#at least this woman broke it off before they finalized anything. good for her

[hearteyedbunny]

the fact that thatcher was engaged in his twenties but then for some reason it broke off/didn't work out and then he just abstained from any sort of relationship at all for years because he wanted to "focus on the church" but tbh I think he just didn't have the confidence to move on from a failed relationship like that.

[spacedace]

dpxdc story snippet:

(references to blood & gore below the cut)

Clark wasn't sure why they bothered.

Elle Constantine looked, if anything, even less repentant about her actions during the mission after the long, thorough lecturing she’d received.

Zantanna had warned them that the girl was her father’s daughter in most ways. That young Elle was crass, messy, prone to con artistry and outright theft and lying when it suited her even when on her best behavior.

Even still, no one could say she didn’t have a good heart. Not even Bruce had doubted that her intentions in all things - while at times self-serving - were ultimately meant to help and protect people. She was, though not the shining ideal that some strove to present to the world, still every bit a hero at the end of the day.

It was the main reason that despite her reputation for mischief and mayhem, that she’d been allowed to join the Titans. Along with a heavy dosage of hope that the other teens would be a good influence on the girl. That a friendship would blossom and there’d be a change for the better as a result - even her father seemed hopeful she’d lose at least some of the rougher edges she’d picked up from him over the years.

If their hopes had any merit, Clark still wasn’t sure. Jon spoke highly of the girl and even seemed to have developed as serious a crush on her as the one he had for Damian. Reports from the team of young heroes seemed to indicate that she gelled well with the rest of the Titans offering some glimmer of hope that things were working but…

Well.

“So can I go get hosed off now, or what?” The young magician asked, flicking one hand towards the dirt and blessedly away from where Clark and Bruce were standing before her.

Blood splattered on the ground in a rolling drumbeat of heavy droplets, so drenched that her arms still dripped unsettling red even after the attempt at flicking the worst of it off. It oozed sickeningly down her wrist as she lifted one hand to examine her nails boredly, already darkening and conjealing where it puddled around her on the ground.

She was absolutely soaking in blood. Arms covered in dripping red and clotted bits of vicera all the way up to her elbows. Entire front spattered and stained so completely with offal that even the black fabric took on an uneasy sheen of red. She had an ugly smear if ichor across one cheek. A few of her unfortunate dark curls plastered to her temple thanks to sticky ichor swiped across her brow. Her mouth a gruesome, nightmarish mess of gore from where she’d sunk her teeth into flesh and torn pieces away during her vicious, feral attack.

She looked like the final girl in a horror movie.

One that had surrendered to the madness and become just as monstrous as her foe by the end.

They’d reveiwed the footage from the camera in Damian’s mask on the way over. Watching, trapped in a nauseating first person perspective, as the girl seemed to forget she had magic entirely and decended on the main demonic enemy the Titans had been dealing with like a rabid dog.

Clark, not for the first time, wished that Diana was there. The Amazon would have likely only encouraged the behavior - it was a toss up on if it was Diana or Bobo who had taught the girl how to tear into a person like that, and disturbingly likely to have been a combination of the two. But if Wonder Woman had been present at least Elle might have given him and Bruce some semblence of actual attention while they talked to her - even if it was only second hand.

From everything he knew, the Amazon was one of the very - very - small handful of authority figures that the girl truly respected. They might have had half a chance of some of the disaproval they were trying to impart sinking in if Diana was there with them. Even if all Elle took from it was a comment on her fighting style lacking in some way rather than anything of true concern. It would have at least been something. At least until Diana inevitably broke out into a proud smile and patted the girl’s head and commented about her having a warrior’s heart or some such.

That the girl wasn’t more of a terror than she already was with JL Dark’s motely crew as her main influences and John Constantine as a father was a miracle Clark perhaps wasn’t nearly thankful enough for.

“Menace!”

Speak of the devil.

Clark watched as the girl’s unimpressed expression brightened into excitement at the sound of her father’s voice rising up over the general din of the scene. Batman and Superman and their lecturing solidly forgotten as she spun on her heel to see the trenchcoat clad man striding over to them. “Dad-saster!”

In half a dozen steps and a flourish of magic the girl was leaping at the older magician and being swept up in John’s arms with a bright, excited laugh.

Constantine’s eyes were always a little sharp, even when he was in a headonistic stupor, but his gaze cut as deep as a razor as he finally released the girl from the tight hug and swayed back to look her over. The lines of his face warning all that dared to look that if he found so much as a scratch on the teenager before him that he’d bring down a fury upon the world that would make even the devil tremble in fear.

The fact that a not insignificant amount of the blood his daughter was soaked in had transfered to him during the hug didn’t help the image. His rumpled white button-up shirt suddenly a gruesome Rorscharch, and his famous trench not much better. His hands were already red from the bare few seconds of contact.

Elle perhaps was right in her assessment that she’d needed a hose to be ride of the grizzley remains of the villian she had - quite literally - torn into. Clark was definitely right in thinking that she took after her father.

Even still, despite the macabre scene they made, Clark couldn’t deny that his heart softened at least a little at the obvious love and care the usual bitterly cynical and callous magician showed his adopted daughter. The fact that the girl, even as a teenager when children so often became antagonistic and rebellious with their parents, so openly adored her father in turn didn’t hurt. If there was one thing Clark and everyone else who had ever met the girl could agree on it was this: Elle Constantine, when she loved, did so openly and with every inch of who she was.

“You alright?” Constantine had his hands on the girl’s slim shoulders, holding her out just far enough to look her up and down. “Heard you and the band had a spot of trouble.”

His face was stoney as he took in the blood, and Clark could have sworn he saw a spark of gold pop warningly at the magician’s fingertips. It was something he’d noted happened with Elle whenever she was experiencing some kind of heightened emotion. Her magic burning an acidic neon green in place of the deceptive warm glimmer of her father’s powers, making her look strangely like the more dangerous of the two.

Elle gave a small laugh, reaching out to pat one of his arms and leaving a smeared, red handprint behind. The utter disregard either had for the Gallo film levels of blood soaking the both of them made Clark feel a little queasy. It also made him think that perhaps they should have been looking into just what missions - exactly - Elle Constantine had been tagging along on over the years with Justice League Dark.

Even Bruce with his mess of unruly, defiante children he was only just barely able to keep in line was able to - mostly - shield them from the ugliest of crime scenes until they were older. That the fifteen year old girl he was watching now was so completely disensitised to so much blood was cause for a lot of alarm.

“All good. None of it’s mine.” Elle waved her other hand towards the red she was still - quite literally - dripping in. “Minor demon. Barely more than an imp.”

Clark watched as she paused, her cheerful smile flattening as something deeper and darker crept into her expression. A bleak, ravenous darkness gilding the girl’s edges in a way that made an incomprehensible cold sink deep into Clark’s bones just to glimpse. He watched, unable to look away as her already eeire white-blue eyes bled that dizzying neon green. “It went after Big Bird.”

Jon.

Clark had seen it on Damian’s footage. His son slammed hard to the ground and gasping. Horrifically vulnerable to the magic of the creature looming over him. Damian - relatively unharmed thankfully - had been pinned in place by a heavy slab of concrete, entirely unable to reach the other boy. Lian and Connor had been stuck fending off the wave of smaller, vicious creatures the demon had summoned to attack the city. Clark’s son had been at the demonic creature’s mercy and unable to do anything about it until -

“And you went and forgot all your good sense.”

Constantine - to Clark’s surprse - gave the girl a worried, disapproving frown. He sounded…well, he sounded like Clark and Bruce had just moments before the magician had arrived. Though where their lecturing had been utterly ignored, the girl did look appropriately apologetic and chastized at her father’s words.

Constantine didn’t let go of her, though his hands did move to settle on her upper arms. Not a painful, cruel grip but the hold of a man trying very hard to not let his desperation bruise the precious figure before him. Love for one’s child bred the deepest fear Clark had ever known, and it seemed that not even Constantine was immune to such things.

“I know. I just…” Elle’s eyes, now back to their unnerving original color, dropped to stare at the sloppy knot of her father’s tie, not meeting his gaze in the way guilty children were prone to. “I didn’t even think I just saw him there and the thing was going on, talking about carving out his heart and -”

Clark hadn’t heard that part.

Damian had been too far away for the mic on him to pick up the demon’s words, only the low gutteral hissing noises that rattled throughout the monsteroys entity’s voice. Clark felt that same uncomfortable mix of unease and thankfulness towards Elle for what she’d done to protect his son that seemed to be a staple of dealing with the Constantines.

“And you’re lucky your brothers had the sense you didn’t.” Constantine jumped in. Giving the petite girl in his hold a small, gentle shake. “If they’d been as wound up as you were all four of you could have been in the shit in a serious way.”

Clark glanced towards Bruce at the mention of Elle’s brothers, trying to gage his partner’s reaction to the mention of them. It was still unclear the situation surrounding Elle’s “brothers” and who - or what - they were. Elle’s file only said the girl shared a link with her three older brothers and that they were always with her. Whether the entities mentioned were actually the girl’s brothers or if it was merely what she had come to call them was…unclear. Plenty of magic users could create bonds with supernatural entities, and some even refered to them as companions or friends.

A few absent comments from Justice League Dark implied that there was something else going on. Though attempts to get more information were usually shut down. Responses ranging from polite but firm statements that it wasn’t a story for anyone but Elle herself to share, to outright hostile shut downs of the subject. Seeing Detective Bobo so uncharacteristicly furious when it had been brought up with him had been…unsettling, to say the least. The chimpanzee was usually a calm, level headed sort. That much emotion was startling and - to those familiar with him - more than enough to know to leave the subject alone.

“I know.” Elle said, voice soft and terribly young sounding. The stubborn expression edged with contrition that settled onto her face a moment later was all John Constantine. Adopted or no, she was truly her father’s daughter.

As terrifying a thought as that was.

Lifting her eyes to meet her father’s stern expression levely, Elle titled her chin at a stubborn - annoyingly familiar - angle. “I’m not going to say sorry for it.”

Constantine for his part, only sighed in the face of his own mulishness being turned on him. Clark couldn’t blame the man. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d found himself staring down at his own tightly held sense of justice or Lois’s unshakable determination while talking with Jon. It was hard enough when you had a kid that took so much after his hellcat of a mother, Clark couldn’t imagine what it might be like to have one that took after Constantine.

The magician closed his eyes for a moment, clearly debating with himself, before opening them again to fondly roll them at his stubborn, crass daughter. Shifting them around so she was tucked against his side under one arm he cast his gaze over the ugly remains of the battlefield. The way his stern disapproval had melted into an impressed expression did not bode well for the girl getting any more lecturing on her decision making in the feild that day.

“Not gonna ask you to be.” He said, tone of his voice strange and fond all at once. “But it’s something we’re gonna have to work on. Especially if your going to be crashing with these Titans of yours now too.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Elle was going to be staying at the Tower with the rest of the kids on weekends and over stretches of their vacations from school.

Clark had forgotten about that part of their little Elle Constantine Domestication plan.

He watched, feeling a bit ill, as Jon and the rest of the Titans - sensing that the book had been firmly shut on the discussion between Elle and the League members - swept in to swarm the girl. The gaggle of teens fussing and fawning over their team mate in celebration of her (brutally vicious) victory. Constantine patting his daughter on the back hardily and giving a smoke filled laugh as Jon scooped the younger magician up and spun her in a grateful hug, dropping her down on the ground just so Cheshire Cat could tackle the smaller girl in anther fierce embrace.

Blood was smeared across the Crest of El emblazoned upon Jon’s chest, darkening the blue of his sleeves, a line of red swept along his collarbone and neck where blood-soaked curls had been tucked a moment ago . A gruesome impression of the girl that had just been in his arms, staining his suit with Elle’s silhouetted after image. An ugly reality of what the girl was capable of that Clark’s son seemed entirely indifferent to.

Clark tried not to think of it as some kind of omen.

---

Info on the AU:

This is a "Danny doesn't know he was cloned" AU where Elle and the other clones realized things were Not Good (TM) and escaped while they could, eventually ending up crossing paths with Constantine and eventually getting adopted by him (it's a toss up on who is more surprised by that: Elle and her brothers, the world at large or Constantine himself).

In this au the escape escape from Vlad didn't quite go to plan and Elle was the only one that made it out largely in tact (read: wasn't turned to goo by Vlad). She was so desperate not to loose her brothers that she managed to grab onto their Cores before they total destabilized and fused them with her own, to uh...complicated results.

Effectively, Elle's Core is keeping all of them going which leaves Elle pretty weak in the ghost power department, since her Core is basically an overloaded fusebox one bad day from blowing completely. Her brothers end up behaving more like how Deadman does in DC, where they can only be seen/heard by magic users and the like, only with the added limitation that they can't go too far away from Elle or all of them will end up having issues from it.

All to say Elle relies more on the magic John and Zantanna teach her than her ghost powers. Oh and the teeny-tiny issue that if Elle destabilized it wouldn't just be her End, it'd be the End for all of her brothers to.

Good thing Vlad doesn't know that she survived :) It'd be a shame if he found out and tried to do something to use her against Danny :) If anything happened to her and her brothers that sure would be bad :) Especially with Constantine in the mix :)

[nameless-jamie]

BABY MUM

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

TW: cursing, suggestive talk

“Oi, oi, oi, look who’s here, the baby mum!”

Dani Rojas was the first to notice Y/N stepping onto the pitch, her round belly on full display beneath her coat. Her belly was now very prominent, as she was further along in the pregnancy.

Within seconds, training was completely forgotten as the team abandoned their drills and jogged over.

Colin let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell, look at you, mama!”

“She’s even bigger than last week,” Isaac added, shaking his head in amazement.

Before Y/N could say anything, Sam stepped forward, nudging Isaac. “You don’t say it like that.” He turned to Y/N with a warm smile. “You look incredible. You embody the pure beauty of a woman carrying life.”

"Thank you, sweetheart," She huffed out a laugh. “Oi, you lot act like I’ve been gone for months.”

“We missed you,” Dani said earnestly, practically bouncing on his feet. “And the baby! How is little Jamie?”

Y/N groaned. “I told you all, we are not calling it that.”

“You say that now,” Jan chimed in. “But it is only a matter of time.”

"Can we touch the belly, Y/N?" Dani asked excitedly, and the boys nodded furiously, a damn line building in front of her.

Before she could argue, a familiar voice cut through the group.

“Alright, what’s all this, then?”

Jamie jogged over, sweat glistening on his brow, his brows raised as he took in the sight of his teammates completely abandoning training. His eyes flicked to Y/N, immediately softening when he saw her.

“Babe,” he murmured, stepping closer. “What’re you doin’ here? You should be restin’.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Jamie, not dying.”

“Yeah, yeah, but still.” His hands instinctively found their place on her belly. “Baby kickin’ today?”

“Like a little footballer,” she admitted.

Jamie grinned, rubbing slow circles over her stomach. “That’s my kid.”

The team collectively melted.

“Mate, you’re gonna be such a soft dad,” Colin teased.

“Shut up,” Jamie muttered, though he didn’t look the least bit annoyed. If anything, he looked proud—completely enamored with the fact that his baby was growing inside her.

“Alright, alright,” Roy’s gruff voice finally broke through. “Are we trainin’ today or throwin’ a fuckin’ baby shower?”

The team grumbled but didn’t move from their little line. All of them were determined to touch Y/N's growing baby belly. The baby might even kick!

Sam crossed his arms. “Roy, you wouldn’t say that if you saw how cute she looks. Pregnant Y/N is our Roman Empire.”

Roy scoffed. “I don’t give a shit about—” His gaze landed on Y/N’s round belly, and his face did something absolutely un-Roy-like. His scowl softened, his lips twitching like he was trying to fight back a smirk.

Y/N blinked in surprise. “Roy Kent… are you going soft on me? Just because I'm fucking pregnant?”

Roy grumbled under his breath before exhaling heavily. “Nah. But… I guess you look alright or whatever. Proper pregnant now.”

Jamie let out a loud laugh. “Mate, just admit you think she looks adorable. And she was proper pregnant before too, if I do something I do it proper and makin' her pregnant, fuck, I did that—”

Roy’s glare sharpened. “Fuck off.” But then, before anyone could say anything else, he turned back to Y/N and cleared his throat. “You, uh… you doin’ okay?”

Her chest warmed. “Yeah, Roy. I’m okay. Baby's kickin' goals in there just like her godfather.”

Roy grunted, a smile breaking out on his face. “Good. You need anything, you tell me.”

The team lost it.

“Oi, did Roy just offer to help?”

“Is this a fever dream?”

“Someone write this down.”

Roy groaned. “Oh, fuck off.” But there was no real heat behind it, and when Y/N beamed at him, he rolled his eyes and muttered, “You’re part of the team, alright? That means we look after you.”

A lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t expected this—not the attention, not the overwhelming warmth, not the way these ridiculous, talented, wonderful men had completely accepted her into their family.

Sam suddenly crouched, pressing his hands to her belly. “Little one, this is your Uncle Sam. I cannot wait to meet you.”

Dani joined immediately, kneeling beside him. “And Uncle Dani!”

The rest of the boys started arguing because apparently 'Sam skipped the line' and 'it wasn't even their turn'.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Roy muttered.

“You’re all bloody obsessed,” Jamie said, shaking his head—but even as he rolled his eyes, his expression was unbearably soft.

“Of course we are,” Colin said simply. “It’s you two.”

Jamie frowned. “What d’you mean?”

Sam stood, grinning. “Mate. You’ve been in love with her forever.”

Jamie shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah, I mean—”

Y/N smirked. “Jamie, be fuckin' for real, yeah?”

He sighed. “Alright, yeah.” He tugged Y/N closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I have....but you've been to. You kissed me first after all!"

"On freaking accident!!!" Y/N argued with her boyfriend.

Jan clapped his hands. “We all knew this was coming! We even placed bets.”

Y/N gasped. “You bet on us?”

“Of course,” Dani said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It was only a matter of time.”

Jamie sighed dramatically. “If I had known, I would’ve asked her out sooner. Could've joined the bets and made a fuckton of money.”

Y/N laughed, leaning into him, her hand settling over his on her belly. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you did ask me out.”

The boys grinned.

Roy groaned.

And Jamie?

He just looked at her, his hand splayed over her belly, his heart completely full.

This was his family.

And he wouldn’t change a thing.

[justasecretflower]

Sdv; Sebastian as a dad !

Cw- pregnancy, kids, talk about having kids, birth control, smoking, ppd, difficult pregnancy, suggestive?..if any of these are a sensitive subject please click off your mental health is so important, love you !!

synopsis- kind of like my sdv men as dads post, but this is in depth about Sebastian.

A/N- ty mit-suri for the idea !! ≧ᗜ≦

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊pregnancy headcanons

⤷ talking about kids….

💜not the type to have baby fever or anything. Wasn’t a kid hater or anything but he was awkward around them

💜he never thought of bringing it up since it just is never on his mind so you’ll be the one to bring up kids

💜during the conversation he’ll be all fidgety and nervous. The idea flusters him and honestly gets him kinda nervous. He’s never really been the domestic type.

💜he tells you this, and expresses his concern about not really being the type to be a dad, and never really thought of it before.

💜honestly the conclusion is a ‘maybe?’ But a definite that if anything happens he’ll try to do his best to be a good dad.

⤷unplanned or planned?

💜yeah that’s a huge, big, unplanned.

💜your baby was probably conceived after Sebastian and you got flat out drunk after one of his concerts and forgot to use protection.

💜the next morning you figured you did use protection because there’s literally some in the drawer, but no.

💜definitely a ‘🤦🏻‍♀️’ moment when you traced back the dates to that night.

💜so yeah definitely unplanned !

⤷telling Sebastian

💜it’s not a huge big surprise like having him do a maze around the house to find a bun in the oven, or a baby onesie in a box, you just sit down with him. Because you don’t know how you’re feeling + how he’s feeling yet.

💜you tell him you need to talk, he’s convinced you’re divorcing him, he’s sweating, you take his hands, squeeze them and say

💜”I’m pregnant.” ………silence. You hear him take a breath in, with his eyes a little widened, just sitting there. You’re convinced he’s not happy until he randomly pulls you into a kiss.

💜it’s full of love, soft, long, and so beautiful.

💜he’s happy..at least at first before he starts doubting himself.

💜you and him have a long talk about what you wanna do, how the baby will affect day to day life, etc. He calms down again.

⤷if you have a difficult pregnancy…

💜is always on edge. Offering to do everything for you, pacing, stressing out.

💜every time he sees you in pain it hurts him too. He doesn’t really know what to do so he has robin and Harvey on speed dial.

💜he gives you kisses to your cheek a lot to let you know that he’s here for you. Will cup your face with one hand, hold yours with the other and lightly press a kiss to your cheek.

💜you’re not going anywhere near the mines or the ocean. He doesn’t care. You’re not gonna pass out or curl down in pain somewhere he can’t help you or see you. He needs to know you’re here with him so he can feel at least a little reassured.

⤷giving birth

💜“He’ll probably be unprepared !!” Never. This dude has everything in that hospital bag weeks before you’re even due. Frozen witch hazel pads, diapers, baby blanket, a big blanket, a hand held fan, a cooling neck thingy, face misting thing, everything. He’s got it all.

💜he literally nests with you. Makes sure everything is alright and orderly in the final month, doesn’t let you get up to do stuff, everything.

💜when your water breaks it’s definitely in the middle of a casual conversation with him just to look down like ‘oh my water broke’ meanwhile he’s shakily dialing robin and Harvey’s numbers

💜shuts up during labour. He’s not one of those obnoxious husbands screaming ‘push!’ In the delivery room. He’s got his mouth shut and ready to do whatever you tell him. Want the fan? He’s got it, want some water? Right here.

💜cries when the baby is born (it’s a girl obviously) he just looks at her with such love in his eyes, and then shifts his attention to you, never forgetting the woman that brought him his joy.

💜holds you. For a long time.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ postpartum + dad headcanons

⤷if you got ppd

💜he knows what it feels like. He’s a total insomniac so he takes care of the baby constantly during the night and often calls robin over to help out during the day.

💜he never bothers you with words, instead he’ll often climb in bed with you and wrap his arms around your torso, and kisses your head. It was quiet, but a thousand ‘I love you’ s were said.

💜gets you in online therapy sessions, twice a week. Helps you out of bed, gets a nice bath, and brushes your hair before leaving you to talk to the therapist alone so you could have some you time to reflect.

💜does little things throughout the day to cheer you up, like getting you your favorite drink / snack, or a little keychain.

💜he helps you, and slowly but surely, you begin to start feeling better :).

⤷general dad hcs

💜plays the little drums Wii game..was that a Wii game?.. I forget. But yk you have different colored drums and you hit them? He cooks your kid.

💜daily walks! Helps him when he gets urges to smoke and gets his daughter out and about. As well as him since he needs socialisation.

💜will never do the thing when you give a kid a not connected controller so they can think they’re playing a video game with you. If your daughter wants to play a video game with him he sets her on his lap, gives her a remote and teaches her.

💜he’s so patient it’s SO HOT ˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶

💜you’ll never see him raising his voice at his daughter. Never.

💜he can properly discipline his kid though. At first he couldn’t because your daughter is just way too good at being cute and getting her way, but then he learned how to say no and look her in the eyes and tell her what she did wrong.

💜lets her pick out her own outfits because we all know he can’t dress her any better.

taglist 🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ -

@mit-suri

Tags ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

[puripurin]

— Recently, well, with in the past 10 years, the government has been trying to integrate humanoid monsters into society. This was because many of these monsters had unique traits that ended up being very beneficial to many people in power, and by integrating them into society, more of these specimens would appear and join government jobs.

So they tried pushing out incentives to integrate into society, such as paying people to live in an apartment building with them. That's where you come in. You have a stable job, but guess who was a pain in your ass?

Your crazy and unprofessional landlord.

She had tried all sorts of stunts to you and the other tenants. On several occasions, she would lock all the tenants out of the building. If any of the bins were overflowing or litter was on the ground, she would raise the bills by random amounts every two weeks, then get mad if you were to call out her bullshit. Nobody wanted to say anything because the last tenants were slapped with an NDA and got threatened by here with a chainsaw.

You couldn't even leave before due to how ridiculously expensive she made it if you were to break the leasing contract. So you had to save up for the past 2 years. Sometimes, you felt like a cartoon character living there with the amount of antics that happened there.

So that's why you immediately took the offer to live with monsters in the building. Plus, it was a really good deal because there were several accommodations and incentives to live there, so you broke off your lease and paid the stupid fees. So finally, you could leave that insane woman's place.

Now you live in Terico Hights, a stress and mad woman free apartment where you live with monstrous neighbors who are literally more humane than your ex-landlord.

And now that you've been here for a couple of months now, you can officially say, you think that your harpy neighbor likes you.

He was one of the original monsters who was assigned to live here and has been living here ever since. His name was Nirico, and his 4 year old disabled daughter, Nira, lives with him. The reason why the mother isn't in the picture is because she literally nearly mauled the poor girl because, apparently, the mother thought that by having a female child, Nirico wouldn't love her anymore and took drastic measures.

You were well acquainted with his child after you were the only one the building who could take care of his child when he was going to get inspected. At first, both him and his daughter were weary of you, but his daughter quickly warmed up once you gave her some mixed nuts.

Nira was absolutely cute, and her scars just made her unique. Over time, you were able to give her kisses on her forehead and brush her hair, which slowly turned into feathers, just like most harpy species, and gently brushing her wing feathers with a toothbrush. Nira absolutely loved doing these things with you and constantly asked her father to join in because it felt really nice.

Nirico was extremely distrustful at first, and when you were alone, threatened you. So you didn't get on the right foot, to say the least. You and him would constantly argue with each other when Nira was around, and the tension between you two was enormous.

That was until one day when you came out of Nira's room after she fell asleep and saw Nirico drinking so much. He was heavily intoxicated and was babbling to you before it once again spiraled into an argument that turned into a heated make-out session, which turned into you both going into his room and fucking like animals.

This turned a switch on in him and started being near your side constantly. It was so obvious that his daughter and neighbors called him out on it, but he didn't care. And he, just like his daughter, wanted to brush your hair and brush his hair and feathers.

When you mention it to your neighbors, they only look at each other with a knowing look before saying congratulations, which left you confused.

Soon enough, those days when Nira wasn't there turned into the times when you'd both go at it like rabbits. After those sessions, he'd give you kisses, clean you up, and brush your hair.

When you try to bring a male co-worker, he'd get aggressive, and you'd have to apologize to him for Nirico's behavior when he eventually leaves. Every time he does this, you'd try to scold him, but he'd always corner you with his arms saying,

"Well, who are you to scold me when you brought a man in my territory. I should be the one scolding and punishing you, my dove."

You really want to know how to get out of this situation, but too bad he'd already marked you as his mate and made your apartment his territory.

And they didn't say that humans and monsters having relationships are illegal, so there should be no fuss, dove.

Idk what to say. 213 followers. I am flabbergasted. I don't know what to say. Oh mah gawd. I have no idea what to do for a special, so give a reccs and i have so much stuff i need to write. I am so grateful that yall enjoy my shit. Thank you! (Ps, nit proofread, also i js wanted a dilf harpy, sorry if the beginning doesn't make any sense mb)

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— his colours —

Warnings: angst, fluff, sad!bucky, liquor consumption

Summary: Bucky might be too late to tell you how he feels.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: ~5.2k

A/N: An idea that popped up in my head and finally broke through the struggle I've been having while writing. Enjoy and feast upon this! Also add yourself to the taglist(s) >here<

Steve narrowed his eyes at the brooding figure in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what exactly was itching in his brain. 

Bucky had always been a charmer, and a damn good one at that. From when he first met Steve’s mother, Sarah, sporting a few bruises and a busted lip, to when he was getting drafted in the war. 

Sarah was a kind woman, but that didn’t mean she trusted easily. With Steve’s father and a few relatives that turned away in their time of need, Sarah fell apart with her own friends and family. Her trust dwindled and started to dim until Steve showed up with Bucky in tow after school. She was weary at first, perhaps thinking that Bucky was no good news, but as the days progressed along with their friendship, she started viewing him as a son. He was around every few days for dinner, bringing a few things that he passed along as extra food the maid had conveniently accidentally brought with her. 

It didn’t take too long for Sarah to put two and two together, but she never said anything to him. Never scolded him for bringing food to their dinner. She knew he did it out of love, not pity or sympathy. He loved Steve as a brother and looked up at Sarah with a boyish grin that made it impossible for her to be mad. 

Steve watched Bucky now, remembering the days when Bucky would simply grab any shirt and pants to wear, grinning as he told Steve about this new dame that had moved into town. He was confident and struck with features that had any woman falling into his arms with just one lopsided smile. A few more grins and some dances later, the woman would offer to leave. Sometimes Bucky would agree with dimples, other times he would politely refuse and say he wanted to do things right. 

Bucky lacked that confidence now, Steve realised, eyebrows rising slightly on his face. It wasn’t evident at first glance. Bucky was steady and graceful, not once faltering in his movements as he knotted his tie. Nor as he shrugged on his blazer. It was when his eyes would flicker over the mirror in front of him. It was obvious when his hand brushed over a spot on his shoulder a few times and fixed his tie to sit straight. Even more so when he fixed the collar of his shirt and then his blazer, only to find his hair sitting slightly off and fixing that instead. 

“You’re nervous,” Steve breathed out, breaking the comfortable silence that they had been in for a few minutes. Bucky paused his actions for a second before seemingly deciding to ignore his comment. Steve watched him pull his shirt sleeves under his blazer, jaw ticking when he caught Steve’s eyes through the mirror. 

“I’m not,” he said simply, as if that ended the conversation. Steve was curious though. Never in his life had he seen Bucky nervous for a social gathering, much less a party that Tony was throwing. After the whole debacle in DC, Bucky had recovered well and fast, thanks to T’Challa’s favour and Shuri’s brains. His memories were hazy at times and he had nightmares—sometimes he had to be restrained by Steve—but that was four years ago. 

Over the past two years, Bucky was able to sleep throughout the night at least four nights in a week. Those night terrors had decreased to about five in the past year or so and his memories had been recovered. He remembered the diner that had been down the block from Steve’s house, the smell of his mother’s cinnamon buns, and the wretched taste of mud and blood in his mouth during the war. His social etiquette returned and Tony started inviting him to parties that Bucky had no problem attending. He was more than happy to indulge women and men in his charms once again. 

“Yes, you are,” Steve deadpanned, sitting up straighter when Bucky shook his head and sighed. His hands came down from his tie that he was adjusting again. He looked at Steve through the mirror before turning around to face him and dropped the hand that had come up to check his hair. 

“What makes you think that?” Bucky asked instead. Steve knew he was deflecting the question, but gave in and nodded at his form. 

“That.” Steve nodded at him again. Bucky frowned and looked down at his clothes, arms going up at his sides. Just as Bucky was about to speak again, Steve cut in. “You’ve been looking at yourself over and over again.” Steve watched Bucky carefully before realization dawned on him. 

“You’re nervous ‘cause she’s going to be there,” he voiced out in a breathless manner. Steve hadn’t even thought of that and he inwardly cursed at himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course, the reason Bucky was nervous was because of the one person who seemed to be able to throw Bucky off his charms. 

Bucky opened his mouth to retaliate, but stopped short when Steve raised an eyebrow at him in challenge. He closed his mouth and averted his eyes as if his eyes would give away the feeling that was smothering him slowly. He licked his lips, turning his attention to a lint that had stuck onto his pants. His hands were sweaty, but he kept them steady as he picked at the lint and smoothed out the wrinkle at his chest. His nerves were acting up today, for this party, simply because you were coming back from Greece. 

“She hasn’t been here in two years,” Bucky finally said, sighing as he brought his eyes back up to meet Steve’s gentle gaze. His shoulders fell with an exhale, trying to calm his thudding heart and roaring ears. “She hasn’t seen me since—since I was still recovering.” When Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, Bucky knew he didn’t understand what he meant. 

“But you guys kept in contact the entire time,” Steve mumbled, grabbing his shoes to put them on and keeping his head down. It gave Bucky a chance to turn around without the annoying glare Steve would send his way for trying to cut the conversation off. 

Bucky did keep in contact with you when he could. He had texted you everyday for the first three months and sent daily reminders to eat because he knew you would forget while working. The texts had abruptly stopped from his end when he was called away on a SHIELD stealth mission. That meant he had called you the second he was able to, throwing off his shoes and tossing his duffel bag away, he called you. You didn’t pick up. He called again and again, but then registered that you were probably asleep. 

He went through your texts, ranging from the top ones of concern to the bottom ones of realization to the last few that varied from your daily tasks. His heart had never felt heavier. The suffocating feeling lingered on his shoulders as he forced himself to lay down. He just couldn’t let go of his phone or turn his head off. He kept his phone on his chest, hair dampening the pillow as he laid awake staring at the ceiling. He kept wishing you called back, but you didn’t. He texted you in the morning with heavy eyes, drooping shut every now and then. 

You responded and he started texting like usual, only this time it was rare for you to reply in the same day. His social battery lowered and he usually found himself in the corner with a drink or leaving early with a quick excuse. He never asked why the texts had been reduced. He was too scared of getting an answer his heart couldn’t handle. His heart already ached with each passing day you two spent apart, not knowing how you were doing. He wouldn’t be able to text you if you told him that you had met someone and were busy with them. 

He was a coward. A coward for not telling how he felt when you left. 

You were the only one that didn’t tip-toe around him and treat him like he was made of porcelain. You were gentle, but that didn’t stop you from telling him exactly what you thought. You respected his boundaries that had been set quietly. You didn’t touch him before telling him and asking if it was okay, but you also told him that he should get used to people not asking before touching as well. You kept your distance from his left side if you two walked together, knowing very well he still wasn’t over the murder and torture it had executed.

It was easy to fall for you. You made it so easy for him to stumble, trip, and fall in. 

“Buck?” Steve’s voice was tinged with concern and worry, a small crack seeping through the vowel. Bucky’s eyes flickered up, hands unconsciously sliding down his front to smoothen out his shirt again. 

Bucky swallowed. “Yeah, we did.” His throat burned with the white lie. You two had stopped texting each other three weeks ago with a simple ‘goodnight’ from the both of you. 

Steve stood up, his light blue blazer and pants with the white shirt made the green flecks in his eyes pop and the blue seem darker. Steve looked over at him once, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought as his eyes swiped over his outfit. From the black loafers to the midnight blue pants to the matching blazer and black shirt to the silver tie he had worn. In a few seconds, Bucky watched Steve’s confused face morph into one of amusement. 

“You wore her colours,” he declared with an annoyingly smug grin. He fixed his cuffs as he stared at Bucky who cleared his throat at the accusation. 

Bucky felt his cheeks warm with the obvious choice. It was unintentional at first, picking out the silver tie and blue blazer, but Bucky had realized soon enough that they were your signature colours. He was looking for your colours when he shopped. He had stopped and picked out a few blazers in different styles and some with patterns, but they had all been a dark blue colour. His ties at the last few events had some incoherent swirls of silver. His hair had been swept to the side since you had complimented it styles like that. 

Bucky ignored Steve’s expression and gruffed out, “We should go.” Steve somehow agreed and started for the door, but stopped short with his hand on the knob. 

“You should tell her how you feel tonight,” Steve said gently before twisting the knob and stepping into the hallway. Bucky could hear the loud metal music blasting through the Compound then, his door wide open as Steve made his way down the hall towards what Tony liked to call the party room. Bucky swallowed thickly, the burning feeling back in his throat, and followed Steve down the hall. 

Steve stopped in front of the doors with a wicked grin. “Thor brought his Asgardian liquor,” he told him, emitting an easy grin from Bucky. That was a good thing, Bucky thought. If he had to face you tonight, talk to you maybe, he wouldn’t be able to do it sober. 

Steve pushed open the doors and spread out his arms to announce his arrival. Bucky rolled his eyes and pushed past him, straight to the bar where Natasha was standing with Clint while Thor made drinks. With the heavy music now over, a pop song that he had heard once or twice before playing, he could hear the clinks of glasses and chatters humming in the air. The dance floor was bustling with SHIELD agents that had been invited as per Tony’s request. He didn’t know all of them, but he could recognise a few as he walked by. 

“Ah, Bucky!” Clint greeted, patting him on the back and drawing him nearer. His hand was wrapped around a bottle of vodka that Bucky was sure was Natasha’s favourite. It was the strongest stuff in the bar—other than the Asgardian liquor, of course. “Settle a debate for us, will ya?” Bucky inwardly grimaced at the smell of vodka on his breath and slightly pulled back. 

“What’s it?” Bucky asked, looking between the three of them with a grin. He leaned against the bar island just as Thor came over with Asgardian liquor. He dropped a small pail of ice near him and nodded at it. Bucky nodded back his thanks. 

“How long that guy’ll last here,” Clint said with a loopy grin. He took a swing out of the bottle, looking over at Natasha with a wag of his eyebrows. “I say two weeks before he runs.” Bucky took a sip of his drink, eyebrows furrowing and eyes darting to Natasha for answers. Clint was clearly teetering on the brink of tipsy and drunk, slurring his words together. Natasha was perched on the stool with a sober expression on her face while her eyes were fixed on Bucky. 

“Wait,” Bucky breathed out with a light chuckle, “who are we talkin’ about?” He pushed off the island and looked at Natasha expectantly. The pop music had turned into slow, smooth jazz-type of music that was almost sensual. Natasha leaned forward, towards Bucky as if she was going to share a secret. To his surprise and confusion, Natasha’s eyes softened with something close to pity. 

“Y/N’s boyfriend, Sohan,” she whispered, her emerald eyes flickering towards the dance floor. 

Bucky’s eyes followed her eyesight, painfully slowly, to the dance floor where you danced with Sohan. He was a dark-haired and dark-eyed man with lightly tanned skin. The blood rushed to his ears, heart thudding violently in his ears as he watched Sohan lean in towards you. He looked away before your lips made contact. He felt as if someone had dumped that pail of ice down his back. A shiver licked up his spine and he downed his drink, eyes and throat burning with the harsh liquor. 

“So, what d’you think, Buckaroo?” Clint asked and leaned forward to lay on the island, oblivious to the feelings coursing through Bucky. 

Bucky slammed his glass down loudly enough to grab Thor’s attention. “Get me the whole bottle, please,” he gritted out angrily. Thor looked uncomfortable with the glance Natasha sent him, but he gave over one of the few bottles he had brought with the scowl setting onto Bucky’s face.

 Bucky swiped the bottle off the table and popped open the cork. He put it to his mouth and looked over his shoulder to see you speaking into Sohan’s ear. His eyes quickly drank you in. The black dress you wore had a corset that clung to your torso and accentuated your curves. The tulle flared out slightly and the fabric underneath it was decorated with delicate gold accents. 

They were his colours. 

He spun around and chugged faster, ignoring the look Thor was giving Natasha. 

“Two hours,” Bucky muttered out and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His throat felt like it was on fire. Somewhere, in the more logical side of his brain, he knew he shouldn’t drink so fast. Thor’s eyebrows pinched in concern when he saw the half empty bottle. 

“Bucky, I think that—” Thor cut himself off at the withering glare Bucky sent his way. Before Bucky had a chance to feel guilty about his behaviour, Thor turned away with a small smile to attend to another attendee. 

Bucky bitterly reminded himself that he had no reason to be angry at anyone, but himself. The slow songs changed into heavy rock again, Tony’s enthusiastic voice echoing amongst the drums and guitars. He brought up his hand to run it through his hair, shaking with emotions he couldn’t place. It wasn’t pure anger or jealousy. Heartbreak perhaps. He took another large gulp and felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. 

He looked over, a scowl on his face and intentions to tell the person to fuck off, but the words died on his lips when he saw your face. 

Your lips were painted a deep red and stretched out into a gentle smile. Your hair tumbled down in soft curls that made him want to hide his face in it. A smither of glitter on your nose and peaks of your cheekbones highlight your face, contrasting it from the smokey eyeshadow and black eyeliner coating your eyes. He hadn’t noticed the sheer fabric that covered your stomach, showing off skin when the light hit it just right.The urge to spin you around, kiss your cheeks, lips, neck, was strong. He held back. 

He could tell you put effort into your makeup so he grinned through his heartbreak and said, “Don’t you look like something outta a fairytale?” He wasn’t sure if you would fall into the category of pretty princesses or of attractive villains. His thoughts were muddled, even more so with the liquor starting to take effect. He would regret drinking so much in the morning. If he made it through the night, at least. 

“Thank you, Buck,” you said with a grin. He couldn’t just call it a grin though, not when it set every fiber of his body on fire. His head spun when you let your eyes glide over his body through hooded lids. “You look handsome, too.” 

Your fingers delicately pressed into his shoulder before sliding towards his neck to adjust his collar and then his ties. He could feel your hand burn through his shirt, branding his skin with your print, resting it just over his heart. He could have sworn he felt an electric shock course through his veins when you patted his chest. When you grinned, the teasing one that you sent him during boring meetings, he felt his shoulders relax from their tense state. He grinned back automatically, forgetting about his breaking heart and the man you were here with when you were looking at him just like you looked at him before. 

“How are you?” You asked, pulling away and waving to Thor. You acted as if nothing was wrong. As if he was the only one who felt the heat of tension and urges of desire, laced with sweetness. He still tasted the bitter remnants of the Asgardian liquor on his tongue, hoping you wouldn’t be able to smell it. 

“Good,” he replied simply. There was no need to tell you how much he had changed. You didn’t need to know that his sleep was nonexistent when you didn’t text back. His attitude, his recovery, his emotions that had grown, those were all hidden on the tip of his lying tongue. He was not okay, but you didn’t need to know that. 

