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aerynwrites · 1 year ago

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Unexpected, But Not Unwelcome

Gale Dekarios x afab!Reader/Tav

A/N: based on this request - god I literally wrote this the second that I got it lol. Gale was the perfect one to write this request for imo and it was such a pleasure!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: pregnant reader, slight angst, pregnancy, fluff.

The longer you’ve lived in Waterdeep the more you start to understand why the balcony outside the study is Gales' chosen spot in his tower.

You still remember the slight shock you felt when you first arrived to see the space was exactly like the illusion he showed you all those months ago.

Now it’s also become your place of solace, much to the wizards delight.

“Views like this are much better enjoyed with company. And I couldn’t wish for a better half to spend it with.”

The balcony is swathed in deep orange light, the sun slowly creeping towards the horizon, the bottom just barely kissing the edge of sea way out in the distance. Her fading rays dance along the calm bay waters, the only disturbance to its surface being the few ships leaving or entering port.

‘What do they carry?’ you wonder.

Fine silks and clothing? Or perhaps rare spices from across the world. It’s a game you find yourself playing more often than not whenever you sit out here. But now…

Now it’s all you can do to try and focus on the ships, your mind constantly flitting back to the news you were given earlier in the day.

You’d missed your monthly cycle a few weeks back, and while it wasn’t immediately alarming, that along with other symptoms finally made you decided to seek out a healer.

Gale had told you of his plans to spend the day at Sorcerers Sundries, looking for a specific tome for research he was working on. So, today was the perfect day to slip away unnoticed. You didn’t want to worry your husband unnecessarily, but now you want nothing more than for him to be home, the news eating away at you.

You’re pregnant.

It’s honestly nothing you’ve ever truly thought about. Before the tadpoles, you’d been alone, just living day to day in Baldur’s Gate. Then of course the whole tadpole incident happened and then…you met Gale and fell in love and started to build a life with him here, in Waterdeep.

You’re honestly surprised the topic never came up. But now, with it staring you in the face…a sense of uncertainty settles deep in your belly.

Tara noticed immediately of course, aware of your unusual quietness as you retreated to the balcony as soon as you got home. You’d found yourself spilling the news to the intelligent cat as soon as she asked, her deep eyes softening ever so slightly as she jumped in your lap and curled up.

You couldn’t help but sense a wave of excitement coming from her, though. A sense that somewhat calmed you despite the nerves running wild in your mind.

That was a few hours ago, Tara hasn’t moved from her spot, lounging peacefully as you stroked her fur and watch the ships glide across the water.

Only the very distant sound of the tower door opening and closing, and Gales faint greeting finally pulls you from your thoughts, that anxiety creeping back in full force as you tense.

Tara sits up as well, stretching and letting out an enviable yawn. You wish you could be that relaxed.

“Relax, dear,” Tara says gently, nuzzling your hand before turning to jump from your lap. “I feel you have nothing to be worried about.”

She turned and pads towards the inside of the tower just as Gale appears in the archway, stopping to offer her a welcoming scratch before she disappears.

He sends you a warm smile as he rights himself, approaching and taking a seat next to you on the padded bench, arm wrapping around your waist instinctively as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“How was your day, my love?” He asks, nose nuzzling your cheek.

You smile, realizing it doesn’t quite reach your eyes past the anxiety roiling in your chest. “It was good,” you tell him, not completely lying but not offering the full truth either. “How was your adventure to Sorcerer’s Sundries?”

At the mention of the bookstore Gale’s eyes light up as he tells you about what he found. Slowly, as he talks about the new information he found regarding his research, you both maneuver into a more comfortable position. Gale moves to lay across the length of the padded bench, leaning against the armrest as you settle between his legs, back resting against his chest.

His arms wrap loosely around your middle, hands resting over your stomach, completely unaware of the life that’s now growing there.

His words fade into the background as your mind starts to wander again, your hands moving to rest atop his own, your fingers slipping to toy with the simple gold band around his ring finger.

You don’t truly have many worries about the news. You know that Gale will weather anything with you but…you don’t want this to be a storm, or anything negative. What if Gale doesn’t want children? What if he pulls away from you when you tell him the news or is just as scared as you feel?

Soft lips against your neck pull you from your thoughts, familiar fingers slipping between your own to give them a squeeze.

“I know my research ramblings can at times be boresome. However, you seem to be lost to me more than usual this evening.” His words are gentle with just a touch of amusement as rests his head against yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You don’t respond right away, your nerves at an all time high and making your already tumultuous stomach even more uneasy. You squeeze his hand in yours.

“I went to see a healer today.”

Gale’s arms tighten around you, and you can feel the way he sits up straighter, your words concerning him.

“A healer? I didn’t even notice - are you sick?” He asks, worry clear in his voice. “I cannot believe I was so preoccupied I failed to take note of-“

You tug on the sleeve of his robes, holding him tighter to you. “I’m not sick. At least not…” You trail off, taking your lip between your teeth.

Gale urges you on with a gentle press of his lips to your shoulder, and that action alone seems to calm the raging sea of anxiety within you.

“I’m with child, Gale.”

The silence that follows your revelation feels oppressive. The only sounds meeting your ears being the lapping of waves against the shore and the distant call of gulls in the air.

Emotion clogs your throat as you clutch his hand. “Please…say something.”

You sit up then, turning to face the man behind you, but before you can fully do so, two strong arms wrap around you and bring you to your feet. Your surroundings turn into a blur around you as Gale spins you through the air, boisterous laughter falling from his lips until he brings you to a stop, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss.

His lips are warm and his arms secure as he holds you to him, as if afraid this would all fade away if he were to let you go.

Heat floods your cheeks when he pulls away, elation adorning his features as he looks at you, eyes glowing with an utter joy you’ve never quite seen on him before. He cradles your face in his hands, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks.

“I’m going to be a father? We’re going to have a child?” He asks, whispering the words in unbelieving reverence.

The smile that splits your lips is almost painful, any and all anxiety dissipating from you as you take in his reaction.

“Yes they…The healer said I would start showing soon, and if we want…Towards the end of the pregnancy they should be able to tell us the gender,” you tell him, hands grasping at the fabric of his robe.

Gale smiles wider, hands falling down to cradle your stomach and the new life that sits there.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says gently. “They will be loved either way, and no doubt a powerful wielder of the weave if I have anything to say about it.”

You can’t stop the chuckle that slips past your lips, and the surprising happy tears that fall down your cheeks. Gale notices the streaks immediately, smile faltering ever so slightly as he reaches back up to wipe the tears away.

“Why the tears? This is a joyous occasion, we should be celebrating!”

You shake your head, reaching up to place your hand atop his own as you turn to press a kiss to his palm. “They aren’t tears of grief…I was worried. Worried about telling you. I didn’t…we’ve never talked about children.”

Your husband smiles gently, eyes reassuring as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I can admit that this news was unexpected, but it’s…it is not unwelcome,” he tells you, eyes bright once more. “I’ve never given much thought to children because of everything that had consumed my mind in the past and then you appeared in my life and took over the rest of my thoughts,” he laughs. “But this…” He presses his hands to your belly again. “This is more than I could have ever asked for. More than any power I’ve ever dreamed of having. I find myself filled with indescribable joy at the thought of creating a life with you - a family.”

You press your lips to his as soon as the words leave his lips, pulling him impossibly closer until you break away to nuzzle into the space between his head and shoulder, excitement and happiness threatening to burst from your chest.

“I love you, Gale Dekarios.” You say, smiling as he pulls you tighter against him. “I can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You move to speak, but the presence of a familiar winged feline interrupts you as Tara rushes onto the balcony, wiggling happily.

“Oh my!” She exclaims, weaving between yours and Gale’s legs before jumping effortlessly up to perch on his shoulder as you both separate. “This is most exciting! Another Dekarios, can you believe it?” She asks, turning to Gale. “Hopefully this one won’t light himself on fire like you did all those years ago.”

You watch in amusement as Gale flushes a light shade of pink, flicking Tara’s ear playfully. “I was just starting to learn to master the weave! And I was eight, you can hardly blame me.”

You chuckle at their antics and reach up to card your hands through his hair at the nape of his neck, drawing his attention back to you.

“Well, they will have the best teacher. There’s no telling what they will accomplish with you as their guide.”

Gale smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before embracing you once more.

“We’ll guide them together.”

You hum in agreement, basking in the golden rays of the setting sun, the snapping of sails echoing across the water as you whisper against his skin.

“Together.”

Tags:

@dark-and-kawaii

#Gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #bg3 x reader #gale x tav #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale

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facefullofsadness · 11 months ago

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The world needs guitarist winter!! 🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥 (i die a little each time i see her with a guitar)

AGREE!!! everyday that has passed since 230225 winter playing guitar at synk hyper line in seoul for the first time has just been me trying to recover and seek guidance bc damn, she ruined my life and it's all I've been able to think about

content - rockstar guitarist!winter, best friend's sister!winter, dom!winter, includes txt members (beomgyu and yeonjun) and giselle, song references, smut (messy and wild sex, slight degradation, fingering, cunnilingus, strap-on usage, choking, breeding kink, quickies, squirting, vibrator usage, semi-public sex/voyeurism)

wc - 3122

a/n - a loaded one since it's been a while. I had sm fun writing this in general, but especially a certain part (I think u'll be able to tell when u get there), I was laughing my ass off so fking hard. also I just got a haircut that's very wolf-cut-y so it helped a whole bunch to get into writing this lol, committed to the bit!

winter's a damn good guitarist.

she's fuckinggg hotttt too when she plays and she knows it. watched a vid of her recently doing her guitar solo during girls and after the final riff she smirked at the camera and I LITERALLY COMBUSTED DEAR LORD.

anyway, I imagine her in a rock band, one with beomgyu, and they're both just the hot, wolf-cut, dark emo guitarists. you're the lead singer and front man of the band and were the reason the band formed in the first place. you were besties with beomgyu and you two wrote and composed music from time to time, always having the idea of a band as a passion project at the back of your minds.

eventually, gyu recruited his sister, minjeong. the three of you worked together diligently, recruiting yeonjun as a drummer who knew and dragged along aeri as a bassist. it was truly a dream come true, getting to pursue what you're passionate about the most with your best friend and a group of people just as enthusiastic as you were.

though, it was hard to focus with such a pretty girl like kim minjeong breathing down your neck at all times. you, beomgyu, and minjeong would primarily work together on music, usually going from the afternoon until after midnight hours. while minjeong was only a few months older than your best friend, she'd boss him around and push him to go home, saying it was late and that their mom needed to see at least one of them to know they were okay. he'd groan and complain about it, especially since you and him were the main collaborators for songs and were the best when you were together, but she'd always promise to take good care of you, whatever that meant (huehuehue).

beomgyu cares more about you as a little sister than he does his own sister so when he gets confirmation that she'll take care of you, he accepts it and goes home early, leaving you and minjeong in the studio alone. you bite your lip as you watch the door close, your friend leaving you behind with her.

"just you and me now, huh pretty?" the girl leans into you on the couch.

you shift uncomfortably at the close proximity and try to subtly scooch away, "uh yeah, I guess so... we should try to finish this arrangement before we get out of here."

you try your best to compose yourself and act professional, hearing minjeong's deep chuckle next to you, "alright then."

actually getting work done and writing some lyrics alongside figuring out the instrumental arrangement with minjeong since she's the other guitarist, besides beomgyu (also bc he left). you tell her that you get frustrated with the fact you're not that good at playing, her having asked why you don't just make the arrangements yourself. and so, she decides to teach you! well, "teach you."

placing her acoustic Silvertone on your lap and crawling up slowly behind you, her warm body pressed up against your back, the brush of her lips against your ear making you shiver. she brings her arms over and places her hands over yours, guiding them around the strings and assisting with the chords.

she whispers deep and raspy into your ear various instructions, "if you cover this entire fret and press down on these strings, you'll get the F Barre chord. it's a little difficult but nothing you can't manage, right princess?"

"the placement kinda hurts..." you complain, feeling the burn of the metal strings against your skin.

"it'll be a little painful when you start, but with practice you'll get better. you have to press down harder than that though," her pressing your fingers down harder against the nylon strings.

whining softly at the pain, making her lips come closer to your ear, "come on baby, you can do it, a little pain goes a long way. I know you can handle it."

a chill runs down your spine at her words, proceeding to repeatedly attempt to strum the chord correctly until the sound was full.

"good girl, it wasn't that bad right?" you turn to face her, her lips just centimeters away from yours.

your breath picks up at her proximity and a smirk tugs at her lips, moving her face into your neck and hotly sighing against it.

"how badly do you want it, hm? how badly do you want me to fuck you like a rockstar?"

your grip on her guitar tightens as her mouth trails around your neck, gasping when you feel her tongue drag across slowly.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"nothing you don't want me to already, sweetheart."

you lean into her touch, moving your hand away from the body of the guitar to lace your fingers through her soft wolf-cut hair, pulling her head in further into your neck, now placing wet kisses against the skin.

you suddenly shoot your eyes open at the realization of what you two are doing and stutter, "I-I don't think we should be doing th-this... we need to finish the arrangement... and also, y-your brother, what will h-he think?"

you stumble over your words as minjeong just hums in response to, continuing to leave sloppy marks across your neck, feeling her make hickeys on parts of your skin that wouldn't be noticeable.

"we have all the time in the world to finish the song. but what about gyu? did you want him instead then?" she asks, almost threateningly, challenging you to say yes.

in response, you whimper and pull her head in further towards your neck, practically begging her not to go away.

"don't you feel ashamed letting your best friend's sister do this to you? or are you just a slut?"

you don't answer, only shut your eyes and bite your lip. minjeong doesn't like that, resulting in her hand to pull you by the hair backwards, head facing the ceiling. your eyes shot open at the contact and you see her blown pupils staring into yours.

her voice comes out low and dark, "answer me whore. tell me what you are, I wanna hear you say it."

you gulp down a lump in your throat, debating if you should listen to her or to your morals. all sense jumps out the window when she sexily raises her eyebrow at you, an expectant expression sitting on her aroused face.

fuck it whatever, she's too fucking hot, "I'm your slut, minjeong, all yours."

finishing the arrangement? what a joke! she has your legs spread wide open on the soundboard, skillful fingers pumping in and out of your squelching cunt, your head thrown back, moaning into the hot air of the studio. her one hand plunging deep into your pussy while the other one is wrapped around your waist, holding you close, keeping your thighs propped open with her body. and she's just watching you, her mouth slightly open and lips a deep dark plump red, her messy hair tousled, bangs sticking to her sweaty forehead. she loves watching how your face contorts in response to her digits curling to hit that delicious spot in your hole, hitting it repeatedly, her palm slapping against your clit with every quick thrust of her hand. the sounds of your croaky moans, wet and clenching pussy, and her heavy breathing fill the sound-proof room, the thought of productivity not even grazing either of your minds.

the pleasure built so much, you felt that knot in your stomach tighten. minjeong quickened her pace as she felt your legs start to shake around her, sensing how close you were to cumming. it was all too much and you suddenly orgasmed, crying out moans with every wave of delight that surged through your body, thighs trembling, eyes rolled back and mouth hung open, your hands gripping her shoulders for dear life. she intently watched with a lustful stare at every expression your face made while you came, memorizing how good you looked when she fucked you. pulling her fingers out and collecting every drop of cum you leaked onto her hand and wrist, licking it clean until a thin sheet of her saliva remained.

