in your hand slipping from your fingers and tumbling away, rolling off the cutting board with a soft thump.

“Jesus, Barnes, give a girl a warning.”

You abandon your knife with a quiet sigh, eyes following the trail of red and green tinsel up Bucky’s arm as he steps in closer.

Lips twitching in something like amusement, he leans casually against the counter, gaze flicking pointedly toward your apartment entrance before drifting back to you.

“Noticed you’ve been staring at that door all night.”

The words hit you harder than you expect. You force a roll of your eyes, dismissing his observation with a shrug. But your fingers hesitate over the cutting board, the lime mocking you from its spot against the cool backsplash. 

“I’m not—” You cut yourself off, the words tasting too defensive.  

A heavier sigh slips from you when you reach for your glass instead.

“It’s just not like him, you know?” You mutter, swirling the last sip in your glass before downing it. Your lips come up sticky-sweet from the rim when you mumble, more to yourself than him.

“I mean, sure, he’s busy, but…” You trail off, meeting Bucky’s gaze to find that the teasing glint was gone, replaced with something softer, unreadable. The shift unsettles you, and your stomach twists.

“What?” The word comes out sharper than you intended.

He tilts his head, as if weighing his words, and the silence grows heavy—a non-answer wrapped in a knowing look. Brows furrowed, you wait, trying to decipher his hesitation. 

It’s another long beat before he sighs, lifting himself off the counter, and taps his fingers absently against the edge. 

His eyes dart to the side, glancing briefly over the room. “He… didn’t want me to tell anyone.” 

Your fingers tighten instinctively around the stem of your glass, teeth scraping over the remnants of sugar sticking to your bottom lip. 

“About what?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, Steve’s…” His gaze flicks to yours, softening, “He’s probably over at New York-Presbyterian.”

Your stomach drops, fingers slipping around the glass as you reach for the countertop. The train jolts back to life, racing faster than ever, the wheels screeching as each thought barrels forward, colliding with the next in a blur of frantic speed.

The hospital?Why, was he hurt?What happened?How had you not heard?

“No, no, he’s not—” Bucky cuts in quickly, raising a hand to stave off your growing panic. The wince on his face softens into a small, apologetic laugh,

“He’s fine. Just…volunteering for the kids. Does it every year.”  

You blink, the rush of thoughts screeching to a sudden halt.

“He’s…”

It takes all of two seconds for the realization to register, your body moving before your mind can catch up. The glass is abandoned on the counter as you scramble for the nearest coat, not caring whose it is, and rush for the door.

The pediatric ward offers a welcome reprieve from the usual maze of sterile corridors—paper snowflakes and crayon drawings adorning the walls, giant inflatable snowmen standing guard at the entrances to patient rooms. A small Christmas tree, twinkling with homemade ornaments and tinsel, stands next to the nurse’s station. 

Your desperate steps falter when you spot him in the corner of the ward, sat cross-legged over a rug in a makeshift play area, surrounded by a small circle of children. The Captain America outfit stands out amongst the sterile blues and whites—and it’s not the usual tactical gear he wears on covert missions, muted tones and coarse to the touch. 

No, its the spandex version of his uniform, that ridiculously colorful suit he’d worn to punch Hitler on stage every night. Soft patches of red, white, and blue that fit snugly around his shoulders, but hang a little loose over the rest of his frame.

He’s reading from a tiny children’s book, splayed open in one hand, while the other steadies a little boy in a hospital gown perched on top of his shoulders. The boy’s eyes are wide, glued to the page as Steve gently rocks him side to side.

You hesitate, pulse quickening, letting his soft, steady voice wash over you for a moment—a rhythmic murmur that envelops the quiet corner of the ward. 

It’s not until he finishes the book that he realizes you’re standing there.

Soft blue eyes crinkle at the edges when he frowns, starting to uncross his legs.

"Hey, uh… guys, new mission,” He’s still a little unsure when he sets the book down, gaze still on you. “…whoever can help me clean up the blocks gets to pick the next game, okay?” He clears his throat, smiling back at the eager group as they scramble off to the toy bins in the corner. He gently lowers the boy from his shoulders, letting the little one rush off to join the others. 

You move forward, feet shuffling against the soft foam padding of the floor. As Steve meets you halfway, you clutch the sleeves of your sweater tightly, heart hammering.

“Hi.” He breathes out, surprise still evident in the small dip between his brows, though it gives way to a gentle smile. 

“Hey.” Your words come out choked, something unmistakably tightening in your chest. 

“How did you…” His eyes flit down to the loud pattern on your sweater, then behind you at the clock. His gaze lingers there for a moment, eyes fluttering shut in disbelief. 

“Shoot. I’m sorry, I had no idea it got this late. I was going to—”

“—Steve.” Your voice cracks, thick and watery—frustration, sadness, guilt, longing, all tangled with a deep, aching incredulity. 

And goddamn it, why was the tip of your nose prickling?

You take another step toward him, now close enough to notice the tiny details of his uniform—the delicate lines of stitching, the faded patch of white over his chest. And as your eyes trail over the frayed seams, you can’t help but lift a hand, the tip of your index tracing a gentle line against the end of a loose thread, pressing it down and watching it pop back up. It’s all you can do to keep from collapsing into his arms, or punching him square in the chest. 

“It’s been sitting in my closet too long,” he murmurs, the low timbre vibrating against your palm, “Figured I’d take it out for a spin.”

Your eyes snap up, and the air that escapes your nose is somewhere between a snort and a desperate cry because you know you’re fucked. 

Utterly ruined by this ridiculous, stupid, dumb man standing in front of you. 

And when he tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, trapping the soft pink flesh in quiet hesitation, the spring finally snaps. 

Brows furrowed, he's halfway into offering some kind of reassurance—maybe another damn apology—when you rise on your tiptoes, yanking him down by the loose collar of his uniform.

And then it’s nothing but the heady sensation of his lips flush against yours, a little stiff but warm and alive just the same. His broad hands find their way to the small of your back, the pressure against your lips growing firmer as he bends down, pulling you in closer. You’re gripping his uniform so tight your knuckles have turned white, but you refuse to let go even when he pulls back, his breath warm and steady against your skin. 

His gaze is soft, searching, and you become acutely aware of the hot sting rising behind your eyes, the bruising grip on his collar the only thing holding you together. You wonder if he feels it too, the weight of so much time lost and longing unspoken, rushing to fill the space between you. 

Then he smiles—a quiet, unguarded thing that tugs at the corners of his lips and lights up his eyes.

And just like that, the weight in your chest slips away as if it was never there.

His gaze flits down to your lips, eyelids fluttering tenderly as he starts to lean back in, only to be stopped short by a ripple of delighted gasps from about three feet below.

“Look, look, they’re kissing!”  

“Steve is that your girrrlfriend?"

A gaggle of children ambushes you two—a surprise strike from all sides with no escape route. Squeals of joy pierce the air as tiny hands grasp at Steve’s uniform, tugging at his sleeves, pulling at his boot. It's a full-on siege, and you’re caught squarely in the middle. Steve looks back at you, brows raised in defeat.

“Oh my god, she’s toootally his girlfriend!”

“Cap-tain America sitting on a tree,” A loud chorus of singing erupts. “K-I-S-S-I-N—“

“Okay, okay, guys–“ He’s got the biggest, dumbest grin on his face when he raises a hand to try and quiet the noise, the other still resting on your waist. 

He’s blushing something fierce, redder than a Christmas stocking, and hell, if your cheeks aren’t warming up too. 

The nurse on duty eventually settles down the noise, gently ushering the children out of the play area and leading them to their rooms. You watch warily as the kids shuffle out, stuffed animals raised in the air as they wave goodbye.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“No, we should’ve wrapped up a while ago.” Steve smiles sheepishly, his cheeks flushed as he ruffles the back of his neck. “It’s late.”

“Right.”

Silence stretches between you, deafeningly loud without all the tiny agents crowding your space. 

He steps forward, hand still curled around his nape, and you resist the urge to kiss him again. 

“Do you… wanna grab some hot chocolate?”

You sit idly in the waiting area, observing the ease on Steve’s face as he chats with the nursing staff, thanking them before heading back toward you with two plastic cups in hand.

The seat beside you creaks under his weight, and you go to cradle the warmth in both hands with a quiet smile. Your eyes drift over to the lights wrapped around the Christmas tree near the nurse’s station, shining brightly—and with it, the familiar knot tightening in your chest.

“Every year, huh?”

“Yeah,” He nods in your periphery, “The kids seem to like it.”

Your lips quirk up in a sideways smile, “Yeah, I bet.”

A beat, then: “Did Bucky tell you?”

You nod, and his smile widens, his gaze dropping to the floor as his leg bounces ever so slightly. The shiny red of his boots gleams against the linoleum, as he taps once, twice.

“I’m sorry I missed the party.” 

You track the rhythm of the tree lights as they blink—on, off, alternating between bulbs then flashing all at once—and he’s still apologizing. 

“I was looking forward to going.”

“Steve, it’s…” you sigh, brows furrowing at the absurdity of his apology, only for a new ridiculous thought to take its place. You blink, then, nose crinkling in amusement as you swivel around in your seat. 

“Wait, were you, planning on showing up in that?”

He laughs, the sound breaking out so warm and easy. “That bad, huh?”

You gaze incredulously for a long, deliberate beat.

“You know what? I’m actually glad you didn’t come tonight. I mean, for your sake.”

Quiet laughter bubbles up in your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as you turn your gaze back forward. But in the silence that follows, a thread of bitterness winds its way back through your thoughts.

"You know," you murmur, eyes drifting to the neatly stacked parcels beneath the tree, "you’re always helping out, doing things for everyone else." A warm, fuzzy feeling hums low in your stomach—though you're not entirely sure if it’s from all the cocktails you’ve had tonight.

You sigh, your head lolling onto one shoulder as you turn to meet his gaze. 

“…does Santa ever get anything for Captain America?”

He blinks, a quiet tilt of his head followed by a slow, knowing smile.

“Well,” the chair creaks again when he leans back, stretching out his legs with a satisfied breath. “He did this year.” 

At the puzzled furrow of your brow, he shrugs, eyes dropping down to the narrow strip of linoleum between you two.

Then, a gentle tap of his ridiculous, shiny boot against your foot.

When your gaze snaps back to his, he’s wearing that same boyish grin again, wide and stupid and far too charming for its own good.

You can’t decide if it makes you want to shove him, or punch him, or kiss him—or maybe do all three just to get it out of your system—because yeah, you’re completely done for.

Utterly ruined in ways you never saw coming, and it’s all his fault.

And if he leans in for another kiss, and you let him pull you in with a shaky breath and a smile that feels like surrender—

Well, that’ll have to be between you, him, and the giant inflatable snowman keeping guard just two feet away. 

(It’s not until you’ve both finished your hot chocolate, and shared just as many kisses as laughs, that you glance down at your phone to notice Sam’s text: 

bird boy 1 hour ago

yo di u take my fcking coat??)

[frillydolle]

need pitfighter vi getting jealous of people eyeing up nice reader at the bar and pulling you into her lap and marking up your neck in front of everyone😇

mean pitfighter vi x sweet female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ vi is touchy , even a little possessive , suggestive near end!

the colour of their names gave me a subtle idea. . .

after a huuge win, vi decided that u two should celebrate with drinks at the last drop. it's not like the two of u would have to wait for such a long time since, by now, everyone knew who vi was. she's gained a.. interesting reputation in the undercity.

and so she's holding ur hand guiding u through the crowd of people, taking u to a slight secluded booth just for the u both but unbeknownst to u, many people were looking at the two of u.

well, more so looking at u.

u were a pretty girl, a happy, bubbly, sweet girl. like u didn't belong in zaun, more like piltover. people couldn't help but look of u, even some of the men within the bar were oogling at u, as ur dress flowed gracefully with each step u took as u followed vi to the booth.

u were completely different to vi, but everyone says that opposites attract, don't they?

and ur at the bar, waiting on the drinks. no one in the place even dared to talk to u, and u know why, it's not like u felt someone's intense gaze om the back of ur head. like a hawk watching its prey. and u didnt mind her gaze too much, in fact, it made u feel all funny inside, like u adored everything moment. vi kept her gaze fixed on u, making sure that no one dared to talk to the pretty girl. her pretty girl.

with that bubbly, sweet smile plastered on ur face as u walked ur way back to vi, placing the two drinks on the table before her hand wrapped around ur waist, pulling u to her lap in one swift motion. and your heart skipped a beat-

“theres my pretty girl, did i make ya proud?” “'course you did, silly! i just worry 'bout you so much, vi..” and a small giggle left ur lips.

soon, she pulled u closer and started kissing ur neck. and u, being the most loveliest girl she's ever meet, moved ur head slightly just so she could gain more access. a stray of giggles following ur actions. and that made her smirk, increasing the kisses that made their path to ur collarbone back up to ur neck.

“vii! what are you- dont put ur hand there! they'll see us!” “..i dont care, i wanna make sure they all know you're mine.”

her hand retraces just from the underside of ur breast, back down to ur sides. her lips trace back up to ur neck before she bite down, just slightly, enough to leave u a bite mark. a lovebite, to be more specific. she wasn't a girl to share specific why would she not let everyone know that ur her girlfriend?

“you're just so pretty, make me want to mark you up in front of everyone here... not like they'd notice.. or care.”

god, her words sent down to ur lower abdomin, the way she talks to u could be so... filthy, knowing her true intentions and yet, u have never complained once!

she gave u another one. and another one, and then another one after that.

“let me take you when we get home, yeah?”

[veltana]

The winter rebound

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~3,6k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Avengers!Bucky, alcohol consumption, fluff, pwp, smut, oral (fem receiving), piv sex, safe sex, dirty talk.

✦ Summary: You go with your friend to Stark's holiday party

✦ Note: This was the first thing I wrote and published when I got back into the marvel fandom, so it's a super self-indulgent piece! But I hope you like it anyway! As always, please comment and/or reblog! Asks are always welcome!

Masterlist | AO3

It was Friday. You watched yourself in the mirror and told yourself that you would have fun tonight. Forget about your ex of five years who broke off your engagement a month before the holidays, whom you had spent the last three weeks crying over.

Tonight you were accompanying your best friend to the annual Stark holiday party, and you would not think about him once during the night, while you danced and drank yourself into a stupor.

Standing outside the huge compound made you anxious. Maybe it was too soon to meet the real world without him. No! Don’t think about that asshole! You cut yourself off before your thoughts started to spiral.

“Come on!” your friend Lily laughed. Her genuine smile was contagious and you returned it, squaring your shoulders and forcing every dumb thought down before you took her arm as the two of you made your way down the gold and red carpet. At the end, two large glass doors were opened by life-sized mechanical nutcrackers.

“I sure hope those don’t spring to life and ruin this party too,” you mumbled. Lily giggled, “Don’t worry, I helped with the software, unless Mr. Stark went a completely different direction there should be no worries.” “So there is a possibility,” you joked as the doors closed behind you.

If she answered you didn’t hear because you were too busy taking in the amazing winter-themed party. The waiters were also dressed as nutcrackers and there were dancers in amazing outfits performing all over the floor. Music played in the background and some were moving to the beat while others stood around and talked.

Honestly, you had expected more people, like at least two hundred but there were only about fifty in the huge hall. Not only the regular people, like your friend, who helped with software, hardware, management, and the day-to-day running's of the compound, but it was impossible not to notice the heroes also in attendance.

Not all of them were there, no sign of Thor or Loki, or the Guardians, but this was your first time so close to any hero ever, you would take what you could get.

“Come, I’ll introduce you to everyone,” Lily said and started to pull you along while you gazed at the shifting decorations adorning the walls, obvious to the blue eyes that followed you with interest from the bar.

Too many names spun through your brain, accompanied by the alcohol your friend had been plying you with.

Everyone you had met so far had been incredibly nice and friendly and hadn’t minded when you asked all the dumb questions about working at such a place.

Finally, it came down to the big event, meeting Mr. Stark and maybe the rest of the Avengers currently there.

Lily stepped up to her boss and greeted him and Pepper Potts like they were friends rather than her superiors and then introduced you. Not a lot of people got to shake hands with Iron Man and Pepper Potts but now you had, and it was totally normal.

“Interesting hair color,” Tony Stark pointed out. “Is it meant to look like that?” It was such an old man thing to say you could only laugh as Pepper elbowed him in the ribs. “I am sorry,” Pepper apologized but you waved it off.

“He is paying for everything I drink, so if he wants to make fun of my hair, it’s fine.” Pepper gave you a relieved look and was about to say something else when a voice interrupted.

“It looks like the Aurora Borealis.”

Bucky Barnes had appeared out of nowhere, like the skilled assassin he had been trained to be. It was like he had materialized out of thin air at your side and you jumped when he spoke.

Before you knew what you were doing, you reached out, slapping your palm against his hard chest, and said “For fuck’s sake,” while your other hand rested over the heart trying to work its way out of your chest.

Then you realized what you’d done and pulled back your hand quickly, covering your mouth. Bucky stared back at you, mouth slightly open, while Lily and Tony both cackled in amusement. “That’s what you get Barnes,” your friend pointed out.

With a crooked smile, Bucky just said, “How about I buy you a drink to make up for it?” and held out his arm. “As long as it’s crazy expensive since the old man made fun of my hair,” you shot over your shoulder at Tony as you took the offered arm.

Your friend winked at you before she returned to her conversation with Natasha Romanoff, whom you would just have to say hello to some other time.

Bucky led you the short way to the bar and you eased your way on to the chair, making sure not to get tangled in your long dress, as Bucky leaned over the bar and asked for the most expensive champagne they had.

“I’m Bucky,” he said. “I know,” you smiled at him before introducing yourself too.

In no time there were two flutes in front of you, he offered you one, saying cheers before you took the first sip. The unabashed moan that left you wasn’t meant to be sexual but Bucky stopped his glass halfway to his lips to just stare at you. It cracked you up, “Sorry,” you said, “I’ve never tasted champagne this good before.” He also took a sip, his eyes widening a little, and when he’d swallowed all he said was, “Wow.” “I could get used to this,” you took another mouth and closed your eyes.

When you opened them again you found him looking at you and it made a shiver go down your spine. For the first time in a long time, you felt desire pool in your lower belly. “Will this make up for Stark’s comment?” he asked. “It will absolutely!” you promised. “I think your hair looks great and I’m like twice his age so…” he trailed off.

“My friend, Lily, has told me about these crazy old super soldiers, but you look spry for your age,” you winked at him. “You can only imagine,” he flirted back, and your cheeks heated. You had forgotten about this, about the utter intoxication of flirting with a man and having it returned to you.

After several weeks of drought, your body suddenly knew what arousal was again and flooded you with it, making your heart beat twice as fast and your skin flush. “Oh, you want me to think of everything you can do?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. “Anything you want, doll,” he leaned forward, “But I’m sure your imagination won’t hold a candle to the real thing.” “Are you going to show me?” “If you want to,” he smirked and you felt yourself grow wetter by the second.

You leaned in too, unable to resist him and not wanting to either. You wanted to get lost in him for as long as he would have you. He finished off the rest of his champagne like it was a shot of liquor.

“Come on, I have just the place,” he smiled, holding out his hand. Not even second-guessing yourself for a moment you finished your glass and let him lead you away.

Bucky took you through a side door, into a corridor that led to the heart of the compound which was now deserted, and finally into a large room with a domed ceiling.

It looked like a cinema almost, except the screen was the whole ceiling, and in the middle of the floor was an enormous sofa-like thing that easily fit several people.

After Bucky pressed something on a side panel the room lit up with the Aurora Borealis.

You let go of his hand, staring with huge eyes at the display. Maybe you had misinterpreted his intentions and they were actually pure, not at all the filthy things you had thought this would end up being.

Never had you been happier to be wrong.

This time when he appeared out of nowhere he didn’t scare you, he gripped your waist with the vibranium arm and spun you into his chest, before using his other hand to pinch your chin between his fingers.

“I’m going to kiss you, tell me if I should stop,” he breathed. Instead of answering with words you surged up and crushed your lips against his, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pulling him impossibly closer.

It was almost like he expected you to be timid or something because, for a few seconds, he didn’t move, but then he rushed into action, moving his lips and kissing you like a man starved.

Desire flooded you, making every one of his touches feel like fire even through the fabric of your dress. He moved you backward until your knees hit the oversized sofa, and you laid down.

Bucky’s face was burning with desire as he looked down on you, before he could move or say anything you grabbed your skirt and pulled it up until it bunched around your waist so that you were able to spread your legs without restraint.

The growl erupting from his chest made you smile and you crooked your finger toward him. He knelt between your legs, grabbing your thighs to spread them even more before he leaned down over you to capture your lips again.

The action made the hard cock in his jeans brush against your heated core, making you moan into his mouth.

He pulled back, eyes wild, “Your sounds make me fucking crazy.” he groaned, moving his hands down your naked legs, caressing them and gripping them, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be rough or gentle.

“Hope so,” you smiled and started to tug at his suit jacket, needing to see his body. He obliged by sitting back and ridding his upper body of clothing. As soon as you could your hands splayed out across the expanse of his naked torso, feeling the hard muscles under the soft skin.

Your eyes grazed over the scars on his left shoulder but didn’t pay it any mind. The man had trauma, that was no secret, but tonight you didn’t need to delve into that. Instead, you sat up, kissing the skin you could reach and licking at his nipple, making him moan most deliciously.

He reached around you to unzip your dress and you whined when you had to move away from him to let him pull it off you. Now you were almost completely naked with the super soldier, except for the thong you wore that did little to hide anything from him, and your heels.

Without another word, he stood up and unbuttoned his pants, peeling them off and kicking off his shoes in the process, before he was back over you. Now it was his turn to taste your skin and when he closed his mouth around a nipple, using his vibranium hand to pinch the other, you released a high-pitched mewl you never heard from yourself before.

That only spurred him on, alternating between sucking and licking at you, squeezing or pinching your sensitive buds. The pleasure was too much, like you would implode or maybe even come from just him playing with your tits. You fisted the fabric under you, pushing your chest even more into him as moans and words tumbled from your lips.

“Bucky, please!” you tried forming a coherent sentence but failed. “What do you need, doll?” he asked, lips shiny with his spit as he looked up at you. “Touch me, make me come, please Bucky,” you didn’t want to wait another second for the pleasure you had missed for a lot longer than the weeks since your break up. This temporary connection with a stranger was already better than what you had experienced over several years.

“Can I taste you?” his voice was husky, filled with restrained want. “Yes!” you smiled and raised yourself on your elbows.

You watched as he kissed his way down your form, pulling off your thong and throwing it away. He grabbed your thighs and spread them wide before letting the thumb of his vibranium hand slowly drag up, separating your folds, groaning, almost whispering “Fuck, your pussy is perfect,” and leaning in to carefully lick up your spread lips. You fell back, staring up at the beautiful display as Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, one of the Avengers, ate you out with perfection.

Every move he made sent sparks through your entire body and pulled cries from you. Your hands tangled in his hair, not pulling or pushing, just needing to anchor yourself on something. Nothing would hold a candle to this for the rest of your life you suspected, because even though you had just met, Bucky Barnes took his sweet time, caressing his hands up and down your sides, down your legs, and back up again, using his tongue and lips to make your body blaze.

Your crescendo built steadily, as did your voice, the closer you got the more you pleaded and begged, even though he was doing exactly what you wanted him to. When two fingers on his right hand breached you with no problem your back bowed, the pleasure rushing through you, and when he crooked them and moved them inside you, it was everything the dam needed to break and the coil inside you snapped.

You screamed his name as the orgasm hit you like a freight train. What was even better was that he worked you through it, coaxing every last drop of pleasure out of you before you had to instead beg him to stop.

"Too much," you whimpered when the uttermost tip of his tongue gently floated across your clit. "No, darling, not enough. A man could get addicted to hearing you scream his name."

You whimpered again, your body rocking with overstimulation at every pass of his tongue. It was wonderful to hear him say those things but you needed more.

"Please tell me you have a condom so you can fuck me," you groaned and that made him stop, staring at you from between your legs before kissing up the side of your thigh to sit back on his heels before he got up. He freed himself from his underwear before he bent down to grab his pants and pulled a condom from a pocket and that gave you a chance to admire him. His cock was hard, glistening, and a lot bigger than what you were previously used to, but that only sparked more excitement in your lower stomach.

"Hands and knees, baby," he smiled and made a twirling motion with his fingers. You wasted no time rolling over, and getting into position. His flesh hand slapped your ass playfully when he knelt behind you and when you moaned he chuckled. "You like that huh?" he asked as the tip of his cock started to press into you.

He was big, you whined and whimpered with every inch he pressed into you. Maybe why he took his time eating you, because he needed you to be as aroused as possible for it to fit. You clawed at the fabric, feeling like you were having an out-of-body experience with how he filled you.

"So good, taking it all," he praised when his hips were finally flush with your ass. Trying to answer him with words was out of the question, instead, you rocked your body, feeling his cock press against everything inside you, giving you the most delicious sensation you probably ever felt.

His hand landed on your ass again and that spurred you on, starting to move a bit faster. "Look at you, fucking yourself on my cock," he sounded a little breathless and you wished you could see him. "Do you like it, darling? Do you like my cock filling you to the brim?"

Fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him you had not expected. He grabbed your hips and helped you along, starting to fuck you deep and hard, pulling almost all the way out before shoving back in again.

With every move, you cried out in sheer ecstasy. Bucky kept on telling you how good you sounded, he didn't mind at all that you were loud.

The pace was hard but not hurried, he seemed to like taking his time, not rushing through the action just to get to the finish line. But it was driving you mad, it felt like you were at the precipice constantly, ready to tip over but needing something more to do it.

Then he grabbed you around the waist and pulled you up until you were flush against his chest, his pace never stopping. "Hi, sweet thing, enjoying yourself?" he wasn't even winded and you were a panting, whimpering mess, feeling like you were about to lose it.

"Yes, Bucky, please touch me, make me come again." He kissed your shoulder, "My pleasure," was his answer and his left hand descended on your aching clit.

A shudder and a scream passed through you when he started to rub small circles over it. Suddenly you were so close to the edge you could almost taste it, and Bucky knew it too.

"That's right, come on my cock, doll. Can you do that for me? Be good and come for me?" he said between kissing up your neck, moving the arm around your waist up to grab your jaw, and turning your head to the side. The kiss was sloppy but delicious, and with the aid of his fingers and so full of his cock the orgasm took you by full force, making you shake in his grip.

He released your mouth and let the sounds you made fill up the room, pressing his mouth to the side of your head and telling you over and over again how fucking good you felt coming around him.

If he hadn’t held you up, you would have collapsed no doubt, but Bucky had no problem keeping you up as he found his own release, pressing his forehead against your neck and mumbling obscenities, his hips stuttering against your ass.

Now he was breathing heavier, holding you tight against him with both arms, letting his fingers draw random patterns on your skin.

You were in a post-orgasmic haze, only existing in that moment with no past or future, only his warm body, and a sated need. "Gonna need to let you go now, darling," he said in a low voice "Lay down." His arms loosened around you and you braced yourself with your arms and eased yourself down on your side.

Bucky got up, probably to dispose of the condom, before laying down behind you. You hadn't expected him to want to cuddle, but he draped his arm across your side, pulling you flush against him.

"You okay?" he asked in a whisper. "Fan-fucking-tastic," you answered with a small laugh and felt a million times lighter all of a sudden.

After a few minutes of laying there, you felt like you'd been gone from the party long enough, but judging by Bucky’s heavy breathing, he had fallen asleep behind you.

He didn't wake as you gathered your things. When you found the thong, you looked at it, looked over at his gorgeous form laying there, and giggled as you found his pants and stuffed the thong down his pocket.

With the help of some items in your clutch, you patched up your make-up and fixed your hair before slipping out and closing the door behind you.

It was a small miracle that you could find your way back to the party but you did and immediately went to the bar for a drink.

Lily found you minutes later and she just raised an eyebrow, you shrugged and tilted your glass towards hers, clinking them together, and then you both burst out laughing.

*

Monday rolled around and it was hard to work because you kept getting lost in the memories of Friday night.

His eyes, his scent, his voice as he said those things to you. You squeezed your legs together and stifled a low moan.

Suddenly your phone chimed and pulled you back into the real world. A text from Lily.

[So, Bucky Barnes just came by and asked for your number. I gave it, of course, just so you know!] [Okay? Did he say why he needed it?] [Apparently, you left something(????) here on Friday and he wanted to return it.] [Hmm, okay, thanks!] [What did you leave?!?!?!?] [Don't be so nosey, go back to work!]

Your stomach did a flip when the next message was from an unknown number. It had a picture attached, your thong tangled in his fingers, and the text [You left these.] For a second you imagined him using them as he got himself off. You bit your lips as you responded. [Keep them or throw them away, I have more, don't worry.] even added a little wink-emoji.

[I want to return them, personally. Are you free this afternoon?] His response was quick and very to the point.

A wonderful shudder traveled through you at the thought of seeing him again. You had meant for this to be a one-time thing, something to get you back into the world and learn to exist without your ex but there wasn't any harm in seeing where this could go, and hopefully, you would have a lot more amazing sex on top of it.

[Sure, I get off at five.]

[lexirosewrites]

This has been in my brain for a HOT MINUTE so it will b long

A!Eddie & Corroded Coffin didn't make it in the rock n roll world, the band certainly tried but they all found tht it wasn't the fulfilling kind of work they wanted or needed. So one by one they all ended up moving away from California some of them went back to the midwest.

B!Gareth left first, he'd found a passion for teaching after taking on a few tutoring jobs to pay the bills so after a lot of talking he went back to school in Indianapolis where he could b near family. A!Freak went as far as they could without needing a passport & moved to NYC where they built a fulfilling & even successful career in the Broadway circuit as a musician. Jeff & Eddie ended up leaving together, even staying together as roommates briefly in Portland bc going back to the midwest felt almost like giving up completely but when Jeff's dad passed away he went home to Indiana for the funeral & just didn't come back, Eddie wasn't resentful abt it he was even ecstatic for A!Jeff when he got a call a half a yr later where Jeff told him he'd moved to Chicago & found work w the USPS tht gave him time to volunteer in an after school program teaching guitar. Eddie stayed in Portland working in a mechanic shop till Gareth invited all of them to watch him walk the stage to accept his teaching degree.

It was a touching reunion for everyone & after a lot of drinks Eddie admitted he hated Portland & admired how Gareth & Jeff were shaping the minds of tomorrow & was proud of Freak for the career they'd built in NYC. In the end, Eddie ended up hopping around the couches of his bandmates in their different places in the country till he found work he enjoyed in Chicago as a line cook & he volunteered w Jeff till slowly but surely Eddie became a go to guy for the program to call & then a yr later the director of the program said she was recommending him to a teaching position at the fancy after school youth art institute her friend ran. Jeff had turned down the position when she'd asked bc the pay wasn't much better & he enjoyed his work w the USPS

Eddie gets a job at this youth art institute & he thrives. He still volunteers & through his efforts the art institute expands their scholarship program. He meets one of the ballet instructors, B!Chrissy, & they're fast friends even platonic soulmates some would say. When Eddie introduces Chrissy to Jeff at Eddie's birthday party in late June he was very unsubtle abt his matchmaking intentions & he was vindicated when they admit to him tht they're dating not even a month later.

When August arrives Chrissy starts talking abt preparing for auditions for The Chicago Ballets annual production of The Nutcracker, apparently the institute got to bring a number of students to audition for the roles reserved for children or teens along w other ballet schools of the city. The students of the ballet classes become even more serious in their lessons, many of them signing up for the one on one lessons offered specifically to prepare for the auditions. Eddie's favorite guitar student, O!Max, was best friends w 2 ballet students (B!El & A!Lucas) in a way tht was clearly developing into a romance btwn the 3 & so the one on one lessons he taught her became mostly her practicing chords while raving abt how hard the 2 were working, tht Lucas' dream was to one day b cast as the cavalier who dances w the sugar plum fairy & tht El hopes to one day b cast as the dew drop in the Waltz of the Flowers.

Two days before auditions the ballet students of the institute get visited by members of the Chicago Ballet Troupe. The youngest get to meet & interact w the dancers cast in roles that'll directly interact w them should they b cast. The teens get the most exciting visitors is the consensus Eddie picks up on, apparently it is somewhat tradition for the dancers cast as The Snow Queen, The Dew Drop, The Sugar Plum Cavalier & The Sugar Plum Fairy to visit w the teens. Chrissy gets a glint in her eye when she insists Eddie come along w them to dinner after classes because her friend from dance school is one of the cast members visiting the teens.

He walks into the restaurant, is led by Chrissy to the table practically overflowing w tall athletic bodies, & promptly plopped into the only remaining seat next to the most gorgeous male omega Eddie has ever laid his eyes on. Chrissy introduces him as Steve Buckley, the first male omega to b cast as The Sugar Plum Fairy in literally any major production of The Nutcracker put on by a major troupe. Eddie knows his eyes get gooey especially when he catches the briefest whiff of the sugar sweet scent tht resembles baked apples when Steve leans closer to hear him better over the noise of the restaurant.

A lot happens after auditions & during production, El is cast as one of the snowflakes & Lucas is cast as a party goer & toy soldier but he impressed the production team so well he was given the position of understudy to The Sigar Plum Cavalier. Steve & Eddie grow closer till they finally kiss after the final curtain of the annual production. Chrissy & Jeff move in together & after Chrissy gets pregnant Eddie is asked to b one of the witnesses when they go to the courthouse to register their bonding. Steve takes over for chrissy when she goes on maternity leave.

Four years later steddie have also bonded & Steve gives a final performance of The Nutcracker before retirement, he was honored to b cast as Sugar Plum one more time & to b there w Lucas as he debuted as not only an official dancer w the Chicago Ballet Troupe but as The Sugar Plum Cavalier. Steve would have stayed longer as a dancer but he wanted to b a mother & Ballet doesn't give much allowance for a dancer to b pregnant. So Steve takes the offer of a teaching job w the same youth art institute where chrissy & his mate work & steddie move to the same Chicago suburb as chrissy/Jeff when they officially begin trying for a baby

Joan Riot Munson is born at exactly noon the following year on the first day of the annual production of The Chicago Ballet's Nutcracker 🥰🩰

we love an omegaverse ballet AU!!!💕

(this is the last ask i have in my inbox for slick sunday, but if i see any come in while i’m out, i’ll try to answer and post!)

[kpop---scenarios]

Whispers Of The Night (3)

Pairing: Stray Kids x Reader

Genre: Vampire! Au, College! Au

Summary: You just want to live a happy life, but currently, that wasn't happening. It's not until you meet 8 strangers who turn your life upside down and you discover what they are.

Warning: Mentions of blood, Drinking, Violence [this is an 18+ story; will contain smut in future chapters]

Word Count: 3k

A/N: AND AS ALWAYS THANK YOU @skzdust FOR YOUR HELP I'M ETERNALLY GRATEFUL BESTIE

Taglist: @steddie-steddie @hongtyong @purple-bell

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykidss @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon

@dwaekkiiracha @silly250 @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

@satosugu4l @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @iovecb97

@1810cl @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat

@pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog

@anskiiz @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr

@jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @ayyonoona @31maze13

@stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited @hoesheez

@stayatinykatsy @catlove83 @jeonginstulip @kaleigh-2002

@honeycombbaybee @hyuneyeon @flylis @kpop-choco

@chloe-elise-2000 @eastjonowhere @stephanieeeyang

Part One | Part Two

The two days that you spent at the SKZ house, as they called it, were… interesting to say the least. You woke up on the earlier side to make sure you had enough time to get to class, and each day they were all awake, watching TV, working out, doing homework. You'd offer to make them breakfast as you made your own, but they all claimed to have eaten just after they woke up. There were no dishes in the sink, the same amount of food in the fridge. Not to mention their beds were always made up the same every morning. You'd never met college guys who were so… put together. It was throwing you off a little.

“So.” Sam smiles. “These guys you stayed with for a couple nights… any chance you're going to move on from Mark?” She asks.

You can't help it, but you roll your eyes at her question. You still weren't sure what you were going to do about him. You hadn't confronted him, fuck, tou hadn't even spoken to him since San dropped that ball on you the other day. While there was an attraction to, well, let's be honest, all of them, you technically, were still Mark's girlfriend, so the chance of you doing anything was even lower than zero. You weren't a cheater, you never understood the desire to hurt the person you're supposed to love most in this world but that's more than you can say for Mark.

“I mean, yeah they're all extremely attractive.” You laugh. “But I'm still with Mark, and until I figure out what I'm going to be doing, I won't be doing anything with them.” You murmur.

“Them!?” Sam gasps. “You wanna fuck them all.” She laughs. “I always knew you were fucking kinky.”

“Sam!” You laugh. “Jesus christ.”

The two of you laugh, finishing up your makeup, before getting dressed and heading out. Sam had wanted to get ready at the house with the boys, but with all the testosterone radiating in that house, you needed out for a few hours. Luckily for the both of you, Sam's parents were out of the evening so you had the house to yourselves.

“Come on, some shots before we go.” She says, walking into the kitchen. She grabs two shots glasses, pouring you each a shot of vodka.

“We cannot show up sober. A few shots each should do the trick.” She laughs.

You don't say anything, instead welcome the liquid burning your throat as you take shot after shot, desperately hoping for it to erase all your problems for at least one night. Once you were feeling tipsy enough, you and Sam got into your Uber, heading over to the boy's house. When you pull up, the party is already in full swing. There are people out in the front yard drinking, the front door is wide open, welcoming anyone and everyone to join.

“Wow.” Sam gasps. “This looks crazy!”

You laugh, grabbing her hand, pulling her towards the front door. The moment you stepped foot into the house, it was like all 8 of them knew you were there. Very quickly and one by one, they came up to you, giving you a hug to say hi and saying hi to Sam. By the time Minho, who was the last one to come up to you, said hi, Sam had smacked you so many times you thought you'd have a bruise in the shape of her hand on your arm for sure.

“Let's get a drink.” You murmur, pulling her towards the kitchen, not letting her say what you knew she desperately wanted too.

“They're all so fucking hot.” She yells into your ear as you're pouring you both drinks. You laugh as your stomach twists with anxiety. Yes they were, and you were definitely having troubles with that. As the two of you take a couple sips of your drinks, you begin to hear what sounds like a commotion in the living room.

“I know she's here, and I dont fucking appreciate you forcing her to live here! I'm her fucking boyfriend… me!” You hear.

Your stomach drops.

“Mark.” You whisper.

“Don't go out there. Just stay here. Maybe he'll leave.” Sam says. At this point the music had been turned way down, and everyone was crowding around all 8 men and Mark. You knew he wouldn't leave. He was too fucking stubborn. You pushed your way through the crowd of people until you stood beside Hyunjin, who glanced over at you, worriedly.

“What the fuck, y/n.” Mark snaps, motioning to the men. “So what, you're just out here being a whore now?” He asks.

Hyunjin steps forward, but Jeongin pulls him back. “Excuse me?” You ask. “No, I just figured we were done since you can't keep your dick in your pants.” You snap back.

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Mark groans, rolling his eyes.

“San told me, don't play fucking dumb.” You spit. “You never stopped seeing Chae, even after begging, and crying on your knees for me to stay.” You yell.

You wanted to laugh along with those laughing in the crowd, while Mark looked embarrassed.

“Why would I still see her if I told you I only wanted you?” He asks.

“Why would San lie about that? He's your best friend.” You say.

“Yeah, my best friend who's… in…love with you!” Mark mutters.

“What?” You respond. There was no way. Absolutely no way. You'd never gotten those vibes from San, not in the two years that you had been with Mark.

“Why else would he say that?” Mark asks. “Think about it.”

“I am thinking about it, and you're full of shit.” You laugh. “There's no way that San feels like that.”

“I don't feel like what?” San asks, pushing his way through the crowd.

“Mark here says that you lied about Chae, because you're in love with me.” You say. The alcohol you had drank was making you more courageous than you'd ever been in your life. Sober you would never.

“What the fuck?” San laughs. “No offense, y/n but I have a girlfriend that I love very much.” He says. “And Mark's known about her since we started dating, a year and a half ago.”

You turn your head, glaring at Mark, who in turn is glaring at San.

“Interesting.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

“Whatever, this isn't a conversation that should happen around others.” Mark scoffs. He grabs your wrist, yanking you towards him. “C'mon, let's go home.” He says.

“You know what, Mark?” You begin. “No.” You say, trying to free your wrist from his grasp.

“Y/n, now is not the time.” He snaps, looking around the room.

“I'm done. We're done. I don't trust you anymore. You've done nothing but lie to me. It's over.” You yell, pulling as hard as you can to free yourself.

“What's going on?” You hear from behind you, a familiar voice echoing through the almost silent room.

“Mark, you're hurting me!” You whine. Your wrist is beginning to throb and ache as you try to free yourself.

“Let her go.” You hear the same voice. Suddenly, Chan is beside you, his hand on top of Mark's. Chan didn't look like he was putting in any effort, but Mark's gave away how much pain he was in. Chan rips Mark's hand from around your wrist, pushing him back. Mark falls down to the floor.

“You're sleeping with him aren't you? Fucking whore.” Mark screams. Chan chuckles, taking two steps towards Mark, punching him in the face. You can hear the thump from his body dropping to the floor followed by the cries as he holds his face.

“We're not done! You won't find anyone like me! You're mine!” Mark screams.

Chan turns around to face you, and you weren't sure if it was because he saved you, or you were drunk, maybe a bit of both. But you walked up to him, grabbed his face, and quickly pressed your lips to his. Chan wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer. You can hear Mark swearing as San pulls him out the front door.

You break away from the kiss. You can't look Chan in the eyes. You turn away, your eyes now searching for Sam, and when you find her, her eyes are wide with a giant smile on her face. You push through the crowd, leaving Chan standing there as you grab her arm, dragging her into the kitchen. You open a bottle of something, you don't even care what it is. You put the bottle to your lips, chugging it, ignoring the burning sensation in your throat.

“Bitch.” Sam gasps as you put the bottle back down onto the counter, breathing heavily.

“Did I just do that?” You ask, staring at your best friend.

“Yeah.” She laughs. “Yes you did.”

“Oh my god.” You groan, drinking a little more.

“Okay, alright.” She laughs, taking the bottle from your hand. “Let's not black out.” She murmurs. It was too late. You were already gone.

The next morning, you wake up with the worst headache in the world. Sleeping on the couch for the last few days definitely did not help your body when it desperately needed to recover. You were sore, stiff and felt like you'd been run over by a truck. And then you remembered ending things with Mark.

“Fuck.” You gasp, dropping your head into your hands.

“Everything okay, beautiful?” Hyunjin asks, walking into the living room, plopping down onto the couch beside you.

“I broke up with Mark.” You murmur.

“It's about time, y/n.” Jeongin chimes in.

“Yeah, honestly. He's fucking awful, and that's coming from me.” Seungmin chuckles.

“Yeah, no, I know he was. But I just… I don't know what to do now.” You say. “All my stuff is there… and I have nowhere to go.”

“The fuck are we then? Did we become temporary housing and no one told me?” Minho asks. “You've been here for days, y/n. Let's just go get your stuff and make it official.” Changbin smiles.

“That's really sweet you guys… but.” You trail off.

“But what? You can't live with 8 guys?” Felix laughs.

“I can't sleep on this fucking couch anymore.” You fake cry. “My back… it hurts so bad.”

Everyone laughs.

“Well, it's a good thing there's a bedroom ready for you then.” Chan smiles.

You hadn't seen him since you kissed him. That you remembered very, very vividly, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. In what world would any of these gods like men, actually like you?

“Wait.” You pause, thinking about what Chan said. “A bedroom?” You ask.

“Of course.” He smiles. “You think we'd ask you to move in here and make you sleep on the couch?” Han laughs. “I mean… Seungmin or Minho might but not the rest of us.”

“You're not wrong.” Seungmin smiles.

“Wow.” You laugh. “Thank you guys.”

“Let’s not get all sappy here.” Minho mumbles. “Can we go get your stuff now?”

“Yeah.” You smile.

The nine of you get ready to head over to your old shared apartment with Mark, unsure of what was going to happen.

You stood outside the door, the number 7 on the door looked different, even though it had only been a few days. You took a deep breath, glancing over at the 8 men that were waiting a little down the hall. You had told them that you needed to do this part by yourself. You were worried that if he opened the door and all of them were standing there, he might end up in a fit of rage. Though, you should have known better that he would end up in one regardless. You knocked on the door, putting your hands behind your back as you waited for him to answer. The door was pulled open, and Mark looked shocked to see you, before a smug ‘I knew she would be back’ look spread across his face.

“Y/N.” He breathes. You put your hand up to stop him from saying whatever he wanted to next.

“I'm just here to grab my stuff.” You explain, avoiding any eye contact with him. He doesn't move out of your way. You want to go inside and start packing the things that belong to you but he stands there still staring.

“Y/N.” He says in a low tone. “Don't be like that, baby.” He smiles. “C'mon. You know you wanna come back home.”

“Actually, what I'd like, is for you to get the fuck out of my way so I can get my stuff and go.” You say, giving Mark your best, annoyed smile.

“And if I don't?” He asks. “If I don't get out of your way? Then what? You gonna punch me like your little boyfriend did?” He mocks.

“No.” You sigh. “But they might hit you.” You say, motioning down the hallway. Mark peeks his head around the door frame, seeing 8 angry and annoyed looking men leaning against the wall.

“You’re such a bitch.” He mumbles, stepping out of your way. You smile, waving to the guys to come with you inside.

You walk past Mark, and can hear him grumbling as each man steps inside. They're all taller, more muscular, better looking, smarter, and funnier than Mark was, and he knew it too.

“Lets get this done, and get the fuck out of here.” You say, everyone scatters to tackle a room. It took the nine of you 4.5 hours, and a trillion questions about what was yours, for you all to finally finish. Mark didn't help at all, and that wasn't a surprise. He didn't want you to leave or leave him, and he was sure to continuously let you know throughout the afternoon.

“Y/N, wait.” Mark says, as you follow the guys out of the apartment. You don't wait, until he grabs your wrist again.

“Let go.” You spit. “This didn't end well for you the last time and it won't end well this time either.”

“Just wait a fucking minute.” He grumbles. “Don't go. Stay with me. Please.”

“No.” You deadpan. “I have no interest in being lied to or cheated on any longer. I hope I never see you again.”

You rip your wrist from his grip, walking down the hall.

“I'll have you again! You'll see! You'll be back when they inevitably kick your ass out!” He screams.

If only he knew how that would never happen.

“Ready?” Changbin asks, grinning from ear to ear. His hand was on the door knob for your room, and honestly you were so excited.

“Yes! Please open it.” You say, nearly falling over from excitement. He turns the knob, opening the door and your jaw is almost on the floor. It was exactly your style, a nice queen bed sitting in the middle of the room that was painted your favorite color. Everything matched, every single part of the room was your exact vibe and you were eternally grateful.

You had put a lot of your stuff in storage, since they had all told you that you wouldn't need a lot of it. To be honest you thought they were full of shit, but here they were, definitely not full of shit.

“We'll let you get settled.” Chan smiles, ushering the men to leave you be.

“Thank you guys. Really. I love it.” You smile.

It felt weird. To have people who truly cared for you like they did. You were worried that they would turn on you, because that seems to be the trend for people in your life. Your mom, dad, Mark, past friends. There was always something that made them leave you. You already felt a strong bond with all 8 of them, so you hoped nothing like that would happen but honestly, you can never truly prepare for the future.

That night, you sat outside on the front porch by yourself, wrapped in one of your new blankets from your new room. It was almost entirely pitch black out, almost silent except for the sounds of cars passing and the faint sounds of people walking by. The only light you had was the cherry from your roach, each time you took a puff, as well as the stars that scattered throughout the sky. The moon was high, shining down on the trees. It was a truly beautiful night.

You felt so relieved and free tonight. Mark hated when you smoked weed, so you weren't ever able to. But now with him out of the picture, you were excited to be able to partake in your favorite way to relax and unwind. You inhaled a long puff, slowly blowing it back out, enjoying the way it was making you feel. You weren’t very high, but it was enough. You lean your head back, closing your eyes, taking a breath when you hear a noise. A grunt, maybe. Your eyes shoot open, you see Jeongin walking towards the front steps of the house. As he walks closer, you see him more clearly under the front door light. There's blood dripping down his face. Your stomach sinks. He looks mad. You stand up, dropping your blanket on the porch, rushing towards him.

“Hey, Jeongin.” You start, popping up in front of him.

His eyes. They're red.

“Are you okay?” You ask, motioning towards the blood. He doesn't respond. He doesn't move. It doesn't even look like he's breathing. You can feel the tension surrounding you and him. It was making your stomach churn.

He stares at you, it almost feels like his eyes are burning through your skin.

Your eyes close.

When they open, the sun is shining through your window. You're laying in your bed, your blanket, that you dropped covering you.

What the fuck happened last night?

[fenmere]

(cn: pregnant mare piss and its draconic analog)

Breakfast at Guenevere's

Sir Tiffany had had a whole Month.

May Day was approaching fast, which meant that mating season would begin in earnest, and Guenevere would start to rut. Which would make training so much harder. But then, the Midsummer Games would happen shortly after that, and they had to be ready by then.

She knew that the other knights and their dragons were experiencing the same struggle. Everything was traditionally timed this way specifically as a test. But that didn't stop her from feeling like she was having it worse.

Guenevere had turned out to be a particularly willful dragon.

Or, perhaps it was that something unusual was happening between the two of them.

It had all started that March morning when Tiffany had slept in and been unable to take her Blessed Mare Piss before breakfast, as usual, and had had to drink it on the way to Guenevere's lair. And the stench of it was on her breath still.

They'd spent the Winter, like everyone else, developing an understanding between the two of them. They had a rudimentary language of gestures and expressions they could use to communicate. But developing that had taken longer between the two of them, so they'd fallen behind with the practical training. Which had contributed to Tiffany's tardiness that day.

It was known that dragons had to be nearly as intelligent as people, if not perhaps more so. It was impossible to learn to speak with each other's vocalizations, however, and while each could learn what the other's sounds meant, it helped to have a gestural basis with which to develop that understanding. Also, a unique set of visual signals between the two of them would always serve them well in the midst of conflict and politics alike. And dragons knew this as well as any knight did.

So, Guenevere's difficulty in agreeing with Sir Tiffany over just what gestures should mean what was an obstinance that was bewildering and frustrating. But they'd hacked it out.

And then, that morning, Guenevere had extended her snout in her usual greeting, a typical lick of the air to confirm Tiffany's identity. And then she'd immediately pulled her head back and tilted it to the side.

For a brief, heart stopping moment, Tiffany was afraid she wasn't recognized. Maybe the Blessed Mare Piss was too strong, and had masked her identity.

It would be bad if she smelt like food to her dragon.

But Guenevere had repeated the ritual two more times to be sure of whatever she was suspecting, and then she'd made her usual "garumphing" noise of acceptance.

However, instead of following Tiffany out to the corral for their daily work, she'd turned and trundled back into her lair.

There had been a crashing noise as the dragon had undoubtedly sorted through her meager hoard of brass and bronze findings. If they did well in the games, they'd both be awarded with an allowance of silver or gold trinkets, which would absolutely delight Guenevere.

Then there'd been a scraping noise, followed by the horrific sound of liquid echoing in a metal container.

And afterward, Guenevere had gingerly pushed a large brass bowl of her own piss out to the front of her lair. An offering to Tiffany.

Did Guenevere even have any sort of clue why Tiffany had to consume alchemically enhanced pregnant mare piss that was blessed by Father David? Did she know something about her own urine that nobody had yet divined? Or was she just being prideful and possessive like a dragon typically was?

They hadn't quite developed the language necessary for Tiffany to tell Guenevere that she'd ask the alchemist if her urine would work for her, let alone explain the reason for it. So a brief and fruitless argument had broken out between the two of them, wherein Tiffany found herself mostly trying to reassure Guenevere that her initial reaction, a frightful grimace, had not been a rejection of the gift.

To resolve the conflict, she'd had to bodily pick up the reeking bowl of piss and walk it to the alchemist's lab and return with a beaming smile before Guenevere would settle.

And that had just been the beginning of it!

Each day after that, Guenevere had had more dragon piss for Tiffany. And rejecting it only resulted in temporary disaster.

And Tiffany knew that no other knight in her company had to deal with this particular conundrum.

She wasn't the first alchemical woman to take a dragon's wings, by any stretch, but her kind was rare enough that she was the only one in her current class.

The problem was that her very identity now was the focus of a draconic game of dominance, and that was bewildering. It was a complication that was hard to navigate.