“I’m glad, Bucky.” Your hand landed on his forearm to squeeze it lightly. Thor placed two drinks in front of you with a wink, glasses clinking on the marble as he slid them towards you. You smiled at him, a little dimmer than the one you sent Bucky right after. “Wanna meet Sohan? He’s really sweet.” 

He wanted to say no. “Sure, darlin’.” There was no way he could say no to you when you looked so endearingly adorable. Lips pulling wider a bit and eyes lighting up with relief, you looked around the crowd. You gestured to Sohan to come over when you saw him. He excused himself from Tony and sauntered over to you with a grin Bucky knew meant he was cocky. 

Bucky’s gut dropped. 

“Hey, princess,” Sohan started and patted your lower back in greeting. He nodded his head at Bucky with a slightly smaller smile, one that held a linger of smirk. “You must be the famous Bucky Barnes.” He extended a hand towards him. 

Bucky refrained from cringing and gripped his hand. It was a little tighter than he usually would have held someone’s hand, but he was sure it wouldn’t hurt. He didn’t notice that it was his metal hand until Sohan’s eyes widened. 

“Fuck!” Sohan whipped his hand back with a howl, holding it to his chest. You were by his side immediately, hands on his bicep and face, gently prying his hand away from his chest to inspect it. No marks or bruises appeared, no broken bones were heard cracked. Yet your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, seeking out any hurting places with the tips of your finger pressing in. 

Bucky watched with a stoic face, knowing that he hadn’t pressed in too hard. It was for show. He could see the way Sohan’s eyes quickly darted over you in admiration, brown eyes twinkling. He could feel Natasha’s eyes on him and, out of the corner of his eye, saw her exchange a glance with Thor. Steve had appeared sometime before for a drink, now standing beside Bucky with his chest puffed out and ready to defend, no doubt. Once you were done checking his hand, you pulled away with a small smile on your lips, looking at Bucky. 

“He’s all good,” you said simply, grabbing your drink and taking a sip. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat, tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. His hand gripped the neck of his bottle a little tighter when Sohan opened his mouth. 

“Could be more careful with that death trap,” he muttered bitterly, sending a glance over Bucky’s shoulder and looking at Steve once. Bucky scowled at Sohan. Before Steve or Natasha could say anything to defend Bucky, you turned to Sohan with a glare. 

“Say anything to him and you’re done interning for me,” you bit out through gritted teeth. Bucky’s eyes flickered to you in surprise. 

Interning. He was a fucking intern. Not your goddamn boyfriend. 

He slammed his bottle once on the counter and turned to Natasha with a newly found emotion of betrayal and anger, ignoring the other four pairs of eyes on him. Those glances she gave Thor when he heard her tell Bucky that Sohan was your boyfriend suddenly made sense. It clicked in his head that it was her plan. Natasha fucking Romanoff wanted him to feel his heart break. He didn’t know why just yet, but he was going to find out sooner or later. Whether it be a calm conversation on comfortable sofas or a quick spar on the mat to beat it out of her—she never took the easy way out anyway. 

Your hand wrapped around his hand on the bottle, gently pulling his fingers off of its neck and intertwining your hands together. Your other hand came to cup his chin, tenderly pressing your palm into his cheek and forcing him to face you. When he didn’t budge, glowering at Natasha with a murderous fire in his eyes, he felt your body heat envelop him in its embrace. Your lips brushed over his earlobe, a shudder running through his body at the contact and a shaky exhale making its escape from his lips. 

“Let’s go to our spot, yeah?” You whispered into his ear. Your breath was hot and cool at the same time. He absentmindedly nodded and let your hand guide him out of his chair and out of the room, leaving behind a gaping Sohan. He would beat the reasons out of Natasha tomorrow or the day after, depending on what happens with you. 

You reached the doors to the balcony and pushed them open to be hit with the cool night air, the smell of summer in the air. You sighed lovingly and dragged him along to the edge of it, looking over the trees and the landscape of the city in the distance. The crescent moon and stars twinkled overhead, disappearing the closer they got to the city lighting. He watched you close your eyes and breath in the scent of leaves and plants before looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

He shook his head and muttered out, “Nothing.” Your face pinched in pain at his response. You let go of his hand and gripped the railing, turning your face away from him. He felt a stab under his rib. “Y/N?” He placed his hand—his metal hand—over yours, inflicting a mild squeeze in hopes of providing some solace. He wasn’t ready for you to turn back to him with unshed tears in your eyes. Another stab-like feeling ensued in his chest.

“Who is she?” You raised a hand to wipe your tears away, carefully so you didn’t smudge eyeliner and mascara, before they fell. You averted your eyes once again, looking down below at the parking lot. His blazer crinkled and his loafers skid as he turned to lean his side on the railing. He tilted his head down, placing his warm hand under your chin and tipped your head back slightly so that he could meet your gaze. 

Eyebrows furrowing, he asked, “What?” He had had half a bottle of Asgardian liquor in under five minutes and he was starting to feel it start to hit him, but he was sure it hadn’t muddled his mind that much. Not to the point where he forgot someone. 

“The woman you’re in love with,” you mumbled out slowly. Bucky blinked once and then again, eyebrows now furrowing further in together. His lips curled down in a frown, hands coming down and seizing yours. You shifted to mimic his position, letting him lace your fingers together. 

“Come again?” His voice was low and rough, more puzzle pieces joining together the more he racked his gears. He stepped closer to you, the skirt of your dress brushing his pants. His hands itched to touch your waist, your hips, and feel your skin through the opaque fabric covering you. He wanted to pull you close, wrap his arms around you, kiss your neck, but he could control those urges right now. 

“Natasha said you were in love with someone,” you mumbled, eyes dropping to his tie. Of course, Natasha was involved somehow. “Steve said you had been for a while when I asked him.” Bucky wanted to groan in frustration. Steve probably told you that because he had been in love with you for years now. A long while. Bucky had loved you for a long time, but never had he had the courage to say it out loud. 

You slid your hands out of his grasp and fixed his tie. He gave in to one of his urges and placed his hands on your hips, being respectful of where his hands were placed. He didn’t want to read this wrong. Your tears and the questions you asked, even the way you ghosted him three weeks ago, made sense. His senses were working well enough for him to know what you were feeling. He felt his lips tug into a smirk, a little mischief seeking through his demeanor and into the sober moment you two were having. 

“I do love her,” he whispered and gripped your hips a bit tighter each time he spoke. “I’ve loved her for a while. A long time. Ever since I met her. She’s so incredible and kind and gentle, but she doesn’t take any shit from me.” 

He thought back to the few times you broke the news of his past, affirming that those things weren't and were never going to be his fault. He took a step closer to you, loafers disappearing into your tulle skirt. Your heels bumped his shoes, breath hitching at the closing proximity. One of his hands slipped behind to your lower back, index finger drawing slow and deliberate swirls on you. Your hands shook as you raised them to his face, thumb caressing his cheekbones and fingers lightly tracing his jaw. 

“She’ll tell me it exactly how it is and she knows exactly what I need. She’s funny and her laugh makes me want to keep making her laugh.”

His eyes darted down to your lips, remembering the giggles that had left your lips for every sarcastic comment he had passed during any boring meetings. How he had mourned the loss of your laughter when you had left for Greece. His tongue licked his lips as he watched your lips curl upwards. He raised his eyes to meet your teary gaze. This time he knew it was a good thing. His heart soared into his throat. 

“She loves my friends like her family, she saves people with her talents, and she cares for me.” His hands cupped your face and he leaned down closer to you. “Her name is Y/N and I love her with every breath I take.” 

“You do?” You choked out, an airy chuckle escaping your lips. 

Bucky nodded and whispered, “Yeah, I love you, Y/N. I love you, darlin’, so much.” His lips landed on your forehead, mumbling promises and some more declarations of love against your skin. 

You pulled away from him, eyes twinkling with tears and happiness. “I love you, too, Bucky.” Bucky’s shoulders fell with his next deep exhale, thumbs swiping over your cheeks and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. He saw your eyes flicker down to his lips twice and he absentmindedly ran his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“You’re drunk,” you managed to whisper against the pad of his thumb. He pulled back a little, letting go of your face and placing his hands on your hips. He knew you weren’t rejecting him—just conscious of the fact that he had had a bottle in his hand, halfway empty. He spun you two around a bit to have your back against the railing. 

“Doesn’t matter. ‘A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts’,” he mumbled, shrugging. He let go of your hips. He was giving you a way out of this if you wanted it, taking half a step back. You took a second to think about it. 

He was about to tell you that it was okay if you wanted to go back in and talk about this tomorrow—after he beat Natasha in a spar—when you moved. Your hands brought his head down and your lips connected with his. He groaned at the contact, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close and leave no inch of space between your bodies. He heard the little noises you let out, moaning and whimpering into the kiss. Those little sounds of his made his head spin and his body heat with desire. He picked you up, arms wrapped just under your ass. Tilting back and stepping backwards, his back hit the wall near the door. 

Only then did you two pull away, chests heaving and breaths mingling together. 

“You wore my colours,” you breathed out. 

“You wore mine,” he said huskily, two fingers tracing the ribbons that tied your corset together.

———

Taglist: @pinkposttragedy @gen-genevieve

[acphengene]

Dream a little dream

₊ ⁺ pairing: Heeseung x reader, Jay x reader, Jake x reader, Sunghoon x reader

₊ ⁺ word count: 1419

₊ ⁺ genre: fluff, angst, heartbreak, loneliness

₊ ⁺ note: this can be read as if the mmc is any member of any group really, i personally feel like it’s very enha hyungline coded.

₊ ⁺ masterlist

You stood there in a kitchen surrounded by people laughing, talking and having fun. It felt like being surrounded by family, even though you couldn’t quite place why that was, because none of these people's faces seemed like those of people you knew.

Or that was at least until you spotted him, you knew exactly who he was but he looked right through you. His eyes never met yours and it broke your heart.

You knew you deserved it. You had not treated him well. You had broken his heart and never thought of him again. But being so close to him was torture, and you suddenly couldn’t remember why you could ever let him go.

He walked towards you, and said a small: “excuse me” as he passed. It was like he was deliberately trying not to touch you, as if he would burst into flames if he did.

Your body had reacted before your mind had a chance to stop it, and you reached out and grabbed his hand.

The mere skin to skin contact was enough for both of your breaths to hitch. He towered over you, his dark hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed. But it had always been your favorite look on him. After all, the two of you had spent most of your time together there.

You could see how he desperately tried to blink away the tears that his eyes threatened to spill.

“Y/N…” he said. But it was nothing more than a whisper, and you were confident that no one else had heard him.

You took his other hand in yours, and saw how he shut his eyes closed, with a pained expression on his face. How did I ever let him go? You thought to yourself.

You guided his arms around your waist, and forced him to hold you in his arms.

“Oh god, please don’t…” He said, this time a little louder, but still not loud enough for people to notice what was going on between the two of you.

“I’m so sorry” You whispered, and the pained expression were quickly traded in for one of surprice. “I’m so so sorry, I should’ve never left you”

You were close to him now, and could basically feel the frantic beating of his heart.

“Do-don’t say things you might regret” he answered as his eyes searched yours for the slightest hint of deception.

You just shook your head. “It has always been you, I’ve just been too stupid to notice it before now”

“Are you sure?” His arms were now holding you on their own. You had forgotten how safe he had always felt. He felt like home.

“I’m sure” you said and raised your hand to his cheek. He instantly leaned into you as he released a breath.

You couldn’t help yourself, and before you knew it your lips were crashed into his, and your hands were in his hair as he himself pulled you closer to him.

As you finally came up for air, the two of you could do nothing else but stare at one another and laugh at this whole situation.

God you had missed that sound. You had missed that familiar spark in his eyes whenever he looked at you.

“Promise me you wont leave me like that ever again”

“I promise”

He gave you a peck and sent a smirk your way. “Good”

Before you knew it, you were sitting next to him on a couch in the living room, one of his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

“God I can't believe you’re the one” A girl said as she looked at the two of you. “My brother and my best friend… You could’ve told me, you know?”

“Honestly? I had no idea he was your brother, we just met and hit it off I guess” You looked up at him, and he couldn’t help but smile before he placed a rather long kiss on your forehead.

She shook her head. “He told me about you, you know. The gorgeous woman who worked in STEM that broke his heart… It’s not something that really happens to him”

It was more a statement than anything else. She wanted you to know that you had hurt him.

You could do nothing but nod.

“I know… Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean too?”

She shrugged.

“Calm down sis, everything is okay now. I got her back and that makes me happy, so just, let me enjoy this. Okay?”

“Okay”

The conversation continued, and as the day became night, the two of you got more and more entangled in each other.

You spent most of your days together there. You met his parents and were introduced as his girlfriend. At no point did you regret taking his hand that day, in fact you’d fallen more and more in love with him for every day that passed.

He spoiled you with food, flowers and gifts. You spend the days waking up to him and his ruffled hair that you loved so much.

And as time went he had opened more and more up to you. He was an influencer, and you’d never expect to be with someone in that profession and enjoying it.

He kept you somewhat secret from the world, the two of you had decided that it would be best to stay in your bubble for a little while longer. But you helped him with his content, and as time went on he shared more and more of your lives together.

He shared datenights, and how he was typically seated between your legs as he played playstation and you read a book.

You were one soul, separated into two people, who had finally found each other. And those around you thought you were a little too smitten with one another, and they kept warning you that people usually had to burst that ‘new romance bubble’ at one point.

But somehow it just never happened for the two of you. You could talk about your day to day life, lay in silence and just study each other's faces, you could cry as you opened up about past traumas, and you made love whenever you felt like it. It was perfect, the two of you together were perfect.

At one point you were filming out on the terrace of his parents house. Sun going down behind him, and him wearing nothing but shorts and sneakers. He looked beautiful in that golden light.

He waved at you, and you waved back. Revealing nothing but your manicured hand to his viewers.

“You look beautiful darling” He said and sent a smile your way and your only response was to laugh.

And then you felt it. You weren’t one to pass out, and it didn’t feel like you were about to. But something changed in that exact moment, and you couldn’t quite figure out why. And when you would, it would already be too late.

He saw how your smile dropped in an instant, how your eyes panicked and instantly found his.

“Y/N…?” You could hear the desperation in his voice.

“Promise me you’ll find me out there” It was all you could muster to get out, it was all you said before you saw him running towards you. And then everything went black.

When you woke up, the darkness were still surrounding you. You were just laying there eyes closed for a few minutes as you tried your best to recall his features. But all you remembered were the hair, the hands and the feeling of him. The rest of him were a blur. You couldn’t even remember his name.

You found your phone in the bed. 06:45 it read.

It felt like you had lost someone precious, it felt like you had lost your heart, and in its stead were now a black hole filled with nothing but emptiness and pain.

You had no idea how to get started with this day, it felt like you should stay home and mourn the loss of him.

Maybe he remembers, maybe he will find me out here… you thought.

But how could he? He was after all only a figment of your imagination, he was after all only a character in your dream. But he felt real, and you could do nothing but hope that someone would ever love you as much and as unconditionally as he had.

bonus note: yes i’m definitely trying to distract you from the fact that Niki’s story is still on the way - don’t judge okay, i just really wanna do him justice.

also, i’m thinking of starting a over all tag list for all my work so in case you wanna be added to that please let me know

[ikeuverse]

marriage ring | pjs

pairing: husband!jay x fem!reader genres: fluff, angst, slight suggestive wc: 4.3k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : mention of alcohol, partying and arguing. some swearing and implied mentions of having sex, but nothing detailed.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : you and your sister-in-law decide to throw a party to remember the old university days when you two threw the best parties on campus. everything would be perfect if it weren't for the incident of forgetting your wedding ring, and a totally pissed-off husband when one of the ex-students – who used to be the gallant – notices the missing jewel on your finger.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : as the winner of the vote, our beloved husband jay is here. i had this idea on a random day at work, with an almost similar situation with a colleague that works with me. i readapted and thought especially for this scenario. i was so nervous about writing to jay that i tried this four times until this final story came out. so, please, give lots of love. and i hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 masterlist ꒱

Your eyes roamed the entire place before they landed on Jay. A playful smile painted the boy's lips as he slowly approached you. As soon as one of his hands touched your waist, automatically your hand wrapped around his neck and let him brush his lips against yours.

"Enjoying the party?" he whispered against your lips before kissing them slowly, pulling away soon after.

"I guess Jiwoo could pick a better theme, huh?" you commented with a laugh, receiving another kiss from Jay.

Truth be told, you knew that your best friend and sister-in-law had always owned the best parties since your university days. Not least because you helped her prepare everything, so you knew how it always worked. But after two years of graduation, it never crossed your mind that she would throw a university-themed party.

"To remember the old times" you remember her saying when she called you to her house, bombarding you with information and asking for your help with the preparations. Just like in the old days.

You just laughed, because it was impossible to deny Park Jiwoo anything. Especially if she asked her fiancé, Heeseung, for help. He was a talker when he wanted to be and you knew him well, so having two talkers ask you for help was even more impossible to deny.

"Why a better subject? I think she chose well" Jay shrugged, balancing the cup in one hand while the other remained on your waist "Reminds you of old times."

"And you like it?" you asked curiously, Jay shrugged and lightly squeezed the fingers against your skin.

"I love it" he emphasized, leaning toward you after taking a sip of his drink. His lips were cold from the freshly consumed liquid, and you fought the urge to whimper when he kissed you once more. The hot breath tasted of vodka and some citrus fruit that you couldn't even identify, only feel the warmth of Jay's tongue fighting for dominance against yours. Before your lungs could clamor for air, he broke away, letting his forehead rest against yours.

"And give me one good reason why" you whispered, even though you knew he would hear over all that loud music because of the closeness of the two of you.

"Hm, let me see" he pretended to think for a moment, you laughed at his theatrics and Jay looked deep into your bright eyes "Because I met the woman of my life, who I married. Can you believe it?"

Your cheeks slowly began to burn, and you knew it wasn't from the alcohol because your glass had run out minutes before Jay arrived. And it couldn't have been just from a shared kiss with your husband, so you knew you were getting flushed.

Jay had that effect on you even after years of relationship, and even now, married.

"What a lucky woman" you said a little louder, kissing him again. Before you felt Jay's body quickly separate from you.

"Sorry about that, y/n. We need Jay now" Heeseung hummed, under protests from Jay for having to pull away from you.

"It's our beer pong, y/n. Just like old times" Jungwon smiled in your direction as he explained why they had taken Jay away. You laughed at your husband's little desperation, even though you did not object to staying.

"Now, it's just the two of us" Jiwoo came in surprise, hugging you by the shoulders "Just like old times, and forever and ever."

"Forever and ever" you smiled at her, hugging her back as you looked at the party around you.

Everything did look so nostalgic. From the decorations you helped Jiwoo buy, to even some of the familiar faces at the party. Your best friend made sure to think of everything, posting it online on the alumni wall of the university you attended for so many years. No sane person who knew the two of you would not be able to attend a party planned by the duo. So practically everyone who has ever had the pleasure of enjoying something prepared by you and her was there.

People greeted you as if you were still the little celebrities on campus, even if you didn't feel that way in the first place. Jiwoo was the little celebrity. Because he was part of the university media and had a super-cute, hot brother that practically every girl wanted. This last part always bothered you, but you started to think this way after Jay met you.

The wave of memories hit you, remembering exactly the day Jiwoo told you about his older brother and how horrible it was to have so many girls approaching her with an interest in him. You felt bad for her, and at the same time, you didn't believe her. Who would be so crazy about a person that they would approach someone out of interest? But once you got to know Jay, maybe you understood girls at least a little bit. Not that you did, because you were friends with Jiwoo even before you met Jay.

And that was the reason why the coming together of the two of you was so natural and even more approved by your sister and best friend. Because she knew that you were the only one not to do what almost all the girls on that campus tried to do.

You fell in love with Jay little by little, just as he fell in love with you until everything became love. Until your relationship stretched on for years and soon you both stood in front of the altar whispering yes as you exchanged rings.

That small object symbolically united the love you had for each other since the first day you met. With that you sighed heavily, your eyes glittering as you stared at Jiwoo at the present moment and your friend glared back at you.

"What? Are you emotional?"

"Yes" your breathing became a little shaky, so you had to take a deep breath to keep from crying "I was remembering us from the time we met."

"Really?" Jiwoo whined, now thinking of the day she saw you in the library cursing the old computer that wouldn't turn on at all. She ran to you and offered to help, handing you her laptop to finish a paper in your first semester. And that never separated you again.

"Yes, I swear" you squeezed her gently.

"I love you so much, best friend and sister-in-law in the world" Jiwoo dramatically threw his arms up in the air, then brought them back down only to hug you tightly. You laughed, returning her hug before you felt your best friend's hands slide down to your hands "Thank you for staying."

"I thank you for staying here" the drink was helping the little statements and you both just enjoyed it.

But before you could say anything else, Jiwoo's eyes widened when she ran her fingers through yours, her hands still together with both of yours.

"What?" you were startled by her expression, staring at her.

"Where's your wedding ring? You and Jay—"

Your eyes ran down to your fingers to see that your marriage ring wasn't there. A crushing tightness took over your chest and you could swear your vision blurred for a few seconds before you looked at Jiwoo again.

"Shit, I left it at home" both you and her eyes widened. Something seemed so simple, forgetting a marriage ring. But not a marriage ring that you knew Jay had worked so hard to buy and almost walked down the aisle with as he said a few words and put the ring on your finger.

"Now what?" before you could answer Jiwoo, your eyes quickly found Jay walking towards the two of you with the other boys this time.

"I managed to find you, ladies" he said cheerfully, looking at you and then at his own sister.

"How was the game?" Jiwoo asked, feeling the weight of Jay's arms on her shoulders.

"I had some weird juice that Jungwon made before we played" he grimaced as he remembered the taste, being followed by Heeseung's laughter.

"It wasn't as bad as Sunghoon" he laughed at the memory, really laughed "He drank pure vinegar."

Ew, you and Jiwoo hissed as they laughed at the poor guy who should be recovering from what happened.

"And you ladies, don't you want anything to drink?" Heeseung asked.

"We…" your gaze sought Jiwoo's quickly, trying to recover from the small shock of minutes ago. The boys, although consuming alcohol throughout the night, could tell that the two of you were hiding something.

"Hey Jay, I think we got in the middle of some important business" Heeseung hummed.

"Yeah, how about you two share with us?" he feigned innocence in his question, causing Jiwoo to snort at her brother and then at her fiancé, rolling her eyes afterward.

"You two are such busybodies, you know that?" she walked past them until she reached you, entwining her arm in yours "Me and y/n are going to go out and walk around a bit. Have fun."

She pulled you along even though she heard the two of them calling your names, but you both ignored it. Maybe walking around the place and even playing small talk with some familiar faces might get one of the two to think of some excuse in case Jay and Heeseung ran into them again.

"We just need to keep this out of your brother's eyes" you commented after they reached the kitchen, making sure that neither of them would be walking by anytime soon.

"I think Jay would freak out if he saw you without a marriage ring" she laughed, but felt bad after she met your worried eyes "Ok, sorry. We'll figure something out or not even touch the subject until you two get home."

You thanked her with a small nod, looking around the counter and searching for a clean glass. That scene repeated itself at almost every party, you and Jiwoo standing in the kitchen looking for something to drink while she told you some shocking subject and your gaze dribbled between your friend and the glasses on the counter to grab one and fill it up with booze. The thought made you laugh and she laughed along with you, even though she didn't know why.

And at that, Jiwoo got two glasses to fill them with something a little stronger than your previous drink. You wanted the same, so you didn't even dare to look for something else, just letting her prepare it while your hands played with the marble of the countertop.

"Jiwoo? Y/n?" the voice called out with such surprise that you both turned your necks at the same instant to the door of the room.

Your jaw dropped slightly in surprise when you found Ryan there. He was a nice guy from university, flirted with you both all the time, and even teased Heeseung and Jay once, pretending not to know that you two were engaged.

This resulted in Jay swearing at the boy and Heeseung almost punching him in the face if not for Sunghoon and Jake having to hold him down in the middle of the soccer field. After that Ryan didn't come any closer, at Sunghoon's request because he didn't want a heavy look on his team and much less at some future party that always took place every two weeks.

Now the boy was standing there, right in front of the two of you with a playful smile on his lips.

"Hey, Ryan. Back to nostalgia?" Jiwoo asked nonchalantly, finishing filling her glass and then finally handing over your own.

"I guess so" he moved closer to the counter, standing on the opposite side from where you two were standing. Maybe that distance was a little safer "The party of you two always being amazing. Even after university."

You two decided to agree, getting into whatever subject it was. And talking with Ryan suddenly seemed nice. Because he hadn't flirted, much less made the atmosphere as uncomfortable as it used to be. You and Jiwoo had completely forgotten that your partners had once almost hit the boy who was talking animatedly right in front of you.

"So" Ryan said after a while talking about his trip to Europe and how his current job was going "How are you and Heeseung doing?" he looked at Jiwoo. The passionate smile she gave him already gave everything away.

"We're doing so well" she sighed softly "Being engaged is wonderful, I can't wait to do the same as my brother."

And then she looked at you. Eyes shining in admiration and you smiled, taking the glass with the drink to your lips and taking a sip. Trying not to look so embarrassed because quickly the subject had turned to you.

"Uh, are you and Jay okay? I mean… The wedding…" Ryan said.

"Yeah, we're perfect" you placed your glass on the countertop, he narrowed his eyes at your words and leaned in a little. But you hadn't whispered anything after that.

"Then why don't I see a marriage ring on your finger?"

A brief moment of silence was interrupted by a loud gasp. Your gaze traced the figure of Jay standing right in the kitchen doorway. He had his jaw locked and sharp, looking crookedly at Ryan as he entered the kitchen.

"Jay" the boy greeted, but got no response more than a nod at him.

"Am I getting in the way of something?" he asked, you could feel the fury in his tone.

"No, we…" Jiwoo looked at you, searching for help to continue speaking.

"We were just leaving. We just came to get a drink, come on" you took Jay's hand and quickly ran from there. Without managing to say goodbye to Ryan, much less lookback. You also didn't know if Jiwoo was following you, but you knew that Jay had incredible strength when he pulled your hand and made you stop walking right in the middle of the hallway where you two were going.

The meeting of your body with his made Jay's face close to yours. The hard look and serious countenance still lingered on his face.

"I—" you began, but he interrupted you in the process.

"He doesn't see a marriage ring on your finger" Jay began and you knew he had heard everything. You were screwed "Why, y/n? Where's the fucking ring we shared?"

"Jay… Love…" you wanted to explain as smoothly as possible, but you knew it wouldn't work at that moment. So you just tried to smile as the words slid from your lips slowly at that moment "I ended up leaving at home—"

"Oh, right" Jay didn't let you finish, letting go of your body and taking a few steps away from you. Your brow furrowed as he reached for his own marriage ring and pulled it off his finger, putting it away in his pocket soon after "I forgot it tonight too. Enjoy the party, y/n."

And just as quickly as Jay reached you, he hurried away. You didn't know what had gotten into your husband to make him do that, but it had certainly made your blood boil, and consequently, your vision was blurred by the angry tears that threatened to fall.

You tried your best not to let the tears fall, but you faltered the moment you found Jiwoo at the party again. She knew something had happened as soon as she saw you stunned, seconds after seeing Jay walk through the door and out of the house without speaking to anyone.

"I don't want to hear it, just cry" she whispered as she hugged you, walking out with you from the crowd that didn't even seem to care about the two of you there. Too absorbed in dancing and drinking to pay attention to someone crying so late at night.

So you let her walk you to the bathroom, sobbing on your shoulder and telling you what had happened. Jiwoo cursed at Jay for what seemed like hours, but you knew it had only been a few minutes to get you to stop crying and listen to her carefully.

"I also fought with Heeseung because he saw Ryan at the party" she said after you had been quiet for a while, stroking your hair and encouraging you to look in the mirror to fix your newly smudged makeup.

"I don't know what made your brother do that" you gave a slight hiccup after washing your face a little, drying it, and trying to tidy your slightly messy hair.

Jiwoo sighed, giving a small smile at your rambling after you left the mirror. It was time for her to look and check that everything was presentable.

"So I guess I can take you home now" she spoke after you were done with everything and so was she, both came out of the bathroom to find Heeseung standing on the other side and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed "Damn, what a scare!"

He suppressed a smile, unbuckling himself from the wall to approach you and Jiwoo.

"I wanted to know if you two were okay" Heeseung tried not to comment on your crying appearance, and you thanked him for it "And I just called Jay, he's already home."

The couple's gaze hovered over you, and your uncontrollable urge to cry eventually returned. But it soon pulled away when you took a deep breath and looked back at them.

"I think I'll go too."

"Then we'll take you" Jiwoo looked at Heeseung, who smilingly agreed to his fiancée's request.

Without the strength or desire to refuse, because your ride was already at home, you accepted. And you let them drive you to your apartment in silence. Both of them respected your space while you fought back tears once again.

When the car stopped in front of your residence, you apologized so much to Jiwoo and Heeseung for leaving so this alone gave you the right to shed a few more tears before you entered the lobby of the building and ran to the elevator to your apartment. You didn't think about anything else, just wishing you a nice shower since it would be almost impossible to have any conversation with Jay that night.

And with that thought you opened the front door seeing that it was unlocked. Maybe he left it open because I don't have the keys, you thought and tried to make it happen without much ado.

Taking off your shoes in the hallway, you quickly ran into your room in silence, only to find Jay already lying on the bed. His attention, which had previously been on his cell phone, quickly ran to your figure standing in the bedroom doorway.

He didn't say anything, and neither did you. And that made you go straight to the shower without a conversation. Your mind wanders to how angry Jay's tone was when he spoke to you, then letting the water run down your body soaking your skin and hair. Thinking of the hurt look he had given you as soon as you arrived. Was he resentful? Was he hurt? You didn't know. And you couldn't know without a conversation, even if it didn't happen right now.

Washing your hair and body, after a long time, you turned off the shower and got ready for bed. It was the bare minimum. Your whole body was aching and only your bed would be able to ease that, even though your taste would be to have Jay's arms as well, you would settle for just your covers for one night.

When you came out of the bathroom, your eyes ran to the figure of your husband still sitting on the bed and leaning back against the headboard. It made you sigh, he didn't even move, you thought.

Trying to put the thought out of your mind, your steps went to your dressing table and that's when the vision hit you. Your marriage ring was right there. The small, shiny ring that you and Jay had equally, was right up there. And that reminded you of why.

Swallowing dryly with the lump forming in your throat, you took the ring and returned to your ring finger in moments, stroking it gently as you turned toward your bed. Walking slowly, you noticed that Jay was fighting the urge to look at you, but his eyes remained on his cell phone the entire time.

Would he give in? Was being alone having any effect on him at all? And like a still university feeling from the recent party, you made your way to the bed and went to your usual bedside. But before you could lie down or do anything, your body slid down and your legs steadied as you sat on Jay's lap.

"What…" he dropped the cell phone at the same second, looking up to meet your eyes.

A twinge in his chest hurt like a knife, looking up at the bright red orbs that stared back at him.

"What are you doing?" he managed to ask properly, his hands hovering beside his own body on the mattress still hesitant to touch you.

You lay still for a few minutes, staring at every point on Jay's face. His tight, well-defined jaw, his adam's apple rising and falling as he swallowed dry. Every little part of his tanned, well-washed skin, the damp hair against his forehead giving a final charm.

Your face tilted just enough so that your forehead brushed against Jay's, closing your eyes in the process as his breath grew heavy against your skin.

"The ring was left up there when I did my makeup earlier today" you began whispering, your hands slowly coming up until you held Jay's face between them "And from what I remember, I couldn't finish it because I was interrupted."

Jay could feel his cheeks burn this time, knowing that the culprit had been him. Arriving home early from work and excited because his sister was having a party, he knew that you would be getting ready much sooner than expected, especially since you would soon be leaving to help your sister-in-law with the preparations. He had to take a shower to get all the tension out of the day and also accompany you, staying there and not having to come back later.

But seeing you in that robe while applying makeup was too much for Jay's poor mind to think about. And the only thought was to untie the fabric from your body and take you for a second shower. This resulted in a delay, and you ran so fast to find Jiwoo that you hadn't even finished the second batch of makeup. All because your husband had taken too much time with you in the shower before they left.

"I—"

"You acted like a dumb university student, Jongseong."

"Hey!" Jay felt a strange sensation when you called him by his real name, knowing that it was only used on extremely serious occasions. That one was, indeed.

His hands had reached your waist in the middle of the conversation, his fingers playing with the fabric of your pajamas shyly while he too had his eyes closed.

"I'm sorry" he said, making you open your eyes. When you uncrossed your forehead from his, Jay also opened his eyes to get a better look at you "I'm sorry that I got a fucking idiot jealous and it got out of control."

His words suddenly faded, lost in Jay's eyes as his caress on your waist ran one hand up your back, while the other went straight to your face. Holding your cheek gently.

"I didn't mean to do what I did and I regret it so much because, I swear, I lost my mind at that moment" Jay let his thumb trace the entire line of your jaw before fitting his hand perfectly between your neck and the back of your head "And I hurt the woman of my life. Seriously y/n, seeing you like this is the last thing I want in this world."

"Then believe me, Jay" you whispered as low as you could, fearing to cry again in front of him "Believe me I would never do that to you, because it's not my intention."

"I know, love" Jay pressed his lips to your chin, moving up to your mouth to slowly seal your lips against his "Forgive me for being a shit tonight, I didn't mean to ruin the night."

"You're forgiven for being a shit" you chuckled softly when he murmured in 'hey', and quickly your hands went to his shoulders, where you managed to steady yourself a little more on Jay's lap "Please promise me one thing."

"Whatever you want" he whispered against your lips as you leaned in close.

"Don't act on impulse when you're jealous" your mouth blew a warm breath against his, making Jay sigh next "I don't like that version of you."

He swallowed dryly once again, his chest crunching with regret as a nod was given in response. Even though no words could express how sorry Jay was about the whole situation.

"Now, I need something" he hugged you around the waist after a while, pressing your body against his in such a welcoming way that you didn't even notice the moment Jay reversed positions, placing you lying against the mattress to hover over your body.

"Sure. What do you need?" you said after a euphoric giggle at having been taken by surprise when you lay down and had Jay's body right above yours.

He then leaned in, connecting your lips in a quick kiss before pulling away just enough to whisper against your mouth.

"I need a second round to prove how sorry I am…"

"Park Jongseong!" your hysterical shout cheered him, making Jay laugh as he pressed you against him. This time the name hadn't left his lips for a bad reason.

He really wanted to redeem himself, to entwine your hands with his and join your wedding rings as he enjoyed the whole evening with you.

© ikeuverse, 2023. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[berryispunk]

What Lingers

this is part 2 of "Haunted by You" part 1 here

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: ANGST, heartbreak, conflicted feelings, kinda love confessions, exes to????, did I mention angst?, husband! Frankie, daddy! Frankie, regrets, alcohol mention, longing, mention of addiction, an apology, betrayal, Frankie really needs a hug

summary: After Frankie's whole world shatters he finds himself back in a place he shouldn't be at.

notes: We got an alternate, way more heartbreaking ending for this which I put under the cut!

word count: ~ 3k

both parts also readable here

Frankie thought he was doing the right thing—the honorable, morally correct thing—by staying with the woman carrying his child. He told himself he could make it work, build the life society always told him was the ultimate goal.

So why did it feel like a prison?

The ache in his chest was a constant reminder—not just of what he lost, but of what he truly wanted, what he craved more than anything. You were always there, lingering in his mind, haunting his dreams when he finally managed to sleep.

He deserved every second of it.

The birth of his child should have been the moment everything clicked into place. The moment that made all the sacrifices worth it. But something felt off.

At first, it was just a whisper of doubt, a fleeting thought he pushed aside. He told himself it was exhaustion, stress, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. But as the days turned into weeks, the feeling only grew. It was in the way the baby’s features didn’t quite match, in the tiny details that gnawed at him when he laid awake at night. This child wasn’t his.

The thought was poison, eating away at him, and no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, it wouldn’t leave. Still, he loved the baby—God, did he love them. He held them close, rocked them to sleep, whispered promises into the soft dark. His heart felt full despite it never being fully healed after you broke up. 

But love couldn’t erase doubt.

After months of trying to swallow it down, he finally asked her. He expected denial, expected anger. What he didn’t expect was how quickly she snapped, her voice sharp, calling him crazy, accusing him of trying to ruin the one good thing they had. So he let it go. Or at least, he tried to.

Until that night.

Her affair had lasted for months—long before the pregnancy, long before Frankie had convinced himself he was doing the right thing by staying. And though she swore it was over, that she had ended it, it didn’t change a damn thing.

She hadn’t chosen him. Not then.

Maybe not ever. But he couldn’t blame her, he did the same. 

Frankie was absolutely shattered, devastated in a way that felt too deep, too consuming to put into words. He thought he’d prepared himself for the worst, but nothing could have braced him for this.

Everything he had sacrificed, every moment of pain he had endured to hold his family together—it had all been for a lie. Pain clawed up his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs. He wanted to scream, to break something, to disappear into nothing. Instead, his mind drifted to the one thing he knew could make it stop. Just for a little while.

Cocaine.

The thought hit him like a slap.

He could almost feel it—his pulse slowing, his mind numbing, the weight lifting off his chest. But at the very last second, something in him twisted, jerked him away from the edge. He exhaled, hands shaking, and almost without thinking, he grabbed his keys and walked out. His car moved on autopilot, cutting through the night, heading to the only place that made sense.

The bar. Your bar. The same one he had met you in months ago.

And there you were.

You sat alone, fingers curled around a glass, your gaze unreadable—distant—until you spotted him. Your brows furrowed, deepening as recognition set in.

"Frankie?" you asked, breathless, his name spilling from your lips—healing and hurting in equal measure.

How many nights had he laid awake, dreaming of seeing you again, of hearing your voice one last time? And now, here you were, and it all came crashing down on him. Every feeling he had buried, every sacrifice he had made to convince himself he was doing the right thing—only to realize it had all been a twisted lie.

But then, had he ever been honest with his wife? He had never told her the truth—that his heart had never truly belonged to her. That he had always kept a space for you, waiting, hoping, like a stray dog lingering at the edge of a home that was never really his, starving for scraps of something he could never have.

For a moment, he couldn't speak. His throat felt tight, his chest hollowed out by everything he had tried so hard to ignore. And you just stared at him, brows still furrowed, fingers twitching around your glass like you weren’t sure if you should reach for him or let him be.

"Frankie, what—?"

He shook his head. If he let you say his name again, he might break apart completely. He sank onto the barstool beside you, his fingers instinctively reaching for his neck, rubbing the tense muscles there—his nervous tick, the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I don’t even know why I’m here," he admitted, voice rough. "I just… I just started driving, and this is where I ended up."

You didn’t say anything at first. Just watched him, like you were seeing him for the first time all over again. And maybe, in a way, you were. He swallowed hard, staring down at his hands. 

"She had an affair," he said finally. The words burned, his voice cracking under their weight. "For months. The whole time. The baby… they aren’t mine."

Silence settled between you. Heavy. Suffocating. The kind that made his leg bounce nervously, the kind that was too hard to endure. Frankie let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 

"And the worst part? It doesn’t even matter that she ended it. It doesn’t change a damn thing." He exhaled sharply, fingers pressing into the side of his neck as if he could squeeze out the ache beneath his skin. Then, finally, he looked up at you. "I stayed for a lie. I gave up everything for a lie."

Something flickered across your face—something he couldn’t quite place. Pain? Guilt? Understanding? Maybe all of it at once. But you didn’t speak. You didn’t turn away. So he kept going.

"I almost used," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tonight. I almost went back to it." Your breath hitched, just slightly. He didn’t have to explain. You knew exactly what he meant.

"But you didn’t," you said softly.

His throat tightened, the sharp-edged emotions tearing him apart. And yet, here you were—just listening. He didn’t deserve that, not after your last meeting, not after everything he had done, the pain he had caused. But still, you stayed.

Frankie blinked hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "No," he murmured. "I didn’t."

"I think I need a drink," he added, ordering the same thing he always did.

He shifted the glass in his hand, the ice clinking softly as he swirled it, watching the liquid move, mesmerized by the simplicity of it. Then, he took a sip, feeling the burn slide down his throat, grounding him—if only for a second. His whole world had just been turned upside down, shattered beyond recognition. And yet, here he was, sitting next to the only person who had never made him feel like the loser he knew he was. The only person who had every reason to curse him to hell… but didn’t.

Frankie exhaled, his fingers tightening around the glass. He wasn’t sure how to say it—how to make you understand what had been clawing at him all this time. He glanced at you, watching the way you held yourself, the way your eyes seemed to flicker with something he couldn't quite name. The silence between you stretched out, but this time, it felt familiar—like déjà vu.

He could almost hear your voice in his head, that night months ago, sitting at this very bar. He’d been about to kiss you, feeling the pull between you two, but you had stopped him. You had pulled away and told him, "You can’t risk your family."

And he hadn’t. Not then. But now? Now, it felt like the world had shifted, and the weight of everything—the lies, the betrayal, the things he couldn’t undo—came crashing down on him.

"I don’t know what I was thinking," he muttered, shaking his head, his voice rough. "I thought I was doing the right thing. That I had to go, had to try. But I was wrong. I knew I was wrong, even then."

He took a long sip, feeling the burn as it went down, but it didn’t help ease the ache in his chest. "I hurt you," he said quietly, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "I walked away, and I didn’t let you say anything. I didn’t give you a chance. I was an idiot, stupid and reckless."

His leg bounced nervously under the table. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the restless energy that was building inside him, this need to say everything.

"You deserved better. You deserved more than that." He swallowed hard, looking away, his gaze falling to the melting ice in his drink. "Better than me, always had."

The silence stretched between you again, but it wasn’t as heavy now. It was just... waiting.

