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astrogossipp · 9 months ago

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venus notes. 🩰

Disclaimer. these observations do not have to resonate with everyone and everything, all expressed in this post is based on personal experience and research.

(comment down your venus sign & posts which you guys would like to see from my side in the future)

masterlist🪷

🩰 aries venus

Venus in Aries? Super passionate! Aries is all about passion and action, while Venus is love, beauty, and relationships. So, if you've got this combo, you're all in for fiery romance. You're into your partner big time, always wanting to keep things exciting and new. You might even be the one who starts things off. Quick to fall for someone, you dig that rush of feelings, especially if your crush gets all possessive. Yep, you can get obsessed too, thinking they're "the one". But sometimes, you pick the wrong ones, drawn to the drama. You dive in headfirst, but your passion fades fast if the fire ain't burning. You thrive on arguments or a partner who's a bit aggressive – it's just your style. Love's a thrill for you, so you act on impulse, not always taking it seriously. You're into the chase, but deep down, you want someone who's all in. You're attracted to ambitious, independent types, but in the relationship, you like to be the boss. Bold? Oh yeah! You'll straight-up tell your crush you're into them. Sure, you care about others, but yourself? That's priority. Sometimes, it causes issues in relationships, 'cause you fear losing your freedom. You'll find any excuse to be with your crush, even if it means dragging out a dry convo. Depending on how much you're into them, you might show your wild side early or play it cool. And when you're crushing, hygiene's on point, and you're dressing to impress. You won't admit your feelings outright, but you'll drop hints like crazy.

🩰 taurus venus

Venus in Taurus is renowned for instilling a profound sense of security, stability, and comfort. Individuals with this placement often take pleasure in savoring life's finer aspects, finding delight in material possessions and indulgences. Their relational and moral approach is frequently characterized as traditional or "old-fashioned". They tend to prioritize commitment and steadfastness in romantic connections, upholding conventional values in matters of love. Despite potentially limited romantic experience, those with Venus in Taurus display considerable wisdom in relationships. They exhibit a preference for actions over verbal expressions of affection, recognizing the unreliability of words at times. Their demonstrations of love are earnest and heartfelt, reflecting their belief in the significance of genuine affection. While they may refrain from overtly pursuing individuals they admire, they possess a magnetic allure that draws others toward them. Often possessing physical attractiveness themselves, they appreciate similar qualities in their partners, valuing aesthetics in relationships. Patience is a virtue for those with Venus in Taurus, as they are willing to await the arrival of a dependable, well-established partner. However, this patience can sometimes lead them to remain in unsatisfactory relationships or jobs due to concerns about financial security or other forms of stability. Despite their investment in relationships, individuals with this placement may harbor apprehensions about potential emotional hurt, which can result in them setting boundaries in love. Their cautious approach may deter them from readily reciprocating romantic advances, yet they remain dedicated once committed. They are drawn to ambitious individuals with financial stability, reflecting their own values and aspirations. While they maintain a private stance on their romantic interests, they are discerning in their choice of confidants. Fear of rejection and a desire to maintain a flawless image may occasionally hinder their pursuit of love, yet they persist in their quest for perfection in matters of the heart.

🩰 gemini venus

If your Venus is in Gemini, you're into folks who know how to talk the talk. You're all about people who are smooth talkers, good in social situations, and just plain smart. But sometimes, you get too caught up in what people say and forget to pay attention to what they do, which can cause some mix-ups. You're into exploring different kinds of beauty, art, and love styles, and you can find love in lots of places, not just with a partner. In fact, having a significant other isn't always at the top of your mind. You can be hot and cold in love, one day you're all about someone, the next they're not even on your radar. Commitment? It's not that you can't do it, but you're kinda wary of getting too deep. You like to keep things cool and smooth when you're into someone, remembering all those little details. You're after someone you can connect with on a brainy level, not just an emotional one. So yeah, you might seem a bit distant at times. But hey, you're charming as heck, so people are drawn to you. You're the friendly type, always ready to start a chat and get to know someone better. And when you're crushing, you want to be the one who makes them laugh, so watch out if someone else steals their attention! Before you get all chatty and flirty, though, you keep your feelings under wraps. Seriously, no one can tell you're into someone until you're ready to spill the beans. Gemini Venus adds a playful, fun vibe to your romantic life, and you're all about finding someone who can match your energy and keep things exciting. But deep down, you want more than just fun – you're looking for someone you can really connect with on a deeper level.

🩰 cancer venus

People with Venus in Cancer are super loving. When they fall for someone, they fall hard and fast. When they like someone, they're not subtle about it. They'll either come off as rude or super friendly, no in-between. But with their crush, they'll turn on the charm, trying to be adorable and impress them. They'll pay attention to every little detail and practice what to say in their head. They need lots of reassurance and security in relationships, or they'll feel unloved. But when they feel safe and loved, they're amazing partners. They remember every little thing about you, seriously, everything! Their love is powerful and nurturing. They'll do anything for the ones they care about, even if it means sacrificing for them. They crave deep connections and bonds with others, but they struggle to express their feelings because they're not used to being heard. They're sentimental beings, often getting lost in thoughts about past relationships. They're great at taking care of others, almost like a natural instinct. They have this motherly vibe that attracts people, especially kids. Sometimes they can get a bit too obsessed with the people they like, which can be intense. They're drawn to serious, protective types who make them feel safe. But if they're not into them back, it's like heartbreak city, and they'll go to extremes to win them over. If they settle down, they want stability and security. They're picky about who they fall for, but when they do, they're all in. They'll smother you with affection, wanting you to see how much they care. It's tough for them to spill their feelings, but if their crush is as stubborn as they are, they'll drop some major hints or just come clean. Patience and intuition are key when dealing with them!

🩰 leo venus

People with Venus in Leo are a tough nut to crack when it comes to commitment. They're all about knowing your value and what you bring to the table. If they don't see you giving them the love experience they crave, they're outta there. But watch out, they can fall for love bombs real quick. When someone showers them with attention, they eat it up, even if there are warning signs. They're elegant and charming, craving to be worshipped and adored. They want a partner who shows them off and takes pride in being with them. Winning them over? It's like a game, and they love the power trip. But in friendships, they're super generous and lovely. Sometimes they can come off as cocky, especially when they're trying to impress someone they fancy. But hey, they're great at planning epic dates and spoiling their partners. They're all about themselves too, soaking up compliments like a sponge. They might flirt with people they're not into just for kicks, which can lead to misunderstandings. But when they're truly in love, they're fiercely loyal and generous to a fault. They need someone with as much energy and zest for life as them to feel fulfilled. They're pretty decisive when it comes to their crushes. You'll know where you stand with them, no guessing games. Plus, they've got that magnetic charm that draws people in like moths to a flame. But here's the kicker: they can struggle with commitment issues. They're always chasing the next thrill, and if you don't measure up, they'll drop you like a hot potato. They'd rather start as friends or really get to know someone before diving in. And if they can't brag about you, it's game over. When they like someone, they're not shy about showing it. They'll playfully tease their crush to gauge their interest, and they've got a knack for remembering the little things. They might even go all out and buy them something special just because they mentioned wanting it.

🩰 virgo venus

People with Venus in Virgo can be real overthinkers when it comes to relationships. They nitpick and find flaws where there might not even be any. They're after partners who are genuinely interested in them, who notice the little things about them that they might miss. Remembering tiny details about them? That's a big win. They're all about providing for their significant other, creating stability and order in their relationships. They're not in a rush to fall in love 'cause they're pretty cool flying solo. But don't get it twisted, they're not against relationships, they just need to see the value in it. They're like detectives when it comes to the people they like, studying them inside and out to understand their feelings. They're not the most romantic folks, but they're all about giving you the kind of love that suits you best. They're pretty savvy when it comes to love, relationships, and money. They've got high standards and are picky about who they like. They want to feel special and seen by their partner. They might attract a lot of attention, but catching the eye of someone they're into? That's a whole different story. They've got a playful side, enjoying simple and elegant things. If they're not starting off as friends with their crush, it's probably not gonna go anywhere. They're all about testing loyalty before diving into anything serious. They'll get shy around their crush but will jump at any chance to help them out, just to show they care. They might seem a bit confusing, giving mixed signals, but they're just playing it cool. They won't chase after their crush forever, though. These folks know their worth. Physical touch is their love language, so don't be surprised if they're always trying to playfully wrestle with you or lend a hand. They'll take any chance they get to chat with their crush, even if it means asking to partner up for a project. If their crush can meet their needs as a friend, they'll quickly start imagining a romantic future together. But remember, with these folks, slow and steady wins the race.

🩰 libra venus

Alright, let's dive in! Libra Venus folks are like straight out of a romance novel, smooth talkers and super dreamy. They're total eye candy, but sometimes they hold back 'cause they're scared of looking too soft. Even though they might play it cool, they're secretly love gurus. Seriously, they've got this knack for loving people just right, like they've got a playbook or something. They're suckers for romantic flicks and dream of being treated like royalty. They just want to know their partner's head over heels for them. And they're not stingy with affection either, they'll spoil you rotten. But here's the thing: they're hopeless romantics. They love to flirt, but when they find someone who really lights their fire, they're all in. Love's their main motivation, and they're all about keeping things fair and making sure everyone feels seen. But sometimes, they need a little extra validation themselves to feel secure, which can make them clingy. They've got killer style, and even if they don't, they can rock any look. They're all about making others happy, sometimes to a fault. They dig people who can flirt back, have killer fashion sense, and are down for whatever. Libra Venus folks aren't about taking it slow. They're all about diving headfirst into the action. When they're into someone, they're not shy about it. They'll crack jokes about being together and go all out to win their crush over. They're big daydreamers, always picturing their crush in different scenarios. And they're not afraid to shoot their shot, even if it means embarrassing themselves a bit. If they're not sure about their feelings, they'll keep it under wraps until they figure it out. They're all about cheesy pick-up lines and making their crush smile. They'll do whatever it takes to win them over, even if it means biting their lip and winking. And if their crush shows interest back, get ready for some serious blushing!

🩰 scorpio venus

Alright, let's break it down. People with Scorpio Venus might have a thing for the wrong crowd because they're not feeling too confident. They can latch onto someone real quick and get super intense about it, but they're not easy catches themselves. It takes them a hot minute to decide if they're in it for the long haul, but once they commit, they're in it for life. They've got this mysterious, captivating vibe that draws folks in like magnets. They're all about passion in relationships and they want someone who's all in. Plus, they've got this knack for attracting romantic attention without even trying. But watch out, they can get a bit possessive 'cause once they're into someone, they're all in. They want to be needed by their partner, and they're not big on sharing. They might be into people who are open-minded and don't judge, 'cause they're not big on sharing their feelings. Or they might dig someone who's just as mysterious and seductive as they are. They need friends they can trust, and they're drawn to darker colors like black. They're not big on PDA, but they've definitely got some serious sex appeal. These folks ride a rollercoaster of emotions when they've got a crush. One minute, they're head over heels, the next, they're kicking themselves for catching feelings again. They won't make the first move unless they're sure their crush is into them too. If they do start talking to their crush, they'll try to play it cool at first, but once things are official, they're all about that energy and excitement. They're suckers for old-school romance and passion.

🩰 sagittarius venus

Okay, let's break it down. These folks are total jokesters and love cracking people up, but they can also be a bit wishy-washy when it comes to their feelings for someone. They might dig folks who are a bit obsessed with them, but they also get a kick out of charming people who play hard to get. They're on the lookout for that one special someone who really catches their eye. And let's be real, they can be a bit full of themselves, especially when it comes to love. But hey, it's all part of their charm, right? When they're in love, they're all about having a good time and going on adventures. They might be down for commitment, but they're cautious about who they commit to. They need a partner who's just as fun-loving as they are, otherwise, they'll get bored real quick. They crave that thrill of love and might act on impulse when they're feeling it. They hate feeling tied down and want to keep their freedom because, at the end of the day, they belong to themselves. They're not big on emotions or emotional people, but they do want that passionate love, even if they're not ready to commit to it fully. They're drawn to independent, fun-loving folks who have a bit of influence or power. Their feelings come and go like the wind, and they can be sensitive to rejection sometimes. They'd rather chill with their friends than deal with lovers 'cause friends give them more freedom. They'll show you they care by making a big deal out of the things they think are important. They might even be open to exploring different kinds of relationships, like open ones. And yeah, men with Sagittarius Venus tend to have a thing for women from other countries.

🩰 capricorn venus

Alright, let's simplify this. So, folks with a Capricorn Venus aren't big on showing their feelings openly. They're more about investing in the relationship for the long haul. They like to feel needed and show love in practical ways, like providing security and stability.They're super loyal but can get jittery if things don't feel stable. They're not great at expressing their need for care and nurturing, but they crave it deep down.When they find someone they're serious about, they're all in. They can come off as a bit blunt sometimes, but that's just their style. They're into classy, professional vibes, and they've got a secret, wild side, especially in the bedroom.They can be a tad controlling and protective when they're into someone. They're not the type to shout their crush from the rooftops, though. They keep it on the down-low or share it with close pals.Rejection hits them hard, and they might get cold and distant. They attract a lot of friends who crush on them, but they're all about impressing their main squeeze. They'll drop everything to be there for their crush, even if it means ditching their own plans.They're not shy and will chat up a storm. Body language is big for them, and they're social butterflies who also enjoy their alone time.Spirituality is a big deal for them, and they can seem a bit distant sometimes. They're not into clingy or flighty types; they dig someone strong and independent. Their soft side only comes out when they feel totally safe and secure.

🩰 aquarius venus

These folks are pretty one-of-a-kind when it comes to love. They're into quirky and unique people, so if you're not a bit "weird," they might not be into you romantically. They're also super straightforward—they'll tell you exactly how they feel. Sometimes, they're a bit hesitant about love, but deep down, they really want it. They're more logical than emotional, which helps them see the truth in relationships. They're attracted to folks who like them for who they are, inside and out. They enjoy being with friends more than lovers and might even fall for their pals sometimes. They really value their individuality and freedom to be themselves. They can be a bit attention-seeking, but once they find the right person, they're good. They rock platform boots and oversized shirts like nobody's business! They're huge daydreamers and love learning everything about their crushes. Starting as friends is cool with them, but it's not a must. They're the type to get super excited over a simple "Good morning" text from their crush. Just remember, their crushes come and go, so be your unique self to catch their eye. They're not into superficial stuff when it comes to attraction, especially if there are no issues in their chart.

🩰 pisces venus

These folks have this whole picture in their head of what their ideal partner should be like—how they act, everything. But if reality doesn't match their fantasy, they can lose interest real quick. They're big on romance, sensitive, stable, and love creativity. They want someone who can handle a relationship but also has a bit of chaos in them. When they love, they really go all in, even to the point of sacrificing themselves. But sometimes they end up giving their love to the wrong people. They're used to attracting the wrong types because they don't realize they deserve better. They're into spiritual stuff like crystals and incense, and when they're in love, they can act all childish. Logic goes out the window when they're in love—they miss red flags because they're too focused on their ideal traits. They're also super generous, even if they can't afford it. They're great listeners and really empathize with their loved ones' problems. They might crush on someone just because they're good-looking or fit their fantasy. But when reality hits, they can turn cold real fast. They're always on the lookout for that one perfect soulmate. Pisces Venus folks are the ultimate hopeless romantics. They're always dreaming about their perfect love story, which sometimes leads them to ignore warning signs. They're all about putting others before themselves and seeking that deep spiritual connection with their partner. Being sensitive souls, they can really understand what's going on beneath the surface in a relationship.

this post was created by @astrogossipp on tumblr <3 if reposting my work please give credits.

pics by @i04rei

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venqzciii · 1 month ago

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pervy massager Satoru! Who from the moment he sees you, decides you're not just any client-no, you're the one he has to make his.With a charming smile and that confident, slightly mischievous gleam in his eyes, he welcomes you to your first session, his goal set on making sure you're hooked from the start.

pervy massager Satoru! Who restrains himself during that first appointment, carefully toeing the line between professional and a touch too friendly. His hands are firm but gentle, moving with an attentiveness that's almost unnerving, as though he's studying every reaction you give. He wants everything about this first experience to be flawless, each touch perfectly calibrated, so there's no question in your mind about returning.

pervy massager Satoru! Who, as the session wraps up, leans in with a warm smile and mentions, "For your next appointment, I'll give you a discount. Consider it a welcome gift-just to show you how much l'd love to help you relax again." His words are smooth, laced with subtle intent, a promise hanging in the air that there's more waiting for you if you come back.

pervy massager Satoru! Who grins when he sees you've come back, knowing he did his job perfectly during your first visit. He can barely hide his excitement as he welcomes you in, his eyes roaming over you with a subtle hunger as he leads you to the massage table.

pervy massager Satoru! Who makes a point to hover close as you get comfortable, his fingers brushing your thighs as he drapes the towel over you. He gives you that same smooth, practiced smile and asks if there's any area you'd like "special attention" on today.

pervy massager Satoru! Who starts off innocently enough, his hands working over your shoulders and upper back with a slow, rhythmic pressure, almost too good at coaxing the tension out of you. He makes a few small, innocuous comments, something about how much you must need this, his voice low, as if there's no one else in the world he'd rather be focused on right now.

pervy massager Satoru! Who lets his hands wander further down your back with each pass, kneading deeper as he edges closer to your hips. His fingers slip just a bit under the edge of the towel, his fingers grazing your skin with a softness that sends a shiver through you. And then, as he shifts down toward your lower back, the towel "accidentally" slides lower, exposing the top curve of your ass.

pervy massager Satoru! Who takes his time with your hips, pressing his fingers into the sensitive spots at the base of your spine, his thumbs grazing the dip of your back. He lets the towel slide lower, bit by bit, inching down as his hands work over the full length of your lower body, a soft hum of approval slipping from his lips as he sees more of your ass.

pervy massager Satoru! Who swallows hard, his breathing hitching slightly when he felt his cock rising, struggling to keep himself in check. But with each touch, each brush of his fingers over your skin, he's only getting more worked up.

pervy massager Satoru! Who can't resist a small, almost imperceptible shift of his hips, positioning himself a little closer as he lets his cock press against the edge of the table.

pervy massager Satoru! Who, with his heart pounding and his self-control wearing thin, decides he's taken things far enough for today.As much as he's tempted to push just a little further, he knows he has to play the long game if he wants to keep you coming back, hooked on his touch and his subtle advances.

pervy massager Satoru! Who smoothly finishes up, giving your shoulders a final, reassuring pat, his touch lingering just a bit too long as he tells you, "You're all set. I'd love to see you again soon." His voice is warm, almost affectionate, but there's an edge of something more beneath it.

pervy massager Satoru! Who, as you're getting ready to leave, casually leans in and says, "You know, just for being such a great client, l'll give you a discount next time too." He flashes you a charming smile, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief, making it clear that he'd go out of his way to make sure you're back on his table.

pervy massager Satoru! Who watches you walk out with a satisfied smirk, already planning how he'll turn up the charm in your next session, wanting you to crave his touch as much as he craves having you under his hands.

part 2

#wrtings.#pervert! satoru #gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo

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mephisto-reporting · 25 days ago

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More to Love: With Sylus

Summary: Sylus wants to spoil you rotten and takes you shopping. But things don't go as planned in the fitting room as your insecurities take over. pairing: Chubby! reader x Sylus Note: Sylus and reader are in an implied relationship. This is based on this request. Content warning: insecurities, self depriciation, body image issues, slightly suggestive towards the end, angst (hurt-comfort).

The boutique’s soft lighting bathed the room in warm, golden hues, casting a glow on the endless racks of designer clothes that stretched before you. Sylus had dragged you out here, his hand firm on your lower back as he guided you into the posh little shop without a word of protest allowed.

“Indulge me, kitten,” he’d said with that signature smirk of his, his silver hair catching the sunset through the boutique’s large windows. “Pick something you like. No limits.”

As if limits had ever existed when Sylus was involved. He was a man of excess, of extravagance, and he was determined to spoil you rotten—even if you argued you didn’t need it. But you relented, knowing there was no saying no to him when he had his mind set. As you browsed through the aisles, your fingers brushed over silken fabrics and embroidered hems, eyes catching on the occasional outfit you usually would pick for yourself, only not in a store like this. Maybe he just liked to see you in pretty things. Maybe he liked watching you fumble over making decisions. But no matter the reason, you couldn’t help but feel a slight warmth bloom in your chest as you picked up a few pieces that caught your eye. His attention was there, but only just.

And then you saw it.

A little black dress, understated yet elegant, with faint red accents that shimmered subtly in the light. It screamed Sylus in every way: sharp, refined, and impossible to ignore. Your chest tightened with a flicker of excitement as you imagined yourself in it, standing next to him in his usual immaculate attire. He’d look at you the way he always did, with that blend of teasing confidence and a softness he reserved only for you. You could picture how well you'd complement each other, the two of you so flawless together that you felt almost… untouchable.

Grabbing it from the rack, you added it to the pile of clothes you’d picked for yourself and headed to the dressing rooms. The velvet curtain whispered shut behind you, enclosing you in a quiet little space with a single mirror framed in warm lights. The changing room felt cold and sterile as you slipped into the dress, carefully pulling it over your body. It should have fit perfectly—after all, you’d picked it out. It was your choice. But as you zipped it up, a knot tightened in your stomach.

The fabric clung to your body in ways it shouldn't have, and not in a flattering manner. It sat all wrong on your bosom, the seams straining against the curves of your chest, barely able to close. You tugged at the zipper, trying to pull it up the side, but it caught painfully against your side, tugging uncomfortably at the soft roll near your bra strap.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection unfamiliar. The dress, which had seemed so perfect on the rack, now felt like a cruel joke. The skirt, meant to be a silhouette, flared out over your thighs in a way that felt mocking. It hung awkwardly around your thighs in a way that made your legs look thicker, not more elegant. Your belly, which you’d always been conscious of, seemed to bulge in ways that felt out of place, unnatural against the black silk. The faint shimmer of the red accents only seemed to draw attention to the areas you least wanted highlighted.

What is wrong with me?

The voice inside your head was loud now, relentless.

I don’t belong in this dress.

Your fingers clenched the fabric at your sides as a wave of self-consciousness washed over you. The dress wasn’t the problem—it was you.

The mirror seemed to mock you, reflecting back every feature you’d learned to hate over the years. Your belly, round and soft, pushed against the fabric. Your thighs looked larger than ever, the material refusing to lie smooth. Your arms, left bare by the sleeveless design, felt exposed and unwelcome in the polished setting of this boutique.

As you stared, echoes of the past began to surface, unbidden and cruel. Your face twisted into a frown as you turned from side to side. The more you looked at yourself, the more you hated it. The reflection staring back at you seemed foreign, as though it was someone else’s body you’d somehow ended up in.

"You’ve got such a pretty face; you’d be stunning if you lost a little weight,” your mother’s voice chimed in your head, the way it had so many times over the years. Well-meaning, she’d always called it. But the words had planted themselves deep in your heart.