"open your fucking mouth and stick your tongue out," she demanded with a deep voice.

you obeyed and gagged, feeling her tongue shove itself down your throat, forcefully swallowing her saliva and your cum. drool seeped out the sides of your lips as she continued her onslaught in your mouth, feeling her clothed hips grind against your sensitive clit, moans slipping out of your throat in the form of gags.

she'd pull away suddenly, tongue exiting your mouth with a wet slurping noise, making you cough. "you. are. mine. remember that."

she'd remind you, running her damp fingers through her hair.

these late night escapades continued to occur with every single long session held in the studio (she definitely recorded some audios of you guys fucking for sureeee). the creative part of you wanted beomgyu to stay and help with the music, but the sinful part of you so desperately wanted him to leave as soon as possible to have his sister all to yourself. your best friend never caught on to you and minjeong, but oh, yeonjun and aeri caught on like THAT. the tension between you two was so palpable, the two older members would side eye you during practices and giggle to each other, watching the two of you eye fuck from across the room.

eventually, the band's popularity would build and proceed to skyrocket, leading to your guys' first tour. tour meant performing together, traveling together, being with each other, and ultimately, tour meant being with minjeong. and so when management would get 3 hotel rooms for you all, 1 for the boys, 1 for the girls, and well, 1 for aeri being the sleeping beauty she is, rooming with minjeong meant a few things. practicing together, writing and composing together, and sleeping together (for the girls in the back, SEX).

throwing you onto the bed as soon as you reach your hotel room, tearing your clothes off and pinning you down, sloppily kissing each other. she'd prep you by eating you out, sticking her wet muscle inside of your leaking core, caressing your walls and flicking against your g-spot. you bit down hard on the pillow, muffling your moans as her thumb covered in her saliva rubbed against your throbbing clit. her pulling away right before you came and putting on a strap-on she brought on tour (for you of course!), wasting no time in thrusting it into you.

the pillow probably did nothing to silence your screams as she mercilessly fucked you into the mattress, hand pressing down on your lower stomach to feel her cock pumping in and out of you, the tip of her dick hitting your cervix again and again, her thumb still stimulating your clit. minjeong had your back arching, your hands flew everywhere, trying to grip onto anything to ground yourself, but nothing was enough, even as you screamed and bit down on your pillow. your eyes watered and your vision blurred as she rammed into you, the dark-haired girl moving her hands to wrap around your neck, choking you, gradually adding pressure with every rough thrust. her pants eventually became moans too, loving the feeling of the side of her strap hitting that delicious spot inside of her too, slapping her clit against yours as she bottomed out in you.

"I'm gonna fucking cum in you y/n, I'm gonna knock you up, fill you up until you're leaking both of us," minjeong growls above you, lowering her face to level with yours.

you feel tears fall down the sides of your face and your throat sore from another scream ripped out of you as well as her hands around your neck as she throws the pillow in your mouth onto the floor, attaching her mouth to yours instead. you cry onto her tongue as you orgasm against her strap, toes curling and legs wrapped around her waist, nails digging into minjeong's shoulders, cum gushing out of you as you feel her cock shoot fake ropes of white liquid into you, filling you up. you feel her shake in your arms too as she cums, her pleasure leaking out onto your thighs, soaking the bedsheets. she collapses on top of you, both of you desperately gasping for air, her dick still inside of you, keeping the fake cum from leaking out.

"good thing we have another bed."

of course being on tour also meant fucking in the green room before a performance. having done interviews all morning, having a concert for the tour tonight, minjeong was so mean! she had you wear a vibrator the entire day! it would be on the lowest setting up until the interviewer would ask you a question. she would turn up the intensity and you would squirm as you tried to answer, gripping your ripped jeans, almost causing another tear. and so when you two were left alone in the green room for just a minute, she took you right then and there, your legs wide open on the sofa, her mouth stimulating your clit while she increased the vibrator's setting to max, thrusting it in and out of you.

you were screaming in pleasure, all the built up tension in your stomach finally being relieved with each pump of the sex toy in your pussy. you clutched onto her leather jacket for dear life as you came all over her face, squirting everywhere. she licked as much as she could and you both worked quickly to clean before anyone came back. your members, staff, and the fans would notice you limping around on stage that night, winter with an especially evil smirk resting on her face.

being on tour also meant getting fingered in the bathroom backstage. it's literally 10 minutes to showtime, but minjeong NEEDED to fuck you now! her calloused fingers pumping in and out of you while you reciprocated fingering her too. both of your skirts hiked up and panties pushed to the side (no safety shorts? idk this is fiction, ignore it!), moaning desperately into each others mouths as you messily and sloppily made out against the bathroom stall door. curling your fingers at the same time, biting down on her lip while her fingernails dug into your thigh at the feeling. rolling your hips against her palm to stimulate your clit, her repeating the motion and pinning you harder to the door so that your bodies were flush against one another.

screaming into each other's mouths as you came at the same time, cum dripping down your wrist. quickly cleaning one another up (with your tongues, yup) and running to your places since there was literally THIRTY SECONDS to showtime! beomgyu confusedly looking at you two in frustration, asking where you guys had been, yeonjun and aeri rolling their eyes laughing, still lowkey irritated that you guys were LITERALLY FUCKING instead of getting ready to perform smh. everyone definitely noticed the redness in both of your cheeks. winter had fingered you with her calloused hand, the dampness making it more difficult to play the chords during that show, the band noticing the change in effectivity too (how technical!).

at some point, the fans would notice the tension between you two. who wouldn't ship the lead singer with the guitarist in a band anyway right? especially when it's the hot dark wolf-cut emo guitarist winter and the stunning pretty charismatic lead singer. but of course that wasn't the only reason, you guys were soooo obvious. you're singing the flirty and seductive lyrics towards her, minjeong returning a smirk back at you and sticking her tongue out while she fingerpicks her guitar, raising her eyebrows when she does. trailing your fingertips over her bare skin in skimpy outfits they'd put her in onstage, singing the lyrics into her ears.

or literally just flat out fucking saying it. like having those soundcheck Q&As where fans would ask you questions like "if you were to date one of the members, who would you date?"

answering each other's names at the same time, causing everyone to laugh in the audience, beomgyu gagging, and yeonjun and aeri holding back laughter. minjeong following up by saying something like "I mean, it's not like it hasn't happened before." LIKE WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

or when you and winter are in an interview and they ask what the inspiration was behind a particular song, let's say a more sexy song, and she responds first, "well, every song that we've written has influences from our own personal experiences."

the interviewer would be like, "so then is it true when you sing quote 'I might fuck your friend, I made my mind up'?"

you blush profusely and winter just dies laughing, "I'll let you guys decide that one."

"y/n, you wrote "we go for hours and it's still good" correct?" the interviewer continues.

"yes yes but the details don't really matter do they?" you nervously laugh while minjeong drills holes into the side of your head, staring at you with a playful and sinister smirk on the side.

my favorite headcanon to think about is online discourse regarding you and minjeong. your guys' new mv dropped for your latest single and there are a bunch of scenes with you and winter acting like an angsty couple in the rain, making up in the end by having an alluded to sex scene (lmao, wild if this actually would ever happen).

I just imagine twt going INSANEEE.

slut4winter: DID Y/N AND WINTER FUCK AT THE END OF THE VIDEO?!?!?

y/nonechancepls: i literally cannot defend minjeong and y/n anymore...

beomgyuswolfcut: bro, winter fr cucked her brother from y/n 😭😭

aerifuckinguchinaga: win-y/n's chemistry is a lil too real yall 💀

drumjunyeonjun: not them saying it was their fav scene to film, the closet is made out of AIR, IM SICK OF U F WORDS !!!

and of course, despite all of this, your dear bestie and minjeong's brother doesn't catch on. at times, beomgyu will be all what the fuck is going on when you two say something that has double entendre or has some sort of underlying meaning.

yeonjun usually just pats him on the back while laughing, "oh my friend, never change, never change."

aeri being such a nosy friend LOVES hearing you rant about it, chin propped up on her fist, leaning forward against the table, a cheeky grin on her face. with every spicy detail, she's always just like, "girllll, you're insane and wild, but good for you!"

a/n - like rq, through a guitarist pov, winter is so attractively good at guitar it pisses me off. also headcanon songs this band would make are like wdywfm by the neighbourhood, sex by the 1975, do I wanna know by arctic monkeys, and slow down by chase atlantic. incredibly self indulgent hc and WHAT ABOUT IT!!

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artficlly · 8 months ago

Text

king of pentacles [one-shot]

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x fortune teller!reader when your travelling circus rolls into town, you are warned that bucky barnes is the outlaw who rules these lands. you plan to keep your distance, but he and his men can not resist a little entertainment.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, blowjobs, begging, p in v, cowgirl position, bit of teasing, soft sub bucky??, if you squint theres some plot, fortune telling, tarot cards, violence, choking, blood, mention of death, mention of torture, mention of beatings, implied previous non-con to reader (not from bucky), protective bucky barnes, smoking, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i literally cannot even tell you where this idea came from. i had a vague thought about a travelling circus, tarot reading character. i wrote this out and edited it in like two days?? insane. i don't normally write smut so let me know your thots lol. if you enjoy western marvel aus, please check out some of my other works. i have a one-shot called 'me & the devil' and a mini-series called 'a dish served cold'! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

It was a windy autumn night when James Buchanan Barnes and his pack of vermin invaded Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow.

There were scarcely few in the area who had not heard of Barnes and his gang of outlaws. From the moment your caravans had pulled across state lines, you had been warned not to cross Bucky Barnes or his dogs. The law did not concern itself with this place, a place so far west that civilization had been left behind. The memories of cities, people, and culture were a mere whisper on the winds, a fleck of sand in an endless desert. This place was ruled by barbarians, and Bucky Barnes was their king.

You had heard stories of the fabled man. Some said he was the devil himself, that he sported horns and hooved feet. Others said his eyes were black as the night but reflected the light as if he were part beast. Those terrified people would recall his wrath and how his enemies were never afforded a simple, painless death. No, those who crossed the King suffered for their crimes.

So when that twisted, cruel man of legend stood before you... You were surprised to find he was none of what he was rumoured to be.

It had only been an hour since the nightly show had wrapped up, darkness falling quickly due to the colder months looming. The gang of outlaws had stormed your small campsite, locating your leader and employer, Duke Elkhorn, and demanding they be entertained! The candles had been lit, and the music was playing. The animals had been brought from their cages once more, and dancers and performers were laced back into costumes. Barnes had asked for entertainment, so you would provide it, lest you find yourself dead in a ditch.

Thankfully, you had not yet taken off your own outfit and makeup. A kohl to line your eyes; your lips painted red; hair loose with intermitten beading and braids. You wore large jewled earrings and layers of necklaces that partially covered the deep v of your neckline. Your dress was tightly fitted, your breasts were pushed upwards by the corset beneath, and your skirt was a deep green that swirled around your legs with each movement. Your small tent was filled with a haze of incense, lavish velvet, and silk used as draperies. Your tent was divided into two sections—your working space and your personal quarters. You had been checking your appearance in your cracked mirror when the ruffle of fabric alerted you to his presence.

He stood with an unquestionable air of confidence, a cigarette in hand. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, a cruel smirk playing across his lips. He was large and burly, with muscular forearms that bulged against the fabric of his sleeves, which had been pushed up to gather at his elbows. Blood stained his collar and sleeves, and a gold pocket watch was tucked into his vest. His dark hair was windblown, bits peeking out from under his black, cattleman hat.

As he flicked his cigarette, you realised his knuckles were bruised and split. A subtle splatter of blood across his cheek, smeared, as if somone had reached up and grasped his face in their dying moments.

“Our mutual friend, Mr. Elkhorn, told me that if I was lookin’ for a pretty thing to come find ya.” His voice was deep when he spoke, gravelly and rough. It sent a shudder down your spine. Damn Elkhorn. You always knew he was a coward, even though he thought himself a big man. You and the other performers were not strangers to his temper and desperation. You all tended not to challenge it, as he could be a cruel man as equally as he could be fearful.

“He weren’t lyin’ was he?” He lets out a low whistle, exhaling smoke. “How’s he kept you a secret for so long, huh? Guess mah boys don’t come pokin’ in the tents that often. Too busy pokin’ their bits into them dancer girls.”

You remain silent as he chuckles to himself. He eyes you greedily; his icy blue eyes are anything but discreet. You could feel how his gaze rested on the curves of your hips and breasts, watching how your skin moved with each breath. Desire was a strange thing—how easily you might shift from feeling confident and powerful to nothing at all.

You certainly felt like a squirming idiot under his gaze.

“I’m not a whore.” You speak up, though your voice is hushed, hesitant, or even uneasy. You knew men like Barnes would not take being denied well. If you thought Elkhorn’s brutality was something to fear, your knees would positively buckle before Barnes.

Barnes barks out a laugh, his brows raising in something between delight and surprise. He strides towards you, grinning as you flinch back. “Yer employer seems to think differently.”

Your eyes slide closed as he reaches forward, a finger sweeping a strand of hair from your face to better look at you. You swallow hard as he chuckles, smoke blowing across your face. Teeth grit, you slowly open your eyes, a shuddering exhale leaving your nose as he runs a finger across your cheek.

“He’s a spineless excuse of a man.” You dare to bite back, your voice wavering, but you stand tall. His amused expression has morphed into one of intrigue. His actions falter; hesitation is clear in his demeanour.

“He make ya do things ya don’t wanna do, darlin’?” The outlaw asks, his voice surprisingly genuine. He is still close to you, close enough that you can smell the tobacco on his breath and feel the vibration of each word in his chest.

“Sometimes.” You admit, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze. He curses under his breath, rubbing his jaw in annoyance. Barnes backs off a few paces, putting out his cigarette on one of your sidetables. From your side view of his chiselled face, you see a muscle in his jaw tense.

“Well, sweetheart. I ain’t in the business of bein’ with women who don’t want it.” He says with a roll of his shoulders. He has stalked over to your reading table, bruised knuckles white as he grips the back of your chair.

You are at a momentary loss for words. You had anticipated being repulsed by this man, the one who repeatedly terrorised these lands and enabled his dogs to do what they wanted and take what they pleased. There was something strangely endearing about his care for your consent.

“Well, I am glad to hear it.” You finally uttered. “Can’t say the same for some of your boys, though.”

A tense silence washes over the tent, and you almost immediately regret your words. Against your better judgement, you creep towards him. He doesn’t flinch away from your touch as your hands smooth over the top of his hands and wrists. Beneath you, he feels like stone, each tendon and muscle expertly chiselled like the statues you saw in the big cities back east.

“Yer right. Pack o’ wild mongrels they are. Good for puttin’ folk in their place. I think I’ll get ‘em to pay yer employer a little visit. Remind him whose land he’s on.”

Barnes goes to leave, pulling away from your touch. A wave of horror washes over you at his implication. You find yourself reaching for him again in an unexpected panic. Your hands latch around his bare forearm, tugging him back an inch.

“Wait.” You shake your head, gripping his forearm. The outlaw looks back at you in curiosity.

“I ain’t gonna hurt anyone else, sweetheart. Just him. ” He drawls, eyes darting to where you hold his arm. You drop it immediately, backing off. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“He will think your lesson is because I turned you down or because I wasn’t good enough for you.” You explain desperately. His eyes narrow, as if offended on your behalf. “Whatever you do to him, he will do to me twofold. As punishment. He is a cruel man, you understand?”

“Yer definitely not pleading his case well, darlin’.” There is impatience in his tone and ire that you could not even begin to comprehend. Your eyes flicker to his bruised knuckles, the splatters of blood. If Elkhorn found out, well, you would have to wear a veil for the rest of your life. Your face would be so mishapened and destroyed that you would bring fear into the hearts of anyone who laid eyes upon you. You would no longer be a fortune teller but a featured freak of Elkhorn’s sideshow. Men and women alike would pull faces, with children throwing food and rocks. The deformed woman— another beast in a cage.

You have seen this fate play out too many times. Too many were lost to Elkhorn’s wickedness.

“Please.” You beg. His brow arches and his adams apple bobs.

You swallow nervously, then hesitantly step forward. With gentle hands, you take his forearm once more, guiding him to your reading table. “Just… I will entertain you for a suitable time. I can read your cards. Then, you can tell Mr. Elkhorn that you laid with me; embellish it if you wish.”

Barnes seems too intrigued to protest.

He unbuttons his vest with a soft grunt, taking a seat at the table. His legs are spread wide in a domineering pose as he leans back into the seat with cool confidence. As you take a seat at the opposite end of the table, he reaches into his vest pocket.