He finally forced himself to meet your eyes. "I’m sorry." The words felt too small for everything he had done, but they were all he had. "For leaving like that. For treating you like you didn’t matter when you were the only thing that ever really did."

He looked down at his hands, a shaky exhale escaping him. "I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just needed you to know."

His fingers curled around the glass, but he didn’t bring it to his lips. It was just a desperate attempt to hold onto something, to not drown. 

"Because I still care about you. More than I should." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "More than I know what to do with."

And there it was. The truth. Out in the open. The things he had kept buried for so long.

You were quiet for a long time. Too long. The weight of everything Frankie had just said seemed to settle on your chest like an anchor, pulling you under. It was visible on your face. But you kept yourself steady, breathing slowly, carefully. Finally, your voice broke through the quiet, soft but cutting.

"I'm sorry for what you're going through, Frankie," you said, your words almost too gentle, as if they were meant to soften the blow. "I really am." He felt a tightness in his chest, a strange mix of gratitude and regret, but he didn’t let it show.

"But I’m not in a place where I can just watch you destroy yourself again. I can’t do that. Not ever again."

Your words hit him like a physical blow. He wanted to say something, to argue, to explain how hard it had been—but it was useless. He deserved every ounce of it.

"An apology doesn’t fix anything," you went on, quieter now, and that’s when he felt it—the shift. Your gaze didn’t waver from his, and though he saw no anger, there was something final in your tone. "But for the first time in your life, you’re being honest with me. Instead of hiding behind your failures."

That cut deeper than he expected. For the first time, he wasn’t hiding from you, and yet, here you were, laying out the truth, and he couldn’t look away. The sharpness of your words settled into him, the bitter taste of his own mistakes lingering.

"I can give you that. But it still doesn’t change anything."

Your words felt like a door slamming shut, something irrevocable. 

"I can't go back, Frankie. Not after everything."

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to fix. He had lost his chance.

Months had passed. Time, like the seasons, had moved on, relentless and unyielding. Frankie had spent most of it lost in his own head, wrestling with the weight of the past, the ache of what he had lost. It wasn’t easy—coming to terms with the fact that the one good thing in his life, the one thing that had kept him tethered to any semblance of happiness, was gone.

But somehow, he did. It wasn’t a clean cut—not by any means—but with each passing day, the pain dulled just a little more. The harsh reality of his life now felt like some cruel joke shared with his boys. Dark humor had become his coping mechanism. It was unhealthy, but it was better than the alternative. The world kept turning, whether he wanted it to or not.

And then, on a day like any other, something—someone—stopped him in his tracks.

A scent, faint but familiar, clung to the air. A smell he had once inhaled like a lifeline. The softness of it, like the last remnants of a memory, hit him before he could fully register it. He glanced around, his eyes landing on a woman walking a few steps ahead of him, her hair the same shade, the same way it used to fall over your shoulders. His heart skipped a beat, an old ache flaring up in his chest, sharp and heart wrenching. It was fleeting, just a glimpse, but it was enough to send his mind spiraling back.

The woman walked a few more steps before turning down another street, disappearing from view. But Frankie’s eyes remained locked on the spot she had vanished at, his pulse still racing, the pain still there—but now laced with something else. A desperate longing, one he’d buried so deep he thought it would never see the light of day again

And then, just as if the universe had decided to play a vicious trick again, you appeared.

You were standing right in front of him, suddenly impossibly real. Impossibly close. And just like that, his world snapped into focus. You, with that familiar smile ghosting at the corners of your lips, the same eyes that haunted him in his quietest moments now locked onto his, studying him, seeing right through him.

"Francisco Morales," you said, your voice light, teasing almost, but there was a softness there too. "I really can’t escape you, can I?"

The words landed in his chest, like a broken promise that still felt like it could heal him. His heart swelled with a bittersweet ache, as though everything he had lost, everything he had tried to let go of, was standing in front of him, alive and tangible, as if nothing had ever changed. And for the briefest moment, just before the walls he’d built around himself could fully rise again, Frankie allowed himself to believe that the universe was offering him a second chance—or at least the chance to make something right. 

He stared at you for a long moment, his heart still beating like a drum in his chest, but then he shook his head with a small smirk, as though trying to deflect the weight of it all.

"Same to you," he said, his voice light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. "You stalkin’ me or something?"

And just like that, a tiny spark flickered back to life between you two. You gave him a smile—just the slightest curve of your lips—but it was the kind he knew all too well, the one that only existed because of him.

ALTERNATE ENDING

Months had passed. Time, like the seasons, had moved on, relentless and unyielding. Frankie had spent most of it lost in his own head, wrestling with the weight of the past, the ache of what he had lost. It wasn’t easy—coming to terms with the fact that the one good thing in his life, the one thing that had kept him tethered to any semblance of happiness, was gone.

But somehow, he did. It wasn’t a clean cut—not by any means—but with each passing day, the pain dulled just a little more. The harsh reality of his life now felt like some cruel joke shared with his boys. Dark humor had become his coping mechanism. It was unhealthy, but it was better than the alternative. The world kept turning, whether he wanted it to or not.

And then, on a day like any other, something—someone—stopped him in his tracks.

A scent, faint but familiar, clung to the air. A smell he had once inhaled like a lifeline. The softness of it, like the last remnants of a memory, hit him before he could fully register it. He glanced around, his eyes landing on a woman walking a few steps ahead of him, her hair the same shade, the same way it used to fall over your shoulders. His heart skipped a beat, an old ache flaring up in his chest, sharp and heart wrenching. It was fleeting, just a glimpse, but it was enough to send his mind spiraling back.

The woman walked a few more steps before turning down another street, disappearing from view. But Frankie’s eyes remained locked on the spot she had vanished at, his pulse still racing, the pain still there. But as she turned the corner and disappeared from view, reality crashed into him like a cold wave. She wasn’t you. She couldn’t be.

The sharp pain in his chest only deepened. The ache that had never fully gone away flared up again, and suddenly, the weight of everything he had lost felt unbearable. He stood frozen in place, watching the empty street where she had walked, his mind unable to process the vicious trick his heart had just played on him.

It was as if, for that brief moment, he had allowed himself to believe in the impossible. That maybe, somehow, fate had found a way to bring you back. But it wasn’t you. It was just another woman, another fleeting image that reminded him of something he would never have again.

He couldn’t bring himself to move. He just stood there, paralyzed by the emptiness that settled in his chest. And as the seconds stretched into minutes, Frankie realized something he had refused to admit to himself before: the ache, the longing, the heartache—it would never go away. Not for her. Not for you.

He was still alone. And he always would be.

my masterlist - in case you're hungry for more :)

[disgustingtwitches]

**MDNI**

"The closest to heaven we'll ever get"

Saw a lot of stuff about Simon helping out a s*x worker. Anyways, it reminded me of a personal experience I had so... Here I am 😃

5.5k words

*This is kind of Simon needing company and being a weirdo who needs constant validation.

Not gonna lie, it gets blasphemous at the end!

~

I always played around with the idea of being an escort. I was offered to do things while working in the strip club, but I always turned it down. I was spending every dollar I made because I could always make more, right? But when I broke up with my ex and realized I didn't have the credit or rental history to get my own place, I started panicking. The only option was to put down at least three months rent cash upfront, to even be considered. Suddenly, money was drying up at the club for me, my regulars were being whisked away by girls who would do more for less. I couldn't really get mad, it's just a part of the game really. So I knew what needed to be done.

I hit up one of my girlfriends and told her that I needed the extra cash and what I was willing to do for it. She helped me set up a website, took professional photos of me, made me business cards. The whole nine yards. Now all I had to do was wait. About a week in, I finally get my first client. It was awkward and surprisingly, both of our first times in this situation. I was sent back home in a black car and a few hundred bucks richer for just 30 minutes of my time. I felt a rush I never felt before.

As the months rolled by, the money came. Luxury was the new standard for me. Designer everything, nice dinners, even nicer dates. To my surprise a majority of my clientele were, at most, 10 years older than me, and even more surprisingly, good looking. Finance bros, guys with daddy's money, or just men who had the money to spare. They always talked about how it was more fun and less work to hire me than get a girlfriend. To get a pretty girl in their arm to parade around that wouldn't bicker and give them a hard time at the end of the night. No feelings attached, just company and good sex.

So here I am Saturday night. Instead of going out to the club like a normal woman my age in Manhattan should be doing. I am in my hotel. Waiting for a call or text from someone. Anybody. My hair in rollers, makeup half done. Just waiting. My phone lights up, a text coming in:

Hi, Gia. Was interested in spending an hour with you tonight, 11pm.

I smiled to myself. Finally, someone who reads my ad properly. Follows the instructions on what to text to me. Straight to the point.

Wonderful, just need a picture of your ID or passport.

I reply. Always a rule my girlfriend drilled into my head. Safety first. If they don't do it, then what could they be planning? Anything goes bad and all you have is a name that couldn't even be real. Any client worth your time understands your safety is a priority. So this was my way of feeling safer. A moment passes before my phone dings again.

A picture of a passport, full name and age. Along with a picture. He's cute. A little older than what I usually get but I'm not complaining. I quickly look him up, nothing out of the ordinary. Good.

Great. Thank you, Simon. I'll send an address for you to send a car at 10:20. Reach out to you then❤️

Before I start to get ready he texts,

Wear something casual.

Not an odd request. Actually most clients prefer it. Want more of a girlfriend vibe rather than an escort. I finished getting ready, helping myself to a glass of wine. Playing my usual bad bitch songs, it helped me turn into the woman I needed to be- from me to Gia.

10:25 rolls around. I get a screenshot of the Uber from him. 5 minutes out. I grab my purse and strut out of my hotel, to a nearby park. Never give your real address. Always make sure you're not being followed.

A black SUV pulls up, I slide in. Exchange pleasantries with the driver and I'm off. Headed to midtown. I share my location with a friend and how long I should be gone. My phone goes off.

Walk into the building and head to the elevators on the left. 36th floor. Apt. 4A.

I nod to myself before shooting a text of confirmation.

Got it. See you soon ;)

I pull up to the building, it's huge. Nicer than most places I've been. He must have some serious cash. I walk into the building and follow the directions he gave me. A little adrenaline rushes through me as I walk up to the door, always did when meeting someone new. I knock. He almost immediately opens the door, as if he was standing in front of it. Waiting.

Simon!

I say with a wide smile. He steps aside as I walk in, looking around. Nice place. Really nice place. Ceiling to floor windows, minimalist decor, the lovely smell of something masculine and expensive. He looks me up and down as I turn to him.

You look just like your pictures.

His voice is deep, alluring, unreadable. Sends a chill up my thighs that shoots straight to my core.

You do too.

I reply playfully. A small twitch plays at the corner of his mouth before disappearing. His face inscrutable. I shimmy off my coat before he takes it, hanging it up in a closet near the entrance. I wait for him to move. He stands, hands in his pockets, studying me. An awkward minute passes before he walks to the living room. I follow.

Really nice place you got here.

I try to make the moment more comfortable.

Hm.

He responds. He wasn't like the other men I've seen before. They are sociable, or at least try to be. I take a seat on the couch next to him, our knees barely touching.

Money's there.

He gestures to an envelope on the table. I nod, grabbing it.

Do you mind if I...?

I ask, opening it up. He nods and stands to pour himself a drink. My eyes widen. This is more than my usual rate. Much more. I'm quiet, trying not to show my shock.

Was hoping to do an overnight, if that's alright.

It was less of a question and more of a statement from him. It was more than enough for a night. I nodded.

Of course, I do wish you would've told me; I would've packed a bag.

I smiled, putting the envelope down on the table. I grab my phone and update my friend on how long I'd be gone for. I put away the phone quickly and look up at him. God, was he hot. And the way he carried himself made him even hotter, so nonchalant. He shrugged, sipping his drink before sitting next to me again, some space between us.

How long you been doing this?

He stares at me, gaze so intense I squirm a little.

Just a few months.

We're quiet again. Usually I try to carry a conversation if the other party can't hold one, but he makes me nervous. I talk again, asking mundane questions. It's like pulling teeth trying to have small talk with him. Maybe he's just not much of a talker.

I scoot closer to him, our knees barely touching. He puts his drink down, and rests his arms on the back of the couch. I lean in closer to him, resting my hand on his thigh before kissing his lips. He kisses back softly. We exchange light, almost timid kisses for awhile. He finally moves. A hand reaching up to grab at my hair, gently pulling. I moan faintly and that seems to set him off. He grabs me by the throat, not hard, just enough to stand me up and guide me to his bedroom; our kisses getting more intense. We strip each other of our clothes. I unbuckle his pants and pull them down, it feels like I'm opening a gift on Christmas. He's big. I smile up at him. He just looks down vacantly. I pull down his boxers and his erection springs up, tip drooling. He opens a drawer next to the bed, pulling out a condom and rolling it on himself.

Lay back.

He commands. I obey, opening my legs. I've done this so many times before, but this time it's different. As unceremoniously as he's treating this, I can't be more excited. His body is amazing, tattoos and scars just adding to the mysterious aura. His natural scent drives me wild. I look up to him as he crawls over me, lining himself up with me. He gives a couple lazy slaps on my slick. I take a sharp breath. He watches as he slides himself in, I tense up. Most guys are well... average. And he's well... much more than that.

Relax.

He huffs. Sliding himself in more, not giving me any time to adjust. I grip the bedsheets, clenching my jaw. I stare up at him, he doesn't even look at me. His face emotionless as he watches himself slide in and out. I try to unclench, opening myself up more to him.

Mhm...

He grunts. My nipples harden at his voice. I moan as he slams into my cervix repeatedly. It makes him shoot his eyes up at me, glaring into mine. His eyes dark pools, intense. He roughly hooks his arms under my knees, pushing them up to my chest. He digs even deeper into me as I whimper. He takes quick, shallow breaths.

You're so deep.

I say panting, the breath getting knocked out of me. I reach out to touch his muscular arms. He grunts and pounds harder into me. I throw my head back, whining. Trying to not wince in pain. He slows for a moment, pulling back, keeping my legs on his shoulders as he slides in and out. My breasts bounce up and down with each thrust.

You're hot.

A hint of emotion in his voice, he reaches down to knead my chest. My face gets hot. I tighten around him.

Fuck...

He makes a sound that almost resembles a moan. I smile up at him, almost proud of making him show any emotion. He looks down at me, a flicker in his eyes, a small smirk on his face that leaves as quickly as it came. He parts my legs and rubs at my clit in rough circles. I squirm under him.

Say my name.

He orders. His strokes picking up as I get used to him.

Simon~

As soon as his name leaves my lips, a deep rumble from his chest fills my ears. He leans over me, arms on either side of my head. I reach up to run my hands up and down the back of his neck.

Say you love me.

His request takes me aback. I pull him closer, my lips just under his ear.

I love you~

He immediately tenses up and takes a heavy breath. I could feel him twitch inside me as he finishes. He pulls away quickly, going to the bathroom to throw out the condom and clean up. He brings back a wet towel, wiping me down.

What's your name?

His tone as flat as ever.

Gia.

I responded. I know what he's actually asking me. Never, ever tell a trick your real name. Hell, he shouldn't even know your real age.

You know what I mean.

He glares at me. I shift awkwardly. Don't do it. He doesn't say a word, just stares in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Why should he know your real name anyways? I tell him my name. Stupid. Fucking dumbass. I kick myself. He nods and slides into some sweats, throwing me his shirt.

Let's watch something.

I throw on his shirt. Now this is what I'm used to. Being a temporary girlfriend. Pretending to be affectionate. Giving much needed companionship. He splays out on the couch as I lay on top of him. He turns on the TV, resting a hand on my ass and squeezing it. Maybe this is why he hires girls. Because of how distant he is. The man can't even hold a conversation. He flicks on some show he was in the middle of, a business dramedy that I couldn't care less about. I rest my head on his chest and he runs his fingers through my hair. We're like this for a while, quiet.

Tell me you love me.

He says dryly, looking down at me. I look up and kiss him.

I love you, Simon.

He gets hard immediately, rubbing himself on me. He gets up, lifting me up effortlessly, and throws me on the bed. He lays on top of me, pinning me down onto the bed. Kissing me much more passionately this time, like he was trying to taste every inch of my mouth.

Keep saying it.

His voice gruff. He moves his kisses down to my neck, pawing at my bust.

I love you, Simon.

I moan. I wanted him so badly. I don't care how I got him, I just wanted to take him. Something about him made me go crazy, deep inside. He yanks up the shirt I was wearing, moving his kisses more and more south.

You fuck other people raw?

I shake my head. I might've been a whore, but I wasn't reckless.

Never.

He nods.

Can I eat you out?

I look down at him. Something about seeing him between my legs makes me wanna say yes. The way his eyes looks almost as if he's pleading, desperate. No way. Never do that.

Yes.

I allow him to keep going. What the fuck am I doing? Why am I allowing this? Before I can think more, he plunges his tongue between my lips. Lapping up desperately, burying his face into me. I roll my eyes back, running my fingers through his hair.

I love you, Simon.

I gasp. It's the only thing he wanted me to say. I saw something in him, the way he reacted when I said that, it made me want to stay in his place forever. To never leave. Make him happy. It's just the good head talking, you'll snap back to your senses afterwards. He moans so quietly I can barely hear it. Barely. My legs on his shoulders, his arms wrapped around my thighs. Digging fingers into the soft flesh. He sucks on my nub repeatedly. It's a tortuously delicious feeling. I grip his hair a little.

I love you, Simon.

I look down at him, watching him devour me. He looks up at me, his eyes showing an emotion I can't decipher. He moves one hand down to slide two fingers into me.

I love you, Simon.

I moan, throwing my head back and smiling.

Hmm...

He mumbled into my heat. Pumping in and out before bending his fingers in a way that presses against my sweet spot. I hiss, pleasure flashing through me like a strobe light. I'm dripping wet. He pulls his fingers out and plunges his tongue into my entrance, trying to suck out every drop of my juices.

You taste good.

Voice as flat as ever, as if he isn't lost in between my folds. He drags his tongue up between my lips, from my entrance to my nub again. He slips his fingers in again, pressing up against my sweet spot repeatedly. I get lost in the feeling. God I could stay like this forever. He looks up at me, like he's looking for validation.

I love you, Simon~

I slip out between heavy breaths. He picks up the pace of his fingers and tongue. My face gets hot as I get closer, grip his hair a little harder. He goes even faster, harder, almost feverant. I roll my eyes back, panting. I whimper before crying out, tightening around his fingers in a vice grip.

I love you, Simon~

I force the words from my throat as I spasm under him. He continues, seemingly determined to draw another climax out of me. I mewled, trying to push his head away. He was unmoving for an unbearable moment. The only sounds were my pants and his slurping.

I love you, Simon.

I wailed, almost hoping it'll make him stop. He does thankfully. He pulls away, tearing off his sweats, beating off himself. Staring at me, his gaze is intense as ever. He grabs me by the thighs and drags me into his lap. He continues to stroke himself, staring into my wet core as if he was hypnotized by it.

Can I...

He starts, almost knowing he shouldn't ask the question.

Can I fuck you raw?

His voice is uncharacteristically soft and unsure. I blink at him, mind racing. ABORT! ABORT! THIS IS LIKE RULE #1 IN HOE-ING!!! He looked so delicious from this angle, his eyes still glued on my wetness. ARE YOU INSANE?? NO!! His throbbing, beautiful dick is twitching.

...yes.

I nod. You're the dumbest person on the planet. I insult myself a million different ways in my head. A brief moment of regret is replaced with pleasure as he slides his tip teasingly in and out of me. His jaw clenches, chest rising and falling faster. His voice cracks as a moan escapes him, his eyebrows furrow.

I love you, Simon.

I stare at him, eyes half lidded. The smallest smile spreads across his face, still looking at himself entering me. He inches his way in. Pulling in and out, going deeper each time. I squeeze him, make him bite his lip.

That's good.

He stated, voice quavering. He clears his throat before grabbing one leg and lifting it to my chest, digging deep into me. I take a sharp breath in. He hovers over me, arms on either side of my head again. He slides in and out, slowly at first then picking up to a punishing pace. I whimper and wiggle under him. He grabs my face, forcing me to look into his eyes that bore into mine.

I love you, Simon.

I stare right back at him, passion shooting right out of my eyes. His eyes flutter for a moment before blinking back into his cold, unnerving self. He continues to dig himself into me, slamming and grinding himself into the deepest parts of me. It's a painfully addicting feeling. I take his hand and press it up against my lower stomach so he can feel how much he fills me. He clenches his jaw so hard, it looks like his head could pop.

I love you, Simon.

I whisper. He drops down on top of me, snaking his arms around and behind my back to grab my ass. His mouth right next to my ear, I can hear his fast and shallow breaths. Little groans that slip out every now and then. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tighter.

I love you, Simon.

I hear him groan under me as I said it again. He goes faster than before, pretty much jackhammering me into the mattress. My mouth is agape and head thrown back. Only grunts escape my throat as I get fucked senseless.

Mhm...like that?

His words bounce around in my empty head. I replay it in my head over and over until I clench around him, he doesn't stop though. It only seems to spur him on even more. His warm breath tickling my ear as it gets more ragged.

Keep saying it.

He demands through gritted teeth.

Fuck... I love you, Simon.

I squeak out the words. He huffs and continues to rampage my body.

Can I come inside you?

He asks- No, begs. No use in turning back now. Just the thought made me close again.

Yes.

I nod and he breathes harder and harder until he pleads in a strained voice,

Say it.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me.

I love you, Simon~

He spills inside me. His stammered breaths and moans driving me crazy. The feeling of him pumping into me driving me over the edge. I pull him closer, practically squeezing him.

I love you, Simon.

I tenderly kiss the top of his head as he nuzzles into my neck.

How often do you do this?

My head clears, a wave of regret coming over me.

Never. I never even hired anyone before you.

He says in a way so sincere I honestly believe him. How do you know when a trick is lying? Their mouth is open. Rules. Rules to live by, to be able to survive doing what I do. Rules. They all meant nothing as soon as I laid eyes on him. Somehow saw this coming a mile away in the back of my head. He pulled away from my grasp, disappointment flooded me. He leaned back, opening my legs: watching both of our cum dripping out of me.

Say it.

His eyes so focused, as if he were trying to take a picture with his mind; so he would never forget this moment.

I love you, Simon.

I say with a tender smile. His dick jumps. Good lord is this man insatiable. He stands up and does the same routine as before, cleaning himself up and then me. He hands me his shirt:

Here.

I throw it on and he leads me to the bathroom, grabbing me by the shoulders and making me face the mirror. He gently pushes my back, I lean my elbows on the countertop. I stand on the balls of my feet, trying to get my hips to meet his. As I look in the mirror, his face looks almost tender watching me sway my hips.

I love you, Simon~

I sing softly. He bites his lip, entering me again. God, I never get used to the feeling. He grabs my hips and pulls me onto him, he bottoms me out. Groaning louder this time, he pulls my hair back so I'm looking directly at the mirror, locking eyes with him.

S'it, pretty girl...

A corner of his mouth upturned just enough to know he's enjoying himself. His words make me flutter around him. He groans and starts to pound into me. The bathroom is filled with the duet of our breaths and groans. He pulls my hair so my back is pressed against his chest. He rests a hand on my throat, squeezing just enough. Moves his lips to my neck, still sliding in and out of me.

You love me? Huh?

He grunts, warm breath on the pulse of my neck.

I love you. So much.

I moaned. I repeated the phrase so many times, it started coming out of my mouth naturally. He moved his hand from my hair to my lower stomach, pressing against it so he could feel himself hitting my walls.

You love this dick, yeah? Say it.

His voice getting more demanding and urgent. I nod and look at him through the mirror, smiling.

I love it, I love this dick so much, Simon~

He nips at my neck as he continues to fuck me. His nips turn into bites. Bites that definitely leave marks. I didn't care, that didn't matter right now.

You're never fucking leaving, you know that?

A threat that sounded like heaven to me. He could keep me chained to the bed and I wouldn't care, just as long as he kept fucking me like this. I giggled with excitement.

You like that, hm?

He smiles against my skin before continuing to lick and bite my neck.

I love it~

I truly did. It felt heavenly. Better than anyone I've ever had. Ever. Something felt so familiar about his touch. As if I belonged there.

I love you, Simon~

At this point I feel like I'm reciting a prayer, the words flowing out of me like a stream. I was melting in his arms.

Turn around, wanna see that pretty face.

I did so eagerly as he lifted me up on the counter and slid inside me. I smirked up at him. He, as always, was watching himself impale me.

Looks so pretty...

He seemingly mumbled to himself. He leaned down and pressed our foreheads together, a firm hand on the back of my head. Hitting a spot so deep inside me I never knew I had. We were like this for a long minute, sloppy sounds of our sex bouncing off the walls.

I love you, Simon.

I stared into his eyes. They seem to soften for a moment before he tightened the grip on the back of my neck. A huff, and then he came undone. He stayed inside me until he was soft. He pulls out and pushes his fingers into my cunt, stuffing his seed back into me.

Hm.

He grunts in a way that sounds like approval before helping me off the counter. He leads me to bed and slips under the covers.

In my arms.

Commanding as he usually does. I press my head against his chest, his heart beating hard and fast. He wraps an arm around me, his touch much gentler than before. I fall asleep. Not too sure if he does too.

Morning comes and I'm woken up by the sun shining in my face. Sitting up, I'm in his bed, still wearing his shirt. Alone. I walk out to the living room and see him setting up breakfast on the coffee table.

You made this?

I question, surprised.

Ordered it. Good morning.

He turns to me, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks at me expectantly. I blink at him.

Good morning.

I say. He looks at me as if he was anticipating something else. I think for a moment before suddenly remembering.

I love you, Simon.

He steps to the side, inviting me to sit on the couch. I help myself to a seat and look at the plate in front of me. It's simple, French toast and eggs. I help myself.

Are you gonna eat anything?

I look at him quizzically. He shakes his head, staring like always. We're silent as I finish my plate. I grab my phone and check the time. Almost time for me to leave.

Can I book you for longer?

His voice is gruff. An underlying tone, pleading?

It'll be expensive.

I didn't want to say that. Wanted to say I'll stay as long as he likes. But I already made too many mistakes. Gotta get back on track.

I don't care.

Of course he didn't. He could probably buy me out for the rest of my life if he wanted to. He pulled out his phone, asking for my personal number so he could send the money straight to my bank account. Hesitantly I gave it to him. He probably could find out that stuff if he wanted to anyways. My phone dings, I check my bank app. My eyes pop out of my head. I look up at him bewildered.

How long would that get me?

He asks, as if he didn't send me an ungodly amount of money.

It's enough for a whole week...

Shock still overwhelming me.

You wanna stay that long?

He doesn't really ask. He knows I'll say yes. Doesn't even wait for my answer.

I'll let you get your things.

He throws some of his clothes my way and sends me back in a car to the hotel. I grab my bags and checkout. Is this really happening? A call from my girlfriend. I tell her about his extension. She says something about making sure he's not a serial killer. We laugh, tells me to have fun, don't fall in love. I scoff as if that was the stupidest idea I've heard. As soon as I know it I'm back at his place, he's grabbing bags from me, setting them to the side. Turning to me and running a hand up the side of my waist.

I love you, Simon.

We spend the whole week tangled up in each other. Taking a break before I say those four words and he has me pinned against a wall or over a dresser or kitchen counter. Any flat surface, really.

It's Saturday night and we're showering, cleaning off sweat and other bodily fluids from each other. His touch is so gentle, handling me like I was a piece of china. He liked me. It was obvious. Seemed like the only way he knew how to show it was by fucking me, though. I liked him too. Maybe not to the extent he did.

Seemed like he found something he needed for a long time. He was hungry. Famished. He couldn't just let go of me. He's not satiated yet. Don't know if he'll ever be. It was a looming feeling. Dark and heavy. A little scary. But it made me feel more desired than I've ever been before. And not just a carnal desire. It made me feel coveted.

We're laid up on his couch. Watching the show I didn't care for before, a little more invested. My phone lights up, buzzing. The name of a regular of mine across the screen in big bold letters. This is usually the time of the month he calls to set up a date. A reminder that this is all temporary. I let it go to voicemail. He tenses up. Jealousy and disappointment radiating off him.

How much for the whole month?

He doesn't even let me think of an answer before speaking again.

How much to make you quit for good?

I'm a little shook, sure I've heard it a dozen times before. Always said in jest. But he's serious. The few words he said, he always seemed to mean. No need to waste his breath beating around the bush. My heart races. I can feel his pound against mine. A number doesn't come to my head.

Let's just see how this goes.

He doesn't like that answer. He wants something solid. A promise that I'll never leave. More than a promise. But that's as good as he can get right now. There's a tense silence between us.

I love you, Simon.

The only thing I can think of saying right now. He takes hold of me, climbing into the bed and sits me in his lap. His back against the headboard.

C'mon love.

He says frigid. An underlying tone of disappointment and hurt. I slide myself down on him, a little more adjusted to his size now. He wraps strong arms around my waist, pulling me so close it seems like he wants to coalesce into my very being.

Give me a number.

A demand that seems more like a plea. We hold each other. Unmoving as he is still buried deep inside me.

Maybe it is a little toxic to spiral into the addiction to fast money. Maybe I'm a little sick of pretending to be the perfect woman. Maybe it is a little exhausting to be a fantasy and nothing more. Maybe it is a little lonely when it's just me lying in bed, when I have to comfort others. Where's my comfort in all of this? Where's my happiness in all of this? No more fake smiles. No more fake orgasms. No more fake feelings. I don't care if he's lying. I want to indulge in delusion. Even for a moment.

Ok.

I give in. He leans over, placing me on my back before adjusting himself on top of me. Touches my face, his showing an emotion that is genuine and staggering. Devotion? It feels like it.

I could almost cry, the way he takes me like I'm his. The way he talks to me like I'm not someone he hired. That didn't matter anymore. I wasn't an escort to him. I was his girl. The sex was different. Transcendant. Divine. Did I know I wanted to be saved? Of course I didn't know; for the life of sin and suffering is simply a thing to toil in until you are shown salvation. Every time he came, he baptized me. I was born again in his eyes, I was perfect and clean. Absolved of my sins.

He looked at me with so much adoration. I looked up at him, much in the same way Magdalene did to her Redeemer. He had turned a prostitute into a Saint. The unshakeable feeling of deliverance washed over as he touched me, no longer a leper. I was saved by him. His body. His sweat. His seed. Akin to taking Communion. The closest to heaven we'll ever get.

[g1rld1ary]

do i make you nervous? - elle greenaway x fem!reader

cw: she/her pronouns, typical cm violence, petnames

wc: 1115

being stuck in a police station for six hours was not on your bingo card for the day. to be fair, it wasn't really on the bingo card for your year either. you were a good girl, you never broke the rules, you certainly didn't break the law. so, you'd never pictured yourself needing to be trapped under fluorescent lights waiting to talk to police officers, except for your bad luck in being caught in an almost violent bank hold-up.

not only that, of the many witnesses you were probably last in line, having to wait through hours of people going in and out of the tiny interview room. most of them left in tears, which really wasn't helping your nerves.

you'd resigned to your daydreams to pass the time; you'd finished the book from your purse hours ago and you could only play snake for so long. that was why you jumped violently when a hand lay on your shoulder, ripping you from your daydream. above you, the prettiest woman you'd ever seen was trying to hold back a laugh.

"i didn't mean to scare you," she said, and you found yourself smiling back at her. "just wanted to check if you wanted some water, pretty girl." sure enough she had offered a plastic cup toward you. you stared at it for a second before remembering your manners.

"oh! thanks, that's really nice of you." the woman shook her head.

"least we could do after keeping you here for so long. you come get me if you need anything else." you managed to nod and produce what you hoped was a smile despite your daze at the gorgeous woman.

you only waited for twenty more minutes after that before a man came out to get you.

"i'm derek morgan, special agent in the FBI. we just want to ask you some questions. i know the interrogation room looks scary, but we promise you're not in trouble. we just have to take what we can get in a precinct this small."

"i don't think anyone anticipated having this many witnesses in at once," you added, finding it much easier to talk to derek than the woman before. you didn't want to think about why that was.

it was straight to business once in the interrogation room. it was cold, like all the life had been sucked out of it. if you weren't already scared of the law you would have gone straight to avoid needing to return.

inside the room was the woman from before. you sucked in a nervous breath as you sat across from her, trying to split your looks evenly between her and morgan.

the woman finally introduced herself as ssa elle greenaway, and shook your hand in a way that had you weak in the knees. after the basic formalities, the two started asking you questions.

"alright, we'll start easy and warm you up to it. why were you at the bank this morning?"

"i'm moving into my first apartment in a few weeks. i lived on campus all of college and then stayed with my parents for a year or two as i was getting my career started. because i have no history of renting i had to sort out some papers and records with the bank and lucky me i chose today." both the agents made noises of sympathy.

"congratulations on moving out," elle said warmly, "too bad it's delayed by some maniac. do you remember seeing him walk in?"

you recounted the day in as much detail as you could remember, staring at your hands as you spoke. you were so anxious. all you could feel were eyes; morgan, elle, and you didn't know how many people could be observing you from behind the mirror. that, plus the trauma of being threatened with a gun hours before caught up to you all at once and you couldn't help the hot tears sitting on your waterline. both agents stopped at that, giving you a breather.

"morgan, think you can give us a minute?" elle said, not taking her eyes off of you. derek raised an eyebrow but agreed nonetheless, leaving the two of you alone.

elle grabbed your hands, holding them in hers over the table between you.

"let's slow down, just breathe, pretty girl." she forced you into silence for a few moments and you let your breathing fall into sync with hers.

"sorry," you said when you were mostly calm, "i'm really nervous."

"you've got nothing to be nervous about, baby, you haven't done anything wrong." god, you wanted to combust. this stunning woman was being so nice, holding your hands and calling you pet names, you couldn't handle it. she must have noticed your eyes trained on where you hands met -- unsurprising, you weren't being subtle -- and her soft expression turned into something of a smirk. "do i make you nervous?"

you nodded, almost imperceptibly, but elle's eyes were only on you. she couldn't contain her amusement, and you couldn't tell if you were offended that she was teasing you.

the rest of the interview was easier after elle knew the effect she had on you, eventually leaving derek as the sole agent when it got down to the facts you really needed to think about. although you knew it was necessary for the sake of the case, you were upset it meant you couldn't admire her more.

"we'll call you if we need anything else." derek walked you to the door, all smiles. you thanked him and assured him you'd be willing to give whatever the FBI needed.

just as you were descending the outdoor steps to the car park, you heard a heavy set of footsteps behind you. turning quickly, you were relieved to see elle following you. you gripped the strap of your purse nervously as you waited for her to speak.

"if you think of anything else, anything else you wanted to tell me, just reach out," she said, handing you a card. just as you opened your mouth to thank her she spoke again, "maybe you can start with where you got your jeans, your ass is irresistible." you could feel your flush hot on your cheeks as you mumbled some sort of goodbye, all but running to your car to scream.

safely at home, you could think more clearly, not hesitating to start composing a text message, including the brand of your jeans with a cheeky smiley face.

[selfcestmovies]

Kate Bishop still had a lot to learn.

Heroing? She was making progress. Generally life skills? Those were on hold.

But dating? Sex? She wanted a crash course. Yelena had been giving her the runaround and Kate realized she needed to learn what she wanted quickly if she ever hoped to keep up with Yelena one-on-one.

Casual hookups had never been her speed – she got attached too quickly – and so she seemed stumped. Her pursuit of Yelena seemed perpetually on-hold.

And then the solution landed in her lap in the weirdest way possible. Adventuring as a hero in New York City often threw her unexpected perks – and this time, it was a run-in with a few sorcerers and their elicit magical artifacts. Caught in a stray wisp of a magical aura during her raid and... presto.

Two of her. Two Kates.

There wasn't much time to process the absolutely fucked-up magical mishap before the sorcerers had vanished and Kate was left in complete stereo – no seemingly clear difference between her and her double.

"Um—" "Right—"

There wasn't much to say. It was like talking to a reflection in the mirror.

But they managed to gather enough clarity of thought to escape the scene without causing much of a stir. And back home, in their small loft apartment... the gravity of the situation slowly sank in.

There wasn't anything Kate could do (both of her acknowledged) until the spell either wore off or Wong would return her calls. In the meantime, they were stuck together.

And that presented an interesting opportunity, didn't it?

It dawned on the Kates shortly after their long silent staring session that this "other Kate" shared everything with her – including the puzzlement about Yelena, and including the desire to "crash course" her way into being a confident romantic partner.

And she couldn't quite help but check herself out.

"Cute." "Same."

She looked like the type of person who would be good at sex. She was pretty, and had a great body – and these felt like unbiased observations now that she could see herself from a new perspective.

Her mind skipped over a few major assertions. It had already leapt ahead towards: "Nobody would need to know" and "I would sure learn an awfully lot about what I like in bed..."

The actual question – "Should I fuck myself" – seemed to have been answered already. The Kates made eye contact and gulped. Just because they had wordlessly agreed that it would happen... it didn't make the notion any less weird.

"We could start just by getting close," one said, feigning confidence.

"I was thinking the same thing," the other laughed.

It started with light, exploratory touches. Her neckline. Her chest. Her abs. This was already more contact with another woman than Kate had ever experienced – and it felt good. Oddly, it felt right. They talked more – casual flirtatious compliments that broke the ice, but they felt nice to hear. "We have great abs" and "I like our skin" that made what they were doing feel simultaneously more and less fucked up.

"We can never tell Yelena," they agreed. This would never leave their apartment.

Neither Kate knew whether they preferred to be a top or a bottom, so they agreed to switch. Obviously.

"Like this?" She'd ask.

"Works wonders for me," the other said, her breaths becoming labored.

They agreed that kissing was off limits, at least for now – too weird even for them, although they acknowledged that rule might get bent as they night went on. For now, though, there was plenty to experiment with already. Timing, pressure points, ways to ask what she wanted... it was all on the table, and it was all perfect.

Kate was finally able to learn what she liked, from the best partner imaginable.

[lexa-griffins]

@lg-wifey4lifey encouraged me to post the idea I sent them of The Room inspired Clexa AU so here's the 2k word vomit

Lexa and Clarke are young, early 20s. Clarke got Lexa pregnant accidentally but they worked their ass off to buy a house with the help of Clarke's parents, all ready for their baby. They should be around 21.

Lexa is about 4 months along when she's kidnapped and basically considered dead because kidnapping a pregnant woman is usually not to keep her around. Clarke never gives up hope nor does she move, she continues living in their house with the nursery ready and everything the same, even decorating how she knew Lexa would like it.

In the mean time, 7 years pass. Lexa has given birth to little Aden while being kept in a room. Due to rape she has also now given birth to a little girl, Madi, about 3 years old. She has a necklace with Clarke's picture and she always told both kids that was their mama even Madi.

Madi manages to escape one day with Lexa's help, her necklace around her neck and she tells her to find someone and tell them she's looking for her mama and her name and where Lexa and Aden are. Its a big ask for a 3 year old who knows nothing of the outside world but even if they cant find it at least Madi will be free.

Clarke gets a call. The police know her well. She comes to the police station heart bearing faster and they tell her they have a 3 year old girl saying she is her kid. Clarke's confused. They were expecting a little boy and he would be 6 now not 3.

But the moment Madi sees her she runs to her crying and calling her mama. Madelyn was the name they were gonna use if they had a girl. She looks so much like Lexa. And the necklace is the one Clarke gave her when they celebrated 1 year of dating. Madi has not yet said anything, not until she's in Clarke's arms does tell where mommy and Aden are.

Clarke waits with Madi on her lap inside the police car. She doesn't know if the piece of shit who kidnapped Lexa and her son didn't get rid of them in the 2 days it took to find this place. She knows Madi is his bio child, but to Clarke, she is already hers.

They bring him out in handcuffs first and Clarke wants to go and punch him and kill him but then there's noise.

Madi is letting go of her hand and running towards Lexa screaming mommy.

Clarke is frozen in place.

She's so much thinner now, Clarke's last memory of her being of her bump already showing Her eyes are red and her face puffy from crying. But she is still her Lexa. And on her hip is a little boy. So small for age 6, curled to his mom's side. He is the spitting image of Clarke.

And then he turns and sees her. Immediately his eyes grow big, able to set himself free as Lexa holds Madi and praises her for how good she did for setting them free.

He runs to her screaming mama and Clarke opens and arms to catch him. Oh how many times did she dream how he looked like and now he is finally in her arms. Madi pulls Lexa's hand excited, walking her towards Clarke.

"I found mama! She helped me like you said mommy!"

Lexa has tried hard not to cry in front of the kids, waiting for them to fall asleep to break down.

The thought of never seeing her little girl again if she couldn't manage to get them broke her heart even more than it already had been broken before.

She heard screams of police.

And then she heard the commotion outside.

And then a silence came. She knew the walls were sound proof and still she screamed that she was here, to please not leave without her and her son, please.

It has taken 20 minutes of her screaming for them to find her and Aden. But they did.

And now she was staring at Clarke holding their son finally, looking at her like she is seeing a ghost and a miracle all in one. And then Lexa just breaks down crying and throws herself at Clarke, who catches her, crying just the same.

Aden seem confused about it as if this should be a happy time of laughing and smiles while Madi is upset by the crying, wondering if it means something is wrong.

The three of them are taken to the hospital.

Lexa sleeps for 3 days. They confirm everything Clarke already new. Sexual abuse - in some twisted way Clarke is thankful Lexa was the only one of the three that suffered through that, although she knows Lexa would have murdered before she let anyone touch her children.

Starved and malnourished.

Two natural births, somehow both as healthy as they could be much like the 2 babies. Despite the lack of sunlight and lack of some vitamins the kids are healthy considering everything.

Lexa feared Clarke would reject Madi. Fuck, when she was pregnant with her Lexa wondered how she was going to look at her baby knowing it was his. But then she wakes up. There are hushed noises in the hospital room. Its dark, only a bit of sunlight coming through. On the floor there are toys, some Lexa still recognizes bought by her and Clarke when they found out about Aden.

Aden is next to Clarke playing happily and silently, seeming happy to just be close to his mom. Madi sits in Clarke's lap chatting away as Clarke smiles to them both, treating Madi as her own and referring to herself as mama when talking to her.

Lexa's recovery is not easy. But after two weeks, they allow her to go home.

Seems strange to even enter the car. Its a new one, try as they might they hadn't been able to buy a new one back then, settling for Lexa's old car.

Now, Clarke has a van and Lexa is shocked to see the two seats for her kids already installed, the look of pride in Clarke's face.

They have mot spoken much. Clarke has not kissed her yet, but she has kissed her forehead and held her hand, told her over and over again she loved her and missed her terribly but refused to lose hope.

Lexa loves her so much still. But being touched and loved seems foreign to Lexa now. And Clarke respects it, making Lexa's heart desire to kiss her more despite what her brain tells her due to trauma. The house is the same. It feels strange. Some things have changed but it still looks the exact same.

Lexa's jacket is still at the entrance alongside her shoes as if she has always been there. Her book, half read 7 years ago, still remains on the coffee table by the seat she used to take. There was no dust on it. Clarke kept it there on purpose, unable to put it away. She squeezes Clarke's hand seeing it all, a silent thank you for not forgetting her.

Clarke looks down. "It pained me too much to erase anything from you in the house. So i kept it where it was, so you'd have an easier time finding it when you came back."

The decorations on the nursery were still the same, everything ready for a baby that is now 6 years old. His name painted on the walls. He enters it as if it was a world meant for him. Madi on Lexa's hip looks around, as if trying to find where the little space made for her was. Clarke walks in behind them, pointing to the crib that has been turned into a toddler bed.

"I thought Madi could sleep on crib like that. I still have that inflatable mattress in the attic. I was thinking of bringing it down so you and Aden can sleep for a few days. I have a bed coming but it should take a few days still."

Aden looks at her smiling, already looking at the plushie with his name on it.

Little Madi looks about to cry, seeing how everything in the room is for her brother.

Lexa wants to hush her, almost embarrassed. Madi is not Clarke's child, she has no obligation to care for her.

"I know the room as nothing for you yet Madi." Clarke admits talking directly to the teary little girl.

"Clarke you don't have to-"

Clarke smiles at her and shakes her head "do you see that little chest?" Clarke points to the chest next to the crib "go and open it. There's a little treasure for you inside."

Madi looks at her with shinny yet suspicious eyes. Lexa settles her on the floor and Madi walks to hit carefully.

When she opens it, a squeal leaves her.

"MOMMY SO MANY BUTTERFLY!"

Lexa stares at Clarke in shock. Butterflies would fly by the skylight and Madi had always been obsessed with them. But Lexa had not told Clarke that.

"I sat down with Aden the other day and he told me everything his little sister liked. He helped me pick her clothes and toys and decorations"

Aden smiles big at his mom before running to help his sister look through her new things.

Lexa feels her heart bearing faster as she looks at Clarke.

As the kids look at the toys, Lexa closes the space between her and Clarke, kissing her softly. Clarke does not keep her longer than Lexa wishes to, even if her heart wants to hold Lexa against her lips forever.

Clarke shrugs with a smile, "i want to make sure our little girl feels loved too."

Lexa sleeps with Aden and Madi for 4 months. Clarke will lay down with them too but once the kids are down she kisses Lexa's cheeks and goes to her (their) room. Lexa had barely walked inside their old shared room since she arrived. Clarke hadn't pushed either. The only time Lexa walked in was to get a change of clothes - ones she was finally filling up again - or to look for an old cream (ones that should have expired by now but that Lexa realized had been bought again. Clarke never cared for skin care and yet she went through her creams and made sure to buy newer ones)

And one night the kids are happily asleep. Aden now has his bed, still sleeping in the same room has Madi.

They have started decorating the room next to Aden's into Madi's room, once they were ready to sleep alone.

Lexa still sleeps on the mattress. But she wakes up and sees the kids both sound asleep. She no longer has to worry about that man entering their room in the middle of the night. Her stomach no longer groans at the lack of food. Her kids have pjs and sheets and a plushie to cuddle with. Therapy as been good for them too.

So, she gets up slowly and quietly.

Clarke's room door is slightly ajar, so she can easily hear is something is wrong with the three of them.

Lexa opens the door slowly, scared to interrupt something. Inside Clarke is simply scrolling on her phone.

"Clarke?"

Clarke nearly jumps but is immediately alert, "Hey! Is everything okay?"

Lexa nods and barely says anything else. Instead she walks to the bed - her side of the bed - pulls the covers and lays down.

Clarke stares at her with a beating heart, phone on her bed side table. Lexa realizes there's a nanny cam on her own bedside table, a wave of relief washing over her when she realizes she can see her kids from here. It also hits her why Clarke always knew to come in when both kids were crying too much for Lexa to handle alone or how when Madi hit her head on the bed frame Clarke immediately came in with ice. Yet she never overstepped when Lexa didn't need her.

They stare at one another in bed for a second before Lexa starts to laugh, Clarke looking at her strangely but smiling at hearing her laugh.

"Whats so funny?"

"We made a baby together. We were almost engaged. And suddenly it feels like i am sharing a life with a crush i can barely talk to without blushing."

Clarke does not know what to say. Instead she brushes Lexa's cheek. Lexa closes her eyes at the feeling, getting closer to Clarke until her head is above her chest. Clarke wraps her arms around her, feeling a wave of relief wash over her.

"We can build that relationship back up you know."

Lexa nods lifting her head. A small peck on Clarke's lips before she wishes her a good night. It becomes ritual for Lexa to go to their room after the kids are asleep for a while. And then as soon as they fall asleep.

One night, Lexa does not go to the kids' room. When neither kid cries for her as she watches them on the nanny cam, she lays down with Clarke, snuggling into her as she did 7 years before.

[alicelufenia]

At the edge of the world, all debts will be settled, long prices paid

and there will be justice for all.

The night before it all ends, and we get some much needed closure

Honestly understandable. Kilian's absence from the series was a mild frustration for me, both cause I actually liked her as a character plus I'm shamelessly into redheads. Though given how chronically bad with relationships Catherine is, it makes sense. It takes years from when they broke up to actually get this closure, but even though they've both moved on it's still nice to see.

And just goes to show how obvious Cat is about Akua. A lot of harsh words were exchanged between her and Hakram earlier, but one thing he said that still rings true is when he said that while Cat loves all of the Woe, and him the most, she is only in love with Akua. Painful to hear, but she hasn't once denied it.

T_T

It's hard to say, as it is so (delightfully) painful to watch Cat torture herself like this while totally getting why, and that I'd lose all respect for her if she didn't even wait until journey's end at least, when the debt was due. Luckily Catherine Foundling has never done anything wrong.

Noooo! Well damn, there goes the failsafe. Hey, it's not like it was hard to predict that wasn't gonna go according to plan. Still, it makes sense why it was so effortlessly easy for Yara to set this up; there's not a story out there where Indrani wouldn't save Akua's life here.

But with a little tender care from Masego's (former) Apprentice and the greatest (living) sorceress of the age, another miracle could occur.

The immediate benefit I see of the fetters is that they are infinitely simpler than the Autumn crown, making them way less likely to backlash against a villain who would use them. A prisoner and their Warden, I mean warden? We'll see-

Speaking of Indrani's fate, shout-out to all time coward Hye Su

Let's go Indrani! You'll make a better Ranger than Hye ever did. Way to drop the ball hard Hye, I already didn't like you, but seeing as Indrani already had settled things with you at Praes, it's only fitting that she take your place by bothering to step up for other people. Do you know how hard you have to fuck up to lose me, Hye? Me?? The Evil Woman Fucker???

Pathetic. Anyway,

So it comes down to this: with the Dead King's soul contained within the entire city of Keter itself, it's effectively impossible to kill him even with Severance, and of course with Akua not in a position to have accepted it already, Catherine volunteers to be his jailer.

But the Intercessor, Yara, has other ideas, and lets Cat sample her ability to Guide.

Once again, Catherine's bad leg comes through to remind her of her own mortality and humanity! This is why I loved the parts of the story where she's had it the most. When she's been the most who she really is. Now get fucked, Intercessor, she will not be tricked into becoming you!

With the Dead King finally dead, brought back to life from undeath and then Sentenced to die, all that's left is how to deal with Yara, who still intends to finish this off how she wants; with everyone or nearly all on Calernia dead, the stories she's been bound to for millennia wiped clean at last.

And then... is that a Black Swan I see?

Intercessor Akua! A tag team of Good and Evil in the story of fate!

There's your Black Swan Event

So I'll be honest, I had this idea quite before even book 6, that what Akua was ultimately going to do would impact fate permanently. And I knew before I even finished Book 4 that Cat's final name would be the Warden, on account of checking the fan wiki and immediately seeing her Name listed as such, so I backed out lest I see any other pertinent information, like whether she dies at the end or not, and swore off the fan wiki until I was all done. This did make me convinced she was going to get a Bad End as a jailer for eternity. And then Akua calls her out for it and steps up instead!

I HAD thought that her unexpected, unpredicted act, the Black Swan Event in question, would have had to do with her redemption, perhaps ending with a new heroic Name. So I goofed there. She does use this moment to call the Gods' attention at least, which is similar if you turn your head sideways and squint.

THAT'S RIGHT YOU GO GET YOUR GIRL YOU BITCHES HAVE EARNED IT

At the end, debts are settled, long prices paid. And there was justice for all. Akua saved Catherine from the unhappy ending the latter was convinced was fated for her, and the knife that started us down this path since chapter 1 will be what finishes the journey.

And then, many years later

And THAT, is the single most well done, well paced, and well earned Enemies to Lovers story I have ever read. Every painful, ragged inch earned along the way, and while it ends in tragedy, there remained still a way for them to find each other, and for just a little while, partake of what a life together could have been.

Absolutely blew ALL of my expectations away. Holy SHIT

I will be thinking about this one for a long time.

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 4 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 5.2k

warnings: established kidnapping, abuse, power dynamics, degrading, strap on sex, manipulation

Natasha was proud of herself when she heard you cry behind the very much not soundproof door. For one, she liked how you looked when tears were streaming down your cheeks and she could imagine it picture-perfect just from the sound, it was too pretty of a sight not to have glowing in her head. For another thing, she had been worried she broke you too soon.

  The way you had let the redhead fuck you the night before was…different. None of the other girls had given in so quickly, not to mention been so soaked. You hadn’t even been with her a full twenty four hours and you were practically begging to have Natasha’s fingers inside you. She wasn’t necessarily disappointed in that because it had been quite the sight to be the first one to touch you, but if anything that should have made you even more wary about it. 

  The spy had wondered if perhaps your lack of experience with relationships and intimacy had made you too innocent, that you were so naive that the first sign of physical affection was one that you perceived as good. But then again, that hadn’t been your first impression. You had fought back only hours beforehand. Then the following morning, nothing. The numb look plastered across your face in the shower was one that Natasha only saw once she had completely broken someone down to nothing, void of all sense of self or hope. But you weren't wet so Natasha didn’t pursue, there was no fun in that for her. She much rather enjoyed making a woman wet so that they could be far more ashamed after. 

  Yet even after that, giving yourself to the Avenger and becoming so broken after, you still wanted to leave. She hadn’t gotten to you yet, she wasn’t sure why, but Natasha was glad of it. She had put a lot of work into getting you in that building with her, what a waste it would be if her fun was over so soon. She could only hope your turmoil lasted at least another month. It was hard to tell. Usually Natasha could precisely predict how long someone would last after the first day, but for you she just wasn’t sure.

  A single chime from Natasha’s phone pulled her from her thoughts, knowing what it meant before she even took a glance at her device. A brief message from Tony explained S.H.I.E.L.D were having some transportation issues and needed the Widow to assist them. The redhead sent off a confirmation text before putting out her cigarette and heading towards the bathroom where you were still sitting on the shower ledge. 

  You didn’t look up when Natasha opened the door and strolled in, observing the burn you were nursing with concern. So precious. “I’ve got to go out.” The redhead announced. You kept your attention on your leg. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be but if I’m not back by the evening don’t bother trying to make some dinner, most of the electricity is turned off when I’m not here.” She continued, you listened carefully to that but showed no signs of acknowledging. Natasha knew you heard. “There’s crackers if you get hungry.” She said finally as she walked away, leaving the door wide open so you could hear her retreating footsteps and the beeps of her unlocking and relocking the main door behind her. You figured you should at least try and get a general sense of her security system but knowing that so much power went out when she left was definitely a blow. You scowled at the irony you were sure wasn’t lost on the redhead. 

  Once you figured you had put the burn under cold water for long enough, you left the bathroom and studied the apartment before you. Still adamant on finding a way out, you strolled around the wide space scanning for anything you hadn’t spotted before. You knew the kitchen and the bathroom were a bust and the living room was too vast to provide any help to you, so you set your eyes on the impressive stairway and made your way up. The steps were especially chilling under your bare feet but you tried to ignore the sensation once you reached the door and examined the thick barricade. 

  You tried the handle for some dumb luck and was unsurprised to find no lean way so you scanned the keypad for any signs of continued use of specific keys. Again, you went to try the first combination you could think of but on the first number the light flashed red and an abrasive sound of denial came from the lock. Confused, you tried every number but every time you were met with the same sound and light. Defeated, you carried on down the steps, knowing it was useless to wait outside that door in hopes of surprising Natasha when she got back. 

  Continuing back into the bedroom, your gaze fell to the balcony door and you immediately rushed to it thinking it would give way but it was of course locked. You sat back on the bed, feeling defeated and emotional again. You were just so tired and homesick and cooped up. You began wishing you hadn’t pissed Natasha off before so that you would have enjoyed more time outside but swiftly denied myself to ponder on that. I will not strive to make that psycho content just so she can give my ‘outside time’. 

  You despised the feeling of being some common animal that was being kept in a cage to adjust to a new life. You weren’t her pet and you refused to stay there any longer, so with a sudden burst, you charged at the window and kicked it as hard as you could. Nothing. So you kicked again, and again and again. Not even a scratch. You kept going until your legs and foot grew undeniably sore and collapsed against the glass in a heap, beginning to sob once more. 

*

You spent the entirety of that day on the sofa wrapped up in some blankets you had found in the bottom of Natasha’s wardrobe. You had wanted to stay in bed, but laying there only reminded you of what you had done in it with the redhead, stirring up feelings and thoughts you didn’t want to process. So instead, you stayed on the sofa and watched how the sky and city transformed throughout the day, too tired to grow bored of the sight. 

  The TV didn’t work and you genuinely weren't sure if it was because the spy had turned the power off or if she had just never used it and therefore hadn’t ever set it up. You assumed the Avenger had an excessive collection of computers and electronics in the flat, but none of them were anywhere you could access them so you were limited to the windows for your entertainment. 

  You had thought about asking Natasha for a clock or watch of some kind. You hated not knowing exactly what the time was as you were only able to make a rough assumption based on the sun’s position. The time you had spent wondering had started to make you irritable. You aimed to bring it up to the redhead organically although how easy that would be you weren’t sure. 

  It was strange not having her there. Even when she was out of sight, Natasha’s presence filled every inch of the space in the apartment and without her it almost felt like there was too much space for yourself. You had no idea what to do with it, so you confined yourself to one spot and strived to not let her overtake your thoughts. You knew you needed to keep thinking of a way to get out but you just wanted some peace from anything to do with her.

  The sun was setting when Natasha got back, so it must have been at least seven. You didn’t lift your head in her direction when you heard the two beeps and locks opening, or even when her boots thudded against the staircase as she made her way down. You made a point of keeping your eyes trained on the city while hers examined your state as she trudged across the room towards you. You wondered if she was tired. 

  You finally looked up at Natasha once she stood in front of you within arm’s reach. She had a white plastic bag in hand that seemed to have two small boxes within it. “I’m back.” She announced. You clenched your jaw and looked away, wishing she could’ve given you peace for an hour longer. “Come eat.” She made it sound like an invitation, but you both knew she wasn’t really offering so after a beat you dragged yourself from the makeshift security of the blankets and towards the table. 

  Natasha had put the food onto some plates that she laid on the table and went to grab some cutlery while you sat down to inspect the contents. It looked to be an italian salad with a small amount of dressing drizzled over without touching the croutons or tomatoes. Just how you liked it. A large part of you was suspicious of the dish in front of you, especially as you hadn’t seen the redhead prepare it and had no clue what could be secretly hidden in it, but you hadn't eaten all day and the colourful salad was undeniably tempting. But also, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care what could be in the food. You were too tired to play Natasha’s mind games and timidly roll the dice she put before you. So as soon as she put your cutlery down you dug in and finished the meal in a matter of minutes. 

  You felt perfectly fine after you swallowed the final bite and took the time it took Natasha to finish to study her as subtly as you could. Her auburn hair was plaited with a few loose tendrils hanging loosely infront of her face. Any other time you would have admired it. Apart from that, she looked no different and while of course you had no idea what she had been called away for, she had been gone a long while so naturally you were curious. You wondered how often she would be away for such a long period of time and if it would ever be longer. Would it be something you might be able to see a pattern in after a while? Unlikely. Threats to national, international and intergalactic security wouldn’t be so threatening if they had a rota to abide by. 

  “Clean up for me, malysh,” Natasha said with an unexpected gentleness. She didn’t look at you as she said it, nor while she walked past you but there was no doubt it lacked her usual demanding undertone. 

  You took both your plates and cutlery and brought them up to the sink to begin cleaning but caught sight of the kettle before doing so. You didn’t have any bad intentions with it, you genuinely just wanted a cup of tea for some familiarity but the last you had looked there had been no tea bags anyway so you sighed and continued to wash up. By the time you were done Natasha was back though you hadn’t seen her walk past you and once you stepped away from the kitchen you found her sitting on the sofa in the exact spot you had been lying in. You glared at the back of the spy’s head but eventually began trudging over. 

  The closer you got, you noticed that the redhead was reading a book she must have been keeping upstairs. The cover of it suggested it was a French murder mystery set in Paris, not usually your thing but you were so eager for something to do you would read any similar novel she might be keeping upstairs. 

  You perched awkwardly on the edge of the sofa as far away from the spy as you could while her eyes ran across the page swiftly. You glanced at the TV and wondered if it worked now that Natasha was back so you picked up the remote you had left nearby and tried the main button. A blank screen stared back at you so you looked to Natasha to see if she had acknowledged it. Her attention stayed on her book. 

  “Could you turn the TV on?” You asked after half a minute of awkward silence. Natasha turned over another page. “Please?” You forced out after a beat but the redhead continued to ignore you. You sat back slowly and pondered your next words. “You know it’s pretty hard to tell what the time is…” you started. “Maybe I could have a small clock or watch or…something,” you suggested but it fell on deaf ears. You stared at Natasha for a short while longer, waiting for any indicator she had even heard anything you had said because you knew she had just like you knew she could feel you watching her. 

  As soon as you could feel yourself grow frustrated again, you got up from the sofa and headed for the bathroom, figuring that putting space between yourself and the older woman was the best way to stop yourself from doing something reckless. So instead, you started brushing your teeth and washing your face as you knew you weren't going to be doing anything else, you might as well go to bed. You didn’t really want to, but you also didn’t want to be near Natasha and that made your options very limited. 

  Some time later you heard the Avenger enter the room though with your back to her you were confused by the sound of a heavy thud followed by Natasha dragging something across the floor. You frowned but didn’t turn to look, aiming to appear asleep. Even when the redhead disappeared into the bathroom you didn’t dare sneak a glance and what she had brought in and felt the ever present sense of unease grow, like a child during bedtime convinced there's a monster in their room. 

  When Natasha returned you could hear the sound of a lock turning, helping you imagine some kind of box the redhead had brought in. You strained your ears more and just about caught the sound of a buckle and something else being tossed on the bed before Natasha removed her clothes and put them for the wash. More shuffling and eventually she was moving the covers back and shuffling towards you. You froze until you were suddenly being shoved onto the floor. You braced yourself for impact just in time but still dazed nonetheless. This time, you gaped back at Natasha just as she grabbed a handful of your hair and dragged you up to your knees to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for you to kneel between them and stare openly at the black harness she wore and sizeable dildo attached. 

  “Get it wet for me, detka.” Natasha instructed, her voice as husky as it was the last time she had you in such an intimate place. Your eyes snapped at hers and you could immediately sense that she wasn’t going to be taking no as an answer. Her eyes were dark and drunk on a power she knew she held every second that you were in that apartment but particularly when she had me like this. 

