#it is 2 am and I sat up in a cold sweat thinking about this

[tiktaaliker]

wait wait wait wait wait WAIT. WAIT

once again completely absolutely losing my goddamn mind over how the last commissioner tweet before the end of blaseball was the johnnyboy aster memorial tweet where johnnyboy was referred to using "he"

god damn it. add blaseball to the list of gender reveal party casualties

[stormhearty]

Pushed to the Edge

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Trigger: angst, cheating, suicide, death

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You were the official seer of Night Court for nearly 500 years. the Inner Circle had always listened to you and your visions; however, when the Archeron sisters came and Elain started to show her powers, your family started to shift their attention to her visions. When you try to voice your warnings about the death-lord’s resurrection, everyone gave you the cold shoulder, ignoring your prophesies — this included your mate.

Note: no hate to Azriel or Elain, it just helped with the plot. and Also, I know it's completely unreasonable for Azriel to not have the Truth-Teller be with him at all times, just go with it for now. And I am working on “Reach Your Voice” Series, I’m still trying to figure out how to make sure each of our boys spends quality time with the reader.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“That sounds absolutely absurd… How many times will you try to warn about something that will never happen?”

Your voiced died in your throat as you watched Rhysand look at you with apprehension before focusing on the paperwork in front of him.

You had ran into his office, waking up in cold sweat after another vision of another Death God crawling it’s way back into Prythian. You had tried to forewarn your High Lord for weeks on end ever since you first saw that vision. However, your warnings had been ignored by Rhysand. You knew that it sounded impossible, you knew that, Prythian had just finished a war — one that almost destroyed the world.

After the war with the King of Hybern, Prythian was slowly returning to its normal … well, attempting to fix what was broken by the King. The Night Court was healing, trying to rebuild itself again to its glory, helping other Courts to fix the damages that the war caused. Rhysand had been through an ordeal, losing his life to save Prythian and you knew that your High Lord was still recuperating from that tragedy. You knew that your High Lady was as well, almost losing her mate.

They didn’t need another war to happen when peace had barely returned.

But you also knew there was another reason your High Lord had been ignoring your for forewarning. You looked to the side, one where the rest of the Inner Circle was watching the confrontation. Cassian and Nesta, sitting close to each other, a glass of wine in their hands, whispering to each other, mostly likely about you and your vision. You could barely pick up with your keen Fae hearing on what they were saying.

“Do you think what she’s saying is real? That Koschei is trying to come back?”

“Elain hasn’t seen it though…”

The whisper of the middle Archeron child echoed in your ears as you looked at the Made Fae. She sat next to the window, brown eyes that seemed to sparkle like the sun rested on you before turning over to the male that she was sitting with. Your gaze followed hers to Azriel — your mate— but you can see that he didn’t bother to glance in your direction, only to focus on the delicate female next to him.

It hurt. You watched as the two of them conversed, glancing back in your direction before focusing on each other.

It was no secret, not for you, on Elain’s growing infatuation for the Shadowsinger, and in turn his own growing affections for the middle Archeron child — and in turn, losing his love for you.

You woke up in an empty bed, your mate missing from his side. You tried to talk to Cassian about how his day went, on if he would still train you with the Valkyries if he had time. You tried to converse with Rhysand and Feyre, seeing if they were healing properly after the war, wanting to make sure your High Lord and Lady were safe. You sought after you mate, wanting to spend even a second with him.

But they disregarded you so easily. Especially after they had found out that Elain had similar powers to you, one that was gifted to her by the Cauldron — one that was deemed more powerful than your own.

Your role as the Official Seer of Night Court was granted to you after Helion had sent you as an emissary for Day Court. Helion had found you wandering around Day Court lands. You had been a wandering child, with no real attachment to any Court, abandoned in the streets by your family at the age of five when your seer powers started to come into light. Helion had taken you in when you were ten, helped you hone your powers. Being a seer had been a mystery, no one in your heritage (that you were aware of) was a seer. And it baffled Helion on why such a remarkable gift had been casted aside.

You had stayed with the Night Court, gaining their trust and friendship for five centuries, gaining your own little foothold in their family. You had been a pillar when Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain for nearly fifty years. You helped Mor and Armen with the official Night Court Duties, trained with Cassian to ensure you were strong enough to fight when neither he nor Azriel was there.

During your time protecting Valeris from the eyes of Amarantha, your mating bond with the Shadowsinger snapped. It had been difficult at the start, both of you were still struggling with the disappearance of your High Lord, along with the weight of protecting the very city he hidden from view. But during that time, you became each other’s pillar, each other’s comfort in such a dark time. Falling in love with Azriel wasn’t difficult.

But keeping his love, apparently, was the most difficult.

When the Archeron sister’s came into everyone’s lives, it caused a tip in the scales. You loved Feyre, you loved your High Lady. You would do anything in your power to ensure she was safe and well cared for. But for the Cauldron-Made sisters, it was difficult for you to accept them.

They were different. You couldn’t see anything about them, as if the Cauldron had masked them from you powers. It made you terrified of them. Feyre and Rhysand had tried to assure you that the Archeron sisters deemed no threat to the Night Court. And you trusted them — trusted your High Lord and Lady without a blink of an eye. And yes, while their words deemed true, you did not realize that they were a different type of threat. One that would eventually lose your foothold in the Night Court.

You swallowed, your throat parched as you glanced from the sight of your mate and Elain speaking to one another to Rhysand and then to Feyre who had stood next to him. She gave you a worried look, wondering what you were wanting to tell them.

The air was tense, the declaration from your High Lord seeming to echo in your surroundings — he had deemed your vision to be false. And he had never done that before.

“… But…” you whispered, your voice nothing but wind in such a large room, “… I’ve seen it so many times, Rhys. Someone is trying to resurrect him. That they need a piece of something from the Cauldron — -”

“The Cauldron is with Miryam and Drakon… in Creta. There is no way that anyone would be able to use that power again,” Rhysand’s tone was taut, as if trying to drawn a line between the truth and your vision, “Your vision must be wrong, (Y/N). There is no way that Koschei can be resurrected from that lake.”

Another swallow, “But what if it doesn’t have to be the Cauldron itself. It could be something that was Made from the Cauldron.”

Rhysand’s eyes snapped up from his desk, up to you, eyes darkening at the words you were insinuating, “—- What are you trying to say, (Y/N)?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes shifting down to your hands, fiddling with your fingernails — a habit that you’ve had ever since you were a child — one that would leave your hands raw from removing skin, ‘… Nesta and Elain were Made from the Cauldron. If it were to get word to the followers of Koschei, they… they could be in danger. The power that resides in them is the Cauldron… Nesta took something from the Cauldron and did not return it… They could be looking for that.”

It was already bad that you were trying to suggest a return of a Death God, months after a war with Hybern, but it was worse that you were even implying that the sisters were the center of being in danger again.

A dark shadow stood in front of you and you looked up to see Azriel. The golden string that connected the two of you sung, it had been weeks since Azriel went near you, but you knew that his side of the bond was shut, enshroud by shadows, completely shutting you out.

“Az—-” you said his name, as if it was a prayer, hoping he’d be the voice of reason. That he would back up you and your visions. As he always had in the past.

“How can we know that your visions are truth, (Y/N)? There are two Seers in the Night Court now, and yet you are the only one who sees this.”

Your ears rang, a high pitch noise echoing through them as disbelief shook your body. Azriel never distrusted you, never doubted your visions and your forewarnings.

The bond in you ached, as if it was burning you on the inside. Tears lined your eyes as you looked up at your mate, brows furrowing, “…How could you, Azriel?” you muttered, the pain lining your tone, “How can you not trust me?” your voice small.

“Because Elain hasn’t seen it,” was all he had to say.

Hot tears ran your cheeks, as you shakily stepped back from the male that had towered you. You glanced at Cassian and Nesta who looked at you, their eyes inattentive to the pain that you were feeling. You glanced at your High Lord, who looked at you with disinterest. You looked at your High Lady, the only person in the room that seemed to have noticed your pain and anguish, as she took a step towards you way, only to be stopped by Rhysand, his hand around her wrist.

“… So, just because the Cauldron-Made Seer hasn’t seen it, doesn’t mean that it is going to happen?” you asked, your question in the air for everyone to think, “… Just because I wasn’t a Seer Made by the Cauldron, that my visions and my words are not real? That I am a lesser of a Seer than her?”

“(Y/N)—-” Feyre, the voice of reason, called our your name.

You took a step back again, head shaking at them, “I’ve worked my life off for the Night Court. Ensuring that your city is safe, making sure that any danger would never step past the wards that you have put up. I have never hidden anything from any of you. I used my visions and my powers for all of you. And yet…” your voice shook at the end, not believing anything that was happening in front of you, “You disregard me… the moment a better Seer shows up. One that is Cauldron-Made… one that you…” eyes shifting to Azriel, “Deems more suitable for you.

“I’ve seen it. Not only in my visions but here with you all. You have decided to all turn a blind eye to it, decided not to tell me about it. Three sisters for three brothers, isn’t it, Azriel?”

Azriel’s form stiffed in front of you — he did not think that you would have heard that.

You were done, you were tired. You were tired of the lies and the deceit from whom you thought were family.

Feyre’s brows furrowed as she looked at you and then her elder sisters before the back of Azriel. Rhysand stood up as well, standing next to his High Lady at your declaration.

“… What are you talking about, (Y/N)?” Feyre asked, watching your form shake.

“Don’t you lie to me…” you muttered, glaring at your High Lady, “Don’t you dare lie that you have not seen it. Don’t you dare tell me that you have not noticed that Azriel and Elain have been together all this time. That you have turned a blind eye that a mated male would be infatuated, would fall in love with someone else that was not his Cauldron-bound mate. Don’t you dare lie to me you have not all seen it, and have ignored it and not tell me about it.

“You also have all disregarded me and my visions, ever since Elain started to show her own powers. You have all deemed, even without you telling me, that my powers are not worthy enough. That you all would listen to her cryptic visions rather than my own.”

Your words were rushed, you were hyperventilating to the point that your visions swam, but you shook your head, focusing on the scene unfolding — Feyre’s surprised look, Nesta and Cassian staring wide-eye at Elain before glancing at the Shadowsinger in front of you and your High Lord gripping the edge of the table, his violet eyes clearing as if he was in a trance, as if his mind has been cleared and he realized what he has done and what was unfolding with his family.

“No, (Y/N), that’s not what we meant…” he tried to reason, try to gain back your trust in the found family you had with them.

You scrunched your face, shaking your head as you looked at your High Lord before back at your mate, “…That’s what you have meant for the months you have been ignoring my forewarnings. Been ignoring me. Because Elain’s powers are better than mine, you have casted me aside…” Another step back, glancing at the grand door behind you before you glanced back at the family who had lost you, to the mate that had broken your entire being, “You had decided, to your own conscious, to fall in love with someone else, who is bound to someone else, just because you deemed that the Cauldron was wrong. I don’t understand what I have done to you, Azriel… when I have spent nearly five-hundred years with you, fifty years with you as your mate. And you, knowing Elain for a mere five minutes, throwing all that away…”

Azriel looked at you, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes staring you down. He watched as tears continued to flood down your cheeks, your form shaking even further. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t just stand here and be the object that they throw away.

So, you ran, ran out of that room, your name echoing behind you as your dress swirled behind you. You climbed up the spiraling stairs to your shared room with Azriel, throwing up the strongest ward you can muster behind you and around you. You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the echo of the bond in your chest, you couldn’t handle the empty stare of your mated looking at you. You couldn’t handle the thought that you were so easily replaceable. A sob escaped your lips as you rummaged through Azriel’s drawer of weapons, pulling out the one weapon that he never is without — Truth-Teller. Dark tendrils of shadow gripped your wrist as you looked around you, Azriel’s shadows surrounding you.

That was where his shadows went — they had always disappeared when he was around Elain, yet they were here with you.

Frantic knocks startled you as you grasped the weapon close to your chest, your head whipping around towards the door. You heard them — Feyre’s panicked voice, Rhysand’s apologizes, Cassian yelling your name. But you didn’t hear that one voice that you had loved — you knew Azriel wasn’t there.

That had pushed you. Gripping the weapon, you moved to the bathroom, the shadows following your every movement. As you kneeled down on the marble floor, you felt the tug of the shadows against your hand, trying to will the weapon out of your grip — attempting you to stop at a take of your life.

You had always loved the shadows that surrounded Azriel, both physically and metaphorically speaking. They had always comforted you, protected you, always had been there for both of you when times were tough. But this was one of the times that you didn’t want them protecting you, comforting you.

“Please..” you begged at them. Whether or not they would listen or sprint off to their master, they backed off, though a few tendrils stayed behind, slithering around your wrist, holding Truth-Teller, as if a reminder not to do it. But you had made your mind — you couldn’t stay and be pushed to the side. Not anymore.

And with a last breath impaled yourself with your mate’s beloved knife, the very knife he had handed Elain during the war, was the last thing you remembered. As your body fell against the marbled floor, your soul leaving your body, you felt the tendrils of shadow frantically skim over your body, as if to try to find a piece of life still clinging onto you. Eyes looked and watched as the ward was broken and your High Lord and Lady skidding towards your body as your soul left for the skies above, the cool feeling of shadow never leaving your body.

A gasp escaped your lips, the dull ache on your chest making you rub at it.

“— - What…” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as if not used for a century.

“That Shadowsinger did not know what he had decided to let go, huh…” A voice, one so dark and so familiar echoing.

You knew that voice, that voice that haunted you in your visions for weeks — the same voice that you tried to warn your family about. Eyes opening, you were surrounded by the dark, the voice of the Death-God echoing around you.

“I should have died…” you voiced to no-one.

A laugh echoed around you, “You did, (Y/N), but you forget that I am a Death-God… And I can resurrect anyone I wish. Now, that your family has abandoned you, why don’t you join me. Show them what happens when a Seer of your capacity has been cast aside. I should have had you when that original family of yours stranded you, but that damn High Lord of Day found you first. Anyway… come child…”

You laid there, in the darkness, before you shakily reach out a hand, before spiny fingers grasped onto yours and pulled you out of that darkness.

[virginsexgod69]

REQUEST ‼️‼️‼️

I’ve always wanted to read one where the reader is one of Hershel’s daughters (set in season 2). When Daryl and the group show up the reader won’t stop teasing Daryl and eventually he can’t take it anymore. Please make my dreams come true 😭😭🤘. (p.s virgin reader would be +50 points ;)

❝ V-Card ❞

pairing (S2) Daryl Dixon x virgin!fem!Reader

cw loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, lowkey inexperienced daryl, but also not really?, teasing, some pining, daryl kinda being a boob man, reader being a little pervy at times

note i am so sorry i kept you waiting 32 days for this request @mygrandmaschinacabinet, i really hope you like this and thank you for your patience and kind comment on my other post!

p.s. just bc reader is hershel's daughter does not imply anything ab her appearence

~5.k words

 Living on a farm that was fairly far from society, it was a given that you wouldn't see good looking guys too often. But being a good looking girl, the guys you didn't want were always the ones after you, and you'd always have to turn them down. When she gets older, she's gonna have to fight off boys with a stick, was something your grandma would often tease your father, Hershel, about. You laughed it off, not paying any mind to it, but boy did she end up being right. You spent a good portion of your high school years rejecting your suitors, none of which were good enough for you, and none of which you really wanted. But when you finally laid eyes on the most beautiful man you've ever seen, he happened to be one who seemed to pay you no attention. 

 Odd circumstances brought the beautiful man, whom you quickly learned was named Daryl Dixon, to your farm. Otis shot a kid, Hershel took him in to care for, and his dad's group eventually made a home on your father's land. You couldn’t help but ogle at him from your bedroom window whenever you got the chance. The way his biceps flexed whenever he worked with his arms had your virgin pussy aching to be filled by him. He was a man who you’d let do things to you that you’d let no other man before even think he had a chance of doing. 

“Not this again,” Maggie complained upon entering your room. You were perched at your window -like you have been since the group first arrived- watching Daryl skin some squirrels. No one could look as good as he did while doing such a grisly task. 

“Can you blame me? Jus’ look at him,” you replied dreamily. 

“No thanks.” 

“Whatever. You have your eye candy, I have mine.” 

“Eye candy? What’re you talkin’ about?” She asked defensively. 

“Glenn. I’ve seen the way you look at him, like he’s a piece of meat,” you teased. 

“Whatever! Do you need anythin’? I’m goin’ out on a run.” 

“With Glenn?” 

 She let out an annoyed huff and exited the room, not awaiting your response. But you didn’t need anything anyway. You went back to watching Daryl. The sweltering Georgia heat caused sweat to drench his sleeveless shirt and drip from his short, dark hair. He looked like he walked out of one of your many wet dreams. Just then, an idea popped into your head. You hurried down to the kitchen and filled a glass with water, cooling it with the scoops of ice you added. Surely this kind deed would put you on his radar. 

“Hey, Daryl,” you cheerily greeted as you approached the rugged man. He sat on a stump, now gutting the squirrels he already skinned. He grunted in response, not looking up from his work. Your smile dropped, not that it mattered, considering he wasn’t even looking at you. 

“Brought you some water. It’s pretty hot out here and I wouldn’t want ya gettin’ dehydrated,” you said as you held out the cold glass, now dripping with condensation. “Thanks.” He grabbed the glass, his fingers slightly brushing yours, sending a tingling through your spine. He threw his head back, downing the water. A small stream of water dripped down his chin, then his neck, sliding down his shirt no longer in your vision. You squeezed your thighs together. Every little thing he did drove you crazy. You felt like a victorian man who’d just seen a peek of a woman’s ankle whenever you were around Daryl. 

“You uh… Ya need somethin’?” He asked when he noticed you haven’t left yet. You froze. You didn’t need anything, but you didn’t want to leave either. 

“Jus’ came to check on ya, I guess,” you muttered. 

“ ‘M fine?” He tossed the squirrel’s guts into a bucket. 

“Well, alright. My work here is done!” You cringed as the words left your mouth. You grabbed the emptied glass and walked back into the house, chastising yourself the entire way. You wanted nothing more than to have him look at you the way other guys do, but he barely give you the time of day. 

 The glimmer of sunbeams on your face woke you up the next morning. You glanced at the analog clock on your nightstand that read 11:36. You hopped out of bed and eagerly hurried to your window, hoping Daryl would be back from hunting or looking for that little girl or whatever else it was he did when he wasn’t in his usual spot. He was sat on that stump again, but this time he was cleaning his crossbow with that red rag he kept on him. You couldn’t take it anymore, you had  to do something. He couldn’t keep getting away with being so hot and so uninterested in you. 

 You readied yourself in the bathroom, making sure every hair was in place and every tooth was brushed. You debated putting on makeup. You had some leftover from before, but never had a reason to use it, not until now. You layered on some mascara until your lashes looked twice as long and twice as full and coated your lips with some tinted gloss. You stared into your closet debating on what you thought Daryl’d like better. Your tightest, shortest shorts and a nearly see-through tank top. 

“What’re doin’ all dolled up like that?” Your younger sister, Beth asked upon entering the kitchen. 

“Makin’ lunch for D-,” you stopped yourself, not wanting another sister catching onto your thing for Daryl, “for the group out there.” 

“Daddy doesn’t want us wastin’ all our stuff on them,” she protested. You rolled your eyes at her. She could be such a goody-two-shoes sometimes. “What he don’ know won’ hurt him.” You cut a piece of the sandwich you made and handed it to Beth. 

“Eat this and keep quiet.”  

You assembled the sandwich and a glass of lemonade on a tray and carried it over to his lone camp. He didn’t look at you until you were standing before him holding the tray of food. His eyes slowly made their way up to yours, lingering on your bare legs and exposed cleavage on their way up. You couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged the corners of your mouth at this small victory. He quickly averted his gaze and set his crossbow down. 

“Wha’s all this?” He asked, nodding his head toward the tray in your arms. 

“Made ya lunch. Figured you’d be hungry after all that huntin’ and searchin’ you been doin’,” you answered as you set down the tray. 

“Uh, thanks?” He seemed confused, but grateful nonetheless. “Of course,” you replied with a bright smile before sauntering off, swaying your hips more than usual. Unbeknownst to you, he watched you until the door closed behind you. 

 In the days that passed, you upped the ante on your teasing. Daryl noticed. At noon almost everyday, you’d bring him lunch in risqué little outfits. Not quite skimpy, but just enough to tease him. And tease him they did. He already was too nervous to look at you, afraid he might scare you off with his gruff nature and lack of experience with women. He’d choose, instead, to catch glimpses of you when you weren’t watching. Like when you’d leave after bringing him something, or when you’d be around doing farm-work or interacting with the other members of his group. But when you started wearing those revealing outfits, it became harder for him to keep from looking at you. But when he made eye contact with you, he became so nervous and shy that he had to look away. You were the sun. He could feel your warmth, even when he couldn’t see you. You were so bright and beautiful that he felt pulled to look at you, but whenever he did, it couldn’t be for long because he’d forcibly look away, your bright smile burning his sensitive retinas. 

 Speaking of the sun, there you were. “Daryl!” You called as you ran to him. The actual sun glowed behind you, making you look even more like an angel. He was atop one of your horses ready to leave the farm to look for Sophia. He was shocked to see you since you usually weren’t up until noon. He’d know since that’s around the time he sees you watching him through your window. 

“Yeah?” He grunted. 

“Ya goin’ out to look for that little girl?” Once you were out of the sunlight, he could actually get a good look at you.  Something in him stirred when he saw you in the little dress you had on. It was a cream color with ruffles at the bottom and it gave him a good view of your breasts from his position on the horse. He quickly tore his eyes away and looked at the view ahead of him, which was nowhere near as beautiful as you. 

“I figure you’ll be gone for a bit, so I brought you a little bite to eat,” you said holding up a few muffins you made the other night wrapped in cheesecloth. 

“T-thanks,” he stuttered. Despite how frequent it was, he was always taken aback by the kindness you show him. He’s never been treated the way you treat him before and it caught him off guard. 

“Be back by dinner, okay?” It wasn’t a command, more of a hopeful question, but made his heart flutter. 

“I’ll try.” He didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t keep. You stood there fiddling with your dress about to say something but deciding against it each time. 

“Wha’ is it?” 

“B-be safe out there!” You blurted before scampering off. He found it odd how you could be so bold with your teasing, yet shy when it came to actually talking to him. 

  Your words echoed in his head as he searched for any sign of Carol’s lost daughter. Your request of be back by dinner, okay? motivated him to get back to the farm, despite his injuries from the horse tossing him down a cliff making it difficult for him to move. But what really stuck with him was your horrified scream when you saw Andrea shoot him. That scream haunted his dreams while he was unconscious. The terror of it being the last thing he’d hear from you was his real nightmare. So when he heard your soft “Hey,” he felt relief wash over him, despite the pain everywhere else. He blinked his dry eyes open only for the first thing for him to see being your tits. You had on a loose t-shirt with no bra underneath. He didn’t know if this was a part of your teasing or a pure mistake, but either way, his cock stirred at the sight. You leaned down further to look into his eyes. 

“How ya feelin’?” You ask, placing the back of your hand to his forehead. He tried to croak out a response, but his throat was too dry. You quickly grabbed the glass of water at his bedside and helped him drink it. 

“Better?” 

“ ‘M fine,” he said. You gave him a look that said you didn’t believe him, but were humoring him anyway. “You were injured pretty badly, Daryl,” you said as you gently stroked his hair. He caught himself before he could fully melt into your touch. In fact, he moved away from it. 

“I know, ‘m fine,” he snapped before trying to roll over, away from you. He didn’t like you seeing him like this. So weak and frail, having to depend on those around him. He didn’t see the hurt expression that took over your pretty face. But, to his luck, you didn’t let him push you away. Instead, you toed off your shoes and got into the bed beside him, facing him. He hoped to the high heavens that you couldn’t see the redness that blossomed on his face when you flashed your bright smile at him. 

“I’ll keep ya company,” you promised. 

“Don’ need no company, said ‘m fine.” He didn’t know why he was so adamant about pushing you away. The minute he realized you were in here, he brightened up. He didn’t want his sunshine to leave, but he couldn’t help the storm that was brewing inside him. 

“Well, if you really want me to leave, I’ll go.” You were almost out of the bed before his clammy hand grabbed your wrist. 

“Nah, you can stay,” he said, prompting the return of that bright smile. 

 When you woke up, the sun was setting and Daryl’s arm was around your waist, holding you close. Your heart swelled, this was all you ever wanted, to be in Daryl’s arms. Okay, well you wanted more than just his arm around you, but small victories! You gently moved his arm off you so you could get up and get some dinner from him and yourself. 

“What were you doin’ in there?” Your father asked as soon as you stepped out of the room. He stood outside, about to come in, holding a tray of food for the bowman. 

“Nothin’, Daddy, I was jus’ checkin up on our patient!” It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. 

“Since earlier this afternoon?” He pressed. 

“Lost track of time,” you explained. 

“Now, honey, I know you’re just lookin’ out for him, but-“ 

“I know, I know, you don’t really trust them, but I’m just lovin’ thy neighbor, so to speak.” You bargained. 

That response seemed to satisfy him for now. He handed you the tray of food to give you Daryl. 

“Daryl, dinner,” you called softly upon reentering the room. He groaned, but woke up anyway. He tried to sit up, but winced in pain. You set the tray down and quickly ran to his side to help him out. You adjusted his pillows and helped him to a sitting position. 

“Wha’s fer dinner?” He asked, glancing at the bowl of soup on the tray beside him on the bed. You hummed in thought before dipping your finger into the bowl and sucking it clean, making sure your lips were pouty as you did so, hoping to tease Daryl. 

“Tomato.” He hummed noncommittally before reaching for the spoon. You swatted his hand away. “Nuh uh, you’re still healing, let me feed you.” 

“I can feed myself,” he protested. You furrowed your brows and pouted at him. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but opened his mouth slightly, waiting for a bite. You smiled, scooping up some soup and spooning it into his mouth, making sure to lean forward as to give him a front row seat to the view down your shirt. You saw him avoid looking the first few times, but soon he was unable to resist taking a peek, and soon his peeking became staring (however, he pretended not to be whenever you looked back up at him). 

“Enjoy the soup?” You asked once the bowl was mostly empty. 

“S’alright,” he said as he nibbled on a cracker. You grabbed the bowl and drank the rest of the soup directly from it. 

“Goddammit!” You cursed when a glob of soup fell onto your white t-shirt. But maybe it was a blessing in disguise, a chance to drive Daryl crazy. You grabbed a random t-shirt from one of the drawers and set it down before taking off the one you had, tossing it aside. You put the new one on as if you didn't just give him a strip show. His face was beet red and he hurried to adjust the blankets on his lap. 

"Daryl, you okay? You look a little hot?" 

"S'just w-warm in here." 

"Let me jus' check your temperature." Instead of pressing the back of your hand to his forehead like before, you placed a gentle kiss to it. 

"Feels a little warm." You stayed close to his face. If he moved, even a centimeter, his lips would touch yours, which is what you were hoping for. You glanced down at his lips, then up at his blue eyes, waiting for him to lean in. Despite all this teasing, you kinda wished he'd make a move, too. When he didn't, you pulled away, kissing him on the cheek instead. 

"Get well soon, okay?" you said before taking the tray and leaving. 

Daryl had been mentally punching himself since that night. He was an idiot for not kissing you when he had the chance. You were right there and so obviously waiting for him to do something, anything. But he couldn't. It'd been so long since he'd done anything with a woman, and even then, he didn't think he was any good. He was almost embarrassed about how inexperienced he was at his age. And someone as beautiful as you obviously would have some experience, so why waste time on him. He didn't want to be the cloud that dulled your shine. 

 He was now well enough to be released from Hershel’s care, but not well enough to resume about his usual ways. He’d normally disobey orders to take it easy, but when you made him promise to rest, he couldn’t break it. Subconsciously, he glanced over to your window. It wasn’t something he did often, considering you were usually the one watching him, but you were weighing heavily on his mind. He saw you up in your room, assuming you’d just woken up since it was almost noon. You were at your window, rummaging through your dresser -he knew where it was when he caught a glimpse of your room when he was inside the house. You held up a few shirts, probably deciding on which to wear, before pulling your pajama shirt off over your head. This was now the second, no, third time he’s gotten a perfect view of your tits. God they would feel so good in his hands, better yet, they’d look so good  bouncing in unison with his thrusts as he fucked you into your mattress. Your teasing and mischievous ways only fueled his fantasies, causing his pants to tighten uncomfortably. The little wave you gave him from your window pulled him out of his own head. You, still topless, blew him a kiss before stepping out of frame. 

 His heart rate increased expeditiously as he nearly came in his pants. He couldn’t handle your teasing anymore, it was driving him crazy. He wanted you, not just the fantasies in his head and the company of his hand. He wanted to feel your walls squeeze his cock, hear your little moans as he pleasured you until your mind went numb, become one with you as you came in unison. He hurried into his tent and zipped it all the way up before collapsing onto his sleeping bag and hurrying to undo his pants. He liberated his aching cock from its confines and spat on his hand. He rubbed himself up and down, from base to tip, imagining it was your pretty mouth swallowing him whole. He ignored the sound of distant footsteps approaching his tent and instead chased his climax, which was coming embarrassingly fast. 

“Daryl?” Your distant voice called, but all he heard in his mind was you moaning his name as your nails scratched down his back. 

“You in here?” You asked. Daryl came in his hand, taking extra care to stifle the moan that threatened to spill from his mouth. Reality set in when he saw your shadow standing outside his tent. He quickly wiped his hand off on the closest piece of fabric and shoved himself back in his pants. 

“Need somethin’? He asked. He willed you not to notice his flushed, sweaty face. 

“Watcha doin’ in there?” You asked, trying to peek into his tent. He moved to block your vision. He didn’t need you finding any trace of his earlier activity. Although, the little dress you had on had him ready to continue said activities.

“Nothin’.” 

“Anyway, I came to check on you, make sure you’re takin’ it easy.” 

“I am, was jus’ takin’ a nap,” he lied. 

“Then why are you so red? And sweaty? Are you comin’ down with somethin’?!” You were starting to sound worried, making Daryl feel guilty. You reached up to feel his forehead and check for a fever, but he stepped back, avoiding your touch. If he felt your skin on his, in any capacity, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back anymore. 

“Daryl, don’t be so stubborn!” You stepped closer only for him to step back again. 

“Ain’ got no fever, girl! S’just hot out here!” He insisted. 

“Don’ know that for sure. If it is one, it could mean one of your wounds is infected.” 

“S’not a fever, ‘m sweaty from workin’ out.” You looked at him with an eyebrow skeptically raised and a hand on your hip. So much for takin’ a nap, you thought. Your eyes traveled down his body before meeting his again, this time with look more mischievous than usual in your eyes. 

“Your fly’s down.” He quickly zipped it up, cursing himself for the dumb mistake. 

“Anythin’ to do with your ‘work out’?” 

“Dunno what yer gettin’ at.” His heart was beating faster in his chest, this time because of anxiety. You were onto him and he was about to get caught, humiliated under your scrutinizing gaze.

“Flushed, sweaty face.” You took a step closer and he took one back. “Dilated pupils.” Another step forward and another one back. “Unzipped fly.” He stepped back, not looking where he was going and stumbled onto the grassy ground. You sat down next to him. “Took forever to open your tent.” Your face split into a grin like the Cheshire Cat.   “I’d say you were in there masturbatin’.” He stumbled over his words, looking for what to say in denial of your observation accusation. You pressed your pointer finger to his lips. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” You leaned over him and slid your hand down his chest. “I touch myself, too.” His sparkling blue eyes went wide. “Usually thinkin’ ‘bout you when I do it.” You could feel his breathing change as you slid your hand further down his toned stomach. “Were you thinkin’ ‘bout me?” His face was beet read and breathing shallow. You had him and he was more than ready, willing, and able to give in. He nodded his head, confirming your suspicions. 

“Well, next time I’m on your mind,” you leaned down, lips ghosting his parted ones, “don’t just settle for your hand.” His lips finally met yours in a heated kiss. The built up tension from his days of pining and yours of teasing finally being released in that kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss, slipping your tongue inside and drinking in all his pleasured groans. 

“Wanna go back to my room?” You asked after pulling away. 

“Nah, too far. Let’s go inside my tent.” You happily agreed and hurried inside, zipping it up behind Daryl. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, passionately exploring it with his tongue. He kissed his way down to your neck, roughly sucking marks. 

“Oh, Daryl!” You shouted when he reached a certain spot on your neck, just beneath your ear. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. Nervously, Daryl’s hand experimented with touching your body, his hands firmly gripping your hips. They were comfortable there and not daring enough to try anything else. He wanted to impress you, but at the same time he didn’t want you to notice that he had no clue what he was doing or what to do next, using the pirated porn and one night stands of his past as reference. Your hands grabbed his and placed them on your tits. 

“Touch me, Daryl!” You whined. His hands groped and kneaded at the soft mounds of flesh hidden behind the thin fabric of your dress. He pulled down the front of your dress, freeing your tits then recapturing one by putting it in his mouth. His large hand toyed with the right while his mouth suckled the other. Your little wanton whimpers egged him on, giving him the confidence to try more. Your squirmed beneath him, squeezing your thighs together. His cock was also painfully hard, once again, and yearning to feel your warm walls around him. He pulled away and undid his pants before pulling out his cock, stroking it a few times. He looked up at you, but you looked less excited. Your eyes wouldn’t meet his and your arms were crossed over your chest, hiding yourself from him. 

“Wha’s the matter, Sunshine?” He asked, the nickname rolling of his tongue naturally. He was more than excited to sleep with you, but his worry regarding your sudden change outweighed that. 

“N-nothin’. Jus’ put it in,” you said hoarsely. 

“Nah, we ain’ doin’ nothin’ unless ya tell me wha’s wrong.” It sounded harsh, but it came from a place of genuine concern. 

You sat up, readjusting your dress as you did so. “I-it’s jus’,” you nervously fiddled with the hem of your dress, something Daryl noticed you did a lot around him. “C-can we go slow? I haven’t done any of this stuff before,” you admitted. 

“You a virgin?” He asked, astonished. You glumly nodded your head as if you were accepting defeat. In a twisted way, that relieved him a bit. Maybe since you’ve never had sex, you wouldn’t notice his own lack of experience.  He put himself in his boxers before patting the spot in front of him. You crawled over to him and sat between his legs, your back against his chest. His lips found that spot on your neck again and began sucking there as his hand slid underneath your panties. He rubbed your clit in tight circles, causing your thighs to clamp shut over his hand. 

“Jus’ relax,” he coaxed. You relaxed the best you could, but the pleasure kept you from staying still. 

“F-faster,” you whimpered. He obeyed your command, rubbing you at a quicker pace. Your head fell back against his shoulder and you moaned in his ear. His other hand slipped beneath your panties and gathered your arousal on his finger, before he slowly slid it inside you, giving you time to adjust. He pumped it in and out of you as he continued to rub your clit. Your back arched off him as you moaned his name. He easily slipped in a second finger with how wet you were. Your velvety walls were so soft around his thick digits. He couldn’t wait to feel them with his cock. He moved his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting you in a spot that had you babbling nonsense. You squeezed his fingers with your soaking cunt as your first orgasm overtook your body. 

“Daryl, I’m ready. Need ta feel ya inside me,” you slurred. He helped you lay down on your back and slid your panties off before pulling his painfully hard cock out again. Your legs rested over his thighs as he coated his member in your juices before lining it up with your entrance. He slid in as slowly as he could, making sure this would be as painless as it could be for you. You were so soft, slippery, and smooth around him, the best pussy he’s ever had. Once he was all the way in, he stopped to give you time to adjust. He leaned down and connected your lips in another kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled held him close. 

“You can move now.” His hands gripped your hips as he started slowly thrusting in and out of you, not wanting to give you too much too soon. His pleasured grunts mingled with your moans as he slid in and out of you. 

“More, need more!” You whined. He adjusted your position, placing your legs over his broad shoulders. The new position allowed him to fill you even better. As he pounded in and out of you, the erotic sounds of damp skin slapping damp skin filled the tent, harmonizing with his and your sounds of pleasure. He lifted your dress over your head, getting rid of the barrier between you and him, and tossed it aside. His own fantasies came true as he watched your tits bounce in unison with his thrusts. He took them in his hands again, rolling your nipples between his finger and thumb, bringing you closer to your climax. 

