#because ive seen so much of it and drawn so much of it that i get scared that im not going to make anything New

[ephemeralp1eces]

You Don’t Have to Choose if No One Makes You - Part XXIII

Summary: All good things must come to an end, at least that’s what they say, right?

What to Know: Oscar x reader, Lando x reader, Oscar x Lando, smut

wc: 13k

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI | Part XXII

Yas Marina had never felt this heavy.

Everything was perfect on paper.

Lando led the Drivers’ Championship. Oscar was second, within striking distance. McLaren was set to win the Constructors’ by a landslide.

We should have been celebrating.

Instead, we were bracing for impact.

⸻

The paddock shimmered under the late November sun. Dust clung to every surface. The mood was tightly wound, more from pressure than hope. This was it. The last weekend.

The end of the season.

The end of everything.

Maybe.

⸻

I kept my head down.

There was no way to be invisible, not entirely, not with the way people had watched me ever since Vegas. But I had perfected the art of being present without being seen. At least I was finally allowed to leave my hotel room and get back to my job.

Oscar and Lando still hadn’t touched me in weeks.

Not in public. Not in private. It was taking a heavy toll on our relationship.

We were careful. Silent. Cordial.

The kind of cold that isn’t angry, just resigned. Because we all knew this would come. The season had always had a finish line. We just didn’t expect to reach it like this.

⸻

The Friday practice sessions came and went without drama. Oscar set purple sectors. Lando tested long runs. I watched from the back corner of the garage, clipboard in hand, smile fake, heart racing.

There was a moment, brief, where Lando looked over his shoulder and caught my eye.

Just one second.

But I felt it in my chest like a bruise.

⸻

That night, we didn’t plan to see each other.

And yet, somehow, as it always happened, all three of us ended up on the rooftop of the hotel.

Different elevators. Different exits. But there we were, again. Drawn to each other in the one place we could still pretend we were real.

⸻

No one spoke at first.

Oscar leaned on the railing, arms folded, staring at the skyline. Lando sat on one of the benches, elbows on his knees. I stood between them, unsure where to go.

Finally, Oscar said it.

“Are we really going to end like this?”

Lando looked up. “What choice do we have?”

“You always have a choice,” I said.

He didn’t blink. “Do we?”

I walked over and sat next to him.

Close, but not touching.

“We can’t keep pretending this was going to work forever,” I said, steady.

Lando didn’t move.

Oscar turned around slowly. “So that’s it, then?”

I didn’t have an answer.

Because that was the thing, I wasn’t sure if this ending was something I was choosing…

…or something I was surrendering to.

⸻

Oscar spoke again, quieter this time.

“You know, I didn’t think I’d care this much,” he said, almost to himself. “At the start. I thought, whatever happens, it’ll just be fun. Temporary.”

He looked down at his hands.

“I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.”

I felt that sentence all the way down to my ribs.

He didn’t look at me. Just kept talking.

“And now we’re here. Trying not to fall apart. And I don’t even know what I’d do if you picked him.”

I opened my mouth, but he stopped me with a shake of his head.

“It’s okay. I just needed to say it.”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, eyes sharp but voice softer than usual.

“I hate that we’re waiting for it to fall apart instead of just… asking for it not to.”

Then, quieter: “I hate pretending I’m not scared I’ll lose both of you.”

⸻

We talked long into the night. Not to fight. Not to fix. Just to say what hadn’t been said.

That we loved each other.

That none of this was fair.

That no one had meant to make it hard, but we had.

Oscar sat on the floor, head against the glass railing. Lando’s voice broke once, then came back stronger. I kept my eyes fixed on the sky, afraid that if I looked at either of them, I’d fall apart.

They didn’t ask me to choose.

But the silence after every sentence said what they wouldn’t.

We need to know.

⸻

When we finally stood to go, none of us said goodnight.

We just walked away.

Three separate elevators.

Three different directions.

And a question none of us could outrun anymore.

⸻

The weekend moved too fast after that.

Qualifying. Media. Team strategy meetings. Debriefs.

I buried myself in work, kept everything surface-level. I moved through the paddock like a ghost. The boys stayed locked into their driver routines, focused, sharp, untouchable.

It was exactly how it should’ve been.

It was unbearable.

⸻

Sunday morning came.

Race day.

It started like every other one. But it didn’t feel the same.

⸻

Oscar found me first - by the espresso machine in the hospitality suite.

He looked tired.

“We’re not asking for promises,” he said quietly. “We just want to know if we’re walking away alone.”

I nodded, throat tight. “I know.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t touch me.

Just turned and walked off. I had to make up my mind.

⸻

Lando was next, an hour before lights out.

He stopped by the garage, pulled me aside behind a stack of tire warmers.

“I’m not going to fight him,” he said. “I never was.”

My chest twisted. “You don’t have to.”

He looked at me, eyes raw and honest. “Just don’t pretend it didn’t mean something.”

I shook my head. “It meant everything.”

He hesitated, then said it, quietly, like it hurt:

“You still feel like mine.”

And then, just as fast: “I know you’re not. I know.”

⸻

The race was electric. Lando and Oscar pushed each other harder than they had all year. Clean, ruthless, brilliant driving. A masterclass.

I watched every lap with my heart in my throat.

And when they crossed the line, one-two, I nearly collapsed.

The team erupted.

McLaren had won the Constructors’.

Lando had taken the Drivers’ Championship.

Oscar sealed second.

The fairytale ending.

Everything they’d worked for.

Everything they deserved.

⸻

I stayed on the edge of the celebration. Smiling. Clapping. Keeping my distance. This moment was theirs. Not mine.

⸻

Lando found me later, champagne-soaked and breathless, hair a mess.

He grabbed my hand, pulled me in, just enough that our foreheads touched.

He didn’t kiss me.

But I felt everything he wanted to say.

Oscar stood nearby, holding his bottle loosely, watching us with something unreadable in his eyes. Not jealousy. Not anger. Just waiting.

⸻

We still had one night left together.

Just one.

And I knew, before any of us said it, that this was the night everything would come to a head.

Not just what we wanted.

But what we could keep.

—

The silence was the first thing I noticed.

No music. No TV. No banter echoing from the hallway like so many nights before. The room felt suspended in time, untouched since earlier that afternoon, but heavy now with something else.

They were already inside.

I had known they would be.

Lando sat cross-legged on the bed, back against the headboard, hair still damp from a late shower. His gaze flicked up the second I walked in, but he didn’t smile.

Oscar was at the small table near the balcony, one hand around a half-full glass of water, the other clenched into a slow rhythm against his knee. He didn’t look up right away, but I knew he had felt me come in.

No one spoke.

I shut the door behind me, gently, as if anything louder than a whisper would crack the air between us.

⸻

I didn’t expect tears. Or begging. Or declarations.

We weren’t that kind of story. Not really. But this was still the end.

We’d all felt it in the way we hadn’t touched each other since the Las Vegas. In the way our hands had hovered, reaching, not landing. In the way Lando had looked at me when he stepped down from the podium, when Oscar had only managed half a smile.

There was nothing left to say except the truth.

So I gave it to them.

⸻

“I love you both,” I said. “But I’m not choosing either of you.”

The words didn’t fall. They landed.

Hard.

Lando’s throat worked, jaw tight. He nodded once but said nothing.

Oscar turned, arms folded, leaning against the back of his chair. He wasn’t surprised, just tired.

“Why?”

“Because I still work for McLaren,” I said, voice low. “Because this was always going to crash into something bigger than us. Because I can’t be the thing either of you gives up your career for.”

Oscar’s eyes searched mine. “You think that’s what we’d do?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

Lando stood, walked over slowly, stopping just short of me.

“You’re not wrong,” he said. “But it still fucking hurts.” His voice cracked, just a little.

I touched his chest lightly, right over the place where his heart still raced. “I know.”

Oscar crossed the room, his voice softer now. “So this is goodbye?”

“Not forever,” I said. “Just… not like this.”

“And tonight?” Lando asked.

I looked between them. “Tonight is our last.”

⸻

The first touch was almost accidental, the backs of Lando’s fingers grazing my arm. Then Oscar’s hand at my hip, guiding me closer. I had almost forgotten what their touch felt like. My body reacted like I had been in withdrawal, and finally gotten a hit of what I had been craving for so long.

There was no rush.

No frantic hunger.

Only reverence. Grief and love braided together in a final thread.

⸻

Lando kissed me first. Slow. Familiar. The kind of kiss that felt like a memory instead of a beginning.

Oscar’s hand ran up my spine, lifting my shirt, kissing the curve of my shoulder as Lando’s tongue dipped between my lips.

They were coordinated in the way only time and longing could make possible, Lando pulling my shirt over my head while Oscar unhooked my bra. Oscar kissing down the middle of my back as Lando knelt in front of me, tugging at the button of my jeans.

I stood between them, hands on both of their shoulders, feeling each breath they took as they undressed me piece by piece, not because they wanted to possess me, but because they wanted to remember me like this.

Oscar pressed a kiss just below my navel. Lando’s hands cupped the backs of my thighs, thumbs dragging slow circles.

And then I was naked, warm under their hands, already flushed, breath catching as they led me toward the bed.

⸻

Lando laid back first, arms open, letting me crawl on top of him. I settled into his lap, my chest against his, forehead to forehead. His hands came up to cup my jaw.

“You don’t have to pretend tonight,” he whispered. “Just let us have you.”

Oscar joined us, kneeling behind me on the mattress, his lips brushing the back of my neck as he spoke.

“All of you,” he said. “Until the very end.”

⸻

Lando’s cock pressed between my thighs, already hard, already twitching with the need he barely kept under control.

I shifted, kissing him, then kissed Oscar over my shoulder as he reached between my legs and guided Lando into me slowly.

He gasped, high and sharp, fingers gripping my waist as I took him fully, seated on top, body tight around him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathed, voice breaking. “I’m not going to last- ”

“Yes, you are,” Oscar said breathily, pressing closer behind me. “We’re not rushing this.”

Lando’s head tilted back. “I’m trying, fuck- ”

Oscar kissed the shell of my ear. “Move. Just a little.”

I did.

Hips circling slowly, every inch dragging, every sound he made spurring me on. Oscar’s hand threaded through mine, sometimes moving me, grounding me. I leaned into him while I moved, Lando beneath me, panting, eyes wide, pupils blown with awe.

⸻

When I stopped, Lando whimpered. Actually whimpered.

“You’re not done,” he said, voice tight.

“No,” I whispered, climbing off carefully. “I’m just not finished with you yet.”

He collapsed back, breathless.

Oscar pulled me into his lap, this time facing Lando. He pressed a kiss behind my ear as I guided him into me next, thicker than Lando, deeper immediately.

I arched into it.

And then.

Without prompting, without pause, I leaned forward, taking Lando into my mouth.

He groaned, a full-body, desperate sound, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. One landed in my hair, the other clutching the sheets.

Oscar held me steady from behind, hips slow but firm, fucking into me as I hollowed my cheeks and sucked Lando in deep.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Lando gasped. “I can’t- I can’t-”

Oscar leaned over me, his breath hot against Lando’s neck.

And then, for the third time ever, and the last time, he kissed him.

Not playful. Not curious.

Just grateful.

One last thank-you.

Lando whimpered into his mouth as he thrust into mine.

⸻

The rhythm was impossible and perfect.

Oscar deep inside me, angled just right, one hand wrapped around my stomach to keep us pressed together.

Lando in my mouth, panting, sweating, eyes locked on mine like I was the only thing tethering him to earth.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “Please, don’t- I’m close- I want us to- fuck-”

Oscar’s pace faltered just enough to tell me he was close too.

I pressed my palm to Lando’s chest, moaning around him as Oscar hit that perfect spot again and again.

And then suddenly, I shuddered, just on the edge - sharp, sudden, body curling inward around Oscar.

Lando swore, once, hard, and then grabbed my shoulders, trying to take control, but I didn’t let him.

“Together,” I said pulling away just enough to speak, lips wet. “Finish with me.”

I didn’t even finish my sentence before I began to come, clenching hard as my body shook. Oscar groaned, hips stuttering.

And then all at once,

Lando spilled into my mouth, warm and shaking.

Oscar came inside me seconds later, holding me tight against him, groaning my name against my neck.

We stayed like that, a tangled, breathless mess.

No movement, no sound, aside from our heavy breathing.

Just three heartbeats, thudding in time.

We didn’t speak for a long time.

Then Lando whispered, voice hoarse: “Can we stay here for just a little longer?”

Oscar kissed my shoulder. “We can stay until morning?”

I nodded.

No more words.

⸻

But in the quiet, I felt it:

The truth.

This wasn’t a beginning.

This wasn’t a dream.

This was the last time.

And it was everything I needed it to be.

— Four years later —

Sometimes I wonder if it really happened.

That year.

That impossible, electric, unforgettable year.

It sits in my mind like a dream I’m still not sure was real - vivid in flashes, blurred around the edges.

A memory I don’t revisit often.

But when I do…

It’s always the same.

Lando’s laugh. Oscar’s mouth at my shoulder. The weight of both of them, warm and unguarded, falling asleep too close to care.

Now? Now I work from a smaller desk. New department. Minimal travel. Safe, contained, quiet.

I still see them. Occasionally.

Oscar will stop by after a debrief, casual, unbothered, kind. Lando sometimes nods from across the paddock, eyes bright but unreadable. Our childhood friendship never really recovered after that year.

They never make it weird. Which is almost worse.

Because some part of me wishes they’d look at me the way they used to, like we were still tangled in some shared secret, still drunk on that version of us where nothing outside the three of us mattered.

But that version is gone. And they’re doing just fine.

—

Oscar is cleaner now. Sharper. A little more comfortable in interviews. Still fast.

Still loyal to the silence between us.

Lando is… Lando. Always in motion. Loud when it matters, soft when it doesn’t. He has a new trainer now. A new haircut. A new way of keeping his distance without ever really pulling away.

They’re both in the title fight again.

Not teammates anymore, but still friendly enough on camera to keep the headlines calm.

Sometimes, in press conferences, I catch them laughing together. It always hits me in the chest.

But I never let it show.

⸻

We don’t talk about what happened.

There’s nothing left to say.

It ended when it had to.

Before it could ruin us.

Before love turned to resentment. Before we ever had to become villains in each other’s stories.

⸻

Once, just once, I passed them in a hotel lobby in Tokyo.

Lando smiled first.

Oscar nodded.

I kept walking.

But I felt it. The same thing they felt. Like waking up and remembering a fever dream so vivid, you could still feel the heat of it on your skin.

We’d lived something real. We’d loved each other. And we’d survived it.

That was enough. It had to be.

[villainvirus]

turn your back / hello world

[p2iimon]

drawing more furry fnaf art. yknow just to keep you posted. i love posting in the tags sorry these ones got away from me

[rev-tone]

honestly kind of afraid to post much here at all because I WAS doing it last year for a little bit until i got an anon one day wishing i die in agony from prostate cancer completely unprompted. The only reason that happened is because i had posted and tagged something innocuous and a random transphobe found it. and with twitter no longer having moments (and the posts that were put in them just removed so now nothing archived) and cohost like last 2 days just not letting ppl post photos idk where to put art anymore lol

[catominor]

also i need to draw some more outfits for c. martinus and l. furius...

[hanginginthevoid]

The Lighthouse

pairing: bob reynolds x fem!reader

summary: you’ve always been drawn to bob. at first you think it means something, but then you remember that yelena’s also always been drawn to bob. and its obvious that he prefers her over you.

a/n: i lovelovelovelovelove misunderstanding trope. the first thought i had leaving the theater was that i couldn’t tell if i wanted bob for myself or if i wanted him and yelena to get together, so this thought has been haunting me for a while. after this i am dried out for fic ideas, but ive been having fun writing so feel free to send reqs and ill do my best to fulfill them!

warnings: self-deprecation, misunderstandings, unrequited feelings?, kissing.., lmk if i missed sumn

word count: 3.3k

—

Outsiders would assume Bob and you were a couple. The two of you were always seen together, either doing a coffee run, or a bookstore, or the grocery store, or picking up takeout, or sometimes simply going for a walk. You’re sure the intertwined pinky’s might have swayed some elderly women in the wrong direction, but it really was just to not get separated in the crowds.

If it really was an option, you would date Bob. He just doesn’t have eyes for you.

Yelena was great, so you get why Bob would like her. She was the first person to show him unconditional kindness, probably in his whole life. The one who made sure during the whole ordeal of the vault he was safe and taken care of.

But you were there too. Weren’t you? Or did Bob just write out the fact that you were the one to pull him with you when you ran to escape the initial burning, and when you took a bullet for him since he didn’t have the reflexes to dodge.

Doesn’t matter anyway, he still only looks at Yelena like she hung the stars in the sky. Hell, he looks at her like she’s the one who blew air into his lungs to bring him to life. No matter what you do, you just can’t seem to get him to like you back.

Bob hates to be a bother, so he would rather suffer in silence instead of asking for help. You can relate to that, but you’ve helped him out after his nightmares enough times to think he would be able to wake you up when one happens. He doesn’t, so to compromise, you’ve started staying up later and later so you could hear the patter of his feet outside your door. 

Maybe you should stop though. One of these days it could get you injured on a mission. How stupid would you be to get hurt over an unrequited crush.

For once, it would be nice to be chosen. Not in the way that Valentina ‘Chose’ you to be an Avenger, but chosen because of how much someone knows you. Chosen because your qualities were redeeming enough. Chosen because all of the actions that you make that you feel are unseen, really aren’t. But that would be selfish of you, you aren’t the proper type to be chosen.

—  

Bob sees Yelena like a sister. Yes, during his bad days she's a light to bring him back to his senses. But you, you’re like a lighthouse, helping him guide his ship in the treacherous waters back to shore. No matter the problem, you always seemed to have the answer. 

In the teams early days, he tried to help out by cooking. Very quickly, he found out he couldn’t cook. You were the first to arrive to the scene, black smoke billowing out through the doorway, smoke alarm blaring. Instead of focusing on those, you focused on Bob. He had tears in his eyes, and before anyone had even arrived he was muttering apologies. 

He burnt his hand in his haste to get the meal out of the oven, hoping to prevent it from getting worse. After reminding him that mistakes happen, and that everything was fixable, you led him by his good hand to the infirmary to get him bandaged up, leaving the rest of the team to deal with the mess.

Bob can’t recall the amount of times that he’s fallen asleep in your room after a nightmare. He spent a period of time trying to not sleep, worried that the void would take over while he was in REM or something stupid like that. Whenever he did end up crashing from exhaustion, the anxiety and fear of causing havoc, or the awful memories that the void would inflict on him would wake him up. His hair would be matted all over his forehead and neck, sweat making his pajamas stick to his back and legs. 

Physically, you were the closest to him, your room just one door down on his left. Yelena was farther away, on the other side of the hall at the complete other end. Maybe his subconscious heard the sliding of your door just moments prior, but he would rather think it's the undeniable pull that you have. 

His knocking could have easily been missed, they were long allowing the noise to draw out because he knows he needs help, yet still soft and somewhat timid because he doesn’t want to be a bother. Nevertheless, you heard it and had the door sliding open within the minute.

You had a mug of hot chocolate in your grasp. A sleepy smile adorning your face as you asked him if he wanted to come in. You had some trashy TV playing lightly in the background as you worked on official Avengers paperwork, but you set it aside to make Bob a space in your bed.

You didn’t push him once that night. Just let him sit there in your company, watching as housewives made useless drama with each other.

When he eventually fell asleep, you tucked him in. Then you got up to put your a/c on since he normally runs hot, and two people under the same covers would only make more heat. When you got back into the bed Bob had reached for you so you softly grasped his hand in yours and the crease that had started to form in his brow alleviated. 

Bob tried to thank you, but you hadn’t let him because helping would be what any decent human does. Instead, he made you french toast, said it was the least he could do for taking up your space. So that became your routine, every morning after a nightmare Bob would make french toast. 

You never denied him. Never said you were too busy, too stressed, or even flat out didn’t want to. Whatever you were doing before he knocked would be moved aside, or powered down, and then if he wanted it your attention was all his, only his. Sometimes you’d talk about the nightmares, a good book your or Bob read, a recipe you wanted to try, or just the weather.  Other times the two of you would watch a movie, a show, or play either a video or physical game.

The two of you never mentioned the times that you would fall asleep cuddling. The nights where only whispers were shared and you’d rake your nails down his scalp to give him a distraction. The nights where his head would rest on your chest and he’d put at least half of his focus on matching your breathing pattern. He’d play with your free hand, either drawing patterns into your palm with his pointer finger or just simply fidgeting with your fingers.

Bob believes it's just something you're doing out of the kindness of your heart. You know it would make him feel better to let him be with someone, so you offer up yourself. Probably just so that no one else on the team has to suffer by taking care of him. But even if it's out of pity, he’d keep going to you, taking all the alone time he could get as long as you didn’t shut him out.

He’s fallen for you, Yelena confirmed his suspicion. The way he always volunteers to go on errands with you, the way he seeks you out at dinner to secure a seat next to you, the way he learned how to perfect your favorite meal before anyone else's, the way that he comms more for you than anyone else because he’d hate to see you even scratched from a mission.

—

You’ve had a long night. Too much paperwork, too many people you used to know informing you that they’re disappointed that you've ended up on such an ‘awful’ team. A wake up, preferably in the form of coffee, was necessary after the night you had. Thankfully Bob and Yelena had you covered, serving you shock instead. 

Maybe you’re overreacting, but Bob hasn’t woken you up because of a nightmare in weeks. For a normal person, that’s probably a standard amount of time. But for everyone who currently resides in the tower, that's at least a week too much.

Everyone's experienced at least one major traumatic event that keeps them up, and then continues to haunt their dreams. Most people handle it themselves, no one fully adjusted to the fact that they’re on a team and can easily ask for help when needed. Bob hasn’t been that person though, at least not with you. 

You realize this morning, it’s not that Bob stopped having nightmares. He’s started to go to Yelena for them. You heard his door slide open last night, and footsteps walking in the opposite direction of your room. Originally you assumed he went to get some water or something of that sort, but that thought was squashed the next morning when you saw Bob making Yelena french toast.

They’re laughing about something you can’t hear. And maybe its the look in Bob’s eyes, or the way he’s smiling like he’s never had a care in the world. Either way, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. From then on you’d move on from Robert Reynolds. 

—

Most people wouldn’t be able to recognize it at first. The way you drew back was subtle, made in steps so it would be less suspicious. First you started training more. You were often the first one in the gym, either punching the bag, running miles, or lifting weights. The headphones you wore always playing music, not particularly blasting but loud enough that when people approached they could understand to not bother you.

Then you started eating without the team. Whenever asked about it you’d either say you ate earlier or weren’t hungry. Usually the former was true, but sometimes you’d just blurt out something to get them off your back. Whenever you did end up eating with them, you’d avoid spots that had open seats on either side. One time you even had to sit next to Alexi. 

Sleeping earlier was the next step. ‘Sleeping’ really meant going to your room and staying as silent as possible. Leaving whatever room with a loud yawn usually meant that nobody would question if you were really getting rest or not. The few times that someone did question it, you would just tell them about how burnt out you were. 

From Bob’s perspective, all of these things were excusable. You wanted to be stronger and more prepared for missions, and you were so consumed in it that you couldn’t have meals or quality time with the team. While he wanted you to take better care of yourself, or wanted you to let him take better care of you, he would never want to overstep, so he kept to himself.

But then you started doing errands by yourself. That was always your thing. Why would you do them by yourself? Were you sick of him asking to do supplemental activities like walking through the park, or stopping in a cafe? It just didn’t make any sense.

He thought the two of you were closer than that. Maybe he really was right. You did just pity him and that’s the only reason you let him stick around for so long. Maybe Yelena knew something he didn’t. Girls have to talk about this stuff, right?

“Hey, Yelena?” Bob’s knocking on her door, hoping she’s not taking a midday nap.

A few seconds later the door slides partially open, “Goooood morning Bobert!” He winces at that, “No on Bobert then. What do you need?”

“It’s, well. Uh - you know who.” Bob’s rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

“Come in, come in.” Yelena ushers him in before shutting the door, “What about your special someone?”

Where does he even start? The fact that you’ve been avoiding him? Or the fact that you’ve stopped finding a seat so he could sit next to you during the rare times you join the team for dinner, knowing that he’s too non-confrontational to ask someone to move. Maybe he should start with the way that it seems like you’re training all day to avoid having to talk to him at night under the guise that you’re exhausted. 

He starts with the idea that you’ve cut him out of your life completely. If it was a printout it would not be done gently, as one would to someone who they held close to their heart. But rough, the cut uneven, jagged around the edges, the type that would give you a papercut if you ran your fingers along it. 

And he doesn’t even know why. What could he have done? You’ve always been understanding, always been the one to give the benefit of the doubt even when people didn’t deserve it. What could he have done to not deserve this kindness that you’ve given to everyone else? 

By the end of his rant, he’s crying. Yelena brings his head down to her shoulder, rubbing along his back to calm him. “I jus-just don’t get it. Am I that bad?”

“No. That is not it, Bob.” Even though he can’t see her shaking her head, Yelena still does it, “You must talk to her.”

“I can’t, I really can-”

“You must. And you will.” Her tone left no room for discussion or debate. 

Yelena reminds him that while you may be closed off, as they all are, you are not intentionally cruel. You would not leave Bob hanging after he goes to you asking for answers. She sends him on his way after that. He should get cleaned up before you get back, something about ‘putting his best foot forward’. 

—

When you get back to the tower, putting away the groceries is on the top of the list. Then afterwards you’re heading straight to your room to hole up. There’s a tall, looming figure across from your door though. 

By the hair you can tell it's Bob. He’s leaning against the wall, head pressed against it. His eyes are closed so unless you’ve been super loud, you doubt he knows you're there. How you were going to actually get into your room was a different problem. The doors were fancy, but they were loud leaving no way to sneak in.

Just as you’re debating on whether or not to actually attempt to sneak in, Bob’s eyes shoot open and his head turns to look at you. 

“Hey, y/n, hi - hi.” His smile is wobbly, nervous glint in his eyes.

“Hey Bob. What’s up?” If you can appease him quickly, then you can get back to the solace you find in your room. 

“Could we talk?” He’s moved in your way, somewhat preventing you from getting to the door.

“Uh - yeah, sure. About what though?” Your fingers are twitching, hopefully it’s subtle enough that Bob doesn’t notice.

Of course he notices though, he’s attuned more to you than himself sometimes. “You’ve been avoiding me. And I just wanted to know what I did. Whatever I did it's important to me that I take accountability and apologize for it.”

Well shit. “You didn’t do anything Bob. I’ve just got a lot on my mind as of late and I don’t want to bother anyone with it.” 

“It’s not a bother. Please tell me.” He’s grabbed your hand, stilling the twitches.

“Fine! You want me to spell it out,” Taking your hand back, cradling it with your other one, “I like you Bob. A lot. Like more than a friend should. And it hurts. It hurts that I’ve given you more than I’ve given anyone in a long time just for you to go and pick Yelena over me.”

Bob tries to cut you off, reaching out to grab your arm, but after a quick deep breath you continue.

“And I get it, I really really do. She’s your person, but you were mine. My quiet in the storm. I thought that our time meant something to you, that I meant something to you. But I was wrong. Can I please enter my room now?”

“No. No you can’t. Not until you hear what I have to say.”  

You’re frustrated, tears are forming on your waterline. Today was supposed to be easy, quick errands, then bed rotting. Now you’ve been forced to confess something you haven’t even written down in your diary just in case somebody decided to snoop. And even after that you still won't be granted safety or peace in the comfort of your room. 

“Why do you think I like Yelena?”

Bob doesn’t get a response. When he realizes you’re not going to respond he tilts your chin up to make eye contact.

“Y/n, why do you think I like Yelena?”

“Because! It's always her. Movie nights, the two of you are cuddling. Dinners, sure you’d sit next to me but only when in eyesight of her! Errands, you run off to get what she likes first every time. And the one thing I had, that really seemed like it was just mine, just ours,” You’re wiping away tears and sniffling, but if he wanted a response, he’d get a damn response,  “Was comforting each other in the dead of night. But then you were there, doing our routine with her and I realized it doesn’t matter what I do, Yelena will always come first.”

“What do you mean ‘our routine’? I didn-”

“The French toast? You only make that the morning after a nightmare. And you hadn’t stopped by my room for weeks. It made sense that you’d be seeking comfort somewhere else.”

“French… toast?” Bob’s thinking, you can see it by the distant look in his eyes. “I made french toast because I missed the way it tasted, and the fact that you always get this sparkle in your eyes when I make it.’

“You don’t have to lie for my sake. I can take it.”

“I'm not. Look at me please.” Instead of making you look up, he's bending down, “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. You can ask Yelena for all the details later, but right now you need to understand that I really like you too.”

“Its fine, Bob. Really.”

You’re still rejecting the fact that he cares for you in the same way that you care for him. So he does something he’s only seen in movies. His lips collide with yours briefly, just long enough for you to confirm that it wasn’t your imagination. 

“Is that enough proof for you?” You shake your head no, because it truly wasn’t enough. You’ve waited months for this moment; the least he could do was make it last a little bit longer.

When he kisses you the second time you make sure to kiss back. His lips are soft, moving slowly but still surely, like they knew all the proper movements but they just needed to remember them. 

The sliding of a door reminds the two of you as to your location. You split quickly when the noise slices through the air. Just Ava heading towards the kitchen if you had to guess. Maybe it was a good thing, who knows how far you would have gotten if you hadn’t broken apart. 

“So.. Can we go watch that show you like so much now?”

“The one you pretend to hate?” You’ve entangled yours and his hands, pulling him lightly towards your door.

“Yeah.. That one.” Bob is grinning goofily now. He’s sure he could come into your room freely now. Really soak up all your free time. He could explain that he hasn’t come to you for a nightmare in weeks because he truly hasn’t had one, once he’s wrapped up in your arms. And after that maybe he’d work on kissing you stupid.

likes/comments/reblogs will get your cheeks squished like im your grandma

[smutmind]

Monster ft. Yujin

IVE Yujin X Her Dad's BFF ----

a little prequel to this

----

He waited for her to grow up.

Not out of morality—but to make the timing easier to defend.

Not to protect her—but to protect himself.

Jae had always been close to the family—her father’s best friend since school, always around. He brought birthday gifts. Picked her up from practice when her dad couldn’t. Laughed at her awkward, growing-in smile.

And somewhere between fifteen and seventeen, she’d stopped being a child in his eyes.

He noticed when her shorts got shorter. When her legs got longer. When her voice deepened just slightly, her hips tilted just differently.

He noticed.

And he waited.

Until now.

Until she came back from university for the summer—, legally grown, emotionally unmoored. Still soft in the eyes, still unsure when she smiled.

Still his to take, if he moved carefully.

And tonight, he moved.

The house was quiet. Her father was away for a late night duty. She came into the kitchen in a long T-shirt, no bra, looking for water.

She didn’t know he was still awake.

“Didn’t expect you up,” she said, startled.

“I never sleep early.”

She smiled. Faint. Awkward. Her hand curled around the fridge door.

He watched her.

Too long.

Too closely.

“Uncle?” she asked, voice tight.

“You filled out.”

She froze.

“That’s not something you say to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because of who you are to my family.”

“And what you are to me.”

She swallowed. “You’re almost like my dad’s real brother.”

“No,” he said. “I’m the one who’s seen you become this.”

Her back hit the counter.

He stepped forward.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I think,” he said, reaching out, brushing hair from her face, “you’re scared because you feel it too.”

“I don’t—Jae, please—”

“You’ve looked at me,” he said, eyes dark. “I’ve seen it.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But you didn’t stop.”

He leaned in.

She turned her face. “Please, don’t kiss me.”

He paused—then smiled.

“I won’t.”

Instead, his hand slid beneath her shirt.

Yujin gasped. “No—don’t—”

“You want me to tell your father?”

She went still.

His thumb brushed her nipple.

“You want him to know what you did last summer? That little thing you think no one saw?”

Tears stung her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did.”

His mouth hovered at her ear.

“You made a mistake. You got caught. This is how you fix it.”

Her breath hitched. “Please don’t make me—”

“I’m not making you,” he whispered. “I’m offering you a way out.”

Her eyes shut.

He knelt in front of her. Hands on her thighs.

“You say stop,” he said, voice quiet now. “And I’ll tell him everything.”

She trembled.

“…No.”

“No what?”

“Don’t tell him.”

“Then spread your legs.”

Her knees parted. Slowly.

Ashamed.

Tense.

Bare beneath.

He breathed in. “There’s my good girl.”

And when his mouth touched her for the first time, she didn’t cry.

She just whispered, “You're a monster”

He smiled against her skin.

And said nothing..

His silence stretched, deliberate—tactile in its own right, like a hand pressing just under her ribs. She felt it there. Heavy. Hot.

Yujin lay back, knees drawn but rigid, her chest tight with shallow, panicked breaths. Her eyes followed the slow descent of his head, every inch he traveled sparking dread she couldn’t swallow.

Jae, terrifyingly composed, dragged his mouth along the sharp curve of her hip. “You’re shaking, sweetheart” he said, voice low, lips brushing the ridge of bone. “That’s better.”

She jerked, breath hiccupping. “I-I’m not—”

“You are,” he said simply, and kissed lower.

Her skin, all nerves and young fear, flinched under each stroke. Every touch rattled her, like keys turning in locks she didn’t know existed. She’d never been this exposed—never known her body could be so vulnerable.

When he reached her breasts, he stopped, staring like he had all the time in the world. His hand cupped one, thumb brushing the nipple until it stiffened. She gasped—sharp, startled.

“That much?” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I’m scared—Jae, stop—please…” she whispered, arms tight at her sides.

He didn’t answer. His mouth closed around the nipple, sucking hard.

Yujin cried out—high and panicked. Her hands jerked to his hair, not to pull him closer, but to hold on. Her back arched off the bed, instinct more than invitation. The feeling lit through her like an electric wire, too sharp, too sudden.

Jae groaned low, almost pleased, and shifted to the other. This time, he licked with slow, dragging intent. Then sucked—deeper. Yujin thrashed beneath him, breath catching, fingers shaking as they clung to him without knowing why.

“Too much—too much—” she gasped, but kept pressing her palms against his shoulders, trying—failing—to hold him back.

“You’ll take it,” he said, voice dark velvet. “You want to take it.”

She wasn’t sure. Maybe—but her legs wouldn’t stay still. Her body kept twitching like it wanted to run. No one had ever touched her like this—never looked at her like she was something to take apart.

His mouth returned to her nipples, relentless—flicking, sucking, pulling startled sounds from her lips. She whimpered when he pinched one, his tongue circling the other with slow, exacting pressure.

She didn’t understand what was happening. It built too fast, no control, just heat flooding her hips and spine. Her body seized before she could stop it, legs jerking as something sharp and blinding tore through her.

Jae looked up, his lips wet and eyes darker than she’d ever seen them.

“Already?” he murmured.

“I-I don’t know what that was—” she gasped. Her thighs twitched. “I can’t—I can’t stop shaking—”

“Good.” He kissed her stomach, tracing sweat-slick skin. “You’re not done.”

His hand moved between her thighs, and she stiffened—too aware, too bare. The first press of his fingers dragged a cry from her, sharp and startled. His thumb found her clit, circling slow, cruel patterns. Her hips jerked, unsure whether to flee or stay frozen.

When he pushed one thick finger in, she gasped—a wet, broken sound. Her body clamped down around him on instinct, everything inside her too tight, too hot, too much.

“Fuck,” he groaned, more to himself. “So tight.”

Yujin bit her lip. Her eyes fluttered. “Y-you’re going too fast—slow down—”

He didn’t. He added another finger. Curved them. Her whole body arched like it was begging for something her mouth hadn’t learned to name. The slaps of his palm against her slick skin filled the room.

Then he did something different—he leaned down and sucked her nipple again while pumping into her with slow, relentless rhythm.

She screamed.

It shattered something. Her body convulsed, liquid gushing around his fingers. She squirted—violently, helplessly, her voice high and breaking.

Jae didn’t stop until she’d wrung herself empty against his hand.

Only then did he lift his head, lips red and wet.

“You’re ready now,” he said.

Jae didn’t move at first. He watched her. Watched the way her chest hitched, the tension creeping into her limbs. Her thighs stayed parted but trembled, uncertain. Her skin glowed with sweat, but her eyes—wide, glassy—didn’t hold heat. They held hesitation.

Yujin blinked up at him, pulse fluttering at her throat. “You told him I was safe with you”

“You are,” he said quietly. Not cruel. Not soft. Inevitable.

He stood with a slowness that made her insides twist, hands moving to his belt. The sound of the zipper made her flinch. When he freed himself, her gaze dropped—and froze.

Her breath hitched. He was big. Too big.

She swallowed. Her fingers curled into the sheets. ““H-How is that supposed to go inside me?”

Jae’s hand wrapped around the base, lazy. “It will.” His voice lowered. “But it’s going to hurt first.”

He climbed over her, bracing his arms to either side of her head. She froze. The weight of him, the shadow he cast—it pressed her flat. Her breath caught in her throat.

The heat pouring off his skin felt suffocating now, like fire too close. She smelled musk and sweat and something older—raw, feral, metallic. Cedar and iron.

Her eyes flicked up to his, wide and shining. She didn’t speak. Her body did—tensing beneath him, trembling in silence.

She wasn’t sure if it was the scent… or the look in his eyes that scared her more.

He reached down, guiding himself to her entrance.

“No turning back now,” he muttered, more to himself than her—like her answer didn’t matter.

His grip tightened on her thigh. He didn’t wait.

The first press stole her breath. The width of him dragged against her raw nerves, still tender from coming undone. She whimpered—then gasped as he pushed deeper, inch by aching inch. Her walls stretched, struggling, fluttering around him.

“God, you’re tight,” Jae growled. “Like you were made for this.”

She tried to speak. Failed. Her nails dug into his arms.

Halfway in, he didn’t stop—just ground deeper, like he was claiming space inside her. His breath tore through his teeth, rough and ragged, each thrust more like a conquest than a rhythm.

“You feel that? Stretching around me like you were made for it.?” he asked, voice not quite steady.

Jae leaned in, kissed the side of her face, and pushed the rest of the way. She cried out—sharp and startled—clutching him like she might fall apart.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “I love watching you break open around me.”

She did. God, she did.

He started to move. Shallow thrusts at first, hips grinding slow. Each one lit a new spark, pulling whimpers from her mouth she couldn’t stop. She was too full, too stretched, every inch of him stroking something she didn’t know she had.

Her legs wrapped around him without thought—traitorous, trembling. Her body clung, wet and eager, even as her mind screamed no.

She hated the way it felt good. Hated the heat curling low in her belly, the pulse that answered every thrust.

But her body didn’t care. It opened. It begged.

Then he fucked her.

The rhythm changed—deeper, harder. His pelvis slapped against her ass, loud and wet. She screamed again, the sound high and real, hands fisting the sheets. She could feel herself tightening around him, slick and raw.

Jae groaned, face pressed to her neck. “You’re squeezing me like you want to keep me.”

“Jae—Jae, I can’t—” she gasped.

“You will,” he growled. “Take it. Take all of it.”

He reached between them again, thumb pressing her clit. Her whole body jerked. She was so wet, so swollen, the touch sent lightning through her.

“I’m gonna—again, I’m—”

“Let go.”

She shattered.

The orgasm ripped through her—louder, rougher than the first. She screamed his name, back arching, body convulsing. She felt herself gush again, hot and out of control. Her pussy clamped around his cock, milking him.

Jae cursed, deep and guttural—like the sound had been clawed from his chest. His hips snapped forward, once, twice, driving the last of his control into her heat. Then he pulled out abruptly, his cock slick and twitching in his fist.

Yujin gasped, still trembling beneath him, her stomach rising and falling in broken rhythm.

He stroked himself hard—fast—hovering above her. His jaw clenched. His breath caught.

Then he came.

Thick, hot spurts landed across her belly, her ribs, her breasts. Some hit her chin. It was messy, possessive, final. He groaned through it, eyes locked on the ruin he’d made of her body—slick, marked, still quivering.

She didn’t move. She couldn’t.

And he just watched her, breathing heavy. Like she was something he’d conquered.

She let out a bitter, broken sound—not a laugh. “I hated every second of that.” Her voice was raw, trembling. “I want you to know that.”

Jae just chuckled, low and dark, wiping sweat from his brow.

He shifted higher, hand fisting the base of his cock, guiding it toward her face—, just hovering. A silent, loaded pause.

She didn’t move at first—her breath shallow, eyes locked on his. But when he said, “Lick,” she obeyed. Hesitant, trembling, her tongue flicked out, tracing the length like she hated herself for it.

He leaned in, lips grazing her ear. “You’re mine now. Doesn’t matter what you think.”

[emmyrosee]

The “would you kiss me for $10 or the prettiest girl on the world for $1000?” trend with modern au bf sukuna 👀👀

dummy 🙄 sukuna???

SENT If you send me some fuck shit, hand to god

dummy 🙄 would you kiss me for $10

or kiss the prettiest girl ever for $1000???

SENT Depends on who the competition is

There's three dots that indicate you're typing, then they disappear. They reappear, and he chuckles as he imagines you, fighting for the words to come to your mind as he effortlessly, works your buttons. The dots disappear again, and this time, they stay gone. He quirks a brow at the lack of angry texts from you, only to then groan at the idea that this time, he's taken it too far, his jokes have gotten him nowhere, and he takes a deep breath in to keep himself cool in the dairy aisle at the convenience store.

SENT It was a joke, brat

I'd never want to kiss anyone else

Not when I get to kiss you for free, any time I want, you know that, right?

You merely put your phone on Do Not Disturb. He takes another deep breath in as he digs himself deeper into the hole of your wrath, and he quickly makes his way to the snack aisle, grabbing your favorite chips and heading straight for the candy aisle for an extra boost. By the time he's done, it looks like he's throwing a damn birthday party, but he can't bring himself to care. Not when you're at home, pouting over him.

By the time he gets home, you still haven't answered him. He braces himself for your silence as he unlocks the door and nudges it open with his knee. To his surprise, you're in the kitchen making tea, but there's a blanket covering your body with only your face peeking out.

"You look comfy," he hums, and you sneak a hand out of your cocoon to grab your mug of tea.

"Well since I'm so hideous and disgusting that even my own boyfriend doesn't want to kiss me, I've decided to become a recluse," you hiss, making your way back down the hall. "Don't follow me."

"You know I'm going to follow you," he scoffs, instantly following you down the hall into your shared bedroom. There's a blue light cascading over the walls from the tv, and the curtains are drawn shut. You put the tea on your side table and scuttle back into bed. He rolls his eyes and walks his way on your side of the bed. "Let me kiss you."

"Let me give you $10."

"I'm not taking $10-"

"Well someone has to," you snap. "At least, until you find someone just soooo much prettier than me, then you get even more money to kiss me with. Doesn't that sound like a good plan?"

"Babe, it was a joke-"

"And I'm not laughing."

He snarls his lip slightly before scooping his arms under you, hauling you up and onto his lap and ignoring your shoves and batting of hands. He wastes no time is pressing wet kisses to your cheeks and neck, relishing in how your body shakes trying to hold in your laughter.

“Don’t you ever-“ he kisses your temple firmly. “Deprive me-“ kissing your jawline. “Of your kisses.” His lips press to the corner of your mouth, and the hand not cradling your body comes up to grip your chin to hold you steady. “Brat.”

“Don’t tell me I’m not pretty then!” You whine.

“Of course you’re pretty,” he scoffs, pressing another kiss to your face. “I never said that. I would never say that. You’re the fucking prettiest. You’re mine. Of course you’re the prettiest.”

You go quiet, and he thinks you’re about to get mad at him again; however, you turn to rest your head on his shoulder, pressing a tiny kiss to his neck.

“Say more stuff like that,” you murmur.

He smirks, “there is no girl prettier than you. Trust me.” He turns his head to kiss your other cheek, squishing you slightly in the process. “Ive seen it all, baby. You’re the one. And even if someone tries to give me money to kiss you, I don’t fucking want it-“ he kisses you again. “Because I get to do it for free. And that shit’s priceless.”

“Softie,” you snort. He groans and turns his head to bite your cheek firmly, but his heart speeds up at the way you kick your feet out and flail them in protest. “Oww! I’m sorry, don’t bite!”

“I’m not a child nor a dog, woman,” he grumbles, but he does release your cheek and press a kiss to your brow bone in compensation. “No matter how you see me, anyways.”

“My feral little doggy,” you prod.

He yaks, but can’t help the smirk that curls on his cheeks from your laughter.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Dude I got u for bg3 requests-

So like imagine a tav that can draw and they’re just sketching whatever and astarion comes up behind them like “lol who’s that twink do u have a crush or something?” And everyone loses it cuz it’s him.

I’ve seen some like these where they’re all angsty and some fluff but I think everyone would lose their shit. Specifically picturing Gale choking in the background because astarion is making fun of tavs dreamy portraits of himself.

Ive never done an ask before idk how these work I give u full creative liberty 😚

Summary: Reader likes drawing Astarion, who is oblivious to the fact that it's him! Campmates lose it and try to play matchmaker a little bit.

Genre: Pure tooth rotting fluff

Warnings: Astarion things

Credits: All characters are from Bg3, Vampire fang divider- animatedglittergraphics-n-more on tumblr, Blood divider- strangergraphics on tumblr

A/n: Ahhh! I'm so excited to be your first ever request! I hope this is to your liking and I apologize for it taking me so long to get around to it

Thank you so much for requesting!!

During the long trip to Baldur's Gate, finding ways to keep your mind occupied when you stopped became a necessity. Thankfully, pretty early into your travels you managed to get your hands on a (mostly) empty drawing journal after finding it abandoned along with some helpful supplies. It didn't take long for you to find that you had some sort of muscle memory for drawing, even if you couldn't consciously remember ever being an artist, your brain seemed to. You started out just drawing what you saw. Flowers, buildings, landscapes, etc. But pretty soon you drifted to drawing your campmates as well. At first it was a little mix of everyone, but as your trip carried on you couldn't help but be drawn (hehe) to a certain fluffy haired rogue. As your mind lingered on him more and more, so did your pencil. You had filled numerous pages with sketches and doodles of him. Sometimes he'd catch you staring at him while trying to get a good reference, and he'd of course smirk and say something like "Enjoying the scenery, darling?" To which you would flush red and bury your face back into your sketches.

Every now and then, someone would glance over your shoulder to see what you were scribbling (usually Karlach) and tease you for how full your sketchbook had gotten with just him. You didn't mind them watching you draw, sometimes it felt nice to have someone admiring your skills.

This however, was not one of those times.

"My, who is that handsome devil?" Astarion's voice rings out from behind you. You squeeze your eyes shut as you realize you've been caught and curse yourself for not hearing him sneak up behind you. Astarion is now leaning against your shoulder, studying the pictures in front of him. "Now darling, I know I say this about every gorgeous stranger but would." He lazily flips the page and lets out a little giggle "And you would too by the looks of it," He returns back to your current page and sits beside you. "So, will you tell me the story or will you make me beg? You know I'm an expert on romance." It's only then do you realize he genuinely doesn't realize that you are drawing him. You thought before he was just being smug, but it does make sense. When was the last time he saw himself? 300 years ago? Surely the memory is a bit fuzzy. You try to act as nonchalant as possible as you mutter "Mm...Maybe some other time..." Astarion scoffs and you pray to any god willing to listen to help you out. Your prayer is answered when Gale makes the call for dinner being done. You quickly shove the book into your pocket and (perhaps a bit too swiftly) walked over to the fire.

The topic is seemingly dropped by Astarion until Shadowheart remarks that "Your face is redder than Karlach's," Astarion is quick to interject. "I caught them drawing some shirtless man and they're being a big baby about it." He rolls his eyes dramatically before adding "Trust me darling, I've seen worse." Gale chokes on his stew, Halsin's brows raise and Shadowheart lets out a small gasp. The camp is deadly quiet, save for Astarion making snarky comments about how the man looks like something a 13 year old would find incredibly romantic. Karlach is the one to break the silence, "Fangs, do you really not know who that is?" He raises a brow "Of course not. What, is he famous or something?" Lae'zel lets out a scoff. "Chk. It is a wonder how you survive being so clueless. That is you, you k'chakhi."

The silence, once again, is incredibly loud. This time though, Astarion has seemingly lost his witty remarks. You have long since had your head down, afraid to see his face. He, however, is more confused than anything. After a moment he speaks again, "Is it really?" They all give some form of approval, a nod, a grunt, etc. He is quiet again, but only because he is taking a moment to grin. "Well no wonder there are so many! Obviously it's me. No face other than mine fit to take up so much space in our dear Tav's book. Let me see another, I haven't beheld my beauty in so long!"

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down: IV

Photo credit to @thebluemage. Edit mine.

Part III | Knock You Down Masterlist | As Hard As I Did

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Finally! Date Number Threeeeee!

This is a follow up to

Word count: 3.5 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This is the final part! (For now) I think that this is one that I will definitely write in answer to asks. I just love these two so so much! Thank all of you for rocking with me on this one. This was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. SMUT!!!! The end of the Slow burn, now it's burning very fast 😅. Cursing, flirting, jealousy, apologies, Bucky cooking (a warning!), kissing, dry humping, dirty talk in both English and Romanian, voice kink, oral sex (m and f receiving), protected sex (yay Bucky!) And these two are so fucking fluffy. I'm scared, y'all. I want it to be good enough for the build up.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

As soon as he entered the Brownsville Arts and Culture Center, James Bucky Barnes was hot. Blood was rushing to his ears and he needed a drink. He wasn’t sick; his symptoms were all due to you.

The black dress that adorned your body contained all of his hopes and dreams, but you seemed to be flirting with another man, twirling for him and then giving him a hug. To add insult to injury, you had the nerve to laugh and smile with the punk. 

You in that black dress was everything in the world that Bucky could want, except maybe you out of that black dress. As his eyes traced down your form, he noticed the 5 inch red bottoms that you had on. Yes. You, out of that dress with just the red bottoms. That was what he needed in his life.

But first, he had to take care of that other man.

—-

“Benson’s work emphasizes the subjects’ spiritual essence over their physical appearance, don’t you think?”

You turned around at the sound of the deep baritone. 

“Well hello, Mr. Rogers. How are you today? Delivering an art analysis given to you by AI? Oh. I forgot. You are an ‘art dealer.’ An art dealer who goes to Soul Cycle in Brownsville all of a sudden?”

Steve clutched his heart.

“Ah. I’m hurt, Y/N. I thought we were cool. But I guess I deserved the air quotes.  I do actually love art. I took some art classes when I was a kid and I still love to sketch.”

“Hmmmph. Okay. I’ll give you that. But how is it that you popped up in my Soul Cycle class? Don’t play me, Steven.”

Steve raised his eyebrow at you and grinned. He understood why Buckiy was so drawn to you. Not only were you gorgeous, you were a spitfire. That was hot.

“I would never try to play you, Y/N. I also actually love Soul Cycle. Used to teach a class in Park Slope.”

“I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover, can you?”

Steve’s eyes slid over you appraisingly.

“Speaking of. You look very, very nice today.”

You twirled for him, feeling as safe as you would your brother.

“Nice. Okay, listen. I’m sorry about the other day. I was just trying to protect my friend. And you.”

Steve sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ve never seen Bucky like this. He’s never been this smitten with someone before and let them into his life. But I get it now.”

Steve’s blue eyes were almost as beautiful as Bucky’s.

“Bucky is my family. Since we were kids. He’s always taken care of me. And I will do anything for him.”

He raised his eyebrow at you.

“I can see now that means that I will do anything for you, because I have a feeling that you’re gonna be around a lot. So do you forgive me?”

You considered Steve. He was not too different from his best friend, and you couldn’t hold a grudge. Not after Bucky laid it all out to you last night You opened your arms.

“Let’s hug it out.”

Steve chuckled and gathered you into his warm embrace. You pulled back and giggled, grinning at him.

“So what makes you think I’m gonna be hanging around?”

“Well, judging from the look on Bucky’s face, he’s serious about you.”

Steve nodded behind you, toward the door. You looked that way and saw James Bucky Barnes headed straight for you. 

And he didn’t look happy.

—--

“Good morning, Frumoasă. You look stunning today. The exhibit is amazing, the space looks great and it seems that the right people are in the building.”

Bucky came up and placed his hand on the small of your back as he spoke to you, ignoring Steve. His blue eyes were storm clouds at the moment, and his touch was electric.

“Thank you, James. You’re so observant, I appreciate that. And you look very handsome today.”

You looked him up and down and bit your lip, meeting his gaze and the way he kept eye contact as he inclined his head in response. 

Bucky was attractive as hell in his black on black shirt, blazer and slacks. You noticed that his collar was unbuttoned; the medallion hanging on his chest made you want to take it between your teeth. You stared at it for a moment, imagining such a scenario where that could happen and then met his eyes again, prompting desire to roll through you as Bucky licked his lips. He was right there with you.

You smiled at him in a way that you didn’t smile at Steve. Who was Steve Rogers, anyway? You could hardly remember meeting him as your mind went to the feel of being in Bucky Barnes’ arms.

You sensed an air of proprietariness as Bucky took your hand and kissed it, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Possessive Bucky Barnes felt like a sin you wanted to indulge in. You cleared your throat and looked at Steve, as if surprised to find him still standing there, watching the show.

“Well, I see some board members over there, I’m going to go do my job. Talk to you later, boys.”

You walked away and gave them a wink over your shoulder, and you caught both of them looking at your ass. You shook your head and chuckled as you went on your way.

“You trying to steal my girl?”

Everyone stopped when Steve laughed, his deep boom a distraction. Bucky still wasn’t amused.

“Oh. So you’re in love.”

“What?”

“You’ve never worried about me taking your leftovers or vice versa before. Hell, we’ve even shared–”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

Bucky snapped at Steve who put his hands up.

“Whoa, there. Just yanking your chain, buddy; I know she’s special. I wouldn’t dream of making a move on her. Not that she knows I’m alive. When you walked up, I thought I was going to have to take off my jacket so you two could fuck on the floor.”

Bucky was barely listening to Steve as his eyes followed you around the room. One thing Steve said was echoing in his mind: “So you’re in love.”

—-

You floated through the rest of the day on a cloud. The exhibit was a smashing success with the 

Board of Directors in attendance. Securing Howard Benson’s penultimate work from Rebirth was the feather in your cap. 

And you had Bucky to thank for it.

Bucky’s visit was also a hit; he and Steve charmed the board members with the help of Sam and Nat, who arrived later. They all made amends for what occurred that week and you were left very impressed with James Barnes.

After a couple of hours at the event, Bucky came over to let you know he was leaving.

“I will see you later, Frumoasă. I have much to prepare for tonight. Nico will pick you up at 7:30.”

“See you soon, James.”

He kissed your hand again.

“See you soon, Y/N.”

—---

“It is actually insanely attractive how you handled yourself in the kitchen.”

You were seated with Bucky on his couch in his living room, looking over the New York skyline from his Brooklyn penthouse. The dessert had been delicious and the wine in your hand was spectacular. 

“I was sure you’d order something in and just play it off. But I watched you create a meal in front of me, and I should have known that if you said you were going to cook, that you would do just that.”

Bucky’s heart beat double time at what you were saying. He wanted so much for tonight, but most of all, he wanted it to flow naturally. He saw that you were relaxed and open to him, which pleased him immensely.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Frumoasă. I enjoy cooking for my friends and family. Cooking for a beautiful woman is a treat.”

Bucky’s eyes slid over your form. You had changed to jeans and a color block sweater that just put your cleavage out there for the world, which was Bucky Barnes, to see. You also wore the same red bottoms from that day, and Bucky was beginning to think he had a foot fetish as you took them off at his entryway.

You took a sip of wine.

“How often do you do that? Cook for a woman?”

You barely hid your curiosity.

Bucky smiled and drained his glass, reaching over to refill it.

“Not as often as you’d think. Never had any other woman over here. Food is not usually the top priority with them.”

You pouted, which was so cute. Your spark of jealousy inspired Bucky.

“But I don’t want to talk about anyone else. Tonight is about me and you.”

Any uncertainty that arose was quelled by his assertion. You grew warm, so you finished your wine and rose to go to the window. 

“This is the most gorgeous view I’ve ever seen.”

“Absolutely agree.”

You looked behind you and Bucky was still sitting on the couch, hands spread out on the back of it, checking you out. You gave him one of your adorable smiles and he came to stand behind you, and took you in his arms. 

“I want you to know that you deserve everything, Y/N. To be cheered on and protected every day. And thoroughly ruined every night.”

You turned around and his hands went to your hips. It was the perfect moment.

“James?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

Bucky’s eyes dilated, and he moved his hand to your cheek. He licked his lips as he looked deep into your eyes.

“Ah, Frumoasă. I thought you’d never ask.”

His first movement was a subtle brush of your lips. He pulled back to assess the situation, and you didn’t know why, but that made your nipples tighten into stiff peaks. You gasped as Bucky watched you hungrily. 

The air seemed to change around you, and you shivered. He lowered his head so his lips could meet yours again, and this time his mouth was gentle but demanding. You gasped at the spike of electricity that flared between you and Bucky took the opportunity to dip his tongue into your mouth, scorching your lips and soul. With a low groan, he shifted your angle, bending you backward a little to kiss you deeper and ripping a moan from you as you melted against him. 

Good lord, could the man kiss. 

At that point, he was holding you up, one hand on your hip and one hand on the back of your head as you molded yourself against him. Bucky’s fingers dug into you, sure to leave bruises the next day. You relished the thought as you moaned into his mouth again, giving him the opportunity to continue destroying your soul. 

Bucky dragged his lips from yours reluctantly and stared at you, eyes almost black with desire. He brought his thumb up and wiped the moisture from your bottom lip. Motivated, you captured his digit, drawing it into the hot wetness of your mouth. He stared at you, mouth open, as you looked him straight in the eye and started sucking.

Bucky moaned as he pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth, and walked you back to the couch. He extracted his finger, watching the show your lips put on as he pulled it out, leaving them in a delectable pout. 

“More,” Bucky demanded as he crouched down and took your head in both hands as he kissed you again. 

His hands wound up in your hair, tugging gently, then on your back, then your ass as you arched your back to fill his palms. Bucky picked you up, then deposited you on his lap as he sat down on the couch, and you felt how aroused he was. His thick length was where you needed him most.

“Fuck! That feels good.”

Bucky was watching you grind on him like it was the best show on earth. Then he looked up at you.

“Yes, yes it does.”

He leaned forward and captured your bottom lip between his teeth, a preview of how rough he wanted to be with you. Then, he went in for another kiss. That continued for a good five minutes until he pulled away to stare at your swollen lips, and down to your cleavage, which was practically in his face.

When his eyes met yours, you were entranced.

“You good? You want this to happen?”

You nodded and took his hands in yours, guiding them up to your breasts, squeezing yourself with his hands. You rolled your hips, causing his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Like you said, James. More.”

You continued to grind on him, causing him to just gape at your body moving on his.

“I’ve dreamed of this so many times…”

“Yes? Tell me about your dreams, Baby.”

His hands moved to find your nipples through the lace of your bra and the wool of your sweater. He found them in no time, and pinched them lightly, then more roughly when you moaned.

“Mmmmnnnn. So fucking hot.”

Bucky kissed you again and then pulled away as he stared you down and tortured you. 

“I dream about marking you up,” he kissed your neck under your chin, “to your clavicle,” a kiss there, “and all over this beautiful flesh until I get to your nipples.” 

He looked at you for any signs of discomfort as he slipped his hands under your sweater to find the thin lace there. He found your hard peaks again and started rolling them both in his fingers.

“Then I want to kiss and suck them until you come in my arms.”

“Holy god, Jamie….”

Bucky’s eyes rolled at the second pet name you called him and continued.

“Wake up so fucking hard every morning since I met you. Then, I daydream about how wet and tight you will be after I made you cum, and how good it would feel to… to give you my cock. Do y’like that idea, Frumoasă?”

“Y-yesssss!”

“O să te fac să vii pe penisul meu iar și iar, Frumoasă.”

You almost came right then.

“D-don’t know what you said, but yes to whatever you just suggested.”

Bucky pulled you to him, and then chuckled into your ear.

“It means that I want to make you cum over and over again on my cock.”

You were already making a mess in your jeans, but you knew he could feel you soaking them at the moment.

“Please. Give it to me?”

Bucky groaned and kissed you again, this time encircling your waist in his grip and pressing you down on his bulge. 

“You know I can’t deny you anything. Are you certain?”

“Yes, James. Please…”

He lifted you easily, kissing you as he walked you down the hall to his bedroom, depositing you on his bed. 

“Y’look so fucking good.”

He crawled toward you on the bed and settled between your thighs as you hitched your leg over his. You pressed your core against his bulge and it had you muttering.

“Too many clothes.”

Bucky leaned up and you were fumbling with his button and he with yours. You looked up and laughed. 

“Maybe faster the other way.”

“Agreed.”

You two made quick work of your own garments, flinging them around the room between frenzied kisses. The way your eyes widened when Bucky got naked made his chest swell. He wanted you to always look at him like that.

“Wow…,” you said as your eyes roamed his physique.

His cock seemed massive as it slapped him on the abs.

“Wow, indeed,” replied Bucky as he took you in hungrily.

Your white lace underwear looked amazing against your skin and against your cunt it served to make him hungry.

He moved toward you again, kissing up your leg until he got to the edge of your panties and nudged his nose there, making you squirm.

“Smell so good, look so good…”

Bucky kissed at the edge of your underwear,

“I just know you’re gonna taste good too..”

He moved to the center of you, placing a kiss over your lace-covered sodden slit. Then, he looked up at you and smirked before he leaned down and licked you over your panties. 

“Fuck.”

He pulled your panties to the side and gazed at you there. 

Those blue eyes threatened to steal your soul as he gazed at you and confessed, “This is the most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen,” and proceeded to lick a rude stripe up the center of you after he tore your panties away.

“Oh my god, James.”

You rolled your hips again and reached down to feel Bucky’s soft hair. He pulled your hips closer and his lips suckled you with more pressure, adding one finger, then two to stretch you out. 

“Gotta get you ready for me, my love.” 

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you moaned through Bucky thrusting his tongue inside you, then pulling back to focus on your clit.

“I c-can’t.. I–”

“Give me my cum, Frumoasă!”

You locked eyes with him as he buried his face in your cunt and shook against him as you came embarrassingly fast, pulling on his messed up curls.

“So fucking delicious. Taste.”

He took your head in both hands and kissed you deeply, and you responded by sucking your essence off of his tongue. You reached down and started stroking his cock, overjoyed and a little bit scared that your fingers didn’t meet around him as he unclasped your bra.

Bucky whimpered as your thumb came up and stroked his sensitive head, spreading his precum over the wide, mushroom cap.

“You’re so fucking huge, Bucky…”

Bucky pulled you toward him as he reached into his bedside drawer for a condom and a bottle.

“And you’re so wet, Furmoasa. We will make this work. Believe me…”

You continued to stroke and watched him as he brought the wrapper to his teeth and him tearing it open was about the hottest act of sexual protection you’d ever seen. Somehow, your mouth ended up sucking his tip as you watched his eyes roll back into his skull.

“That beautiful mouth…”

Bucky put his hand on your head as you tasted him experimentally, wondering if you’d ever be able to take it all. He seemed to read your mind as he spoke next.

“Don’t worry, I plan on us having a lot of practice with this later, but if you don’t let me put this condom on, I’m gonna cum all over your face, Frumoasă…”

You looked up at him and grinned as his cock jumped in your mouth, but you finally pulled off of him with a pop.

“I need to feel you around me when I cum love. S’all I’ve been dreaming of all week.”

Now his chest was heaving as he rolled the condom on, and he pushed you back onto the bed as his hand went to your core once again. You were even wetter than before and Bucky smiled at you, lining up and kissing you on the forehead as he began to breach your folds.

When he slid inside, your fingernails curled into his shoulders and your eyes grew wide. Bucky stopped, concentrating while his cock pumped, barely inside you.

“There is nothing. In the world. Like being inside your soft, wet, cunt.”

“Fuckkkkk!” 

You became even wetter and he slid fully inside you. There, Bucky waited for you to get adjusted around him.

“So fucking tight. And hot. Just like I knew you would be.”

“More, Jamie!”

Smiling, Bucky started moving and you gripped him as he stroked in and out.

“Please don’t stop. Harder!”

Bucky grabbed the headboard and gave you what you wanted. His other hand pulled your hair and his strokes became more intense.

“Wanted to last longer, but I can’t, Baby. So beautiful. Pussy made for me. Cuming soon, but later… O să te fac să vii pe penisul meu iar și iar, Frumoasă. I never make a promise I can’t keep.”

You orgasm whited out your vision and your throat burned as you screamed. Bucky roared, filling the condom with copious amounts of cum. Your cunt was milking him and he hoped it would hold. He stayed sunk into you as long as he could before he had to get up and rid himself of the prophylactic.

He was only in the en suite for a few minutes as you floated in and out of sleep, lust drunk and exhausted.

Bucky climbed back into bed and got both of you situated under the covers, whispering in your ear.

“Stay tonight.”

“Of course. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

Both of you chuckled, because you knew it was true. Bucky kissed your ear and waited for your breath to even out. When he thought you were asleep, he whispered again.

“I’m going to be a better man for you, Frumoasă.”

“You are exactly who you need to be, James Barnes. Just keep moving forward. Tomorrow is another day to do that.”

After a few more minutes, you spoke again.

“Tomorrow will only be a week that we’ve known each other. Imagine that.” 

Bucky buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Guess I better wait until tomorrow to ask you to marry me.”

You laughed a sleepy laugh.

“You got jokes.”

“You know me, Frumoasă. A professional comedian.”

But somewhere in the dark of Bucky Barnes’ closet, a diamond found some light and sparkled.

——

The next morning is here ;)

Please, please! Let me know!

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

'Til The End of The Line pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of hospitals

Summary: You get injured in a mission, and Bucky cannot bear to see you in such state.

Author's Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

Thank you for those who enjoyed the first part, and thank you again for waiting.

Part 2 is now yours.

The world around Bucky seemed to blur as he followed the medical team through the corridor. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. The sight of you lying so still, bloodied and broken, was something he never thought he’d see—not like this, not when he hadn’t even told you how much he loved you that morning.

As Dr. Cho and her team wheeled you into the surgical room, Bucky’s steps faltered. He felt like he was wading through quicksand, every movement heavy and slow. He wanted to be with you, to hold your hand, to tell you that everything would be okay. But he was kept out of the room, forced to watch through the glass as the doors closed behind you.

Tony, standing beside him, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, Bucky. She’ll pull through.”

But Tony’s words felt hollow to Bucky. He had seen too much death, too much loss. The fear of losing you was like a knife twisting in his gut. He couldn’t lose you—not when you were his reason to keep fighting, his anchor in the storm.

His mind raced back to the last few months—the mornings spent in quiet domesticity, the late-night talks about the future, the way you laughed at his terrible jokes. How could it all be ripped away in a single moment?

Bucky pressed his hand against the glass, his breath fogging up the cold surface. His other hand clenched into a fist, the tension coiled tight in his chest. The image of you, fragile and bleeding, burned into his mind.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours—he couldn’t tell. Time had no meaning as he stood there, waiting, praying, hoping for a miracle.

Tony stayed by his side, silent. Steve joined them, his face drawn and pale. The guilt weighed heavily on Steve’s shoulders, and Bucky could see it. But Bucky had no room for blame—only a desperate need for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dr. Cho emerged from the operating room. Her face was tired, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “She’s stable, but it was touch and go for a while.”

Bucky’s knees almost buckled with relief, but he held himself upright by sheer will. “Can I see her?”

Dr. Cho nodded. “She’s still unconscious, but you can sit with her. It’s important she has someone she loves nearby when she wakes up.”

Bucky didn’t wait for further permission. He pushed past the others and entered the room where you lay. The sight of you hooked up to monitors, IVs, and machines tore at his heart, but at least you were alive. Your chest rose and fell steadily, and the color was slowly returning to your cheeks.

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, taking your hand in his. The warmth of your skin, even faint, was enough to give him hope. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his thumb tracing the lines of your face as if memorizing every detail.

“I’m here, doll,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “I’m right here. Please, come back to me.”

The room was quiet, save for the beeping of the machines that tracked your vital signs. Bucky stayed by your side, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. He didn’t sleep, didn’t eat—he just watched you, waiting for any sign that you were waking up.

Hours passed, and the rest of the team came and went, offering support, but Bucky barely registered them. His world had narrowed down to just you, lying so still in that hospital bed.

At some point, he must have dozed off because he was startled awake by a faint pressure on his hand. His eyes flew open, and he looked down to see your fingers twitching slightly in his grasp.

“Y/N?” His voice was barely a whisper as he leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest.

You stirred, your eyelids fluttering weakly. It took you a moment to orient yourself, but when your eyes finally opened, they were full of confusion and pain. “B-Buck?” Your voice was hoarse, barely audible.

“I’m here, doll, I’m right here.” Bucky’s relief was palpable as he squeezed your hand gently, his eyes misting over. “You’re okay. You made it.”

A weak smile tugged at your lips, though the effort seemed to exhaust you. “I… I thought… I wasn’t going to make it.”

“You did, though,” Bucky whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re safe now. We’re together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your hand trembling slightly in his grasp. “I… I heard you… on the comms. I was so scared… that I’d never see you again.”

“It’s quite a miracle that she woke up. But we still must keep an eye out for any damage to her brain,” the doctor said.

“I’ll call Dr. Cho for further checkups. My job’s done for now.” The doctor left, and Bucky’s gaze returned to you.

Bucky sat back down beside you, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as he clutched your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. He couldn't believe you were awake, breathing, speaking to him. The terror of almost losing you hadn’t yet faded from his mind.

You looked at him, your voice barely a whisper but full of the love you had for him. “Hey, I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

Bucky let out a shaky laugh, a mix of relief and disbelief. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, feeling the warmth of your skin that he thought he’d never feel again. “You scared the hell out of me, doll. I thought—”

His voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know, I know,” you whispered, your free hand weakly brushing the tears from his cheeks. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Buck.”

He pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes swimming with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted, his voice barely holding together.

“I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

“You won’t,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand with as much strength as you could muster. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

For a long moment, Bucky just stared at you, memorizing every line of your face as if afraid it might vanish if he looked away. The weight of everything he had almost lost hung heavily in the air between you, but so did the promise of the future you still had together.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of the words.

“More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too, Buck,” you replied softly, your eyes shining with the same intensity. “And I’m sorry for putting you through this. For making you worry so much.”

“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. You’re the strongest person I know, and you’re going to get better. We’re going to get through this, and then we’ll live that life we talked about.”

A small, hopeful smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, with the house, the backyard, and maybe… maybe even those babies.”

Bucky’s heart swelled with emotion at the thought. The future seemed so far away, but with you here, with your hand in his, it felt possible again. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice choked with emotion. “We’ll have that. I promise you, we’ll have that.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, exhaustion weighing heavily on you, but you fought to stay awake, to stay with him. “I’m going to hold you to that, Barnes.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You better. I’m not going anywhere either, doll. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to drift off to sleep, knowing that Bucky would be right there when you woke up again.

As you slept, Bucky stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours tightly. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, afraid that if he did, this fragile moment of peace would shatter. But as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, he let himself believe that everything was going to be okay. That the darkness had passed, and the light of a new day would bring the life you both deserved.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky allowed himself to hope.

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

Tag list @baw1066 @hzdhrtss @mrsnikstan

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

Thank you for reading and enjoy your weekend :)

[miffysoo]

super long rant incoming for lads (if you read this i love you to pieces, if not i still love you to pieces): im not always the biggest fan of the reincarnation/past lover trope (which is ironic bc that’s literally the entire foundation of lads lore LMAO) because sometimes it feels like the LI’s are in love with the idea of us seeing as mc in the storyline is the past version of their beloved. i just can’t help but think, like are they actually in love with MC? or are they in love with some other version of her and that’s the only reason they’re drawn to her? it almost feels like they’re projecting who they THINK she is when she’s no longer the same person at all in this current timeline & lifetime.

it almost makes it feel like current mc is “the other woman” in some sense, even though that’s a bit illogical because the past version of her is literally her but so much time has passed, things change, people change, and mc is a completely different person than who she was in their past lives. bc truly, the only one who i feel like truly loves her present day for who she is, is caleb. i would argue zayne to an extent too because he technically doesn’t have any memories whatsoever of his past lives so him and MC falling in love feels like it’s happening for the first time again, it’s a blank slate.

and not to say that the boys can’t grow to love who she is without painting her as her past version, but a part of it feels ingenuine sometimes to me. bc although she shares the same face, the same body, arguably the same soul as her past self, seeing as it’s again, literally her SELF, at the core of it, she’s not actually HER anymore. she’s someone completely different. so sometimes it feels super bittersweet & the lines get blurred. i have a love hate relationship w some of the lads lore for these reasons.

so sorry for the fatass post, but the lore & past life concept in the game always makes me feel hesitant to truly immerse myself into the game (i don’t even actually play the game, everything ik and have seen are from youtube clips that people have uploaded for all the myths, memories, and the overall storyline). this isn’t to say i don’t look forward to new updates and such, i love love lads. but like whenever i indulge in fanfic, especially as a chronic reader of ‘x reader’ fics, i have to separate reader from being MC, which is why i always stray towards non!mc reader bc there’s no tangible lore and past lives/reincarnations attached to a nonmc! reader. at least not to the same extent as the og MC depending on how much the author diverges from canon and just basic background context for reader. but overall imo, non!mc reader just doesn’t carry the same heavy implications of the boys’ true feelings when it’s the actual MC vs a non!mc reader if any of that connected 😔

similarly why i also love iseki/transmigration fics as well; basically any concept where the reader is NOT the mc. bc just like in iseki fics, the boys don’t have the same attachments & feelings towards reader as they do MC. it just feels more sincere imo, idk.

i wonder if im just crazy and have too much time to think & talk to myself about this, or if other players/readers feel the same way. bc ik the whole point of an otome game is that WE are the MC. but ive just never been able to fully immerse myself like that, i see MC as a completely separate character, almost like an OC sometimes. like i just can’t connect or fully enjoy any fanfic with MC being the “reader”. i view MC and reader to be two different people if that makes sense.

and again, im completely aware that as the storyline continues, the boys have obviously shown to care and have deep affectionate feelings (love is a bit too ambiguous imo to truly label that as what they feel for mc) for current mc and its probably only going to strengthen as the story moves forth. but my mind still spirals and thinks about all the “what-ifs” and semantics of reincarnation and past lives. i wish i didn’t think this way, the game and concept of it would probably be more enjoyable all around for me, but i apparently hate myself to think too light heartedly, even for a fictional game/story 😭

truly tho, it’s never that serious, i just had to get that off my chest bc i really don’t know if any other (not sane) person felt this ardent & torn about this as i do, which is a little silly honestly but here we are LMAO 🧍‍♀️ but in the end, there’s something for everyone here in the world of fanfic & delusions! 🫶🏼🫧

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The warmth of the sun caresses  your eyelids as they quake open. You groan, stirring under the sheets. But instantly, you freeze. Pain cascades through your body. A soreness starting at the apex of your thighs and radiating through your limbs has you struggling to move.

Still, you do it, pushing past the weird feeling embedded in your flesh. 

Your brows collide as you attempt to remember. 

Where are you? How did you get here?

The damask walls are unfamiliar and the gigantic bed even more so. You comb through your memories but nothing surfaces, a violent headache assailing your senses whenever you think too hard. You squint at light pouring through the half-drawn velvet curtains. You peel off the heavy blanket, gaze traveling downward. Ice spreads through your veins. 

You’re shocked to find yourself stark naked, skin speckled with darkening bruises. Even worse, a tiny crimson spot stains the white sheet covering the mattress. You shudder. 

Your breaths start to quicken. Quivering, you grip the sheet, twisting it between your fingers as disbelief rocks through your core. The blood on it seems to enlarge, painting your whole vision red.

As you inspect the room, noticing the state of the rumpled bedding and your clothes lying in a heap near the bed, denial clashes with the blatant truth. 

It can’t be. Yet all the evidence is staring right at you. 

You start to hyperventilate. 

The door cracks open and your head jerks to the side. Coriolanus’ towering frame fills the doorway. There’s a silver tray in his hands and the smell of coffee and fresh toast rise from it.

You take in his tousled blonde locks and his half-unbuttoned blouse. He looks more disheveled than you’ve ever seen him. A gentle smile hovers on his lips. But, as he registers your distressed state, it vanishes. He rushes to you, placing the tray on the mahogany nightstand near the bed.

Face growing hot, you tug the blanket so it conceals your nakedness.

“Hey, take it easy, princess,” he whispers, brows knitting as his hands reach your cheeks to cup them.

Chest rising and falling at a fast pace, you stutter, “C-Coryo, what happened last night?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Concern sparkles in his cobalt orbs, pellucid as crystal in the morning light.

He caresses your face and gingerly says, “It was…a bit of a wild night.”

You scowl at his response. It’s not what you’re asking and he knows it. 

You lick your lips, gathering the tiny embers of courage sizzling within you.

You don’t want to ask what you’re about to ask. Hell, you might not even want to know. But you have to. You have to because there’s a pit of discomfort and confusion within you and it’s swelling by the second.

You take a deep breath and inquire, “Why am I naked? Why…Why is there blood on the sheets?”

His frown accentuates.

“Princess…”

You nudge his hands away from your face as your patience dissolves.

“Tell me,” you emphasize.

His jaw ticks at your reaction. He then releases a deep sigh.

“You drank a bit too much. We both did.”

A sinking feeling blooms in your stomach. Your eyes grow saucer-wide as the words are snatched from your tongue.

You’re statue-still as Coriolanus’ fingertips wander over your arm, stroking up and down lightly. 

“You were having so much fun, genuine fun.” His voice softens. “It was the first time in a long time I saw you smiling this much.” He pauses, holding your gaze. “And I suppose…there were budding feelings and we got carried away.” Your jaw drops. “You told me you needed me. And I had quite a few drinks myself.” He chuckles but it’s bereft of humor. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t remember all of it either, just you begging for me and screaming my name.”

Warmth gathers in your cheeks. 

“God. You and I, we…”

Coriolanus nods. “Yes.”

Tears well up in your eyes. Coriolanus wipes each of them, uttering tenderly, “I know you didn’t want it to happen that way, but at least it was with me, right?”

You’re at a loss for words. Sure, it’s better for it to be Coryo than a stranger…at least in some way. But as naive and old-fashioned as it is, you wanted to save yourself for your first love, for your future husband. You looked forward to your first experience being one of absolute love and trust…one you actually could cherish and, most crucially, remember. 

Now it’s forever ruined. 

Your heart plummets.

“I need to go home. I need to-” Clutching the sheet against your bare form, you try to climb off the bed. 

Coriolanus seizes your shoulders, easily cinching you to your spot.

You glower at him, puzzled and frustrated. 

Still holding your shoulders, he explains, “Like this, princess? Are you sure that this is a good idea?” His soft inflection drips concern. He bends closer to you. “Your parents, William…What would they think?”

This gives you pause.

You lower your head, pondering his words.

Dread mounts within you as you realize how right he is. You could spin falsehoods to your parents until you’re blue in the face but they’ll know something is off the second they lay their eyes on you. Especially your mom.

One look at you and she’ll guess exactly what occurred. Or some of it at least.

It’s been like this since you were brought into their home as a little girl.

Nothing ever gets past Demetria Plinth’s keen eye.

Then who knows what they might ask you to do to preserve your honor and dignity? 

The thought makes your insides twist in knots.

You tossed away your virtue out of wedlock, you betrayed William, you besmirched your family name. You’re a disgrace.

There aren’t a million options in cases such as yours, and it’s a scenario you’d like to avoid. 

It guts you to imagine not only ruining your life, but Coriolanus’ as well. All because of one stupid drunken mistake. 

Besides, while it might be foolish and presumptuous in your current predicament, you still want to marry William. He’s the man of your dreams. You suppose it’s just a matter of whether or not he’ll even want you now.

Folding your knees, you tuck them against your chest and wrap your arms around your ankles. Tears stream down your face as you quaver, “I don’t know what to do.”

Silence hangs in the air as you weep, Coriolanus rubbing your shoulder in quiet support.

After a while, he suggests, “You could come to my place.”

Your head snaps up.

“What?”

His thumb presses along your collarbone.

“Just for a few days. It’ll give you time to rest, get yourself together.”

“No, Coryo, I can’t ask you…” You shake your head, guilt clawing at your heart. “I’m horrible and I should-”

“You’re far from horrible,” he interrupts, placing his long fingers on the side of your face. “But you need a little time, right?”

You give a shaky nod, despising yourself. You’re a coward. Instead of facing your actions and their consequences, you’re running away, hiding. 

“Just let me handle everything, princess.” His knuckles sweep over your cheek, collecting more fresh tears. “I’ll take care of it and it’ll be like none of it ever happened.”

“W-Where are we right now?” you ask, trying to distract yourself from the storm of anguish raging inside you.

“Oh, this is one of the many spare rooms of the Dovecote estate,” he replies casually, though you discern a hint of something. Disdain, perhaps? 

“Clemensia…”

“I talked to her,” he reassures. “Don’t worry, she won’t tell a soul.”

You can’t imagine Clemensia doing anything to help you but you suppose, for Coryo, she would.

“She also made sure to quell any rumors before they can start.”

Your forehead creases. “Rumors?”

He gives your hair absent strokes as he sighs. “People know how close we are, princess.” Your heart skips a beat. He angles your chin upward, his gaze confident. “Don’t you worry, okay? I’ll take care of you. All you need to do is trust me.”

You acquiesce and it elicits a broad, tight-lipped smile from him.

He rises from the bed.

“How about you grab a bite?” he offers, bending to graze his lips over your forehead. “The car will be here in less than an hour.”

A car, already? Part of you is astounded by his swiftness but your distress overtakes everything else. You should count your blessings that no one else knows about last night.

You take perfunctory bites of the toast on the tray and sip a few gulps of the tepid coffee.

Once more, you try to remember. You wince when another throbbing headache hits you. 

All you can see are Coriolanus’ bright blue eyes and his smile. Nothing else emerges. 

So, you give it a rest. Maybe in time, everything will come back to you. 

For now, you just need to trust your friend. 

You shroud yourself in silence the entire drive to Coriolanus’ home. He keeps smiling at you from the seat near yours and you return it meekly. While you know it’s not his fault, you find it nearly impossible to meet his gaze, an uncomfortable feeling pitting in your stomach whenever you do. Anxiety bounces in your gut when the Corso comes into view. 

You haven’t been here very often, though your dad often spoke of moving here, where most of Panem’s elite resides. The thought of leaving your childhood home doesn’t thrill you but you’re keenly aware of what the Corso represents in Strabo’s eyes. The sign that the Plinth family made it. And to add this kind of feather in his cap, your father would move you and your mother to a smaller place in a heartbeat. You know he is only waiting for the paperwork to be signed.

It’s something you’ve tried to forget as of late. And now you’re cruelly reminded of it.

The car comes to a stop in front of an antique apartment building. Your eyes wander above the window. Piles of rubble still sit amidst the place, a reminder of the Dark Days perhaps.

Coriolanus opens your door and offers you his hand. You accept it and stagger out of the car.

He removes his coat and throws it on your shoulders, swaddling your shivering frame. You’re thankful. You’re still wearing the same red dress from the night before and it hardly shields you from the cold. 

You can’t help but soak in every detail as you and Coryo take the elevator to the penthouse. You sometimes wondered how the wealthiest in Panem lived. Your parent’s house is nice but this is different. Every inch of the building from floor to ceiling screams luxury.

As soon as you’ve crossed the doorstep of the penthouse, slender arms wrap you in a warm hug.

Tigris’ eyes glimmer as they rest on you.

“Coryo said you’re going to stay with us for a while,” she chimes. “How wonderful.”

“Only for a day or two,” you correct.

She squeezes your hands. “Then we’ll have to make the best of it.”

An old woman appears from an adjacent room. She strolls to you, a small smile etched on her lips. Uttering no word, she presses a white rose between your hands. You examine it. It looks exactly like the ones Coriolanus sometimes wears on his breast pocket. 

“Is this your grandma?” you whisper as the old woman wanders off, humming a tune you vaguely recognize as Panem’s anthem.

Tigris’ lips curl skywards. “Yes, but we call her grandma’am.” She giggles. “It’s much more distinguished.” Sadness glistens in her amber gaze. “She isn’t…all the way here these days, but she still tends to her roses.”

Coriolanus wedges himself between the two of you.

“She’s tired, Tigris. You have to let her rest,” he informs.

“Of course. We’ll catch up tomorrow. Promise?”

You give a weary smile. “Promise.”

“I’m so very glad you’re here,” she says, hugging you again before taking her leave.

Coriolanus guides you through the apartment, his hand curled around the small of your back.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

He takes you to an opulent room with a massive bed in the middle. 

“I had a bath drawn for you,” he announces.

Your eyes round as you note the copper clawfoot tub sitting near the bed. Stunned, you approach it. Your fingers drag along the edge of the tub.

Flower petals float atop the steaming water. 

“I’ll leave you to it, princess.” He drops a quick peck on your forehead before disappearing.

You lock the door as soon as he leaves and peel the crimson dress off your body. You’ve half a mind to destroy it once you return home. Your mother would probably be appalled at that considering its price…but you can’t see yourself wearing it ever again.

The water’s burning hot when you plop inside the tub. You welcome it.

You bring your knees to your chest as you stare at the rose petals. You wish your worries could melt away in the water the way dirt and grime can.

But no such luck. So you’re left contemplating the tiny ripples form above the surface as you swallow yet another surge of tears threatening to spill.

A soft high-pitched voice draws you back to consciousness. Groggily, you sit up in the bed.

Tigris’ beaming face greets you.

“Are you okay? You slept past dinner. Coryo said not to disturb you.”

You look around.

Stars pepper the night sky outside the stained glass windows. You can’t believe you took such a long nap. You vaguely remember burying yourself between the sheets after your bath. You didn’t want to think, or even be awake. You wished for oblivion. So you let sleep ensnare you as soon as your head hit the pillows.

Your features scrunch. Your memory’s still foggy, but the headaches have abated at least.

“The maid can warm you a plate if you like,” Tigris offers.

You shake your head. You have no appetite.

“I just hate that I overslept.”

Sympathy dawns on the young woman’s face.

“Your body must have needed it. Coryo said you guys partied pretty hard last night?”

Your heart wrenches. But you try not to let anything show on your face, giving a placid nod.

“Besides, you don’t have anywhere to be, do you?” she inquires.

Your stomach sinks. You were supposed to meet with William today, but you can’t imagine seeing him in your current state. 

“No, I don’t,” you lie.

Your gaze meanders about the room. Surprise ripples through you at the wooden trunk you detect in a corner of the room by the wardrobe.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, Coryo had your things brought over,” Tigris replies casually.

You gasp. “But I won’t be staying long. He shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”

“He said he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.”

A deep, familiar voice echoes in the room. “She’s right. After all, our home is your home, princess.”

Your eyes find Coriolanus'. His tall frame fills the door. He looks like his usual self now, his blond locks neatly slicked back and his outfit impeccable.

Guilt creeps inside you following his statement.

“I should warn my parents,” you muse aloud as you rise from the bed. 

Coriolanus shares a look with his cousin.

“Tigris, can you give us a moment?”

She nods before heading for the door.

You try to do the same, panic swelling inside you, but Coriolanus blocks your way as he stands before the door. He towers over you with ease, hands clasped at his back as he leans against the doorjamb. 

You give him a puzzled look.

“I already sent them a letter,” he reveals.

“Oh,” you mumble.

“I just told them you’re with us and you’re fine.” He smiles. “It’s the least I could do.”

“The least?” you scoff. “You’ve already done so much for me, Coryo.”

“Like I said, I don’t want you to worry about a thing.”

He licks his lips, scrutinizing you a while before continuing, “You’re not just a guest. You’re family. You can stay for as long as necessary.”

This makes tears spring to your eyes. You dip your head but his digits sneak below your chin, tilting it upward so your gazes meet.

“What’s wrong?”

Your voice comes out a watery croak.

“You shouldn’t be so nice to me,” you sob, tears skipping down your face freely now.

You erected a fence around your emotions and now the dam is shattering.

He slants his head. “Why not?”

You don’t reply, a flood of tears blurring your vision. You grow overwhelmed, unable to utter a word as strangled sobs spill from your throat.

Coriolanus’ arms coil around your frame. He cradles the back of your head, tucking it against his chest.

His dulcet timbre breezes over the top of your head.

“It’s okay, princess. You’re safe. You’re always safe with me,” he whispers, letting your tears drench his blouse.

[cloudcountry]

Yay wifey open her requests ^^ i just got the silliest idea but what would be the ghouls's reaction to mc asking ffor grapes at a lemonade stand

SUMMARY: you go to a lemonade stand and reference a popular song...

COMMENTS: when i tell you i have never seen this video in my life. like i know the reference but ive never watched it. know the song, never watched it. head in hands.

TAGLIST: @as1iiiwhaa @astralsocfactory

He knows the reference, he spends way too much time online not to. Put a camera in front of him and watch him act all cutesy for it, poking fun at you for wanting to film something like this.

— Leo (snatches your phone once the video ends & you're away from the vendors), Edward (giving you a sultry look the whole time bro what the fuck the vendors are RIGHT THERE)

He gives you a weird look and brushes you off, pointing out that there are no grapes at a lemonade stand. Might call you an idiot (affectionate.) He’s confused and doesn’t get it, but won’t say it.

— Jin (rude about it T0T), Alan (not at all rude about it...angel), Ren (he thinks you’re so much weirder now, i don't think he spends time on That side of the internet), and Jiro (also not rude.)

“Why would you ask for grapes at a clearly labelled lemonade stand? MC, are you feeling okay?” Probably look around for a grape stand to see if you’re just looking in different directions.

— Luca, Ritsu (both of them are doing their best), Lyca tbh (he’s just less eloquent with his words.)

Just like the last one but less formal and more frantic. Checking your temperature and everything.

— Haru (you should show him the song he would love it.)

He humors you, might call you cute in front of the lemonade stand vendors just to see you get flustered. Preens when you’re given cups with little hearts drawn on them since you’re a couple. Obviously. This backfired (or did it?)

— Tohma, Sho, Taiga (in a good mood), Towa, Haku, Rui (WHEW LOVERBOYS)

Yells at you. Probably calls you stupid. The vendors are concerned. No heart cups for you.

— Romeo, Yuri, Taiga (in a bad mood)

Is too nervous to go to a lemonade stand with you to register it. Is this a date!?!?!?

— KAITO.

He laughs politely because he has literally no idea what to say and is now worried that he missed something on the menu. Gets even more confused when the vendors laugh and he still doesn’t know what’s going on.

— Subaru

He humors you and calls you cute but he doesn’t mean it to embarrass you, he just loves you. Wishes he could have some lemonade too, but settles for watching you enjoy it!

— Zenji

[revelboo]

how many souls have you taken Revel bc ive seen multiple ppl promising their life to you and with your delicious writing im about to be yet another life in your debt 😭😭

So, so many souls. Maybe I’m an Eldritch horror bartering in the shadows. Maybe I’m just a collection of exceptionally clever crows in a trench coat with a stolen cell phone. You’ll never know…

Finally ran out of space on the shelf… 18+ content mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Pt 97

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Watching Starscream and Soundwave murmuring to you, worrying over you, makes Megatron feel uncomfortably off balance. It’s the tender way Soundwave cups your face, tucking your hair behind your ear and the way Starscream runs his servos over you to make sure you’re unharmed. He’s jealous, he realizes. And he hates it. Not only that, not only jealous, but lonely and that’s so much worse. Surrounded by his followers all the time, but unable to really trust many of them, he’s isolated himself. Alone. Growling softly, optics narrowing, a part of him despises Starscream’s happiness. After all the Seeker’s done, he doesn’t deserve for things to break his way. To be happy and it twists angrily about his spark. “If you’re not going to play with your little pet, maybe I should,” he snarls just to needle Starscream and it works, the mech glaring, wings flicking up and quivering.

• “Cut it out,” you snap at Megatron, and Starscream stiffens, wings flaring slightly. Tensed to protect you when Megatron lashes out at your impudence, because there’s no way you’ll go unscathed for that. For defying him. Watches Megatron’s optics narrow, and Starscream’s servos tighten on you. Ready to grab you and bolt. He’s a much smaller target this size, can fly off and hide with you until Megatron calms down. Soundwave can fend for himself. And then to his utter shock, Megatron laughs. “Stop being a jerk, you already got a free show.”

• Voice wavering as you glare at Megatron and your heart races, you’re encouraged that he thinks your anger is funny and that he’s not getting pissed off. Because he’d been trying to provoke Star and you’re sure all of them know it. So you’d panicked and drawn his attention to you instead. Soundwave’s hands flex against you as if wanting to tell you to stop. And Starscream reaches around you to cover your mouth, growling when you twist your head away. Know they’re worried you’ll push too hard and direct Megatron’s anger at you. “Don’t, little one,” Soundwave growls, voice low as he and Star exchange a look.

• “Let our little pet speak,” Megatron laughs, waving a hand. “Primus knows, no one else here is willing to contradict me.” Uncertain, Soundwave vents against you. Almost tempted to hook a thought in Megatron’s processor, because amusement wasn’t what he was expecting. And he desperately wants to know what their leader is thinking right then. What he thinks of you, because there’s a hunger on the warlord’s face he’s seen before. It’s the look he’d worn in the gladiator pits, defiant and starving to be seen, recognized. “You have a problem fragging in front of me? You didn’t before.”

• “To be fair, I didn’t know you were there until you said something. I was a bit busy,” you counter, chin lifting as your face reddens. And Starscream knows you well enough to know the attitude is all bluster. You’re frightened, he can feel you trembling against him, one of your hand reaching back to grip his arm, the other grabbing Soundwave like you need them to anchor you. Your fear doing things to him. “Go find your own human if you want a show.”

• “Why would I do that, when I already have my own?” Doesn’t mean to say that, to make that claim. Only to antagonize you because your irritation with him is delicious. Ignoring the two other mechs, he stares at you, daring you to contradict him. Watching those eyes narrow, before they slide over him from helm to ped in a slow perusal that makes him freeze. That to his utter shock makes his spike stir behind his plating. Because it’s one thing to taunt and tease. Giving in to that same deviancy Starscream and Soundwave are lost in the grips of? It’s tempting. So tempting. “And if I order them to frag you so I can watch?” If he frags you?

• Can feel the tension in both of your mechs, their hands almost bruising on you. “If you want to watch, just say it,” you mutter, turning in their arms to face Star. Seeing the fury there as you go up on tiptoe to brush your mouth against his. Know this whole thing is meant to demean him, to make him angry. To prove he’s powerless. That he can’t protect you, but you can protect him. If he’s a ticking time bomb about to go and cause as much collateral damage as possible, and you know he is, you have to distract him. “This isn’t his. It’s yours,” you whisper against his mouth, arching into him. “I’m yours.”

• Servos tangling in your hair as your mouth slides against his, his optics shutter. Blocking out Soundwave and Megatron, focusing on you. The warmth of you against him, those soft hands sliding down his chassis to brush against his plating. Asking. They’re watching, Soundwave is almost pressed against your back, his knuckles brushing the other mech as he strokes over you, but he slowly relaxes into you anyway. Pretending this is okay. Because no matter what happens, you are his. His sparkmate, bound to him. Let Megatron watch and see what he can’t have. Freeing his spike, he vents against your throat as Soundwave’s hands grip your hips and lift you for him. Knows the communications officer is trying to shield you from Megatron’s view as much as possible and he appreciates it even as it annoys him that he needs the help.

• That breathy noise you make, head falling back against Soundwave when Starscream enters you goes straight through Megatron. Shifting on his throne, resisting the urge to move closer to see. With Soundwave’s back to him, his body is shielding you from view. But he can hear the wet sound of Starscream thrusting inside you, the Seeker’s low growls and hitching vents. Soundwave murmuring to you, too low to pick out the words. Optics half shuttered, he tries to focus on just you. Hating Starscream in that moment more than he’s ever hated him before. For having this, for being happy when he doesn’t deserve it. He’s not the one who’s lost everything. Who’s sacrificed everything for his goals. For what he believes in. And what he gained? Ash and death. Nothing good, and he wants something warm and soft in that moment. Someone who can’t plot against him or use him. Will defy him and challenge him. He wants you.

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[x-gabrielle-x]

Withered Cards | IV

Pairings: Jason Todd x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death.

Summary: Despite the many different problems you overcome with Jason Todd, you always eventually make it back to each other. Even after his death, how could you still love a man who changed so much? Even when you made a turn for the worst.

Series Masterlist

Your body still ached from the hits that Joker had blown at you only a week ago, the scab forming over your split lip leaving a metallic tang on your tongue. The bruises still had yet to heal, the purple blemishes littering your skin and serving as a fresh reminder of just how cruel and nasty the Joker really was. It had been a week. A week since your failed mission, and a week since you had last seen Robin.

You had found yourself mostly staying hidden away in your tiny room back in the warehouse, finding that it was much greater comfort than having to be around the tantalizing grin Joker always sent in your direction, like a lion baring its teeth to its prey. So of course, when you had heard a loud bang on your door with the Joker bidding you farewell, claiming he had 'unfinished business to attend', you were more than relieved to finally stretch your limbs and let your guard down; just a little.

Though even without the Joker there for the few days you had, your heart would leap into your throat whenever you thought to hear something similar to his maniacal laughter. You were constantly on edge even without him there, and Harley seemed to be mourning his absence just as much as you were enjoying it.

Sitting on a random rooftop with the glimmering city lights below did little to ease your running thoughts. The familiar chill of the freezing air pricked at your skin to which you folded your arms against your chest for a sense of warmth. Gotham had seemed to be a lot quieter tonight, a very rare occasion. Crime was low, and the usual distant sirens were quiet. You could even hear the occasional laughter and cheers from the bar just down the street.

You wished to bask longer in the silence, in your own company, but it was quickly gone when you heard the soft thuds of boots on the floor behind you.

You didn't need to look over to know that he was staring directly at you, observant and intrigued. In any other situation, you would have found yourself reaching for your knife and defending yourself against the charging enemy, fists flying and weapons drawn for blood, but this was different. Very different. There was no harshness to his steps, no attacks thrown at you, only silence.

The silence dragged uncomfortably long, and you kicked your legs back and forth over the edge of the building as you let out a long breath.

"I didn't think the Robin would be paying me a visit tonight," you kept your gaze trained below. "If I had known, I might have put on my better shoes!"

The pounding in your chest grew with each word you spoke, but if he had come to fight you, he would have done it by now.

He ignored your comment and instead came up beside you. It was then you finally turned your gaze up at him, noticing his yellow, red and green costume. The dominoe mask shadowed his face, though you could see little due to the dimmed lights of the city. He was staring right back at you, a little too much for your personal comfort.

He slumped onto the edge of the rooftop with a huff, maintaining the safe distance between you both. You had to resist from smiling a little to yourself at the silliness of it all. Robin, your enemy, the one who had made you fail your mission and make the Joker’s anger flare was currently sat five feet away as if nothing had happened.

He was playing a dangerous game, yet you were curious to see the reason of his arrival. If he wasn't here to start something, why was he here at all?

The tension was thick with something you couldn't place, but the feeling was oddly unsettling. Not because you were fearful, but because you were oddly excited for this coincidental meeting.

"Tough week?" he questioned in a tease, pointing to your split lip and the yellowish bruise poking out from under your mask. You merely scoffed at the boy before subconsciously licking the cut on your bottom lip.

"Maybe. It would have been a hell of a lot better if you had left me that vial, though," you looked at him, catching the smile that had appeared on his face triumphantly before he quickly disguised it with a bored look.

"What did the Batsy say when you handed it in," you continued. "It better have been good, considering the Joker wasn't too pleased when I returned without the one thing he had asked of me." You gestured to your eye again, his gaze lingering there for a few moments too long.

He tensed at the mention of Batman, lips twitching into a frown.

"Nothing you need to know," he mumbled out, irritation laced in his voice. You quirked a brow.

"I think I do," you laughed, though it was obviously fake. "Considering you're the reason I got my ass beat."

He ignored you, instead shifting himself so that his leg was now propped up on the edge of the roof. He tilted his head in question.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Another Joker deed or dwelling in your failure," he taunted.

"Having a breather," you were quick to reply in defense, and you noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise. He let out a soft laugh, something that surprised you considering you didn't hear laughter too often where you were, or perhaps too much from the Joker.

"Something that we have in common," he mused, and for the first time you felt a strange sense of welcoming with Robin. With anybody, for that matter.

The both of you remained at a safe distance, but his presence alone was one that confused you. Tonight, even with him a mere five feet away, you weren't worried about having to fight him, worried about hiding away, or worried about who you were raised with. It was nearly as if in this moment, you had somebody who didn't pose you as a threat. Or at least, not much of a threat.

Robin's movements were relaxed and composed, abandoned of any tension he may have held before regarding your presence.

“I’m guessing you don’t do this often,” Robin concluded. “If not at all.”

You frowned at him, slightly offended by his comment. “How would you know?”

The corner of his lip tipped into a smile, and he shrugged, flexing his shoulders in a way that caused for his suit to stretch.

“I’m here nearly every night, and I can positively say, I haven���t seen you out here once.”

“And I bet you wish you could see me, little birdy,” you fake pouted, watching him closely.

He breathed out a laugh, his eyes squinting under the dominoe mask that concealed his identity.

"Believe me, if it didn't end in you nearly breaking my nose last time, I might have considered it."

You just stared at him, your mind trying to figure him out. In all honesty, you don't remember the last proper conversation that you had with somebody. much less around your age.

"How old are you?" the question had slipped out before you could stop it.

Robin glanced back at you; a brow raised. "Not much older than you, I'd guess," he looked you up and down. "How old are you?"

"Thats not an answer," you deadpanned, ignoring him. "For all you know, I could be a sixty-five-year-old woman with insane plastic surgery."

"But you're not," he clarified. "No old woman would be able to jump off rooftops and work for criminals like him."

You cringed at the mention of the Joker.

Robin let out a low hum, and the city lights from below flickered across the right side of his face in what seemed to be like a dance.

You opened your mouth. "You're not-"

"Stop." He cut you off.

You paused. "Excuse me?"

He held up a hand, his gaze going past you. It was only then you heard the quiet grunts and rummaging from a nearby alley. You were already on your feet and moving toward the sound, steps cautious. Robin was right on your heel, and by the time you were both on the ground hidden by the shadows in the alley, you could see a hunched figure leaning against the brick wall, digging through what seemed to be a purse.

You turned to Robin, a mocking smile gracing your lips. You gestured an arm out.

"Well? After you, Wonder Boy," you said.

He frowned. "Is that some way you're going to get me distracted and then knock me out when my backs turned?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, do I look like a hero who fights purse thieves?"

He looked you up and down. "Honestly, no."

"You didn't have to answer, bird brain. Just go!"

The man who had been distracted for long enough suddenly snapped his head toward you both, snarling.

"What the hell?"

The man stood abruptly, stepping closer, though Robin was quick to move from the outstretched hand of the man. With a swift kick, the man was doubling over with a grunt and spilling the contents of the purse onto the floor.

The man growled in annoyance, lunging for Robin again, but he was quick to duck down away from the mans clenched fist before it could make contact. You, however, watched on with amusement.

"You could have been a bit more original rather than a purse thief," Robin called out to the man.

The grunts exchanged between the two continued, and you cringed at the few hits Robin had received. You had to admit, he put up a strong fight.

"Little rat!" The man yelled, holding his head where a punch managed to land before he stumbled out of the alley, disregarding the purse he previously held.

Robin huffed, brushing a dark stray of hair away from his face. He looked over, meeting your gaze as you clapped mockingly, stepping out from the shadows and closer to him.

He stooped down, picking up what looked to be an ID.

"Do you know a Lora Johnston?" He said, flipping the card in his hand.

"Can't you search that up on a special little gadget or something?"

He mumbled out something that you failed to hear.

There was a pause.

"I think you could improve on your movement," you said, and his eyes snapped to yours. Something changed in his features that you couldn't place.

"Teach me, then."

Your mouth ran dry. "What?"

"If you teach me, then ill teach you some stuff." He was quick to add, but you shook your head quickly.

"I don't need your help."

You went to turn, but you let out a yelp when you were suddenly tugged back and landed onto the hard floor.

"You let your guard down too easily," Robin teased. You only glared up at him with annoyance.

You stood back up to your feet and wacked him on the shoulder, pushing past him and walking toward the alley entrance to leave, but he quickly called out to you.

You ignored him, but he called out again.

"What do I call you?"

You stopped and turned to him, eyes wide.

There was a long pause. "Nothing," you said. "I can't give you a name."

"Well," he thought, a suggestive smile gracing his lips that you knew you'd see again. "I guess I'll just have to decide myself."

You turned again, waving a hand this time. "Until next time, birdy!"

He let out a chuckle. "Until next time, Princess!"

You remain silent the rest of the walk, your interaction with Robin nothing like how you would have imagined it. He confused you more than you'd like to admit, but oddly enough, tonight was a change, and you liked it.

You couldn't remember the last time you had spoken to somebody so casually, the sense of normality something you craved more of. Though the two of you barely knew each other, much less trust, you had hoped it wouldn't be your last interaction.

@annabellelee @stormz369

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