"Are you sure you want seconds?” a friend’s teasing voice from a high school cafeteria, laughing as though it was just a joke. It hadn’t been funny then, and it wasn’t funny now.

"I’m just saying, you’d feel so much better if you exercised more," someone had told you once, their tone dripping with condescension disguised as care.

Your friends in high school, laughing when you couldn’t fit into the trendy outfits they wore, saying, “Oh, don’t worry, you’ve got such a cute face!”

The offhand comment from a coworker last year: “Have you tried keto? I heard it’s great for people like you.”

Your father, well-meaning but always critical, pinching your belly and saying, “You’d be so much prettier if you lost all this fat.”

The memories compounded until your chest tightened with a mix of anger and shame.

God, I look disgusting in this.

And now, in this too-small dressing room with this too-tight dress, those voices joined your own as you whispered to yourself.

"I look ridiculous. Why did I even think I could pull this off? Sylus wouldn’t want to be seen with someone like this. Someone like me."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back. Crying here would be too much, too embarrassing. You turned away from the mirror, pulling at the dress, wanting nothing more than to get it off. Your breathing hitched as the panic rose, your nails biting into your palms to keep yourself steady. But the tears were already threatening to fall.

The curtain separating you from the world felt as thin as paper and just as fragile. The muffled murmur of boutique shoppers and the faint hum of music didn’t penetrate the storm of thoughts swirling in your head. The dress felt tighter by the second, suffocating, and your own reflection stared back with an almost accusatory glare.

Why did you even think you could look good in this? You were out of place, weren’t you? Not just in the dress, but here—here in this boutique, in Sylus’s world, in his life. The idea of walking out of the changing room, of standing in front of him and seeing that ever-present smirk falter for even a second, was unbearable.

Your fingers fumbled at the zipper, trying to undo it, but your hands were shaking too much to find the tab. The fabric bunched awkwardly around your side, pinching and pulling in a way that only made you hate it more. Hate yourself more. A sharp inhale turned into a shaky exhale as your vision blurred with unshed tears.

He’s going to see right through you. He’ll realize you’re not the kind of person who belongs at his side.

The voices in your head grew louder, and you didn’t even hear his approach until his voice broke through the storm, smooth and teasing, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Kitten,” Sylus drawled, his tone dripping with amusement, “don’t tell me you’ve gotten lost in there. Or are you planning to make me wait all day?”

Your breath caught. “I’m fine. I just… need another minute,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracked ever so slightly. You winced, praying he hadn’t noticed.

But he had. Of course, he had.

“Hmm,” came his thoughtful hum, followed by the sound of his boots against the boutique’s plush carpet. Closer. Too close. “You don’t sound fine, sweetie. Should I come in and—”

“No!” The word came out sharper than you intended, panic rising in your chest. “Just—stay out there. I’ll be out in a second.”

There was a pause. Long enough for you to realize he wasn’t moving away. His teasing edge was gone when he spoke again, quieter this time. “Sweetie. What’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine!” you snapped, your voice a pitch higher than you intended. You winced at your own tone. The last thing you wanted was for him to push further.

But Sylus was nothing if not persistent. “Sweetie, you’re never fine when you say you are,” he said, the teasing edge returning, but softer now, as though he was testing the waters. “I’m coming in.”

“No, don’t—” Your protest was cut short as the velvet curtain slid to the side.

The curtain shifted slightly, and you turned away from it, clutching the fabric of the dress like a shield. Sylus stepped into the small dressing room, his broad frame somehow making the space feel even smaller. His usual air of control and confidence filled the room, his sharp crimson eyes immediately locking onto yours. But his smirk faltered as he took you in—your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands, and the ill-fitting dress that clung awkwardly to your frame.

“Sweetie…” His voice was low, laced with genuine concern as he stepped closer. “What’s going on?”

You turned away, hugging yourself tightly. “Nothing. Just go, Sylus. Please.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he reached out, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “Look at me,” he said, his tone soft but commanding.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“And why not?” he asked, his brows furrowing. “You’re my kitten, aren’t you?"

You turned away, hugging yourself tightly. “Nothing. Just go, Sylus. Please..I don’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Like what?” he asked, stepping closer, his hands reaching out but not quite touching you yet. “What are you talking about?”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Like you’re trying to fix something that’s broken. I’m not—I’m not—” The words caught in your throat, but they spilled out anyway, raw and jagged. “I’m not good enough for this. For you. For any of it.”

His frustration was evident in the way his jaw tightened, but when he spoke, his tone was calm. “Where is this coming from?”

You gestured helplessly at your reflection. “Look at me! This dress—it doesn’t fit. It doesn’t look right. I don’t look right, Sylus. I thought I could—” Your voice broke. “I thought I could make myself… better. For you. But I just… don’t fit.”

The air grew heavy with your words, and for a moment, Sylus didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, his hands firm but gentle as they gripped your wrists, lowering them from where they clutched the dress. His touch was grounding, solid.

“Stop,” he said, his voice soft but commanding. “Stop tearing yourself apart like this.”

You blinked up at him, tears slipping free despite your efforts. “But it’s true. I don’t fit in your world. I don’t even fit in this stupid dress.”

His hand slid down your arm, his fingers curling around yours to still their trembling. “Stop,” he repeated, his voice firm but not unkind.

“No, I need to say it,” you continued, the dam breaking as tears spilled down your cheeks. “You’re this—this untouchable, powerful, perfect man, and I’m just—” You gestured helplessly at yourself, the words catching in your throat. “I’m not good enough for you, Sylus. I’ll never be good enough.”

He was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he studied you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something far more serious. “That’s enough of that.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden shift in his tone.

“You think I care about any of that?” he said, his eyes boring into yours “Sweetie,” he murmured, his tone laced with exasperation and something deeper—something tender. “You don’t need to fit into anything to be enough for me.”

His fingers brushed your cheek, wiping away a tear. “You think I give a damn about some dress? About whatever bullshit standard you think you’re failing to meet?” His crimson eyes burned with intensity as he spoke, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You don’t need to impress me. You already have me wrapped around your finger.”

Your breath hitched, his words sinking in even as you tried to resist them. “But I—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “No more of that. Do you know what I see when I look at you?” His hands slid to your shoulders, his grip firm but warm. “I see the person who challenges me, who stands toe-to-toe with me even when she’s scared. The person who’s made my cold, miserable world worth living in.” His lips quirked into a faint smile. “And, if you must know, I happen to think you’re absolutely stunning. Always.”

“But I—” you began, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“No buts,” he said firmly. “You don’t need to dress up to impress me. I’m already smitten, in every way possible.”

His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease, the storm in your mind quieting as his presence anchored you. He reached for the zipper, his movements careful and deliberate as he began to undo the dress.

“Let’s get you out of this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll find something that makes you feel like the goddess you are. And if we don’t, then to hell with the clothes.” Sylus’s hands lingered at the zipper, his eyes meeting yours with a teasing glint as the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “Though, between you and me, kitten…” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, “I think you’d look better without anything on at all.” His fingers brushed deliberately against your skin as he slid the zipper down further, his touch light but intentional, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Your cheeks burned, the heat rushing to your face at his boldness. “Sylus…” you began, but the words caught in your throat, swallowed by the intensity of his gaze.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he spoke again, his tone a mixture of playful and reverent. “But let me make one thing very clear, sweetie. Clothes or no clothes, none of that matters to me. You’re already perfect to me—just as you are. Nothing you wear or don’t wear is going to change that.”

His hands rested firmly on your hips now, steadying you as the trembling in your legs began to subside. “And by the time I’m done worshiping you, adoring you, loving you over and over again,” he continued, his voice husky, filled with an almost dangerous promise, “you’ll see yourself the way I see you. The way I’ve always seen you. Stunning, irresistible, absolutely mine.”

You shivered, not from the chill of the room, but from the weight of his words and the warmth in his touch. He tilted your chin up with one finger, forcing your eyes to meet his. “You’ll see it, sweetie. I’ll make sure of it. Because in my eyes, you’re more than enough—you’re everything.”

The air between you was thick with unspoken emotion, the tension melting into something softer, something unyieldingly honest. His lips brushed your forehead, lingering there for a moment before he pulled back, his hands never leaving your sides. “I’ll remind you every single day, sweetie. Over and over again, until there’s no room in your mind for anything but how much I adore you. Do you understand?”

You nodded, tears prickling at your eyes again—but this time, they weren’t born of pain or self-doubt. They were tears of relief, of something lighter and more hopeful.

“I’ll believe it,” you whispered, your voice trembling but earnest. “I’ll try.”

Sylus’s smirk softened into a smile, his thumb brushing away the tear that escaped down your cheek. “That’s all I ask. But just so you know…” His voice turned playful again, his lips quirking up at the corners. “I’m not above a little convincing, sweetie. And believe me, I’m very persuasive.”

“So,” he said, his smirk returning, though softer now, “what do you say we ditch this boutique? I’m thinking we’ve got better things to do than fuss over dresses that don’t deserve you anyway.” His thumb stroked gently over your hip, his touch grounding and sure.

The storm within you calmed as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if shielding you from the weight of your insecurities. For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed that maybe—just maybe, you could accept yourself just the way you are, just the way he did.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 1 year ago

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The Rain is Always Gonna Come if You're Standing With Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends. This one took me approximately 100 years to finish because school is eating me alive. This one is based on Peace from folklore, which is an underrated song, in my opinion.

Word count: 12.3k

Warnings: Bucky's negative self image, harassment, slight reader injury, people being assholes

"But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?"

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, doll-” Bucky said as you swiped the dirty dishes from the table. He made a grab for them, but his enhanced speed was no match for you. You expertly evaded his capture, slipping away from his grasp with almost no effort. You knew him too well, knew his movement patterns and habits. Anticipating his every move was easy. With a cocky laugh, you turned on your heel and headed for the sink.

“Sweetheart, really,” he called after you, “I’ll clean up.”

“But you made breakfast.” You set the two bowls that once held yogurt, fruit, and granola in the sink and turned on the water. “It’s only fair that I do the dishes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and gave a laugh, “that wasn’t breakfast, baby. It was just a… a morning snack.” In only a few long strides, he met you at the sink. His large hands snatched yours and pulled them to his broad chest, halting your efforts to clean.

You cocked your head to the side, “A morning snack, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know we’re going out for breakfast, but I didn’t want you to be hungry.” He added a fraction of extra pressure to your hands, pulling them closer against his body. “I gotta take care of my girl.”

“Well, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you placed a quick peck to his lips. “And because you are so thoughtful and sweet, let me do the dishes.” With a playful tug, you tried to free your hands from his grasp. But Bucky held firm.

He shook his head, “Nope. Not gonna happen.” Suddenly, he released your hands, spun you around, and landed a light slap to your ass; it happened so fast it left you giggling. “You go get dressed, I’ll take care of it.”

Your giggly “sir, yes, sir” floated down the hall as you marched toward the bedroom. This was to be the perfect day. A trip to your favorite bookstore, followed by what you swore was the best chicken and waffles the city had to offer. After breakfast, the two of you were set to visit the new shark exhibit at the science museum, eat lunch in the park, and grab an ice cream from your favorite spot.

Bucky planned it all out, ensuring a flawless blueprint. And while you appreciated his attention to detail, you would’ve been happy with a day at home. All you wanted- all you needed- was to spend time with him.

And time with Bucky was lacking as of late.

He stood at the sink, drying the now clean dishes as emotion overcame him. He couldn’t believe he was here- home- with you. He waited for this day. He hungered and ached for a day without danger, without bloodshed. He waited for a day spent with you. And only you.

He’d just been so busy lately- too busy. Over the past few months, he’d been dragged around the world more times than he could count. His missions only seemed to grow longer. And each time he got the call from Hill, she sent him farther and farther away.

He found himself struggling under the weight of severe, mind-numbing exhaustion. Anxiety. His body threatened to give out with each new wound he received, each drop of blood he lost. But he didn’t mind the constant paint or fatigue. What upset him most was spending so much time away from you.

The two of you lived together now. You shared an address, a roof, a bedroom. The universe somehow allowed Bucky to have a home- a safe, comfortable home- with the person he loved most. But he’d spent so little time there lately that he feared it wasn’t his anymore. That he had no claim to the space. He always felt like a mere passerby upon arriving home, like more of a wanderer than a resident. He always had to stop himself from knocking, had to force himself to use his key.

But who was he to waltz through the front door after being gone for so long? Who was he to act like he owned the place? He thought maybe he didn’t deserve it, this home you shared. And he knew he didn’t deserve you.

Over the past few months, he spent only a handful of nights at home while you held down the fort. You kept things together. He missed out on so much of your life; what if you didn’t want him to be a part of it anymore?

When Bucky did come home, he always showed up in the middle of the night. Sore. Exhausted. He’d drag his body into the bed you shared and pass out before he even got the chance to pull you close. He’d sleep late, his body too fatigued to wake before the afternoon. When he finally stirred, the two of you did your best to catch up. He wanted to hear every detail of your life, and you his. But without fail, the emotion won. You’d cry together, wrapped in the other’s arms, whispering “I love yous” over and over.

And without fail, some world ending threat would interrupt. Danger always found a way to force the two of you apart, isolating you from one another. And only twenty-four hours after arriving home, Bucky would leave. Again.

But over the last few weeks, things started quieting down. It was slow at first. Subtle. But Bucky sensed a shift in the air. He could almost feel the world settling. At first, he thought he’d lost his mind. But Sam, too, felt the earth calming. As did Hill. Whatever sweeping, overwhelming chaos that sent the entire planet into disaster so many months ago seemed to finally lose steam. Fewer calls came in, fewer alerts woke Bucky in the middle of the night.

And three nights ago, Bucky came home for good.

The adrenaline that kept him going for so long evaporated as soon as he made it through the front door. The anxiety melted from his body. It was the only thing, he realized, that kept him upright. And with it gone, his body gave out. He crumbled and collapsed to the floor as sweet relief flooded his every cell. He didn’t care that he was hurt, that he was worn out; he was just happy to be home.

But a sharp shriek flooded his system with fear once again.

You stood frozen in the doorway of your bedroom, just a few feet away, with your hands clasped over your mouth. Tears welled in your eyes. Your chest rose and fell as sharp breaths dragged into your lungs. The sight of his limp body sent you jumping to the worst, most tragic conclusions.

“No, I’m- I’m okay, baby.” With great effort, Bucky pulled himself to his feet.

It was then that you snapped out of your horrified trance. You rushed to Bucky’s side, throwing your arms around his neck, and pressing your body to his. You needed to be as close to him as possible, needed your souls to touch. His arms wound around you and pulled you closer still, desperate for you.

“You’re okay…” you whispered against his neck. It wasn’t a question, but an affirmation.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m home.”

That night, after he took a shower and let you clean his wounds, he planned this perfect day. And though you told him it wasn’t necessary, he wanted to make things up to you. He wanted to apologize for being gone so long. For breaking your heart over and over and over again. For disappearing.

He knew how his absences affected you. Knew you worried about him constantly when he was gone. He noticed the way you bit your nails down to the quick. How you picked at your cuticles till they bled. Your tired eyes looked bloodshot, and your bottom lip chewed raw. He knew your anxiety gave you stomach pain and headaches. Knew that you could barely eat or sleep when he was away.

His constant disappearing act put you through hell. And he hated himself for it. All he wanted- all he ever wanted- was to make you happy. To bring you calm and ease and tranquility. And now that he was home, he swore to himself that he’d give you peace.

Bucky finished with the dishes and headed into the bedroom, hoping to soak up as much time with you as possible. But just as he made his way into the en suite bathroom, your grumbled, aggravated voice caught his attention.

“Oh, what the fuck?” You let out a deep huff, staring down at your phone with a sharp seriousness.

Bucky popped his head into the bathroom, “Everything okay?”

A look of surprise splashed across your face; you hadn’t heard him come in. “Oh- hey. Yeah. Everything is-” you gestured to your phone, “everything’s fine. My friend just sent me a stupid gossip article.”

“Anything good?” Bucky shot you a wink, knowing damn well he was clueless about the latest reality tv drama.

“No.” The word carried a hefty weight and fell to the ground with finality.

Bucky clocked your tone, your expression- both struck him as too serious for a gossip rag. His muscles stiffened ever so slightly at sight of your displeasure.

“Just dumb shit. People writing whole articles over things they have no idea about.” You rolled your eyes and slipped your phone into your pocket. A deep breath acted as a reset to your system, clearing the fog of frustration from your mind. “And it doesn’t even matter, cause we have a perfect day planned.”

Bucky, too, took a deep breath. He relaxed into a smile and leaned against the door jam. “We sure do, doll.”

He was too accustomed to disaster. Always prepared for the worst. The slightest change in your demeanor sent him hurdling toward the worst possible conclusion. His body was home, but his mind remained stuck in a never-ending battle.

“I’m just gonna put my shoes on- I’ll be ready when you are.” Bucky stepped away and did his best to shake it off. ‘Everything’s fine, it’s all good’, he said to himself as he laced up his boots. ‘It was just an article about Vanderpump Rules or whatever.’ His palms dragged up and down his thighs, his chest rose and fell rhythmically. He learned how to self-regulate, to talk himself down, long ago- before he ever met you. It was his only option back then.

The sound of your footsteps bounding down the hall commanded Bucky’s attention. He snapped out his dimly lit world and stepped into your technicolor atmosphere. A comforting sigh of relief spread though his body as he noticed the bright smile on your face. Any evidence of the upset your gossip rag caused was long gone, replaced by an all-encompassing warmth.

“Alright, Barnes,” you grabbed your purse from the hook by the door and slung it over your shoulder, “let’s do this.”

The warm summer air greeted the two of you as stepped out of your apartment building. The busy city pulsed with the possibilities of a perfect Saturday. People passed by with dogs in tow. Cars honked. Birds sang. And finally, things felt right. Everything fell off its axis when Bucky was gone. The world turned in the wrong direction, the sun set on the opposite side. And only his return could set things properly in motion.

“Okay, to the bookstore,” Bucky weaved his fingers with yours and gave you a gentle tug in the right direction, “here we go!”

Bucky never had an affinity for going out in public. He didn’t particularly enjoy the crowded sidewalks or busy subways. Throngs of strangers surrounding him from every angle only ever served to put him on edge. But he’d improved. He’d worked through his anxiety and his fears- all to be with you. It seemed, though, that his paranoia threatened to creep in again. After so much time away, surrounded by danger, he found himself scanning every face on the street, assessing possible threats.

He always experienced some level of recognition in public, sure, but today felt different. Every pair of eyes seemed to bore through him, every mouth whispered his name. His muscles tensed, his jaw locked.

“You okay?” you pulled Bucky to the side, out of the flow of people, “you seem a little on edge.”

“Oh-” Bucky snaked his hand out of yours, realizing all at once the force of his grip. He watched you rub at the sore spots he created and silently cursed himself. “No, I’m good, I’m okay. I think I’m just-” He eyed the area once more, “I think I’m just being paranoid. Is it me or is everyone staring at me?”

Your heart stopped. “Um, no, I don’t think everyone’s staring,” A casual shrug and a shake of your head punctuated your thought. “I think you’ve got some residual adrenaline or something, you know?”

Bucky nodded. “Must be it. I’m sorry about your hand, baby.” He pressed his lips to the indentations his fingers left behind.

“I’ll survive,” you threw him a wink, “but the kisses help.”

The two of you continued your journey with Bucky’s worries only slightly assuaged. It seemed to him that hundreds of eyes raked over him with each passing second, but he forced his anxiety behind a wall. He wasn’t going to mess up this day with you- he couldn’t. He didn’t know how many chances he had left, and if this was the last one, he couldn’t afford to ruin it.

Block after block passed as you and Bucky got closer to the bookstore. Sure, there was a similar shop only a few minutes from the apartment- but it wasn’t as cute or as special as the one in the village. And Bucky wanted this day perfect. He’d do anything to make you happy. And so, he sucked it up and vowed to make the trek with you, no matter how nervous the public made him.

But with only a few blocks to go, you pulled him to the side once again.

“Hang on, shoe’s untied,” you attempted to bend down and tie your loose lace, but Bucky refused to let you. He, instead, knelt on the sidewalk and gave your shoe a proper double-knot.

He stared up at you with adoration in his eyes and a warm smile on his face, “this is almost like a Cinderella moment,” he joked. “Except I-”

Something caught his eye.

And before you had the chance to intervene, he was gone. He forced his way past cyclists and families with children, his body seemingly drawn in by a magnet toward whatever grabbed his attention. He stood with his back to you, examining a newspaper box.

“Come on, Buck, no one reads the paper anymore,” you laughed, attempting to sway his focus. But he didn’t move.

His gaze remained on the grainy photo of the two of you holding hands outside your building. For the second time that day, you scanned the headline: ‘SERIAL KILLER’S PR RELATIONSHIP: The Winter Soldier’s Attempt to Win Over the American Public’.

“What- what is this?” Bucky looked to you for help, for context. “Why did someone wrote about us?”

A haunting sense of hopelessness filled his eyes, leaving you gutted. And though he wanted to look away, he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from the page. Each second spent examining the harsh headline caused him more pain, more anguish.

He truly couldn’t believe what he saw. And he couldn’t believe he’d dragged you into the crossfire.

“Hey, don’t pay it any mind, okay?” You fought to meet his eyeline, “It’s just stupid gossip-”

A realization flashed across his face, “is this what you were reading this morning?”

A slow nod confirmed his fears. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, I just-”

Bucky snatched a paper from the box and began reading at lightning speed. With each sentence, the dread filling his chest grew heavier. “Hydra’s deadliest weapon has a new victim,” Bucky read aloud. “though she hasn’t been bloodied or brutalized…yet. We’ll see just how long Barnes’s new PR ‘girlfriend’ survives.”

The words cut him deep. They wormed their way into his brain and unearthed the fears he’d long tried to put to rest. He knew he was wrong to be with you. He was wrong to indulge in his feelings for you. Dating you meant putting you in danger, and he’d known that all along. But you were never scared of him- and if you were, you didn’t show it. This article, however, cemented his belief: your relationship was a ticking time bomb; being Bucky’s girlfriend meant signing your I love you’s in blood.

“Wait-” he dragged his eyes upward and met your anxious stare. “What does this mean- what’s a ‘PR relationship’?”

You rolled your eyes at the phrase, just like you had earlier that morning, “’public relations relationship’. It’s a fake relationship that’s been arranged by a PR firm. People usually do it to get publicity or fix their public image after a scandal.”

Bucky knew there was more to your answer, and he had enough questions to last till dinner. But the article was long- too long. He knew it had to be full to the brim with the most brutal, vile rhetoric possible. Reading it would hurt, yes. But he needed to know exactly what the article said about him, about you.

He buried his face in the paper once more, only surfacing to share a line or two with you. “They think you’re being paid to date me? That we’ve been doing something called-” he double checked the article, “‘pap walks’? What’s a pap walk?”

Even in times of crisis, Bucky’s lack of modern knowledge still managed to pull a smile from you. “It’s where you call the paparazzi so they can take pictures of you, but you pretend it was spontaneous.”

Bucky looked stunned, “Why would anyone do that?”

You shrugged, “you’d be surprised.”

People took pictures of Bucky without his permission constantly- it happened all the time. They snapped photos at the grocery store and on the subway. And no matter how subtle they tried to be, Bucky always clocked it. He could almost feel the lenses on him. But he didn’t notice the person taking this picture on the front page. Maybe if he had, he could’ve stopped it. Maybe he could’ve saved you from being exposed like this.

He shook his head and disappeared once again into the disgusting story written about the two of you. He didn’t care much what they said about him. People hated him- that wasn’t knew information. And though he didn’t love being one of the most reviled men in history, he’d come to terms with it. But now that someone dragged you into the fray, the fire within him reignited.

“His new ‘girlfriend’ functions as a means of improving the public’s opinion of Barnes and humanizing the ex-Winter Soldier. It’s a PR strategy we’ve seen a million times- one that could possibly salvage Barnes’s reputation,” Bucky read aloud. He eyed the people who passed, waiting until they crossed the street to continue.

“But what if she herself is no angel?” He rolled his eyes at the thought. “Surely, no one in their right mind would risk their life to date a proven serial killer. So, it’s entirely possible that she herself may not be in her right mind. Maybe she, too, is a criminal. Acting as Barnes’s new love interest could possibly knock time off her sentence or hours off her court mandated community service.”

Bucky stared at you, aghast. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I- I can’t believe they’d say that about you…”

“Buck, it’s okay,” you shrugged. “We both know I’m actually in love with you for real. I don’t have a prison sentence to shorten or community service hours to perform. And the last time I checked, no one is paying me to date you.” You cut a glance to the newspaper box, full of papers with front page coverage about you and Bucky, “I’m not worried about their bullshit.”

Bucky’s grip on the paper tightened, crinkling the edges. “But why’d they have to drag you into it? You haven’t done anything wrong-”

“Neither have you,” your tone was insistent, steadfast.

“We both know that’s not true…” Bucky loved your support, your assertions that he was an innocent man. But he never believed them. He knew he had blood on his hands even if you couldn’t- or refused to- see it.

“We both know you had no choice,” your rebuttal didn’t waver. “But, speaking of things that aren’t true,” you gestured toward the paper, “they also dropped Sam’s name.”

Bucky scanned through the article until he found the paragraph in question. “Why put in the effort to clean the blood from Barnes’s tarnished reputation? Two words: Sam Wilson,” Bucky paused his reading and stared up at you with wide eyes. All you could do was nod.

“Barnes and Wilson have been seen together on many occasions and have even been photographed on Wilson’s family boat in Louisiana. But Barnes’s association with Sam Wilson, AKA the New Captain America, only hurts the Captain America brand. Even if the two did take down the Flag Smashers as a team, Barnes is a bloodstain on the brilliant red, white, and blue of Wilson’s Cap.”

Hearing the words aloud twisted the knife. Sure, skimming the article hurt, but listening to Bucky read every last disgusting word hurt you in ways you never imagined. He deserved better. He deserved a world that loved him. A world that welcomed him home and celebrated his life. He deserved a fucking medal of honor for simply surviving what Hydra put him through. But he didn’t get medals or high praise; he, instead, got spit on by people on the subway.

“But if this new woman improves Barnes’s image in the public eye, his destruction of Wilson’s mantle may be mitigated.”

Bucky balled up the paper and crushed it into the nearest garbage can. His hands shook with anger, with anxiety.

“I hadn’t even- I didn’t even think of that…” he leaned against the newspaper box, dejected. “I didn’t realize I was ruining Sam's reputation just by being friends with him.” Despair darkened his expression. He knew getting close to people was selfish- he just never realized how selfish. And in one fell swoop, he ruined the lives of the two people he cared about most.

“You’re not- you’re not ruining anything,” you took Bucky’s face in your hands, cradling his cheeks. “These kinds of stories are all made up, baby. There’s no sources or actual information for them to work from, so they just write whatever will get them the most attention.”

Bucky’s gaze fell downward. “I don’t know, doll…”

“But I do. I know.” Your words came out desperate, pleading. Something inside of you shook with a frantic need to mend Bucky’s broken heart. You’d never seen him this despondent, this torn apart. “And I’m not gonna let you doubt yourself because of some low budget, piece of shit gossip article.” Regardless of the emotion holding you hostage, your voice didn’t waver. You stood firm in your conviction, determined to help Bucky find his way out of the spiral. “I love you. I love being with you. I missed you so much- I hate when you’re gone. And Sam- Sam loves you, too. I mean, not as much as me…” you shot him a wink. “But he is your best friend. He cares about you. And I can guarantee that he’s never- even for a second- thought that you were ruining his reputation.”

Bucky gave a shake of his head.

“Hey, you know Sam doesn’t care about that kind of stuff- he doesn’t give a shit what people think.” Sam knew Bucky as the ruthless assassin, the broken fugitive, and the rehabilitated man seeking amends. He’d seen the darkest, most twisted version of Bucky created by Hydra- even fought against him. But he didn’t see Bucky as a villain anymore. He saw only his friend, the tortured soul who tried his best every day.

Bucky lifted your hands from his face and held them to his chest instead. He gave a deep, heavy sigh that vibrated under your palms. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Part of him wished to go back into cryo and escape the stares of the world.

You could see him crumbling, collapsing in on himself like a dying star. He was drowning in his own mind, and you offered him a life preserver. “Hey, I know it must feel fucking awful to see a story like this about yourself. And I know you hate that Sam and I are involved. But it’s not your fault.” You gripped his t-shirt in your fists, desperate to get your point across. “This whole thing is so predatory and evil- it’s killing me to see you hurting like this. But I swear to you that this does not matter to the rest of the world. they won’t even notice.” Bucky’s stare sliced through you. Something in his eyes appeared hopeful- but only for a moment. The brightness died suddenly, replaced by despair.

“Seriously, Buck, people these days don’t even have the attention span to read an article this long.” Bucky didn’t laugh at your attempted levity. You dropped your joking tone and grew serious. “I don’t want you to think that this changes anything- it doesn’t. This will not have any ramifications. It will all blow over. The news cycle moves so fast now- by tomorrow, this same shitty paper will publish something that’s, like, ‘Elton John is secretly an alien.’”

Bucky didn’t answer. He simply rested his shoulders against the cool, brick wall and let his head fall back. He wondered if the fear people held for him would ever subside, if he’d ever be seen as anything other than a monster. His legacy was soaked in blood. It hung over his head every day, dripping crimson onto his skin. No shower could undo the stains- no matter how hard he scrubbed, he’d always be the stuff of nightmares.

“Okay, hey, how about this,” you reeled Bucky back in, saving him from the dark recesses of his mind. “Let’s just go home, alright? We can hole up and hide out. Watch movies, order takeout. We’ll just stay out of the public eye until this bullshit blows over.”

The offer enticed him. Escaping the stares of strangers, their horrified expressions- it sounded idyllic. The thought of just the two of you snuggled together on the couch, marathoning all of What We Do in the Shadows with Chinese takeout in hand was tempting. Bucky could feel the ‘yes’ forming on his lips. But at the last second, he refused with a shake of his head.

Bucky made a promise to you. After being an absentee boyfriend for months, he planned out the perfect day and swore on his life to deliver. He couldn’t break any more promises- not after he was gone for so long. And he had so much to make up for. So many date nights and lazy weekends fell by the wayside while he was away. He racked up a stack of debt in your relationship, and if he didn’t start paying it off soon, he feared you’d cancel his account.

But he knew you- knew you didn’t care about these things. You didn’t consider him accountable for the time he missed or hold a grudge against him. You were gracious- too gracious- of him. And if he rattled off his reasons for refusing your offer, he knew you’d sweep them aside. He knew you’d lead him home without hesitation and stay cooped up inside until the world eased up on him. And you’d miss out on your perfect day.

Bucky wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I think it’s actually better if…” he eyed the people passing, certain they were shooting the two of you dirty looks. “I think it’s better if I just go about my day. If we go home and hide, I’ll obsess, you know? I’ll get trapped in my own head.” He quickly tacked on an addendum, “but if you’re not okay being out in public right now, I understand. They involved you in this mess, too.”

You shrugged, “it doesn’t bother me. I know our relationship is real. That’s all that matters.”

And for a split second, Bucky’s worries disappeared. You were so sure of your love for him. So unbothered by what everyone else had to say. You didn’t let the opinions of others get to you; you loved Bucky, end of story. You adapted to every hurdle and challenge brought on by dating the ex- Winter Soldier. And you did so with a smile.

“Okay, good. Then I guess our next stop is the bookstore,” he said with a small smile. You tried to turn and head in that direction, but Bucky caught your hand, stopping you. “And hey- if anyone on the way there gives you trouble, you just say the word, okay?”

But no one gave you any trouble. The walk to the bookstore was quiet. Unremarkable. No one hollered close-minded comments at Bucky. No one gave either of you venomous glares. The calm shocked Bucky. He’d been so sure that this day would fall apart. That everyone who read that article would converge on the two of you all at once, harassing and degrading you until you retreated home. But no one said a word. The two of you simply strolled hand in hand, soaking in the warm summer sun. And Bucky’s hope for a perfect day renewed.

“I thought it would be in this section…” Bucky scanned the ‘fantasy’ section of the bookstore, searching for a specific novel. He took the high shelves, and you took the low, meeting in the middle after a fruitless search.

“Yeah, I didn’t see it, babe,” you rose from your squatted position, two mystery novels under your arm. “Maybe you should ask an employee? I can stay here and keep looking, just in case we missed it.”

“Yeah…” Bucky gave the area another cursory glance, to no avail. “That’s a good idea. I’ll be right back.” He dotted a kiss to your forehead and set off in search of a clerk, leaving you behind to double check the shelves.

The hundreds of books lined up in perfect rows put you at ease. This shop was the coziest place in the city, a peaceful paradise free from the noise. And spending a Saturday morning with Bucky, wandering amongst the many titles, felt like home. Your fingertips brushed over a few of the spines, tracing the ornate lettering in search of Bucky’s book.

“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice brought you back to reality, halting your hunt.

“Oh, sorry,” you took a few steps out of the stranger’s way and continued your search, only for her to interrupt once again.

“No, I want to talk to you!” her intense energy was out of place in the small, quiet bookshop. The eagerness in her voice rubbed you the wrong way. “Is it true?”

You stared at her, a blank expression on your face. “Is what true?”

“The whole PR relationship thing!” She pulled out her phone and shoved the article in your face, “I read about you two this morning.”

Your hands tightened into fists. Your jaw tensed. And though you wanted to wring this woman’s neck, you kept your cool; Bucky wouldn’t want you to get into a fight on his behalf. With a deep breath, you quelled the rage building inside you. You set down your books and relaxed your shoulders, forcing your breathing to steady.

This stranger had no right to ask invasive questions about your relationship, and no right to ruin your favorite bookstore. “Our relationship is none of your business,” you said, and turned back toward the bookshelves. This stranger didn’t deserve your eye contact, your attention, or your mental space. “Please, leave me alone.”

“Oh, duh! I bet they made you sign an NDA, didn’t they? I get it,” she threw an all too friendly chuckle in your direction. “Can you at least tell me what they’re paying you?”

With that, you brushed past her and attempted an escape. All you wanted was to find Bucky and put this whole interaction behind you. But she followed, phone in hand, recording the whole thing.

“Are you a criminal, too? Are you getting time off your sentence or something?” she called after you.

You let it go.

“How’d they get you to agree to this arrangement?”

You ignored her.

“Aren’t you scared? I could never do what you’re doing,” she said. “No amount of money could ever get me to be near that man- he’s a serial killer. He’s a monster!”

Something inside you snapped. You whipped around, rage burning behind your eyes. She crossed the line. She didn’t know anything about Bucky, only what the papers and tabloids said about him. And she

deserved to pay the price for speaking about him so harshly. But just as you opened your mouth to tear her to shreds, a large hand rested on your shoulder.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky stared down at you, “What’s-”

Your harasser’s eyes widened. “Oh my god,” pure terror rendered her white as a sheet. “It- it’s him…” Clumsy steps carried her backward as her phone slipped from her hand. She scrambled for it, desperate to run in the opposite direction. Breathless, horrified sounds fell from her lips. Her hands shook. You watched with a smile as she snatched her phone from the floor and tripped over herself as she high tailed it for the door.

Bucky eyed the woman as she knocked over displays and ran into other customers. “What was that about?”

You gave a shake of your head, “nothing. She was just hounding me about the article.”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly. Hit brow grew furrowed. “Oh, baby…” he sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t follow me around and ask me invasive questions.” You stretched up on your toes, planting a kiss to his cheek. “It’s not a big deal. I just hope I don’t end up on her Tik Tok.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open, “she was filming you?”

You nodded. Bucky’s face fell.

A rushed “Don’t worry about it, though” pushed its way past your lips. It had an over-the-top cheery tone and a thick affectation of reassurance. You could practically hear Bucky’s heart splintering and shattering with each passing second, and you had to stop it. “I’m sure she’s gonna watch it back later and delete it when she hears her own panicked panting,” you shot him a wink.

And you waited. Waited for the gears in Bucky’s mind to turn. To grind. The devil and angel on his shoulders fought one another, bare knuckled, to convince him of their arguments. The devil told him to spiral, to jump headfirst into a dark sea. He told Bucky this was all his fault, that you’d been harassed, followed, and filmed all because of him. The angel, however, urged him to listen to you. To take a deep breath. To hold your hand. To understand that the article wasn’t his fault- none of this was his fault.

And after a long moment, he slipped his hand into yours. The gesture was a bit reluctant, sure, but you didn’t care. He’d resisted the urge to plummet into guilt and shame. And that’s all that mattered.

You let loose a deep sigh as relief spread through your every cell. “Let’s get outta here, okay? We can head back home and-”

“What about breakfast?”

You eyed Bucky for a moment. “You still wanna go?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he gave you a small smile. “I know how excited you were about it.”

Of course, all he cared about was you. Your happiness. Your enjoyment. Your love for this diner’s chicken and waffles.

“We can just go another time,” you assured him. “It’s no big deal.”

Bucky sensed the disappointment, no matter how slight in your voice. He couldn’t ruin this day for you. He couldn’t let you down again.

But he thought about the walk to the diner, the hordes of people you’d encounter on the way. And just like that, he felt his manufactured mask of optimism slip.

A sudden rush of what if’s pummeled his psyche. He imagined more harassers filming you, more unhinged strangers following you. He heard them yelling the most despicable things in your direction, hurling insult after insult your way. The voices grew into a loud, almost violent cacophony that rattled inside Bucky’s skull.

He couldn’t let you be exposed to the cruel world like this. He couldn’t take you to breakfast when an angry mob threatened you at every turn. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at, to be disrespected. And what if they turned violent? What if someone followed the two of you home? He couldn’t risk your safety like that.

But he still had to make up for all his time away. All the lonely nights you spent awake, wondering if he was still alive. All the weekends you spent alone, missing him until it hurt. And he’d made a promise- to himself and to you- that he’d rectify the pain his absence caused.

Plus, he had to be over-reacting, right? Assuming the worst out of people he didn’t even know- it wasn’t fair. Sure, a stranger followed you around and gave you a hard time. But she didn’t hurt you. She didn’t even try to get violent. It was all in Bucky’s head- he was sure of it. He made a conscious effort to release his shoulders from their tension-locked position and forced a deep breath into his chest.

“No, doll, really. It’s okay,” he gave your hand a squeeze. “I can tolerate a few dirty looks.”

The second the two of you stepped out of the bookstore and onto the busy sidewalk, you clocked the way hung his head. The way he hid from the eyes of the city. He tried to shrink himself, to protect himself. The confidence, the self-esteem he’d worked so hard to build came crumbling down in an instant. This wasn’t your Bucky, but the Bucky of years before. The Bucky who hated every fiber of his being. The Bucky who took every harsh word spoken about him as gospel. The Bucky who punished his innocent body to make up for his tortured mind.

The reemergence of this Bucky twisted the knife with which the article stabbed you and rubbed salt in the wound.

The walk to the diner brought out your chatty side. Filling the air with lighthearted anecdotes and silly jokes seemed to you like the only way to keep Bucky afloat. If you could distract him from the pain, from the potentially hateful onlookers, maybe this day could be salvaged. But, much to your surprise, not one person harassed the two of you. No one asked questions or followed you around. Not a single errant camera flash dotted the street. Hope rose in Bucky’s chest. Maybe this perfect day could still go as planned. Maybe he could still keep his promise.

When you arrived at the diner without issue, Bucky found himself almost laughing at his own dramatics. He knew he worried too much, that he always considered the worst possible outcomes. He saw the world through a dark and stormy filter, always casting shadows over reality. But to his delight, he’d been wrong this time.

The bell atop the diner door gave a delicate jingle as the two of you made your way inside. The place had an old-timey feel that brought Bucky a sense of comfort, a sense of home. Large families sat packed like sardines in every booth. Tray after tray of French toast and eggs benedict passed by. The smell of bacon and golden-brown pancakes instantly pulled his lips into a smile. It seemed to Bucky that this joint was the real deal. He couldn’t wait to try the chicken and waffles you raved about. Couldn’t wait for a syrup-sweetened kiss.

“For two?” the hostess asked when you made your way to the front of the line. You gave her a nod.

She eyed the section to her left, appraising the area for an opening as a busboy waved in her direction. “Okay, this way,” she grabbed two menus from the host stand and gestured for you to follow.

But just as you attempted to trail her through the sea of tables, a booming voice caught your attention.

“Hey!”

The restaurant quieted. Heads turned in the direction of the outcry.

A large, gray-haired man with a soiled apron stepped into the hostess’s path, blocking her way. A deep crease formed between his furrowed brows. Sweat dotted his bright pink cheeks. This was the face of a man who stood over a hot grill for twenty-five years. He was familiar, but only vaguely so. You could’ve sworn you’d heard that voice before- though with a kinder intonation. And then it hit you.

During your last visit to the diner, he stopped by your table to ask how you liked the food. He was so kind, so even tempered. He thanked you for choosing to spend your Sunday morning at what used to be his father’s restaurant. He was so proud of the old place. So compassionate for its time-worn booths and outdated wallpaper. He told you how he worked in the kitchen for so long that now, even as the new owner and manager, he couldn’t stay away from the griddles.

But the kind-hearted man you met last time was long gone.

“Not in my restaurant!” He ripped the menus from the hostess and dismissed her with a sharp wave of his hand. He glared at Bucky, his eyes brimming with hate. “We don’t serve murderers here!”

The lighthearted chatter died out altogether. Forks stopped clinking against plates. Children halted their laughter. Hundreds of eyes locked on Bucky as his cheeks burst into a red flush.

“Get out before I call the police!” The man took a step toward the two of you, “You’re not welcome here, you psycho.”

“You can’t talk to him like that!” you barked back. “He isn’t-”

“Baby, don’t,” Bucky cupped a hand around your upper arm and tried to gently pull you toward the door. “Let’s just go.”

“No,” you cut your gaze back to the manage, “not until he apologizes.”

Bucky gave your arm another tug, “please.”

The desperation in his voice nearly made you crack. His eyes swept across the room and back again, taking in each and every horrified stare. With each taunt the manager threw his way, the weight of the public eye grew heavier. More suffocating. Their stares pushed Bucky’s shoulders forward and his head down. He was crumbling.

Not one person stood up for Bucky. No one- aside from you- called the manager out. No patron even gave a disapproving shake of their head. It sickened you.

With a small nod, you obliged Bucky’s request, and let him lead you out of the restaurant. The stares followed him the entire way.

Bucky wanted to disintegrate. He wished to, once again, turn to dust and evaporate into the breeze. If he ran, he could put a few miles between himself and this godforsaken diner in minutes. But he found his feet rooted into the ground. He was frozen. Trapped. Running wasn’t an option.

He leaned against the cool glass window of the diner and let himself process. He heard you talking a mile a minute, reassuring him until you ran out of breath. But he couldn’t pick out more than a few words. It wasn’t until a defeated apology fell from your lips that he snapped out of his trance.

“Wait- you’re sorry?”

You nodded. “I’m so sorry, Buck. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” His gaze fell into a strange middle distance, landing on everything and nothing all at once. “I should apologize. That article… it ruined everything. I feel like I-” His eyes met yours, “your life is never gonna be the same after this.”

You gave him a shrug, “who says I want it to be?”

His eyes met yours as an exasperated laugh left his chest, “You’re kidding, right? This is going to affect everything for you: jobs, housing, friendships. When people look you up online, all they’re gonna see is that article. They’re gonna see me.”

“Good. I want them to see you,” you said with a wink. “If I’m gonna date the hottest guy in the universe, I want everyone to know about it.” Bucky didn’t laugh. “Babe, I’m not worried about that kind of stuff right now. I’m worried about you.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze fall to the sidewalk below. “I’ve been through worse.”

The worn-out, beaten down quality of his voice was enough to make you weep. Bucky didn’t deserve more pain. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a monster. But society cast him out and labelled him a vicious predator. They abandoned him, left him in a corner to rot and wither. All alone.

And you weren’t going to let them do it again.

“Fuck that article and fuck all these people who wanna disrespect you.” You tilted his chin upward until his eyes met yours, “we’re gonna go home and order take out. We’re gonna watch some movies. And we’re gonna get through this bullshit together.”

Without another word, you slipped your hand into his and started off in the direction of home. But Bucky didn’t move.

You turned back to him, an expectant look on your face. “You coming?”

“But…” he gave the diner another look, “You didn’t get your chicken and waffles.”

“What?”

“You should go back inside and eat,” Bucky pulled his hand from yours. “I’ll head home and-”

“Buck, I say this with love, but-” you cupped his face, “are you nuts?”

He let out a deep, genuine laugh.

“I’m not gonna eat here ever again,” you spied the manager through the window, “fuck that guy.”

Bucky just wanted you to enjoy the breakfast you’d been dreaming of. He hated that you were willing to deprive yourself. That he’d ruined your special breakfast spot. But your fierce loyalty filled him with warmth. In that moment, he made a mental note. He planned to scour the internet and find the best chicken and waffles in the city to make up for today’s mess.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Bucky said. “You were ready to fist fight that guy.”

You put up your dukes and landed a few faux punches to Bucky’s chest, “hell yeah I was. No one is allowed to treat you like that.” Your hands fell to your sides. A sudden seriousness eclipsed your joking tone. “Ever.”

Bucky pulled you in for a hug, holding you close to his chest. He never thought he’d have someone like you in his life. Someone who loved him. Cared for him. Supported him. But, without fail, you had his back every time. You were his safe harbor, his soft place to land.

Sometimes, he thought that maybe you were with him by accident. Maybe he was never meant to experience your gentle kind of love. Maybe he interrupted you on your path to someone else. Maybe he somehow got tangled in fate’s thread. But he didn’t care.

You took Bucky’s hand once again, prepared to lead him in the direction of home, “Ready?”

Bucky gave you a cheery nod, “let’s-”

“Fuck you, murderer!” a passerby shouted. He disappeared in a flash, bold enough to insult Bucky but cowardly enough not to hang around for the consequences.

Bucky thought the man might’ve said something else as he bolted from the scene, but he didn’t quite catch it. He was too distracted by the vague sounds of discomfort grumbling out of your chest.

“Doll? You alright?”

Slowly, carefully, you turned to him. A look of shock yanked his features upward as he came face to face with the massive coffee stain covering your body. It splashed over the entirety of your chest, streaking down the front of your shirt. Steam still wafted from the drips running down your neck. Rogue droplets dotted your arms.

“Oh my god…” Bucky didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help you.

The boiling tidal wave seared through your skin, setting each nerve alight. You could’ve sworn it hit bone. The sudden rush of pain forced a trembling into your hands, an unsteadiness into your voice. A stinging rush of tears brimmed against your lash line, but you wouldn’t dare let them fall. Not when you could practically see Bucky choking on his guilt.

“Wow, I wish that asshole was more of a cold brew guy,” you joked. “And he ruined my favorite shirt with his shitty aim.”

Bucky’s chest seemed to fold in on itself. It shuddered and shrank, collapsing against his thundering heart. Each inhale was shallower, greedier than the last. Oxygen leeched from his lungs as the crushing panic set it. An ever-darkening shadow clouded the edges of his vision- but he couldn’t succumb. Not when you needed him.

Before he knew what was happening, he used his body to form a protective shell around you. He ushered you toward the diner door, scanning the area for oncoming threats. No one else was going to get to you- not today, not ever.

A deep sigh of relief left Bucky’s chest as he ushered you inside. Sure, it was only coffee. And you weren’t even the target. But every passing second brought a new, horrifying ‘what if’ to the forefront of Bucky’s mind.

What if you’d been thrown to the ground?

What if you’d been shot?

What if vengeful people wanted to spill your blood as payment for Bucky’s crimes?

He thought he might throw up.

But the second he made it to the hostess stand, his nausea dissipated. The fog clouding his mind cleared. You were his priority- everything else could wait.

“Someone just threw hot coffee on her,” Bucky said to the hostess. His words came out quick, firm. “She needs ice now.”

The hostess’s features sunk with a heavy guilt. “Oh, shit. I-” She glanced across the room at the manager and watched him with narrowed eyes as he schmoozed with the regulars. “I’ll go grab some right now, give me one second.”

The seconds dragged. Anxiety coursed through Bucky, prickling at his every cell. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Bit down on the inside of his cheek. Anything to calm the worry. But he couldn’t help it; you were attacked- because of him. And he needed to remedy it as quickly as possible.

“You doing okay?” He stared down at you, worry creasing his features.

You nodded, “yeah. Doesn’t hurt that bad anymore. I think all of my nerves have gone numb, ya know?” You attempt at humor sunk like lead.

“Baby, I’m so-”

“What the fuck did I say?!” the manager stomped over to Bucky, his wrath on full display. “I’m calling the cops! I already kicked you out once-”

Bucky held up a hand in surrender, “We just need some ice- the hostess went to get it. As soon as she gets back, I’ll go.”

The manager rolled his eyes, “No- you don’t get anything from us. Leave! I’m calling the police!”

It was then that the hostess appeared with a large plastic bag full of ice. She looked at you with kind eyes, apologizing silently for her manager’s behavior. “Here you go. Is this enough? I can get more-”

“It’s plenty, really,” you hastily grabbed for the bag and pressed it to your scorched skin. The cool sensation flooded your senses, doing away with any remaining discomfort. “Thank you.”

“Great, you got your ice,” the manager spat, “now get out.”

Bucky thanked the hostess a hundred times over as guilt settled in his stomach. He knew she’d get in trouble for helping him. He knew the manager would scream at her- most likely in front of everyone. But she’d shown the two of you kindness. She did her best to help you in a moment of need, regardless of what others said. And it renewed Bucky’s faith in strangers- if only for a moment.

“How does that feel? Is it okay?” Bucky eyed the dripping bag of ice, the shivering in your fingers. “I can ask her for-”

“Hey! Do you speak English, or just Russian?” The manager yelled, “GET. THE FUCK. OUT. You understand?”

Part of Bucky wanted to disappear into a cave for a while. Wanted to hide from the ridicule. But he couldn’t check out. He couldn’t evaporate and leave you to fend for yourself. No, he’d made a promise to himself the day he met you; he swore he’d always protect you. And though he couldn’t stop the public from treating you with malice, he could at least get you home safely.

“Woah, hey- where are you going?” Bucky put a hand over yours, halting your attempt to open the diner door.

“Well, I don’t know if you heard the lovely manager of this fine establishment,” you said, “but he wants us to, and I quote, ‘get the fuck out’. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Bucky gave a fervent shake of his head, “No. You wait in here. I’m gonna get us a cab, and-”

“It’s okay, I’ll come with you.” You gave the door a tug, but Bucky kept it from budging.

“Don’t,” a dark seriousness clung to Bucky’s words. “I don’t want anything else happening to you.”

Bucky’s protective nature was always sweet. Always made you feel special. You couldn’t help the tiny grin that pulled at your features. “Babe, it was just coffee-”

“This time,” a grave look ghosted over his face. “It was just coffee this time.”

Bucky let his eyes drift to the busy sidewalk outside. Every stranger, every passing face posed a threat to your safety. Anyone could have a knife. A gun. And while Bucky was certain that the hot coffee had been meant for him- that you were simply collateral damage, an unintended target- he feared how the city might treat you. You’d already been followed, harassed, filmed, attacked. People saw you as fair game, as a token of retribution. An eye for an eye that made the city blind with hate.

“Can you just-” He dragged his gaze back to you, “will you please wait inside?”

Bucky couldn’t remember ever being this scared. Not on the train, not at Hydra. This was different; this was your life at stake. Your vulnerabilities exposed to the world. It was as if a magnifying glass sat posed above you, giving anyone and everyone a detailed look into your life. Bucky knew there wasn’t much time before the rays of the sun burned you alive.

“Okay, yeah,” you released the door handle, “I’ll stay in here.” It was the least you could do.

He was deathly pale, his hand shaking with anxiety. He worried about you so intensely that you sometimes feared he’d get sick. And though no part of you wanted to send Bucky out there alone, you agreed.

His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly; the whisper of a smile crossed his face. “Thank you,” he dropped a kiss to your forehead and headed outside to the world that hated him.

And hate him they did. You watched from the diner window, the scene that played out filling you with anguish. Not a single cab even slowed down for him. Vacant taxis turned off their lights as they approached- only to turn them back on once they’d passed. Bucky’s shoulders grew more slumped with each unsuccessful attempt at hailing a cab. His head drooped; his expression grew pained. This wasn’t fair. After his pardon, he’d worked so hard to earn the public’s trust, to reenter their good graces. He made his amends, went to therapy, even did a few interviews at Sam’s suggestion.

One poorly written article in a shit-rag paper, however, was enough to send him back to square one.

All Bucky wanted was to get you home safely, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t even provide something that basic, that simple. He cursed himself relentlessly as taxi after taxi flew by. He was supposed to protect you, to take care of you. And yet, he was the reason for your pain. Your peril. It made him nauseous.

After countless failed attempts at securing a ride, Bucky turned to face you. He stared at you through the dirty glass, shame and disappointment dragging his features downward. For a long moment, he just stood there. Completely still. Passersby bumped into him every now and again. People muttered under their breath about him being in the way. But he didn’t move. He just looked at you, the person he loved most. You, the person he cared for above all else. You, the person he couldn’t protect. Couldn’t provide for.

Part of him thought it best to just walk away. His absence would make your life easier, less chaotic. Safer. If he left you alone, maybe you’d find someone else. Someone normal. Someone better. Someone who could take you out to breakfast without putting you in harm’s way. Someone whose mere existence didn’t prompt strangers to scream at you in public.

But he couldn’t leave you- ever. He was bound to you from day one.

One last fruitless attempt at catching a cab sent his heart sinking down, down, down to the soles of his feet. And as he approached the diner with his tail between his legs, he felt himself stepping on it with each pace. He was so embarrassed, so ashamed. With a quick wave of his hand, he beckoned you to the door and popped his head inside.

“Baby, could you…” he was almost too downtrodden to speak. “Could you get us a cab? No one will-” he cleared his throat, “No one will stop for me.”

The look on his face hurt worse than your scorched skin.

“Of course, Buck. Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

It wasn’t lost on Bucky how quickly a cab stopped for you. It took less than a minute, maybe less thirty seconds. He stood on the sidelines, as far away from you as he could possibly get without leaving you defenseless. You looked good out there on your own, free from his burden.

The cab ride home was quiet. Uncomfortable. The driver eyed Bucky in the rearview as though appraising a threat. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles lost all color. You swore you heard the gas pedal hit the floorboards more than once. The car sliced through traffic and screeched to a halt outside your building, throwing you forward in your seat. The seatbelt tightened against your scalded skin, pulling a groan from your throat.

“Thanks. Um,” Bucky handed the driver a wad of cash, “keep the change.” He kept his focus trained on you but couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice the way the driver flinched. The way his muscles yanked his body in the opposite direction. The way his hands shook as he took the money. Bucky wished to evaporate.

But he couldn’t, not yet. Not when you needed him. And so, he walked you upstairs and ushered you into the small apartment you shared. He double and triple checked the deadbolt, even pulled on the door to ensure your safety. He couldn’t let anything else happen to you- he’d rather die.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go take a shower,” you broke the tense silence. “I reek of cinnamon soy latte.” The laugh that punctuated your sentence did nothing to brighten Bucky’s stormy expression.

“Sounds good, doll,” he nodded. “You can just drop your clothes in the hall, I’ll throw them in the laundry for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you frowned down at your coffee-stained shirt, appraising the damage done. “I don’t think this thing can be saved.”

Bucky shrugged, “It couldn’t hurt. I’ll give it a try.” He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, “it’s the least I could do.” And with a light tap to your ass, he sent you off to shower. The gesture wasn’t as lighthearted as it was just a few hours earlier, but he was trying. Trying to appear less dejected. Less broken.

But you saw through the façade.

When you emerged, free from the smell of coffee, you found Bucky in the kitchen standing over the kettle. He stared down at it, his hands resting on either side of the stove top, his shoulders nearly reaching his ears. You knew that look- he was lost inside his own head.

“You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to watch that thing…” you said, snapping him out of his train of thought. “Otherwise, it’ll never boil.”

His head snapped up. The darkness clouding his eyes parted. He smiled at your lame joke, letting your lighthearted tone lift his spirits. “I was just gonna make you a tea, I know you haven’t had the easiest day.” He just wanted to right the ship, to steer the two of you out of the dark, choppy waters in which you found yourselves. Maybe, this small, kind gesture could make up for your ruined Saturday. Maybe, it would keep you from leaving.

“How was your shower?”

Just thinking about it made you wince. “It was fine, I guess. I had to use the coldest water possible- any warmth at all made my skin hurt.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked from your face to the kettle and back. Worry creased his brow. “Should I not…” He sighed, “Are hot beverages out of the question?” He couldn’t believe how absentminded he’d been.

“No! Definitely not,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you know I’ll always take a tea. Thanks, babe.”

A small, proud smile spread across Bucky’s face. For once, he didn’t disappoint you. For once, he didn’t ruin the moment. After such a nightmarish day, he finally breathed easy, knowing that he’d done one thing right.

“I was thinking I could run out and grab us something to eat,” Bucky said when he got you settled on the couch with your tea and a fresh ice pack. “I know you’re probably starving. And I could-”

“Baby, no,” you shook your head. “I don’t want you out there- I don’t want you getting harassed or attacked. We’re in hermit mode for a few days until this whole thing blows over. Okay?”

Bucky barely mustered a nod.

“Let’s just order some take out. What sounds good?” You dropped your ice pack to the side, grimacing at the loss of the cool sensation. But comfort could wait. You opened your laptop and sat up, poised to take Bucky’s order. But he didn’t answer.

He remained silent for a long while, eyeing the floor with a blank stare. His nails dug into the palm of his hand; his jaw tensed. Something deep within him fought tooth and nail to claw its way out. It scratched at his insides, screaming for release. Bucky didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to even chance upsetting you. But the words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

“Do you ever regret this?”

You cocked your head to the side, “Regret what?”

“This-” Bucky gestured to himself, and then you. “Us.”

The words hurt worse than your scorched chest. “No. Why would you even say that?”

Bucky shrugged, “Because you’re covered in second degree burns and it’s my fault.” Never before had he ever sounded this broken, this hopeless. Not even after Steve left.

“Buck, it’s not your fault,” you shut your computer and inched closer to him. “You’re not the one who threw hot coffee on me-”

“But the person who did was aiming for me, and you got caught in the crossfire,” he choked out. “That’s my fault.”

“It’s not-”

He stood suddenly, his anxiety forcing him to move. “Can you deal with this for the rest of your life? All the staring and the harassment? And the hiding at home because everyone hates me? Is that the kind of life you want?” He paced with a fervent drive, fearing that if he didn’t burn through the nervous energy, he’d suffocate under it.

But, even in the face of his frantic movements, you remained seated, remained calm. Talking to Bucky in this state was like coaxing an injured animal into your home. One wrong move, and he’d bolt. Every move, ever word, had to be slow, measured. With an even tone and soft words, you refuted his sentiments. “I want whatever kind of life lets me be with you-”

“You want people throwing coffee on you forever? You want-” He paused, only to place your icepack on your chest once again. “You want to be kicked out of restaurants and denied cabs? Just to be with me?”

One small nod. “Yes.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his expression blank. “People used to vandalize my apartment, you know…”

“What?”

He nodded. “After I finally came back to New York and tried to settle in…” The memories of those uncomfortable, disjointed days filled Bucky with dread. He’d never been so lonely, so lost. He pulled away from you, fearing he’d complicated your life. He forced himself into isolation. And to make matters worse, his community turned their back on him. They didn’t welcome him home or celebrate his survival. They made him wish he’d never made it back. “They broke my windows, filled my mailbox with pictures of my victims, used animal blood to write ‘KILLER’ across my front door-” He let out a heavy sigh, one that came from deep within his bones. “That’s why I moved so often. My landlords- no matter how sketchy they were, no matter how much illegal shit they did to their tenants- kept kicking me out. I was too much of a liability, even for those shithole places.”

It left you reeling. Images of Bucky coming home to find his place completely trashed hurt you in a way you didn’t know was possible. You could see him, covered in blood, scrubbing his front door in the middle of the night. Wiping tears from his eyes as he looked through piles of photos of the people he hurt. Taping pieces of cardboard over his broken windows in the hopes of keeping out the severe, violent winters. He didn’t deserve any of it.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself back to the present. “Buck, I don’t care about things like that. They can vandalize our place if they want. They can throw coffee at me.” Slowly, carefully, you rose from the couch. “As long as nothing happens to you, I’m happy.”

A rough scoff launched out of Bucky’s throat, “Come on-”

“No, you come on,” Your words came out too intense, too hard. But you couldn’t maintain your even keel anymore. Not when Bucky was moments from unraveling. “I have been in this with you since the day we met. I knew- almost immediately- that you were the person I wanted to be with. Even when you didn’t know where- or who- you were. Even when you went back into cryo. Even when you turned to dust and disappeared for five years.” Dredging up the past hurt. It sliced you open and tore your heart into pieces. But you didn’t dare fall apart- not yet. “Even when you pushed me away,” your voice wavered, “I have been with you- and I always will be. Because I know who you are. I know you’re a good person.” A few tears dripped down your cheeks, “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.“

“Why?” Bucky shook his head, “I don’t- I can’t understand that.”

“Because you’re just- you’re you, baby,” you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Bucky’s existence. “You’re kind. And you’re thoughtful. And you’re compassionate. You care about everything. Everyone. I’ve never met anyone with a heart like yours…” You shrugged, “I love you. So much.”

“I know you do. And I love you, but…” His eyes dropped to the floor, “I feel like being with me is a waste of your time. A waste of your love. You know? You should be with someone good. Someone with less baggage, whose hands aren’t stained with the blood of innocent people.” He dragged his gaze up to meet yours, desperation in his eyes. “I want to give you everything- I want to give you the world. But I can’t. I can’t give you what other people can. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t want any of that- I don’t want the world,” you shrugged. “I want you.” To you, it was simple. Completely uncomplicated. But Bucky didn’t see it that way.

“Is that- am I enough, though? I mean, the quality of life I’ve given you so far has been…” He thought back on all the terrors and trials you’d face together. All the disasters to which he subjected you. He shuddered. “Everything I put you through is so fucking messed up. And scary. And painful. And-”

He shook his head. Since the day he fell for you, he knew one simple truth. And for years, he did his best to deny it. Hide it. Run from it. But it came spilling forward all at once.

“There’s always gonna be something with me. Some problem, some mess. I’m either gone for weeks, fighting god knows who, completely unable to talk to you until I show up at home covered in blood,” he said. “Or I’m here with you while strangers to accost you on the street because they hate me.” He shook his head, disappointed in himself. Why did he allow you into his dumpster fire of a life? Why would he subject you to the heartache and the misery he knew lurked around every corner?

He fought the tears gathering in his eyes, the emotion that attempted to block his airway. “The waters are never going to be smooth. Not with me. And I don’t want you to have to deal with the fucking tidal wave of bullshit that is my life. You deserve better- you deserve better than me.”

“Buck-”

“I want your life to be safe. Peaceful. Comfortable. Not-” he gestured to the icepack on your chest, “whatever it is now.”

Without a word, you took him by the hand and led him to the couch. And for a long moment, he refused to sit with you. He didn’t want to give in, to lower his defenses and allow himself to get comfortable. But your red-rimmed eyes, glassy with tears, forced him to take a seat.

And when he finally rested beside you, you ditched your icepack and took his face in your hands. “Everything you said that you want for me? I already have it. I have all of that.”

He shook his head, “Doll-”

“You make me feel safer and more comfortable than I ever have. Being with you is like being wrapped in a warm blanket made of bullet proof bubble wrap.”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from letting out a quiet laugh.

“I’m serious. You can talk about how the life I lead with you isn’t enough and how you’re not enough, but this,” you gestured to yourself and then him, “is everything I’ve ever wanted. Being here with you in our home is… it’s the most peace I’ve ever known. Even when we’re just sitting in silence, it’s- it’s warm. It’s comforting.” You inched closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, “It’s like we’re the only two people on the planet. And we can just exist in the other’s atmosphere without pressure or fear. We understand each other. And it’s perfect.”

A rush of pink colored Bucky’s cheeks. Sometimes, even after all the years he’d spent with you, he didn’t know how to handle such loving sentiments. But there was no pressure to perfectly articulate his thoughts or express himself without flaws. A simple “I love you” did the trick. He leaned into you, allowing your warmth to soothe his aching soul.

“All that shit that happened today didn’t even bother me much,” you told him. “The lady in the bookstore, and the staring, and the coffee thing- I can deal with that kind of stuff. I can take that every day as long as I get to be with you.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair and caught a vague whiff off coffee but didn’t bring it up.

“The only part that really upset me,” you continued, “was seeing people be so mean to you. And watching you get so down on yourself.” Reliving Bucky’s heartbroken expression at the diner almost made you tear up. “I can handle a rogue Starbucks, but I’ll never accept anyone treating you like that. You're everything to me- you always will be.”

Bucky handed you your icepack, begging you to put it back on your scalded skin where it belonged. “Well, I appreciate your support," he smiled to himself, "and your fierce loyalty.”

A mischievous laugh rumbled out of your chest. “Good. Just remember than when I call you from the county jail after I get arrested for burning that fucking newspaper to the ground.”

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

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hotvintagepoll · 8 months ago

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Propaganda

Hedy Lamarr (Samson and Delilah, Ziegfeld Girl)—Look. I'm sure someone has already submitted Hedy Lamarr because she was spectacularly beautiful, and a very strong lady too: she fled both an abusive marriage AND nazi persecution at a very young age and rebuilt a life for herself pursuing her love for acting all on her own!! Her career as an actress was stellar; while she began acting outside of Hollywood (her very first movie, Ecstasy, won a prize at the Venice Film Festival), she conquered American hearts very quickly with her first movie in the US, Algiers, and then just kept getting better and better. If all this isn't enough, she was also an inventor: her invention of the frequency-hopping spread spectrum radio transmission technique forms the base of bluetooth and has a lot of applications in all kinds of communication technologies. I think that deserves a prize, don't you?

Grace Kelly (Rear Window, High Society, Dial M for Murder)—The literal princess of Hollywood (she retired at 26 to become princess of Monaco), her name said everything about why she was so hot. She carried herself with a grace and elegance you just don't see anymore. Her voice was sultry without being overbearing, and she had the ability to be sweet but suggest a deep sensuality at all times.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Hedy Lamarr:

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The only person you can find both on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and in the Inventor's Hall of Fame--her radio-frequency-hopping technology forms the basis for cordless phones, wi-fi, and a dozen other aspects of modern life. She was also passionate in her efforts to aid the Allies in WWII (unsurprising for a Jewish-Austrian Emigree to America), and her name served as the backbone for one of the best running jokes in what is possibly Mel Brooks' best movie. Look, Louis B. Mayer apparently believed he could plausibly promote her as "The world's most beautiful woman". Is an entire website full of people going to be less audacious than one Louis B. Mayer? I didn't think so!

64.media.tumblr.com

Described as "Hedy has the most incredible personal sophistication. She knows the peculiarly European art of being womanly; she knows what men want in a beautiful woman, what attracts them, and she forces herself to be these things. She has magnetism with warmth, something that neither Dietrich nor Garbo has managed to achieve" by Howard Sharpe, she managed to escape her controlling husband (and Nazi Germany) by a) Disguising as her maid and fleeing to Paris or b) Convincing the husband to let her wear all of her jewelry to a dinner, only to disappear afterwards. Also she was particularly clever and helped develop Frequency-Hopping Spread Spectrum (I can't really explain it but anyway...)

64.media.tumblr.com

Her depiction of Delilah and Samson and Delilah just lives rent free in my head. The woman was gorgeous.

64.media.tumblr.com

One of the most beautiful women ever in film, spoken by many critics and fans. Beautiful shapely figure, deeper seductive voice, and often played femme fatale roles. She was also brilliant and an inventor. Mainly self-taught, she invested her spare time, including on set between takes, in designing and drafting inventions, which included an improved traffic stoplight and a tablet that would dissolve in water to create a flavored carbonated drink, and much more.

Gorgeous and brilliant pioneer of modern technology and the middle part.

Grace Kelly:

flawlessly beautiful and a literal princess

Her facial structure? Flawless. Her eyes? Stunning. Her hair? Gorgeous. Her style? Immaculate. Every second she’s on screen, she just exudes this elegance and sophistication. It’s no wonder she ended up marrying a prince. But she’s got this mischief in her eyes that is compelling.

She was so elegant, so beautiful and perfect I could cry for real. A fairy disguised as a woman.

the most beautiful of Hitchcock's "icy blondes". elegant, glamorous, she left hollywood to became an actual princess, I mean, COME ON

she's so pretty and refined and elegant! I'm pretty sure taylor swift's blonde hair red lip look is modeled partly after her

She's just so elegant, look at her all dressed up like a Barbie doll in the latest fashions. There's a quiet dignity about her.

Not only was she princess of Monaco she also is Stéphanie de Monaco's mother and yeah, vote for her she's soooo pretty That red dress in Dial M.... hot damn

To me, she is the first and only blonde. She earned it. Paired with Edith Head's costume design she is unstoppable. I dare anyone to watch her as Lisa Carol Fremont in Rear Window and not be completely blown away by her hotness.

SHE IS SO PRETTY AND FASHIONABLE!! Not only that but she has an alluring aura to her in whatever film I've seen her in! Rear Window is just one of my personal favorite films she was in, especially for her costumes in that. And how many actresses can you say was a princess consort in addition to being a famous leading lady?

#grace kelly #hedy lamarr #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 5

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daintcas · 9 months ago

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lady killers ˗ˏˋ rafe cameron !

"man i'm a lady killer, if i want her i'mma steal her" / g-eazy

pairing. dealer!rafe cameron x innocent(ish)!reader

summary. his constant cycle of partying with privilege grants him anything he wants, until you show up to break the pattern.

contains. alcohol and drug use, tension, sexually suggestive, implied age gap, cliffhanger

the lifestyle comes with its perks, constantly surrounded by pretty girls who were more than willing to follow him upstairs. direct access to any substance he wanted, displayed messily across the polished coffee table at all times. not to mention the adrenaline-boosting boom of a surrounding party in some kid's ridiculously expensive house - thrown almost nightly.

it became a normality for him, whether or not he realized how unhealthy his habits may be. blinded by the attention, money, and already through-the-roof addition of popularity, the boy let himself be overcome by it all. but hey, isn't this how you're supposed to live life after graduation?

you, on the other hand, were never overly thrilled at the idea of occupying your time with what seemed to be an endless string of these things. that being said, it wasn't an unfamiliar scene after having wasted a couple of saturdays with friends before.

you also weren't one to deny the opportunity for a good night. which is why you didn't put up much of a fight when none other than sarah cameron insisted on your presence at a party she was hosting in her family's mansion.

she was friendly enough, but not to the extent of being by your side for the duration of the whole night because of an invite most likely given out to everyone in her contacts - that part had you a bit nervous. the idea of being stranded in a room full of highly intoxicated kids you hardly knew.

all precautions were eventually thrown out the window when you found yourself getting all dolled up in the bathroom mirror. mascara turning out perfect over a flawless base, hair down and flowing neatly, a strapless pale pink sundress you'd bought with sarah weeks ago tying it all together.

with one final application of lipgloss over expertly lined lips and a brief pose checking your reflection, you were headed out. fresh acrylics plucking your keys from the household bowl and looking down at your phone to check the time just as it rings, stopping your hand from unlocking the front door.

a sigh escapes you as you juggle everything in your hands to bring the device to your ear after blindly swiping to answer. a loud shout of your name has you flinching and furrowing your brows in confusion - and maybe annoyance. "yeah? hello?"

"c'mon, i'm outside!" a girl all but yells and it isn't until you hear a sweet, enthusiastic laugh that you recognize the voice.

"sarah?" you ask, though already having discarded the keys and slipped on your shoes lying ready by the doormat.

"let's go! i've got a party to entertain," the words are followed by the muffled sound of her shifting around, and you take it as your grace period to get outside before she takes off.

throwing open the door and hurrying down the steps of the front porch, you can't help but smile at the girl sitting in the driver's seat of a black jeep. beaming over at you, she hangs up the phone and ushers you over to the otherwise vacant car with a flailing hand.

the trip to tannyhill is filled with wide smiles and giggles over speakers blaring iconic summer songs. windows rolled down to take in an orangey-pink sky from the setting sun - which almost distracts from how sharp sarah takes what seems to be every turn in town.

the suv eventually comes to a stop after sliding down into the basement garage that screams wealth, right past all the cars lined up along the street. sarah hops out and offers a toothy grin while tossing her sunglasses in the center console.

"i'm so happy you're finally at one of my parties," she says while taking your hand and eagerly leading the way upstairs, her own dress swaying as she walks.

"me too," is all you offer in response, too entranced by the new level of rich that surrounds you while following blindly.

the mansion feels more like a maze as sarah leads you down and around hallways not yet crowded with partygoers. but, the blasting of music that vibrates the house says otherwise.

moonlight quickly replaces the sunshine, making visibility near impossible as you enter where the mass of everyone is. still hand in hand with sarah, you take the chance to look around.

between all the groups in the kitchen and on a makeshift dance floor, it's someone sitting among a circle of couches and chairs that has you doing a double take. turning back the second time is when you recognize the boy with his eyes still glued on you, wiping under his nose, to be rafe.

you don't miss the lazy smirk he shoots before sarah tugs you back to reality, finally dropping your hand and turning to stand face-to-face with the same excited smile.

"you'll be fine if i go say hi to a few people?" she asks, glancing across your face to genuinely gauge your feelings.

"'course. thanks, sarah," you answer convincingly enough that she's scurrying off to talk with whoever awaits her presence.

the best option you conclude is to go straight for the drinks. a quick scan of the counter and you're grabbing a red solo cup to fill with the first bottle you can get your hands on.

"better take slow sips of that," a voice behind you says, low and close enough to know it's you they're addressing. startled, you turn around, only to be face to face with rafe cameron. he must notice the way you tilt your head up with wide eyes, because he takes the opportunity to eye you up and step closer.

"you friends with sarah?" he asks as you set down the bottle of alcohol on the counter behind you, nodding casually - even with the way he's watching your every move so intently.

"mhm," you muster up, naturally a bit nervous standing under the mercy of 'kook prince' himself.

"yeahhh.." he draws out while taking a greedy eyeful of your whole being, tongue pressed to his cheek and making no effort to hide his arrogant smirk. there's a pause before he's nodding back towards the lounge he was previously sat without taking his eyes off you - your body. "y'wanna come with me and try the good shit?"

you look down at your cup when he taps it, swishing the cheap liquid while thinking over his offer. it doesn't take long before you're looking back up with a hesitant shake of your head and a small smile, murmuring, "don't think so.. not really my thing."

he tsks and shakes his head, taking it upon himself to ease the cup from your hand and positioning himself closer. he tilts his head to purposefully look down on you and get in your face, a smirk still present as he speaks lowly, "aww, c'mon. i'll keep you safe."

a nervous laugh and involuntary flush of your cheeks has you unable to refuse. rubbing your lip with a shy nod - admittedly not the most well-thought-out decision - and he's got a hand on your lower back to guide you, following close enough behind to allow his eyes to flicker subtly below your dress.

you approach the collection of seats, wary but not completely oblivious. rafe sits you down on a loveseat, hand moving to wrap around your waist and pull you to his side. the attention from this boy blurs the scene around you, rolled bills on the table, and various baggies with a particular white substance.

"so, um, what's the.. 'good' stuff?" you ask tentatively, looking up at him and shifting in the seat.

"'s all right here, baby," his grin is almost malicious and his eyes shamelessly drop to your lips. removing the arm around you, he spreads his legs and lifts his hips to fish for something in his back pocket.

you take the opportunity to look around at his company and it's no surprise to find topper and kelce among other random guys - even a couple girls who admittedly look a bit older than you and sarah. before processing the thought, you're looking to rafe for reassurance.

he, however, is focused intently on setting up a line of powder on your side of the table with a sharp black card. he sits back with a satisfied grin and looks over at you. "first one's free."

you stare up at him with big, cautious eyes for a moment before turning to the intimidatingly thick string of white.

he chuckles and uses a finger to smudge the neat line, collecting a less daunting amount on the digit. a nod of his head signals he wants you closer, so you do, positioning your body to face him.

snaking a hand to hold firmly behind your neck, he tilts your head back only slightly and prepares to bring his finger to your nose. a raise of his brow asks for permission and you nod.

the substance shoots through you unexpectedly quick which has you screwing your eyes shut and wincing. the reaction only amuses rafe and he moves the arm around your shoulder and tugs you into him once again.

finding solace in the embrace, you allow yourself to sink into his chest - an unsafe level of vulnerability. everything is loud, the booming of music and people feeling increasingly suffocating.

rafe laughs again, smirking in a way that now seems taunting. he takes a good look at you before leaning in to let his warm breath brush against your ear. "y'know, you're real pretty."

that's when you really think about what's happening right now. laying against rafe cameron - who for one reason or another seems to have taken a liking to you. the drug pumping through you and butterflies in your stomach has your heart beating with excitement.

it also has you fluttering your lashes up at rafe with a dopey smile, telling him all he needs to know. all it took was a dot of coke and he's got you right where he wants you.

"why don't you let me take you upstairs?" he presses in a way that shows the line has worked a million times before.

but who are you to turn him down? there's no denying how tempting he is and your attraction towards him. but instead, you shrug and look around in search of sarah.

it takes a minute before you catch her eyes and are met with a concerned yet angry expression. she's quickly by your side and pulling you up from the couch, glaring down at her brother.

"leave my friends alone, rafe." with that, sarah is tugging you away and back through the crowd. your hazy state makes it hard to resist, but you manage to look back at the boy on the couch. he's sitting back, clearly amused but not deterred.

a wink is all he gives before paying his attention back to his friends, leaving you to wonder what all of this meant.

one thing about rafe, though, is when he sets his sights on something - someone - he gets what he wants. he knows he will, and you're no exception.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron prompt

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futurewdclandonorris · 5 months ago

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Risqué Routine | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!stilettodancer!reader

Summary: Lando is too eager to be the first one to see your choreography before your big show, but halfway through he realizes that maybe he got himself into a lot more than he can handle

Warnings: suggestive, a bit of angst at the end I guess, is dry humping considered smut??? If so, thennnn

Word count: 4.8k

Based on this request

In the dimly lit studio, the music swirled around the room, intertwining with the rhythmic tapping of heels on the polished wooden floor. You twirled and leaped, your body a vessel of grace and power. Each movement was precise, your stilettos like daggers tracing patterns in the air. Your sweat dampened skin glistened under the studio’s soft glowing lights, a beacon of skill and dedication. It was the final rehearsal before the big show, the culmination of grueling practices.

Every muscle in your body screamed in protest, but there was no time for complaints. You had to be perfect. You drew a deep breath in, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, and started the routine again. Every spin, every leap, every flick of your wrist had to be flawless. You pushed your limits, your body moving with a graceful fierceness you never knew you possessed.

The music faded, and you let out a shaky sigh as you held the final pose, your chest rising and falling. Collapsing onto the worn floor, your legs – encased in the stifling embrace of the heels – felt like jelly. But a smile bloomed on your face when the girls approached and jumped on you, engulfing you in a one big group hug and you knew. You have done it.

“You did it, girl!” the girls shouted, their voices a chorus of triumph and relief. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the weight of the moment settled in your chest. All the sacrifices, the long hours of practice, and the moments of uncertainty had led to this.

“Ugh, finally,” you breathed out, a mixture of exhaustion and elation rushing through you.

The sense of accomplishment washed over you, filling every fiber of your being with a warmth that you knew would linger for days to come. As you peeled off your sweaty dance shoes, a feeling of liberation enveloped you, the weight of the performance slowly lifting off your shoulders. The studio was filled with laughter and chatter, the air electric with the shared victory of a successful rehearsal.

The sound of applause filled the studio as your coach entered, a proud smile on her face. "Bravo, my darlings! That was truly magnificent," she said, her voice filled with admiration. “Now I want you to rest and recharge. We have a big day approaching and I want you all in top form.” Her words were met with nods of determination from the group, their eyes sparkling with a shared sense of purpose.

The studio emptied, and after a quick shower and change of clothes, you made your way to your best friend’s house. The familiar path to his house felt like a second nature, the well-worn pavement guiding the way as if it knew your footsteps by heart. The sun had already set behind the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet neighborhood. The tranquil ambiance of the cool evening air was enhanced by the gentle radiance of the streetlights, creating a serene atmosphere along the trail. You paused at his front gate, taking a moment to catch your breath and admire the twinkling stars above.

When you pushed the front door open, you were greeted with the sound of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen. You followed the noise to the source and found Lando, apron-clad and sweaty, stirring something that smelled delicious in a large pot on the stove.

“Hey, you!” he said, looking up and smiling as you entered the room. “I hope the rehearsal spent you because I'm making dinner!"

You grinned and took a seat at the kitchen counter. “To starvation, actually.” you replied. “What’s for dinner?”

“Spaghetti carbonara,” he said, with a flourish. “Your favorite.”

“You mean, your favorite,” you playfully corrected, the banter between you two a natural dance in itself. “Italian is your favorite.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “Well, your enjoyment of it just adds to the experience,” he said, his eyes twinkling in amusement. You watched him move around the kitchen, his movements practiced and sure as he grated cheese and chopped herbs with ease. “How was practice, by the way?”

“Intense,” you breathed out, slumping your shoulders.

“But?” Lando looked at you with a knowing look, waiting for you to continue.

“But I nailed it!” you exclaimed, jumping from your seat.

“Yas!” he shouted and raised his hand for a high five. You clasped your palms together, meeting halfway for a hip bump. “I knew you could do it, girlfriend.”

The aroma of the simmering spaghetti carbonara filled the room, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Lando dished out generous portions onto two plates, the creamy sauce glistening under the soft kitchen lights. You took a bite, savoring the familiar flavors that never failed to bring a sense of home to your taste buds.

"It was... magical, Lando. I felt like I was floating, like my body was finally in sync with the music and the movements." you said almost with a mouthful, barely able to contain your excitement.

Lando's face broke into a proud smile, his eyes sparkling with admiration. "I never doubted you for a second," he said softly, his gaze unwavering. "You were born to dance, to command the stage with your presence."

"Thank you. You always know the right thing to say," you said, touched by his constant encouragement. Lando had been your rock, your continuous source of support and motivation through the ups and downs of your dance journey. He never lost faith in you, even when you doubted yourself.

As you both finished your meal, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, laughter and easy banter flowing between you. The weight of the upcoming performance still lingered at the back of your mind, but for now, in this moment of shared camaraderie and good food, you let yourself bask in the simple joys of friendship.

After dinner, you helped Lando with the dishes, the warm water soothing your tired muscles as you scrubbed each plate clean. The routine of it was comforting, the familiar motions grounding you in the present moment.

“Listen, I know you never want to talk about your choreographies and want to keep the element of surprise, but I can’t resist asking about this one,” Lando began, his voice tinged with curiosity as he dried off the last plate. “I mean, you’ve been practicing for months, pouring your heart and soul into every movement. There must be something special about this one. Can you give me a hint? Just a tiny one?”

You chuckled at his persistence, recognizing that it stemmed from his unfaltering loyalty. You dried your hands on a nearby towel and turned to face him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Okay, just a tiny hint,” you teased, drawing out the suspense. “It’s super hot, super sexy and…” you paused, eyes twinkling. “I really hope no one brings their children with them.”

Lando's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, now you've piqued my interest even more," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

“I know, I can’t wait for you to see it!”

“Why wait?” Lando's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Dance for me now," he requested, his gaze daring you.

“I, uh…” you gulped, feeling a sudden rush of nervous energy coursing through your veins. The idea of performing in front of Lando, without the safety of a stage or the shield of a costume, made your heart race with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

“No, I get it, you want it to be a surprise. I'll just have to wait for the big day."

“No, it’s not that,” you reassured. “It’s just… It requires a partner.”

“Well then it’s a good thing there’s two of us right now, am I right?”

You couldn't help but laugh at Lando's eagerness to join in on the impromptu performance. His playful spirit was infectious, and despite the initial nerves, you found yourself giving in to the excitement of the moment. “Yeah, it’s not like you have to do anything else besides sitting on a chair. Let me just change into my dancing heels.”

The familiar click-clack of the heels echoed through the house as you led Lando to his spacious living room. Taking a nearby chair, you dragged it to the center of the room and positioned Lando in front of it, not letting him sit just yet. You pulled out your phone from your pocket and plugged it into the speaker dock, selecting a sultry, pulsating rhythm. The beat thrummed through your veins, awakening a primal energy within you as you stood before your best friend, the heat of the music wrapping around you like a lover's embrace.

The room felt different now, transformed by the anticipation that crackled in the air as you and Lando stood facing each other. The soft glow of the lamp bathed the living room in a warm light, casting shadows that danced along the walls in time with your racing heartbeats.

Without a word, you stepped closer to Lando, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the residual aroma of the spaghetti carbonara. The first notes filled the space and you took a deep breath, letting the music guide your movements, your body swaying and undulating in time with the beat. Your movements were fluid and deliberate, each step a brushstroke in the canvas of the air as you danced for an audience of one. Lando watched with rapt attention, his gaze never leaving your form as you spun and twirled with abandon.

Another sharp spin ended with your hands on Lando’s shoulders, guiding him to sit, and he followed your lead without any objections. You circled around him, your movements sensuous and hypnotic, as if each step was a silent promise of secrets yet to be revealed. The music seemed to pulse through your veins, dictating each sway of your hips and extension of your limbs. Your hands trailed along Lando's arms, a delicate caress as you moved sinuously around him, a mesmerizing display of passion and grace.

The intensity in Lando's eyes mirrored the fierce determination in your own gaze, a silent understanding passing between you as the dance unfolded. In that moment, there were no words needed, just the unspoken language of movement and connection that bound you together.

You walked away from Lando and stood at the opposite end of the room. What he witnessed was just a warm up. The real show was beginning now.

Without breaking eye contact with him, you began a new series of steps, each movement more intricate and provocative than the last. You sank to your knees in a slow, sensual motion, your hips going side to side in time with your descent. Lando’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you move with a raw intensity he had never seen before. The air between you was charged, each gesture imbued with a magnetic pull that drew him in deeper.

You settled on the floor, your ass high in the air as you arched your back in a provocative cat-like pose, your eyes locking with Lando's as if daring him to look away. He sat on the edge of his seat, captivated by the unfiltered emotion and power radiating from your every action. He felt like an intruder witnessing something intensely private and profound, yet he couldn't tear his gaze away. His heart pounded in his chest, the music and your movements weaving a spell around him that he couldn't break free from.

Laying flat on the floor, you lifted your legs in a straight line above you, your body forming a perfect L-shape. Then slowly, deliberately, you started spreading them apart, inch by inch, until they formed a wide V-shape, your toes pointing towards the ceiling, showing him just how flexible you were. Next thing he knew, you were stretched out in a split, your ass cheeks bouncing off the parquet floor with each impact, the sound echoing through the room like a primal beat. You looked at Lando over your shoulder and winked, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. It was clear that you were enjoying every second of this performance, taking pleasure in his discomfort and arousal.

As you moved with a captivating allure, every twist of your body and arch of your back spoke volumes, a silent confession of desires and dreams long kept hidden. He felt like an outsider peering into a world he had only glimpsed in his wildest fantasies, a world where passion and artistry danced hand in hand.

The room seemed to shrink around you both, the music filling every corner as you propped yourself on your knees and started crawling. Lando’s breath hitched and palms started to sweat as soon as he realized you weren’t just crawling anywhere. You were crawling to him.

His eyes widened in shock and anticipation as you closed the distance between you. Your body moved with a feline grace, every sinuous motion a silent invitation that Lando couldn't resist. He was spellbound, rooted to his spot on the chair as you crawled towards him, your gaze never wavering from his. His mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions - excitement, desire, uncertainty. The air crackled with tension, the unspoken energy between you palpable as you finally reached him, stopping just inches away.

You gazed up at Lando with a sultry look, a silent challenge in your eyes as you reached out and placed a hand on his thigh. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of awareness through both of you. Lando's heart pounded in his chest, the heat of your proximity searing his skin. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you held each other's gaze, the unstated words hanging heavy in the air between you.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you shifted closer to Lando until your faces were mere inches apart. The intensity of the moment was almost suffocating, the air heavy. Lando's breath mingled with yours, their shallow, rapid rhythm betraying the storm of emotions raging within him. Your lips hovered so close to his, a whisper away from a forbidden temptation that beckoned to both of you.

But then you backed away and flipped your hair full circle, a coy smile playing on your lips. The sudden movement broke the tension and allowed Lando a moment to breathe, but not before you had a leg over him, straddling him without sitting on his lap.

The unexpected shift in energy left Lando reeling, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The boundary between friendship and something more had blurred in an instant, and he found himself caught in a dizzying vortex of longing and restraint. As you straddled him, a surge of impulse coursed through him, igniting a fire that threatened to consume all rational thought.

His hands hovered uncertainly at his sides, unsure where to touch or where to hold back. Your close proximity, the intoxicating scent of your perfume, the heat of your body so near—all these sensations overwhelmed his senses, urging him to abandon caution and dive headlong into the unknown.

You slowly circled your hips above him, slowly reaching his knees, but never sitting on them fully. You ran your fingers delicately up his thighs, teasing him with the promise of contact. He swallowed hard, his breath ragged as he tried to control his rising urge.

“Damn, babe, you will make me blow a check,” he said, trying to break the tension with a touch of humor, but unable to hide the shake in his voice.

With a tantalizing laugh, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "This is only the preview."

Your lips lingered on his ear, sending shivers down his spine, and as you pulled away, you traced the outline of his jawline with your fingertips. The room was spinning, the music pulsating through every fiber of Lando's being, and the intensity between you was as palpable as the air around you.

Then you stood up and sauntered away, your hips swaying in a way that seemed to carry the entirety of your seduction. Lando's gaze tracked you, his eyes filled with longing and bewilderment, capturing your attention and making it impossible to break away. With every step you took, the anticipation grew, the foreplay reaching almost unbearable heights.

Finally, you turned around, facing Lando once more. You slowly walked back to him, every click of your heels a taunting dance of temptation. Your eyes never left his, daring him to look away, to deny the intense heat that had been ignited between you. You encircled him this time, stopping behind his back and placing your hands on his shoulders. Leaning in closer, your palms glided down his chest and torso, your lips brushing against his neck while your hips ground against his back.

Lando's heart thundered in his chest, a roaring symphony of longing and fear. He couldn't breathe, but it wasn't due to lack of air. He was suffocating under the intensity of your touch, your presence consuming his every thought. Your lips lingered on his neck, and he could feel the heat from your breath on his skin, leaving him weak at the knees.

You pulled away, leaving him panting and craving more. Your fingers traced the outline of his collarbone, making his skin erupt in goosebumps. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying so hard to suppress any sound of pleasure. He was a shaken and unsteady mess, his entire world had just been turned upside down with your tantalizing display. He couldn't help but wonder where this new boundary lay, and if he was willing to cross it. The intensity of those few moments were overwhelming, and the pull between friendship and attraction was becoming dangerously ambiguous. Every touch, every brush of your body against his, was a sweet torture he couldn't resist.

You were in front of him again, your eyes locked with his, a riot of emotions playing across your features. Lando waited anxiously, not knowing where this would lead. But he didn’t have to wait long.

In a sudden rush of forward momentum, your legs were on each side of him and down you went, landing on his lap, sitting fully on his crotch. The air forcefully left Lando's lungs, the force of your descent stealing his breath away. He gripped the edges of the chair desperately, unsure if she should touch you or not. And it was as if you felt his inner struggle, you took his wrists and placed his hands on your waist.

“You can touch me,” you whispered, your breath warm and inviting. “In fact, it is required that you do.”

Lando's hands trembled as they made contact with your skin, the heat and softness sending a shockwave of sensation through him. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, his thumbs gently caressing the small of your back, and he could feel the racing of his heart in his chest. He was lost in your gaze, hypnotized by the fiery spark that danced in your eyes, and he knew that he could not resist any longer.

You leaned back, his hands tightening around you as soon as he realized what you were doing. Your shirt rose as you leaned further back, exposing your stomach and revealing the waistband of your pants. You smiled coyly, hinting at the skin beneath your clothes which he was dying to see.

In one swift motion, you pushed yourself upward, wrapping one arm around his neck, your face stopping just a nose brush away from his. And as on cue, the music stopped. The song might’ve been over, but your dance wasn’t.

You began to dance on his lap, leaving him breathless as you ground yourself against him, the pulsing heat between you impossible to ignore. The movement made his whole body tremble, the sensation of you drawing figure 8s against him nearly driving him insane. His fingers fastened around your waist, his grip almost painful as he held onto you for dear life.

Lando's heart pounded in his chest, and he found it harder and harder to breathe as you continued to undulate against him, your movements becoming more and more suggestive. He watched, transfixed by the way your hips moved in perfect synchrony, like a siren song that he could not escape.

Your eyes locked with his, challenging him to resist the allure of your body, the tantalizing prospect of a life beyond the boundaries he had always known. He could feel the flames growing inside of him, the desire to possess you burning brighter with every step, every shift of your hips against his. The room seemed to spin, the world around you fading away as your hips swirled and twirled, coaxing a response from him that he could no longer deny.

If you felt him hard under you before, you definitely felt him grow harder now, the rigid length of him pressing against your center, the friction causing a wave of pleasure to ripple through you. Moans, groans and loud breathing were the new music, composed by the two of you, and you followed its new rhythm lost in the rapture of your dance.

Lando's hands roamed your body, his fingers tracing a path down your back, over your hips, and finally coming to rest on your waist. You knew you had him right where you wanted him, and you had no intention of stopping now. You pulled back, sliding your hips up and down on him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you felt the heat of his need through his clothes. You could hear the thudding of his heart, matching the beat of your own.

Lando hissed, gripping your hips tighter, urging your movements faster, and pulling you even closer. The fire that had been burning slowly inside him now ignited into an inferno, consuming him whole. The room seemed to spin as the intensity of the moment hit him, and for a brief second, he thought he saw stars.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his breaths becoming shallow and fast. His eyes locked with yours, a mix of arousal and fear dancing within them. He could feel his control slipping, the urge to take things further overwhelming him. Your eyes held a challenge, daring him to take that step, to cross that boundary.

Lando knew he shouldn't do it. He knew it wasn't right, that it could ruin everything. But the spark that had been ignited between you was too strong to ignore. The want, the need, that grew stronger with every movement, every brush of your body against his, was too much to bear.

“Fuck, we should stop,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your eyes softened, a hint of sympathy in them. But you didn’t let go. “Then stop me, push me off your lap. Resist me.”

Lando's grip on your waist hardened, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to do as you said. However, the intensity in his gaze betrayed an entirely different narrative. It was as if the need, the pull between you, had grown too strong, too all-consuming to resist any longer. With a sudden surge of strength, Lando pulled you closer, your breasts pressing against his chest, your lips just a breath away.

Then his face twisted into a grimace, and he thrust his hips upward, slamming into you with a force that made you gasp. His fingers slipped into your hair, pulling you closer, his lips barely brushing against yours.

You couldn't help but arch your back, your body yearning for more. The heat between you was undeniable, the tendrils of passion wrapping around you both, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Lando's breath was ragged, his pulse thumping in his neck like a war drum. His eyes locked onto yours, pleading and afraid at the same time.

You were a tornado of emotions, but you knew you couldn't stop now. You were lost in the flow of your dance, the way his body responded to yours, the way he held you, the way he looked at you. It was intoxicating, irresistible. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his, and then you moved, grinding yourself against him in a way that made him groan.

One final thrust of your hips and he shook under you, his hips bucking and hands clutching at your waist for dear life. The moan he was unable to contain escaped from his lips, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze as you both stood still, locked in each other's embrace, your head buried into his neck.

Lando's breaths were shallow and fast, his chest rapidly rising and falling. He was a mess of emotions, pleasure and pain, desire and fear. Slowly, he started to pull away from you, his hands loosening their grip on your waist. It was as if a dam had broken within him, and he could no longer restrain himself.

“I don’t think I will come to your performance,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. "There's something with the team, I forgot... I'll try to cancel, but... Sophie said my presence is mandatory..." he stammered as he tried to explain, and both of you knew that was a lie.

He could easily cancel, he always canceled, but this time it seemed like he just didn't want to.

“Oh... okay,” was all you could manage, feeling a mix of surprise and disappointment at his sudden change of heart.

The room was silent except for your breathing and the beating of Lando's heart. The moment was shattered, the atmosphere heavy with the words that just wouldn't come out.

You wanted to say something, to ask him why he had changed his mind, but the words caught in your throat. You felt the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, and you knew that you had to leave. It was better to walk away now than to let the pain fester.

“I should probably let you clean up,” with a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off Lando's lap, feeling his hands grip your waist one last time before reluctantly releasing you. The room seemed to whirl as you stood up, the world around you feeling surreal and unsteady.

“Yeah…” Lando mumbled, not moving to stop you, but also not moving to stand up either as he watched you gather your stuff. The intensity of the moment had left him reeling, and he wasn't sure how to process the sudden turn of events.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you some other time then,” you said, trying to sound braver than you felt, but your voice still cracked.

Lando nodded, still only watching as you put your bag over your shoulder. His eyes were full of regret, and you could see the pain in his face. He knew what had just happened between you, and he knew you both couldn't undo it.

As you reached the door, you turned back to him one last time. "Take care of yourself, alright?" You tried to smile, but it was weak, and you knew it.

"I will," he replied, his voice barely audible. "Good luck with your performance. You're going to kill it."

You nodded, not wanting to say anything more.

The door closed behind you with a soft click and once alone, Lando buried his face into his hands. He let out a deep sigh, wondering if he had just ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. He didn’t tell you he wouldn’t come to your performance to hurt you, no. He said it to save himself the hurt. He couldn't bear the thought of missing out on your performance, but he also couldn't bear watching you with someone else after what had just happened between the two of you. After you danced for him, and only him. He just couldn’t stand the thought of it. Even if it was just another dance partner and it meant nothing more.

So with each step you took away from him, he felt more and more alone, like he was losing something irreplaceable. And in that moment, he realized that he didn't want to let you go. He wanted to hold on to you, to the feelings he had for you, to the way your body moved against his, to the way your eyes dared him to take that step, to cross that boundary.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it. He knew it would only lead to more pain, for both of you. So he held his silence, let you walk out the door, and stayed in the darkness of his own room, reliving every moment of your dance, every brush of your body against his, every word expressed and unexpressed.

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xo-adeline · 3 days ago

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"Inked forever..."

⋆°• ☁︎ - Tattoo artist!Kaiser Feat. Michael Kaiser AN: I just love the idea of Tattoo artist Kaiser... so accept this as my brain rot (Also very heavily basing this off when I got my tattoo, and my tattoo, I'm sorry!!!) (Why did I actually kinda cook with this...)

The sound of machines whirring and the constant looking into the other area of the people getting tattooed made you question so much. Would it hurt? Well duh. Should you really be doing this? What would people think of you if you did? The thoughts started vanishing when you were finally called up to the front desk as they showed you the paper with the design on it. Normally the artist would do it, but since he was busy preparing and finishing up something else he wasn’t able to. But when you finally saw it, the drawing was stunning. It had taken inspiration from the piece of art you had found when scrolling the internet and made it that much better. The way the vines wrapped around, and the way the roses were a little bigger but still had an elegant look to them. It was even better than the picture. It was perfect. With a happy nod they took the paper back to the artist and told you he’d be done soon.

It was about 10 more minutes when the person he was just working on had paid and left, and all there was left was a few more minutes until you had actually seen the artist and he was able to permanently draw on you. Now that you were thinking about it, it kinda sounded weird. Letting a total stranger draw on you, and you have to keep that drawing forever? I mean you didn’t even know him, how was that supposed to work? Which brought you back to thinking about how you had even stumbled upon him.

The many pictures of tattoos had faded into your feeds, weather it was adds, or just scrolling on pintrest, instagram, and hell even tiktok! There was no escaping tattoo ideas. Well that was until you found this one page on instagram. Countless pictures had flooded your view all of them even more impressive then the last, weather it was flowers, humans, characters, even just little designs, they were flawless. Maybe it was just feeding into the idea more and more when you kept seeing more of his work pop up day after day. After the 2nd week of the art popping up you decided that maybe this was the universe telling you it was a good idea and you should just suck it up, and get that tattoo you’ve always been wanting. So you reached out to the artist via the email in the instagram bio, and within a few weeks there you were sitting in the tattoo parlor waiting for this man to call you back.

That was one of the only things however you didn’t see. Sitting in the waiting area of the tattoo place made you think about a lot of strange things. Maybe it was the nerve, maybe it was just because you were waiting for the pain to hit. But one thing you did know for sure, was you had never actually seen him before. All his posts online were about his tattoo works, weather it was on people, a screen, or on paper. He had never once actually posted what he looked like. You could only assume it was a guy due to his name, or at least the name on the email. Michael Kaiser. Pretty cool name if you did say so. But still, you were walking into this blind with a random dude you had never seen before. Luckily if you needed to run, there were other employee’s around…

After you had worried yourself down a rabbit hole a voice called out to you.

“(Name). Right? Kaiser.”

When you turned over your shoulder, being snapped out of your spiral there he was. The Michael Kaiser, that you now knew was a guy, standing there, holding the tattoo stencil in his hand.

“Oh uh yeah! Sorry.”

“No worries. Nervous?”

He started walking back and gave a little nod of his head signaling you to follow

“A little..”

The guy brought you back to one of the chairs, setting down the stencil on the desk next to him, a small grey table with a tattoo gun with grey wrapping around it, ink colors in little containers, and two cups, one with water and rubbing alcohol. Now that you were back there, everybody else getting something done seemed pretty chill, even if there was only 2 other people besides the artists. Nobody screaming, crying, or freaking out. I mean if nobody else was, why would you?

You got up in the chair as he sat down on the stool, looking down at the stencil, before giving a little smile. He turned around and placed it down on your ankle.

“That look good in terms of placement?”

He pointed back at a mirror and you went to check it out, seeing it was it a perfect spot you nodded on the way back, sitting back up in the chair as he started getting everything else ready. You looked away for a few minutes, seeing whatever was on the TV’s that you could perhaps look at when he was doing it so you wouldn’t feel weird staring directly at him as he worked.

“If you need a break, lemme know”

He gave a slight smirk when you turned back towards him

“Rough place for your first one.”

And then he started. At first it wasn’t to bad, a pinch here and there, but nothing you couldn’t handle, well that was until about an hour later he got to the back part of your ankle. You were grateful that you could burry you’re face into the chair at this point, because lord have mercy, did it hurt. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was a rough spot. Luckily during that you did get to have a break, heading over to pay before he finished it back up. Which was when you learned an interesting story. Apparently, due to the behind the counter people, he was actually supposed to take leave that day, and he had moved all his other appointments until you had emailed him asking about the blue rose tattoo, and that was when he had called back in saying he wasn’t actually taking leave anymore, and that they could move back appointments besides the one from when you were coming in. That’s when you remembered, on his neck, he also had a blue rose tattoo, and you finally thought about how it was weird that he had made a story post a little bit after you emailed him saying that he was gonna be out, and then suddenly he was totally open for that same day.

When you finally got back mostly everybody else had clearned out and it was just you and him, plus the people still at the front. Even if the pain was almost unbearable at this point you tried your best to keep it together and not cry, or let out any sort of noise. You knew that he was probably gonna be done soon and you just had to hold on until then, easy, right? You’ve been doing it this long.

And right you were. It was only about 20 more minutes until he finished, wiping down the rest of the color that was smeared across your ankle, before wrapping it up in a sheet of cling-wrap and some tape.

“Take it off in the morning, wash it off, and you should be good to go. Make sure to moisturize it for a few weeks until the peeling goes away and that’s it.”

He handed you a piece of paper with the same instructions, and just as you were about to leave you spoke back up.

“Hey um.. I saw on your instagram you were supposed to be off today…”

He looked back over from his station where he was cleaning up and wiping stuff down.

“Yeah. Was supposed to get out of town for a trip with some of my friends, no big deal.”

“Then why didn’t you..?”

“Because I wanted to do that tattoo of yours. Didn’t wanna let somebody else have it. Not often you see people coming in here asking for a blue rose tattoo.”

He shrugged, throwing some of papers away, before sitting back down on the stool.

“Plus, not every day a pretty girl slips into your email asking for a tattoo, and who am I to stay no?”

He gave a small laugh and a smirk took over his face.

“Hey, how about instead of your email I get your number, and maybe next time we talk it will be scheduling a time for a date and not a tattoo. I mean I’m pretty sure it’s fate we met, we already have matching tattoos~.”

A smile over took your face as you exchanged numbers with him, and in turn he walked you out. Right as you were about to get back in your car and head home, he walked over and kissed your cheek.

“You did well for your first tattoo, maybe you’re next one you’ll have my initials~”

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk kaiser #xo-adelinewrites

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dtrghost · 1 year ago

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nibbles and kisses

this wasn't a request but this was inspired by something... i will simply not tell you what because shhhhh. In my opinion, König is a colonel, his ego is probably bigger than his dick and I don't see him as being as shy as i've seen, definitely has his aspects, but ya know.

könig x f!reader

no use of y/n.

warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, and more fluff with some NSFW so MINORS DNI and reader having self deprecating thoughts, possessive colonel, wants you and ONLY, you. there is no plot to this, called headcannons maybe? i just wanted to write this down. mentions of male masturbation, nudes of you, etc.

When König found you, when you finished your conversation that pushed just a bit too long and made him a few minutes late for his brief, he knew he had to keep you. When he witnessed your smile that brightened up his world and caused a warmth to rise up his neck to his cheeks hidden under the safety of his long mask, he knew, as you were the only one to peek through his proud manner. You were flawless to him, pushing aside all of your reasons why he should hate you, why you thought of yourself as undeserving of him, and showing you what his loved looked like.

When he touched you for the first time, feeling the softness of your skin grace along the rough pads of his fingers, god. His usual cocky demeanor cracked, staring at you with wide eyes as he relished the tingles that shot through his body faster than a bullet. From then on, that man was desperate. He craved your touch in any way, anywhere, any time.

Whenever you were in public, he was towering over you as his chest bumped into your back, his hands running up the smooth skin of your arms. hHe'd hold your hand while you walked even though he wasn't one for pda. On base he had a picture of you in his office, smiling a rare, delicate smile he snapped a photo of once that he immediately had framed, a beautiful gold that complimented you in your entirety. After all you deserved the best, even if you weren't there to see it. In spirit, in his mind, you were beyond worthy of it. Your merit was more than gold, more than anything.

The real winner was the locked drawer, a special key that he kept on him at all times to open it, revealing the drawer he dedicated to you when he was gone on missions. He'd always take something with him, a pair of your panties, a shirt that he sprayed every inch of in your perfume, a bottle of your perfume to respray it before he left and when he got back before he hid it again, and his favorite item. He took his time with this one, an album full of your nude photos, some of you fucked out and in a daze as you took his fat cock in you, stretching you to the brim as your eyes rolled to the back of your head in euphoria.

He'd whimper, he the colonel, whimpering for you. Your name breathed out of his mouth as he fucked into his fist, missing the warm tug of your pretty cunt that swallowed him greedily whenever he fucked you. But you did something to him, the thought of you made his skin tingle, his cheeks heat, shivers of pleasure, need, love and want to run up his spine at the very thought of you in his presence.

So when he got home? Shit. Buckle up. If it's the day, which is rare in his line of work, he'll call you beforehand.

"Get ready Meine Liebe, your colonel needs you."

He'd come home to see you in his favorite set of lingerie, leaning on the bed, ready for him to take you in however he needed.

But when it was at night, which was more often than its counterpart, he'd shower first, lock all the doors, close the curtains, it was a prep almost. Then he'd come back to your sweet small form, which is any form because he's 6'10 and 200+ pounds, and he'd coaxed you awake with soft kisses on your skin, starting from your shoulder and building up to your eyelids, feeling your lashes tickle his lips as your eyes fluttered open. He'd eat you out, getting off to the sound of your sweet moans.

He'd watch your head fall back in ecstasy as he curled his long, thick fingers in your sopping cunt, bringing you to more orgasms than you could count before he desperately needed to feel you clamp around his cock. Depending on how long he'd been gone, he likes certain positions over others. When he was gone for a long time, weeks, he would always favor missionary. He loved watching you cry for him, tears running down your pretty cheeks as he fucked into you, moaning as he watched you stretch to accommodate his length.

"Fuck, taking me like you were made for me. So ein gutes mädchen."

While yes, König loved making love to you, slowly, passionately, intimately, he was a man with needs. Whether it was day or not, he would fuck you, manhandle you, in any way he wanted.

"So needy for me Maus. Such a good girl for your colonel."

"You missed me mein leibling? you missed my fat cock stretching your pretty little pussy out? i know i did."

He would breed you, the mating press, all of it. He'd cum more than once too, until it hurt, because you just felt too good around him, the tightness of your hole constricting around him being enough to keep him going for what felt like forever.

But when he was done, oh the aftercare. He'd pepper kisses all over you, shower you, feed you and make sure you drink enough water, all while whispering sweet nothings to you, how pretty you are, how perfect you are. Then he'd take you to bed, laying on top of you, knowing that if anything were to happen god forbid, he would protect you, his frame completely covering yours. He coax you to sleep with soft kisses on your neck, your cheeks, your chin and your jaw, nibbling on your lobe with sweet words that carried you into a dream on cloud nine.

He loved you, he owned you, just as you owned him.

So ein gutes mädchen: such a good girl.

SO yeah. Colonel König 🫡. Gotta love him. Anyway hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!!

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lokideservesahug · 6 months ago

Text

Blissfully Unaware

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Pairing: Yandere!Charles Leclerc x gn!reader x Yandere! Carlos Sainz

Warnings: Dark themes, pervy Charles and Carlos, reader panicks at a few points. Reader watches a film with a spicyish scene but no smut, so many mentions of underwear (not in a sexual setting).

Notes: And we are back! I hope to get the Logan fic out in the next few days and work on some more requests. But this is a fic based off of this request. Enjoy!

Summary: It's completely normal to have a small crus on one of your coworkers. Two? Meh it happens. But what happens when you end up sleeping in the same room due to their meticulous planning chance? Well, one can only guess...

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Your shoes click below you as you walk through the paddock towards Ferrari hospitality. The rain patters to the side of you and you quickly duck into the doorway of Ferrari. You breathe a sigh of relief. This weekend would be interesting with the weather forecast looking how it does. You turn to your left at a gentle call of your name.

Charles Leclerc stood in all of his glory. A man that despite there being immense amounts of downpour today, still manages to look flawless. "Charles, hi!" The man smiles at you softly and begins to talk with you about anything and everything. The two of you even manage to get onto the topic of the next race on the calendar before a rough cough cuts through your conversation. Your eyes fly to the intruder only to be met with a familiar shade if brown. "Good morning Carlos, how are you today?"

Carlos walks towards you and you turn your attention from the Monagasque to the tall Spaniard in front of you. You only manage a short conversation before your eyes fall on the clock just to the side of Carlos' head and you curse. "Oh no... We're running a bit late." Charles moves towards you and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry mon chéri, everyone will be with the weather today." You shrug and murmer that you're going to your office to collect the notes for today.

Yet unbeknownst to you, the two men left in the room shoot sharp stares of jealousy to the other.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You walk back into the entrance in pursuit of "escorting" the Ferrari men to the first media duty of the day. Despite it being awful weather, and being sodden all throughout the weekend, there is no rest for the pilots when it comes to media commitments. You pace back into the foyer and catch the end of Carlos and Charles' conversation I hushed whispers. You swear you could have heard your name but before you get the chance to eavesdrop anymore, the two are sharing a film handshake and turning to look at you.

"So, it looks like the first job of the day is going to be filming a video for YouTube. But I think it'll be upstairs rather than outside today. Both men breathe sigh of relief at your words. With how Ferrari can be, no one would be surprised if they were forced to film outside and then filmed for thirst trap videos of their damp bodies afterwards. "Well show the way mi corazón and we will eagerly follow." You laugh at Carlos' playful tone and lead the two of them upstairs.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You're surprised how grueling the day turned out to be. It's only Thursday and you can't wait for the opportunity to get back to the hotel and change into more comfortable clothes. You make sure to lock your car and grab your work bag. After you close the door you begin to look for some comfortable sleep clothes.

You crouch to reach under the bed and find your suitcase. Your hand shoots out and you tal around but still don't find your luggage. How odd. You stand up but are met by the sight of a half unzipped suitcase. Oh you must have haphazardly chucked it on your bed and zipped it before you left for work. That explains its location...but why does it look like on so the zips is broken? You lean in to take a closer look. Yes this has happened to you before but only when you were very hastily shutting the zip. Oh well at least there were several zips on there.

You open the case in search of your favourite pair of undergarments. You truly wanted to feel at your comfiest today. Yet once again, you can't seem to find them. You pull out the many shirts and various miscellaneous clothing items. Yet you seem to have misplaced a large majority of your underwear. You sigh in defeat.

Well it wasn't the most hygienic but maybe you can wear some from yesterday. At least they'd had more air exposure than your current pair. You go into the small laundry hamper in the corner of the room. You dive in and find your jeans from yesterday, a pair of Ferrari socks (work standard bit unbelievable comfy) , one gag "I ❤ Montreal" shirt gifted to you a few years ago. But not yesterday's underwear... You take a deep breath to stop yourself from internally freaking out and walk back over to the suitcase.

Maybe you just packed them ina different place this time. After a good few minutes, you find your underwear stuffed into one if the front pockets of the case (with both a substantial amount missing and with nothing being folded).

You finally get changed and fall backwards onto the expensive, hotel sofa and try and find a film. Just for today, you allow yourself to order in some food and you excuse the large expense of the just eat order as a means to treat yourself. You start to watch the old rom-com on the television but find yourself zoning out and thinking about anything that will come to mind and stay. That may be why your mind lingers on the two Ferrari men (you must admit that they never really leave your mind).

A loud sound cuts into your daydreams. The two main characters begin to have a passionate exchange that grown more and more heated. And your mind can't can't but flash to the conjured image of you and Charles in that situation. Like the character to his love intrest, his hands slowly making their way up your body in a long trail of featherlight touches.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. How inappropriate. And goodness how awful of you was it taht you couldn't even eat ha film without getting frustrated. You turn your attention back to the screen. The actor on screen begins to murmur in a voice so deep that it reminds you of a certain Spaniard. And now you're imagining Carlos pinning you to the table whilst kissing you like it's your last day on Earth. Gosh, you feel like such a perv.

The image of the "Smooth Operator" makes you fail to realise when the lights begin to flicker. You bolt upright in panick. This hadn't happened before and you were already stressed enough from earlier. You try and sit doen and take deep breaths, assuring yourself that it'll be sorted soon. You focus back on the characters on the screen and fall back into your Ferrari infused daydream.

The sharp ring of the doorbell breaks you from your dreamy state. You skip towards the door, ready to have something good happen this evening and get your hands on the meal that's just dripping with grease and unhealthiness. However, you're not met with a just eat delivery person and instead you're met with a man in the hotel uniform. "Hello. Are you Y/N Y/L/N?" You nod and shrink in on yourself, suddenly consious of your too casual clothing. Your body buzzes with anxiety as to what the worker will say next and you feel like you've been plunged with ice cold water when he says he'll have to evacuate you from the room. Something about pests. You feel like you've been pushed to the deepest part if that ice cold water when he explains that the hotel is overbooked and asks if you can stay with anyone.

Sure, you you can that. You can probably bunk with Marie, the lovely old woman that runs the lighting for videos, you think she's somewhere here. Or even Todd, the new chef's apprentice. What no, he went home to watch his daughter's play. You don't even register nodding at the man but when someone behind the door opposite you begins to frustratedly mumble, you certainly gain a sense of sobriety.

"Qui est-ce? Il est bien trop tard pour ça" (Who is it? It is way too late for this.). You look at Charles hopefully as he opens the door. When he finally realises that it is in fact you that woke him up this evening, a sleepy grin takes over his lips. "Y/N, mon amour. Whatever is the matter?" He ushers you onto the sofa of his hotel room and you explain what happened.

He sits next to you and rubs your shoulders. You hate to admit how simple it makes you look but you feel almost all of your previous stress melt away at the gentle touch. Charles offers you a coffee whilst stating that "It will probably be pretty bad but it's something at least." You nod and smile, softly thanking him in the process. You turn the TV on (carefully, to avoid the channel you were viewing earlier) and begin to watch an old, outdated 80s sitcom. Charles comes back, and holds out a coffee in hand and you choose not to comment on the fact that he brings 3 mugs over to the lounge area in total. All is explained however, when a soft knock on the door is heard and Carlos comes in.

He greets Charles and then you, giving you a gentle smile. He asks why your here (yet doesn't act surprised at all that yours here). And you can't help but also spill this evening's events to Carlos (leaving out your laundry hamper interaction of course). Surprisingly though, he tells a similar story about how he was told by the hotel to find somewhere else to bunk for the might, it must be a common thing.

You apologise for his misfortune and Carlos urges you to continue your story. You speak about the suddsn, ominous light flickering up your room and he comforts you with a sympathetic look and that's when Charles cuts in. "So where are you going to sleep ma très chère?" You furrow your brows. You hadn't thought this far. Clearly, Carlos was quick to process the situation because in a monent, he has his hand on your shoulder and is propositioning you. "Well espléndido, it might be sensible if you deck with Charles tonight." You shake your head. "What about you Carlos, where will you go." He tilts his head in amusement at your clear concern for him. "Meh, I shall sleep on a sofa in the foyer if I have to." You her Charles tut to your right.

"Don't be foolish. I know it is a squeeze but we can all sleep here tonight." You turn to Charles (just in time to miss Carlos lean back and smirk). "Really?" Charles repeats your words back to you and inches closer to you. "It is the least I can do." He smiles like a puppy at you and you thank him profusely. "What about Carlos though?" He shakes his head with laugh. "He can be here as well of course." Your cheeks warm slightly d you realise what this means, spending the night in a room with two very attractive men that you have dreamed about on many occasions. Oh no...

You voice your concern about sleeping arrangements to Charles and he just hums. "Well mon cœur, my mither wouldn't have raised me right if I didn't let you have the bed." You roll your eyes. "Don't be silly, the two of you can take the bed whilst I can sleep on one if the sofas." Charles raises an eyebrow at you, challenging your statement. "You will not. Just look at how uncomfortable they look." You glance at the sofa. Yeah, despite this being an expensive hotel, they look like the type of sofa to give you a back ache by morning. "Well what does Carlos say?" The two if you turn to Carlos, still leaning back in the armchair, smirking. Charles scoffs.

"Enjoying the show are you." Carlos just laughs. "Y/N, mi amor, Charles and I would rather not sleep than take the bed from you. You go to argue with him but Charles softly cuts across you before you have the chance. "Y/N, look. We are going to be in this predicament for the next few nights, please just take the bed and we'll sort something our for later. Hack we can even take it in turns." You look Charles un the eyes and can't find it in you to disagree. You glance back at Carlos snd the sheer ferocity of your looks makes you feel like you'll loose your friendship if you decline the offer. You drop your head down and murmur a quiet agreement. The two men, unbeknownst to you, share equally as sinister smirks but they're gone in a moment as they go to prepare for bed.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep explially with the low timbre of Carlos' voice and the soft curl of Charles accent. Or maybe it was mostly due to your tired state. Which would explain an awful lot.

It would explain how you missed the sight of the box half sticking out from under the bed, containing your missing sets of underwear, a lipbalm you lost many weeks ago and even a multitude of photos in you in many locations and positions from you getting a drink at a café many weeks ago to you getting undressed in the sanctuary of your bedroom. It would explain how you missed a letter on the desk not far from the bed, thanking the two men for their payment and costume for an act by a starting actor, and confirming the date of performance (tonight). It would explain how you missed the two pilots usually dresses in red talking (with evident dopey grins in their voices) about how their plan worked and how they are closer to you you they ever dreamed, even how they intend to futher the development of your predicament. It would would explain how you failed to miss the two soft kisses placed on either side of your head with quiet promises of always protecting you, promises of staying forever devoted to you, confessions of love and admitions of acts of insanity just for a moment of your attention. And most of all, it would explain how you missed the two world famous drivers get under the covers and snuggle up to you.

But that was an issue for when you woke up....

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

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theonewiththefanfics · 1 year ago

Text

Love Conquers All (one-shot)

Synopsys: The wedding is finally afoot. Astarion and his love have fought for it tooth and nail, but could there be more to life after happily-ever-after?

Set after the main events of BG3 This is a follow up to Homecoming (one-shot). Would probably advise reading it beforehand :)

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe a bit of angst, insecure Astarion, but just pure teeth-rotting fluff

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of SA

Word count: 8875

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Astarion knew ever since he met Y/N, she was the only one he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. They had gone through hells and back for one another, quite literally going head-to-head with a devil. They’d fought for their happily ever after tooth and nail, and now, the biggest day of their lives (yet) was here.

The vampire spawn woke up from his trance jittery and excited for what was to come. It had been ages since he’d felt this way, such joy while looking forward to what the day had installed for him because he was finally going to marry the love of his life.

Their day would be perfect, Astarion had done everything to ensure it. He’d taken to wedding planning like a cat to cream, making sure that once their day arrived, even the smallest detail would be flawless.

It had taken them two years to settle on a time of the year, let alone a date, but that had given him enough time to grow the flowers for the arrangements that now decorated their house, fussing with them like one would with a child (and sometimes threatening a certain rose if it didn’t grow the way he wanted it to). He even invertedly created a couple of new variates in the process, but those were specifically relegated as the flowers Y/N would weave in her hair for the ceremony.

He had even meticulously studied cookery books, having his parents along with his love be his taste testers, seeing he couldn’t really enjoy eating human food, but he’d be damned if something disgusting would be served in his house, no less on his wedding day. Unless it had a ten out of ten approval from everyone involved, Astarion scrapped the recipe and started over. He was fairly certain the caterers hated him because he’d made them prepare the food before and until they got it absolutely right, he was on their asses day and night.

But if he had to pick a favourite process throughout all the planning, it was when Y/N had come to him late one night as he burrowed himself in his sowing room and requested, that he design and make her wedding dress. Astarion almost got down on his knees in reverence as she looked at him with such tender eyes. And, well, let’s just say – during fittings, his hands might’ve skimmed the inside of her thighs on more than one occasion, and his head might’ve slipped below the skirt to taste between her legs, wholly unprofessional.

Oh, and that dream of a house with a grand library, where shelves of books stretched from one corner to the other, and a large ballroom to host parties until daylight broke – no longer was it a simple dream, but rather his reality. Not only that, he could hear people fussing all across the house as hired staff prepared final details and decorations for the ceremony.

The new house, or let’s be honest, the manor, Astarion and Y/N lived in, had not come easy though. He’d pretty much brought his lover to the end of her wits when they’d gone on the search for their dream home. In the end, it boiled down to her threatening to make them live in the forest like Halsin, sleeping on the hard ground, if he didn’t come to a decision.

Astarion was aghast at the suggestion, crossing his arms and pouting hard. “Why are you so upset about this?” He couldn’t understand what the big issue was with him being so picky. “We’re looking for the place to start our new lives in! It has to be no less than absolute excellence! Do you not want that?”

“Of course, I do!” Y/N rolled her eyes, putting her half-drunk wine glass on the bedside table and shifting her body to completely face him. “But nothing is perfect in this world, Star.”

When he narrowed his scarlet gaze at her, she huffed and shifted to sit on her knees, cupping his face between her palms. “Nothing in life is without its flaws, but that’s the beauty of it all. It gives us a chance to grow and change. And it’s the same with a house. Floors are fixable. Sofas and divans can be reupholstered. Walls can be repainted, those dilapidated wallpapers ripped off, hells we can knock the wall down if we want to… but we will never find our perfect home if we don’t put the work in and make it ourselves.”

Y/N’s soft thumb ventured up to smooth out the grumpy lines that had appeared on Astarion’s forehead. “If you want perfect, you have to do the work to make it so. Because that last house we saw, the one you said could be ours, if it didn’t have those stains on the table or that feeling wallpaper or the hole in the roof that needs fixing – that was someone else’s perfect home because they made it that way.”

Astarion scrunched his nose. “Did a shitty job, that’s for sure.”

If Y/N could roll her eyes any harder, he was sure they’d get stuck in the back of the skull like that. “My point is, we have to make it that way. Yes, the whole process will be long and tedious and I’m fairly certain, there will be moments where we want to kill each other, because, gods forbid, I want the blackout curtains to be emerald not burgundy. But none of that will matter because it will be ours… what can be more perfect than that?”

The vampire always had a comment on the tip of his tongue, he always had a sarcastic remark or some sort of critique to offer, but to this, he had nothing to reply, as he pondered the words.

Y/N tilted her head, a smile blooming on her lovely mouth. “I know you want everything to be exactly how you see it in your head, right from the very start. I know you don’t want to fight anymore, and gods, my love, you don’t deserve to fight for anything, but this isn’t it… this is change. And I think you’re more scared than annoyed at all the little things that might need mending.”

Astarion averted his gaze, looking past Y/N and to the window, the bright light of the moon illuminating the woods beyond. From the corner of the eye, he could see her engagement ring, the ruby glinting like a star in the sky. A finger brushed over his brow, soothing him. “I think you’re nervous to go after what you want, so you’re trying to find any possible reason as to why every house we’ve viewed has had something unfixable to it.”

Closing his eyes, Astarion leaned into her touch. “I hate it when you can see through me like that.” He hated to admit it. It felt like some sort of weakness to be seen so clearly, but he also knew Y/N would never judge him for his fears. But it was still hard to voice them. “I just – I’m scared it will be different.”

“It will be.” She shrugged. “But different doesn’t mean it’ll be bad.”

He didn’t seem convinced though as his mind and attention drifted off, and she had to tilt his chin towards her, a kiss to his forehead bringing him back into the moment. “My Star, we can always stay right where we are. I love this house. And as long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter where we make our home.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, my love,” Astarion let out an undignified scoff. “As darling as this place is, I still want that library. And, well, maybe a tailoring room would be lovely. And I can’t say I would be opposed to a walk-in closet, instead of that little dresser we have now.”

More and more his lips turned into a smile and his gaze lightened as they went on until the morning dawned, talking and mapping out what their perfect abode would be like. They talked about the colours of the walls, where they’d like to hang paintings and how many mattresses their bed should have. Astarion insisted on at least three, so it would feel like resting on a cloud. Y/N thought it was a bit ridiculous, but if that was what he wanted, it’s what he would get. As long as he promised her to have separate duvets, the cover hog that he was.

They settled on a manor near the city, but far enough from the crowds to still keep some sort of privacy. She had been right about the restorations being long and mind-numbingly taxing and took them over a year and a half to return the manor to its former glory. All of their funds sank into it, and as Y/N had also warned – there came a moment where it seemed like they would rip one another’s heads off, having to spend a night in separate rooms. But now they got to relish in the fruits of their labour as the ballroom Astarion had manifested was being transformed into their wedding chapel.

He lazily stretched out his limbs, curling around his still-sleeping love. If he’d had a tail, the cat that he was, he would weave it over Y/N’s middle and curl it, trying to pull her closer if possible.

The woman grumbled something unintelligible, tightening the hold she had on one of the four pillows she had.

“Good morning, my wife. Our big day is here. Time to get up.” Gently, he brushed strands of wild hair from her face, placing them behind her ear, to which he leaned down and gave a playful nibble. To Astarion’s delight, he felt a shiver run down her spine, her toes curling against where she’d pressed them to his calf.

“Not your wife yet,” Y/N grumped, turning so that she could hide her face in the crook of his neck, tickling the sensitive skin there with warm puffs of breath. “And your bride needs her beauty sleep unless you wish for her to look like a troll at the altar. Didn’t give me much of it last night.”

A wicked grin formed on his mouth, one incisor lightly biting on her earlobe. “I didn’t hear you complaining though. In fact, I didn’t hear you say anything but my name.”

Teasing fingers brushed against her ribs and the underside of her breasts, a breath hitching in Y/N’s chest. When he splayed his hand against her stomach, she hummed in pleasure, the sound reverberating through his chest and seeping into his bones.

Her own palms moved from hugging Astarion’s side to his back, nails softly scratching up and down the skin there – so very tenderly over the scars, but with a bit of a bite right above his rear. If he could purr, he would be, but alas, he just moaned and melted like an icicle in the sun.

It was almost tempting to just stay in the bed like that, twining together and just relishing in one another’s touch.

“When are your parents getting here?” Y/N yawned and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Your mother promised to help me with the dress and hair.”

“Right as the sun goes down. We should have plenty of time before the moon is high.”

They had decided on a night-time wedding, so the following celebrations could be moved outside into the lavish gardens Astarion had so lovingly created. He may not be able to walk in the sun anymore, but he’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy at least the moonlight. Besides, daytime weddings were so casual, and he was anything but.

He rested his palm in between Y/N’s breasts, but he just kept it there, didn’t try and stray any further. He simply wanted to feel how her heart beat against his palm, the rhythm a steadying and grounding feeling, and it somewhat calmed his fluttery nerves.

“Then we have a few more hours to sleep,” came Y/N’s slurred response as she hitched a leg over his naked hip, but she didn’t try to go any further either. “And you are not getting out of this bed, my personal pillow.”

Astarion smiled at her words and kissed her forehead. He’d been smiling an awful lot since he met her. “Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

And even though he itched to go downstairs and supervise every single thing, he allowed the peace that came with being next to Y/N to settle over him as well. It was their day. His day. And starting it off with his little human sweetheart wrapped around him like a vine, keeping him close to her, was nothing short of wonderful.

At some point, she did fall asleep again, Astarion’s movements as his deft fingers massaged the back of her head, lulling her to dreamland. His mind drifted a bit but remained more alert than when he tranced, wandering to how exactly he’d gotten to a moment where in just a few little hours he’d become someone’s husband.

Not only did he have Y/N, but he had his parents to relish in the moment with. He had friends, something that was competently out of the question for two hundred years, and all of them would be arriving to witness the most joyous day of his life. Him! With friends! He even had a true sister, something that’d surprised even him.

That had come about when Astarion had ventured into the Underdark once and reconnected with Darylia. At first, he’d thought there would be too much bad blood between them, no pun intended. It’s why he’d strayed away from the region after he’d freed the rest of the seven thousand spawn from Cazador. Too many painful memories bound them, but instead of admonishments, he found comfort.

He’d bumped into Dalyria at a tavern as he was tracking down an artefact. Astarion was nothing short of astonished when she invited him to a tavern for a drink. The conversation was awkward at first, but as they talked more and more, she seemed to be actually happy for him as he confirmed he was still with Y/N, had a little house by the forest to call their own and spent his days keeping in touch with the party that’d formed during the tadpole adventure while trying to get a sowing business off the ground. She was even more ecstatic to hear when Astarion announced he was engaged.

Dal had a wistful smile on her face. “I would be a liar if I said I didn’t envy you, but… you deserve it. All that happiness… after what Cazador put you through, you deserve all that’s good.”

He didn’t want to, but a ball formed in his throat at her words. “Cazador wasn’t kind to any of us.”

“No,” she mussed. “But you did free us from him. And when you had the chance to take his power for yourself, to become the most powerful vampire in existence, you didn’t. You allowed us to go out there and regain the years we lost under his control. To make our own lives. For that, you deserve only the best.”

A snort escaped him as he swirled the remains of his wine. “Y/N would say not committing mass murder is quite a low bar, if that’s why I’m worthy of happiness.”

“Maybe, but no one would fault you had you gone for it.”

“Maybe…” Astarion pondered. “But I would not have been worthy of Y/N, then. That is for sure.”

Dalyria clinked her glass of blood against his before emptying it, and he was glad he had not been drinking himself as he sure would have choked on the drink. “Will you teach me how to find love? I – I think I’d like to find what you two have. Become… worthy of having it.”

Astarion didn’t know how to respond, but ultimately said he could only try, yet unless the change came from within, there wasn’t much he could do. And the hardest part wouldn’t be learning how to find love, but learning how to love oneself. Only then you could learn how to love others.

“Seems awfully tedious,” Dalyria’s brow had furrowed.

He chuckled and nodded. “It is. But I’ve learned, as much as it can be boring, it’s worth it in the end.”

It had taken time for the vampire to start the process of self-acceptance and processing the trauma, but Astarion was right there by her side, and now, she would be by his, a partner of her own next to her, a human at that, as he tied the knot.

Y/N’s nose scrunched in her sleep as their blissful moment was interrupted by a bell chiming through the house. She grabbed a pillow and smushed it over her head hitting him in the face in the process. “We should’ve eloped.”

“My love, you know as well as I do, our dear friends would’ve hunted us down like prey and dragged us before an altar by the ears. And honestly – I would help them with that.”

When they had rolled out the announcement of their engagement, Astarion’s mother helping them write beautiful little cards to send to their party most had actually shown up to congratulate them in person.

Karlach had been the first one to arrive, banging on the door to let her in, seemingly bursting with excitement. “If my engine wasn’t fixed, I think I would have levelled a whole block when I got the card!” She jumped up and down as she smothered them in a hug.

The second the Tiefling reluctantly released Y/N and Astarion from her grasp, Shadowheart appeared, a bit more subdued in the way she showed her happiness, but still very much so thrilled. She’d even brought along a bottle of wine, as such an event had to be celebrated.

Gale along with Tara teleported right into the living from straight from Waterdeep, a chest of tomes with him, a gift for the library Astarion wanted.

“I even cancelled today’s lectures, and my students were so delighted, they also got you something.” He extended a smaller box, a gorgeous set of feather pens inside. “A thanks for the day off and congratulations on the engagement.”

Wyll, now Grand Duke, joined the festivities right as the sun started its descent.

“I would’ve come sooner, but duties call.”

“Ever the honourable man.” Astarion hugged the once Blade of Frontiers. “I’m lucky Y/N doesn’t care much for honour, otherwise I would be fighting a losing battle.”

“It’s all the blood loss,” she chimed in, hugging Wyll as he congratulated her. “Questionable decisions are not uncommon when oxygen is depleted in the blood.”

Her vampiric love pointed a finger at her. “Well, there are no takebacks, so deal with it.”

Oh, how far he’d come such jokes didn’t sting, and instead he could laugh at them because he knew she wouldn’t leave him. It was certainly not something he ever had to fear.

Halsin and Lae’Zel were last to join Dalyria accompanying them as the night settled, completing their little group.

They spent hours drinking and laughing, enjoying red drinks, some wine, and some other ethically sourced, of course, substances as they lounged by the fireplace.

“So, when will the actual wedding be?” Gale asked as he stretched over a loveseat, Tara having claimed his lap as a napping spot, her purrs echoing through the room. “I would be more than happy, and well, my students most definitely, to cancel the exams for it. Such an affair cannot be missed. Two heroes of Baldur’s Gate wedding each other.”

Wyll pointed a finger at the wizard. “You know, you are onto something. I might just have to make it a day of celebration in the city!”

“Actually…” Y/N shifted next to Astarion. “We were thinking of just going to a magistrate and signing the papers as soon as possible. Nothing grand really.”

A stunned silence settled before Dalyria snapped her gaze toward her brother. “You must be joking,” she deadpanned. “Astarion, I think you might need to lay off feeding from her for a while.”

“Y/N was thinking that,” he rolled his eyes at the outburst. “I disagree.” Turning on his best pout, the vampire glanced at the woman pressed to his side. “You would so willingly deprive me of seeing you in a wedding dress like it isn’t the most important day of our lives. I, for one, wish for this to be my only wedding, yet you break my heart into pieces with your words.”

Lae’Zel let out her signature “t’chk” of disapproval at Y/N’s amused huff. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but the spawns are right. A ceremony must be held. None of this magistrate nonsense, but a real, proper ceremony.”

�� “You all just want a party.” The Y/H/C-haired woman crossed her arms over her chest.

Halsin boomed a chuckle. “Well, we will not say no to the one a wedding comes with. But if you do not wish to have your dearest companions, people who love you most in the world, to be next to you on such an important day, that is completely dine. It is your wedding after all.”

“Oh, come on!” Y/N threw her hands up with a laugh. “That is so unfair! I mean, I just don’t care for the pageantry of it all.”

“Sweetheart, you are marrying the most pompous man to walk this earth. No offense, Astarion.” Shadowheart looked at the elf, but he simply shrugged, as it was true. “And you mean to tell me there will be no grand display of love?”

Her lover nodded at the cleric’s words, batting his lashes at Y/N. “Besides, would you truly be so cruel, that you’d deny my parents such a day? After everything they’ve gone through.”

“Alright, now you’re just blatantly blackmailing me.” She gave him a humour-filled look.

Astarion put a hand on his chest in mock outrage. “Blackmail my darling intended? I would never! However, if I were, I would also mention that the ring on your finger did belong to my mother, who so lovingly passed it onto you, saying she wished for you to wear it when she saw you next. You know, just a little information, to tug on your heartstrings.”

And tug at her heartstrings it did, as Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes widened, no doubt mind whirling from the statement.

“This is your mother’s ring?” She looked down at the piece of jewellery like it was the most precious thing in the world. “You didn’t tell me that.”

He didn’t intend for her to cry, but he wiped at her cheeks as a couple of tears rolled down her face. “She gave it to me the night we went to see my parents for the first time. I was already preparing to do it, but it just gave me the final push I needed to actually ask you. Even though I technically never did ask.” Astarion nudged her side, and Y/N snorted, dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

“Wait, hold on.” Dal leaned forward, a scrutinous gaze turned towards the elf. “What do you mean he never asked the bloody question? First no wedding, now no proper proposal?”

Karlach though seemed to have other more pressing thoughts in her head. “Holy shit, Fangs, you robbed your mother’s grave!? I mean that is messed up even for you!”

“Rewind.” Gale swirled a finger in the air. “You have a mother?”

All these questions and statements were said one over the other as the room exploded into a full-blown interrogation, everyone flinging queries their way. It took Astarion and Y/N about an hour to respond and tell the full story, but not before they stopped laughing.

At that moment though, Astarion clad in his silk pyjama set, the face greeting him was so full of delight, Karalch shone brighter than the set sun.

“I feel like I could just burst!” The tiefling hugged him, and he responded in kind. It’d become one of his favourite physical ways to show and receive affection. “But where is the wife-to-be herself?”

“Still in bed. You know Y/N and mornings, well, nights I guess, do not mix.”

“Ah, yes,” a male voice agreed and Karlach stepped aside to allow Wyll to enter. “You know, there were moments during our adventure when I genuinely thought our fearless leader would be the one to end us. Remember that time Gale woke her up before dawn because he needed an artefact to consume? His poor eyebrows.” The Grand Duke shook his head. “Honestly thought it might’ve very well have been the last moments of our dear wizard.”

“And yet, it wasn’t!” As if summoned, the Wizard of Waterdeep himself poofed into existence in the foyer. “I live to see yet another day where I can bless my friends with my presence. Eyebrows intact this time.”

Astarion couldn’t control the eye roll as it was almost reflexive when it came to Professor Gale Dekarios, but he couldn’t deny the happiness rushing through his veins seeing the man. If he ever saw Mystra in the mortal plane, she’d better start praying to a god herself, for what he put his friend through.

“It was… quite the look, I have to say,” Lae’Zel commented as she entered the house, joining their group. It seemed like they had a tendency to appear in the same places at the same time even without scheduling such a thing. “But do not attempt to upstage the bride, Gale. Astarion will already be doing his best. Though if these are your chosen clothes,” she gave him a onceover. “I believe Y/N has absolutely nothing to be concerned about.”

Astarion scoffed. “This is handwoven silk.”

“That is poor excuse for wedding attire.” Shadowheart appeared behind them all. “For once we agree, Lae’Zel, so enough with the chitchatting. A wedding needs to happen, and you need to get dressed.”

The only reason he’d decided to put on some clothes was because the thought of his parents walking in on him naked, was enough to pull out all the stashed winter attire and cover himself up so much nothing but his nose would be showing. Now though, Astarion almost wanted to rip them off just to spite the gathered crowd but abstained.

Before he did scamper off, he showed where they could go and mingle while he checked on the final details, especially how the ballroom was looking, and he had to admit, the drow in charge of decorations had turned it into something from a fairy tale.

The room had high windows, all the shutters open to let in the pale light of the moon garlands hanging from the ceiling and walls, the many mirrors on the sides, giving an effect that the room was larger than it truly was, creating an illiusion of a forest inside their home. At the very end between two columns of chairs was the altar where Shadowheart would officiate, two golden cups already placed on a velvet pillow.

There was hired staff in the gardens where food and drinks were being handed out.

Astarion took in a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. Everything was going to be just fine. He had promised as much to Y/N. This nervousness had been one of the reasons he’d wanted to take on the whole wedding affair onto himself.

“I don’t want you to lift a single finger.” Astarion had brushed his nose against Y/N’s cheek after it was settled a full-blown wedding was happening and their friends had dispersed, leaving the two lovebirds on their own. “Just leave it all to me.”

“I mean, I can’t do that,” she exasperated. “It’s our day. We both should be involved. I won’t put such an event all on your shoulders.”

“But I want you to! Listen to me – me getting to order others around as they have to bend our every wish and whim, while all you have to do is nod for yes, and shake your head for no – sounds like a great time to me.”

“Sounds very unfair to you.” Y/N was still sceptical frowning hard at Astarion’s proposition.

“Look,” he sighed, taking her hand in his. “Let me do this for you. For us. You saved me back when I thought I was beyond it. I fully believed I was relegated to nothing but a life of pain and darkness and then… you showed up. You helped me through so many horrors, held me when it felt like the walls were pressing in… I would not have been able to do so without you. So please… let me make this day something you can enjoy and not have to worry about. I am very convincing when I set my eyes on something I want.”

And when he pulled his puppy dog eyes on her, Astairon knew he had her right where he wanted. Y/N could never resist him when his eyes got all soft and round. He could practically see her resolve melting then and there like fresh-fallen snow.

“Alright,” she conceded, and with a passionate kiss against her lips, he pulled her to sit in his lap. “But if it becomes too much, you have to promise to ask me for help.”

“I swear it.” Astarion pecked her lips once more, and though he had no intentions of letting her lift a finger, he was truthful when making such a vow. With Y/N, he’d learned it wasn’t a crime or sign of weakness to request aid.

He left the door open, surely more guests would be arriving, but before he could disappear, two more frames rushed up the steps, his mother and father practically beaming with pride as they saw him.

“I think your druid friend is also on the way,” his mother said, pressing a light kiss to Astarion’s cheek and pulling him in for a hug. “But he stopped to pet a flock of sheep along the way.”

The vampire snorted. “Well, we can only hope Halsin actually arrives for the ceremony on time. Or doesn’t bring the lambs as guests… appetizers though.”

She gave him an amused smile, before squeezing his hand. “I’ll just go and say hello to that wizard of yours. I think I saw him walking somewhere in the gardens and then I’ll be right up with Y/N. Has the sleeping beauty awoken yet?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, frowning. It was a well-known fact his love was a notorious sleepyhead, but that was not his reason for watching with a grimace how his mother practically skipped to the terrace in search of Gale.

“How does she know him?” he directed the question at the male elf standing beside him.

His father sighed, looking at his wife as she disappeared behind the corner, but not before she made sure she looked good, fluffing up her hair in the mirror before the grand entrance to their house. “She’s been quite obsessed with his cookbook. Just be glad she didn’t bring it along for an autograph. But enough of that. You need to get dressed, my Star. The moon is almost nigh.”

All other thoughts vanished from Astarion’s head as he noted how the white orb was pretty much at its peak, and the notion of getting married suddenly became a tangible thing. In just a few hours, under the pale light, he would vow to protect and cherish Y/N, they’d fill one another’s cups and drink, before tying strands of magical gold around one another’s fingers as a symbol of their unity in the ancient elven traditions. Astarion was about to become a husband with Y/N as his wife. If his heart had still beaten, it would’ve been jumping out of his chest.

“Did you feel like this as well when you married Mother?” the vampire’s hand shook as he entered the sowing room he’d claimed as his dressing room for the day. A naked mannequin stood at the corner. It’d born Y/N’s dress which was now surely being slid onto her frame, perfectly fitting against her body, and it was just another reminder of what was to come.

His father closed the door, going over to a suit that was hanging on another mannequin and slipped it off, laying it gently onto a settee. “Like what, Star?”

“Like unless in twenty seconds this whole thing is over, you’ll pass out.”

The deep chuckle the older elf let out was like a reassuring hug, somewhat calming Astarion. “Yes. Very much so. Add onto that wanting to throw up and black spots across my vision, I was pretty much hopeless. But then I was by the altar waiting for your mother, and when she appeared… nothing else mattered. It’s just the waiting that’s horrible.”

“Gods, maybe Y/N was right,” Astarion breathed out, sitting down by his tailoring table, head in his hands. “We should have definitely eloped. I mean it’s not normal to feel this way, is it?”

“Dear Star, it might have taken us two hundred years to find you, and we’ve only been lucky enough to have you back for two, but make no mistake,” his father deadpanned. “Your mother is not above murder and physical restraint if needed.”

“Yes, I know, you kidnapped my bride,” Astarion said. “But, I mean, what if it’s not perfect?” He looked at the elf. Blue reassuring eyes stared back, but even the conviction he saw in them couldn’t quench the lingering fear. “What if she isn’t there? What if I’m left a fool standing by the altar and she does not come?”

Those last words were barely a whisper, shame running through his veins as he said them, but it had been something plaguing his nightmares for weeks on end – Y/N finally realising she deserved so much better and leaving him heartbroken.

When he awoke in a cold sweat and she asked what was wrong, Astarion wrote it off as having a bad dream about Cazador. In truth, he hadn’t dreamt of his master in a long time, his only fear being Y/N tossing him to the side for something better.

“Astarion,” his father said sternly, but not unkindly. “That woman has walked through literal hells for you. And taken on a devil, as you yourself have told us. I highly doubt now would be the moment she gets cold feet.”

Deep down in his heart, he knew the words rang true. Astarion remembered after having killed Cazador, how strongly the urge to Ascend took over. Such power right at the tips of his fingers, yet at the cost of seven thousand souls. But at that moment, he was willing to pay it. He’d never have to be afraid of anything anymore if he finished the ritual. All he needed was for someone to copy the runes on his back. He’d turned to Y/N, someone who he knew supported him, but to his shock, she refused.

Fury took him over. He’d thrown insults so vile it made bile rise in his throat nowadays when thinking back on it. Words wishing her a painful and slow demise, telling her he hoped she died screaming. Astarion had expected her to leave, yet as his mind had cleared, processing the grief and agony he was going through, she was there by his side.

Even though he didn’t deserve it, Y/N held him as he cried, and whispered comforting words when he could do nothing but slump over himself in physical and emotional exhaustion. She was there for him like an unmovable rock, that not even time or tide could erode.

“I’m sorry,” Astarion had begged that night for her forgiveness while she cradled him in her arms. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was – I was blinded by the power. By what I could be, what I could do… I – reality was no longer visible to me. And I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Y/N’s kiss was a balm to his wounds, especially those that no one else but her could see or soothe. “And I forgive you.”

Astarion’s father put a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of the reminiscing. “She will be there because if there is one thing in this world I don’t doubt, it’s her love for you.”

He wrapped that thought around his heart. She would be there. Y/N would always be there for him. But first, he had to be the one to await her, so with his father’s help, he stood up and got ready.

After a year of getting reacquainted with his parents, he’d told them some of what Cazador had done. With Y/N holding his hand through it, he even felt brave enough to show his scars. There were a lot of tears and hugging, and much to his surprise, talks of resurrecting the vampire lord by his mother, just so she could drive a stake through his heart. And Y/N was very eager to agree.

His love had a vicious glint in her eye, and Astarion had to swallow his arousal as she leaned closer over the table where they’d been drinking afternoon tea and said, “I know how to skin a man and keep him alive the whole time.”

“Yes!” His mother accepted the idea immediately. “Let’s do that! My Star, how do we contact that Withers friend of yours?”

Honestly, the fact that Astarion was the one trying to quench their bloodlust and be the peacekeeper, for a moment, made him think he’d been thrown into some different universe. That was not how he expected the conversation over some tea and biscuits to go.

His father smoothed down the back of the white linen shirt and Astarion tucked it into the white trousers while the older elf helped with the cuffs, onyx squares glinting in the warm light of the candelabras. Looking down, he surveyed the intricate frock he’d slaved over days and nights.

It was matching a ivory to that of Y/N’s dress, the chest decorated with weavings of golden threads, much like what he’d sown across the bodice and through the hemlines of her gown. Astarion smiled, a gentle finger skimming over his work, knowing what the scribbles meant.

To the unknowing, it looked nothing more than a pattern of leaves and flowers, but to those who could read ancient elvish, the truth was laid bare. The idea had struck him late one night as he’d sketched Y/N’s dress. With the help of his parents, as his memory of what once used to be his mother tongue was not so good, he stitched into the fabric little love confessions.

Throughout her wedding attire, he’d sown the words of his undying love, of what she meant to him, and on his own jacket, he’d sown the promises he intended to keep as a husband, to always make sure she was safe and loved.

By the time he was tying the cravat, Astarion’s knees were shaking, and his father had to take over, tucking in the piece of cloth by his chest.

The vampire ran a quivering hand through his white hair. “So?” Gods, even his voice was trembling. How was he supposed to say his vows and not sound like a growing youth whose voice was on the verge of breaking? “How do I look?”

For a moment, his father didn’t say anything, just smoothed down the fabric over his shoulders. “Like a man ready to start the best chapter of his life.”

“Good.” Astarion nodded. “Because now I’m feeling that nausea you talked about.”

The older elf let out a warm laugh before nudging his chin towards the open window and when he looked over, he saw the moon shining bright in the sky, a smattering of millions of stars behind it. “It’s time, Star.”

With a shaky breath, Astarion nodded. He was ready. As long as he remembered how to move his mouth and say words, nothing could go wrong.

As he walked back towards the foyer, gentle music greeted him, meaning the string quartet of bards had arrived and their family and friends were filtering into the ballroom.

It was as if he was floating, barely being able to acknowledge the gathered people. Some patted him on the back, some asked if he was excited, and all of his responses were like through a haze, especially as he took his place by the altar.

Shadowheart was already there, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Don’t you clean up nice.”

Astarion wanted to give some sort of a sarcastic quip, but all he could manage was a hum of acknowledgement. He was really truly, nervous. The breath entering his lungs was shaky and came out the same way. He didn’t even need to breathe, but if he didn’t, he might just pass out.

“If it’s any consolation, Y/N is calm as a cucumber,” the cleric said. “Or maybe she’s just a better actress than you.”

The vampire’s pale brows scrunched, as he looked at the woman. She just shrugged.

“She said she knows you’ll be here. What more is there for her to want or be afraid of?”

And that trust, the belief Y/N had in Astarion, settled something in his heart, and when his parents entered, taking their seats in the front row, both elves beaming, all that fear disappeared like mist in the morning.

Beautiful music swirled around them, and all of the guests stood.

The whole world stopped turning the second he laid his eyes on Y/N.

Her body was clad in the white gown he’d poured all his love and care into, the gold thread shimmering in the candle and moonlight. Her hair was free as she always preferred, but small, intricate braids inlaid with diamonds as if rain had settled atop her head, a flower crown gracing the top of it. Y/N’s skin was also covered in a shimmery powder, that made her absolutely glow, as if from within, and the Y/E/C eyes he loved to get lost in, were lined with kohl giving her gaze an intense look. Had it not been for her rounded ears, Y/N would be the epitome of a true elven queen.

Astarion released a breath that’d gotten stuck in his chest and tears welled in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks.

He’d been lucky, especially in these past few years where he’d been able to witness a lot of beautiful things. But nothing was as beautiful as her walking toward him.

Y/N’s head was high, as her gaze bore into his – his scarlet not looking away from her Y/E/C ones – her lips pulled in the widest smile he’d ever seen on her face.

Gods, she was beautiful, and his ego also revelled in how that grin was directed at him. At only him. It seemed like it took her ages, but at the same time not even a couple of seconds to be standing before him, handing off her bouquet of lilies of the valley to his mother and placing her palms in Astarion’s awaiting ones.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Y/N, but she couldn’t take hers off him. Vaguely he heard Shadowheart offer blessings and words of wisdom for the new couple as they started their joined lives. Astarion only snapped back to reality when it was time for him to take the golden thread and tie it around her finger, an ancient elven tradition – instead of simply exchanging rings, one would take a twine of gold and imbue it with the power of their words, before the vows were sealed.

No longer did his hands shake, and his voice didn’t crack once as he said his vows, as he gently twisted the twine and looped it back around where it moulded together by magic on their own, creating a gorgeous ring.

Then it was Y/N’s turn.

“I vow to protect your life as my own,” her voice was soft and steady as she spoke. “I vow to walk the dark paths and lead you to the light when needed. I promise to be your reassurance when doubts come, and I promise to love you until the stars no longer shine.”

Astarion didn’t care as more tears slid down his cheeks and wetted the neckline of his frock when finally, the golden thread connected and solidified itself on his ringfinger.

He was married. He didn’t care that Shadowheart hadn’t said yet he could kiss his new wife, that they needed to drink the blessed wine from the cups, as he surged forward, taking Y/N by the wrist and smashing their lips together. From somewhere afar he heard whoops and cheers, and a “you could’ve waited for just a second more,” but it was all background noise with no meaning as his love’s palm slid to cup his jaw and pull him in for a deeper kiss.

All the nerves had been worth it. All the pain and suffering he’d gone through – it was all worth it just for that moment alone, when Y/N had to press him back a bit, a breathless laugh escaping her lips as she took in greedy gulps of air, but put her forehead against his, not straying far from his touch.

“I love you, husband.”

His cheeks hurt from so much smiling. “I love you, wife.”

They didn’t get to stay in the small bubble for long as people were stepping up, congratulating them, and pulling them in embraces from left to right.

The revelry slowly moved outside where drinks and food flowed without stopping. Slow melodies turned into fast foot-stomping beats, as people twirled and danced, celebrating the union between two of Baldur’s Gate’s heroes.

It was during a moment of reprieve when Y/N was chugging down glass after glass of water and champagne, Astarion following suit with some blood, when his parents came up to them, a small, yet intricate box in their hands.

The frame was of old oak, no doubt, scuffed at the edges and corners, while the top of it was engraved with a whole flora and fauna piece, but that didn’t matter. He’d said them being at the ceremony would be enough of a gift and that him and Y/N didn’t need anything, yet here the two elves were.

“Don’t even start, my Star,” his mother interrupted Astarion’s rant before he could even go on one. “There was no way we would’ve come empty-handed to your wedding. Besides, we think this might be of great interest to you two. And of use”

Gently, as if the box might crumble if touched any harder, the older elf opened it. Inside, laid on green velvet sat two golden bracelets, their visage moulded like wreaths of leaves and budding flowers.

They were handmade, that was certain, and ancient if his eye for jewels and jewellery didn’t deceive him. And it rarely did. But the oddest bit was the sensation it radiated as if it was imbued by vibrating energy, barely contained in the circlets.

“Could it really be – but no. That is only a legend,” Halsin’s and Gale’s eyes were wide as they beheld what lay in the box as the two had snuck up on the group and shadowed behind them. The druid gave Astarion’s parents a bewildered gaze. “How in the worlds did you come by this?”

“Let’s just say, you are not the only ones with connections.” His father threw Halsin a mischievous smile, but Astarion didn’t like that.

“And the cost for such a thing?”

His mother smiled. “My dear, you talk like your skill of words and stealing didn’t come from somewhere. We might be old, but that doesn’t mean we cannot have adventures of our own.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting this moment,” Gale said, “but can we get back to the fact you have the True Love’s Curse sitting in that box.”

“The what?” Y/N’s brows furrowed, but no one bothered to answer as Gale went on.

“I can feel the magic.” The wizard laid a reverent palm above the bracelets but didn’t touch them. “The Weave… I’ve never felt something so strong. As if it could change the matter of the cosmos around us at any second.”

Astarion lifted a finger, just as confused as his love, pointing at the bracelets. “What exactly is this curse? And, I do apologise, mother, as we appreciate everything you've done for us, but why in the worlds did you think a curse would be a great gift?”

“True Love’s Curse is simply the name,” Halsin said. “It’s an old elven legend of two lovers – one forever meant to walk the dark, the other meant for light. In the myth, they are so convinced they are soulmates and meant to be, they create two bracelets, symbols for their loves, imbued with a mirroring spell, but not just any average enchantment. It gives the nightwalker the ability to walk in the sun, but there is a cost – if the other person is no true love, no soulmate, the nightwalker will succumb to the rays and perish forever.”

Y/N grimaced. “Seems quite harsh. And unfair.”

Astarion’s father closed the box. “It’s why it’s called True Love’s Curse. But if there is anything we all can learn from you two, is that love conquers all.”

Hope ignited in the vampire’s chest, as he accepted the box.

Could there really be a chance he would be able to live his life with Y/N by his side, and also live it in the sun?

He used to be scared of what the future held for him, especially what the future with Y/N would be like. He’d had his doubts – that she probably didn’t actually love him. How she was with him only for pity or to use his body like so many others had before – but those no longer existed. She’d meticulously shattered every single brick of the wall that was his mistrust and built a castle of love in his heart. If what Astarion’s parents said was true, he had nothing to worry about – Y/N had been ready to walk her life in darkness with him and not asked anything in return apart from his devotion.

But he pushed the thoughts of the bracelets, of the True Love’s Curse, to the side as he was pulled in a dance by Dalyria, then her girlfriend, and at some point, even Lae’Zel allowed him to lead her in a slow waltz before once again returning to Y/N’s side. His rightful place

His arms wove around her waist, while her cheek leaned to rest against his chest. She sighed, closing her eyes.

Astarion pressed a kiss to Y/N’s head. “I don’t know what I might have done in a previous life, but whatever it was, it had to be something exceedingly good for me to end up with you.”

She hummed in contentment. “You deserve all that is kind in this world, my love. I am the least of it.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her she was his whole world, but instead, he closed his eyes too and smiled, relishing in the love. He did deserve good. He deserved all that was kind. It was time Astarion finally embraced it, and if that was Y/N in his arms, he would hold on a bit tighter then.

Hours later they stood alone by the cliffside, a slight breeze ruffling their hair as they waited for the sun to fully rise, the gardens empty, their house as well, as the wedding party had ended, leaving people satiated and tipsy on their way home.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Astarion asked. “What if they were wrong?”

“Then I have the cloak right here, and all the shutters have already been closed at the house.” She took his hand in hers, the bracelet clicking against his.

She didn’t try to convince him, give him false hope of how it would work, because not everything in life did. Not everything was perfect and not everything was supposed to be perfect. Of course, he would be devastated, if the True Love’s Curse was not real. But Astarion also knew he’d never be alone in it. He’d have Y/N by his side, as he always had. She wasn’t going anywhere and that was enough.

As the sun rose, the sky turning from a deep blue to pink, then orange and red, Astarion took in a deep breath. Then – on the first day as a married man – the first rays of a new day touched him for the first time in four years.

A tear rolled down his face, scarlet eyes not daring to stray away from the stunning view that was the dawn and greeted the sun like a long-lost friend.

Y/N gave him the widest smile ever, a match to the one she’d sported when seeing him by the altar. “Where to first, my love? We have the whole world for the taking.”

He looked at her, cupping her face. “First, to home. And then – to the very edge of the universe.”

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I've re-written this whole thing like 3 different times because I just couldn’t get it right, but now I feel like this is how it's meant to be :) I do have like extra 8k words of stuff I might release as smaller fics set around these two specific versions of the characters. Let me know if you'd like that or want to be tagged in future fics :)

I might edit this at some point a bit more. English is not my first language, so I need time to step away, before I can see additional mistakes.

Please don't repost on other platforms without specific written consent! That is called plagiarism

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