And Karon the Alchemist was still running their tests on the dragon urine. They wanted a sample of it from Guenevere's rut, unfortunately, and also from her pregnancy, to be sure of their findings. It might be that dragon urine could prove more efficacious than mare piss for Tiffany's purposes, but the precise treatments to make it safe to consume were yet unknown. And in the mean time, Guenevere seemed to think she already had a new duty to uphold.

And even so, Tiffany wasn't sure she should give Guenevere the satisfaction of actually consuming her piss. Even if it turned out to have truly magical properties, it would forever define their relationship in ways the crown might not approve of.

Obviously, if this particular conundrum had happened before, Karon would already know what they currently sought to understand. And there'd be guidance on the matter. But, apparently, the other alchemical women who'd made knighthood had successfully kept their secrets from their dragons.

So, to compensate and push their relationship toward the proscribed balance, Tiffany had had to devise a suitable counterpoint.

And that had resulted in a series of ripostes between the two of them. A game of oneupsmanship that had quickly escalated and dominated their attention when they should have been focusing on maneuvers and how to coordinate their actions.

And it had been ridiculous. Because all the other knights and their dragons were exercising their power games through a raw force of wills. The usual subtle negotiation between issuing a command and the eventuality of agreement to follow it. And the play between food, offerings to the hoard, attending to knightly duties, and learning to trust each other's body language.

Tiffany could watch their antics on the training grounds and in the corral, and see the interplay of social sparing between dragon and knight and how it affected their performance and ability to pass the tests.

And those same trials continued between herself and Guenevere as well, but now there was this whole layer of unsolicited gift giving on top of it.

For, Tiffany had decided to meet the offerings of dragon piss with a saddle and bridle of the most exquisite craftsmanship and materials. Something above and beyond what was typical for her station.

It had taken an excessive portion of her own coffers to acquire it. And a couple days to adjust and adapt it to Guenevere's stature.

To her fellow knights and her liege, the gesture was one of dedication to her duties as dragon knight. With her explanation of her predicament, they all understood the need for it, and had tentatively approved. But the result had not been in anybody's anticipation.

At first, Guenevere had demonstrated the typical bolstered pride of a dragon receiving a fine gift for her hoard, strutting and preening herself for a whole day afterward. And the saddle and bridle were placed in a vestibule of honor within her lair. She was clearly very happy with the new arrangement.

But then, the next day, Tiffany had opened the door of her quarters to find the head of a basilisk had been carefully placed on her stoop during the night.

And it had all gone downhill from there.

And now, thirty days later, she found herself in a new ritual of serving a breakfast feast for herself and her dragon every morning at the mouth of Guenevere's lair.

And for the strength and security of the kingdom, the bond between a knight and their dragon was worth this effort and expense. There was no explicit objection, and support had been offered. But, as a result they were now the center of all gossip, and it was still embarrassing.

So, on this morning, Tiffany was on edge.

It had been her turn yesterday to give Guenevere a gift, trying to assert her dominance through generosity and extravagance. And she'd given her most expensive offering yet, a three by four yard portrait of Guenevere rendered in oil on canvas by a renowned artisan and his assistants. Normally, it would have taken a year or so to complete such a thing, but with the aid of a divining sphere, the work of extra hands, and sealed notes of writ promising an extravagant allowance for years to come, the artisan had been able to create it in record time without Guenevere learning of the effort. She hadn't needed to pose for the painting, since her sleeping visage could be discerned through the sphere.

Tiffany suspected that the implications of that were not lost on her dragon. Guenevere was smart enough to understand what it meant that her knight could secretly capture her likeness while she was unconscious. But she also couldn't turn the gift down, nor deny its importance and worth, because it was so obviously opulent.

It was the most that Tiffany could muster for Guenevere. There was nothing else she could devise to assert her right to be Guenevere's knight. Nothing that could surpass it, at least. She was at the end of her rope, and if Guenevere could somehow surpass the gesture with her own gift this morning, it would forever be the shadow that dominated their covenant as dragon and knight.

So she sat down at the table that had been erected before Guenevere's lair, as servants brought out a quartered hog for the dragon and an array of breads, cheeses, and meats for Tiffany. And she tried to wash down her rising bile with generous sips of wine.

Her own anxiety was palpable.

Would Guenevere finally relent, and simply gift herself to Tiffany? Is that how this worked? Is that how this would end?

Or would she have, somehow in the night, found a way to astound everyone with a gift that was simply beyond the pale.

It was hard to imagine what she could possible have found or devised to even match the effort of that painting.

But she was a dragon.

Eventually, the gorgeous beast emerged from the darkness of her home, scales glistening in the sun after her recent shed.

Instead of licking the air repeatedly in anticipation of her daily meal, as she'd done every day since the breakfasts had begun, she kept her mouth carefully shut. Which was strange.

And, when she performed her greeting over the table of food, extending her neck to bring the tip of her snout within a foot of Tiffany's face, she did not taste the air even then.

Instead, she lowered her gaze to Tiffany's collar bone and waited.

And then she rumbled and grunted, bobbing her head briefly, to say, "I have something for you."

Oh, no.

Tiffany raised an eyebrow and leaned over to pretend to look around Guenevere's bulk, her way of asking, "Where is it?"

Guenevere gentle nudged her. The tip of her snout was as big as Tiffany's entire torso, so as gentle as it was for whatever Guenevere did, she nearly fell over backward in her chair.

This meant, "I have it right here, silly."

Tiffany sighed.

She knew now that she had lost the game. She had nothing left for her dragon, besides herself. And it would be Guenevere who would make the calls during the Midsummer Games, and any tests, trials, and battles they might face together in the future.

Whatever the gift was, the kingdom would only benefit from it, but she would always be the tale of caution to others. To be the master of your dragon, do not engage in a match of gift giving like Sir Tiffany did, lest you fail.

With shaking trepidation, she held out her hands below Guenevere's snout, palms up to receive her gift.

She was afraid of its weight. She had no idea what it could be, and quite a large thing could be hidden within her dragon's maw, now covered in saliva. And so she braced herself against the unpleasant sensation of whatever it might be, and its potential physical heft.

And for Guenevere's part, she opened her mouth merely a crack to extend her forked tongue.

And there, on the left tip of it, encircling it as if it was a finger, was a filigreed gold ring with a single white diamond in it.

Which she then let fall into Tiffany's hands.

And then she reared back and looked down at her hog, chittering contentedly to herself before beginning her meal.

Oh.

human trying to train a dragon into a mount x dragon trying to train a human into a pet

and neither one knows the other one is trying to train them

[newkatzkafe2023]

Hi- may I request a single father Male Y/N- you can choose it's a daughter or is the son or both at the same time.

(He's a Top in relationship.)

With The monkey king reaction.

(By the way I hope you have a nice day or night don't forget to drink water too!!)

You have twins, a boy named Jun De & a girl named Mei Lian👦👧

(Lmk Wukong) You lost your mate many years ago She died giving birth to your beautiful twins, but no you can never blamed them for what happened. Years later your cubs had accidentally met him when they found his shame temple. Your adorable twin cubs become clingy as they both would have endless energy and affection for Wukong. At the end Wukong found these cute little fire crackers belong to the whole Chinese new year that is you, you were so sexy that Wukong brain froze from your godly Presence. You thanks Wukong for taking care of your cubs and left him your phone number as you left, Wukong never felt the same after seeing you🥵.

(HIB Wukong) Single dad meets another single dad, it's quite interesting set up. It all started when Luier and Silly girl became very fast friends with Jun de and Mei Lian, because the children had alot in common. Wukong and genuinely on the other head you have different mature views on each other, Wukong would occasionally blush as you compliment him on his face. You then asked him out as you were now truly interested in him, making Wukong purr and say yes with a Deep blush😳.

(MKR Wukong) You both met when Wukong was freaking out about his missing son fruity, and you're trying to fine your own twin cubs as well. You both would have arguments here and there, but it's mostly fuel by worry you both love your children and would do anything to find them. Then, a few hours later, you both found your children by a toy stall. As you scolded the twins, Wukong had looked you over one more time. He then purred into your pecs, asking for an for a hot Date with you and who were you to tell this cute little monkey no😏

(NR Wukong) He's biting his lips so hard upon seeing you at a motorcycle race one night, wasted no time cat calling you the whole night. You are so stern and firm with him to like oh yes daddy, scold me so good you should probably spank my bare ass infront of everyone 🤤 Wukong had almost blew an Gasket man he saw those back muscles of you wanting nothing more then to run his claws down your back. The final straw was learning you were a daddy of too, and what's hotter the a daddy of two, a single daddy of two. Wukong's boxers had totally disappeared at this point🫦

(Netflix Wukong) He tends to have big brother energy more then a dad enough, at least how your twins feel. Though you felt like a daddy to him as well, blushing as he would sit obediently as you brush and groom his fur. You would also come to cook 🍽 Making sure he gets his nutrients for the day especially his protein. Finally Wukong would play with the twins as you get into Chaos and mischief, while being home and cuddling you. Over all you might have accidents turned Wukong into a little, so don't be all that surprise when the little monkey king addresses you as daddy😚☺️🤭.

(BMW Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh hot single dad yes please🤤😏 Wukong immediately became quite infatuated with you. Your powerful ridiculously hot and Hunky and your good with kids, checking all the boxes and he immediately wants you. If he wants your clothes on his bedroom floor then he's gonna get it, especially when he can tease you about how domestic you both are together. With you both taking care of the twins he's on his knees at this point.

(Destined one) He couldn't make eye contact with you at first, because if he dare too he's going to need new pants. Your so firm, and loving, and sooooo hot the destined one wouldn't know what to do. You treated him so gently and kindly but you both would get dangerously close, with your hands under his shirt and his hands down your pants. He also loves and cares for the twins very much and would cater to and spend time with them, while you would go out and work to get some food thanks to your support. The Destined one loved Nothing more then to have you wreck him in bed, as a reward for being such a good daddy😘

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[bullet-prooflove]

Wes Mitchell + letter 💌 dancing🕺full moon 🌚

Tagging: @kmc1989 @toasted-stiletto @crusoe2000 @vivekaspencer @fanny-123456

Companion piece to:

Budapest

Zserbo

Wes shouldn’t have left the letter, he realises that as he sits at a table in a club called The Full Moon in Madrid, sipping a coke and surveilling their suspect. The idiot has been dancing with a blonde for the past hour and it’s starting to get pornographic. So much so that even Wes is averting his gaze because his idea of a fun night is not watching a drug dealer fingerfuck a stranger on the dancefloor.

He turns his attention back to his phone, to the message you’d text him earlier today.

Sorry Wes, I think it’s time for you to start looking for your own place.

He pushed you too hard, he thinks, trying to get you on board with the flight team. And this is you pushing back. You think he doesn’t know the extent of your psychological issues but you have no idea how deeply familiar he is with PTSD,  the insidiousness of it. He went through 12 foster homes before he found his forever family, he was seven shades of fucked up long before he hit 18.

The thing is you’re a phenomenal investigator, one of the best he’s worked with. The way you work with victims, it’s almost an art form. You have an appreciation for people, a deep emotional intelligence that you just can’t teach back at the academy and Wes wants that on his team. He wants you to be out in the world using your superpower for good.

And that’s the problem, he’s been thinking about his needs and not about yours. He didn’t consider the fact you might not be ready yet, that you’re still coming to terms with what was the most harrowing case of your career. It’s the reason you left the US, why you took up a teaching position at the International Training Academy.

Recovery takes time, his adopted father had told him one night as they sat together drinking chocolate milk. It was something they always did when Wes woke up from the nightmares. A way of turning something negative into a positive. Everyone has to go at their own pace, you can’t force it.

He needs to remember that in the future, that just because he can’t see the struggle  doesn’t mean that it’s not going on.  

His fingertips hover over the keys. It’s hard for him to find the right words for what he wants to say because this should be an actual conversation, not an exchange of messages through the ether.

I pushed you,  he responds, and I’m sorry for that. I should have been more respectful of your boundaries. If you still want me to move out by the time I get back, consider it done.

He sees the three dots appear and then disappear, then reappear before the message comes through.

We’ll talk when you get back.

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[averygrambsbankaccount]

Can you write a lyrason fic,they in the grayson's birthday please.

yes sure! I decided to combine this request with this one and also change it a bit (oops!)

(yes I know I did spin the bottle instead of drink or dare) (im sorry that it’s bad)

spin the bottle!

Lyra and Grayson weren’t exactly dating, at least not in a way that the definition of the word dating covered. They tiptoed around each-other, sneaking longing glances, and maybe one or two more stolen kisses. Or three.

If Lyra was honest, she’s a bit tired of the game. Maybe she does just want Grayson, the arrogant asshole he is, to be her actual…boyfriend.

Grayson’s birthday party wasn’t planned by him, which was obvious if you’d ever met him. His hatred of people would have never allowed something like this. Clearly, his brothers had planned this as some kind of cruel joke on him, and now he had to stand there like a puppet in his thousand dollar suit and greet everyone they invited to the party.

Honestly, Lyra was pretty happy about her invitation. The party was actually fun. She’d never been to a rich person party before, and it was certainly something else.

Maybe the most fun part, though, was watching Grayson stand there uncomfortably, his strong shoulders stiff and his back as straight as a ruler. He greeted the weird rich people who walked past him into the surrounding area, full of fairy lights and tables and food. Whoever had designed this backyard pool type party was a genius.