“Daryl I think I’ma-” Your sentence trailed off into a moan as you came around his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm as his own approached. He pulled out of you just as he was about to finish and came all over your tits and stomach, like a firehose. You let out a satisfied hum, barely able to keep your eyes open. He grabbed one of his discarded shirts and cleaned you off before laying beside you in the sleeping bag. You rolled over to face him and hugged him close in your arms. 

“You were the best first I coulda asked for,” you confessed. Your words soothed his worries that he didn’t perform well enough while also making his heart flutter.

“Guess all yer teasin’ paid off.” You giggled against his chest. 

 He pulled you closer to him and pulled you in for another kiss, a sweeter, gentler one this time. You dozed off in his comforting arms, wishing you’d never have to leave. 

i proofread it, yaaay! anyway, thanks for reading! <3

i wrote this instead of doing my homework, mwahahahah >=]

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[diettwistup]

HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 5.1K

NOTES: hiiii!!! hope y’all enjoy this next chapter cuz it’s not my fave thing ever LOL. was also too lazy to proofread so sorry if there's errors. i’m also gonna be going on vacation with no internet for a little over a week so next update will be after that! thanks for reading luv u 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO and ONE

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE TROUBLE

CHALLENGERS TOURNAMENT, NEW ROCHELLE - 2019, 1:00 PM

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I gripped my dress as Tashi got up and cursed before walking off, disappointed with Art’s performance. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going.” I shot and grabbed her wrist, eyeing her up as I took my sunglasses off. 

Shaking my grasp off of her, she bent down and spoke dangerously close to my face. 

“If he’s not gonna play tennis, then I don’t wanna see shit.” She seethed and walked off, brushing off her dress with each stride. 

As I watched her go, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. Darting my attention back to the match, Art was already looking my way. 

Shooting him a sad expression, I put my sunglasses back on, huffed, and sat back in my seat. 

All he did was shake his head and rub the sweat off his face while Patrick smirked proudly. 

He sure seems to love this. 

Sighing, I raised one hand to my mouth to bite my nails, the nerves of the match taking over my entire being. 

At the next serve, I carefully watched the strategic movements behind the boy’s every motion. They have always been outstanding players, and I furrowed my brows as I thought back to the first time I saw them play against each other. 

The stupidity of Tashi and I, dumb enough to pin two best friends against each other. We should have never stepped foot in that godforsaken hotel room. 

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. The crowd's roar echoed around me as I thought back to the night that started it all. 

The night that ruined it all. 

THE BOY’S HOTEL- 2006, 12:00 AM

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” I exclaimed to Tashi as we made our way to the boy's hotel room. “Why the fuck would you let them come down when you knew I was there?” I shot at her as I smacked her arm. 

Tashi smacked me right back, making me let out a hiss and shoot a cold glare at her. 

“I don’t know why you're acting like you don’t have a game. You’re the best at playing hard to get.” Tashi responded and shrugged as if it was as simple as adding two plus two. 

“You’re a bitch.” I muttered and rolled my eyes as the hotel came into view. “What do you even plan on doing with these two.” I raised my brow at her and studied her expression to gauge what was going through her mind. 

“What we usually do,” she responded, smiling at me. Hypnotize them with our charm and have a good time, of course,” She said proudly as if this was second nature for us. 

I won’t say that Tash and I haven’t had our fair share of fun with boys, but something like this, with two boys who knew their way around the game themselves, was certainly daunting. 

“Fine, but you should have heard how they talked about us at your match. It was disgusting.” I pretended to gag and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Perfect, we already have them locked in then.” She nudged my arm before leading the way to the room.

Rolling my eyes, I smacked her again before following behind her.

On the way to the room, I got lost in my thoughts. How did we get ourselves into such a situation? I hope Tashi doesn’t expect us to have a foursome of any sort because I don’t have the patience to deal with a whole ordeal like that. 

Approaching the door, Tashi stopped to let me walk ahead of her. 

“Perfect, Mila, you can see your ass poking out of your shorts.” She smirked and gently patted it until I swatted at her hand with a laugh. 

“Fuck off, let’s go,” I scolded, waiting for her to catch up, as she knew which room to go to. 

Once we reached the door, Tashi knocked and softly bit her lip. Scuffling was immediately heard behind the door, signifying that the boys were startled by our appearance. 

I moved to press my ear to the door with a slight smirk which Tashi returned as she did the same. 

“They’re crazy…” I whispered to Tashi, to which she responded with a nod and a soft hum. 

When we removed our ears from the door, it swung open so quickly I couldn’t make out the motion. 

The boys stood at the door, looking extremely disheveled. Patrick wore boxers and an unbuttoned linen shirt that looked like it had been shoved in his tennis bag and forgotten. Also wearing boxers, Art wore a beater t-shirt that looked like it had never been in the wash and dryer a day in his life. Both of their hair was ruffled and unkempt, making it look like they had just gotten out of bed. 

Raising an eyebrow, I was the first to speak. “What, did you two just get done fucking?” I questioned as I looked between them and placed my hands on my hips. 

Patrick just burst out into laughter while Art spoke up. 

“No…fuck no…” He muttered with a laugh as he patted Patrick on the back. 

Drunk as sailors. 

I nodded at this before resting my eyes and glancing at Tashi, who smiled fondly at the two, but I knew she was plotting. 

“So, hi,” Tashi spoke calmly with a smile that immediately brought the boys back to Earth as they moved aside to let us in the room. 

I had to stop myself from covering my nose as we entered the room. 

Reeks of beer and cigarettes…typical boys.

Two beds pushed together were messily made. Beer cans, cigarette buds, and clothes were everywhere, though it looked like someone had tried to tidy up a bit. 

That explains all the noise. 

Patrick mindlessly spoke to Tashi as I continued to scan the room, not noticing that Art was eyeing me up. Turning my head, I caught his stare, which didn’t make him falter. He only continued to stare before coming up to me and handing me a beer. 

“Didn’t know you were gonna come.” He spoke as he looked down at me through lidded eyes. Tipsy eyes. And, of course, he had a smirk, but it spoke I’m glad you came, really. 

I continued to study his expression as I let my guard down a pinch. I shrugged nonchalantly as I took a long swig of the beer, knowing I would need it to get through the night. 

“Had nothing else to do. Figured why not.” I spoke calmly as I let my eyes rake over his entire figure, drinking up his messy look which he really really pulled off. Never would I ever admit that for him to hear. 

Or me. 

“Well, glad you’re here.” Art said as he took the beer can from my lips and sipped it while he stared into my eyes, flickering to my lips for a moment.

I kept my eyes trained on his as I refused to back down in this staredown, showing that I couldn’t be swayed that quickly just because he was extremely attractive. 

“You two, come sit,” Patrick spoke up from the ground by the bed where he sat with Tashi. 

Nodding at this, I waited for Art to take his eyes off mine before I made any movement to sit. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed a hand on my lower back to walk me to where everyone was sitting. 

I shivered slightly at this as I softly bit my bottom lip, hiding this motion from him, but I knew Tashi saw it by her smug little smile that said I told you so. 

We haven’t even done anything, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the trenches. 

The next couple minutes were used to discuss how Patrick and Art met each other and how Patrick, predictable enough, taught Art how to masturbate, all while we all took sips from the beer can that Art had given me when we first got here. 

“Y’all are weird as fuck.” I snorted, a bit tipsy, wiping my mouth from my last gulp as I looked between the two boys who had red cheeks from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment, and can’t forget, two big smirks. 

“No, Mila. I think it's a cute story.” Tashi nodded with a smile in an attempt to reassure the boys jokingly—a tactic she used to fully reel them in. 

I rolled my eyes at this and fake glared at Tashi. “Only if you’re fucked in the head!” I laughed again while the rest of them laughed with me. 

“Don’t tell me you two haven’t done anything weird like that,” Patrick said, making me whip my head to him before glancing back at Tashi.

“Yeah, you two have known each other since the womb. There’s no way you haven’t done nothing.” Art added and took a long swig of the beer can before passing it to Patrick, eyes trained on me for longer than I would have liked. 

I shook my head with a small laugh before looking back to Tashi, who gave me an eyebrow in return, signaling something.

You ready?

…

I’m ready.

We nodded at each other before standing up and looking down at the boys. 

“You guys aren’t leaving-“ Patrick started but stopped when he saw the two of us moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

My eyes locked with both of them briefly as I flashed the most innocent smile I could muster. 

Here we go. 

“Patrick, come sit by me…” Tashi spoke and patted the space to her left. 

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He sprung up so fast he spilled the beer can everywhere on the carpet, but he couldn’t give a fuck. 

As he sat down next to Tashi, my eyes locked onto Art’s. I did not need any words to tell him to sit by me. 

He took the hint immediately, got up almost as fast as his best friend, and sat beside me, thigh already touching mine.

I turned to face him with lidded eyes and a small smile. I could hear his breath hitch as Adam’s apple bobbed, signifying that he took a small gulp. I softened my eyes to let him know it was okay to relax and that he could be comfortable around me. 

Even though Tashi wanted to play with these boys like putty, I felt a little different about the situation. 

As I tilted my head at Art slowly, I saw his face contort into a grin that radiated his comfort and need. 

Leaning in slightly, I placed my hand on Art’s chest, noting how firm it felt through his thin shirt. Art mirrored my leaning in but instead placed a hand on my thigh. As I neared his lips, I teasingly pulled away as I felt Tashi pat my back. I smirked slightly at this and turned around as my lips met hers instead of Art’s.

It was an innocent kiss, a tactic to get these boys right where we wanted them. This action certainly answered their questions about us, and I hope it was worthwhile.

Once again, I could feel Art’s eyes piercing the back of my head, so I moved my hair off my shoulder and tapped the side of my neck so he would know what to do. 

Almost immediately, his lips were latched onto my neck. I wondered for a moment if he was a vampire because of the way he was sucking on my neck. I figured he was searching for a blood vessel. Poor baby must have been deprived of any female touch, but the way his lips sucked profusely on my pulse point, I could tell this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Tashi and I pulled away from our innocent kiss and shot each other small smirks when we noticed that Patrick and Art were too lost in our necks to give a damn. 

I tapped Art’s thigh so he would know to stop, which he reluctantly did. His lips were a bit swollen, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. Biting my lip, I reached up and brushed a finger across his bottom lip. As I did this, Art grabbed my hand and studied it before gently kissing my finger where my nail had broken. My eyes widened at this as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. 

Keep. your. composure. 

Shaking out of my daze at his action, I smiled softly once again and leaned in slowly to connect our lips, hands on the back of his neck, threatening to tangle in his blonde curls.

Pillows. His lips feel like pillows.

The kiss was soft until his hand moved from my thigh to my waist. He pushed forward a bit until my back fully hit Tashi and tried to part my lips by biting my bottom one, but I pulled away before he could get that far. 

Too easy.

Licking my lips to taste him, I turned back to Tashi, who placed her hand on my cheek to kiss me lightly again. As her lips melded with mine, I gingerly placed a hand on the base of Art’s jaw and slowly pulled him towards Tashi and me’s kiss. Immediately, I could feel Art’s lips meld with Tashi's, mine, and then Patrick’s, knowing that Tashi had done the same with him. 

Now, the four of us were all kissing, making me slightly clench my thighs. Only slightly. 

After about five seconds, I felt Tashi tap my back to signal me to pull away slowly. 

As we both pulled away, Art and Patrick were full-on making out, not noticing that the two of us had abandoned the kiss. I glanced at Tashi with a smirk as she watched them in satisfaction. 

It took everything in me not to giggle as I watched the two continue to eat each other's faces fervently. 

Specifically Art.

After a beat, Tashi spoke up. 

“Okay.” She said, which made the boys freeze and pull away from each other. 

Immediately, they both looked at us in shock. 

Got ‘em. 

I tilted my head at Art as I gently reached my hand out to trace shapes on his thigh while he looked down at me like I had three heads. 

“That was cute…” I mouthed to him with a soft smile as he continued to eye me up in shock mixed with a bit of awe. 

“Well, we should get going before our parents freak out and wonder where we are,” Tashi says. I sit up as I follow suit, cutting any tension in the room.

Standing up from the bed, I chuckled to myself as I brushed off my clothes and fixed my hair. “It’s been fun,” I said, aiming my comment at Art. Thank you for having us,” I finished with a small, innocent smile as Tashi and I left. 

“Wait!” Patrick said which stopped us in our tracks. 

Turning around, Tashi and I shared matching grins that we quickly hid when we faced the boys. 

Art spoke up next as he looked right at me. “What about your numbers?” He asked as he stared at me like a puppy deprived of dinner. 

I crossed my arms and shrugged. “If you win tomorrow, I’ll give you my number,” I said plainly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. 

“And I’ll give you my number if you win tomorrow,” Tashi said to Patrick just as plainly as I did. 

Both boys shot each other smirks before nodding in agreement. 

Tashi and I said our goodbyes before leaving the hotel room. When we were out of earshot, we both started laughing. 

“We have them wrapped around our pretty little fingers!” Tashi exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder. 

I laughed at this and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I really hope Art wins,” I said in a dreamy tone of voice as I thought back to his face, lips, chest, everything, really. 

Tashi shook me back and forth with a smile as she exclaimed, “I’m just ready to watch some good  fucking tennis!” She laughed, knowing that the two boys were really going to battle it out with this new prize put into motion. 

STANFORD UNIVERSITY - 2007 5:00 PM

As I slowly trudged from the tennis court to the dining hall, I felt my arms giving out. 

“Fuck this damn bag,” I whined and went to a nearby bench to take a breather and bask in the California sun. 

Today’s practice was by far the worst of the semester. I worked with my coach on my serve to prepare for my upcoming match, where I would face an opponent ranked decently high in the state. 

Closing my eyes and throwing my head back to catch the rays of the warm sun, I let out a groan. I probably looked like a corpse to every passerby, but just like Tashi, they knew me, so hopefully, they would just smile and wave. 

“Rough practice?” An extremely familiar and captivating voice snapped me back to reality. 

Opening my eyes, I was met with my favorite pair of light blue eyes—something he would never know. Of course, a smirk adorned his features, and his blonde curls were tucked into a backward red cap, most certainly saying “Stanford” on the flip side. 

“Art…” I spoke almost breathlessly as I sat up, brushed a piece of hair out of my face, and used my other hand to block the sun that Art’s head almost blocked. 

“Hey, can I sit?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, and nodded to where my bag was on the bench. 

Quickly moving it to sit in front of my feet, I patted the empty seat next to me. “Sure.” I smiled at him and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. 

Over the summer, I would never allow myself to be so forward with Art Donaldson. I couldn’t speak for my present self, though. Since Patrick won the match, he and Tashi started dating after he scored her number. I, of course, was too upset to act like I didn’t give a damn about not being able to give Art my number. Tashi insisted that to keep their passion and drive for tennis alive, I keep up my end of the deal and don’t give Art my number. Hesitantly, I agreed as I knew how easily a stimulus like that can create great results. Since the match, Art and I have never spoken except for the occasional hello when passing by each other on the tennis court or dining hall. This moment was the first time I could speak with him since everything, and since I may have developed a slight…crush. 

“So,” He started and turned his body on the bench to face me fully. “How have you been?” He tilted his head and tapped the back of the bench while studying my face. 

Inhaling a sharp breath, I turned my body to face him fully, bringing one leg up and letting the other drape off the side of the bench. 

“Do you want an honest answer?” I chuckled softly as I moved my hands to remove my hair from its braids. 

In turn, Art laughed gently while smirking at me. His stare narrowed as he studied my face, acting like I was an old friend he had known for years. 

“Well, if the honest answer is terrible and cruel, then I’m not so sure.” He responded and immediately matched my energy. 

Damn you, Donaldson. 

“Hey.” I softly laughed as I moved my dangling leg to kick his gently while I finished taking my hair out. 

I wondered for a beat how I wanted to summarize months of memories, feelings, and experiences into one sentence, and this made me sigh. 

“It’s been rough. Majoring in biology and the grueling tennis schedule makes me wanna rip my hair out.” I spoke in a low tone as I ironically and subconsciously began to play with a strand of my hair. 

“I feel smothered.” I finished and silently cursed myself for acting so vulnerable. 

That was three sentences, Milan. Not one. 

As I stared at Art almost helplessly, his eyes softened. 

“I feel the same way, trust me.” He chuckled softly before removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. “It really sucks, but it’s gonna be worth it,” He ended his thought before putting his hat back on. 

“Fuck, and I thought I was the only one. Quite naive of me.” I laughed before looking back up at the sun. “It’s whatever, though. You’re right, and everything will come into place and be worth it.” I continued as I looked anywhere but at Art’s piercing stare. 

Silence. He didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh. He did nothing except stare. Stare in a heavy silence that brought me back to the night in that damn hotel room. 

After a few beats, I returned to my senses, slowly stood up from the bench, and brushed my skirt off. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to stay here for long, so I’m gonna head off.” I went to pick up my bag as I spoke disappointedly. 

I couldn’t allow myself to fall into the trenches. I needed to focus on my studies and tennis. Hard work makes everything worthwhile, and a boy isn’t part of that everything right now.

“Wait, Milan,” Art spoke up and grabbed my wrist, his grip as firm as it would be if he held his racket. 

This made me freeze in my tracks. What the hell did he think he was doing? 

My eyes slowly met Art’s as I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out, so he spoke for me.

“It’s been months, Milan,” he started, his grip on my wrist still firm, his eyes scanning my face for any hints of discomfort.  

“I know we only really talked with each other that one night and had no time to get to know each other, but I would like to get to know you better.” He didn’t falter. Not once. I don’t even think he blinked. 

My lips had gone dry, and my voice, for some reason, grew hoarse. 

“Art…” I slowly began as I looked down at his hand, gripping my wrists. “The four of us had a deal…” I made sure to tread lightly with a severe tone. 

Two feet and ten toes on the ground. Don’t falter. Don’t give in. 

“They’re a happy fucking couple, Milan. I doubt they give two shits.” He stated matter-of-factly as I felt his thumb rub up and down on my wrist. 

How naive. 

Biting my lip in thought, I began an internal battle with myself. I wanted this so bad. And I could tell Art wanted it just as bad as I did—possibly more. 

I deserve a win other than tennis. 

Sighing, I removed my arm from his grasp and moved to my tennis bag to look for a piece of paper. Instead, I found a piece of muscle tape and a small pencil. Quickly scribbling down my number, I could feel Art trying to see what I was doing. 

“Here,” I said with slightly red cheeks as I stood back up and handed him the piece of muscle tape. “Don’t go blowing up my phone now,” I playfully scolded before picking up my bag and walking past him, glancing at the triumphant smile playing on his perfect features. 

Perfect? …yeah. 

Before I began my trek to the dining hall, I touched Art’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. 

“I didn’t want to admit it, but I really wanna get to know you more, too.” 

NEXT DAY, STANFORD DORMS 11:00 AM

MEET ME IN THE DINING HALL FOR LUNCH?

My eyes stared at the text in utter disbelief. Art certainly didn’t take any time once he got what he’d been craving all summer. 

“Why do you look so shocked?” Tashi laughed from the foot of my bed as she hit my leg. 

Fuck. 

My eyes looked to her as I shut my phone, put it next to me, and picked my computer back up to pretend to look at my study guide for an upcoming biology quiz. 

“My mom sent me a weird text,” I laughed awkwardly before covering my face with my computer. 

“Are you fucking with me?” Tashi laughed as I heard her moving up towards my side of the bed. 

She shut my computer to look at my face, which was for sure red as a tomato. 

“You’re lying,” she smirked before sitting on her knees and clapping her hands. What is it? A boy? A girl?” She persisted as she grabbed my leg and widely smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes at this before clicking my tongue. “Why are you so dead set on the fact that I was texting someone romantically?” I crossed my arms and bit the inside of my cheek, probably a dead giveaway. 

Tashi’s face fell as her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms, mimicking me. 

“You’re joking, right?” She started before studying my stern expression. “We’ve known each other for what, eighteen fucking years?” She used this as a tactic to crack me. “I know your every expression and what it means. I could write a thesaurus on you if I wanted to.” She stated as she sucked on her teeth, brows still furrowed. 

I stared at her sternly for a few beats before sighing and turning my head to look anywhere but at her. 

“Fine, you got me…” I trailed before uncrossing my arms to fumble with my fingers. “but this is the first time I’ve received a text, so it’s not important.” I put my hands up and looked at her as an explanation as to why she shouldn’t ask questions. 

I should know better. 

Tashi’s annoyed face instantly turned into a happy one as she bounced on the bed and continuously hit my leg. 

“Who is the lucky guy? or girl…” She tilted her head with a goofy smile, which she would only show me. 

“It’s a boy…” I sighed before turning my head to look at my closest, as it suddenly looked very interesting. 

No matter how long I had known Tashi, I couldn’t gauge how she would react to this. She’s a very pushy person who likes everything to go her way, but I’m hoping that since it’s me, she will react differently. 

She shrieked and shook my legs back and forth with a giggle. 

She’ll be so disappointed. 

“Who is it? Is it that cute boy I caught you practicing with the other week? Or that one boy that you sometimes study with from your Chemistry class? Or maybe it's that random guy from the baseball team I saw you talking within the dining hall last week?” She fired off in a millisecond as I stared at her in utter disbelief. 

“Okay, first of all, how did you know about all of those? And second of all, the first guy is gay, the second guy has a girlfriend, and the last one was giving my pencil back to me after using it for a quiz we took in statistics.” I responded as I rolled my eyes so hard I thought the whites of them would turn permanent. 

“I’m your best friend. I know everything.” She spoke eerily with wide eyes before breaking into a smirk. “So, come on! Tell me who it is!” She bounced repeatedly on the bed and shook me back and forth until I finally had enough. 

“Fine!” I exclaimed and threw my hands up in the air.

Fuck it. 

“It was Art, alright.” I threw my hands up as I bit the bullet and came clean. 

Tashi’s face dropped almost instantly as his name fell off my lips. She wasn’t happy. Not at all. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” She laughed in disbelief as she shook her head and moved her hands from my legs. 

I immediately sat up more and moved towards her. 

“I saw him after practice yesterday, and we got to talk,” I explained as I bit the inside of my cheek in anticipation. “He asked for my number, and I figured since everything happened months ago, there would be no issue…” I trailed off and looked her straight in the eyes with a pleading expression. 

Tashi just stared at me and shook her head slowly. 

“We had a deal with them…” She stared at me with an accusatory face. 

“Tash, I know,” I exclaimed and grabbed her hands. “But you knew I liked him more than what happened in that hotel room. Plus, you and Patrick are happy, so why should it matter?” I asked and shook my head as I gripped her hands. 

She stared at me as if I kicked her puppy and gasped in her throat. “Um, to keep their passion alive? To ensure they both strive for better and strengthen their relationship with tennis?” She spoke as if it was plain as day. 

Furrowing my brows, I slowly shook my head and parted my lips, shocked. 

“Is tennis all you care about?” 

I shouldn’t have said that. 

My words echoed in my mind as I retracted my hands from Tashi’s and bit my lip, feeling defeated. Her stare pierced into my soul as she looked away from me and placed her hands on her thighs. 

“If this is what you want, go ahead. I can’t and won’t stop you.” She spoke slowly before eyeing me. 

Fuck, I messed up. 

“But never think for a second that I care about tennis more than you.” She choked out as she looked at the picture of us in fifth grade sitting on my bedside table. 

At this, my eyes widened, and I nodded slowly as a single tear slid down my cheek. Moving towards Tashi, I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her. 

“Pinky promise?” I whispered into her neck while she returned the hug. 

“Pinky promise.” She responded and grabbed my hand to interlock our pinkies.

[kleine-joost]

Toro (Joost x Reader)

a/n: me posting fic 2 days in a row? who am i?

SYNOPSIS: Just a little fluff drabble that I thought of, enjoy xx

WC: 789

You sighed in pleasure in the afterglow. 

The sheen of sweat on your hot skin was quickly cooling you down, gaining a shiver that Joost couldn’t help but notice–even in his hazy state. On wobbly legs, he stood up and walked to the closet of the hotel room. You watched him, not quite sure what he was doing and barely able to move from the fatigue in your muscles and bones. He returned quickly, with the complimentary white, terry-cloth bathrobe and gently helped you sit up before placing it over your shoulders. It was a wordless exchange, you weren’t even sure if you could speak due to your hoarse throat from the neverending panting and groans that Joost had coaxed out of you that evening.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as he laid back next to you on the bed and delved into the plush duvet and cold, well-laundered cotton sheets.

It still took you a moment to catch your breath and calm yourself, Joost the same. 

There was a certain…melancholy in the air of the room. This was your goodbye–at least for the next couple months. This was the worst part about your jobs, you were barely in the same place for longer than a week at most.

You’d been tentative to call what you and Joost had a relationship. You barely had the time together to do what couples normally did; the boring days, the movie marathons, grocery shopping together, it all was foreign to you. 

Though that didn’t mean you didn’t adore him any less. On the occasions your schedules would allow you both to be in the same city, it was like a wildfire. The passion of your interactions could put even the trashiest romance writers to shame, because you always made those moments count when you could.

You finally gained a little control back in your muscles, while Joost had returned to his splayed-out position on the bed beside you. You scampered to the bathroom to pee, still just in the white bathrobe.

It was times like these that you could pretend all this time with Joost wasn’t just some kind of long term fling, that it was real. Because real couples existed like this together, right? To be honest, you didn’t know.

When you returned Joost was looking through the hotel’s room service menu that had sat on the nightstand next to him.

“Hungry?” He asked, turning his attention from the sturdy cardboard booklet to your form slipping back under the covers.

You hummed in response, slithering closer to him until you were firmly wedged against his side and you could rest your head on his shoulder.

“I really want some lasagna, I think,” he mused.

“Sounds good,” you muttered, fatigue still holding an effect on your brain function. “Also I want some fries.”

Joost sat up, not before gently rolling your head off his shoulder and onto his pillow. The soft white cotton felt cool against your cheek. You watched him pick up the phone and dial for room service, ordering the lasagna and fries–as well as a bottle of red wine, with a wink towards you. 

In your darker moments, you wondered if he even liked you or if he was just using you for sex–which admittedly wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility with how your meetings usually went–but it was the little gestures that showed the romantic side of him that melted your heart and eased your worries. Like when he wouldn’t let go of your hand on the nights you’d walk back to wherever you were sleeping after a nice dinner at some trendy restaurant, the pictures he’d send you when he was travelling of things that reminded him of you and your little inside jokes, and what you loved most of all was his shy touches each time you’d meet up again, almost like he was nervous to be around you–no indication of just a fling.

You spent that night talking and laughing, and eating, drinking the much-too-sweet red wine, and you swore you could’ve lived in it forever. But you knew the morning would come, and you’d have to get on a plane to miles-away and you’d have to wait god knows how long until you and Joost would be reunited again.

You fell asleep in his arms with only a few hours before you’d have to be up again, and that night you dreamt of the life you both could have if only you had the time. You dreamt of warm dinner parties and vacations in the Mediterranean and supporting Joost through any troubles he might have. And your heart ached for the future that might never be.

[hllywdwhre]

My Darling Boy

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Irish!fem!reader

Summary: Tommy’s late night leads to you comforting him and a recount of the first time you realized you loved him.

Warnings: Panic attacks, reader faces anti-Irish sentiment from a stranger, Tommy says some questionable things about the Irish but nothing too bad💀, violence, bar fight. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 2.8K

Notes: This was 100% inspired by @red-write-hand ‘s Tommy bot. My god do I love that thing and fluff it gives me. I tried keeping this as reader friendly as possible, but some details had to be added to fit the plot, such as reader being Irish.

Edit: This has not been proofread and YIKES. Sorry for all the errors😭

Flashbacks are italicized!

You stared at the clock on your wall that read 2:07 AM. Tommy was supposed to be in bed three hours ago. It was your agreement. He could work as late as he wanted as long as he ate all three meals with you and came to bed at 11. The resolve had come almost a year ago when you’d finally told him you, his wife, felt like second place to his work.

But here it was. 2AM, your bed felt cold without him there, and this was the third time this week that he hadn’t come to bed on time.

You tried not to argue with him. He had enough stress with work and you didn’t want to be a source of more stress, but you had his same quick temper and you couldn’t deny that you were more than irritated that he was seemingly back to his old ways of ignoring your agreement.

You made your way down the hall and to his office, leaning against the door frame.

Tommy spoke before you could, “I know what you’re about to say.”

The exhaustion in his voice and the way he looked… defeated immediately caused a change of heart in you, though.

“My darling boy,” you said in a soft voice, making sure to use the pet name you had for him to try and avoid him thinking you were there for an argument.

“Don’t ‘my darling boy’ me,” he replied immediately with a bite in his tone, “Not when you’re here to start an argument with me. What time is it?”

You’d known Tommy since he came back from The Great War. You knew more than well enough by now to not take his words to heart when he was like this. He was taking his anger out on you, whether you deserved it or not.

You had blinded men and taken their tongues using the bladed Peaky Blinders cap for speaking to you the way Tommy was speaking to you, but Tommy was your soft spot. Somehow, you always remained calm when it came to Tommy.

You made your way over to his desk and picked up the empty whiskey glass that was next to a stack of papers that littered his desk.

“It’s 2 in the morning, my love,” you replied in a calm voice. You walked over to the fireplace where his bottle of whiskey sat and refilled the glass then placed it on the desk again.

He picked it up as soon as you set it down and took a long drink from it.

“I have work, you know that. The business doesn’t run itself.” He took another swallow of the liquid and you could see the way his breathing had picked up slightly.

It started to make sense in that moment. You knew Tommy as well as he knew you and as well as you knew yourself. You knew the signs of one of his panic attacks beginning and stepped between him and his desk.

“I know that. I’m not mad at you, darling,” you replied after a moment. You made sure to keep your voice the steady and calm tone you knew he needed at the moment as you spoke. “Can you look at me?”

Tommy took a deep breath before looking up at you and you could see the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead along with the way his eyes seemed unable to focus on you. You lifted your hand to his cheek and gently ran your thumb across it in a slow motion.

“What’s your full name?” You asked him. The questions you would ask him changed from time-to-time so he wouldn’t get too used to them. They were simple questions, enough to distract him and get him to focus on you, but not enough to send him into a further panic.

“Thomas Michael Shelby, why?” He raised the glass to his lips again, but his breathing only picked up more.

You took the glass from his hand and set it on the desk behind you then placed his hand on your chest, right where you knew he would be able to feel your heartbeat.

“Focus on my breathing and my voice. What’s John’s wife’s name?” You asked him next.

You watched as he closed his eyes and did as you said, trying to match his breathing to yours as you began taking slower and deeper breaths.

“Esme,” he answered after a moment.

“When’s our wedding anniversary?” You asked next.

”The 17th of August.”

You knew it was silly, but you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks at how quickly and easily he answered that question. It was the little things like that which reminded you that you were still his number one priority.

“Can you look at me again?” You asked him once you noticed his breathing had calmed down.

Tommy looked to you, his blue eyes immediately finding your eyes and locking onto them. The corner of his mouth tilted into a small smirk and you returned it with a small smile of your own.

“I love you,” you told him as you crawled into his lap and pulled him into a hug, trying to help ground him more.

He immediately returned your hug and buried his head into your neck. Your hands instinctively rose to the back of his head and gently ran your nails across the shaved part of it.

“I love you, too. Even when I’m a mess,” he replied quietly.

“You’re not a mess,” you argued immediately, “you’re my amazing husband, an amazing business leader, an amazing member of parliament, and the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

A sigh left his lips after a long moment and his head remained buried in your neck. His breathing was no longer panicked and he had relaxed into your hold completely.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered into your neck.

“Funny,” you said with a chuckle, “I think the same thing of me.” You moved your head enough so you could kiss his temple. “Love you with all my heart, Thomas Shelby. You’re my darling boy.”

As soon as the pet name left your lips, he was chuckling into your neck. It was one anyone else would be maimed for calling him, but somehow you saying it had won him over.

“Love you, too,” he murmured in response.

After a couple long minutes of the two of you curled into each other, and once you were sure he wouldn’t panic speaking of it, you asked him,

“What led to it?”

He immediately knew what you were asking and shook his head in your neck,

“Nothing,” he replied in a defeated voice.

You pulled back enough to cause him to raise his head and she the quirked brow you were giving him,

“Thomas Shelby, what do you tell me every time I try to say the same thing?”

Any time you tried to belittle your problems, Tommy was the one who was telling you that if it was causing you troubles, then it wasn’t nothing and it was worth talking about.

He grumbled something under his breath about using his own words against him and then finally answered.

“The bloody Irish,” he said loud enough for you to hear.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that left your lips. You knew Tommy knew better than to think she was laughing at him or her problems; you were simply laughing at the irony of it all.

“What have my people done now?” You asked, purposefully making your accent come out as thick as possible to pick on him.

“Made an illegal shipment without our say so,” Tommy replied and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well… we’ve never liked to obey the English. I think my ancestors are rolling in their graves at how soft I am with you,” you teased, hoping to get at least a chuckle out of him.

It worked and you could feel the way his body shook the slightest bit as the small laugh left him,

“You’re not soft, darling, you’re just civilized,” he teased in return.

You pulled away with a look of mock offense on your face,

“Hey, now! My people are very civilized, we just know how to have fun,” you told him.

You know Tommy held no actual disdain towards you or your Irish blood. He himself was part Irish. He only spoke this way around you to get under your skin and pick on you.

“If you call bar fights being civilized then sure, darling.” The smirk on his face told you he was still only teasing you.

You scrunched up your nose as you looked at him,

“Maybe not your strongest point, love. I’ve come home with a black eye from an English bar fight where, for once, I was genuinely an innocent bystander and I had to keep you from going after half of Small Heath,” you pointed out.

Tommy’s face immediately darkened at the memory of that night and he tried to stutter out some defense of how it was different, but you shook your head no.

“You know that was the night I realized I loved you?” You told him as your own version of the memories flitted through your mind and you tried to distract him from the darker thoughts of his mind.

Your words seemed to catch him off guard and he looked up at you with surprise written on his features.

“Really?” He asked, unsure how else to reply.

You nodded in response and you felt another deep blush creep onto your cheeks. One thing you and Tommy had in common was that vulnerability didn’t come natural to you.

“Would you care to know how I remember that night?” You asked to which he nodded. “It was after a day of shopping with Ada and Esme. You and I had been together for three months at that point, and Ada and Esme were sure we were going to end up getting married, so they wanted to make sure I knew I was part of the family.”

You knew he knew all of this, but you wanted to tell him the whole story of how you had come to the realization and what had happened leading up to the fight.

”After we were done shopping, Esme had John meet us up at The Garrison so we could all have a drink.”

The three of you stumbled through the doors of the pub, giggling over something Ada had said.

John motioned the three of you over to the table he was sitting at, already having ordered a round of drinks for you. It was the first time you had sat outside of the private room the Shelbys had, and the last.

In the middle of the three of you telling John about the new dress Ada had bought, someone who’d had one too many drinks came stumbling over.

“I don’t get you Shelbys. You serve your country in the war then associate with some Irish scum,” he spat out, motioning from John to you.

You had met the other Shelbys while Arthur, Tommy, and John were in France. Polly had needed a bookkeeper for the betting shop and had taken you, even vouching for you when they had returned. After a year of working with them, one incident where you had been used as bait that had gone too far, and you’d been forced to defend yourself, Tommy had decided to make you an official Peaky Blinder. You may not wear your Peaky cap, but the bladed item was also on you. Offers had been made to hide blades in other women’s items of clothing, but you had denied. You had learned how to hide the cap among scarves, shawls, or in your bags and you wanted the official Peaky Blinders symbol.

John had immediately jumped to your defense that night in The Garrison.

“She’s a damn Peaky Blinder and has been for years! She can be trusted as well as any Englishman or woman.” He had defended, standing up to meet the man eye-to-eye as a warning to leave.

“Do you know who you’re talking about?” Ada said next, standing up also, “Irish or not, she’s Tommy’s girl and a Blinder.”

“I don’t give a shit if she’s Tommy’s current whore or not. She’s Irish scum and I don’t want to be in a pub with the likes of her,” the man spat back at Ada.

Esme and you both stood up at this and the rest of the pub had silenced as they watched the scene unfold. Seemingly out of thin air, a couple other Blinders that were present came to stand beside John as he told the man to leave the pub while he could still see the door.

Next thing you knew, Esme had pulled you harshly out of the way as a glass shattered against the wall behind you.

Chaos broke out immediately. Despite you trying to fight against them, a couple patrons or other members of the Peaky Blinders (you weren’t sure which) had tried to drag you, Ada, and Esme back to the office. During the mix, a blow landed on your cheek and you quickly swung back.

The fight seemed to halt immediately after. Even if the guy was brave enough to harass you for being Irish, throw a glass at your head, and fight John over everything, everyone else seemed to realize the grave mistake that had been made in that moment.

No one touched Thomas Shelby’s woman, and there she was with a bruise already evident on her cheek.

John grabbed the guy by the scruff of the neck like he was nothing more than a rabid dog, called for you to follow him, and called for Esme and Ada to be walked back to the betting shop and for all the members of the Peaky Blinders present to go there, also.

You walked with John to the canal and were told by John that you ‘could do the honors of killing the bastard’ yourself.

After the deed was done, the two of you had walked back to the betting shop and arrived at the same time as Tommy.

You remembered the worry on his face as he looked for you, the anger that took over when he spotted the black eye, him screaming at everyone to give him an answer as to what had happened and who had harmed you, and the way he had pulled you into his arms in a hug that nearly crushed you.

You remembered the feeling of safety that washed over you once you were in his arms, the feeling of home, and the way you were able to ignore the chaos around you as others explained what exactly had happened that night.

You remembered the way he wouldn’t let anyone else touch you until he had personally looked you over for any injuries.

You remembered the look he had when you told him you’d killed the man. The disappointment over not being the one to do it himself, but the pride in you standing up for yourself.

“I remember being absolutely terrified when it finally clicked in my head what I was feeling. I have never feared you, but I was terrified of ever getting my heart broken again. I knew Esme and Ada had said they were sure we would be married, but my own insecurities came into play, and I was terrified you’d realize how much of a mess I could be and you’d leave me,” you told him, leaned in and kissing him softly for a moment before continuing on, “You never left me. Even when we’ve fought, you never let me feel like you were going to leave me. I learned that no matter what happened, you’d move the earth, heavens, and hells to make sure you always came back to me.”

Tommy remained silent as you finished your story. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but it seemed you had actually managed to make the man speechless.

“I love you, Thomas Michael Shelby,” you muttered as you leaned in to kiss him again, “I meant it the first time I said those words, when I accepted your proposal, when we said them at the altar, when I say them now, and every time in between. You’re my darling boy through it all.”

His hand came up to cup your face and he rested his forehead against yours, “I’ve meant them all, too. You’re mine until the end of time.”

[ur-dad-satan]

Horny Obey Me! Thoughts 2

16+

The way I need Diavolo to absolutely rail and destroy me is absolutely insane.

I would let Luci, Mam, Sat, Beel, Dia, Sim, and Mephisto fuc my throat at the drop of a hat. I swear I'll hit the floor faster than a drop of water on Jupiter.

Put me in a room with any of the brothers or the undatables (adults only) while they're wearing a suit?? I'd be sweating like a whore in church. You would not be able to keep me off of these men.

I don't think we talk about Levi enough. I mean yeah, I like to make fun if him for being a weeb and socially awkward (me) but we do not talk about how fucking powerful that man is. He's in charge of the fucking army of HELL!! THAT'S SO FUCKING HOT

I wanna take Beel, Luci, Dia, and Barbs and make them whimper and squirm so bad. I need them to be blushing messes. I need them pussy drunk, red hot faces, covered in sweat, can't make eye contact, completely fucking wrecked.

Diavolo or really any of them pointing out the fucking size difference between us like holy fuck. Yes, let my know how small I am. Make me feel smaller with your overwhelming size. Please lift me like I weigh nothing. Holy shit!!

I headcannon that Beel cannot be lowkey when he wants to fuck. He won't out right say "let's fuck" in front of everyone, but he would whisper into your ear something along the lines of like "I can't wait to get you all to myself and ravish you." or something like thatttt!! Once we finish and people ask what happened, he'll say something like "don't worry about it" and just smirk. Aaaaaaaaa this man is going to ruin me. (I wish)

The bros and the undatables all competing for your attention when you make a joke that's just a little bit too... Spicy and the way that they wouldn't stop until you look like you've been run (over) by a train no matter how long it takes??

The shyer brothers would probably have a panic attack if you just suddenly threw it back on them. Like they would need to take several steps back, a cold compress, and maybe even a paper bag to breath into.

Call me tracks because I'm waiting in this fictional TRAIN- I need to use them like toys I swear to fuck.

You canonically have pacts with all of the brothers. Imaging what kind of dommy (mommy/daddy) shit you can get up to with that power over them!!

I headcannon that MC does dirty lyric pranks on the brothers when they're bored and want attention. It almost never ends well, but MC is no longer craving attention. That bitch just wants a wheelchair afterwards.

I wanna make Lucifer specifically a moaning begging mess. Beg for me to stop edging you. Beg for me to put my-... Beg for me to stop teasing you and let you c-...

I can't tell whether Beel would be immaculate or horrible at oral. Like he would know exactly how to move his tongue to get every bit of everything, or if he would misunderstand the assignment and it would take a horrible left turn... He would know what he's doing...

I need Levi's tongue and Barb's tail to part me like the red Sea.

[only-luce-the-goose]

Sick days

A/N: This is the last part of a previous request, I'm really happy that you have enjoyed the last two and I hope you enjoy this one. I've based off myself a little bit, just job wise really 🤷‍♀️

Arthur Leclerc x reader

Synopsis: "Maybee some of the care for her when she's sick 🥹🥹"

Warnings: sick reader, soft Arthur

You loved your job, getting to watch kids before and after school when their parents would drop them off early or pick them up late. You loved working with the different age groups, doing activities, and running around with them. It wasn't until you got sick that you realised that working with kids might not be completely good. You wake up on a Saturday morning, your sinuses are blocked up, you've got a pounding headache, and your joints ache.

You mentally curse yourself for getting sick, you knew it was from work since you haven't been anywhere else lately. What made it even worse? Arthur has a week off. You're supposed to pick him up from the airport tonight. Luckily you decided to gradually clean your shared apartment throughout the week, so everything has already been done. You gradually get up, heading to the kitchen to get breakfast. You put down 2 pieces of toast, spreading butter and vegemite on them when come up (I am an AUSTRALIAN. Vegemite toast is like a medical remedy for sick days, do not judge me 🫶).

After finishing breakfast, you move on with your day. You head to your home gym, hoping to get a little cardio done. You managed to make it through an hour on the treadmill before your sinuses became too much. You quickly shut it off before running to grab a tissue and pump yourself with more anti-cold tablets. You made it to the shower, washing off the sweat.

You spent the rest of the day in front of the tv, trying to relax and clear your cold up as much as you could. Arthur's plane was arriving at 9pm, so you knew you had to leave at 8pm. It was 7pm when you realised you must shower and get ready to pick your boyfriend up.

After parking at the airport, you made your way in to find Arthur's gate. You had about 20 minutes to go until he walked through the doors. Your nose was still stuffy and you had a bit of a cough, better than this morning but still not great. You sat on a bench, watching as his plane rolled up and connected to the ramp. He was the first person out of the door, frantically looking around until he spotted you.

He broke into a grin and picked up speed, you stood up and broke into a run. Bodies collided in a bone-crushing hug in the middle of the airport, your arms around his neck as he gripped your waist. He pulled his head back, and you let go and grabbed his luggage, avoiding his kiss so you wouldn't get him sick. You linked your hand with him, pulling his luggage behind you. He didn't move, letting go of your hand and pouting as you turned around.

"Baby, what are you doing?" slightly amused by his reaction, you moved closer to him. He mumbled under his breath, "What did you say?" you asked him. "You didn't kiss me" he said through his pout. You giggle a little when you answer, "Arty, I've got a cold, I don't want to get you sick on your time off". He gave you a massive eye roll when he said "Seriously, love? You know I don't give a shit of your sick or not, I'll gladly get sick if it means I still get to kiss you"

You laugh as you reach up to cup his cheek, "I think you might be going soft, baby" you joke. "I don't care" is the only thing you hear as he brings his hand to the back of your head and connects your lips in a mind-blowing, firework show of a kiss. You both make your ways back to the car and head home for the night. Lo and behold, you wake up the next morning with no cold symptoms. However, your boyfriend is shivering and sniffling. "I told you, baby" you says as you big spoon him, "Shut up", he responds, "I still love you, even if you got me sick" he chuckles. "I love you too, Arty"

[giveafike]

thigh riding with ben….. pleaseeeee 😂

TLDR: You miss Ben so much and you're needy. So when he comes back, you're straddling.

Word count + info: 2.1k! Dialogue, fem reader x B.T.S

Warnings + Content Ahead: NSFW - MINORS DNI! Thighriding, hickeys, kissing...that's it I think.

Azzie Notes ✚: Mhmmm you got it! Based off of the poll I did, here's the NSFW blurb u NASTY PEOPLE wanted (kidding, I am just as bad)

Thigh riding blurb is here! I have another draft ready to post, but I'll slow release 'em so I can finish off one story while a new one goes up. I take so long to write im srry : ( but! a few long stories are comin' along. By the time this goes up, I should have 1.5-2 more prompts ready to go?

Do we like longer stories as in like 3k+ word count? Or shorter ones? send me a DM or anon feedback pls I wanna know how I'm doing or if you wish I added things (like more description, more dialogue, more focus on story plot, less extra content) and stuff! Lmk!

————————————————————————

Come Here - B.T.S

It was early when Ben left for training, his morning routine blending quiet focus and unshakable determination. He’d stirred you awake by wrapping his strong arms around you, planting soft kisses on the back of your head, like he always does. Even half-asleep, you watched him from under the covers as he got dressed, catching glimpses of those defined muscles moving while the morning light danced across his skin, with shadows making him look like a model as he pulled on his tennis gear. He flashed you that heart-stopping grin, whispering a soft “Good mornin', see you later,” before leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Now, hours later, you sat slouched at your kitchen table, dumbfounded pretending to work at home but failing miserably. Ben has been your boyfriend for so long but here you were, squirmish like you just met him. You’d tried everything to distract you; trying to type up emails, playing soft music, making coffee, but nothing could pull your mind from the simmering heat that had taken hold of you since the morning. Your coffee had gone cold, your laptop had entered sleep mode, and all you could think about was Ben. Work wasn’t hard today; your focus was just... elsewhere.

Maybe it was the morning show or maybe it was shortly after that when he left out the door, when you were in bed, squinting at your phone while mindlessly scrolling Twitter. Someone had posted a picture of Ben fresh from a training session, his shirt clinging to his chest, damp curls swept back, legs muscular and defined. Then there was that TikTok edit, showcasing highlights of your man on the court. His veins popped with each power shot, his thick thighs moved like a stallion’s as he manoeuvred with ease, and the intense focus in his eyes, it all did something to you.

The heat rose to your cheeks again just thinking about it as you groaned, throwing your hands over your face. Normally, you’d smirk, knowing all that was yours, but now you were losing it like a fangirl. It was as if you’d been thrown back into the honeymoon phase, when every glance, every accidental brush of his skin would send electricity through your veins. You couldn’t stop imagining the way his thighs flexed beneath those stupid short shorts, the strength in his legs when he held you, and how his hands clenched whenever he secured a set.

You leaned back in your chair, now fanning your face. Nothing was helping the ache building inside of you as you clenched your thighs together. Your phone buzzed with another work notification, but the words blurred. All you could think about was Ben, how bad you wanted him here, how feral you'd be if you could have his solid chest under your hands, the way he whispered obscene things in your ear, and how he’d press you close, body warm and firm against yours.

God, you missed him.

It wasn’t even like he’d been gone for days, but the thought of him out there, sweating and training, only made the hours stretch longer. You were arguing with yourself, trying to get a grip. You resisted the urge to text or call him, knowing he needed to stay focused. If you asked him to come home for a “lunch break,” he would, and he wouldn’t be able to leave you afterwards. And you didn’t want to break his concentration with needy messages about how hot he looked or how badly you wanted him.

By the time 4:00 PM rolled around, all you could think about was him. You’d tried a cold shower to cool yourself down, but it only made your thoughts swirl more. In every room you entered, you could imagine Ben beside or behind you, his presence filling the space; "God if he was here...". Restless, you ended up on the sofa in one of his T-shirts and some shorts, bouncing your leg as you waited. Everything about him that you’d craved all day swirled in your mind. You put on some show on Netflix, and the noise keeps you company as you wait.

Finally, you heard the front door unlock, and before you knew it, you were perked up, staring at the door.

Ben stepped in, fresh from a shower, his face flushed from coming back, his hair still damp and tousled. His clean shirt clung to his broad chest, and his thick thighs filled out his joggers in a way that made your heart race.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, his voice smooth and relaxed, his drawl slipping through as he set down his bag. That accent of his made your knees like jelly, especially today. His easy smile made you melt on the spot as his gaze landed on you, sitting on the couch but clearly eager. You tried to play it cool, but the way your body practically buzzed with anticipation sold you out.

“What’s goin’ on with you?” Ben laughed softly, resting his hands on his hips.

You bit your lip, fighting the giddy smile threatening to break free. “Nothing...” you muttered trying to be coy, glancing at him through your lashes. “Just missed you.”

Ben’s laugh was warm, amused. “Oh, I can tell,” he teased, moving toward you and sitting beside you on the sofa. His arm stretched across the back of the couch, casually but with enough presence to make your heart skip. “You’re lookin’ at me like I’ve been gone for weeks.”

Your face flushed. It had only been hours, but it felt like weeks with how desperate you were for him. “I couldn’t focus all day, Ben” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper. You leaned into him, inhaling the fresh scent of his shower, biting your lip “Kept thinking about you.”

His smirk widened as his eyes danced with amusement. “Yeah? What exactly were you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Your gaze dropped to his body, tracing the outline of his strong thighs, his solid chest, his muscular arms resting lazily around you. You swallowed, heat rising in your cheeks as you met his eyes again, and the teasing glint in them made your stomach twist in anticipation.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. He knew exactly what you were getting at. “Come here, baby”.

The second the words left his mouth, you moved. Eagerly, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, firm but gentle, guiding you closer as you settled on top of him, your heart pounding against your chest.

“There we go, feel better, babe?” Ben murmured, his voice low and teasing, eyes gleaming with tenderness. He leaned back, relaxing into the cushions as his hands slid up your sides, pulling you flush against him.

Your pulse raced, all the tension you’d carried throughout the day melting away in the warmth of his embrace. His thigh was solid beneath you, grounding you, and when his lips brushed yours in a soft, teasing kiss, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“You missed me this bad, huh?” he teased, voice rough with amusement as his lips hovered just over yours.

“More than you know,” you breathed, kissing him again, deeper this time, your fingers threading through his damp hair as his grip on your hips tightened and you let out a moan.

Ben chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through your body. “Damn, maybe I should go to practice more often if this is how I’m welcomed home,” he teased, kissing you slowly, savouring the moment.

You laughed softly against his mouth, pulling back just enough to look at him. “God, please don’t,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You have been driving me crazy.”

He smiled, his hands squeezing your hips as his eyes darkened with affection and desire. “How ‘bout you show me how much you missed me, then?”. He was tugging on his sweatpants with that voice where it dropped to that low, intimate tone that always made your stomach flutter. You pulled his sweatpants down which he kicked off before he slipped his hands through the waistband of your pj shorts, yanking those down, leaving you in your panties. You set yourself back down on him, your hips bucked, your needy motions getting Ben aroused. He smirked as he watched you roll against him.

Your fingers trailed over his chest before gripping the hem of his shirt. With a swift motion, you pulled it over his head, revealing his built torso. Your hands explored his skin, tracing every curve and contour with your nails. He shuddered under your touch, his breathing growing heavier. The sight of him aroused as you worked yourself to an orgasm was heavenly. His boxers grew tighter, his breathing more laboured and all you were doing was grinding on his lap.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and hickeys along his jawline. You suckled and gnawed, trailing your teeth over him, making Ben throw his head back in a groan. His hands found your hips, gripping tightly as he guided your movements down hard against him. The friction was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You both found a rhythm as Ben moved up into you, bucking his leg up and moving it in a delicious, teasing way.

You felt his fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt, caressing the small of your back. The heat of his touch ignited your skin, leaving you craving more. With a soft moan, you captured his lips in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing as the intensity between you built to a fever pitch. Ben's hands glided up your back as he ran a tongue on your bottom lip, pushing forward into your mouth. He breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt off of you, and the cool air hits your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. His eyes raked over your exposed flesh, a low growl escaping his throat.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured, voice husky with desire.

You felt a blush creep across your cheeks at his words. Even after all this time, he still had the power to make you feel like the only woman in the world. His lips found yours again, more urgent, more hungry this time. You melted into the kiss, letting yourself get lost in the sensation. Your hands roamed his body, fingernails lightly scraping down the back of his shoulders. Ben shivered in response, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck. You could feel your climax coming, the feeling of him roaming you all over sending you into overdrive.

“That’s it, keep goin’ baby, cum on me” he murmured against your skin, planting wet kisses. Ben lavished attention on your collarbone, alternating between gentle kisses and playful nips as his hands played with your breasts. As your hips moved with a mind of their own, Ben held you tightly, his hands steadying you as you rode out the waves of pleasure, watching you throw your head back and let waves of moans leave your mouth.

His eyes never left your face as he smiled watching you come down from your high. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your heart pounding and your breathing laboured. You could feel your core twitch and thrum against him, ready for more as you left a pool on his leg. You hear Ben chuckle and rub your back softly.

“What a pretty mess you've made,” he said, his voice soft and warm, “guess it’s a good thing we’ve got the whole evenin’ together”.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing as you looked up at him, pressing his lips to yours once more. The kiss deepened, slow but intense, the kind that made you feel like everything outside this moment had disappeared. His hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek as the tension you’d felt all day finally unravelled. You melted into him, letting yourself get lost in the warmth of his embrace.

The TV in the background played a forgotten Netflix show, but neither of you cared. All you wanted was right here, him, his arms around you, and the undeniable pull between you that made it feel like nothing else mattered.

[sillygoosealert]

I GOT YOU HEHE, WHAT IF BI HAN IS PARADING AROUND READER, SHOWING THEM OFF ALL PROUDLY AND MAKING THEM FOOD AND THINGS BUT…THEYVE BEEN DEAD FOR YEARS 😱

O EM GEE PART 1 part 2

Hello? Honey, I’m home (•ิ_•ิ)?

Bi-Han Angst Part THREE ( I use her thrice in this blurb)

It's dark and you and Bi-Han are intertwined

You scared him after you left, when he sent out people to find you

But your back, with him

Sure, the bed doesn't feel as warm as it used to

And it feels like he's trying to grip onto thin air when grabbing you

But he is going through something

He won't admit it to you, but you know he's scared to let you go

He doesn't let you out of his sight anymore, not that he ever sees you leave

When Bi-han wakes up, he does not see you next to him

He panics, throwing sheets and gasping for air

‘Bi-Han?’

He stops. You don't sound the same since they found you. You sound horse, raspy. He thinks it's because you are scared- or something that can be explained

‘Where were you, why did you leave..?’

‘I’m sorry honey, I didn't mean to scare you. I won't do it again’

Nonetheless, ever since you came back, you've been saying all the right things

You know you hurt him- and you want to fix it

‘Please don't cry..’

He didn't even realize he was that upset

You lean in to kiss away his tears, he feels your soft lips touch his skin

‘I’m sorry, it’s a lot right now ..’

He feels at peace right now, then-

Nothing.

He opens his eyes

You aren't there anymore, you do that sometimes

At dinner- since he could never find you at lunch, he saved you a spot

You sat next to him, and you ate in silence

When he goes to clean up, even though he swore you ate, your bowl was full

He will talk to you tonight about being wasteful

Bi-Han has felt at peace for a while now, he doesn't have horrific nightmares as often

Although, sometimes, he wakes up in cold sweats

He feels fine, he is fine

But the more he gets better, the less he sees of you

You left his room late tonight

He panicked

He knew this night all too well, the night you left him

The night he almost lost you

You didn't come back in the morning

Or the next day

It was the same night all over again

He begged and bargained every night for at least one god to just answer his prayers- to bring you back

They were never answered

Then Tomas stopped by his room tonight, in the middle of Bi-Hans praying

‘Brother? Can I come in?’

‘What is it you need? I am busy.’

‘I found an old photo of you and..her. I thought you might like it’

‘Thank you..have you seen her? She hasn't been back in a few days..’

A look of sorrow is on his face, he rubs his hands through his hair 

‘I miss her too, we could go down to the flower garden if you wanted?’

‘Why would we do that?’

‘Her grave?’

Bi-Han freezes, your grave?

Then he remembered

You didn't come home after he sent out people

You didn't comfort him

You didn't sleep with him

You didn't get to start a family with him

You didn't eat with him

You didn't bathe with him

You didn't get to live because of him

‘Bi-Han?’

‘We can do that..okay..’

‘Okay..’

He’s okay now, you’re okay now, it’s okay now

Idk if this makes sense LOL 🎀

[sugar-plum-writer]

The Serene Peony Of Winter

Paring: Sukuna!King of Curses x Fem!Geisha Reader, A chapter by chapter series.

Tags: Slight! mention of violence; Fem!reader; Sukuna!imagines; will be 18+ as more chapters come; slow!burn, an ancient Japan romance through time with darling reader~

[If you all like it, please heart and reblog to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

CHAPTER― 1

A chilling gust of wind howled past, like the cry of a ghost, freezing in the winter night, it was quiet, too quiet. Utterly pin-drop-silent― the moon peaked through your windows as you sat on your tatami mat facing your desk, a single candle on your table illuminated the room, though a small section at least you could see nonetheless.

In front of you sat the Oka-san of the Okiya House you had lived your life in and will even die in, who has raised you, and is the person who currently owns your life. She made you the Geisha you are today, sure life was hard but well at least better than rotting in a ditch.

"Y/n, do you know why I personally came to your room late at night?", staring at your face, she blew her pipe

"I came because"― a sigh escaped, as she tapped her fingers, "You will be entertaining a guest, a guest who you would not even be able to get a peak off" She paused carefully wording her next sentence and leaned in speaking words only for you and her to hear

"The King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna", the calm demeanor changed as she put her pipe away, her eyes shaking, cold sweat dripping down her brows as she dug her nails into the tatami mat

Air froze, the moon hid, silence filled the room, you stared at her― lips parted― shook to your core.

"Ryomen Sukuna!?", your eyes widen in horror wondering if this is even real, you frantically grab your teapot and directly drink the tea from it― it burned your throat, something you would never do as a Geisha, but it did not matter.

"Hush!", she hissed and she covered your mouth with her palm, "Yes him"

"Have you finally lost your Mind Oka-san!? You are crazy!? You know it's forbidden, we take bribes from the sorcerers to keep an eye out for curses! and entertain sorcerers exclusively", removing her palm from your mouth, you look her in the eyes, angry, panicked, a mixture of emotions

"Oh, shut up, you are overreacting", biting her lip, she puffs her pipe

"You think I would not think twice without planning?", she snorted

"You saw the two bodies today that were taken out of the Okiya?", she took a sharp breath, slamming her hands on the table― eyes staring into yours

"He did it, he killed them, you think I can say no to him? I might be old, but the old lady still values her neck. I am no fool", puffing her pipe she caressed her neck

"You―", biting your lip, as you tried to refute her words, "What about me? What if I die?", clenching your jaw, you slammed your hand on the table

"He is, Ryomen Sukuna― The King of Curses, Worshipped as a God, you think I will even live past 2 seconds?"

"We are just a small Okiya in this isolated prefecture, getting by Y/n, for him to even find us is one in a million chance― think about it", her eyes gleamed with excitement

"If you do manage to garner his attention, in the couple hours you spend with him, our lives will change― the local sorcerers do give us money but can it compare to a drop of what, he will give", her eyes looked neurotic, as a chuckle escaped from her mouth

Your head hung low, as the words sunk in, after all, she was correct. It was true, the glamorous outlook of the Okiya is just hollow, the amount of money needed to raise future ladies, supply servants, and every drop of gold that glistens, all have a price.

"Y/n, price― one needs to pay, even laughter has a price you know? After all, you yourself have seen, the value of gold, if your skills manage to amuse him, he stays for even 5 min, It will be an achievement"

The faint scent of herbs lingered in the air, as silence drowned in the room, candlelight flickering, a choice must be made, what path will you choose dear y/n?

"I-", you pause as you raise your head

"I will meet him, I will, make him stay, so what if he is the King of Curses? I will use all I have got", looking her in the eyes, clenching your fist― trying to steel yourself as you look her in the eyes.

"You really are, a true Geisha"

"But- what if someone finds out?", your throat felt dry as you look at her

"You will meet him only at night, mornings will be rare, don't worry", taking another puff she looks at you calmly

"I will take care of it if needed, I will stitch the lips of the servants with a needle if needed to keep their mouths shut", she smiled, how can she say such words and smile so beautifully is beyond you

"Now prepare yourself, here, based on what I felt from him, I made a note of him, read it", digging deep into her bosom, she took out a small scroll, slid it on the table towards you, and walked out

"A man of dominance, a man of cruelty, a man beyond human that is what he is, give him an experience beyond humanity"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The moon stood in the sky, somehow all visible, as if waiting in expectation, agape, to witness this. It gossiped with the wind, the stars, and your eyes.

You sat, dressed up, wearing your black Kuromontsuki, only worn for special occasions. Adorned with silken embroidery white and gold colored threads, blending, mixing into a crane as clouds surround and flow with the flowers. Your hair is in a Geiko Shimada, adorned with flowers, rouge on your cheeks, and lips blood red.

With your eyes gazing at the tatami mat, quietly, contemplating if this will be the last time you ever see yourself breathing

Tut, tut, tut

The doors open, to the lavish private room, silks, and wine kept. Scrolls of paintings adorned the room.

"I, Y/n greet, Ryomen Sukuna-sama"

gaze not daring to look up you keep it low

"I hope your journey was not too tiring, if I may be allowed so, shall I pour you a cup of tea?"

Rasing your head up, you look at him

"So this, is The Serene Peony of Winter? Y/n?"

A deep chuckle escaped, eyes chilling you to the bone, looked deep into yours, without even undressing you felt stripped naked, exposed so vulnerable, you wanted to run to hide and pretend its a bad dream but―

The scent of winter, and the silky fabric around you, felt too real to think of as a dream.

Footnote: Check out masterlist for all chapters!

[ghostlyglimmer]

Unlikely Roads: Chapter 1

Summary:

Danny and his rival, Wes Weston, as they join forces to escape the GIW. On a tense road trip, they uncover personal truths and forge an unexpected bond while battling both the GIW and their own conflicts.

Fic is inspired by @greenglowinspooks's post!

The quiet of Amity Park’s night was shattered by the frantic pounding on Danny’s window.

Danny Fenton sat bolt upright in bed, heart racing. His first thought was that some ghost had decided to wreck his night. Again. But when he glanced at the clock—2:17 AM—and looked outside, what he saw wasn't a ghost at all. It was Wes Weston. Bruised, bloody, and visibly shaking.

“What the hell?” Danny muttered, more annoyed than alarmed at first. Wes had always been a thorn in his side. Always trying to "out" him as Danny Phantom to everyone in school, even though no one ever believed him. But this? This was...different.

“Fenton!” Wes’s voice cracked through the glass, desperate and raw. “Open up!”

Still half-asleep, Danny threw back his blanket and padded across the floor. He opened the window just a crack, enough to hear the panic in Wes’s voice more clearly. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“They’re after me,” Wes gasped, leaning against the window frame, struggling to catch his breath. His face was pale, and his clothes were torn, as if he’d barely escaped something—or someone. “The GIW… they’re after me. And you.”

That got Danny’s attention. “Wait, what?”

Wes took a shaky breath, wincing as he touched a cut on his forehead. “They’ve been watching me. For weeks. Ever since I started poking around, asking too many questions. An hour ago, they got a warrant. They want me in custody because of what I know... and they want you for what you are.”

Danny’s stomach flipped. The GIW—the Ghost Investigation Ward—had been a constant threat ever since they’d set up camp in Amity Park, hunting ghosts with their high-tech weapons and zero tolerance. But for them to be after Wes too? That was new. That was bad.

He could feel the cool buzz of his ghost sense curling in his chest, a sign that danger was near, though not supernatural this time. It was human—and that made it scarier. He narrowed his eyes at Wes. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I didn’t have to come here!” Wes snapped, his voice breaking. “I could’ve run. I should’ve run, but I didn’t! They’ll kill me just for knowing your secret, and you? They’ll do worse to you if they catch you.”

Danny clenched his jaw, weighing his options. Wes had been a royal pain for so long—constantly badgering him about being Phantom, always trying to expose him. But Wes looked absolutely terrified. There was no mistaking the desperation in his eyes.

“Look,” Wes pleaded, his breath ragged. “You’ve got powers. You’ve got a chance. But I can’t... I can’t do this alone.”

Danny stood frozen, staring at Wes. The easy thing would be to slam the window shut, let Wes deal with his mess. But if what he said was true—and Danny's gut told him it was—they were both in deep trouble.

“Fine,” Danny grumbled, yanking the window open fully and helping Wes climb inside. “But we’re gonna need more than your paranoid rambling to get out of this.”

“I have a plan,” Wes said, his voice still shaky but firm. “My uncle. He lives out of state. He doesn’t trust the government, hates the GIW, all that. He’ll help us, no questions asked.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Your uncle? And where does this government-hating conspiracy theorist live?”

“Florida.” Wes rubbed his hands together, trying to shake off the cold sweat from his skin. “Or Alaska. Either one works. The farther the better.”

Danny groaned. “Great. So, what? We hitchhike to Florida?”

“I have a bike. It’s my brother’s old one.” Wes hesitated. “But it’s in bad shape.”

“You think?”

“I didn’t have time to fix it, okay?! They showed up out of nowhere. We don’t have time to be picky.”

Danny frowned, pacing. He didn’t have many choices. If Wes was right, the GIW could be busting down the door any minute now. His parents were out of town, Jazz was staying at a friend’s, and Tucker and Sam were both unreachable at this hour. Danny didn’t know how much he trusted Wes—actually, he didn’t trust Wes at all—but he knew one thing: the GIW wasn’t going to stop until they had him. And if they thought Wes was connected to Phantom, they’d take him down too.

“Fine,” Danny said. “Let’s go.”

They crept downstairs as quietly as possible, slipping out the back door. As promised, Wes’s “bike” sat at the edge of the driveway, looking like it had seen better days—years ago. Rust clung to the metal frame, the engine sputtered when Wes tried to start it, and the tires were half-deflated.

“Oh, this is just great,” Danny muttered sarcastically, arms crossed. “We’re going to outrun the government on this thing?”

“Shut up and help me,” Wes hissed, yanking on the choke to get the engine going. Danny rolled his eyes but grudgingly stepped in, using his powers to subtly jumpstart the engine. After a few coughs and splutters, the bike roared to life—well, more like it wheezed to life, but it was running.

Danny climbed on behind Wes, the smell of gasoline thick in the air. He glanced behind them, half-expecting to see the black vans of the GIW pulling into his neighborhood. Nothing yet. But he knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Alright, Weston,” Danny muttered, gripping the back of the seat. “Let’s see how long we last before this thing breaks down.”

Wes glanced over his shoulder, his expression a mix of fear and determination. “Let’s just hope we make it out of town first.”

With that, Wes twisted the throttle, and they shot forward down the empty street, the wind biting at their faces as they sped into the night. Danny could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on them. He didn’t know how far they could run, or how long they could hide, but one thing was clear: for better or worse, they were in this together now.

As they tore through the deserted streets, the tension between them simmered. Danny kept one eye on the road ahead, the other on Wes. Part of him still wondered if this was some elaborate trick—if Wes would sell him out the second he got the chance. But then Danny saw the way Wes’s knuckles whitened on the handlebars, his breath hitching every time they passed a streetlight.

For the first time, Danny realized Wes wasn’t just scared of him. He was scared of the same thing Danny was: the GIW.

[lady-phasma]

You can't ignore it

Part 2 of 2 (cross posted from AO3) - part 1

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; from my AO3 - "Bucky's metal arm kink"; mostly p n v sex, fluff, canon typical discussion of Bucky's past and violence, implied/referenced past noncon, discussion of ptsd.

Summary a/n: (copied straight from my AO3 because I am chaotic) I changed to 3rd person pov for this one because I needed more Bucky. Also, my OC has a name now! Hang in there, this is a long one. What is wrong with me? No beta. 4.5k words

I'm totally normal about his arm

His body twitched and jerked. He mumbled Russian words. His hands clenched into fists. Victoria sat up and reached for him, thought better of it, and dropped her hand to her thigh. She never knew how to wake him from a nightmare. Or if she should.

“Bucky,” she whispered. More Russian in response. Louder, “James.”

No reply. Dammit. He was in deep. This was a bad one. They had plenty of nights without these, plenty of restful, peaceful nights. There were some not-great dreams that weren’t as bad as nightmares. Then there were the nightmares. More like sleeping flashbacks. His body remembered and almost acted out the memory.

Bucky’s arm caught some ambient light and looked slick like oil. She was never afraid of him, that he would hurt her, but that arm… that arm was made from the most indestructible substance on the planet. It was intimidating. She wanted to comfort him, soothe him, stroke his forehead and tell him he was safe. That could so easily backfire. They had even discussed how dangerous it could be if she tried. They hadn’t come up with a plan, not exactly. In fact, he didn’t like staying over at night because he didn’t want to hurt her. Sometimes he fell asleep holding her but if he didn’t, if she fell asleep first, Victoria would wake up to find him sleeping on the floor.

She could see the shadows of pain on his face, the grimace and strain from some terrible thing she would never know or understand. She heard him groan. It was unbearable. That sound hurt. She slid closer to him on the bed, kept her eyes on his arm, and moved to lay behind him. As she cautiously placed her hand on his temple, caressed his brow, she whispered: “Otlichnaya, soldát, otlichnaya.” Well done, soldier, well done.

Bucky froze. He let out a breath and his body relaxed. Vic kissed the back of his neck. She didn’t like using those words. But he had told her that it was safe, safe to stop the nightmares that way. She had wanted the words to be a last resort but he had explained that the part of him that was so deeply the Winter Soldier would respond only to them.

“James?” she asked as she removed her hand, careful not to touch him anywhere else. “James, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” But her words weren’t heard. He was calm at least. She slowly moved to get out of bed. She felt a hand on hers as she sat up and let out a small gasp. The vibranium never felt like one expected it to feel.

“Vic,” he muttered. “Don’t go.”

She turned. He looked away, avoiding eye contact. His bare chest glistened with sweat. He released her hand. She sat curled up on the bed behind him, anxiously adjusting the bedsheets tangled around them. She was cold and her nipples were hard and obvious in her tank top. She crossed her arms to cover her chest. He gradually rolled onto his back and slid up the bed to prop himself against the headboard. Wearing only his boxer-briefs he looked very… vulnerable. Not powerful like he often did, muscles rippling and arm gleaming, but young and frightened.

In that moment she saw him as he might have been when HYDRA first captured him. Before the years of missions and horrors had written their histories on him, in pain and scars. She wanted badly to comfort him. She had no idea how. She moved next to him, placed her hand on his arm. He looked up at her. That look broke her heart. Without thinking she leaned back on the head of the bed and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. She coaxed him into her arms. His vibranium arm curled against her stomach as he lay on his side. She ran one hand over his hair, down his shoulder, and rested against his back. She laced the fingers of her other hand into his metal ones and kissed the top of his head.

------

The mechanisms whirred and clicked as he removed his arm. It was more than a little disconcerting. Even in motion and moving as a part of him it was odd, now it was lifeless. Nothing like it on earth. This wasn’t a prosthesis. His arm was a weapon but, also, not. Lying there it was passive and non-threatening. But knowing him, knowing his past, it wasn’t benign. It held immense potential under its shiny surface.

He rubbed his chest where the shoulder was grafted on. It must hurt sometimes.

“What’s up?” Vic asked, standing in the door to the bedroom.

“Nothing really,” he replied. “Feeling kinda old today maybe. Tired.” He sighed and looked up from the incongruous arm on the bed. His eyes swept over her and up to her face. “After nightmares like last night it feels…. heavy.”

“Do you go without it often?”

“No,” he said, hesitantly. “I enjoy the freedom of having both arms but, occasionally.” He randomly fingered his dog tags then dropped them to his chest and ran his hand through his hair.

“Come over here, Vic?” he gestured toward her. She walked to the bed and sat on the edge. The edge that put his legs between her and his disembodied arm.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m okay,” he looked directly into her eyes. “In fact, maybe we make a standard procedure. If I’m going to be sleeping over here often. I don’t like that anyone has to see me like that but my therapist says I have to ‘nurture relationships’.” He rolled his eyes then winked at her. He slid his right hand into hers.

“Maybe we just figure out what’s most comfortable with you, safest.”

“Right,” she said. “I don’t want to make things worse but it worked. Whatever you were dreaming, remembering, those words stopped it. I’m not scared of you, you know. I just care about you.” She squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek.

“Look, I’m going to make some coffee. Come join me? We can talk more when I have caffeine, kay?” He nodded as she stood up.

Bucky looked at it, immobile on the bed. So odd and so yet completely natural for him. He got off the bed and went to the bathroom. Almost always grateful that he was right handed; it made tasks like this much easier. When he returned to the bedroom he looked at yesterday’s clothes piled in the floor and decided he wasn’t ready for that. Somehow, putting on clothes meant putting on the arm. He let out a shaky breath. Coffee, he thought, yeah, okay something normal.

Victoria set the coffee up to brew and grabbed a few mugs. She set them on the bar with half and half and some sugar substitutes. She wasn’t sure how he liked his coffee. She heard footsteps behind her and then felt his arm around her waist. He kissed her shoulders and back, then the top of her head.

“That smells nice,” he said. “Thank you.”

She turned to face him. She stood on the balls of her feet just a bit and kissed him. He was only just tall enough that she had to reach if she didn’t have shoes on. Vic took a small step back and turned to pour the coffee. From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of his boxer briefs stretched tight over his thighs and, well, not just his thighs. She grinned at the coffee pot. Maybe he was a gentleman, old fashioned still, but he hadn’t rubbed up against her like most men who spent the night. Not that there had been any since she met James.

She handed him a mug and deliberately walked too close to him on her way through the kitchen. She held her coffee in both hands using the steam and mug to hide her smile as she gently brushed her hip against his erection. He inhaled audibly.

She slipped onto the bar stool and gestured for him to come sit next to her. After adding her cream and sweetener she noticed he was drinking his black. Military thing? she wondered. He was sitting on her left and after placing his mug on the bar, swiveled just a bit to put his hand on her thigh. Her panties were barely any fabric at all and her tank was basically see-through, she felt suddenly naked. Vic took a sip of her coffee to try to hide her vulnerability. She didn’t meet his eyes and stared fixedly at his dog tags. She was trying to avoid his stare and not get caught glancing at his crotch. Jesus, she thought. Then: oh, right, Super Soldier.

She felt his fingertips touch her chin. He coaxed her to look at him and he leaned in to kiss her as she lifted her head.

“Victoria, does it make you uncomfortable if I don’t wear it?” he asked, continuing their earlier conversation.

“Not really, no,” she paused. “I think I could get used to it but it’s not something I’m accustomed to. Plus, well it’s not who you are but it’s so much a part of what you look like. Unless you’re in long sleeves.”

“I went for years without one at all. In Wakanda.”

“Right,” she said. “Yeah, I knew that. And you told me you had long hair too.” She ran her fingers over his ear at his hairline. He took a sip of his coffee and his eyes half closed, soothed.

He placed his mug on the counter. His scowl was back on his brow when he turned to face her. He moved his hand back to her thigh.

“Come with me,” he said and stood up.

She followed him. They headed back to the bedroom. His ass was high and tight in his underwear. She could follow that anywhere. He continued through the bedroom into the attached bathroom. She watched him make himself at home. He moved with a silent grace and never fumbled with using just one hand. He got towels out of the cabinet, started the shower, and turned to her. By now his erection straining against the fabric looked almost painful. She watched, breathing heavily, as he deftly slid his underwear off his hips and stepped out of them. He stepped toward her and lifted her flimsy tank. She raised her arms and let him undress her. He dropped the shirt on the floor. Before taking off her panties he grazed the back of his hand over her hard nipples and down her belly.

Victoria had no idea why she wasn’t self conscious with him. She let him touch her stomach without flinching or cringing. She let herself enjoy the feeling of his hand sliding into her panties, slowly pulling them off her. She closed the distance between them when she tossed them aside with her foot. His eyes moved up her legs and body to her breasts. He leaned in and kissed one, sucked a nipple between his lips, licked it. She stifled a moan.

Bucky slid his hand around her and pressed their bodies together. His kiss was hard, impatient. She kissed him back and instinctively reached up to grab his biceps. The empty air on his left startled her and she opened her eyes. He kissed her forehead, maybe knowing what she had just thought, and led her by the hand into the shower.

Without words he directed her movement. She let herself be guided by him. Once her hair was wet and she reached for the soap he swapped places with her and stood under the water. She watched him closely as he closed his eyes and leaned back under the shower. The water ran down his face, pooling and spilling over as he moved. His dog tags caused rivulets to form on his chest and she let her eyes follow these to his stomach and that lovely spot, that “V”, where his perfect torso met his hips.

She wasn’t really using the soap as much as she was just holding it. His erection was taunting her. He was acting like it didn’t exist. She stared a moment too long and felt eyes on her. She blushed.

“Yes?” Bucky grinned.

“Uh, yeah, huh?” she mumbled.

“Funny enough, that’s not what I wanted to show you. Here,” he reached out for her hand holding the soap. She stepped closer to him, almost under the water with him. He nodded at the soap, so she lathered a bit in her hands. Then he took the soap and set it on the ledge. He guided her hand. She swallowed, gulped almost. Her mouth had gone dry with anticipation, a bit of fear, and a good deal of anxiety. He gently laid her palm on his ribs, on his left side, and slid both of their hands up to the seam between flesh and metal. Her eyes darted from their hands to his face and back. He was watching her face. But he kept moving their hands, using her hand the way he would his own, washing the vibranium shoulder prosthesis. His muscles rippled and stretched as he moved their hands over and behind him. She had to step closer and onto the balls of her feet to reach. He let go of her hand to steady her, placing his hand on her waist. She almost didn’t notice, like she almost didn’t notice that his incredibly hard dick was now pressed against her stomach.

She was entranced by this intimacy. Taken aback that he was so vulnerable with her but simultaneously beyond what the word “flattered” could convey. She slid her hand back to his ribs, technically his armpit, and looked up at him. He was smiling. That flat, kind, Bucky smile. No one she ever knew smiled like that but she also didn’t know many 106 year old men with a metal arm.

“Vic, I want you to be comfortable, okay?”he said. “I have had decades to get use to this and you haven’t. I don’t want it to be a ‘thing’ as they say now.”

She blushed again and leaned into him. She pressed him back into the running water and kissed him. While they were kissing, tongues slipping against each other, she used her hand to rinse the soap from his shoulder. He smiled and she felt his teeth against her lips momentarily. He laughed a little. She pulled back, unsure of herself, but he didn’t let her go far. Bucky leaned down and kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. And he didn’t stop.

His fingers dug into her hip, using her for balance, as he knelt. Kissing her body through the entire movement. He kissed the hollow of her hips. Gently kissed the bare skin above her pussy.

“Back in my day, grooming wasn’t so…” he trailed off. “Complete?” She blushed harder than she thought she ever had in her life when he looked up at her. Eye contact with Bucky while his lips were on her shaved skin made her feel a wave of faint panic. All of the blood seemed to have run out of her head and straight to his mouth. She closed her eyes, put a hand on the shower wall, and felt his laugh vibrate through her.

Then his tongue. His tongue dipped further down and she was immensely grateful that he had a firm grip on her. She had barely noticed that she had begun to part her legs for him and that she was leaning precariously into his hand. Trust. So much trust that she wouldn’t collapse and die in the shower. No, trust that he wouldn’t let her fall. But these thoughts, if they were even concrete enough to be called that, were forced out of her mind when his tongue went inside her. She groaned. He pulled back and licked the length of her, back to her clit, and toyed with it. Sucked it in gently between his lips then passed his teeth lightly over it. Her hand found the back of his head and clutched at his short hair. He laughed a bit and the vibration was intense. Her pressure on his head increased slightly. He took this as his queue that playtime was over.

Bucky sucked and licked her clit but took his time. Slowly, firmly, tasting her, exploring. He pushed his tongue as far into her as he could. He pulled out and licked everywhere, anywhere. Then, guiding her with his hand so he could find a better angle, he placed the tip of his tongue in the wetness just before her ass. The sensation sent an impulse through her and she pressed on the back of his head. He quickly, gently, licked her ass then in one movement licked back to her clit.

“Oh fuck James!” she yelled. “Just. God. Damn.” She panted. He sucked harder on her clit, barely breathing, rolling his tongue over it. He squeezed her hip tight so she would know he had her. He pressed his face hard against her and sucked and traced circles on her clit with his tongue. He felt her orgasm start as a faint shake in her hips.

She leaned against the shower wall, overwhelmed by the sensations: the water from the shower, Bucky’s mouth, the strain of holding herself up, his goddamn tongue. Then she started to shake. She came in waves. She almost screamed his name but bit it back, cursed, then let herself go. She yelled a string of expletives. The last rush of her orgasm passed through her and she let go of his head. He inhaled deeply. She looked down at him and laughed.

The towel was fluffy and soft. Through her drowsiness she followed Bucky to the bed. He sat, hair dripping water onto his back and shoulders. His towel was around his waist but didn’t do much to hide his… anticipation. She giggled to herself. She thought about how uncomfortable he must be by now. But at almost the exact moment the thought entered her head it was pushed out by what she was seeing. Yup, Bucky had picked up his vibranium arm and laid it on the bed next to where he sat, purposefully, where she couldn’t avoid it.

She wasn’t afraid or turned off, had no negative feelings about it. What was bothering her, the roadblock she kept running into, was whether or not it was appropriate. She bit her bottom lip and looked at him as she sat down.

“Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”

“Um…” she swallowed hard. “I think I don’t want you to judge me and I don’t want to offend you. No, that’s not the word, I know it isn’t but I don’t know. I…” She let the sentence end before it had begun.

“Go ahead,” he said. “It’s okay. Do you honestly think I would lie and tell you it was okay if it wasn’t?” That Bucky smile again.

She looked from his beautiful face to the beautiful black metal and back again. He nodded. It was laying palm-down on the bed, slightly bent at the elbow. She gingerly traced a finger over the back of his hand, up the forearm, following the gold seams around the vibranium plates. From the corner of her eye she saw Bucky move his hips, adjust a little. She pressed her palm onto the warm metal of his bicep, caressed the muscle and slid her hand back down to his wrist. She flattened her hand on the back of his, right on top of left, and because that looked odd somehow because that was the only odd part of this she slid her hand underneath, palm to palm. It was somehow light and heavy at the same time. She could have lifted it but the weight of his and on hers felt natural.

When Bucky moved she jumped the tiniest bit but didn’t pull her hand back. He reached under her arm and picked up the prothesis, not separating their hands completely. The clicking sounds were jarring but the actual process was fascinating. Complicated parts opened, moved, adjusted and then accepted the arm seamlessly. Nearly instantly she felt him gently squeeze her hand and she jumped. Se let out a nervous giggle then stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. His muscles flexed and moved like flesh.

Vic leaned over to kiss him and he met her halfway. She placed her hand on his chest, gently pushing him back on the bed. She let her towel drop as she straddled him. She loved the feeling of his erection between them. His hips moved to accomidate her. She let out a sigh. Moving slowly she put their clasped hands above his head, grabbed his other wrist and pinned him to the bed. His chest heaved and she felt his heartbeat race. Bucky let her hold both his hands above his head while she kissed his vibranium arm. Wrist, forearm, bicep, shoulder, even nuzzling under his arm. She breathed hot against his chest before licking his nipple.

He moaned and pushed his hips up. She bit him playfully and smilled when she felt him twitch between her legs. She let go of his hands so she could slide down and continue kissing and teasing. Moving with purpose to her goal. She ran her fingertips gently over the tip of his dick and felt his precum slick beneath them. She looked at him as she licked it off her fingers. His eyes closed and he groaned.

“Damn,” he breathed.

She adjusted to get a better, easier position and wrapped a hand around his dick. He was so hard and sensitive. She kissed the tip and lapped up the new drops of precum. She squeezed a bit tighter as she slid his foreskin down. The noises he was making and the slow movement of his hips encouraged her. She licked the length of his dick, wetting her palm with her tongue. Then she slid him into her mouth. Her lips were tight around him. He tangled his fingers in her hair and tried not to push into her. She felt the head of his dick against the back of her throat and stopped just before that annoying spot, swallowed, felt him respond, and picked up the pace. She ran her free hand up his inner thigh, making him shiver and grip her hair tighter. She lightly scooped his balls into her hand and squeezed and released as she sucked and licked. It took all of her focus to coordinate her movements but it was worth it. He squirmed and moaned. His other hand went to the back of her head as well. She ran her finger along the smooth skin behind his balls and he broke. She stopped sucking and let her jaw relax as his hands held her head. He fucked her mouth. Muttering her name, obscenities, and then suddenly stopping. She looked up at him as he dropped his hands to his sides.

“I can’t, I don’t want to, well,” he stammered as she slid her lips off him one last time. “I want to, you know.”

“You are so eloquent,” she laughed, still massaging his balls. “They have a lot of words for ‘cumming while you fuck me’ in the 1940s, huh?”

He half-grunted a laugh and let his head fall heavy onto the mattress.

“Okay then,” she said. “Fuck me until you cum.”

She pressed her body into his as she moved up to kiss him. When their lips met he kissed her back with ferocity. With his inhanced strength he flipped her onto her back and spread her legs with his thighs. Her head spun. She wrapped her legs around his hips. He kissed her neck, her chest, her nipples. She pushed her hips against him. Her wetness on him made him kiss and lick more fervently. Her hands went to his biceps like always. She arched her back when she gripped the slick metal.

“Oh god, Bucky,” she moaned through gritted teeth. “Fuck me please.”

He reached a hand between them and guided himself into her. She was so tight and hot and wet. He shut his eyes and dropped his head next to hers, breathing heavily into her ear as he slid all the way in. Her muscles tightened around his almost too thick dick as he moved, slowly at first. His hips made slow, grinding circles. He propped himself up on his elbows, grabbing onto her neck and shoulders for leverage. He pulled her hard onto him, going even deeper.

Victoria gasped but met his force with her own. She pushed against him with her hips and grabbed his ass with both hands. This was all the encouragement he needed. His thrusts became longer but quicker. Nearly pulling out of her each time. His hand reflexively tightened and released on the back of her neck each time. She knew they couldn’t keep this up long. She was going to cum soon and thought that would probably send him over the edge with her. She seized this moment of clarity.

“James,” she whispered. She moved her hand from his ass and lightly touched his left shoulder. She trailed her fingers down his tricep. He didn’t pause, didn’t miss a beat. He continued sliding in and out of her wet heat but lifted his head to look at her. She increased the pressure of her fingertips on his arm and smiled softly at him.

He moved his weight to his right arm. He looked straight into her eyes while he slid his vibranium fingers around her fragile throat. She moaned and pushed down on his thrust into her. He started to squeeze. She exhaled and closed her eyes. He pressed his fingers harder into her flesh watching her face. He felt her contract around him, he squeezed harder. She let out a small gasp and her eyes opened. Her orgasm rocked through her and she arched and pushed against him. He tightened his hold on her. Then he felt the heat pour out of him. He growled and buried his face in her hair. His cum filled up the space between them, hot and sticky. With his last spasm he released her neck.

“Goddamn, Vic” he sighed. He pushed into her, filling her up one last time. She panted and clutched at him. She welcomed his weight as he almost collapsed onto her. Neither wanted to move but he slowly withdrew and rolled onto his side. She felt his cum drip out after him. She stretched and sighed and smiled at him. He watched her with heavy-lidded eyes. While she had his full attention she slipped her hand between her thighs and felt his cum. His eyes widened just a little. Then she brought her fingers to her mouth, his eyes following her hand. She licked them clean. He smiled that Bucky smile. He wrapped both of his arms around her, pulling her closing and kissing her. She kissed him back and crushed herself against him.

[blckbarbiedoll]

Million Dollar Baby

Chapter 6-The Winner Takes It All

August 4, 2019-New Rochelle, New York (2 A.M.)

Darkness surrounded you as you sat up and rubbed your eyes. You let them adjust for a minute before getting up to go get water. When you got back into bed, you realized that your fiancé was missing. Before you could grab your phone to text him, you heard the door open and shut, followed by soft footsteps.

"You're up." He said, clearly surprised.

"Where'd you go?"

"To get a drink. You know this hotel has a 24 hour bar?" He kicked off his shoes and pulled his shorts off before climbing in next to you. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Not really."

"Me either."

"You nervous?"

"This isn't my first challenger."

"I'm not talking about tennis."

He sighed and laid flat on his back. You laid down and rested your head on his chest. "I talked to him yesterday."

"What'd he say?"

"Basically said that he didn't give a shit about me and neither does anyone else."

"You know that's not true."

"Isn't it? I mean, besides you, who really cares? My parents sure as hell don't."

"Am I not enough?"

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in closer.

"You're more than enough."

You kissed him softly and cuddled into his side. The smell hit your nose like a bullet train. You recognized it as soon as you smelled it. After all these years, she always bought the same perfume.

🎾

The sun had just risen when you woke up again. It had only been two hours. Patrick was still asleep next to you. All you could think about was the smell of her on your fiancé. It made your stomach turn out of disgust, and your heart beat out of excitement. After laying there for a few minutes, you got up and put on some workout clothes. You walked out into the cold hallway and made your way to the gym.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You sighed as you walked in.

"Funny finding you here." Art said on the treadmill.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping? You've got a match in eight hours."

"Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd get in an early warm up."

You sighed and placed your phone and water on the floor before stretching. His eyes were glued on your body as you stretched on the floor. You looked in the mirror on the wall and saw him watching you.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer."

His eyes flickered away and he went back to running. After a few minutes, you got up and climbed onto the stair master that was next to him.

"Patrick treating you well?"

You sighed and thought about telling him what happened. How Patrick came back to bed smelling like another woman. Like Art's wife.

"Very well."

He slowed down his running and got off to catch his breath. He went over to the pull up bar and began pulling himself off the floor. Your eyes drifted over to him. The way his arms flexed and his chest on display had you reminiscing.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer." He smirked, throwing your words back at you.

"Shut up." After a few minutes, you got off the machine and took a sip of your water. "Shit." You groaned as it spilled down your shirt. You lifted it over your head, leaving you in a matching sports bra and shorts set. You knew Art was staring.

"Fuck." He said under his breath. He let go of the bar and watched you as he wiped the sweat from his face.

"Don't look at me like that." You blurted.

"Like what?"

"Like you wanna fuck me."

He stepped closer to you, placing a hand on your waist, pulling you closer.

"Would that be a bad thing?"

You ignored all the red flags telling you to go back up to your room. Back to your fiancé. But why should you? He cheated only two hours ago.

"No."

He kissed you with a hunger that you'd never felt from him. His hands went from your bare midsection to gripping your ass. You ran your hands up and down his bare chest as your lips trailed down to his neck.

"I miss you." He whispered, his hands caressing every bit of you he could reach.

"You do?"

"So much. Ayesha, I...I don't think I ever stopped loving you."

Your heart ached for the sweet man in front of you. He had to know the truth.

"Art, I have to tell you something. Patrick and Tashi slept together."

He sighed and nodded.

"I know. I saw them at the bar in Atlanta."

"Atlanta? What're you talking about?"

"They slept together at the U.S. open in Atlanta like eight years ago. What're you talking about?"

"Last night. He came back to bed with your wife's perfume on him."

"Tashi?"

"Do you have more than one wife?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"What now?"

"Does she know you know?"

"No. Patrick?"

"No."

"Let's keep it that way for now."

You leaned against the wall and slowly dropped to the floor. He followed you and came to sit with you.

"Can I ask you something?" You asked as you laid your head on his shoulder.

"Anything."

"Will you let him win today?"

"What?"

"You've already got countless wins and slams under your belt. He doesn't."

"So you want me to lose just to boost his ego?"

"I want you to let him win because he still has one good season in him."

"And I don't?"

"No, you don't. I've seen you play lately. You can't do it anymore. You're done, Art. And I think you know it."

"He cheated on you. Twice. Why do you wanna help him?"

"Because he's good at tennis. And I think he could win a slam next year."

"And?"

"And I love him. I really fucking love him."

"You know I waited for you?"

"What?"

"After we broke up. I waited for about two years until I realized that you weren't coming back."

"Art..."

"It's okay. You had your career to worry about. I get it."

"I didn't come back because I thought you deserved better."

"Better than you?"

"When we were arguing, Tashi said that you needed someone who was gonna be there for you. And I wasn't. I was traveling to god knows where every week."

"Ayesha, I didn't care if you were gone. I loved you." He hesitated. "I love you."

"I love you too." You whispered as you kissed his lips softly.

🎾TEN HOURS LATER🎾

"Game, Donaldson."

"Fuck." You said under your breath.

"Donaldson leads, six games to five."

Patrick and Art walked over to the sideline to wipe their faces and get water. You looked over at Art who was glaring daggers into Patrick's head. You sighed and crossed your arms as you leaned back in the chair. After a few minutes, the game resumed and they walked back onto the court. Patrick raised his arms up to serve. He tossed up the ball and hit it directly into the net.

"Come on, Patrick." You whispered.

He took a deep breath before grabbing another ball and tossing it up again. He hit it again, knocking it against the net.

"Thirty, forty."

"What are you doing?" You said to yourself.

The next hit was only slightly better. It had went over the net, but went too far.

"What the fuck?"

He grabbed the last ball he had in his pocket and bounced it on the ground. He slowly raised his racket behind his head to serve, but lowered it at the last minute. His gaze went from Tashi, to Art, to you. 

"Time violation. Warning, Zweig."

He bent down slightly and placed the ball in the neck of the racket. A tick that you noticed Art did. Patrick smirked, clearly thinking that he had the upper hand. He served the ball perfectly as Art let it fly by him. 

"Game, Zweig. Final set, tie break."

Tashi's jaw clenched. You could tell she was pissed. Art glared at him for a minute before serving the ball quickly as if he was trying to take Patrick's head off. He dodged the hit and got ready as Art went to serve again. This time, seriously. The two men went back and forth for what felt like forever. They were playing like their lives were at steak. It took you back to all those years ago when they were playing for your numbers. Patrick lunged forward and hit the ball over to Art. He got closer and jumped higher than the net trying to hit it.

"Shit." Tashi cursed out.

You both leaned forward and placed your hands on each other's knees. Patrick scrambled closer to the net and held his arms out to catch Art before he fell. He wrapped his arms around him and embraced him for the first time in over a decade. Their smiles were big as they held each other. Even though they weren't in earshot, you could see the small movements of Art's lips near Patrick's ear. It was enough to make out three words. 

"I love you."

It was clear that neither of them gave a shit about the game anymore. And neither did you or Tashi. 

"Come on!" Tashi cried out as she grabbed your hand.

The two of you stood up and cheered with the rest of the crowd. She pulled you into a hug. It wasn't just out of excitement, it was out of love. 

"Point penalty, touching the net, Donaldson. Point penalty, touching your opponent, Donaldson and Zweig."

They pulled away from the hug and whispered between themselves for a minute before turning to the umpire.

"We forfeit."

[tk-duveraun]

4/? Luo Binghe is SO NORMAL about Shen Yuan

1, 2, 3, 4 (here), 5

Read up through even numbered parts on (fic will update tomorrow, y'all just get this early - but there won't be a part tomorrow or saturday)

Instead of a Qian Cao room, Luo Binghe found himself in one of Qing Jing's guest rooms. Since Shen Qingqiu was such an ass, few people ever visited Qing Jing and the room showed it by still being musty despite however long Luo Binghe had been unconscious.

When he woke, Ming Fan had grunted "Finally" and disappeared without further comment.

"Linguang-jun wasn't impressed, but given your position that's probably for the best." The demon in his head said.

"Whose side are you on?" Luo Binghe returned.

"Whoever is stronger, obviously, this Meng Mo intends to be part of the new regime."

Luo Binghe, who knew of Linguang-jun's ignoble death, snorted. "Am I getting the antidote or not?"

"A 'package from home' should arrive for you shortly. I suggested he have one of his underlings including a light poison to fake symptoms for you. Little Mobei's pet human suggested spreading the narrative the poison was actually Cureless, not Without-a-Cure, since you were stupid enough to get scratched."

"What kind of demon would let their fixation be poisoned?" Luo Binghe indulged in baring his teeth, even if he wasn't sure the other demon would know.

"Fair enough, kid. Who knows, human pets go in and out of fashion every few hundred years. You and Little Mobei can give them playdates."

"Enough," Luo replied before throwing his mental walls up. Once he was truly alone, he sent a silent prayer of thanks that speaking conventions made the demon say his own name. Meng Mo wasn't a demon he was familiar with, but the only demons that were wanted a piece of Shen Yuan, so it only spoke well of Meng Mo's continued existence, if he could be talked into actually helping Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe was testing the limits of his new infirmity when the door slid open to reveal his beloved. Shen Yuan was dressed primly in his layers and fine guan, but there were deep bags under his eyes, hidden poorly by the powder Shen Jiu applied to him every morning.

Shen Yuan closed the door behind himself and sealed it with two talismans: one that glowed blue and one that sent a wave of purple light across the space. He sat next to Luo Binghe's bed and poured him a cup of water.

"Drink."

"Shizun wouldn't be feeding this poor Disciple a truth serum, would he?" Luo Binghe asked, letting his eyes tear up.

Shen Yuan scoffed and opened his fan with a crack. He covered all but his eyes, which were narrowed in calculation.

Okay, Luo Binghe could see how people thought he might be Shen Jiu's twin. He started sweating. Shen Yuan never went serious in IRS unless he was about to kill something.

"Disciple Luo and this Master both know such a thing is unnecessary. We've already come to this point, what's the point in pretending?"

What the fuck? Shen Yuan was OOC! Was that possible?

[Shen Yuan is within character parameters. User is advised to complete side quests to understand the history between Shen Yuan and Luo Baixiao.]

Excuse me?!

"Shizun will have to enlighten this stupid Disciple." Luo Binghe looked at his hands so he couldn't see his beloved's cold expression. It was one thing to commission Shen Yuan with that gaze and artfully streaked with blood, it was another to have it aimed at him.

Well, aimed at him when not a prelude to hate-sex.

Anyway.

"This Master was well-aware of Disciple Luo's demonic nature, unless he thinks this Master dumb as well as blind?"

Uh, Luo Binghe didn't really have anything to say to that. Since when? How? Snowballing, do not say that those extremely awkward transitions in this arc were you simply deleting sections? Luo Binghe could only pitifully mutter, "Of course not. This Disciple has nothing but respect for Shizun."

Shen Yuan laughed, jagged and shrill. "Of course. Let it be known this Master kept Mu-shidi from investigating Disciple Luo's poison sufficiently. Sect rumor is that the incompetent demon Elder Sky Hammer misremembered the poison he applied."

"Thanking Shizun." Luo Binghe risked a glance up, but Shen Yuan's expression was still frosty. He flinched.

Silence reigned far more than long enough to be uncomfortable. Finally Shen Yuan closed his fan and sighed. "This Master doesn't know what Disciple Luo intended to gain from this. Or from his previous actions, but know well: this Master will not let harm come to Cang Qiong."

"This Disciple understands."

Luo Binghe didn't understand anything, but he also didn't want to check the smug System's list of side quests to explain what the fuck was going on. What did gamers call it? Smashing? He was going to have to smash through the side quests as soon as possible to figure out what his relationship with Shen Yuan was supposed to be so he could rehabilitate it.

At least he had successfully unlocked OOC. He didn't want to imagine what weird dialogue options the System would have fed him.

Shen Yuan left without another word.

[biisexualemma]

haunted pt.6. bucky barnes

word count: 1.6k

requested: yes sorry it's been literal years

warnings: alludes to abuse / violence, nightmares, trauma, ptsd

plot: you relive your trauma in your dreams... bucky is there with you

a/n: sorry i just poofed into thin air, i've just been busy and neglected this and just haven't really been writing at all. but i revisited recently and saw someone request more of this series which is so lovely-- anyway, i knew i had a few more parts already written out for this series that i just never finished / edited. so here i am, editing them and trying to stop starting series that i never finish lol (sorry)! anyway, i hope you enjoy, this is very angsty and it remains that way for a while now sorrrrryyy but it's good i swear hehe

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 7 / masterlist

you lay unconscious, deep in sleep but your body, unbeknownst to your mind, was reacting physically to every scenario you encountered in your dreams.

your fingertips twitching as you typed in the code on the computer, your breaths growing short and uneven as you hit one too many failed passcode attempts, sweat lining your brow as you tried again and again, the sirens blaring all around you, overwhelming your senses. 

"shit, shit, shit,"

you muttered under your breath, the code wasn't working. that fucker had fed you false information. in a split second of rage you picked up the keyboard and slammed it down on the desk, watching it shatter in front of you. "fuck!" you panted, head in hands when you realised what came next. you were stuck after attempting to escape. they would get to you eventually and it would be bad when they did. you had been traumatised over much lesser crimes before. 

tears began to fill your eyes, your fingers curled and you repeatedly slammed a fist against your forehead. the sirens piercing your eardrums, seeming to grow louder the longer they rang. "think, think," you sniffled, "fuck— think."

your cheeks were wet now, your hands balled into fists, arms twitching and your lips muttering incoherent whispers. unbeknownst to your body or your mind, the super soldier in the room next over to yours was wide awake, unable to sleep for fear of his own demons. 

you had nothing, no way of getting out. you were stuck. you pushed yourself away from the desk, the swivel chair rolling backwards until it hit something and came to halt. in a second you felt your blood run cold, your jaw tightened, you held your breath in dread of what was to come. of who stood behind you.

your eyebrows knitted together, a small, sharp line forming in between your brows. you knew what you were in for and your body recoiled at the thought. you didn't want to show any weakness, you kept your lips tightly sealed, despite the slight quiver you felt.

"nice try, agent," goosebumps prickled your neck and down your shoulders, feeling his breath ghost your bare skin, hearing the depth of his voice made your stomach knot.

before you could even beg for any kind of mercy, a large, heavy hand was clamped around your mouth, second arm wrapped across your chest, gripping your shoulders forcefully. "i don't want to hear the excuses, agent," you let out a sob you'd been holding in when another agent grabbed your legs, another grabbing your torso as you were lifted up and dragged backwards out of the chair you sat in.

you thrashed your limbs as hard as you could manage but you were outnumbered and overpowered. your eyes were stinging at this point, burning and blurring your vision as you screamed mercilessly.

he pulled out one of his headphones when he heard a thud, the podcast that had been playing, paused and he listened carefully. he waited a minute or so, nothing but silence, and just as he was about to pop the headphone back in his ear he heard it again. he jolted upright this time, it had come from your room. he pulled the covers off himself, eyebrows knitted as he listened intently, slipping his socks on as he waited for another sign. last thing he wanted to do was barge in on you unannounced and interrupt anything. you had done nothing but complain about your lack of privacy while you'd been staying here, so he didn't want to overstep.

but then he heard a sob, followed by muffled shouts and he was quick to leave his room and all of a sudden he was outside your door. he went to open the door, knowing it'd be unlocked (you hadn't been trusted with locks yet) but hesitated, he knew this was such an invasion of privacy. he thought about the countless times he'd dealt with the same thing, he thought about how he'd feel if the roles were reversed.

then came a blood curdling scream and he didn't hesitate to let himself in. he entered, the light from the hallway lit up your bed where you were now sat bolt upright. your eyes open wide, bloodshot, soaked with tears but unresponsive, he knew you were still asleep despite your body thrashing around. you were fighting with your bed sheets, sobbing, heaving and shouting incoherently.

he took a split second to react, in a daze as he witnessed you in a state he'd never expected from you but one that he knew well. he closed the door over, to avoid disturbing anyone else on the floor, but thankfully the rest of the team were pretty spread out.

he perched himself on the edge of your bed, trying to approach with caution so not to cause you anymore distress. "y/n," he spoke clearly, carefully reaching over you and pulling back the bed sheets to free you from their restraints, and cool you down. he noticed the lamp, usually sat beside your bed, was now broken on the floor, next to your book and a few other strewn items.

"y/n," he repeated louder this time, trying to bring you back and snap you out of your daze. your movements were slowing down, becoming weaker, your body fell back against the mattress with a heavy thud, which seemed to be enough to jolt you awake. you rolled onto your side immediately, your body jerking as you sobbed into your pillow, unaware of his presence at first until he spoke again. 

"hey," he mumbled, quiet so not to spook you. you were in such a state, you didn't react much, only looked up at him with heavy, sunken, wet eyes. you hiccuped, your breathing uneven and your body curled into somewhat of a cocoon with your arms wrapped around yourself. "it's ok," he whispered, trying to appear calm even though the lump in his throat was nearly choking him. "you're ok," he repeated, giving you a gentle nod.

your eyebrows furrowed upwards again, a pained expression returning to your features after the brief moment of peace you felt from seeing him next to you was plagued by the memories of your past.

"you're good, you're safe," was all he could think to say, to offer reassurance. he knew too well how disorienting it was to wake up from a nightmare like that, especially in unfamiliar surroundings. you had nothing familiar to offer comfort, other than bucky. 

you nodded your head, coming around enough to know what was real and what wasn't, but images continued to flash in your mind. you used the palms of your hands to apply pressure to your eyelids, jaw clenched tight as you tried to suppress another cry. you just needed to ride it out.

"you want me to give you some space—?" he leaned closer, trying to catch some kind of reaction out of you but there was none. bucky figured he'd give you a few minutes to put yourself together again, while he fetched you a bowl of cereal. 

he halted, half sitting, half standing on his way out when he felt your hand grab his. the metal was cool against your hand, soothing your burning skin as you pulled him back to his seat. your arms hugged onto his hand with a fierce grip.

your guard was down and he was careful about how he went about this, he didn't want to lose what little trust he had with you at this point. he'd only caught a glimpse of you like this, weeks ago and since you had been seriously on your guard. he didn't want a repeat of that.

"i can stay," he muttered. "'m' not doing anythin'— my podcast can wait."

he made sure to get himself comfortable, he had no idea how long you intended for him to stay but he would be here as long as you needed. he carefully slumped off the side of the bed, sitting himself on the floor, never letting his arm (the one you were now cradling in your arms) move an inch so as not to disturb you.

you watched him move around you with care and concern, you felt more at ease with him next to you. you knew he understood.

you looked visibly calmer, your breathing was lighter, hiccups less frequent, eyelashes still wet but your eyelids drooped every fews seconds, your cheeks flushed red. the calm after the storm— he could see it in your face. your hair was messy, you blew out a puff of air when a stray piece of hair kept falling across your face.

he wore a very small, almost non-existent smile watching your failed efforts, his free hand reaching out without thinking to brush the hair out of your face. realising what he'd done, his lips straightened out and his hand froze in place.

he opened his mouth to apologise but you cut him off, you gave a small shake of your head. "it's ok," your voice was quiet, the words came out almost as a croak. "promise," you reassured him.

he nodded stiffly, but to be safe he rested his palm back on his lap, flesh hands to himself. he watched your eyelids grow closer and closer to closing, unable to fight the tire taking over your body again.

you gripped his hand tighter, a small line forming between your brows again as your eyes neared close. "please don't go," you mumbled, your lips grazing the metal palm of his hand as you spoke.

"go to sleep," he whispered back to you, watching your lips part slightly, deep breaths following as you slipped off into a sleep. he gave your hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "i'm not going anywhere."

you woke up late the next morning with your arm dangling over the side of the bed. when you peered over the edge you saw bucky laying on the floor beside your bed, his arm outstretched, hand still locked with yours.

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