“So, how does this work?” He asks. You can tell he is irritated from the way his brow twitches and jaw muscles are still tense. He is playing along for your benefit, you realise. He is looking to you for amusement to stop himself from marching out of the tent and dealing with Elkhorn as promised.

“I will shuffle the cards, then draw three. Each card has meaning, and all together, it will tell you the message you need to hear.” You explain. Barnes had pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You decline with a wave of your hands, instead taking the cards into your palm. He shrugs, lighting it with a half-interested sigh.

As he inhaled and you shuffled, you noticed his interest lay closer to your exposed skin. Even if he had backed off per your request, it did not seem to stop him from undressing you with his eyes from the opposite side of the table. He seemed emnamoured by the layers of necklaces and how they clinked and rolled across your skin.

As you shuffled, the first card fell out. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he watched you work. You slid the escapee card onto the table, facedown on the red tablecloth.

“Anything in particular that you want to hear, hm?” You ask. As you lift your gaze, you find Barnes enraptured by your movements, so much so that he has forgotten to take another drag. “Most people want to know about their careers… their families. Love.”

“I don’t believe in love.” He says, sucking in a breath. You tilt your head. He didn’t believe in love, no. He believed in lust. Desire. From the way his pupils were blown and his lips parted in awe, he was positively eating out of your hand. A second card falls. You slide it next to the first.

“Business it is, then.” You breathe. The final card falls from the deck just as the words leave your lips. You put it in place, then place the stack of the remaining deck to the side. Barnes is transfixed as you lean your arms parallel to the table and tilt forward. “Flip one.”

“Does it matter which order?”

“No.”

With unwavering confidence, he reaches forward, flipping over the first in the row. Your gaze falls downward to view the card, a frown pulling at your lips. You examine the familiar figures on the card. Two figures stood on either side, naked and chained. Behind them, in the darkness, loomed a beast with claws, horns, and wings. The Devil.

How fitting.

Barnes seems to find it ironic as well, as he scoffs in disbelief. “Ya playin’ a trick on me?”

You look up at him. The tension in the small tent is as thick as the smoke that hangs in the air. “No. The cards tell the truth, if you want to hear it or not.”

You reach out, stroking a finger over the card.

“The figures, they are chained. They don’t want to be there, but if you look closely… their chains are loose. They could escape at any moment.” If Barnes had a snarky comment, he does not say. He hung on to your every word. “And the longer they remain, the longer they become more like the devil. He represents the darkness within them, their shadow selves. It is the evil within you—the short-term pleasures—to ignore the long-term pains. Instant gratification. Greed, violence. You think you have free will, but you have sold your soul to the devil.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t already know darlin,” The outlaw says with a chuckle. You notice that his shoulders have relaxed, a cool amusement embodying him.

You hold his gaze. “Next card.”

His fingers brush yours as he flips over the centre card. The King of Pentacles.

“The Devil and now the King? You’re spoilin’ me, sweetheart.” He chuckles.

You eyed the card. The king sat upon his lavish throne, surrounded by wealth. You tap your nail across the yellow pentacle symbol, humming in thought. “King of Pentacles. It represents wealth and abundance. He has influence and is a skilled leader.”

Your head tilts. “It’s a warning.”

“A warnin’? Sounds like a good card to me.”

“The king has all that he wants. An abundance of wealth. Everything he touches turns to gold, like King Midas.”

“King Midas?”

“It’s an old tale. One of caution. About a king who was blessed with the power to turn anything he touched into gold. His kingdom flourished with wealth, but he soon found himself to be unhappy. He could not eat, as any food that touched his lips turned to gold. He could not know the comforts of the flesh, for the women would also turn to gold. Everything he once cherished…gone. Then, one day he lost the one thing he loved most, his daughter. She kissed her father upon his forehead and instantly became a statue of gold.”

“I would be a far richer man if I were this…King Midas.”

“But don’t you see? You are him. You are a king who is flush with wealth; your influence is strong. Your people flourish. Everything you do and everything you touch becomes profit. But at what cost? How much more will you lose? How much more will you give up for greed?” You finger turns to point at the Devil card. His lips are set in a straight line as he scowls at you.

“You best be careful now.” He warns. You shudder, leaning back in your seat, motioning for him to flip the final card.

You stare down at the table, your breath held in horror. The figure in the card sits up in bed, hands to their face in anguish. Decorating the wall behind them are a row of swords, two of which could be seen to be piercing through the figure. Stabbed through the back. The frame of the bed is carved, illustrating two figures fighting. Nine of Swords.

Your mouth feels dry as Barnes peers at you expectantly. “Well?”

You can’t find the words; your brows are scrunching as you try to find the best way to articulate the meaning without triggering the brooding outlaw’s wrath. Your finger taps on the table, and you clear your throat, squirming in your seat.

“Nine of Swords.” You utter quietly. “The figure… they are troubled by their own thoughts. Their worries, speculations… so much so that they manifest it into reality.”

Your fingers trace over the fighting figures. “You worry of a rising conflict.”

You ghost over the swords next. A backstabbing.

It was all very clear to you how it all intertwined. Barnes was a man possessed by evil and greed. He had sacrificed much to accumulate his wealth; like King Midas, he had all the gold he could need, but at what cost? His followers, his people—they were afraid. Weary of their cruel leader. A coup was in the works. Jealousy brewed within his men; all they knew was evil, so all they could give was violence in return.

“A betrayal.” You breathe. Your eyes snap up to meet his. His pupils were no longer blown, instead replaced with an icy rage.

“How do ya know this?” His voice had dropped, low and threatening. His cigarette was discarded, flecks of burning ash glowing across the floor. His shoulders were tensed, straining against the fabric as he began to loom over you, slowly standing from his seat.

You shrunk back. ��I don’t, I just read the cards—”

You let out a shriek as Barnes gripped the table, flipping it in one solid motion. The cards fluttered to the ground around you, the glossy paper flickering in the low candle light. You recoiled in your seat, limbs trembling as Barnes stood over you.

“Did Rumlow put you up to this, huh? I know what him and his little pack of vermin have been whisperin’.” He spat on the ground beside you, and you flinched back. Barnes reached down, gripping your throat as he forced you to look up at him.

“I don’t know anythin’. I swear—” You begged, tears prickling at your eyes.

Barnes scanned your face, then released you with a huff. You scrambled away, retreating to the furthest corner of the tent. Barnes waved his hand at you with a sigh, re-buttoning his vest and straightening his shirt.

“I’ll give ya the benefit of the doubt, darlin’. But if I find out you’ve been lyin’...I’ll kill ya myself. Ya understand?”

You nodded wordlessly, whimpering as the outlaw marched out of your tent without a glance back.

—

“Where is she?” The enraged roar of Bucky Barnes sent a nauseating wave of panic through your body.

A couple weeks had past, and Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow were wrapping up their stay. Duke Elkhorn wanted to push further west, bring entertainment to the drivers and rustlers of the far reaches of the country. Within two days, you were set to leave this awful place and flee the clutches of Barnes and his boys.

Well, it seemed that had been hopeful thinking.

You were in your tent, in your personal quarters. You had pulled shut the draperies to allow yourself privacy. The strong men, slick with oil and always sporting toothy grins, were always eager to deliver you water to bathe in. It had become a sort of ritualistic routine of yours to undress and wash the makeup from your face. After hours of sitting in a stuffy tent stinking of incense, it was a relief to wash the smell from your body.

You wore a silk robe, loosely tied at the waist. It had been a gift from a patron back east—some rich city boy who had a fascination with you. When Barnes crashed through your draperies into the back of your tent, chest heaving with a livid look in his eye… you froze. You were perched on a stool before your cracked mirror, pulling a brush through your long locks of hair.

You stumbled to your feet, stool knocked to the ground.

Barnes was covered in blood, his shirt so drenched that it clung to his skin. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his teeth were bared in a growl. The blood was still fresh on his arms and neck, the liquid glinting in the candlelight. He had not bothered to wear his hat; instead, his hair was messy, with a splattering of blood across his cheek.

“I told ya I would kill ya myself.” The outlaw snarled.

You backed away, back meeting the tent wall. “I didn’t do anythin—”

You were cut off as Barnes marched forward, large hands wrapping around your throat. He squeezed tightly, a breathless whimper escaping your mouth.

“How did ya know?” He demanded, his face twisted into a look of rage.

You claw at the front of his shirt, sticky blood coating your palms as you struggle.

“Ya knew about Rumlow. Ya warned me of a betrayal.”

He releases the pressure on your throat, and you meekly gasp in air, nails digging into his shoulder as you try to keep your knees steady.

“I didn’t know, I just said what the cards showed—” You rasp. Barnes doesn’t seem pleased by your answer, jaw muscle ticing.

“I don’t believe in yer magical horseshit. I know it’s all tricks and acts. How did ya know?”

“The cards aren’t magical. Each card has a meaning that can be understood in different ways, it’s my job to apply them to whoever walks into my tent. The cards just reveal thoughts you have not quite spoken aloud—ideas at the back of your mind. They ask you to confront your inner self. You knew Rumlow was a traitor before the cards, you had a suspicion, but you did not act on it until prompted by the cards.” You wheezed out. The outlaw slowly releases your throat, his face controrting into something closer to frustration than rage. Your palms brace flat on his chest as you steady yourself against him.

“Deep down, you already knew he was a traitor.” You reiterate.

“You’re a fuckin’ witch.” He breathes, then runs a hand through his messy hair. Blood streaks across his forehead, clumping his strands of hair. His head tilts as he looks down at you. His face has relaxed, as if a silent clarity had overcome him. “Even if ya deny it… ya did warn me.”

You clear your throat, hand raising to your neck as you brush your fingers over the tender flesh where he had gripped you. “You warned yourself.”

He stares down at you, then frowns guiltily. “Apologies, darlin’. I shouldn’t have done that to ya.”

You believe him.

You hold your breath as his fingers briefly skim over your neck. His gaze falls deeper, his eyes following the curve of your breast that was half-exposed by your robe. The fabric was bunched into a deep v, leaving the swell of your breasts, sternum, and skin down to your belly button exposed. The outlaw sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, then stalks away with a frustrated growl.

“Barnes—” you call to him softly.

“Bucky.” He corrects.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirror. The silk robe hangs perfectly from your curves, blood smeared across your chest and neck. You suck in your own deep breath, sweeping your hair over your shoulders as you hesitantly approach the outlaw. He paced like the beasts Elkhorn kept caged up, endlessly forced to perform for cruel crowds. You knew what he needed. A delicate touch, a sweetness to lean on.

“Speak to me.” You whisper to him, gentle hands guiding him to the edge of your bed. The canopy was draped with deep purple fabrics, furs, and blankets over the straw mattress. He silently obliges.

“One of my boys, one I thought I could trust. He betrayed me. Thought he could make a little gang of his own and overthrow me from the inside.” The outlaw explains. His voice is stiff, and his posture is tense. You smooth a palm over his forearm, and your thigh presses against his as you sit closely together.

There is a distant look in his eye as he stares past you at the wall of the tent. It shifts with the cool breeze outside, rising and falling like the night itself breathes. “I dealt with it.”

You cock your head to the side, hand running up his arm as you examine his face with a frown. “Dealt with it?”

His eyes snap to yours, and your hand wavers in hesitation. There is a darkness in his eyes. His expression made goosebumps rise across your skin. You could only explain it as something primal, something caught between violence and arousal.

“I made them pay.” He explains, his body twisting as he faces you fully. A bloodied hand raises, his thumb rubbing across your cheek as he cradles your face. “After two days, they begged me to end it. To end their lives.”

“And did you?” You dare to whisper back. His thumb traces inward, across your lower lip.

“No.” He says simply. “I cut out their tongues so they could no longer beg. I made them pay.”

Your eyes must have been wide in shock because he chuckled, his hand sweeping through your hair. Then, with an uncharacteristic softness to his tone, he utters a question. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart thunders in your ears, a short gasp leaving you as your lips part. In all your travels, you have heard stories of women who could make men fall in love with them with just their eyes. Women who used their bodies and seduced their way to the top. Even violent men like Bucky had one weakness—a woman who showed them kindness. A woman who could momentarily take control. The men would let their minds drift away; the burdens were lifted, if only for a night.

Heat pools between your legs. You nod, a hand reaching to stroke across his jaw. The two of you meet in mutual desperation and touch once gentle, now needy. His tongue brushes against your lips, effortlessly parting them as he licks into your mouth. A moan escapes your throat at the taste of his tongue.

Your hands find the front of his shirt, blindly unbuttoning as he grips your hair in one hand. The outlaw groans as his hand slides across your shoulders, pushing away the robe. Your top half is exposed, nipples have hardened, and silk has pooled at your waist.

As your tongues tangle, Bucky tilts his head to gain better access to your mouth. Your gasps meet his as he moans heavily into your mouth. His hands trace along your body, one squeezing your waist and hips, the other coming to grasp your breast.

With a tug, you pull his shirt free. The two of you part, your head lulling back as he paints sloopy, feverish kisses down your neck. A groan rises in your throat as you lean into him, one hand gripping his dark hair and the other beginning to palm him through his pants.

His kisses move further down, head dipping as he licks a stripe across your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking as you gasp and lean into him. The space between your legs is throbbing; a wet neediness rising.

You clutch his thigh, squirming with desire. The stubble along his jaw prickles your flesh, and a shudder runs down your spine. Your hands find his, easing his grip on your hips as you slide off the bed. Lowering yourself to the floor on your knees, you sit between his legs. Bucky lets out a groan as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown, and his lips are swollen and glossy. Your hands trace up his thighs, and your quick fingers relieve him of his belt.

“Let me.” You hum to him. You tilt your head, your cheek brushing against his knee. His adams apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I can make you feel good.”

You can see his bulge under the fabric. He eagerly helps you pull his pants down, his cock springing free already fully hard. You press a kiss to the tip. His cock twitches in response and a low moan vibrates in his chest. You look up at him through your lashes, biting your lip. He leans back, looking at the tent roof, as his chest rises and falls with a loud, satisfied sigh.

There was a power that resonated in your chest, seeing the outlaw so vulnerable under your touch. He did not protest your lead, instead eagerly following your command. You take him into your mouth slowly, one hand running up his thigh as the other wraps around his length.

You bob your head, feeling him tense with pleasure beneath you. As you come up, you whisper to him quietly. “Relax.”

As your tongue swirls over his tip, then down his broad length, you feel his hips rock beneath you. His hand comes to fist your hair, subtly guiding you as you take him fully into your mouth once more. You follow his needs, taking notice of each pleasured twitch or motion in response to your touch. His fingers tangle in your long locks of hair, tugging as you pull unimaginable, explicit sounds from the outlaw.

“Fuck—” He groans above you, his breath coming in short pants. You hum in response, relishing the sensation of him falling to pieces beneath you. The spot between your legs was slick, and wetness was beginning to drip down your inner thigh. There was a selfish urge within you that desired to reach down between your legs to gift yourself some friction.

You swallowed him down deeper, flattening your tongue against his ridgid length. His hips started to jerk, stronger than the previous gentle rocking. You could feel him growing undone, his breath coming shorter, and his nails desperately digging into your scalp as he desperately tried to guide your head deeper and deeper.

You obliged, but only as you felt his cock twitch once more did you pull away fully. Not yet. You weren’t finished with him yet. The outlaw let out a pained grumble. His hands caressed your shoulders as you rose to your feet.

“Darlin’—” Bucky protests, but you shush him.

“How much do you want me, hm?” You ask him. He has propped himself up onto his elbows to look up at you. His cock was still erect, glistening in the candlelight from your saliva.

“I want you.” He affirms.

“How desperately? Would you get on your knees for me? Beg for me?” You say it breathlessly. You take one of his hands in yours, pressing a kiss to the palm.

His breath stutters. “Yes.”

“Go on then.” As the words leave your mouth, your eyes flicker upwards. You look at him through your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart—” He whines. You cock your head to the side, peppering more kisses along each fingertip.

“Louder.”

“Please.” He begs. You smirk down at him wickedly, shifting closer. Your palm meets his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed as his elbows buckle beneath him.

“Lie back.” You instruct, helping guide his legs so he lies flat along the bed. In one fluid motion, you straddle his waist, his silk robe still pooling around your hips. You lean over him, taking one of the waist straps of your robe. With slow breaths, you move the soft fabric across his bloodied chest, tracing each vein and muscle before finally grazing it across his nipples. He shudders beneath you, his grip bruising where he grasps your hips.

“Say it again.” You breathe. You are embarrassingly wet as you sit perched upon him.

“Please. I need you.” He obeys, and another wave of arousal washes over you. Only now did you give in to your selfish desires, dead rolling back as you ground your hips slowly. Your lips parted, a small mewling moan leaving you as you clenched around nothing. You flatten a hand over his chest, allowing him to help guide you as you raise onto your knees.

With one gentle movement, you lower yourself onto him. Your wet heat engulfs him, and the two of you groan in unison. You feel yourself stretch around him, and you moan as you allow your body to take him in completely. His hands tighten their hold on your waist.

Bucky looks at you with a slightly slack-jawed expression. “Fuck, sweetheart. I think I’m gonna make ya my wife.”

You manage a smile through your own arousal, your hand gliding up and down his chest as you move your hips in a grinding motion. You gasp out a low, “Oh yeah?”

His head tips back with a moan as you clench around him. You experiment momentarily, brows drawn and biting your lip, until you find a grinding rhythm that ignites a fire within you. Bucky meets you halfway, helping guide you with his hands still gripping your hips. Your head lulls forward, small panting gasps leaving you as your eyes squeeze shut.

“I’ll make you beg for that too…Fuck—” You whine, and Bucky chuckles beneath you. He continues to help direct your hips, and your thighs begin to shake as you lower and raise yourself.

A strangled cry leaves you as Bucky’s hand lowers, his thumb circling your clit. Pleasure spikes up your spine, your knees wobbling as you nearly double over at the sensation. His fingers swirl with purpose, pulling all manner of illicit words and sounds from your throat.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky hummed.

Just as you feel like sobbing from the pleasure, you cock your head to the side. With a deep breath, you tug Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him upright to meet you. The two of you clash, breath hot. His arms wrap around you, pinning you to his chest as he kisses you with a primal hunger. You moan into his mouth, your tongue sloppily moving against his as he begins to thrust vigorously.

You could feel your climax building steadily within you, the peak of a tumbling wave that had not yet crested. Bucky was a panting, sweaty mess beneath you. He greedily kissed and sucked along your neck, head dipping as he ran his tongue along your collarbone.

Your own head fell, teeth grazing across his neck. He tastes like salt and copper. You nuzzled your nose against his jaw, taking his earlobe between your teeth. Deep within you, you felt his cock twitch.

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your fingers tugging at his hair. That pulled a groan from him, the noise vibrating across your skin. With a devious smile pressed against his cheek, you lean in close to his ear. Breath hot, you whisper into his ear.

“Come for me.”

As if he had been waiting for those exact words, he explodes within you. The sensation tips you over the edge, a thundering in your ears defeans you as your eyes roll back into your head. You clench around Bucky tightly, your body milking every last drop of him as he lazily ruts the last of his energy into you.

The two of you pant, catching a breath as you both come to a halt. The outlaw nuzzles your neck with a content sigh, then laughs against your sweaty skin.

“I wasn’t jokin’ earlier.” He finally speaks up, his voice somewhat more dignified now that he wasn’t a moaning mess beneath you.

“Hm?” You respond sleepily, too fucked-out to be bothered opening your eyes.

“I’m gonna steal ya away from here. Make ya my goddamn wife.”

Against your better judgement, you believed him.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel #western au

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hard-core-super-star · 1 year ago

Note

kate who gets horny when she sees reader wearing her hoddie 🙏🙏

-💜

what your hands were made for [K.Bishop]

pairing: bottom!kate bishop x top!reader

summary: kate ruins a cute moment by getting a little too excited about you wearing her hoodie.

warnings: SMUT -> minors, this isn't for you [grinding/humping; pet play is more than a little implied...my hand slipped :); kate gets needy and cums very fast; teasing; kate's praise kink goes brrr; subby puppy gf kate]

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: i've missed writing for kate so much that i blacked out and wrote most of this in one sitting. i literally can't tell you who the dominant one is supposed to be here and i feel like that's exactly the way kate would like it lmao. anywho, i'm still thinking about the marvels so have this while i recover. i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It’s a cold early morning in New York when your eyes open to the sight of your adorable, sleeping, girlfriend. A small smile pulls at your lips as you take her in, everything from her disheveled hair to the subtle crinkle between her eyebrows sends your heart soaring.

You can’t resist the urge to reach out and tuck a piece of her wild hair behind her ear. She stirs but only to wrap her arms tighter around your waist, an incoherent murmur of a complaint tumbling out of her parted lips.

Kate Bishop is many things…except a morning person, something you’ve had to learn the hard way. It’s honestly a miracle she’s managed to make it to most of her early morning missions on time considering how many attempts it takes to get her to even consider getting up in the morning.

It’s hard to find her bad habit annoying when she looks so damn cute, though.

Unfortunately for her, you’re awake, you’re hungry and Clint’s supposed to drop off her beloved golden retriever in a few hours.

You don’t necessarily understand the arrangement the two archers have but you know it can’t do Lucky any harm to be taken to the Barton’s home every once in a while. Especially during weeks when Kate is swamped with superhero work and can’t find the energy to be dragged around Central Park for a few hours.

So, you disentangle yourself from the brunette’s strong embrace and get up.

You hear her grumble again while your hands reach for the warmest thing in sight: one of Kate’s purple hoodies chaotically thrown onto her bedside table. Any other day you’d be fighting the urge to scold her for never putting her clothes in her ridiculously large closet but today, the hoodie saves you from the cold air that nips at your skin.

The tell-tale sound of sheets rustling around fills the room for a few seconds before Kate speaks up.

“Where are you going?” She groans, her voice carrying traces of that sleep-filled raspiness you've come to love.

“To get ready. Clint’s coming to drop off Lucky.”

“Yeah, but that's not until later and your girlfriend wants cuddles right now.”

You turn around to face her, ready to tease her for being such a grump in the morning, only to find the archer watching you with wide eyes.

“Um…you okay, babe?”

Your voice brings her out of her thoughts and you catch sight of the pink hue that threatens to overtake her beautiful face. “Yeah…yeah, just…that hoodie looks really good on you.”

“Thank you, I stole it from my grumpy girlfriend.”

You're technically making fun of her but all she can focus on is the way her hoodie looks on you. On the subtle smirk that pulls at your lips and the small token of possession it represents.

She's not a jealous person or an overly controlling partner but the thought of you wearing her things, of showing you're her partner and no one else’s…stirs something inside her that she's never felt before.

You can see it.

The way her face slowly changes from a sleepy and dazed look to hungry eyes that seem to try to devour you with a single glance. It would be startling if you didn’t know her so well.

“Come here,” she says as she extends her arms out to you.

“You’re not even going to sit up?” You can’t resist the urge to tease her even while you do exactly what she asks of you.

She merely shakes her head in response, stable hands grabbing your waist and pulling you down on top of her. You don’t even get the chance to come up with another teasing remark before she’s leaning up and stealing your thoughts away with a kiss.

You sink into her, an almost inaudible sigh slipping out of your mouth and into Kate’s as the two of you mold together. Her hands mess with the fabric of the hoodie adorning your figure but she makes no move to remove the barrier just yet.

You assume she’s just waiting for your permission to take it off until she starts caressing you over the fabric. There’s no time to question what exactly she’s doing though since her lips detach from yours only so she can nip at your jawline. “God…you look so good in my clothes, baby.”

“Yeah? Is that why you’re trying to hump the air right now?”

The groan you hear in response is exactly what you’re expecting.

What you don’t expect however is for her hips to literally buck against the air. Your words were supposed to be a joke but of course, your girlfriend would be into it. There’s a reason you call her your golden retriever girlfriend and it’s not just because of how loyal she is.

Her hands go from soft and exploratory to demanding in an instant and you let out a groan of your own as she maneuvers your body until she’s able to trap your knee between her legs.

She’s been awake for less than ten minutes and she already has you right where she wants you.

“Kate-” She smothers the rest of your sentence with her lips and yet you can’t find it in yourself to be mad about the interruption.

You’re too busy kissing her back to attempt to tease her once she starts moving against you, impatient hips rocking every which way to find some relief. It’s hot and adorable in ways that make your heart clench and your clit throb with need.

“Fuck,” she mumbles against your lips.

You take the opportunity to glide your hands underneath her shirt and remove it from her in one move. She shudders, both from the cold air and the pleasure overtaking her body, and it’s a sight you don't ever want to forget.

Kate’s desperation is palpable but you enjoy watching the way she writhes under you too much to touch her the way she needs. You merely let her grind against you while your hands explore her chest, basking in the beautiful, needy, sounds you draw out of her.

You're in the middle of teasing her hardened nipples when she breaks.

“y/n…babe…please…” There’s no sweeter sound than the sound of your girlfriend giving in to the pleasure only you can make her feel.

“Already?” You ask through a chuckle, watching as your words make her eyes clench shut. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Shut up,” she grumbles before another moan tumbles out of her.

She grips the front of your hoodie with an iron grip, pulling you down against her so she can kiss you again. You let her do what she wants while enjoying every beautiful second of her borderline frantic movements.

It’s unreal how fast she crumbles under you, how quick she is to lose the confident act and let herself drop into a state where all she wants, all she needs, is you. Even the air she breathes is incomparable to how alive you make her feel during moments like these.

Your lips leave hers right as you push your knee against her center. You’re sure she’s seconds away from soaking through her sweatpants considering how hard she’s humping you.

“y/n-” She gasps, her back arched and her muscles strained while she rocks against you. “Please, I can’t…”

You admire her for a few seconds before giving her the permission she not so secretly craves. “I know, you’re just a needy pup, aren’t you? You can’t help yourself, can you, Katie?”

Her eyes fly open at that and the dazed look in her eyes is more than enough of a reward for you. She nods furiously in response, clearly only a few mess thrusts away from falling apart. “Yes, yes, I am, please, baby.”

“Good girl,” you say with that proud grin that makes her melt every time. “Go on, cum for me, puppy.”

The reaction your words coax out of her is instantaneous and it’s more than enough to leave your own underwear soaked through. Your arousal is the last thing on your mind though when you have a whiny, shaky Kate Bishop wildly grinding against you while she succumbs to her orgasm and the searing pleasure it leaves behind.

You watch her for a few seconds, doing everything in your power to commit the sight to memory, before leaning down and pressing a few feather-light kisses to her sweaty skin. “So pretty for me, you did so good, puppy.”

The only sound that comes out of her is her heavy breathing and the quiet whine she can’t keep in every time she hears you call her puppy again. It takes her a few seconds to come back down to Earth and you wait patiently for her, pressing soft kisses all over her face and mumbling all the words that soothe the gentle storm inside of her.

Her hands finally release your hoodie and she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer and groaning when you move so you’re not pressing up against her cunt anymore.

“You okay?” You whisper against her.

“Mhmm. More than okay, actually.”

Kate doesn’t give you a chance to respond. She doesn't give you a chance to do anything but let out a gasp as she rolls the two of you over and triumphantly lands on top of you.

She wastes no time in burying her flushed face into your neck and nuzzling the warm skin she finds.

“We’re gonna have to get up eventually, puppy,” you remind her even though you’re already running your fingers through her messy hair and basking in the intimacy of the moment.

“That sounds like a problem for later.”

She’s technically not wrong and it’s obvious she’s mere seconds from falling asleep again so you bite your tongue and let her have her win. As far as mornings go, this might be your favorite way of spending them, tangled up completely with the archer that owns your heart.

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brostateexam · 22 days ago

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Every time I try to write a retrospective for 2024 i just feel tired

Bad things

On our way to Mexico for vacation, Shane had a seizure on the plane. That was very stressful, scary, and expensive. It ruined the vacation for both of us, I think, though of course we still had fun together because it's never not fun to hang out with your loved ones.

Shane spent the subsequent four-five months injured or sick: seizure threw his back out, then he got covid, then he got walking pneumonia. This was while he was finishing his degree and still working. This meant that for much of the year I was soloing housework (except dishes and laundry), errands, chores, and repairs in addition to working about 50 hours per week.

In July, visited with my family (which was not bad) but realized that on family vacations i can't live in an Airbnb with family and then also do nothing but hang out or with family or I go insane

Started to feel fatigued in July. This worsened month over month until it was a struggle to get out of bed. Subsequently spent most of September and October on the couch. Then had to have emergency surgery in November to remove my gallbladder cause it was putting a wild amount of stress on my liver.

Stressed about money the entire year. Still not sure if I have money to improve this house vs just trying my best to maintain it. Still not sure how you're supposed to figure that out.

Horrible luck with technology this year: my phone broke in July (literally cracked apart and was unusable and unfixable), then my replacement phone was a lemon so I had to get it a new motherboard in September (which was a multi week ordeal). My work laptop also broke in September and I had to get it replaced at around the same time.

Gained more weight than I'm comfortable with and need to go back to counting calories and getting super compliant with a bariatric diet for a few months at minimum as a reset. Worried I'll be one of those people who ends up back where they were and needs to get a revision.

Good things

I solidified and deepened a lot of friendships this year! That felt really good and I look forward to continuing with that in the years to come

Started doing yoga regularly and the sense of joy and ease that came with it was amazing. I am not quite ready to resume doing yoga (still not good at bending post surgery) but I can't wait to return to weekly yoga classes and supplementing a few times per week as a 20-30 minute break from work

Got promoted at work, from the equivalent of {title} to {Sr title}. So no new responsibilities, just more money. Hopeful for another promotion in the next few years. I'd love to manage a team again.

Fell back in love with ttrpgs, specifically D&D. As of this writing, I'm playing in one game and GMing in 3 and I'm loving it.

The cats have all bonded and they like each other, so I no longer feel like I live with three feral reality tv stars who are plotting to murder one another.

I (co)-wrote about 2/3 of a novel this year (codename Snakes). Fatigue kind of kicked it in the chest but it's actually really good. I'm hoping to finish it and get through much of a new third novel in 2025 (codename Persia).

#and that's my 2024 in review

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heybank · 9 months ago

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umm so i wrote a little fic/blurb idk i don't think it's good but it's something that's been stuck in my head for a while with my own little oc named grace but her name is only mentioned a few times so it could totally be ignored and seen as reader.

anyway this is my first ever fic so please be kind to me and if you have suggestions or other fic ideas i'd love to hear them.

not proof read and lowercase intended.

and if you think it's awful please lie to me i'm fragile 😔

deny

you are a lover girl. a hopeless romantic, someone who dreams of finding "the one" and living happily ever after. kie often says you tend to fall in love a little with everyone you meet. you can't help it though, you have so much love in you, it feels like you'll burst at the seams if you don't share it with others.

you think you're in love with your best friend jj maybank. no one understands you the way the wild blond haired boy does. no one can communicate with you with just a single look the way jj does. no one makes your heart beat out of your chest and your tummy flutter the way his dimpled smile does, eyes crinkling at the corners, a slight sunburn on his nose because lord know that boy doesn't use the sunscreen you bought him.

so yeah you're in love with jj maybank but then yesterday a different boy kissed you. pope heyward, your other best friend, genius extraordinaire whom you thought was maybe in love with kie but no- he kissed you and you felt a tingle in your ever beating heart. heat filled your cheeks and your ears became fuzzy. that was a new feeling when it came to pope. it made you excited to explore because as much as you love jj, you don't think the boy would ever return your undying affection because your friendship meant too much.

----

you stood in the threshold of popes bedroom, gasp stuck in your throat, eyes wide and mouth open at the sight before you. you’re not sure how to process what you’re seeing.

before you on the bed that pope kissed you on not even 24 hours ago, is jj maybank, your closest friend, kissing the heyward boy.

so many emotions flow through you at the sight before you.

shock because not once has jj; or pope for that matter mentioned or even hinted that they liked men- or each other. then again, jj has always liked beautiful people and pope is certainly that.

sadness because you and pope had literally just kissed. maybe you were naive to think a simple kiss meant something more to the boy, but it was pope, you don't think there's a mean bone in his body. then again you’ve always been too much of a romantic, too blinded to really see what’s in front of you. blinded by your want and need to be loved that perhaps you create situations in your mind that you interpret as reality? maybe you need to contact your therapist again. you're sounding even more delusional than before.

lastly, you feel jealousy. the angry green monster rumbling around in your tummy, making its way up your throat. you’re not sure what exactly is making you jealous because the image of the two boys kissing is surely confusing. are you jealous because pope is kissing another person who isn’t you? a part of you is jealous because he’s kissing jj. or maybe it’s that jj is kissing pope or that maybe they’re kissing eachother and they're not kissing you? you're not sure at this point. dear diary jealousy is a disease babes, and you are infected.

you must have made a noise because next thing you know, the two boys are pulling apart, a string of spit still connecting them and for a second your love rattled brain is jealous of it. the spit that is, because deep down you’ve always known that you wanted them both… to be the one to connect them. you feel slightly crazy being jealous of spit.

jjs face goes beat red and then flushes pale, like a ghost. he looks terrified and like he might vomit all over the floor in a second.

“grace!” popes panicked voice reaches your ears but they’re still kind of ringing from the shock of seeing your supposedly straight best friends kiss.

in your heartbroken haze you wonder if you're being a bad ally right now. you love the gays you swear! you just never pictured pope and jj as being a part of the gays ™.

you clear your throat, “jb and kie are waiting for us downstairs. we were going out on the boat today, remember?”

you try and say that as gently as possible because jj still looks like he’s going to pass out and pope isn’t much better.

popes hands are shaking as he reaches for you and a part of you wants to pull away but you’re not mean. you’ve never been mean so even if your feelings are hurt you’ll always put your best friends feelings above your own. and it looks like pope needs to touch you. maybe to hold your hand and reassure him you’re really standing there, witnessing something that you probably shouldn’t have.

so many emotions flicker through popes eyes. you can’t really see his blush but you’re sure if you touch his face it would be hotter than the sun.

pope grabs your hands in his shaking ones. you can feel how clammy they are and you hazard a look back to jj who has yet to even move. you’re a little concerned he’s gone into shock.

you let out a soft sigh and smile at the boys, a smile that is mostly genuine.

you squeeze popes hand and make eye contact with the panicked blonde boy on the bed.

“it’s ok jj. i won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.” you speak kindly, as if you’re talking to a scared feral cat.

you only see jj swallow hard. “for what it’s worth, i understand the appeal... wanting to kiss pope and all.” you tease hoping to cut the obvious tension in the room. you feel like you're the one choking now.

jj and pope both let out huffs like they’re afraid to laugh but also relieved you’re not upset.

“you’re not mad?” jj croaks like he still has a frog lodged in his throat. he looks at you with soft wonder, like you’re the best thing in his life. his stare makes your tummy flutter.

“of course not. you guys are my best friends. i only ever want you to be happy!” you reply honestly. jj deserves happiness after the shit life he’s been dealt. he deserves good things and if you have to set aside your feelings in order for him to have good things then by golly you’ll do that.

“grace, about yesterday-“ pope starts off,

“don’t worry buddy, already forgotten.” you cut him off. hopefully saving him the strife of having to apologize to you about the kiss and saving you the embarrassment of him telling you he regrets your kiss. you don't think you could survive hearing that out loud.

you march over to jj still holding popes hand, effectively dragging the boy with you. you throw your arms tightly around jjs neck and after a heartbeat, jj returns your hug. you move your head to look at pope and nod at him, encouraging him to join the hug.

“now c’mon. you know how pissy jb gets when he’s made to wait” you giggle.

you lead the boys out of popes room and home and into the twinkie without giving them an option of saying no.

“finally! i thought y’all died or something. what took so long” john b huffs in exasperation.

“my fault jb!” you quickly chirp so the boys don’t have to panic and think of a lie “pope showed me the new book he got and it’s my favourite and i starting gushing and you know me i can’t shut up and… well i forgot why i went up to get them in the first place” you giggle with a sheepish smile.

“you’re so lucky you’re cute, grace” kie laughs teasingly.

you see pope and jj making eye contact. you have a feeling you might need to play therapist for them soon. pope doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings without beating around the bush and well, jjs favourite thing to do is deny deny deny.

actually, that’s exactly what you’re gonna do too! deny you have feelings for pope. deny you have feelings for jj. deny you ever saw them kiss and deny that them kissing only upset you because you weren’t a part of it. deny that a part of you enjoyed it. deny that your feelings matter in this situation and deny that if given the chance, you’d love to be in between a beautiful jj maybank and pope heyward sandwich.

yep, deny deny deny. this is gonna be a long freaking summer.

#jj maybank #kiara carrera #obx #outer banks #pope heyward #jj maybank x reader #pope x reader x jj #jj maybank x oc #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward x oc #john b routledge #my fic #obx fanfiction #obx fic

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shitswiftiessay · 10 months ago

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Swifties are PAINFULLY fucking stupid.

I shouldn’t be getting THIS heated over a Disney comparison but the Kristoff slander is absolutely fucking wild. Kristoff (at least in the first movie) is both poor and an introvert. Those are two things that swifties HATE Joe for. He also had to work since he was a child, which is something swifties make fun of Joe for- calling him yogurt boy. And he DEFINITELY would think that award shows are stupid.

Hans is much more like Travis in the fact that he pursued a woman for his own gain. Whereas Kristoff was just trying to live his life and didn’t even WANT to get involved in Anna’s shit, Hans wanted to become king, so he pursued Anna (a naive and desperate young woman- which is what swifties are trying to paint Taylor as) and made himself look like her dream guy- “true love.”

Last summer, Travis publicly and relentlessly pursued Taylor with his story about how he tried to give her a friendship bracelet with his number. And he’s been reaping the benefits of dating Taylor Swift, he’s got new TV gigs, his podcast shot up on the charts, and he might even be getting his own reality show.

He tried to pass himself off as a fan, Even though he’s blatantly obvious that he DOESN’T listen to her music. But his little pretend act of being a fan charmed the shit out of swifties and made them believe he was her Prince Charming. All he has to do is that stupid 🫶 thing and he’s got the swifties swooned, much like Hans had Anna swooned from the minute he met her. But his intentions were completely self-serving.

And another thing I find interesting is the fact that Hans proposed to Anna a few hours after meeting her. IF ANYTHING, that couple is literally a lesson on NOT marrying a guy you just met. And yet, Swifties have been talking about Taylor marrying Travis since that first football game-even BEFORE then.

But Joe, the guy who didn’t want to marry taylor, is just like Hans? The one who was in a long term relationship that ultimately didn’t work out is JUST LIKE HANS??

It beggars belief how swifties could be so stupid, because they either didn’t watch the movie, didn’t fully understand it (because they are less cognitively capable than 5 year olds), or they’re so addicted to painting Joe as this cartoonist Disney villain in their heads that they think it’s perfectly reasonable to compare Joe to a character that was trying to KILL his fiancée and her sister.

I the stupidity of comparing Taylor Swift to Anna- a girl who’s been isolated in a castle for most of her life and has ZERO relationship experience - I think she’s supposed to be like 18 or something? Very young and inexperienced and naive. Taylor was 26 years old when she started dating Joe and she had plenty of relationship experience before then.

Taylor literally wrote MASTERMIND, but swifties still see her as this naive and innocent disney princess who is easily manipulated and taken advantage of by men. So I guess they think it’s a reasonable comparison because they understand disney movies as well as they understand Taylor’s lyrics- which is NOT AT ALL.

#this was an unnecessarily long rant #but what the fuck #as someone who’s actually WATCHED the movie #that comparison genuinely pissed me off #anti taylor swift #shit swifties say #parasocial relationships #anti travis kelce #free Joe alwyn

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lilystyles · 11 months ago

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when not in rome.

a @lilystyles blurb!

my masterlist & no strings attached masterlist & blurbs masterlist

authors note idk this was a random thing i wrote at 2AM because i just missed them, i am still working on style so don't worry that should be out soon. also this is set way before no strings, i love writing about them in their previous moments!

brief description harry surprises y/n at her graduation (also listen to love of my life by h whilst readinggg)

warnings! angsty? fluffy? drunk y/n and harry (2.1k)

younger!lhh!nostrings!h x reader

* * * * *

SIX YEARS BEFORE

University has a funny way of making you feel like you might never cross the finish line. Y/n like everyone else had multiple days where she would just sob and scream from the stress of it all. Exams were totally a torture device.

When Y/n graduated with her first degree before deciding to write her thesis Harry surprised her.

He’d been touring the world with One Direction for months now and she hadn’t seen him since Paris the year before, when he’d surprised her by flying her to join them in their Paris show and they’d had a wild few drunken nights that she felt blurred the lines of friendship into something more.

But after their few days, when the champagne ran out, and she came back home, she sobered and realised that nothing would ever happen between them. And if you spent a few nights with Harry in a limo drinking champagne and dealing with his wandering hands you too would fall for him. Just a bit. It's only natural.

She missed him, though, loads. He was one of her best friends after all.

Around a month ago they phoned each other, it was late for her and the morning for him, she’d been studying and they talked for hours catching up till the sky turned bright for her and her eyes drooped shut. The time between their phone calls had grown longer and longer now, and she missed him. She’d mentioned that she was graduating soon and that they were both supposed to be graduating if he’d stayed in Uni. She remembers them staying up late at parties discussing their futures and how post-graduation Harry was insistent that they’d still be roommates. She realised now that their dream definitely wasn’t a possibility anymore.

He’d told her that instead of being there graduating like they’d suspected he was going to be, he was in Rome at some fashion show gala thing, and his date was this sexy model named Rosalie who had her sex tape leaked a couple of months ago. She was happy for him, but a part of her couldn’t help but be disappointed. She felt like he was drifting away from her every day, but she couldn’t find in herself to be cross with him. He was swept up by the fame of it all, and how on earth could she be mad that he was literally a rockstar? She knew that he was still Harry and she was still Y/n but they weren’t Harry and Y/n anymore. Not like before.

And honestly, she’d probably leave everything and everyone behind, party all night, and sleep with sexy models too if she had the chance to be famous. But she couldn’t sing for shit. So instead she did what she was doing, and shoved her nose in a book rather than in lines off a bathroom sink, and she was rather content with the peacefulness of it all.

All thoughts of Harry were swept away from her mind when she walked across the stage in the grande hall. She was finally graduating! Thank god! She thought. She had a sash that showed she was an honours student, and she was blooming with pride, when they called her name her list of achievements was longer than the four painful years she’d spent studying in their grande libraries. She was so glad to shake the hand of one of her favourite professors and leave, the next year ahead she planned to travel and work overseas, she was excited about that.

But honestly, she was even more excited to get absolutely shit-faced at the graduation after-ball party. She found herself a few pints down, sitting by the edge of one of the fountains, when she nearly fell in at the absolutely shocking sight in front of her.

There was just no way it could be true. I mean he was in Rome, and she was drunk in London. She’d seen photos on her Twitter of him wrapping his tattooed arms around that Rosalie model girl, so how could he be here in London just like that? It was not real, surely. She must be hallucinating and the second-hand smoke of all the spliffs had finally got to her brain. But suddenly the man turned around and Jesus Christ it was him. It was Harry. His eyes were pinched as he searched the crowd and when he finally saw her they lit up, all green like a forest, and his mouth kicked up into that devilish grin of his.

He saw her dumb-struck expression and laughed softly walking toward his best friend. He was dressed in a suit jacket like everyone else, and since they were all drunk none of them noticed it was the Harry Styles of the One Direction AKA the biggest band in the world. To them, he was just some random twat who just graduated too.

His hair had grown all long and curly, and he just looked so much more like a man than when he’d left. Had he gotten taller? More strong? The arms of his jacket strained and Y/n sighed at the sight of him.

She didn't think she'd changed much, but Harry thought she looked even more beautiful than before, if possible.

When he stood right in front of her, her mouth was still wide in utter shock. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He laughed. “Is that all you hafta’ say? Come on, hug your best friend!”

She sprang up from her seat and the silky long dress, which was a teal blue colour. All smooth and tight on her skin was hiked up slightly. Her gown and cap were long gone, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. He lifted her up off the floor and spun them around.

She smelt like peaches and sweetness, and God, he could've stayed holding her for weeks.

She giggled and felt her face hurt from smiling so big. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you!”

When he placed her down, his hands did not leave the curve of her waist. “Surprise, babe.”

“What the- shit- I thought you were in Rome! How’d you even get here?” She asked

He smiled. “I was, got a flight this afternoon. It was the only one coming home, sorry for missing the graduation part.”

She just smiled up at him. “You’re crazy.”

He shook his head landing a hand on her shoulder. “I knew how important it was to you, and I missed you. Sue me.”

She laughed, eyes welling with slight tears. Maybe he wasn’t drifting too far from her after all. “Oh, god, don’t make me cry, you know how I get after a few pints, H.”

He laughed, arms outstretched for her to cuddle him. “Aw, pet, c’mere.”

She smacked his chest playfully but cuddled him nonetheless. “Let’s go get royally fucked, mate,” She whispered and they pulled apart, hands interlocking as she lead him off to one of the pubs where everyone was buying drinks.

It was called The Ducks Nuts.

A few of her mates were inside. Ones Harry didn’t know, but she’d already spent a good portion of the night with them. So she told them her old friend had surprised her and they’d be here and there.

Harry ordered them some shots and eventually the night was just a blur of hands touching each other, as they got so drunk Y/n felt her world spinning. They’d hopped around multiple different pubs and bars and Y/n was so tired. Her heels itched her feet with pain and she ripped them off, along with her bag. As they walked with little purpose she threw her things at him and began to dance in the middle of the road.

Harry was holding her things as she danced in the street showing her best Elton John impression, and he silently decided that was what made her so perfect. She was just herself. And he loved that about her, he loved everything about her.

He laughed and told her what a realistic impression it was, and how they’d met at some award show to back up that comment. She was infinitely jealous, she loved Elton.

On her way back toward him she landed in his arms after losing her footing he shook his head at her.

“You are very drunk, Lovie. Aren't ya'?" He said, in a soft tone one that made her tummy turn in flips.

She sighed as they walked in a direction with no destination in mind. “You aren’t drunk enough, you need to get on my level.”

He noticed her shiver under his arm and quickly ripped his coat off. It swallowed her form and she smiled gratefully hugging the coat around herself. It felt like a warm embrace, and that smell filled her nose and suddenly she was home in her old flat with him, home in Holmes Chapel, home with him. Just home.

“Smells good.” She giggled as she sniffed the shoulder pad, her cheek brushing against the soft material all dog-like. “N’ soft too.”

“Why thanks, it’s Gucci.” He replied.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on then, money-bags, let’s get you as drunk as me.”

They strolled into a tavern near her flat and drank so much tequila that they had to practically carry each other home.

As Harry looked up at the stars and moon, feeling the cool air nip her skin he sighed. He hadn’t gotten this drunk, and been this happy in such a long time. He was giggling contently, as she leaned into him and he silently wished that the night would never end.

He never wanted his time with her to end either. He loved spending time with her, whether they were on an adventure or doing nothing at all. Y/n made it worthwhile.

When they reached the shitbox of a flat she lived in Harry followed calmly behind her, and when one of her neighbours spat a comment about drunken youths he sighed, “I wish you would’ve taken up my offer,”

She looked up at him as she played with the jammy door that never seemed to open on the first try. Shoving her shoulder into it as she managed to finally wedge it open, stumbling inside ungracefully.

And with a roll of her eyes, she ushered him inside. “There is zero chance I’d let my all-of-sudden bazillionaire rockstar friend buy me a flat, just cause he can afford shoes worth more than my entire life savings. Anyway, how could I ever pay it back? I have two p to my name and a packet of noodles in my possessions, Harry.”

He laughed. “Think of it as a graduation present then,”

She sighed. “Just shut up and sit down, and I’ll get some wine.”

It was almost 4AM now, and neither cared. They were beyond drunk, but Y/n missed him and if force-feeding him wine would get him to spend a whole 24 hours with her, she totally would.

When she sat down with two mugs spilling with a cherry red wine, that was the cheapest shit she’d ever bought, Harry laughed. Her wobbly legs forced her to land awkwardly on one thigh practically on top of his. He smiled, one that showed his kind eyes.

Green pools of emerald she wished to swim in for eternity. She laughed at the thought, she really got poetic when she was drunk, huh?

“God, remind me to get you drunk more often.” He whispered.

She sighed. “Oh shut up, and fill me in on life then. Who are you shagging?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Who are you shagging?”

A blush crept up her neck, and suddenly the only secret she had kept from him was threatening to slip past her drunken red-stained lips.

“None of your business, but there’s this hot guy in my physics who I would totally shag,”

He laughed, but underneath it, he felt a jealousy creep up his spine, he knew he had no right since he’d been balls deep in two Italian models this morning, turns out threesomes are a really good cure for hangovers by the way. But despite that, he felt an itch he couldn’t scratch that resembled something pretty close to jealousy.

“What’s he like?” Harry asked.

She shrugged. “Dunno, tall, glasses, got that whole nerdy silent thing going for him.”

“That’s what you like then, silent types?” He asked, running a hand through his long curls, and she reached out to play with one.

She shook her head, and said distractedly, “I don’t know.”

“Makes sense why you never dated me then.”

During primary school, Harry dated every girl in their class including Daisy and Penny, except Y/n who told him she didn’t fancy him. It was an ongoing topic of discussion between them. Why wasn't he good enough? He always asked.

She laughed at that comment. “I know you too well for that, and I get the unfiltered you, and I lived with you which was basically like being married to you. We bickered too much to ever date, Haz.”

He looked at her with hooded eyes, and for some reason that stung, but trying to be light-hearted he said. “Never say never, what if we needed to repopulate the earth?”

She looked over at him and placed a hand on his and kissed his cheek, all soft and slow, and for a moment he thought she might actually kiss him for real but instead, she said. “There’ll be no hope for humanity then.”

He sighed, fake pouting before a couple of minutes of silence passed and he turned to her and said. “Come with me to Brazil.”

Her eyes widened, “What?"

“I leave tomorrow night, come with me.” He said.

She frowned. “What? Come with you? You can't be serious.”

He nodded. “Please? I miss you! And we can party for a whole week together, or sleep, or do whatever the fuck you want! Just come, pack a bikini and something sparkly, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Y/n and Harry did end up going to Brazil but that’s a story for another time.

She stood up from the couch holding her hand out to him, and he slid his into hers. Cool rings grazing the soft skin of her palm.

“Let’s just go to sleep, you're talking like a crazy person.” She said, softly pushing a lock of his hair away from his eyes.

He sighed at her, “But m’ serious, Love.”

“Alright, ask me again tomorrow. That is if you even remember...now come on, let’s listen to Fleetwood Mac and sleep until tomorrow evening.”

Y/n's room was cosy and welcoming. Harry felt his eyes droop at the sight. A tiny lamp shining over them in an orange glow, her cot-like bed covered in blankets and the scent of her likely covering those sheets.

That night they slept in Y/n’s twin bed, cuddling, with Stevie Nicks serenading them to sleep. Cheeks plump and pink from too much alcohol, hands wandering scandalously, and the love in air was thick and obvious.

Before Y/n fell asleep she pecked his lips, in a quick kiss, one that it barely even touched him and said, “Night, mate,”

His lips burned like wildfire, and from that night on, he did think humanity had a chance if it was up to them. Whether or not she believed that.

“Night, Love.”

i have been a bit slack with updates lately...second year of uni is crazy and im already soooo busy, but i missed them and i wanted to write a lil sum for y'all until my next proper update :) BIG LOVEEEE

#nostringsattachedblurbs #nostringsattachedseriesbylilystyles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader smut #lilystyles #harrystylesseries #childhood best friend to strangers to fwb to lovers #nostrings!H #blurb #longhairharry #my love #them

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louferrignojrofficial · 2 months ago

Note

It just really seems weird to me that journalists and such (like max gao) are telling us to get over it and move on when… it just happened? We’re not allowed to be upset by tv shows anymore? They wrote a whole episode just to make the breakup hurt more but we’re not allowed to express our hurt?

And these people said nothing when Lou was being harassed endlessly? Or when previously love interests were being harassed? That doesn’t need to be discussed or stopped, but asking questions about a confusing and poorly written break up and being upset about the dismissiveness in interviews afterward is wrong? This is all so weird to me!

i mean first of all, people like him are happy it’s over, they’re happy lou and tommy and bucktommy is gone now. they don’t care what people who actually liked the ship think. imo they likely think people like us ruined the fandom somehow.

it is so funny (not funny haha funny weird) how they can let months and months of constant harassment towards lou and bucktommy go by but as soon as people question oliver for a second it’s like GUYS STOP LEAVE HIM ALONE LOU AND BUCKTOMMY IS GONE SO DEAL WITH IT.

i’m sure there are people who are saying crazy stuff about oliver, and that absolutely should not be happening, but just the way that it’s been happening to that actor (as max likes to call him) for months, yet they stayed silent until now. and the previous love interests were all treated the same, did oliver or anyone stand up for them?

and it’s not like lou isn’t still being attacked, just a few hours ago i saw a reply lizzie responded to ‘omg these people are horrible’ to which lizzie said ‘yeah nobody, like ME or lou even i guess should get death threats and be treated like this’ only for someone to reply with a screenshot of the person she was replying to fullying @ing lou saying ‘your father never loved and you don’t deserve any good things’ quite literally 2 days ago. the hypocrisy and stupidity is WILD.

#anon #ask #911 discourse #fandom wank

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hydroj1ns · 1 year ago

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foul legacy (feral)

cw: i wrote this with ftm reader in mind but gn! ok, use of "pussy/cunt", oviposition, breeding kink, monster fucking, somnophilia, childe is a literal wild beast here

he can smell it, the scent of prey, sweet and savory. he drools at the thought of his first meal in days. stalking from the dark shadows of the woods, he prepares to pounce on you.

when he finally does, you're frozen on the ground for a solid minute, staring up at the monstrous display of teeth, glowing purple eyes, and deathly pale complexion, with saliva constantly dripping down on your face.

however, now that he's so close to you, he smells another scent, something masked under the one that attracted him earlier. this was something more... arousing.

so instead, he overwhelms you with pheromones, causing you to pass out. he takes you to his cave, in the deepest, darkest corner of the forest, where no human dares enter. where you'll be safe.

when you come to, you're immediately hit with the stench of raw meat. as your vision focuses, you can make out two gleaming purple orbs. then, you're greeted by the same rows of teeth on a ghost-white canvas you saw earlier. it notices your conscious state and begins to stalk towards you slowly, almost timidly.

as the creature inches closer, you can only inch backward, that is until your back hits the cold stone of the cavern. it closes the gap between you two so that your face is mere centimeters from its own, and you can feel its warm, damp breath on your face.

he is absolutely enamored by you. he can vaguely register the scent of fear being emitted from your body at the back of his mind, but it only serves to arouse him further. he's been staring hungrily at your body for the past hour, trying his best not to pounce on you while you were sleeping. he prefers live prey anyway. he starts growling, deep from his throat, which is thicker than your thigh. the sound makes you flinch, drawing a whimper from your own throat.

you manage to croak out, "w-what are you? why d-did you b-bring me here?"

he stares at you for a few moments before rumbling, "ma... maaa... mate...."

this was not what you expected. mate? mating? this wild beast wanted to mate with you. you cringe at the thought, horrified of being violated. but then you think. how else would you escape? then, you glance at his face, eyes still glowing unsettlingly. your eyes travel down his impossibly large body, seeming out of place in this low cave. the rippling muscles under pale lilac skin, wispy orange hair, dark veins everywhere. you think to yourself, well... surely his... would be large too? no. what were you thinking? but if it let you leave. surely it would be better than being eaten alive. you doubt whatever species this monster is would be compatible with humans anyway. also, its been a while since you'd been dicked down. this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, you try to reassure yourself.

"fine. but afterward, you have to let me go. okay?" you crane your neck up to tell it. he only grunts lowly.

"make this quick," you say as you begin removing your pants. "and DON'T come in me."

"do you have any lube? oil?"

it seems to understand your question, and you yelp as giant claws grip your thighs, dragging you closer. it widens its jaws to reveal even more rows of teeth and an impossibly long tongue dripping globs of saliva. it bends its neck down so its face is directly in front of your hole. you realize what is going to happen next. "n-no! w-wait! ah! hhnnng... annhhh... s-sto-stop..."

it either doesn't understand you or doesn't care. he shoves his tongue in your hole, its thickness seeming to fill every crevice of your insides. you've never felt anything like this.

after a few minutes of prepping you, it pulls the muscle out, leaving you feeling empty, with precum and saliva dripping from your glistening cunt.

it wasn't over yet, though. leaning back a bit, he reveals his crotch area, where there is a slit. this was not what you expected. he begins caressing the folds gently, producing the largest cock you've ever seen. its purple-black head revealed itself slowly, then followed by more dark length, transitioning to a bright purple at the base.

for the first time during this exchange, the beast makes eye contact with you, and you seem to understand. you inch closer to it, shimmying into his spacious lap, front pressing against his cock. you begin to rub against it, spreading the excess fluid onto the length. its hot. you can feel its warmth on your skin.

impatient, he grabs your hips harshly, sure to leave marks. lining up your entrance with his head, he slams your body down on it, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head and drawing a particularly loud moan from you, "a-Ah...! n-noooo... mmphh!" and immediately, you squirt all over the monster's abs.

resting your head against its hard chest and panting heavily, you feel it in your stomach, and sure enough, when you look down at your navel, you see the bulge. experimentally, you press your fingers against the distended skin there. not even a second after, you come, your orgasm sending vibrations through your whole body.

arching your back, you can only groan more. cock-drunk and foggy-minded, you begin bouncing up and down on the large cock, simultaneously pressing down on your stomach. the monster's eyes darken, trained on the appearing and disappearing bulge of your abdomen. it lets out a deep growl at this, and you're suddenly pressed against the cold floor of the cavern, thighs pushed up to the sides of your head. he thursts even further inside you, and you can feel the head push past your womb. this causes you to come again, body shaking violently under the beast.

"aa-angh... w-wait... i can't take any more... please st-stop!" he can't seem to hear. you feel the base of his cock expand, becoming impossibly wide just past your rim. it become round, then popping off the length. he pulls back until almost his entire length is withdrawn from your pussy. then suddenly, he begins thrusting back in, using his claws to pull you towards him. this causes the egg to be pushed deep inside you, its roundness pushing against your walls until it pops past the opening of your tight womb.

however, your throat is sore, and you have no more voice to scream.

this act is repeated five more times. harsh thrusts, eggs just passing your womb entrance, your nails scrapping at the ground uselessly.

by the time you have 6 eggs nestled in your stomach, the monster is panting alongside you, his head bobbing above your own. tired, you feel your eyelids dropping, and you slip under the blanket of sleep.

little do you know, he isn’t done. watching your slumbering form, he restarts his thrusting, this time gently, and shallowly, as to not crack the half dozen eggs inside you. he thrusts a final time into your womb, finally cumming and fertilizing the eggs. the load is massive. even with his enormous cock plugging your hole, thick globs of white fluid still manage to drip down your bottom.

not wanting to waste a drop, he uses his proximal knuckles to push the cum back into you. he pauses, feeling a beat against his finger. curious, the beast gently presses the pads of his pointer and middle finger against your throbbing, abused lips, careful not to scratch you with his claws. he rests there for a few moments, feeling the beats of your pussy against his fingers.

archons, he needed to do this again. breed you again. fill you up with more eggs, more of his come. to mark you as his, so that any creature or human that came across your full form would only be met with the possessive scent of your mate.

you are his mate. made to carry his offspring, made to be bred until you couldn’t walk, until you couldn’t leave him. his cock would be inside you when you slept, when you ate, every hour of the day.

maybe you would learn to love it, being filled with clutches of eggs, cum dripping down your thighs, claw marks and love bites littering your skin like wildflowers in a field.

yes, ajax would treat you well.

#childe x male reader #childe x reader #genshin x ftm reader #genshin x male reader #genshin bottom male reader #genshin ftm reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x male reader smut #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x reader #x male smut #bottom male reader #ftm reader #hydroj1ns thirsts

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thatonedaydream · 11 months ago

Text

Don’t really wanna be Elevator Buddies (Sephiroth x Reader)

A/N: Part 1 here. im suffering sufficiently at my current job that im leaving that i think i can write something because i need an outlet and i also want sephiroth to make it better. also, i am so much older than when i wrote the first part; as such, my writing probably reads a lot more different - better, worse or same is up to you. to those who have requested a part 2 and have waited literal years (its been 4!!!!!), i love you, i'm so sorry its so late.

★★★★★

Staring at the message in your work inbox, you suddenly couldn’t summon the effort to care. Your mood instantly dropped and you needed to leave your desk. You kept your headset on as you wandered towards the small staff kitchen under the guise that you were still connected to a meeting and listening in, when really you just want to block people out. You didn’t want to be perceived.

You just wanted out.

ShinRa Inc wasn’t known as the best place to work, but the pay was good and it was better than any other options you had.

The coffee machine rumbled as you waited for it to process your order. You didn’t even want to drink the cheap, watered down stuff, you just didn’t want to be at your desk looking at that stupid fucking request. There wasn’t much that could get your out of these kinds of emotional troughs bar one thing that seemed to always work.

You felt the vibration of a notification from your phone in your pocket. Knowing what and who it was probably from, you eagerly checked the new message that had come through. It was just a photo of blue sky with some clouds—the tops of greenery you didn’t recognise lined the bottom. It was very abstract and out of context, but you were used to it now.

Putting aside your misery for the moment, you typed out a short response.

I can’t beat that. This is my view.

You took a photo of the ceiling above you. Stark, stale and claustrophobic in comparison to the natural sky you were given. You sent it off and only a few seconds later, received a thumbs up in response. It made you laugh.

Sephiroth was a terrible at texting sometimes, but it was endearing in way.

When you had first traded contact details a little after The Elevator Incident, it had taken a while before anything was sent from either of you. You were too scared of bothering him and he was more than likely too busy or just didn’t know what to send. It also felt like trading personal IDs was crossing into an entirely different friend territory that wasn’t as nonchalant as impromptu elevator conversations.

The messaging ice was broken when, one day, you got a single image of chocobo out in the wild with no context. If you didn’t have Sephiroth’s ID saved, you would have wondered if someone had messaged the wrong person. Your response was a quick ‘I love chocobos, they’re so cute!’, and your reward several hours later was a picture of a sweetly sleeping chocobo in a stable.

Sephiroth was a man of very few words, but he still found ways to communicate with you and that honestly made you feel… Well, you weren’t sure you wanted to admit what you were feeling too much. You knew you had feelings for the man, that you were attracted to him, but those feelings had no where to go. You couldn’t tell him.

For many reasons, you just couldn’t ever tell him about your ever growing affection for him.

You just couldn’t.

You wandered back to your desk, completely forgetting about the coffee you had made in the kitchen. The message from the 1st Class Soldier perked you up way more than the caffeine would have anyway. You scrolled through your requests again and sighed. It was probably going to be another late night in the office. Maybe you’d just call in sick tomorrow.

You worked a few more hours, eyeing your phone and hoping for more messages, but none came. Sephiroth was often the one to initiate conversation as you still felt like you would bother him if you sent something first. Still… You kind of really wanted to talk to someone—to him, specifically. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to send one message?

Picking up your phone you opened up your chat and tried to think of something to say. You typed out several things, but kept deleting them. ‘Hello’ felt too formal, ‘Hi!’ seemed too chipper.

Is something wrong?

The message popped up before you could send something yourself.

!!! No! I was just about to message you. How are you?

There was a pause—and then a short voice message.

▶• ıll— “Are you sure you’re alright? Was there something else you wanted to say to me?”

You could hear the smile in his words and you flushed upon the realisation that he must have seen your stupid three dots pop up and disappear constantly in the chat. You playfully hissed your own voice note back,

▶• ıll— “Ohhh shut up, I just didn’t want to bother you!”

Putting your phone down, you peeked over your divider and looked around to see if anyone else could hear you. It was fairly late in the office, way past usual business hours, so you could see some screens still lit up around the space, but there wasn’t anyone near you.

Your phone pinged a few times, indicating new messages. Some more photos, but this time of more a familiar sight—the Midgar cityscape.

I’m back.

It had been awhile since he had left on his last mission. You were glad he was back safe, not that you’d tell him that now. You sent off a quick, mildly motion blurred snap of your desk and sent it off.

A question mark? A question mark to what? The photo wasn’t that blurry.

It’s my desk.

Are you still working? It’s late.

Ohhhh… You cringed; it was late. Honestly if you didn’t procrastinate with absolute loathing and low morale earlier in the day you probably could have been home already, but you couldn’t push through the negativity.

Yeah, its been a rough day.

You waited for a response, but none came. Sephiroth went inactive spontaneously during your conversations, so it wasn’t surprising. Instead you put your phone down and continued on a project that was behind on its deadlines. Technically all of them were behind, but this one you at least had the energy to push through for now.

An hour later your phone pinged a couple times. A photo of the elevator you used everyday to get to up to your floor and:

Time to leave.

You stared at the message, biting your lip. Even if you wanted to leave, there was still things to be done and—

Do I have to drag you out?

▶• ıll— “Okay! Alright! I’m packing up, hold your damn chocobos. I’m leaving now.”

Who knew Sephiroth could be so pushy? During the long elevator ride down to the lobby, you wondered if maybe he only showed this side of himself to people he trusted or cared about. The thought made your stomach flip.

It could also have been that people never really gave Sephiroth the opportunity to be himself. It was an upsetting thought. He was the 1st Class Soldier, a warrior that couldn’t be toppled, a man way above the norm. Untouchable. Distant. You knew what his public image was like, but still somehow you couldn’t fathom how people couldn’t consider that there was another side to him.

The side of him that you always got to see.

The same Sephiroth that you saw was waiting for you as the elevator doors opened. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He stood by the empty reception desk with his arms crossed, looking out the front entrance. When he heard your footsteps he turned to face you almost immediately. The man’s expression would have seemed stoic to others, but you recognised the warmth in his mako-infused gaze.

What if you were the only person he looked at that way? You held your smile steady even as your heart argued with your head to accept that maybe that’s what you really wanted.

It felt like Sephiroth’s gaze only intensified as you approached him. “...You look awful.” His voice was low, quiet, but still teasing. There was a chuckle in there too, somewhere in his deep tone. Sure you had heard it recently in the voice message, but it wasn’t the same as hearing him speak to you in person.

“That’s so mean, Seph. Not even a proper greeting for me? Wow.” Even though you were exhausted, you automatically matched his manner. “You look…” Oh, you couldn’t tell him how you really felt about how he looked. There were so many adoring and affectionate words, yet somehow still not enough. “...Like you?” You finally sputtered out after filtering all the other things that your mouth wanted to say.

The 1st Class Soldier gifted you with a short laugh and you struggled to hold back the burst of emotions that bloomed in your chest. “You are so mean to me.” This interaction wasn’t like the others. This didn’t feel like the light playful chats in the elevator. When did these interactions change? When did all the same words that you used to use before suddenly mean something different?

Sephiroth suddenly leaned closer towards you, a small smirk crossing his lips. “I am nice to you.” The way he spoke was next to a purr, “Did you want me to be mean?” It felt like the mako glow in his eyes brightened for a moment; he was close enough that you could see specks of the otherworldly green in his irises.

You wanted to die on the spot. He was not flirting with you, no matter how much it felt like it. No way. However, before you could stop yourself, you replied quietly. “...I like it when you’re nice to me.” The look on Sephiroth’s face melted into something else—something just as warm, just as intense, but something so much more genuine and it immediately scared you. Before he could say anything more you let out dismissive laugh. “Phew, I am a lot more exhausted than I thought. I-I should probably get home.”

Maybe the fear was reflected in your expression. Sephiroth fell back into his usual cool and stoic demeanor and you wanted to apologise—it was hard not to feel as though you had just ruined something important. Casual conversation you could navigate. This? What was this?

Of course you’d find a way to make a bad day worse. Of course you’d ruin a good thing. Of course you’d—

A large hand pressed into your lower back and guided you forwards, interrupting your downward spiraling thoughts. When you looked up at Sephiroth beside you, he simply watched and waited for you to take the lead. Nothing in how he looked at you had changed from when you had first exited the elevator. “There’s a car waiting for you outside.” That voice you so adored, was steady and warm and sure. Still the same.

Quietly you stepped outside with Sephiroth in tow. He opened the car door for you, nodding to the driver who did the same in return. You sat in the back seat, with the soldier leaning outside on the vehicle, looking in to make sure you were comfortable.

“...Bye Seph.” You really did sound tired.

Sephiroth didn’t respond right away, but the silence wasn’t as heavy as the one inside the lobby. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Goodnight.” You knew there was something else he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. There was another pause before he shut the door for you.

You leaned back in your seat and let the butterflies run rampant in your belly, let the buzz run through your veins, let it hum through your body. You covered your hands with your face. It felt like there was still something left to say, a conversation left unfinished.

From outside the ShinRa building, Sephiroth watched as you were driven away out of sight. He stood there, holding what he really wanted to say to you in his throat.

It was frustrating for him to know he could physically conquer any fight, any conflict, except for whatever he could see going on in your eyes. Did you know that he could see you becoming more and more tired with each interaction you had? It frustrated him to no end knowing that people took advantage of you and your time and your efforts. Idiots. Fools.

How could he put into words how you made him feel? Sephiroth was no good at words. He just wanted to keep you safe. He just wanted you not to be tired. He just wanted you to always smile when you saw him—a smile that said you were genuinely happy to see him. Not the 1st Class Soldier, but happy to see Sephiroth himself.

The man snapped out of his reverie as his phone pinged with a message. A voice note from you.

▶• ıll— “...I missed you, Sephiroth. Welcome home.”

Sephiroth stared at the screen of his phone.

And then he replayed the message, just to hear your voice again.

#reader x sephiroth #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy vii imagines #final fantasy 7 imagines #ffvii imagines #ff7 imagines #final fantasy imagines

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callmissrogers · 11 months ago

Text

There For His Girl | Steve Rogers x Reader One Short

Summary: Y/n has reached her limit. Work has been difficult. People have been short, and some just mean. It all brings her back to her childhood, and right now, she just wants to pretend to be ok. So determined to pretend she tries to push her concerned husband away.

WARNINGS ⚠️ This contains mentions of a toxic relationship with the reader's mother and quotes some of their arguments. If this is a trigger for you, please DO NOT proceed. It also contains angst, fluff, and comfort. Also, very little editing and wrote on my phone.

Steve Rogers x wife reader

Word count: 1,370

Notes: The next part in the That's My Girl series will be going up today or tomorrow. I was feeling the need for some comfort myself, so this is what I wrote. Hope you like it!

Y/n slammed the door, tears streaming down her face she pressed her back into the wall and slid down until she was a small ball on the floor.

"Why do I do this?" She sobbed hating herself.

Y/n had had a rough few days. It seemed like no matter what she did or said, people were short with her. Everything was going wrong, and after one mistake, which led to a snarky backhanded compliment from Tony Stark himself, well, Y/n was done. Usually, it didn't get to her like this anymore, but her emotions frayed to a breaking point.

Her dad always told her she wore her heart on her sleeve but she just thought her mom was right and that instead of enduring this made her a nuisance.

Why should she be so bothered when people utter unkind things to her?

Why can't she pull herself together?

"You're always start crying! Stop trying to make me feel bad"

"You're stabbing me in the back by trying to do something different"

"Don't you know I need you here? Stop thinking about yourself and making everything harder on me"

This and many other instances where y/n would be belittled, ridiculed, screamed at, lectured for two hours at 1 in the morning, and reduced to making herself as small and as unseen as possible while being a sobbing mess, had made her what she is today.

Too sensitive. At least that's what she told herself at times like this.

And why couldn't she just talk about it like a normal person instead of blowing something trivial out of proportion?

Literally five minutes ago....

Steve had come home the night before. Poor guy had been so tired that he fell asleep in uniform on the couch.

Y/n had been carefully tiptoeing around the kitchen so as not to accidentally wake him up. Intending to surprise him before heading to work.

She was supposed to be going over mission plans with Vision today. This was the kind of work that excited her. None of the agents would bother them while they were working, which meant that she could just disappear for the day.

She platted up breakfast and carried it over to set it on the coffee table in front of the sleep soilder.

Tho he didn't actually wake up until she set down his mug of coffee.

Eyes fluttering open he peered up at her groggyily. "Hi" He mumbled, pushing himself upright. "Hey sleepy head." Y/n said, trying to make her voice sound chipper.

Steve sighed contentedly as he stretched out his muscles before standing up.

"Mind if I go change clothes before I enjoy this masterpiece?" He asked. Y/n turned to face him, attempting to smooth down his wild bedhead and then said, "Go ahead"

He was back a matter of moments, settling down next to her and drinking deeply from his coffee.

"Thank you for this," He sighed leaning over and gently kissing her on the cheek. Y/n just nodded, trying to keep her mind on a healthy track she focused on eating.

"Did you sleep well?" Steve asked. Taking another bite, she thought about lying and telling him that she had had the best night sleep.

"Sorta" She said trying to stiffle a yawn. "What does sorta mean?" Steve asked turning to look at her. "Nothing really. I'm good! Nothing some strong coffee won't fix."

Steve placed his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him. He studied the dark circles, the faint tint of bloodshot in her eyes, how she held herself and her fiddling hands.

"Hm," He said, his voice low in his chest.

Y/n knew exactly what he was doing, shaking his hands off her shoulders and standing up she said, "I should probably get ready for work."

Steve stood up, grabbing her wrist and stopping her. "Y/n, you look exhausted." "I'm fine" "You're twirling your hair, which means you're not telling the truth." "Steve, c'mon I don't have time for this" "Y/n, it looks like you've been crying" She pulled his hand off her wrist and started to walk away from him, "I'm going to work." "Sweetheart, please just tell me what's - " "Steve! Please just listen to me and leave me alone!" She yelled, cutting him off. She ran off to the bedroom, and that's when the door slammed.

Steve stood there a moment, thinking about honoring her request and leaving her be. But his protective nature overtook him and he decided that the best thing to do would be to be there for his girl.

In the bedroom.

Y/n sat against the wall still crying into her hands, body trembling, thinking hateful thoughts about herself.

She heard Steve knock on the door, saying "Sweetheart, can I come in?"

When she didn't answer him, he slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

She could feel him kneeling down in front of her, "Sweetheart," He whispered, trying to tuck her hair behind her ear to which she only buried her face further.

The next thing that happened, was Steve scooping her up into his arms and settling down in the arm chair that sat in the room.

Somehow this just made her cry more.

"Oh honey, come on now. Take a deep breath. In through the nose and out through the mouth." He soothed.

After about ten minutes of this, her crying settled down, breath becoming rhythmic.

Once he was sure that she had calmed down enough to be able to communicate with him, he asked his voice low and rumbling through his chest, "Do you wanna talk about what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

She nodded against his shirt. "Everything" she gasped. "Everything?" He asked, pulling her back so he could look her in the face. Dabbing away the leftover tears.

"I'm too emotional. Everything the last few days just hurts. I let everything get under my skin... I just. . Lately, people and Stark are just mean, or maybe I'm just too sensitive.. and now I've yelled at you, too." She said, trying to get up.

"Now hold on a minute, " He cooed, keeping her in place.

"What did Tony say?" "Nothing. I messed up and he was being sarcastic, but I'm such a mess that it hurt" she said her voice breaking. "Alright. Listen to me. One, you are not too emotional. The world tells everyone to button up and be cynical. You, my dear, are a light in all that mess. You do care and that's a very good thing -- I don't want you to listen to anyone that would belittle that, ok?" He asked getting a slow, uncertain nod in response. "Ok. Secondly, people can be mean, especially Stark. People also have power trips and want to pull people down to make themselves feel stronger or better. This means there's one thing you can always be certain of: Do you know what that is?" "What?" "They're wrong. Anyone who would belittle you to make a point or to win an argument or for any other reason, is just a bully." "But what if-" "ah. No what ifs. Thirdly, and this one is the one that's most important of the three." "Then why'd it come last?" She asked clearly beginning to feel a little bit better if she could tease him now. Steve simply rolled his eyes and continued,

"I want you to remember that when you're upset, you can always talk to me. No matter how silly it might make you feel, your feelings are safe with me." "Steve I just yelled at you for no rea-" "No. You had a reason. You were upset. I can see that and you know what that means? It means I can take it too. When I put this ring on your finger," He said taking her hand in his and running a finger across her knuckles. "I signed up for this. I'd rather have you get emotional than bottle things up and hide them from me."

Y/n looked down at their still intertwined hands and then back up at him. Nodding again and breathed out an "ok"

"Ok." Steve replied, giving her his usual comforting smile and kissing her forehead.

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becauseimanicequeen · 2 months ago

Text

Rewatching Pit Babe (ep. 1-2), A Post that Started Messy but Turned Into One About the Colors

This is part of my Crazy-Ass End-of-Year Rewatch Challenge where I will rewatch my favorite shows, my least-favorite shows, and some shows in between. After a few days of trying to figure out what to start with, I pulled Pit Babe out of a bowl (yes, I literally wrote each show on a piece of paper, put them in a bowl, mixed them around, and pulled a title because I couldn't decide).

I can't promise cohesive thoughts in these posts because it's the end of the year, I'm currently living in right-brain land 10+ hours per day, and I'm TIRED because the darkness of winter is coming. You've been warned.

Also, since this is a rewatch, there are spoilers ahead.

Background

I watched Pit Babe as it aired last year because racing alphas, betas, and omegas sounded like some chaotic sorority collage show that could possibly tickle my fancy (I had no idea what omegaverse was back then, so excuse my idiocy, lol). Little did I know I was walking into a world where dudes could, theoretically, get pregnant? (Again, excuse my lack of knowledge of that world.)

Setting that aside, though... Besides Pavel looking all fine and tasty and me being on a high from hearing Nut's voice again (there's just something about that slight rasp of his voice that gets me every time), it became a chaotic wild ride I enjoyed so thoroughly that I gave it a 7/10.

Will I change my rating after this rewatch? Who knows. I'm more interested to see how much of it my currently fucked up memory has forgotten already.

Anyway... Let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go! (I clearly haven't forgotten the song, though...)

Episode 1

We are back with the neon colored intro!

I'm already vibing with this because I'm such a slut for neon lights!

I'm always talking about how neutral I am when it comes to characters. But teams are a whole other thing. And I'm all for X-Hunter here.

Not because of Dean because all I want to do is kick his shins, lol. But blue is one of my favorite colors, and I'm a simple girl. Give me blue (or purple, pink, and especially all of those in neon) and I'm in heaven.

But, let's get back to the show, shall we?

Which is when...

The sniffing begins! I approve.

Oh, look:

It's Winner Winner Chicken Dinner. (Every time I hear Winner's name or see him on my screen, my mind goes: "Winner Winner Chicken Dinner" for some reason. So, I'll obviously continue with that, lol.)

Excuse me as I obsess about these reddish/pinkish neon lights for a moment because... just look how pretty that light is on both of them!

The way it enhances their beauty. The way it symbolizes both Babe and Charlie's naivety (yes, Babe is naive too since he trusts Charlie so fast even though Charlie has a hidden reason for being there) and that someone is lying or withholding information.

But if we ignore all of that for a moment and just look at the light... It's so fucking pretty!

But, again, I'm a slut for neon lights, so I might be biased and over-obsessing about it, lol.

The Way I'm laughing at this bitch, though:

Way is feeling Way more threatened than he would like to admit. (Btw, that red light covering some of Way's reflection in the image above and shining behind him in the image below made me think about lightsabers and Darth Vader. And it's justified.)

Way, my sweet lovesick cinnamon bun (I don't know, that just came to mind as I'm eating one at the moment, lol), your Way will never be Babe's Way. Babe's Way is turning in another direction.

In this direction, to be specific:

I guess he just smells better.

You know what? I'll also change my Way in this post. Because...

That red light above is literally glaring at me to make sure I notice it and what it wants to communicate to me. And, since I haven't written about the colors in the shows I'm watching for a while now, I might just turn this rewatch into posts with word vomits about the colors in the show...

Yes?

Yes.

So, let's rewind for a bit.

The show has already established that it's the red team, Red Racing, against the blue team, X-Hunter. To put it in rough strokes, the red team is the bad side with Winner Winner Chicken Dinner, and the blue team is the good side with Babe and Alan (I won't include Way here because of the red that follows him around, and since I've already watched this show once before, my choice to exclude him are justified).

On the blue side: We've already seen Babe in blue. We've also seen Charlie in blue, but he's not on the team yet, he's only trying to fit in at this point (because he has his red moments too!). Alan is blue, and Dean is blue (for now).

On the red side: We've seen Winner Winner Chicken Dinner–I mean, besides his racing overalls and car, look at that image above from the bar and you can see the red details on his jacket and the red light behind him. Does that red light look familiar? It should since I wrote about a similar light crossing over and showing up behind Way in the images above. So, if you ever felt off about Way, the colors were telling you that you were right to feel that Way, even though Way's on the blue team.

AnyWay...

This crossing of colors happens a lot. A lot. So come with me into the second episode and more of the crossing of these two colors (and perhaps some additional colors will pop up as well? We'll see...).

Episode 2

On the subject of the red team. Let me introduce the major(?) investor:

Surrounded by all that red. Interestingly, there are spots of blue as well (there's a car and some signs in the background, and the reporter's microphone as well as a band he has around his neck). And let's not ignore Tony's clothes. The suit looks like it's dark blue and the tie is definitely blue. He's trying to pose as someone he's not. But he never fooled me! That man is a walking, talking, charming problem investing in a red team that suits his fiery temperament!

And then we're switching over to the blue team, where the pool table's mat is in the right color.

But even here, there are red details (like the machines, or whatever, in the background and the balls on the table), showing that the line between blue and red is crossed on both sides. And I'm not just talking about the colors crossing in the different teams' garages, I'm referring to the characters in those teams as well (if you've seen the show and noticed the colors, you know what I mean).

The only ones we can be sure of are Alan, who is the owner of X-Hunter and loyal to the blue, Tony who is investing in Red Racing and hides his psychopathic tendencies behind a calm and peaceful facade once in a while (or perhaps more often than I remember? We'll see...), and Winner Winner Chicken Dinner who will always stick to his true color (good for him).

Everyone else seems to be mixing the blue and the red. Babe, for example, had a red past.

The same goes for Way, Charlie, and Jeff (which we're getting hints of, and I'll show them throughout these posts).

Also, Way just used his manipulation power. This is the first time we get to see it, already in episode 2.

You know, it's funny that I was more sus about Way during my first watch of this show than I ever was about Charlie. But I think Way's manipulating Ways/power was what made me unable to fully trust him.

Charlie, on the other hand... How can someone as cute as this:

Hurt anyone?

Okay... How can someone as cute as Charlie be manipulative?

Ehm... How can someone as cute as Charlie have an evil bone in his body...

Fine, I give up!

Charlie is sus... (But he's harmless.)

Yes, he has red in him too. But I'll get to that in a bit because first, Jeff is introduced while drinking a red drink and arriving at the X-Hunter garage dressed in blue carrying a red bag:

He's walking the same line between red and blue just like Charlie (and Babe and Way).

Also, both the red and the blue show up when Jeff and Charlie are discussing why Jeff applied for the job at X-Hunter.

And if that wasn't dropping enough hints, Charlie is framed with the red and blue at the gym.

And while he's fighting Kim, they're both on a blue (and red) mat with red velcro on their gloves:

These boys are all over the place (color-wise and on the floor) and I'm loving it! Nothing is red or blue here (well, except Alan, Tony even though he's trying to hide it, and Winner Winner Chicken Dinner). Nothing is black or white, and I love stories like that. You're not quite sure about any of these boys because they're all hiding stuff and making secret plans.

The only difference with Charlie, though, is that even though the red is glaringly obvious around him...

He's still choosing the blue...

Loyalty isn't an issue for him when he's chosen whom to be loyal to.

Now, with all this said about the blue and red...

I still have no idea what's going on with these two idiots who seem to always mix red and blue...

And knowing where this show is going, I won't be able to figure it out this time either, lol.

Anyway... That's the end of the 2nd episode. And, because I've basically reached my 30-image limit (which Tumblr really needs to increase because this artist needs visual aids in my long-form posts about color!), I'm moving on to a separate post for the next (however many) episodes.

#crazy ass end of year rewatch challenge #rewatch challenge #rewatch #pit babe #pit babe the series #thai ql #thai bl #thai series #iq color post #the colors mean things #red #blue #my shit

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stevieschrodinger · 5 months ago

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Omg. I can't. The grocery list with all the things Eddie likes. I'm dead. Literally. It was so freaking cute. Many likes.

Also just. The whole vibe. It's so wholesome and cute and good. Eddie being so eager to learn stuff and so stuff and being so free in giving his love? And Steve just being soft and happy with him? And trying to explain stuff so gentle? Good. Good vibe. Good feelings. Big good.

And yes, I do understand Steve being a bit... Suprised and overwhelmed by Eddie's new physic, it did seem quite wild, ngl.

Very exited to see what's next, thanks so much for sharing!! It was truly wonderful

I'm so happy you like the grocery list part, I've been looking forward to writing that bit since Steve actually wrote a grocery list.

I love how cosy everyone feels they are, just all the love is amazing.

Thanks for the wonderful message, I'm glad you're enjoying it.

I pushed hard to get two things out today; I'm working very long hours over the next few days, plus going to a music festival for the weekend, so there may not be another update until the end of next week now. ❤️

#ask answered #fish guy eddie

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thesymphonytrue · 8 months ago

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24. “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.” for Neal and Peter

Okay this turned into a full FIC??? lol. I may clean it up later (this is a super rough draft I literally wrote in a half hour 😅) and post it to AO3 if you all think it's worth it?? (Maybe the other prompts too honestly? ) lol it's similar to another fic I've posted but........can't have enough, right?

Also, season 1 spoilers and finale spoilers!!

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

Peter woke to clanging resonating up his townhome stairs into his ears, shaking his brain sufficiently enough to warrant getting out of bed. Grumbling to himself, he shuffled downstairs to find Neal kneeling on the kitchen counter, arms stretched up and his hand elbow deep into their top cabinets.

Peter sighed and ran a hand down his face. Since Kate’s plane had blown up two days before, Neal had stayed with Peter and Elizabeth. The authorities (authorities with more control over Neal than Peter, unfortunately) deliberated as to when (not if) to send Neal back to prison and demanded Neal be under twenty-four hour surveillance until Neal's re-admittance date (which happened to be tomorrow).

Not that Peter would want Neal un-supervised right now, anyway. The kid had drunk himself into oblivion both nights, crashing onto the Burke’s couch in a heap of fitful laughter and mutterings of Van Gogh and Picasso. Peter longed to take Neal into his arms and try to heal his wounds, but the words got caught in his throat and his hands grew stiff if he tried to reach out to Neal. The past two evenings had ended with Peter tossing a blanket over Neal, watching him sleep for a few moments, and then collapsing into his own bed with Elizabeth with exhaustion.

“Neal,” Peter said, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as he took a stance in the kitchen.

“Goodmorning, Peter!” Neal said chipperly, “I have coffee brewing!”

Peter sniffed, sure enough, Neal did have an excellent roast wafting through the air--along with the distinct scent of suppressing emotions, like grief.

“Whatcha need up there?” Peter asked suspiciously.

“Ahhh…got it!” Neal leapt off the counter and waltzed over to his already-steaming cup of coffee.

In his hand gleamed a clear bottle of…

“Vodka?” Peter sputtered, eyes widening as he reached to snatch the bottle from Neal.

Since when was Neal his teenage son with an underdeveloped prefrontal cortex?!

Neal’s eyes slid to Peter as he raised the bottle out of Peter’s grasp, plucked off the cap, and poured at least a half cup into his coffee.

Peter let out a growl as he managed to grab the vodka bottle and place his hand flat over the coffee mug to prevent Neal from picking it up.

“Peter!” Neal whined.

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

“In Paris, it’s noon.”

“Still not an appropriate time to have vodka.”

“But—”

Peter slid the mug to the sink and dumped its contents.

Silence.

The hum of the fridge.

Neal’s breathing, in and out.

Kate's plane exploding again and again and again. Ears ringing, heat suffocating, Neal's cries....

Neal turned to look out the window to the patio, the back of his head displaying a rather wild patch of bedhead. It dawned on Peter that he’d never seen Neal so disheveled. In a t-shirt and pajama pants, Neal’s normally perfect hair was untamed, his shoulders slouched.

Peter stepped forward quietly, taking a glance at Neal’s face: dark bags tainted his perfect skin, his blue eyes bloodshot.

“Neal?” Peter said softly.

The silence continued and Peter almost turned away to put the vodka in his high-security safe when Neal whispered:

“She’s gone, Peter.”

Peter’s heart clenched.

Oh Neal.

He set the vodka on the counter and placed a hand on Neal’s shoulder.

“I know,” Peter said, giving Neal’s shoulder a squeeze, “I’m so sorry.”

Neal’s face crumbled, tears tumbling down his cheeks, all of his suppressed emotions giving way to a raw, hurting human.

“Let it out, Neal,” Peter said, enveloping Neal into a hug, "It's alright."

“I wish she was still here,” Neal said, hot tears spilling onto Peter’s neck.

“I know,” Peter repeated, unsure what to say, but continued to hold Neal tightly as Neal's shoulders shook from crying.

“At least you’re still here.”

The words Neal spoke were so inaudible that Peter knew they were not meant for his ears, but his heart still shattered on to the kitchen floor. He kept his arms around Neal, hoping that his wordless communication would be enough.

I’ll always be here for you.

~~~~~~~~

Years later, Post-Finale

Peter tore out of his bed, his shirt was soaked with sweat, mind running in circles tight enough to choke his heart. El slept soundlessly next to him (cuddling with her pregnancy pillow, not Peter) so Peter tiptoed downstairs and began to brew a cup of coffee.

Everywhere Peter looked, Neal stared back at him. Neal sat on the couch, grinning wildly. Neal was throwing his rubber-band ball in the office. Neal flipped his hat at Peter’s front door. Neal laughed as he and Elizabeth ate dinner.

Those intelligent, bright eyes, his handsome smile, the way he made Peter crazy and so fulfilled all at the same time.

Peter’s eyes burned as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push Neal’s face from his mind.

Please, leave me alone. Peter pleaded, suddenly willing to do anything to just erase the memory of Neal, to dull the pain.

In a mad frenzy, Peter climbed onto the counter and reached into the highest cabinet, pulling out a bottle of vodka. He opened the bottle and proceeded to combine the vodka with his coffee, humming to himself as he murmured:

“Just to take the edge off…”

He was going to be a father in a few weeks, he couldn’t be still dealing with this greif—-

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

Startled at the smooth male voice, Peter looked up.

There was Neal, alive, in his kitchen, dressed impeccably in a beautiful suit and Devore fedora. His eyes were glittering, his skin rosy, his chest rising and falling with life.

Peter shook his head, trying to shake the vision.

“You’re not real,” Peter said, blinking his eyes to try and banish Neal.

He opened his eyes and Neal was still there, pouring his vodka-filled coffee cup into the sink.

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed, “It's noon in Paris! You’re in my head, you can’t just—”

Neal's face flickered at the word Paris, a shadow passing as his smile faded.

“Peter,” Neal said softly, his eyes growing melancholy.

“I know,” Peter whispered, “I have to be strong. For El, for…our son.”

Neal nodded and reached a hand to Peter, then retracted it.

“You’re allowed to break down, Peter,” Neal said gently, “But you have to let me go.”

Peter’s eyes filled to the brim, overflowing with hot anger.

“I can’t just let you go! You–you–-were—are– a part of me!” Peter said, slamming a hand against his own chest over his heart, “I—I loved you!”

Sobs overtook Peter’s body as he braced himself against the kitchen counter, the months of holding back his sorrow over Neal’s death finally pouring out.

A slender hand found Peter’s shoulder. Peter turned and pulled Neal into him, Peter didn’t care if this was his grief-ridden mind hallucinating, he was going to hold on to Neal as long as he—

And in an instant, Neal was gone. Peter was on kitchen the floor, hugging himself.

Peter’s heart ached, his body throbbed with the absence of Neal…

But he had a job to do, a husband to be, and father to become.

He took the vodka and dumped it down the sink.

It was time to move on.

~~~~~~

Post-Canon

Peter and Neal stumbled into the kitchen, sides aching from laughter, eyes puffy from tears.

“Boys!” Elizabeth hissed from the living room, “Keep it down! Sleeping baby upstairs!”

They both quieted their giggles as they prowled the kitchen cabinets, searching for something to toast their recent reunion with. Peter had arrived in New York around 3 am, Neal in tow, and they spent the first half-hour at the Burke’s home just staring at Peter's baby son sleeping in his crib. The second half hour was dedicated to a lecture from Elizabeth on Neal’s foolishness. The last two hours were Peter and Neal, sitting on the couch, talking and talking and talking until their throats were dry and all the tears had turned into laughter.

Peter had found Neal, after that year of absolute hell. Neal was alive and here, living and breathing in his townhome once more.

“Let’s just make coffee,” Peter said, “It’s almost six am. God. I’m going to feel like shit today.”

Peter started the coffee. Neal balked.

“No! You cannot welcome me back to New York with coffee–as much as I adore it. Where’s that Bordeaux I sent you last week?”

“Oh, Elizabeth and I drank that immediately.”

“So much for delayed gratification,” Neal snorted.

Peter glared.

“You’ve been dead for a year, I think my skills in delayed gratification are—”

“Okay okay, fair enough,” Neal said quietly, guiltily, the mood dampening.

“I’m pouring us coffee,” Peter stated, grabbing two mugs from a lower shelf.

“How about this?” Neal chirped as he clambered up on the counter and found the vodka bottle (a new one) on the top shelf.

Peter rolled his eyes, but grinned nonetheless.

“It’s six o’clock in the morning—” Peter started.

“...You’re not having vodka,” Neal finished softly, as if he’d said the words before, too, as if Peter’s vision had been real after all.

Peter met Neal’s eyes. He was angry, so angry he could punch Neal for what he’d put him through. But he also was so grateful that Neal was alive, he felt he could vomit right there on the kitchen floor.

“Damn it, Neal,” Peter whispered wetly, unscrewing the cap and pouring a drop in two coffee cups, then filling them with steaming coffee.

“You’re alive,” Peter said, raising his mug to Neal.

Neal swallowed and looked away, unable to meet Peter’s stare.

“Neal,” Peter pressed gently, placing a firm hand on Neal’s shoulder, “I’m glad you’re home.”

A tiny smile cracked through Neal’s lips as those blue eyes grew misty. They clinked mugs and took a sip.

“Me too, Peter, me too.”

Okay, I know it's rough and needs some nice language and descriptions to polish it off...but....I kinda see fic potential? maybe?

THANKS ANON FOR THE PROMPT!!!! :):):)

#thanks so much for the ask!!#don’t EVEN talk to me about Peter dealing with Neal’s greatest con I CANNOT HANDLE IT 😭😭😭😭#hence why I write it a lot #white collar #peter burke #neal caffrey #white collar spoilers #white collar fanfic #spoilers

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