Lyra sat at a table by herself, sipping some weird rich people drink she assumed had alcohol in it but wasn’t entirely sure about, and she watched the blonde Hawthorne pretend to be a people person.

It’s funny how he tries to hide his awkwardness, she thought.

Someone slid into the seat across from her, and it was none other than the Hawthorne heiress, holding a champagne flute. Her brown hair cascaded down her shoulders and she looked dazzling as ever.

“You should go over and talk to him, you know,” Avery said, looking down into the depths of her drink.

“And why would I do that?” Lyra crossed her arms and leaned back in the cushioned outdoor chair. Man, these things are comfortable.

“Because you like him. And he likes you. And this forced birthday party is a really good chance to make him less uptight.” The heiress took a sip of her champagne and wiggled her manicured eyebrows.

“No way,” Lyra picked at her nails. “…Do you really think so?”

It was no secret that Avery and Jameson and most other Hawthornes and Hawthorne adjacents shipped Grayson and Lyra, but Lyra wanted to hear confirmation from the girl sitting beside her.

“Totally!” Avery leaned forward. “Do you see the way he looks at you?”

Lyra bites her lip. “Yeah.” She says, but quiet enough that it’s possible Avery didn’t hear.

“Just…give it a shot, Lyra.” Avery stands and walk back towards Jameson, who’s talking to Xander by the pool.

Lyra takes a deep breath and one more drink of her maybe alcoholic drink and stands to walk towards the stoic blonde.

I can do this. I can do this. Lyra played encouraging messages on a loop in her brain.

“Grayson.”

“Lyra.” He turned to her, the barest of smiles on the corners of his lips, but that was often the best you could get out of Grayson Hawthorne.

“I-“ Lyra cut herself off, realizing she didn’t actually know what she was going to ask.

Her eyes scanned the area around them, landing on a group of younger attendees playing spin the bottle on the grass. Lyra wasn’t a particularly crazy party type person, but she did enjoy taking risks from time to time.

A smirk appeared on her face. “Come here, Grayson.” She grabbed his arm and led him over the group.

“Could we join, please?”

“Yeah, sure!” A girl in beautiful designer gown that was definitely getting grass stains at the moment said without looking up. When she did, she seemed absolutely shocked at the man standing with Lyra. “And…him, too?”

Lyra couldn’t blame her; no one would expect Grayson Hawthorne to play spin the bottle.

“No, no.” Grayson backed away shaking his head. “Sorry. There must have been a misunderstanding.” He gave Lyra a glare.

“Sorry, he’s shy.” Lyra smiled sweetly at them, then turned to Grayson.

“Could you please, please, please, please play?” She put her best puppy dog eyes, the ones she had only ever used on her mom for extra dessert. “For me?”

She didn’t give him a choice or a chance to respond. She simply dragged him to the ground beside her, in the empty space left in the circle and said “We’re playing.”

If Lyra could have taken a picture of Grayson’s surprised face in that moment, she would’ve framed it and hung it on her wall.

She gripped onto his hand as tight as she could, her knuckles going white. She would not back down, she’s gone too far. If she doesn’t commit, she’ll be just as much of a coward as she was before Avery convinced her.

Grayson kept trying to pull away, but she refused to give in.

The bottle was spun in the middle of the big circle. It landed on two random people, two more random people, and then…Lyra.

Her breathing sped up. I did not think this through, did I?

This might be the day Lyra becomes a devout worshipper, because only God could have given her the luck it required to have the bottle spun again and land on the man beside her; Grayson Fucking Hawthorne.

Lyra didn’t want to waste time, but she did stall a bit while turning to him. Even though they had kissed before, she was still inexplicably scared. 

Her courage came in remembering Avery’s words. She liked him and he liked her, and she could make this mean something.

She grabbed his face and kissed him to the sounds of the group cheering them on. He was silent before, but his lips were anything but. Grayson kissed her back fiercely. He kissed her like no one else was there.

When Lyra pulled back, she giggled, and she looked over to see Grayson having that familiar almost-smile on his face.

“Birthday boy!” The boy sitting beside Grayson clapped on the back and laughed. “Nice, man!”

Grayson didn’t respond to him or any of the others in the group cheering on his sudden break of character, instead just looking intensely at Lyra. All these people here knew him as the stoic business man who takes himself too seriously. So to see Grayson Hawthorne make out with a girl? In front of a crowd?

Well that’s a once in a lifetime chance. That’s something.

And when Lyra led him away and they went behind a wall and kissed again she knew it was something. When they kissed for so long they forgot where they were and her head was spinning and people were looking for Grayson to sing happy birthday, she knew it was something. When Grayson walked out with her, holding her hand and not even telling her to fix her smudged lipstick, she knew it was something.

[666writingcafe]

Sneaking Away

A Few Weeks Later

AKA: Anna Lets Her Character Bias Show

Content Warning: NSFW for sexy biting

The formal part of RAD's opening ceremony goes smoothly. Everyone's speeches--including mine--were well received, and the ribbon gets cut to the sound of camera flashes. Inside is where the party truly begins. Drinks are flowing, people are mingling, and hips are moving as the DJ plays popular tunes through various speakers. Everyone's having a great time.

Well, everyone except for me.

Lucifer's been distant ever since we've returned from Cocytus. If it were just from me, I'd be handling it better, but even his brothers have received the cold shoulder from him. I know better than to push him to reveal his feelings before he's ready, but at the same time this night was to be an unofficial goodbye before Solomon and I returned to our timeline, and the fact that I haven't heard a single peep out of Lucifer...

I would much rather sit through a three-hour lecture with him yelling at me than the continuous radio silence. It also doesn't help that he seemingly disappears into thin air as soon as the two ribbon pieces hit the ground and that no one else knows where he went.

"Go."

Solomon places a hand on my shoulder and leans in close so that other people can't hear him.

"What are you talking about?" I whisper.

"You've had closure with the others. You deserve to do the same with him. I'll make sure you aren't followed. Now, go, before it's too late."

Ducking out a semi-hidden door at the back of the auditorium, I reflect on Solomon's words. I've been able to have conversations with the other brothers about my true identity. Some had more questions than others, and some held grunges for a few days, but at least they were willing to talk about it.

Unlike the eldest, who seems more content with hiding.

Speaking of which, where could he be?

I'm currently sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the night sky.

Of course. It's probably the most quiet part of this entire building at the moment. Thankfully, I know where its hatch is. Scaling the building like a mountain goat would bring too much attention.

~~~

I know Lucifer senses my presence. If my scent didn't give me away, then the noisy hatch surely did. And yet he does nothing to acknowledge it. I suppose I should take this as a win; he hasn't told me to fuck off, not even when I walk over and stand near him.

We lean against the railing and look out on the landscape in silence. As much as I want to say something, I know that he has to be the one to break it. He's always had difficulty revealing his emotions, especially when he's not under the influence of alcohol or serums. I'd only cause him to put up even more barriers if I confront him about it.

And so I wait.

The clock in a nearby tower chimes eleven times.

"What are we?"

Lucifer's sudden question causes me to jump.

"W-What?"

"In your timeline. I'm aware of the pacts, but is there anything outside of that?"

"I...I don't understand--" Lucifer quickly turns his head to look at me, his eyes nearly glowing.

"What am I to you, MC?" His voice wavers. Is he trying not to cry?

I take a deep breath. Out of all the things he could have fixated on, I didn't think this would have been what he latched on to.

"Do you remember me telling you about the man I left behind to be here?"

"The one that you would have married if circumstances were different?" I nod my head.

"I was talking about you, Lucifer." A brief pause to allow him to process my words. "Does that answer your question?"

"It certainly makes me feel better about doing this."

"Doing what--" In a blink of an eye, Lucifer closes the gap between us, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his lips against mine in a passionate kiss that threatens to take my breath away.

He steps back a moment later and grabs my hand, his face flushed.

"Let's get out of here."

"But what about--"

"We gave our speeches. As far as I'm aware, the rest of this evening is just a party celebrating Diavolo's success, and I don't want to pretend to like people that wanted us gone only a few weeks ago. Besides, my brothers' antics will keep everyone occupied enough that our presence won't be missed, so that'll allow us plenty of time to ourselves."

"You know that Solomon and I were planning on leaving once things wrapped up here, right?"

"Don't worry; we'll come back. I just..." A sigh. "Look, I know I've been distant towards you lately, and I want to make it up to you. Please, MC."

I've always wondered how Simeon came up with some of his characters' dialogue. How much of it was strictly was from his imagination, and how much of it was things he believed certain people would say if they acted out his scenes in real life?

How much of it was him indirectly influencing the future?

"I still remember the day I first met you, almost like it was yesterday." I find myself murmuring. "The way you fixed your eyes on me, that noble yet sincere gaze..."

"The moment I beheld it, I was transfixed." I didn't think Lucifer still had access to my memories, so how is he able to recite the next line? "And that was it. There was no going back. I fell for you completely, body and soul." He brings the top of my hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

And then suddenly we were no longer on the rooftop, but instead inside Lucifer's room.

"I apologize, MC, but I can't hold back any longer."

He quickly picks me up and sets me on his bed, saddling me as his lips feverishly touch mine. Our hands soon begin wandering, taking in as much of each other as we possibly can. His mouth travels down to my neck, where he bites down on it and begins sucking.

It is common for demons to drink each other's blood when they get intimate.

Something I've never been able to do as a human, but here...

My mouth latches onto Lucifer's shoulder, my teeth sharp enough in this form to pierce his skin. His blood's quite rich, almost like a deep dark chocolate.

But the low, drawn-out moan that emanates from him is what causes warmth to spread all over my body.

"I want you," he murmurs. "I need you."

His expression is nearly identical to the one that Diavolo wore when Lucifer was in his former angel form in Cocytus.

Like I'm the most beautiful, magnificent creature he's ever beheld.

"Then take me."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

[aangelinakii]

TAKE CARE, POLAR BEAR.

— see you soon, unicorn.

summary : remus walks you home in the snow, but who's going to walk home remus ??

note : i started rereading the books in november and i'vz literaly been obsessed with them again soooo here i am writing for remuusususus

january comes with dinner parties and pub drinks, as well as an abundance of snow that seems to have missed the christmas memo.

this sunday, lily and james have invited everyone round for a roast, the warmth of cinnamon and mulled wine lingering throughout their new place in godric's hollow, and fairy lights illuminate the granny curtains, which they haven't yet replaced — but they make the house feel lived-in, so you don't mind them at all.

everyone's lounging in the living room, stomachs happily bloated, a distant jack jones vinyl crackling in the background when you remember exactly what day it is.

with a jolt, you spring up from the armchair, causing everybody else to stir with wide eyes. you look at your wristwatch, and a curse tumbles past your lips, which earns a crooked glare from lily even though harry is fast asleep between her and sirius on the couch.

"so sorry, all, i've just realised i actually have work tomorrow," you gasp, out of breath despite only having stood up, "and it's getting late, and—"

your hand stills on the curtain as you absently pull it to the side; your eyes have landed on something outside.

with january, by seven pm, the sky is no lighter than in december — but, in the golden streetlamps, you can see, clearer than anything, that the entirety of godric's hollow is blanketed in shining white snow. and you're going to have to walk in it.

as you exhale, another curse spills out, but lily doesn't glare this time, only sits up straighter to look out the window.

"no worries," you breathe, walking past everybody into the hall to grab your coat from the cloak hanger by the door. "if i leave now, i won't get home in an ice cube."

back in the front room, you hear remus's voice, as well as a shuffle of feet along the carpet. "actually (name)'s right, i have an interview tomorrow, which i should probably be busying myself with, as opposed to doing what we are right now."

"an interview?" hums lily hopefully. "remus, that's great!"

you wander back into the lounge, buttoning up your jacket and slinging your scarf around your neck. "really? what's it for?"

remus, the back of his hair shaggy from where he'd been laying on the rug, meets your eyes mid-step. his mouth opens, silent for the shortest of beats before he responds. "well, we'll see, won't we?" and he looks round at the rest of the room: lily and sirius are sandwiching a snoozing harry on the couch, making sure he doesn't roll off, and james is downing the dregs of his cinnamon tea from the other armchair. "i'll keep you all updated."

"please," lily smiles, standing to her feet to show you both out, sending a glance back at harry as the sofa shifts as her weight's removed.

lily follows remus to the door, where you've toed your shoes back on with much difficulty, and remus reaches over you for his own coat, long, frayed at the sleeves.

he tugs it on with an air of unsual casualty and speaks again, although he's not looking at you. "i can walk you, it's on my way."

you glance up, meeting lily's eye for a moment — she's leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed over her chest, biting back a smile so hard it looks painful — and then look at remus. "yeah? you sure?"

it's now that you realise you've never actually been round remus's; if he lived so near yours, you would've held dinners more often.

he looks at you now, smoothing down the collar of his coat, and nods politely. "of course," he smiles, a pale scar by his lip stretching. "what friend would i be if i let you walk in the cold on your own?"

you smile back, digging your hands into your pockets for the chance you may have forgotten gloves in there from another outing, but they're empty.

"well, thank you guys so much for having us," you turn to lily, whose eyes half into crescents in harmony with her lips pulling up. "your house is absolutely gorgeous, and i wouldn't mind a few more dinners round here." your tone's a bit jokey, but everyone knows you're very much serious.

"anyways..." you turn to the door and pull it open, accidentally welcoming in a horrid chill and a flurry of snowflakes.

from the lounge, sirius calls, "see you both, don't freeze!" and your smile widens.

after a few hugs and kisses goodbye, you and remus have been pushed out into the cold; it's not damp or windy, just horrifically cold.

from beside you, remus breathes hot air into his hands and rubs them together. "britain... who would've thought?" he sighs, sending a cloud past his lips into the lamp-lit night. "and in january, no less."

"i know," your teeth chitter in return, your shoulders shrugging up to your ears. "at this rate, there may be no point in me getting up for work in the morning if this all doesn't thaw."

remus hums next to you, possibly a quiet laugh, when you speak again, lifting your head to peer at him.

"anyways, that interview? how are you feeling about it?"

"interview?" remus repeats, though it doesn't sound like he's asking a question, or even responding to you, but he corrects himself, posture straightening for a moment. "yes, interview! yes, well, you know..."

you did know.

suffering from lycanthropy made getting and keeping jobs quite a trick, and it wasn't often remus had an opportunity to do either — so this was big.

with a smile, although frost pricked your cheeks as you did so, you speak again. "and i had no idea you lived near me."

"define near," he chuckles softly, corners of his eyes crinkling in the warm lamplight as he smiles. "i think i'm a good ten-and-a-bit minutes past you."

"still!" you naturally step a bit closer, shoulders bumping — you've always struggled to walk completely straight. "we could hang out more, or next time james and lily do something we could go together."

remus doesn't reply straight away, but when you glance up at him, he's still smiling, though it's softened considerably now.

when he notices you looking, his eyes flit your way, messing yours for a beat. each time you pass a streetlight, his brown eyes pool with honey, and the little pricks of snowflakes that have caught in his lashes illuminate.

"that would be lovely," he hums in response, cheeks pulling up again as his smile widens.

after a few more minutes, though it feels like hours at the speed you're going, you turn onto your street, and you instinctively find your place in the dark, coming to a stop before the bottom step.

"here's me," you smile, looking back at remus, who stands a couple steps away, adorning a crown of snowflakes upon his head. he shares the expression, and you rifle through your pockets for your keys.

as you hop up the steps with your key ready, you call back to him. "you'll be okay in this on your own, won't you? i wouldn't want you to come all the way to walk with me but then not be able to make it back to yours."

the man at the bottom of your steps lets out one of his more real laughs of the evening, soft and silky like the honey in his eyes. "don't worry about me," he returns, sounding so sure. "i'll be right as rain on my own."

your door springs open as you turn the key. although you don't want to lose your place's warmth, you stand in the doorway, looking out to remus, who steps a few paces closer to the base of your stairs.

"take care, then, polar bear," you smile down at him.

"see you soon, unicorn," he smiles back.

this would've been where you wave and awkwardly close the door, but, instead, you laugh and stay glued to the spot. "that's not how you do it, you've got to rhyme it."

"oh, terribly sorry," remus replies, but his smile is cheeky and tone condescending. "i'll spend the rest of my week repenting."

your smile grows, but now you're really beginning to worry about how cold your house is going to be when you finally shut the door, so you wave and disappear into the comfort of your home.

remus waits patiently for you to get inside, for the door to click as you turn the key again on the other side, and for a light to flicker on through one of the windows before he continues home. but even then, he doesn't make haste, for remus doesn't have a job interview tomorrow — as guilty as he feels for fibbing — he just wanted to walk you home.

[darkfalcone]

Tara's Girl

pairing: amber freeman x reader; tara carpenter x reader

warnings: noncon, forced oral sex, finger sucking. Spit Kink

summary: amber makes her move, noticing that tara and you aren’t talking.

request: Hey! Can I request Amber x fem reader non con smut please

a/n: reposting here because i'm no longer writing dark fics on my main

You sat next to Wes, not bothering to watch whatever movie was on the TV. All you wanted to do was go home - Tara and you had a fight on the way to Wes’ place. Tara sat next to Amber, refusing to acknowledge you with her eyes glued to the screen.

You sighed, getting up out of your seat. You walked into the kitchen, needing some space from everyone. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe. The fight was over something fun and Tara had every right to be angry. You poured yourself some more Sprite, trying to take your mind off your girlfriend.

You jumped as you looked up to see Amber in the doorway. You pulled your phone out and began to scroll through Twitter. As soon as you did, Amber grabbed your phone from you.

“Everything okay, (Your Name)?” she asked, setting your phone on the counter.

You reached for it, but withdrew your hand when she smacked it. You glared at her, unsure as to why she did it.

“What the-“ you began.

“I asked you what was wrong.” Amber said sternly.

“Tara and I had a fight, okay?” you snapped, finishing your drink.

You walked past her, only to be stopped by her pulling you back by your shirt. You weren’t sure as to what exactly she wanted. Amber was a lot closer to Tara, so why was she interested in you all of a sudden?

“Let go of my shirt, Am.” You said, but Amber didn’t budge. Her grip got tighter as she pulled you in closer.

“Why are you in such a rush, (Your Name)? It’s not like you’re going back out there to cuddle up with Tara.” Amber smirked.

You glared at her, slapping her hand away to get her to let go of your shirt. You were angry now, unsure as to why Amber would say something like that towards you. Of course you couldn’t just go cuddle with Tara, but she didn’t need to say anything along those lines.

“You should dump her,” Amber stated. “I’ll be honest with you… I’ve always had a thing for you since you started dating Tara. But what really made me want you was on that camping trip last month. I was up late at night, and I could hear all the sounds you were making. How you were begging Tara to let you come and god… I knew then and there that I wanted you.”

Amber took a step forward, pushing you up against the counter. She leaned in, kissing you on the lips. It was rough and unpleasant, causing you to slap Amber across the face.

“What the actual fuck?!” You snapped.

Amber smile, grabbing you by the neck and squeezing roughly. “Now that wasn’t very nice, was it?”

”Fuck you,” you spat.

“Such a mouth, I’m going to have to teach you some manners,” she sighed, licking her lips. “I think you need to apologize to me now.”

“What? No, you kissed me.” you snapped. “I’m telling Tara what you did.”

Amber laughed at your threat. “Go ahead. She won’t believe you.”

“She would-“ you began, but Amber cut you off by pushing you down to your knees by your neck. She removed her hand - unbuckling her belt with both hands as she kept her eyes glued on you.

Amber looked up, jumping slightly as she noticed Wes walk past the kitchen. She unzipped her jeans, pulling them down hurriedly. Her underwear soon followed.

“You’re going to apologize for slapping me, (Your Name),” she said, grabbing you by your hair. Pulling you closer to her pussy. “Go on, kiss it.”

You shook your head, keeping your mouth shut tight. You weren’t going to do this - you loved Tara. Amber huffed, growing frustrated with your act of defiance. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, you choose.”

She gave you a few seconds to decide, but you still refused to. She sighed, “Very well then.”

Pushing your face into her pussy, you had no choice but to do what she wanted. Sliding your tongue into her right away, you silently hoped someone would come in and stop what she was forcing you to do. Amber fucked your tongue, holding your head in place as she did all the work. She wanted to be quick, not wanting anyone to walk in on the two of you.

She continued, fucking your face as she got closer to her orgasm. Amber pulled your face away from her pussy, allowing you sometime to breathe. After a minute, Amber pushed your face back into her pussy. “That’s it, good girl.” she praised, which caused you to feel sick to your stomach.

“I don’t think you’re Tara’s girl anymore, baby,” she teased, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “You’re mine, but don’t you worry… with a mouth like yours I’ll take real good care of you.”

You tried to pull away, but Amber kept you in place. “Don’t- fuck, don’t pull away. I’m close.” Amber moaned, fucking your face once more. She came with a grunt, pulling away from you once she was satisfied.

“Open your mouth,” she instructed, and you shook your head. Amber rolled her eyes, pinching your nose and holding it until you opened your mouth. Leaning down, Amber spat in your mouth. “Hold it. I want you to hold it until I say swallow. Understood?”

You nodded, patiently waiting for her to let you swallow. You felt sick to your stomach, wanting nothing more than for her to leave you alone. You wanted to make up with Tara and tell her what Amber had done to you.

“Good girl for waiting, you can swallow now.” she smiled. You did as you were told, hoping she was done with you now.

You jumped as she shoved three fingers into your mouth unexpectedly. “Hey Tara,” she said, smiling at your girlfriend. “Do you want something to drink?”

Your eyes widened, trying to pull Amber’s fingers out of your mouth. You knew you could make noise, but you knew Amber would make an excuse for it.

“Hey, and no. I’m actually looking for (Your Name), have you seen her?” Tara asked.

Amber shook her head, “I have not. Maybe she left?”

Tara sighed, “Let me know if you see her.”

Amber gave her a small smile, “Of course.”

As soon as Tara was out of sight, Amber pulled her fingers out of your mouth. She stayed quiet as she pulled her pants back up and you watched as she buckled her belt. You stayed on the ground, tears running down your face.

“If you tell Tara about this, I promise you that she won’t ever believe you,” she laughed. “I’m her best friend and I’ve known her for years.”

You stayed silent, biting your lip as hard as you could. The taste of Amber’s pussy still lingered, causing you to gag.

“I’d clean yourself up before you join us again, wouldn’t want anyone to get suspicious.” Was all she said before making her way out of the kitchen. You hurried to the bathroom, making sure no one had seen you. Gasping, you turned on the water. Washing your face off to make yourself presentable, hoping Tara wanted to make up.

You were Tara’s girl after all.

[aforestescape]

little gender neutral blurb i wrote while out drinking last night

you thought you’d be fine, pulling up to your friends house with the three bottles you all put up money for plus another that someone else was bringing. the perfect night in with friends. pajamas on and dancing to the blaring music, greasy finger snacks, drinking games and lots of laughing.

plenty of drinks spilt on carpet and burnt chicken wings in the air fryer that still get passed around like a delicacy among drunk friends. you’re all four bottles in and it’s not even two a.m. yet. one of you thinks to call an uber to get another bottle but you decide on calling simon.

he’s picking you up when the party is over anyways, he won’t mind entertaining a bunch of your drunk friends on a ride to the liquor store. you still hand over the phone to your best friend to handle. simon has no choice but to say yes, got to stay on their good side.

you’re all a giggling and confused mess as you stuff into the large suv simon owns. sitting in the front passenger and giving him a giddy smile as he kisses your cheek.

the radio is playing loud music as you all sing along, a.c. blasting through the vents and you’re hitting up the third liquor store because everyone you can think of is closed. you give up after the fourth and head to a 24 shop instead. you make sure to pull him to the side as your friends enter, telling him that you’re leaving once they’re dropped back off where the party was held.

everyone is grabbing snacks and drinks to take back with them. your head leaned against simons shoulder, eyes closed in tipsy sleepiness as you wait on your friends. simon mutters softly under his breath, stroking your head as you lull to a quiet slumber.

you wake back up to find yourself already in bed at home. one of simon's large shirts pulled over your body and the man himself draped over you while he snores away. a soft smile slipping on your groggy face before you let yourself be pulled back to sleep.

yeah so i wrote this in september while drinking with the gfs... i should be more ashamed of my terrible posting and memory but

also yesterday marked officially a year of me writing and posting fanfiction on here yay🎊

[4evermutated]

bayverse! April headcanons

because i hate the way megan fox was sexualised in the movies i wanna give her more personality than just being hot and smart 😭 i heart u bayverse April

- she thrifts! not just expensive 'real vintage' designer labels but everything, she also finds clothes than can be easily upcycled and tweaked for the boys. Her signature color is yellow so you KNOW she has rare and whimsical pieces she collects in her wardrobe

- speaking of which; she sews! Mikey often rips or breaks his stuff (like shoes and shirts) and hes always giving her bits and pieces to fix up. As much as Donnie is a tech wiz, Aprils expertise lies in the art of DIY! shes tried to teach Don how to sew but ironically its one of the few things he cant crack

- shes a stem nut, OBVIOUSLY! her and Don bond the most over new technology and the advancement of science and digital technology. her and Don made her a pc from scratch and its one of her most precious memories

- April has a really bad sweet tooth, when the guys get pizza for the rare nights in, she's reaching for Mikeys candy stash for sure (she makes sure to replenish it with all their shared faves)

- her favourite candy is anything sour! but actually sour, we're talking throat numbingly sour to the point where at the end of the bag all you taste is blood 💀 it freaks everyone out lmao

- she has a masters in journalism and a degree social sciences, its so important to her to give visibility to the stories rarely talked about. Shes very dedicated to her profession and genuinely gets mad that all vern cares about is attention from fans and the camera

- April is also very passionate about nutrition and fitness! she goes total big sister mode when the turtles neglect their protein intake especially with how big and physically demanding their jobs are. a few times she's tried to teach Leo how to cook for his brothers and hes just about learned how to not burn eggs on toast but shell be damned if she starts cooking for 4 6ft men 😭 respectfully not her job!

- she's incredibly protective of her friends, whoever they may be, even Vern. she doesn't take lightly to disrespect and she WILL trash talk you to silence if you make anyone she cares about feel less than

- when she was younger she wanted to be a zoologist or anthropologist. Like her dad, she's always had a love for science and research, but she loved animals so much as a kid and it crushed her when she realised her father was experimenting on animals

- she feels personally responsible for the turtles and Splinter, she visits them atleast once a night, whether on face time or in person. the fact that they feel theyll never be accepted in society weighs heavy on her heart. she wishes things were different

- she knows Mikey has a crush on her, but she doesn't know how to let him down gently and honestly doesn't wanna open that can of worms, so she just pretends she doesn't notice his very desperate flirting

- sleeper build april. SLEEPER BUILD APRIL. people treat her like shes fragile just because she's beautiful but shes also incredibly strong with amazing endurance. i mean hello?! SHE CAN RUN IN HEELS. thats badass

- she loves game nights w the turtles and Casey, she loves playing MK and her go-to character is ofc Mileena (goated and no im not biased)

- she may or may not have a dedicated collection of disguises for super sleuthing and recon. shes very proud of it and will give a tour if asked

- she wants to learn ninjitsu, just doesn't know if she should ask or wait to be asked. she feels awkward and sometimes wonders if its not her place, even though in reality Splinter would be happy to train someone so dedicated to justice.

- her favourite drink is banana protein smoothie!! the lair has a smoothie just for her 😭 they have to hide it from Mikey before he gets back into his liquid pizza phase again

- she likes hero comics/shows (like 2012 leo!). Naruto was her childhood and its kinda beautifully ironic that she's like a ninja by proxy now

thats all for now! its been like 5 years since ive written headcanons so sorry if the format is boring, lmk if you want more headcanons! ok bai

[bubybubsters]

Fruit Skewers, Laced Drinks, and the Whole Shabang

A/n: @tsunami-of-tears I AM YOUR SECRET SANTA!! ik crazy right! Anyway here’s your mix of angst, a lil bit of fun, and vague holiday spirit! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT LOL but it fine if u dont…

MERRY CHRISTMASSS or HAPPY SOLSTICE.

thank you @acotargiftexchange for hosting this lovely event.

word count: 2.1k

Eris POV

Most people don’t think of the spymaster of the Night Court as an avoidant person. In fact, when people do think of him it’s often when they’re committing a crime or sitting in shadows that look like they’re moving, or even seeing him on the street and finding him pretty.

Well Eris found the spymaster to be a very avoidant male. Yes, he was good looking and smart and the whole package. But Eris found he sucked and communicating. Not even in the normal way people sucked at communicating, in a way that he didn’t even try to talk about anything. All the spymaster did was kiss Eris’s weak spot until the heir gave in and stopped trying to make a half-decent conversation. 

Then again, Eris supposed one could defend Azriel’s actions. Considering their families, their past, the rejection of same sex relationships in the Autumn court, Beron, Morrigan, and every other little detail. 

However, none of that changed what had happened a few years ago at the solstice court meeting. The two of them had had a little too much to drink and got a little carried away. The night had ended with Azriel in Eris’s bed and the morning after the cold air from a very open balcony window had greeted Eris the moment he woke up. 

And still, a decade later, they hadn’t said a word about it. What they had done was fuck so much that Eris had found more new kinks he didn’t know about in ten years than he’d found in a century.

“What in the cauldren has you sighing every few seconds?” Eris blinked, his mother’s voice pulling him from his thoughts. Shit, he was still in the dining room eating dinner with his mother. Well, she was eating; his food was untouched.

“Sorry.” 

“What’s up with you?”

“Noth-.” He was cut off by a single raised brow that spoke volumes. “It's a romantic problem…”

His mother smiled. “With the shadowsinger, yes?”

Eris grunted in confirmation, choosing to not question how she knew about his so-called “relationship.”

“What’s wrong? Obvious problems excluded, of course.” Her words dragged a bitter smile to his lips as he thought of what he should say. He could tell her the truth and simultaneously put her in danger if anyone found out. Or he could lie. The fact that the choice he made came so easily concerned him to no end.

“He won’t talk unless it relates to court problems. All he wants to do when we’re alone is have sex.”

His mother grinned. “I never thought I’d see the day you complained about too much sex. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Eris grumbled something unintelligible and rolled his eyes.

“In all seriousness, find a time and place to talk. One where it’s too public to do anything but it’s just private enough to have a conversation. Also you need a reason he can’t leave. For example, if Rhysand assigned him to stay by your side and make sure you don’t do anything stupid. The best chance you’ll get to do this is at the annual solstice high lord meeting. Since everyone knows Beron won’t want to come considering it’s basically just a party… You’ll have to go in his stead and someone from each court will likely be watching you because nobody trusts the autumn court.“

Eris raised his hand, trying to stop the flow of information. “Perhaps, write it down?”

His mother chuckled. “Y’know I’m actually preparing you for your high lord duties. You really can’t be seen taking notes during a high lord meeting; it shows weakness.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Stop teasing, we both know Beron doesn’t remember shit. He just does whatever he wants.”

“Yes, but you wish to be a better High Lord than him. Can’t do that if you copy him.”

“Well since I’ll be such a better high lord than Beron, it won’t be considered weak to take notes.”

His mother shook her head, a smile dancing on her lips.“I’ll write it down, but you just need to trust yourself.”

Eris said nothing. He knew he couldn’t trust himself around Azriel. It always led to him giving into the spymaster’s whim.

Az POV

“OY AZRIELLL!!”

He barely refrained from groaning as Cassian pulled the curtains aside and sunlight came streaming in.

“Go away.”

“BUT TODAY’S THE PARTYYYY!! YOU AGREED TO LET FEYRE, NESTA, AND ELAIN DRESS YOU UP IF YOU LOST AT CHESS. AND YOU LOSTTTTT!!”

“Because you all cheated.”

“You never said we couldn’t!” Cassian is practically singing as he dances around Azriel’s bed, trying to prod him awake.

Azriel groaned. “I’ll be up in 30. Now get out.”

Cassian pouted but ultimately decided to leave before Azriel could change his mind and argue that he would have won if they hadn’t fed him too many bottles of Rhysand’s expensive wine and cheated. 

Fifteen minutes later, Azriel warily dragged himself from bed. Normally, he would be fine, in fact he could be a morning bird. But all the wine he’d drank last night seemed to have caused a pounding headache that he doubted would get better.

He took a quick shower and dressed in casual black clothes before heading out. On his way to the River House he grabbed a pastry and jumped off a random balcony.

Letting himself freefall, Azriel’s thoughts wandered to forbidden territory. Eris would be at the party tonight. The fireling’s scent was ingrained in Azriel’s mind- smoke and crisp autumn leaves. 

Azriel sighed. He knew Eris wanted to talk, it was devastatingly obvious. The hurt that flashed in those amber eyes whenever Azriel brushed him off seemed an ever prominent companion in his day to day life. But it just wouldn’t work. Eris was going to be High Lord and Azriel was… well Azriel.

“He’s here!”

His high lady’s voice floated through the air, effectively cutting his thoughts short. He landed and glowered at Cassian.

“The party is at 8 in the evening.”

“Yes and?”

“It does not take twelve hours to get me ready.

Feyre cut in, “Of course it doesn’t. But do you really think we have things prepared? This bet was last minute and made drunkenly at around two am.”

“All the more reason we should agree to not do it.”

“Nope! Just an excuse to go shopping.”

Azriel groaned but a slight smile played on his lips, maybe he could use this distraction from Eris.

Eris POV

At precisely 8pm Eris and his advisors winnowed to the dawn court. Ever since that High Lord meeting during the war, the dawn court had been all the high lords preferred spot to meet. Eris wasn’t sure why but it was fine with him, just as long as nobody was in his court. 

They were greeted by a female that showed them to a dimly lit ballroom. Most of the other High Lord’s were already mingling and Eris spotted Vivian, Mor and Feyre. Azriel’s probably here then. Good.

Eris sighed, dismissing his advisors and heading for the food table. Picking up a skewer of grapefruit and some unidentified berries, Eris dove in. One could argue the only reason he came to these parties was for the food. More often than not, his first thought was complaining about the autumn court food. It wasn’t bad, in fact, Eris loved the spices and bold flavors, but after a few centuries, you occasionally long for something else.

Something refreshing. 

A light touch to his thigh urged him to pause his munching and look down. One if Azriel’s shadows was curled around his leg, seemingly looking up at him with puppy eyes. 

Eris suppressed a smile and looked around to find the shadowsinger already watching him from a dark corner. He did a double take, blinking in disbelief at what he saw. Azriel, the feared spymaster of the night court was wearing a light blue t-shirt and loose, frilly, white pants. And he looked good. Eris hesitated, grabbed another fruit skewer and headed his way.

“Fireling,” Azriel greeted, plucking the extra fruit skewer from his hand.

Eris made a sound of protest, mouth stuffed with food. “Was mine.” 

“You look like a toddler given access to his favorite candy store at these parties.”

Eris frowned, waving his hand, trying to get his rebuttal across without opening his mouth.

Azriel chuckled, biting into the stolen skewer. He groaned in satisfaction, gobbling down the rest of the skewer before Eris could finish his.

“What in the world are you wearing?”

“It was a bet.” Azriel waved his stick where fruit was seconds before. “These are good.”

“Did all that food just disappear?”

“It was good.”

“You’ve never had them before? These parties have been going on for a decade.”

“I’m usually too distracted by you.”

Eris chokes on his last piece of fruit. “Huh?”

Azriels lips twitched, “That wasn’t very heir like.” He tutts, wagging a finger. “The rumors seem to be true, you’re gonna be overthrown by a brother.”

Eris raises a brow. “Firstly, you cannot be talking, have you seen yourself in those clothes? Besides wouldn’t you miss me, beloved spymaster of the feared Night Court?” He leaned closer, lips almost brushing Azriel’s ear. “After all, you do seem to have taken a particular liking to me. Or shall I say, a liking to fu-”

Azriel clamped a hand over his mouth. “Not here,” he hisses.

“Where else then?” Eris sticks his tongue out, liking the scarred hand covering his mouth. “All you wanna do is fuck whenever we’re alone. So why not speak here? Your shadows can ensure nobody hears us.”

Azriel frowns. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Eris raises a brow as if to say, do tell. “We should stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s never going to work out and we don’t seem to have any special connection. It’s also a hassle since we’re from different courts and it really would be convenient for both of us if we stopped. Besides, if you really need pleasure that badly, there are some wonderful places across Prythian that could serve one’s needs.

Eris gawked at Azriel. His jaw was practically on the floor in shock and his body had gone slack. Azriel, the guy who never talked and always convinced Eris to fuck was the one calling off this ‘situantionship.’ Adding that the one time he did talk was to inform Eris of good pleasure houses. Well, sorry mother, guess you wrote that down for nothing.

“Right, like you weren’t the one practically leaping on me every time. But by all means, go ahead, end us. It’s not like anyone else will ever understand you like I do. And of course we aren’t mates because why would the mother put someone like you with someone like me.” Eris finishes his last sentence off with a growl, teeth bared.

Azriel’s brows twitch, “What is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for a future High Lord?”

Eris shakes his head, attempting to stop the sudden feeling of emptiness in his heart. He turned form the male and his bright clothes.

“Whatever Azriel. I’m done with you.”

Az POV

Okay, so he might have messed up. He’d basically called Eris not special and not worth the hassle. He’d also said he knew a lot of good pleasure houses, which wasn’t a lie, he did. But the male he’d been fucking for the past decade probably didn’t want to hear that, even though they hadn’t said they were exclusive. Not that that was an excuse. All in all, Azriel regretted everything. Especially since the moment the red-haired heir had left, a beautiful, deafening, snap, echoed in his ears. 

The other side of the bond was foggy which made Azriel assume Eris had absolutely no idea. Great. That was not helpful in his current position. What was he supposed to do? Go up to Eris and say, ‘by the way, we’re mates! Sorry for saying we have no special connection, could we reconcile?’

Azriel sighed, deciding to get a drink. He approached a rose-gold cup with a pink-tinged liquid inside. After sniffing it, he downed the drink in one gulp. The liquid fogged his head, making it hard to think. But it tasted good. Like the pumpkin spice lattes that Eris would sometimes give him. He hummed, going to grab another cup.

He stopped, a sudden realization settling in. He had taken the first cup, nobody else had drank one all night. He knew because Thesan always said that once a drink was out, it was out.  Azriel slowly looked up. People were watching him, eyes drilling into his skull. Shit. What the fuck was that drink?

‘Whatever Azriel. I’m done with you.’

Azriel’s head shot up. That was Eris’s voice, those were his words, his tone, his accent. It was Eris yet Eris wasn’t even in this room. 

What the fuck?

‘I’m done with you.’

Azriel hissed softly. This was bad. Hearing voices was a sure sign of 1. crazyiness, 2. in this case, a love potion, 3. being cursed. It was most likely the second option, which was definitely not ideal. 

A small crowd of onlookers gathered, seemingly waiting for a reaction.

Azriel’s shadows surrounded him, almost laughing at their master. He couldn’t even blame them if they took Eris’s side in this matter. Sure, Eris had said some horrible things but at the end of the day, Azriel was the one to start the whole situation to begin with. 

So he closed his eyes, and let his shadows control wherever he goes, just as long as it’s out of this damn room. 

The only thing?

He didn’t expect to land right on top of a half-asleep Eris Vanserra.

dividers by @saradika

lol idk i like it- I tried to leave an open ending…

[chimerical-daydreams]

How does the king stay hydrated when they cry so much?! I'm genuinely concerned for his health at a certain point!

Bonnie the hydration hero saves the day once again!