#autumn one shot

[seenoversundown]

Dueling Cameras

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1.2k

Oh Klahoma - Jack Stauber " Go on and hand me your clothes, Take a picture or two, I can see you"

“Come on Willa,” Sam yelled from across the house. 

“I’m grabbing my shoes and I’ll be ready!” I responded. 

As I come to the front of the house I find Sam squatting down to put Penelope's leash on. Those two are always inseparable. 

“Y’ready?” He says when he notices me watching them. 

“Absolutely, let's go.” I say as I give him a quick kiss.

As we ride to the fair, I look out the window while Sam sings along to what’s playing over the speakers.

“Workin’ on our night moves.

Tryin’ to make some front page drive-in news.”

I look over to him sitting in the driver's seat. “Still stuck in your head?”

“I’ve spent too many nights helping Jake close the bar,” Sam says with a laugh. 

We drive the rest of the way that’s only broken when Penelope starts to whine. When we finally park, Sam is quick to get to Penny and let her out the back door. I get out and start to close the door when I notice Sam’s camera bag sitting on the back seat. Knowing he was too focused on Miss P and will probably be upset when he notices he's left it behind, I grab it. 

Sam’s a little bit ahead of me when I finally do catch up to them. Before catching up completely, I pull out his camera and take a quick photo of them from behind. He’s always been attractive to me, but it wasn’t until a year or so ago until I finally admitted it to myself. 

Click. 

It isn’t long until the three of us step foot inside the state fair. I take the lead and start heading left, straight to the pumpkin patch. 

“You really want to carry around pumpkins for the rest of the day?” Sam asks, giving me a questioning look.

“Well, if we wait until later all of the good ones will be gone.” I said matter of factly. 

A hearty chuckle comes from Sam as he throws his arm over your shoulder. “Whatever you want, my little bird.” 

We walk like this until we reach the patch full of yellows, oranges and whites. Penelope's quick to pull us towards a cluster of decent looking pumpkins. 

“Good work, Penny-girl.” I say, leaning down to pat her between the ears. 

Click. 

Hearing that soft click, I’m a little surprised. I thought I had Sam’s camera. Turning to look at him, I see a shit eating grin spread across his face. 

“New toy.” Is all he says while holding up a small film camera. 

“I should’ve known.” I reply while playfully rolling my eyes. 

“Yes, you should’ve.” Sam presses a kiss to my cheek. “Always gotta document my girls.” 

My heart always does a little flip when he calls us that. His girls. I run ahead and whip out the other camera. 

Click. 

A bewildered look crosses Sam’s face while Penelope just watches, her tail whipping the air. 

“Fancy a game of dueling cameras?” I say in my best posh accent. 

I’m rewarded with a deep belly laugh from Sam that liquifies my insides. My favorite sound, I can’t help but think. 

“Game on.” 

I take off running father into the patch, Penelope's barks trailing behind me. Sam’s laughing out loud, and I can’t help but laugh along with him. One of my favorite things about this man is how free he lets me be. Never once has he tried to clip my wings, he’s only interested in helping me fly. 

Throwing my arms up in the air I stop where I am and spin, laughter is tumbling out of me in waves. 

Click. Click. 

Sam lets go of the leash and she’s quick to join me, her happy barks filling the air. 

Looking back at Sam, I realize he isn’t standing in the same place anymore. The pumpkin patch is steadily getting busier, and I can’t spot him as I glance around. 

Suddenly, arms are on either side of me and my feet are whisked off the ground, I can’t stop myself as I scream upon take off. 

“Got you,” Sam says in my ear. 

“Unfair!” I say as he puts me down. I cross my arms across my chest and give him a fake pout. “You came outta nowhere.” 

“Always gotta keep you on your toes.”  A quick kiss is pressed on the tip of my nose. “Now, let’s get what we came for. Those roasted seeds are calling my name.” He’s quick to grab the leash as we finally settle on an area of pumpkins to choose from. 

“How about this one?” Sam holds up a classic orange pumpkin that’s perfectly round. 

Click. 

“If that’s your choice. This one’s mine, I think.” I take my turn to hold up a yellow pumpkin that’s more oval-like. “I have a great idea for the face I wanna put on this bad boy!” 

“I think I need to reevaluate my choice,” Sam says with a laugh. “How about this one instead?” Similar to my yellow oddball, he’s found one of similar shape but in orange. 

“Oh, Samuel. That’s a fine specimen indeed.”

A bark cute through the air, we both look to find Penelope sniffing a smaller white pumpkin. 

Click. 

“It seems as though Penny-girl has chosen her pumpkin, too.” I say. 

We make quick work of purchasing our small family of pumpkins. , excited to get them back home. I have Penelope's leash in hand as we walk back through the fair. Admiring the rides and all the bright lights that are seemingly getting brighter as the sun goes down. 

“Willa,” 

With a smile, I turn my head quickly at the sound of Sam’s soft voice cutting through the noise. He’s only a few paces behind me with his camera up to his face.

Click. 

“What do I get for winning this round?”, Sam says in a cheeky little tone, a smile plastered across his face as he catches up to us. 

“Mmm.. I have an idea”, deciding to play along, I hit him with a little wink. I motion for him to lean down, planting a kiss on his lips, holding him there for an extra beat. Maybe two beats. 

“Well”, he starts, “let’s get you home then, shall we?” Grabbing my hand and taking off to the car, moving a bit quicker than before. Rose and I trailing behind him as we approach the car. Letting her into the backseat before I get in, Sam’s already starting the car. 

As soon as I slide into my seat, he throws the car in drive. His right hand immediately intertwined with mine, resting on my leg. The sight makes my heart swell, until I look over at him in the last minutes of daylight. His hair is a little disheveled from the wind and the brisk walk, but the soft smile resting on his face as he focuses on the road was really the prize for me. 

Click. 

Masterlist | Taglist

[sweeterlovers]

DOWNTOWN GIRL / LANDO NORRIS

lando norris x downtown girl gf / SMAU FIC

FACE CLAIM / none!

WARNINGS / fluff!

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 89,727 others

yourusername fall is starting 🍂☕️🍁🤍

view all comments

user2 fall it girl!

user3 the sweater looks so cozy!

user8 it’s a need!

yourusername guys i actually knitted it myself!!!!!!!!

user07 queen stuff!

user99 make me one queen!

user074 have you made lando a sweater yet?

yourusername i’m in the process! now carlos, oscar, and max want sweaters too 🤦🏼‍♀️

user43 looking pretty 😍

landonorris oh hello there 😏😏

yourusername please stop

landonorris never

yourusername @mclaren please take away his phone

mclaren on it!

landonorris what???????? i’m your driver?! dhwuwuwi

user12 mclaren is on y/n side 😭

user678 aren’t we all!

oscarpiastri @landonorris imagine your own team choosing your gf over you

landonorris I HOPE YOU GET EATEN BY A KANGAROO

oscarpiastri so violent

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 56,722 others

yourusername outfit for today! this literally ate so hard guys!!! don’t even

view all comments

user25 ICONIC

user59 this outfit is perfection

user00 FR!!!! it’s going on my pinterest

user9 the matching!!! on point

pinterest queen 👑

yourusername you know it 😏😏🤍

user367 we need a breakdown on the outfit!!!

yourusername ok!!! the necklace is from brandy melville, the blazer is thrifted, the top is from zara, the belt is thrifted, the skirt is brandy melville, the boots are from a store in texas and the bag is vintage louis vuitton!

user57 we love a thrifting queen!

user308 where are you thrifting????

yourusername mostly in new york honestly!

user67 the bag is to DIE for

landonorris 😍😍😍😍😍

user4499 lewis would be proud of the fit ❤️

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 276,837 others

yourusername we love a good style revamp

view all comments

user444 this moved me

user55 OK Y/N YOU ATE WITH THIS

user5689 i need the heart necklace

user08 THAT LAST PHOTO

user48 the muscles ��

yourusername i drooled on my screen…

yourusername WHAT WHO SAID THAT????????

user3 LMFAOO

user678 me too girl

user2 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣

landonorris i do look good

yourusername i’m not even going to tease you cause you look AMAZING

landonorris 😏😏

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, and 782,726 others

landonorris fall with my girl 🍂🍂

view all comments

user27 😍😍

user567 the ugg’s with the ribbons 🎀

user07 coquette!

user766 i need that jacket

user55 both of them!!!!

user677 the red leather jacket

user9 a need

user688 so lana del rey

yourusername my outfits ate

landonorris getting cocky there

user7 they look so in love

-

SWEETERLOVERS - a cute fic!

[astrxq]

jacaerys velaryon x wife!reader — prompt list 1.22 from my autumn party!

words: 4.9k

notes: “Well, how do you like it when I touch myself?” “It... Turns me on.” - oooooor: jace's focus has been split between political responsibilities and the ache of missing you. after days of separation, he finds you in your chambers, ready to show him how much you've missed him. requested

The chamber was dimly lit, the glow of flickering candles casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with warmth, yet there was a cold tension that lingered in the air, waiting to be dissolved. You stood by the window, gazing out at the fading twilight, your thoughts restless, drifting toward the man who had been absent for too long.

It had been days – no, weeks – since Jacaerys last stood beside you. His absence left an ache, deep and unspoken, though you both knew it well. He was always called away, summoned to mend the broken ties between houses, to settle disputes and broker peace. You understood, of course you did, but it never lessened the weight of loneliness that crept into the corners of your heart each time he left. Tonight, though, he was coming back.

You heard the door creak open, and your heart skipped a beat. There he stood, his tall frame filling the entrance, still cloaked in the regal, yet travel-worn attire of a diplomat, his hair tousled from the long ride, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. But beneath that fatigue, there was something else – a hunger, a need that flared to life the moment his gaze fell on you.

"You're back," you said softly, turning toward him, your voice like silk, soft yet purposeful. It was an acknowledgment, a quiet invitation. His name lingered unspoken on your lips, but the weight of it was heavy between you both.

Jacaerys didn’t respond immediately, his eyes locked on yours, as if to confirm you were truly there. His expression was guarded at first, the burdens of his duty still etched across his face. But as you took a slow step toward him, his dark eyes followed your movements, a flicker of something deeper passing over his features. Desire, yes – but also relief, and a yearning that felt almost palpable.

You smiled, the kind that you knew he couldn’t resist. Without breaking eye contact, you began to undo the laces of your gown. Slowly. Deliberately. You could feel the shift in the room, the way his breath caught slightly as he realized what you were doing.

"Is this how you greet your husband after all these days?" His voice was hoarse, rough from the strain of his recent negotiations. But beneath that, there was a teasing edge, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

You took a step closer, the barest whisper of your feet against the floor. “You’ve been away for too long,” you said, your voice low, holding a playful note, though your eyes were intent, unwavering. You raised one hand to trail lightly down the side of your neck, your fingertips brushing over your collarbone, tracing the curve of your body in a way you knew would unravel him.

His gaze darkened, heat flooding his features as he watched you with unrestrained want. He took a step closer, as if drawn by an invisible force, but he didn’t touch you – not yet. There was an unspoken rule, a tension that coiled between you both.

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” His voice was strained, thick with need, but there was an edge of desperation there too. “How hard it was to keep my mind on anything else but you?”

You smiled, your fingers pausing just above your navel. “Is that so, my prince?” you asked, teasing him with a soft lilt. “Then perhaps I should give you something else to focus on.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy with suggestion, and you took another step closer, until you were almost within arm’s reach. He watched you intently, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he fought for control. But you could see it in his eyes – the battle was already lost. He was yours, completely.

With deliberate slowness, you ran your hand down the length of your body, a soft, languid caress that left nothing to the imagination. The heat of your touch seemed to radiate through the room, pulling him in like a magnet.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” Jacaerys breathed, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes were glued to your movements, and you could see the strain in him, the way he clenched his fists at his sides, holding back the urge to close the distance between you.

You paused, your hand resting just above your thigh, and tilted your head slightly, giving him a knowing look. “Then come here,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry. “And show me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. In two swift strides, he was in front of you, his hands gripping your waist with a possessive intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was desperate, heated, as if he had been starved for you, which, in truth, he had been. He pulled you against him, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was all-consuming, his breath hot against your lips.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. He had always been intense, but now there was something more – a need that bordered on frantic, a longing that had built up over days of separation and sleepless nights. His hands roamed your body with a feverish hunger, as if trying to make up for every moment he had been away.

“I missed this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and thick with emotion. “I missed you.” His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, his breath ragged as he fought to control himself.

You smiled against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair as you tugged him back slightly, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Then stop holding back,” you whispered, your voice a challenge, daring him to let go of the restraint that was barely holding him together.

His eyes darkened at your words, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, electric. Then, without warning, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you toward the bed with a single-minded focus that made your pulse quicken. The need in him was palpable, his every movement filled with an urgency that sent a thrill through you.

He set you down gently, though his hands trembled with the effort of control, his eyes never leaving yours as he lowered himself beside you. His fingers brushed over your skin, soft yet burning, tracing the line of your jaw, down your neck, to the curve of your shoulder. Every touch felt deliberate, as if he were memorizing every inch of you, as if he were trying to make up for all the time you had been apart.

“Tell me,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips hovering just above yours. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers trailing down the length of his back. “More than you’ll ever know,” you murmured, pulling him closer, your bodies pressing together in a way that made you both gasp.

His lips crashed into yours again, and this time, there was no holding back. It was a kiss filled with raw, unfiltered desire, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You responded in kind, your fingers exploring every inch of him, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way his body trembled under your touch.

“I need you,” he groaned, his voice rough with desperation as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you.

You saw the flicker of reluctance pass over Jacaerys’s face as he paused, his lips still brushing against yours, his breath hot and uneven. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed for a brief moment, as if trying to gather the strength to speak.

“There’s a council meeting,” he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. “They need me.”

It was the last thing you wanted to hear, and for a moment, you felt the sharp sting of disappointment. But then, the fire inside you burned brighter. You knew this game well enough by now – knew the delicate balance he walked, the duty that pulled him away. But tonight, you weren’t going to let it win. Tonight, he belonged to you.

“They’ve had you long enough,” you whispered, your hands tightening against the fabric of his tunic. “Stay. Just this once.”

His eyes opened, and the conflict there was plain. “I want to,” he said, and you believed him. You could feel the way his body leaned into yours, craving the closeness. But then he swallowed, pulling away with visible reluctance. “But if I miss it… the negotiations are delicate.” His voice was strained, like he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You tilted your head, giving him a pointed look, your voice a gentle challenge. “And who’s going to stop you, Jacaerys? You’re the prince. You have the right to say no.”

He huffed, half-laughing, but there was an edge of longing in his eyes as he looked at you. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is,” you insisted, your voice firm, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as you looked him directly in the eyes. “Stay.”

His eyes flickered, caught between duty and desire. He was on the edge of giving in, you knew it, and you pushed just a bit more, the teasing edge returning to your smile. “Or,” you added, your voice softening to a sultry whisper as your fingers brushed down his chest, “I could give you a reason not to go.”

The words seemed to ripple through him. His breath quickened, and his hands moved instinctively to grip your hips, fingers tightening as if to ground himself. You could see the battle waging within him, the way his eyes darkened with want, the way his jaw tightened as he fought to maintain control. For a moment, you thought you’d won.

But then, with a groan of frustration, he pulled away, rubbing a hand over his face. “Gods, you make this impossible.” He took two steps back, his shoulders tense, the weight of his responsibilities still bearing down. “I can’t just– ” He stopped, the words halting on his tongue as he turned toward the door, as if trying to force himself to walk away.

It was then that you made your move. You reached for the straps of your dress, letting your fingers glide over them slowly, pulling each one down with a practiced grace. The fabric slipped lower, revealing the curve of your shoulders and the bare skin beneath. You knew the effect it would have – knew the way his gaze would be drawn, helpless to resist.

And you were right.

He stopped mid-stride, eyes snapping back to you. For a moment, he was still, as if frozen by the sight. His gaze dragged over the bare skin you revealed, lingering on the smooth lines and the way the candlelight caught the curve of your collarbone. You could see the struggle in his expression, the way his fists clenched as he tried to tear his eyes away but failed.

You let the dress fall further, your fingers tracing a slow path down the straps as they slid down your arms. The fabric pooled at your elbows, leaving little to the imagination. You kept your eyes locked on him, a smile curling at your lips, daring him to look away. “Are you sure you have to go?”

His jaw tightened, and you could see the effort it took for him to speak, his voice rough, almost pained. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

You raised an eyebrow, letting the dress slip a little lower, baring more skin. “What if I do?” you asked, your voice lilting, sweet, but your eyes held a challenge. “Will you still walk away?”

He took a hesitant step forward, and then another, his eyes burning with a heat that sent shivers racing through you. “You’re cruel, you know that?” he muttered, but his tone held no anger, only a desperate, aching want.

You shrugged, the motion causing the dress to slip down further, just enough to reveal the swell of your chest. “Maybe,” you admitted, “but you’ve made me wait too long.” You let your hands move down your body, slow, languid, as if savoring the feel of your own skin. “So, what will it be, Jace?”

He was undone. You could see it in the way he moved, closing the distance between you with a sudden, fierce intensity. His hands reached for you, pulling you flush against him, the dress forgotten as his fingers dug into your waist. His mouth crashed into yours, and the kiss was searing, a release of all the pent-up longing and frustration that had been building between you for weeks.

“I should be at that meeting,” he groaned against your lips, but there was no real conviction in his words anymore. His hands slid down your back, pressing you closer, his breath hot and ragged as he trailed kisses down your neck, his resolve crumbling beneath the touch of your skin.

“Stay,” you murmured, fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently as you pulled him closer. “They can wait.”

And that was all it took. The tension finally snapped, and he was yours again, completely. He lifted you up effortlessly, his grip strong, possessive, as he carried you back toward the bed, his lips never leaving your skin. The heat between you built, the air thick with the scent of desire, as he laid you down, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’ll have to manage without me,” he said, his voice sent a thrill through you. 

His eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and desire before he leaned down, capturing your lips again with a fierceness that took your breath away. He kissed you like he was starved for you, like every moment apart had only fueled the need burning within him. You felt the intensity of his longing in every kiss, every caress, and it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

You pulled him closer, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle, moving in sync as if you’d done this a thousand times before and would do it a thousand times again. The room filled with the sound of your mingled breaths, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, and the soft rustle of sheets as he guided you down, his touch reverent yet urgent.

His lips moved down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses that made you gasp, your fingers clutching at his tunic. You felt the fabric give way beneath your touch as you pushed it aside, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. He shivered as your hands traced the lines of his chest, and you smiled at the way he responded to your touch, the way his breath quickened when you whispered his name.

The kiss broke, breathless and electric, but the heat between you simmered, creating a tension that hung thick in the air. Jacaerys leaned back slightly, his hands still gripping your waist, his dark eyes locked onto yours. The flickering candlelight danced across his face, highlighting the way his brow furrowed in desire, the shadow of worry that still lingered beneath the surface.

You couldn't resist teasing him just a bit more. “You know,” you began, your voice playful, laced with mock seriousness, “if you spent less time attending to those silly lords and more time attending to your wife, perhaps I wouldn’t have to resort to such… drastic measures.” Your smile widened, and you let your gaze drop, a light challenge hidden beneath your playful tone.

His expression shifted, a mix of amusement and intrigue crossing his features. “I can hardly neglect my duties,” he replied, but the way his breath hitched at your words hinted at the truth – he wanted you, needed you, more than he wanted to admit.

You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, then lower, to the curves of your body, all exposed and vulnerable before him. The heat of his gaze ignited something deep within you, a wickedness that pulled at your core. “What do you think I should do, my prince?” you purred, your voice sultry and low, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Without breaking eye contact, you let your fingers trail down your body, slowly, purposefully. You started at your collarbone, letting your fingertips glide over the delicate skin of your chest, down to the soft curves of your waist. You relished the way his breath quickened, the way he leaned in, hanging on your every movement as if you were the only thing in his world.

“Tell me,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice, “if I were to neglect my own needs, how long would it take before you noticed?” You let your hand drift lower, teasingly close to where you wanted him to be – your fingertips barely brushed the soft skin above your thigh, making your heart race. The look on his face was priceless, a mix of desire and desperation as he watched, utterly captivated.

“Gods,” he breathed, and you could see the shudder ripple through him. His gaze burned with a need that was almost palpable, and you could feel the raw intensity of his desire wash over you like a wave. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You smiled coyly, the heat in the room growing more intense with every breath. “Am I?” With a slow, deliberate movement, you let your fingers continue their journey, slipping lower still, the fabric of your dress now a mere memory.

You could see his muscles tense, a shudder coursing through him as he fought against the impulse to reach out and pull you closer.

“Well, how do you like it when I touch myself?” 

“It... Turns me on.”

You knew you were pushing him to the edge, and you reveled in it, watching as his breath came in ragged gasps, the battle within him escalating.

His eyes darkened, the heat of his gaze searing into you, and you knew he was teetering on the brink of losing all control. “You’re unbearable,” he murmured, the words laced with a mix of desire and exasperation. “You can’t just– ”

But before he could finish, you let your fingers slip lower, a teasing caress that sent a shiver through him. You watched as he shuddered, the raw need in his eyes becoming unbearable. He was torn, caught between duty and the insatiable want that radiated from you, and you thrived on the tension, the way it pulled at you both.

“Do you see what you’ve done?” he groaned, leaning closer, his voice low and hoarse. “You’ve made me forget everything.” There was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze, an acknowledgment of how utterly you captivated him, how lost he felt in your presence.

You reveled in the electric tension between you, a tantalizing pulse that hummed in the air. With a playful glint in your eyes, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips – light, teasing, just enough to leave him wanting more. The brief contact sent a rush of warmth through you, and you could feel the spark that ignited with that small touch.

Jacaerys's reaction was immediate and visceral. His eyes darkened, filled with a desperate hunger as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours. You could see the conflict warring within him, the way his fingers twitched as they brushed against your skin, a silent plea for more. 

“Gods,” he breathed, his voice low and throaty, the tension in his body taut like a bowstring. “What was that?”

You smiled coyly, watching him with amusement as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, the unspoken question hanging in the air. “Just a little taste,” you replied, your tone playful as you kept your gaze steady, challenging him to take the next step.

But it was evident that he wanted more, so much more. With a growl of frustration, he surged forward, capturing your lips with his in a feverish kiss that made your heart race. His hands found your wrists, gripping them gently yet firmly, as if anchoring you to him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the urgency of his touch speaking volumes about how much he craved you.

“Show me,” he whispered against your mouth, the words barely audible, yet they rang clear with the intensity of his longing. “Show me what you do when you miss me.” 

His gaze bore into yours, raw and searching, and you felt a thrill race through you at his request. There was an intensity in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine, a need for connection that mirrored your own. You nodded slowly, letting your eyes spark with mischief as you let your hands drift to your own body again, teasing him with the promise of what was to come.

You leaned back slightly, giving him a better view, your fingers tracing the lines of your skin as if illustrating a story he desperately wanted to read. You let your fingertips dance over the swell of your waist, gliding downwards in a slow, deliberate motion, ensuring he took in every detail, every reaction as you touched yourself. 

“Like this?” you murmured, the air thick with the intimacy of the moment. The soft rustle of sheets filled the silence, mingling with the crackling of the fire, creating a backdrop for the symphony of your shared desire.

He swallowed hard, his eyes wide and pupils dilated as he watched you, his breath quickening. “More,” he urged, his voice strained, caught somewhere between command and plea. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

The invitation sent a rush of adrenaline through you. With each movement, you could see him edging closer to the precipice of restraint, his eyes dark with need. You leaned into the moment, letting your fingers slip lower, teasing the boundaries as you let out a breathy sigh, savoring the sensation of your own skin beneath your fingertips.

The room felt charged, electric, and as you met his gaze, you could see the way his breath hitched, the raw want etched across his features. “Do you feel that?” you whispered, your voice thick with desire. “This is what I’ve been yearning for every moment you’ve been away.”

His hand tightened around your wrist, and he pulled you closer, almost instinctively, his need overriding all thoughts of restraint. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, the weight of his desire palpable, his breath hot against your skin. “Show me more.”

Encouraged by his words, you moved your fingers in slow, teasing circles, reveling in the way he watched, utterly captivated. Each movement drew him in further, the tension thickening as the moments stretched out, full of promise and need. You leaned closer, your lips grazing his ear, whispering sweetly, “Then come here and feel it for yourself.”

That was all it took.

Jacaerys’s resolve shattered like glass at your words. The fire within him ignited, and he surged forward, capturing you in his arms with a possessiveness that made your heart race. His mouth found yours again, deepening the kiss, pouring all his pent-up desire into that moment. It was intoxicating, a heady mix of urgency and longing that consumed you both.

His hands slid down your arms, brushing against your skin, igniting every nerve ending. You felt the warmth of his body pressing against you, the unmistakable strength that radiated from him. He pulled you closer still, his touch becoming more insistent, more demanding as he tried to close the distance between you.

“Gods, you make it impossible to think,” he murmured against your lips, the words laced with frustration and desire. “How can I possibly focus on anything else when you’re right here?”

You smiled against his mouth, delighting in the way your teasing had driven him to this point.

You reveled in the chaos you’d created, the way his breath quickened and his heart raced beneath your touch. “Maybe that’s the point,” you replied, your voice low and playful, brushing your lips against his just enough to tease him further.

His eyes darkened, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths – desire, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability that made your heart flutter. He pressed you back into the softness of the sheets, his hands gripping your waist, and you could feel the strength of his body surrounding you, wrapping you in warmth and protection. You shivered at the sensation, at how he made you feel both safe and utterly desired.

“Do you enjoy watching me lose my mind?” he whispered, his voice low and rough, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth even as he gazed at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Because it’s working.”

You laughed softly, a sound that danced between you, lightening the tension that crackled in the air. “Maybe just a little,” you admitted, tilting your head back to meet his gaze, the warmth of the fire casting flickering shadows across his features. “But you’re the one who keeps coming back for more.”

He leaned in closer, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin, sending shivers coursing through you. “I can’t help it,” he confessed, his voice earnest, vulnerability breaking through the layers of desire.

Your heart raced, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. Jacaerys’s voice, low and earnest, wrapped around you like a warm embrace, grounding you in the midst of the chaos that swirled between your bodies. But as his words hung in the air, you felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, pulling you deeper into this intoxicating connection.

You paused, your hand stilling in its teasing journey, and his grip tightened around your wrist, urging you to continue. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to taste, as he breathed into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that made you shiver. Each brush of his lips ignited a fire within you, making it nearly impossible to think.

“Don’t stop,” he breathed, his voice a mixture of desperation and desire, sending heat flooding through you. “Keep touching yourself.”

The raw need in his eyes left you breathless, igniting a fierce longing within you. You nodded slowly, your breath mingling with his as you let your fingers resume their slow exploration. The warmth of his body pressed against you only heightened the sensations, the sweet ache of anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach.

With every deliberate movement, you could feel him watching, his gaze locked onto your hand as it glided over your skin. The intimacy of the moment enveloped you both, and you could sense the struggle within him – a battle between control and the consuming desire that burned like a wildfire.

As you continued, your free hand moved to touch him, your fingertips tracing the contours of his body, exploring the firm muscles of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. A low groan escaped his lips at your touch, the sound reverberating through you like a melody of desire.

“You’re driving me wild,” he murmured, his breath hitching as your fingers danced across his skin. The desperation in his voice fueled the fire that raged between you, and you relished the way he surrendered to the moment, his tension giving way to need.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. You felt his tongue dance with yours, a languid exploration that tasted of urgency and passion. Each movement ignited a spark that lit you both ablaze, and you could feel his hands roaming, pulling you closer, as if he were trying to merge your bodies into one.

“Show me,” he whispered again, this time with a raw intensity that made your heart race. “Show me what you want.”

You pressed closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly as you reveled in the heat of his touch. You could feel the urgency building between you, the air thick with unspoken promises and desperate need. With each movement, each breathless sigh, you lost yourself in the moment, completely consumed by the connection that bound you together.

“Just like this,” you breathed against his lips, your voice a sultry whisper, filled with promise as your fingers continued their tantalizing journey. “Just let go.”

He answered with a fierce kiss, pouring every ounce of his desire into that one electrifying moment. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of the firelight and the intensity of your connection. Time melted as you surrendered to the rhythm of each other's breaths, bodies entwined, hearts racing, and desires ignited in a dance as old as time itself.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

moth to a flame

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, praise, body worship, eye contact, public sex act, dry humping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your friend invites you to a bonfire where you meet a man who knows you better than you think. plus! reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: this is my first of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Natasha is the coolest person you know. Probably the coolest person most people will ever meet; if they have the privilege. So it is that you wonder how she’s your friend. It’s really too good to be true which is why you can’t help but feel a bit enamoured by her. 

It has to be real though. If you’re not friends, she wouldn’t invite you to her annual bonfire. A sacred tradition for her, or so you’ve heard. A gathering of all her closest friends. They are truly elite company. Not just your everyday schmucks, but The Avengers. 

You’re sure you’ll seem a bit lame walking up with your basket of pumpkin muffins home-made cider. Still, you were taught to always bring something with you. Though it does provide an obstacle to getting to the front door smoothly. 

You carry the large glass jug of cider by the metal handle as you hug the basket to your side. You struggle you hit the lock button on your keys and stop short as the cider sloshes around dangerously and throws your balance. As you try to correct yourself, footsteps scuff up behind you. 

“Need help?” The deep voice is like silk. 

You look over your shoulder, nearly tipping over as you do. The stranger manages to scoop up the basket before you tip it and you giggle in embarrassment. You sigh and let him take it from you. 

Oh, he’s not a stranger. Well, you know his name, even if you don’t know him. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. One of Natasha’s many high-profile friends. Again, you ask yourself how you ended up there. 

“Oop, thanks so much,” you say. “I should’ve made two trips.” 

“No problem,” he assures you. “You a friend of Nat’s?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you smile, turning back up the walk as he keeps stride with you. “New friend, I guess.” 

“Friend is a friend. She only keeps me around because I made friends with a string bean back in 1930.” He chuckles. 

“You mean--” You stop yourself and look away. You don't want to come off as a fangirl that quick. “Uh, well, we met at an event. She was teaching self-defense for the woman’s shelter.” 

“Oh, you work there?” He asks. 

You keep your eyes off of him, “I lived there. Not anymore.” 

“Ah, well, that’s good? You’re in a better place?” He asks. 

You nod, “much better.” You swallow and exhale. “I know who you are. You’re Bucky Barnes.” 

“I’m never gonna get used to that,” he scoffs. “Takes the excitement out of meeting new people.” 

“Oh, sorry, I...” you trail off before your nerves can break through.  

You don’t think Natasha would ever have become your friend if she knew you were such a geek about her other friends. Cap and Iron Man and even Thor. They were the real-life heroes that inspired you to be your own. And it was a poster of Steve Rogers himself that sparked the last fight that led to you leaving your ex. 

“It’s fine, so, do I get a name? Unfortunately, I don’t have the whole mind-reading thing going on,” he knocks on the heavy door as you shift the jug in your grip. You give your name as you peek over at him sheepishly. “These smell...” he lifts the basket and takes a whiff, “delicious.” 

“I hope they are. My first time using my apartment stove. It’s gas. I’m used to electric,” you explain. “Uh, pumpkin muffins, if that’s what you were asking. Sorry, I...” you turn to the door and rub your lips together, “if I’m honest, I’m super nervous.” 

“Nervous?” He echoes. “About?” 

“Well, I’m not the greatest with crowds. Especially since the shelter... ugh, I don’t know why I keep bringing that up.” You cringe, “but uh, just... new people. I guess.” 

“Ah,” he nods and teeters on his treads, knocking again, “damn it, Nat, what the hell are ya doin?” He grumbles. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m not really a people person either. The arm... it’s quite the ice breaker.” He sniffs, “I hate talking about the goddamn thing.” 

“Um, yeah, that would be... awkward,” you utter. 

The door opens before he can respond. You’re glad for it. You hadn’t thought about it but now all you can think of is if his arm has a built-in can opener. 

“Oh, he-eyyyy,” Natasha stutters as her eyes flit between you and Bucky, “you’re here. Both of you. At the same time?” 

“Uhhh, yeah,” you peek at Bucky. 

“Ran into each other a few steps back. You’re shit at introducing people, Natty.” 

She rolls her eyes and waves him off. She turns to you. “Wow, and what’s all this?” 

“I brought cider and--” 

“Muffins,” Bucky finishes for you as he lifts the basket higher. “I’m not much of a baker.” 

“Or a guest,” she retorts. “That’s so amazing, thank you.” She reaches to take the basket, “come on, I’ll show you around. Bucky, I think you already know where the litter box is.” 

Bucky tuts and shakes his head, “nice seeing you too.” He follows you in and faces you, “try to enjoy yourself. I know she’s a bit of a party pooper. Even if she is the host.” 

“With guests like you, how can I not be,” Natasha trills and beckons you onward, “don’t worry about your shoes. We’ll most be outside so I’ll do a full sweep and mop tomorrow.” She turns and struts away. 

Your eyes creep down her hour glass figure. You feel like a pervert as you do but you can’t help it. Even in a flannel and jeans, her body is perfect. The cowl neck of your red sweater and your corduroy feels a little less cute. 

“You made these yourself?” She asks as she leads you into a large kitchen.

There’s a square island with a hardwood top and matching counters and cupboards; the tile is burgundy with black iron accents. You marvel as you compare it in your head to your boxy apartment with the peeling laminate and squeaky faucets. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer as you lift the jug of cider onto the counter. “Apple cider and pumpkin muffins.” 

“You are too sweet. I have to admit, I got catering for tonight. I'm no good in a kitchen,” she chuckles. “Lived off of Hydra rations for so long, I can’t do much more than open a can or vacuum seal.” 

“Oh, right. Nothing fancy,” you shrug. “You know, I just found the recipes online. Got some apples from the farmers’ market... I don’t know if it’s any good.” 

“I’m sure it’s all delicious. Bet the cider would be great with some whiskey,” her voice is smokey as she smirks. “Wanna put that theory to the test?” 

“Um, if you want. I’m okay either way.” 

“I won’t blame you if you need some liquid courage before facing the rest. Work friends can be a bit much,” she chuckles. “Besides, I have a bottle that’s been sitting in my cabinet for too long.” 

“Sure,” you accept, not wanting to be rude. And she’s right. You need something to take the edge off. 

She hums as she leaves the muffins next to the jug and she spins to the cupboard. She takes out two glasses that resemble jars and a dark bottle of liquor. You watch her put it all together with ice and a cinnamon stick to boot. 

“May as well get some before the rest devour it,” she slides a glass toward you and lifts the other, “cheers.” 

You smile and clink her glass. You taste it and your cheeks pinch. The cider is good but you can definitely taste the whiskey. You hold back a cough and cover your mouth. 

“I am just rewarming the hors d’oevres but if you want to wait, I can introduce you to everyone.” 

Heat roils from the oven as it glows from within and there are trays waiting for serving. She’s already put so much in. You don’t want to make her day even more strenuous. After all, she didn’t have to invite you. 

“No, it’s... you’re busy but if you need help.” 

“Don’t be crazy. You’re a guest. Go, enjoy the party. I’ll be out shortly. Everything’s mostly out there already.” 

“Okay, but um, I can take the muffins at least.” 

“Alright,” she agrees. 

You grab the basket and go to the door. You pause as you realise you don’t know where you’re going. Natasha laughs again. 

“Other way, back door is right on the other side of me,” she sweeps around the kitchen swiftly. 

“Right,” you turn back and cross the tile; one arm around the basket, your other hand cradling your glass. You push outside with your shoulder and step out onto the deck.  

There’s a long table of snacks as promised. You go to it and put down the basket as you dare to glance up at the guests speckled around the yard. Pairs and trios stand in the grass and around the already crackling fire. They all seem to know each other and you recognise quite a few of them. 

“Buns?” The question has you lurching in surprise as you face another partygoer. 

“Oh, uh, no, muffins,” you lift the lid to show the contents. “Pumpkin.” 

“Oooh,” the blond grins. The golden hair, the square jaw, broad shoulders; how could you mistake Captain America? “Can I try?” 

“Of course. I brought them for everyone,” you smile and tightly clutch your glass of cider. “You’re... Captain America.” 

“Ha, well, not here. I prefer Steve,” he takes out a muffin and peels away the liner. “And you’re... one of Xavier’s recruits?” 

“Xavier? Who—no. I’m...” you introduce yourself as he sinks his teeth in to the muffin. Your stomach flips. What if it’s bad? “Natasha’s friend. Erm, I guess that’s what we all are but nope, I’m just me. Just a... civilian?” 

He laughs, “just a civilian? Damn good baker. I don’t go for pumpkin often but this is amazing.” 

“Really?” You beam and bounce on your toes. 

“Oh, yeah--” 

“Save some for the rest of us, punk,” Bucky comes up from behind Steve. “Just like him to be chatting up the cutest girl at the party. What line did he use?” 

“Line? I’m just having a muffin,” Steve grimaces. 

“Mm, muffins,” Bucky reaches in front of his friend to claim a treat of his own, “was waiting on these.” 

He eyes your glass of cider and you take a sip. You pull your lips off the brim and gulp, “oh, the rest is inside if you want some.” 

“She made that too,” Bucky points at your cup. “Who knew Natasha had cool friends?” 

You giggle, “no, I’m not... just muffins.” 

“Good muffins,” Bucky says through a mouthful, “mmm.” 

“Might be good to hide them,” Steve remarks as he gives Bucky the side eye. 

“Hey, these two meatheads giving you trouble?” Another figure approaches from the back door. You turn as Tony stark flips up his dark sunglasses. He sports a red velvet jacket with collar popped. 

Bucky’s lips thin and Steve shakes his head, “you’re late,” the latter rebukes. 

“It’s a party, capsicle. Chill. Wait, don’t do that. We might not see you for another seventy years.” 

Steve scowls and takes another bite of his muffin. Bucky picks at his own and looks away. You nervously glance between them all. 

“Tony Stark,” the new arrival offers his hand, “but you already know that, don’t you, sweetheart? So who are you?” 

“Charming,” Steve comments. 

“It’s called getting to the point, Rogers. Some of us aren’t gonna wait around until they’re in the nursing home.” 

Steve growls and Bucky nudges him. The blond nods and looks at you, “I’ll see ya around.” 

“Sure,” you accept. Bucky waves with two fingers and follows Steve’s retreat. You turn back to Tony and shake his hand as you recite your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Natasha didn’t say this was a meet-cute,” he winks. 

“Ummm,” you glance around nervously. 

“Teasing ya. You look lost. You want the low-down on the dweebs,” he flicks his index towards the grass. “Now, you see, that kid right there, that’s Parker. His alias is top secret. For his safety. He might blurt it out anyway. And that’s his buddy Miles,” he points at to younger guests. “Someone should really separate them. We don’t need a mess.” 

He snickers and puts his arm around you as he moves you toward the top step of the deck, “and there’s the mighty God of Thunder. We all know the puppy dog, and then there’s his stray cat of a brother. Trust me, I tried to have him ejected into space but apparently, they can survive that.”

He tuts. “And there’s Bruce, good guy. When he’s calms. And Brock. Real question mark, that guy. Maria, Coulson, Sam, Strange; the better Steve if you ask me. And Wanda, her husband; I made him, his name is Vision but I guess Victor is more ‘human’.” 

He runs his hand up your arm as he pulls you closer, “there’s Charles, he prefers Professor, and his group of ragtag individuals. I could tell you their names but I’m already bored. Oh, except that one, the angry one with the swoopy hair. That’s Logan. Leave him alone. He’s even worse than the bozo with the vibranium arm. 

“Now, T’Challa has more important things to do so we don’t got anyone else worth mentioning,” he drags his hand down your sleeve then lets go, “I’m sure you’ll be tired of all of us before the night’s done. I assure you, heroes save people, not the vibe.” 

He clicks his tongue and jumps off the top step. You watch him strut off and you stare after him. There’s a lot more people than you expected. Familiar but still strangers.  

The only good thing is there’s more than enough guests for you to fade into the background. You’re tempted to go back in and offer to help Natasha. You know better than that. She always sees right through you. She’ll know immediately that you’re just hiding from social interaction. 

🔥

The night wears on into darkness. The large pit burns brightly as voices buzz and shadows waver. You stand watching the lick of flames, unnoticed amid the furor. Or so you think. 

“Hey, there’s cider left,” Bucky appears at your side, his sleeve brushing yours. “Got you a top up.” 

“Oh, that’s... nice.” You accept the glass as he holds another for himself. “You didn’t have to.” 

“You look... lonely. I don’t know. Felt bad. You went to all that trouble and you’re wading through this sea of people you don’t know.” He shrugs. “Hate these things myself. I just came ‘cause Nat asked. Well, she tells. You know, you can’t say no to her.” 

“Ha, yeah,” you agree. She isn’t just strong-willed, she’s intimidating. 

“I usually end up just drifting around until everyone’s distracted, then I dip,” he explains. “Or find somewhere quiet.” He quiets to take a sip, “how about it? Everyone’s out here, there’s a sofa up on the deck.” Your teeth chatter as you try to taste the cider, “and A blanket.” 

“Mm, it said it wasn’t supposed to get cold,” you look down embarrassed. You finally get a mouthful. It’s sweeter than before. Maybe because there’s no whiskey. 

“Huh, well, you don’t gotta hang out with a boring old man like me. Just figured I’d offer,” he says. 

“Thanks, that’s nice.” 

“Well, I can be nice when I want to,” he raises his glass slightly and turns away. 

As he marches off, you watch his back. Your eyes wander around. No one else even notices you. They’re all so wrapped up in each other. Even Natasha’s barely stopped to chat. 

“Wait,” you call after Bucky, “I could sit down.” 

He stops and turns as you scurry after him. The fire light flickers and limns the sharp angles of his face. He waits until your right beside him to continue on. 

“So, you already know what I do for work. What about you?” He asks as you climb the steps in tandem. 

“I’m a cashier,” you answer. “I work at a pet store.” 

“Hm, I like animals,” he leads you to the sofa. You can see the glow of the fire but the voices aren’t so raucous from up there. 

“Yeah, we mostly just have birds and hamsters there. Nothing very big. It’s a small place,” you explain. “I... It’s a new job.” You keep yourself from mentioning that the shelter helped you find it. It’s not really what you want to do forever, but it’s something. 

“Still, that’s nice. You get to help people in your own way. Make sure they can spoil their pet,” he leans back as he balances his glass over one knee and you drink deeply from your own. “I got a cat. Demanding. A bit abusive.” He laughs then chokes on it. “Jeez, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke.” 

You shake your head, “no, it’s not... really. I’m not upset.” 

“You sure?” He angles towards you. 

“Yeah, really. I can handle it,” you say. 

He nods and hums, “yeah, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse than words.” 

You’re silent as you look down at the cup. You take another sip. He clears his throat as he shifts in the seat. He reaches back to put slide his phone from the back of his jeans. He leans forward to place it on the table. 

“Ugh,” he sits back. “Better.” 

You smile, “well, you don’t just work, do you? When did you get your cat?” 

“Oh, she just made herself at home really. It wasn’t exactly a conscious or willing choice,” he laughs. You fold one arm around your middle and shiver again. “Ah, where’s that blanket--” 

He reaches to the back of the couch and pulls down the blanket. It hits his glass and he loses grip of both. He huffs as he soaks the flannel in cider. 

“Damn,” he stands and holds out the sopping blanket before it can drip onto him or the couch. “Just like me. Hold on. I’ll go get another blanket and clean this up.” 

He untangles the cup from the blanket and sidles past you. You sit back silently as he heads for the back door. You glance over and consider sneaking over to the table to pick at the leftovers. Instead, you huddle down against another evening breeze.  

You finish all but a mouthful of side and reach to place it on the wooden table. His phone lights up and draws your attention. You blink as your eyes instinctively find the screen. You get a glimpse of the wallpaper right before it goes dark again. Huh? 

You shake off what you think you saw and the phone lights up again. You lean over and sink your teeth around the gasp that threatens to spill out. That can’t be. 

You check over your shoulder before you reach for the phone. You tap the side button and gape at your own image staring back at you. There’s a chat bubble floating on the front screen; new messages. You tap and expand the preview. It’s from Nat; ‘you find her?’ 

Your stomach sinks and you nearly drop the phone. The door opens and you quickly set it back down and sit back. You cross your arm and stare out at the other guests. Nothing can happen as long as you don’t leave. 

He comes back and you flinch as he drapes a blanket over you. He drops down onto the couch as he pulls it snug around your front. He drags his grip down the edges before he lets go. “Better?” 

“Mhmm,” you agree and blink. Your eyes feel dry. You reach up to rub them. 

“Really good cider. You’ll have to send me the recipe,” he insists. 

“Sure,” you slur and try to shake it off. “I’ll find the link...” you swallow and cough. You don’t feel right. You need some space to think. “I need to use the bathroom, one sec.” 

You try to stand but don’t even get your ass off of the sofa before you slump over. Your head crashes into Bucky’s shoulder. He opens his arm around you and rubs your back. He hushes you as you babble. 

“You’re okay, baby,” he rubs your back, “I got you.” 

You try to make a noise but you can’t. You can’t whine or whimper or scream. You can just squeak as he pushes you back up so you fall back against the arm. 

“I measured...” he says quietly. “You shouldn’t pass out.” 

You gurgle and lift your arm. It takes so much effort that it drops down like a bag a sand. The cider...

He shifts and stands, moving your leg behind him before he lowers himself back down. His hand rests on your thigh. His thumb presses into your soft flesh. 

“God, you’re so beautiful, doll,” he traces up and down the seam of your pants. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He runs his finger along your pelvis, making a vee back and forth, “soft and... warm.” 

“B--B—B--” you stutter. 

“The moment I saw you, I knew you needed me,” he moves even closer, his hand crawling up your stomach. “Whoever chased you into that place, he didn’t deserve you. You deserve better.” 

He moves carefully, lifting himself and twisting onto his knees. His hand glides back along your thigh as he folds it around him. You twitch but can’t do more than that. He bends and holds himself over you. 

He curls an arm under your head and nuzzles you. Your eyes roll back as you hide behind your eyelids. This can’t be real. What is he doing? How can he have photos of you on his phone? And that text... did Natasha set this up? Why would she do that? She’s your friend. 

“Look at me,” he growls. His voice is scary. Your eyes snap open and you groan. The tip of his nose rolls around yours. “God, you’re beautiful. Doll, I’m gonna take such good care of you.” He leans his pelvis against you as he presses down, “I’m going to keep you safe.” 

He tilts his hips until you feel his bulge against you. Your eyes round and you puff out a foggy breath. What is he doing? 

“Don’t look away,” he snarls as he slides his arm back and grips the back of your head. “Mmm, I just... I love the way you look at me. The way you feel beneath me.” He rasps as he rocks his hips steadily, “I can’t wait to have you on me, doll. To feel you on top of me. Around me. Mm, I wanna taste you so bad. 

“Mm, your chest,” he touches your tits, “your stomach, your hips,” his hand explores with his declaration and he hooks his hand under you, “your ass. All mine.” 

His coarse whispers tingle through you. What he says is nasty and wrong and yet it’s thrilling. Terrifying because you can do nothing to stop him. Defeating because all the people only feet away won’t either. 

[qrrieterisunnq]

Black Cat From Across the Street

FT. QUINN HUGHES & CAPTAIN KINK MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut — WARNINGS: cat adoption, Captain Kink, domination, 18+ scenes — SUMMARY: Quinn is dating his neighbor from across the street and is proud to call her his girlfriend, so when her birthday comes up, he buys her a black cat and enjoys a night with her in a bed. — WORD COUNT: 2,8K

Quinn is standing in a shelter looking for the right gift for his long-term girlfriend. It’s hard for him to get his girlfriend something when she has everything she wants.  

“Hello sir, how can I help you?” a young girl in a blue shirt with the logo of the shelter asks him as soon as he stops at the reception.

“I’m looking for a present for my girlfriend. I’m not really sure what but she likes saving animals, so I thought…” he trails off, looking around the small reception. Photos of rescued dogs, cats even turtles are pinned on the walls all around the room.

“Okay, what kind of animal would you like for her?” her gaze moves down to a book that’s lying on the reception table as she looks through the animals they have in there and are ready to be picked up.

“Ugh, probably a cat, she had a dog, but he died of cancer, so, yeah a cat probably.” he rambles a little bit, but he stops himself and clears his throat.

“I see, so let's look who we have in there. Please follow me,” The girl smiles and leads Quinn to a room, where they have the lost cats. “You can stay there however long you need, just call me when you’ve decided. There are written stories about the cats, where we found them, what they’ve been through, names they have, or we gave to them,” she says before she exits the room, leaving Quinn alone.

“Thank you,” Quinn answers in appreciation before the doors shut with a quiet click. After a few minutes of walking around the cages and looking for the animal, he wants to get to his girlfriend he stops before a cage with a small black cat curled in a ball.

“Hi there!” he looks at the tab where the name and the story of the kitten is written. “Knight, your new mama will love you so much.” He smiles when the kitten meows looking at Quinn with big orange eyes. He reaches slowly his hand toward the cage letting the kitten sniff it. With a soft smile, her moves to the doors knocking on them to let the shelter girl know that he chose his birthday present for his girlfriend.

“So did you choose?” she asks him with a wide smile on her lips looking around the room at the cats.

“Yeah, I did, I’d like to adopt Knight, he’s the perfect gift for my girlfriend.” He hums walking over to the cage, where the cat is sitting and purring quietly.

“Fantastic choice! Knight is the biggest sweetheart, but he’s afraid of the dark, which I’m sure you already know,” The girl giggles opening the cage and getting Knight out., to let Quinn hold him for a while. “The things are already prepared, there are some papers we need to fill, plus you get a transport box, food, and litter for the little boy. I’m just gonna take him from you for a while to let our veterinary check him out, if he’s okay, while we fill the papers.” She takes Knight from Quinn's hands and walks inside a room before she returns and leads Quinn back into the main room.

“Okay, Knight,” Quinn hums inside the box, where the kitten is curled in a ball looking up at Quinn. “You need to be Quiet for a while before I give you to your mommy.” He pets his head, rubbing him behind his ears.

Knight just purrs quietly, causing Quinn to chuckle. As soon as the elevator dings signaling it stopped on the sixth floor, where Quinn's girlfriend's apartment is.

With a smile, Quinn walks towards the door knocking at them as he closes the box, where Knight is probably sleeping by now.

“Coming!” a soft shout comes from behind the door before they swing open revealing a black hair girl with a white sweater and black leggings, plus fluffy socks on her feet. “Babe? Why are you knocking? You have a key!” she giggles letting the boy inside, not noticing the box her boyfriend is holding. She has had an amazing day so far. She spent half an hour on Skype with mom, who first wished her happy birthday and then they talked about new things in a Cheyenne and how she must come to their farmer’s market with Quinn and the Hughes.

“I know, Autumn, but I left them home on my nightstand,” Autumn, or at least that’s what Quinn calls his girlfriend, giggles at her nickname, even though she hears it every time Quinn is over. “I was in a rush and completely forgot about them.” he chuckles putting the box down on a shoe stand, stepping closer to his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her into him. Autumn wraps her arms around his neck pulling him even closer, if it’s even possible.

“Hi,” Quinn whispers, his lips brushing against hers while his hands run down her back under the sweater.

“Hi,” she giggles brushing her nose against his in an eskimo kiss.

“Happy birthday, baby girl. I love you so fucking much, and I can’t imagine my life without you.” He whispers, before he steps away, taking the box with Knight in his hands, and handing it down to her.

“Thank you, but what’s in there?” she asks holding the box carefully as she walks over to her couch and sits down, Quinn following her.

“Open it and you will see.” He smirks throwing his hand behind her on the headrest. She looks at Quinn with a grin before she opens it a gasp leaving her mouth.

“You bought me a cat?” she asks, eyes wide as she watches the small black ball in the box looking up at her.

“Yep, his name is Knight, I adopted him from a shelter. They found him near a highway; his tail and leg were broken, so he is limping on his left leg.” He nods, hovering his hand over the box, caressing the kitten's head.

“Quinn, you are perfect!” Autumn whispers with tears in her eyes, pulling the cat from the box on her lap gently. “I love you so fucking much Quinn,” She looks up at him, pursing her lips for him to kiss her. Quinn chuckles at his girlfriend, leaning down, pressing his lips on hers in a sweet kiss. “Now tell me everything you know about him!”

Laughing Quinn pulls her closer to him and starts telling her everything he read on the tab on the cage, Knight was in.

“As I said, they found him near a highway, with a broken tail and leg. He is afraid of thunderstorms; he has problems with hearing in his right ear because of a small rock that was stuck in his ear and ripped his eardrum." Quinn sighs, watching Autumn's facial features change as he tells her about that poor cat.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry you had to go through all of this. But don't worry and Quinn will take care of you. Right babe?" she doesn't even look up as she asks Quinn, but she already knows the answer, so Quinn just nods, muttering a low yeah.  

“Oh my gosh! I need to buy him a toilet and food—” Quinn quickly stops by pressing his lips to hers with a quick peck.

“Don’t worry baby! I’ve got everything!” he murmurs caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.

“You are the best you know?” she looks at him with loving eyes, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek.

“I heard it a few times,” He giggles leaning his head to her touch and kissing her palm. “I have another surprise for you, but you’ll get it in the evening.” He smirks, licking her palm making her shriek in surprise.

“Quinn.” She laughs, wiping her hand on his shirt. His throaty laugh sounds through the apartment, butterflies filling Autumn’s stomach. “I love you.” She whispers looking at him with love written all over her face.  

“Fuck!” He whispers, his dick hardening at the sight of his girlfriend. She’s sitting in front of him in his home clothes, her hair in a messy bun and a look full of love on her face. Quinn quickly picks Night and puts him down on the couch, before he pulls Autumn onto her feet and scoops her up, making her yell in surprise, laughing as she wraps her legs around his waist. “You are so fucking hot right now!” he groans when Autumn rolls her hips against his, his dick is uncomfortably rubbing against his jeans.

“You too, my lovely man.” As soon as they reach her bedroom, her feet touch the ground, and her hands go to Quinn’s shirt taking it off of him.

A few seconds later, they’re both standing naked in front of each other, heavy breaths leaving their mouths.

“On your knees, now,” Quinn says, his voice husky and full of dominance, sending Autumn immediately to her knees. Her hands go behind her back immediately just like her tilting her head backward slightly and sticking her tongue out. “Fuck, so beautiful, baby.” He smiles running his hand down her cheeks and her lips letting his thumb rest on her tongue, signaling her to suck it.

Gladly she sucks his thumb in her mouth, her tongue playing with it and sucking hard on it, drawing a moan from him. As Quinn watches his girlfriend sucking his thumb, his other hand wraps around his cock, stroking himself in slow movements.

“I want your dick, Captain,” Autumn says scooping closer to Quinn, so her nose is touching the tip of his cock. “I want you to fuck my mouth with your big thick dick,” as soon as she says it, they both giggle. “That was a good one!”

“Yeah, but now let me fuck the pretty little mouth of yours because my dick is painfully throbbing.” He leans down, kissing her hard before pulling back and showing his dick inside her mouth. The tip of his cock hits the back of his throat a gagging sound leaving Autumn’s throat and a moan leaving Quinn's mouth at the same time.

“Fuck you are so good, baby girl,” he groans thrusting his hips into her mouth, his hand tangled in her now loose hair. His hips don’t stop; they only increase their speed. “Put your hands on my thighs, and if it’s too much, tap them twice. Do you understand?” he slides his cock out, a string of saliva running from his tip to Autumn's mouth.

“Yeah, captain.” She nods eagerly, her pussy throbbing from the passion and upcoming passion she feels in the pit of her stomach.

“So, what will you do when it’s too much for you?” he asks her his hand in her hair rubbing and massaging her scalp.

“Double tap your tights.” She whispers, squirming in place, trying to bring some movement to her pussy.

“Good girl, now relax and let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” He rasps, his hand gripping his cock while the other one is in Autumn’s hair.

As soon as he feels her relax, he shoves his dick deep into her throat, holding her head there for a few seconds, before he pulls out, letting her take in a deep breath, before he shows in her again, this time thrusting in her mouth quickly, slowly bringing himself and Autumn to their first orgasms.

“That’s it, baby girl, keep sucking my cock,” he says moaning loudly when she sucks hard, sucking the orgasm out from him. “Fuck! Yeah, just like that,” he moans gripping her hair as he thrusts in her mouth one last time before he spills his seed inside her mouth.

Autumn who’s breathing heavily swallows the white semen in her mouth before sticking her tongue out showing Quinn that she swallowed everything in her mouth like a good girl.

“Good girl, Aut. Good fucking girl.” He says heavily, reaching for Autumn to help her stand up. As soon as she’s on her feet, her lips are attacked by Quinn’s.

“Ohmp,” she whimpers leaning in Quinn and wrapping his hands around his torso, bringing him closer to her. “Quinn, I-I need you.”

Quinn chuckles shaking his head, “I didn’t hear you, baby, what did you say?” he cocks his head to the side before he latches his lips on her neck. Autumn moans softly her hands running through the messy curly hair she loves so much.

“I want you, captain,” she moans loudly when Quinn’s fingers find her clit and he starts playing with it, pinching it and circling it quickly. “I want your cock captain.” She whispers in her ear playing with his earlobe.

“Oh, do you?” he murmurs, kissing her with a chaste kiss.

“Mhm.” She muses, a smirk on her lips when her hand slides down his chest, pinching his nipple before she slides it down his abbs until she reaches his cock, grasping it in her tiny hand. “So much.”

“Well then let me fuck that tight pussy.” He whispers and pushes lightly into her shoulders, sending her onto the bed. Autumn shrieks in surprise as her body bounces on the bed.

“Quinn,” giggling she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him on top of her. “Do something!” she orders him grinding her hips to get some friction on her pussy.

“As you wish.” Before he even finishes the sentence, he shoves his dick inside her pussy, drawing a loud moan from her. He keeps thrusting in her at a quick pace hitting the spongy spot deep inside her while his fingers squeeze around her throat, cutting her oxygen supply.

Autumn's eyes are glutted on Quinn’s her hands are on his, which is on her throat, so she can tap it twice when she needs to breathe. She knows how much Quinn likes choking her during sex, and to be honest, it makes her wetter than any other time. When she feels her eyes shut, she quickly taps his hand. As soon as Quinn loosens his hold on her throat, she gasps for air, moaning when his thumb starts to play with her clit.

“Q-Quinn.” She shudders, her legs shaking around his waist.

Quinn leans down, pressing his lips to hers in a slow intense kiss, his tongue playing with her’s as he swallows in her moans.

“You are so fucking wet, baby. Come for me baby girl. Come on my cock.” He whispers in her ear, his thumb putting a bigger pressure on her clit, making her orgasm hit her ten times harder than it ever does. She screams Quinn's name from the overwhelming pleasure she feels in her whole body.

Seconds later Quinn comes inside her with a throaty groan as he bit her shoulder to silence his moans.

“Fuck, that was hot.” Autumn breathes out her fingers massaging Quinn’s scalp.

“Yeah, it was fucking amazing,” he whispers and slowly pulls himself out of her. “Wait here, baby I’m gonna get you cleaned up.” He kisses her forehead before he gets off the bed and walks inside the bathroom wetting a cloth to clean her up.

Quinn comes back a few seconds later cleaning Autumn’s up. He quickly throws on a boxer and lays down next to Autumn, cuddling her to him.

“Fuck, Quinn, we completely forgot about Knight?” she yelps a few minutes later, slapping Quinn’s chest as she gets out of the bed, puts on Quinn's shirt and her panties before she grasps his hand, and drags him out of the room, down the hall to her living room, where she finds Knight sleeping on the same spot, she put him on.

Quinn chuckles and pops down on the couch, pulling Aut on his lap. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too, and thank you, again Quinn. It means a lot.” Quinn only kisses her head, his cheeks reddening from shyness. If his brothers were there right now, they would tease the shit out of him, for being this shy and all lovey-dovey with his girlfriend.

“I know, that’s why I adopt him.” He smirks kissing her neck.

“Oh my gosh, you are cock!” Autumn laughs turning her head to kiss Quinn.

“It’s not my fault.” She laughs in the kiss tickling Autumn.

“Stop, we’ll wake up our baby.”  She says in a stern voice, slapping her hand across Quinn’s mouth. When she feels Quinn is about to say something, she shushes him sending him a look. A look that makes Quinn want Autumn to have his babies.

“Are you on your birth control?” he whispers in her palm making her pause and freeze in the place.

“Yes, why?” she asks curiosity written all over her face.

“I want you to carry my kids.” He says with a small smile. A shock is written all over her face as soon as the words hit her eras.

“You what?”

“I’m just kidding baby,” he giggles cupping her face and kissing her chubby cheeks. “But I really want you to carry my kids in the future.” He wiggles his brow.

“Well, I do too.” She smiles kissing the tip of his nose.

[purple-writer8]

But Daddy I Love Him - ACOTAR

Rhysand x Autumn Court Reader (Beron’s Daughter)

“I’ll tell you something right now, I’d rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.”

warnings: abused eris, autumn court shenanigans, mentioned abuse (verbal and physical), talks of violence, forbidden love, beron being beron, beron being abusive, physical abuse, angst, sexism, the autumn court brothers

2.5k words

Masterlist :)

You were Beron's Achilles heel. 

His youngest child and only daughter. The Princess of Autumn. You were spoiled, by your parents and your six older brothers--loved by everyone in your family. You knew they all hated each other, that your father was a bad man, abusive to your brothers and your mother. But for some reason, you were loved by him, doted on by him. 

You didn't look a lot like him, or like your brothers, or like your mother. Unlike them, you sported dirty blonde hair, though your powers still resembled theirs-- wielding fire like the rest of your family. 

Despite your peculiar hair color, your father loved you inmensely, showing you more affection than he did any of your elder siblings combined. You were lucky, lucky that he didn't do with you what he did to your brothers, that he didn't unleash his wrath on you like he did on Eris or the others. 

What Beron did do, though, was shelter you. You lived in the Autumn Palace, and rarely ever saw outside of it. Your father would rather you stay in your rooms, where you were safe from the dangers of the realm. You had guards to accompany everywhere, and if it weren't guards-- it was your older brothers. You loved them, all of your brothers, but your favorite was Eris. 

He was the gentlest out of all of them, the one that cared the most for you, the one that understood you. Eris would do anything for you, and you for him. It was thanks to him that you found the love of your life. 

Rhysand.  

A year ago, Eris had convinced your father to let you attend balls and parties held by the other High Lords, to let you live a life outside your rooms and the gardens. Beron beat him for the suggestion, but nonetheless listened to him.  The first ball you attended was in the Dawn Court, a celebration of sorts. Most courtiers from all around Prythian were mesmerized-- and stunned-- to learn of your existence. 

Rhysand was one of them. Cauldron, the High Lord of the Night Court was smitten from the moment that he saw you enter alongside your brothers, your head bowed as you walked through the crowd. He had to have you. 

And he did just that. It was just pleasantries at first, he was kind to you-- much to Beron's dismay and Eris' chagrin. Everyone knew what the Night Court was made of, and how Rhysand ruled over it. Eris would rather kill the High Lord of Night than let him near you, caring not for court relations but for your well-being. He remembered what happened to Morrigan in the Night Court, tortured by her own family. 

He would never let you set foot there. 

The second ball you attended was in the Summer Court. Eris had been tasked by Beron to woo some Winter Court aristocrat's daughter, so he was quite busy. Which meant you could slip away without anyone noticing, explore the palace and finally not be babysat by your brother. 

You had found a balcony that overlooked the city of Adriata when you heard, "There you are... I've been looking for you," in that deep voice you had been incessantly thinking about ever since your first outing. 

You turned to find Rhysand standing there, clad in black leather, his violet eyes shining bright while a feline smirk grazed his perfectly sculpted features. You blinked, your doe eyes shining for him. 

He smiled wide, and you instantly knew you were done for. You would be his. 

And you were. You and Rhysand began a secret relationship, a secret and dangerous relationship. You let him in, let him into your mind, let him be the one to take your purity. You were Rhysand's and he was yours. Not only that, but you saw each other in secret at different gatherings. And sometimes he winnowed into Autumn territory in the dead of night to see you, not caring for the consequences of his actions. Of what Beron would do when he learned he had defiled you. 

"I almost melted his mind when I saw him eyeing you," Rhysand growled, kissing you neck in a feverish manner. You let out a low whine, your fingers running through his onyx  silky hair. "I can't wait to claim you," he spoke breathlessly, "to make you my wife." 

You moaned wantonly when one of his hands found its way under your skirts while the other worked to unbutton the top of your dress. "Take me to your court," you pleaded, hooking your leg on his lower waist and pulling him closer to you. 

"I'll take you, steal you away from this place... make you the Lady of Night..." he groaned, one hand snaking to your neck, holding you steady as he kissed down your neck and then your shoulders. You whined and writhed under his touch, then he said, "be quiet, baby... wouldn't want your daddy to find you like this..." 

No, you wouldn't. There was a ball happening, this time in your home, and you had slipped away just so Rhysand could follow you and corner you in a dimly lit hallway. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer into yourself, like you were a sick woman and the only remedy was Rhysand close to you. 

"Sister." The voice of Fenix, your second-eldest brother, ran through the hallway. You jumped, pushing Rhys off of your body as if he had the plague. Rhysand turned to the Vanserra male, a smirk on his face, as if he hadn't been caught in a very compromising situation. 

Fenix hummed, his eyes narrowed on you, "interesting." 

"Fenix..." you warned him, your eyes travelling to his hands that were now curled into tight fists. You were sure any second now he would send fire your lover's way. "You have one second to disappear before I lynch you and send you back to your cauldron forsaken court," your brother said in a dangerously low tone. 

Rhys was unbothered. "I think I'll be taking your sister with me then," he said, wrapping one strong arm around your waist. "Over my fucking dead body, Rhysand." 

You closed your eyes in defeat when you heard Eris' voice boom through the hallway.  A feline smile happened upon Rhys's lips, "that can be arranged." 

You turned to Eris, your eyes silently pleading with him, but it was for naught because he was only glaring at the man that had his arm wrapped tightly around you. "Drop my sister, Rhysand. Or there will be hell to pay." Eris warned slowly. 

"Eris, I love him!" You shrieked, only for Fenix to let out a low growl. "And I'll lynch him," he threatened, only for Rhys to laugh. 

"I would love to see you try. We're leavin-" Before Rhys could finish, a beam of fire was sent his way, though it misted before it could even touch him. You cried in horror when you saw your father standing at the end of the hallway, backed by the remaining of your brothers. Seldom from Lucien, who was not in Autumn anymore. "You dare touch my daughter?!" Beron roared, the walls of the palace shaking from the sheer force of his words. 

Rhysand grinned at him, "we can all talk about this like adults." 

Wishful thinking. Your brothers wasted no time in their attack on the Night Court's High Lord, sending flames at him-- though they were no match for Rhysand. He swiftly pushed you out of the way and winnowed around the hall, avoiding each attack. "Please stop!" You cried in horror, but to no avail. They wanted Rhysand dead. 

"You are BANISHED from this court, for now and forever." Your father's voice thundered through the palace, and instantly the flames died down-- leaving only a very shocked Rhysand. "Beron... we can talk abo-" 

"Leave now, or I send Eris to your court with our army. Leave or we are at war," at your father's threat, you turned to Rhysand in horror. You knew he could kill your entire family with a single blink, that he could really take you and form a war between courts-- and win it. 

He spoke in your mind. "Give me the word and I will take you away, bunny. I am not scared of your father or his weak threats." 

"Go. I will fix this." You responded. 

Rhysand turned to Beron, bowed with a wicked grin on his face, and winnowed away. You stared at the space he had just been standing in longing, before a grip yanked you forward. You whimpered as you looked up at your father's rage - filled expression. "How do you dare?" He asked in a tone that he had never once used on you. You trembled, his grip burning into your skin, causing you to wince in pain. 

Eris stepped between the two of you, pulling you behind his frame to shield you from your father's wrath. Beron's glare burned through Eris, and you could almost feel it burning your skin. "You will marry someone of my choosing. Until then, you will remain in your rooms." Beron spoke, his tone offering no room for bargaining. 

"But Daddy, I love him!" You cried, stepping from behind your older brother to face your father's rage. Beron growled, "what do you know about love? You're a woman! There's no choice for you in this matter!" 

You scoffed, he raised you just to cage you. "I love him!" You pressed again, and he simply rolled his eyes at you, "you know nothing of the world." 

"I love him, and I'm having his baby!" You shrieked, and horror instantly was etched unto your father's expression. Your brothers all looked as if they had seen a ghost, eyes wide and mouths hung open at your revelation. Eris covered his face with his hands, "I'll kill him..." 

"I'm not..." you admitted, "but cauldron, you should see your faces." 

Beron was frozen in shock at your boldness. He was not dealing with this. So to Eris growled, "deal with her." 

Your father winnowed away along with the rest of your brothers, leaving the eldest and you to sort out this mess. Before you knew it, your brother winnowed you away and into your room. "Sister, please come to your senses..." Eris started. 

"No, I am not coming to my senses," you snapped at Eris. 

"Rhysand is crazy, the entire Night Court is full of depraved individuals. Remember what happened to Morrigan? How they left her at our border? They'll do the same to you..." Eris trailed, his expression one full of pain and sheer anger. 

"I am not Morrigan! He would never hurt me... and Rhysand said he wasn't the one that hurt her. Eris, I know he may seem crazy, but he's the one I want. I love him! And he loves me!" You contested, your voice cracking as tears once more swelled in your eyes. Rhysand was chaos, he was revelry... and he was also the love of your life.  

 Eris let out a frustrated groan, he could not believe his sweet sister was so hung up on the cruelest High Lord there ever was in the history of Prythian. "Sleep on it, sister. Because Beron will never let you wed him," and with that, your brother left your room, slamming the door on his way out. Slamming the door on you and your future. 

- 

You were summoned early in the morning to breakfast with your family, you attended with your arguments sharp as knives-- ready to hurl them at your father. As soon as you entered the Dining Hall, your brothers erupted into their arguments, all of them reminding you of all the things Rhysand had done in his life. 

Your father looked smug as your five brothers scolded you for wanting the Night Court's leader. Your mother looked mortified, her face pained-- she just wanted you to be happy.  

"He melts minds," said Fenix. 

"He has those two bat boys, they are evil and kill innocents," said Zire. 

"He lets his court torture women, look at Morrigan," said Lukas. 

"I heard he keeps a hundred concubines in his palace," said Ember. 

"He runs his court without any sort of morals," said Eris. 

You thought it was rich coming from your brothers. They were the ones that tortured Lucien's lover, and the ones that ran him out of Autumn. They didn't know you knew that, though-- one of your servants had told you what had happened. 

Their hypocrisy and vile words towards Rhysand made you seethe, sending flames flying from your hands and to the walls of the room as you stood up. "I'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all your hypocritical bitching and moaning," you screeched. 

Your brothers went still, their mouths all clamping shut as they stared at you in shock. 

"You're a Vanserra," your father growled. "Whether you like it or not, you do my bidding, and if you think I'll let you wed Rhysand just because you want to, then you are dafter than you appear, child."

You remained silent, digesting your father's words. You had always known your father to be cruel. Knew he beat your brothers, knew he was the one that bid them to kill Jesminda and run Lucien out of the court. But you had never known his cruelty, no. You had always been his weakness, the child he truly did appear to love. Though now you knew that just because he didn't you, it didn't mean that he cared any more for you than he did your brothers. 

"I may be a Vanserra," you trembled, "but I would gladly disgrace the name. You've already done it plenty." 

Beron never once expected you to go against him like this, no, you were the good one. You were the dutiful daughter, the one he had kept hidden for years on end to protect. Where did you get all this conviction?  Your father stood from his seat at the end of the table, Eris doing the same thing— ready to intervene if he were to attack you. 

Beron strode towards you quickly, and Eris tried to jump in between the two of you, but with a flick of his hand your father sent Eris flying to the wall. You gasped, meaning to rush to your brother, but your father grabbed you midway. 

His grip was deathly, and as you looked up at him— your blood ran cold. And before you could even pull away, his hand struck you across the face. 

-

Part Two

Author’s note:

i instantly got this idea when i heard this song like IT FITS PERFECT

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

[sainz100]

Jack Doohan | 📸 ❤️

[spookievan]

i love your moods so so much 🩶 could you do another kai anderson one? i'm watching cult rn and i'm so obsessed with him 🤭

i'm your jazz singer and you're my cult leader <3

[sad-scarred-sassy]

This is a wild Elucien headcanon…

but please imagine Lucien being in a really dangerous situation with the Autumn court, like something happened and they have him as a prisoner, or unable to leave.

And Elain is there listening to how Lucien could potentially be held captive in a cold cell or even tortured.

And shes there when Eris says the only way to save him is if he has real ties to the Night Court or if he officially becomes a member, and the only way to do that is if he gets mated/married to someone from there, not anyone, but the High Lady’s sister.

And everyone is outraged with what he is suggesting but Elain is suddenly quiet.

And she suddenly says “I will do it” and everyone gapes at her, some try to talk her out of it (possibly Feyre or Nesta) but Rhys just nods.

And they send notice to the Autumn court that they cannot harm Lucien because he is a Night Court citizen, but Beron doesn’t believe it, he demands that Elain goes there so he can determine it.

Chaos, outrage, but she agrees, and she obviously doesn’t go alone. She convinces herself that while she doesn’t owe Lucien anything, she is tired of the bloodshed, the loss, and if she has the power in her hands, she will act. That is all, she couldn’t care less about him. She convinces herself she would be this worried for anyone that is close to her sister, it’s not because shes worried and scared and petrified of something bad happening to him.

They’re in the Forest House, they bring out Lucien who is luckily generally unharmed but Elain looks at the binds in his wrists and her whole body reacts to the sudden urge to protect. Beron takes one sniff at them and knows it is true. They’re mates. But Beron says an unfulfilled mating bond is not valid (listen idk about these fae laws bear with me) they need to marry. Elain declares that was the plan all along. Lucien is shocked. (I just imagine what must be going through his head seeing his mate stand before Beron in the same room where Jesminda was killed)

They let Lucien go with his mate but they have to stay in the Forest House until everything gets resolved. Elain and Lucien are shoved into a room, no more chains on him, but he doesn’t understand any of it.

Both of them are standing awkwardly in the room. Lucien is staring at her as if she has grown ears, still shocked, still reliving moments, furious at them for being so dumb as to risk themselves for him. He supposed he really was a big asset for Rhys to have done this. But her… why was she here? Why did she put herself in this position?

“Did they make you do this?” He says through his teeth.

She muses on what to say. “No” she gets offended with the assumption that she can’t make decisions for herself. “I agreed to this and came on my own free will”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I’m tired of people dying, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I could have done something” A silence and for some forsaken reason Elain has the need to add. “This doesn’t mean what you think it means”

Something irks at Lucien then, and the awoken nerves on his body make him respond to that. “And please tell, Lady, what do I think it means?”

Elain clenches her fists. “That I’ve changed my mind about you… about this” She signals between them. “This is just temporary, out of necessity”

Lucien just stares at her.

“I never entertained that you did, I can assure you.” It is easier to turn on her, on this beautiful female that is putting herself at risk for him, than to be hurt at the continuing rejection from her. “You’ve always just assumed that I’m some brute fae that wants to steal you away, let me tell you now that we’re speaking frankly, that its not the case. I can’t control the pull from the bond, but I have no interest in pursuing a female who doesn’t want me”

That sends Elain to retaliate. “What about the gifts then, was that not pursuing?” She cocks her head arrogantly.

“I was bringing them to Feyre as well. That was me being polite, but guess you don’t know the first thing about that”

“You are one to talk about politeness when I’m here risking my life for your neck and this is how you treat me” She takes one step closer.

“I never asked you to do it” He mirrors her and steps closer with his broad hands clenched in fists.

“I will just let you die next time then”

“Fine by me, as long as I don’t have to endure you shoving it on my face”

“Asshole”

“I’ve been called worse” A sly, angry smile creeps at one corner of his mouth. She suddenly realizes they’re breathing on each other’s face.

“And all this time I thought you were a gentleman” She summons her anger to keep focused.

“You will learn I can be a gentleman, Elain” Her name on his lips, for the first time. “But I can be so much worse too”

His breath is hot on her face, their hearts already beating fast.

“You admit you were pretending then, to win me over”

A sharp breathy laugh from him. “If I wanted to win you over, I would not have tried to be gentle”

Her lips form a thin line as she holds herself, the pull, his words, the sudden effect of his mismatched gaze intense on her face.

“You shouldn’t have done this” He says quietly, roughly, his eyes showing something beyond just annoyance, she sees the fear in them. She pushes it back.

“What’s done is done” She says. “We will pretend, see this through, and then we’re done”

“Alright, dove”

She’s startled. Her nostrils flare. She ignores the outrageous pet name he just used on her. “I’m going to take a bath, I suggest you do the same, you stink” She begins to walk away and stops herself “I mean after I’m done” She frowns as she strolls away.

He watches her with sudden amusement.

He’s scared, hes pissed and hurt. He’s tired. But something inside him sparks, and he can’t really put a name to it.

Oh he’s not alright.

[rabbitinthemeadow]

Goodbye, and goodbye, and goodbye // Part 28

October 15th, 2022

[whorediaries-09]

Helloo could I please request a fic with Sirius' girlfriend or wife taking care of him, making sure he eats enough and keeping him company, and him being touch-starved, in Grimmauld Place during OoTP? Thanks!

call it what you want

pairing- sirius black x wife!auror!reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort, fluff, touch sensitivity (let me know if i should add more) an- i love this plot so much, thank you dear anon! (also i love writing about post azkaban sirius black 😳) ps- requests are open! part two? 👺💅

masterlist

'hey love?' you called out. sirius held a cigarette between his pale pink lips blowing out smoke out of his mouth. he turned his head, looking at you when he heard your voice. but your eye's weren't fixated on his, but the ash tray that held burnt out cigarettes he'd been smoking when you'd been gone. he sat on the moth eaten sofa his tired gray eyes trying to meet yours. you sigh, flinging your bag on a chair as you walk towards him, wiping your brow with the hem of your sleeve.

'have you eaten anything dear?' you say as you sit beside him. you sit close to him, but not close enough to touch him. he grumbles something under his breath and you squint your eyes trying to decipher what he is saying.

'sirius?' you say. your hand twitches. you want to touch him, comfort him, but you're scared it will trigger him. you're scared he won't like that. you want to comfort him, it breaks your heart seeing the dignity of your husband, of the love of your life crumbling down but it doesn't matter. you want him to feel safe. you want him to feel comfortable around you till he is comfortable enough to let him touch you.

his body twitches slightly before he whispers, 'might have had a few sandwiches. i forgot,'

you raise an eyebrow. interlinking your hands together so you don't accidentally touch him, you say with a soft yet firm tone,

'and water? what about water? did you drink enough?'

'i do not remember,' he grumbles. he's twitchy and shifty while he speaks. you let out a deep breath before you conjure a glass of water and hand it to sirius.

'love can you drink this for me? please?' you inquire. his stormy gray eyes stare into yours before his hands clasp around the glass of water. he lets the rim of the glass touch his lips before slowly sipping the water. he gulps down the rest of the water and puts the glass on the table before offering you a weak smile. you smile back, furrowing your eyebrows. you see his hands twitching before he speaks again,

'i found some old polaroids,'

'did you now love?'

'yes...'

there's a silence that hangs in the air that tortures the depth of your heart but you don't break it. you don't want to pressure him into saying anything. you don't want him to feel like what his image in the wizarding world is. you don't want to ask him prying questions.

'can i hold your hand?' he whispers softly. you look at him. his dark raven locks frame his diamond cut face, the churning wood of the flames reflecting the depth of his stormy gray irises.

'are you sure?' you question back. he nods his head curtly before his pinky finger intertwines with yours. he smiles, his hollow cheeks spreading as you interlock your hands. his hand is the same as you could remember, rough, calloused and warm. you feel his body grow stiff at the contact and you try to pry your palm away but he holds it firmer. he holds your hand firm, slowly melting by your touch. he doesn't say anything, and neither do you.

you charm a flower on his ear, tucking his messy curls behind his ear. you smile noticing the crinkles of his eyes when he smiles, leaning into your touch. his nose scrunches and you think, he looks majestic.

it's a storm outside. however when he leans his head on your shoulder, the storm simmers away. it's warm inside as the both of your hearts burn with love for each other.

'i love you dove,' he whispers.

[sweeterlovers]

STARS HOLLOW / CARLOS SAINZ

carlos sainz x small town reader / SMAU FIC

FACE CLAIM / none

WARNINGS / carlos being clueless about fall and google translated spanish!

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 166,376 others

yourusername waiting for carlos to arrive but on a happy note fall is starting!!!!!!

view all comments

user3 wait why is carlos coming??

user4 maybe to visit her family?!

user22 i mean they have time considering that austin is in like 3 weeks

user8 trueeee

yourusername carlos is coming and i’m going to show him the small town fall experience!!!

user562 aww! that’s adorable

user0 i love that!

yourusername yeah! i’m so excited to show him what a small town fall is like!

user4 carlos is going to experience a gilmore girls fall 🥹

user2 🤍🤍🤍🤍

carlossainz55 mi amore acabo de aterrizar [ my love i just landed ]

yourusername well i’m very inpatient ☹️☹️☹️☹️

user7 this is too cute!

user63 the leaves 🍁 🍂

user23 that coffee looks sooo goooood!

user1 it’s so aesthetically pleasing!

user902 very rory gilmore!

user9 i love the sweaters!!!

user2 i love the heart sweater!

-

carlossainz55 posted on their story!

liked by yourusername and 34,711 others

[ apparently i was asking to many questions so she put on her headphones…. ]

view all story replies

landonorris 😂🤣

carlossainz55 you’re a muppet

-

INSTAGRAM

liked carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and 167,726 others

yourusername showing carlos around my favorite park and of course we had to get coffee!

view all comments

user1 the view 🤩🤩

user35 luke’s diner?

yourusername i wish 🤞

user8 girl you basically grew up in stars hallow

user67 she’s basically rory gilmore

user9 before she went to shit tho

user00 the coffee looks great

user7 i’m craving coffee now

carlossainz55 you had three cups of coffee

yourusername and?

carlossainz55 your going to have an energy high and crash out

yourusername ✋✋✋✋

user23 it’s the gilmore in her!

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by yourusername, reyesvdec, and 514,626 others

carlossainz55 enjoying my break between races with my girlfriend in her home town 🤍

view all comments

yourusername aww carlos!!! i had a great time showing your around 🤍🤍🤍

carlossainz55 i had a great time my love!!

user2 stop this is so cute

user4 i know!!! literal couple goals

carlossainzoficial ❤️❤️❤️

user23 i love them!!!!

anasainzvdec ustedes son adorables!!! [ you guys are adorable ]

yourusername te amo ana 🫶🏻🫶🏻 [ love you ]

carlossainz55 gracias hermana [ thank you sister ]

user24 y/n is so cute!!!

reyesvdec 🥰🥰🥰🥰

user578 this post is so fall vibes

user2 carlos got to experience his first in a small town during the fall

blancasainzv muy linda [ very cute ]

carlossainz55 🤍

yourusername love youuuu

user27 this post is so cozy yk?

user29 i understand what your saying!!!!

user9 i hate living in a tropical place 😞😞😞

user78 SAME!!!!! i’ll never get to experience this

user56 hope you guys had a fun time!!!!!

-

SWEETERLOVERS - second fall fic!!! (it’s kinda rushed)

[yearning-for-autumn]

Everything I have written in one place. Characters will be added when I write for them.

*Smut

Acotar Fics

Series:

Would That I - Eris x Illyrian!Reader Part one, Part two*, Part three*

Acotar Trauma-Verse

Part one (Azriel) , Part two (Cassian) , Part three (Rhysand)

One shots:

Azriel A Night at the Opera - Azriel x Reader * My love Mine all Mine - Azriel x Reader* Eris Don't Worry Darling - Eris x gn!Reader Under Your Skin - Eris x gn!Reader Little Black Dress - Eris x chubby!Reader*

Lucien Sweet Indifference - Lucien x Elain

Acotar Headcanons

Psycho Coach - Cassian, next gen kids Pet-names Azriel NSFW Alphabet* Eris NSFW Alphabet* Lucien NSFW Alphabet*

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Give Thanks

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, familial judgement/bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mother invites a lonely coworker to Thanksgiving, a bit too lonely.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this is the second of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The smell of nutmeg hits you as you enter the house. That and the garble of voices. You take your time as you unlace your boots, keeping your jacket on as the rack is already overflowing with the like. You mentally ready yourself to face your famiiy and their annual judging panel. 

You peek into the front room as you keep a firm hold of the boxed pies you grabbed from your favourite bakery in the city. You promised dessert and you brought it. You'll put them down before you wade in the deep end. 

You enter the kitchen, rehearsing your greeting for your mother, but you're met with a stranger's back. He stands at the counter, scraping cranberry sauce from a saucepan into a serving dish. His brown hair is combed back neatly, though you can only see the ends from your vantage, and he wears a pressed shirt too white for the task at hand. 

You hesitate. Where the heck is your mom? You can't see the man's face but you can tell he's a bit too young for her. Or so you would assume. He could be a cousin's boyfriend and yet he might be a bit above that. 

"Um, hi," you say as you approach the end of the island counter, well away from him, "I'm looking for my mom." 

"Your mom? Doris?" He wonders. 

"Yeah," you answer as you set the pies on the counter. "I know I'm a little late..." 

"She just went to grab something from the cellar," he explains. "I'm Andy--" 

"There she is," your mom sweeps in with her seasonal gravy dish. "Mm, I knew you'd bring store bought." 

"They're from a local bakery." 

"You never did like being in the kitchen," she reprimands. "Oh, Andrew, that looks perfect. Not too runny." 

You glance at the man. This strange man draws praise from her like honey from a comb, whereas you find the task as easy as squeezing juice from a stone. You let it roll off your back like you have for years. 

"I got pumpkin, apple crumble, and some pecan. They usually sell out of that." You say. 

"Ooh, pecan," the man, Andy, says. 

"Oh, Andrew, my younger daughter," your mother introduces you as an afterthought as she goes to wash the gravy boat, "The typist." 

"Typist? Mom, I'm an admin assistant," you counter. "I guess it doesn't matter." 

"Just her, I'm afraid," she shuts off the faucet. "And her pies. No grandkids from her yet." 

You see that this year is going to be just like the last. You're better off facing the rabble of aunts and uncles waiting for you in the front room. Heck, the kids' table might be the place for you. 

"Thirty this year," your mother adds. 

You force a tight-lipped smile. When you were a kid, it was your grades or the stubborn bit of hair at the back of your head or that your sister, Tia, did it better. Now you're an adult, it's your lack of ambition or lack of kids. You don't think you lack the former and you don't really want the latter. Life is what it is. You have a job that pays your bills and you don't need to add to your cost of living. 

"I work with your mom." He offers. You look at him again. 

He’s tall, blue-eyed, distinguished. He’s older but carries it well enough. The thin lines around his eyes only add to his looks, and his thick beard further defines his jaw. 

"Oh, the law firm?" 

"He's a new partner," your mother preens. "Oh, he gave your brother some good advice too. Hopefully he can move out of that public office soon enough." 

Right, Rodney does everything right. He got into law, just like your mother told him too, and he has a pretty house and a pretty wife and three spoiled brats. Tia only has the one and a husband who works out of town every weekend. They're real grown-ups but to you, growing up seems boring. 

Your life isn't glamourous. You do diamond art or catch-up on the last issue of your favourite comic when you're not too tired. You get takeout once a week, otherwise you put the ready-made meals in the microwave and eat it in front of the television. It's not special but it's your life. 

"Public defenders do a service to the community," Andy says. "I did it for twenty years. It's not bad work. He can move up." 

"Mm, and yet you moved to a private firm," your mother challenges him. 

"Maybe you should be partner," he chortles at her playfully as he wipes his hands on the tails of the borrowed apron tied around his torso. 

"My mom makes really good stuffing," you say, "I'm sure you'll enjoy it, even if you're not home for the holiday." You drag your feet along the tile, "I'm going to say hello to Auntie Toya." 

"Good luck. She's in one of her moods," your mother tuts. "Must be menopause." 

You leave before she can aim another snipe in your direction. She can't help but let the bullets fly and see where they hit. It might be thanksgiving, but you're struggling to find much to be grateful for. 

🍂

"Mandy has a Christmas recital. I'll be sending the invite in the family chat," Tia, your sister, proclaims. "If you can make it, she'd be so happy, huh, sweetie?" 

She pets behind her daughter's ear and makes her giggle. Every awes and cooes at the little girl. Just like when your sister was her age, she's the princess of the family. 

"I can try to bring the kids," Rodney says. "We're thinking to get Kelly into dance next year. I need to get used to those things." 

Everyone laughs. You're not very amused. You're happy the kids have hobbies, that they are doing interesting things, but you just don't care that much. Still, your happy to be able to fade into the background. 

"I'm sure your sister can make it," your mother says, bring you back into the universe, "she doesn't have anything else going on." 

Your eyes dart back and forth. Your mouth is full of potatoes. You gulp painfully. 

"I can set the date aside. I still have some vacation left," you choke out. You can't make up an excuse with a whole audience to call you out. 

You sink back into silence as Tia goes on about the show. They're doing The Nutcracker. Oh joy. You were never a fan. Why can't they do something fun, like The Grinch? 

"Don't think I'm included in that invite," Andrew says under his breath from your left shoulder. As the two loners at the table, you're put together. "Kinda awkward." 

He chuckles, trying to ease the tension. You shift and hide your embarrassment. You forgot there was a complete stranger here to witness your judgement. 

"Right, well... I'm sure you have enough going on," you say. 

"I'm sure you do too," he pokes at the yams. "Kids keep you busy but life is already hectic." 

"Sure," you agree dully. You don't want to be rude. "you have kids?" 

"One. A son. Grown. He went to his girlfriend's for the holiday and his mom... is not in town." 

"Bad timing," you take another bite of potatoes. Maybe next year you can come down with a timely case of the flu. 

"Don't be silly. She doesn't have a boyfriend. We'd all know," your mother trills with laughter. You pop your head up as the hairs on your neck tingle. You know she means you before you even catch her gaze. "It'd be such an achievement, she'd have to shout it from the rooftops." 

You lost track of the conversation and you're not sure how you became the butt of the joke, but you're tired. It's supposed to be a day for family but it just feels like you're being cast out of yours. You put your fork down. 

"I'm going to clear my plate. Think I had too big a snack on the drive here," you stand, gritting back your irritation. "As usual, stuffing's delicious." 

You get up and make your way along the table. The silence is dense. Oh well. If they want to make this painful, you can do the same. 

You go to the kitchen and find a container. You scrape your leftovers into it and shake your head. You suppose you are behind. You're thirty years old. Next year you'll be thirty-one and her chiding will be even louder. The ticking of the clock will only ger worse as the years go by. 

"You're right, stuffing's good," Andy says. 

You wince and glance over your shoulder. "Uh, yeah. Like I said, think my eyes were bigger than my stomach." 

He comes up next to you and rinses off his plate, "well, I think my stomach would be turning too after that." 

"It's whatever," you shrug. 

"Thirty isn't old. You got time," he says. 

"Thanks," you reply tersely. 

"Not that it's any of my business." 

You're silent. It isn't but you're not going to be rude enough to say that out loud. Unlike the rest of your family, you can keep your thoughts to yourself. They might think you're immature because you're not living behind a white picket fence, but at least you don't act like a teenager. 

"It's better to take your time. You know, you rush into big decisions and you can't undo them. They don't always turn the way people promise," he says. "You follow that road map, take one wrong turn and you're wife's spending Thanksgiving with her 'work husband' at a hotel." He opens the dishwasher and wedges his plate between the metal, "Work husband, secret boyfriend, you know..." 

You're struck by the revelation. You can hear the tension in his voice. The hurt, the anger. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," you utter dumbly. 

"You're sorry? She isn't," he reaches for your plate and rinses it next. "I'm not telling you because I want you to feel bad for me. I guess I'm trying to commiserate. It could be worse." He adds your plate to the washer, "you're doing nothing wrong. Being alone means you have choices. Being tied to someone... you have obligations." 

"Yeah, sounds about right," you say. "Well, thanks. Not to benefit off your pain but yeah." You put the lid on the tupperware and sidle along to put it in the fridge, "I think I'm going to get some fresh air. Getting a bit overcrowded in here." 

"A little," he agrees. 

You leave and hold your breath until you get to the front door. Who knew the stranger at the table would be the only one to make you feel welcome? 

You grab your coat from the guest room and push your feet into your boots at the front door. You go outside into the brisk air. It's actually nice. Refreshing almost. 

You sit on the porch bench. In the colder months, it's rarely used. It hasn't snowed yet but the frost glistening on the grass is foreboding. 

You tuck your hands into your sleeves and look along the street. The other houses with yellow windows, glowing with the warmth and shadow of happy families. This time of year has only ever been stressful to you. You're never a part of the fun, you're usually the source of it. 

The front door opens and you fight to keep your unease under wraps. You don't need your mom lecturing you. Again. Or Tia telling you not to be jealous. Whatever happens is always your fault. 

"Whew, it's cold," Andy's voice eases your nerves as it assures you it isn't who you fear. 

"Yep, I don't mind. It's the only thin I like about this time of year." 

"Really?" He nears and sits on the other end of the bench. "I'm a summer person, I guess. Used to be we'd go to some resort for New Years." He says. 

"Sounds nice," you say. 

"I know. I'm moaning about a luxury," he scoffs, "trust me, I get it. I got it all, what do I got to whine about?" 

"I wouldn't say that. You never know what people have going on." 

"Nope," he agrees and rubs his hands together. He's quiet as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs. He bends and unbends his fingers as he examines them then sits up again. "Brrr. Only good thing about this weather, snuggle weather." 

He laughs. You try to. It's an awkward joke. 

"Maybe I should get a cat," he suggests. 

"Maybe," you clutch your hands tight. You should go inside. You know he's being nice but he's ruined the moment. 

Your teeth chatter as you take a deep breath of the late autumn air. Just a little longer before you go back. You close your eyes. 

The bench creaks and you think he's getting up. He must get the hint. Instead, as you open your eyes, you feel a weight across your shoulders. You flinch and peek at him from the corner of your eye. 

"You're shivering," he says. 

You look at him then back to the road. You should pull away but you can't. It feels mean. 

"God, my hands are so cold," he grips your shoulder as he puts his other hand on your thigh. 

"Woah," you catch his thick fingers. 

"Come on, let's get warmed up," he breaks through your resistance and rubs your leg. 

"Alright, I don't know what you think--" 

"What's so wrong about it? Like trains passing through the night. My wife's cheating, you're single, we could have some fun," he purrs as he holds you against him. 

"Um, no thanks," you grab his fingers again. "I'm flattered but--" 

"Shh, shh," he peels his hand away from your leg, once more evading your grasp, and grabs your chin. "Your mom told me all about it. How you can't get a date--" 

"That's not--" you latch onto his wrist, "stop, please, Andy." 

"Come on," he turns your head and nuzzles your nose with his, "I'm so fucking lonely. My wife hasn't touched me in over a year." 

"Your wife-- Andy," you hiss. 

"Just kiss me, please? That's all I want. Just a little affection. To feel wanted." 

"You're-- stop. Let go of me," you try to dislodge his hold on you. He's too strong.  

He tilts his head and presses his lips to yours. You murmur and slep his chest with your other hands. He hooks his arm around you as he angles you toward him. You writhe and bite his lip. 

He gasps and pulls back, keeping you locked in his embrace, "listen, sweetheart, you wanna play hard-to-get," he squeezes your jaw until you whimper, "what's mom gonna think when she catches you all over her married coworker?" 

"No, that's not--" 

"I'm sure she'll believe you," he snarls and slides his hand down to your throat. 

"Why..." you croak. 

"Baby, please, it's not a bad thing," he moves you with him as he edges off the bench. He turns, one arm still around you, his other hand locked onto your neck. He bends and forces you onto your back as he settles over you. "I'm going to make you feel just as good as you make me feel." 

You wriggle and whine. What he says is just as scary as what he hasn't said. He'll make you feel as good as you do him, or as bad.

[ronearoundblindly]

Steve Rogers, number 4, a kiss where it hurts (imagine him making it stop hurting) xxx

*no pairing listed but could work in Fools Rush In, It Had To Be You, Autumn Is Healing, Threadbare, or as a stand alone. While those series do specify female readers, this is written gender neutral. He calls you 'sweetheart' one time.

A Dark Day and A Bright Night, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024

Warning only for description of a bad mental health time. (I know not everyone experiences this in the same way, but I tried to cover the gist and focus on Steve's comfort of you.) Otherwise, just sweet, caring fluff! WC 1781

There are invisible barriers everywhere, and they stop no one but you.

No one else can hear the muddled whispers of what else you could have done, what more you should have accomplished, how disappointing it is that anything took so long.

You can’t do any better. You can’t go any farther. There’s a line in the sand no one can see. Sometimes, no one can see you.

Nothing matches up. Work fast-forwards around you in chaos while you slog through, treading water with all the energy of someone who has been out at sea alone for days and days. You grow so tired.

There are moments you power through, mind racing to gain lost ground on an endless, looped track. You grow so tired, and it’s never just one thing. It’s water and sand and nothing all at once, vast forces beyond your control.

What else? What more? Why so long?

There are barriers no one else can see, and it’s not their fault because it doesn’t match up. We move through life at different paces. We experience different struggles. We are stopped by different forces.

“How was work?” Steve asks, a chipper smile on his face as he places dinner in front of you.

“Fine.” There are no other words.

“Really? Seems the project is right on schedule, thanks to you.”

You see him pause before he takes his first bite, and rush to pick up your fork, knowing it’s best to participate, knowing the barriers may be invisible but effort is not.

He eats his mouthful, and you stare.

Dinner isn’t a line in the sand, but it feels like one, another interaction you’ll be disappointing in, another fear you can’t explain.

“Not my best work, but it got done,” you manage, mechanically feeding yourself, showing the effort, making a show of the effort. “How was your day?”

It’s a flat question. The response is muddled by water and wind and doubt.

Why can’t you focus? Why can’t you do better for him? Why does he stay?

Steve can’t see any of it. He can’t get to you because there’s no one place you’re trapped in.

You do the dishes. You watch TV. You start your bedtime ritual, and you’ve participated as little—and as much—as possible because treading water is lonely. You grow so tired.

Tomorrow could be better. You can do better tomorrow. It’ll take effort.

Tomorrow you’ll work harder and you’ll be less afraid. But that’s what you thought the last time you were stuck. That’s what you think each time you find a line in the sand.

You stare at your reflection, still treading, still scared, still misaligned.

“Did you hear me?” Steve loosely holds you with his palm on your hip. Standing behind you, face sullen in the mirror, he asks where you’re hurting.

To Steve, there has to be a solution. Each mission must have a goal.

You spit, rinse, and put your toothbrush in the holder.

“Just tired.” That’s the sand he cannot see.

“Seems like more than ‘just tired,’” he huffs, unsatisfied, and turns you toward him. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing you can help with.” That’s the water he cannot navigate.

You’re on your own.

He smirks humorlessly. “That’s never stopped me before.”

But you don’t have the words. All that comes out is “my head.”

“Headache?” He reaches for the medicine cabinet. “You need some—“

You shake your physically fine skull. “No. It’s not a headache.”

Steve’s face…changes in a way you’ve never seen before. You expected confusion, perhaps pity, but this is something all-together reminiscent. His eyes dart around the bathroom like he’s taking inventory, and for the first time today you aren’t the most distracted person in the room.

Then he returns to you.

“I think I’d like a nice bath. Will you join me?”

He sets it all up, using the best smelling bubbles, setting out the softest towels, and inviting you back into the little spa he created by handing you a lovely chocolate.

When you try to refuse because you’ve already brushed your teeth, he replies, “live dangerously,” and pops a bonbon for himself.

Hopefully, it is dark enough for Steve to miss the tears in your eyes.

He lets you settle in the water against him, playing by splashing warmth over the parts not submerged. He kisses your shoulders and neck, the back of your head. Steve keeps himself attached by the lips, breathing you in but feeling so far away. Your mind wanders to nowhere, thinking nothing.

“Feels good—I mean, bett—feels okay, yeah?”

He suds up his hands and washes a bit of you, but your muscles are tight and curled.

You’re tucked into yourself, small as can be.

“Can you try to relax for me, sweetheart? Can you let yourself float?”

The tub works for a guy Steve’s size. There’s a little space but not enough to stretch out completely.

The tension in your body is slow to release. You manage to let your arms, knees, and feet peak through the bubble clouds.

Steve nudges, “and your neck?”

You didn’t realize you were holding it up.

There is infinite space to lay flat in your endless sea. Floating offers a respite, a view of the sky, the same sky blanketing your beach.

Invisible barriers at least spare the scenery.

You and Steve watch the fragrant foam burst for a while. It takes you much longer to truly relax back into Steve. The quiet of the bath drowns you with the noise in your head.

What else? What more? Why so slow?

It’s never just one thing. It is all things, all at once, and nothing at all. All of the elements to survival and understanding are there if you just focus your attention, if you just put in the effort, but you are so tired.

Steve wraps you in his arms to press you deeper into his chest.

“Sometimes my ma would burn dinner,” he starts quietly, voice rough from holding back all his questions you can’t answer, “and we would scramble around, combing the cupboards. We’d make the oddest meals out of bits and bobs. Maybe half of it, we should’a never touched, but we did what we had to. Ya know what? Those were some of the best times. We did the best we could with what we had—sometimes less—and that’s what made her so amazing. On what she probably considered her worst days,” Steve kisses behind your ear, “I admired her the most. Formed some of the best memories.”

“Let me guess. Because she smiled the whole way through?”

“Nah,” he muses, chuckling enough to shake you in the water, “she threw a pan once. Loosened the door of the stove she slammed it shut so hard. She cried usually until we were sat down eating. Always tried to give me the most food because I was so small… 

“I made it a game. I only took a bite if she did. Win-win.” 

He stays quiet for a beat, assured you’re hearing him.

“You’re not ruining anything by crying,” he says solidly, almost loud in the confines of the bathroom. “Good things can still happen. You still did good today.”

He continues. He details little things he admires about you; how hard you work for yourself, for him, he notices all that. He wants you to see what he sees.

There’s no barrier stopping him.

The water turns tepid, and Steve gets out first to ready a towel for you. There’s a difference between him treating you like a china doll and his doll. His doll is not breakable. He isn’t gentle because you are fragile; he does it to preserve you for the next day, and the next. Steve refuses to place any more burden on you than already falls.

He’s right there, strong, noble, and determined with forces working against him.

He’s scared and he doesn’t understand. He can’t fight. He has to scramble to catch up, to change plans, to make a meal out of nothing, to turn nothing into something. He doesn’t understand why he’s in a different sea, or why he can’t get to you standing on the same damn beach. His hand is right there on the barrier, but his shouts are muddled.

It’s not fair, and it never will be.

He physically lifts you up, wrapped in a plush bath sheet, his hug strong enough to thump against that clear wall that springs from your line in the sand.

That’s when you realize the barrier isn’t impenetrable. You can still see the scenery. You can still hear muddled sounds.

Some of his voice gets through. Sunlight and warmth get through. The water still buoys you up.

If there are directions to go, there are paths to take.

If there are ways in, there are ways out. 

There are invisible barriers everywhere, but they don’t stop Steve from being there for you.

One more chocolate. One more brush of your teeth. You trade the fluffy wrap of a towel with the cozy wrap of a t-shirt, and he makes sure you’re comfortable.

A simple goodnight kiss alone might tip you over into exhausted euphoria, but Steve is not that kind of simple.

He props himself up on an elbow and rolls you onto your back.

Kissing your right temple, he whispers, “I love you.” Kissing your left temple, he confesses, “I love your voice,” the peak of your forehead, “I love your spirit,” between your eyebrows, just above one ear, and the other.

“Miss you when I’m not here. Miss you when you’re not here. I miss you even in my dreams.”

Then, and only then, do you get that simple kiss goodnight. His soft lips melding to yours for a long, soothing moment before you two drift off to sleep.

When you dream of a beach and an ocean and nothing at all, you miss him, too. You remember his presence, and the truth becomes as clear as the sky above.

There are pieces of you to love. You are a loved thing. You are light and heat and sound that can get through, even when misaligned, even when you don’t match up, even when not in the same sea.

Steve’s love is invisible, but you know it’s there. It’s not a limit to fear. It’s not a barrier to turn away from. His love is not an obstacle you want to get past.

Not every invisible force is bad.

Sometimes, barriers slow you down, let you listen, make you rest, and help you float.

There are barriers everywhere, but nothing between you and Steve.

Ransom Drysdale and a kiss out of spite ⬅️ ➡️ Ari Levinson and a kiss out of envy

A/N: oof. *walks away crying* I'm fine. It's fine.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza  @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @trudy-shams @saranghaey @awkwardgiraffe726 @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @rogersbarber

[purple-writer8]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - ACOTAR

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister (Reader)

“I cry a lot but I am so productive. It’s an art.”

warnings: toxic man implied, abused eris, emotionally unavailable eris, depressed reader, broken up mates, angst

968 words

Masterlist :)

"Yes, I went to Day and reported the findings to Helion. Then to Thesan." You reported to your High Lord and Lady. Rhysand looked more than pleased, and Feyre could only gape at you in awe. 

"You did all that in a day?" She asked in shock, admiration gleaming in her eyes for you. You nodded, a tired smile adorning your face, "and the ball is all set for tonight." 

Feyre gaped along with her mate, they could hardly believe it. "You are a blessing, a real fucking blessing. Thank you, so much... you will get more than a hefty bonus in your next payment." Rhysand grinned, dark talons caressing your mind in a soothing way. 

You rolled your eyes at your brother, then asked, "why do you two always act like I'm some kind of miracle fae?" 

They glanced at each other, then back at you, and then pity overtook both their stares. You know why. You were supposed to be heartbroken, as you had just ended your betrothal to Eris Vanserra. The two of you were mates, but the abuse he had suffered from his father and the toxic familiar dynamics he had grown up in, made him less than emotionally unavailable. 

He was unable to communicate what he felt, all he could do was share his feelings through your bond. But that was not enough, not when he had commitment issues and acted like an ass to your family. The bond was strong, but your self-respect was stronger.  Especially when you knew what you were worth, being the Night Court's High Lord's sister and Princess of Velaris. 

"What happened with Eris... at the last ball... it was bad..." Feyre trailed, not wanting to exactly mention what had happened. It was fucking painful for you, you had broken your engagement in front of everyone. "And I saw you crying last night... and this morning before your mission..." she added. 

"I cry a lot, but I am still very productive. I can do my work with a broken heart." You replied with a simple shrug, much to Rhysand's dismay. You had always been like that, had always hidden your feelings and done your work even when you were breaking down.

“You’re a real tough kid.” He said softly, violet eyes eyeing you closely, “you complete all your missions seamlessly. You are an example to follow.” 

You chuckled dryly, “yeah, yeah, I am the best. Can I go get ready for tonight? I got the most beautiful dress and I want to try it on.” With that, the couple simply nodded and excused you. 

They were right to be impressed. You wanted to die, and yet— you were ready to shine that night, like every other night. 

Ready to show everyone lies. 

-

The ball in the House of Wind went off without a problem, and like every other night-- you were the center of attention. The gown you wore was magnificent, the light reflected off you in a majestic manner, almost as if you wore liquid starlight in your frame. You stood at the side of the bar with Azriel, watching as everyone arrived, sipping on a tall glass of champagne. You knew Eris was coming, you needed to drink before seeing him. 

"You look pretty," the shadowsinger said in a stoic manner, hazel eyes traveling up and down your frame swiftly. You smirked into your glass, "as do you." 

"Have you spoken to him?" He asked, and you knew he referred to Eris. Azriel cared, and he showed it, having known you since the moment you had been born-- he was protective of you. Especially because he loathed Eris with all his being. 

"Please, he avoids me like I am faebane," you snorted, the alcohol working its magic on you already. And you were grateful for it, because you almost choked when your eyes met the red - haired male that had once promised he would love you for his whole life. What a short life. 

You felt Azriel's eyes on you, his shadows coiling around your ankles in support as you watched Eris strut into the ball as if he owned it. He commanded the room, but that was normal. He was a magnetic force of a male. You looked at Azriel, seeking shelter in his hazel eyes-- the mating bond was tugging you to Eris, his presence was like a fire roaring inside your heart. 

You were about to break down, so you hit the dance floor. Dragging your sister-in-law from her seat next to your brother, you danced and danced. Feyre and you were always a force to be reckoned with when you partied together, and that night was no exception. You both were grinning as you danced, twirling about the Hall as if you were made of starlight. 

The crowd of fae chanted and cheered for you, and you could feel the pieces of your heart shattering on the floor. It was always like that. You were miserable, and no one even knew. You laughed as you danced with Feyre, as if you couldn't feel your mate's heartbreak from across the room. "Eris looks like he wants to die," Feyre whispered as if she could read your mind. 

"Yeah, but if I try to talk to him, he avoids me like I have fae plague," you snickered, your eyes finding the heir of Autumn. As soon as your eyes found his, they were looking away from you, as if he hadn't been watching you dance. You wanted to die, but instead you twirled and grinned as if you were having the time of your life. 

"Then let me talk to him," the High Lady offered, and you stopped your dancing, giving her a stern look. 

"I can handle my shit, Feyre." 

-

Author’s note:

This will probably have a part two because i love eris and i want him to be happy. Also ttpd has me in my feels soooooo probs a lot of angst coming ehfuhihoiqhioghhrueiuifio3iij4rijj

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs