#in veins laced with gold fic

[ohlawsons]

01. stare | flystep, 1241 words set a few days after the dinner date, ft. some self-indulgent tattoo headcanons

“You’re staring.”

Dani doesn’t have to look to know that Daniel’s gaze lingers on where one of his hands is linked with theirs, his thumb tracing featherlight patterns over their skin; they don’t need to look, either, to know that there’s a little flush to his cheeks, but it’s an endearing enough look on him that they tilt their head up to watch him anyway. They’re still wearing the tight, fitted black athletic top that’s a staple beneath all of their outfits, but with the sleeves pushed up to just below their elbow, none of the bright orange Re-Gene tattoos are visible.

Instead, thick black geometric patterns wind and build across their forearm and the back of their left hand, the harsh lines seeming softer in the little bit of morning light that the tinted windows let in. The tattoo on their right arm is simpler, more ink and less of a design — they hadn’t been able to trust anyone other than themself, and turns out that even all that rage and grief and years of feeling wrong in their own skin hadn’t made it any easier to mark themself in a way of their own choosing.

“Should I not?” The question is a simple one, something teasing disguised as innocence, but there’s an undercurrent of careful concern that bleeds into his thoughts; he knows they’re still not quite comfortable like this, sharing a hazy, quiet morning together in his bed, still not quite comfortable with the open, warm way he watches them. Adores them.

Not bothering to answer right away, Dani lifts up their joined hands, splaying their own fingers out for a moment just to take a better look at the familiar ink. They let out a low, contemplative hum. “This one’s alright. I’m pretty proud of how it came out, actually. My right arm is…” A low whoosh of breath as they sigh, somewhere between regret and wistfulness. “Messy.”

“And the, uh—“ His words break off into a little burst of warmth and a hint of embarrassment; something like anticipation lies coiled tight beneath the thoughts. “Your neck.”

They don’t bother holding back a small smile; the sharp, jagged design runs along their throat, outlining the severity of their jawline and dipping down to splay across their collarbone. Safe enough to trust to someone else’s hands, if only just. They’re also fairly certain it’s Daniel’s favorite; memories slip unbidden into Dani’s mind, of his hand at their throat — palm soft against their skin, fingers ghosting across the marks that wind along their neck as he draws a shiver from them. And—

Ah.

Fingers now replaced by lips and tongue and the slow, gentle drag of teeth. He shifts beside them, pressing closer, trailing kisses along their jawline; his breath is warm against their skin, and they find themselves shuddering despite their attempts to maintain their quickly-slipping composure.

“That one’s professional.”

“What—? Oh.” It takes a moment for Daniel to remember his own question, and another moment for a slowly dawning realization to make it’s way from his mind to his lips. “You did the others yourself?”

“One of the first things I taught myself how to do.” The after my second escape goes unsaid, but Dani isn’t interested in bringing the mood of the morning down quite that much, not just yet. They hesitate a moment, wondering how much more they should reveal; they know, logically, that they wouldn’t be showing anything that Daniel hasn’t already seen, but it feels so much more intimate here in a quiet shared morning, compared to their rage-induced impromptu stripping a few days before. They can sense the low buzz of curiosity in his mind, deliberately stifled and tucked away — though whether for his sake or theirs, they can’t tell — and they come to a conclusion.

Forcing a shaky, hollow smile and pushing away the familiar spike of anxiety, Dani tugs their hand free from Daniel’s and rolls up their sleeve as far as they can get it, just a bit above the elbow but enough that the bright orange Re-Gene tattoos are now visible. They bite back a grimace and trace one finger slowly along their skin, following where the original tattoos bleed, rich and textured, through the ink they’d tried to cover it with. “I thought I could hide them. That… obviously didn’t work.”

They don’t mention any of the other things they’d done to try and hide the Re-Gene markings. In the end, at least, with this, they’d marked their body in a way that made it theirs, a way to reclaim the skin that they’ve spent so long hating.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is as quiet and reflexive as ever; Dani can hear their own words echo softly in Daniel’s mind — it’s not your fault; you don’t need to apologize for everything — just as they can sense the way he steels his mind against their inevitable chastisement.

He’s not going to take it back. Maybe there’s nothing he can do about it, but he’s still sorry it didn’t work.

“It’s fine.” They’re not sure if they mean the tattoos, or his apology. Either way, they’re beginning to feel restless and exposed in the quiet of the morning; they pull themself up to sit on the bed, letting the sheets pool at their waist — everything’s covered, always is, and they tug down the sleeve of their shirt so that the edges of the tattoos are concealed once again. There’s no hesitance or concern from Daniel as they put distance between themself and him, not anymore, because he’s a quick study and he’s learning their limits and when they just need some space and not to take it personally. “Don’t you have a meeting this morning?” they ask, stifling a yawn as they reach up to tie their hair up into a loose bun.

“No.” The word comes out in a little huff, and he rolls to lay on his back, letting his hands rest on his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling, frowning. “It’s an interview with the local news.”

Biting back a grin, Dani cocks an eyebrow and dares to prod, ever so gently, at Daniel’s thoughts; they know he likes the fluff interviews like this — they’re more genuine and less stressful — but there’s something else about the morning that’s brought down his mood, and if they can just… there it is. “You’ve been avoiding Steel.” Sharp. Amused. They’ve been avoiding him, too.

“Not… necessarily.” It tastes like the truth — a fortunate coincidence that Steel hasn’t crossed paths with Daniel — but something about the schedule for the day has him certain that he’ll have no choice but to subject himself to Chen’s particular brand of not-quite-prying; he’s not shy about how things have progressed with Dani, not by any means, but they both know that Chen has his reservations.

“Tell you what,” Dani offers, letting their gaze sweep across Daniel’s prone form beside them — not staring, but deliberately appreciative, “I’ll stop by this afternoon to see Spoon. That should keep Chen occupied for a couple hours, at least.”

Daniel’s brow raises in an expression that lands somewhere between surprised and amused. “You’ll talk to him?”

“Never said that.” They laugh, and it comes out short and sharp. “But I’m enough of an asshole to tell him to keep his nose out of our goddamn business.”

[mochie85]

Laced Intentions

One-Shots Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: You try to seduce your new lover with lingerie that he can't resist. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 3.2K Warnings: SoftDom!Loki, jealous Loki, hand works, slight degradation, rough seggs, lots of thrusting, fluff, happy ending (as always). A/N: Thor, Steve, and Bucky make a brief appearance. This fic was inspired by a TikTok I saw by Delacruz Collections. Check out their store. Or their TikTok. GIF of the actual set after fic. Dividers: @firefly-graphics

You needed to hurry. Loki had texted you saying he would be home soon, and you had to finish getting all the little straps tightened and make sure that everything was secured. Tonight was going to be the night.

You and Loki had just started this relationship and have yet to do anything more than heavy petting and heated make-out sessions. You knew it was because he was cautious around you. He was scared that he didn’t know his own strength. He could get lost in the moment and unknowingly hurt you.

You told him that it was ok. You trusted him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you purposely. Even so, you wouldn’t mind it being a little rough. Especially if he was the one commanding you and your body. But he wouldn’t relent.

You’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way his eyes devour every inch of your body. Licking his lips and rubbing his neck. You knew he ached for you. Just as much as you craved him.

He said so himself one night, as you straddled his lean frame and pushed him down on your bed. You had his hard dick in your hand, stroking him up and down, as you rubbed it against your needy clit. The pulsing veins on his hard cock kissing your wet lips, tantalizing your release. “…f-fuck…don’t stop, pet,” he panted. His eyes rolled back as his head sunk further into the pillow.  

“Baby…I need you inside me,” you whimpered as you continued to stroke him closer and closer to his release.

“Oh, gods! I want nothing more than to be inside you,” he said, his eyes closed from the exquisite torture you were giving him. He didn’t see you line yourself up over him. His leaking tip, red from need, eagerly crying to be inside you.

But Loki was quick. In an instant, he pinned you down on the bed before you could sink yourself onto his throbbing length. Both of your hands were suspended above your head in one of his strong grips. He continued to grind himself against you, making you cry out his name.

“Ah, ah, ah. Naughty little thing. I told you we can’t.”

“But you said-” he kissed you fiercely, making you forget the rest of your words as he expertly made you cum from his grinding alone.

You sighed at the memory.  Loki is such a passionate lover hiding underneath false notions of your fragility. You rolled your eyes at your many attempts to seduce him and convince him that you are not as fragile as he thinks you are. You can take whatever he wants to give you. And God did you wish he would give it all to you!

So when you first saw this lingerie masterpiece of sex and eroticism, you were left speechless. You clenched your thighs just imagining what Loki would do to you when he saw you in it. Green satin straps and ribbons were constructed and held together by gold hooks and clasps. The garter and cuffs were attached by a dainty gold chain, leading back to a central choker on your neck. Each strand was decorated with small baubles of crystal that sparkled under the light, connecting all the pieces to you. You only hoped that the links would survive his rough hands. It was rather pretty and you’d hate to see it broken.

You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror before you heard the latch of the front door. He was finally home! You put on your silk robe, leaving it untied so he can see a peek of what was underneath, and you walked out of your bedroom.

The clack of your heels echoed in the hallway, announcing your arrival. The first person you spotted was Loki. His eyes met yours and then traveled down your body in the most ravenous way possible. The beer he was about to put against his lips, forgotten. As were the words in his mouth. You stood at the threshold, surprised to see that Loki wasn’t alone. It was only now you registered the other voices and laughter you heard only seconds too late.

The room went quiet as you noted the other people in the kitchen. Steve, Bucky, and Thor, each with their own pizza box in front of them, had gone quiet. Watching you in shock. You were thankful you had put on your robe, at least, even though it was still open. Everyone could see what you were wearing underneath.

Oh fuck, you thought. Well, there’s no point hiding now. Smiling with fake bravado, you greeted Loki home. “Welcome home, handsome,” you said giving Loki a chaste kiss on his lips. “I didn’t know we were having company over. I’ll go change.” You smiled and turned to walk away.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Gentlemen,” you smiled and nodded.

“Bye Y/N.” The trio said in unison as you walked back into the bedroom to change.

Brief silence overtook the room as the men’s eyes darted between a stunned Loki and where you escaped to. “Listen, if you don’t go in there right now…” Steve pointed to your bedroom. “I will personally take Bucky’s arm off and beat you with it!” Steve threatened.

“Or, you know…I could go in there.” Bucky offered, earning a snarl from Loki’s lips.

“Leave! Now!” Loki ordered.

“Right. See ya tomorrow,” Steve said with a casual salute.

“Pfft! Knowing my brother, he will most likely take all night, and all day tomorrow too.” Thor laughed as he gathered his pizza box and a six-pack of beer.

Bucky just laughed, punching Loki in the shoulder. “Let’s go to Sam’s. That guy doesn’t have a sex life.” He said to the others.

Loki stood there, still trying to process what he saw, as each man clapped his shoulder in parting. The creak and latch of the front door closing brought Loki back to his present mind.

He stalked down the hallway, following the subtle hint of your perfume. He inhaled deeply, your scent driving him mad.

The first thing he saw when he opened the bedroom door was your robe, discarded on the bed. He followed your gentle humming into the closet where you stood looking through your sundresses. Loki quietly walked in, blocking your escape. He noted your skin, radiant and perfect, complimenting the shiny satin of the straps holding you together. Loki’s eyes followed the gold chain that dripped from your neck down to the garters and matching cuffs they hooked onto.

“That was quite a show parading into the room like that,” he said in your ear. His whispered breath tickled you, making you shiver.

“I didn’t know we would have company. Let me just pick a dress and I’ll join you shortly.”

“Will you continue to wear this underneath?” he teased, knowing full well that everyone had already left. His breath fanned the side of your face. His fingers ghosted over the ribbons, tracing them down your hips.

You craved his touch, patiently waiting for him to connect to your body. “Touch me, please” you prayed.

“Oh, and why should I give in to your requests, kitten? You’ve been awfully naughty.” His hands continued to eclipse your body. You could feel the heat from his palms traveling up and down, tracing the many straps and where they lead to. You closed your eyes at the sensation. The anticipation. Loki was a master at building you up.

“I…I didn’t know…this was only meant for you,” you whined.

“I think you did know,” Loki scoffed. “I think you wanted to make me jealous.” His voice got deeper. More dangerous. “So jealous that I would have to claim you. Is that what you want, darling? For me to claim you in front of the others? So desperate to have my cock inside you that you would parade yourself in this seductive little number so that I might take action. You should’ve seen the way Barnes was looking at you.”

“Loki, I-”

“Hands up.” He commanded and you obeyed quickly, holding on to the bar that hung all your clothes. Loki kicked your heels apart, spreading you open, and making you bend at the waist. He placed himself behind you.  His palm spanked you on your right side making you scream out and moan. It didn’t hurt. It never hurt with Loki.

“You were so brazen. Only I get to see you like this. Do you understand?” he charged as you heard the buckle of his belt loosen, the zipper of his pants being opened. He grabbed your hair gently and pulled you back to him.

“I was only trying to surprise you. I didn’t know they would be here!” you moaned as you fought hard not to bite your lip. His fingers finally caress the pulse point of your neck, trailing down to the valley of your breast. His hands got caught in the chains and you can hear the soft clink of them breaking in his grasp.

He cupped your sex, making you mewl to his touch. “This is mine, and mine alone!”

“Yours…” you sighed.

“Again!” he said dipping his agile fingers inside you.

“Yours…sir,” you said barely above a whisper. Loki closed his eyes, savoring your submission.

“Oh, you are sinful!” Loki said, his resolve breaking. “I try to be good. I try to protect you from me. But you seem hell-bent on breaking me don’t you, kitten?” His lips crashed into yours. He sucked on your lower lip as his fingers continued to work your clit.

You pushed back against him, feeling his hard erection against your back. “Please…Loki…sir.”

Loki grunted in defeat. He took a deep breath and looked straight into your eyes.  “If we do this, kitten, I can’t promise that I’ll be gentle. I’m scared I won’t be able to stop once I have you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can never hurt me, Loki.” You tried to shine your love through, showcasing how much trust you had for him.

He turned you to face him, capturing your lips in a strong but zealous kiss. He spoke in between teeth and tongue, your breath mingling with his, “If it gets too much, tell me.”

“It won’t be too much,” you tried to reassure him.

“You will tell me!” he growled, backing you out of the closet and into your bedroom.

“I’ll tell you. I promise,” you assured, looking deep into his ocean eyes.

“Good!” With that one word, he picked you up by your upper things and carried you towards the bed. You wrapped your legs around his waist as his fingers toyed with the garters gripping your thighs.

“This is beautiful, kitten,” he breathed. His cock struggling in between your pressed bodies. His teeth found purchase on the skin of your shoulder. “All wrapped up for me like a little present.” He threw you, almost carelessly, on the bed. You preened at how easily he was able to manhandle you. How effortlessly he was able to manipulate your body. You watched him take his shirt off, exposing the hard planes of his abs. The definition of his lean muscle guiding your eyes down to his exposed cock.

You felt the bed dip when he knelt in front of you. He pumped himself, once. Twice, before he teased your entrance with his stiff girth. “Loki, please. Don’t tease me.”

“Like the way you teased me with this?” he pinched the gusset of your thong and let it go, snapping the fabric on your overstimulated folds. It stung with painful pleasure as you cried out. He pushed the gusset to the side as he eased himself inside you. First, his massive tip, pulling it in and out. Teasing you relentlessly of what’s to come. Then, inch by inch, he sheathed himself inside you. Filling your walls.

Loki lost his sanity. To finally be inside you. Inside your warmth and your passion. To be surrounded by your scent and your moans, he couldn’t handle it and he was slowly going feral with each inch he fed your eager cunt. When he bottomed out, you cried as his pelvic bone rutted against your sensitive nub.

“You feel so good, pet. Better than I had ever imagined,” he said breathlessly as he started thrusting. His fingers curved around your supple thighs, bruising marks of purple and blue. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. Each gasp of air only fueled your desire for him even more. He felt so good.

So. Damn. Good.

With each stroke he would take his tip to your entrance, stretching you, and then push back inside. Loki filled you like no one has done before, and most likely never will.

“Awe, my poor darling-” thrust. “What’s the matter?” thrust. “Have I rendered you speechless?” thrust. “I thought this was what you wanted?” You nodded your head, whimpering like an untouched virgin.  He spread his thighs further apart on the bed, pushing your knees closer to your chest, to receive him deeper. He held your shoulders down, your body sinking into the silken mattress, keeping you immobile and unable to escape the onslaught of his hard cock.

“You’re going to be good for me, right kitten? You’re going to take all of me in.” He commanded, his voice barely above a whimper. Loki was going to lose it soon and he knew it. You felt so good around him. All it would take was a few more strong thrusts and he would scream out your name to the heavens.

With his new position over you, he started diving faster. More aggressive. He pushed himself further inside you. Down to his hilt, sheathing himself inside your heated folds. “Loki!” you yelled out. You grabbed hold of his arms, your nails digging into his skin leaving half-moon marks. You squeezed his cock tighter, and you were rewarded with the deepest, most beautiful, feral sound coming from his lips.

“Ah- fuck! That’s it pet, squeeze me. Gods, you feel so good. I might just have to leave myself inside you.   -heh- Would you like that, kitten?” thrust. “Want to be my cock warmer?” thrust. “Keep me cozy all night?” thrust.

You simply nodded your head. You knew Loki asked you a question, but you couldn’t make sense of anything right now besides the feel of his hard length stretching you open, over and over again.

“I asked you a question, darling,” he said grabbing your chin and squeezing your lips to pout. “I made you into a little cock-slut haven’t I?” thrust. “Can’t seem to think at all can you?” thrust.

“…Loki…” you called out with each slam of his hips.

“That’s all right. As long as it’s my name you’re calling out. My name that you’re begging for.” Loki looked down at you. Your skin was aglow from the beads of sweat and pleasure. Your hair was a crown above you tangled in a mess. And your lips had captured one of his fingers still holding onto your chin, sucking it down to the webbing of his hand.

With a pop, he took his finger out of your mouth and drew it down your neck, leaving a cold trail on your heated skin. “I’ll have use of those talents later, my dear.” Loki laid his weight on top of you, caging your head in between his arms. His sweet lips sucked hard on your salted skin leaving you crying out for more. Your hands were left clawing his back as he grunted and moaned into your ear.

“I…I…can’t…Loki…youfeel…m’soclose…” you were incoherent. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t talk. The only thing on your mind was his name. “…Loki…”

“Cum for me, kitten. Cum with me,” he growled in your ear. Your whole body tightened up. You dug your nails deep into his back and screamed your release as he slammed himself down on you hard. He grunted his pleasure in your ear, releasing a savage growl that shook your body beneath him. The euphoric wave wouldn’t stop. Loki remained still, but you could feel him throbbing inside you, coating your walls, sending you spiraling into delirious bliss.

He remained on top of you, unable and unwilling to move away from your exquisite sex. The first thing you felt after coming down from your high was Loki’s soft lips on your neck. You turned and captured them with your own, pulling his weight further down onto you.

“Are you all right, darling.” He whispered tentatively. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“Wh-what do you mean? I feel so good, baby. You feel so good!” you said smiling.

“Was I too rough? I must’ve been. I can see my marks all over your neck.” Loki lifted himself off you and he found your lingerie shredded and clawed to pieces around your sheets. “Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I was worried this would happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Loki started rambling.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You tried to quiet him down. “Loki, look at me! I’m not hurt. I feel wonderful.” You held his worried face in your hands and soothed his hair out of place. “Did you enjoy it?” you asked, and he nodded his head. He laid next to you, spooning you.

“Every second. Every thrust,” he said, burying his nose in your hair. “I just want to stay wrapped in your warmth forever. I don’t know why we waited so long.” You laughed at his admission. You lay there in his embrace, replaying the sinful moment in your head. Smiles on both your faces as you stole kisses from each other.

Until you remembered something. “Come on. The guys are probably sick of waiting for us,” you said trying to get out of bed.

“They left a while ago,” he finally confessed. Loki aggressively pulled you back onto the bed and into his arms. “I told them to leave as soon as you walked back in here to change,” he declared, straddling over you, pinning you back down on the bed.

“I’m afraid you’ve unleashed something in me, dear,” he said as he took one of your discarded ribbons and tied both your hands up with it. “Now, I did say that I was going to see to that mouth of yours, didn’t I?”

“Does Loki know you have a key to his apartment?” Bucky asked Thor.

“Of course he does. He’s my brother. He’s the one that gave me this key.” Thor said trying to act nonchalant.

“Come on guys. Grab the beer, and let’s go. I don’t want to miss the game.” Steve tried to hurry them. Thor opened the doors and all three men walked in looking for the forgotten twelve-pack that was left on the counter.

“Oh, Loki! Oh, fu-baby don’t stop. Don’t stop! Yes. Yes. YES!”

The three men paused hearing you scream from your bedroom. Steve blushed a strawberry red and walked right out the door.

“I just learned my lesson! Never come here uninvited.” Thor said shaking his head. He pocketed his key and followed Steve.

“Lucky bastard!” Bucky chuckled as he grabbed the beer and locked the door.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine

[taurasiluv]

— (you make me wanna) slip off a new dress

OR.  when  stewie  sees  you  after  her  gold  medal  win,  and  she  just  has  to  have  you.

msg  from  sen  :  my  first  fic  back!!!!!  so  sorry  if  this  is  a  lil  rusty  </3

also…  for  the  sake  of  this  fic,  js  pretend  like  they  aren't  playing  in  lilles  (i  didnt  want  to  write  in  a  2  hour  bus  ride  lmfao)

the buzz in the air was palpable, every player walking off the court to go see their partners and families in the stands after their gold medal win. breanna walked over to you, sweat dripping down her face, her muscles flexed from the last 40 minutes of constant movement, and a bright gold medal hanging from her neck. she looked good.

you were so happy for her, but you also couldn't help your mind wondering off to what she might look like on top of you. you'd seen it many times before, but seeing her like that after her winning a gold medal made you just as aroused.

“hi baby,” she grinned, her hands lacing into your hair and pushing you close to her, interlocking lips with a fiery passion. you could tell—from the fervor of her movements—that she had the same intentions as you. she needed you, the adrenaline was pumping through her veins and she just had to get it out. it took everything in her to step away from you.

“meet me back at the hotel in an hour, okay?” she mumbles, her sticky forehead sticking to yours.

you nodded, giving her one last kiss before she walked away to reunite with her teammates in the locker room. you made your way back to the hotel, picking up champagne from a local store on the way. 

an hour later, you were laid out on the plush bed, clad in red lingerie. your finger lazily making its way down your body, teasing yourself until your lover got home. too busy lost in the sensation of your own fingers against your fabric covered nipples to notice the hotel door opening. breanna closed the door gently behind her, and stalked towards you. you only noticed her when you felt the bed dip under her weight. she was changed out of her jersey and was in a hoodie and sweats now. her hair was damp and the gold medal still hung from her neck. she crawled up the bed, coming up to kiss you.

her lips met yours, with much more passion than the last time you two kissed in the arena. “red set, huh?” she smirked, her hands running over the lacy details, groping your tits gently. a soft gasp fell from your lips, her hands against you felt so much better than yours. no matter how much you try, your own hands and fingers will never feel as good as breanna's, so you're grateful she's always there. 

“mhm, jus' for you,” you mumbled in between gasps while she sucked on your neck. she sucked and bit marks into your neck, not caring about people potentially seeing it the next day. after successfully covering your neck in purple and pink marks, she pulled herself up and started to take off the medal so she can take off her hoodie.

“keep the medal on, please…” you whined. a smug smirk came across her face as she took off the hoodie and her sports bra underneath, throwing them haphazardly across the hotel room.

a moan fell from your lips as you studied her toned upper body in nothing but a gold medal. it made you even more aroused, you were sure you damn near soaked the sheets from the sight. she leaned forward again, sucking and biting against your skin again. she unclipped the upper half of your lingerie set, moving down your body and latching her lips onto your nipple. the cold metal laid against your stomach, the mixed sensations of her hot mouth against your tit and the cold metal against your stomach made your brain go fuzzy. you were desperate for her to do something more, needing her to touch you.

you let out incoherent babbles and whines, praying she gets the hint. breanna's head perks up, her once soft blue eyes are now darker and swirling with a haze of lust. “use your words babygirl,” she purred, her accent peaking out.

“touch me, please.” 

“where, baby?” she asked, smirking at your frustrations when you whined again.

you grabbed her hand, guiding it down to your heated core. “clit, bre—please,”

“good girl.” she smiled, slipping the red lacy panties to the side and running her finger through your slick folds. you cried out, throwing your head back against the pillows. tension leaving your body as she gathered the slick and rubbed tight circles around your clit. 

“fuck bre,” you moaned, bucking your hips. she kissed you again, swallowing your moans as she slipped two fingers into you, gently thrusting them in and out of you. they made you feel so full, the sudden intrusion bringing you pure ecstasy. her fingers sped up, going faster and faster making you scream in pleasure. both you and breanna couldn't seem to care about your neighbors when she was knuckle deep in you. her abs flexed—the gold medal looking so good against the rippling muscle—as she fucked you, soft grunts leaving her lips. 

the thrusts became so much, you were getting so close. “bre, 'm close, please.” you whined, attempting to buck your hips but being held down by the weight of her on top of you.

“cum for me babygirl,” she purred against your ear, biting the lobe gently.

white hot heat rushed through you as you let go, moaning loudly as you gushed liquid. breanna kissed on you while she helped you ride out your high. “such a good girl,” she mumbled in your ear along with other strings of praises. 

after what felt like forever, you came back to yourself, feeling breanna's fingers gently pull out of you. bringing them up to your lips, prodding at your mouth.

“suck.”

[drewsbuzzcut]

TOPLESS!

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: smut (oral) in slightly dangerous conditions- don’t try this at home

Takes place August 2026

Mat can’t keep his eyes off the way your hips sway underneath your white, linen dress. Did he mention that it’s strapless, too? Anywhere and everywhere is truly your runway. You effortlessly retrieve your keys off the entry table, swinging them around your finger like you always do.

God. Mat so badly wants to lift the skirt of your dress to expose those pretty lace panties you’re wearing underneath.

“You coming, hotshot?” You turn around and ask when you notice he’s frozen behind you, eyes burning holes into your lower half.

Your fiancé shakes the depraved thoughts from his mind and follows you to your car. His hand smacks your ass, making you squeal and turn around to playfully chastise him. Your scolding gets silenced by Mat slanting his lips over yours. His hands find your hips and push you back against your convertible. The tip of his tongue sneaks between the seam of your lips, but your tongue pushes back. You lick into each other’s mouths and let your hands roam freely, feeling up his back while he paws at your ass. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs at it, enough for your moans to vibrate through his body.

You pull away for a breath of air, smiling giddily when you see Mat’s pink cheeks and swollen lips. His eyes are dark like glowing embers of a fire.

“What?” He questions when he notices your dazed expression. He nudges his nose into yours, making you laugh and squeeze him tighter to you.

“You want to drive my car?” You ask after a moment of silence.

Mat pulls away from where he was nuzzling your neck and smelling your heavenly perfume. His hand falls from your waist down to the leg you have around his hip. His eyebrows are raised and his eyes are wide. He never thought he’d ever hear those words fall from your lips.

“Seriously?”

You nod with a small smirk.

“Fuck yes!” Mat cheers, his lips landing back on yours.

You giggle at his reaction and move your mouth to his jaw, sucking the flesh for a quick second.

You spend a few more minutes making out, battling over who takes control. You so badly want to rip off his belt and untuck his button up from his pants, but you can’t wrinkle his outfit. You’re not exactly pressed for time, but you don’t want to push it too much. This photoshoot is important to the both of you; it highlights and celebrates your recent engagement.

“Should we go topless?” You whisper into the kiss.

“Hell yeah,” he agrees easily, his voice light and airy.

His greedy hands move to the top of your dress, attempting to pull the material down to expose your boobs.

“I meant the car not my dress,” you lightly shove at his chest and maneuver your outfit back into place.

“Right,” he concurs with his signature pout.

“Get in the driver’s seat before I change my mind.” Your words have Mat moving before you can even finish your sentence.

You have a lengthy drive ahead of you, but you’re perfectly distracted by Mat. The windows are down, the wind sweeping through your hair.

Deftones’ “Change,” plays on full blast, vibing with the thick tension that has you clenching your thighs. Mat looks so cool and confident driving your car with ease. One hand’s on the wheel while the other sits on your thigh. His gold Rolex gleams the same way your engagement ring does, making you look at your newest edition with an elated smile.

Minutes pass and you continue to wriggle around in your seat, pressing your thighs together for a fraction of the friction you desire. You’re not sure if it’s the heat getting to you, but you’re not thinking about anything other than the fact that you really want Mat’s cock down your throat.

Without thinking too much about it, you set a hand on his stern shoulder. You rub it gently and eventually let your fingers stroke the side of his neck. You see the vein there start to pop out and the very noticeable gulp he takes. You know your eyes are burning holes into the side of his face. Slowly you slide your hand down his chest and to the top of his thigh.

“What’re you up to?” Your fiancé asks.

You guide your fingers to the zipper of his pants, fiddling with it until he starts to squirm.

“How do you feel about me giving you head? Right here. Right now,” you whisper in his ear and peck the area beneath.

“Shi- shit,” his words fail him as you completely pull down the zipper and yank his pants down.

Who are you to deny yourself happiness?

“I need you to stay focused on the road. Okay, baby?”

Mat dazedly nods his head and white knuckles the steering wheel.

You jerk his already hardening length until it’s stiff and waiting for the heat of your mouth. You press a soft kiss to the tip and flick your eyes up so you can watch the way he reacts. You bring your thumb to the slit, and spread the milky white pearls around while you lick up the vein on the underside.

“Fuck, babe,” Mat groans.

“Hush, Maty.” You see the chills spread over his skin as you talk closely to his ear. Wanting to see him crumble, you take his earlobe into your mouth. You know how much it drives him crazy.

You lean back down and suck his head into your mouth, your tongue circles around him which makes him let out a gasp. A soft hum leaves your mouth and vibrates through his member, making Mat’s head spin. Teasingly you drag your tongue back down his shaft and then blow soft puffs of air onto his wet skin. The slight jolt of his thighs makes you smirk deviously.

Finally, you take him down your throat while your hand jerks whatever your mouth can’t take. Your other hand squeezes his thigh, a weak attempt at keeping him still.

You lower and raise your head at a slow pace, wanting to tease him. When Mat is in a state of euphoria, he hates when things start to slow down because his hips always become erratic. He craves control, but he also craves the feeling of your lips around him.

He places his free hand at the base of your head, so he can try to control the way you move up and down. His hand eventually falls slack when you swallow around him, making him buck his hips up in surprise.

His balls tighten at the suction and the way you gag around him. There’s a vicious knot forming in his stomach and it’s on the edge of snapping.

“Just like that, pretty girl. Fuck,” Mat moans.

As you continue to take him, deeper and deeper, you can feel the car accelerate on the empty road. You assume his body is starting to tense which makes his foot put pressure on the gas. You know he’s about to orgasm. Your fiancé always goes stiff before his body relaxes in the ecstasy of his release.

“You better not crash my fucking car,” you rasp, catching his eye when he takes a quick glance at you. He almost unleashes his load right then and there. You’re teary eyed with spit dripping down your chin.

With a wink, you lower your mouth over his cock again. Your tongue massages his underside and you start to feel him pulsing and become extra heavy. You come up, but only to take his leaking tip between your lips and suck. His hand finds the back of your neck, squeezing the moment you reach down to fondle his balls.

“Shit. Shit. I’m going to cum,” Mat whines.

You don’t let up the suction around the head of his length. You graciously take every drop of his release and even milk him until he’s over sensitive, his hand slipping off the wheel and his head tipping back.

Before the car can have an opportunity to go off road, you straighten out the steering wheel.

“Oh my god,” he huffs, body vibrating and chest heaving.

You grab his chin, turning his face so that his eyes are on yours. You flit your gaze from Mat back to the road to make sure that you’re still the only car driving. Staring straight into his eyes, you hold out your tongue to show him his release and the way it pools there. He stares at the milky liquid and his eyes roll to the back of his head when you swallow it. A moan crawls up your throat and echoes around the both of you.

“You’re insane,” Mat says, putting his hands back on the wheel and straightening himself out.

“Yeah, well, you love me for it,” you giggle and place him back in his pants.

“Fuck yeah I do,” Mat confirms and brings you in for a quick kiss on the lips.

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Subtle Caresses

Authorial Notes: A little fic I was inspired to write, it’s a little filler and what my mind wanted to write so I apologise for the poor quality.

No one would expect Sidney Crosby to be the king of subtle PDA. Hell, Sidney Crosby and PDA in even the most extreme situation would be and are two items considered as polar opposites. The suspect cause of his aversion to public displays of affection would be scrutiny faced when he was younger and spotted with previous girlfriends. His hand was too close to this part of her, indicating this and that.

So for the rest of his young dating life, while he held the weight of worldly expectations on his shoulders he ket his hands to himself. However, when Sidney met you he could positively and with red flaming cheeks admit he never wanted to let you go. While considered a red flag in most eyes, when you were wrapped in the warm chocolate-hazel embrace of Sidney's eyes it was never malicious.

Sidney always genuinely found comfort in you, in holding you, protecting you, pressing his head to your chest after a rough game and hearing the steady beat of your heart in which you swore only beat for him. In true, solem honesty that was completely right.

Spending time with Sidney was your favourite activity aside from breathing. Tonight it was in the form of getting ready for the teams media day, WAGS were invited and you took full advantage of this so you made Sid take you to get a new dress. It was a sheer, gold colour with lace sleeves that flared out, tenderly decorated in floral patterns.

As you walked out of that changing room to see Sidney sitting on what you called the tired boyfriend, or now in your case, tired fiancée couch, his pointer finger caressing his teeth as he leaned into the soft leather fabric of the couch. The smile that flew over his features would almost be joyous if there wasn't a smirk hinting at the edges of it. His eyes flicking up your body as his eyes raked up your body, tracing the curves and hidden insecurities only he knew the place of.

Brooding and sincere complements fell from his lips as he leaned forward, leaning his forearms on his legs and clasping his veined hands adorned in a few rings you'd bought him over the rings together. His eyes scanned over your body again as he nodded to himself.

"I promise you there will never be a time in my life where I don't believe with my whole heart that you are the most deserving, beautiful and capable women. I hope you know I will do my darned hardest to tell you forever and right now honey, you are the most gorgeous girl in the world." Sid murmured as he grasped your hand, brushing his hand past the gold engagement band, bring it to his lips and kissing it, bringing his mouth down in gentle kisses along the skin all the way to your wrist.

-

”Sidney..” you huffed, “Ow. Fuck, Sid.”

“What!” Sid cried in return, pulling his hand back from your head and meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Bobbypins don’t go into the skin, they pin the hair back.” You muttered, guiding his hand. Pinning the pin in the correct place.

Once the hair-tasteophy was sorted and the final touches were made to makeup, both you and Sidney. Who was struggling with his tie like normal enter the car and took off towards downtown Pittsburgh, Sid spent the car ride holding, kissing, caressing your hand as he drove.

Once you arrived at the event complex, which was littered by loitering guards and media too. Inside the event there wasn’t a much going on, everyone was standing by as players were whisked off by media and waiters with bite size treats ambles throughout the room.

Sidney stayed glued to your side the entire night, subtle hands on your waist that you could feel clearly but in the dim lighting no one was able to pick up on easily. He placed gentle kiss on your neck and shoulders when he was certain, and oh boy was he certain no one was watching.

When a young media intern can and tapped him on his shoulder and informed him that he needed to deal with some press and other duties he was required for, he squeezed your waist and whispered in your ear.

“Don’t move from here.. I’ll be back as soon as I can darlin.” His hand dipped to your hip, “If we are lucky we can ditch the place after this, have some fun at home.”

[aldisobey]

🌳WIP Wednesday🌳

Tagged by a true savant of the savory script @heylittleriotact and figure I can add a snippet from the longer fic I’m working on. This bit is set maybe a few weeks after Epilogue everything is still very rough and subject to change. Everything’s a mess right now but we’re having fun because the beat sheet is fun hell yeah.

I’ll throw tags @pluckedstrings @by-ilmater if y’all have anything to share with me! (No pressure). Anyone and everyone tag me in their stuff I want to seeeee. ( @emmg I know you’ve been tagged but I’m taggin ya so you can see)

—————

The Fade sky hinted blue, rolled with ochre clouds, a harsh light, white, flickered source less on the whispering lilac leaves of a massive tree. The trunk black, at times glinting deep purple. Six mean arm spans would be needed to embrace it whole. Roots spread varicose, some thick, others thin, and all creeping half out of ground, crawling far as they might reach. Digging, grasping at the pale mint of the ground below, a fist clenched in ‘earth’, a smell of moss and sap which ran, here and there, chartreuse, cobalt, burgundy.

It twisted, sturdy with mild lean, a spiraling in the bark pattern, and near where crown began it splintered, parted in paths, heart-like. All those branches spread achingly, greedy in the manner of great arteries with their countless capillary offshoots, propagated veins latched diagonal, fell down in lines. Dense with barely a trace of light reaching ground through all the dancing of countless hushed leaves, movements languid, liquid, as if the entire beast were submerged.

A voice could be heard, a faint echo hint, “...and dearest when the season turns we can go skating.” Almost a hum, “Perhaps. You might learn to swim first.” Stronger there a moment, a pause. “Classes are always running should something strike your fancy, for swimming as well. Though that, I think, is something I’d share with you.” Emmrich sat nestled into the tree with Rook’s head in his lap. The space of trunk and root and branch folded around them as if held in gentle palm. The man lay flat, cradled by earth and bone and bark while the lich played at making small braids in the shoulder length waves of auburn hair.

Emmrich’s voice was ever present, rhythmic words and a gentle laugh as he twined bits of glinting fabric in the hair. Gold perhaps. Or silver. At times emerald, sapphire, ruby, but such was Fade that it played with sight and it was difficult to perceive. But the professor kept a low voice talking, pastoral. One with a critical eye would note the diligence, the hunched figure of the skeleton as he bent focused to the work at hand. Those linen wrapped bones were steady. Still as death with every shining strand added.

“Emmrich…” Rook’s voice soft, as if spoken while dreaming.

The necromancer ceased all movement, skull tilting over quick to catch a word, “Yes my love?”

Too pale lips smiled, “You sound…” Rook’s finger’s twitched, made to rise, perhaps to touch at Emmrich’s face, but they were caught. The lich brought his hand to them, laced his fingers with Rook’s and squeezed tight, “...worried.” Words out with a sigh, still blissful.

“Dearest heart, it is nothing for you to trouble over, simply the stressors of being the ‘Young’ Volkarin among my peers. All is well. You are safe here.” Clothed thumb wiped the man’s brow, came back wet. Sweat starting to bead. Rook mumbled something unintelligible, millisecond of a grimace, and then a sigh, “Everything,” Emmrich trailed his fingers on the man’s head, a glancing cooling kiss of linen as Rook muttered, “...feels heavy.”

“Like…” His chest moved a little faster, color in cheek draining. “underwater…” Emmrich gave a start, hand flinching back from Rook’s head. “But…hot.”

“Oh, my darling Rook, rest. Take a breath. Slow. Deep. As you’ve practiced. I’ll return shortly.” And in a swift movement the roots and trunk and earth shifted, took hold where Emmrich had held as he slipped out and away. Rook nudged not an inch, only a few strands of hair falling heavy with their gilding.

Emmrich didn’t walk so much as ‘shift’ from where he’d been, and Fade melded real, soles of his shoes heavy on the stone floor. The bulk form of spreading branches remained above, trunk connecting to roots below, shape only similar now, in all metallic hue, as physical came to view.

[stanleypinesgf]

Falling for Mystery - Chapter Nine*

Falling for Mystery Masterlist

Warnings: nsfw (mdni), smut, 18+ only, praise kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex. if i missed any warnings lmk, my first time writing anything like this, i hope y'all enjoy! Please note: this is a slow burn fic with smut and mature themes, 18+ only and please check warnings at the start of chapters! TYSM for all the support so far!!

w/c: 2,791

The door creaked open behind us, and I felt the familiar warmth of the space enveloping us, charged with an energy that sent a thrill through my veins. I buried my face against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of pine mixed with something distinctly Stan—earthy and comforting, grounding me even as my heart raced with nervous excitement. I had never felt this way before, caught between fear and desire, but something about him made me want to surrender to the moment.

Trailing open-mouthed kisses from the collar of his shirt to a sensitive spot below his ear, I elicited a small groan from him, a sound that ignited a fire deep within me. He set me down gently, his hands lingering on my waist as he stepped back, creating a space that felt both safe and tantalisingly close. The dim light of the room cast shadows on his features, highlighting the way his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened with need. I could see the struggle within him—a blend of wanting to protect me and an undeniable yearning that mirrored my own.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I nodded, swallowing hard, trying to find my voice.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words for me, okay, doll?”

His words sent a thrill through me, putting me at ease while filling me with anticipation. The way he looked at me, those intense, soulful eyes searching for reassurance, made my heart race even faster. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle around us like a thick fog.

“I’m more than okay,” I whispered, the sincerity in my voice hanging in the air. “I want this.”

He stepped closer, heat radiating from him, a magnetic pull that made my breath catch in my throat. Stan reached up, resting his hands on my arms, his fingers brushing my skin, igniting a spark of warmth that spread through me.

“I don’t want to push you,” he murmured, searching my eyes for any hint of hesitation. “I just want you to feel safe.”

“I do feel safe,” I reassured him, my heart swelling with sincerity.

The tension crackled between us, and I could see the hunger reflected in his eyes. Leaning closer, I closed the gap, feeling the warmth of his body. My heart raced, every nerve buzzing with anticipation.

“I want you,” I whispered, determination lacing my words.

His eyes darkened with desire, and he captured my lips again, more fervently this time, as if afraid I might slip away. His hands explored my back, pulling me closer, fusing our bodies together. Each kiss was a promise, each touch a plea, and I surrendered completely to the rush of emotions swirling around us, the world outside fading into a distant memory. I felt his heartbeat matching mine, wild and frantic. He pulled back just enough to gaze into my eyes, breath ragged.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he breathed.

My thighs clenched at his words, and I could see the flicker of awareness in his eyes. With a gentle push, he laid me back onto the mattress, his larger frame pinning me in a way that felt thrilling and protective. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, revealing a swathe of thick, dark chest hair and a glint of gold from the chain around his neck. I paused, captivated by the sight before me.

He looked at me with a mix of vulnerability and uncertainty, his breath quickening as I took in his strong yet soft physique. In that moment, I sensed his insecurity creeping in.

“Wow, Stan,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. “You look incredible.”

A blush crept to his cheeks, and I could see him fighting against the shyness. “Really? You think so?” His tone held a hint of disbelief.

I nodded, tracing the outline of his chest with my fingertips. “You have no idea how attractive you are. You drive me crazy.”

As realisation washed over him, I watched his confidence surge, a hungry glint igniting in his eyes. He slotted his knee between my thighs, pressing against my core with a gentle urgency. I gasped at the contact, a wave of sensation washing over me, and his breath hitched as he watched the effect it had on me.

I felt a rush of boldness and pulled him closer, my fingers deftly finding the hem of my shirt. Stan's gaze locked onto mine, encouragement and hunger swirling in his eyes.

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmured, his voice more sultry than before. “Show me what you want.”

Taking a steadying breath, I lifted my shirt over my head, exposing my skin to the warm, dim light. Stan's eyes widened, breath catching as he leant back to take in the sight of me.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his hands exploring the curves of my waist, mapping out every detail.

Then, he leaned in, his lips trailing soft kisses down my neck, pausing to nibble gently, leaving marks that would surely bloom later. Each kiss ignited a fire within me, drawing soft whimpers from my lips, and I could hear the low growl of approval escaping his lips.

"Tell me if I’m going too far," he whispered between kisses, his voice thick with desire yet laced with care.

I shivered at his words, every kiss a mix of passion and consideration. "You won’t," I assured him, reveling in the warmth of his touch.

As his kisses trailed down my neck, I felt the heat pooling in my core, a mix of urgency and longing flooding my senses. Stan’s hands roamed my waist, exploring every curve as if he were discovering a hidden treasure. I gasped when he cupped my breasts, his touch both gentle and firm, sending electric jolts through me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. The sincerity in his tone made my heart race even faster, igniting a fire within me. With that, he took one of my nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his hands gently massaged the other. Pleasure shot through me, a gasp escaping my lips. I could feel the heat radiating off him, his determination to make me feel good evident in every deliberate movement.

“Stan,” I breathed, feeling emboldened by his praise. “This feels so amazing.”

“Just wait,” he said, pulling back for a moment to catch his breath. “I want to give you everything you deserve.”

He slid down, placing soft kisses along my stomach, his hands exploring every inch of my skin. When he reached my core, he paused again, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my shorts and looking up at me. “Can I?”

“Stan... You don’t have to—” I started, feeling unsure. I wasn’t used

“Doll, you have no idea how much I’ve thought about this... this is as much for me as it is for you,” he reassured, his eyes searching mine for approval. “Besides, I wanna make you feel good, if that’s what you want?”

“Please,” I urged, my voice barely a whisper, feeling a thrill at the thought of him wanting this.

With a confident smile, he leaned down, his intentions clear as he slowly removed my shorts and underwear, placing soft kisses along my thighs. “I want to taste you,” he said, his voice low and filled with desire. “It’ll drive me wild.”

I felt a surge of wetness pooling between my thighs from his words alone.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” With a nod, he pressed his lips against me, his tongue teasing my slit and exploring with a skill that took my breath away. He was attentive and responsive, ensuring that I felt every ounce of pleasure he could give. He focused solely on me, his movements deliberate and intoxicating. My hands immediately tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as I surrendered to the waves of pleasure he was creating.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmured against my skin, the vibrations sending waves of ecstasy through me. As he continued, his gaze flicked up to meet mine, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re so wet for me,” he said, the appreciation in his voice making my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

I bit my lip, momentarily shy at his words, but the heat in his eyes quickly reminded me of the pleasure he was giving me. “It’s just... you,” I managed to stammer, the mixture of shyness and need swirling within me.

“Let me take care of you,” he encouraged, diving back in with renewed fervor, his focus entirely on my pleasure. Each flick of his tongue and gentle suction ignited a fire within me, a heat that only he could stoke.

As he continued his delicious exploration, he teased my entrance with his fingers, slowly sliding a thick digit deep inside me. The sensation was overwhelming, and I moaned at the delightful fullness while he expertly worked his tongue on my clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing over me.

In a moment of blissful distraction, I caught a glimpse of him, his hand palming over his clothed length with a steady rhythm. The sight heightened my arousal, knowing how much he was enjoying this moment. His focus was entirely on me, yet the way he touched himself only fueled my desire, making me ache for him even more. I could see the tension in his body, the way his muscles flexed with each movement, and it sent a thrill through me, urging me to let go completely.

The tension within me built, a delicious coil tightening as I lost myself in the sensations. His name escaped my lips in a breathless plea, urging him on, and he responded by intensifying his efforts. His mouth latched onto my clit while his fingers slowly curved inside me, hitting that sweet spot that made me see stars. I could feel myself tightening around him, a clear sign of my impending release.

“Just let go for me,” he encouraged, his voice a low, sultry whisper. “I want to hear you.”

With his words, I felt the dam break, pleasure washing over me in a tidal wave as I cried out his name, the intensity of it leaving me breathless. Stan worked me through my orgasm, only pulling back when my legs shook uncontrollably, a triumphant smile on his face, clearly pleased with my response.

“That’s it. You did so well for me,” he praised, voice thick with desire.

His eyes darkened with need, and he leaned in to capture my lips again, deepening the kiss as his hands moved with urgency, undoing his belt. I moaned into the kiss, tasting myself on his lips, the heat between us growing unbearable.

He pulled away just enough to look into my eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. “Is this okay? We don’t have to...”

“More than okay,” I assured him, my heart racing in anticipation.

“I’ll take it slow, I promise,” he said, his voice a deep growl that sent shivers down my spine.

He stood up, quickly shedding his trousers to reveal his arousal, the sight electrifying. My eyes widened as I took in the thick length of him, perfectly sculpted and undeniably alluring. The way his shaft curved slightly, glistening with anticipation, made my breath catch. I couldn't help but admire the blend of strength and softness in his body, every muscle defined yet inviting, igniting a primal desire within me.

Stan's hands gripped my thighs, urging them apart. He took a moment to admire the view, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and pride.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a mix of eagerness and care.

“God yes,” I breathed, barely able to contain myself.

With a gentle but firm grip, he swiped his cock between my folds, positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes locking onto mine, searching for any sign of uncertainty. “Just tell me if you need me to stop,” he said, his tone serious but drunk with desire.

I nodded, holding onto his broad shoulders, mesmerised by the gold chain hanging between us.

He pushed into me slowly, a low groan escaping his lips as he filled me. The sensation was overwhelming, and I gasped, my body arching into him. He paused, allowing me to adjust to the fullness, his eyes watching mine intently.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he said, a mix of awe and hunger in his voice, “like you were made for me, baby.”

As I nodded, urging him on, he began to move, his thrusts steady and deep, drawing out soft moans from my lips. Each movement was filled with a mix of urgency and tenderness, as if he was both worshipping and claiming me. He was holding back; I knew there was an urge to take me harder, faster. But not now; he was showing me that he could take care of me, and the gesture alone was driving me wild.

“Good girl,” he murmured against the shell of my ear, his voice deep, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

With every thrust, he continued to praise me, his words stoking the fire within.

“You’re taking me so well,” he encouraged, his breath mingling with mine as we lost ourselves in each other.

The world around us faded, leaving only the two of us, caught in a rhythm that felt both primal and sacred. As pleasure built between us, I felt a surge of desire, pushing us closer to the edge.

“Stan, I’m so close,” I gasped, my body responding eagerly to his every movement.

“Let go for me, doll. I want to see you fall apart,” he urged, his voice a mixture of gravel and sweetness. As he spoke, his thumb expertly found my clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that sent shockwaves of pleasure through me.

Just as he began to thrust again, I interrupted, locking my legs around him to pull him in deeper. The intensity of the moment surged as I felt him fill me completely.

With one final thrust, I surrendered to the wave of pleasure crashing over me, a desperate cry tearing from my lips as my whole body shuddered and I came undone around him. My moans spurred him on, my tightness drawing him closer to his release as he buried himself deeper, lost in the shared ecstasy.

“Where do you want me?” he asked, his breath ragged with need.

“Inside,” I managed to breathe out, my heart racing.

“Atta girl,” he praised, giving a few more deep thrusts before his own release followed closely. As he buried himself deeper, he bit my collarbone, a mix of pleasure and possessiveness radiating between us as our bodies entwined in the aftermath of shared ecstasy.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, I felt Stan gently pulling out, a soft groan escaping his lips. He collapsed beside me, breathless and spent. I turned to him, a mix of vulnerability and warmth flooding through me.

“You okay, doll?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with concern.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m good,” I replied, a shy smile creeping onto my face.

He gently pulled me onto his chest, wrapping his arms around me protectively. The warmth of his body felt incredible, grounding me in the afterglow. “Just give me a sec,” he said, his tone soft as he brushed a strand of hair from my face.

“I’ll be right back,” he added, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on my forehead before slipping out of bed. He walked to the bathroom, leaving me momentarily alone, a flicker of uncertainty creeping in. What if he didn’t come back?

But soon enough, he returned, a damp cloth in hand. “Sorry, I just want you to feel comfortable,” he said, a hint of awkwardness in his smile as he began to clean me gently, his touch tender and careful.

Once he was done, he settled back beside me, pulling me close again. “You did amazing, by the way. Seriously,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

I looked up at him, feeling a mix of warmth and shyness. “Will you stay?” I whispered, unsure but hopeful.

“Of course, I’m not going anywhere,” he assured me, his eyes softening as he wrapped his arms around me once more.

We lay there in comfortable silence, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. As I nestled into his chest, I felt my eyelids grow heavy, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing. Before long, I drifted off, safe and sound in his embrace, the world outside fading away. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[fanfics4all]

Breakthrough

Request: Yes / No

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Jughead Jones x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 588

Warnings: Nothing I think

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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The light of the Blue and Gold office flickered slightly as I burst through the door, papers clutched tightly in my hands and excitement buzzing through my veins like electricity. Jughead was sitting at his desk, his beanie pushed back slightly as he stared at his laptop screen, probably lost in whatever investigative piece he was working on. 

“Do you know what this means!?” I practically shouted, slamming my papers onto the desk before him. Jughead didn’t even flinch, his dark eyes lifting from the screen to meet mine with an amused and tired look. 

“It means you haven’t slept in seventy-two hours?” He deadpanned, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. I groaned, rolling my eyes. 

“No! Well…maybe, but that’s not the point!” I jabbed at the papers with my finger. 

“This is it, Juggie! This is the breakthrough I’ve been working towards for months! Do you even realize what I’ve done?” He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“I’m guessing it’s more important than sleep?” 

“Way more important!” I exclaimed, ignoring the fact that he was probably right. My hands practically shook as I shuffled through the papers, pointing out the key calculations, notes, and graphs. 

“This could change everything! This proves that the molecular bonds… okay, wait, you don’t care about the science, but trust me, it’s huge!” Jughead tilted his head, his smirk softening into a genuine smile as he watched me. 

“I care. Maybe not about the technical stuff, but I care because it’s you, and apparently, it’s huge.” I paused, my heart swelling a little at his words. Jughead wasn’t always the most expressive person, but moments like this reminded me why I adored him. 

“You don’t get it!” I said, trying to contain my excitement long enough to explain. 

“This could revolutionize energy storage. I’m talking about a clean, scalable source of energy that’s efficient, affordable, and scalable. Do you know what this could mean for the environment? For the future?” His eyes lit up then, a flicker of understanding mingled with pride. 

“Wow…” He said softly, his voice laced with awe. 

“You’re changing the world.” I felt my cheeks flush, a mixture of pride and humility at his words. 

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far yet. There’s still so much testing to be done and I’ll probably have to defend the findings against a hundred skeptics, but-” 

“But you did this.” He interrupted, reaching out to place his hand over mine, stopping my frantic movement. 

“You. You’ve been working nonstop, pouring everything you have into this, and now you’ve done it. That’s incredible!” The sincerity in his voice made my throat tighten, and I blinked back the sudden sting of tears. 

“Thanks, Juggie, that means a lot.” He shrugged, his hand lingering on mine. 

“It’s true. You’re amazing, you know that?” I laughed softly, shaking my head. 

“I’m just a nerd with a lot of coffee and very little self-preservation.” 

“Yeah, well” His smirk returned. 

“You’re my nerd with a lot of coffee and very little self-preservation, and I’m proud of you.” I smiled at him, the weight of exhaustion momentarily lifting as I took in the warmth in his gaze. 

“You’re pretty amazing you’re, ya know.” He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand. 

“Tell me more about this world-changing breakthrough, but, uh, maybe in words a non-genius can understand?” I grinned, my excitement bubbling up again as I launched into a simplified version of my discovery.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @emo-godess-loves-you @hiya-imthatgirl @mindsetjupiter @averysinclaire @mittelerde1999 @sweetest-peas @rousewriter @camiconfessions-blog @thecaptainsgingersnap @cenyddtheunicorn @jacksxsouthsideserpents @lover2448 @mamacobie13��@rainbow-noodles @lovelywordsblog @darkestbeforethedawn16 @fandom-princess-forevermore @liz-owl

[faeskiss]

In Another Lifetime

hi!! I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a a while I have been very busy with college admissions and stuff, but I got the idea for this fic out of the blue and just HAD to write it, this might be confusing at first but please keep reading it will make sense in the end I PROMISE!

The noble trials AU fic!!

zaros x reader !!

“The dessert is absolutely incredible, the royal kitchen of Serulla is blessed with gifted chefs, we are very lucky” says the woman sitting at the head of the dining table, the rest of the guests agree in unison

Her voice is as smooth as honey and as light as a daffodil, it feels comforting, quite soothing even, it tugs at your heart, almost as if it’s trying to tell you something, but your mind fails to pinpoint what or why

You have been losing your sanity trying to figure where you are, who these people are, why it all feels strangely recognisable, why everything has a tinge of haziness to it, but one thing you are certain of is that your patience is growing thin

The dining room is so huge you feel as if though it stretches on forever, the glass table is decorated with gold candlesticks, polished cutlery that gleams and dinnerware you feel anxious to eat from, mostly because you’re scared you might break a plate or two

The crystal goblets have an intricate gold pattern on them that messes with your mind, you’ve seen this design before, you have, you are certain that you have, but your brain fails to remember where, that’s when you start to feel your heart filling up with an uncomfortable anxiety, your breath quickens a bit, an ominous inkling weighs you down

“Are you alright my Earis?” asks the blonde man sitting next to you, worry laced in his voice, his voice, it’s painfully familiar, just like everything around you, your inability to understand why you feel this way is getting gravely aggravating by the minute

“Earis” the word echoes in your mind, how can a word you’ve never heard before feel like it belongs to you? like it’s yours

That’s when your entire demeanour shifts, you feel terrified and you don’t even know why, your heart hammers against your chest, panic gushing swiftly through your veins, you are certain you might faint on the spot

You clutch the lavish goblet in your hand and gulp down heaps of water, almost as if you expect it to fix your utterly disheveled state and bring you back to your senses, but it doesn’t do anything other than soothe your thirst, and you suddenly realise how dry your throat was, it must’ve been forever since you drank any water

You suddenly feel a warm hand on your shoulder and your attention is quickly directed elsewhere

“You’re really starting to concern me now, you’ve been acting so strange the entire night” says the blonde man next to you, worry still evident in his voice

His yellow locks look luminous in the warm light of the chandelier, bright like the sun, his piercing green eyes ablaze with confusion as they peer into yours

For a few moments you just stare at him, soaking him in, there is something about his disposition that makes you feel so very safe, his mere presence is comforting, almost as if you’ve known him for multiple lifetimes

He is saying something but you are too lost to even focus on his voice

That’s when you realise, his name, you know his name, the sudden rush of adrenaline fills you up with a bolt of energy

You know his name

Your heart races at the possibility of being able to remember something about this place, the possibility that you aren’t crazy to think everything around you feels-hauntingly familiar

He looks at you with perplexity painted all over his face and a faint horror in his eyes, but you brush him off and divert your attention away

You focus with every ounce of energy in your body, you know his name, it’s there, hidden deep in you, all you have to do is focus

You hear the ghost of a word swim in your mind, trying to pry it’s way out, almost on the very tip of your tongue, but as soon as you as you think you’ve finally got it, a sharp stab of pain pierces your temples, making it’s way to the back of your head, engulfing you in agony

“Why can’t I remember?” you whisper to yourself in despair

This is the breaking point, your mind is crumbling this very instant and there is nothing you can do about it, no one you know is here, no one to turn to, a helpless fear surges through you, making you nauseous

Someone gives your shoulder a slight shake, but this headache makes it impossible to think about anything else

Your patience has run out, you feel as if though you’re going crazy, a million questions flood your weary mind, overwhelming you, trying to drown you

Warm hands reach to cup your face, it’s him, the beautiful man with the sun-kissed hair, who’s name you almost died trying to recall, but now the look on his face has gone from worried to downright terrified

“What is going on? Please talk to me!” you can feel the anguish in his voice touch your heart

Tears start to bubble in your eyes, making their way down your cheeks, your headache growing stronger by the second

“I don’t know what’s going on” fear is evident in your voice as you sob in your chair, looking at him with pleading eyes, begging for help

You wonder why no one else in the room has noticed you two or noticed your crying

He looks at you with misery in his eyes, almost as if it kills him to see you in this state

His hand travels up towards your forehead, then to your neck, as if he’s checking you for a fever

“Gods you are burning up” he says in a panic

“I’m really scared” you cry out

“Nothing will happen to you, I promise” his voice is warm and reassuring, it’s the only thing keeping you from having a panic attack

“I am taking you to your room” he asserts

He offers you his hand and you take it, you get up in an instant, trying your best to not stumble to the ground, his hand encircles your waist as you hang onto him for support, every touch feels like home

“Is everything ok?”

You notice the woman get up from her chair in a hurried manner, the same woman who was sitting at the head of the table, the worry in her voice surprises you

“Why does she care?” You think to yourself

“I fear the Earis has a fever” he says

“Gods!” she cries out

Concerned voices fill up the room

“There’s no need to worry, I am taking them to their room in an instant” he says

“I’ll send the chief curer right away” she adds

You don’t know who any of these people are, or why they care, but it seems that you are someone of importance to them

He takes your hand and guides you through the hallway, you can barely walk, the dull, crushing pain in your head still throbs with intensity

He opens the doors to your room, the plush bed calling your name as he helps you to it. You feel your legs go numb as you lay on the soft covers, the pain slowly ebbing out of your body

“I think I know you, I know your name, I really do” your voice is faint, almost a whisper

“You have to believe me-“

“Just go to sleep” his hand reaches to caress your hair

“Everything will be okay when you wake up, I promise” he says softly

You feel a gentle kiss on your forehead as your vision fades to black

You are woken up by the obnoxious ringing of your alarm, you check your phone and notice that it’s already 7:00 am, you snap back to reality when you realise you have an important paper due today

The dream, you aren’t surprised, because you’ve had similar ones countless times before, the same blonde man, the same woman with the sickly sweet voice, the familiarity of your surroundings, you try to figure out who they are but you always fail, and every time, you wake up with the same goddamn headache, only this time you have a fever to go along with it

You drag yourself out of your bed, despite being sick, you cannot miss college today or you’ll simply fail the semester, you hurriedly get dressed and rush your way to your class

After having finally submitted your paper, you feel relieved, you notice your headache has gone away and your fever has gone down, you walk through the busy hallway trying to make your way out to meet your friends, but you suddenly bump into someone

“I’m so sorry-“ you stop your sentence midway because your heart simply ceases, your body grows cold, you stare at the face of the person you bumped into, it’s like you can’t breathe, no words come out of your mouth, you’re frozen from shock

It’s him, the beautiful blonde, the person who plagues your dreams, who’s name you’ve tried to remember a trillion something times, how is this even possible? You have never seen him around, never heard of him, there is no logical explanation for any of this, and what is even more shocking is that his expression mirrors yours, almost as if he is just as surprised as you

“I am sorry, I wasn’t paying attention” he says with a sense of disbelief in voice, those green eyes, his sharp green eyes are now ladened with shock

He hesitates at first, but slowly turns around and walks away

You feel a familiar shooting pain in your temples, it clouds your mind, painful and torturous, but it goes away as quickly as it came

Your mind reverberates with a faint name, growing louder and louder, till it echoes in your very soul, it’s on the tip of your tongue once again, only this time, you whisper to yourself, in the busy hallway, watching him walk away

“Zaros”

[ohlawsons]

05. how did i end up here | flystep, 761 words set shortly after they begin training together

“Shit.”

Dani blinks hard, squinting into the sun as their mind catches up with their body — which is currently laid out on a rooftop, sprawled out in surprise after a hit from Herald that neither of them thought would actually land. They’re not hurt, not really, but they’ll be more bruised and sore tomorrow than normal.

The sun is, momentarily, blocked out as Herald rushes over, leaning over them with eyes wide as he sputters out an apology. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to— I mean, I thought I’d—“

“Fuck, I’m retired, not made of glass.” Waving off his apologies, Dani pulls themself up so they’re seated, letting their elbows rest on their knees as they catch their breath. “That was good. That’s the whole point of this, anyway. Gotta crack some eggs, and all that.”

He takes a step back, not quite wringing his hands; a spike of pride at their praise cuts through his concern for a moment. “It’s just training,” he reminds them, the words gentler than they have any right to be. “I don’t want to actually hurt you.” Herald means it, too, and they both know it.

Holding back a wry grin, they crane their neck to look up at him. “You couldn’t hurt me if you wanted,” they say, the jab dry and caustic, “and I’ve been retired for longer than you’ve been active.” They’re still not sure why, exactly, they’d agreed to help train the kid — and they’re still ignoring the little part of their mind that perks up around him, that seeks out the bright warmth of his thoughts to bask in.

And there’s that little smile again, warm and concerned, and his thoughts are a fluttering mess of not the point and don’t want to hurt them and a quietly subdued satisfaction that they have a point, that they’re just as good as they used to be as Sidestep; he is, at least, making an honest attempt to change the way he sees them — they’re Dani, now, and they’re not quite the same person that he’s idolized for so long.

No, the way he looks at them has changed, and they’re doing their very best to ignore what that means.

Dani stands, biting back a little grunt of effort as they do, and uses their shirt to dab at the sweat on their face and neck. “You’re still overthinking,” they tell him, the words halfhearted; it’s their fault, really, for getting too cocky and comfortable after Herald’s mental uncertainty and hesitance that he’d actually land the blow.

“I know.” He’s pacing — hovering — a few feet away, staring down at the rooftop as the previous sequence plays through his mind. “I talked to Julia about it again,” he admits, shoulders slumping a bit. “She said the same thing that… you did.”

The words falter, Herald’s voice growing quieter, and Dani’s hit with a rush of his thoughts as his attention turns wholly towards them; they’re pulling their hair back up into a tight bun, and the motion makes their shirt — a short, loose crop top tee in bright Charge blue — ride up, leaving their toned shoulders and arms and torso relatively exposed beneath the tight, fitted long-sleeved athletic top they wear under the t-shirt. It’s less layered than usual, even for their training sessions, but it’s too hot for anything else and now paranoia and discomfort creep along their spine.

He’s watching them. He’s distracted. He thinks they look good.

(They know they didn’t have their body broken and torn and mangled just because Ortega liked looking at it. That doesn’t stop the familiar taste of bitter, metallic anxiety from sticking in their throat as Herald looks them over, watches them.

He’s deliberately not staring. Ortega never bothered hiding that she was. It still tastes the same.)

The hair tie snaps into place. Dani lowers their arms. ‘You’re overthinking.” The words are meant to be sharp, bitter, but their voice sticks in their throat and it comes out cracked and shaky.

They were never supposed to be here. With Herald. With the Rangers. With anyone. But that went out the window—

(—glass shattering, free fall, she calls their name as they surrender to the sensation—)

—when Ortega found them, pulled them back into this life. Wormed her way back into their empty heart. It’s not her fault, and they know that, but it helps to blame someone. To blame her.

They were never supposed to be here.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 29: From Under the Ground

Summary: Lucy continues to push down her own grief in an attempt to hold everything together while Tommy and Lizzie unravel.  

Word Count: 7,742

Warnings: Grief, references to child death, past suicide attempt, sexual content, violence, and chronic pain.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 9: Tyranny & Terror

When they got home, Lucy went to speak with Frances to finalize the plans for the dinner they were hosting that night with Mosley, Diana, Jack, and Laura McKee. Meanwhile, Tommy went to the dining room to deal with Lizzie. Lucy could hear shouting from in there while she spoke with Frances, and then the sounds of Lizzie’s heels thundering on the floorboards, storming out and upstairs towards the bedrooms. 

She found Tommy still in the dining room once she was done with Frances, standing with a hand on his hip and his lips pursed. 

“Didn’t sound like that went very well,” she commented, moving to stand beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He sighed. 

“She knows what we did.”

“Does she understand why?”

“Of course not.” He rubbed at his eyes. “She’s…” he hesitated, “I don’t want you around her right now, if you can help it. Not without me there too.”

Lucy frowned. “Why not?”

“She’s regressing. And you always were her favorite target. But so long as I’m around she’ll probably behave herself. At least in regards to you.”

“She’s grieving, it’s understandable that she's more emotional than usual…”

“Yeah. But she’d never hit me before.”

“She hit you!?” A flare of wrathful protectiveness surged in her veins, eyes widening. 

“Just on the arm when I tried to get her to stay so that I could explain.”

“Fucking hell.”

“It’s fine.”

She gave him a look. “No, it isn’t.”

He touched her arm in silent gratitude. “Arthur’s here. Apparently.”

“Frances told me. Do you want me to deal with him?”

“No. It should be me.”

“Okay,” she rubbed at his chest. “I’ll go get cleaned up and changed and deal with greeting our guests and getting them settled. You don’t need to worry.”

“Thank you.”

She stretched up on her toes to kiss his cheek, then headed for the stairs, going to the bedroom that she shared with Tommy. She changed out of her clothes, taking a quick shower and slipping into a black dress made of silk crepe. It fell to just below her knees, the sleeves short and flowy, a strip of the skirt just at the hips and the top of the collar that hit above her breasts both embellished by lace. She didn’t bother with much jewelry save for her usual set of gold rings, her golden heart pendant necklace, and a set of gold pearl earrings. 

Her red hair she swept up into a chignon held by pins embellished with pearls at the nape of her neck. A little fancier and more elaborate than the usual simple updo she’d been styling it in since it had gotten so long. It now hit almost to the middle of her back when fully let down. 

“You fucking cunt.”

She stopped, spinning around to find Lizzie standing in the doorway. A cigarette in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other. Shadow lifted his head, a soft growl rumbling from his throat where he laid in his dog bed. Lucy sighed, turning back to the mirror to finish fastening her earrings. 

“Go to bed, Lizzie.”

“You could have made him stay with us,” Lizzie mumbled, half slurring, staggering deeper into the room, swaying on her heels. “He does whatever you fucking ask of him, and you know it. But you’ve only ever used that for your own selfish reasons. You could have made him stay at the hospital.” She pointed an accusing finger. “It’s your fault he wasn’t there to say goodbye to her.”

“Tommy makes his own choices, Lizzie.”

She didn’t seem to even hear her. “You could have made him stay with us at the funeral. You could have made him stay with me.” Lizzie swallowed hard. “You could have gotten him to be the husband that I wanted…”

Lucy rolled her eyes. Seemed that Tommy was right. She really was going down that road again. “He could never be the husband that you wanted him to be, Lizzie.”

“You’ve always enabled him,” Lizzie rambled on. “Always allowed him to feed into his worst impulses. Have you ever once stopped to think that maybe you agreeing with everything he says or does has hurt him far worse than it’s helped?”

Lucy’s fingers tightened against each other, turning around to face her. “And you think that you’re a better influence, I’m assuming? Even though all you’ve ever done is bitch about who he is.”

Lizzie’s eyes shined with a hatred that Lucy had not seen reflected in them for nearly four years. “You shouldn’t have taken him from me today.”

“I didn’t take him. We had business to attend to.”

“You mean murdering people in Ruby’s name?”

Lucy shook her head, taking a step forward. “Every moment that you spend with each other, you are both miserable. Why do you think that him being here would have helped anything? You’re both so much better, so much happier when you aren’t together. So yes, I took him away, if that’s how you really want to put it. Because it was what was best for all three of us.”

Lizzie stared down at her, face twisting with a harsh, humorless laugh. “You’re going to try to get rid of me. You think you can shove me aside and take my place as his wife without consequences now that Ruby’s gone, is that it? Well let me tell you something, you little slut,” she took a step forward, crowding right into Lucy’s space. “You won’t be getting rid of me that easily. I’m not going anywhere. And I will never let you become Mrs. Shelby. Not as long as I fucking live.”

Lucy stared at her, brows raised. Where once Lizzie’s words may have elicited insecurity and melancholy, all she could feel now was fury and annoyance. 

“Give me the bottle,” she ordered, hand held out. When Lizzie didn’t move, she ripped it from her hand. “I’m going to be nicer about this than I should be,” she said slowly. “Because you’re grieving. And because you’re drunk. Go to bed. We have guests coming and seeing you like this will only worsen their already very low opinions of you.”

The smug look of triumph on Lizzie’s face started to wane away.  

“Get out of my room,” Lucy jerked her head towards the door. As if sensing her emotions, Shadow rose to his feet, another growl in his throat, ready to leap at Lizzie if ordered to.

“You don’t get to–”

“I imagine Tommy would be very interested to hear what you just said to me. Should we go tell him now?” That made Lizzie close her mouth, eyes widening as her drunken mind seemed to finally realize just how much trouble she would be in when this made its way back to Tommy. Lucy cocked her head. “Go sleep this off, and maybe I’ll consider keeping this whole thing between us.”

Lizzie’s eyes still burned with anger, but there was more shame and fear in them now. Her jaw tightened, as if she were trying to physically restrain more venom from spewing out, then spun on her heel and stomped from the room. 

As soon as the door slammed shut behind her, Lucy’s shoulders slumped, a deep sigh leaving her lungs. She set the bottle of whiskey down on her vanity. Though not before giving it a longing look. Fuck, she could do with a swig right now. 

Shadow padded over to her, whining softly and nudging at her shins with his nose. 

“I know,” she scratched him behind one ear. “Thanks for having my back, big guy.” His tail wagged back and forth at the praise. 

Sitting down, she fastened her heels to her feet. 

She could not let Lizzie’s words get to her. Not now. She needed to be focused.

It didn’t matter anyway. She’d already come to the conclusion on her own that she and Tommy could never be married. Not after Charlie made her promise not to send Lizzie away. They were stuck with her forever.

It did just further solidify things though. Originally she had thought that maybe Lizzie would go without much fuss. She maybe would even be relieved at the notion of divorce and the opportunity to be free to seek out her own happiness. Maybe she could finally find that nice, normal man she was also trying to brute force Tommy into being. But clearly that wasn’t the case. Lizzie would never allow Tommy to divorce her without a fight. And that could get very ugly. On multiple counts. 

With a defeated sigh, she checked her makeup one last time in the mirror, collected the bottle of whiskey to give to Frances, and made her way downstairs just when the first car carrying their guests arrived. 

Diana was the first one through the door, Mosley right behind her. Lucy could see two other vehicles already approaching down the path leading up to the house. 

“Lucy,” Diana greeted her with the smile of a viper right before it was about to strike, pulling her into a hug before she could protest. “We were so very sorry to hear about dear little Ruby.”

Lucy swallowed hard around the lump that formed in her throat. It had been a long day, and she could feel the grief that she’d been trying to suppress attempting to work its way back up. 

“Yes,” Mosley agreed. “What a terrible tragedy.”

“Thank you,” she managed, politely sidestepping them to greet McKee and introduce them. Jack was in a car almost right behind her, both also extending their condolences. 

“Mr. Shelby apologizes for not being here to greet you himself. And Mrs. Shelby sends her deepest apologies, but she won’t be joining us. I’m sure that you all understand…”

They all mumbled their agreements. 

“If you follow me into the dining room, Mr. Shelby will be with us in a moment,” she led the way in, letting one of the servants inform them of their food and beverage options while she slipped out the back door to tell Tommy that everyone had arrived. 

She found him in the wine cellar, sending Arthur out through a backdoor. 

“Everyone’s here,” she informed him once Arthur was out and on his way. “I got them set up in the dining room.”

“Thank you.”

“How did things go with Arthur?”

He rubbed at his eyes. “I tried to set him straight.”

“Think it worked?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

She wrapped her arms around his middle, giving him a squeeze. He hugged her back, burying his face in her hair.

“I drank a mouthful of wine,” he admitted, voice muffled a little where his face was pressed against her. 

“Oh?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she stroked his back. Now of all times, she figured that they could both be forgiven for a little slip or two.

“You look beautiful.”

She felt her cheeks flush a little. “Thank you.”

He kissed her temple, pulling back from her to take her hand, leading the way up the stairs. When they stepped through the door, it was to find Frances with Charlie on the main stairway. At Charlie telling them that he couldn’t sleep, Tommy sent him to Lizzie. Lucy gave his shoulder a little squeeze when he walked past her. It would probably be for the best for both of them. Drunk and devastated as Lizzie was, having Charlie there with her might help her in some way. And it would hopefully make him feel safe enough to sleep. 

For a long moment, Tommy rested his fingers against his eyes. Lucy watched him physically try to pull himself together, laying a hand on his shoulder. A part of her wished that he’d just let her sit in the meeting in his place and report to him after. 

I’m right here with you, she spoke silently through the bond between them, feeling him touch back at her through it gently. 

When they slipped silently into the dining room, Laura McKee was singing. Lucy’s heart nearly stopped in her chest when she recognized the song. Her mind flashed back to a time that felt like eons ago. A happier time. A simpler time. Sitting in the Garrison with Tommy at her side, listening to Grace’s low voice crooning with song.

The only one of the group to originally notice them while McKee sang was Diana. Her eyes fixed squarely on Tommy, head cocked with interest. When he finally moved, McKee immediately ceased singing at the sound of his heavy footfalls. They took their seats, and the meeting commenced. 

Lucy did not say a word the entire time. Tommy barely spoke either, both of them just listening as the people around them schemed. Lucy could not help but wonder if the four other occupants at the table really were so unaware of just how evil their words sounded. 

She felt physically sick when Mosley forced Tommy to join him in giving the Seig Heil salute in order to prove his loyalty to the cause to Jack. But she was thankfully spared from having to do the same when one of the maids came wandering in, bending to whisper into her ear. 

“Miss. Winters, Mrs. Shelby is outside in the stables. She won’t come back in…”

She let out a heaving sigh. So not even Charlie could manage to keep Lizzie in one place. “Thank you, Clara. I’ll deal with it.” She rose from her seat, offering Tommy an apologetic look at leaving him alone with the fascists. 

Sorry.

He gave a minuscule shake of his head. Go. I’ll be fine.

“If you'll excuse me, I’ll be right back,” she said, giving Tommy’s shoulder a squeeze and slipping out the door. 

Lizzie was in fact in the stables, sobbing softly into the white coat of Ruby’s horse. Lucy blinked hard against the memories of taking the sweet little girl out riding him. How she’d laugh and shriek with delight when Lucy drove him into a fierce gallop across the property. 

“Lizzie,” she sighed, going to her and taking her by the shoulder. “Come inside.”

“No,” she weakly tried to pull her arm away. “No, I want to stay out here.” She trailed her fingers through the horse's pelt. “He understands.”

Lucy glanced at the horse, staring into his sad dark eyes, then turned her gaze back onto Lizzie’s tear stained face. “I miss her too, you know. I loved her. I’m not saying that it’s the same.” Despite how much she had loved Ruby, she did not want Lizzie to think that she was trying to compare their loss. “But, you aren’t alone in your grief, Lizzie.” She gave her a small tug. “Come back in the house. Before you catch a cold.”

Lizzie sniffled, giving Ruby’s hose a kiss to the nose and letting Lucy guide her away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled as they walked. “For what I said. Please don’t tell him, Lucy.”

“You know that I can’t promise that.” She told Tommy everything. It was doubtful she would be able to bring herself to keep this from him too. “I’m not your enemy,” she added, as if she had not been planning to take Tommy from her before Ruby had gotten sick. But what Lizzie didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “We’re not going to make you leave just because Ruby’s gone, alright? You don’t need to fight me for him to make sure you’re looked after.”

Lizzie pulled her coat tighter around herself. “Sometimes I get so scared,” she whispered.

Lucy cocked her head. “Scared of what?”

She wiped at her nose. “If he’s not obligated to take care of me because we’re married, I might–I might–” a sob stuttered her lungs. “I might have to go back to working the streets.” She started to cry harder.  

“Lizzie.” Lucy took her by the shoulders. It made a lot of sense, actually, now that she thought about it. Lizzie’s fear of having to go back to the life she’d once lived was motivation enough for anyone to act a little crazy. “Even if you and Tommy were to separate, we would never allow that to happen. He’d give you pay. We’d make sure you had a house and whatever else you need. You will never have to go back to what you had to do before.”

Lizzie sobbed hoarsely, gripping at her arms. “I don’t understand why you’re always so nice to me. After everything that I’ve done to you…”

“I’ve deserved at least some of it.”

“No. No, you were always so kind.” Her fingers ran along the twin horizontal scars on each of Lucy’s inner wrists. “I’ve been so awful to you.”

Lucy decided that it wasn’t worth it to try to argue with her when she was so drunk and upset. “Come on,” she wrapped an arm around her and helped steer her the rest of the way back to the house. “Where’s Charlie? We sent him to you.”

“Asleep.”

She nodded. Good. 

“I am sorry for what I said, Lucy.”

She felt her jaw clench unconsciously. This was how it used to always cycle: Lizzie would say something horrible to her, then she’d cool down and get her head back on straight, and come back with apologies in abundance. Promises that it would never happen again. Until it did. It wasn’t until Lucy tried to kill herself that Lizzie had stopped with the horrible jabs entirely.

A part of her always wondered if Lizzie stopped because she actually realized how much she’d been hurting her, or because she was scared to death of what Tommy would do to her if she crossed that line again. 

“Don’t let it happen again. I mean it,” she stopped, grabbing Lizzie by the face and making her look at her. “You can’t start this back up, Lizzie. He won’t let you get away with it, and I may not be able to stop him from leaving you this time.”

“This time?” Lizzie quoted back at her. Lucy gave her a small, pitying smile. 

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve stopped him from divorcing you over the years?”

Lizzie stared at her, seemingly stunned, though whether it was at the revelation that Tommy had considered leaving her multiple times, or that Lucy had stopped him, she couldn’t be sure. 

“Why?” Lizzie asked quietly. Lucy smiled sadly. 

“It’s what’s best for everyone.”

“Not for you.”

“No,” she acknowledged, feeling a deep rush of melancholy overtake her. “But I gave up on ever getting my happy ending a long time ago.”

Lizzie stared at her, then surged forward, clumsily crushing her in a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Lucy squeezed her back. “Me too.” She let her go and ushered her the rest of the way to the door, leaving Lizzie with Frances to help her get back to bed while she returned to the dining room. She took her seat again just as Jack announced that he was officially opening Boston for the import of Shelby merchandise. 

Well. Some progress there, at least. She looked over at Tommy, and went still. He didn’t look well at all. His face was drawn and tired, lips downturned in a deep frown. Some of the color had gone out in his cheeks. His eyes were focused solely on something by the fireplace. She followed his gaze and felt her breaths momentarily stop at the sight of Ruby’s little painted chair. Her favorite one, that she liked to sit on next to the fire when she was chilled.

She tore her eyes from the small chair to fix back on Tommy. She could see him starting to fray at the edges, dangerously close to unraveling. 

Go. She pushed the thought to him urgently. She could take care of everyone else. But he needed to get out of there before he snapped. 

Diana–of all people–seemed to also have picked up that it was time to end the meeting for the sake of their host, suggesting that they all say goodnight at the same moment that Tommy practically launched himself from his seat and strode out of the room without a word. 

Lucy rose shakily from her seat. Just a little more. All you’ve got to do is say goodnight and get them out of the house, and then it’s done.

“I apologize if Mr. Shelby wasn’t as…animated as he usually is…”

“Oh, dear, don’t apologize,” Diana smiled. “We all understand.”

“We’ll all be in contact with each other soon, then,” Lucy said, waiting until everyone nodded before leading the way to the door. She hovered nearby, supervising them all receive their coats and waiting for their cars to be brought around. Her hand dug around in her pocket for a cigarette to light to give her hands something to do. 

“Perhaps,” Diana’s voice crooned in her ear. The men were busy speaking with McKee, not paying much attention to them. “It would be possible sometime to arrange a meeting with just myself and Thomas.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, plucking the cigarette from her lips. “He does have some business that he’d like to discuss with you.” He’d been talking about using Diana to help with some of his housing projects.

“Is it always business with him?”

“Yes.”

She could not be entirely certain it was approval or not that she saw in Diana’s eyes. 

“But,” she added, “you need to understand, Diana, that regarding any…business you have with Tommy, I will be present as well. And that’s non-negotiable.”

Diana searched her face, smirk settling across her red lips. “I can be agreeable to that.”

Lucy nodded. She’d thought as much. Ada had said that while meeting with her Diana bragged  about fucking women as well as men. “Then we’ll be in touch.”

“Wonderful.”

McKee was the first to leave. 

“Miss. Winters,” Mosley turned his attention to her as they all watched McKee’s car drive away, sliding on his gloves. “A pleasure as always. Do extend our deepest condolences to Mrs. Shelby, will you? A shame she could not be here tonight, but of course we understand.”

“I will, thank you.”

“The death of a child is an irrecoverable thing. It has the potential to tear a couple apart,” Jack stated, shrugging on his coat. “Or it could bring them closer together.”

Lucy shifted, deeply uncomfortable with all their attention suddenly turned fully onto her, even with Frances there with her. Why did it feel like everyone and everything was trying to instigate a resurgence of the insecurities that used to torment her?

She said quick goodnights to all of them, thankful to watch them depart to their vehicles and drive away. 

“Are you alright, Miss?” Frances asked. 

“Mhm,” Lucy hummed, still watching the taillights draw farther and farther away from the doorway. 

“Come away from there before you catch a chill, love,” the housekeeper drew her back with a gentle hand, turning her face and smoothing a lock of hair that had fallen from her pins behind her ear. “You’ve been so strong for all of them. I know Mr. Shelby appreciates it.”

“Where is he?”

“He went outside.”

“Right,” she ran a hand down her face. “You can go to bed.”

Frances nodded, stepping away, then turned back to her. “Miss?”

“Hm?”

She hesitated. “Supporting Mr. and Mrs. Shelby while they mourn doesn’t mean that you aren’t also allowed to grieve.”

Lucy gave her a weak smile. “Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, Miss.”

She waited until Frances left before going to one of the side doors, stepping out onto the grounds. Her arms wrapped around herself, shoulder leaning against the doorway while she scanned the darkness around them to try to find Tommy’s figure amongst the trees. Shadow came padding up to her side, tongue lolling. He looked up at her, his tail starting to wag hopefully. 

“Not right now, boy,” she apologized, giving him a few scratches behind the ear. Normally she took him for a quick walk on the grounds just before they turned in for the night. 

She was just considering ordering Shadow to track Tommy and lead her to him, when the gunshots started. 

Screaming accompanied them, Tommy’s distinguishable roar of agony echoing across the hills. She could see the sparks from the gun in the distance, the little pops of light finally helping her to spot him.

For a moment, she panicked, hand flying to where her pistol normally sat, snug in its holster against her ribs, only to curse when she realized that she was still wearing the black dress she’d put on for the meeting. She was struck with horrible mental images, of assassins lurking on the grounds attacking him from all angles, or of him holding another weapon to his temple, like he had four years ago, and pulling the trigger. The scream he’d let out was bone chillingly similar to the one she remembered him unleashing then. 

She took off running without even really thinking, not caring that it was possible she could get struck by the gunfire. It was only when she got about halfway to him that she slowed, close enough to make out that he was alone. No enemies to be seen. And he was still standing. Not dead in the dirt. He had his back to her, gun raised and firing blindly into the air in front of him. She stopped, grabbing Shadow who had been running at her heels by the collar to make sure that he didn’t try to run to Tommy. Sneaking up on him right now would not be the best idea. 

He fired until the clip ran out, then let the gun drop to his side. She could see his shoulders heaving up and down with his breaths. He swiped a hand over his mouth, and turned around to return to the house. His body stiffened when he caught sight of her and Shadow watching him. Shoulders slumping, he began to pick his way back over to them. 

“Go get Daddy, Shadow,” Lucy told the dog, letting go of his collar. The black dog took off, nearly blending into the dark shadows around them as he bounded towards Tommy. He pranced around him excitedly, tail wagging when Tommy stroked his head. Lucy couldn’t help the weak little smile that tugged on her lips at the dog promptly trying to herd Tommy towards her, nudging and nipping lightly at his heels. 

Tommy came to a stop in front of her, sighing deeply, head bowed. Lucy said nothing, wrapping her arms around him. He dropped his face to rest in the crook of her neck, body shuddering. An arm looped around her waist, holding her tight. She could feel dampness from his tears against her skin, but made no comment on them, instead merely stroking the nape of his neck in what she hoped to be a soothing motion. 

“Let’s get inside. It’s cold.”

He nodded against her neck, a light kiss pressed to her shoulder in silent gratitude. Leaning back, she wiped away the remainder of his tears with her thumbs, cradling both sides of his face and leaning their foreheads together, then taking the gun from him and his hand in the other, the pair of them walked together back to the house with Shadow at their side. 

Tommy went into his office while she put the gun away in the cupboard. When she entered the office, it was to find a fire blazing in the hearth, Tommy standing in front of it, his suit jacket off. Ruby’s little painted chair sitting in front of him. 

“Tom?”

“I need to burn it.”

She looked down at the chair, and felt another swell of pain just at the sight of it. She could understand why he so wanted to be rid of it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Can I help?”

He looked back at her, and maybe he saw the pain and grief she’d been trying so hard to keep at bay the past four nights since Ruby had died. He held out a hand to her, pulling her to his side when she took it. 

“Yes.”

Together, they knelt by the fire, and took hold of the chair. They started with the back, snapping the delicate supports from the seat, feeding each thin spindle of wood slowly into the flames, waiting until it caught and watching it burn and blacken in the depths of the fireplace before adding another. Without any of the doors or windows open, the smell of paint started to permeate throughout the office. 

Lucy started crying halfway through. First just silent tears streaming down her face, then harder sobs racking her chest. She nearly folded in half with them. Back bent, arms around her middle. 

Tommy’s face turned to her after feeding the wide, top part of the back of the chair into the flames. He shoved the rest of the chair towards the fire, three of the four legs snapping off when they struck the grate, and put his arms around her, pulling her tightly into his chest. Lucy latched onto the front of his shirt, weeping harder than she had known was even possible. 

“I know, I know,” Tommy whispered into her hair. She could hear the thickness in his voice that accompanied his own tears. “Let it out, love. It’s okay. You’ve been so strong. You’ve been so strong for all of us.” He kissed her head. “I can’t thank you enough, my darling.” He held her tighter while the sobs continued to ravage her, rubbing her back and rocking her gently from side to side, patiently letting her weep out all the pain she’d been trying to hold in. 

“I miss her,” she sobbed out. Tommy clutched her tighter.

“I know,” his voice cracked. “I know, love. I miss her too.”

Shadow came padding over to them, his cold nose bumping into her knee before he laid down beside them with a quiet whine. Trouble joined him a moment later, meowing curiously and curling up in front of the fire, watching them with those scrutinizing eyes. 

Even after her tears finally ceased into just quiet sniffles, Tommy kept holding her, lips pressing repeatedly to the crown of her head while they watched the fire devour what remained of Ruby’s chair. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like you weren’t able to grieve,” Tommy whispered. 

“It’s okay.”

“No; it’s not. You’ve done so much to hold everything together these past few days. I shouldn’t have left you alone to deal with all of that.”

“You didn’t leave me alone. You’ve done more than I think you realize, love.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I couldn’t have survived this without you.”

Turning her face, she kissed him under his jaw. “Me neither.”

“It smells of paint in here.”

“Mm. It’s kind of nice.”

He hummed in agreement, fingers continuing to stroke through her hair. “It is.” His chest heaved with a sigh. “I need to start typing up my notes for Churchill.”

She nodded. A part of her wanted to fuss at him to go to bed, but she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he notes were typed up. He could quote people word for word if he did it right away. 

“You go on to bed,” Tommy tilted her head up, kissing her softly. 

“I’d rather stay with you.”

He examined her face, then nodded. “Alright.”

She got set up laying on the couch, Shadow settled with his big head on his paws on the rug next to her, Trouble curling into her lap. Head resting on an armrest, she watched Tommy set to work at the typewriter on his desk. Every so often, he asked for her recounting of certain moments during the meeting, or checked with her to make sure that he’d quoted a person correctly. 

When she finally dozed off, it was to the sound of his typewriter keys still clicking rhythmically, and the smell of paint just barely lingering in the air.

∗ ∗ ∗

She woke up to the sound of the typewriter still clacking away, and Lizzie’s voice demanding to know why Tommy hadn’t come to bed. Lucy’s eyes peeled open slowly. It felt like she’d barely rested at all, and her shoulders ached from laying on the couch. 

When she finally blinked the drowsiness from her eyes, it was to see Lizzie reaching out to touch Tommy’s shoulder. Morning light was bleeding through the curtains to illuminate the rest of the room.

Tommy pulled Lizzie’s hand gently from his shoulder, clasping it in his, thumb running along her knuckles. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he spoke to her. 

“Not yet. Not yet. I have this work to do ‘cos now I know that I will change. That I have to change. And change for good, Lizzie,” he swallowed. “Not just yet.” He let go of her hand and resumed typing while Lizzie went to peer out the window. 

Lucy frowned, sitting up a little on the couch, disturbing Trouble who meowed in protest.

“The death of a child is an irrecoverable thing,” Jack’s words from the previous night rang in her ears. “It has the potential to tear a couple apart…Or it could bring them closer together.”

If she was a less monstrously selfish person, she would have left and given them that chance. How ironic would it be, if it took the death of their daughter for Tommy to finally start to love Lizzie the way that she wanted him to.

She did not really expect that to happen, but it was always possible.   

She wondered if Lizzie remembered anything of what she said to her the night before. She still had not entirely decided if she wanted to tell Tommy about it or not. A part of her was tempted to just let the whole thing go. 

They would need to talk about discarding their plans for Tommy to leave Lizzie sometime, though. In all the chaos of the past couple of days, she hadn’t had a chance to bring it up to him. 

Maybe it would be an easy conversation. Perhaps he would agree with her that it was for the best. If he really did want to change for the better, remaining with his wife was a good place to start. 

She wouldn’t bring it up to him just yet, she decided. It would be good to let the dust settle, first. 

The last thing that she wanted was to put more on Tommy’s plate.  

Lucy wrapped her arms around her middle, as if that would somehow help to hold together the broken pieces of her heart. She took a deep breath, and fully let go of the possibility of any future that she and Tommy would get to have together. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Leaning against a lamppost, with a newspaper in her hands, large sunglasses perched on her nose, and a dark haired wig hiding her red hair, Lucy watched Gina step through the door leading into the apartment from across the street. 

As soon as the door swung shut behind the slight blonde woman, Lucy started laughing. 

It began quiet at first, then grew in volume as she folded her newspaper, tucked it under her arm, and slipped into the red phone booth a little ways down the street to call Tommy. 

Oh, this was too good to be true. 

She wondered how long this might’ve been going on for. They’d suspected that this was happening, noting the little glances between Gina and Mosley whenever they happened to be in a room together. But the confirmation of it was sweet to taste.

“Hello?” Tommy answered on the second ring. It took her a moment to get her delighted cackles under control to answer him. 

“It’s me. Gina’s fucking Mosley.”

“Oh.”

She giggled. “I followed her to his apartment. The one he keeps solely to entertain his mistresses at.” She eyed the building through the phone booth’s window. “Shall I go interrupt them?” 

“No, wait there. I’m on my way.”

“Alright. See you soon.” She hung up the phone and went back outside, lighting a cigarette and resuming her positioning of appearing to look over her newspaper while she waited. 

A prickle at the back of her neck made her freeze, muscles suddenly seizing with the feeling that she was being watched. Looking up, she scanned the street, but saw no one of interest looking at her. There were two women walking their little dogs on the other side of the road, a man bustling quickly in the direction of the phone booth. A few cars were parked on the sides of the street. There was a man wearing a cream colored panama hat sitting on the bench a little ways down the street from her, reading a book. 

Something about the hat gave her pause.

Before she could ponder it all that seriously, however, Tommy’s car pulled up in front of her. She slipped quickly into the passenger seat next to him, giving him a quick kiss to the cheek.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” his eyes focused on Mosley's apartment building. “How long have they been in there?”

“Not long.”

“Right. We’ll wait until he leaves.”

She nodded, pulling off her sunglasses and wig. Tommy reached out to brush her hair down for her. 

“How long do you think this has been going on for?”

“I don’t know. I remember noticing them staring at each other during the ballet at Arrow House for Lizzie’s birthday, but it’s hard to say if they’d actually started fucking before then, or after.”

“Jack would have a fit if he found out,” Tommy remarked thoughtfully, puffing on his cigarette.

Lucy smirked, already following his line of thought, gaze returning back to the house. Gotcha, you little brat. With just this bit of information, Gina was theirs.

They waited until Mosley left the building before getting out of the car and approaching. They climbed the steps to the apartment, already knowing the number from previous research Lucy had done on Mosley in the past. Tommy banged on the door to apartment 4C furiously, shoving it open and shouldering his way in when Gina opened it a crack, Lucy right behind him. 

She took perhaps too much delight in the look of shock and horror on Gina’s face when they first barged in. And while she recovered quickly, Gina could not quite mask the look of uneasiness that had found its way onto her face. 

She was fucked and she knew it. Tommy noting that Jack would disown her if he found out was enough to let her know what would happen if she didn’t do what they said. If she wanted them to keep quiet about this to Jack, she was to report back to them what was discussed when she accompanied Mosley to Berlin to meet with members of the German government.  

While Tommy and Gina talked, Lucy prowled the room, attuned eyes scanning for anything of significance. Most of the table tops were clear of anything noteworthy, but there were a few papers on the table near the door that caught her eye. Glancing over her shoulder, she met Tommy’s gaze.

Keep her distracted.

Moving with the fluidity of a big cat, Tommy went to sit next to Gina on the couch, holding her attention while Lucy skimmed over the letters spread out on the table. 

Two were of a little consequence, just detailing business associated with the House of Commons. But one…one was very interesting. 

Her heart began to pound harder and harder in her ears while she read it. Holy fuck.

Glancing back at Tommy, she nodded, nudging the letters back into the positioning they had been in before she’d nudged them aside to read them. Appearing undisturbed. For good measure she stepped away from the table, opting to instead lean against the doorframe and fiddle with her cigarettes. 

It was unlikely Gina would mention this little meeting to anyone, so there would be no reason to think that they’d had access to the letter that she’d just read. But just in case, it was better to pretend like she hadn’t noticed it.

Tommy rose, going to the door, then turned to ask one final question to Gina before they left. 

“What are Michael’s real intentions towards me, Gina? And if you lie, I will know.”

He chuckled softly at her answer that Michael intended for them to complete their deal and both walk away. Lucy smirked around her cigarette. And now we know what you look and sound like when you lie, little girl.

They left the apartment with a slam of the door, heading quickly down the stairs and back to their car. 

“What did you find out?” Tommy asked, starting the car and pulling out onto the road.  

“One of the letters on that table was from Laura McKee. It was addressed to both Mosley and Jack Nelson. It says that as she delivered the letter to Mosley personally, she expected him to read it first and then pass it along to Nelson through means that he trusts.”

“Gina.”

“I’m assuming so. It says that it contains information she wanted to share with both of them.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat here, love.”

She couldn’t help the small smile. She had been right about something; she figured that she’d earned the chance to gloat for a little while. “It says that the IRA informant inside Shelby Company Limited’s name is Billy Grade, and that Mosley and Nelson are welcome to use his services as they see fit.”   

Tommy rubbed at his face. “Well, at least that’s that confirmed, then. Anything on what they would use him for?”

“No. What do you want to do about it?”

He frowned, eyes fixed straight ahead while his mind worked. “We can use Billy to feed false information to McKee, Mosley, and Nelson.”

“That would be useful.”

“Get word out to the others so that they know to be cautious around him. But make sure that they understand he is to be untouched for now.”

“What about Finn? With how close they are…”

Tommy pursed his lips. “If you were right  with your theory that Finn is the one who told Billy about the assassination attempt on Mosley four years ago…” his jaw tightened, clearly at war with himself, wanting to trust his brother despite his better instincts. “We’ll give him a chance to prove his loyalty, but for now, keep him in the dark.”

“Alright. I think that’s the right choice.”

“Good work spotting that letter on the table.”

She shrugged, bashful. “It’s what I do.” Glancing out the window, her right hand fiddled at her rings mindlessly. “Michael’s going to try to kill you.”

“Clearly.”

“I wish you’d let me deal with him a long time ago.”

Tommy’s arm went around her, thumb rubbing up and down along her upper arm. “So do I.”

Lucy leaned her head against his shoulder, examining him. Conflict danced in his eyes. 

“Did I make him this way, Luce?”

“What?”

“I found him at that village. I allowed him into this family. I corrupted him.”

“You did no such thing. He made his own choices. You were trying to do something kind for Polly by bringing him in and offering him employment. It’s not your fault the kid turned out to be a power hungry little asshole.”

Tommy sighed deeply. His eyes closed, expression creasing with pain. 

“Which side do you think Polly would have chosen in all of this?”

“I…” she hesitated, not entirely sure how to answer. She so badly wanted to tell him that Polly would have chosen him. But in all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure. There had been many times when she couldn’t help but think that Polly would have easily thrown the rest of the family in front of a bus if she thought it was what would be best for Michael. “I don’t know, Tommy.”

His eyes looked sadly out at the road. “I think she would have chosen him.”

“He was her son,” Lucy agreed quietly, reaching over to squeeze Tommy’s arm gently. “Does she still visit you in your dreams?”

“Sometimes.”

“And does she have anything to say on this matter?”

“No. Nothing.”

She huffed. Figured as much. “Well, no matter what she would have thought, we’re at a point now where it’s you or him. You do what you have to in order to defend yourself and everyone else.” She smoothed her hand down the back of his head. “He won’t stop at just you. He’ll come for me next. Then Arthur. Then Ada. Anyone who refuses to bend the knee to him or who he feels is a threat. He’ll kill all of us, if he has to.” 

Tommy looked at her, and she could see her words taking root, helping to soothe the conflict that was wreaking havoc inside of him.

“I’ll reach out to our contacts in Boston and Miquelon and see if we can find out anything more regarding what he’s got planned. That way we’ll be prepared.”

Tommy’s hand came to rest on top of hers, squeezing around her fingers. “Thank you.”

She smiled softly, leaning closer to affectionately knock her nose against the side of his neck. “Always, love.” She nuzzled a little closer, fingers turning over to interlace with his. “It’s okay. You’re doing the right thing.” She ghosted her lips along his throat. “You’re protecting yourself. You’re protecting all of us, Tommy. Like you always do.”

She heard his breath hitch, and then he was suddenly spinning the wheel to take a left rather than a right. Lucy lifted her head, frowning slightly. 

“Where are we going?”

“The apartment.”

“I thought we were going to the train station.”

“Change of plans.” He leaned over to kiss her quickly when they stopped briefly at an intersection. “I need to get you out of those clothes.”

She laughed brightly and buried her face into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne and natural musk. He smelled of pine and campfires. Like safety. Like freedom. Like home.

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[justbelievinginmagic]

what skz looks like in ariadne's thread!

hello! thought id share my lil breakdowns and inspo photos for the skz boyz in ariadne's thread. i will continue to add to this as we go through the story and introduce more of the boys! some of these will contain spoilers to the fic so i recommend reading it beforehand... -> series masterlist

Hyunjin, the Goblin King. Described as a honeyed blonde with blue eyes that seem to have hurricanes and storms trapped within them. Has been compared to Renaissance marble statues & paintings with how inhumanly beautiful he is and how his eyes seem to be a kind of wrathful beautiful. Wears dark leather and lace, many layered gold necklaces, and cloaks/capes! Later, will appear in sheer white loose tunics and black slacks, and then only white attire. Able to manipulate time and reality, as well as see into the future. Considered one of most powerful of faes - a High Fae with some Gancanagh-blood.

Jisung, the Goblin-Fae. Described as having oil-slick black-blue curly hair with big jewel-toned eyes that shift from more blue or more purple. Wears old and worn clothes that have been hand sewn with alterations - a brown vest, a white flowing tunic with the big sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and brown pants. Is decorated with many necklaces on his neck and rings on his fingers, a collection of jewels that he keeps tied to his cinched-belted waist alongside a beautiful dagger and various other knick-knacks he’s collected in the Desert Sea. Cannot utilize any magic but was trained with a dagger. Considered Goblin-Fae despite having some Dragon-blood tendencies such as hoarding and treasure-hunting.

Chris, the Beast-Hunter. Described as a floofy brunette with natural curls and dark grey eyes that mimic stone sometimes. Large curling horns, like a ram's. Decorated in scars of all sorts; he has prominent scars and cuts across the bridge of his large nose, his back, and his torso. Is shirtless, but is adorned in many iron-shackles across his body – one around his thick throat, both of his wrists and his waist. Later, dons a fur-cloak of a beast that was taken from him while he was a prisoner - which he wears across his broad shoulders with pride. Is exceptionally strong, dedicated, and is able to manipulate anything made of earth with enough concentration. Troll-Fae.

Felix, the Gancanagh. Described as having long warm-blonde hair that moves in a non-existent wind with deep-brown eyes that seem to swirl into a rose-pink the longer you stare into them. His cheeks are dusted with golden freckles that sparkle in the light. Dressed in in a billowing white tunic that reveals too much of his chest and abs, his pants are leathered and slung low on him, revealing his prominent hip bones. His form is every changing and shifting as he finds suitable visages to mimic to tempt humans; it’s possible this form was just the most appealing one to Y/N since in some moments he almost looks like Hyunjin except softer. Later, his hair fades to an oil-slick blue as well. As a Gancanagh, he is addictive to mortals with only a single touch. Has seductive charms, luring pheromones, and a hypnotizing gaze. Enjoys winning more than the chase. Can steal mortal faces and shapeshift. Gancanagh-Fae.

Minho, the Sluagh. Described as having dark-brown hair that looks like the fur of a beast and piercing glowing aquamarine-blue eyes that gleam like an animal’s. Entire form is decorated in tattoos of the creatures within his soul; prominently, the face of a wolf is on his left hand. The wolf tattoo shares a glowing blue eye like Minho. These tattoos feel alive as they shift across his skin. Has many animal cuts and claw marks across his body from battles or challenges for dominance (which he has won.) Draped in bear-like furs that seem to meld into his form when he transforms into a beast. Has Wild Magic in his veins and can shift into creatures of all sorts but favors monstrous-versions of large bison-like direwolves. Fought to earn the title of Sluagh of the Direwoods and is the only one able to call upon the Wild Hunt. Embodies the Wild Hunt until his death and the Wild Magic passes onto the new Sluagh.

Seungmin, the Boggart. Described as having pitch black hair and dark as night eyes that sparkled like stars were trapped in them. A cloak of shadows curl around his shoulders and fall to the floor. This darkness follows him, clouding him as if he’d be consumed by the bubble of shadows around him; sometimes, one can see shadowed limbs clawing and grasping at him or clinging to his black silk shirt. Unlike the others, he seems to float and has no visible feet or footsteps. Can utilize shadows as a mean of transportation and as extensions of himself. Attracts death, causes death via the strings of fate, and can mark someone for death. Death-Fae.

Sir Changbin, the Knight. Described as an extremely muscular young man with dark hair that has greying waves. His eyes are hetero-chromatic with one eye being a nutmeg brown and the other a pale milky grey. Dressed in fine dark-leathered armor with the Goblin King’s regalia on his chest lapel and many warrior pins of honor. Extreme strength beyond a mortal’s capabilities and an abnormal commitment to honor; however, is forgetful and suffers from memory loss often. Changeling.

I.N, the Finder-Keeper of Lost Things. Self-proclaimed ruler of the City of the Forgotten. Described as having ash blond hair that falls to his neck in waves and golden yellow eyes that gleam like flames. His eyes are like a crocodile’s – with a thin transparent lid that closes across the eyes and then a humanistic eyelid that blinks down over the eye. Dressed in only fine goods – silken shirts, pristine leathered pants, shined black shoes, and thick fur coats. While he favors gold and silver, he does not wear his jewelry; he simply hoards it. As a Forgotten, he thrives on memories and can control and hear one's fondest memories, emotions, and thoughts with a simple touch. Can transform into a dragon and utilize fire-magic. The Last of the Dragon-Fae.

[sitp-recs]

Happy birthday my dear @the-starryknight! It’s been such a joy to share this space with you for the past couple years. You’re not only one of the kindest souls out there, but also an incredibly talented writer and such an important fandom supporter and enthusiast. I’m beyond grateful for everything you’ve done - from compiling great resource posts like this one with Drarry reccers and this one about fandom curation - to your uplifting Tuesday TLC Zone series and your gorgeous, heartfelt fic recs. It’s wonderful to see the quiet yet powerful impact you have beyond your written works, which are already brilliant in themselves.

The way you’re able to build delicious tension and suspense in just a few words, the way you explore aching tenderness, raw desire and desperate loneliness, the way you gently guide us from darkness to healing with every love story. Your impeccable prose, your precise use of sentences, your ability to transform nuanced characters and establish rich universes within just a few words. Everything about you and your writing moves me so much! I can only express gratitude and appreciation for everything that you’ve done and shared with us so far. Here’s a little gift to celebrate your iconic short format that reflects all of the things I mentioned above, with a few selected favorites from this microfic series that I adore so much. Happy birthday! 💙

🏮ch 5: read him in secret // dogeared pages

My lips dogear the page of his skin so I can’t forget my place, bookmarked out of sight. Unsilenced, my fingernails leave red marginalia on his spread thighs, his sweat dampening the pages: remember this. They wrote a thousand stories in his name, but I’m the author of his satisfaction.

🏮ch 9: audience of one // blush

The adrenaline bass fills Harry’s veins like a heartbeat as he watches from the wings. The stage lights blush across Draco’s burning cheeks, the final notes shiver from his fingertips. The audience shouts his name — Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy — but it tastes different in Harry’s mouth, Draco’s music on his tongue.

🏮ch 12: seeker on seeker // gloves

It’s the leather pressed so close to my skin I can feel the threads in the fingertip where he fucks me, glove on thigh on cock, unwilling to shuck our Quidditch kits in favour of this — oh — this, riding him with everything in between and nothing left to stop us.

🏮ch 16: desire admission // silk

He’s sunken into the silk-tied satin-slide sweetness of try-this-with-me trust, of lace on skin and knots on thighs. “Draco,” he pleads, shivering on the ever-moving edge of desperation. “Draco,” slips from his tongue as I fuck him like he wants it most, sweat-slick and uninhibited.

🏮ch 32: shelf life // bookbinder

Bind me to him, lay my gathering down against his spine so only thread lies between our inked pages. Tie me to him so I can feel the hush of our deckle edges against each other with every licked-finger page-turn press. Open me, I’ll tell him. Read me – I’m yours.

🏮ch 35: lying lupine // werewolf

I cared for him only as the Wolf, but I knew him in every sense of my self. Pine and hemlock, sandalwood and home — when the moon glared monthly fear into my bones, he smelled like safety. In daylight, though our knees remained mud-stained, I looked the other way.

🏮ch 38: alchemical formula // inch

I know his inches by touch and his skin by taste and the balance of gold to man by the way he makes my heart beat. He is eternal life when he laughs; and seductive sin when he offers himself to me — freely, as if I deserve to know.

🏮ch 42: taking back life's thread (a second chance) // thread

If Fate lives, let her watch me take this thread and tie it ‘round his wrist — bind him to me. When we weave this life’s tapestry, we’ll hold our clashing colours double, we’ll trace the same pattern; I have spent too long at odds to not press myself against him.

🏮ch 48: potions collaboration // stardust

“Let me teach you how to collect stardust,” murmured Draco, pressing Harry into the dewy grass. They were bare beneath the full moon, naked skin flushed with the summer heat and more. “Like this,” he said, drawing his thumb through sweat collected at Harry’s hip. “On skin, suspended in saltwater.”

🏮ch 50: little luminaries

Harry stands among his creations; a dozen glass lights dazzle amid the charmed ceiling. Vibrant red, silver-grey and joyful yellow by the witchlight, his craft in each soldered seam.

"You're watching me again."

How can I not? "I like the gold one, there."

"They're yours. I make them all for you."

Check the full little luminaries microfic collection here!

[living-dead-girl7]

Random Thoughts about Bo Sinclair with a girlfriend who grew up catholic or is catholic from my notes app…

It feels like schoolboys crush, he wants to tug on her pigtails and taunt her.

He wants to rip all her dainty and soft clothes off and replace them with his own. The urge to rip the gold chain from her neck, to strip the innocence from her body and soul terrorizes his thoughts and cause his hands to clench against his sides. 

 He wants to replace her devotion to god with him as her savior. Or maybe he is the serpent and she Eve. Or perhaps his devilish smirk rings true. He is to corrupt her soul, use all his power and temptation to rid her from her angelic form. 

He hungers to pull her against him and have the poison that runs through his veins seep into her own. 

But on the other hand, he wants to steal her away. If he didn’t live in Ambrose, and lived in a  “normal” town, he would want to watch her father walk her down the aisle and hand her over to him. Have her don a white gown adorned with silk, lace, and bows.  He doesn’t know it, but his brides something blue is his own eyes. That piercing blue gaze that normally hold a raged fueled fire that never goes out, dies for once as she stands at the alter, moments from being bound to him for all eternity.

As he stands in his debonair black suit, he watches her as her hand leaves her fathers and slips into his. His hands that have tortured and killed hold her own with an unwavering gentleness and reverence. As the father speaks, he swipes his thumbs across her knuckles and watches as her eyes reflect the gleaming stained glass windows of the church. 

The windows adorned with Christ and his disciples make Bo chuckle. In a way, he has become her disciple. Willing to follow and protect her until the end of time. The gently rumble of his chest is only heard by his blushing bride who gently squeezes his hand. 

He yearns to lift the lace veil that covers her eyes, undoubtedly he wants to be that veil.  To shield her from everything in the world. To shield her from his own brutality. He wants to hear her say “I do” and cradle her face in his hands as he kisses her as Husband and Wife for the very first time.

As he stares at the girl before him he prays for the first time since his childhood. He prays that she will allow him to lift her up and steal her away for good.

And one day the prayer will be answered, unbeknownst to the girl.

In his eyes, she is already his, body and soul.

Till death do them part. 

(I have immense catholic guilt if you couldn’t tell… it’s more of weird prose and poetry than a fic but yknow… whatevaaaaa)

[satsumasandclementines]

ley lines

this was originally posted on ao3, feel free to check it out! comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i'll get around to making a masterlist once i start uploading more

since i can't sue sean durkin for emotional distress, i'm writing these fics instead to cope with the devastation work on my creative writing skills

Warnings: very brief panic attack, hurt/comfort, physical contact as a love language, angst

Kevin knew what boundaries were. His life was full of them; simple and uncomplicated facts of life that held him and his family in place. He’s the oldest of four brothers. His family lives in Denton, Texas. His father loves wrestling, his mother loves God, and Kevin loved being in the ring with his brothers. His whole family was cursed, and the curse had already taken one of them; his little brother, oldest brother.

Nobody talked about the boundaries in their lives, or the curse, or much about anything, really. That’s what your brothers are for, his father would grumble. There was another boundary, a line drawn so hard in the sand you could almost see bedrock at the bottom, and Kevin would rather be taken by the curse than ever cross it. To Kevin, his father was a man that was owed much in life. Fritz Von Erich lived up to everything; his stage name, his signature move, all these things were emblems of the man that had forged his life from nothing.

At the risk of being called a simpleton, he liked how simple his life was. Everything was laid out for him: Win the world championship title with David by his side, watch Kerry win gold at the Olympics, and support Mike with his music dreams. Somewhere in there, he figured he’d get married, but the idea of settling down and having kids was about as foreign to him as all the countries he’d tour through one day. He knew one thing: if he ever really did get married, he wanted a nice home on a real big ranch, where him and all of his brothers could watch their kids play together, something even his cold iron father would be proud of. No one could deny it, Kevin Von Erich’s life made perfect sense. At least until he met Pam.

After a while, there were some things he started to learn about her: she loved animals (horses specifically), she wanted to have a veterinary practice, she was very smart, and she would not leave him alone. He would find her just behind corners, bumping into him at the store, little scribbled notes smushed into his duffel bag after matches. Since that night at the Sportatorium and their first date at the diner, Pam became his second shadow. Not that he minded, of course. Unlike the girls at the ring shouting at him until his ears rang, Pam had something different about her. He would never admit it to anyone, but her presence seemed to calm him, keep him centered and grounded in a way he was never able to achieve by himself. His brothers had even started taking advantage of it, teasing him and riling him up only when she was around. No matter how much they would poke and prod and make kissy noises behind his back, it wouldn’t bother him at all. Not when Pam stood next to him and looped both of her slender arms around his thick bicep, tracing feathery patterns along the veins of his forearm. Or when they would sit together and she would play with his hand, individually folding and extending each finger like the legs of a spider, and then lacing her thin fingers around his suddenly when the attention of the room was directed to them.

Kevin knew many men his age that would get annoyed at their women acting in such a way (surprisingly, his father doesn’t come to mind.) However, he found himself wanting more of it, of her, her presence, her warmth. He almost couldn’t call what they did together “dating.” It was as if she was a part of him, a fact of life that had always been there and he had never seen it before. Despite that, the surety of it unsettled him at times, and he wondered during many a sleepless night what she felt about it, if she could feel it at all, or if he had truly lost his mind.

Pam had never seen him this exhausted. Normally he was a wellspring of energy, walking with an ease and lightness in his step despite his hulking stature. True to his nature, he never did anything average. When he walked, he strode. When he fought, his punches would shake the ring itself. Even his confidence was exaggerated, flashing a winning smile at every opportunity. Now she would be lucky if she caught him standing up straight. His father had been harder on him in the days since the Harvey Race fiasco, refusing to accept that his best fighter had been so easily beat out of his misery (although she could argue that getting slammed onto a concrete floor might impact someone’s health and performance, but what did she know?) Every single time she watched him get punched in the ribs or get slammed on the floor, she wondered what really kept him in the ring, (or rather, who.)

He should’ve been out by now. Before the match, she told him that she would wait for him to get out so they could spend time together, and he had been over the moon about it, promising he would clean up as fast as he could. On most days he’s out within thirty minutes, less if he knows she’s waiting on him. She saw him descend from the ring with Kerry and David, waving at the crowd and barely standing up straight, but after that the only clue she had to where he might be was the sound of the showers running. But he should be out by now, she thought to herself. Pam made her way down the painted cement hallway, the noise of running water getting louder. Most folks had left by now, and the only people still here were wrestlers and staff. Eventually she made it to the doorless entry to the men’s changing room.

“Kevin? You there?” She called out.

“Hello?” Kerry responded, much to Pam’s surprise.

“Hey Kerry it’s me, have you seen Kevin? I know he was here a while ago but have you seen him?” Pam shouted into the short, L-shaped corridor . As much as she wanted to ask him directly, she was not in the mood to get flashed by her boyfriend’s brother.

“No, just me and David,” Kerry yells back, voice bouncing from the shower, “He left his stuff here though. Should be back soon.”

“Wait, I thought he was taking a shower!”

“What??”

“I thought he was with you!”

“What’d you say??”

“Nevermind! I’ll go find him!”

Something was wrong. He should be here. He looked rough after the match, she knew that much, but did he get hurt? Pam wracked her brain with all the possible places one might misplace a giant muscle man like him. How in the world did he manage to get somewhere without his brothers knowing? She’d have better luck getting a flea unstuck from a glue trap than separating him from his family, and that was on a good day.

Pam searched high and low throughout the entire arena, checking the auditorium, the staff lounge, and even Fritz Von Erich’s office (though he proved to be zero help at all, sending her out the door with nothing more than “Let me know when you find him.”) The last possible place would be outside the building at the back exit, but if that was the case then why in the world would he leave without telling anybody? She could sit and wonder why for hours, but all that mattered was finding him. Pam only made it a few feet away from the gym before she heard an odd wheezing sound, coming from somewhere behind the ventilation units to her right. She rounded the corner and-

“Holy shit, Kevin.”

Kevin was plastered against the wall wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, arms wrapped around his stomach, gasping for air. His sweaty hair clung to his face, jaw tensing so hard she could see the tendons in his neck flexing. His blue eyes flashed up at her, and for half a second it seemed like he didn’t recognize her at all. Pam dropped to her knees in front of him, her heart breaking when he flinched and pressed himself against the wall harder than he had before.

“Hey hey shh it’s okay, it’s okay Kev, cmon I need you to breathe okay? Shhhh, it’s gonna be okay,” Pam said worriedly, holding him as gently as she could by his shoulders. Kevin sucked in shallow breaths through his teeth, chest heaving like he was on the verge of throwing up.

“Hcck- c-can’t hhhh s-, s-stop,” he gasped, lurching forward and grabbing onto her forearms with a vicelike grip. In the back of her mind she knew she was going to get a bruise, but that didn’t matter right now.

“Kevin, listen to me, you have to breathe, okay I know, I know it’s hard but you have to try. Cmon, here,” she pressed her hands hard onto his chest, “breathe with me, okay? Watch.”

In through her nose, out through her mouth, slow and steady. Little by little he followed along, wheezing in between. In, his nose flared hard. Out, shaky exhale, chest shuddering. In, his hands loosening from her arms. Out, finding their way above her chest, mirroring her. In, blue bloodshot eyes meeting brown. Out, taunt body sagging beneath her hands.

“That’s it, that’s it darlin’, you’re doing so good, you’re okay, it’s gonna be okay.” She whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes. If it hadn’t been for the sweat still on his brow, Pam would’ve swore his eyes were misty looking up at her, his eyelashes wet in a way she couldn’t explain away from just being sweaty. 

“Been h-happen, happening since, haa- Race. Can’t breathe right, hhh, d-don’t know why.” Kevin lowered his head against her shoulder, gulping air. Pam wrapped her arms around him, hesitant to squeeze him too tightly no matter how much she wanted to. She had to get him out of here, far away from here before whatever started this riled him up again. “Kev, you’re coming home with me. Look don’t- don’t worry about anything, I’ll call your brothers when we get to my place. Stay here,” she pulled his hands away from her chest, biting her lip hard to keep from tearing up at the sight of his distraught expression, “I am not leaving, just stay here.” She didn’t register making it to her truck; the only thing she was aware of was putting the key in the ignition. By some strange miracle of God, her truck turned over only once before roaring to life. She pulled up alongside the back of the gym and struggled getting Kevin into the backseat, then after the doors were closed, nearly floored the truck onto the dusty dirt road leading out into the city.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pam’s house was somewhere between the Sportatorium and his home in Denton, on the shores of Lake Dallas, judging from the direction of the sun as it sank lower and lower in the sky. It was a pretty little two floor townhome in a neighborhood that almost looked too nice to be lived in, a polished strip of houses that left nothing for critique. Kevin severely regretted leaving his only change of clothes back at the arena, and sunk down in the backseat of the truck to avoid being seen. He could only imagine what would be said about him if anybody saw him half naked in his girlfriend’s truck, and he shuddered to think of how Fritz would react. After a while, they arrived at the end of the street.

“Don’t worry about being seen, I’ll get us into the garage. My parents are out on a work trip, they won’t be back ‘til next Monday at least,” Pam reassured him, backing up into the garage and narrowly avoiding bumping the stacks of boxes and clutter laying around. Kevin made a mental note to ask why she was here by herself by the time he descended from the backseat. They made it through the garage door, Pam unlocking it with a key underneath a large ceramic frog, and Kevin was immediately smacked with the smell of flowers in every square inch of the house.

“My mom loves indoor gardening. She taught me everything I know” Pam explained, leading him through the dark tiled kitchen. Even though the lights were off, Kevin could feel as well as see the warmth of the decorations in her house. The walls were wood paneled from the kitchen to the living room, the fading light from the sunset coloring it a rich reddish brown. The furniture was a mix of rattan framework and well loved wood, covered entirely in soft linen cushions and tropical patterned seat covers. The living room held a roomy cream colored couch with leaf patterned throw pillows, a wood box tv, and more tropical plants than he had fingers to count them with.

Her room was at the top of the stairs, first door on the right, hidden behind a curtain of wooden beads that thwacked him in the face, much to Pam’s sympathetic amusement. It was a repurposed covered sunroom facing south towards the open lake. As small as it was, it was filled almost ceiling to floor in windows, spilling yellow-orange sunlight on every surface. The only windowless wall in the room held vintage diagrams of plants, scattered artwork in snug frames, and a few posters of singers he didn’t recognize. There were likely twice as many plants in this one room than he had seen in the whole house, but what took him by surprise wasn’t the sheer amount. On every available table, desk, and nightstand were what looked like miniature trees, all of various colors and shapes and with their own complimenting containers. The highlight of the whole room watched them from the far side, near the wooden frame bed in the corner; a dense, sinewy tree in a dark green bowl, on a wooden table all for itself. From the very tops of its branches to the lowest leaf, clusters of soft purple blossoms hung like wine grapes.

“Is that-”

“Wisteria,” Pam answered, walking past him and taking one of the clusters in her hands, “Raised it myself since I was little. They call it bonsai.”

Kevin unconsciously followed her lead, reaching out and gently running his hand through the tree’s branches. The lilac blossoms felt like silk under his fingers, and smelled divine. He was so taken by the beauty of it that he didn’t notice Pam watching him intently, focused on his hands brushing over the grape-like bundles of flowers. His hands looked like a work of art, the evening light from the window painting his tan skin with brushes of gold. She was no stranger to what his hands could do. She had seen his hands grapple and punch wrestlers in the ring, stronger than iron and larger than a lion’s paw.  And yet here they were, tender and soft and beyond belief. Pam realized she had been holding her breath the whole time and cleared her throat, his face snapping back to hers.

“You-” his voice was quiet, as if he would shatter all the windows if he spoke above a whisper, “you grew this? All of these?” he gestured broadly to the room.

“Took me ages, and I probably killed more of them than I raised, but yes.” She stepped around him and took a seat on her bed, the fluffy mattress sinking slightly.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it? You’re the first person I’ve ever shown this to.” She said this fully expecting Kevin to agree, to say that it explained a lot about her. Kevin, after the better part of a quiet, awestruck minute, looked down at her with silent wonder.

“I’m honored,” he breathed.

For many, many decades, for the rest of her life she would not forget this moment. It was here, staring up at this impossible man, that she firmly decided that she would marry him. She would give him a house full of bonsais, sunlight, warmth, and overwhelming love just to see him stare at her like that again, always, forever.

“I uh, I don’t mean to be a hassle,” Kevin said finally, rubbing his neck, ”but do you happen to have a shower up here?”

“Showe- oh shit,” Pam realized, cursing internally as well as externally, “wow, so sorry, i completely forgot. It’s the door next to mine, on the right.”

“You’re fine, I just remembered too. Speaking of, you wouldn’t happen to have a brother would you?”

“No, sorry. I have an older sister though. I’ll see if I have anything you can wear for now. I’m doing laundry tonight anyways. Leave your shorts out in the hallway and I’ll get them.”

As soon as he left, and as soon as she could hear the shower running, Pam slammed herself face first into her pillows and screamed, her voice thankfully muffled by the fabric. “Laundry?” she couldn’t help but think out loud into the sheets, “I met him three weeks ago and I’m already doing his laundry? He’s in my house at night?? We’re not even engaged and I’m doing his laundry??? Oh my God somebody slap me. He probably thinks I’m crazy.”

Wow, this is a nice bathroom, Kevin thought to himself as he stood under the shower head, washing the last bits of shampoo out of his hair. As thankful as he was for her company and her generous invitation into her home, he worried that he might be going too fast. Yes, she did help him with his…his… what could he even call that? Panic attack? Nervous breakdown? He had no explanation for it; one moment he was in the locker room with his brothers, listening to David talk about the techniques he wanted to try out next match, and the next he was running as fast as he could from the arena, feeling deep in his gut that he would die if he stayed any longer. It made no sense. All that he knew was he was filled with such a terrible dread it stole the air from his lungs and crushed them like beer cans. He would’ve suffocated under the weight of it all, had it not been for her. 

I shouldn’t make this a habit, he decided, turning off the shower. She deserves somebody that has it all together. If I’m gonna keep dating her, I need to be better for her.

Pam was waiting for him on her bed by the time he got dressed in a pair of oversized sweatpants, the sun already gone well below the horizon. The only light in the room now was a blue blown glass lamp on the stand beside her bed, with a ratty beaded lampshade for a hat. The wide smile on her face when she saw him made his heart flutter hard against his ribs. She beckoned him to sit with her on the bed, and he hesitated only a moment before he sat by her side, the mattress sagging hard under his weight. She giggled into his shoulder, lighting up every single butterfly he could possibly have in his stomach.

“I want to do something for you,” she whispered like it was secret.

You’ve already done so much for me, so much I don’t deserve, he thought.

“What is it?”

“Lay on your stomach.”

Again, he hesitated, but how on earth could he argue with someone like her?

Kevin eventually scooted away from her towards the other side of the bed, closest to the wall. From his position, laying down with his arms wrapped around one of her pillows, propping up his head, he could see the light of the moon dancing on the waves of the lake. From his position, he was trapped, sandwiched between the wall and her. The fluttering feeling moved from his heart into his muscles, every inch of him electrified.

“Oh my God.” Pam spoke, somewhere behind his head, “Is all of this… from Race?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Hurt like a bitch then but it’s alright now.”

It made sense now. She was trying to see how bad the damage to his back was. Her concern wasn’t surprising, given the terrible shock his body felt when he hit the floor. But why did she want to see it? It wasn’t her fault, she wasn’t the one who hurt him. So why-

Her lips pressed against a splotchy bruise on his shoulder blade, warm and soft. Her hands followed, gently caressing the spot as if she was rubbing her kiss deeper into his skin. Kevin’s heart skipped a beat, then doubled in pace. Somewhere above him she paused, gauging his reaction, then she continued. He felt her lips travel across to the other shoulder, back towards his spine, pressing more on the biggest bruises. Her hands gently massaged his shoulders, his back, anywhere where she could feel a tight knot or a sore bruise. Even though his eyes were wide open, and he could hear the sound of her breathing, Kevin felt like he could see her by touch alone, from how her body felt pressed against his and her soft touch on his skin. His heart was filled with nothing but loving, aching and sweet.

“I remember watching it happen,” Kevin finally heard her speak, voice low and rough from the silence, “How he slammed you on the floor.” Here she kissed at the base of his neck, hands ghosting over his ribs. “For a second, I thought he killed you. You-” she paused, then she embraced him, her arms worming underneath his and wrapping around his chest. Her forehead pressed into his neck. Somewhere on his upper back he felt drops of water cooling on his skin.

“You weren’t moving good, Kev. He- I thought he broke your spine. God I- if someone had given me the chance that day I would’ve killed him. I don’t care how strong he is, I would have torn him apart.” Her voice wobbled as she finished speaking, squeezing him tighter. Kevin tried and failed to ignore the tears welling in his own eyes.

“You wanna know the worst part? After David got up there, and started talking on your behalf, I saw your dad from across the ring. Looking at you,” here she slipped to his left side, her whole body pressed against him, dark brown eyes boring into his, “he looked so… it was like he was mad you didn’t die.”

Whatever haze Kevin’s mind was in burned away when he heard her say that. Every fiber of him wanted to protest, to defend his father’s name and honor, but no matter what explanation came to his mind, it all was defeated by the fact that as brutal as it was, she was right. Because he had seen that same look in his eyes after the fight, in the locker room. He didn’t know it then, but her words locked inside his mind like a puzzle piece. His father was so disappointed that he lived. Somewhere in his father’s mind, the ranking shifted.

“Kevin, listen to me. Just because he beat you unfairly doesn’t mean that you lost. You won that fight when you clawed your way back into that ring. You had in that moment strength that not Harley Race or even your dad could have in a thousand years. In that moment,” her hands pressed against his arm, “you were the strongest man to have ever lived. You wanna know why?”

He wanted to know why. Even though he could feel his lungs crumpling again, the weight in his throat crushing his windpipe, he wanted to know why. He felt like he would disintegrate if she didn’t tell him.

“Why?” he croaked.

“Because in that moment you were fighting for you. No one but you. You weren’t doing it for your brothers, and you weren’t doing it for him. Despite everything, you got back in that ring for you.”

He felt like he was going to explode. If he looked away once, he swore he would die.

“That’s why I love you, Kev. You… someone like you gets made only once every five hundred years, and you’re lucky if you’re even able to find them, let alone fall in love with them. You are strong, so strong I can’t believe it, so please,” her hands brushed gently against his face, wiping tears he didn’t know he had, “let me be stong for you.”

If it were possible, Kevin would’ve sworn he heart his heart crack before he pulled her into the tightest hug of his life. He couldn’t let go, not now, not ever. Pam held him back, wrapping her arms hard around his belly, pressing her face into his broad chest. His body shook with the weight of his grief, but his voice was nowhere to be heard, the only sounds in the room being his wheezing, keening cries. There was no consolement for this. She held him and let him cry, harder than he had ever done in his life, even when he was a kid.

“Pam, t-this,” he could’t finish his sentence, the pain was too much.

“What is it Kev?”

“Please, s-stop, let me go, I- I can’t,”

“Why?” Here she looked at him, and something in her broke. His face was destroyed, soaken wet with tears, his blue eyes shining in the saddest way.

“W-why are you being…so nice to me? I haven’t, haven’t done anything… I never earned this. This hurts. Pam, this- this hurts so much.” he sobbed, burning his face into her chest. If she wasn’t already crying she would have started now. Deep inside her heart, something howled for his fathers’ blood. Instead, she held him tighter.

Eventually, his tears gave way, the sorrow in his heart fading into an unnameable feeling, something like resigned acceptance. Pam never let go of him even though she had returned to kissing him all over his body, but instead of his back she placed warm and tender kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, the curve of his neck, the bend of his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest, anywhere she could reach. Kevin said nothing and only watched her, closing his eyes when she kissed the tears from them. Before she could pull away, however, he grabbed her face with both of his hands and kissed her, tasting salt on her lips. She kissed him back, lips pillow soft against his. Her hands drifted to his chest, in the same place she put them when she found him earlier that day, so long ago. Before he could get too lost in her, they parted. Crying must have made all of the adrenaline of the day seep out of him; he could barely keep his eyes open to see her gently pull the covers over him. Once they both got under the sheets, Pam pressed her forehead against his, her breath fanning down his bare chest. She smelled like laundry detergent, wisteria, and something he was certain was her, a faint floral scent so familiar he could feel it in his bones.

“You okay?” She whispered, her hooded eyes staring into his.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You still scared?”

If he was, he couldn’t feel it. All he could feel was her forehead resting gently against his, his hands wrapped around hers, his heart beating slower and slower.

“No, ‘m not scared.”

Pam said nothing. She looked down at his hands around hers, how her hands were dwarfed by them. In the shadow of the blankets, by the light of the lamp still on, they looked like doves.

“I love you Kevin.”

No response.

“Kev?”

She looked up to see his eyes closed, breathing slow and steady, his body shivering in the depths of a dream. She told him again, kissing him one last time before she joined him.

Sometime in the early dawn, Fritz sat down on the porch looking out onto the road, smoking a thick cigar. The smoke blended with the morning mist until they became inseparable. Soon, he realized he wasn’t the only one up.

“Son, what’re you doing out here?”

Kerry shuffled his way out the front door, careful to close it quietly.

“Wanted to go run,” he rasped, still waking up.

Fritz only hmmed in response. Kerry made it one foot off the porch before he spoke again.

“Before you go, I want you to tell me something.”

“Sure dad, what is it?”

“Tell me about that girl that follows Kevin around.”

“Oh, that’s uh. That’s Pam. Yeah, they’ve been dating for a while.”

“Really?”

Kerry nodded, thanking God he wasn’t Kevin right now.

“Hm. I see.” Here he took a long drag of the cigar, smoke billowing out over the dirt road, “well, when he comes back to the arena, I would love to get to know this… Pam… better.”

[violettduchess]

Ahh not sure if I'm allowed to request something else, especially so soon (thank you so much for that amazing Gilbert fic btw). But if it isn't too much trouble, may I request prompt 14 from the gesture prompts ("Pressing tiny kisses against your lover’s shoulder while they’re bent over a desk, trying to focus even though your touch is distracting them.") + Chevalier please? Thank you and take care and don't overwork yourself <3 <3 <3

A/N: Happy Belated Birthday, Chevalier 🎈

This is a really old request (sorry @atelieredux that it took me forever and a day to do it 🙈 )

Chevalier x Reader, fluff

Word Count: 772

Chevalier is bent over his desk, working by pale, yellow lamp light. Outside the sky is painted with swathes of stars and one big, bright full moon, doing its best to compete with all the starshine. He, of course, has no time to admire the view. He is busy, always busy, a mind that works ten steps ahead of everyone else’s and never seems to tire.

Your approach is quiet, footsteps muted by the soft, plush carpet. But of course, he knows you are there. He heard you the moment you entered the room. He could smell the soft scent of your bath soap and hear the whisper of your floor-length nightgown. He even knows by the sound which one it is, a confection of white silk and pale blue lace, a remembrance from the last time you traveled to Benitoite. 

You finally stop behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders. He is stripped down to the soft white and gold tunic he wears to sleep and you can feel the way his muscles respond to your touch under the fabric, tightening slightly as if surprised. He does not stop writing, his white feathered quill making neat, copious notes in the margins of the document in front of him. Leaning forward, you glance at what he is doing.

“Why are you bothering with this? Clavis said he finished drafting this yesterday.” It was a letter to the merchant’s guild, something that fell within his brother’s realm of responsibility.

The quill continues to move, light scratching noises flying from the sharpened tip.

“Clavis’s writing requires a second, third and often fourth revision before it is ready for approval.” 

You watch him work another moment, eyes wandering over the orderly, slanted handwriting. And then your lips curve into a slow, almost mischievous smile.

You want his attention.

You have an idea.

You slide your hands across the tops of his shoulders and then down, the corded muscles of his upper arms, tangible through the soft material of his shirt. Bending, you place a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

The quill pauses its tireless writing. “You have eyes. You see I am working.” It resumes its scratching.

“My eyes are closed, my king.” Your voice is the soft, cloying whisper of satin as it slithers to the ground. You drop another kiss onto his right shoulder, this time a few centimeters more to the left. Closer to his neck.

The quill stops again. “Perhaps you should open them, wife.” His words are chiding but you feel the way his body is responding, as if your kisses have started a humming in his muscles, an involuntary purring in his veins. You smile against his shoulder, warmth coiling its way around your heart, meeting the butterfly-wings of excitement you still get whenever you are close to him.

“I’m quite content.” You press another kiss further to the left. The quill is still poised above the parchment, but unmoving. His beautiful, sculpted hand reminds you of marble, strength and elegance in perfect balance. Anyone else, and you would think they are fully immune to your touch. But he is not anyone. He is Chevalier Michel and you have just gotten him to stop writing. 

His resolve is precariously close to the edge. Time for the necessary push.

Your fingers curl into the muscles of his arm and your head turns as you lean even closer, your lower body pressed into the hard wood of his chair as you place a kiss against the exposed skin of his neck. You linger invitingly, your lips traveling the line of his heartbeat, the one whose pace is quickening by virtue of your distraction.

The quill flutters from his fingers to the desk, tiny droplets of ink scattering in its wake.

Edge, meet Chevalier.

He moves with the fluidity of a large feline. One moment you're kissing his neck, the next your feet leave the carpet and the room tilts as you are scooped up into strong arms with such speed that you gasp, half in surprise and half in delight, as he strides towards the bed.

“You have distracted the king from his work, simpleton. That cannot go unpunished.” You hear the heat in his words, see the smile that pulls on his tempting lips.

Unceremoniously you are tossed onto the bed. You scramble to push yourself up on your elbows, watching him with bright eyes and cantering heart as he reaches down, pulling his tunic over his head in a single, graceful movement. And then his long, lean body is covering yours and your hands are winding through the moonlight of his hair.

Triumph flows through you, riding growing waves of want. 

If this is punishment, may you always be guilty.

Tagging 📜: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart