#but i wanted to clear abyss so i was like let me Try some other options

[hydrodragons]

in honour of my beloved albedo's birthday im showcasing my personal favourite team of his which is double geo spread (i swear it works its fun pls try)

[andersonfilms]

ray, your writing is so amazing 🤍

lowkey, i need a “i love you x i loved you” angst with abby and reader ‼️😔👀

❝ BET YOU WANNA LOVE ME NOW ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON !

tags: eighteen+,wc 2k, heavy angst, tw panic attack.

a/n: more than happy to fulfill this request for you, em. thank you for helping me even further bringing it to life. i love when our brains mesh. it's a beautiful and lovely thing. ily, mwah mwah ♡

daily click | palestine masterpost

Three months, shot after shot, week after week, you call. The dial tone you’re met with again. The hint is there for you to take but you steer clear from it, hoping to wipe out instead. She never blocks you, a glimmer of hope you call it. It’s the only sliver of silver lining you hold onto. Your friends take away your phone after the fourth call, trying to protect you from the inevitable hurt. 

You’ve hit rock bottom, the tequila burning through the remnants left of your senses. Stumbling in your boots before you find an edge of a curb to nestle on, the now empty body of the tequila bottle you’d emptied kisses the concrete. 

Everything reminds you of her. The soft laugh she would sing after a silly joke, the way she would hold you at night when you cried, singing her favorite song of the week when the two of you would get ready in the morning together. Just like tonight, Abby would be the one to hold you, dance with you, twirl you around the dance floor and now some other girl tries and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

It’s a traitorous reminder someone else can and maybe, tragically, there’s another already filling your shoes with her. It’s the rude awakening you were in for, but you need it. You stop calling. Woefully, you let Dina and Ellie take you home, making sure you shower, hydrate, and slip into some clean clothes until sleep overtakes you. 

You throw yourself into work, it makes things easier. The only time you think of her is at night. When you’re entirely too lonely, somber floods your soul with the emptiness of your home. The absence of her presence rips you to pieces but it’s better than drunk dialing her into an abyss. 

Though she’s never said anything since, she’s probably glad you’ve stopped calling, the sobbing voicemails with soft cries of her name — would be too much for anyone to stomach yet you’ve subjected her to it. 

Cruelty. What you know best, right? 

You try not to think of it, leave it behind. Out of sight out of mind or something like that? Three more months go by and you’re on your first date. It’s going well enough, the conversation is good. She’s beautiful. Her brown eyes remind you of the honey you drip into your tea, soft caramel skin, the freckles dotting her face, and her smile? It grabs a hold of you. 

Maybe this could be good. This could be something. 

The way she tosses her hair, offers you to try a bite of her omelet, she asks questions about yourself and appears like she wants to know you. You’re enjoying yourself for the first time. The promise of your aching heart healing and the hope of something new makes you elated. Starting to believe it for just a moment, but then it comes crashing down on you like a tsunami wave. 

It’s far from town, tucked in the outskirts of town, you’d suspected to not see anyone here but you see her. She’s sitting outside on the patio, just like you, she’s working. The laptop in front of Abby has her full attention. Her veiny hands run through her golden hair for a moment before she’s taking a sip of her coffee, you presume it to be black. No sugar or cream, the one she normally takes the steamy beverage. As if she knows you’re watching, she slips the suit jacket off, left with only a white button up paired with a gray vest to match her slacks. She pushes her glass up as it glides over the bump in her nose. 

Abby looks like she gets a full night of rest at night. No dark circles are to be found as she’s put together like always. You try to focus on your date. Replies fall from your lips when necessary, you engage, compliment, smile insincerely, but more than anything you feel the bile swarming up your throat. It leaves with no other option than to choke. 

Baby blues shine at the waitress as she comes to check up on her — her smile gleaming with joy, the final knife to your throat reels you into turmoil. It slices you open in the middle of night, now you feel the trickles of blood leaking out from your heart. The wound is out of reach and only one healer can be found. How pitiful the one who can save you would rather never touch you again? 

Painfully, it’s almost as if she feels your distress. She finds you staring, jaw clenched as you look past the woman seated in front of you. An aching chest burns for her, the perplexed quirk of eyebrows and the slight tilt of her head tells you she’s just now seeing you. Meanwhile, for the past hour you’d been practically sweating. Not that the beam of sun left you much of an option. 

“Are you alright, love?” Her accent cuts through like knives, it feels loud. Too much? Too little? You’re not sure what but it’s simply not her. 

“M’good, promise. Let me just freshen up, yeah?” You need to breathe because it feels like you can’t. The weight on your chest feels unbearable as you attempt to catch your breath. Practically making a dash for the bathroom. 

You’re thankful for the singular bathroom as you lay against the cool, tiled wall. Your fingertips reach for the groves, in an attempt to calm yourself before a full meltdown overtakes. Just a flash of her blues sends you into your own, your mind latching onto every kiss, every moment of comfort, the hours you spent buried between her thighs. 

It reminds you of the feeling you’ll never find again. They’ll never be anyone like her again and it all was fucked up to the heavens to reap on, because you couldn’t have a little bit of faith. 

There’s a soft knock on the door, it leaves you reckless. It can’t be her? 

“I-, uh, occupied?” You muster, as you clutch onto the chain resting on your collarbones. “Hey, it’s me.” 

Your heart falls into your stomach, beat erratic at her voice. She’s speaking to you, just you. The familiarity of her soothes you more than expected. “Are you alright? You just ran off, and I just, I know how you get.” 

But you’re quiet, silent tears fall down the apple of your cheeks cascading further as they slip off your jaw. The blossoming feeling of her floods through like a never ending crashing wave. You’ve tried so hard not to venture into it, but she’s here. All it takes is one look in your eyes, she knows something is wrong. How do you move on from that? How can anyone? 

It’s a question you ask yourself, daily, but having it right in front of you is more unimaginably difficult to face. 

“Can I come in?” Abby asks and you let out a gentle okay. 

She’s here, in all her six foot glory, but the look in her eyes tells a different story. Distant, walled — just like when you had met her. Old habits die hard and all the two of you did was revert. She slowly walks towards you, until she’s in front of you, holding her arms behind her back. 

“How bad is it?” Abby inquires. 

“S-seven.” 

“Sit down, alright?” Gently, she offers her hand making you sit as you hiccup, your hyperventilating. Pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, she runs it under cool water before placing it against your neck, and then gently on your forehead. 

Abby wipes away your tears, whispering sweet words to comfort you. It’s been her specialty. No one could calm you down like her. There’s a center to her, pulling your wreckage into her tranquil sense of being. You wonder how long it took for her to have it again, she broke for you when you couldn’t even bend. 

She gave you everything yet you couldn’t give her an ounce of what she wanted. Yet, her innocent hands clean off your hands, as if it isn’t her own blood she’s ridding you of. 

“You shouldn’t be doing this. I’m fine.” 

“I know. I certainly don’t have to anymore. Do I? You’ve made that clear.” There’s a bite to her tone, but she still helps you. “Stop complaining and grip onto my hand.” 

You pause before obeying her command. Making sure not to intertwine, only holding and she applies tight pressure with the contact. 

“You’re clearly not fine.” Abby bitterly laughs. “I see nothing has changed.” She whispers so quietly to herself you almost don’t catch it. 

Her eyes catch your own and it feels the same as it did before. The words you could never tell her, the reason she left — they crave to come tumbling out. You focus on her strong hands, the veins popping out, how well fitted the vest is on her chest. She’s holding off on full compression, only if you need it. 

“What?” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t, not when you’re like this.” 

“Just say it.” You spat. 

“You’re still afraid of me, of us, not that there is much left to be afraid of.” Abby sighs, biting her lip. Cursing at the gods above for making her fall for someone like you. You couldn’t give her what she needed and she moved on. 

They couldn’t even try for you, Abby reminds herself. 

“It’s okay. I just expected more from you when I shouldn’t have.” There’s no malice when she speaks, only laced with regret. Abby’s words wake turmoil within your heart, pulling at a thread until you’ve come undone. Then there’s her touch, the compression in your hand, the coolness of the handkerchief, it centers you. It’s chaotic, reckless and everything in between. 

It’s always been you. Not centered enough to hold her down or yourself, to anything. 

“I-I wanted to give more I just—” You try to explain, but they die. Just as they always have. 

“You can’t.” The minutes spent in silence the two of you looking in each other’s eyes as Abby allows herself to cling onto you. For just a moment, in the women’s singular bathroom, she allows herself to get some type of remembrance. 

She’s calm as she wipes away your tears, your breathing evening out, the grip on her hands loosens. The two of you lost in a moment, unresolved feelings come up bubbling. Abby lets you cradle her face in your pressing grip, it feels like acid on her skin but a familiar warmth floods in her heart. 

Unexpectedly, you’re leaning into her in the evanescence of her care. The possibility of finality leaves you clinging onto straws. Abby thinks you did, but part of her, maybe leans in a little bit too. Is it pity? Closure? A craving? 

Your lips gently mold to hers, she tastes the salty tears left on your lips and the raspberry balm you must have put on. It’s everything to you yet she’s not sure what it means. You’re trying to cling onto her, yet she pulls away far too quickly for your liking. 

“Please, don’t do this.” Abby picks herself off the floor. “You should go back to your date.” 

“But I—” The words die, again. 

“What? You can’t fucking tell me and you’ve never been able to. I deserve better than this, better than you.” 

“You’re selfish, god, why’d you kiss me?” 

“Because I wanted to?” 

“Yeah, exactly. Because you want to. Have you ever thought about what I want?” Abby pushes, shaking her head, seriously inquiring you to think about someone else besides yourself. “Did you think about me when you were drunk calling me every weekend, pleading to get back together while I was at home crying every night? Do you think hearing you heartbroken made me feel good?” 

Aggravatedly, she huffs. “That’s the problem. You always think of yourself and I’m just collateral damage. Couldn’t bother to give me what I wanted when we both knew you felt it. Just like keeping me in the dark for fun, huh?” 

Abby adjusts her tie, reaching for the door as she hears you. She does a double-take, not believing what she’s heard. Now? 

“What did you just say?” 

“I love you, Abby. Please.” Don’t go. 

She smirks manically, it’s too bittersweet. You couldn’t be bothered to give her what she craved but now one taste from her lips sends you into overdrive? 

Fuck you, is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue. 

“And I loved you.” Abby tuts, her jaw clenches, hands tightly clenching against the other, knuckles blown white in her misery. “I’ll still care about you. I always will but I could never love you. Not when I was pleading for something and you could only offer me nothing in return.” 

“Abs—” 

“No.” You’re shocked by her dismissal of you. “I never deserved this. I want someone who will love me and not be afraid of it. Who won’t treat me like shit when I’m begging for a lifeline. Hopefully, you can give that to the next one but it just won’t be me.” She leaves swiftly. All you're left with is the scent of mahogany and her handkerchief. 

thanks for reading! mwah!

[veronicaphoenix]

Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits — Part Three | Words: 10k

Tags & trigger warnings: unresolved to resolved feelings, polyamorous relationship, angst to fluff and comfort, mentions of anxiety, sexual content, including threesome, p in v (protected), oral sex (both receiving), overstimulation, edge play, slight bondage, blindfolding, mentions of spankings, double penetration. (Let me know if I'm missing sth).

Author’s note: here it finally goes :) this is for you all. Thank you for reading and sharing your reactions 💕

INTO THE ABYSS OF BAD HABITS — PART THREE

“Where are you?” My brother’s voice reached my ears through the phone line.

I stopped the absent-minded tracing of letter on the surface of my Costa Coffee cup and furrowed my brow. “What do you mean, ‘where am I’? I’m in England. I told you I’d be here until—”

“I know you’re in England, smartass,” he retorted. He was likely in his office, settling into his morning routine in Los Angeles, while it was mid-afternoon in the UK. “I mean, where exactly? I got a call from Noah twenty minutes ago. He’s freaking out because you’re nowhere to be found and you’re not answering his calls or messages.” 

“Oh.”

Noah had indeed tried reaching me several times since morning, calling and texting and then joining the iMessage group where Oliver had also added his fair dose of worried and then angry messages. I should have said something, I realized now, at least to reassure them that nothing had happened —besides getting fucked by both of them and feeling very sore—. 

The memories from last night flooded back and I tightened my grip on the cup of hot chocolate, tuning out the noise of the people around me. 

When I left the hotel that morning, I walked far from it hoping a change of scenery might clear my head and provide some clarity on what I’d done and its implications for my relationships with Noah and Oliver. But even after skipping lunch for a coffee at Starbucks, then trying my luck with a hot chocolate at Costa, nothing seemed to help.    

I was doomed, and my brother’s call was the last thing I needed.

Jack called my name repeatedly until he had to raise his voice, pulling me from my thoughts. “Are you there? What’s going on?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m—I’m just in a café. I was feeling suffocated with all the coming and going between hotels and venues, bus rides and all the work and…”

“Did something happen?”

“No,” I replied too quickly, knowing he’d detect the evasion.  

I could almost envision his raised eyebrow on the other end of the line. 

 “You slept with him again, didn’t you?”

“Jack, that’s none of your business.”

“I know, but you’re my sister and your well-being is, in fact, my business. I know something is up by the way Noah was speaking, and there was some Brit losing his mind in the background, too. What is this all about?”

“Jack, trust me, you don’t want to know.”

There was a silence coming from his side and my cheeks started burning. I glanced around nervously, feeling as thought every eye in the café was on me.

Jack’s sigh reached my end. 

“Listen, baby sis, whatever you’ve done, you need to fix it. This situation with Noah has been going on long enough, and you two are lying to each other,” he acknowledged. “If there’s a third party involved… Well, I don’t know. That’s your business but sort it out. Don’t bury your head in the sand. That’s not like you. You’ve always been the one preaching all that shit about talking about your feelings and communication being so important. Don’t shy away from it now. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can be fixed, and don’t be afraid of what might happen. You know you can always call me, whenever.”

I was the one rising an eyebrow now.

“How much has Noah told you?”

Jack chuckled.

“Just talk to them.”

Oh. 

There it was again. 

Them. 

I wondered if leaving had been a mistake, after all. 

Not long after my conversation with Jack, I returned to the hotel. 

As I stepped into the room, I was met with a potent blend of sex and masculinity that engulfed my senses. 

The bed was still unmade, a reminder of the recent sinful activities. I noticed the ‘do not disturb’ sign still hanging outside the door and decided to leave it be, my fingers tingling with the weight of my growing anxiety.  

Every time I looked towards the tousled sheets, vivid and colorful memories flooded my mind. I could see myself on top of Oliver, Noah behind me, the three of us drowning in a sea of collective groans, screams, and wails of pleasure. 

 I could also see their slumbering forms occupying each side of the bed. 

 To divert my mind, I looked for something else to do. I needed to sort out my things, indulge in a hot shower, maybe eat something or have another coffee. Instead, my eyes fell upon the lingerie set, neatly folded, and placed on the desk next to the TV remote. 

Which one of them took the time to gather the garments from the floor and fold them so meticulously?

My heart fluttered at the tender gesture, adding another drop of confusion to my ongoing crisis.  

I made a beeline for the shower. Noah’s and Oliver’s scent still lingered on my skin, and the love bites and hickeys wouldn’t leave me for a few days. I had no other choice but take my brother’s advice and pull myself together. 

After a grueling day spent replaying the events of the previous night and a near-anxiety attack in the confines of my hotel bathroom, I decided I had to talk to them. Hiding and pretending none of it had happened would only lead to further complications and would strain my relationship with Noah and Oliver to the point of ruining everything. I couldn’t afford to let it fester and seep into their professional lives. I would not let that happen. 

An hour slipped away while I debated when it would be the best time to approach them. 

Should I text them? Send a message on the iMessage group? Or should I just talk to them face to face? To one of them first or to both at the same time? 

By the time I resolved that this was something that needed to be talked to face to face and I gathered the courage to admit my mistake, evening had descended, and everybody was already at the venue where the bands were playing that night.

I was still unsure of where this would go. I’d had the entire day to think about my feelings and, well, I was still a mess. The only certainty I held onto was that I didn’t want to lose any of them, so I was willing to do whatever they said, whether it was keeping everything in professional terms, remain friends, or… 

Taking a deep breath, I watched as the Nicks and Jolly descended from the stage, their faces beaming with sweat and satisfaction. Jolly squeezed my shoulder as he passed by. In return I sent a faint smile his way. 

Moments later, Noah appeared, descending the metal steps clad in black pants and a tank top. His eyes briefly widened as he caught sight of me. He paused, the towel in his hand frozen mid-motion as he registered my presence. Then, without a word, he continued past me, following the same path as the rest of the band.  

“Noah,” I called out, a tinge of desperation in my voice. But amidst the hustle and bustle of the stage preparation for BMTH, my plea seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

Noah stopped, half-turning towards me. His gaze was cold, and he was angry. That much I could tell. 

I couldn’t fuck it up anymore, so the last thing left for me to do was to be honest. 

“I got scared,” I said, the words catching in my throat.  

“Scared?” He echoed, his tone sharp.

If I nodded, it was lost on me because his dark, penetrating gaze made me freeze on the spot, and when he drew nearer, my heart thundered in my chest.  

“No, you don’t get to tell me that you got scared,” he retorted, barely inches away from me, his voice low and intense. His scent enveloped me: he smelled just the same as last night, except for the missing addition of my own sweat and the magical residual scent of sex.  

I wanted him again. I wanted him covered in sweat from the heat of our intimacy, of our entwined bodies. 

He towered over me, his presence overwhelming, making me feel tiny and inconsequential.

“I was the one scared,” he admitted, his voice laced with pain and fury. “I was scared every time I fucked you in my bed and I found you looking at me with those beautiful fucking eyes. I was scared because I knew I was falling in hard. I was terrified,” he emphasized, the last word dripping with raw emotion. “Then you slept with Oliver. When I got to know, I was on the verge of nightmares. I was terrified at the thought that I might have lost you. Then you told me all those things, and yet, I decided to give you what you wanted even though it scared the shit out of me. It scared me to hell to think of what it would do to me —to us— if we crossed that line with Oliver. And yet again, we did. And then this morning you were gone. You were not there by my side when you made me promise not to leave. So no, you don’t get to tell me you were scared after you got fucked by two men who fucking adore you!” 

My throat constricted, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. 

Instinctively, my hand reached out towards him, but Noah recoiled, stepping back with a shake of his head. Not a single strand of hair moved from its place on his forehead due to the layer of sweat covering every inch of this tall, muscular frame. 

“You wanted honesty? There it is,” he continued, this time his voice low and composed. He dropped the towel to the floor, as if he was… giving up. “You were right to demand that from me, but you should have done the same in return.” 

And yet, I had left him before the sun rose, just as he did with me in that moment, stepping back with his brown eyes locked on mine until he couldn’t stand my gaze any longer and he turned away, rushing out the corner and disappearing from my sight. 

I realized then the severity of my actions. It had taken me years to get Noah to open up, and just when I had managed to get him to, to unwrap another layer of him, I had turned my back on him. 

He had all the right to be furious, to hate me, to never want to see me again.

I just didn’t think I could take it because, with each passing second, my feelings for him were becoming clearer. What I had been feeling for months was more than just platonic adoration. 

Waves of anxiety engulfed me. Some of the staff members, having caught up in the intense exchange, cast various glances my way as I stood there alone, drowning in my own misery. Some of their looks were pitiful, others were dripping with disgust. 

With a dry throat and some tears streaming down my cheeks, I hid in the nearest restroom and in a feeble attempt to regain my composure. I told myself that there was a way to get Noah back, that we could be mended and we could move past this. 

But another voice in my head told me that I had fucked up beyond repair; that I hadn’t just fucked up a wonderful relationship with two wonderful men; I had also hurt them, and that knowledge tore my insides apart. 

I didn’t recognize myself.

Why had I acted the way I did? Why hadn’t I stayed? 

I had always been the one to push others to improve their communication skills. I hated unresolved tension and not having a clear idea of what I felt and what others felt around me. It was something that consistently plunged me into anxiety, so why had I chosen this path? 

Desperation seized me. 

Fifteen minutes later, after washing my face and trying to move the hair away from my face, I headed to the green room. 

Though greeted with nods and briefs hugs from the people crowding the room, my focus was on one individual. 

My stomach knotted at the sight of Oliver’s eyes on me, the look on his green orbs not much distant from the one Noah had had mere moments ago. Swallowing hard, I walked to him, ignoring some lighthearted joke Mat attempted to engage me in. He must have sensed my unease, not from my lack of response, but from the weight of Oliver’s stare as he stood in my path.  

His bandmates had known him for than I did, and it was clear that they knew when to shut their mouths and redirect their gazes away. 

Perhaps I should have felt terrified, but terrified had led me to ruin one of the best nights of my life, so no, I wouldn’t let it happen again. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

I would need more than a minute to say everything I wanted to say, though.   

Instead of replying, he eyed me for two seconds, twirling the Red Bull can in his hand before addressing the room at large. 

“Guys, can you give us some privacy?”

In another circumstance, I might have felt embarrassed by the sudden attention, knowing that everyone present was likely speculating about why Oliver wanted to be alone with me in the green room and we both had those long faces on. However, after the events of last night, I found myself beyond the capacity for embarrassment. 

“We’re going on stage in ten minutes,” Lee interjected. I could feel his gaze boring into my back while he sent a warning directed at Oliver. 

“Got it,” Oliver replied, his tone firm.  

It took the others a full minute to gather their stuff and vacate the room, some muttering under their breath as they left. 

Taking a deep breath, I met Oliver’s gaze head-on, steeling myself.

“I fucked up," I began, watching him closely for his reaction. The weight of my words sank in as I tried to get my shit together after my failed attempt at sorting things out with Noah earlier. 

I waited for his reply with my nerves eating me alive.

“You fucked up by having sex with me and Noah or by leaving in the morning?”

“By leaving in the morning. I should have stayed. I just… I panicked.”

Oliver narrowed his green eyes at me, a mix of frustration and something else flickering across his face. 

“I can understand that,” he conceded, his tone softening slightly, “but then you bailed on us and disappeared the entire day. What are we supposed to think?” 

Standing up straight, he moved away from the cheap white IKEA table he had been leaning on, circling me before disposing of the can in a nearby black bin. 

Yeah, I should've stayed and talked to them instead of running away, but what was done, was done. Now I had to find a way to fix it on my own. 

“Noah doesn’t want to talk to me," I said, feeling like a whiny little girl for being denied a lollipop.

“I’m not sure I want to talk to you either,” Oliver replied bluntly. His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My panic momentarily increased until he continued talking. "I’m torn between that or bending you over that table and fucking you hard and fast after giving you a good spanking.”

I froze for a beat, my cheeks flaming. Closing my eyes, I dropped my shoulders and released the air I’d been holding. 

“I don’t need that right now. I need to talk to you and Noah before I make it worse.”

“Yes, obviously. This is not going to work if there’s no communication”

This.

I bit my lip, only to get chided by Oliver. “Don’t do that. You’ll bruise yourself.” 

“I know time is not on our side now,” I continued, “but is there anywhere we can meet to… talk? The three of us?” 

Oliver hummed in thought. 

“Considering we need to hop on the tour bus early tomorrow, I suggest you get some good sleep tonight and we talk when we reach the hotel in London after lunch.”

I nodded again. I was defeated, so I would just do whatever they said. I just wanted to fix things. 

With my eyes on the floor, I startled when I felt Oliver’s fingers on my cheek. He was eyeing me from under his eyelashes, a tiny furrow between his eyebrows. 

“Are you sure you just want to talk?”

How could I tell him that every fiber of my body was screaming to be touched again by both their hands, by their fingers, their mouths…? 

Maybe I didn’t need to. Soon enough, he was smirking knowingly, and he pulled gently at my lower lip with his thumb.

“That’s what I thought. But I’m not touching you again until you’re honest with me and Noah, so take the time you need to think. Whatever it is, I’ll respect your decision.”

“Will you?” I couldn’t help but ask, uncertainty coloring my tone. 

 It took him a moment to respond. 

“Hell, no. You think you’re the only one terrified, doll?” he countered with a tilt of his head. “That makes threeof us. I’ve been thinking about you since before I knew you were coming to Europe with Noah and the band. I just assumed that whatever you had with Noah was restricted to the two of you even if you weren’t dating. But then you came back and you reached me with that pretty smile and you shared so much of yourself with me… and then, to make it worse, you let me touch you… and I knew I was doomed because I’d never get enough of you.”

“Oliver, I—” I began, my voice shaking, my vision getting blurry. 

“No crying, come on,” he admonished. “You’re a big girl. You took both of us so well last night,” he reminded me, a flash of lust crossing his eyes. “You can manage this. We’ll get through it the three of us together, wherever it takes us, even if it’s on different paths.”

“I’m not sure I want us to go on different paths…” I confessed quietly, surprising not only him but myself. 

He sighed, seeming relieved. 

“That’s why I said to get a good night’s sleep and think about it. I’ll let Noah know we’ll be talking tomorrow as we reach London, okay?”

I swallowed my tears and nodded. 

When I asked Oliver if I could travel with him in BMTH’s tour bus the next morning, of course he readily agreed. But what I didn’t expect was Noah’s unexpected appearance at seven in the morning on the same bus, seeking me out. He wasn’t as pissed as he had been when we talked right after Bad Omen’s show the night before, but he was definitely not happy that I was evading the band’s tour bus—evading him—.

I was still tired. Exhausted. Drained from a sleepless night. Despite Oliver’s assurances that things would be sorted out, I was scared that Noah wouldn’t accept it, that he would never be okay with a relationship between the three of us, and that he would never forgive me.

That’s why when he appeared on BMTH’s bus, I simply sank onto the sofa when he instructed me to sit, and I let him settle next to me, his thigh and arm brushing mine. I was ready for the worst.  

“I might be pissed at you,” he started saying, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you around,” he stated. His gaze had softened as he looked at me, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his almond-shaped orbs. Our faces were barely inches away from each other. The fact that he smelled so good wasn’t helping the chaos going on in my head. “Or is it that you don’t want me?”

I frowned. 

“You know I do,” I assured him. How could I ever stop wanting him? His brown eyes would always held me captive.  

I considered that, if I got both of them, if I was just lucky enough, I would have those beautiful brown eyes and those mesmerizing green orbs gazing adoringly at me every day. Could I ask for more after that?

“I just made this whole situation so uncomfortable that I don’t know how to behave around you anymore,” I admitted, the weight of my mistakes heavy on my shoulders.

His hand found mine on my thigh. Noah clasped his fingers around mine in a comforting gesture. 

“I’ll tell you how: be a good girl. I’m angry at you, but it’s nothing that won’t be solved after we talk with Oli and you… get punished.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his thin lips. 

I could only sigh and sink myself deeper onto the seat. What did that even mean?

“Come back to our bus,” he said. When I took a while to answer, his grip on my hand tightened and he pleaded, “please?”

How am I supposed to resist the puppy eyes? 

“All right,” I relented.

I stood up, only to be met with Oliver’s figure standing not far from us, frame leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“We should have hired another bus, huh?”

Noah raised an eyebrow and after a couple of seconds snorted, shaking his head as he placed a hand at my back, nudging me forward.

“One for the three of us,” Oliver mused, his eyes eyeing my casual outfit and lingering on my chest for a little longer with a suggestive glint, as if he could see through. “Just imagine how much fun we would have had on our way to the big city.” 

I looked between him and Noah, blinking. I was missing something there, some understanding between the two of them that I was not a part of. 

It was at that moment, with the chill of the January morning creeping in through the cracks of the bus and the look the boys shared with each other that I realized that maybe, very maybe, I had been wrong all along, but… could there really be a chance that... things would work out between Noah, Oliver, and me?

Ignoring the racing beat of my heart and the wave of relief and joy that suddenly seeped through me, with a newly found bravery I said, “May I remind you that despite the distraction I’m being, you’re here to work, both of you?” I wanted to sound rational, and I was, but of course they found it amusing.  

“You can remind us later,” Oliver said, leaning over me to peck me on the cheek. 

 “Get going,” Noah indicated, his tone firm yet affectionate. “I’ll be there in a minute. Nick and Matt are playing Elden Ring. Tell them to hand over the controllers.”

I hesitated for a moment, glancing between the two of them. Then Noah put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and squeezed, both their eyes on me, as if trying to send a reassurance to the apprehension taking hold of every nerve on my body. 

Not long after 2pm, we arrived in London, its iconic skyline piercing the sky much like the needle of anticipation jabbing at my insides as I awaited the moment of being alone with Oliver and Noah in a hotel room again. 

Our stay in the city was scheduled for three days. Under normal circumstances, I would have been looking forward to my free time to explore the city’s most wonderful streets and charming corners. However, other than the work-related stuff, nothing was going as planned, starting with the fact that I found myself not dreading to explore the city at all. My thoughts were consumed by the desire to explore something else —two men’s tattooed bodies, the seas of their skin, every imperfection and scar… 

I followed the Bad Omens’ crew into the lobby of the InterContinental next to the O2 Arena, pulling at my suitcase with one hand and typing a couple of texts to my brother while Matt handled the check-in at the reception desk. I waited for him to get the hotel card keys and hand mine, but he never approached me. 

I looked at him, confusion all over my face as I slid my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and saw him the rest of the guys head to the elevators on the left side of the lobby.    

I was about to call out to him when I noticed that Noah was still beside me, a few steps behind me. 

“Where’s my room key?” I asked.

Noah raised a hand, displaying a card. 

Despite his towering height, with the backpack slung over his shoulders, I always thought he resembled a little kid.    

“Oliver wants us to share a room,” he informed me evenly.

“What?” I sputtered, taken aback. 

Oliver and the rest of the band were not there yet. They had an interview in some radio station and the bus had dropped them off at the location before reaching the hotel, so they wouldn’t be checking in until later. 

“We’ll talk there”, Noah clarified. “If you want to have a room for yourself after that we’ll make sure you get one. It’s not a big deal.”

Truth be told, I hoped I didn’t have to get one. I dreaded sleeping between their warm bodies again, perhaps indefinitely. I knew that I was dreaming too much, but it was all I could cling to while I waited for the talk. 

During the elevator ride, I buried myself in my phone again, ignoring Noah’s presence on the other side and trying my damnest hard to block memories from last year’s tour when Noah had nearly fucked me against the elevator walls in some hotel in Las Vegas before we could make it to his hotel room. 

When the door of the suite opened after Noah swiped Oliver’s card on the reader, I gasped at the dimensions of the room. We were welcomed by a spacious common area, complete with a sofa, a dining table, and a massive TV that we were not going to use. Passing through white French doors, we were met with the bedroom. The pièce de resistance? The king-sized bed positioned in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Thames. All I could suddenly think about was… probably the same Noah was thinking as our eyes met after they’d landed on the huge bed. 

I could have felt embarrassed. Instead, somehow, I managed to offer him a sweet smile that he reciprocated. 

In silence, we began to unpack, though I refrained from unpacking too much, considering that the veredict of our current situation was still to be decided. 

Noah retrieved some of his electronics from his backpack and returned from the common area to find me standing by the large windows in the bedroom, looking down at the river.  

“Why don’t you take a nap?” He suggested, his eyes betraying his concern. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping properly.” 

I sighed. “No, I haven’t.”

“Sleep,” he urged gently.

“Are you staying?” I inquired, looking in his eyes in need of reassurance. 

“Yes.” Of course, his eyes said.

We stared at each other. When the emotions grew too big, I removed the distance between us and stood on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

He hugged me back, sinking his face in the crook of my neck, and the gesture felt like a soothing balm. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or strip him off his clothes. 

It must have been the same for him because I felt him tensing after the hug went on for too long. When he pulled away, he adjusted his pants before I managed to take a quick look at the spot. Guilty.

He urged me to rest for a while again. Oliver wouldn’t take long, he said. 

As sleep claimed me, I found solace in the thought of waking up to both of them in the room.  

Their voices reached my dreams, coaxing me awake. 

I stirred in the bed, stretching my muscles before lifting my head from the comfortable pillows and looking over my shoulder, towards the origin of the sound. The doors to the bedroom were slightly ajar, and I could see their silhouettes through the open space. Noah was seated at the table with a cup of coffee cradled in his hands while Oliver leaned in close, practically with his ass on the table as he talked to Noah, his thigh very close to the hand Noah was holding the cup of coffee with. Oliver had another one in his hand. They spoke slowly, softly, as if they were lifelong confidants. I lingered in the quiet, watching them, taking advantage of the fact that they hadn't noticed I was awake. I was captivated by the way Oliver would occasionally smile at him, and how Noah's eyes would sparkle. 

I sat up in bed as a surge of warmth flooded my senses. Before revealing myself, I hurried to the bathroom on the opposite side of the bedroom.

When I emerged, their voices had died away, and I could hear them moving about the room.  

With hesitant steps, I opened the French doors, my eyes falling first on one man and then on the other. 

"Hi," I said in a slurred voice. 

Oliver was pouring hot water from the kettle into another cup and Noah was hanging one of his winter jackets in the wardrobe by the entrance.

“Hi there, sleeping beauty,” Oliver greeted. 

I accepted the cup of tea he offered and thanked him with a shy smile as I brought the cup to my lips, making sure it wasn’t too hot. Lemon tea.

“Are you okay?” Noah asked with a frown, getting closer to lift my chin with two fingers and scrutinize my face. “Your cheeks are flushed.” 

“It must have been the heating in the room,” I explained, gesturing towards the bedroom. 

The answer satisfied him for he nodded, his features relaxing. 

“Do you want to sit down?” He asked.

I instantly shook my head. 

“I will if I need to, but I rather stand while I sort this out,” I said. Both of them shared a look and locked their gazes with me a second after. “I don’t want to drag it out any longer,” I said, gulping down the next sip of the tea.

“Alright,” Oliver did sit down on the sofa, facing me. 

Noah took a seat next to him. 

Great. Now it feels like I’m back at uni, about to start my thesis defense. 

While Oliver reclined comfortably against the sofa cushions, his arm casually draped over the sofa’s back, he nearly touched Noah, who was leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, hands clasped together. 

Green and brown eyes were fixed intently on me. 

I moistened my lips and hesitated for a moment before speaking. I didn’t know where to start, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I steadied myself against the TV furniture.  

“I left because I didn’t want to,” I began.

Of course my answer elicited raised eyebrows from both.

“What I mean to say is…” I averted my gaze momentarily, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as good as I did when I woke up,” I explained. “Despite… the ache between my legs, I was sure that I wanted that every next morning, and I realized it wasn’t right. I couldn’t be having such thoughts. This,” I gestured between me and them, “is not normal.” 

I waited for them to interject, but they didn’t. Their silence encouraging me to press on.

“After our night together, I thought about everything else that happened before that, and a voice in my head told me that it had all been a mistake: sleeping with you,” I said to Oliver. His features morphed into ones of pain and then, defeat, “and then dragging you,” I said to Noah, “into this without having sorted out first what was going on between us. I didn’t want to fuck up any of our relationships; the friendship between you two, and the one I had with each of you. On top of that, we’re in the middle of a tour and I can’t help but feel that I’m a burden and a stupid girl for dragging both of you into this mess. And then…”

“Then, what?” Noah pressed; his eyes suddenly alight. He could sense what I was about to get into. He could sense it very well, and instead of the expression I had expected from him, —the look of fear—, he seemed to be… excited?

“Then I focused on what I was feeling, on what I feel and…” I took a deep breath, gathering the courage. “I want you both. I’m sorry for what this means, but I don’t want to lie or hide it. After I took on your offer of sleeping with you, I thought that once it was done, nothing would change, or that whatever pleasure I was seeking would be satisfied, that we would have fun… but it wasn’t just that, and things did change. I had all day to think and to come to terms with my feelings. After spending the night with you, I can safely say that I want more. Not just sex. I want more of you, of both of you. Anything you want to give me. I’ll take everything, the good and the bad. I just… need you like I never thought I would, and I’m sorry for it.”

As I finished my confession and realized how much I had needed to hear my own voice say it, I couldn’t bear to meet their eyes. The pounding of my heart drowned out any other sound.  

There was a minute of silence that stretched painfully, each passing second amplifying my discomfort. I wished the ground would swallow me whole. That was the most excruciating minute of my life. 

“First of all, fuck normal,” Oliver said. “Second, yes, this is a mess, but I fucking love this mess if it means I get to have you at the end of the day. I want you vocal and naked,” his words were a firm statement. “That doesn’t seem too hard to me, does it?” His gaze shifted to Noah, the question also directed at him. “I also told you last night that my feelings for you have been more than just those of a friend since a while now. Did you hurt me by sleeping with me and Noah and leaving in the morning? Yes, you did. Do I resent you for it? No. We’re here talking things out like fucking mature adults. I only expect you not to make that a habit, otherwise we will have problems. As for everything else concerned,” he shook his head and raised his hands, “I had my time to think about it, too. And I felt fucking fantastic as I fell asleep next to you two.” His eyes landed on Noah again, who wore a mix of guilt and satisfaction on his face. 

“Noah?” I mumbled his name with a sense of urgency and fear. 

“Tell her,” Oliver ordered him, his voice suddenly demanding. “Tell her those damned three words, man. You’ve waited long enough. Don’t make me kick your arse.”

Noah hesitated, his eyes darting from Oliver to the floor then to me and all over again. 

“I love you,” he confessed with his brown eyes boring into mine with a vulnerability that I had never seen before. “I’ve been in love with you for longer than I care to admit.”

“He isn’t the only one that does, doll,” Oliver added, his voice resolute yet tender. 

That was not what I had expected at all. 

Yet, I fell to my knees. 

Immediately, Noah and Oliver rose from the sofa, coming to me, hand trying to grab me to get me back up. 

“Hey, hey. What is this?” Oliver asked.

“Come on, no need for…” Noah started saying.

But as I fumbled with the zipper of Noah’s jeans, confusion clouded their expressions as they froze, realization dawning in their eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Noah asked, his Adam’s apple bobbing with difficulty. 

“Showing you how much I love you both, too,” the words slipped from my lips as my hands moved instinctively, pulling down Noah’s jeans and swiftly unbuttoning Oliver’s, “and starting to repay you for my mistake of leaving the bed without talking to you. I won’t do it again, I promise. Just… I want this to work.”

“It will,” Oliver affirmed, “as long as we keep communicating with each other,” confidence dripping from his lips.

Beneath my touch, I could feel him growing aroused, hard. I glanced at Noah from my kneeling position.

“I was worried that I had fucked everything up by making you share me with Oliver,” I told him honestly.

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he replied firmly. “I’m a grown man. I make my own decisions. Besides, I wouldn’t have agreed to share you with anyone unless I was certain that the other person cherished and valued you like a goddess.”

“Noah and I have already talked about it. We’re on board with this, baby,” Oliver added. 

My heart was going to explode, but I felt a pang of frustration at how ahead they were on this and how behind I felt. 

“Why is it that you two always have these talks before the three of us are lone?" I grumbled; my frustration evident. I pulled down Noah’s boxers to free his erection. He let out a sigh of relief.  

“We would’ve had this conversation as a trio in the morning if you hadn’t disappeared,” he interjected, already breathless, his focus wavering.  

He had a point. 

“Moving forward with this,” Oliver continued, “means you’ll accept your punishment tonight. Are you ok with that?”

“Yes, you can punish me,” I replied as I slid down his underwear. Oh, the view in front of me. A sight to behold. “I accept my punishment; you can do whatever you want to and with me as long as I get to have both of you.”

“Those are big words,” Noah remarked. “Are you sure you’ll be able to take it?” His hips pressed forward. I wrapped the fingers of my right hand around his shaft while reaching for Oliver’s cock with my left.  

Their synchronized moans were music to my ears. 

“I can take both of you,” I asserted confidently with my chin up. Hadn’t I proved it already? I tugged at them, drawing two beautiful, restrained groans from both. “So yes, I’m sure.”

“Oh, the kitten is feisty,” Oliver sang. “What should we do about it, Noah?”

“Open your mouth,” Noah instructed to me, his voice husky with desire. “Show us how vocal you’re going to be from now on, and then we’ll decide what to do with you next.”

And that I did. 

Not even ten minutes later, I was cleaning the last remnants of Oliver’s and Noah’s release from the corner of my lips with the back of two fingers, still reeling from the intoxicating taste of them. 

Oliver lay sprawled on the sofa, one hand pressed against his forehead, his pants still unbuttoned.

“My soul has left my body,” he mumbled weakly.

With Oliver’s words hung in the air, I could still feel the ghost of Noah’s hand on the back of my head, his fingers grazing my hair gently before guiding me towards him, whispering a restrained ‘good girl’ as I took him whole. I could still taste Oliver’s release in the back of my throat, accompanied by the memory of his passionate wail as his legs trembled with the intensity of his orgasm. 

I rose from where I’d been kneeling, steadying myself with a hand on the nearest chair as I still felt dizzy. Despite my spinning head, I fought back a laugh at Oliver’s comment. It hadn’t been my intention to leave them drained before the show. 

“I’m not sure how I’m going to perform tonight,” Oliver admitted with a wry smile, his exhaustion evident.

Whoops. 

“That was a killer blowjob, baby,” Noah’s voice cut through the air from the main bedroom of the suite as he emerged from the bathroom, a wet face towel in hand, pants on and glorious cock tucked away. Before heading towards his suitcase, he planted a kiss on my lips. “You okay, man?” he inquired, addressing Oliver over his shoulder. 

“I need a minute,” he replied. 

Turned out he needed five. After pouring myself a glass of juice from a bottle I found on the mini fridge, I offered one to Oliver, who accepted gratefully. Noah declined, opting for water.  

“I should head to the venue,” Noah announced as he checked his phone. “I have a couple of messages from Folio. They’re already there.”

“I should head there, too,” Oliver said, finally standing up. 

“I will stay,” I interjected, earning their attention as they collected their things, “at least for a while. I need to get some work done on the MacBook, but I’ll make sure to be there on time for the shows,” I explained with a smile. 

Oliver nodded and headed towards the bathroom while Noah placed his suitcase on a bench and retrieved the Adidas boots he wore during the show. 

“I’ll see you in an hour, then?” Noah asked. 

“I’ll ask Matt to let me join him in the sound deck.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he replied. 

He approached me, sliding his iPhone into his pocket before stopping right in front of me. I looked up at him, expectantly. He moved the hair away of my face with tender fingers and bent down to kiss me ever so slowly. I couldn’t recall having been kissed by Noah like that ever before, so I melted in his arms. 

I heard him whisper the three magic words against my lips, a hint of shyness in his tone, but he said it nonetheless, and I had to remind myself that this wasn’t a dream. 

“I love you, too,” I whispered back.

I didn’t miss the way his smile lighted up his face as the withdrew from our embrace. My body instantly missed his touch, his warmth, his scent. 

“Do I look like a just experienced a mind-blowing orgasm?” Oliver asked from the bathroom door, drawing a circle with a finger in the air near his face.

“Yeah, you do,” I responded with a smile and an apologetic expression, “but it just makes you look more delicious. Perfect for the show.” 

He laughed, dropping his head, perhaps feeling a bit shy? 

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, standing in front of me. 

He cupped my face and kissed me. His kiss was deeper, more intense, harder than the one I’d just shared with Noah. I loved it just as much, realizing that from that moment onwards I couldn’t bear to live without either of those kisses.

“I love you,” he said. I was going to reply that I did, too, when his words brought a rush of dizziness to my head. “No touching yourself until tonight, are we clear?”

“We haven’t decided yet if we’re letting you come,” Noah added from the door, before stepping out into the hallway.  

“One thing is for sure: you’re in for a few spankings; you’re getting tied up and we’re going to edge you for a good while until we’re satisfied with your punishment for leaving the bed yesterday morning and not talking to us.”

Oh dear.

“Great,” I muttered.

“No rolling your eyes. Be good,” Oliver instructed, pointing a finger at me. 

He grabbed his phone and wallet from the dining table, and with a mischievous grin, he closed the door behind him, disappearing with Noah from my view. 

Two seconds later, I let myself collapse onto the bed, closing my eyes with a smirk of satisfaction on my lips, the whole sentiment etched on my face. Nighttime couldn’t come soon enough.

My heart swelled with pride as I watched them from the center of the arena, Noah’s and Oliver’s figures tiny in the distance but looming on the screens flanking the stage, commanding the attention of thousands and stirring a fervent response. Watching them lead the crowd together in ‘Antivist’ was astonishing. I was so proud of them. Of us, actually. Every time the stage lights fell on them and illuminated them, I felt as if the universe was repeating to me over and over again that those two men were mine, and that I was theirs. 

It was hard to believe that forty-eight hours ago, things had been so different. After the events that my conversation with Noah had led to, I had been flooded with insecurity and fear, and a voice in my head had come very close to making me believe that I had screwed up so badly that I should turn around and go home because never everwould Noah and Oliver give in to being in a polyamorous relationship. This would never work, the voice said, and if part of me believed it would, it was because I had read too many books. 

But look and behold, reality often surpasses fiction. And watching them perform, knowing that they loved me and that we were going to give this a chance, that we were committed to making this work, I felt complete. I was no longer alone to grasp with my conflicted thoughts and emotions. We were three, now. 

These two men, with their music and their love, were mine to cherish and adore.

The rough and complicated start we had endured seemed like a distant memory, and it was just overshadowed by the promise of bright and beautiful days to come. 

By the time the clock struck midnight, I was already a whimpering, trembling mess splayed on the bed. My throat parched, breaths ragged, and legs shaking. I had just been denied my fourth orgasm, and even though I would be lying if I said I hated it, I found myself in a state of overwhelming overstimulation. 

Lost in a haze, I couldn’t even discern which one of them was between my legs. 

As soon as we came back from the venue, I was promptly tied up and blindfolded. Again. Noah and Oliver decided to take turns swapping their place between my legs and working me up, first slowly, gentle laps of their tongues and soft rubs from their fingers inside of me, then fastening their pace, heating me up, driving me to insanity every single time they took me to the edge and then withdrew, leaving me whining their names and crying for release, their wicked laughs the only thing I could hear amidst my own desperation. 

In my delirium, I really couldn’t tell anymore whose tongue was on me, whose teeth was nibling at my pebbled nipples.

“Feeling punished enough, love?” Oliver asked from the foot of the bed, giving himself away after one last flick of his tongue that wasn’t enough to make me fall off the edge. Damn him. 

I couldn’t manage a single word to tell him how I felt. 

Noah’s fingers moved the hair away from my face. Despite wearing a blindfold, I doubted I could have bear to open my eyes. 

“I think that’s enough,” he said. 

“Getting softer, huh?” Oliver teased him.

“Nah, she’s shaking. I don’t want her to pass out on us if we keep going. Let her have it.” 

“You said it.”

Their decision to show mercy on me brought a rush of sensation that threatened to engulf me entirely.  

My climax racked through my body as a hurricane, so violent that my back arched from the mattress. If not for the silky rope binding my wrists to the headboard, I might have pulled Oliver’s hair so hard in my ecstasy that I’d have hurt him. 

With sweet words whispered against my hair, Noah’s praised me, encouraging me through my orgasm, but as I began to descend from my high, he withdrew from the bed. Oliver’s mouth left my swollen center, gifting me two loving kisses on the inside of my right thigh. Then he took a seat beside me on the mattress, replacing Noah. 

“That one was for me,” Oliver said. “Now you’re going to give Noah his.”

I couldn’t grasp my mind at what he meant, but soon enough the hands that had clasped my thighs and kept me grounded on the bed were replaced by Noah’s. I felt him kneeling between my legs again. I gasped. 

“Another one?” I managed to breathe out. My mind had still not come down from my euphoric high and they expected me to…? “I—I don’t think I ca—"

“You will, kitten,” Noah asserted, draping an arm across my hip and stomach to keep me restricted to the mattress. “I know you. You’re going to give me mine.” It was an order. 

Two nights ago, I had damned them both for denying me release in their mouths. Yet now, despite this being a punishment and my exhaustion, their actions felt like a reward. I resolved not to complain, no matter how powerless and lost I felt. 

I remained silent, holding my breath, as Noah slid his slender fingers in, easily navigating through my so embarrassing slickness. He quickly found that sweet spot that I loved having touched, and he started licking me, once, twice, thrice, from my entrance to my clit, drawing circles around my clit until the pleasure was so high that it tore a scream from the depths of my being.  

“Don’t hold back,” I heard Oliver say, his hand on my hair, stroking it.  

For a second, I lost my all sense of rationality. I was sure I was going to pass out with the vibrations from Noah’s voice in my core as he mumbled things and his lips touched my lower lips. My first orgasm cascaded into a second and suddenly, I was enveloped in white, a sharp headache gripping me as I came undone. Fortunately, it passed quickly, and I savored every other second of my long-awaited double release. 

Gradually, Noah’s licks and gentle sucking relented, his hands releasing the grip on me and moving to my thighs, where he started rubbing his palms up and down, trying to soothe down my shaking. Oliver peppered kisses across my chest and sternum, nibbling at my chin with his stubble tickling my skin 

“Kitten?” That was Noah. He kissed the side of my knee. “Are you back with us?” 

As I searched for the answer within my mind, Oliver removed the blindfold and untied me, his touch soothing too as he massaged my wrists and kissed them reverently. Though I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes, a mumble escaped my lips as I shifted my head against the pillow. It would take some time for sensation to return to my body, but I was fully aware of the satisfaction that ran through my veins and straight to my heart, and every other feeling that accompanied it. 

The first night together, I had felt safe and cherished. This time, I felt utterly loved, and despite my mistakes, I was sure that I deserved this. I deserved these two men, and I was willing to give them my best self.  

“Love,” Oliver insisted, his touch soft as he lifted my chin, “open your eyes. Are you alright? Was it too much?” 

“Baby,” before I could muster the answer, Noah settled down on my other side, his unattended erection nudging against my side. He placed his palm on my tummy, and the warmth of his body seeped into my skin.

“I’m fine,” I replied with a smile, peering at both of them through blurry vision. I placed a hand on my forehead. “I got a headrush,” I admitted, “but I’m okay.” 

The worried look on their faces persisted. Oliver glanced down at my still trembling legs. “I’ll get you something to drink before we continue. Let Noah take care of you. I’ll be right back.”

He returned within a minute. I had shifted onto my stomach, and Noah was inspecting the light bruises on my buttocks, his fingers tracing the reddened skin with a frown. 

“Shit, that’s a nasty mark,” Oliver mentioned, eyeing two small spots turning purple on my left cheek. He set a glass of orange juice on the bedside table. “Did we spank you too hard?”

I shook my head. “I bruise too easily. Don’t worry. I enjoyed it.”

“You’ll tell us if we ever go beyond boundaries, right?” Noah pressed.

“Yes, I will.”

“Good girl,” Noah praised. “Have some juice,” he instructed, gesturing towards the glass as he stood up from the bed to position himself next to Oliver. 

Both eyed me with special attention as I sat on the bed and sipped the juice, my body feeling grateful for the light sugar intake. After draining the glass, I licked my lips, and my smirk grew as I noticed how hard his erections were, and both seemed to be pointing straight at me. 

How wonderful that they were mine and mine alone.  

Noah gestured for me to approach him with a finger, his gaze narrowing with anticipation. I crawled on the bed towards him, swaying my hips playfully, enjoying how desired I was. With my hair falling around me, I positioned myself on all fours at the edge of the bed, Noah lifting my chin to capture my lips in a hungry kiss. Meanwhile, Oliver’s hand returned to my backside, caressing it before his fingers slipped between my cheeks, eliciting a moan from me.  

“Would you put them on us?” he asked a few seconds later. 

Noah released me, and suddenly Oliver’s hand was presenting two square silver packages to me. 

Sitting back on my heels, I tore open the first package and rolled the condom down onto Noah’s cock, his posture steady and unwavering, watching my hand’s work as a hawk. I repeated the action with Oliver. The familiarity of the task felt oddly comforting despite it being our first time.  I hoped fervently that this would become a nightly ritual from now on.  

“Ready for us, baby?” 

Instead of answering, I straightened my back and slowly parted my thighs, revealing the warmest, most inviting part of myself to them once more. 

My boys exchanged a glance with a raised eyebrow. In an instant, Noah lifted me up, prompting me to wrap my legs around his waist as he wasted no time in nudging my entrance with the head of his dick and in one slow trust filling me up. 

I was still adjusting to the wonderful sensation of Noah being inside of me when Oliver’s hands found their way to my shoulders from behind, his touch gentle as he traced a path down my sides until they settled near Noah’s hands on my butt. 

I felt the tip of his cock against my backside, and his voice softened as he urged me not to tense. It was easy for him to say, yet I was surprised at how easy I welcomed both of them inside of me, as if my own body had been waiting for it since the first time it experienced this hot burst of desire, pleasure, and… love.

Five minutes after, they were moving inside me in perfect synchronization, a relentless rhythm that drove me to the brink of ecstasy and beyond, my breasts rubbing against Noah's inked pecs, my back against Oliver's hard tattooed chest. Their alternating thrusts, a mix of withdrawal and surging in, had me moaning their names repeatedly, making me feel full of ecstasy and wild pleasure. Whenever Noah withdrew in a slow, teasing friction, Oliver would go all the way in. 

This experience was sublime, and I didn’t ever want it to end. 

"I wish I could show you exactly what it feels like to fuck you while Noah fucks you,” Oliver growled into my ear, his words sending shivers down my spine that intensified as he nibbled at my earlobe with his vampire teeth. 

At some point, with Oliver’s mouth nibling at my shoulders, clavicle, and neck, I opened my eyes and reached for Noah’s silver necklace. I could see the restraint in his eyes. I pulled at the accessory and kissed him fiercely for a long minute before releasing him. Then, I turned to Oliver, wrapping my hand around his neck and capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss that ended with me biting his lower plump lip, making him growl like a lion against my mouth and eliciting a laugh from me. 

“Touch yourself,” Noah said. He was close, so close, and Oliver wasn’t far behind. I was dying to feel them both tense and pulsate inside me. I was dying.

Closing my eyes once more, I let my head fall back to rest on Oliver’s shoulder and slid my hand down to my clit. Their arms held me securely while they stood, anchoring me in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure. I squeezed myself around them. When I heard their moans and growls intensify, I knew I had them. 

Joining their cries of release, I followed them down to the depths of bliss.

About twenty minutes later, I was lying in bed again. Only this time I had Oliver and Noah on either side of me, spoiling me and giving me cuddles and kisses. 

After the passionate crescendo we had caused while climaxing, the mood in the room was now quiet, and a lovely silence enveloped us as we looked at each other with our eyes shining and our bodies sated and spent, we felt at heaven.  

Both of their hands roamed up and down my body. Noah's fingers traced delicate lines between my breasts and down to my navel, while Oliver's traced my temple and his lips pressed tender little kisses just below my ear and on my jawline. 

It was just perfect, and the only thing that topped it was the way I sensed Noah and Oliver glance at each other from time to time, as if something new had awakened in them as well. Or maybe it had been there for a while and was finally coming to light. Whatever it was, it was obvious that all three of us were enjoying it, that all three of us were happy and wanted to be there. 

That was all that mattered.

It was past eight in the morning when I stirred from sleep. 

My head was resting on Oliver’s chest, with Noah’s warmth enveloping me from behind, his arm draped over my waist and his palm resting flat against my stomach. The sheets had become a tangled mess at the foot of the bed, leaving our naked bodies exposed in a blissful picture. When I wriggled my feet and they brushed both Noah and Oliver’s legs, I smiled at the sight. 

However, the urge to visit the bathroom was urging me to leave the bed. I could revel in his scene again in just a couple of minutes. 

But as I began to shift away from Noah and Oliver’s embrace, preparing to swing my left leg over Oliver’s broad body, a hand clasped my wrist, halting my movements.  

Turning my head, I saw Oliver, his eyes still closed, his face peaceful in slumber with Noah’s sleepy face now so close to his own. Oliver’s grip tightened on my wrist as I spoke.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” I whispered.  

“I’ve heard that before,” he replied, his beautiful green eyes meeting mine as he opened them. “I’m going with you.”

“But…” It shattered my heart to think that he still doubted me; that he still feared that I might not be there if he closed his eyes again and woke up a while later. “I’m not going to leave. I promised,” I reminded him with a serious expression. “I just need to empty my bladder. Just give me a minute?”

“A minute. Then I’m coming in,” he concluded, stretching his arms, I couldn’t help but steal a quick look at his morning naked figure. Glorious. “We have shower sex pending so…”

My eyes quickly went back to his. A smirk played on his lips as his words trailed off. 

That sounded… incredibly appealing and undeniably hot.  

To hell with sleep.  

“Are you sure you’re up for it? Aren’t you tired?” I inquired. With the shows and the sex, both might be beyond exhausted, but a voice in my head said, please don’t be.

“Are you?” chimed in another cheeky voice from the other side of the bed. 

Okay, they were both up and ready. Just my luck. Hell yes.

I hurried into the bathroom with a giggle escaping my lips as I knew that they were both staring at my ass as I ran off from the bed.  

Five minutes later, Oliver pulled me with him inside of the tiled shower. I shivered as the water touched my skin, though it didn't take long to get used to the temperature and I appreciated the feeling of being under the warm water and everything that followed. Oliver's hands took the reins and, with some shampoo in his hands, he began to wash my hair, massaging my scalp and thus earning my first moan of the day. 

"You guys started without me?" Noah asked, walking into the bathroom, and letting himself and his perfectly erect, hard cock be seen. 

"Not really," I replied, reaching out to take his hand and pull him closer to me. Noah greeted me with a good smooch, his cock stroking my lower belly while Oliver's fingers went on to massage my shoulders and a delicious spot just below my neck and at the beginning of my spine. 

Never in my wildest fantasies had I ever imagined I would experience a morning like this, soaking wet all over with two fucking gorgeous men washing my hair, massaging my shoulders, my breasts, and making sure the marks on my ass and other parts of my body from their nibbling the night before were nothing to be alarmed about, treating me to my first orgasm of the morning with Noah's long slender fingers as Oliver's mouth played with my nipples and he gulped down the clean water falling from the shower jet. 

I found that washing and rinsing them also filled me with a tender pleasure. They behaved like two good, but mischievous, children, waiting their turn as I washed their hair and scrubbed their bodies, leaving kisses here and there after rubbing their skin too hard and earning me their beautiful moans, which echoed between the bathroom walls. Their jokes also added to the joy; they took advantage of the fact that they were both fucking tall to make me stand on my tiptoes every time I tried to rub the top of their heads. Then they had the audacity to ask if there was a problem every time I mumbled a curse between my teeth. Whenever I reprimanded one and the other for laughing at me, it only earned me a playful slap on my ass.

Eventually, the space was filled with our casual talks, then laughter, and finally, moaning. 

When they entered me again under the warm spray of the shower, I was sure that I was in love to the hilt with both of them, and that I never wanted to stop hearing their laughter and seeing their smiles in the mornings ever again. 

So, as I tensed around them both and their grunts mixed with my moans, I surrendered to Oliver and Noah. Their fingers tightened on my thighs, where traces of the night before lingered, and I happily followed them into the abyss.

PART 4 + EPILOGUE COMING SOON

Taglist: 

@girlfromrussia-universe | @oro-e-diamanti | @lma1986 | @missduffsblog | @bngurngheart | @winterwinchester | @jilliemiw86 | @sorrowsofsilence | @th4t-em0-k1d | @to-be-written | @thescarlettvvitch | @nonamessblog | @somebodyels3 | @starsomens | @ditto66 | @dominuslunae | @cookiesupplier | @midnight-eternals | @pennysky | @iknownothingpeople | @cncohshit | @ladyveronikawrites | @blackveilomens | @robabankfuckmickeymouse | @kageyasma | @concretedaddy2018 | @silentglassbreak

[m1d-45]

Alright let me try this again.

What if Reader vented to Birb Xiao, not knowing that it was actually him?

They talk about their fears and frustrations, letting out all the words they've wanted to tell a person, but they have to settle for their pretty bird because no one will listen.

So Xiao is just sitting there, resting in the True Creator's hands, listening as he gets a glimpse of how they truly feel.

They say the milileth is like a raging stampede with their spears and swords. They say how the Qixing all seem so cold and unfeeling. They talk about how Zhongli genuinely terrifies them, because he acted so kind to others but was borderline cruel when hunting them.

They talk about Xiao, too, but they don't seem to have many complaints. They haven't seen him in a while, and the last time they crossed paths with him, he just... let them run. The adeptus had looked angry, but also a bit startled (and perhaps, a bit guilty?) at the sight of them. They even once overheard him leading milileth soldiers astray ("by mistake" says the creator, but Xiao knows the truth) by saying the creator had left a while ago, when really, they were still very nearby. While they say they are still a bit scared of him, they don't fear him as much as they fear the others.

All the while, Xiao sits, still as a stone. He takes in every word, every shaky breath and darting glance. He nuzzles into their hand, hoping to offer even the slightest bit of comfort.

He hopes that they continue to be unafraid of him in the future.

-Sibling Anon

he who is without sin

a/n: decided to make this one a full fic for no reason in particular (i don’t have an actual post shhhh)

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: imposter sagau things, minor blood mention, spoilers for xiao lore, some spoilers for liyue (like names and titles of people/places)

-> gn!reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay

< masterlist > (has context for bird!xiao if you’re lost)

from the moment that xiao was saved, when his new name was bestowed upon him and he signed his contract with morax, xiao had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

a pledge to stand by your side, a clause written in by the god that forged his original contract, releasing him from his duties to liyue to serve the one that had granted him life. a permanent extra sweep to his duties, always on the lookout for the highest god above all.

however, he was not the first to find… ‘you.’

‘you’ had landed in sumeru, nested in the large tree surrounding the akademiya. ‘you’ had climbed down, introduced ‘yourself’ to the sages with a smile. everybody was quick to give ‘you’ the glory rightly the creator’s, ushering ‘you’ atop a throne of silver and gold, offerings laid at ‘your’ feet with all the haste of those deprived of the divine.

xiao may have hung back at the beginning, unwilling to allow his karma to infect ‘your’ other worshippers, but he still did his duty. he still kept ‘your’ path clear of enemies, and was the first to pick up his blade when word broke of your imposter.

and yet, when he laid eyes upon the one he was supposed to hate, he was the first to repent.

xiao took a shaking breath, crossing his arms around himself. “morax?”

the elder god turned, amber eyes soft. “what is it, xiao?”

xiao marched through dihua marsh, polearm gripped tightly in his hand. a large hilichurl camp had been reported, which while not an issue normally, was the third in the last four days.

irritation was openly displayed on his face, the anemo around him simmering with his anger. why did the abyss have to act up now, when they were on a hunt? surely even they, as infected and riddled with darkness as they were, worshipped a god? or was that the source of their evil?

he kept marching north, only turning his head at the sound of a soft gasp.

“how will i know when the creator arrives?”

morax smiled, not upset like xiao had anticipated. “don’t worry about such things. when the time comes-“

you stood on the path branching west, eyes wide. you looked nearly exactly like the ’you’ on the throne, the same cool eyes that called for your death now wide and staring at him in fear.

“-you will know.”

you turned on your heel, your armful of sunsettias tumbling to the floor, but… xiao did not chase you.

instead he brought a hand to chest, under his necklace. he pressed, feeling the still-regular beat of his heart.

he pressed, searching for the place where his karma used to be.

from the moment that xiao realized the truth, when his new duty was bestowed upon him, he had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

he flew down from the sky, landing in your outstretched hand. he chirped a greeting, body relaxing under your gentle touch.

“hello there, friend,” you cooed, sitting straighter under the tree. your tree, the one you kept coming back to, the one he always directed other adepti away from because it was for you, not them. not him.

you fed him as usual, but stayed strangely silent. no stories of the kindness mitachurls showed you, no update on how close or far the people searching for you had gotten, none of the usual things he looked forward to. you just… sat. watching him in your hand, an emotion he didn’t know the name of drawing your brows close.

maybe you just didn’t want to talk today? but if something was troubling you, he wanted you to share, to allow him some of the weight off your shoulders. then again, he was just a bird to you…

“do you know ganyu, pretty bird?”

xiao froze, thankful he was facing your palm so you couldn’t see his eyes widening.

“i thought i did.”

he looked up, carefully, daring to meet your eyes. this time, he could pin down what you were feeling: betrayal.

his finch heart burned.

your thumb pet over his wings, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. not now.

“i thought she was kind.”

she was, he knew firsthand. how she worried over the tianquan, fretted over her skills both with a bow and with a pen, how her and the yuheng kept each other afloat in the sea of endless work assigned to the jade chamber.

you smiled. it was bitter. “i guess i should have known better regarding the adepti.”

xiao’s heartbeat raced in his ears, something hot burning a hole in his chest. he was an adeptus, he wanted to say, he could be trusted.

but you didn’t know him as an adeptus. you knew him as your little songbird, your friend, the one you continued to risk your life for, even if you didn’t know it.

he chirped once, somber. he wanted to apologize, to take up his blade against his own king on your behalf, to walk up to the fraud’s throne and watch them bleed red.

but you didn’t need that. so he sat in your hand, leaning into your fingers, and let you speak.

as it turned out, today had been a busy day for you. you had wandered into the path of a millelith patrol, which had happened before, but not with keqing at the head of it. not when she had darted forward in a flash of lighting, electro arcing along her sword. not when she’d pulled out and blew a special whistle even as you ran, one that you couldn’t hear but could feel under your skin, taunting you as you tried to navigate the maze of bishui plain.

when you told him of ganyu’s frostflake arrows, he wanted to cry. when you described the anger in zhongli’s eyes, he started to weep.

you didn’t deserve this pain. you didn’t deserve having to outrun planet befall, you didn’t deserve to fear your life being stolen by those who should protect you at all costs- he should have been there. he was south, too far south to hear the whistle, but he should have been called.

he should have protected you.

under the shifting leaves of a sandbearer tree, your songbird cried. and you, none the wiser, continued to spell out the cause of his torment.

.

[kkolg]

Hi there! I recently was recommend your Abyss animatic on YouTube and was like… whoa…. WHAT IS THIS I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THIS AU‼️I’ve been scrolling through your tumbler for several days just soaking in everything about The New Dawn and I was curios what’s happening in this world. are they in an apocalypse of some sort? Either I didn’t scroll far enough on your Tumbler to know more or you just haven’t revealed yet 💀 . Don’t spill anything you don’t want to, I am here for it all.

Trust me you are NOT ALONE 😭😭, I probably should’ve mentioned that I’m super bad at writing down my thoughts when it comes to storytelling in general BUT IM HERE TO CLEAR THINGS UP NOW I SWEAR‼️‼️ The New Dawn AU summary will be under the cut as it might be a bit long lol ANYWAYS THANKS FOR BEING SO INTERESTED IN THE STORY THAT YOU ASKED AND I APOLOGIZE FOR ALL THE CONFUSION 🙏🧎‍♀️also disclaimer because I’m writing this before the season finale some things may change to be in further line with the show which is another reason I didn’t write out the story before BUT ANYWAYS ENJOY‼️‼️

So basically after the events of the show N and Uzi defeat the solver with the power of friendship (also V’s back idk) and they go back to outpost 3 and are like “YIPEEEE WEVE FINALLY DEFEATED THE ABSOLUTE SOLVER WITH THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP ALSO DO I HEAR A SONG COMING ON???” And then they all start dancing and Uzi is essentially the new leader of the colony (if you couldn’t tell this part of the story is not that important but you can interpret what I said here as fully cannon in the au if you want lol)

Not too long after that N is like “hey can we try to like reform the disassembly drones and let them into the colony?” And Uzis like “wait that’s an amazing idea” and then they make out but that’s not important- so they go out and start telling all the disassemblys they can find that the solver is gone and can’t spread anymore and that living with the workers is actually pretty lit. A good lot of them are like “woah I didn’t know you were chill like that” and most of them go to live in outpost 3, a few of them are skeptical and still wanna eat workers so not all of the disassembly are chill but most of them are.

While doing this they come across a disassembly drone named A and he’s like “sure I’ll join” and he does…..but he’s not a very cool guy- I plan to make a comic about this so I’m gonna be vague and just say turns out he’s insane and N basically exiled him from the colony.

Fast forward like a month from that incident and Kim is created, finally, and the Doorman’s live happily ever af- WRONG turns out A ganged up with all of the other mean disassembly drones and try’s to just OBLITERATE the colony during a raid and whoopdeedo Thad dies but I’ll make a comic about that later so I won’t get too detailed. OH YEAH KIM IS ALSO ABSOLUTELY TRAUMATIZED SO THATS GREAT-

Fast forward a few years and now we’re in the current time of where most of my comics/drawings take place. Kim is older and looks in the forbidden trauma closet that N and Uzi said never to look in but rebellious child I guess, and he finds stuff about the solver. Getting curious he pulls an Uzi to leave the colony and try to find out what the fuck this thing is and OH NO X JUMPSCARE, again another thing I’ll probably make a comic about but they fight, X says that a certain guy she knows might know about the solver thingy, they become buddies, C-1 is also there- weird visions start to make Kim have a robot seizures, and that’s kinda where we’re at rn

I hope this cleared up a lot of questions you guys may have had and I’ll be adding a link to this post on my pinned in case you ever need to refer back to this‼️‼️

anyways byeeeeeee

[scoonsalicious]

Unsatisfied, Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: After game night, Bucky promised to ruin you come morning. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be.

Warnings: Language, adult themes, Explicit Sexual Content: Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (FaceTime sex, hand stuff), Pocket still not being over her trauma, mentions of past injury.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Hi, besties!

It's me, ya gurl, with Part 2 of the post-Unwanted one-shot that's become a three-shot, lol! I fucking missed the absolute hell out of these two, and I'm so happy to be back with them for a little bit. Writing for Pocket and her Bucky is just like... I don't know. It's like I'm not even making stuff up, just channeling it, because it comes so easily, unlike literally everything else I try to write. I can't say when I'm going to resume WFLT. To be perfectly candid, I might put it on extended hiatus while I work on other things that seem to come easier right now. I don't know yet. I just want to be up front with everyone.

Here's where my attentions are currently focused: Finishing Unsatisfied, an untitled collab with @mrsbuckybarnes1917, writing Hunted, and plotting Unbroken. For some reason, there is just a giant Gandalf standing between me and WFLT, waving his staff and shouting "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" I'll let you know when I whip him into the abyss. And yes, that does make me the Balrog in this scenario, and I, too, fall to my death in the depths of Moria. It's an imperfect analogy, okay? At least I'm not Sean Bean, dying all over the place.

Anyway, enjoy more Pocket and Bucky! I know I do! xoxo

“I miss you,” you moaned into the screen of your phone. Your voice sounded pitiful, even to your own ears, but you were lonely and you didn’t have the shame to hide it. Especially not from the man you were talking to.

“I miss you, too, sweets,” Bucky said with a dejected sigh that let you know your feelings of misery were mutual. “It shouldn’t be longer than a few more days, then I’ll come back home to ya, and we can pick up where we left off, yeah?”

You smiled and nodded eagerly, his promise setting your skin awash in goosebumps. ‘Where you’d left off’ had been finally, finally, coming back together after nearly twelve months of self-imposed celibacy, spending the first night together, in your new apartment, wrapped in each other’s arms, with his co—

“At least we got our bubble bath before things went fully to shit,” Bucky added, a smile playing on his lips from across the distance, as though he knew exactly where your thoughts had taken you.

“Yeah,” you sighed, remembering the feel of him, so warm and solid, against your back in the tub. After he’d kicked out your friends from the impromptu game night they’d decided to throw at your new place, and you’d gotten over your freakout when Sam had inadvertently joked about Bucky ‘cheating’ at a card game, the two of you had spent a much needed evening just in each other’s company. Intimacy, but not sex, the way your therapist had recommended, with Bucky promising to ruin you come daybreak. 

Instead, though, a call had come from Fury in the middle of the night. A group of terrorists, counting some several enhanced among them, had stolen a biological weapon and were threatening to decimate the population of Shanghai unless the Chinese government gave into their demands, and so, The Avengers, Bucky included, had been called away.

You’d offered to go, just so you could stay close to him. You’d never even leave the Quinjet, you’d promised, out of the action, but neither Bucky nor Tony was eager to see you back on the field, not after what had happened the last time. Even though you’d had your last reconstructive surgery months ago, and your doctors had given you the all clear, between your boyfriend and your pseudo-brother, you weren’t leaving New York anytime soon.

That had been over a week ago. Negotiations with the terrorists had not gone according to plan, and they were probably going to have to fight it out. And as for you? You were ready to climb the fucking walls.

“How’s wedding stuff going?” Bucky asked, referring to your role as Maid of Honor in Pepper and Tony’s upcoming nuptials. “Keeping you busy?”

“Don’t you dare try to change the subject, Barnes,” you practically growled at him. “I am so fucking desperate for your cock, I swear to god–”

From somewhere off camera, you could hear a cacophony of sound– a combination of Sam and Clint’s uproarious laughter and Tony shouting “JESUS CHRIST BARNES, USE YOUR FUCKING HEADPHONES!”

Bucky’s face had turned crimson in the video call, and you couldn’t suppress the laugh that came bubbling from you as he abruptly stood up and removed himself into a darker, quieter area.

“Shit,” he exhaled as he got himself re-situated in the new, hopefully more private, space. He ran a hand down his face in embarrassment. “Didn’t mean for them to hear all that, doll.”

You laughed as you twisted a strand of hair around your finger in the way you knew he liked. “What happened to your earbuds, baby?” you teased. 

Bucky reached up and pulled an airpod from his ear, looking at the small device as though it had personally offended him. “I thought they were on!” he exclaimed. “If I’d known I’d been broadcasting you for the whole fucking team to hear, I woulda gone somewhere a lot more private to begin with.”

“The whole team?” you asked, cautiously. You didn’t want to say any names, but you needed to know if he was there, too. If he’d heard you.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, catching your meaning and lowering his voice. “Rogers is here.”

You swallowed and nodded solemnly. You hadn’t spoken to Steve Rogers since he’d made his horrible confession to you in the hospital, of the ways he’d manipulated your life to keep you and Bucky apart. All culminating in Bucky’s betrayal, your temporary death, the loss of your unborn baby. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, thinking only of Bucky in the moment. It was easy for you to stay away from Steve, to ignore him– your anger toward him had far surpassed any level of fondness you’d once had for Captain America, but you knew how much harder it was for Bucky to break a bond of nearly a century. Not that you would have ever forbidden him from reconnecting with Steve, if that was what he had wanted. No, Bucky had decided on his own that some things couldn’t be forgiven. No matter how many decades of friendship might lie behind them.

“Yeah,” he sighed, though you could tell from the look in his eyes that it was harder for him than he was letting on. “It’s awkward, but if we keep it strictly to business, it’s manageable. It’s just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, and you wished so badly that you could be there to smooth the lines from his distraught face. “It’s just… sometimes he makes it hard to remember what he did.”

You nodded, feeling guilty that you were the reason the two were no longer friends. That Steve had betrayed Bucky because of his desire for you. 

“Don’t go blaming yourself, sweets,” Bucky chastised you knowingly. It was like he could read your mind. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a look. “I know how that pretty head works, doll, and I know you’re blaming yourself. Stop it. He made his own bed, now he gets to lie in it.”

“I know,” you lamented. “I just hate that you have to pay the emotional cost of his bad decisions, that’s all.”

Bucky frowned at you. “Just like I hate how you had to pay the costs for mine, doll,” he said softly. “Our actions have consequences. We have to live with them, so we don’t make the same fuck ups again.”

You subconsciously let your hand drift to your abdomen, your fingers delicately tracing over the scar that was the only external reminder that you’d been shot. Had technically been killed. Had lost a lot more than your life. You were grateful Bucky could only see you from the chest up.

“Well, this conversation took a turn,” you said, trying to get off of subjects you’d rather not dwell on. “Can we go back to talking about how fucking horny I am for you?”

Bucky barked out a laugh and god, how it warmed your heart that you could still get that reaction out of him after everything you’d both gone through. His blue eyes seemed to darken as he adjusted himself in whatever seat he was in. “If it helps, I’m horny as hell for you, too, sweetheart.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth as he nodded his head. “Yeah, hearing that does help. Show me.”

Bucky’s eyes widened through the screen. “Show you?” he breathed, clearly not having anticipated where you were about to take the conversation. “What do you mean, ‘show you’, doll?”

“I mean,” you said, leaning back against the headboard to make yourself more comfortable, “show me that pretty cock of yours, Sergeant. Take it out. Stroke it for me. I wanna see what I’ve been missing.”

You watched as Bucky’s eyes went back and forth between the phone screen and the door that separated him from the rest of the team. You could tell from the way he was gnawing at his bottom lip that he was seriously debating it, but that he had some real reservations. “Doll,” he whispered, sounding scandalized, but excited, “they’re right outside. They’ll hear me.”

You smirked at the way he’d suddenly become shy. “I wanna hear you, Sarge,” you pleaded in a breathy whisper, and from the way he closed his eyes and moaned at your words, you knew he was so close to giving you what you wanted. “Come on, baby,” you cooed. “Can’t you show Pocket that pretty pink cock she’s been wanting so badly? Can’t I watch you choke it with your big hands while I imagine my mouth wrapped around it? Pozhaluysta, Soldat?”

“Fuck,” he muttered, and you knew you’d won when he hopped up from where he’d been sitting. Though you couldn’t see it from the way he was letting the phone dangle, you could hear him lock the door. “You know I can’t resist it when you speak Russian, doll,” he said as he sat back down, propping the phone and its camera up against something so that you could see his entire body stretched out before you. 

“YA rasschityval na eto, detka,” you said with a grin. I was counting on it, baby. You could see now that he was in a bedroom of what looked like a standard SHIELD safehouse. It was small– only one twin-sized bed, so you weren’t worried about anyone else barging in to need the space. 

“So, how do we do this?” he asked, and you could hear the nervousness mixed with excitement in his voice. It struck you that, throughout your relationship, and all the time you’d spent apart while one or the other was away on missions, the two of you had actually never done this before. Phone sex, yeah, but never on video, together. It was going to be new territory, and it thrilled you. 

“We?” you asked playfully, pretending you had no idea what he was talking about. 

Bucky looked at you sternly though the screen of your phone and you involuntarily shivered under his gaze. “Don’t think for a second I’m not going to see that sweet, dripping cunt of yours tonight, doll. I’ve been fantasizing about it for ages. Got just a taste of it the other day, and it wasn’t nearly enough.”

Fuck, you could feel yourself dampen and your nipples harden just from his words alone, not to mention the memory of the brief moment on your terrace, before the movers had arrived, when he’d had his deliciously thick fingers pressed inside of you.

“Baby,” you moaned, not even realizing you were trailing your fingertips over the pebbled flesh of your breasts under your shirt, imagining his rough, calloused hands on you. 

“Take off your clothes, Pocket,” Bucky growled. He didn’t ask; it wasn’t a request. It was a command, and you were ready to obey. 

“Sir, yes sir, Sergeant,” you said, and you were sure you looked anything but graceful as you sped to pull your top over your head and shimmy out of the pair of cheeky panties you wore. The cool breeze of the air conditioning danced along your flushed skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned, his eyes following the path your fingers traced along the contours of your body. You watched hungrily as he absentmindedly palmed himself through the Tac pants he still frustratingly donned. “God, you look even better‘n I remember, sweets,” he grunted. “Better than I’ve been imaginin’ all week. How the fuck’s that even possible?”

“Buck,” you warned, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his obviously false praise as you turned to hide your face from his gaze. “Stop. I know you don’t mean that.”

Frowning, Bucky leaned forward, picking up the phone so he could bring his face close to the camera, scrutinizing you. “Pocket,” he said, but you refused to look at him. “Pocket!” he tried again, his voice a little firmer, but still gentle. “Why the fuck would I not mean that, sweetheart? You’re gorgeous.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. It was kind of him to lie to spare your feelings, really, but you didn’t think you could take it. Not from him. Not after everything. Without thought, your hand moved to cover your bullet wound from his gaze. “Come on, Buck,” you said, your tone implying that you weren’t buying his bullshit, no matter how sweetly he was selling it, “we both know you weren’t imagining me with all these new scars.”

“Baby.” Bucky made a noise somewhere between a choked laugh and an incredulous groan. “You can’t seriously think I, of all fucking people, give a shit about a couple of tiny scars?” He put the phone down, and your view of him was obstructed for a moment while you heard the rustle of cloth. When he lifted it up again, you saw he had taken off his vest and Tac shirt. He pointed to the ruined skin of his left shoulder.

“Look at these and tell me you think I’m gonna be turned off by a coupla’ scars, Pocket,” he said, and you could detect the hard edge to his voice. 

“It’s different, Buck,” you told him, your voice cracking. “You already had those scars when we met; they were a part of the man I fell in love with. You…” you hastily wiped at the tear that was suddenly threatening to fall from your eye. “Mine… mine weren’t. You didn’t get a choice in them.”

You watched as the look on Bucky’s face morphed into one of pure confusion. Of course he didn’t fully understand– you weren’t just talking about scars, after all. He… just didn’t realize that yet.

“You didn’t have a choice in them, either, sweetheart,” he said softly, eying the way your hand protectively rested over your abdomen. “And if you’re talking about the scar from when you got shot… well, fuck, if that scar’s not my favorite thing.”

You looked at him in wide-eyed disbelief. “How could this… disgusting reminder…” you choked out, “of everything that happened last year… how could that be your favorite thing, Bucky?”

“That scar means you’re alive, doll,” he told her. “That you’re still breathing, still with me, in spite of all of it. So forgive me if I think that makes it the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You closed your eyes and exhaled, his words momentarily taking away the sting of the inadequacy you’d felt ever since the doctors had told you about the extent of your condition. It wasn’t something you were purposefully keeping from Bucky… You had just been too terrified to say it out loud. You were going to tell him. Just not yet.

"Look at me Doll,” he said, getting your attention back onto his face, “I don't like that I have to tell you this at all, but I'm gonna do it, as many times as you need, as many times as it takes for you to believe me. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

You felt your face soften, the tension of insecurity drop from your shoulders as he looked at you through the phone screen, eyes blue pools of adoration. You wanted so badly to just get lost in him, to let him consume you until you were capable of thinking of nothing but him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“It’s something more than just the scar, isn’t it, sweets? You’ve never been ashamed of showing me your body before.” You weren’t vain as a rule, and Bucky knew this about you. You had other scars, worse ones. Uglier ones, but none had ever bothered you the way this one had. None had ever carried the same degree of psychological and emotional baggage. 

You just nodded, afraid that if you spoke, you’d reveal what you’d been keeping from him, blurt it out before you could stop yourself, and it was not the kind of thing you wanted to do over video with thousands of miles of distance between you.

“You don’t have to tell me, doll,” he said, the understanding in his voice so pure that it made you ache. “I know so many of my actions have hurt you; I get that there’s still some trust–”

“Baby, no,” you interrupted. “I trust you, I do. I want to tell you. I’m just… not ready yet.”

“Tell me what I can do for you right now, then, sweetheart,” he offered. He’d brought the phone close to his face, his gaze on you intense and burning through the screen. “What do you need?”

You exhaled, the sight of him so focused and sincere making your knees feel weak. “Just you, Buck,” you whispered, the words coming out in a breathy sigh. “I just want you.”

“I’m right here, doll.” His voice turned low, darker. A soft purr that vibrated your insides. “And I’ll be home with you real soon, but you gotta tell me what I can do for you right. now.”

You sucked in a shuddering gasp of air, indulging in the way his words swept over your body like a languid kiss. Without even thinking, you felt your hand drift down your abdomen, your fingertips dancing along the top of your thigh.

“Buck,” you found yourself whining as you squirmed your ass across the mattress, searching for any inch of friction you could find. 

“Yeah, baby,” he grunted, readjusting the camera so it was once again propped up and you could see the length of him pressing against the material of his tac-pants. “Tell Sergeant Barnes what you want so he can give it to you.”

A beat of silence passed between you before you both started laughing, your hand coming to cover your face as you suppressed a snort. “Oh my god, Barnes!” you wheezed.

“Yeah, that was awful,” he laughed, palming his face in embarrassment. “Did I kill it?”

You wiped away a stray tear that had leaked from your eye in your laughter. “You’re lucky I find your bad jokes to be such a fucking turn on,” you told him with a grin. 

Bucky frowned. “Wasn’t supposed to be a joke, doll,” he grumbled, a pout forming on his beautiful pink lips. “‘S supposed to be sexy.”

“Oh, I found it very sexy,” you assured him. “You make me laugh, Barnes. That’s the hottest fucking thing I can imagine. Now take off your pants.”

The look in Bucky’s eyes turned from playfully annoyed to seductively heated in the space of a nanosecond. He reached for the zipper of his tac-pants and you licked your lips at the sound of it coming undone. “Get the camera all set up, doll,” he said as he shimmied the pants down his legs. “I want to see every inch of you.”

With a grin, you propped your camera up between your legs, giving Bucky a front row seat to your dripping core. “This work for you, Sarge?” you asked.

“Fuck, sweets,” he began, palming at himself through his boxer-briefs. “Yeah, that works for me.”

“Show me,” you commanded him, bringing your fingers down to lightly trace the outer edges of your lower lips. “Show me how well this view works for you, baby.”

Bucky scrambled to pull his boxer briefs down to his thick thighs, and you watched with bated breath as his cock sprung free, its beautiful, pink tip already glistening with precum. Your entire body erupted in tingles at the sight of him. He was so fucking gorgeous, and he was yours.

“Jesus,” you hissed, bringing a hand to your breast and gently squeezing the flesh. You could feel your mouth thicken with saliva at just the idea of having him down your throat.

“Just Bucky’s fine, baby,” he teased as he grabbed a hold of himself, and you rolled your eyes. “No need to bring God into it.” Slowly, he began stroking his length. You watched in awe as he seemed to grow harder with every downward pull, the veins in his thighs bulging as he thrust his hips up against his hand. If anyone was going to be compared to God during sex, it would and should be Bucky Barnes.

“Touch that pretty clit for me, doll,” he grunted. “Pretend it’s my fingers on you, getting you all warmed up to take my cock.”

“Fuck, Buck,” you whimpered, your fingers moving frantically over your bundle of nerves. You were already soaked; just the sight of him had sent another wave of arousal gushing through you. “Want your dick in my pussy so bad, baby. So fucking bad, it hurts.”

“Soon, sweetheart,” he grunted, watching your fingers strum your clit with wild eyes. “I’ll be home soon, and I’ll fill you up so good, you won’t be able to walk normal for weeks.”

You arched your back and moaned, the memory of the way he stretched you as he entered you, opening you wider than any other man you’d ever had, flooded your mind. “Nothing fills me like you do, baby,” you panted. “Nothing hits me so deep.”

“Yeah?” he grunted, and you could hear the delicious slick, slick sound of his hand moving through the precum that soaked his shaft. “Not even those fancy toys you bought?”

Bucky chuckled when he noticed your eyes pop open and stare at him in surprise. “Oh, I know all about those, doll.” Slick, slick, slick. “Found ‘em when I was helping you pack for the move. All of them.”

You felt a blush rising to your cheeks, and if you didn’t already have your hand on your pussy right in front of him, you might have been embarrassed. “All those toys, and none of them gets me off as good as you do, Buck,” you breathed. “None of them reach that spot the way you do.” It was true– it was the one thing you had desperately searched for during your time of Bad Decisions– someone to hit that place deep inside of you that set your every nerve ending on fire, that made you shiver and convulse with pleasure with each thrust. No one had ever brought on that full body climax that left you shaking and weak like Bucky had. 

“Fuck, doll,” he grunted. “No one touches your A-spot but me.”

“No,” you gasped. You loved how he knew your body so well, knew what he did to you, how you longed for his touch. “No one touches me like you, baby.” 

“Put your fingers in, sweets,” he commanded. “I wanna watch you fuck yourself on that pretty little hand while I pretend it’s my cock.”

You did as he asked, bringing two fingers to your weeping entrance and plunging them inside you. They would never feel as thick or go as deep as any part of Bucky, but for now, they were all you had, so you made the most of them, driving them in and out of your cunt with abandon. 

“Fuck…” you grunted as you felt the coil in your belly begin to tighten, sweat glistening off your brow. “Baby!”

“I know, pretty girl,” Bucky said between grunts of his own. “Tell me how good you feel.”

“So good, Buck,” you moaned. “So fucking good. Want you so bad, Bucky! So fucking bad!”

“I’m right there with you, doll,” he panted. “I’m so close. Gonna blow all over and imagine it’s inside that pretty pussy of yours. Gonna come home and bury myself in your cunt, sweets! Not gonna come out for days!”

“Oh shit, Bucky,” you cried, your release a hare's breath away. “Wanna cum with you, baby.” You curled your fingers inside of you, stroking your G-spot again, and again, trying to imagine it was his thick, calloused fingers inside of you. 

“Just a little longer, sweetheart.” Bucky was yanking at his member now, his pace quick and frantic. 

You felt yourself rising, clawing to the very edge of the precipice, but before you could hurl yourself over the edge, you accidentally hit your phone with your foot, sending it falling to the floor.

You scrambled for the phone. It had landed face-down in the dark, making it harder for you to find, but you followed the sounds of Bucky’s grunts and moans until you made contact. Turning the phone back over, you watched as Bucky, eyes screwed closed, reached his peak, ropes of cum erupting from the tip of his cock and landing across his stomach and hand. 

And, as surely as if someone had doused you with a bucket of water, the spell was broken. You were painfully reminded that he wasn’t there with you. He was half a world away, still out of your reach. 

You sniffled, and Bucky opened his eyes at the sound. “Sweetheart,” he began, his voice laced with concern, “what’s wrong? Did you cum?”

You hitched a breath, holding back a sob, and shook your head. “You’re not here, Buck,” you cried. “It’s not… I thought… I just want to be with you. I miss you so fucking much!” You knew you sounded petulant, like a child, but you were at your limit, truly. You wanted nothing more than to be back to normal with him. A better normal, even, now without the shadow of Carthage looming over you both.

“Oh, doll.” Bucky picked up his phone and brought it close to his face, his now flaccid cock out of frame. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Do you wanna try again? We can focus just on you. Make sure you get off nice and good.”

You shook your head, feeling the tears of frustration and longing slide down your cheeks. “No,” you 

whimpered. “I think… I think I just wanna go to sleep.”

Bucky frowned at you, the look in his eyes sorrowful. “I fucking hate that I’m too far away to help you, Pocket,” he said. “I can’t stand seeing you like this, knowing you’re hurting.”

“It’s just been so long, Buck,” you whispered to him as you buried yourself under the blankets of your bed. “I feel like every time we even try, something keeps getting in our way. What if it’s the universe, trying to tell us we shouldn’t be getting back together?”

Bucky sighed, thick and heavy. “I know you don’t believe that, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s just been some bad timing; we got out of our groove, is all. I promise, things will go back to the way they were. The way they’re supposed to be.”

Not long ago, you told him that his promises didn’t mean shit to you, but now… now, you wanted to believe him more than anything.

“It’s just a little longer,” he clarified.  You nodded, swallowing down any remaining tears that threatened to fall. You wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him, but the part of you that had been irrevocably broken when he’d hurt you couldn’t help but whisper that, maybe, in some way, he’d always leave you unsatisfied.

<- Part 1 / Part 3 ->

[angelsworks]

Happy Birthday Klaus Mikaelson x Pinkie Pie! Reader

Type: Challenge One shot

Challenge Masterlist -> Here

Summary: You celebrate Klaus’ birthday, much to his displeasure.

Warnings: Nothing really , mentions of violence

If you could do anything for anyone it would be making them feel special. In a world practically bursting with people, it’s easy for some to fall through the cracks. Into the lonely abyss of forgotten. While you enjoy time to yourself, sometimes it’s too much.

The feeling of not being connected to anyone had deeply upset you since you were young. Maybe it was friends never trying with your relationship, or busy parents or teachers never bothering to learn your name because of your quiet nature. All of it combined really brought you down.

Until it didn’t and it instead pissed you off. You channeled how you felt to become more sociable in high school, using it as your chance to start again. You spoke with everyone no matter the clique or social status. Determined that no one in your reach would feel like you.

Naturally this filtered into celebrating birthdays. Whether it was bringing in presents or cards to any and everyone you’d spoken to. People in your class, in your after school groups, on your street. By sophomore year you’d cemented your position as the peppy party planner who was always the life of the party.

You’d kept that up all the way till senior year. Happy to make others happy. You kept a list of everyone birthday. Always staying on top of them. So why did everyone expect you to exclude Klaus Mikaelson from your list?

“I just don’t get it, how do you even know his birthday?” Caroline asked, before stabbing a piece of cake on her paper plate.

You smile as you pack away some blue solo cups, “I know everyone’s birthday.”

The blonde gives you a questioning look.

You laugh, “Maybe I’ve got some Bennet blood in my veins and I’m psychic.” You muse.

Caroline rolls her eyes, “When you can light candles with your mind let me know.”

“If I could, I still wouldn’t be able to put enough candles on Klaus’ cake.” The party had been for one of the girls in your art class. She’d asked if you’d help make it a memorable birthday and you could do nothing but deliver.

“I just don’t know if it’s a good idea. There’s all that stuff that happened with him and what if he like, I dunno, kills you?”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes at your friend. “That was ages ago. Now him and Elena are practically on speaking terms. Rebekah had no problem when I brought her a cake.”

Caroline chokes on the freshly frosted piece of blue birthday cake. One you’d made especially for Emily. From the rest of the decorations and the dress code, anyone could tell that was her favourite colour.

“Rebekah Mikaelson? She’s crazy. The amount of times she’s tried to kill me, to kill Elena.” She starts to rant.

It was true the Mikaelsons had brought trouble into town with them. Klaus was desperate for Elena’s blood, ready to kill anyone who stopped him. He and his family often clashed with Caroline and her friends. Occasionally you too, yet you tried to stay out of it.

After all parties had gotten what they wanted, with much mediation on Elijah’s part and changing of the a spell on Bonnie’s, they managed to reach an agreement.

“It was all smoother over, what it not?” You ask her, still busy packing away decorations. “Aren’t you meeting Elena today?”

Caroline raises her eyebrows in shock and practically throws her cake down. She takes a napkin to wipe her face, then starts to collect her stuff.

“You are totally right. Elena wants me to help Jenna pick out an outfit for her and Ricks anniversary.” She tells you.

“Thank you so much for this. Just be safe with Klaus okay. Don’t do anything reckless.” You wave her off, finally being able to stack boxes of party supplies together.

You say your goodbyes and watch the blonde hurry off. It doesn’t take long to pack all the items away. You see Emily before you leave. She’s clearly having a good time, with more than juice in her solo cup. She slurs her goodbye and thanks you extensively, at one point wrapping her arms around you in a jumble of a hug.

For Klaus’ cake you decided to go simple. Well simple ish. It was a plain enough cake that said happy birthday in white buttercream. It was covered in a blue fondant. When you finish you realise how boring it looks. While you don’t want to push your limits with this cake, you also want to go above and beyond for Klaus.

You’d heard of his tales, of what he’d done in the past. You’d also seen him around town. Always alone. It seemed he didn’t have all that many friends, outside of his siblings. Even they didn’t act like friends.

It reminded you of how you felt all those years ago. Alone and sad. Lonely in a town so small you’d bump into teachers all the time. Sometimes in the most inconvenient locations.

So you added extra details. You fashioned a brush and paint pallet out of fondant. Arranging it carefully on top of the cake. When you were satisfied with your work you put the cake in the box and in the fridge.

You wrote out a card and packed his present in a small bag. The present in question was a pack of small canvases and brushes. You knew he liked to paint. Once you’d seen his work on the wall of the Mikaelsons house. It was a large piece, portraying a field of flowers and a serene sky filled with the colours of a sunset. It was truly marvellous.

Yet it got you thinking, what about little canvases? Little piece of work that wouldn’t be as large a project, but could require just as much detail and precision for the small space.

Eyes wide and lips pulled up to smile brightly, you walked through the door of the bar. It was a little difficult with the large cake in your hands and present and card bag dangling from your arm, but your managed. You searched for Klaus, finding the man in a booth in a the corner of the bar. He sat alone of course, nursing a glass of scotch.

He didn’t look up when you walked towards his table. The bar was fairly empty and he was clearly in his own world.

You place the cake down on the table, then pulled the bag of your arm, placing it down next to it. Then you sit opposite him in the booth, moving the items on the table aside slightly so you can see Klaus.

Klaus’ eyebrows knit together in confusion. He knew you of course. Noticed you at his family’s ball and around town. He’d heard Rebekah gushing about you to Elijah. Talking about how happy she’d been when you brought her a cake and made her feel special.

“What all this Love?” He asks. You try not to let the pet name mean anything. While Klaus is an extremely attractive person you’re here for a purpose.

“Happy birthday!” You smile wildly then pull out a party blower from your pocket, giving it a blow. Much to the other patrons (not that there are many) displeasure.

He lets a small smile grow on his face, “Sorry love, but I think birthdays stop counting after you move into a four digits age.”

You shake your head, “No way. If you’re immortal then so is your birthday buddy.”

“Buddy?” He asks incredulous.

You push the bag towards him. To which he cautiously peels back the the tissue paper and pulls out the contents.

“They’re mini canvases.” You tell him. Then explain how you’ve see his work - which you think was really beautiful - and how you though painting a smaller canvas would be a different challenge and a change for him. He nods along. Almost entranced by what you’re saying.

“That’s really thoughtful, love. Thank you. I can’t remember the last time anyone celebrated my birthday.” He told you earnestly. Genuinely so appreciative of your kind gesture.

“Well that’s a real shame Klaus.” For a moment your eyes connect and you feel rooted in place. You try not to blush so instead move on to remove the cover of his cake.

“Now don’t get too upset, but there aren’t any candles on your cake. I think it would be a little difficult to fit over 1000 candles on there.” He laughs. Eyes move to appraise the cake. They widen in surprise at the detail on the cake and the paint pallet and paintbrush you’ve created.

“This looks amazing love. Thank you.” It’s the first time you’ve seen Klaus Mikaelson smile. It’s genuine and lights his face. For a moment he doesn’t look like some scary vampire. He looks like a man enjoying his birthday.

“Happy Birthday Klaus Mikaelson. Have a great day.” You say, reaching a hand out to his own.

Time seems to slow as you stare into his eyes. Your hands entwine and your heart skips a beat. You notice how there’s some green in his dark blue eyes. For a moment they shine gold.

It’s enough to bring you out of your daze. You move to stand only for Klaus to stop you.

“Aren’t you staying for a piece?”

[fortheloveofwonderland]

🎵 Hiya can i request Spencer and x reader with the Lyrics

I’ve found a reason for me to change who I used to be. A reason to start over new, and the reason is you - The Reason by Hoobastank

🎵

This yet again turned out way angstier than planned and I’m sorry for that. Hopeful ending though! Basically - what if Spencer didn’t get sober when he did?

The Reason

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary - Spencer’s drug addiction cost him everything: his job, his friends and the love of his life. When he finally decides to get clean, can he convince you that you were the reason for his newfound sobriety?

CW - drug use, mentions of weight loss, slightly aggressive behaviour, swearing, rehab, twelve step program, hopeful ending.

WC - 2.9k

The hardest part of anything of a self destructive nature was how close knit you became with it. Addiction was now interwoven in the fabric of the Spencer Reid canvas, as much as any other facet of his life. 

Leaving it behind, as he’d tried and failed to do many times, felt like severing a limb. Giving up his vice would be like killing the very part of himself that taught him how to survive. 

Addiction was an inherently selfish disease. Somewhere along the line Spencer had stopped caring about anyone or anything that didn’t directly pertain to getting high. 

What had started as him using when the torment got too much had ended up in him using simply to feel ok. As time passed he needed more and more of the drug to reach the high he craved. And in turn that made it harder for him to even consider the idea of quitting. 

By this point his mind was clouded only by thoughts of drugs. It took a hold of him, wrapping its tentacles around him and dragging him down into an abyss of his own creation. 

His addiction had taken everything from him piece by piece; little by little. It had gotten in the way of his job, his work obligations becoming less important to him than getting high. 

And so he’d been fired from the BAU. 

It had taken his health, his energy and motivation. He’d lost more weight than he had to lose, or so he’d been told. But it also took away his ability to see the world clearly and so he didn’t notice the skeletal form staring back at him in the mirror. 

One by one it had destroyed his friendships. Some had held out longer than others, JJ and Garcia in particular trying to cloy Spencer back to reality far longer than anyone else. 

But his drug use made him angry, almost aggressive. And eventually even his two best friends had given up on him. But honestly, Spencer didn’t even have the impetus to care. 

Through it all, you remained stalwart. You were determined to stay by his side and help him every step of the way. 

But once it became clear that Spencer didn’t want your help, there really wasn’t much you could do but walk away too. 

Your two year relationship came to a sudden and horrible end one night when you’d tried to help him detox. He’d been drug free for twelve hours and thankfully he’d slept through most of that. 

But when he woke up was when it all went so horrifically wrong and after that night you knew Spencer was no longer the man you’d fallen in love with. 

He screamed and yelled and fought for you to let him out of the apartment, to let him buy more drugs. 

One more hit, that’s what he kept saying. One more hit and then I promise no more. 

With tears streaming down his face and trembling hands, looking more scared and lost than anyone you’d ever seen, it would have been easy to give him the world on a silver platter. 

But you remained strong, blocking the doorway with your body and refusing to let him out. You tried to reason with him that he didn’t need them, that everything was going to be ok without them. 

But Spencer was long past listening to reason. 

The final nail in the coffin that had been your relationship was when he forcibly grabbed you by the shoulders and peeled you away from the door with more strength than you knew he possessed.

He threw you aside like you were a discarded gum wrapper and you fell to the floor in a heap. And maybe if that had just been the end of it, you might have been able to salvage things. 

But it wasn’t the end. 

You were quick to jump back to your feet, grabbing his wrist as he went to open the door. You spun him to face you and as if in a blink of an eye his tears had dried and the eyes looking back at you weren’t the same ones you’d known for the last two years.

His eyes were so dark they were black, pupils bleeding into the gold of his irises and swallowing them whole. Looking back at you was a man you didn’t recognise. 

That was only further confirmed when he took you by the shoulders again and slammed you against the wall, causing a small whimper of pain to leave your lips as your back collided with the hard surface. 

His grip on your shoulders was like a vice, his blunt fingernails digging into your flesh even through your shirt. He looked manic, evil; and that terrified you.

“I swear to god Y/N if you try to stop me leaving the goddamn apartment…” he spat, trailing off at the end of his sentence. 

“You’ll what?” You bit back, despite the fear coursing through your body. 

“You don’t want me to answer that. Do not make me choose between drugs and you, because I can promise you, you will not like the outcome.” 

His grip on you tightened and you whimpered again, sure he would leave bruises. 

“S-Spencer, you’re hurting me.” Your voice was trembling. 

“No I’m not, don’t be so pathetic.” He snarled at you. 

“You’re scaring me.” 

“This is nothing compared to how scary I will be if you don’t let me out of this fucking apartment.” 

You knew then that it was over. For the first time in two years you didn’t see the love he held for you pooling from his eyes. You didn’t know this man. You certainly didn’t love him. 

And as much as you wanted to help him you knew you couldn’t. He was passed help. And you would only be putting yourself in danger if you stayed. 

“If you leave,” your voice cracked with emotion. “I won’t be here when you come back. If you choose drugs over me then we’re over, Spencer.” 

There hadn’t been even a hint of hesitation when he’d suddenly let you go, stepped back, shrugged and spoke again. 

“You can see yourself out then.” 

And that was the last time you saw him until, a little over a year later, when you received a phone call from the one person you never expected to hear from again. 

***

Spencer Reid was not a perfect person. There were many, many things he wished he hadn’t done. 

But taking the vials of dilaudid from the dead man who’d held him hostage was probably one of the dumbest. 

He tried to get sober but the longer he used the harder he found it to quit. For a time he managed to hide his addiction from everyone, you included, but it quickly spiralled out of control. 

Had he been in his right mind, there was no way he would have put anything above his relationship with you. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, he still remembered meeting you like it was yesterday. 

You were a student in Gideon’s class around his age and on the occasions when he spent his time away from the BAU shadowing his mentor at the university, the two of you had grown close. 

You were his first relationship, he still even now didn’t really understand how someone like you was interested in someone like him. But he counted his lucky stars every single day. 

But his drug use got out of hand and really the moment you walked away should have been the wake up call he needed. Unfortunately it wasn’t. 

After that night he continued using for another ten months. That time passed him by slowly and rapidly in equal measure.

His whole life had fallen apart but all he could think of was his next hit. The small windows of clarity that came when he woke up in the morning didn’t last long as he often shot up before he’d even indulged in his first coffee of the day. 

Being sober terrified him. If he was sober too long then he would have time to reflect on all the things he’d lost and all the things Hankel had done to him. 

But then one morning before he stuck that needle in his vein, he ventured into his living room. 

It had been months since he’d seen this particular room through sober eyes and maybe that was why it had taken him so many months to notice it. 

It was innocuous in its smallness which paled in comparison to the rest of the room. Perhaps it was the sunlight seeping in between the cracks in the curtains, causing the item to shimmer that caught his attention. 

He padded towards it, the small glint of silver set against the dark wood floorboards just to the left of his front door. When he reached it, he fell to the ground and picked it up between his fingers. 

The cool metal of the chain tingled against his fingertips and he cradled the small pendant in his palm. 

On your first official date when Spencer had taken you for dinner you’d told him about your affinity for birds. 

Since you were a child you’d always loved the symbolism of them, of freedom and hope and new beginnings as well as courage and strength. 

He kept that piece of information with him and on your first anniversary he’d gifted you the small silver bird necklace he now held in his palm. 

You’d never once taken it off since he’d given it to you. And somehow it had remained on his floor for some ten months since the last time he’d seen you. 

And for whatever reason that necklace was like a beacon to Spencer. It was a sign that something needed to give, that he couldn’t carry on this way. 

So with the necklace still in hand he marched back to his bedroom and flushed the dilaudid down the toilet. 

Then he called JJ. 

Despite not talking to him in months she was more than happy to help her best friend. She checked him into the most elite rehab facility in the state, for which Rossi was footing the bill for. She stood by his side through the worst of the withdrawals, and he was visited by the members of his old team. 

During the course of getting sober he needed to make amends. One by one he did this, first with JJ and Rossi, then Penelope, Hotch and Emily and finally with Morgan. 

He was two months sober and still residing in the facility when he finally called you. 

He didn’t expect you to come, that’s not why he called. But you came anyway. 

He couldn’t even begin to comprehend how hard it was for you to visit him after a year had passed, after everything he’d put you through. 

Yet somehow you’d put your hurt and your anger aside simply because he’d called you. 

Sitting opposite you in the recreation room, all the things he’d thought he would say to you left his brain. Seeing you now the extent of the pain he’d caused you spread across your features and the only thought left in his head was how much he hated himself for putting you through that. 

He looked down at his hands, the paper beneath his fingers. The twelve steps. The twelve steps of which he was stuck right here on number nine. 

“The eighth step,” he whispered, tearing his eyes off the page to look back at you. “I managed the eighth. We made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. The, uh, making of the list was the easy part. It’s the part that comes next that’s really hard.” 

You stayed silent, lips drawn in a tight line and back rigid in your seat. You waited for him to continue. 

“Step nine is the part that requires us to actually reach out to the people we’ve hurt and make amends with them. They tell us that the only exception to this should be in cases where trying to make amends will do more harm than good. Opening up old wounds, causing more pain. 

It’s why it took two months of being here to reach out. I’m worried that in doing so I may have very well done more harm than good. But uh, selfishly, I needed to apologise to you face to face. And I’m sorry if that’s opened all those old wounds for you.” He ran his fingers over the paper by way of keeping himself tethered. 

“I got used to you being selfish.” You replied passive aggressively and Spencer knew he deserved that and a whole lot worse. 

“I don’t have any excuses, Y/N.” He sighed, rolling his lip between his teeth. “The drugs turned me into someone I don’t even recognise. They brought out the worst in me and you had to suffer the brunt of it and for that I am truly sorry.” 

“Is that it?” You shrugged, sliding your chair back. “You wanted to apologise. You said it, I heard it. Are we done here?” 

Spencer watched with a confused frown as you got to your feet, slinging your purse over your shoulder. He picked up the sheet of paper and stood too. 

“Uh, I mean I guess so?” He pulled a face. 

Why would you agree to see him and come all this way for only a few minutes? 

He watched you turn on your heels and start towards the door while he stood scratching at the back of his neck. He stuffed the wrinkled paper into his pocket and as he did so his fingers brushed against the metal chain. 

He freed it from his pocket and held it up so the pendant was in his eye line, the little swallow with its wings spread wide as if in mid flight. 

Freedom. Hope. New beginnings. Courage. Strength. 

Suddenly he took off after you, catching up to you in the gardens as you headed up the path towards the parking lot. 

“We’re not done.” He called after you. “At least I’m not.” 

Your back straightened and your pace slowed until you were at a halt. Cautiously you turned back to face him. 

“What else is there to say, Spencer?” You exhaled loudly. 

He walked closer to you and you noticed the necklace dangling from his fingers. 

“Y/N, I am sorry that I hurt you. It’s something I’ve had to live with every day I’ve been sober. I wish I could take away all the pain I put you through but I can’t. But there’s something I need you to hear.” He gently reached out for your hand, turning it over so your palm was up and he placed the little bird inside of it, coiling the chain into your hand. 

You wrapped your fingers around it once he let you go, holding it tight as if it might come alive and fly away. 

“What? What do you need me to hear?” Your eyes gave way to your sadness, to the pain he’d caused you. 

“It was finding that necklace that gave me the courage I needed to ask for help. It gave me the strength I needed to get sober. It offered me the hope that I could get clean this time, the freedom of knowing I didn’t need drugs to survive. It gave me a new beginning, it opened a door for me to start over.” He felt tears in his eyes and he fought to keep them at bay. 

“Spencer, I’m really pleased you finally got sober, I am. But let’s not pretend it had anything to do with me or that necklace.” You swallowed, holding the chain tighter still. 

“No one’s pretending. It shouldn’t have taken me as long as it did to realise and I can’t change that. But I found a reason for me to change who I used to be. A reason to start over new.” He sniffed, unable to stop reaching for you and cupping the side of your neck. “And the reason is you.” 

Your own tears overflowed, one’s you didn’t realise had worked their way to your eyes. You loosened the grip on the chain slightly, letting your fingers brush over the metal. 

“Spencer,” you mumbled. “I…”

“I know it’s probably too late for all of this and I can’t expect you to just forgive me overnight. But if you think there’s ever a chance you might one day forgive me…it would mean a lot of you would come and visit again.” He let his hand fall to his side again and took a step back. 

You wiped your tears with your free hand and nodded slowly. 

“Can I…I need to think about it, ok? I just need to process all of this.” 

“Of course, take all the time you need.” He nodded. 

You said your goodbyes after that and Spencer slumped back inside, convinced he would never see you again. 

One week later when he arrived in the rec room to meet his visitor, you were sitting at the table waiting for him, smiling softly in his direction. 

And taking in the small silver swallow in its rightful place hanging around your neck, Spencer felt hope. A new beginning unfolding right before his very eyes in the recreation room of his rehab facility. 

As he slid into the chair opposite you and you reached across the table, brushing your fingers over his knuckles, he knew he’d found his reason for being put on this Earth. 

And the reason was you. 

[hxney-lemcn]

Worth It — Alex [Adult World] x gn! reader

summary: reader is sick, so they have to call out. Only for Alex to surprise them and becomes their personal nurse for the day.

tw: mentions of insecurity, a bit of self neglect

a/n: I love his character so much. He's such a sweetheart and I needed to write some tooth rotting fluff. Also, I normally don't care for sick fics, I don't typically get sick so it's hard for me to relate to them, but this just hit me out of nowhere.

wc: 2k

Master List

The moment I woke up I realized there was no way in hell that I was going to work. My head held a dull throb and my body was aching even though I hadn’t moved a muscle. My throat was sore and I couldn’t stop sniffling. I blindly reached over to my night stand. Shuffling some random things I swore I was gonna put away but never got to, I finally found my phone. I let out a small groan as the light blinded me, making my head pound a little harder. 

I sleepily messed with my phone, barely registering what appeared on the screen. Before I could debate whether to text or call, my body already seemed to press the call button for my manager. I sleepily closed my eyes as the dial tone sounded through my ears. I willed myself not to fall asleep, blinking my eyes open. 

“Hello?” The soft tone of Alex’s voice greeted me. 

“Hey,” I rasped. Damn I sounded bad. I coughed, trying to clear my throat a bit.

“Are you okay?” He asked. I can practically see the concerned expression he held on his side of the phone.

“Mhm,” I murmured, fluttering my eyes like that would suddenly wake me up. “Well…I guess not. I’m not feeling too good, don’t think I’ll make it to my shift. Sorry.”

“No worries,” Alex replied. “Shit happens.”

“There aren’t many workers though,” I mumbled, fatigue taking over. “I don’t want you having a double shift.”

His soft laugh sounded through the phone, “Don’t worry, you were paired up with Amy. I’m sure she’ll understand. Not like a lot happens there anyways.”

Halfway between sleep and being awake, I managed a hum. It was silent for a minute, and I felt myself slipping deeper into the dark abyss of sleep, only to be violently pulled out of it by Alex’s voice once more.

“You…you got anyone to help you?” He asked. Even with my sick, fuzzy addled mind, I couldn’t help but melt at how much he seemed to care for me. Yet my fuzzy mind seemed to forget how Alex and Amy totally had the hots for each other.

“I’ll be fine,” I hummed. “Jus’ sleep it off like I normally do.”

“...okay,” He replied quietly, I almost missed it if it weren’t for the fact my head throbbed the longer the call went. “Get well soon.”

“You too,” I replied, confused at why Alex chuckled. A few beats too late, I realized my mistake, “I meant thanks.”

“See ya,” He chuckled lightly before the call hung up. I tried to put my phone back on the nightstand…only to hear it go crashing down to the ground. Without an ounce of care, I shuffled into a more comfortable position closing my eyes, finally falling into an okay sleep.

Having woken up a few hours later, I mindlessly scrolled through my social media. It was hard for me to concentrate on anything. My head felt only slightly better, the throbbing has dulled into an ache. I had only gotten up to go to the bathroom, the thought of making something to eat was too big to conquer in my current state. 

The sound of knocking at my door startled me, causing my body to tense, which in turn caused my body to ache. I let out a sigh, unsure who could possibly be visiting me right now. Then my phone buzzed, Alex’s cute smiling face popping up as his contact photo. 

I blinked a few times before answering, “Hello?”

“Hey!” Alex replied, sounding far too chipper for the day you’re having. “I thought I’d stop by to check up on you. Mind letting me in?”

Even though I wasn’t as tired as I was earlier, it still took me a second to comprehend what he said, “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

Hanging up quickly, I stumbled out of my bed, only to pause because the world started to spin around me. Whether it was the lack of food, low iron, or sickness, I wouldn’t know. Perhaps a combination of the three. After I knew I wouldn’t fall or pass out, I rushed to the front door. Alex smiled at me from the other side, his curly hair slightly ruffled, lifting a plastic bag up.

“Come on in,” I mumbled, holding the door open for him. After he entered, he placed the bag on my living room coffee table as I closed the door behind him. “What’cha got there?” I asked as I took a seat on the couch next to Alex. He made himself at home, but we’d hung out quite a bit outside of work.

“I got some cold medicine, cough drops, y’know, the works,” Alex shrugged. “Wasn’t sure what you had. I also got some candy.”

“Oh, Alex,” I crooned, softening at the information. “You really didn’t have to.” 

At that exact moment, like the world wanted to laugh at me, my stomach grumbled. I pressed a hand on it, glaring as it wouldn’t stop. 

“Did you eat anything?” Alex asked, his smile stayed, but the look in his eyes turned to one of concern.

I paused, hesitating to admit it, “Nooooo?” He gave me a disapproving stare and I rambled my excuses, “I was too tired, and okay…yeah and lazy. But I’m so sore, it hurts to exist.”

“You should’ve told me,” Alex replied with a small pout. Damn he was too cute for his own good. “I would’ve picked something up for you to eat.”

I rolled my eyes, leaning my head to rest on the couch, “I’m not gonna make you waste your money on me.”

“It’s not a waste,” Alex fought back, nudging me lightly. Even so it caused my body to flare up with an ache, a small ‘ow’ escaping me. “Sorry,” He winced. “But you gotta eat to get better. And knowing that you're better would never be a waste.” 

I felt warm, warmer than this current sickness was making me. Alex patted my knee on his way up off the couch. I watched as he made his way to my kitchen. I knew that he wouldn’t find much. I’ve been procrastinating on my much needed grocery run, and now it seems to be biting me in my ass. 

Fatigue creeped up on me once more, and I decided to lay down on the couch. I turned the tv on, switching it to something to try and keep me entertained. My eyelids felt so heavy, but my hunger started to overpower it. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of pans in my kitchen, Alex must’ve found something to make. 

I wasn’t sure how many minutes passed until Alex made his way back into the living room. He placed a steaming hot bowl on the coffee table in front of me, and then started rustling through the bag. 

“Once you get that food in your system I’ll give you a dose of this dayquil,” Alex motioned to the bottle he held. 

I let out a long whine, “Do I have to?” 

He raised his eyebrow and I sighed. Grabbing the bowl, I looked down in surprise, “Chicken noodle soup? I didn’t realize I had any.”

“Lucky find,” Alex smiled, plopping down into the loveseat next to the couch.

“When’s your shift?” I asked before starting to eat the soup. Must I say, it was doing a number on my throat. I took a second to just drink the broth, reveling in the comfort my throat felt. 

“I’m supposed to close,” Alex sighed, kicking his feet up. I let out a sound of disapproval. “I might just tell Amy to close early though.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Why?”

Alex blinked at me, giving me a look like I should already know, “To make sure you don’t rot here.”

“I’m not a kid,” I grumbled, plopping the bowl back on the coffee table.

Alex just shrugged, that boyish grin tugging on his lips, “You just ate for the first time today and it's noon.”

“That's called bad self care,” I pointed at him. 

“Exactly,” He nodded, soft curls bouncing with the motion. “Which means I’ll be here to take care of you.”

I opened my mouth, trying to think of a rebuttal, but the thought of Alex taking care of me somewhat short circuited my brain. No ones ever really taken care of me like that. Especially not since I moved out of my parents place. But even when I was an older teen, my mom just kinda expected me to care for myself. Told me where to find the medicine and left it at that. So for him to be so willing to take care of me, and admit to it so casually, it really threw me for a loop. 

“But close is when it gets busy,” I muttered back feebly as Alex poured me some dayquil. 

He looked at me with amused eyes handing the cup over, “I think you’re a bit more important.” 

I felt butterflies flow through my stomach, and I started to drink the vile liquid. Alex seemed to falter, losing a bit of confidence, “I mean…if you don’t want me to I can head out.”

I scrunched my face as I finally finished the dayquil and shook my head. I sat up fully on the couch, looking off to the side, “I just don’t want to waste your time.”

I missed the way Alex frowned, eyebrows furrowing. I didn’t realize he sat next to me until the couch dipped, and we sat thigh to thigh. I looked over to him, unsure if I may have gone too far with my self depreciation. I know it can be a drain on people, but most of the time I don’t even realize I do it.

“Hey, look at me,” Alex murmured. My throat tightened and I turned away, coughing into my elbow. 

“I’m gonna get you sick,” I commented, scooching away slightly. Only for Alex to close the gap again.

“I don’t care,” He dismissed. “You’re important to me. Nothing I do for you would be a waste because it’s for you.”

My heart felt like it was going into overdrive. My eyes danced over his face, meeting his dark brown eyes which held such a sincere burning passion it was like I could feel gentle flames lick at my skin. Looking down, my eyes landed on the small freckle on the end of his nose which I always found incredibly cute. Finally ending at his pink lips. I felt myself flush as I realized I was staring at his lips for a little too long before rushing to meet his eyes once more.

“You keep saying stuff like that and I might just fall for you,” I muttered, my brain feeling fuzzy once more. A mix of love sickness and regular sickness. 

Alex hummed, a bashful smile forming on his face, “I’m just sayin’ the truth. But if that's the outcome I won’t complain.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore just how close we were to each other, “You’re gonna get my hopes up that I have a chance.” I said it before I could stop myself. I’ve never been so forward before. Stupid sickness, it was making it hard for me to think, to keep a filter. Stuff I typically keep to myself spilling out through insecure words. 

“With you on my mind 24/7, I think you’ve got the biggest chance,” Alex replied boldly, causing my neck to snap to him. I stared at him in shock, mouth slightly open, unsure how to reply. “N-not in a creepy way though.”

“I-is this a confession?” I asked, letting out a small cough. 

“...only if it doesn’t ruin things between us,” He replied hesitantly, his vulnerability clearly shown. 

I smiled bashfully, not believing that this was actually happening. I looked down at my hands as I fidgeted with them, “Well, it just so happens that I think about you 24/7 too. Not in a weird way.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, our eyes meeting in joy. Reaching over, he grabbed one of my hands with his, and I couldn’t help but notice how his hand seemed to engulf mine. Suddenly, he kissed my cheek.

“You’re seriously gonna get yourself sick,” I grumbled, trying to mask how much he really affected me. 

“You’re worth it.”

[arviyya]

I don't have any sins of my own, but I need to see a ship use the Imperius spell during sex 😔 Please?

It's criminal how long it took me to get to this (I've been drowning at work 😭) I also got carried away so it took me extra long.

Anywayyyyy

I gotta say, I love playing with the unforgivables during sex. In my long fic Into the Abyss, we are about to get to Sirius/Barty fucking around with using the unforgivables and experimenting, and we can only imagine where that's headed.

So, here's some rosekiller smut. (tws: cnc, inappropriate use of unforgivables, implied homophobia)

"Ev," Barty clutches tighter to the collar of Evan's shirt. "Please."

Evan sighs, hardly able to resist those green eyes. He leans closer so their lips are barely touching, hot breath mingling between them.

"Fine. But only because you asked nicely."

Evan pushes Barty away from him, pressing him to the bed with one hand on his chest. They're still fully clothed - but that was on request from Barty, a request that everything, everything, happen as a result of the spell.

The sound of a deep sigh escapes Barty's lips as Evan raises his wand. Barty has always liked the feeling of the Imperius curse. After his father used it to try and make him straight he struggled with a sense of self for a long time. That is, until Evan and him were discussing their upbringing late one evening, and Barty finally told him the truth of how his father treated him.

It wasn't deep into the talk that it occurred to both of them that they should try the curses their family used on them. Evan, the Cruciatus Curse, and Barty, the Imperius Curse. They never did talk about why they thought it would help, and they never talked about why it ended up working. It just did.

If Evan had to guess, he would say that through these curses they found the power that had been stolen from them. But that's just a guess.

Something about it feels so good. It's like the magic that courses through their veins is a sweet molasses bringing satisfaction to a desire they stopped denying.

But that's only when they're casting.

Being the subject of the curse, well... the reason behind their desire for that is obvious. For Barty - it takes away the thoughts that burden him even when he's having sex. For Evan - it brings forth the senses he is constantly smothering from years of being told to hide the pain.

Barty was never allowed the autonomy to let go of his thoughts, and Evan was never allowed the autonomy of leaning into the pain. But with each other, they are.

"Are you sure?"

"You know what I like."

"if you say so. Imperio."

Evan holds the spell, Barty's mind suddenly empty, his body pliant. Pleasure sits clear in his iris', an obvious sign that despite the emptiness, he's surely enjoying himself.

Take it off. Evan thinks.

Barty doesn't hesitate, and before he can lose it all quickly, Evan adds,

slowly.

Barty's fingers curl around the bottom edge of his shirt, and Evan watches as he carefully peels it upwards, revealing his toned and slender abdomen, his pink and risen nipples, his defined collarbone. Evan already wants to put his mouth on every inch, tasting every bit of Barty.

He isn't usually so sexually driven, Evan. With most people he couldn't care less about these details, his body never usually responding. But with Barty...

It just feels different. In fact, with Barty, Evan feels irreparable longing. He's positively insatiable.

Now the pants. Slowly.

Evan can feel the anticipation in Barty's chest, the way his body vibrates with need as he's forced to take it all much slower than he usually does. They've practiced the spell enough to where Evan has learned to bring Barty the emptiness in his head that he desires, without taking the feelings from his chest. He feels it all, and Evan can feel it too. All of Barty's love for him, his desire, every touch to his skin, and eventually his orgasm. Evan will feel it all through him, and it adds to his own intensity, his own need.

Barty slowly pulls his pants down, kicking them away.

Next is his boxers.

Evan tells him through his thoughts to remove those as slow as he can. Barty obeys. his fingers carefully pushing them down his body, his cock already full, pressure obvious against the fabric.

As soon as the fabric moves past his cock, it releases and immediately presses against his abdomen, hard and almost painfully aching.

He kicks his boxers to the side and Evan stares down at him, naked and ready while Evan himself is still fully clothed. There's something about the vulnerability that Barty seems to like.

Evan leans down and glides his fingertips over Barty's cheek, moving them down his neck and then his abdomen, stopping just short of his cock. It twitches, and Barty's eyes darken but otherwise he doesn't react. Evan hasn't told him he's allowed to.

He leans down, Barty like his own personal doll, lying there for the taking, and kisses his neck. He sucks without mercy, suddenly ravenous upon his pale skin. And still, Barty doesn't move a single inch.

Evan isn't ready for him to move yet.

But he is ready for,

you can make noises, my love.

It's barely a second before moans and deep, uneven breaths are spilling from Barty's lips. Evan is sure that he'd be squirming too if he could, but he lays still, Evan's lips finding Barty's so he can taste every sound. Their kiss deepens, Evan's tongue seeking the back of his throat. He wants him so bad, but the point of this is to take it slow, and he has to remind himself of that.

Evan breaks from the kiss and moves down his body, lips hovering over his leaking and twitching cock that is practically begging for relief.

Evan will give him some relief. But true relief won't come for a while.

He breathes on it first, teasing by blowing on it from tip, to his balls, and even his hole that already looks ready for him.

Finally, Evan takes the tip into his mouth and runs his tongue the whole length before swallowing it whole. Barty gets louder, and louder, compensating his inability to move with noises and Evan loves it. Like music to his ears.

The taste of Barty runs over his tongue and Evan's eyes roll just from the sensation alone, his own cock starting to fill. A part of him wants to jump straight to the finale but no. He has more patience than that.

Spread your legs.

Barty doesn't hesitate, doing what Evan asks him to do. Evan, taking the opportunity moves down from his cock, taking a moment to suck each ball as he goes before reaching his hole. It's puckering, asking for attention and Evan is there to give it.

He gently rolls his tongue around the outside, and Barty let's out a choked sigh that tells Evan he wants more, more, more.

"Okay, love, I hear you."

Evan pushes his tongue inside before licking over the top of it again. Every noise Barty makes sounds garbled with the desire to speak but that's not what Evan told him he could do, is it?

After a few minutes of this, Evan can feel his own cock pressing against the fabric of his clothing, aching for friction. Sometimes it's difficult to control himself, difficult to resist the urges because it only happens with Barty.

When he pulls his mouth away, he runs a single finger over his hole, pushing in just to a single knuckle. He watches as Barty's eyes widen, his brows pinching in pleasure as Evan crooks his finger just enough to hit the spot that always makes Barty preen. Right now, he can't. So it's even more satisfying to hear the noises spill from him.

"Like that, baby?" Evan practically growls, his voice low and husky.

Barty can't answer, which makes it even better.

"The most perfect little slut there ever was," Evan whispers, "So perfect, just for me. You like being used, don't you?"

Again he can't answer, and Evan simply smirks at him.

Evan stands up, gazing down at him with a tilted head, admiring him like a canvas. Him and his spread legs, fluttering hole, and dripping cock.

"Get on your knees."

Barty slides off the bed and obeys as Evan slides his own pants down leaving him bare. His rock hard cock right in Barty's face.

"Suck."

Barty immediately takes him in hand and swallows him down without finesse. Evan gasps, eyes rolling back as he focuses on the sensations. It sends shivers down his body in ripples, and his whole body, his very skin vibrates with trembles at the pleasure.

Tears slide down Barty's face as he gags on Evan's cock which is shoved down his throat. Evan gazes down at him, a look of utter devotion on his face. He threads his fingers in Barty's messy dark hair and grips tight, holding him in place while Evan fucks his throat.

Pleasure builds in his abdomen so he pulls out.

"Stop."

Barty does, and stares up at him, drool on his chin, tears running down his cheeks.

"On the bed, love. Spread your legs."

Barty obeys, a look of desperation in his eyes.

"You're so ready for me, aren't you, baby?"

Barty doesn't answer, but Evan knows by the way his chest fills with affection that it's a yes.

Evan brings his wand to Barty's hole and whispers the incantation to prep him. He whines, and Evan's brows knit at the sound. As much as Evan tries to keep his composure, Barty really has the power to rip him apart at the seams.

Evan guides himself into Barty, slowly but surely, whines and moans filling the air between them. As soon as Evan bottoms out they both gasp, and suddenly Evan is filled with an insatiable desire. He grips Barty at the hips, his fingers pressing purple bruises into his skin and pulls him even closer so he can lean over him, Evan's lips finding their way from his neck to his collar bone sucking bruises as he goes.

Meanwhile, he slides himself in and out, every thrust sending pleasure through his body and to his fingertips and toes. He can feel Barty's pleasure too, holding the spell on him wandlessly, his every rush of affection and love almost tangible.

There are several moments where they exist in a tumultuous storm of intensity, sweat on both their bodies, tears in Barty's eyes, Evan's brows pressed together, his tongue rolling over one of Barty's nipples as he thumbs the other. His other hand tugs as Barty's hair which elicits a rather vulgar whine from him. He's still so pliant beneath him, moving wherever Evan moves him like a doll ready to be toyed with.

At some point Evan instructs him to pleasure himself, to stroke his own cock and he does, eyes rolling back. Evan also instructs him not to come until he tells him to which brings even more ridiculously hot whines into the air.

Evan moves up to his mouth to taste them, dropping his own hand down to Barty's cock and whispering an order for him to stop so Evan can take over.

"You want to come don't you?" Evan asks in a whisper as he presses his thumb to Barty's tip, using the cum to slide up and down his cock. "You can answer, love."

"Yes, please, Evan, fuck, please-I'll be so good, please let me-" his voice breaks off into another moan. Sweat drips down his forehead and chest, and Evan knows his spell may not even be strong enough to stop him.

So Evan stops.

He stops thrusting, stops moving his hand, stops kissing.

A look of panic flashes in Barty's eyes, and Evan can practically hear him begging already.

He wraps his arms around Barty and picks him up, still inside him and walks them over to the nearest wall where he pushes Barty against it. He doesn't move yet, but kisses him instead, attempting to stave off his own intense need to come.

It doesn't help much, but it does help enough, his cock still twitching inside him.

"I love you so much, Evan whispers against Barty's lips and Barty simply sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he leans limp against the wall. Evan has his arms wrapped around him, holding him so tenderly, and he can tell Barty loves it by the flutters of his heart.

"Almost there, baby," Evan whispers and whines, "You can come soon, almost there."

Evan grabs one of Barty's wrists and presses it against the wall, holding it back as if Barty might resist even though he can't. Evan doesn't know why, but he loves having this power over Barty. He loves moving him and manipulating his body to his hearts content, he loves being in his head. He thinks it's the lack of autonomy he had as a kid, but he doesn't put too much thought to it.

Before he knows it, he moving in and out of Barty again, increasing his speed and Barty looks utterly debauched. His cheeks that pretty red color they get when he has lost all witts about him, every bit of him at Evan's mercy. Evan can tell that Barty is breaking through the spell, through no effort or fault, by the way his thighs are trembling, and his toes are curling.

Evan's mouth breaks into a grin as he goes in to kiss Barty again, pleased to see that the intensity of his pleasure is enough to push through the curse.

With more urgency, Evan strokes Barty's cock again in time with each thrust, knowing that he's hitting all of his sweet spots. With his mouth over Barty's nipple, he whispers, "Okay, baby. You can come, but don't move otherwise."

He loves watching Barty struggle against the curse as he comes. He loves watching his arms twitch, his whole body vibrate, as the desire to writhe under the sensory overload takes him over.

His toes curl and his head pushes back against the wall as he spills over Evan's hand, his arms hanging limp other than twitching at his side, clenching around his cock.

That is all Evan needs before he too is coming into Barty. Evan loses all sense of time as his own orgasm drags out, Barty still riding after shocks. Evan buries his face in Barty's neck, inhaling his scent before digging his teeth into skin as he breathes heavily through it all.

Pleasure sinks in around them intermingling with the love in their chests. It's momentous, just as it always is. Casual has never been something they understand. But that's okay, Evan hates casual anyway. Everything is always intense with him.

Somewhere in the midst of his own orgasm, the curse had wore off. Barty is now kissing his collarbone, sucking, biting, his hands drawing red lines down Evan's back under his shirt which he never took off. Whispers fill Evan's ear between the kisses.

Whispers of love.

Carefully, still lightheaded and completely dismantled, Evan carries Barty over to the bed and they fall into it together as a tangled of limbs. At some point one of their waves their wand to clean the mess and kill the lights.

All Evan knows before he falls asleep is the sound of heavy breaths slowing, the feel of kisses on his face, the sensation of warmth around his spent cock. Still inside Barty, both comfortable and happy with it there.

Both satisfied and so deeply in love.

Welp that was fun. Didn't expect so many kinks to make an appearance but that's that. Enjoy :]

[kkumawrites]

Pang! Part Fourteen: heart to heart previous | next

Word Count: 669 CW: talks about mental illness/depression

The sky is surprisingly clear at this late hour, stars sparkling up above you and it reminds you of the ocean - the universe vast and deep, not unlike the abyss below the sea that remains unexplored, one of the few reasons you found yourself drawn to the ocean blues. You find your mind wandering to nowhere in particular when Chan slides up next to you, neither of you saying a word. It’s rather nice, a comforting silence falling between the two of you as you gaze up at the neverending sight of stars. 

It’s uncertain to you how long you’ve been sitting there like that but the slight breeze that comes every now and then causes you to curl up further into your hoodie in a search for some warmth. Still, you don’t complain or say anything, instead letting him decide when he’s ready to say something. 

Chan’s not dumb and he knows you’re giving him time, the space to gather the courage to let him know what’s on his mind, it’s moments like this where he really appreciates you - willing to sit with him on a nippy spring night in pure silence. Still, he doesn’t want to keep you out too late, so he speaks up. “I’m jealous of you,” Chan starts out and his words make you turn to him so fast you worry you might have given yourself whiplash from the sheer force. “I just think it’s admirable? How happy-go-lucky you can be even during stressful times. Like I don’t think I’ve ever seen you upset and I just wish I could be happy? I feel like I should be happy? But I feel like I’m not,” 

You’re staring at him in disbelief, blinking as your mind rattles in your brain and before you can stop yourself you’re laughing. Just a small giggle but it still has Chan looking at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m not laughing at you! I swear! I just- It’s kinda funny to me? Is all,” This time he’s the one blinking over at you in confusion. “Ok sorry. Can I be honest?” He nods. “It’s all fake,” You pause. “Ok wait, that sounds bad, let me rephrase,�� You ramble just slightly, suddenly feeling nervous as you wring your fingers together. “I- struggle a lot with depression. For a long time I felt like I was alone and isolated,  so when I started college here it was a chance to reinvent myself but I still struggled with making friends. I met Soonyoung during that big old club day when he tried to recruit me to the dance team, even though I have two left feet. Though I didn’t join the dance team, him and Sua pretty much adopted me that day. It’s just easier…to pretend to be ok and happy, even when i’m not. Especially when i’m not. But what I’m trying to say is everyone’s dealing with something, and some people hide it better. You’re not alone Chan and you never will be when you have such wonderful friends surrounding you. 

He’s silent as he takes in your words, the two of them staring at each other as a more awkward silence fills the spaces in between you. 

“Can I hug you?”

Well it’s certainly not what you were expecting him to say, and you’re sure he realizes just what you’re thinking as you look at him with wide eyes. 

“Sorry- I’m just. Not good with words like you are so,” You let out a small laugh before nodding your head, opening up your arms. And when Chan slides into your embrace, it feels like two puzzle pieces clicking together. You can’t explain it, it just feels. . .right and you hate that you feel this way. 

So you do what you do best, pushing down your feelings and squeezing the male softly, no more words need to be said between the two of you as you embrace under the night sky. Just two friends.

[jade-len]

no but seriously though, let's say that you've never read svsss and proceeded to transmigrate into pidw as either sqq or one of bunhe's random npc shixiong/shijie. is there anything you guys would've done different from sy?

personally, if i knew that bunhe was going to literally become the embodiment of toxic masculinity, a dictator who collects women as if they were some coins, and a man who's overall just the product of the abuse cycle... i would try my damn hardest to prevent any of that lol.

but, for me, i would not promote a harem or bingge's fucked way of thinking. even if i just transmigrated as some other disciple, there would be absolutely no way i would let bunhe turn into bingge (also because.. why would i let the entire sect continue to abuse him). and, probably not even really bingmei as well? i don't know, i would obviously still protect and befriend him, but i think i'd be much more stricter about teaching bingbing morals, good ethics, mental health, all that jazz.

like, we live in a time where we actually know better about that stuff! might as well pass down our 20th century knowledge, y'know? i know sqq loves binghe the way he is, but if i read pidw i would most definitely not like bingge's character due to airplane's wack writing

(cut under is just me rambling lol)

but if i were to transmigrate as sqq... honestly, it would go two ways for me. genuinely, i think (after the ooc function) i'd just run away from the sect and take on a completely new appearance using magic airplane plant bullshit, find binghe (because i know damn well the abuse wouldn't just stop there.. also because the system will probably still demand for me to be some sort of mentor), then be like that one cool teacher or older brother figure? i'd definitely be more of that instead of a proper shizun. idk, i'd just treat binghe as if he were my little brother

or, since binghe is still bunhe and thus hasn't darkened at all, i would maybe pull him to the side and say that i'm actually not his shizun. probably claim that the real sqq hated teaching (which was why he abused binghe) and kids, so he made a doppelgänger (me) to replace him as he goes to buttfuck anywhere else from here. since i would know of luo binghe's loyalty at least from never having read svsss, i'd tell him to respect sqq's wishes

this is so that binghe would at least know that i'm not shen qingqiu. because remember, in this alternate timeline i only know pidw instead and don't know if binghe would forgive sqq for all the abuse he suffered, so don't blame me for going that route! again, i know that the system would still probably require me to be his mentor for the abyss arc, so i'd have to still stay as bingbing pretty much gets an entirely new person as his shizun. but hey, would he complain? i don't abuse kids and thus won't ever hurt him. plus, i don't think i'd be able to constantly put on a mask and pretend to be sqq, the least i could do is have luo binghe know the "truth"?

look i know that that probably breaks the system's rules, BUT remember, you can negotiate with the system. "well, i'm not revealing my identity as a transmigrator or the system? i'm technically still 'shen qingqiu', im supposed to be a doppelgänger, a copy! remember? so i'm technically him." also, i don't remember any rules about running away and such for the new identity plan, just that binghe still needs a mentor to push him off. i feel like with enough negotiation, i would be able to do this (also yes i know that i wouldn't know about the system not being strict, but i feel like i would figure it out pretty quickly, considering that i bitch a bit and will find a way to back up my argument if I'm really insistent)

speaking about the endless abyss!! yeah no i don't think i would be able to push him off. i think i'd make it abundantly clear that i don't want to, but i'm cursed to "fulfill" a prophecy or something.. either through a bunch of metaphors and stories. or, since system never said i had to full on betray him, just that he needed to be in there, i'd kinda just. tell him to jump and that there was nothing else i could teach him or something. i'll be waiting, bingbing!

and finally: what about if binghe fell in love? ...honestly don't know what i'd do with that. i feel like i'd be more gege material if anything since i'm not super different in age with bingbing, so i'd most likely see him as a friend or younger brother instead of a disciple (and i'd definitely treat him like one too. sorry, i just don't think i'd be able to take my job as a teacher or anything seriously, nonetheless actually teach teach. mentor-ish or bro figure, yeah i could do that. responsible teacher? okay, now you're asking for too much). so maybe? maybe not? i don't even know if i meet binghe's standards (which, admittedly, is kinda low but you get my point). i'd probably wanna kiss liu qingge though lol

[arkhamabyssfiles]

Arkham Abyss Files: Nightwing_Memory_02 Loading FILE... RICHARD GRAYSON: AGE, 20 JASON TODD: AGE, 16 HELENA WAYNE: AGE, 15 BRUCE WAYEN: AGE, 37

Considering all, things had gone better than he’d expected. It had been just a couple of barbs thrown each other’s way and then some cold stare-down –which he had lost, but who could win those against Batman? Dick shook his head, and as he pushed open the bookcase door into the library the first sound to meet his ears was amusing if not somewhat perturbing. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re touching?”

“Oh~ Don’t be shy,” He recognized Helena’s teasing tone, and he worried about what he was listening to.

“Who’s sh—? Hey! Hands off, Princess.”

Dick finished opening the door to find the boy who had taken—being given without permission– Robin’s mantle, with his hand against Helena’s face while she had half crawled over his legs and was grabbing at his shoulders, while both a struggling tangle on the couch. So this is how they met. It could’ve been less awkward.

Dick cleared his throat and both teenagers turned to him, one gaze filled with surprise then embarrassment, and the other happy and challenging.

“Hey Richard,” So it was still Richard, huh? “Care to give me a hand here?”

“I don’t know who I’m supposed to give a hand to…” Dick trailed off.

“To you’re darling little sister of course,” Helena said batting her eyelashes. 

“No sister of mine would call me Richard,” He shot back. Dick wasn’t insulted, not at all.

“Don’t be a baby, Richard. I told you I’d call you that for a year if you left—plus two months for every month you don’t come to visit,” She said biting. She was angry all right at him yet. Even if it was superficial and he knew in no time she’d be hugging and joking with him.

Jason, meanwhile, had tried to use Helena’s distraction to try and escape from her grip. Dick pitied him, he didn’t know her well enough yet to know once she got her clutches on her prey she didn’t let go in any circumstances.

“Where are you going, Jason?” She turned her scary smile to the blushing and completely awkward teenager. “I still have to pull those metal splinters from your neck.”

“Alfred can do it,” Jason said trying and failing to get her hands off him. Dick was sure that Jason could easily shove her away if he used his full strength, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He was a softy—at least for her. And he could see and understand his discomfort at having a girl like Helena all over him and touching his neck.

“Alfred is busy making dinner, and I have better eyesight than him. Or would you rather have Dad do it?” Helena shot back.

And Dick just couldn’t resist it, “Well, well. Isn’t it nice to be young and in love…”

“It’s not–! We’re not—!” Jason was the first to burst while Helena coughed and smiled, but Dick had a sharp eye and he saw the faintest of raise of color in her face… Oh, poor kid, he had no chance against her.

Dick laughed, he’d thought he’d have to make an effort not to dislike Jason, but so far he was having the opposite reaction. He was a good kid, wasn’t he? Maybe he should’ve come sooner and met him instead of letting the anger towards Bruce’s unilateral decision make him stay away for months…

“Well, are you helping or not?” Helena asked raising an eyebrow at him.

Dick raised his hands and saw Jason’s pleading look, then at Helena. An idea formed in his mind—it was not payback for calling him Richard, not at all.

“All right, I’ll hold him,” He said, walking towards them. He saw Helena’s triumphant look and Jason’s resigned one. Dick sent Jason a look once he was behind Helena’s field of vision and winked. Immediately the teenager’s expression changed from resigned misery and awkwardness to relief and gratefulness.

Dick quickly put his arms around Helena’s middle and yanked her off of him. She gasped and while she exclaimed, “Treason!” Dick said between laughs, “Run! Run Forest!”

And Jason didn’t have to be told twice, he sprang up over the couch and ran through the west door of the library and towards the kitchen, the only safe haven in this house guarded and maintained by Alfred. The old butled would have the splinters out in no time. 

Helena meanwhile kept flailing and trying to have his hold removed, then exhausted herself after a few expletives and minutes later. He hung her then over his shoulder and threatened, “Now call me ‘dear big brother’.”

“Go kiss some pig's ass, Richard,” She growled from his shoulder.

Dick laughed and started spinning, she screamed. He’d found early on she wasn’t good with spinning since that incident with the spinning teacups ride at Metropolis Amusement Park. He stopped, “How about now?”

“Richard. Richard. RICHARD!”

Dick just started spinning again. By far, this wasn’t the first time they’d been in this situation, so he knew just the right amount to not have her throwing up all over the carpet. “You know, I’d forgotten how stubborn you are when angry at someone.”

A sick groan answered him, then her weak reply, “I’ll die on this hill.”

Then the door of the Batcave opened and out stepped Bruce. He stared at them blankly and there was a moment of silence.

“Dad…Help…” Helena croaked.

“Don’t be late for dinner,” He said and walked away.

Dick grinned widely, “Welp, it’s just me and you, now Lena.”

“Treason…I hate you all… Richard…” Those were her last words. He started spinning again. He'd be sure to put them on her tombstone.

END OF MEMORY... For more FILES check previous entries...

[strawberrycrushes]

Memories Of a Distant Time

A/N: Jean before she became the acting grandmaster should get written about more. That’s actually true for most characters and their pre-game appearance lives.

Hearty laughter fills the air and the entire tavern seems enthralled by Varka’s story, his natural charisma pulling everyone in.

You bring your drink to your lips as you listen in, occasionally interrupting to correct him on a few details. Spicing up the story regarding the expedition was a good way to hold in the crowd’s attention, you had to agree, but that being said you didn’t want it to be just plain incorrect either, and Varka’s tendency to do exactly that was increasing with every drink he had.

You shake your head. “That’s not what happened at all. Marianne sprained her ankle well before the abyss order attack. That’s why she wasn’t even there actually.” You corrected him again with a pointed look.

“No, no. I’m quite sure she was, that’s why we went back after all. To go get her?” Varka waved you off. You rolled your eyes “You do realise that makes you sound like a horrible boss for leaving her there in the first place, right? Whatever, at least it’s better than letting them know that the ACTUAL reason we went back was just because you left your mission report behind and didn’t want to rewrite it.” you smirked at him.

The crowd laughed as the both of you bickered over the details.

“Come on now Captain, don’t be such a bore. You’re making it sound like any other expedition.”

“It WAS just like any other expedition.” You pointed out, “At least it was supposed to be until the Abyss decided to pop in and say hi. Archons above that was a headache. You know what? At this point just let me tell the story why don’t you? I’m sure I could put a better spin on it, and on your incompetence, than you could.”

Varka put his hand over his heart and sighed over-dramatically “You truly wound me, Captain but you should cut me some slack. I mean, you said it yourself didn’t you? The abyss order attack was incredibly unexpected. I thought I handled it pretty well for how little experience we have in dealing with them.” Varka took another sip from his glass, “And besides Captain, your own feats of strength were quite flattering in my story. So that does beg the question I suppose… Are you only saying this because of a false sense of modesty, a heroic desire for a genuine re-telling—or just the need to ruin my story?”

“Well...if you actually have to wonder that then maybe you’re not as bright as you make yourself out to be.” You laughed along with the tavern as Varka prepared to bite back with a jab of his own. It was clear to anyone with two working eyes that the two of you got along really well.

Painfully so, Jean thought.

She sighed sulking off to some desolate corner of the tavern, feeling her stomach twist into ugly knots as familiar feelings of jealousy and defeat crept up inside her. Wolvendom was supposed to be her chance. She was supposed to walk up to you and start a conversation—You know, like any normal person would—Unfortunately for Jean, she found it very difficult to operate as normal where you were involved resulting in her barely even getting a sentence in let alone an actual conversation. She felt like an idiot, especially since you did try. You talked to her, and all Jean could give you was either a stiff nod or an awkward attempt at an answer. Neither of which made for good conversation starters as it turned out.

She buried her face into her hands and groaned. She probably looked like an idiot to you too. “Way to make a first impression Jean.” She grumbled to herself as she looked back up to see you and Varka still joking along with each other. Maybe it was the alcohol still in her system but she felt pathetic. Years of pining after you to no avail and every fault of her own, she felt like the love stories of her novels, no, the love stories anyone her age got to enjoy, were simply not meant for her. Like her mother was right.

“My my, doesn’t somebody look like poster child of loneliness. Let me guess, you couldn’t talk to your crush the entire expedition and now you’re feeling depressed. Am I correct?” She heard a suave voice snicker behind her and she didn’t need to look back to see who it was.

“Go away Kaeya,” she grumbled, “let me be depressed in peace.”

“As much as I’d love to do that as your friend, and the only person between us that actually knows how to communicate, I thought I should act on my duty to help you, say….basically get laid.” Kaeya gave her a mischievous grin and Jean looked at him cautiously. “Kaeya. What did you do?” She asked him, extremely concerned for her safety.

“Don’t even worry about it. Hey, here’s an idea, why don’t you go out and take a walk, hm? I’m sure some fresh air would make for the perfect backdrop to your miseries.” Kaeya dismissively said as he dragged Jean by her hand towards the balcony, not even giving her a chance to reply.

“H-hey wait a minute, what did you-!”

Slam

Kaeya shut the balcony door, locking it. “Kaeya? Kaeya!” She struggled futilely with the door handle “Open the damn door Kaeya or I swear to Barbatoes I’m telling Master Crepus about this.” Her threats were met with laughter. Not laughter from behind the door, no, but from-

She turned around with a flushed face to see you giggling into your hand. “C-captain?”

“Sorry sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your little…tangent?” You tease and if it was possible, Jean turned a shade redder.

“W-well. That was” Damn it Kaeya really?

“Miss Jean. Please, calm down. Kaeya told me you wanted to talk?”

DAMN IT KAEYA REALLY?

Jean gnawed at her lips. She was going to have to kill Kaeya later but first she needed to diffuse the situation at hand. There was no way she was anywhere NEAR prepared for a situation like this. "That.." She subtly gulped, "Well...you know how he can be like, I'm sure he just thought it was an amusing prank. Or something." She mumbled looking down at her feet as if they were the most interesting things in the world.

"Is that so?"

She nodded, "I have nothing I wish to say to you Captain. I assure you."

For some reason, a quiet descended on you two and Jean became nervous. Did you not believe her? Or maybe you did and are just annoyed that you’re locked out here with her for no reason now. Or-

"Jean?” You spoke out, sounding strangely downcast.

Jean looked up. You were leaning against the railing now, looking…dejected?

“Yes Captain?”

You open your mouth, close it again awkwardly, then try again. “Do you hate me?”

Jean's eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”

You look back at her. "Every time I try to talk to you, you avoid me. If try to make conversation, you’ll give me standoffish looks or ‘assure me’ that you have 'nothing you wish to say to me'.”

You frown and Jean winces. Did she really sound like that? Wait-HAS SHE BEEN SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT THE ENTIRE TIME?

“Yes.” You deadpan.

“Ah, did I-?”

“Yes you did say that out loud.” You give a slight smile and some humour returns to your voice. Something Jean is very thankful for.

“Jean.” You say, “I’m going to be honest, I really admire you. You’re such a hardworking person, more so than anyone I’ve ever met before. You’re honest too, and kind. You care so much for the people around you that you forget to care for yourself alongside. When I see you, it gives me the motivation to work hard too.” You pump your fist, seeming uncharacteristically shy. “I guess you could say that I’m where I am now because of you.”

Jean’s mouth gapes and you laugh. “Too much? It’s true though, I’m not sure you remember but we met once when we were kids? I was training—nothing formal, just by myself—you saw me and came over, said I was holding my stance incorrectly. You taught me that day, for no other reason but the fact that I looked like I needed help. I thought it was absurd, but I’ve admired you since then.” You smile.

"I-" She tries to open her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. How was she even supposed to reply to that!? She was sure her face was on fire with how hot it felt. Still, she had to try. She messed things up before, but that didn’t mean she could set things right. You were trying. She’d try too.

“I…admire you a lot too.” You looked at her with a mix of surprise and curiosity on your face. Jean gulped. “You’re someone I look up to a lot, and respect. You became a captain at such a young age, without any noble family backing you up, but it also made me think that perhaps you wouldn’t like me because I was already given an advantage at birth when you had to work so hard for it, if that makes sense?”

You frown. “Why would I hate you for something you couldn’t control? And you make it sound like you didn’t more than earn your place amongst the Knights. In fact, I honestly think you should be ranked higher, like a Captain, or maybe even a Grandmaster?”

“You’re flattering me.” Jean blushed, “There’s no way I deserve a title of such high esteem.”

“You do.” You say simply. “You’re just being humble.”

“I’m not.” Jean finds herself laughing. “I mean, I can barely even hold a conversation on your level.”

You raise your brow. “On my level?”

“Yes! Whenever you talk, the whole room becomes captivated. They laugh along with your jokes and hang on to every word you say.”

“You’re exaggerating.” It was your turn to blush.

“I’m not.” Jean smiles. “You’re just being humble.”

You snort. “Touché. But I’m being serious, I’m better a Knight than a conversationalist. I don’t think my personality is quite as suited for that.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “I just bounce off Varka, he brings most of the charm.”

“I think you’re charming.”

You blink. “What?”

“You are.” Jean says firmly. “At least for me. Everything you say manages to bring a smile to my face. I like hearing you talk. So I think you’re quite charming.” She states simply.

You give her a strange look, and she grows nervous under your stare. Had she said something wrong again?

You smile. “You’re an interesting one Jean.” You kiss her on the cheek and Jean practically short-circuits, caught completely off guard. “I should go make sure Varka didn’t do anything too stupid while I was gone. See you later?.” You ask, Jean, who had completely short-circuited by the point, could only nod in response. “Good. I’ll be looking forward to it.” You chuckle and walk away, managing to open the door with no apparent difficulty.

Oh right. She was going to have to thank Kaeya later…

[nicofan57]

i wanted to talk about this clip so here’s my thoughts on it and the entire situation from yesterday (rest is under the cut)

(transcript:

minute: oh but why wemmbu, why, we- clown you and i were against him before, why-

clown: i didn’t like it either, okay, let me- you know why-

minute: ill tell you better- ill tell you better than anyone he’s just gonna use you and spit you out whenever it’s convenient. or whenever you’re no longer convenient for him. i know it better than anyone!

clown: i think we can handle wemmbu.

minute: he can't die!

clown: oh but he could drop- (?)

minute: he's just gonna sit tens of thousands of blocks out and wait for everyone to kill each other until he's the last one. i know this better than anyone! why didn't you talk to me?)

so first let’s dissect this clip. minute saying "i know this better than anyone" brings me back to kings s1 . they worked together to take down the other team that had the mythics and when wemmbu finally got a hold of the lifestealer (i can’t remember the exact details.. time for a rewatch) he threw minute out, saying there could only be one king. which sucks more when you think about at the start of the server, minute was open to teaming with wemmbu because he genuinely thought they were friends like he was not seeing that coming. someone warned him wemmbu is not trustworthy and he went “wemmbus my boy he wouldnt do that" (or something along those lines). and it’s like. well he did end up doing that. and minute realized he was being used all along.

fast forward to foundation when wemmbu literally said something along the lines of (again, sorry this might not be accurate) he’d team with minute because

- minute is powerful

- he has gear sets

- he would give him stuff

and most of all because he’s too kind for his own good. he wants peace even with his enemies, which we all know from the current arc right now. and wemmbu knows that all too well he knows he wouldnt refuse siding with him even considering their history on kings. anyway we all know how the abyss arc turned out for them with the orbital

so here is this clip i posted a while ago (linked here, because i cant put more than one video in a post apparently) where minute talks about how wemmbu's betrayed him a million times and how he says it hurts but he moves past it (this guy....) well clearly he’s not going to move past it now. because behind his back wemmbu has been working with zam, the person trying to break him mentally, and wemmbu’s stolen his position of power and is going to undo everything he’s worked towards. and the worst part about it is that he even convinced minutes teammates from day one to vote for him.

it’s pretty clear that wemmbu knows minute more and is able to get to him better than zam, he knows how to get into his head, he knows what actually fucks minute up, and no offense to zam because zam did end up winning… he achieved his goal by employing wemmbu! but i noticed minute isnt worried about zam that much anymore, or any of the players at all. it’s wemmbu because he knows what wemmbu can do and he knows how fucked up the server is going to be under his presidency. worst of all he knows what’s going to happen to his friends, he’s been in their shoes before, he knows they’re going to be left for dead when all is said and done, and even though they betrayed him and voted for wemmbu he still wants to save them because he knows it all too well (i think he also did say this). he still has some good left in him, even after the betrayal.

though the players are using wemmbu's presidency term to get what they want, it’s always going to end up being minute against wemmbu, it’s a cycle that ive noticed keeps repeating lately . thank you all forcoming to my ted talk

(p.s. i copied and pasted this from my twitter thread sorry if theres any weird formatting. or typos. or bad english pleabse be nice to me smiles)

[lee-hakhyun]

Since you have no means of escape, let me tell you about my Merlin AU for ORV :D I haven't watched Merlin past some clips, making it clear, i just leveraged a very fun setting. Merlin spoilers ahead though.

Kim Dokja is the warlock servant who gets unceremoniously tied to Prince Yoo Joonghyuk by the whims of fate, meant to help guide him to become the Once and Future King. KDJ must keep this sunfish safe from perilous situations while hiding his magic, because magic is outlawed in the *flips notes* N'gai Kingdom.

Among this cast is fellow servant Yoo Sangah (Gwen), the king's ward Han Sooyoung (Morgana), a dragon in the basement (either Abyssal Black Flame Dragon or the Fourth Wall) the knights Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon, and on and on it goes.

In my head things would probably run similar enough to the show with the exception that every once in a while KDJ sees some strange cloaked figure that he can just feel the magic brimming off of, helping him in subtle ways when things get really tough. Who is that secretive figure helping him out?

KDJ kind of lets his guard down, able to trust this seemingly friendly (if extremely gruff) man with his magic in a way he can't with YJH. They don't have the same camaraderie, but it's still a comfortable companionship regardless.

And then this mysterious person kidnaps KDJ.

YJH and friends chase the evident sorcerer that kidnapped KDJ all the way to the ends of the Earth, having to combat power unlike any they'd seen before - until at a rift in space, this man finally uncloaks himself to reveal someone sharing YJH's face. It has to be a trick. It has to be.

But the man not a perfect reflection; he looks aged, older and wiser and with an undercurrent of grief that keeps him clutching KDJ to his side. KDJ is a warlock, the man claims. One that would, despite what YJH believes of magic practitioners, would give his heart and his life for over and over an ungrateful spoiled prince until he had nothing left to give.

And then he jumps into the portal. Into a parallel timeline/potential future.

This is where we get into spoiler territory for Merlin; in the series, Morgana betrays Merlin and Arthur, and Arthur kind of dies. In this AU, HSY and YJH were prophesied to experience the same thing, except KDJ gave all of his magic to abort said prophecy because it sucked and died, so now everyone in that particular future is in mourning.

Which is why, when the broken prophecy causes a rip in dimensions and into the past, YJH and HSY teamed up to nab KDJ from that other timeline. The people who MADE that prophecy though (either Olympus or the King Arthur legends from the universe of ORV's Main Story who are unhappy they didn't get the spotlight there, I'm not sure yet) are mad at KDJ for not following the prophecy and want to gank them. The future YJH (who will be referred to as SP for now) and future HSY have apparently become terrifyingly adept at fending off actual gods, but for how long? And how will KDJ get back to his original dimension?

Meanwhile, Prince YJH and friends desperately try to find a way to where SP had taken KDJ, as the rift had closed with their departure. Swallowing his pride and the biases that had started to form, he looks to powers he would never have trusted before...

(And somewhere in the future timeline, with the arrival of a reader to the world once more, a struggling writer finds himself startled to see a half-dead, malnourished young boy at his doorstep. To this boy that now rests in his home, he tells bedtime stories and fairy tales that he has no idea are now set to become another prince's adventure.)

This was very much abbreviated from the original thoughts I had, but I feel like I figured out a bit more of the details that I couldn't before (like what's going on with OD). Sorry for making your submission box my unwilling sandbox, but I hope you found some enjoyment out of it :>