#he already kissed her once and she seemed like she was into it

[fawniswriting]

𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: After a mission filled with close calls and bad decisions, the team comes home to find an even bigger threat waiting at the door—your wrath.

Warning(s): THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS!!! platonic!thunderbolts x reader. no use of y/n. use of the nicknames doll, honey, and pretty girl. canon typical violence. descriptions of injuries. descriptions of explosion, gun use, etc. established relationship. profanities. kissing. VERY suggestive content (minors be advised). talks of having a baby. bucky being a little feral (very briefly). slightly hurt/comfort. basically bucky and reader being the parents of the group.

Word Count: 3.6k-ish

Author's Note: GUYS I saw this fanart on instagram and instantly knew that I had to write something inspired by it!!! I've been itching to post a thunderbolts fic since last week 😭 welcome back 2012-2014 era of avengers' tower fanfics ✨️ anyway I hope they're keeping the revolution hair for bucky in doomsday or else I swear I'm gonna RIOT!!! (I know seb's head is shaved rn but wigs exist yk 😔) don't forget to comment, like, and reblog loveliesss 🩷

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky Barnes doesn't understand a lot of things since he returned to society.

Cryptocurrency is one of them. Social media is another. Anything that involves more acronyms than actual words is an immediate no on his list.

Above all else, Bucky Barnes struggles to comprehend how exactly he became responsible for the group of walking disasters now hailed as earth's newest, mightiest heroes.

Looking at the pack of hellions in front of him, Bucky has serious doubts about that title.

Right in the middle of the tower's lobby, the Thunderbolts—the New Avengers now, apparently—are scattered like barbie dolls in the aftermath of a toddler's tantrum. John is standing against a column with a tight jaw, his left leg lifted gingerly, wrapped in a makeshift splint that looks suspiciously like someone's utility belt. Beside him, Yelena sits on the ground, legs sprawled in front of her as she cradles a bruised shoulder with an equally bruised hand. Alexei leans atop the front desk with a dried blood streaking down his temple, the young receptionist gone in fright the moment the team walked through the tower's entrance. Even Ava, usually one to disappear before debriefs, is visible for once, propped against the wall with her suit half-glitched and her expression blank.

Everyone is accounted for. Everyone is breathing. 

But they all look like they rolled down a hill of bad choices where they banged their heads at every rock.

The mission was supposed to be a quiet recon, a simple surveillance on a rumored underground tech sale in an abandoned shipyard, low risk with minimal engagement. But then someone—Bucky still doesn’t know who—decided that they could handle it. 

No heads-up. No plan. 

Just four impulsive thrill-seekers interrupting a high-stakes black market deal involving high-tech plasma rifles and an offended buyer with too many goons. 

By the time Bucky caught wind of what was happening, it was already chaos. He had to go in solo, extract the squad under heavy fire, disrupt the shipment, and reroute an entire response team of hostiles to avoid further catastrophe. They got out—just barely—and none of them seemed particularly eager to look him in the eye about it, especially after the thirty-minute tirade he launched into somewhere between fourth gear and a traffic jam.

From his place in front of the elevator, Bucky crosses his arms. “If any of you pull something like that again, you're all getting benched. Indefinitely.”

“What?!” Alexei roars.

Yelena scowls. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You don't get to make that call, Bucky,” John protests.

Ava nods. “We're not children. You can't just ground us whenever you feel like it.”

“Yeah?” Bucky laughs. Sarcastically. “Watch me, kid.”

As if on cue, the elevator arrives with a ding. Bucky gestures curtly towards the opening metal door. “Inside. Now.”

Reluctantly, the team shuffles in like a group of sheep being herded back into their pen for a much-needed nap time.

For a beat, the only sound that settles inside the cramped space is the low mechanical hum of the elevator ascending. 

That is until Ava decides to speak up.

“I’m just saying,” she begins, “it wasn’t like we meant to crash the deal. We were just improvising.”

“Improvising?” Bucky exclaims, glaring at her. “You call tossing a grenade into an active negotiation improvising?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Yelena argues, crossing her arms. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Bucky screeches, his tone rising. “Walker nearly lost a leg!”

“It's just a sprain,” John clarifies. “Probably.”

“See? It's just a sprain!” Yelena repeats a little too cheerfully. “He'll be good as new in no time. Right, John?”

John nods, failing to conceal his wince when Yelena bumps her unharmed shoulder to his.

Bucky rubs his temples. “I can’t believe I’m in charge of you people.”

The elevator dings again at the top floor.

“You know,” Yelena says as the team stumbles out of the metal trapbox, “we technically stopped the deal. You're not giving us credit for that.”

“That’s because you weren't supposed to stop the deal. You were supposed to observe.”

“Back in my day, observe meant punch first, ask questions later,” Alexei quips.

Bucky lets out a scathing scoff that echoes through the air. “Right. Remind me again how many years you spent rotting in that Siberian prison, Alexei?”

“Well, that's not very nice,” John mutters.

“You know what else isn't nice, Walker?” Bucky growls. “Getting your asses lit up by dozens of machine guns because none of you seem to grasp the basic concept of following orders.”

The group swelters in a momentary silence.

“I mean, in our defense,” says Ava, “none of us actually got shot.”

Before Bucky can tell her off even further, a voice suddenly intercepts, “How fabulous! You guys didn't get shot? Geez, someone really should give you all a medal for that.”

The whole team stops in their tracks.

One by one, everyone turns their head towards the direction from which the voice has come. The view that greets them could probably send a perfectly healthy man straight into an early grave.

On the platform floor a few paces away, they find you standing with arms folded across your chest. Despite the bright lilt of your voice, your eyes are cutting as they assess the entire team with the judgement of a juror who has already decided on a guilty verdict. It's clear from your attire that you were freshly off work before going straight to the tower, and since everyone knows that you were supposed to be on a work trip to Philadelphia for at least another two days, it’s safe to assume that your ticket back was booked right around the time someone shouted “mission compromised!”.

It's a full ten seconds of shared disgrace before Yelena finally breaks the silence.

“You called her?” she hisses, landing an accusatory glare in Bucky’s direction.

“I did not.” Bucky scoffs. “And why does it matter if I did?”

“Bucky didn't call me,” you interject, your posture still rigid, your gaze still icy.

“Then who—no.” Yelena's eyes drift towards the kitchen, squinting as she takes in the figure trying to hide behind the doorway. “Bob.”

Ava snaps her head up. “Bob, you little shi—”

“That’s enough,” you jump in, moving sideways to conceal Bob from Ava's murderous line of sight. “He's got nothing to do with this. This is about you—all of you—and what a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing you just did.”

Under your scrutiny, the whole squad shifts like a pack of raccoons caught rummaging through the kitchen trash. The weight of your stare seems to age them all by a decade.

“I'm gonna give all of you two minutes to explain yourselves,” you declare, the authority in your tone indisputable. “And I already know what happened, so don't even think about trying to trick me.”

There is a lull in the air where everyone seemingly tries to process your demand.

When their mouths open again, what follows is not so much an explanation as it is a verbal dogpile. Everyone starts talking all at once—too loud, too fast, and entirely contradictory. John tries to lead with the logistics, only to be steamrolled by Alexei shouting something about creative liberty. Ava attempts to downplay the situation with a jovial “it was barely an explosion!” while Yelena throws her under the bus with a hasty “she started it!”. 

Bucky—standing to the side with the posture of a man watching his funeral getting turned into a Dollar Store circus—doesn’t even bother stepping in. He knows better. 

You hold up a single finger and the room quiets instantly, like someone pressing mute on a trashy sitcom argument. The stillness that follows is so heavy, even the lights begin to flicker in anticipation.

“But we got out fine!” Ava sputters, desperate to fill in the quietness, though her voice immediately thins when she adds, “Mostly.”

“Yeah! I mean, it's just a bruise here, a bruise there—everything's great.” Yelena grins.

Your sharp stare slides towards John, the lines between your eyebrows tightening as you take in the awkward angle of his injured leg. John nearly cowers under your piercing gaze.

“How bad is the damage?” you question, your voice booming throughout the surrounding space.

“What, this? Oh, it's not that bad. Probably just need to ice it then I'll be good as new—”

“Walker.”

It's hardly a secret that John is perhaps your least favorite person in that room, with you still clearly holding a grudge towards him for what happened with the Flag Smashers. The man is used to your constant cold shoulder by now. He expects it, even. More often than not, John finds himself wondering if you would ever warm up to him the way you have with the rest of the team.

And yet, as he now stands at the end of your long stare, John can't help but think that perhaps your silent treatment isn't really that bad. Especially if it means he doesn't have to be on the receiving end of the critical scrutiny you're currently aiming towards him.

The blond gulps.

“There's a forty percent chance it might be broken,” John admits. “But it's likely just dislocated. No big deal.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Get to the medbay and tell them to run a scan,” you command. “Alexei, go with him.”

“That's not necessa—”

The sharp glare you're sending him causes John's words to lodge in his throat.

Alexei springs right into action, steering John away from your ferocious perusal and back towards the elevator.

“C'mon, big guy,” Alexei bellows. “Let's go pay a visit to our doctor friends.”

As soon as the two men disappear into the elevator, your glower shifts towards the remaining two people standing behind Bucky. Yelena pretends to check her nails while Ava's eyes are roaming the ceiling with faux nonchalance, both a pathetic attempt to avoid the clear daggers in your stare. The ridiculousness would've made you chortle were you not livid beyond salvation right now.

“I want you two to go back to your rooms, clean yourselves up, and be back here in no more than thirty minutes,” you proclaim. “We'll continue our discussion after dinner.”

“Wait, hold on—”

“That's not—”

“Just go, you two,” Bucky interrupts, the blue in his eyes colder than the Arctic ocean. “That wasn't a request.”

The two figures slump in defeat, teetering towards the staircase with the speed of a turtle in a morning rush hour. You hear Yelena grumbling something in Russian under her breath, and you force yourself not to think about what the phrase might mean lest you want your skin to crawl in an even higher degree of vexation.

“Good gracious.” Bucky shakes his head.

Behind you, Bob emerges out of the kitchen, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly as he approaches you like a wounded kitten.

“They're mad at me, aren't they?” Bob murmurs. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you guys fight with each other.”

“It's not your fault, sweetie,” you assure him, extending your hand and offering a comforting squeeze around his palm. “They're just being idiots right now. You did good, okay? Give it a few hours and I promise you, they'll forget about this already.”

Bob nods solemnly, his voice quiet as he excuses himself and trudges towards the common area. You release a breath as you observe him diving head first onto the sofa, burying his face in the cushion like a Victorian widow fainting onto her chaise.

Turning around, your eyes lock with another pair in blue. The smile on Bucky's face grows as he takes you in, his arms opening with all the intention to collect you in his embrace. 

“Hey, doll. I've missed—”

“No. Stay right there.” You raise your palm, taking a step back. “I'm mad at you, too.”

Bucky blinks. 

He watches you turn around and walk away from him, his arms coming down limp by his sides before he scutters after your retreating form. Bucky lingers in the doorway as you move about the kitchen, taking out pots, knives, and pans while slamming the cabinet doors shut in the process. You don't even spare him a glance as you start retrieving fresh ingredients from the fridge.

“Honey?” he calls out, voice meek beneath the echo of your knife slicing through onions on the counter. “C'mon, doll, you're really not gonna talk to me?”

“No.”

The chopping continues.

Bucky rubs his face.

“You know I'm just as disappointed in them as you are, right?” he begins. “Swear to God, doll, I had nothing to do with this. Didn't even know what those rascals were planning ‘till I got the call from Alexei. Told ‘em off as soon as I extracted them outta there.”

“Hm.”

Sighing, Bucky takes a tentative step forward, then another, finally closing the distance when he's sure you wouldn't smack him across the head with the chopping board in your hand. His fingers find purchase around your elbow, halting your movements, the gentleness aching as he spins you around to face him. The knife and half-sliced onion lie dormant on the counter.

“Hey,” Bucky utters, so softly that the air nearly swallows the word whole. “Talk to me?”

You heave in a shaky breath, evading his eyes. “What's there to talk about? I told you I'm pissed.”

“Okay, that part I already got.” Bucky chuckles, brushing the back of his palm on your cheek. “Help me understand why? At least tell me how I can fix it, pretty girl. Hm?”

Your silence quivers at the edges, growing more brittle with each swipe of Bucky’s touch on your skin. The walls around your heart crumble under his infuriating tenderness.

“When Bob called and said the team had gone radio silent, I—” you pause, swallowing hard, “—I thought something terrible happened. I booked the first train out of Philly before I even hung up.”

Bucky stays quiet, watching you with careful eyes.

“I couldn’t reach anyone. Not John, not Yelena, not Ava, not Alexei—not you. And the longer I waited, the worse it got in my head. I pictured the mission going sideways. All of you gone.” You inhale sharply. “I pictured all of you coming home in body bags.”

Bucky's heart breaks at the shudder he feels running through your back. His soul is already mourning over the loss of light he would usually find shining so brightly out of your eyes. It makes him cling to you just a tad bit tighter.

“Bob finally called me again to tell me that you're all fine. That you're on your way back. But that's not the point, Bucky.” You look at him then, your fingers flexing. “The point is, I should've never heard about all of this from Bob in the first place. I should've heard it from you.”

Bucky's shoulders sink. “I didn't want you to worry.”

You shake your head, eyes burning with the threat of unshed tears. “But I do worry, Bucky! That’s the point. I worry every single time. The moment all of you step out of this building, I'm counting down the minutes until you guys return to me again. You can't shield me away from that.”

He steps closer, removing what little bit of distance between the two of you until all of your atoms are nearly merged as one. “You're right. You are. I should’ve called. Should've trusted that you'd want to know, even if it might scare you.”

“It did scare me,” you whisper. “And I didn’t want Bob’s voice telling me everything was okay. I wanted yours.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs, his arms pulling you nearer. “No more leaving you out. I promise it’ll be me from now on. I'll tell you everything, doll. Always.”

A shuddering breath leaves your lungs, and just like that, you completely melt away under Bucky's touch. Your forehead drops against the line between his shoulder and chest, your fingers gripping his sides as though he was the very force keeping you tethered to earth. Meanwhile, Bucky's lips ghost over the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings, the contrasting temperature of his palms appeasing you with random patterns against your back.

“I don't know how this all started,” you confess. “I'm not sure when I began caring this much about those idiots, but I do. The thought of something happening to them—to you—to all of you…”

Bucky's arms tighten around your frame. “I know, honey. I feel the same way.”

“This is not what I had in mind, you know?”

You tilt your head back to stare at his face, your fingers tangling themselves in the soft waves that Bucky has been growing out over the past few weeks. He almost cut them all off several days ago, but after some convincing on your end—which may have included activities that found your fingers buried in the soft tendrils and his face buried somewhere else—you managed to talk him out of it.

Bucky's eyebrows lift. “What do you mean?”

“Well… when you said that you were joining this team, I thought I'd never seen a more dysfunctional group of people in my entire life. I figured it'd be a miracle if all of you last a whole month without someone quitting or accidentally blowing each other up.” You chuckle, your eyes softening. “I didn't think I'd end up pacing the hallway every time you guys went out, worrying like some overworked mother of five.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, his forehead falling onto your own. “I get it. This wasn’t exactly how I imagined myself stepping into the dad role either, but… here I am.”

“Yeah?” Your lips quirk up. “How did you imagine it then?”

“Well—” Bucky's voice drops, his breath warm where it fans against your skin, “—I figured it’d start with a little house, somewhere quiet. Nothing fancy. Just enough for us to start building a life in. I’d fix the place up real proper. You’d hum to yourself as you whip up one of those famous pies of yours, and I’d pretend not to stare.”

The cheeky grin on Bucky's face grows, prompting a laugh out of your chest. His thumb continues to trace idle circles upon your waist.

“Then, when you feel the time's right, we’d try for a baby. The old-fashioned way. Real slow, real sweet. I’d kiss you like I got all the time in the world, and make love to you like I didn’t.”

Something flutters inside your chest, like stardust stirring in a forgotten corner of the galaxy. The way Bucky is looking at you makes you feel as if you were the first breath of the universe itself.

“That's how I pictured us becoming parents,” Bucky adds, brushing his lips along your jaw. “Not… this. Whatever this is.”

You smile at the graze of his beard on your cheek, angling your head to capture him in a brief kiss. 

“You know what I think this is, Buck?” you ask, teasing your lips against his own. “I think we should view this as a practice run. After all, how hard can it be to parent our own kid if we can do it to a group of five ridiculous, chaotic misfits, right?”

“Doll.” He sighs. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Depends.” You hum, your lips twitching in feigned innocence. “If you think I'm imagining you putting a baby in me… then yeah, you're absolutely right.”

Bucky swallows your cheeky grin with a kiss, grunting against your mouth as he presses you back against the counter. The muffled moans you let out are music to his ears, a lascivious melody that rushes straight towards places he reserves explicitly for you. His hands slip under your blouse, roaming the expanse of skin, drifting lower and lower in search for the one place that could send him straight to heaven and—

“Yelena! Give it back to me!”

“I told you it wasn't me!”

Bucky groans.

The shrill voices resonate all the way down to the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable echoes of footsteps thundering down the staircase. Bucky makes a guttural noise of frustration as his face slumps into the crook of your neck.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna ship them to Asgard one of these days,” he mutters.

You snort, brushing your fingers through his hair and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. 

“Let's put a raincheck on the baby-making, soldier,” you purr, smirking when it spurs on a rumble from Bucky's chest. “Looks like I've got a fight to break up before we have two dead superheroes on our hands.”

He groans again, this time at the loss of your warmth as you slip out of his arms. From the kitchen's doorway, you raise an eyebrow towards the common area, perching your palms on either side of your hips as you take in the havoc ahead.

“What the hell is going on here?” you snarl.

“She stole my snacks!” accuses Ava.

“I don't even like Jammie Dodgers, you lunatic!”

“What a lot of crap. We all know you'd even eat chicken off the ground given the chance, you pig!”

“Fucking asshole—”

“Hey!” you interrupt, your voice sharp as you march towards the two fuming Avengers. “You call each other any more names, then I promise you, you're gonna wish you got shot on that mission today.”

Bucky watches the whole interaction from the kitchen with his arms crossed and a slow grin spreading across his face. He leans against the counter, studying you with the quiet reverence of a man who has found the meaning of home after decades of searching. Even in the midst of this domestic madness, even with the team’s antics grinding on his last nerve, he wouldn't trade a single thing in his life for anything else.

There are still a lot of things in this world that Bucky struggles to understand.

But with you by his side, and his entire team watching his six, he knows that he's got nothing to worry about.

[no-144444]

sunscreen- o.piastri

꩜ summary: oscar isn't jealous, but he's not not jealous either. you remind him why he has no reason to be

꩜ pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

Truly, Oscar didn’t have a jealous bone in his body. He knew how much you loved him, you told him and showed him every single day. He knew he loved you, and he knew you knew that. You were both introverted people so he’d never once had to worry about people dragging you away from him, that was even if you actually bothered attending whatever event you were meant to go to. 

So why did it bug him so much? His friends weren’t charismatic, they were regular Australian college students who stayed out in the sun and drank too much. He adorned them, don’t get me wrong, but they weren’t the best for deep intellectual conversation- apart from right now it seemed. 

Bringing you to Australia had been one of his dreams since you’d started going out. He wanted to show you Melbourne, show off his favourite hot chocolate spots, introduce his friends and family, and just enjoy the sun before the season started. You had wanted to go surfing, but didn’t know how. In comes Chris, one of his best mates since childhood, and his friend Jon. 

“Jon’s a surfing instructor!” Chris had cheered. “I’ll get him to teach her.”

You were already agreeing before Oscar could say that while he wasn’t a brilliant surfer, he could definitely teach you. 

He regretted not speaking up the second you pulled up to the beach. You’d been busy all morning with Hattie and Eddie, so he hadn’t seen you, but you rocked up in the skimpiest bikini he’d ever seen (it made him painfully hard, but he managed to ignore that), with a (his) hoodie and some shorts on and a bright smile

“Hey baby,” you’d smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck once you’d shed his your hoodie. You’d always been a bit more into the whole PDA thing than him, but it surely wasn’t bothering him today, considering the amount of people staring at you. “You all good?” 

His jaw had dropped. “You are so beautiful,” he’d smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist and held you tight against his pale chest. “How was your morning?” he’d asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You had launched into a very long-winded explanation of your morning and how Hattie and Eddie kept you firmly on your toes, but just then, Jon came up with two boards in hand. He was built like a fucking linebacker with perfect blonde hair and brown eyes, and that common ‘surfer-guy style’ women seemed to love. Oscar gulped. 

“Is he usually this handsy?” Oscar questioned as he watched from the shoreline. Chris chuckled. 

“It’s no big deal,” he shrugged, then chuckled again when he noticed Oscar’s disappointed face. “It’s Y/n, she’s head over heels for you.”

“She literally just fell head over heels off her board for him,” he pointed out, his deadpanned voice eliciting more laughter from the rest of the group. 

“Sounding jealous, Piastri!” Owen, one of his boarding school mates whooped. 

Oscar scoffed and shrugged it off, trying to just enjoy the view of his very pretty girlfriend trying to surfboard. 

“Oscar! Did you see that!” you cheered, coming in from the water. “I did it! I stood up!” 

He wrapped his arms around you as you came in, a proud smile on his face. “Well done baby,” he smiled and pressed a kiss to your lips as the group cheered behind the two of you. “Did so well,” he smirked and pressed a cheeky kiss to your neck, which you batted away. Though, you could tell the smiles and smirks didn’t really reach his eyes, and when you did look at his eyes, they were always looking at Jon. 

“How are you?” you asked, taking his hand and squeezing it, leading him back to the group on the beach. He was quiet, only offering a half-assed shrug. “You need more sunscreen?” you reminded him and he nodded. “Don’t want you to burn.” 

“You use sunscreen?” Jon chuckled. “Pussy,” he coughed jokingly, gaining laughs from some of the group. Oscar rolled his eyes as you stared in disbelief. 

“Dickhead,” you murmured under your breath. “Lie down on your stomach,” you instructed and lathered him in more sunscreen, being extra-thorough with his back muscles (mostly because you liked to stare at them) and moles. “Alright, flip over.” 

He did as you asked and completely unprovoked, you straddled him, gaining the attention of half the group, and more specifically, Jon. Oscar stuttered underneath you as you started to spread sunscreen across his body, enjoying yourself. You had a hot boyfriend, and he was more than ok with being touched like this in public, especially with Jon watching. he stuttered beneath you, slightly freaking out for a moment. The only thing between him fucking you right then and there was the fact that his friends were there, otherwise, he would've thrown caution to the wind and let you ride him until the sun set.

He placed his hands on your waist and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of your hands on him. At one point your hand even got a little low and he lightly tapped your ass as a warning, making you laugh. You could see the look of absolute envy on Jon's face and you smirked.

“All done,” you smiled and he opened his eyes and sat up, immediately kissing you, a bright smile on his face. 

“What are you playing at, pretty girl?” he whispered a smirk on his lips. You shrugged playfully. 

“Maybe I needed to remind you who I wore this bikini for,” you mused. “Just an idea though.” 

Yeah, Jon didn’t stick around much longer after that.

mclaren masterlist

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[just-aake]

Friends Don't Kiss

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Friends spend time together. They share inside jokes, quiet moments, maybe even late-night movies. And sometimes…they kiss. That’s normal. Right? At least, that’s what Natasha keeps telling herself.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 4140

“Would you kiss me?”

Steve chokes on his coffee, spluttering mid-sip. He coughs violently, thumping his fist against his chest as he tries to catch his breath.

Across the kitchen, Natasha doesn’t flinch. She stands coolly with a mug in hand, one hip leaning against the compound’s countertop, her expression unreadable.

“You know,” she adds, far too casually, “as a friend.”

Steve finally manages to recover, blinking at her like she’s grown a second head. 

“I’m gonna need a little more context.”

Natasha shrugs, gaze fixed somewhere past him. 

“Just making a point. I’ve kissed you before. We’re still just friends.”

“That was different,” Steve says slowly, carefully, like he’s not entirely sure where this conversation is headed. “We were on the run. It was for a mission.”

“Right,” Natasha nods quickly, seizing on that. “Exactly. So sometimes a kiss doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Steve sets down his coffee, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Did you kiss someone, Nat?”

She scoffs immediately, a sharp breath meant to dismiss the question, but her shoulders stiffen, betraying her.

“No,” she says too quickly, brushing past it. “Why would you ask that?”

Before Steve can press further, the kitchen door slides open.

You step in, pausing just briefly when your eyes meet hers. A flicker of something passes between you—then it’s gone, replaced by your familiar, easy smile.

“Morning,” you say, grabbing an apple from the counter before sliding easily into the space beside her. “You two solving world peace already?”

Natasha’s grip on her mug tightens. Her pulse trips over itself at your closeness, at the casual brush of your shoulder against hers.

“Morning,” she mutters, not quite meeting your eyes.

“You’re up earlier than usual,” Steve returns your greeting while watching both of you now with a curious gaze, noticing the subtle shift in the air. 

You shrug lightly.

“Decided to turn in early last night,” you respond before turning to Natasha. “Sorry, I didn’t see you when you got back, Nat.”

Natasha shakes her head, brushing off the apology.

“It’s fine,” she says simply. 

But it’s not. Not really. She had looked for you last night when she came back from her mission, hoping for your usual smile at the hangar. Instead, FRIDAY informed her you were already asleep. She’d swallowed her disappointment and told herself it didn’t matter.

Natasha takes another sip to keep herself occupied from further conversation. Unfortunately, it seems you have no intention of letting her do that.

“Can I have some?”

Natasha glances at you with a raise of her brow, and you give her a small smile as you nod at the mug in her hand.

“There’s more brewing,” she responds, gesturing to the coffee machine in the corner.

You don’t move her gaze from hers.

“I know,” you grin. “But I want yours.”

Natasha sighs, long-suffering but fond, and hands it over.

You take it with a bright smile in thanks, drinking the last of it with satisfaction.

Natasha watches you as you finish, her lips twitching slightly into the ghost of a smile before she can stop it.

Something about that simple exchange makes the room feel smaller. 

Steve observes you two quietly, picking up on the subtle tension that hums under the surface like a taut wire. You and Natasha have always been close. That’s not new. But something feels different now.

“Well, I’m heading to the training room,” you announce, handing Natasha back the mug and tossing the apple in your hand once before catching it again. “See you two later.”

You’re gone before either of them can respond.

The silence that follows stretches.

Steve leans against the table, watching the doorway you disappeared through before turning his eyes back to Natasha. 

“So,” he says, voice even, “something you’d like to share?”

Natasha scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pivots to rinse out her mug. 

“This has nothing to do with her.”

Her tone is dry and dismissive. But her mind betrays her.

She remembers the way the two of you had been curled up on the couch in the common room just a few nights ago. 

A rare, quiet evening with no missions, no alarms, just shared stories and laughter over absurd field mishaps. Your knees touching hers. Her arm draped along the back of the sofa. 

You leaning closer, head tilted back slightly as you laughed, completely at ease.

Natasha remembers the way her fingers twitched with the urge to touch you. 

How, without quite realizing it, her hand lifted to cup your cheek. 

The moment stretched, her breath caught, and then she leaned in.

The kiss was soft, hesitant in the way that Natasha had not fully comprehended what she had done.

When she does, she goes to pull away when you suddenly kiss her back.

Your hand had come up, anchoring against her shoulder, the other sliding to the back of her neck as you deepened it, slow and sure. 

Then, the elevator chimed.

And the moment shattered.

Instinctively, Natasha pulls back, jumping to her end of the couch by the time the other team members come into the room. 

Next thing she knows, you were swept up by a conversation with Wanda while Natasha sat there frozen, lips parted, heartbeat wild, her hand brushing over her mouth in disbelief. 

The warmth of your kiss still lingering on her skin like a brand.

You never brought it up again.

Neither did she.

And now, days later, she finds herself standing in the kitchen convincing herself that friends kiss sometimes. 

That it doesn’t have to mean anything. That it didn’t mean anything.

“Sure, Nat,” Steve says slowly, watching her a little too closely now. “A kiss doesn’t have to mean anything...”

Natasha relaxes slightly, but before the relief can take hold in her mind, Steve continues nonchalantly.

“…unless you want it to.”

Natasha doesn’t respond. Her jaw sets just slightly as she stares into her empty mug. Then, with a sigh, she curses herself for even asking Steve.

His words just brought up a flurry of new problems for her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

She did it again.

She’s doing it again.

What started as a simple spar at your request had quickly escalated—one move leading to another, until she had you pinned flat on the mat. Her knees straddled your hips, hands locking your wrists above your head with effortless control.

You were both breathless, sweat-slicked skin flushed from exertion.

Then you smiled up at her, teeth flashing, that same teasing spark in your eyes that always got under her skin, and Natasha couldn’t look away. Couldn’t think past the heat in her chest. Her gaze dropped, lingering on the curve of your parted lips as you panted beneath her.

And before she could stop herself, she leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t hesitant this time. It was hungry, claiming, as if making up for every second she hadn’t let herself think about the feel of your lips since that night on the couch. Her grip loosened, hands sliding from your wrists to your sides, fingertips brushing over the sliver of skin just above your waistband.

Like before, you didn’t pull away.

Instead, your arms curled around her shoulders, pulling her closer with a quiet urgency. 

Her mouth moved against yours again, and again—slow, deliberate, until your breath caught and you exhaled her name in a moan that made something in her pulse stutter.

“Natasha…”

Her name on your lips.

It cracked through the haze like a whip.

And she freezes.

Reality slams back in, fast and merciless. 

Natasha pulls away suddenly, breathing hard as her eyes search yours. Her hands lift, hovering like she wasn’t sure where to place them anymore.

“Shit,” she mutters, shaken. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

You blink at her, dazed and confused, lips still parted.

But before you can say anything, the door slides open.

“Damn,” Sam’s voice calls out as he steps into the training room, towel slung over his shoulder. He pauses at the sight, then lets out a low whistle and smirks.

“Give her a break, Romanoff. She’s already red in the face.”

Natasha straightens back instinctively, only to realize the flush on your face wasn’t from exertion.

You let out a breath of laughter, dragging a hand through your hair. 

“I’m fine,” you say, voice light, easy. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your palm lightly taps Natasha’s thigh—a subtle, casual cue.

She blinks at you, still hovering above, startled by how calmly you are taking all of this. Then she shifts, climbing off with fluid grace, but her mind still reels. 

Why weren’t you reacting differently? Why were you acting like what just happened between you two was normal for friends?

You push yourself to your feet and turn to offer your hand down to her.

Without hesitation, she takes it.

Your grip is warm and steady as you help her up. Before she can say anything, you brush your hand over her shoulder, flicking away the dust from your earlier scuffle. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, you pat her cheek twice, a gentle, reassuring touch.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you repeat, softer this time.

And then you walk off coolly and composed, leaving her standing there.

Staring.

Processing.

“What the hell…” Natasha mutters under her breath.

Sam moves beside her, picking up a dumbbell nonchalantly like he hadn’t just walked in on something.

“Hey, Sam?” she asks, still staring after you. 

“Yeah?”

“Friends can kiss, right?” she asks. “Like… that’s a normal thing friends do sometimes?”

Sam pauses mid-curl and turns to look at her with a slow grin. 

“What kind of friends you got, Romanoff?” he chuckles. “’Cause I’d love an introduction.”

Natasha doesn’t respond.

Her eyes are still locked on the door you disappeared through, her thoughts a whirlwind of tangled lines she couldn’t figure out how or if she wanted to untangle.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The movie plays on, its flickering light casting soft shadows across the darkened room. But Natasha isn’t watching it.

She’s trying to. Or at least pretending to.

Her eyes are on the screen, but her mind drifts, tangled in thoughts she can’t quite sort through. The question loops endlessly in her head like a broken reel.

Can friends kiss? Should friends kiss? Did it mean anything?

You shift slightly beside her, and the motion draws her out of the haze. Then comes a soft sound—a small yawn, muffled behind your hand. 

Natasha glances down at you.

Your head rests gently against her shoulder, your body curled comfortably into the side of hers. You’ve been like that for most of the movie—close, warm, familiar. Nothing new for the two of you. 

But now, it feels different. Everything feels different.

She tilts her head toward you slightly. 

“We can stop here if you want,” she offers, her voice low. “You’re tired.”

You shake your head with a sleepy smile, eyes barely open. 

“It’s fine. It’s almost finished anyway.”

Natasha studies your face for a moment longer, searching for something beneath your words. Then she relaxes, leaning her head against yours again, letting the rhythm of your breathing soothe her.

But only a few minutes pass before she feels your body grow heavier against her, your breath evening out. She shifts subtly to glance at you, and sure enough, your eyes are closed, mouth slightly parted in sleep.

A quiet exhale escapes her lips.

She lets the laptop finish playing the credits, then carefully reaches over to close it, setting it on the nightstand without disturbing you too much.

As she leans back again, her eyes linger on you, peaceful and completely unaware of the storm still quietly waging inside her.

She hesitates.

You’d probably sleep better in your own bed. Less risk of a sore neck.

“Hey,” she whispers, brushing her fingers lightly against your arm to wake you. “Want me to carry you to your room?”

You stir, eyes fluttering open, still half-lost in sleep. You look up at her, your gaze soft and unguarded.

“Can I sleep here?”

Natasha stills.

The way your face is tilted toward hers makes her heart stutter. You’re so close, lips parted slightly, your breath warm against her cheek.

Her fingers tighten against the sheets.

She should say no. But she doesn’t.

“…Sure,” she says instead, voice barely audible.

You smile in that sleepy, content way that always makes her chest ache, and shift to lie back more fully on the bed, your head finding the pillow beside hers like it’s always belonged there.

Natasha stays seated for a moment, just watching you. Studying the soft lines of your expression. The trust etched so easily into every part of you.

Then your eye cracks open, lazy and amused, and you pat the empty space beside you.

“Come on,” you murmur. “You should sleep too.”

Natasha swallows.

She moves beneath the covers slowly, cautiously, like the sheets might burn her. The moment her weight settles, you immediately scoot closer, nuzzling into the curve of her body with a comfort that’s almost too much.

She freezes.

Her arms hover mid-air, unsure where to land. Her instincts war with her confusion about the situation.

But then you sigh softly, and it eases something in her. She lets her arms wrap around you, tentatively at first, then fully. Her hand rests lightly against your back.

Your body fits against hers like it was always meant to.

Her heart beats too loud. Her thoughts race too fast.

But your breathing, soft and steady, grounds her.

You’re not overthinking this. You’re not avoiding eye contact or spiraling like she is. You’re just there. 

Maybe she is overreacting.

So she presses her lips to the top of your head, just barely a kiss, light and reverent.

And tells herself it’s fine.

That it’s just something friends do.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The corridor outside the tech lab is mostly quiet, the hum of machinery muffled behind glass walls. Natasha had only meant to drop by to check on some routine data upload from her last mission, but she slows as she rounds the corner and catches sight of you through the glass.

You’re leaning against the counter in the lab, your stance relaxed, familiar. A quiet, polite smile plays on your lips as you speak to one of the newer lab techs, who is a little awkward in their stance and clearly trying to flirt.

Natasha pauses at the entrance, something instinctual anchoring her in place. 

“I just figured,” the technician says, nervously fidgeting with their hands, “maybe we could grab a coffee sometime?”

Natasha blinks. Her fingers tighten unconsciously around the datapad in her hand.

You let out a soft chuckle, not unkind. 

“That’s sweet,” you say, your tone warm but edged with gentle finality, “but I’m actually already seeing someone.”

Natasha frowns, her heart skipping heavily.

Since when?

The lab tech falters only slightly, nodding good-naturedly.

“Ah. No worries. It was worth a shot.”

“We could still be friends,” you offer kindly.

They chuckle lightly as they gather their things, nodding in agreement.

“Well, if they mess up,” the tech jokes, “you know where to find me.”

You smile again, a brief lift of your brow.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They leave, footsteps fading down the hall.

Natasha stays frozen for a beat longer, her brain racing as she tries to understand. A strange, unfamiliar tightness lingers in her chest, something sharp and green and burning low.

Why didn’t you ever tell her you were seeing someone?

The question echoes through her like a bruise, throbbing harder the longer she thinks about it.

A few seconds pass before she finally moves, stepping into view from where she’d been half-hidden around the corner. Her approach is quiet, boots soft on the tile, but you look up at the sound anyway.

“Nat, hey,” you greet, still casual, like you hadn’t just said something that made her stomach drop unexpectedly.

Natasha crosses her arms across her chest.

“Were you ever going to introduce me to them?”

You blink at her, brow furrowing.

“Who?”

“The person you’re seeing.”

There’s a flicker of confusion in your expression, your head tilting slightly as if trying to piece together something obvious that you’ve somehow missed.

“That’d be…difficult,” you answer slowly.

Her heart skips again—this time not from surprise, but from something closer to hurt. 

“Why?” she presses, a little sharper now. “You don’t want them to meet your friends?”

Your mouth parts slightly. You study her, eyes narrowing faintly, not in anger, but in realization. 

“Is that what you are?” you ask quietly. “Just my friend?”

Natasha hesitates. Her arms tighten around herself, defensive.

“I thought I was,” she says with a shrug that tries too hard to be casual.

The silence that follows isn’t long, but it feels like it stretches forever.

You nod slowly, the movement small and almost imperceptible. 

“Right,” you murmur. “My mistake.”

And even though you smile, easy and familiar, there’s a flicker behind it. Something small and wounded that vanishes just as quickly as it appears. Like it costs a little more this time to offer it.

“I thought we were something more.”

Natasha’s lips part in stunned silence.

You shake your head slightly, not in denial, just…regret. 

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Before she can find her voice, before she can reach out and ask what you mean—what she means to you—you step past her.

“I’ve got to prep for my mission,” you say quietly. “I’ll see you after, Nat.”

And then you’re gone.

The hallway seems impossibly still.

Natasha doesn’t move.

She just stands there, frozen in place, her eyes still on the space where you’d been just seconds ago.

I thought we were something more.

The words echo in her chest like a hollow ring of glass about to break.

Natasha presses a hand lightly to her sternum, as if she could push the ache away.

But it lingers. Deep and burning.

She knew it.

She knows it now more than ever.

Friends don’t kiss.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The hangar is nearly silent at this hour, long past the time anyone should still be awake.

But Natasha is.

She leans against a metal railing in the far corner of the bay, arms crossed loosely, her mind racing in quiet loops. The empty stretch of concrete around her does little to ease the restless energy in her body. She’s been replaying your last conversation for hours now, trying to decipher what it meant, what you meant.

The distant hum of turbines pulls her attention up.

The Quinjet descends slowly, its engines quieting as it settles onto the landing pad. Her spine straightens involuntarily. She catches herself smoothing her palm against her thigh, like she’s bracing for something.

The ramp lowers with a hiss, and then there you are.

You spot her the moment you step down.

Your steps falter just a bit, surprised but not displeased. Your expression shifts into something soft and unreadable before you offer a faint smile.

“Hey,” you greet lightly. “You’re still up?”

Natasha picks up on the subtle wariness in your voice. Not distrust, just a layer of confusion she knows she put there.

“I wanted to talk,” she says, quieter now, her arms unfolding slightly. “If that’s okay.”

You pause. Then, after a breath, you nod.

“Yeah… we probably should’ve had this talk before I went around thinking we were something other than friends,” you joke, a little self-deprecating, but not cruel.

Natasha winces, her mouth twitching. She knows she earned that.

You exhale and tilt your head toward the hallway. 

“Come on. Let’s talk in my room. I need to get this mission stink off me.”

She follows without hesitation, grateful for the return of your usual teasing tone.

“Yeah, you do,” she quips back.

You gasp in mock offense, throwing a look over your shoulder. 

“Wow. Brutal honesty? No mercy, huh?”

Natasha just smirks. “Would you prefer lies?”

“Only the flattering kind,” you call as you enter your room.

Natasha follows in after you with a small chuckle. She sits at the edge of your bed, hands in her lap, waiting as you disappear into your bathroom. She hears the rush of water from the shower and feels oddly tense like she’s waiting for a mission to start, but this one requires emotional precision she hasn’t quite mastered.

When the bathroom door finally opens, and you emerge, a towel draped around your shoulders, skin still damp and fresh from the steam, Natasha’s thoughts short-circuit for a moment.

Her gaze catches on the curve of your neck, the soft line of your collarbone—

She tears her eyes away, scolding herself silently.

This is exactly how things got so muddled.

You shoot her an amused look as you dry your hair with the towel. 

“You gonna stare all night or talk?”

Natasha clears her throat, suddenly focused on her hands again. 

“Right. Sorry. I just…wanted to ask something.”

You toss the towel aside as you nod.

“Ask away.”

She hesitates. 

“Why…why did you think we were dating?”

You blink, surprised at the question. Then you let out a soft breath and sit beside her on the bed.

“Well,” you begin, voice easy but edged with a thread of honesty, “months ago, you asked me to go to the Avengers Festival with you. We spent the whole day together. Just us.”

“I thought you’d enjoy it,” Natasha replies quietly.

“I did. And I was even more excited when I thought you were asking me out on a date.”

You glance at her, gauging her reaction.

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line. 

“Only it wasn’t… to me.”

“Right,” you say, a hint of disappointment in your tone before you continue with a sigh. “But then you invited me to that new restaurant for dinner the next night.”

“You mentioned it once. I thought you’d want to go.”

“I did mention it. To Wanda. I didn’t expect you to remember something I had said in passing.”

Natasha lowers her gaze. 

“I do,” she murmurs.

You smile faintly. 

“Then came movie nights. Every week. Just us.”

“You hadn’t seen any of the classics. I thought it’d be fun.”

“And it was,” you say before teasingly adding as you lightly nudge her shoulders. “Especially learning you know all the lines.”

There’s a pause. Then your voice softens.

“Then…you kissed me.”

Natasha’s breath catches.

“Twice,” you continue.

Her eyes flick to yours.

“Three times,” you correct with a small smile, “if we’re counting the one where you got nervous and bailed halfway through, settling for the top of my head instead when you thought I was asleep.”

Natasha swallows, stunned into silence.

“Well?” you ask gently. “You gonna explain? Because last time I checked…”

You shift toward her, slow and deliberate.

“…friends don’t kiss.”

She searches for an answer. Any answer. But none of them feel true. Not the ones she told herself, not the ones that let her avoid the real thing.

“These past days I've been trying to convince myself that kissing didn’t have to mean anything,” Natasha admits, voice small. “That I could just…”

She trails off.

“Avoid what you actually felt?” you offer, your tone gentle, not accusatory.

She meets your eyes then, and something in her cracks. 

“Maybe I just didn’t want to admit I wanted something more. Because if I did…and you didn’t…”

“I did,” you interrupt softly.

Your hand lifts to her hair, your fingers brushing a few loose strands back, tucking them gently behind her ear.

“I do.”

Her breath trembles.

You stroke her cheek with your thumb, grounding her.

“No more mixed signals, Nat,” you say with a playful edge, though your eyes are sincere. “You’re gonna have to be more direct, or I’ll start thinking I made it all up.”

She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her hands slide to your waist as she pulls you closer, steady and sure.

“Tomorrow night…will you go out with me?” she murmurs.

You grin, raising a brow.

“On a date?”

She nods, smiling now too.

“On a date.”

You lean your forehead against hers.

“Then I’d love to.”

There’s a beat of stillness, warmth blooming in the quiet between you. Then Natasha’s gaze flicks behind you toward the bed and back at you, one brow rising.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

You raise an amused brow.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You smirk playfully.

“Because, in case you’re unsure…” you whisper, tilting your head closer to hers. “…friends don’t typically sleep with each other either.”

Natasha’s eyes sparkle, a soft smile forming on her face.

“Then it’s a good thing,” she says, drawing you in, her voice a low murmur at your lips, “that we’re not just friends anymore.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: a little something as I procrastinate on my series ���� thank you for reading!

[moesthoughts]

my aching bones | the pilot ( photo 01 )

chapter summary : you finally sign up for the stupid photography gig to take pictures for the yellow jackets girls’ soccer team, if taking action shots at their first practice was already awkward enough, being forced to introduce yourself to the team was worse.

warnings : bullying, topics of loneliness, drug use, homophobia, mental health issues, addiction

You curse at yourself as you practically sign away your life in Mr. Martinez’s office.

You can’t believe your parents convinced you to do something with your hobby you aren’t even that good at, Photography. You enjoy your free will with your shots, but now that you have to take action shots and team photos for the Yellow Jackets girl’s soccer team, you can kiss that creative freedom goodbye. You place the pen you were given down onto the desk, not caring to read the contract you just signed. Probably not the smartest decision you’ve made. The man in front of you smiles at you, before taking the clipboard and pen away from you.

“We appreciate your help, miss. We’ve been in need of a photographer.”

He chuckles, tapping the pen onto the wood. You can only muster up a small smile, awkwardly shuffling between your feet. Little did he know you were doing this completely against your will. Your eyes wander towards the family photos littered across his office, Travis and Javi Martinez. Pretty weird kids, if you could even judge. Travis was a complete asshole, but Javi was a sweet little kid. You mentally prepare yourself, knowing you’ll have to deal with them both somewhere down the line.

“No need to thank me, sir. I just wanted to expand on my hobby.”

You realize you didn’t reply to him earlier, you try to sound professional. You kick the carpet on the floor as he laughs again. He always seems so serious on the field, why is he so carefree now? Probably because he wants to love bomb you into staying for the rest of senior year, you still can’t believe you’re wasting your supposedly chill year on a soccer team. You haven’t done an extracurricular for your entire high school career, why does that have to change this year? You enjoy your alone time, at least you think you do.

“It’s Coach to you now. The girls have practice tomorrow, why don’t you stay after and test the waters?”

Coach Martinez smiles, and you press your lips together. Tomorrow is when you officially start taking pictures for the school paper, that everyone looked at.. You pick up your bag from the chair beside you and bottle up your worries. You mutter a ‘see you tomorrow’ and leave the room. You shuffle awkwardly across the locker room which was thankfully empty for today, you’re already dreading tomorrow.

It’s the last class of the day, and you’ve about had it with the constant comments from Randy. You bury your face into your hands after the third remark about how you dress, you’d yell at him if you weren’t already worrying about the event after this class. All you want is a moment to think before you have to take pictures of girls like a creep, it’s enough that people throw insults at you for being ‘gay’. You never want to confirm or deny.

“I mean, you dress like a butch—“

“Randy, just fuck off already.”

Your head turns in the direction of the new voice, it’s Taissa Turner. You’re shocked, to say the least. She’s never once stood up for you when Randy picked on you, you’re not sure what sparked this change suddenly. To be honest, you believed she was even meaner than Randy. The boy scoffs and leaves you alone, you stare at her dumbfounded. She looks back at you, equally confused.

“You’re welcome?”

Taissa speaks up, a smile pulling on her lips. You snap out of your confused daze and give her one back, going back to the worksheet on your desk. Today is going to be so weird. You grip your camera that’s been in your lap the whole class. Instead of paying attention to calculus, you were busy making sure you had enough film, that your lens wasn’t smudged, and that it still functioned correctly. All the boxes have been checked, it was time to prepare yourself for after school. To brave the overwhelming social anxiety that plagues your body every day. You squeeze your eyes shut once the bell rings, and the thing you’ve been trying to forget about for the whole day is finally here.

The tips of your shoes dig into the ground as you stand next to Coach Martinez, who is watching Coach Scott make some kind of welcome speech. You notice some girls aren’t taking it very seriously, you assume it’s because it’s not their first year. Among the girls whispering to each other, one catches your eye the most. The prettiest bleach blonde hair, eyeliner so dark around her eyes, red-tinted lips with the cutest smile. You tear your eyes away from her once you dive too deep into your thoughts. You put your camera up to your eye and wink, taking a picture of the group sitting around the Coach. It was an aesthetic shot, you know you did well when Coach Martinez praises you for your good eye.

Some of the girls look over to the sound of your camera shutter, exchanging confused looks. You slowly start to understand that this idea wasn’t disclosed to the team, at least not yet. Your nerves get the best of you, your fight-or-flight response screaming at you to just bolt away. You don’t, instead braving the odd stares you’re getting, you notice Taissa Turner is among them. You curse yourself under your breath. The bleach blonde’s eyes linger on you the longest, her tongue pressing on her cheek while she looks you up and down. You quickly avert your eyes back to the man making the speech, a pink color kissing your cheeks.

You’re not sure if she meant to stare at you that long, but it’s on your mind for the whole practice, while you’re taking pictures, your camera pans to her. Your eyes linger on her longer than the other girls, who knew one look could completely make you crumble? You take a deep breath and finally focus on getting shots of the other girls on the team, not just that blonde beauty. You kiss your new roll of film goodbye with all the pictures you've taken; you finally put your camera down. You feel satisfied with your first photoshoot; you absolutely were not counting, but you had enough photos so the team could pick which ones they liked and disliked. Coach Scott snaps you out of your daze. He taps your shoulder and motions you to come with him. You bite the inside of your cheek, trailing behind him nervously. You finally notice you're heading towards the circle of girls, and your stomach sinks down into the pits of your body.

You stand in front of the team who surrounds you in a semi-circle, you gulp as your head turns around to see all of their eyes trained on you. Your ripped Converse dug into the turf under you anxiously, and your fingers wrap around the cloth of your sweater. Your head turns to Coach Scott expectantly, and he stares at you for a moment before sighing.

"So, as you might not know. This year, a photographer will be at our practices taking pictures for the school paper."

Introductions have never been your strong suit. In fact, it might be the thing you're worst at. You take a deep breath, thinking about what you could possibly say. You don't want to overcomplicate it either, you finally speak, your name being the first thing to come out of your mouth.

"—and I am a.. senior this year. yep. Um, and I'll be taking pictures of you guys, I guess."

You internally face-palm once you finish. Hearing the girls giggle around you softly is the thing that pushes you to your breaking point. You shift onto both your feet before flashing everyone a smile and then running away. As you're grabbing your bag, you hear one of the coaches calling out for you. You're too embarrassed to turn back now.

You lie on your back, the cold of the hood on your car stinging your exposed skin. You can only think about how badly you fucked up back at the soccer field as you take a drag of your cigarette. The awkwardness surrounding your introduction, you couldn't even prepare yourself for. You picture their eyes practically staring into your soul. What else were you supposed to say? That your life sucks, and that you don't even want to do this stupid photography thing? Of course not!

"Hey."

You gasp and hide your cigarette, stupidly coughing out smoke and waving it away frantically. Your eyes rest on the source of the voice, that gorgeous fake blonde. She laughs as you look around the area, wondering if she was actually speaking to you or not. You feel like you’re in some cheesy romantic 80s’ movie, something you haven’t felt in a while. You scoot over so she can sit next to you.

“You don’t seem like the smoking type.”

She smirks, her eyes not leaving yours. You let out a nervous giggle and lift up the cigarette from behind your legs, there’s no point in hiding it anyway. You hope that your problem won’t drive her away, you only do it when you’re stressed.. which is almost everyday. You take another puff, offering it to her. You aren’t surprised when she takes up your offer, taking a long drag.

“A lot of people say that.”

An over exaggeration, only about two people have said that to your face, including the girl beside you. She hands your cigarette back to you, blowing out the smoke that previously filled her mouth. She seems like she’s thinking carefully, that only makes you even more antsy. It’s obvious, from the way you’re bouncing your leg, looking at everything but her, like it’s the first time you’ve seen the shitty school parking lot. She nudges you with a smile, making you put your attention back on her.

“My name is Nat.“

She starts, a faint accent coating her voice. You’re practically drinking in every word that falls out of her pretty mouth, addicted to the sound. You hum in response, putting the cigarette back up to your lips. Another thing you’re horrible at, continuing conversation. You’re shocked that she hasn’t gotten frustrated and left you alone at your car yet, like everyone else you’ve tried getting to know. She stays, the short amount of silence not being awkward, but nice.

“Uh— Ignore the assholes that laughed at you, most of them are nice when they want to be.”

You’re reminded of the events that took place recently, smoke blowing out of your lips. You don’t blame them for laughing, your bones were practically rattling from how much you were shaking. You shrug, you don’t want to think about it too much. You always overthink anyway, you don’t want to waste anymore of your time.

“It’s fine, I’m only going to be taking photos of you guys anyways, I don’t know why he had me introduce myself.”

You reply, looking at Nat. It’s a cute name, you assume it’s short for Natalie. She smiles again once you make eye contact with her brown eyes, you can drown in the sight. You shrink under her gaze, so understanding. You wonder if she’s in the same boat as you. She didn’t dress like other girls in the school, her eyeliner harsher than others. You still think she’s so much cooler than you.

“Maybe it’s so we don’t think you’re a fucking creep.”

That sentence causes you both to break into laughter, you wave the smoke away from your face as you cough it out. Her laugh is heavy, it’s such a nice sound. You realize you’re already down bad for this girl, how willing she was to cuss, the dimples that show up on her face every time she smiles, and the tone she uses when speaking with you. It’s enchanting. Your artistic eye takes in all of her features, desperate to learn more about her.

You both snap out of your trance as you hear a girl call out Nat’s name, your eyes landing on a tall woman with curly brunette hair that falls past her shoulders, you recognize her as Lottie Matthews. The known rich girl of the school, she’s not as stuck up as her reputation makes her. Your attention goes to Nat as she groans, disappointment evident on her face. She picks up her bag and faces you with a smile.

“That’s my ride, I’ll see you at our next practice?”

You agree a bit too quickly, causing her to snort. She leaves your car and head over to Lottie, who looks like a deer in headlights. You take a drag out of your cigarette again, wanting to finish it before you start driving home. As the quiet settles in, you feel sad again. You didn’t even get Nat’s number, not that you’d be confident enough to ask her for it. You sigh, feeling that same emptiness takes place in your body. You want more of her, her laugh, her words. You’re desperate to learn more about her other than her name. Your bones ache with need, and your mind is heavy with curiosity.

It all started with one look.

synopsis ʚɞ your parents want you out of the house more, do something other than rot in your room while doing homework. You decide to use your photography talent for the school paper, taking pictures of the yellow jackets girl’s soccer team. Throughout your photoshoots of their various games, one girl piques your interest the most. Natalie Scatorccio.

a/n : AHH OKAY HII FINALLY FINISHED WITH THE FIRST PART.. I hope you guys like it so far, i’ve had this idea ever since i finished season one UGHHHHH

a/n : taglist is still open! lmk if you want to be added onto it 🤍

taglist — @mlovesunicorns @t-wylia @bisexual-stalin @theoreticalfreak @flurpe @girlie955 @firefl1ghts @lilliesandrosiess @princessleprechaunnn @joaniscruzing @wtfisthisnoclueman @sleepyjackets

[heavyhitterheaux]

Shh!

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: This might be the last time that Ja'Marr studies with you and Joe in the same room

Pairing: Boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Series Masterlist

Requested by: my boo @hoodharlow 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Midterms were approaching so with that being said, it seemed like every library on campus was littered with students and of course you were no exception.

You had been studying for close to an hour when your twin sent you a text to find out where you were. Once you told him, you lucked out once you found out he was bringing your boyfriend with him.

You missed him even if you had literally just seen him that morning.

Joe would always help you study to the best of his ability, even if it was for classes that you were taking and he had absolutely no clue what was going on. To him, it was more time that he got to spend with you so he didn't mind.

Study sessions included a lot of stolen glances and small kisses. Sometimes it would lead to more, but only after you had completely finished.

That was one thing that Joe refused to budge on.

He had already gotten one degree and he was going to make sure that you got yours and that all of your hard work wasn't going to go to waste.

Today was no different as Ja'Marr sat across from the both of you and literally wanted to gouge his eyes out with a spoon at the scene in front of him.

Bottom line was that he needed a girlfriend because he was tired of being the third wheel to the two of you.

It was as if the two of you completely forgot that you weren't by yourselves.

You on the other hand were laughing at something Joe had whispered in your ear and placed a quick kiss on the shell of it before erupting in a quiet laughter himself before you went back to studying.

It was quiet for about ten minutes before Ja'Marr once again heard you and Joe laughing and cleared his throat making the two of you look over at him.

“Did you two forget that I'm here?! Damn.”

“How can anyone miss that big ass head sitting across the table from them?” You asked and Joe had to turn away from the two of you to stifle his laugh, but failed miserably.

“Pebbles, you are always choosing violence against me. I thought yall were about to make a baby on the damn desk.”

“I wouldn’t mind, but this is a library and this one is anything but quiet. Might get kicked out.” Joe replied while shrugging as you hit his shoulder and Ja’Marr quickly made a gagging noise.

“Ew! What the actual fuck!? I can't unhear that now!” He exclaimed while massaging his temples and looking down at his textbook that was in front of him.

“Well you wanted to come and study with us, Bam Bam.”

“This is a library and not a porn video so will you two PLEASE keep it together for another hour? And the two of you aren't even studying! Joe hasn't cracked open his book once and has been in your face since we got here.”

“Hey! I missed my girlfriend. And it's apparent that you need one.” Joe told him as he pulled you closer and you smiled up at him.

“I'm ignoring that last part. You literally saw her this morning and I can promise you that she looks the same now as she did then.” He softly said which had you raise your middle finger at him.

“And you wonder why I always choose violence when it comes to you.”

“We’re going to end up getting kicked out, so how about we all be quiet?”

“I'm hungry. I don't think I have an hour left in me.” You confessed while looking at both of them.

“I am too, but not for food.” Joe added and Ja’Marr quickly slammed his book shut as the two of you were doubled over in laughter.

“I'm done. Sometimes I regret the day that I introduced you two to each other.”

“We love you too, Ja'Marr.”

[sillysonata]

Not going to upload the next chapter till next week prolly cuz I got some personal stuff,, but I felt like dumping some missing hero ideas here (mostly just involving the triforce trio cus I’ve been thinking bout them a lot lmao) so why not !!

1. Zelda was so scared of the fact she was deeply in love with link not only because of the logistics but because of what it said about her, she wants to be taken seriously and wants to be a good and wise ruler more than anything and by letting her feelings get in the way for some servant makes her feel as though she’s failing her kingdom in some way.

2. When link and Zelda meet again she is terrified because of the rumors circulating around her being in love with a servant, and she knows deep down she cannot be with him even though she loves him more than anyone. perhaps its at a point too where link is so deeply enamored with sheik that he confronts Zelda about the rumors of her liking him, and he assures her that he is not heartbroken because he already has found true love with sheik. Zelda of course feels even worse because he does love her as much as she loves him; yet marrying him would not benefit the kingdom in the slightest (before she knows he’s the hero, ofc. & even then social status is kinda a big roadblock too)

3. Link ends up sparing Ganondorf even after everything, but for once it’s not as a kindness to Ganondorf; but a kindness to himself. That even after 20 years of cruelty, he would never stoop as low as Ganondorf has. So Ganondorf and by extension Ghirahim are stripped of their titles, of all the wealth they stole which is given back slowly and are forced to do all the manual labor they made Link do as a way to repay all their debt, which is for the rest of their lives

4. In the end link heartbrokenly accepts that he’s fine with not marrying Zelda (he’s not) because he’s not royal, he’s not even a hero, he couldn’t even spill evil blood. But Zelda wants to marry him anyway, as the demise has been defeated, and it won’t ever rise again. big dramatic kiss scene happens fr!!

5. Link becomes prince consort, bc I like the idea of this Zelda being the highest ruler of hyrule who never needed a king but a partner who supported her. Also idk link barely just got to civilization so king would be wayy too much. Prince is just a more fairytale ending title to give him too lol

6. In the end it would be funny to tie the whole theme of legacy and power together with Ganondorf’s arc, who so badly wanted to be remembered as a powerful, god-like ruler who could not be touched by even the hero and princess themselves; only for him to just be remembered in history as some bitter cranky stablehand lol. And by extension Zelda and link are not remembered as courageous hero and wise princess, but benevolent queen and her beloved prince who brought a peace to hyrule for decades to come. This era of Hyrule is considered “forgettable” because of how serene it was and how it seemed there was no hero, princess, or demon king.

idk what do yall think 😪

[kpoplustzone]

Fucked like a queen 4th part - IU smut

OC X IU

5000 words

More stories like this in KOFI - click here

IU gazed up at Kim, her eyes tracing the length of his thick, hard cock. Despite the lingering satisfaction from her earlier orgasm, a fresh wave of desire churned within her. The sight of his fully erect member, glistening slightly from her earlier attentions, was an undeniable lure. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips.

“Come here, Ajhussi,” she whispered, her voice still carrying a husky rasp of pleasure. Her small hand reached out, her fingers curling around his, gently tugging him closer. “Don’t just stand there… You know I can’t resist that for long.”

Kim chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that resonated through her body. He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers, a naked lust shining in his eyes. He knelt beside her, his gaze hungrily taking in her bare form, the black shirt clinging to her shoulders, teasingly revealing the curve of her perky breasts and the dark shadow between her thighs.

“And you know I can’t refuse you, Ji Eun-ah,” he replied, his voice a low growl. He reached out, his rough fingers gently caressing her cheek, the contrast of his aged skin against her smooth fairness sending a shiver down her spine. She leaned into his touch, her eyelids fluttering closed in anticipation of his kiss.

His lips found hers, a slow, tender exploration that quickly deepened into a passionate frenzy. Their tongues met, intertwining and dancing, the familiar heat igniting between them with a fierce intensity. IU’s hands reached up, her fingers tangling in his silver-streaked hair, pulling him closer as she groaned softly into the kiss, the pleasure already building within her. Kim’s hands, meanwhile, began their familiar exploration, one sliding beneath the clinging black shirt to cup her soft breast, his thumb gently teasing her already hard nipple, sending jolts of pure sensation through her. His other hand traced the curve of her waist, down her hip, and finally settled on her bare thigh, his fingers lightly stroking the delicate skin, making her breath catch in her throat.

Breaking the heated kiss, IU looked up at Kim, her eyes filled with a haze of longing. “Please, Ajhussi,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I need you inside me again. Just like before.”

Kim nodded, his gaze mirroring the raw desire in her eyes. He gently shifted her legs, positioning himself between them, his hard cock now throbbing in anticipation. IU instinctively arched her back, raising her hips in offering. With a deep groan, Kim guided the head of his thick member to her wet entrance, and with a slow, deliberate thrust, he slid deep inside her, filling her. IU let out a long sigh of pure bliss, her body instantly relaxing around him, their connection a familiar and deeply satisfying ache.

Underneath him, IU’s body seemed to melt, molding itself against his with a familiarity that belied the secret nature of their relationship. Her legs instinctively wrapped higher around his back, pulling him deeper still, as if trying to absorb every inch of his presence within her. Her breath hitched with each slow, deliberate thrust, and her soft moans, previously suppressed, now escaped her lips more freely, a sensual soundtrack to their clandestine reunion.

Kim’s hands, having found their way beneath her, now cupped her bare buttocks, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as he controlled the rhythm of their movements. He savored the feeling of her slick heat enveloping his cock, the way her inner muscles clenched around him with each upward surge. Their gazes remained locked, a silent conversation passing between them – a language of pure, unadulterated desire. The exhaustion from their previous encounter seemed to have vanished, replaced by a renewed hunger, a primal need to connect on this deeply intimate level once more.

As the initial slow movements began to pick up pace, IU’s hands tightened their grip on Kim’s shoulders, her nails digging slightly into his skin. She arched her back further, offering him deeper access, her small whimpers growing more insistent. The rhythmic slapping of their bodies against each other filled the quiet apartment, a stark contrast to the graceful image she projected to the world just hours earlier.

Kim’s hands, which had been gently cupping her buttocks, now moved higher, his fingers finding the firm, sculpted lines of her abs beneath the remnants of her torn shirt. He gripped them tightly, his thumbs pressing into her skin as he used the leverage to lift her hips slightly off him. With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust his big, hard cock even further inside her, the head of his member hitting a spot so sensitive that a jolt of pure electricity shot through IU’s body.

Her back arched involuntarily, her head falling back against the wall as a sharp cry escaped her lips. It was so intense, so deep, that she felt her body convulse, the familiar tightening of a second orgasm threatening to overwhelm her right then and there. Her nails dug further into Kim’s shoulders, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The world seemed to narrow down to the feeling of his thick cock buried so deeply within her, the rhythmic pounding sending shockwaves through her entire being. For a fleeting moment, she teetered on the edge of another earth-shattering climax, her body vibrating with uncontrolled pleasure.

Kim was still deeply buried inside IU as she rested her hands on the coffee table, her breath coming in short gasps. Just then, her phone, which was lying on the table, started to ring loudly. The caller ID flashed her manager’s name. A look of slight panic crossed her face.

“Oppa’s calling,” she whispered to Kim, a hint of urgency in her voice. “I need to take this.”

Kim, however, showed no signs of letting her go. He gripped her hips tighter, his cock still firmly lodged inside her. “Not so fast, Ji Eun-ah,” he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness. “You’re not going anywhere while I’m still enjoying this.” He gave a deep thrust, making her gasp.

“But I have to answer,” IU pleaded, reaching an arm towards the table, but it was just out of reach. “He’ll get worried.”

“Then you’ll have to work for it,” Kim said, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. He released his grip on her hips, but remained firmly planted inside her.

With a sigh of mingled frustration and arousal, IU pushed herself up onto her knees, her bare ass swaying with the movement. Kim’s cock remained buried deep within her, stretching her with each inch she moved. She began to crawl towards the coffee table, her hands sliding on the polished wood as she tried to keep her balance.

Every movement caused Kim to thrust deeper inside her, the friction intense and incredibly arousing. “Oh, fuck… Ajhussi…” IU moaned with each step, her voice trembling.

“That’s right, Ji Eun-ah,” Kim grunted, his hands now running along her sides, guiding her. “Crawl for me. Show your oppa how eager you are… even with my cock still filling you up.” He gave another deep thrust as she reached the table, making her cry out.

She finally reached her phone and fumbled to answer it, still on her knees, Kim’s hard length a constant presence inside her, throbbing with each heartbeat. “Y-yes, Oppa?” she said into the phone, her voice surprisingly steady despite the scandalous situation she was in. Yes, Oppa, hi,” IU said, trying to infuse her voice with the usual cheerful tone she used for her manager. She gripped the phone tightly, her other hand still bracing herself on the coffee table. Behind her, she could feel Kim’s thick cock pulsing inside her, a constant reminder of her current predicament. She attempted to subtly adjust her position, hoping to lessen the intense sensations, but it only seemed to make Kim’s grip on her waist tighter.

“Everything’s fine here,” she continued, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just finished up… going over some notes.” She could feel Kim’s breath hot against her neck as he leaned in closer.

“Going over me, more like,” he whispered into her ear, just loud enough for her to hear. Then, without warning, he thrust deeply, hitting her sweet spot with precision.

IU’s body jolted, a gasp escaping her lips that she quickly tried to mask with a cough. The phone nearly slipped from her hand. “Yes, the notes are… very detailed,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. She could feel her pussy clenching involuntarily around Kim’s hard cock.

Kim chuckled softly against her ear, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. He began to thrust again, each stroke slow and deliberate, stretching her open and making it increasingly difficult for her to maintain her composure.

“So, what did you need, Oppa?” IU asked, her voice strained as she tried to focus on the conversation while her body was being pleasured so intensely. “Oppa,” IU said, trying to sound as casual as possible, “you don’t need to worry about Kim Ajhussi picking me up early. He was quite tired after the long drive back, so I just let him stay in the guest room here. No need for him to rush back so early.”

Behind her, Kim smirked, hearing her explanation. He took this as an invitation and began to thrust into her with more force, his long, thick cock slapping against her wet flesh with each powerful stroke. The sounds were undeniably audible – a wet, rhythmic schlap schlap that echoed in the quiet room.

IU’s eyes widened in panic. She bit down hard on her lower lip, her knuckles white as she gripped the phone. “Yes, the guest room is… very comfortable,” she managed to say, her voice a little strained. Another deep thrust from Kim made her body tremble, and a small, involuntary moan escaped her throat. She quickly cleared it, hoping her manager hadn't noticed.

Kim, enjoying her struggle to maintain her composure, continued his relentless assault, each thrust sending waves of pleasure and mortification through IU’s body. She could only focus on keeping her voice steady while her bare ass was being pounded by the man behind her, all while talking to her unsuspecting manager. What was that sound, Jieun-ah?” her manager asked, his voice now laced with a hint of concern. “It sounded… odd.”

IU’s mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible explanation on the spot. “Oh, that?” she said, trying to sound casual. “That was just… Kim Ajhussi moving some furniture in the guest room. He’s a bit clumsy, you know how he is.” She hoped her manager would buy the flimsy excuse.

Just then, Kim, the mischievous glint in his eyes intensifying, slowly crawled closer to her until his chest was pressed against her back. Still buried deep inside her, he reached around and gently turned her face towards him. His lips met hers in a slow, lingering kiss, his tongue gently prying her mouth open while his hips continued their relentless rhythm, pounding his thick cock into her slick depths.

IU’s focus was now completely split – trying to maintain a normal conversation with her manager while being thoroughly ravaged by Kim. She bit her lip again, trying to suppress the moans that threatened to escape as Kim’s deep thrusts continued to rock her body.

“Have you had anything to eat, Jieun-ah?” her manager asked, his voice softening with concern. “You had such a busy day, I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

IU’s eyes flickered down to where Kim’s thick shaft was still buried deep inside her. Oh, I’ve been fed something good, she thought, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Yes, Oppa, I have,” she replied into the phone, her voice a little breathless. “Kim Ajhussi made sure I… got a good filling. It was… very satisfying, and it hit the spot.” She could feel Kim’s hand caressing her thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of her bare skin. “I’m feeling quite… stuffed. I don’t think I’ll need much for a while.”

As she finished speaking, Kim, with a surprising burst of energy, gripped her waist and expertly flipped her over. Now she was straddling him, facing his head, her bare pussy sliding down his erect cock until she was fully seated on him. She gasped at the sudden change in position, the intensity of the sensation making her grip the phone tightly. She could see the surprised and lustful look in Kim’s eyes as she now rode him, still trying to maintain a normal conversation with her manager on the phone.

Kim’s eyes widened, his gaze immediately drawn to IU’s bare breasts bouncing gently in front of him with each of her movements as she sat on his cock. He reached out, his hands cupping their fullness, his thumbs gently stroking her already erect nipples through the remnants of her torn shirt. He continued to thrust upwards, meeting her rhythm as she rode him, the sensation incredibly intense and intimate.

“Yes, Oppa, I’m feeling much better now,” IU said into the phone, her voice a little breathless but trying to sound reassuring. Kim squeezed one of her nipples gently, making her gasp softly. “Thank you for checking in. Everything is… under control here.” Kim then started to massage her breasts more firmly, eliciting a soft moan from IU that she quickly tried to cover with a cough.

“Alright, Jieun-ah, that’s good to hear. Get some rest, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow for the shoot,” her manager said, sounding satisfied.

“I will, Oppa. You too,” IU replied, her gaze now locked with Kim’s, a knowing smile playing on her lips. As her manager said his final goodbye and hung up, IU lowered her phone.

“‘Everything is under control’?” she repeated, her voice a husky whisper, still riding Kim gently. “You certainly took control, Ajhussi. And ‘I got a good filling’? You filled me up nicely.” She leaned down, her bare breasts brushing against Kim’s face. “And as for resting… I think I got a good workout. Don’t you?”

IU tilted her head, a playful but slightly stern expression crossing her face, the kind her fans knew so well. “Ajhussi,” she said, her voice taking on a slightly more formal tone, the ‘queen IU’ making a brief reappearance. “You know that was incredibly risky. What if Oppa had heard something more? It could have been a disaster for my image.”

She paused, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she continued to move her hips against him, the friction causing him to groan softly. “You do enjoy living on the edge, don’t you?” She leaned forward, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Such reckless behavior from my usually so… reliable Ajhussi.” Her gaze dropped to his chest, then back up to meet his eyes, a clear message of lingering desire in their depths. “But,” she added, her voice softening again as she increased the pace of her riding, “I must admit, it was… quite thrilling. Remind me to scold you more often.”

“You’re right, Ajhussi,” IU gasped, her voice catching in her throat as she threw her head back, her long black hair cascading down her spine. The rhythm of her hips against his quickened, each slide a friction-filled caress, pushing them both closer to the edge. She could feel the intense pressure building within her, a tightening coil of pleasure centered deep in her core. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, and involuntary cries escaped her lips as the waves of her climax began to wash over her, her inner muscles clenching rhythmically around his thick cock.

Just as she reached the peak, her body shuddering violently with the force of her orgasm, she felt Kim’s release. His deep, guttural moans vibrated against her back as his hot seed pulsed inside her, filling her with a satisfying warmth. They remained entwined, chests heaving against each other, the only sound their ragged breathing and the occasional soft gasp of lingering pleasure.

Finally, as their heartbeats began to slow, Kim gently stroked her sweat-dampened hair. “So, Ji Eun-ah,” he murmured, his voice still thick with spent passion, “after such a… thorough workout, where does Ajhussi sleep tonight?”

IU pulled back just enough to look down at him, a sly, confident smile playing on her lips. With a deliberate, almost theatrical flourish, she reached down and unhooked the remnants of her torn black shirt. The fabric, ripped and useless, fell to the floor in a soft heap, leaving her standing before him in the soft light, completely bare. Her perky breasts stood high, the nipples still tight from their recent attention, her toned abs rippling slightly as she moved. The curve of her hips led down to the dark triangle between her thighs, still glistening with their shared intimacy.

She reached down, her fingers closing firmly around his still-erect, throbbing cock. His length filled her hand perfectly. “You,” she said, her voice a husky purr, her eyes locked onto his with a playful dominance, “You are sleeping exactly where you belong tonight.” She gave his engorged member a suggestive squeeze. Then, turning her back to him, she took a step towards the bedroom door, gently tugging him forward by his cock, guiding him into the dimly lit sanctuary of her personal space.

[mikkomacko]

pls pls pls pls pls reader getting her devils pendant and ring

Reader gets her a ring at a later point in the timeline but that moment should make it in the Holtz blurb so for now, here’s how she got her pendant :)

~~~~

November 2022

“Ow, it’s fine Nico. Stop touching it.”

You kick at his hip, shoving his hands away from your thigh with a new roughness that seems to have followed you back from Philadelphia.

Nico clenches his jaw, pulling his hands back and even as you notice him forcing himself to take calming breathes, you don’t care. You don’t care that he’s frustrated with you, that he’s tired,that he’s just trying to help.

You don’t need help. You’re fine.

“It needs to be cleaned.” He grits, adjusting the cotton pad of disinfectant in his fingers. His other hand grips your knee, holding it steady but he makes no move to keep dabbing at the healing stitches.

“It’s fine,” you argue anyway, attempting to scoot back into the couch but you’re met only with fluffy cushions. Attempting to wiggle out of his hold and over the back of the couch, you try to slip your knee from his hold but he’s got a solid grip on it.

It’s a low blow, you know that. Preying on the one thing he’s insecure about, worried about but you want him to stop touching the healing wound. “You’re hurting me,” you murmur weakly, and immediately his head is snapping up to look at you, eyes widened with worry. It doesn’t take a lot these days for you to let tears fill your eyes, pouting at him and he lets out a pained noise, slumping down until his forehead rests by your leg.

And yet he doesn’t let you go.

“I know it hurts,” he grumbles into the couch, “but it’s going to hurt a lot more if you let it get infected.”

He’s right, you know that. You can’t ignore the raw wound forever and hope it gets better, hope it never hurts again. But you don’t want to right now.

“I want Johnny to do it,” you say just to be difficult, to maybe buy time. Johnny is hours away, back in Pittsburgh with his stupidly hot boss who’s way too old to be that hot. He can’t be here to take care of you, which is exactly why you asked for him.

“If you just let me do it we’d already be done,” Nico encourages, tilting his head to press a kiss to your knee. The same way he always does when you pick this fight.

“It’s not infected,” you try “so it doesn’t need that. It just needs to be left alone.”

Humorlessly, he laughs, picking his head up to give you an unimpressed look. “It’s not infected because I have this fight with you every three days,” he says. “You know we have to baby. Fleury and Johnny told you that you have to let me disinfect it.”

You grimace. “Can’t you just cut it off instead?”

“Cut what off? Your leg?”

“Yes.”

He has to purse his lips to keep from laughing at you. “I think missing a leg would be a little harder than just let me dab at your stitches.”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so,” he gives you an unconvinced look. “You can just carry me around right? Who needs a leg then?”

Squeezing his fingers around your knee, Nico sits up straighter, readying himself to try again. “You,” he argues “you need your leg. Just take a deep breath and I’ll count, ok?”

Your heart jumps, tongue feeling dry. “No I’m not ready,” you say frantically but he ignores you, starting his count. “Wait Nico! Please-“

He’s reached three by now and without thinking about it you kick at him again, shoving away his hand. Nico groans in frustration, shifting closer to you and you attempt to wiggle away again, desperately trying to yank out of his hold even when it pulls uncomfortably on your stitches.

Tired and fed up with you once again, Nico somehow manages to get you pinned to the couch, straddling your knees with his thighs, wrists locked in one of his hands and shoved above your head. No matter how many times he does it (which is usually every 3 days when he goes to clean your injury) you can never manage to beat him.

It’s scary, being held under him like this. Deep down you know that if you really begged he’d let you go, that he’s not doing this to hurt you but it still makes your veins turn to ice, being held helplessly under him.

Nico’s quick to dab at your thigh now that he’s got you still, eyebrows pinched in concentration and even as big, fat tears roll down your cheeks he doesn’t let up. Even when you cry, whining for him to stop he doesn’t let up.

The stupid cream burns at the still healing flesh, makes your toes curl and leg twitch in protest and you turn your head, burying your face in your bicep.

It’s over after a moment, Nico easing up his hold on your wrists and then he’s leaning down, pressing an apologetic kiss to your wet cheek. Slowly, he climbs off you and you can feel him pausing, waiting for you to move too but you don’t. Frozen with your wrists still above your head and eyes squeezed shut, you hiccup around choked back cries.

He sighs, disappearing into the kitchen to put away the med kit. And you still just lay there until the stinging fades a bit, until it only aches deep in the wound, painfully pricking at the bone even though you know the cut still isn’t that deep.

It feels like it though.

You force yourself to sit up, not bothering to wipe at your wet cheeks as you look down your thigh. It looks worse like this, the cream making it look fresh and raw again, even with the thread holding it together. It makes your fingers tremble, breath seizing as you remember first looking down at the cut, when you yanked the glass out and it looked just like this. Bright red and wet, burning in the stale air of the warehouse.

“Hey,” Nico calls gently, like he already knows what you’re thinking. “It’s doing better.”

You don’t answer him, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch, wincing at the bite that runs up your thigh. He looks almost guilty when you finally get up, cheeks still stained with dried tear tracks and you don’t want to blame him but he’s the only one standing in front of you that you can.

He’s got the roll of bandages in his hand, leaning against the counter and waiting for you. You don’t want him to do it though so you limp by him, grabbing the various gauze from his hand and then heading down the hall to the bedroom. He doesn’t follow when you close the bedroom door, and then cross into the bathroom and close that door too. Sitting on the edge of the tub, you bite your lip and wrap the bandage around your thigh, blinking back more tears and trying not to look too closely at the wound or at the fading purple and yellow bruises on your wrist.

~~~~

“Come run an errand with me.”

Wrapped in a blanket on the couch, you frown, not bothering to look away from the tv, even when Nico lays his palm on top of your head and shakes.

“Where?”

“Just downtown real quick.”

You make a face. “I’ll have to get dressed.”

He sounds almost amused. “No you won’t. Can go like that if you want.”

“I’m in shorts,” you deadpan, but that does nothing to deter him, Nico coming around the side of the couch to stand between you and the tv.

Annoyed, you glare up at him. “You gonna be mad at me all day?”

You don’t know why he bothers asking. The answer is always yes. You’re always mad, but especially after he’s held you down and hurt you, ignored you when you begged him to stop.

When you don’t say anything, he sighs, rubbing at that spot on his eyebrow that you know he can always feel his headaches in. A part of your resolve breaks.

“Can we drive around after?”

Relieved, a smile lifts at his lips. “Yeah baby we can.”

Twenty minutes later you’re in the passenger seat of his car, a pair of baggy jeans warming against the seat warmer and the heater blasting your cheeks.

Nico reaches for your thigh, hands careful but you tuck them into the door, away from his outstretched fingers and his hand drops lazily onto the center console. The disappointed sigh that come out of him makes your stomach turn, but the lingering ache in your leg from this morning overpowers it.

So the two of you ride in silence until he’s backing into a parallel parking spot, shutting off the engine. And you’re still silent when he opens the door for you moments later, taking your hand in his and guiding you down the sidewalk.

He doesn’t stop at any shops, doesn’t give any indication of where this errand is at. After a few blocks you’re annoyed, thinking he’s lied to just force you into getting some fresh air, into getting out of the apartment.

Especially when he tugs you through a small iron gate, the sidewalk turning into a stone path as grass and trees replace cement. You’ve never been to this little park, hidden somewhere here in the city. The trees are still bleeding into fall, ringing red and orange and you can admit it’s beautiful.

“This doesn’t look like an errand to me,” you say anyway, huffing when Nico stops and makes you sit on a bench with him. Curled in on yourself, you glare at the stupidly endearing look in his eyes.

Those dark and safe eyes, almost begging as he swipes your hair behind your ear. Nico digs his hand into his coat pocket, fishing out a little box and holding it in his palm.

“I know you’re upset,” he says quietly, “I know you hate doing these things, hate that I have to force you to do them. And I’m sorry that I have to make you that angry, but if it keeps you healthy and safe then I’m going to keep doing it.

“Because everything I do now is to protect you, baby. You have to know that”

You don’t know where he’s going with this, why he’s brought you out here to say this. Every other time he’s pissed you off, ruined your day by forcing you to clean your injuries, he just lets you mope on the couch, only bugging you more when he needs you to eat something.

“This still isn’t an errand.” You murmur and he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he holds out the box to you. Slipping your hands out of your pockets you accept it, pulling the lid off carefully.

Inside sits a red velvet cushion, dainty gold letters stitched into it that reads New Jersey Devils in cursive letters. And right above it hangs an all too familiar pendant, the devil horns shiny and new compared to the ones Nico’s been wearing around his neck for years.

“What?” You ask, glancing up at him and he reaches forward to take it from you, thick fingers carefully removing it from the box.

“You should’ve gotten this a long time ago,” he murmurs, “I dropped the ball on it because I was scared that giving this to you would actually hurt you.”

The symbol of protection, what all devils members and their partners wear. Because it’s supposed to mean that you’re untouchable. That if anyone hurt you, they’d be dealing with the Devs. Except in your case, because you’re not with just any Devil. You’re with the Devil himself.

“I think I hurt you more by withholding this,” he admits quietly, fingering open the latch. You let him place it around your neck, lifting your hair so he can secure it.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you promise, even when he gives a sad smile.

“That’s not what you said earlier.”

“I didn’t mean it Nico,” you shake your head, leaning into him to throw in your arms around his neck. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

Tenderly, he rubs his hand over your back, tucking you into his neck. “I know baby, it’s ok. You’re ok.”

“And I’m sorry that I’ll probably do it again in 3 days.”

He laughs. “I know you will. It’s ok.”

Everything goes silent again, Nico holding you, the cool metal of your pendant now warming against the skin of your neck. You blink, tuck your chin into his shoulder.

“This still isn’t an errand.”

“There’s hot cocoa on the other end of the park. Was hoping to get you over there before giving you the necklace but…”

But you were too difficult.

“I love you Schao.”

He hums, kissing the side of your head. “I love you too, little miss devil.”

[angel-writes-here]

Covenant

Choi Seunghyun x AFAB! Reader x G-Dragon Synopsis: Things end. Things begin. Sometimes things reconnect. Warnings: SMUT, fingering, unprotected p in v (Plz be safe), oral (both receiving) angst, fluff A/N: Part 8 has arrived! Please comment if you'd like to be added to my taglist! Thank you for your patience. Shout out to my girl @breakmeoff for your help and inspiration on my writing. I def couldn't have done it without you and I genuinely am so proud of you, boo. Can't wait for part 4 of your Chan fic! 😘 Part 7 🎞Please silence your phones, grab some popcorn🍿 and your favorite blanket, get comfy, and do thoroughly enjoy the chapter! 💜💜

Seunghyun watches you disappear inside, but the frustration in him bubbles to a point of action. He exits the car, following in behind you.

“Y/n!” He raises his voice. You stop dead in your tracks, not daring to turn around to face him.

“We aren’t done talking about this,” he says as he catches up to you.

“Yeah, we really fucking are. Go. Home.” Your eyes cut at him; his adrenaline is pumping.

“Y/n,” he tries to pull you close, but you yank yourself away from him. You turn on your heels to walk to the elevator. He follows after you. You push the close door button on the elevator, you know the one that never seems to work, and just as you think you’re home free, Seunghyun slips into the elevator.

“I want to be with you.”

You scoff at his words with a sarcastic smile and roll of your eyes.

“Why is that funny?” The elevator opens to an elderly couple. The poor woman is slow, using a walker to help her into the small space. You notice, what you assume to be, her husband and how he looks at her. It’s similar to how you’ve caught Jiyong looking at you. The care and patience he has for his lady as she makes her way in stirs your heart and your already heightened emotions.

The sight warms your heart. It’s what you had hoped for. What you had wanted when you were little. Patience, kindness, understanding and love.

Love.

You watch as the elderly gentleman places a sweet kiss onto the woman’s temple, the sight daring tears to come up. You peer over at Seunghyun who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You turn away and only then does he see what you seen. The kindness, gentleness and patience he displays with his lady.

The elevator dings and you walk out quickly fishing out your hotel key card.

“Go home,” you demand of Seunghyun.

“Not until we actually talk.” He says simply. The door unlocks and you both walk in to see Jiyong sitting on the bed.

“Hey-oh,” he says surprised to see his best friend. Seunghyun huffs.

“Ji, can we have a minute?” Jiyong looks to you.

“We don’t need a minute because you are leaving.”

“What the hell, y/n, you promised!” He raises his voice in frustration.

“Yeah, so did you. For better or worse. Sickness and in health.” You mock rolling your eyes. You fling yourself into Jiyong who holds onto you, looking up at his best friend.

“I’m not going to stop fighting for you, y/n,” he says. You cling to Jiyong even tighter after the words leave his mouth.

You hear the door shut behind him and once it does, your cries intensify.

“Maybe you should talk to him, jagi.” He whispers. You peer at him, your eyes obviously angry.

“I have nothing to say to him.”

-

Seunghyun walks into the house, Hae readily greeting him with a glass of wine.

“Baby, how was the funeral? Is the bitch in the ground now?”

“Watch your fucking mouth, that was my sister in law!” he snaps. Hae looks taken aback.

“You do remember it’s me you love, right?”

“When have I ever said I loved you?” Seunghyun asks as he takes a sip of wine. She scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

“You’ve had a long day so I’ll let that one slide.” She sets down her glass.

“Come on, let’s get in the shower, wash the stress of the day off.” She smirks.

Seunghyun allows her to pull him with her to the bathroom. She strips turning on the shower, Seunghyun begins to feel numb. He begins to feel like he’s missing something.

“Ok, I guess I’ll help,” she says breaking him from his thoughts.

“No, don’t touch me, I’ve got it,” he says stepping away from her.

“Ok,” she backs off and slips into the shower under the warm water. Seunghyun steps in behind her, the steam from the room overwhelming.

“I missed you today,” she says as she runs her hands along his chest, his muscles taut under her touch. He’s looking off to the side, distracted.

“Seunghyun,” she moves his face to look at her, the water cascading down her body. She runs her hands down it, trying to capture his attention, but quickly realizes she’s getting no reaction.

“Nothing? Are you serious?” She asks as she looks down at his flaccid member.

“Hmm?” He looks to her, visibly confused as to what is happening.

“Oh my god, you’re thinking about her?” she gasps.

“Hae,” he sighs scrubbing a hand down his face, as a slight shiver runs down his spine. He politely pushes his way to the water.

“I can’t believe you,” she complains.

“You’re actually thinking about some other woman.” She scoffs once more.

“What did you actually think was between us, huh? Some kind of actual romance that would lead to marriage and kids? A life where we’re happy together? Growing fat and old together?” His tone is sharp, cutting,

“Psh, kids? Ruining this body? I don’t think so.” He rolls his eyes as he grabs the soap.

“Hae, you’re fun, but nothing serious was ever going to be between us.”

“You don’t mean that,”

“Yeah, I do.” He lets the water run over his body again.

“And why the hell did you tell Y/n your name is on the deed. This is my house and you know it! You don’t have a damn thing to do with it.”

“Seunghyun I swear if you leave me for that bitch I’ll tell everyone the truth.” She tries to bargain.

“Do whatever you want, Hae. She’s done with me anyway.”

“Good, then we can get back to our lives,” she goes to rub his wet strong shoulders but he shrugs her off.

“No, I’m done with you. Thanks for the fun but it’s time to get the fuck out of my house.” Her mouth hangs open.

“You’ll regret doing this to me, Seunghyun. I swear if it’s the last thing I do I’ll fucking ruin you.” She steps out of the shower and dries off. She walks out of the bathroom slamming the door shut behind her. The pressure and stress of the last couple days hangs over Seunghyun like a weight. His eyes fill with tears, tears that he lets flow freely in the comfort of his own shower.

He never thought he’d see the day where you had so much power over him.

He misses you.

-

Back at the hotel you’re cuddled up in bed with Jiyong, a movie playing but you aren’t watching. You’ve been in and out of sleep for the last few minutes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What good would it do? Our next step is obvious, divorce.”

“Is that what he wants?” Jiyong asks slowly.

“It’s what I want, and quite frankly what he wants doesn’t matter to me. He’s got Hae who lives with him and sleeps with him and does whatever else with him. He doesn’t need me. Hell, until last week he didn’t even care about me.” You huff.

“And yet you feel conflicted,” he mumbles and you sit up off him to look at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Y/n, I’m not faulting you for it, but it’s obvious. You say you’re done, but if you were, you wouldn’t get so worked up over it. You’d be indifferent. You wouldn’t care.”

The pang of hurt is in your chest, and you know Jiyong can see it. If he couldn’t, he wouldn’t have called you out about it.

“It’s only natural that you do,” he assures you.

“No, I don’t,”

“Y/n you’ve spent most of your time with him the last year and a half,” he sympathizes.

“Jiyong, I don’t care anymore. I’m so exhausted.” Your head falls into your soft hands.

“Y/n, baby, I know you’re tired, but don’t shut him out.” He wraps his arms around you.

“Why the hell are you advocating for him? He’s the one who thought you would blab his big secret.”

“I know, but emotions were high.”

“So, he can just insult your character.”

“I didn’t say it was right, but he’s my brother. I’m going to forgive him.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you mumble.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls back and places a delicate kiss on your sweet lips.

-

Seunghyun is lounging in his chair in the living room, his first bottle of wine is done and the second has just been opened. The house is quiet, Hae packed her things and disappeared, at least for now. He look around the home, how still and lifeless it really is. He finds himself missing the comfort of knowing you were sleeping upstairs.

He picks up the phone, no missed calls or texts. His chest stings. You hadn’t thought of him. There’s no way you did. Not after what you knew. Not after what Hae told you.

Still, he tries to call you anyway.

-

You hear your phone buzzing on the table.

“It’s him,” Jiyong says as he hands it to you.

“What do I do?”

“Answer it,” he encourages. You take a deep breath, heart hammering in your chest as your anxiety heightens.

“I’m right here,” Jiyong reaches over and rests a reassuring hand on your leg.

“H-Hello?” your voice is weak as Jiyong takes your hand, placing a delicate kiss on the back of it.

“Y/n, don’t hang up,” he slurs.

“Seung? Are you ok?” your voice turns frantic when you hear his state.

“I’m sorry,” he tries to say but it’s hard to understand him.

“What, Seunghyun where are you?”

“Home,” he giggles as he takes another drink but he tips the glass too far back and spills it on himself.

“Ahh, damn it!” He shouts into the phone causing you to jump. Jiyong looks at you concerned.

“Are you ok?” He doesn’t answer, all you can hear is distant grumbling and something about a “fucking broken glass.”

“I feel like I should check on him.” You chew on your bottom lip and Jiyong gets up, grabbing his car keys.

“Let’s go.”

-

The two of you pull out of the parking lot, a couple people have their phones out and while you know you’ll pay for it later, the only thing that matters right now is checking on Seunghyun. Even if you do still want to divorce him.

You arrive at his house, using your key and walk in to find him passed out on the floor. You look to Jiyong who shuts the door behind him and helps you pick him up.

“Bed?”

“No, the shower, cold water should wake him up.” You two struggle to carry the rather tall man to the bathroom, but with strength and determination, you get it done. You turn the shower on, ice cold water pelting Seunghyun’s skin. He shakes his head before raising up, discombobulated and confused.

“What the, turn that shit off, fuck it’s freezing!” He yells and tries to stand up, Jiyong helping him as you turn the water off.

He gets his senses about him, his eyes widening when he realizes you’re actually there.

He goes silent.

Embarrassed.

Ashamed.

Clueless really.

“I’m fine,” he says as he looks down at his now soaked pj’s.

“No, you aren’t, you called me drunk then something broke and I was worried about you, and,” You stop as you realize you let the quiet part leak out.

Jiyong was right, you do care.

“Fuck me,” you scoff at yourself in disbelief. You walk out of the bathroom as the realization hits you. Even after all the bullshit. You still care.

“I’m going to grab you some clothes,” Jiyong pats his friend on the back. Your standing in the kitchen when Jiyong pops his head in.

“You ok?” He asks before seeing your frustrated look.

“Damn it, Ji.” You giggle humorlessly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t even be here.” You shake your head.

“Y/n, have you stopped to notice who isn’t?” Jiyong trails off. He reaches out his hand, and you lace your fingers together. He walks you into the only bedroom downstairs to get Seunghyun’s clothes.

You look around and Jiyong motions to the room.

“Really look.” You begin to do so, not sure what it is at first, but it hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Hae isn’t here,” you whisper.

“No clothes, no shoes, no perfumes, nothing.” He adds as he picks out a shirt and sweats.

“It’s like she was never here,” he muses.

“And yet she was because I could hear them almost every night I was.” Jiyong purses his lips, knowing you have a point. Seunghyun changes as you and Jiyong wait on the couch. He walks out slowly, still a little buzzed from the wine. He looks down at the two of you before a plastic smile stretches across his face.

“You don’t need to be here, I’m fine,” he says as he walks to the kitchen to get another bottle of wine.

You get up to meet him at the island. You notice he’s sweeping up the broken glass.

“Careful,” he says noting your now bare feet. He gently pushes you back, his hands sending a spark through your body. Your breath hitches at the feeling.

Damn it.

You watch as he finishes up one last sweep.

“You are completely infuriating.” You mumble as you look up at him.

“What?”

“I should fucking hate you, I shouldn’t even care and yet here I am, concerned about you after the day I’ve had. Not to sound selfish, but it should be about me and my feelings. Not you and your fucking problems. Not about us and our shit.” You take a deep breath trying to calm yourself down.

“You’re right, I never should’ve called.” He says.

“I’m sorry.”

“You really shouldn’t of,” you grumble, “But I’m glad you’re ok.” He purses his lips, not meeting your eye contact.

“I’m going to give you guys some time to talk,” Jiyong rubs the back of his neck.

“She doesn’t want to talk to me, so you guys can go back to your hotel room. I’m sorry I bothered you.” Seunghyun grabs the bottle off the table and steps off into his room.

“Jiyong,” you say before he presses a sweet, passionate kiss to your lips.

“Go, I’ll pick you up whenever you’re ready.” He smiles.

“How are you ok with this?”

“Now’s not the time. We’ll talk too, ok?” He hugs you tight. Your arms wrap around his neck, not having him with you is like losing a safety blanket. You’re exposed. Vulnerable. Raw.

You say goodbye before going to knock on Seunghyun’s door.

“Can I come in?” you ask through the door.

“Sure,” you hear him say. You slowly creep the door open, he’s laying on the bed, legs sprawled, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and no t shirt. The tv is on and a bed side lamp casts a faint golden glow to the room. While his eyes are on the TV, he’s not really paying attention, he barely hears it over the hammering in his chest.

You slowly pad over to the bed, hesitating to see what he’ll do.

Nothing.

He feels the mattress dip and casts his gaze to you. Neither of you talk at first, silence settling between you; the one thing you know like the back of your hand.

You finally get the courage up to speak.

“Where’s Hae,” You don’t look at each other only at the tv.

“I dunno,” he says before taking a sip of wine.

“You want some?” he offers you the glass and you don’t hesitate.

“Please,” you say as you take it from his hand. The liquid goes down smooth, it’s not too sweet, not too bitter. Just right. You look over noticing the bottle.

T Spot.

“This a new one?” you ask raising the glass a little.

“Yeah, we haven’t put it out yet,” he still won’t meet your gaze. You finish the small amount left in the glass before turning your body to face him.

He mimics your actions. Both of you just take a moment to look at each other.

“How are you?” he asks quietly, voice barely above a whisper. You purse your lips.

“Overwhelmed. Confused. Hurt.” You raise your brows as your eyes flit to the wall behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He wants to move toward you, hold you, but he doesn’t. He stays still.

“I don’t know what to say,” he mumbles. You look at him, studying his nervous demeanor.

“What the hell happened today? The reporters, fans? What was that?”

“I have no idea. Y/n, I swear I didn’t tell anyone but my team and they knew not to call anyone.” He takes your hands in his, his eyes communicating sincerity.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. Regardless of what we were going through I wouldn’t call them and betray you that way.”

“Then how did they know? The only people who knew were you, Ji, Yongbae, Daesung and your team.”

That’s when it hits you.

“I guess I have your sister to thank for dying. She’s giving me my man back.”

You gasp.

“Hae,” you whisper. Seunghyun’s eyes go wide as he remembers telling her everything that first night.

“She even came and rubbed it in my face! Told me that this was your way out, that the company could use this and the two of you would be together, oh my gosh how did I not see this!” You smack your hand to your forehead.

“Wait, she said that to you? Why didn’t you tell me?” You avoid his gaze.

“I thought she was right.”

“When was this?”

“The night before we went to look at caskets.” Seunghyun sighs.

“Y/n you should’ve told me she talked to you. I would’ve at least tried to straighten it out.” His hand tentatively comes up to cup your cheek. You don’t lean into it, but you don’t lean away.

“Did you ever feel anything for her?”

“No, she was fun, a good stress reliver, but nothing more than that. I swear.” His voice is steady, but pleading with you to believe him.

“I swear to you, I don’t want her.”

“What do you want?”

“What I wanted that night I had enough liquid courage to say it.”

You look between his eyes.

“You.” He whispers. He tests you, his hands tugging on your arms to pull you into his lap.

“I won’t let her hurt you ever again. I swear it. Baby if I had known,” he sighs.

“Baby?” you question.

“Is that ok?”

“I don’t know.”

He nods in response and his hands rest on your sides as you look at each other.

“I still want us to have a chance,” he whispers after a beat of silence. You close your eyes, resting your forehead against his.

“I still care about you,” you admit, brushing your nose against his.

“Those things you said about me,”

“Jagi, I was in a bad place, I didn’t give you a fair shot. You aren’t a pain in my ass, you aren’t annoying, and at the time both of us were in this to use each other.”

“What changed your mind,” your breath hits his lips and he shutters.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t a thing where one moment I hated you and the next I didn’t. It was gradual, but I had a hard time believing it. Because I knew you deserved better than me.” His hands are cupping your face, his thumbs rubbing circles into your cheeks.

“That night I heard you, in the bathroom at the airbnb,” he begins and you blush, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, but I knew you hated me and I wouldn’t force it. I was cold because you deserved better. So, when the time came and I had to let you go, you could move on and I could let you go as easily as possible.” He takes a breath; your eyes are closed as you listen to him.

“But then you kept trying.” He laughs to himself with a soft smile.

“That jacket, the letter from a fan,” he smiles nostalgically, “You didn’t have to do that. And I realized that no matter how cold I was, you were willing to try. And I knew you were good for me, not just my image, but me as a person. Y/n I’m better with you in so many ways. I perform better when I know you’re watching me, I think better when you’re around. I’m a better person. Because you make me want to be one. Somone you can be proud of. Someone you can be happy, elated, to be seen with in public. I know it’s not been easy but I swear to you I’m trying.” He exhales shakily as the words settle between you.

“Hae is gone? She isn’t coming back?” Your voice cracks slightly.

“Hae who?” he asks playfully, trying to lighten the mood. Before any other thought can enter your head, your lips crash to his, deep and slow at first, testing the waters. Seunghyun’s fingers contract against your plush hips. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as your mouth opens, allowing his tongue to explore.

Soft moans are swallowed between you; your hands tangle in his dark locks as he pulls your body flush against his.

“I want you,” you breathe against him, heat rushing your body. His hands go to the hem of your shirt as your hips grind down against him. He groans into your mouth and slowly raises it. You break away, taking a moment to catch your breath as he removes your shirt, your breast displayed before him bare.

He kisses your lips again, hands running up and down your sides. He moves his lips to your jaw line, peppering open mouthed kisses to it as he works his way down your neck, nipping and biting. His tongue flicks out, licking a stripe up your neck. A soft whimper spills out from your throat. His hands are slightly rough against your skin as they explore every inch of your nude top half. His thumbs brush over your hard buds, a small gasp leaves your lips as he brushes them.

“Feel good?” His voice is low, slightly teasing.

“Mhm,” is all you can say as he does it again, your head sloping back. His mouth connects with your left bud, swirling his tongue around it. Another moan escapes your lips as you force your head back up to look down at him. His eyes are closed, not a single thought in his head except for one.

To please you.

Your nails lightly scratch his scalp.

“Mmf, so good,” you pant as your hips grind down onto his already hard cock. You blush slightly.

“Getting me off making you hard, baby?” You whisper to him and he groans against you. His mouth releases you before giving the same treatment to the other side.

“Fuck you’re gonna feel so good inside me,” you moan. His hips buck upwards causing you to smile.

“Someone’s eager,” you tease before he’s pushing you backwards, your head close to the end of his bed. He kisses down your sternum, tongue coming out to lick as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin. You watch as he descends lower to your sleep pants. He peppers kisses like he’s worshipping your body just above your waist band.

His eyes flit to yours, silently asking permission and you nod, your lower lip drawn between your teeth. He slips them off easily as you lift your hips up. He kisses up your leg, taking his time, savoring the moment as you watch.

He settles between your legs, thighs being praised by his lips and tongue, low moans falling from his lips. You can feel the pulse in your core, wet, warm and needy. You can feel it pulsate at the anticipation.

He spreads your folds with his index and middle finger, tongue lightly lapping up some of your arousal. Your eyes flutter closed before you feel him hook his arms around your thighs, bending them back just enough to open your core up to him.

“Fuck you’re so pretty,” he groans before his tongue licks a stripe up your dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. His tongue dances around your clit, like a man who knows exactly how to get you off; as if he’s known your body his whole life. His tongue swirls, licks, and flicks over your bundle of nerves causing your hips to buck against his face.

“Oh, shit,” you breathe out. Your heart starts to beat faster, heat flashing to your body.

Seunghyun’s hips rut into the bed, the friction causing him to growl, sending little vibrations into your core. Whimpers fall from your lips left and right as his tongue continues to circle your bud.

“Fuck, I need you,” you moan out. Seunghyun’s too far gone to give you just one release. He tests your tight hole with one finger, quickly adding a second, curling them up to hit that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and body go rigid with pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp out as your hips start to roll with his thrusts and Seunghyun takes that as a challenge to finger you faster.

You’re a writhing mess beneath him and he loves every single bit of it. He watches your body as it arches off the bed, the sight alone should be photographed and hung in his bedroom. He feels your gummy walls clamp around his fingers more and more.

“I’m close,” you groan as he hits it harder, with only a few more pumps your walls clench his fingers and your muscles go stiff, back arching once more as he pumps his fingers slowly, helping you ride out the release he’s been dreaming of giving you.

He watches as your body lowers itself back onto the mattress, your chest heaving up and down.

“Fuck that was amazing,” you breathe out, the ceiling being your only focal point. Seunghyun drags his fingers out of you slowly, his lips kiss your clit softly, causing your legs to slightly shake.

He kisses your pelvis and your stomach, kissing his way up to your lips. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste what he did and you moan.

“Lay back,” you mumble against his lips. He climbs off you, resting his back against the pillows lining the headboard.

You straddle his waist, kissing his lips first, moving down to his jaw, grazing your teeth against it, causing him to chuckle at your teasing.

Your lips move to leave an open-mouthed kiss just blow his ear, a low moan leaving his throat. He can feel you smirk against his skin.

You continue your assault on his body, kissing down his chest, tongue brushing over each nipple as he hisses at the pleasure. You kiss down his navel, his happy trail meeting your lips as your fingers hook into his sweat pants and boxer. He lifts his hips up, allowing you to pull them down. You watch as he springs free, hard and leaking.

You lick your lip subconsciously.

“Come on, baby, it doesn’t bite.”

“But I do,” you tease as you wrap your fingers around the warm flesh. You teasingly place a kiss to the head. Your run your lips down the side, looking up at Seunghyun who gulps when your eyes meet. His mouth falls open slightly at the feeling of your wide, wet tongue ghosting over the underside of it.

“Fuck,” he breathes. You smirk to yourself, licking a fat wet stripe up him before smiling innocently, slowly pumping your hand on his cock.

“You fucking tease,” he hisses as his head hits the headboard of the bed.

“You want me to stop?” You ask innocently as your hang unwraps itself from around him.

His eyes fly open and he shoots you an apologetic look.

“Or maybe, maybe I should edge you. Make you work for it,” you smirk just before wrapping your lips around his head, tongue swirling causing him to grab the sheets beneath him.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps as your head lowers. Its deep, from the back of his throat. Your head bobs up and down, slowly but surely making sure to take all of him in, your nose hitting his pelvic bone, a slight choke can be heard as you force yourself down.

Seunghyun feels his own heart rate increase, flashes of heat spring to his body. His hips lift off the bed, a bit of a surprise before you force them down with your hands.

“Fuck, y/n,” the way he says your name has a pulse returning to your core, causing you to rub your thighs together. But it’s not enough, as you pick up the pace with your you mouth, hallowing out your cheeks, you reach down and touch yourself, causing a moan to erupt, thus pulling Seunghyun’s hips up once again from the bed.

He opens his eyes to see yours closed and an arm visibly molded down the center of your body.

“Fuck,” he whimpers out at the sight. You’re too lost in your own pleasure to care or look up.

“Come here,” he pants and you open your eyes. He pulls you to him, kissing your lips rough, teeth, tongue and lips all at once, it’s a wonder no one lost the tip of their tongue.

“Fuck yourself on my cock,” he pants and you position your hips. He helps you sink down, your mouth falling open as you gasp at the full feeling, the stretch hurting in such a good way. Your head falls to his shoulder for a moment while you adjust to his size. He strokes your hair lovingly before he feels your hips begin to rock and he smiles kissing the side of your head.

Small whimpers are poured into the crook of his neck as your body responds quickly, walls beginning to clench around him. You pepper kisses to the base of his neck, sweat lacing his skin.

“Fuck,” you let out a broken whimper as your hips begin to move faster.

“Let me help you,” he whispers before holding your hips up, his feet splaying out in front of him and his hips thrusting upwards.

Your mouth hangs open even further as your brows knit together.

“Fuck,” you drag out as your voice bounces from the velocity of his thrusts. Seunghyun grunts as both of you feel the coil in your stomach beginning to heat up.

“Oh god,” you rest your forehead against his as your breathing turns into panting, both of you feeling the euphoria on its brink.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as your eyes shut.

“Hold it, just another second,” he grunts again as his hips move incredibly faster, skin slapping skin as he hits your sweet spot as hard as he can every time, causing pleasure to override your senses, the only thing you can feel is the white-hot intensity of your orgasm building. Seunghyun can feel it in the way you clamp down on him.

“Fuck, cum for me,” he moans out, and with another thrust your orgasm bursts. Your body shakes, your toes curl and your eyes are screwed so tight they hurt. Your mouth hangs open as the over whelming pleasure rides in, forcing you to go rigid at how powerful it is. Within seconds Seunghyun’s own orgasm is following, filling you up with his own seed. His body goes still, holding you up as you take every last drop of it.

Both of you pant, foreheads resting together as your body are held together as one. Covered in sweat, raw emotion visible.

“I love you,” he whispers as he looks into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, both of you finally admitting it to yourselves.

Tags: @breakmeoff @ilovethe141 @tom-hollands-blog @tabibabib @gdgirl21 @thelovelybireader @hyunjifilm @bcfcpsh @patheticgirl127 @1950schick @sayugarper

Please do not repost my work

Covenant Masterlist

Love notes, comments and requests are truly appreciated!

[chaosherald]

Rook is injured fighting the Formless One. Lucanis has some thoughts on the situation. Two awkward souls dance around the things they want and need and cannot say and commit indecent acts of intimacy (they hold hands.)

A missing scene in the Rook and Lucanis courtship, post almost kiss in the pantry and pre Inner Demons.

(Also, an actual finished bit of writing. Exciting times ^⁠_⁠^ )

Conductivity

Rook held up the hand mirror, tracing her fingers along the forking angry red streaks that clung to her neck, branching out in tendrils. It looked like nerves, like veins, like the ethereal frame favored by some of the Great Spirits who occupied the Necropolis. She could feel the sunburn ache, cobweb tingle that followed the visible lines to where they disappeared under her tunic, down her arm to her hand on one branch, down her torso and leg on another. She was very lucky the fraying scraps of her barrier had partially deflected the Formless One’s lightning. Even luckier that Emmrich had been so quick to start healing her.

A knock sounded at her door. Rook frowned, setting down the mirror and using the shelf behind her as leverage to stand up from the couch. Her hand twitched and pain shot down her leg, the lingering misfire of overwhelmed nerves. Walking across the room suddenly felt insurmountable. “Come in” she called, mentally rearranging her daunting to do list to accommodate the down time she was going to have to accept.

The door opened slowly, pushed open by Lucanis. He had his back to her as he entered, pushing the door open with his elbow, his hands occupied by a mug and a plate of food.

Rook was glad she still had a hand on the shelf. Seeing him made her pulse jump, reminding her uncomfortably of the awful uneven stop start of her circulatory system during her recent lightning misadventure. It had only been a few days since she had walked in on Spite trying to get through Taash in the pantry. Since she had tried to find out what the Demon was actually attempting to do. Since Lucanis had briefly seemed to understand that she wasn’t scared of him, of them. That she might even be interested in him, an interest that had seemed to be reciprocated. He had leaned against the wall and looked at her like she was special, close enough to taste, and then locked up and walked away. Rook had avoided being alone with him since. Seeing him here, now, while still coming down from the adrenaline of the fight and being injured was almost enough for her to tell him to leave.

Almost. She missed having him around, even if it had only been a few days. Even if it was a bad idea. How had he put it? Walking a little too close to the edge.

Lucanis was staring at her, frozen just within the threshold of her room after wrangling the door. Maybe his thoughts were treading similar lines, though his eyes locked on her neck, on those visible angry red lines, his face intensely and intentionally still. He was probably just horrified by her incompetence at staying out of harm’s way.

Silence stretched between them. Rook looked away first, trying to keep her tone light. “I guess I missed dinner?”

“Emmrich said you would not be joining us. That you needed to rest.” Lucanis spoke slowly, as if picking his words with care. “I offered to bring you a plate.”

Rook glanced back at him, smiling slightly. “Thank you. It smells delicious.”

“Bellara’s work.” Lucanis walked towards her with his too quiet feet and handed her the mug. Tea, the spiced orange by the smell. One of several new blends that had shown up in the kitchen over the last few weeks. Rook thought she had already finished that particular tin. She took it with both hands, glad they stayed steady, and slowly sat back on the couch. She focused on the scent and warmth of the tea as she took a sip and tried not to think about how she didn't trust her feet to keep her upright once she stopped leaning on the shelf.

Lucanis, still holding the plate with one hand, had walked around her and leaned over, pulling the small table in front of the couch closer to where she sat. He carefully put down the plate in easy reach, silverware balanced across the top. There was a stiffness to his posture, at odds with the fluid grace with which he normally moved. His eyes scanned the space slowly as he stood up, coming to rest on the wall of water across the room. “Half your room is a fish tank.”

Rook sipped her tea again, wincing. Lucanis hadn't been up here yet. Most of their companions hadn't been up here yet. Why would they bother? Rook spent most of her time in other parts of the Lighthouse and generally sought the others out long before they thought to go looking for her. Her room was for storing her meager belongings, mentally sparring with the Dread Wolf, and occasionally trying to sleep. After spending a year in an underwater prison and seeing the unfortunate decor, Lucanis would probably avoid coming here ever again. “Sorry. That's probably the last thing you want to see.”

Lucanis walked over to the impossible glass wall between them and the Fade’s version of an aquarium, still radiating tension. He shrugged slightly. “You don't need to apologize for that. Everything reminds me of the Ossuary. This is just - very blatant.”

“Still. Sorry. I'll be fine if you need to get out of here. Thank you for - ” Rook’s hand twitched, jostling the tea cup, splashing her hand. “ - shit. Ow.” Rook carefully put down her tea as Lucanis turned to look at her, his eyes flashing violet pink before settling back to their normal brown.

“Tremors. From the lightning.” He was back to rigid, controlled words. Rook was starting to suspect he was trying very hard not to say something. She just wasn’t sure what. “You need more healing,” he said.

“I know.” Rook wiped the tea off her hand before picking up her fork, willing her nervous system to cooperate as she knew Lucanis was watching for any other signs of weakness. “So does Emmrich, but he’s exhausted. He was going to consult with Bellara and bring her by in the morning. The three of us will figure it out. I'm not in any immediate danger and the next round of healing will be fiddly. Better to tackle it after a good night's sleep. Besides, the effects are probably temporary.”

“I'm familiar with the effects.” Lucanis replied.

Rook frowned, taking a bite of her food. She remembered the tables in the laboratory of the Ossuary. Branching scorch marks and the lingering smell of ozone. She knew from previous conversations with Lucanis that the Venatori had been very keen on finding ways to strip control from their prisoners, to best foster a sense of hopelessness and hasten the emergence of their demons. Carefully applied lightning to overwhelm one's nervous system would do the trick. No wonder he was so on edge.

“That's…I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to relive all that because I wasn't fast enough dodging a dragon.”

Lucanis closed his eyes, pursing his lips. “Mierda. Rook. This has nothing to do with me.” He started to pace, the volume of his voice ticking up. “This is about you. You almost died. Taash said Emmrich had to restart your heart.”

“Technically he just had to reset its rhythm -” Rook started.

Lucanis talked over her, his words sharp. “No. Do not downplay this. You almost died.” He stopped abruptly, glaring at her. “What were you thinking?”

Rook paused, with her fork halfway to her mouth. “What?”

“An undead dragon. You fought an undead dragon with Taash and Emmrich. The one thing that guarantees they will both be too distracted by their obsessions to watch your back.”

Rook frowned. “I trust everyone on this team to watch each other’s backs. We also didn't know the Formless One was possessing an undead dragon, so…”

Lucanis cut her off. “Davrin. Harding. Neve. If you don't want me there, they will watch your back. No matter what you're fighting. You cannot endanger yourself by running off-” Lucanis hissed, abruptly falling silent.

A familiar sharp pull on the veil snapped against Rook's senses. She couldn't quite hear Spite, but she was getting pretty good at sensing when he was active, even when there were no obvious visual tells.

“Lucanis? What is Spite saying?”

“Nothing useful.” Lucanis growled, looking at a space somewhere behind Rook.

Rook gave up on any pretense of eating, leaning her head against the back of the couch and closing her eyes. Her head hurt, her leg was twitching, and she was feeling increasingly off balance. The Formless One was dealt with. Everyone survived. This should be counted as a win. “Well, while we're handing out unsolicited advice: you can't keep ignoring him. That's just going to lead to frustration on both your parts.”

Lucanis didn’t answer. Rook didn’t open her eyes to see what he was doing or what look was on his face. Probably not one she wanted to see.

The silence stretched between them, awkward and overwhelming. Like standing in the pantry after being abandoned. Like pushing someone towards something they might not want. Like trying to balance friendship and connection and duty and the world falling apart around them. Rook sighed, sensing Spite’s presence fading back to the vaguely discordant hum that usually meant he wasn’t actively trying to communicate anymore. “For the record, I'm very capable of watching my own back,” she muttered.

“No you're not.” Lucanis had moved closer to her, his voice quieter. He sounded resigned, defeated.

Rook risked opening her eyes. Lucanis was next to the couch, close enough to touch, but looking away from her.

“You spend too much time keeping everyone else safe,” he said. “You barely let anything touch the rest of us and it takes your attention away from our enemies. You are constantly putting yourself at risk.”

“I, sure maybe,” Rook admitted quietly, barely processing the words as they left her mouth. She was definitely too tired for this or any other conversation. “But I'm not the important one here. Better me than someone else. We need all of you.”

Lucanis snapped his head to stare at her, wide eyed and aghast, like she had just slapped him. “Don't.” He sat next to her on the couch, abrupt and graceless, taking her hand. “Please, don't say that.”

Rook froze, watching him with wide eyes, breath caught in her throat.

Lucanis looked down, his grip on her hand just shy of uncomfortably tight. His mouth opened and closed a couple times. Words considered and rejected. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly with an even intentional pattern. This didn't seem to be a Spite thing, at least not one she could sense. It seemed more a Lucanis thing. Or a Crow thing. It reminded her of meditation practices from her training. His grip on her hand remained solid, his thumb brushing a small half circle along her fingers.

“Eat,” he said softly, after a short eternity of listening to him breathe while he held her hand. “Your food is going to get cold.”

Countless questions flittered through Rook’s head, but she seemed physically incapable of giving them voice. Eating one handed was a bit of a challenge, but thankfully the shredded meat over a bed of greens and fruit, a perfect compliment to the tea, was easy enough to manage. Lucanis kept his eyes closed and his head down, acting as if sitting together on her couch holding hands was normal, or at least not worth acknowledging.

He didn't speak until she had put her fork down on the now empty plate. “Why didn't you ask me to accompany you?”

“You said,” Rook paused, catching herself. He hadn’t actually said it, had he? Implied, maybe. Or she had assumed. “It seemed like you wanted space. I was giving you space.”

Lucanis opened his eyes and turned to look at her, radiating disapproval.

“We're going up against Gods,” Rook continued. “We saw what happened at Weisshaupt. We can't afford to be distracted. We also can't avoid getting hit sometimes. Even if you had been there, this still might have happened. It was a really angry spirit possessing a really big dragon. We were back in stabbing a cloud territory.”

That got a slight not-quite-smile from Lucanis. “All the more reason for me to be there. I need the practice.” He sighed. “I do not want to be a distraction, Rook. The other day, in the pantry - ”

Rook shook her head. “No, you're not - you don't have to explain. I shouldn't have presumed…“

“You didn't. Nothing happened that I didn't want to happen, I just…” Lucanis groaned. “I still don't know what to say. But Taash coming into the dining hall and telling us how close we came to losing you - that was awful. You cannot do that to me again.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You also need to stop apologizing.”

Rook squeezed his hand. “Specifically, I'm sorry for not being more careful. For making you worry. I don't want to add to your burdens.” Rook felt like she had just stumbled onto something important. Some missing angle that shed light on whatever was going on between them. Whatever this was or could become deserved to die an early death if they ended up making things harder for one another.

“You are not a burden,” he muttered.

“I try not to be,” she said. “I'm not really used to people worrying about me.”

“Hmm.” Lucanis squeezed her hand back. “I had to fight off Harding and Davrin to bring you dinner. They both wanted to come check on you. The mages and Taash were still talking about the possessed dragon, otherwise I'm sure they would have fought me too. A lot of people worry about you, Rook. You need to let us.”

“You didn't literally fight them, I hope.”

Lucanis smirked, raising a brow.

Rook fought a smile, rolling her eyes. “You all also know this is exactly the kind of thing I would have been brought in on in the Watch. Spirit expert and all that.”

“Did you commonly deal with dead possessed dragons?”

“Well, not specifically. This was my first.”

“And last I hope.”

Rook carefully repositioned herself on the couch, folding her legs beneath her and turning to fully face Lucanis. Their joined hands rested on her lap. “Lucanis.”

“Rook.”

“What do you need from me? What do you need me to do to make this ok?”

Lucanis studied her face. The tension he had been carrying since entering her room seemed to have eased. He made no move to take his hand back. “Take me out with you next time. Unless there is a tactical reason not to.”

“Ok.”

“And I am getting you better armor.”

Rook blinked, trying to figure out where that demand came from. “What's wrong with my armor?”

Lucanis just looked at the tell tale red streaks on her neck, his thumb tracing the end point of the mark on her hand. “We'll need to go to Treviso so my armorer can get your measurements.”

“Not sure I'll look good in crow blue.”

“You'll look good in anything” he said, “And they do the best leather work in Antiva, we do not skimp on style.”

Rook could feel the warmth of a blush on her cheeks. “Alright. No more dragon fights without my assassin. New armor. Easy. I will be bringing it to the Watchers to finish the enchantments though.”

Lucanis smiled. “Agreed.” His eyes flickered from her face to their hands and back. “And what do you need from me, Rook?” He asked softly.

“Oh, I don't know.” Rook looked down at their hands, smiling. “Bring me dinner when I don't make it to the dining room. Yell at me when I take unnecessary risks in a fight. Make me tea. Especially this tea. Thought I had gone through it already.”

Lucanis looked to the side, his face now slightly flushed. “You did. That's a new tin. You clearly enjoyed the first one.”

“Oh.” Rook thought back to the past few weeks. She hadn't paid much attention to when and how the pantry got stocked, not since Bellara and Lucanis had kicked everyone else out of the cooking rotation. “That's - where have the teas been coming from?”

Lucanis shrugged slightly. “Treviso. Minrathous. The ginger lemongrass is from one of the Veil Jumpers. I had to make some inquiries, but I found the supplier for the tea house in the financial district back home and she had some recommendations. It would have been much easier if you drank coffee.”

Rook gaped at him. She had been drinking tea for years and had never sought out anything beyond whatever was immediately convenient. “I'd apologize for the trouble, but someone told me to stop apologizing.”

Lucanis raised a brow at her. “It is no trouble. None of that is. It is also all things I am already doing.”

“You asked what I needed from you. That's my answer.”

“There must be something else,” he huffed.

Rook tapped her free hand against her chin. “Did you finish reading the book for Bellara’s club yet?”

“Yesterday.”

“Well, I still have a few chapters to go and I am pretty sure if I try to read with the way my head feels right now, I'm going regret it. Care to provide a summary of the end?”

Lucanis laughed, shaking his head and looking around her room. “Oh, no. Absolutely not. No summary would do justice to the ridiculously overwrought - Where is your copy?”

Rook twitched her head to the side. “On the shelves on the other side of the couch.”

Lucanis shifted slightly, starting to get up, then paused, looking at his hand, still gripping Rook's. He exhaled, a single breathy laugh, apparently unwilling to let go.

Rook caught his eye, smiled, then relaxed her hold on his hand. Neither of them said anything as he released her too, getting to his feet to grab the book.

Rook sat back against the couch and stretched out her legs. They still hurt. Everything still hurt, but her hand - warm and tingly in a way that probably wasn't related to her injuries - monopolized her attention. She tried and failed not to think about it too much as she grabbed a blanket balled up at the other end of the couch and sought a more comfortable position.

Lucanis carefully sat down next to her, book already open to the scrap of ribbon that marked her spot. “How did you manage to stop here? Right after the Duchess realized her lover was the murderer? The suspense would have killed me.”

“There was some crisis or another to deal with. Who can keep track?” Noting that Lucanis held the book one handed, leaving his hand closest to her free, Rook twined their fingers back together. “And I don't mind a bit of suspense.”

Lucanis glanced at her, his eyes warm and maybe a little surprised. “That’s - good. You are a very patient woman.”

Rook closed her eyes, leaning against his shoulder. “Sometimes. When something is worth waiting for.”

Lucanis hummed in acknowledgement or agreement, shifting slightly to better accommodate her as he started to read.

Rook felt calm. Grounded. She listened to the increasingly outlandish story, peppered with Lucanis’ pointed commentary, adding her own observations as they went. Her hand in Lucanis' still twitched, insane gods still threatened the world, and the plot of the book was becoming increasingly unhinged, but she had trouble recalling the last time she had felt this content. Or if she had ever seen Lucanis so relaxed.

Moments like this made the rest of it worthwhile. Rook resolved to enjoy them.

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * ALEC VOLTURI HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 alec proposes to you

alec had centuries of silence before you.

centuries of numb routine, of duty and shadows, of watching others fall in love while never truly understanding it.

and then you came along, and suddenly, forever didn’t seem so long.

he doesn’t believe he deserves you at first.

you’re warm in a way he’s never been. you smile like the sun has personally greeted you.

the volturi castle is cold, unfeeling marble—except when you’re there.

your laughter echoes in the halls like sunlight, and even jane, in her sharp-edged way, softens when you’re around.

when he finally accepts that he wants forever with you, it scares him—because he’s never wanted anything before.

he spends months watching you quietly—memorizing the way your hands brush over old books, the way you stop to smell flowers even though they hold no scent for you in the castle air, the way you lean against him like he’s a safe place.

the moment he realizes he wants to marry you is small: you’re brushing his hair out of his eyes after a long day, whispering, “you always look so serious, love.” and he thinks, i want to be hers in every way the world will allow.

alec doesn’t want a grand gesture—he wants intimacy.

he wants to give you a memory that only the two of you will ever hold. so he waits until you’re walking together at dusk, far from the volturi’s looming halls, where the sky blushes and the world feels softer.

alec isn’t extravagant.

he is quiet devotion wrapped in eternal stillness, but when it comes to proposing to you, his centuries-old heart can’t help but beat just a little faster—figuratively, of course.

he plans everything with precision.

he practices the words alone in the library—quietly, almost like a prayer. “would you—no. you’re already mine. that’s not… quite it.”

alec carves out a private space just for you in the gardens—far from the guards, from the politics, from aro’s looming presence.

a hidden courtyard where the moonlight pools in silver across the stone, where roses still bloom under your touch. that’s where he’ll do it.

he hides the ring in a worn leather book he noticed you reading once—pride and prejudice, because you laughed when you called him your “mr. darcy with a cloak.”

the ring isn’t overly extravagant—it’s elegant, timeless.

it has a piece of onyx in the center, smooth and dark like his eyes, surrounded by delicate silver vines, like the ones that crawl along the stone walls where you first kissed.

he doesn’t kneel. alec doesn’t need to.

when he holds the ring between his pale fingers and says, “i don’t remember what life was like before you, but i know i never truly lived until you touched me.” it’s more reverent than any tradition.

his voice doesn’t waver, but his crimson eyes are wide—like he’s still stunned that someone like you could love someone like him.

you start crying before he even asks.

he looks startled at first—worried he’s done something wrong—but then you’re nodding through the tears and pulling him down into your arms.

when you say yes, alec just exhales a tiny soundless breath, as though your answer has uncoiled some tightly wound part of him.

alec kisses your hand after he slips the ring on. not once—three times.

the base of your finger. your knuckle. and finally, the inside of your wrist, where your pulse beats warm against his lips.

he presses his forehead to yours. “you have given eternity meaning,” he whispers. “and i will spend every moment of it loving you better than the last.”

alec just holds you there like he’s trying to memorize the shape of this moment.

jane watches from a balcony above with the smallest smirk. “about time,” she mutters, before walking away.

that night, you lie in bed together, wrapped in soft sheets and one another.

his head rests against your chest, listening to the rhythm of your heartbeat like it’s a lullaby meant only for him.

he doesn’t stop touching you—fingers brushing your wrist, arm around your waist, knuckles grazing your jaw. he needs the reassurance that this isn’t a dream.

he doesn’t need sleep, but he lets his eyes close because it feels like a dream anyway.

when you start to drift off, he pulls you closer, whispering sweet things against your skin.

“if there is a soul in me, it belongs to you.”

aro insists on a grand celebration and alec barely tolerates it.

you make it worth enduring—especially when you hold his hand the whole time and whisper that he’s yours in front of everyone.

alec isn’t much for wedding planning, but he lets you do whatever you want.

if you want roses down the hall? he’ll find them. want a mortal ceremony? fine. want to elope in the middle of the woods under moonlight? even better.

he doesn’t care who knows. let the whole castle see.

he’ll stand by your side at every formal event with his fingers twined through yours.

if anyone looks twice, alec meets their gaze with that quiet intensity that says, she’s mine. and i would tear the world apart for her.

alone, he carves your initials into the wall behind your shared room—subtle, secret, but eternal. “now the castle knows you belong here. with me.”

[cupcait777]

under the bleachers ⋆˚࿔

what starts with one stolen glance across the soccer field turns into a secret-laced spiral of late-night drives, under-the-bleachers kisses, and the kind of love that makes you reckless. in a town that doesn’t understand girls like them, they find freedom in each other—and maybe something like forever. 𔘓 a/n : i know that ts is so short but pls bear w ME💜

it’s friday night. the kind that hums with leftover adrenaline—halftime lights fading, the smell of sweat and soft pretzels still hanging in the air. your team lost. not by much, but enough to sting. you still smiled for the pictures, still did your high kicks and pyramids and fake-laughed at locker room jokes.

but now you’re home. in your room. showered and sprawled out across your bed in natalie’s jersey. it’s too big, drowning you in blue and yellow. the number’s faded. it smells like grass and bonfire smoke and her stupid vanilla shampoo. you’re chewing the inside of your cheek, watching the ceiling like it might blink first.

you haven’t heard from her.

you texted her twenty minutes ago:

you: snacks or no snacks? i got chips & that gross blue slushie you like

no reply.

you try again.

you: unless you changed your mind.

still nothing.

you sit up, hug your knees, and curse under your breath. the jersey falls off one shoulder. you don’t fix it.

it’s past eleven when you hear it—the soft clink of a pebble against your window. you freeze. then another. and another.

you slide the window open and look down.

natalie’s there, hoodie half-zipped, cigarette tucked behind her ear. she looks up like she’s been caught red-handed, but doesn’t seem sorry.

“forgot how high up your window is,” she calls up. “my aim sucks.”

you bite back a grin. “you could’ve just used the front door like a normal person.”

“but then i’d have to talk to your dad. no thanks.”

“he’s asleep.”

“even worse.”

you sigh. “get up here.”

she climbs the trellis like she’s done it before—like muscle memory. you step back as she slips into your room, landing with a soft thud. her shoes are muddy. you don’t care.

natalie’s quiet for a second. she takes in your room, your posters, the flicker of a lava lamp in the corner. then her eyes land on you. or maybe the jersey.

“you really wore it,” she says.

you nod. “a deal’s a deal.”

she laughs under her breath, a little breathless. “we lost.”

“still worth it.”

you don’t mean for it to come out so soft. or so honest. but it does.

natalie’s eyes flash like she doesn’t know what to do with that kind of kindness. she walks over, sits on the edge of your bed, and pulls something out of her pocket. a cassette tape, half-labeled in smeared sharpie: van’s mix, vol. 4.

you blink. “you actually brought it.”

she shrugs. “van made me swear on her cat’s life. apparently this one has a song that ‘might make you cry.’”

“great.”

natalie leans forward, pushing it into your old tape deck. the static is immediate—then music. low, fuzzy. acoustic guitar and female vocals. it’s a little off-tune. a little too real. you don’t recognize the song.

you lie back. she does too. your arms brush.

you think of asking her what’s been on her mind. why she didn’t reply. why her eyes look heavier than usual. but then her hand slips into yours, and she squeezes—once, like a question.

you squeeze back. answer.

⸝⸝⸝

you fall asleep like that. not tangled. not kissing. just… next to each other. like maybe that’s enough for now.

outside, the town’s quiet. the cicadas are gone. replaced by the soft whir of a neighbor’s sprinkler. inside, natalie dreams of being someone who doesn’t ruin things. and you? you don’t dream at all.

you already have what you wanted.

at least for tonight.

𔘓 a/n : edi sorry kung natapakan yung pagka love team niyo!!!!! anyway ill post pt4 soon because i love u guys so much💜 part one ⊹ ࣪ ˖ part two ⊹ ࣪ ˖ part three ⊹ ࣪ ˖ part four ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[radioactivatedspider]

What Hate Can't Hide

Main Masterlist The Boys Masterlist

pairings: Soldier Boy x reader

A/N: I wanted to make it more steamy, so i rewrote part of it.

created: 5/6/25

edited: 5/7/25

genre; slow-burn tension explodes, dubious morality, action-infused romance

warnings; cursing, Ben, 18+

Summary: Enemies collide. He saves her. She thanks him-hard.

1,047 words

The air crackled with violence.

Soldier Boy stood between her and Homelander, bloodied but unbowed. Smoke coiled off the ruined walls around them, the aftermath of a battle that had gone too far. Y/N pressed herself against the corner, chest heaving, eyes locked on Ben — Soldier Boy — who hadn’t even looked back at her once since the fight began.

“You touch her again,” he growled at Homelander, voice low, shaking with rage, “and I’ll rip your spine out through your damn teeth.”

Homelander smirked, blood staining his perfect smile. “Didn’t think you gave a damn about anyone but yourself.”

Ben didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The way he squared his shoulders said everything.

Homelander vanished into the sky, leaving only the scent of scorched ozone behind.

Y/N didn’t move at first. She was still processing what just happened — not the fight, but him. The same man who’d threatened to toss her off a rooftop six months ago. The same man who spit venom every time she challenged him, who only ever seemed to know how to fight with her.

And now he’d protected her.

“You good?” he asked, turning finally. His chest heaved, bruises already forming on his ribs. His voice was rough. Not cruel this time. Just...raw.

“I’m fine,” she lied. “But you’re not.”

She stepped closer. He didn’t back away. Didn’t say a word. He watched her, eyes flickering with something darker than just pain. Tension. Hunger. Regret.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured.

“Yeah, I did.”

Then something snapped — not in anger this time, but something else that had been coiled too tight for too long.

Their mouths crashed together like a second battle, teeth and heat and fury turned fire. His hands found her hips, rough and demanding. Her fingers curled in his hair, dragging him down to her, needing him. Months of screaming, fighting, almost killing each other — it all poured into the kiss.

She shoved him back against the wall, lips never leaving his. “You want your reward?”

His eyes darkened. “What kind of reward we talkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“Come find out.”

Her fingers curled in his shirt, yanking him through the ruined doorway of her apartment. The place was trashed, smoke still clinging to the air from Homelander’s blast, but none of that mattered now.

All that mattered was Ben. Soldier Boy. The bastard who’d made her life hell — who’d also just saved it.

She shoved him against the wall, hard enough that a picture frame cracked and fell. He grunted, more amused than angry. “You gonna fight me, or fuck me?”

“Maybe both,” she whispered, biting his jaw.

Her lips locked with his, teeth scraping, hands already tugging at his suit like it offended her. Soldier Boy growled, fists fisting into her hair, pulling her head back just enough to expose her throat.

“You gonna scratch that itch, sweetheart?” he rasped, mouth dragging down her neck, teeth grazing skin.

She moaned. “No. I’m gonna rip it out.”

He lifted her like she weighed nothing, threw her onto the bed with a thud and a wicked grin. She sat up, yanked off her shirt, no bra—just skin, curves, and fire in her eyes.

“Jesus,” he muttered, devouring her with a look. “You’ve been hiding that from me this whole time?”

“Less talking,” she said, crawling toward him, nails trailing down his chest as she undid his belt. “More fucking.”

His cock sprang free—hard, thick, flushed—and her lips curled in a dangerous smile. “Figures you’d be built like a weapon.”

She wrapped her hand around him, stroking slow, teasing. He hissed, hips twitching.

“You playin’ games?” he growled.

“Oh, I am the game,” she whispered—and then she took him in her mouth.

He threw his head back, jaw tight, hand tangling in her hair. She bobbed and sucked, tongue swirling, every moan she made vibrating down his shaft. He looked down at her—glaring up at him, eyes full of heat, spit glistening on her lips—and he nearly came right then.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hand clenching in her hair. “That mouth was made for sin.”

She pulled off with a pop, wiping her lips, eyes blazing. “You gonna stand there all night, or bend me over and ruin me?”

That was all he needed.

He hauled her up, turned her around, and shoved her over on her knees—cheek pressed to the cool cold pillow, ass up, legs spread. Her panties were soaked. He didn’t even bother taking them off—he ripped them, the fabric tearing like paper in his hands.

“You’ve been dripping since I walked in,” he muttered, running two fingers through her folds, slow and filthy. “All that attitude, and you’re this wet for me?”

“Shut up and fuck me like you mean it.”

He didn’t warn her.

One brutal thrust—deep, stretching her wide—and she gasped, fingers clawing at the sheets as he bottomed out. His hands gripped her hips like he owned them, and he pounded into her, fast and relentless. No mercy. No teasing.

Just raw, dirty need.

“You feel that?” he grunted, slapping her ass so hard she moaned. “That’s months of wanting to bend you over and make you mine.”

She was panting, mouth open, eyes fluttering. “Harder. Don’t you dare hold back.”

He grabbed her by the hair, yanked her up against his chest, his cock still buried deep inside her. His other hand slid between her thighs, rubbing her clit in tight, fast circles.

“I want you screaming when you cum,” he growled into her ear.

And she did.

She shattered with a cry, her body clenching around him so tight it made him curse. He bent her back down and kept thrusting—chasing his own high now, sweat dripping from his brow, muscles flexing with every deep stroke.

When he came, it was with a guttural groan, spilling inside her, hips jerking, fingers digging into her skin like he never wanted to let go.

They collapsed on the bed seconds later, breathless, marked, wrecked.

He glanced over at her, eyes still dark. “Still hate me?”

She smirked, lips swollen. “I hate how much I need you.”

He grinned. “Round two?”

She rolled over, straddling him. “Try round three.”

Challenge accepted.

[ghosts0cks]

A friend? 🌼

Natalie Scatorccio Xfem reader

Word Count:4,297

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, mention of drunk sex

Note: oh, I only half proofread this. I am planning to do multiple other parts. I am kind of newer to writing fan fiction. I used two years ago and I recently just got back into it so it might take me a minute to totally find my style.

Natalie stared at the outside of your hut. She knew once she entered she would once again have to push her feelings to the side and platonically beg her friend for support. But she can't stop thinking about all of the times she'd kissed your lips. Or the time you "drunkenly"(you both drank half a truly and used it as an excuse to do what you'd always wanted to) experimented

One thing Nat absolutely hated was letting people know she needed them. But when it came to you?

God she just wanted to lay her head in your lap while you two smoke a joint and kiss each other when you're so high you can blame it on anything but the undeniable chemistry between two "friends".

God she needed to stop thinking of those memories.

Ever since the winter Nat really took on the leadership role and accidentally pushed you away in order to not look weak to the other girls.

Winter was rough and Nat only cared about keeping everyone safe.. even if that meant sacrificing certain luxuries. She was also struggling heavily with thinking she deserved anything good.

Deep down she felt she didn't deserve to be held or comforted, but fuck that. She needed her best friend again.

She pushed the flap of your hut opened and ducked inside. "I want you to join the council." Natalie says, standing at the entrance of your hut.d

"I know you think a lot of this council shit is dumb. I know you're not nuts about Lotties or her followers, but I need you in the same room as me when I talk about serious shit. I need to know one person " Nat looks down not wanting to meet your gaze a she slightly blushed.

“I’ll come and support you.” You state cold, matter of fact. “Half of the people on the council, still think that we should eat dirt and worship the trees so I’ll gladly give a real opinion”

You were half confused why now? This is third time in the last week, Natalie had interacted with you. This time actually coming in you hut, Almost the most she had done to interact with you in months.

The two times before this you ask? Once while doing the dishes, she came up and started helping and bantering with you and it really felt like no time had passed. Just like old times.

But eventually she left and you were back to wondering when and where you'd talk again.

A few days after that she joined you on your turn fetch the bucket of water. Same banter and bullshitting with each other. A moment of laughing fades out with just you two staring into each other's eyes. Hunger in them.

With a full bucket of water that drops to the ground from Nat lunging forward to attack your lips with her own. Not for super long but long enough for your tongues to swap spit and for your hand to trail up her stomach and grip her tit.

Nat and you quickly parted. All you could do was hide your smirk and glowing red cheeks by looking down.

As soon as the kiss was over. It seemed like you both were unsure of how the other felt. Nat was already in a very vulnerable place and so she decided to just kind of walk away.

But kept looking back as she went into her hut. You haven't talked since that.. until she showed up to your hut demanded you join the council.

But now here she is today, in your hut, asking you to be more apart of our team and inside decisions.

"Yeah, well... Appreciate ya for it. Means a lot, ya know?" Natalie's voice carries a rare note of sincerity, her usual bravado momentarily stripped away by the weight of responsibility and the ever-present undercurrent of trauma that lingers like a shadow over their stranded group.

She clears her throat, glancing away as you turn your back to face her. "Anyway, just... be there, yeah?"

Her gaze lingers on you for a moment too long, a silent communication passing between your gaze.

"See ya in a bit then, yeah?" Natalie finally says, turning to head back to her own hut to prepare for the council meeting, her shoulders slightly less tense at the knowledge of your support.

After Nat left the hut it made her mind wander. if the girls were ever gonna talk about what happened between them last week.

Natalie's heart raced slightly as she thought about the way you had responded to her sudden display of affection, the way their lips had moved together with a desperate, hungry urgency. It was a moment of unbridled passion and raw emotion, built on years of moments like this here and there.

Somehow you and Natalie always find yourselves being there whenever one of you is going through it.

But in the harsh light of the following days, they had both retreated back into their respective roles, the unspoken kiss hanging heavily between them like a forbidden fruit neither dared to acknowledge.

With a sigh, Nat got ready to leave. She had a council meeting to attend, and the weight of leadership to bear.

[loststarphounix]

Sucker for Love Date to Die For Tigerghost AU

I have this idea in my head for WEEKS. Rough sketch of the boys at the bottom so you don’t have to sludge through my word vomit for it lol

Danny is an Ascended Eldritch being with the title of many things, but two in particular are intertwined and what his domain is known for: the Black Woods, where death and life bloomed over and over again in overused soil drenched in rot and blood. As a result, he  is a fertility god as well as having Dominion over Ghosts - especially those that fell in his woods.

Despite being a cosmic horror, he is still one of the only two truly benevolent immortals (the second being Jazz, obviously), due to their once human nature. The had been borne from Maddinessa (Maddy) - the goddess of ambition borned from madness- and a simple human man, Jack, who gave his heart to her unprompted and expected nothing in return.

Maddy was so moved by this silly little creature, that she didn’t realize she was in love with him until they had their first child. They were happy for a time, but being so close to a cosmic being as powerful as her, it was inevitable that Jack finally succumbed; trying to kill their son and scaring their eldest daughter before Maddy finally put him down.

In her grief, she forced the author of her own ritual book to pen a ritual to make her children cosmic beings, before killing them and then burned the page after she completed it. Then, she traveled to the farthest part of the galaxy and slept for three hundred millennia.

In her absence, their Uncle Vladmat’sur-Plamuths - or “Vlad Plasmus” for short - took up the mantle as guardian, until both Jazz and Danny broke away from him due to his negative views on mortals and their fleeting lives as well as his obsession with their mother and them by extension.

Jazz, whose name became Jazmi’fen-tòònlų,  the being of Hiding Madness, had gone off to live as a human in her own dreams, seemingly undaunted or uncaring about her true nature and has made a life for herself as a therapist.

Danny, sadly, wasn’t so lucky. He had been so young when he left Vlad and his sister - still so naive and trusting despite having a guarded nature. He interacted with humans and urged by his domain, created life and death and half-life where his roots were planted by his followers. He loved his followers at first, for they had been kind and caring to him, nurturing and loving him as a parent to a child, his duties only to plants and animals.

However, as he got older and his true fertility roles manifested, he became more of a god and symbol of status for all that found themselves to be his lovers. He didn’t have many, but those that did were elevated to his high priest and lead his family. 

He wanted children and his children to have children, until the very earth writhe and overflowed with them. Such was the way of a fertility being. But every time he awoke, the realities crumbled and so would his family. It broke Danny’s heart, and he wished they could stay forever, so that he didn’t have to feel his family torn away from him again.

Then, centuries later, something changed. 

When Johnny 13 and his girlfriend Kitty found his book and performed his rituals, Danny had been amazed. The young man had already been touched by something - a demon of blackness that manifested bad luck for others - and seemed to be the one in charge, despite Kitty performing almost all the rituals by herself.

He had been elated. Danny couldn’t remember the last time humans that were roughly his own age, performing his rituals and summonings so beautifully. Uselessly, it was much older humans. And they were nice! Kitty liked to play with his hair and do it up; Johnny had been very flirtatious and charming. It seemed that Danny had the foundation to create a very strong family.

Until Johnny stole a kiss from Danny while he was distracted during the ritual for Immortality. And Johnny realized what exactly he had done.

Then the torture came; the pain. And when he tried to awaken, he found he couldn’t. Somehow, Johnny 13 and one of the mid level members Santana, found a way to keep him stuck in his dreams, forced to go through violence unending again and again. 

Overtime, his skin grew grey and lifeless, his one black hair the very color of the inky nothingness of the universe, became shocked white and plasma green. His wounds healed and he could not die, but Danny wished he could.

And once the once kind man grew bored of his torment, he sent him away to rot; alone in the dark. A fertility god’s worse nightmare; a place devoid of light, sound and life.

Danny grew bitter over the years and forced himself to not react to his captures when they demanded their desires and wants from him. But despite all this, he could not truly hate humans, for they reminded him of his father and he knew that some of them are capable of great love.

And then, he is summoned to where it started it all: that damn room with the giant ghost ram statue sitting in the center of the room and one of his great trees reaching in from the broken window. Danny had been anticipating seeing his followers with their sickening Stare, that he was shocked to find a simple human man around his age, begging for help from his cult.

——————————————————————————————————

Manny returned to Miracle City to get his family.

The newest weird thing, The Miracle Stare, had run rampant in the streets since he left for California for school. It was said that they targeted people - didn’t matter who or where- and those people were never seen again. And the civilians with the Miracle Stare kept growing in numbers, and escalating to daily attacks on hospitals, schools, courthouses- anywhere that had large populations at a time.

And those that survived were also taken, but were later found with the Stare and an appetite for destruction. It rankled the young hero how he couldn’t help, but his parents assured him that his education and safety were more important and that both Papi and the chief of police had it cover. Doubtful, but Manny let it be and begrudgingly kept his nose in the books while keeping tabs back home.

Then his best friends, Frieda and Django went missing. The chief wasn’t picking up his calls and neither did his dad. That was enough of this waiting bullshit.

Manny said fuck college and flew back from the states to Mexico, where he then drove himself all the way back home, trying and failing to get his papi, mama or grandpapi to answer his calls.

He stops at a gas station just as he gets to city limits and encounters a stranger who, in a hurry, shoves Manny out the way, leaving a book behind. At first, he tries to get their attention, but when he realizes they’re not stopping. He looks at this old leather tome and immediately throws it in his passenger seat. Maybe his grandpapi can sell it for cash - it looked super old.

Just as he turns into main street, he sees a very familiar figure tearing down an alleyway. Frida!

Before he thinks about it, Manny jumps out the car, making sure to grab the book. He takes off after her, the chase ending when she suddenly disappears after they make it to their old middle school.

Upset, he’s about to leave, when some gringa bumps into him and starts making assumptions about burning after her “Johnny”. He sets her straight that he doesn’t know a Johnny, which makes her open her eyes to stare at him in disbelief. 

And she has the damned Miracle Stare.

And she realizes at the same time he does, that he doesn’t. And she immediately calls for backup. People run out from the shadows and the school and neighboring buildings. He’s overrun and Manny transforms into El Tigre to get away. Unfortunately, he’s having trouble shaking them off - they’re relentless in their pursuit of him.

After a long time, he loses them and quickly swings his way back home. When he gets to his window, he finds a giant tree had sprung up from the ground and crashed into his bedroom. A statue of a ram stares at him in a way he feels like it’s actually alive.

He searches the house for his family, but can’t find anything. The only thing that sounds like a good lead, is the bunch of frantic notes his papi had scattered around in his private office. It said something about a book and rituals….hey.

The description sounds like the book he got from that dickface who bumped into him.

Pulling it free from between his belt, he opens it. There’s only one page that’s eligible - the rest was jumbled, incomprehensible words.

Summoning of the Father: Planted Roots

Quick Lat Minute Stuff:

Yes I put Danny in Roxy’s dress, sue me. I gave him I gave him biker shorts it’s fine.

In the beginning, only his hands and feet are still the color of living flesh and as Manny keeps beating the Hundred and helping Danny, his body starts to become alive and vibrant again

his hair is permanently white; the bottom half of his jaw is actually nebula shadows that have gathered and bunched undo his skull.

the ones Manny help to escape the Hundred is Kitty, El Oso and Ember.

also, the great tiger spirit can manifest itself outside of Manny’s body when around Danny due to his Dominion over spirits and being the Ghost King. it give helpful insight at times, as well as warning where the monsters are

Sam and Tucker are either the authors of his book OR his first ever pair and that’s why he see his cult as a family. Up to interpretation.

[inardescere]

Someone who would hit him and complain about him not wearing the outfit. That sounded more like the siblings he knew in his life. His closest friends were siblings, although Algie was an older sister while Konche was the younger of the two. To see that the dynamic wasn't too different made him smile a little, glad to know that another person in Caleb's life had been bold enough to tell him off when he was being stupid. It's just too bad that he was never given the chance to meet her, not in this lifetime, but if she had a grave as humans liked to make, maybe Caleb would want to visit. But he thinks he's made enough suggestions about reuniting with old loved ones already. Instead, he gives a displeased look when the other tries to say self-deprecating things once again, saying he wasn't good enough to be prince-like. Luckily, the other seems to understand it wasn't a suggestion but a statement, that this young girl had seen him undeniably with admiration. "I'm learning what works best." Rafayel smiles gently when he agrees to wear it again when the time is right, hoping he was able to push them in the right direction for his little sister's dreams to be fulfilled.

The tension and his gaze are too much, not when they have someone waiting for them downstairs right now. So he slips away, an easy act to do as he makes his way to the door, touching the handle with some disappointment. After all, he didn't dislike the attention or the dark way he roamed over him like he was wanted. He wanted to indulge in his touch a bit longer, interrupted from his affections before. Rafayel understands things might not be the same here... But just as the door cracks open an inch, he feels the pull on his body, warmth on his waist again. His back pinned against the wall beside the door, eyes looking up wide with surprise and panic, blood rushing to his face.

"Caleb-"

Words are swallowed up by desperate lips and teeth, eyes half-lidded as a blush creeps up to his face at the feral display of hunger that manifests in mouths crashing and teeth biting. Arms shoot up to loop around the other's back, nails digging into fabric and skin as their heads are tilted and mouths parted for a deeper kiss, clinging on as his legs stumble and he's supported by the body pressed against him and the wall behind, a hand on his hip feeling him grounded as he feels his body light and heavy all at once. The Lemurian gasps and his eyes don't close fully until the end, wanting to memorize every desperate look on the other as he devoured his lips. When he finally pulls away, Rafayel feels his lips slick and wet the same way Caleb's glistened in the dim light, buzzing and bruised from the searing kisses and bites. His cheeks stay flushed red, chest heaving as he gasps open-mouthed for air, hazy eyes peering up at the other with his own desperate need, brows downturned in a pitiful look. Even a drunken man could see the vivid desperation and plea for more, fingers tugging at his shirt begging him to give in.

But it's cold.

Like a slap to the face, the Lemurian's eyes widen in surprise when Caleb pulls away, a frustrating smirk pulling at his lips as he opens the door, bringing in a cool draft that tugs his bangs aside. Let's go. The younger male turns to stare at his walking figure, how slowly he steps out as if waiting, a predator setting a trap out for its prey to be lured, to pounce once the fish hooks onto his line so he can grab it whole. Back against the wall and his tongue licking over his stinging lips, Rafayel slowly balanced back onto his feet, mind whirring back to life from where it had shut down for pure desire and instinct. Caleb was trying to bait him, a trick that was Rafayel's own. Maybe he could find amusement in it some other time, but right now, he was left frustrated and needing, anger flashing over his face. It would be so easy to reach out, pull Caleb over to slam him against the wall he now stood against, shove him against it with inhuman strength to keep him pinned and unable to move, show him the frustration that the captain seemed eager to wring out of him.

The Lemurian rubs away the saliva over his lips and down his chin, dark eyes peering down at the floor. Static buzzes in the air, the soft scent of rain wafting through the window and open door. But it ceases as the sun peeks through the clouds, the same way his face turns into a smile with piercing eyes as he steps out of the room, closing the door behind them with a click. "As you wish, Captain." His voice is low, but gentle once again, boots clicking as he walks past Caleb in an unhurried pace, down the corridor and looking back with a curious glance that looks far too genuine, as if nothing had happened, motioning him to the stairs he starts descending first. His posture is straight but not forced, a natural grace in every step and sway of his hips as he finds his way through the building with ease. The tavern was easy to find when he could hear the noise and soft sound of Gideon's voice through the walls as he spoke to the master behind the counter. If he had a few heads turn as he walked down the stairs and corridors, now, as he opened the tavern door and peered in, one set of eyes on him caused a domino effect as they all shoved and stared, some openly while others shyly peered through their mugs and silverware. First, their attention was caught by the grand uniform, but as their eyes raked slowly up from the filled clothes to the pale face as delicate as a maiden's yet handsome as a prince, purple hair now fanning across his cheeks in light lavender under the light, a curtain of royal colors tickling a pale nape without a single blemish in sight-- that had whispers arise.

Rafayel pressed his reddened lips together as if in thought, purposefully gathering eyes to the way they were bitten not long ago. Head tilted just right, the candlelight hit his eyes and made them shine like an ocean's jewel; Deep as the seabed and bright as the glistening surface under the sun. He gives the whole room a swipe with his gaze, hearing something clatter but giving it no attention as his eyes light up, steps faster as he walks up to Gideon.

"Thank you for choosing these for me. I got to learn a lot more about him thanks to you." A genuine smile, nodding his head to show his sincerity, because for all that had happened, he was glad to learn more about his past. Then, the Lemurian leaned sideways against the tall counter, all elegant curves, an elbow perched with his head resting on the back of his curled fingers. I'm sorry, he mouths to Gideon secretly as he hears footsteps come up behind him, his other hand moving onto the counter, tapping his fingers lightly as he moves his gaze and eyes the bottles on the other side. "Shall we take a seat? Or is there somewhere else we need to go, Sunset?" He peers back at Caleb, raising a pretty brow at him in question, bringing all attention-- awe, surprise, and envy-- towards the captain.

"I'm not used to these shoes yet. Can we sit for a while? I also want Gideon to spill more of your stories."

     caleb’s arms tighten around him once more, his breath hitching for just a second before he presses his forehead against rafayel’s, eyes soft as a smile curls on his lips. “i promised to take you everywhere. whatever path we take, we’ll find it together. you and me.” he tilts his head just enough to brush his nose against the other’s. the moment feels incredibly cheesy, and caleb doesn’t care at all. for once, he met himself lean into it, allowing to be a hopeless romantic, something that he has always secretly wanted to be. even when the subject shifts to people of his past, bittersweet memories filling his head, yet a relieved smile draws on his lips. the idea of meeting zayne didn’t sound too bad at all, to honor the memory of their friend by sharing a moment of their newfound happiness. though, for the time being, he shakes the thought away as right now all he can think abut is creating his new adventures with rafayel. “i’m afraid you look extremely hot when you do that.” he leans in, whispering softly as the flame sparks from his finger. 

     caleb freezes for a moment, his hands fastening the last strap of the boots, fingers delicately brushing against the lemurian’s ankle before dropping to his sides. slowly, he looks up when he feels rafayel’s fingers on his cheek. his eyes wide and vulnerable. and for a second, he doesn’t know what to say. there’s softness in his voice, in his touch. a type of love and affection he still not used to. “i…” his voice falters, and he clears his throat, what seems nostalgic turns into a twitched smile. “she would hit my head and complain i don’t wear it anymore now that i think about it.” he chuckles, but traces of self-deprecation are still in his voice. “i’m waaaay too far to be a prince. i’m barely—“ but he stops himself when rafayel’s thumb brushes over his freckles. he lets a loud sigh, his hands resting lightly on the other’s knees as he looks up at him. “quite the smooth talker are you, huh?” he slaps softly his thigh, standing up and tidying his own clothes. the urge of cornering him appearing again. the need to devour his lips in a silence promise that he will never self-deprecate himself again. “i will. when i’m ready. but for now, i’ll just enjoy the view.” rafayel is still in his arms, his knuckles brushing lips with desire yet not daring to make a move, simply because gideon is waiting downstairs. 

     “i don’t need to. i like my current clothes.” he replies, yet he feels his chest tightening as rafayel easily slips away from his hold. he makes it seem so effortlessly graceful it almost feels like an art form. for a second, caleb just stares, dumbfounded, his mind catching the memory of rafayel’s teasing smile from long ago.

     ‘i’m good at slipping away when i need to.’

     oh. not this time. gideon can wait. 

     his hands shoots out before he can fully escape, fingers gripping firmly around the lemurian’s waist, spinning him around and pinning him to the wall beside the door in one swift motion. the air between them thickens, charged with tension. caleb’s gaze burns into the siren’s, the hunger in his eyes leaving no room for misinterpretation, closing the distance as lips crash together in a kiss that’s all teeth and desperation, raw and consuming. his hand presses into rafayel’s hip, tilting his head just enough to deepen the kiss. it’s messy, unrestrained, pushing his body against the wall completely. a culmination of all the moments cut short since they arrived in land. and as caleb finally pulls back, his own lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss, he drags his thumb across his own lower lip, wiping away the lingering saliva as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“let’s go.” his voice rough but laced with amusement as he steps back, reaching for the door handle and opens the door with a casualness that feels almost out of place. he is clearly teasing, he is amused. he enjoys this playfulness as he waits for rafayel to cross the door with very slow steps. 

    waiting for rebound, maybe?