  She grabbed the silicone toy with her other hand when you were too dazed to respond and slapped it a little across your cheek impatiently. “I- I don’t know-” you stammered at the unpractised scene you found myself in. Of course you had watched porn and read smut with this but you had never done it and now that you actually could you found yourself intimidated by the toy presented to you. It was bigger than anything you had ever used on yourself and you were suddenly very unsure of what you were even meant to do.

  “It’s not hard, malysh,” Natasha huffed and pushed the head past your parted lips without any warning. “Even a dumb mutt like you can do it,” she said before taking both hands to the back of your head and forcing you down on her strap. You  immediately tried to brace yourself by grabbing at Natasha’s thighs but this proved no help when the toy hit the back of your throat and you began to cough and gargle. Through tear filled eyes, you tried to look at the redhead pleadingly for some leanway, not understanding that this only worked her up more and she continued to push you down until your nose was against her stomach. 

  You hit her thighs with as much strength as you could muster as she held you in that position, desperate for air and a break on your burning throat, until she pushed you off her toy and let you gasp for air while she kept you close. You coughed and wheezed in a panic, not even noticing the tears streaming down your face or the spit on your chin. All the while Natasha soaked up the view until you had gotten enough oxygen back into your body. Your breathing still wasn’t normal and you weren’t ready to try again, but the more experienced woman forced her strap into your mouth once more, this time guiding you to roughly bob your head on her toy. She didn’t make you take the whole length every time, easing the pressure off of your throat and instead making your jaw ache from the unfamiliar action.

  Her fingers had a hold of the majority of your hair and tightened every so often just to make you whine at the painful sensation of her pulling on your scalp. Just because she could. “That’s it, we just gotta loosen up that sensitive little gag reflex of yours, don’t we?” Natasha cooed and bucked her hips just to hear you gag and prove her point. You gave a muffled protest around the toy and the redhead chuckled. 

  “God, I could keep you like this for hours,” the spy breathed out as she watched a fresh set of tears start up in your eyes. “I bet that would just turn you into a cockdrunk whore, huh?” She spat and when you didn’t even try to respond she pulled the strap away and slapped you. Your head didn’t spin too far to the side due to her unwavering grip. “Answer me.”

  “Yes,” you said, voice hoarse and weak.

  “That’s yes daddy,” Natasha corrected and your cheeks heated up.

  “I…” you started but one warning look from the redhead was enough for you to correct yourself. “Yes daddy,” you said and was ashamed to feel your cunt clench around nothing as the words left your lips. Natasha smirked and hauled you back onto the bed before pushing your face into the pillows and lifting your ass up. You went to squirm away but she placed a firm hand on your waist as she lined her cock up with the other and ran it through your embarrassingly wet folds. 

  “Wait!” You tried but Natasha was already dragging the dildo up and down your slit, allowing you to hear just how wet you were for her and making you bathe in shame before she pushed the thick toy inside you. 

  It was a strike of blazing hot sensations. Every inch of Natasha’s cock was thrust inside you within a split second and just like that, she was anchored inside you and you were bound to her. Every nerve in your body was ablaze while not a single cell in your brain could respond. Everything was alight and it was blinding yet you could do nothing to stop it and would do anything to keep it. Then suddenly Natasha withdrew and forced herself in again and you became entirely too aware of the stretch, of the size, of the fullness. It was all far too much but you were trapped between the redhead and her bed and not a single muscle within you was strong enough to even attempt to move. 

  To add to it all, you could feel your slick on your thighs and heard yourself moan into the pillow. You couldn’t help it. Any of it. It hurt so much but it felt so so good. It was entirely too easy for Natasha to pump her cock into your cunt, stuffing you to the brim every time and sending your nerves into a frenzy. 

  “I knew you’d fucking love this,” the redhead grunted as she planted her hand into the back of your head and used it as leverage to fuck you better with. You clenched around the toy the moment she did and she smirked, thrusting her hips wildly against you and revelling in the mess she had made you become. You were a puddle in her bed and could only rely on Natasha to build you back up again. Not yet though. She wanted to play with you first and took her time in doing so. 

  Natasha was insatiable, never getting enough of your desperate whines every time she pulled back too far or waited a moment longer to push her cock back into your cunt. She edged and teased you relentlessly for hours, making you beg for things you never dreamed you would. You gave yourself to her and allowed the spy to do whatever she liked with you under the illusion that she would make it all better if you did, that she would set you ablaze in the most euphoric way imaginable. She was everything. 

  You passed out after cumming numerous times, collapsing in a heap and letting the exhaustion clock you out for the night. Luckily, Natasha was too and content to let the rest of her attention to you be for the sole purpose of cleaning you both up, not wanting to have to deal with it the next day. She was amused to find she was even able to change the bed sheets without you stirring. Granted, it was your first time in some sense of the word and the redhead had worked you far past my limits as she had intended to. 

  Natasha watched you sleep for a while before she even considered it for herself, knowing you were going to be flat out for a long time. She was glad that you weren’t still numb to sex, that that morning had just been some disassociated state that she wondered if she would find you in the next morning. She didn’t much care if she did, but she was still curious to know because Natasha was still finding you challenging to predict. She hadn’t expected you to become so willing again so soon yet seeing that you were allowed her to think about how she could take things with you. There was still some trial and error to be done, but Natasha was gradually figuring out the best ways to break you.

*

You felt nothing but achy when you woke up. You grimaced at first until you realised the main area of the discomfort and sunk further into the bed and found yourself more mortified than you had been the morning before. How had you let that happen again? Except it was far worse than last time because Natasha really hadn’t had to use a knife to threaten her way into your pants. 

  You were grateful to find she wasn’t lying next to you but listened out for any signs of her in the bathroom or kitchen, getting nothing. You hauled myself from the bed, set on the shower as quickly as possible to try and feel clean again and hoping it would be more effective the second time around. Thankfully it was, though that may have been partly due to the absence of any unwanted company as you lathered myself in soap, even washing your hair as swiftly as possible. 

  Staying in the shower, you felt your muscles start to relax under the steaming water and were able to focus on the sounds and feelings surrounding you for a few moments of bliss that you wouldn’t end up regretting later on. It was only once the heat started to make you light headed that you dried yourself off and headed back to the bedroom.

  That’s when you noticed the notepad left on Natasha’s side of the bed. You started towards it with some apprehension and as you got closer you noticed there was a HB pencil and square rubber laying next to it. No sharpener. The notepad had no lines inside and was the type that was held together by two thin pieces of cardboard on either side. 

  “Behave and I’ll get you a treat.” That was what Natasha had said. “Like a notepad.” You scoffed and threw the ‘gift’ back down on the bed next to the clothes the redhead had lain out for you. Instead, you made your way over to the wardrobe to get something else and rummaged through all the options. 

  You were tempted to piece together an outfit with the spy’s leather jacket and combat boots, just to piss her off, but you thought it best to try and stay on her good side for a while until you could figure out a stable plan to get out. Sure, not going through her clothes would be a good way to do that, however you were getting tired of walking around without trousers so you grabbed the first pair of sweatpants you saw and paired them with the shirt and fresh underwear Natasha had left out. You yearned for the comfort of your own clothes and headed for the kitchen.

  There was still no sign of the redhead as you searched her cupboards for something to eat and settled on some fruit left in the fridge. As you began eating, you wondered if you would be able to use the pencil as a weapon. Sure, it wouldn’t be as good as the knife, but used with enough force it could be something promising. Natasha clearly didn’t deem it much of a threat or she wouldn’t have given it to you. Then again, you figured she had left you the knife just so she could use it against you. You couldn’t underestimate her again. 

  When you finished your breakfast and washed up the bowl, you paused next to the oven for a moment, remembering that Natasha said the power would be off whenever she wasn’t there. You turned the dial and waited for the sound of something igniting and upon hearing nothing determined that the redhead was out. You smiled at the small victory of knowing you could use that method to determine her whereabouts in the future. It was progress. 

  Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for your mind to wander back to your night with the redhead, replaying the very vivid memories of the degrading ways she touched and talked to you. And how you had reacted. So you soon caved and went back to the bedroom to retrieve the notepad and supplies and brought them back to the sofa that still had several blankets over it but had since been folded neatly. At least you could both appreciate tidiness. 

  You tapped your pencil against the notepad as you studied the city before you. You already spent countless hours staring out at it, you just weren't used to sketching landscapes. It took several attempts to start, but once you realised you weren’t going to be sharing the final result with anyone, you allowed your hand to roam freely across the page and began collecting the buildings together with your pencil, eventually becoming immersed in the art the way you often did. 

  You gave voice to the chaos of the city and the confidence to the skyscrapers that acted as the foundations and the awe of the people below. You sauntered around the apartment to get all angles and different insights, different stories, different ages. All expressed across numerous pages in the notepad until the sun dispersed behind the buildings and the true nightlife got to shine across new pages. 

  You didn’t even realise Natasha was home until her shadow fell over the notepad. You jumped, knocking everything off of your lap and backing away from the redhead who watched you with a bemused expression. Her hair was still in a plait. You liked it like that. She trudged over to the kitchen and put a pack of beers in the fridge, keeping one for herself and taking it through to the bedroom where you heard the balcony door slide open and partly shut. 

  Trying to ignore the redhead’s presence, you turned back to the notepad and put pencil to paper only to see the stump of lead had come out. You tried to put it back in like you used to when you were too lazy to fetch your sharpener but the lead was too short and kept falling back out. You huffed and glared in Natasha’s general direction before gathering everything and taking it to the balcony with you where the Avenger sat smoking. 

  You leant against the sliding door, facing the side of Natasha’s profile, as you spoke. “Thanks for the notepad and pencil,” you wondered if it sounded as forced to her as it did to your own ears. “And the rubber,” you added dutifully. “The lead just fell out of the pencil though so…” She didn’t respond so you let the statement hang in the air as you tapped the notepad against your leg and thought of something else to say and realised the redhead hadn’t acknowledged the additional clothing you were wearing. You glanced at her and registered a far away look across her face and wondered if she had a bad day. 

  No. You refused to feel bad for her if she did. She deserved it. Well…wishing a bad day on her felt uncomfortable. You didn’t want her to be upset, you just wanted her to stop making you upset. 

  You didn’t know what else to say. Small talk was never a strong suit of yours. “Shall I…make some food?” You tried. You weren’t hungry yourself, you didn’t have the biggest appetite at the best of times and the past couple days didn’t make it any better. You also weren't planning on making a meal for the redhead out of the kindness of your heart. You just wanted something to do after a day of nothing but drawing. Natasha didn’t reply and you realised you didn’t really know what dish you could make out of the ingredients the spy had anyway. Cooking wasn’t one of your strong suits either. At least you could draw buildings. 

  Figuring there wasn’t much more you could do or say, you went back inside and got yourself ready for bed, surprised to see that Natasha fell shortly behind and you were somewhat thankful that she didn’t want a meal prepared. Perhaps she had had dinner with the Avengers. The thought almost made you bitterly laugh. 

  As soon as Natasha was in bed, she was on you. Mouth everywhere, hands everywhere. She made swift work of your clothes and despite yourself, you helped her. Not because you wanted to be on her good side, not because you wanted to distract her, but because as soon as she made her move you forgot you hated her and only knew you wanted her.

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party

Bonus Hug - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, post-game, epilogue, cw: alcohol, jealousy

WC: 2.1k words, 18/18 chapters

Summary: An epilogue hug! Astarion sees Rogue!Tav giving out hugs and wants one of his own.

Author's Note: This was not part of the original fic, added on after the epilogue was released, however I chose to put my own spin on the epilogue hug.

Finally, Whether you read this fic AO3, on Tumblr, or a combo of both, thanks so much for joining the hugfest! I love this vampire man, and may he have many, many more hugs <3

Ao3 | [Hug17] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

It’s been six months since your victory at Baldur’s Gate.

Six months of traveling through the Underdark with Astarion, establishing a base for the vampire spawn, and figuring out your next steps together. It was perilous and difficult work, but you wouldn’t change a single thing. 

You have missed your former companions dearly though, so when you received the invitation from Withers for a celebration, the smile that broke across your face could blind a celestial. I wouldn’t miss this for anything – not even a fresh new apocalypse, you wrote back.

So that’s how you and Astarion have found yourselves above ground once again, the familiar wilderness of the Sword Coast a welcome sight, the distinguished company an even more welcome one.

Everyone seems to be doing quite well, despite how you all left each other. Lae’zel is only able to visit through a projection, and the reprieve is rather temporary for a few of your companions– namely Wyll and Karlach– However, it’s a rare opportunity and you’re incredibly grateful to have it.

The elation must be obvious on your face, as Astarion takes one look at you and laughs. His sing-song little giggle never fails to bring a smile to your face, and right now your face is liable to crack open. “Go on, dear,” he says, sensing the eager tension in your body. “Mingle! If you need me, I shall be near the wine.”

“You can mingle too, you know,” you say, though you’ve already begun to walk away.

“Invite me again after a few bottles,” he responds. You know he loves them all in his own way, but he also finds them to be a bit too much at times. Ever the stray cat, he’ll find his way to them when he’s ready, at least you hope. So you nod to him in agreement and wander off to chat with your dearest friends.

You’re so excited to see them all again that you’re practically jogging to meet them. 

Shadowheart is the first. When you get a good look at her, you see a peace in her face that you haven’t seen in any of the months you’ve known her. Something about it brings you relief. You knew they would each find their happiness without you, but seeing it firsthand is something else. Perhaps it’s because she’s looking so much more herself than ever, but before long you find yourself asking, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is caring and welcoming and everything you knew Shadowheart has always been.

Next you make your way to Karlach. She’s alive and well, which is ten times better than the last time you saw her, and you just might cry from the sight. She tells you about Avernus and about the possibility to fix her heart and you just might cry from that as well. Again, you can’t resist, especially knowing she’s been fighting for her life for six months. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is warm and strong, just like the woman in your arms.

After that, you make your way to Wyll. He’s doing rather well in Avernus with Karlach, and, when he mentions that he’s planning to ensure Karlach finds a solution to her heart, a few tears well in your eyes. Wyll is among the best of mortal and immortal men, and you’re glad he went with Karlach when you couldn’t. The grateful feeling is more than you can put into words, so you ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is strong and bracing and an absolute testament to Wyll’s enduring friendship.

You find your way to Lae’zel. After learning of her diligent efforts to save her people from Vlaakith, you can’t help but be awestruck by how much she’s changed. You’re inspired by her ability to learn to fight with words and stunned by how much she truly misses you. Even though she’s not there, you can’t help yourself, “Could I have a hug?” She simply clicks her tongue at you and calls you an idiot, somehow melting your heart all the same.

Eventually, you find Gale, tucked away with the tressym Tara. He’s a teacher and no longer at risk of exploding – you can’t help laughing at that, remembering the various times he almost blew you all up without the help of an all-powerful orb. Something about the way he speaks of his new role and invites you to visit, either to teach or just to spend time, makes you realize that this is what a happy wizard looks like. You love it and ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is all-encompassing and lengthy, much like one of Gale’s lessons in magic.

Finally, you find Halsin, dancing the night away. When you learn more about his endeavors, you find that he’s reestablishing the settlement at Reithwin, reconnecting the land to its people. He mentions that Thaniel and Oliver are no longer lonely and that the children of the settlement bring him a fulfillment he never thought possible. After regaling him of an exaggerated tale of your and Astarion’s adventures, you assure him that the two of you will visit soon to tell more. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is surprisingly gentle and comforting, and you walk away feeling quite content.

You determine that you’ll need to ask the rest, even Withers, for hugs if they’ll all be this enjoyable. But before you do that, you decide to take a moment to yourself, to process everything.

That’s how you find your way to a quiet corner, head spinning with warm, fuzzy feelings and maybe a smidge too much wine. Just being here, surrounded by some of the best people you’ve ever had the privilege to encounter, fills you with a companionship you weren’t aware you’d been missing. Astarion fills you with so much love and happiness, but this– this is different.

As if summoned with your thoughts, the vampire walks toward you, wine glass in hand. "Are you done mingling?" Sensing your mind is elsewhere, he leans closer, inspecting your glassy, faraway gaze. His hand lands on the small of your back, jolting your attention back to the present and you turn to look at him. His eyes sparkle at you with radiant joy and a hint of something else. Could that be annoyance?

You decide to focus on the joy. "Yes, I think I've managed to get good conversations out of everyone. Did you know Gale wants me to go teach at Waterdeep?" Your voice sounds incredulous, after all, you warned him: once a rogue, always a rogue. Unless he wants his students to learn how to stab more efficiently, he would do best to seek someone else.

Astarion clearly agrees, making an exaggerated, aghast expression. "You? A teacher?" He shudders in fake-fear. "My love, I pity the poor students who would be subjected to your methods."

“Hey,” you say, shooting him a glare. “I thought you were supposed to be the supportive one!”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I can only support so much, my dear.” Then he takes a long look at you, noticing how unfocused your eyes are, the flush to your face. “And from the looks of it, I may need to support your entire body before the night is over.”

You only grin at him and say, “What did I do to deserve such a caring man?”

“Yes, yes,” he says, rubbing gentle circles along your back. “Likely whatever you did to deserve the affections of every adventurer this side of the Chionthar.” His tone is joking, but the dark look on his face says otherwise.

Pushing aside your own amusement, you pull his hand from your back and lean into him. “Okay, what's the matter, love?”

“Oh nothing. I just thought my jealous days were behind me.” He sounds sullen, and you note a sad tilt to his eyebrows.

Jealous days? You groan, recalling his concern over the fiery barbarian. “Love, really truly, if I were leaving you for Karlach, I would have gone to Avernus months ago.”

He waves his wine glass at you dismissively. “I know that, and I don’t mean Karlach, contrary to all evidence thus far.” Suddenly avoiding your gaze, he takes a sip of wine and changes the subject. “No matter, let’s go ask Withers where he found this vintage.” 

“No, no, no,” you say, tugging him back to you before he can walk off. After another six months together, getting used to each other’s idiosyncrasies outside of mortal peril (mostly out of mortal peril), you knew the escape was only a ruse. He wants to talk, but he seems too embarrassed to begin. “You’re allowed to be jealous, Astarion. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me why.”

Astarion stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a pair of vulnerable red eyes. “Do you promise not to laugh?”

You take a beat to debate this, but ultimately honesty wins over and you shake your head. “I wish I could, but I do promise to try my best?”

A sigh escapes him, and you’re graced with a soft, reluctant smile. “Typical. You were truthful though, so I shall be too. I was rather jealous of…” He wipes a hand over his face dramatically. “I was jealous that you’ve gone and hugged everyone else. Gods, I sound like a child.”

It’s a good thing you only promised to try your best because an involuntary huff leaves your lips, which you'd firmly pressed together in preparation. "That is…" you gasp out.

"Idiotic? Pathetic?" Astarion supplies.

"Rather adorable actually," you say, finally allowing a snort out. “How do you always manage to be both adorable and sexy?”

You swear you can see the tips of his ears color pink, but that may just be the firelight or your own tipsy vision. He only says, “I’m quite talented.”

“Would a hug help you feel better?”

Astarion looks at you, eyes darting between yours. You can see a bit of hesitation in them, and you’re wondering why when he says, “Only if it’s not a pity hug.”

“Never,” you say, solemnly. “You know I only give hugs I mean.”

He clicks his tongue, annoyed again. He places his wine glass down on the ground with a flourish, as if preparing himself. “Yes, exactly. Which is why I’ve gone and become jealous. This is all your fault and I expect you to remedy it.”

You nod, accepting this burden with ease. “In that case… Could I hug you?” Astarion waves his hand at you as if to say, get on with it already, and you dive right in. 

The hug is loving, it’s understanding and supportive. It warms you, it cools you, and it makes you want to tackle this man to the ground in an aggressive affection– a feeling you only barely temper after a few glasses of wine. After experiencing so many hugs tonight, you find that the hug is so very perfectly him.

No, not just him. It’s the type of hug that the both of you make together. And it’s the hug you want to experience again and again for the rest of your life.

When you finally pull away from him, Astarion is smiling once more, jealousy evidently placated. “Well now, I have you every night, don’t I? Go on then, continue to bless them with your presence. I’ll be here when you’re ready. I’ll always be here, my love.”

You shake your head at him. “A lovely sentiment, of course, but you’re done hiding. Come on.”

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing as he tilts away from you.

“I said, you’re done hiding. No more shadows, they all keep asking about you and I’d rather you answer them yourself,” you say, all but dragging him back to the party now. “They miss you too, you know.”

“Darling, please. What if they ask me for a hug?” Astarion looks truly appalled at the thought.

You laugh, imagining him reacting like a cat forced into a bathtub. “You can say no, of course. But I promise not to get too jealous if you do.”

“What will it take for you to forget I ever said that?” he says, laughing and allowing himself to be dragged.

You quickly swipe his wine glass back up off the ground as you pull him along, and take a long drink before returning it to him. You only say, “At least two more bottles, though I suppose that depends on how wild Withers likes his parties.”

Hand-in-hand, you both walk off to enjoy the rest of the celebration. The night is young, the wine is flowing, and there are still many more hugs to be shared.