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wholoveseggs · 28 days ago

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Kinktober - {Day Thirty-One} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ HAPPY HALLOWEEN ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

{Elijah Mikaelson X Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {@originals23}: Well, I am all for Elijah, but Kinktober without Klaus must not happen;) I therefore request a Klaus story with a female reader and kinks 15 (m/m/f) and 17. Maybe with some jealousy as Klaus doesn't like to share. ;) Hope you are feeling a bit better! Thanks!!

♡♡♡ Hiii darling @originals23 you know how much I adore you~ And of course the other man in this ménage à trois HAS to be Elijah ♡♡♡

7.3k words - Kinks: costumes, lots of blood drinking, threesome, lots of flirting, a haunted house && Klaus and Elijah competing over you in bed ...

“You’re joking.�� Rebekah’s tone was flat as she stared you down in the doorway, her disapproval nearly tangible.

You blinked at her, feigning innocence, and looked down at your outfit as if trying to figure out what could possibly be the problem. “What?” you asked, tilting your head. “Is something wrong with it?”

Rebekah’s gaze didn’t waver, taking in every inch of your ‘vampire’ costume. The short, form-fitting dress, plunging neckline, lace gloves, and, of course, the dramatic collar.

“Is this supposed to be funny?” she asked, her voice dripping with barely-contained irritation. “I thought you’d have more taste than to show up looking like that.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a buzzkill!” You laughed, waving off her disapproval with a flick of your hand. “It’s Halloween, and I’m here to have fun.”

Rebekah’s lips tightened. “You do realize there will be actual vampires at this party?” she said, her eyes narrowing.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “So... they’ll get the joke then?”

Rebekah sighed, moving over to sit at the edge of her bed as she slipped on the ridiculous hot pink heels she had chosen to complete her Barbie costume. The look suited her in a way that only added to her usual allure: effortlessly beautiful and intimidatingly flawless. “I don’t think you quite understand,” she started, giving you another withering glance.

“Sorry? Didn’t catch that,” you interrupted with a grin, pulling a pair of plastic fangs from your pocket and popping them into your mouth. Turning dramatically, you flashed her your best vampy grin.

Rebekah let out an exasperated sigh, but you saw the slight grin that tugged at the corner of her mouth. You always had a way of making her laugh, even when she didn’t want to. “I’m being serious,” she told you, standing up and reaching for her handbag.

“Ya don tink I can sedu a ampire like tis?” you said, grinning wider, struggling to speak around the fangs. You barely had time to flinch as Rebekah reached over and snatched the fangs right out of your mouth, tossing them over her shoulder without so much as a second glance.

“Hey!” you protested, trying to catch them as they sailed behind her. “I was just starting to get the hang of those!”

Rebekah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she looked at you with a smirk. “Honestly, you’re hopeless. And I can’t imagine what Elijah and Klaus will think when they see you dressed like… well, that.”

At the mention of their names, you felt a warm flush rise in your cheeks. You quickly looked away, pretending to fix a wrinkle on your dress. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you muttered, hoping the blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

“Oh, please.” Rebekah’s grin widened, clearly enjoying your sudden shyness. She had known for a while about the little crush you had on her brothers, but she had never outright called you on it. Not until now.

You gave her a wary look, but she only shook her head, laughing softly.

“That dress is definitely going to test their self-control. Elijah, I suppose, will try to behave himself. But Klaus? Good luck with that. He’ll probably drag you off to some dark corner the second he sees you.” She smirked, leaning in conspiratorially.

The flush in your cheeks deepened, and you turned away, embarrassed. But Rebekah wasn’t finished. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Or maybe you wouldn't mind that. Maybe you're hoping for it." She raised an eyebrow, studying your reaction carefully. "If you had to choose one of them, which would it be? Elijah, or Klaus?"

You swallowed hard, feeling your face grow hotter. Your pulse was racing, and you knew she could hear it, could sense the quickening of your heartbeat. But there was no point in lying to her. She would know if you did.

"Both," you whispered back, meeting her gaze at last.

Your face was definitely burning now, and you bit your lip nervously. The thought of either one of them alone was enough to make you weak in the knees. The thought of both of them... well, it was almost too much to imagine.

Rebekah's grin widened, and she leaned back, looking satisfied.

"That's what I thought," she said, chuckling softly. Then, with a shrug, she turned away, heading toward the door. "Well, come on, then. Let's go. We can't keep them waiting forever."

You hesitated, still flustered from her teasing. But after a moment, you followed her, trailing behind her out of the room and down the stairs to the party happening in the courtyard.

The place was decorated to the nines, just like any other Mikaelson party, with elaborate decor, dim lighting, and an ever-growing throng of guests mingling and dancing to the live music. The scent of alcohol and expensive perfume filled the air, and you caught sight of a few familiar faces, including Marcel and Cami. They both looked like they were having fun, chatting and laughing as they sipped their drinks.

You felt a rush of relief at seeing them, glad that there would be someone else around to help ease the tension. The last thing you needed was to be alone in a room full of vampires, especially in your current outfit.

You followed Rebekah through the crowd, trying to stay close behind her so as not to get separated. As you approached the bar, you saw a few of the vampires look your way, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending not to notice.

You could feel their eyes on you, and the weight of their stares made the back of your neck prickle. Wearing this costume was so funny when you imagined it, but the reality was far more nerve-wracking.

You tried to push the anxiety aside, focusing instead on the music and the atmosphere. The music was loud and pulsing, with a heavy bass that vibrated through your body, and the lights were dim enough to make everything feel a bit surreal, like you were walking through a dream.

You spotted Elijah at the bar, nursing a glass of wine and talking with Hayley. He looked dashing as always, dressed up as a 1920s gangster. His suit was perfectly tailored, and his hair was slicked back, making him look more like a mob boss than a vampire. It was a very good look on him, and you felt your pulse quicken as he glanced your way, his gaze lingering on your outfit for a moment before returning to the conversation.

Klaus was nowhere to be seen, but you figured he must be around somewhere. He wouldn't miss his own party.

As you approached the bar, Marcel and Cami waved you over, inviting you to join them. Marcel chuckled at your outfit, shaking his head as he took in the whole thing.

"Nice costume. Did you leave your fangs at home?" he asked, laughing.

You blushed, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, Rebekah wasn't really a fan," you admitted, glancing over at her. She had joined Elijah and Hayley, and the three of them seemed engrossed in their conversation.

"I like it, it's very bold," Cami chimed in, giving you a reassuring smile. She was dressed as a butterfly, with big, sparkly wings and a glittery top. It suited her well, bringing out her bright eyes and golden hair.

"It's supposed to be a joke," you explained, a bit self-consciously. "I figured if I showed up looking like a cliché, maybe the actual vampires would find it funny. Guess not, though."

Marcel shrugged, taking a swig of his drink. "I think you look hot," he told you, grinning. He was dressed as a prince, complete with a crown and fake sword. "You're definitely turning some heads tonight."

Cami nudged him with her elbow, rolling her eyes. "You're such a flirt," she teased, shaking her head. "Ignore him, he's just saying that because he thinks it'll get him lucky."

Marcel feigned innocence, raising his hands. "Who, me?"

You laughed, relaxing a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"You must check out the haunted house," Cami said, gesturing across the courtyard. There was a small building, covered in fake cobwebs and skeletons, that had been transformed into a spooky attraction for the party.

"It's pretty awesome, there are some seriously creepy creatures in there," Marcel added, giving you a sly smile. "Some of them might even bite."

Just then, you heard the familiar sound of Klaus' voice coming from behind you. You turned, and your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of him. He was dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, and the mask accentuated his handsome features perfectly, making him look even more mysterious and dangerous than usual. His gaze fell on you, and he grinned, his eyes darkening with hunger.

"There you are," he said, his voice low and husky. "I've been looking for you."

Marcel and Cami exchanged a look, and you could see the amusement in their eyes. You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself.

"H-hey," you stammered, your voice cracking slightly.

"Interesting choice in costume," he teased, his gaze raking over you slowly.

You felt your cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny, and you bit your lip, trying not to squirm.

"Do you like it?" you managed, giving him a coy smile.

Klaus' lips curved into a wicked grin, and he stepped closer, his hand moving up your arm. "I think it's perfect," he murmured, his fingertips trailing along the choker around your neck.

You couldn't deny that you enjoyed the way his gaze seemed to undress you, and you swallowed hard, feeling a familiar warmth pooling between your legs. You couldn't remember ever being this affected by someone, and the fact that it was Klaus only made it worse.

"Well, I'm glad someone has good taste," you said, forcing a lighthearted tone, trying not to let him know how flustered you were.

"Mmm, indeed." Klaus' fingers traced the collar of your dress, brushing against your skin and sending a thrill through you. He moved closer, his other hand settling on your waist as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"But I think it could be improved," he breathed, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "You need a real bite."

Before you could respond, he dipped his head, his fangs grazing the side of your neck, just above your pulse. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart began to race.

Marcel cleared his throat, and you suddenly remembered where you were. You flushed, pulling back a little and glancing around, noticing that several people were staring at you.

He chuckled and pulled away, giving you a wicked grin. He was teasing you, and you both knew it. But there was no denying the heat in his gaze, or the way his fingers tightened on your waist, as if he wanted to pull you closer.

"Save me a dance later?" he murmured, his thumb stroking over your hip bone.

You nodded, still a little breathless. "Of course," you managed, licking your lips.

His eyes followed the movement, his gaze darkening. "Good." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering against your skin. "I'll hold you to that, love."

With that, he stepped back, giving you a wink before turning and heading back into the crowd.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding. It was almost overwhelming how attracted you were to him, and it didn't help that he knew it, too.

Marcel and Cami exchanged a knowing look, and you rolled your eyes at them.

"Oh, shut up," you muttered, taking a long sip of your drink.

They laughed, shaking their heads.

"It's about time, though," Cami said, grinning.

"I'll drink to that," Marcel agreed, raising his glass.

You gave them a warning glare, but they just laughed harder. "I'm going to check out the haunted house," you announced, turning on your heel and walking away.

Their laughter followed you as you crossed the courtyard, heading toward the small building. Your mind was racing, replaying the way Klaus had looked at you, the way his touch had sent a thrill through you. You knew you were blushing, and you were grateful for the cover of darkness as you slipped inside the attraction.

You immediately regretted the decision. It was dark and creepy, filled with cobwebs and skeletons, and the eerie soundtrack only made it worse. There was definitely a spell or two involved, the entire atmosphere was designed to put guests on edge.

You wandered through the maze of corridors and rooms, trying to find the exit. There was something about the dark corners and flickering candles that made you uneasy, and you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

You reached a dead end and cursed under your breath, turning back. A sudden loud scream came from the speakers, and all the lights began flashing, making your heart leap into your throat. You hurried forward, desperately searching for a way out.

You turned a corner, running blinding for the exit. But instead of finding the door, you crashed into a hard body, nearly falling over. Two strong arms wrapped around you, steadying you, and you gasped as you looked up into familiar brown eyes.

"Elijah," you breathed, clutching his chest. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you."

He chuckled, his hands resting on your hips. "That's quite alright,"

"I-I was looking for the exit," you explained, a little embarrassed.

He grinned, stepping back and gesturing to a nearby door. "You've found it," he said, taking your hand and leading you through.

The fresh air hit you, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. Elijah's touch was still making your pulse race, and you couldn't deny that you had been hoping to run into him, too.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," he said, his thumb tracing over the back of your hand. "Need a drink?"

"Please," you breathed, following him as he led you toward the bar.

He ordered two drinks, handing one to you and lifting the other in a toast. You clinked your glass against his and quickly took a sip of your drink, hoping he couldn't hear the way your heartbeat quickened.

"I'm a bit insulted by your outfit." He said, his tone playful. "I've never considered a vampire so... tasteless."

You nearly choked on your drink, surprised by his bluntness. You couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but the look in his eyes told you he was at least half-teasing.

"Hey, now. I'll have you know, I put a lot of thought into this outfit," you told him, feigning offense, though you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up.

Elijah smiled, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "Did you put glitter on your face? You're sparkling."

"Isn't that what vampires do?" You flashed a coy grin. "Sparkle in the sun?"

Elijah shook his head, his fingers trailing over your jaw. "If we did, we wouldn't do it nearly as beautifully as you."

You felt your cheeks flush at his compliment, and you looked away, taking another sip of your drink. You weren't sure what to say, he was so damn smooth with his words.

"Thank you," you finally murmured, meeting his gaze again. "For rescuing me in there."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. "My pleasure. Though, I'd say the rescue was a bit mutual."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've rescued me as well, darling. From a very dull night."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Dull? Hardly. It's a Mikaelson Halloween party, there's nothing dull about it."

He shrugged, his gaze traveling over you again. "Perhaps. But a night spent in your company is much more exciting."

You blushed, looking down. You could feel his eyes on you, and the tension between you was nearly palpable. You had always had a crush on him, and it was surreal to be standing here, with him looking at you like that.

"Dance with me," he said, pulling you closer.

You nodded, letting him lead you onto the dance floor. The music was slow and sensual, and you could feel the beat pulsing through your body, making your heart race.

Elijah's hand settled on your waist, his other gently grasping your own as he drew you in close. You rested your free hand on his shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes. Out of all Rebekah's brothers, he was the hardest to read, and sometimes the most intimidating.

But there was no denying the heat in his gaze as he looked down at you, or the way his fingers tightened on your waist. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he said, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Did you pick your costume specifically to try and get attention?"

You blinked, caught off-guard by the question. "I, um..." You weren't sure how to answer. The truth was, yes, you had picked the outfit hoping to attract their attention, but you hadn't thought anyone would call you out on it.

"I'm not judging," he assured you, his hand sliding down your waist, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "I'm merely curious."

"Maybe," you admitted, a flush rising in your cheeks. "What do you think?"

"I think," he murmured, his fingers dancing along the hem of your dress, his touch sending sparks of desire through you, "that you don't have to try so hard," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft gasp and your hand curled into the collar of his suit jacket. You knew it was a reckless idea, that getting tangled up with a Mikaelson was bound to end badly, but right now, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, looking up at him.

"So are you," he replied, his eyes darkening.

You could see the hunger in his gaze, dark veins rippling under his eyes ever so slightly. You knew that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

"How much did this little outfit cost?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "What does that matter?"

"Because I want to know how much money I'm going to spend replacing it."

You blinked, your cheeks growing warm. "Elijah," you whispered, a thrill rushing through you.

He smiled, a wide toothy grin, and then spun you around, dipping you back. The move was fluid and graceful, and you clung to him, laughing breathlessly. The alcohol was making your head spin, and the heat between the two of you was intoxicating.

"I must confess I'm a bit jealous," he murmured, bringing you back up. His hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you close as the two of you moved together.

"Of who?"

"Niklaus has made it clear he's interested in pursuing you. I'm afraid that if I let you out of my sight, he'll steal you away." He chuckled, and the sound vibrated through you.

"And what do you intend to do about it?" you asked, a challenge in your voice.

He smirked, his eyes darkening. "Why, I intend to keep you right here, where I can enjoy you for myself."

"You can't keep me, I'm not an object," you teased, even as you felt your pulse quicken.

Elijah smiled, amused, his gaze moving to someone standing behind you. "Perhaps not. But Niklaus certainly thinks so."

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Klaus leaning against a nearby pillar, a drink in his hand and a smirk on his face. He gave you a wink and lifted his glass, silently toasting you.

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned back to Elijah, biting your lip. You were torn between being flattered by their attention and feeling embarrassed by it. You were just a human, after all, and they were two powerful vampires, kings among their own kind.

You felt another pair of hands sliding along your hips, and Klaus' familiar scent filled your nostrils. He nuzzled against the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

"Can I have that dance, love?" He murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

Your breath hitched, the proximity of both of them sending your pulse racing. The fantasy that you had built up in your head suddenly seemed very possible and it overwhelmed you. The heat of them, the way they touched you, the way their bodies moved against yours as they danced. You felt like a piece of prey caught between a wolf and a panther, and they were circling, waiting for the right moment to strike.

You saw Marcel watching you, an amused grin on his face. He had seen everything and was clearly entertained by the whole situation. You felt a sudden wave of embarrassment wash over you, and you stepped away, clearing your throat.

"I, uh, I should probably go find Rebekah," you said, avoiding their gazes. "I'll.. see you guys later."

Klaus' brows furrowed, and he reached for you, his fingers brushing against yours. "Love, wait—"

You pulled away from them, mumbling an excuse, and hurried off, disappearing into the crowd. Your cheeks were burning, and you could feel their eyes on you, but you didn't dare look back.

You made your way through the party, keeping your head down and avoiding eye contact with everyone. Searching for Rebekah, you found her in a far corner, chatting with Cami.

Rebekah smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Have you received the attention you were hoping for tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," you muttered, shaking your head. "Perhaps a little too much."

Cami snorted, hiding her grin behind her hand.

"You don't say," Rebekah chuckled, giving you a knowing look.

"I'm not sure what I was thinking, wearing this." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, and you looked down at the ground, your cheeks heating.

"Nonsense," Rebekah said, linking her arm with yours. "It's not the outfit, but the girl wearing it. And besides, those idiots have been pining after you for ages, this is hardly news."

Cami nodded in agreement. "They're smitten, and everyone can see it."

You rolled your eyes, not quite believing them. "I guess…”

"Did they bother you?" Rebekah asked, a hint of protectiveness in her tone.

"No," you replied, quickly shaking your head. "I mean, not really. They were just a little... overwhelming. I'm not used to having two guys chasing after me."

Cami nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "If anything, I think it's a good thing. Gives you the chance to decide which one you're more into."

Rebekah let out a laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Please, if she knew who she was more into, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

You glared at her, trying not to blush. She had a point, but that didn't mean you wanted her bringing it up in front of Cami.

"I don't know," Cami said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You seem pretty torn. Maybe you should just try them both out, see which one fits better."

You blinked, surprised by the suggestion. But before you could respond, Cami held up a hand, stopping you.

"No, listen, I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with trying to figure out who you're more attracted to. It's healthy."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Are you saying I should sleep with both of them?"

"If that's what it takes," Cami replied, shrugging. "You deserve to know what you want, and I don't think you'll find the answer until you give it a try."

Rebekah pretended not to hear, sipping her drink, but the corners of her mouth twitched, as if she were trying not to smile.

You stared at her for a moment, speechless. You hadn't expected such a suggestion, but at the same time, part of you wondered if Cami was right. You did want them both, and they were clearly interested in you. But there was no way in hell you could choose between them. Maybe sleeping with both of them was the only way to make things clear.

"Here," Rebekah said, interrupting your thoughts. She handed you your fake fangs, smiling mischievously. "Go put these back on, and then find my brothers. I'm sure they'd be happy to continue the party in private."

You gave her a look, but she only laughed, patting your arm.

"Just trust me," she said, winking. "I've seen you with them, you are not acting like yourself, all shy and sweet. That's not you. Go be reckless, have fun, and maybe get laid. You need it."

You felt your cheeks grow hot, and she pushed you gently back towards the dance floor. Cami joined her, both of them laughing and pushing you playfully.

"Hey, are you blushing?" Rebekah called after you, giggling.

You waved her off, rolling your eyes. But there was no denying the heat rising in your cheeks, and the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You made your way through the crowd, looking for them. But they were nowhere to be found on the first floor so you headed upstairs.

You found them sitting on the lounge on an ornate looking sofa, discussing something in hushed voices. It seemed heated, like they were arguing over something… But when they saw you, however, their conversation halted, and they exchanged a glance.

"Back so soon?" Klaus teased, his eyes sweeping over you.

You kept your mouth closed, trying to hide the fangs. You sat down in-between them, letting the silence stretch between the three of you.

Elijah cleared his throat, glancing at Klaus, and then back to you. "Is everything alright, sweetheart?"

You have them a wide grin, the ridiculous plastic fangs finally revealing themselves.

Klaus burst into laughter, throwing his head back, and Elijah's lips twitched.

"That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Klaus said, snorting.

"And yet, somehow, it looks quite fetching on you," Elijah remarked, a small smile playing on his lips.

You giggled, feeling a bit foolish, but also emboldened. "Why, thank you gentlemen. Now it's only fair you show me yours," you said, waggling your eyebrows and popping the fangs out of your mouth.

Klaus chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “If that's what you wish."

You watched as the veins under his eyes appeared and his fangs lengthened. It looked extra frightening, paired with his phantom costume, and you couldn't help but reach out, touching one of his fangs.

He grinned, and his eyes flashed gold, a sign of his werewolf side, too. "Does this frighten you?" he murmured, leaning closer.

"Not at all," you told him, biting your lip.

He smirked, his gaze flickering to your mouth. "Good."

You turned to Elijah, and found him watching the two of you intently, his dark eyes glittering.

"Well, don't I get to see yours, too?" you asked, batting your eyelashes.

Elijah hesitated for a moment, and then his own fangs descended, his eyes flashing black.

You let out a soft gasp, reaching out and touching his cheek. His skin was warm, the dark veins under his eyes were dancing, and you could feel the power radiating off him.

"Beautiful," you whispered, awed by their supernatural sides.

Klaus chuckled, watching the two of you with amusement. "Our little human has quite the appetite," he murmured, his eyes gleaming.

"Indeed," Elijah replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

They exchanged a look, and then turned back to you, their gazes heated. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

"Elijah and I have a bit of a wager going," Klaus said, leaning closer.

"Niklau-" Elijah started to speak, but Klaus cut him off.

"No, no, no, Elijah. We should get to the bottom of this, once and for all," Klaus said, a mischievous look on his face.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, confused.

"Well, my dear brother is under the impression that he is the one you have feelings for," Klaus explained, his tone playful.

"Niklaus, I swear to-"

Klaus held up a hand, stopping Elijah. "However, I believe it's me you're attracted to."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. You had a feeling they had been bickering over this since the moment you left them downstairs.

"What if I can't choose?" You asked, meeting their gaze.

"Then you'll just have to spend the night with both of us," Klaus replied, a wicked grin on his face.

"Niklaus. That's enough," Elijah said, his tone sharp. You could tell he was irritated by the way Klaus was behaving. But you didn't mind the teasing, and you knew just how to shut them up.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage, and then you grabbed Elijah's tie and pulled him toward you, kissing him.

Elijah let out a surprised grunt, but quickly recovered, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. His lips were soft and warm, and you could feel his fangs scraping against your mouth.

The kiss was intense, and you were breathless when he finally pulled away. He smiled, his eyes dark with desire, then he looked over your shoulder at Klaus, a smug expression on his face.

"Well, there's your answer," he said, sounding a bit pleased with himself.

You glanced behind you and saw that Klaus was glaring at Elijah, his jaw clenched tight. You giggled and turned to him, pulling him in for a kiss.

He growled, his hands sliding over your body as he kissed you, hard and demanding. You could feel the anger rolling off him, and you had to admit, it was kind of thrilling.

"See, she likes me more," Klaus said, a smug grin on his face.

"Incorrigible child," Elijah scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Both of you shut up," you told them, feeling impatient. "You're ruining the mood."

Klaus smirked, his eyes flashing. "As you wish, love."

They both leaned in, pressing soft kisses to either side of your neck simultaneously. You closed your eyes, sighing, your fingers curling into the fabric of their shirts. Their lips trailed over your skin, their fangs gently scraping against you.

"We should go somewhere more private," Elijah murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh.

Klaus nodded, nipping at your earlobe. "My room, perhaps? I'd very much like to have you alone."

"Oh, no. My room," Elijah countered, his voice low and husky.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in your throat, and you opened your eyes, looking at both of them.

"How about the guest room I'm staying in? Feels like neutral territory," you offered, smirking.

"Agreed," Elijah said, pulling you closer and nuzzling your neck.

Suddenly he scooped you up into his arms and you yelped in surprise. He smirked, and you watched Klaus grab multiple bottles of champagne. He popped one open and began to chug it.

You giggled, holding onto Elijah's neck as he carried you to the bedroom. He placed you on the bed, and you watched as they stripped their clothes off, tossing them carelessly to the floor.

"Why Phantom of the Opera?" you teased Klaus, admiring their toned bodies.

"Because I look dashing, of course," Klaus replied, grinning. "I miss the fashion of that era,"

"And you?" You looked at Elijah, "did you just find an old outfit in your closet?"

Elijah chuckled, shrugging. "More or less. Though, I did take some liberties with the suit."

You rolled your eyes, amused. They were such divas, always wanting to look their best. But you weren't complaining, they were incredibly sexy.

Elijah was the first to move, crawling onto the bed and hovering over you. He captured your mouth in a passionate kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His hands moved over your body, gently squeezing your breasts before ripping your costume open. You gasped, and then moaned as his mouth moved down, trailing kisses along your exposed chest.

"Cheap satin, mass produced garbage," he muttered, tossing the shredded fabric to the side.

You laughed, but your laugh turned into a moan as his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently. His hands slid over your hips, squeezing possessively.

You arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. He was rough, but not too rough, and you could feel the heat building between your legs.

You felt the bed dip, and then Klaus was kneeling next to you, his cock already hard and throbbing. You reached out, wrapping your hand around his length and giving him a slow, firm stroke.

"That's it, love," he groaned, his hips jerking forward.

Elijah chuckled, nipping at your neck. "Impatient as ever, Niklaus."

Klaus glared at him, his eyes flashing gold. "And you're not, Elijah? Look at you, rutting against her like a bloody animal."

Elijah pulled back, a smirk on his face. "Touché."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. The tension between the two of them was palpable, but you couldn't bring yourself to mind. It was thrilling, being the focus of their attention.

You quickly shut Klaus up by leaning forward and taking him into your mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand tangling in your hair.

You swirled your tongue around the head, and then bobbed down his shaft, taking him in as deep as you could. Enjoying the low moans you pulled from him.

Elijah kissed and nipped his way down your body, settling between your legs. He spread your thighs, and you whimpered as he ran his tongue along your slit, the sensation making your toes curl.

You knew they would be good in bed, but this was... beyond your wildest imagination. The way they worked in sync, almost competing for your attention, left you breathless. It was exhilarating, and you couldn’t help but revel in the pleasure they both brought you.

Elijah's tongue danced over your clit, his skillful movements driving you wild as he circled and dipped inside you. You moaned around Klaus's cock, the vibrations intensifying the pleasure building within you.

“Fuck, love. Your mouth feels incredible,” Klaus groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as he thrust forward.

You tightened your lips around him, feeling the heat radiating from both men. Elijah’s grip on your hips was firm, holding you still as he devoured you. The pressure inside you mounted, a delicious tension just out of reach. Your thighs squeezed his head, and you caught a glimpse of his smirk through the haze of pleasure.

Klaus was groaning and cursing, his thrusts becoming erratic. You knew he was close, and the thought made your core ache. With a final, fervent moan around Klaus's length, he spilled himself down your throat, a deep growl escaping his lips. You relished the taste, the raw connection of it all.

Elijah pulled away, and you whined at the sudden emptiness, your body craving more of his touch. He grinned, fangs descending, and pressed his lips to the delicate skin of your inner thigh. His bite pierced your skin, and the pain quickly transformed into a rush of pleasure. You could feel him drinking from you, pulling your essence into him, intensifying your arousal.

Your breath caught as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. Climax ripped through you, leaving you trembling and gasping. Elijah pulled away, licking the wound on your thigh clean, then pressed a soft kiss to your skin, his eyes dark with desire.

“So sweet,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I could drink from you all night.”

Klaus chuckled, tracing a finger along the bite mark. “Now, now, brother. Let’s not be greedy.”

Elijah’s mouth moved higher, trailing kisses along your hip bones and stomach. You could see the dark veins under his eyes, the whites of his eyes now black. He was equal parts beautiful and deadly. You reached down, tracing the veins under his eyes, captivated by the sight.

Klaus smirked, watching your reaction. “Our little human is quite fascinated by our supernatural side.”

“Indeed,” Elijah murmured, his mouth hovering over the curve of your breast.

“It’s kind of hot,” you said, breathless with a smile.

Elijah grinned, then latched onto one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. You moaned, arching into him, feeling the tension building again.

Klaus chuckled. “Elijah, I do believe it’s my turn.”

Elijah paused, glancing at him. “Of course.” he muttered, reluctantly pulling away.

Klaus shifted behind you, pulling you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest. “Now, when it comes to you making a decision, it’s all about who’s best, isn’t it?” he whispered in your ear.

You swallowed, eyes fluttering closed as his hand slipped between your thighs, pressing two fingers inside you. “I-I guess,” you stuttered, struggling to focus on his words.

“I’m going to show you why it should be me,” Klaus said, his voice low and husky.

Elijah’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. He didn’t like being upstaged, but you couldn’t help but feel amused. They were both so competitive, always trying to prove themselves better than the other.

“Come now, brother. No need to be jealous,” Klaus said, smirking.

Elijah’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m certain I’ll win her favor.”

You giggled, the sound turning into a moan as Klaus curled his fingers, rubbing against your sensitive spot. He pressed a kiss to your neck, nipping at your skin, and you could feel his fangs scraping against you.

Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into his skin. He groaned, fingers pumping in and out of you, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Elijah watched, gaze intense. You could see the jealousy in his eyes, but there was desire there too. And it turned you on even more.

“Don’t hold back, love,” Klaus murmured, his voice seductive. “Let me hear those sweet sounds.”

Your lips parted, and you couldn’t stop the moans spilling from your mouth. It was overwhelming—the way Klaus touched you, the way Elijah watched. The tension inside you was building, and you knew you were close.

Klaus sank his fangs into your neck, and you cried out, the sensation pushing you over the edge. Your body trembled, waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Klaus growled, teeth digging deeper, and you could feel him drinking from you. The combination of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, and you found yourself wishing he would never stop.

But eventually, he pulled away, lapping at the bite marks on your neck. You felt lightheaded, a pleasant buzz flowing through your veins.

“Delicious,” he whispered, his voice rough.

Elijah leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He tasted like blood, and you could feel the desperation in his touch.

“Now, now, brother,” Klaus said, amusement lacing his tone. “I didn’t say you could have a turn.”

“Oh, stop,” you chuckled, pushing on Elijah’s chest and turning to face Klaus. Straddling him, you kissed him passionately, then slowly lowered yourself onto his length.

“Bloody hell,” Klaus groaned, his hands gripping your hips.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, biting his lip.

He smirked, thrusting into you. You moaned, throwing your head back, and began to ride him. His fingers dug into your skin, and you knew you’d have bruises later, but you didn’t care.

Elijah pressed himself into your back, licking the bite mark on your neck, sucking more blood from it. You shuddered; the feeling of him behind you combined with Klaus thrusting into you was almost too much.

Klaus’s eyes flashed gold, veins dancing beneath his skin. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his and locking your gaze with his. He looked so damn beautiful, eyes dark with lust, skin flushed.

“Cum for us, sweetheart,” Elijah whispered, breath hot against your ear.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You cried out, your climax crashing through you as they both watched with rapt attention, intensifying the pleasure.

Your vision blurred, and you felt dizzy. You had no idea how much blood they had taken from you, but it must have been a lot.

“Niklaus,” Elijah warned, voice strained.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Klaus muttered, letting you fall back into Elijah’s arms.

“I’m fine,” you said, breathless. “Just a little dizzy.”

Elijah scooped you up and laid you down, his lips finding yours. “I’m afraid we got a bit carried away,” he said, his expression regretful.

“I’m not complaining,” you replied, giving him a weak smile.

“Here,” he said softly, biting down on his wrist and holding it to your mouth.

You nodded, taking his blood. It was surprisingly sweet, reviving you, clearing the fog from your mind.

“That’s cheating,” Klaus grumbled, pouting.

“We need her in top form for the rest of the night,” Elijah replied, lips twitching with a smile.

You ran your fingers through Elijah’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss as you parted your legs. He smiled, positioning himself between your thighs.

You moaned as he eased into you, filling you completely. His movements were slow and deliberate, and it felt so damn good. You could almost feel the way his blood flowed through you, rejuvenating you.

Elijah’s rhythm was steady, thrusts deep and sure, kissing and nipping at your neck and jaw. You were lost in pleasure, fingers digging into his back.

It didn’t take long for your release to build again, your whole body trembling. Elijah groaned, pace quickening. You felt his body tense, control slipping, and he finally spilled himself inside you.

He kissed you, eyes dark with desire, then pulled out, breathing ragged.

Klaus began to slow clap, a smirk on his face. "Well done, brother."

You couldn't help but laugh, even though you were utterly exhausted. "I guess we're all winners tonight," you said, a sleepy smile on your face.

Elijah chuckled, rolling onto his back and pulling you into his arms. You snuggled against him, feeling safe and warm.

Klaus shifted on the bed, lying beside you and pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "So... who do you choose?"

"Both," you replied, not even having to think about it.

"Afraid that's not an option," Elijah murmured, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your arm.

"And why not?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because," Klaus said, his hand sliding over your hip, "we need to know who the victor is."

You rolled your eyes, knowing this was just another game to them. "Fine. Elijah, then."

"Ha!" Elijah exclaimed, looking smug.

"Actually... No. Klaus," you said, turning your head and smirking at him.

"Don't lie to make him feel better," Elijah said, a teasing tone to his voice.

You giggled, unable to keep a straight face.

"You're not going to make a choice, are you?" Klaus asked, his tone amused.

"Nope," you replied, grinning. "Also, you both owe me a costume,"

They exchanged a look, and then turned back to you, their eyes glinting with mischief.

"We can arrange that," Klaus said, his lips curving into a wicked grin.

"And perhaps," Elijah added, his tone suggestive, "you could wear it for us."

You smirked, your pulse racing at the thought. "Oh yeah? What would you have me dress up as?"

"Hmm," Klaus murmured, his hand trailing over your hip. "How about a naughty nurse?"

Elijah raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Or a sexy librarian?"

You giggled, enjoying their suggestions. "Perhaps a French maid," you said, giving them a flirty smile.

"I think we could work with that," Klaus said, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Agreed," Elijah replied, his expression mirroring his brother's.

You sighed, smiling contentedly. "I love Halloween,"

Below, the sounds of the party continued, music and laughter drifting up to you. But the three of you remained locked away in your own private world, enjoying each other's company, and the promise of what was to come.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

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raz-writes-the-thing · 1 year ago

Text

Starved (Alec Hardy)

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: Alec discovers you fantasise about his tongue. A lot.

CW: oral (reader receiving), no pronouns but reader does have a vagina, vaginal fingering, squirting, overstimulation

Broadchurch tag list: @clarina04 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

There was just something about the way that Alec spoke that enraptured you. The accent, the way his lips moved around the words. His tongue. God, Alec’s tongue. The amount of time you had spent fantasising about having Alec’s tongue buried inside you was, well, ridiculous.

“Eh, love? You alright? Not sayin’ much.”

You’re only pulled about halfway out of the trance when you reply-

“Sorry- thinking about your tongue.” It only takes a further second for you to snap completely out of it and realise what you’ve just said. “Oh, shit.”

Your cheeks go beet red and you slap a hand over your face in mild horror. Alec’s not usually a cocky bastard, but the way a smirk twists its way across his lips just drips with sin. Your breath hitches and Alec’s fingers reach out to caress up your thigh. Unconsciously, your leg twitches into his fingers. A silent plea for more.

“What ‘bout it? Huh? Thinkin’ ‘bout my tongue?”

You bite your lip as his grin turns darker. You nod, and his fingers trail up your thigh towards your sides. He moves closer. You can see the bulge growing in his trousers. It’s all you can do not to whimper- the memories of having him buried inside you to the hilt, fucking into you- oh this had to stop. But then again, you didn’t want it to.

“Yeah,” you reply breathily. “God, I want your tongue on my clit.”

Alec chuckles at your bold statement. Now that was unexpected of you.

“Spread your fuckin’ legs then, darlin’,” he replies with a nonchalant shrug. A moment later he’s beside you and pulling your chair away from the table. You let out a sound that’s halfway between a whimper and a yelp and spread your legs for him as he kicks your feet apart softly.

Another moment and he’s between your legs, spreading your folds with his fingers and licking a flat stripe up your clit. You groan, sinking back in the chair and you feel the puff of air hit your core as he chuckles at your reaction.

“Please, Alec?”

Alec doesn’t make you beg. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucks it into his mouth and flicks the tip of his tongue back and forth over you mercilessly. His fingers reach around to grip at your ass and tug you closer to the edge of the chair. He eats you like a man starved, salivating at the taste of your pretty little cunt.

“Oh, I could eat you for days,” he groans, breaking away to catch his breath. Your hips wiggle as the stimulation stops and as recompense, he pushes two fingers inside you, eyes entranced by the view of them inside you. Your cunt clenches around them and he laughs. “You like that, eh? Bet you do. Love having your pretty pussy stuffed like this.”

Your head drops back against the chair and you spread your legs impossibly wider. Alec approves if the way he crooks his fingers just right for you is any idea.

Another moment and his fingers are pulling out and his tongue is replacing them. Alec has to press himself as close to your flesh as possible to get his tongue as far as he can into your hole. You cry out, fingers digging into his scalp and holding him there.

Alec flicks his tongue inside you and rubs the tip of his nose against your clit as he does so. You keen, thighs trembling with the effort of not closing around his head and popping his eardrums.

One of his hands snakes around your thigh so his thumb can rub at your swollen clit.

“Fuh-huh-uuck,” you moan, grinding your hips against his mouth and thumb. He feels so good, and there’s no way you’re not going to cum on his tongue in the next few seconds. “Fuck, Alec- shit- I’m- I’m close. God, please.”

Alec laughs into your cunt as best he can with his tongue buried halfway into your core and he moves his thumb faster. You twitch and shake as the stimulation brings you closer and closer before-

“Oh, God- fucking fuck- fuck, Alec!”

Your fingers yank against his hair, grinding yourself against his tongue as you ride out your high. Waves of pleasure roll over you while the continuing stimulation on your clit makes you shudder and twitch.

He pulls his face away from your sopping cunt once he’s had his fill of your pussy and you grin tiredly at the blissful, wet mess that is his face. You can see your slick on his cheeks and chin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his spare hand. The sight of him panting, eyes black with lust does things to you.

All of a sudden, his fingers are rubbing against your clit again hard and fast. You yelp, hips twisting to try and get away from the overstimulation. He tuts and refuses to relent. Your hips buck off the chair, fingers white-knuckling the edge of the table.

And you cum again. But this time, you do the unthinkable and squirt. All over him. You’re shocked through the haze of pure pleasure coursing through your system, though it doesn’t stop you from making sounds a porn star wishes they could emulate. He’s grinning like a loon, rubbing at your clit like a man possessed until you have to basically all but kick him off you.

The noise that escapes him sounds quite like disbelief, and while the main thing you can focus on is the pulsing of your overstimulated clit, you still manage a shaky “shut up.”

“Never,” is his reply.

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marigoldenblooms · 8 months ago

Text

Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 2

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Non-consensual touching (arms/shoulders), slight transformation description, threatening, mentions of pain (burning), intimidation tactics, arguments, manipulation, angst, canon-level violence, mentions of scarring/burnt skin, restraint, we're finally leaving Belmoor y'all

A/N: Holy crap y'all, thanks for the incredible responses on everything once again! We finally get some trio dialogue going in this chapter ^^ Natasha’s interrogation is based within Latin, while R’s occasional text is built primarily within greek. Russian is also here, as expected. I had nothing for Smut Saturday, so I hope lore will suffice ^^' We will see if the writing block ceases, lol

Equally, we’ve got a Unica tag list coming along! Let me know if you’d like to be added to it!

Word count: 3.9k - Read Length: 14 minutes, 29 seconds. ~~~

You’d never dreamt awake before.

You could feel your mind faintly, cognition ghostly as you’d blink within your own head. Your transformation’s destruction was never something you were aware of until you rose out of it, covered in viscera from your form’s hunt. Was it really your body, after that? As you’d drift hazily in a river of your own thoughts, you couldn’t separate feathers from skin. You and your monster were one in the same.

You’d try to shut your eyes again, fall back into the painless slumber your molt offered. A part of you knew the horror you’d awake to- perhaps your succession had slaughtered them all, friend and foe alike. You would grieve her as you had the others, the fiery healer with her crimson magic. The knight would become a cliff note to your psyche, a tack onto an endless tally-board. You were used to being hunted.

It’d be minutes before you realized you weren’t alone.

Gaze snapping upwards, you’d bare your teeth towards the intruder which marred your thoughts, only to find a translucent figure. You could feel her chill from here, Her feathered speckling like a shawl over her shoulders, the wings behind her blanketing into a beautiful frame. She reached a hand towards you, although her smile was too thin to be kind. She didn’t look much different than she’d appeared days prior within your dreams yet again. The Aegyptius creation deity. Why was she here?

You didn’t shy from her gaze, looking at her with both respect and provocation. She was in your mind, fragmented as it was while your body rampaged elsewhere. If there was anywhere you were dominion of, it was this. “I know who you are now, Matron,” you’d assure, your voice echoing in the dim expanse, rippling along the water of your thoughts. She seemed to catch your words, and her grin grew wider, eyes narrowing. She’d tut, and in a second you could feel her cold, mist-like hands on your shoulders, “I expect something more reverent from my martyr..but you will learn.”

“Martyr?” Your expression grew sour as she wouldn’t elaborate, toying with your frustration as she’d run her palms down your arms. An uncomfortable shiver would brace through your body, and you could feel your form stretch beneath as if her touch spurred your transformation all over again. She was cruel, a pained sigh leaving you as your teeth would clench.

Her grasp on you would tighten, feeling the brittleness of pin feathers beneath flesh, “Your mind may not remember, fledgeling…but all my creations know my whims. And yet you wish to rid yourself of me?” Her laugh would be musical, but the bite in her tone was awash with rage, thinly veiled as the Matron stalked circles around you.

The frustration that had flowed through you prior to your molt was flimsy now, embers against a cold snap. You felt your gut sink, fear bubbling thickly in your throat. You’d stopped looking at her by now, your gaze piercing down into nothingness. All you could manage was a pitiful nod, and you couldn’t tell if her snicker was anger from your lackluster response or joy from how compliant she’d rendered you. They were one in the same with your kind, you supposed.

“You cannot..although I’m certain you’ve already understood that.” She’d pause in front of your face, ghostly touch icy as she’d claw your chin to meet your gaze with hers. Her phrase would come quickly, as if she was excited to utter it, “And for penance…you must kill that witch.”

“What?” They weren’t dead already? Your molt would’ve torn her to shreds by now. What was happening in the waking world? Even within a dream, the thought of murdering another with your conscious mind churned your stomach, especially one that brought you food. Mercy. “Command my body to do it, then-”

“No. You must do this as human,” Her smile was dagger-thin now, and you swear sparks flashed from her maw when she spoke. “Not as bird. Your hunger will be your guide.” Her hands would cradle your face now, the chill of her spectral palms almost forgotten as your mind would rush and lurch. You could feel the knaw of famine in your gut, a terrible feeling, all too real.

“I reject this- she has been kind, I-” The Matron would’ve disappeared immediately, the thawing of your flesh the only reminder. Your plea would be met with silence, hyperventilation coaxing your heart into overdrive. Thudding in your skull, you could almost feel the weight of bone in your jaws, your throat suddenly parched. You’d rasp, drawing your hands close to cradle yourself as the world grew fuzzy and vague, “I don’t want to be a monster..”

“Oh, my martyr..” She’d murmur, her voice suddenly swirling along the shell of your ear, freezing your hunch in place.

“That’s what I made you for.”

Your mind would swim, lucidity and unconsciousness blending into tar which filled your brain. You’d blink, heavier than before..and just before you’d wake, you’d feel her touch on your shoulder again.

“Survivε, mυ μάρτυρας..”

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

You’d regain your mind halfway through it all. Your body ached and tore within you, the subtle itch of plumage molting from your skin a feeling you couldn’t soothe. You were in the barn.

Your arms were held back as you’d kneel on the floor, a searing heat plaguing your wrists as you’d fight against its hold- your chains. They’d manage to cage you. If you hadn’t been in so much pain, you would’ve wheezed relief at that. Your tongue was dry, the taste of blood and bone absent on your lips. You hadn’t eaten anyone during your transformation, and yet your body twinged with agony all the more for it. You had no fuel to offer you shifting body, and so it ate you from the inside to power your return to being humanoid. Panting a low whine, spasms would twitch your form as your bones would grow heavier within your flesh, solid all the way through. Even through your strain, a quiet shuffle would draw your eyes immediately- your heightened instincts were always the last things to go. In the recluses of the barn stood your prior attacker, although her attention was focused elsewhere, ghosting over something in the palm of her gloved hand. Thank fuck.

It was only now you could get a good look at her. Her hair was auburn, braided sharply in cascading strands which met the nape of her neck. It had been chilled near its ends, pale and almost wispy, as though something had leached the color from it. Sorcery? Stress? You couldn’t tell at first glance, but the perpetual scoff that seemed to mold into her face signaled the latter.

Blueish gray irises stared into what she held, and it was only when you growled a restrained snarl at the sight did her eyes lock to yours. She was holding one of your shorn feathers, the visage making your hackles raise. You wouldn’t shy from her gaze as you had with Wanda, even raising your chin higher so you looked down at her with pinprick pupils- you were an adversary. A challenger. You didn’t fear her. Your head throbbed, the heavy burn of your engraved chains a constant reminder.

She’d approach you with malice- unsurprising given your circumstances, but the prick of a metal blade against your neck was a little more shocking. This early? Damn. You’d grit your teeth but remain steadfast, even as she’d glower over you.

“Ossifraga, dic omnia quae scis.” She’d spit, her words foreign yet familiar in your ears. ‘omia’ was a word you gleamed in an instant - ‘everything’, yet the rest was butchered in her mouth. You’d bare your teeth at her, grin sickeningly raw even as she’d press her knife’s edge to your nape. “Dic mihi omnia Fraga, ne te interficiam sicut columbam-“

Her anger would shatter at the creaking barn door, flinching just as you did. At least one similarity between the two of you. A familiar soothing tone would echo to you, honeyed and thick, albeit strangled from…anger. Anger?

“I leave you for one second, you глупый козел-“ Wanda muttered harshly, her stomping footfalls sharply rattling in your skull. She’d pluck the knight’s hand away from you, grip harsh as she’d try to wrestle away their weapon- futile, as their shock to Wanda’s insult only lasted so long. From your attacker’s reaction, it seemed they shared a language. Interesting. “And here you are, nicking my patient-“

You’d struggle at Wanda’s words, trying to show her your discomfort. Your wrists continued to burn, and you swear their imprint would be branded on your skin if they weren’t taken off soon. And yet, it may be safer if you remain chained. The Matron’s words still throbbed in your ears, a blinding sight locking your gaze onto Wanda before you bit it back down. You’d breathe, ragged, before gasping a sound which seemed to catch her attention. Her nimble fingers would move to start unshackling you, before being caught by Natasha’s rough grip, pulling her immediately back, “What are you doing-!? It’ll kill you-“

“I won’t harm…her..-“ You’d hiss, finding your bearings as your larynx would thrum with your voice again. You’d glare at the hunter, voice steadfast even through your pain, “You’re- a different story, knight..let me go, and maybe I’ll consider.”

You saw her jaw flex at your tone, malice seeping from every beat of her heart. She’d release Wanda with a tight-lipped grumble, your wrists losing their binds seconds later. You’d rub at the tender flesh for a split second, gasping and hiding away as it’d still bubble with scorching heat. You were too late, and soon your wrists would scar over. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad next time, perhaps.

You’d sit up, movements sluggish as you’d sync again with a heavier frame. Your glance would be wary, looking to Wanda as if the knight wasn’t there. You saw annoyance flash across the hunter’s expression, and satisfaction bloomed in yours. Let her be upset. “What happened..? You shackled me, I am thankful for it.”

“And yet your wrists don’t look happy..” Wanda would respond with muffled concern, although you’d retreat from her scarlet magic’s attempt to heal- scars proved you had lived, this one above all. This one showed you could trust the healer to protect you when you couldn’t protect her. The slow rumble of starvation proved you wouldn’t be able to protect her for a long time. She’d sigh, but wouldn’t press further. “You’ve been in the barn for three days, we put you here on the evening of the first-“

Your expression faltering would quiet her words, a shaky inhale slicing into the room’s air. Three days. “I’ve never been..” you’d grip your hair as you spoke, bending to pull more of you closer. You’d stare at your shorn feathers, brilliant white where they lay unheated, almost ghostly in the thin light of Wanda’s shed.

“I’ve never been transformed for that long.”

“And why should we believe you? You could feather again as we speak- kill us all.” The knight would glare at you, though there was a chance she never stopped, boring a hole into your skull which you gladly challenged. You’d bark a laugh, the sound uncomfortable in your raw chest and yet you reveled in how she flinched away. The air grew thick and still, “If you hunt my kind with that attitude, you obviously know nothing of the Aegyptius.”

“Then enlighten me, Fraga-”” She said that like an insult to you, and yet it didn’t register.

“And why the hell should I-?”

“Because we have a common goal, you dolts-“

At Wanda’s interjection, your voice would sliver and slip away, her face red and scrunched with frustration. It was almost adorable how her nostrils flared with her words, yet the rage in her eyes was something that stirred sorrow inside you. Something clicked in the back of your mind, memories from your brood when you were young, and yet nothing registered in the fog of retorting anger. There was curiosity on the hunter’s face, shoulders squared back at Wanda’s tone, and yet your mind still held what the knight had said before.

“What did you call me?” Your words stumbled as you’d shift to stand, legs frail under the weight of yourself. You wouldn’t see the knight’s bewildered expression until much later, too busy keeping your feet underneath you, “Fraga…do you not even know what you are?” “Enlighten me,” you’d taunt, clipped thin between your barred teeth. Wanda would scoff, shaking her head in your peripheral.

“You are Ossifraga. Bone-breaker, the unclean bird..” Your eyes would narrow, but not in the way the hunter wanted, it seems. These names meant nothing to you. “A mistake upon your feathered kind. A blight-'' Her words would build in strength, low as she’d stalk dangerous steps towards you. You looked towards Wanda, her hands slowly raising as scarlet magic grew to weave around her fingers.

“Others of your kind can be minstrels, songbirds or doves- even raptors can experience valor as warriors…but you, Fraga, are the mutated husk of your false god.” She spit her tone with vitriol, acidic. The receding down on the back of your neck rose as your blood ran cold- Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, a lump swelling in your throat, but it wasn’t all fear. There was something else, a chill unfamiliar to your waking form, coaxing your mouth open. You resisted, even your back reached the worn wood of the barn’s walls and the knight’s voice swarmed back into focus.

“A dangerous monster, consuming the bones of innocents and leaving plague in your wake,” A gleaming metal shone near her wrist, and your stomach dropped all too late. The knife was probably sacred, intricately carved with markings you could hardly make out in the blur of motion, her gloved hand grasping your shoulder while the other swung to pierce your stomach.

“You’re the infection I must quell-”

Your maw opened before you could think.

“Αμολάω-!” You’d shriek, your voice hissing with the inflection of many. You heard the clatter of metal on the ground as your tone echoed forth. The knight would barrel backwards, clutching her head as Wanda flinched behind her, the shockwave of your words hitting her fainter the further it went from your mouth.

You kicked away the knight’s dropped blade, another command echoing from you, your tone no longer your own, cold and bitter on your tongue, “Γονατίστε, παράσιτα- Θα σε καταβροχθίσω χωρίς δεύτερη σκέψη..”

The hunter sunk to her knees before your sentence had finished. You’d gasp a second later, your lungs filled with air as though they’d never have before. Blinking, you’d feel a tenseness in your body, arms trailing with thin plumage which quickly sunk beneath your skin. You’d watch it leave with a cold numbing shock, jaw slung open with a heavy breath. Your thoughts translated your foreign words after a few moments, ‘Let go. Kneel, vermin. I will devour you without a second thought.’

Your feathers had never grown beyond your molt, confined to the hellish day a month where you were no longer yourself. Your hands tremored, ghosting over the goosebumps that had been left behind. It’s like the feathers had never been there- and yet you could feel your body creak and crunch, as though impatient.

The hunter stood a few seconds later, gait slow as she’d physically wrench herself from your command’s thrall. She’d brush at her scuffed armor, plagued with the barn’s dirt which clung to the metal, “I know what you’re saying. Your pronunciation is weaker, and yet it is still-”

“The language of my kind,” You’d mutter without sympathy, scoffing as the knight seemed to take offense to your interruption. “You’ve stripped it of its history..it's what you spoke before.” You’d never learned your own tongue, and yet half your thoughts spoke in it now. A shiver rolled down your spine, a cascading chill that felt like an awaiting grasp.

“Ah, so it can listen..” She’d sneer, glance harsh as she’d eye her forlorn blade again. Wanda’s interjection would be seen before it was heard, scarlet magic weaving around the hilt before daintily grasping it, pawing it over to her awaiting palm. “And so must you, Romanova..” The way she curved the words had a sense of familiarity, drawing a frustrated huff from the other woman. You’d narrow your eyes, but it wasn’t your turn to speak anymore, “You both listen, or you leave my barn with nothing but a death wish. Am I clear?”

You’d nod slowly, and by Wanda’s sigh, you assumed the knight did the same. “Alright. Let’s go somewhere cozier, shall we?”

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

Wanda’s home would’ve been just as comfortable as it had been the prior evening, albeit more cramped. Between three people in the living room, a thin glow of red magic seeping through the slats of wood that boarded the kitchen up, and the deadly eye contact you and the knight shot at each other every second, the air was never thicker.

“And you tore through the kitchen wall,” Wanda’s words were analytical, the gnawing feeling of guilt settling heavy in your gut. You kept your distance from her, a pang of hunger grinding into your thoughts the second you grew closer to the witch. You chewed at the inside of your lip as her palm waved towards the construction her sorcery partook in. Her shrug was too easy, “Not afraid of remodeling, after Romanova mistook my window for a door-”

She’d almost bite towards the hunter, a simmering scoff laced between her accented tone. “Is that your name? ‘Romanova’?” The knight would leer at your question, slinging her arm against the heavy metal of her armor. From Wanda’s scoff, it seems she’d gotten the same reaction while you were out. “You butcher my family title, Fraga-”

“Give me your name and I won’t have to.” You’d raise a brow as her eyes locked to yours, your breath thin and still. You felt the cold in your throat again, creeping like a retch up your windpipe- yet you swallowed it with huskier words, “Since we’re all in the sharing mood. Aren’t we?”

Her sigh was almost palpable, hissing in a low breath, “I am Natasha Alianovna Romanova. Templar of Latrodectus, it’s esteemed widow.” That title meant nothing to you, although your unfitting reaction seemed to knock her down a few pegs. Her reply was less angry than curious, “Did you ever earn a name, Fraga?”

“Earn?” Your snort brought an angry heat to Natasha’s face, perplexed laughter ricocheting through your solid skeleton, “You really do know nothing of my kind. We do not remember names. Unimportant.”

You wouldn’t see Wanda’s furrowed look until she exhaled sharply, looking away from you with crossed arms. Your mind sunk and crackled whenever you looked in her direction, suddenly parched. The flutter in your stomach remained, bringing an uncomfortable nausea rather than burst of curiosity. You kept your eyes on Natasha, expression hollowed, “Why do either of you stay? This..is your house, Wanda, I know-”

“Because we want to help you-” “She does- mhph-” Wanda’s hand would outstretch towards Natasha, blocking her mouth with a wispy scarlet sheen. You looked at Wanda’s shadow, feeling her sigh as your gaze never met hers. Her voice was calmer yet thin, strained between forces, “Do you want to rid yourself of your feathers?”

“Yes,” Your quick response earned an unseen smile from the witch, although your skin grew clammy at the thought. Natasha shuffled, and when you met her eyes you saw hers were raised, almost in shock, her mouth still clasped closed. “Then we have a common interest. This one can find a method beyond violence- and if your transformation is progressing faster, then it is my role to bring you back to normalcy.”

You’d meet her glance now, her smile radiating a warmth into you that culled away some of the chill, satiated you. Your palms felt your own, awkwardly poised as you offered your hold to the witch, her touch filling you with an unfamiliar satisfaction. You shook her hand against yours, ignoring Natasha’s silent indignation burning into your skull. Perhaps you could control yourself- you could protect each other, “Thank you, Wanda.”

“Ah, none of that- you are a medicinal marvel..” She’d tease, your thanks rolling right off of her. You met her grin with your own, her words shushing as she’d lean to you, “Think of what it will do for my prices, to heal an Ossifraga-”

Your laugh was a startling welcome, filling you with mirth as it was returned. “I will pay you then. How many feathers-?” Her hand patted yours before receding, wiping her palm along her clothed side. “...I’ll keep a running tab for you, Птичка.”

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

The sun had risen into midday, and you basked in its sunlight. Your shoulders felt tense as you hauled supplies towards the wagon Wanda and Natasha had acquired an hour ago from Belmoor proper. You’d hung back, admiring the hazy scarlet tendrils which packed Wanda’s belongings. The two had found you handing random objects to the sorcerous helpers when they returned, although Natasha was pulled away by the witch before she could crow about the non-essentiality of bringing Wanda’s butter churn.

The mule that was attached to the wagon- Daisy, Doris, something like that- had been chewing on the turf as you’d settled another crate of rations along the wagon’s bed, pushing it into place with a heavy shove. It was a ten days road travel to Arkridge, the capital of this province, as you’d been told. Its libraries held what could be the first of many secrets. The forest never spoke of it, yet its grandeur was palpable even through Natasha’s gruff words. She hadn’t tried to stab you again, although her glare was seething whenever you met it.

You passed each other by as you’d return towards the house, huffing an unimpressed groan as her haul was much smaller than yours. She’d abandoned her armor for now, and you watched as the musculature of her back shifted as she’d set her barrel down. You could take her if you had to, even without your strength- though the scabbard along her back gave you pause, the longsword’s hilt gleaming in the light. It had been engraved, similar to the leather sheath that bound it, and you’d guess it was the same inscription. Runic and familiar, it brought your thought to your chains, their markings similar yet worn. Perhaps you’d find a way to ask about it, if you could have a conversation without insulting each other.

Your side met Wanda’s as you leaned in her vicinity, your gaze locked onto the knight a dozen meters away. The witch’s voice was smoothed and sweet, honey-like as she’d offer her palm to yours again, inspecting the scarring along your skin as you’d accept. “Your name isn’t Margo, is it?”

You shook your head, still in her embrace, “No. I just needed something to give to you. Satisfy..”

Your words petered out into silence, her squeeze of your hand gentle, shying away from the raw flesh of your wrists. “You don’t have to do that, Ласточка. I have countless things to call you that you won’t forget.” Her wink made your face flush, shying away from her gaze as her tone wrapped around your thoughts. Her giggle wasn’t lost on you, a fondness in her expression you couldn’t decipher. “Will you tell me what that means?”

She’d shake her head, just before you heard Natasha’s heavy footfalls towards you. The forested grove retreated behind as you three would set forth a few minutes later, silence thick. Bellmoor would be forgotten, in favor of new memories. Perhaps your first night at camp would be more riveting.

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thisismeracing · 1 year ago

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King of my heart | extras | Mick and Yn create a playlist together

― Summary: Yn and Mick are still threading through their feelings, none of them yet aware of how deep it is. Some say that actions speak louder than words, but guess songs do too sometimes. ― Word count: 1.3k ― A/n: This can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s better when you’ve read the series. ― Warnings: mention of food; tooth aching fluff.

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“I created the playlist,” Yn shares once she finds Mick in the garage. It’s close to lunchtime, and some of the crew are already leaving to eat at the paddock cafeteria. George is pointing something to Mick on the computer to which he simply nods before turning to Yn. “I just sent you the Spotify link,” she adds.

His eyes take her in and he nods again. He wants to say a lot of things, how beautiful she looks, how he missed her the whole morning, how boring it felt without her laugh, how happy he is that she created the playlist, that way he’ll have yet another excuse to text her, but he just nods. A lot of the things that are going through Mick’s mind are making him choose to keep his lips sealed. He knows each little thing can and will be pointed to by his friends as catching feelings.

The worst thing is that he believes that maybe it is true.

Maybe he is falling for Yn.

His friend’s sister.

His co-worker's sister.

“What playlist?” George asks, poking his head in their direction and Yn rolls her eyes playfully.

“It’s nothing, you’re a driver, not a reporter, you don’t need to know everything,” her retort makes Mick throw his head back in laughter and even Russell himself can’t contain the snicker.

“You’ve been walking too much with Lando, you’re getting sassier,” the British points while taking off the headphones from around his neck.

“As it happens, I’ve actually been walking a lot with you, George.”

Mick snickers watching the whole interaction the way you watch a tennis match, head going from one side to the other to catch the faces the duo is making.

“Anyways, I gotta go have lunch, you two have fun,” Russell patted Yn’s and Mick’s back before leaving them alone in front of the computer.

“Are you having lunch in the cafeteria with everyone?” he asks but what he really wants to say is: would you like to have lunch with me?

Yn shakes her head, “I ordered lunch.”

“Oh-”

She adds before Mick can say something else, “I ordered two…you said you wanted to try that salad last time, and I thought-”

“Awesome! So we go through the songs while we eat lunch,” Mick has a small smile on his pink lips, whereas he’s jumping up and down inside.

Yn nodded, starting the track to one of the meeting rooms she used to work while in the garage. Mick is right behind her, and the silence until they reach the door is peaceful. Yn left the package by the table along with two bottles of water, but they settled on the couch sitting in front of each other. Shoes discarded on the ground, legs crossed.

“I already added one song, I’m sorry,” Yn starts and Mick nods, silently asking her to continue. “Die Hard, by Kendrick Lamar.”

“This song is amazing!”

“Do you like it?” Yn asks, smile wider this time, and Mick nods.

“Can I add Lost by Frank Ocean?” the blonde asks and Yn jumps up and down while still sitting.

“Yes!! Absolutely!!”

She digs her fork into the food before taking a bite. Mick sips his water, and then asks, “So, you add one I add one? And we only add the ones we agree on or? How’s this gonna work?”

“I think we can make a mix, no need to agree, we will listen to everything afterwards and then we can talk about the ones we never heard before… that is if you agree.”

“Well, I’ve never made a shared playlist like this before, so yeah, I agree.”

Yn smiles, “I do them all the time with Lewis, he hasn’t surrendered to Taylor Swift quite yet, but I always try,” Mick chuckles. “Anyways, I think we should add some classics like It Wasn’t Me, we were listening to it that day in the car, you remember?”

“Yeah, you sang that Mick song too.”

“Oh, Mick, you’re so fine, so fine you blow my mind,” she sang teasing him and the German rolled his eyes playfully, a flush creeping from his neck to his ears.

“Does she actually sing Mick?” he’s truly curious.

Yn shakes her head, “But I do,” the way she winks at him makes his stomach roll and feel cold in a strange yet good way. “She sings Mickey, but I think Mick fits better, don’t you think?”

Mick is at a loss for words, so he chooses to stuff his mouth with lettuce and shrug instead of answering. How could he answer? Were they flirting? What the hell was this feeling in his stomach?

“I propose we add the songs and go through it in real-time. Open the app there,” she points to his cell phone and Mick does as she says.

“You just added Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls,” he states and taps his fingers on the screen adding Tennessee Whiskey, watching Yn as she furrows her brows.

“I’ve never heard this one.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know much about Country music,” she confesses.

“I’ll add my favorite ones for you.”

Yn smiles at him.

They go about eating and adding songs to the playlist. There’s a smile and a giggle here and there, sometimes laughter, and frowns with the unknown songs.

Yn is sipping her water and looking at the phone, when she sees a new song pop on the list, “What does ‘schön’ mean?”

“I’m adding some German songs for you,” Mick explains, but Yn is not satisfied with the simple answer.

“‘Mkey, how do you say this?”

“Sch-ön,” he slowly mouths and she giggles.

“With kissy lips?” Mick nods. “Man, you Germans are kinda cute. You make kissy faces every time there’s a word with this thingy?”

“Umlaut,” he explains, holding back a chuckle. “And yeah, kinda.”

“So…what is this song about?” Yn asks, hitting play.

Mick watches as Yn bops her head to the rhythm, a grin on her plush lips and her eyes closed.

Du bist schön und es macht Spaß, dich anzuseh'n

(So schön)

Du bist schön und meine Augen sind verwöhnt

(Verwöhnt)

Du bist schön, uh, du bist schön

“What is he saying, Mouse?”

“You are beautiful, and fun to look at. You are beautiful and my eyes are… spoiled,” he tries to focus on the lyrics, but the second her eyes open and they find each other the song becomes mere background noise. “You’re beautiful,” this time his voice is a bit softer.

“Did he sing that again?”

Mick shakes his head, notices what he just did, and then nods.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s a simple song, it’s a good choice if you want to start learning some words in German.”

They go about adding songs in silence again, until Yn jumps from the couch hitting play on yet another song, “Oooh, this one’s good, you’ll like it!”

“Taylor Swift?”

“You were able to identify, that’s a good start. Yes. This one’s called Karma, it totally has your energy, Mouse.”

Mick furrows his brows in confusion and Yn starts walking around the room while explaining to him the story behind the music which took them over twenty minutes, but the Schumacher wasn’t bored, quite the opposite, he listened to everything, asking one question here and there, and chuckling at her enthusiasm.

It’s only when Lewis texts Mick telling him lunchtime is over that they wrap up their conversation, agreeing on adding songs to the playlist whenever they find something the other might like or should see.

“Thanks for lunch. Guess I owe you dinner now, huh?”

Yn sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, and Mick’s eyes drop slightly following the motion.

“Yup,” she nods. “See you in a few, Mouse.”

And when the door closes behind the blond Yn sighs. Her brother would have to forgive her. Not liking Mick was getting harder and harder.

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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 7 months ago

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GREENER THAN WYOMING - Clegan (Barbed Wire Hearts AU series) fic

Posted here on ao3

Part 5 in my BWH buck x bucky series, again wrote in a day and a half coz god I needed this installment so bad, I had so much fun writing this. Hope you guys love this one as much as I loved writing it!

Didn't realise I wrote 12k+ words for this. Oops

BE WARNED: there is slight smut in this one :p

@swifty-fox @trashbag-baby666 @moghraidhs (if you want to be added to the tag list when i add more posts about this story, let me know!)

There's still sand and grit stuck to the side of his face when Bucky makes his way through the back of the bull chutes into the direction of the announcer's box, sweat making the fine granules plaster themselves to his skin and get stuck to the damp ends of the dark curls falling messily across his forehead.

He can feel also the sand that had gotten lodged in between his vest and shirt, some of it having fallen in against the skin of his ribs, but nothing he hadn't felt before. It came with the territory, and he couldn't help but feel the adrenaline still ebbing and waning in amongst his limbs and muscles like a familiar friend.

Despite it only having been a practice run before the current rodeo they were preparing for at the end of the week, it was still a good run. The fact that he'd half face planted into the dirt on his attempted dismount from the practice bull was only schematics. Easily brushed off in the grand scheme of things.

Sometimes he managed to land unsteadily on his feet, other times he got a little bit flung or the dismount was a little less graceful than he would have liked. But no one really batted an eye at it. All the other boys were used to it themselves so it was just another day at the office.

As he turns the corner building, absentmindedly bringing his hand up to brush some of the dirt away from his nose with a sniffle, Bucky can't help the way his heart picks up its still already racing tempo when he zeroes in on the familiar line of Buck's back standing just outside the door of the sponsor's office.

The other cowboy has his back to him, blond hair flicking up at the back from underneath his signature black hat, arms folded across his chest, making his shoulders that were only marginally slighter than Bucky's own seem wider as he talked calmly to whoever was standing in front of him. The white Wrangler logo stitched across the expanse stretched out slightly on his black button down he had worn that day.

Letting his eyes linger on the other man's form, a few seconds longer on the shape of him in the well fitted blue jeans, John made his way closer until he was standing at Buck's side. He brought his hands up to rest against his own hips, shifting his weight between his feet and realised it was Chick that Buck was currently locked in conversation with.

The older man glanced at Bucky with a smile and tip of his hat, a silent acknowledgement between them before focusing back on Buck with barely so much as a pause in the conversation.

"Really think he'd be a good fit for you, Buck. He's been in the circuit down in Kentucky for a couple years now. Still a little bit of the amateur class but he's looking to rise up and play with some of the big boys,"

Bucky only took half interest in what Chick was saying, still hearing the rush of sound behind his own ears and the ebb of adrenaline start to fade to the point that his body was sinking into that familiar lazy afterglow. Could feel his left knee wobble a little bit under his weight.

"What are we talkin' about?" Bucky asked offhandedly, looking between Buck and Chick in question.

Buck turned his face in his direction slightly, bringing him into their conversation as easily as a shift in his shoulders.

"Chick was just-" Buck paused momentarily, a hitch in the flow of his words when he looked at Bucky's face, a frown knitting his brow as he reached up and absentmindedly brushed away some sand off of Bucky's eyebrow and forehead in one flick before resuming what he was saying like he hadn't even stopped.

"Chick was telling me about some of the new boys he was thinking of adding to our circuit. Some new ropers this time too, and he was asking if I'd be interested in taking one or two under my wing for a bit. Test drive 'em and see if they can hold some mick up to the rest of us."

"That so?" Bucky smiled, looking down at Buck and the blank expression on his face, like always. But he could see the excited spark behind his eyes, the telltale clink of a spur being toed at with the other boot down below them.

He had to stamp down the sudden need to reach out to curve one hand over the blond's hip and pull him closer into his side.

Chick chuckled, a deep and amused sound as he nodded at Bucky from underneath the brim of his cap. "Figured our Buck, here, would be better than any to put them through their paces. And we got just under a week to see if they'll make a good fit."

"I'd be more than happy to," Buck grinned, aiming the last half of that smile towards John. "Got some new bull riders wanting to start too."

Bucky raised a brow in question, his own teeth glinting in a smile as he looked at Chick. A hound being sicked on the trail.

"Oh, fresh meat?" he drawled playfully. It earned him a barely felt side kick to the ankle from Buck, that only served to make him smile wider. "I'm kidding! But also, not really."

Chick laughed at him, shaking his head slightly in the way of a father being exasperated by the antics of an unruly son.

"As green as they come." Chick told him. "Couple of boys from the Juniors who just turned 18 and wanna come sit the big dogs."

Bucky nodded, thinking on back when he was that age and first sat on the back of one of the proper bulls, all 1500 pounds of muscle and agile rage between his thighs. Thought of the way he shook like a leaf for a good hour once he had his feet back firmly on the ground, but an adrenaline fuelled smile that he couldn't wipe off his face.

He hadn't stuck that day, being tossed within a mere 2.4 seconds, but it slotted something in to place for him and confirmed then and there that there was nothing else he would rather do from that point forward.

His only thought was when he would do it again, already chomping at the bit like a little kid wanting to take another go on the roller-coaster at the county fair.

"I'll look after 'em," Bucky told him, smile turning a bit softer. "Don't you worry that big head of yours, Chick."

Chick eyed him and hummed with a smirk, slightly disbelieving but fond.

"Im sure, I'm sure." He turned his amused gaze back to Buck, an air of seriousness now amongst the familiar comraderie. "The new ropers are due to roll in tomorrow, I got the word that they were headed out yesterday, so they should be here by mid morning. Mid day at the latest."

"The guy you were telling me about, Rosenthal," Buck questioned. "You say he was a heeler?"

Chick nodded. "Heeler and Header. He's whatever you need him to be, Buck. Guy near had a coronary on the phone once I told him I was handing him off to you to take care of."

Bucky didn't miss the slight colour that rose to Buck's cheeks at Chick's words, blue eyes lowering in his usual gesture of bashfulness at any praise or hint of reverence that came with his name.

It was something that Bucky would never cease to feel absolute endearment towards the other man for, and he couldn't help the way his heart stuttered every time he saw it. Like Buck still couldn't believe he was a revered and well know name amongst the rodeo and its fans and competitors alike. And it only served to make Bucky fall harder and harder each and every day, the humble nature burying itself deep down in his soul.

"I'll make sure to have Ken on stand-by, then." Buck muttered, and Bucky couldn't help the laugh Buck's words pulled from his chest.

Chick looked between the two men with a small smile, an air of pride obvious in the way he straightened his posture with a small nod. "I'm counting on you two. Now go on, get outta here. I've got paperwork to settle and I'm sure you've got somewhere important to be, shit to get ready."

He eyed Bucky up and down, head to toe, taking in the still sweat slick hair and sand and dirt that was covering one side of him like an overgrown half-sugared donut, smile feigning innocence.

"And a shower." He tacked on as a last minute thought.

Bucky threw Chick a lazy salute in reply, grinning as the other man turned and wandered back into the office muttering under his breath.

He turned to look at Buck, plastering on a wide innocent smile. The blond could only look at him in exasperation, but the small smirk Bucky spotted underneath the black brim of Gale's hat took any serious bite out of it.

Just like Chick had promised, the new crew rolled in around 11am the next morning, a train of brand new Chevy pickups dragging along new and old goosenecks and trailers through the grounds to park in a polite and organised manner amongst the others across the camp ground.

John watched from afar, seated in a fold out chair lazily underneath the awning of Buck's trailer with Curt and Crosby while half a dozen unfamiliar faces filtered out of the trucks. Some boisterous and brash, loud young men who were obviously the greenest of the bunch, while two or three others leisurely surveyed their surroundings, taking in the arena not far off aways and the atmosphere that this particular ground gave off.

A couple of the men wandered back towards the rear of the trailers, swinging open double doors and Bucky could hear the thundering steps of horses banging in the back, obviously eager to step off and on to new soil after being holed up in the small spaces for hours on end.

Letting his head roll back loose on his neck so John could look back towards the closest end of the arena, he let his eyes settle on the familiar form of Buck perched up on Baby's back where he'd been for the past half hour, expertly turning her this way and that with barely a twitch of his fingers on the reins.

The mare went easily and obedient, golden coat gleaming under the not-too-harsh sunlight as she spun on her heels and started off at another lope in the opposite direction. They reached about half way before Buck made a low noise, eyes tilted downward at her neck and she planted her hooves in a dead stop, backing up a few steps before spinning and repeating it with a light squeeze from Gale's leg against her flank.

Bucky couldn't help the shiver that trailed up his spine as he watched Gale so expertly put her through the paces of a warm up, keeping her movements quick and agile and working as a perfect team that most other ropers on the circuit could only dream of accomplishing with their own horses, even after years of training and experience.

Riders that had been in the saddle for longer than Buck had been alive still struggled to mirror the air of confidence and partnership that the two had.

It made a coiling heat sit in the bottom of John's stomach as he took in the barely-there grip that Buck had on the long pieces of leather in his hands, delicate looking fingers only twitching here and there in practised commands that Baby could obviously feel against her mouth, no matter how light.

John had to swallow harshly against the sudden dryness of his throat. Images and flashes of memory of those same fingers threaded through his hair and tugging insistently in the throes of a quick bout of passion earlier that morning, tucked away in Gale's trailer as the sun was barely creeping its way up above the horizon invaded his mind.

When the rest of the campground's occupants were still dead quiet and lost to sleep. Bucky had rolled over still half asleep himself when Gale had elegantly climbed his way over him to start getting himself ready for the day, and he'd watched through the small opening from the bed loft into the extended living space of the trailer as the other had wandered naked and quiet gathering up jeans and a shirt from the wardrobe, pulling his belt from a hanger with a clink of metal.

It had only taken a few minutes of John watching him through half lidded eyes, taking in the sight of Buck's tanned shoulders, the small spatter of scattered beauty marks here and there that broke up the perfect expanse and the curve of the cowboy's toned and perfect ass before Bucky had felt his cock stir to life underneath the sheets.

He'd waited silently, feigning sleep until Buck got close enough to the loft's opening before he'd struck out in one quick movement like a rattlesnake and grabbed the blond by the arm, pulling him back in and up onto the bed with an answering surprised yelp that had Bucky grinning like a mad man despite himself.

Despite Buck's quiet protests that he had shit to do and he didn't have the time, it only took a few instances of lips pressed expertly to certain places against the taut line of his throat. John's large hand buried in the back of sandy toned blond hair to pull his head back to expose more of it, ripping involuntary and slowly growing rapid shaky breaths and sounds, that had Buck finally breaking and growling out a sharp frustrated shout like an infuriated mountain lion and flipping Bucky onto his back in one expert movement.

He couldn't help the self satisfied feeling that enveloped him when Buck surged up to kiss him, insistent and hungry, teeth sinking into the plush skin of his bottom lip. Proud and smug knowing that he could melt away Buck's carefully crafted resolve and self control with only a few words or touches of his hands or lips in certain areas, with certain pressures. Could have the other lose it and charge forward head first into Bucky like a captured wild horse that had just had the gates to freedom swing open right in front of him and out into the wilderness.

He had expected the usual, Buck pressing all the right buttons in the abandoned way he always did, driving John to near madness with starved yet soft kisses that would slowly begin to trail downwards, first over his throat before descending to his chest.

A prisoner to the way Buck would drag his talented fingers and lips over the sensitive buds of his nipples, looking straight up at him with those baby blues, clouded over with something dark in lust like a storm cloud when Bucky would have to lift his head just to get a glimpse of him that he would always be helpless to crave.

Just a quick look before it became too much for his melting brain to handle and he would have to let his head fall back against the blankets before it was over a lot quicker than he would like.

He would lose himself even more to Gale's ministrations, not long before the blond would open him up on those same talented digits while perfect lips enveloping his cock as he worked, leaving John a writhing mess of a man before feeling Buck sink perfectly into the warm wet heat of him.

But Buck had crawled back up the length of his body, studiously ignoring the heavy heat of his cock that was leaking in unrestrained want against the dark hair trailing against his stomach and grabbed his chin between thumb and forefinger.

He'd pulled Bucky's face back down to his own, making him focus on blue eyes that seemed far too bright and electric, manic, with so little light, and it had made John pause and just stare at the sudden vulnerability there that had mixed itself amongst the lust.

Gale had kissed him, sweet but still frantic, a whispered "Gotta be quick, we don't have long," before kissing John once more and then leaning back.

Bucky felt the cold shock of the air in the absence of Gale's warmth, thinking he had meant they had to be quick before the other boys started to stir awake themselves with the progression of the sun's rise.

But the thoughts had whisked themselves away into nothingness, swept away into just pure dumb want as he watched Buck reach in to one of the little side nooks around the edge of the bed, pulling out the small tube of lubricant they'd stashed away and then reaching back before working himself open on his own fingers.

Something in John's brain completely misfired, crackling into an exposed and heated live-wire, could only prop himself up on his elbows and watch helpless and open mouthed as Buck moved. The hand not currently moving inside himself reaching out to grip against John's knee, shaky and flexing without thought.

John's eyes had darted over every inch of Gale's body, the way his back had been bowed backwards slightly to accommodate the angle at what he was doing to himself. The expression on his face screwed up in pleasure but also with a timid far away concentration that had him make eye contact with Bucky for a few fleeting moments before he closed them and colour had risen to his cheeks.

It was that nervousness John could pick up on there, the vulnerability that had Buck's body trembling from it as well as the sparks of pleasure he was feeding into himself, a small broken noise sounding in the back of the blond's throat, that had Bucky finally break out of the melting hold his mind was currently suffocating him with and reaching out for Buck.

Pulled him into his arms, into his lap with hushed whispers of "C'mere, oh my god, Come 'ere" until the other had been positioned perfectly in the envelope of his hold, still shaky and trembling and pressing his forehead against Bucky's with eyes squeezed shut, arms draped over John's wide shoulders loose and careful.

It was a fleeting moment when Buck finally opened up his eyes to connect with John's, wide and shy but that little hint of courage John found there had him lifting his hands and fixing themselves firmly over Buck's waist, swallowed up by the size of his fingers and palms like a puzzle piece slotting perfectly into place.

He had gently lifted him, feeling Buck straighten up onto his knees from where they were sat at either side of John's hips, never breaking eye contact as the other man reached back with one shaking arm.

Bucky could only let out a small exhale, just as shaky as the vulnerable cowboy in his arms against similarly parted lips when he felt Buck's fingers wrap delicately around the girth of him.

Could only mirror the sound Buck made against him with a gentle frown, eyes still glued to Buck's as the smaller man slowly positioned himself over the still leaking head of his cock and lowered himself, panting at the stretch.

The arm still around John's shoulders flexed, pulling their chests together tighter, a whine escaping from the back of his throat as he sank down those last few inches until he was fully seated in John's lap again, filled to the brim with him.

John had brought one of his arms around the lower half of Buck's back, just holding him there as a silent support, not game enough to move in fear of scaring Buck out of whatever had made him brave enough to pursue the feeling, of allowing John access to the most vulnerable side of him.

It was a rare occurrence that Buck ever truly opened himself up physically to John in the same way he had emotionally. Too stuck in his own past of never being allowed his own thoughts and free will, being taught by his father from the moment he could step up into a saddle that emotions were worthless, they clouded minds and made you weak and that giving up any kind of control, be it physical or mental, was something to feel shame for.

Something to lock away behind reinforced walls with a key that you should melt down into a useless pile.

It was something that Buck had come to expect a closed fist against his cheek or against his ribs for if he showed anything that could be named as vulnerable.

Bucky had felt a sense of awestruck wonder, staring at the man he was holding safely in his arms now, feeling the reach of what felt like forbidden pleasure coil low in his abdomen when Buck had slowly started to move.

Another sense of privilege mix in when he was subject to the primal sounds of slightly restrained rapture escaping between Buck's parted lips and whisper against his own.

In the aftermath of it all, when Buck had painted the space between them without so much as a brush of John's hand against his own neglected need and left it dripping down the planes of both their stomachs, had held him so tightly as he shuddered and trembled through his release in a strangled cry against John's throat, John had been helpless but to follow suit.

Had filled him deeply and reverently with every single ounce of raw emotion that had been coursing through him with his own low groan against a shivering tan shoulder.

Both ended up laying together, sweat dripping over warm skin and breathing harsh but satisfied, and John had gathered Gale back up into his arms to hold him through what he knew was probably an incredibly daunting and scary thought process.

Yet judging by the relaxed muscles he could feel underneath the tips of his fingers as he stroked them up and down Gale's arm in thought, the blond letting out a long winded sigh against his pectoral, he didn't feel as if the other was freaking out as much as he would have expected at having given himself over to being vulnerable and controlled.

He had felt a strong sense of pride at being something Gale would gladly give himself over to when his courage allowed it.

The quiet chuckle he had let become audible, as well as the comment that 'I didn't think Champion Rider extended over to me, too, Buck," had earned him a bony elbow to the ribs in reply, but also the feeling of a grin being pressed to his side.

Curt's hand slapping in to his chest from beside him brought Bucky's thoughts back to the present like a well aimed cattle prod, and he jerked slightly in his seat from where he was still looking over at Buck to face the smaller brunette questioningly.

Curt had a knowing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he nodded in the direction of where the new cowboys were still unloading their horses and gear. One of the tall ones, who John could only just make out had dark hair underneath an off-white cattleman hat, was walking in their direction.

Looking back to where Buck was still working Baby, John let out a high sharp whistle in his direction to get his attention, and the blond's head snapped up, alert and questioning.

John gestured with a wave of his hand out towards the line of new trailers and the newcomers, and saw the barely there nod Buck sent his way with a tip of his chin in acknowledgement before spinning Baby with practised ease and walking her up the length of the arena leisurely towards the gates.

When Bucky focused his attention back towards the approaching new cowboy, the man had stopped near Crosby just under the edge of the awning, hands coming up to rest on his hips and tipping his hat in greeting.

Piercing blue eyes scanned over the three of them, but not in a judgemental way, just in a gesture of taking them in, curious and friendly. He hazarded a glance around, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips in a nervous gesture underneath a neatly trimmed moustache.

"Gentlemen," he said brightly, small smile beaming. "Figure this is the right place. I'm Robert, Robert Rosenthal, but just Rosie's fine. I'm with the new bunch of ropers, Chick said you knew we were comin'?"

Crosby nodded at him, leaning forward in his chair to reach for Rosie's hand in a friendly greeting and introducing himself before Curt and John copied and did the same.

"Sure did," Crosby smiled, all typical cowboy friendliness turned up to a full ten. It was a move John knew well, watching the barely veiled curiosity and calculated observation in both Cros and Curt's body language, taking in the new guy and if he was as genuine as he was giving out in first impression. John couldn't help the small grin from tipping up one side of his lips. "Right on time, actually. Hope it wasn't too hard finding the place."

Rosie smiled even brighter at the welcoming air he was receiving, a small weight lifting off of his shoulders.

"Nah, just followed the signs. Was easy enough even after the GPS in the truck conked out on us halfway here."

Crosby chuckled at Rosie's words, the last of his demeanour softening, and in turn John felt his own reservations melt away about the man as he shifted further down in to his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie comfortably.

"Say," Rosie suddenly piped up, expression turning just that touch of sheepish around the edges. "Chick was saying when we got here I was meant to go see Gale Cleven? Said he'd know where to point us to get us settled?"

As if on queue, the distinct sound of a horse sidled up to Bucky's left, and he turned his head just in time to see the gold sheen of Baby's distinct coat come around the corner of the trailer, said Gale Cleven seated up on her like a king astride his steed.

The blond shot Bucky a quick fond little private smile from above, using his tongue to move the toothpick currently sitting between his lips from one side to the other before he looked up and focused in on Rosie. The classic friendly Cleven smile painted itself on his face in a matter of moments.

"Howdy," Buck drawled, tilting his chin in greeting and oozing with unintentional charm, and John snorted in amusement like he was witness to an inside joke. Gale leaned forward with an air of ease and leaned his elbows on the horn of his saddle. "You one of the new boys, I'm guessing?"

Rosie stared at Gale for a moment, eyes widening and jaw going slightly slack before he sputtered and collected himself with a shake of his head. He reached up and removed the hat from its perch above somehow perfectly styled near black hair and stepped up to Baby's shoulder, hand reaching out to shake Gale's hand.

John saw the telltale signs of worship and respect from a mile away, a slight tint rising to the new cowboy's cheeks as Gale reached down and gripped Rosie's hand in greeting.

He didn't know why something started niggling against his gut like an insect buzzing for the pure intent of irritation, but he swallowed it down, eyes flickering back and forth between Gale and Rosie like a hawk, a frown threatening to crease his brow.

It wasn't the first time another cowboy had been star struck by meeting one of the top ropers in the country, Gale Cleven. He was the golden child of the rodeo world and had a famous last name spanning back three generations to prove it. A downright western nepo-baby but with the talent and good nature to keep that good name going and do it justice instead of just relying on the name alone to garner the fame.

And with looks like that as well as the humble disposition and talent on top, Curt had quickly learned not to make bets with Bucky on how many buckle bunnies sidled up to Gale at each rodeo, all sickly sweet smiles and daisy-dukes paired with bedazzled cowgirl boots and low cut tops trying to tempt the rider into their beds.

Only to be shot down politely with a charming smile. Much to their disappointment. And Bucky's sharp, self satisfied dangerous grin that usually followed them from over Buck's shoulder as they turned away with dramatic pouted botox lips over said cowboy.

Rosie looked like he'd just met a damned God, expression bashful and eyes diverting every few seconds from Gale's gaze as he brought a hand up to nervously run through his hair before sitting his hat back atop his head.

"Yessir, Rosie Rosenthal. We just rolled in," he glanced back at the trailers in the direction he'd come from, Gale's eyes flickering to the same direction before focusing back on each other.

"Yeah I thought so. Chick mentioned you yesterday, said you guys were comin'. Hope the trip wasn't too hard on you and your boys."

Rosie scoffed dismissively but friendly. "Ah we did alright. Took a bit of-"

"Hooooly shit, you're Gale Cleven!"

All five cowboys looked up at the same time to see a kid no younger than 20 years old come jogging up from the direction of the new trailers, breathless and wide eyed. Bucky didn't think he'd ever seen a greener roper in his life, bright eyed and overly confident in his steps and the line of his shoulders.

He stepped up next to Rosie, who suddenly had an expression of fond exasperation, looking down at the ground with a slow shake of his head. Like a big brother tasked with having to look after a younger sibling and slightly embarrassed to be associated.

"When Rosie said we were gonna be riding with the Gale fuckin' Cleven, I honestly woulda believed him more if he said pigs fly," the kid smiled. "The name's Nash."

When he walked up to shake Gale's offered hand, the blond still smiling with the greeting charm turned all the way up to ten on the dial, Bucky couldn't stop the smile from breaking out onto his own face at the way Baby turned her head with an evil eye, ears pinned back slightly and teeth bared as she attempted to nip at the kid's shirt.

Gale didn't even react besides picking up the reins and secretly forcing her mouth in the opposite direction without anyone being the wiser or even noticing. She huffed out a sharp breath, nostrils flaring and shifting her back feet in disappointment.

Bucky had to bring his hand up, pretending to brush his fingers along the hair of his moustache to hide his amused smirk from the others.

"Nash from Nashville?" Curt leaned over and whispered behind his hand and Bucky nearly palmed his face away with a slap. He was barely hanging on to his composure by a thread from watching Baby.

That horse would be the death of him, right alongside the cowboy still perched up on her back. Gale had leisurely hooked his left leg up and across the pommel of the saddle in front of him, all the air of a calm and cocksure cowboy if there ever was one. And Bucky knew he didn't even do it on purpose. Didn't even have to try.

"Well, it's good to have you boys joining us. Needed some fresh new faces to join the ranks." Gale grinned, toothpick bobbing.

"Where you boys from, anyways?" Crosby piped up, asking as if Curt's offhanded joke had sparked some genuine curiosity.

Nash turns to Crosby, suddenly aware that there are, in fact, more people privvy to his starstruck excitement, and Bucky sees the moment the kid's eyes widen even further and wonders if maybe they should have brought Ken in for standby medical attention.

"Oh lord, you're Harry Crosby!" Eyes pan over to Curt, zipping between him and then to Bucky, mouth agape and sputtering. "The John Egan, and Curt Biddick!"

Curt leans over to Bucky, eyes watching the kid like he wasn't sure if he should be moving backwards in case he spontaneously combusted on the spot. "He knows who I am?"

Nash looks shocked at Curt's words, hand flying up to palm his forehead underneath the red flat cap he was wearing. "Oh man, of course I know who you are! I've seen those tiktoks of you backflipping over those bulls like it's nothin'!"

Curt gets a satisfied smile lighting up his face at Nash's enthusiasm, propping his left ankle up on his knee in an air of nonchalance but doesn't say anything further as Nash focuses in on Bucky.

"And you! Man, you're the reason I nearly changed my mind from ropin' to bull ridin'. My sisters love you!"

Bucky chuckles, suddenly gaining an air of fondness for the kid, like a little brother who can at once annoy the ever-loving hide off of you, but one you'd also show up at 2am for when they call drunk saying they needed your help. Has a feeling if the new ropers stick around and fit the bill that at some point he'd end up having to do just that.

"Texas," Rosie suddenly pipes up, answering Crosby's earlier question before Nash got them all side tracked. "Me and Nash are from Texas. Other boys are a mix of everywhere."

Gale nods in acknowledgement from his perch on Baby, demeanour still interested and warm. "Texas, huh? Heard it gets awful hot down there, can't say I've been too often, not during the warmer months anyways."

Rosie laughs, a hearty sound with still that hint of shaky nervousness, no doubt from having Buck's attention back on him. He rubs in a bashful gesture at the back of his neck, smile small but no less bright.

"Yeah she does get a little warm. Me and Nash did most of our first shows down there, did a few roping clinics as well in the beginning."

"One time we practised for twelve hours straight!" Nash piped up, bouncing on the balls of his feet, excitement still at the forefront. "Ended up stripped down to nothing but our underwear it got so damn hot, near fell off my horse at one point!"

Bucky looked between the two men, eyebrows climbing up towards his hairline. He didn't have to glance at Buck to know the blond wore a similar expression, calm facade broken for a few seconds.

"You boys… rode in your underwear?" Bucky slowly asked, a smile crawling onto his face as he pictured it with ease but also with a feeling of sympathetic discomfort. Saw Buck grimace from the corner of his eye, no doubt thinking on how uncomfortable that would have been on their privates, saddles digging in with the rough motions from the horse's movements.

Rosie had the sense to look embarrassed, cheeks heating up into a bright hue of red and eyes diverting from the boys for a moment or two as he chuckled nervously. They glanced up at Buck like he was about to be reprimanded by the horseman.

"Ahh, yes sir, that we did."

But Buck didn't have a cruel reprimanding bone in his body, not unless you were downright abusive to your horse or an idiot to the point you put yourself and your men or your horse in danger, and that amused smirk coloured the cowboy's expression once again as he watched Rosie with something akin to fascination.

It only served to bring light back to that uncomfortable coiling burn still perched in Bucky's stomach and chest, irritating to the point he had to bring a hand up and rub questioningly at his sternum with a confused frown. He could feel Curt's eyes currently searing a hole into the side of his head, but chose to ignore it.

"Can't say I envy you on that," Buck laughed, straightening up in the saddle with a stretch of his torso and a small groan, muscles probably aching from the morning warm up with Baby. "How about I come on over with you to meet the rest of your boys, make sure you lot get settled in okay and help out a little?"

Rosie looked lost on words, eyes raking over Buck quickly that John managed to catch easily, frown finally shaping his brow above sharp eyes and pursed lips.

"Yeah, yeah! Sure thing, we'd all be glad of it. I'm sure the other boys are busting their asses to meet you." Rosie stuttered, turning his body but his head still turned back to keep his focus on Buck.

Gale urged Baby forward with a nudge of his spurs and a barely audible click in his throat, the mare tossing her head as she was finally pushed in to moving. She walked along for a few steps before being pushed up further into a trot, going along happily as Buck directed her over towards the new trailers and the line of men now visible standing with their horses tied up against the sides of them.

Bucky watched as horse and rider got further and further away, the blond cowboy rising and falling in the saddle perfectly in time with Baby's gait like he was part of the horse himself, Rosie and Nash following behind at a more subdued pace.

Noticed Rosie watching Gale's form in the saddle as well as the other moved ahead of them.

John couldn't help the way he turned his head to Curt, the other man still watching him with no shame, icey blue eyes focused on him like an accusation, chin propped up in the palm of his hand. One eyebrow raised slowly as John looked at him, a smirk curving one side of his mouth.

"I ain't sayin' nothin'." Curt drawled slowly, never breaking his stare with Bucky.

John sighed and looked away, extracting his pack of cigarettes out from the pocket of his hoodie where he had his hands rested, pulling a single white stick out with his lips and teeth to light with a more aggressive than necessary flick of his wrist with the lighter.

"Nothin' to say, Curt."

After the new ropers had been officially settled in, horses finding a place and getting their programs from Chick at the office, the rest of the week was a long winded process of practices and warm ups from sunrise to sundown.

Along with Rosie and Nash, there were a total of two others out of six that had travelled in with them looking to recruit themselves in the the current circuit alongside the roping greats that were Gale Cleven and his team.

Each and every one with hopeful smiles and talent as quick-footed and sure as Chick could have ever hoped for. A lucky draw of a bunch, and with them came high hopes as well as pre-drawn contracts ready and waiting for after the rodeo set to play out at the end of the week.

Rosie's main crew consisted of the pre-mentioned Nash, the youngest out of the lot, still singing praises of each and every cowboy he met with a pep in his step and bright smile as he followed John or Curt or Crosby around like a new puppy at his master's heels.

The main header who Rosie said was a spitfire of a man with a roping hand as sticky as molasses was Winifred "Pappy" Lewis. A stout young fellow just as eager and fresh as the rest but with an air of maturity to him that had him quickly gain favor with Buck.

He took in every single thing that Gale told him and every pointer and piece of advice he got as if he was a sponge, and Bucky could tell that Gale had nothing but respect for the kid and knew he would go as far as he wanted if he put the effort in.

Pappy often had his best friend, another bright and intensely eager man who went by nothing other than Speas, which made Bucky smile with amusement at the information in a quaint understanding, noting that even Pappy would always and only refer to him as such.

It reminded him fondly of him and Buck and the nicknames that they often only teased each other for in the beginning when they first met before that mutual respect was earned.

As such, most of Gale's and Bucky's days were filled with either practice of warm ups leading up to the main rodeo event, leaving little one on one time between the two of them. But it was to be expected. And it wasn't something either men were new to, especially having brand new charges under Buck's wing that he was given full responsibility for, and the task of having them all ready for what was ahead.

In the few moments in between being behind the chutes and the rare scant moments of free time he had, Bucky would often perch himself up against the rails of the arena and just observe Buck and his new little team of amateurs with a fond smile.

The blond cowboy looked right at home out there, voice clear and authoritative as he ordered them around and through their paces, keeping an air of respect about him that kept that respect well received continuously amongst the newbies.

He never got angry, never lost his temper no matter how stupid Nash or Speas sometimes got when exhaustion started gripping them towards the day's end. And John knew that alongside Buck's more often than not kind and calm demeanour, it was also a conscious effort to keep the teaching mellow but firm, not violent and dismissive, not too strict, like his father.

Knew Buck recognised that being a friend as well as a mentor got the younger ropers further and more willing to listen to him and have that information stick, rather than hold them under an angry hand with a cuff around the back of the ear for not listening well enough.

He found gentleness and conscious effort and time was more productive in the long run, much like the training of a young horse.

You couldn't whip a young horse for making a step left instead of a right and expect the horse to know what it did wrong from the violence alone with little to no feedback. It didn't work like that.

It had Bucky's affection for the other cowboy continue to grow and grow until he felt like he would fall to knees under the weight of it.

Often having to find the strength not to slip through that arena fence and march right up to Buck, perched high on Baby and grab the other man and pull him down in to a crushing kiss every other moment. Often keeping that affection pent up until the two found a few seconds alone like they'd always done and slip between trailers to steal a kiss in privacy, or in the quiet moments in Buck's trailer they were all but lucky to have at that point in time.

Those moments seemed to get further and further in between though, with the amount of time training and practising took up for the rodeo lately.

And now with Buck having his new charges, Bucky often would enter Buck's trailer for the night to find the blond already dead to the world face down on the trailer's loft bed, face peaceful and once or twice only having managed to take off one boot before sleep took him under.

It was something Bucky didn't mind in the slightest, understood on a different level because they were in the same boat. And on those nights he'd quietly remove Buck's other boot and put his hat up on the hook by the trailer door before climbing into bed, careful not to disturb the other, before pulling the smaller man into his arms against his chest and letting himself drift off to sleep to the smell of Buck's hair and horses under his nose.

The only problem that had arisen, as well as that uncomfortable burning sensation against Bucky's chest from the day the new ropers pulled up, was that the quiet moments or scant few minutes Buck and him were able to achieve were getting less and less.

Especially when every waking moment that Buck had was filled with the other ropers and their attention, or Rosie. Who very quickly came to be who Buck started to fill most of his time with.

The new roper had all but become Buck's shadow, following the blond around either on foot or horse-back, that ever growing reverence and smitten expression intensifying with every word or look Buck offered him.

The man practically had hearts for pupils, and Bucky didn't know if Buck was stupid or ignorant, or just that damned innocently clueless that he didn't realise that Rosie had the biggest damn crush this side of the equator, but it was really starting to rub Bucky the wrong way.

It left a sour taste in his mouth, especially when he noticed more and more the answering soft smiles or laughs Buck would direct right back at Rosie.

That burning feeling deep in the core of him started eating away, until his heart started constricting in a valiant effort to protect itself from the flames, until his thoughts were swallowed with it every waking moment.

It only seemed to drive the flames further that very morning when for the first time in a while, Bucky had woken up to the realisation that Buck's side of the bed was empty, already cold from the amount of time that the blond had been vacant from it.

It had taken him a few groggy moments to blink the sleep away from his mind, frowning in confusion as to why he hadn't woken up to the smaller man being tucked into his side and waiting for him to wake before he started to get ready for the day.

He'd stumbled out of bed, yawning wide with a stretch and walking over to the small kitchenette to flick the kettle on, intent on making coffee, when the familiar sound of Buck's laugh had reached him from outside the trailer.

Bucky had walked over to the small trailer window that was faced towards the arena in the distance, and had managed to notice the two figures by the rails in the early morning light.

Buck was standing beside Baby, the mare fully tacked up with her head down managing to slip in a quick nap, his arms rested up on a higher rail, his posture relaxed and easy going. He had his back to the trailer, but John would be able to pick that cowboy out among a crowd of a million.

He would have also been able to pick out Rosie, who was standing on the other side of the fence, his own horse pawing lazily in the sand behind him in boredom as the two men talked in a low murmur into the early morning air.

Bucky watched in silence, breath catching in his throat as Rosie smiled, all timid but flirtatious, and reached out to put his hand on Buck's arm where it was leaned against the rail.

Buck laughed, face tilting down to stare at the dirt below, and didn't move his arm out from underneath Rosie's touch.

Bucky made himself look away, something horrid and hurtful squeezing his chest and throat.

He reached for the kettle which had started squealing at him as if it was mocking his misery.

The night before the rodeo, the usual tradition of beers and bonfire gets amped up in to full swing, a pre-rodeo celebration as well as a late welcome party for the new ropers before the big day.

The fire is bigger than just a measly fire pit this time, Curt and Ken having convinced Chick to call in to the owners of the current rodeo grounds and get permission to build a bigger bonfire in one of the designated spots on site.

It only takes a couple of hours to have the permission texted back, and even less time for the group as a whole to have built up a fairly decently sized bonfire that crackles and whooshes to life to the answering manic cackling of Curt like some mischievous gremlin in the echoes of it.

Brady and Hambone had gone into town in Brady's pickup to get the alcohol, and promptly returned soon after with enough cases of beer of several different brands, as well as a few bottles of stronger stuff that in whole could satiate an entire army and still have a fair portion left over in the morning.

By the time the sun has disappeared behind the distant hills, a familiar lull of some random country playlist murmuring behind the voices of the boys from a Bluetooth speaker, Bucky had already meandered his way past Brady and a few of the others to pluck two beers from the crate on the fold out table and flop himself into his usual camper chair.

He observes the others in a calm disinterested silence as he pops the top off his first beer and takes a heated and long pull from it, relishing in the sharp taste as the cooled liquid slips down his throat.

It settles on top of the burning pit that had become a permanent fixture in his abdomen, soaking it up and dampening it a small amount once the alcohol finally starts digging its fingers in.

In a good turn of events, the newer boys, Nash and Speas and Pappy had all but been accepted rightfully and instantly amongst the league of the others, all fanning off into their respective little circles to talk and make good atmosphere.

They melded in like they'd always been there, and it did make Bucky happy that Brady and Cros and all the other boys had ushered the others into those circles like long lost brothers.

Rosie had been accepted just as easily too, the man's good nature and kindness earning him the same back tenfold amongst the boys.

But as Bucky's gaze comes to rest on the man in question from across the fire, standing close with Buck, smile soft and direct as he lowers his head closer to Buck's ear to be heard over the roar of the fire and the music, Bucky can't help the possessive jealousy that instantly cuts into his very soul at the sight.

Feels even worse when Buck looks up at the other roper through his dark blond lashes with an answering soft smile, and tries to dampen the feeling again by taking another aggressive mouthful from the beer bottle in his hand.

He can feel the jealousy spark and rip up into him when Rosie obviously tells Buck something that has the blond throwing his head back in a laugh, Rosie's eyes trailing over the expanse of his throat, and Bucky toys with the idea of getting up and waltzing over there to plant one very giant possessive and territorial kiss onto the cowboy's mouth in a show of dominance.

Knows that he can't, though, just in case.

Knows that none of his boys would bat an eye at it. But he doesn't know the thoughts of the new boys, of Nash and Speas and Pappy, enough that he would risk him and Buck being shunned because the new men were the same type that would have crucified them where they stand and then proceed to slander his and Buck's names through the rodeo circuits like a disgusting curse, all because of bigoted religion.

The way that Rosie is currently staring at Buck though, all wide eyed and giddy and adoring, has Bucky half ready to do exactly what his invasive thoughts are screaming at him to do, let that festering possessive emotion culminate into acting on it.

He's just about to rise from his seat, thighs tensing when Curt's voice sounds from right beside him, close enough to his ear that it has the larger cowboy startle and nearly lose the the death grip of a hold that he has on his beer.

"The wind changes too quick and your face is gonna get stuck like that,"

Bucky whips his face around to the smug grin of Curt's right next to him, but the shorter man's eyes are currently looking over to where Buck and Rosie are still standing. Still talking close and soft.

Still ripping at Bucky's insides in a dangerous game.

Bucky lets a long winded sigh rush from his lungs, making his body settle back into the chair at the feeling of Curt's hand coming up to rest on his shoulder and squeeze from where he's bent over to talk to John.

He pats John's shoulder in a good natured gesture before taking the empty camp chair beside him, throwing himself into it with a grunt.

"Your boy's been making new friends, huh?"

John snorts, a cruel, sharp sound, and takes another sip from his beer. "Somethin' like that."

He's focused back on Rosie and Buck, surprised neither of them can feel the heat of John's stare, but he can see Curt glance at him from the corner of his eye. Can see the way the other observes him, running his eyes up and down John before sighing and clasping his hands together in contemplation.

"And.. how do you feel about it?"

John forces his eyes away for a moment, looks at Curt in a questioning way, before looking back across the fire. "He can do whatever he wants. 'm not his keeper."

Curt lets his head loll back in exasperation at John's words, disbelief as he looks up at the dark night sky above them before looking back down at Bucky.

"True. True, but, you are his man. His whole world, if you wanna put it bluntly I 'spose."

Bucky flicks his tongue out to lick his lips, the heat of the fire leaving them dry and uncomfortable. A complimenting feeling to the one in his chest.

"Seems his orbit has extended a bit," Bucky remarks, and isn't prepared for the feeling of Curt's hand cuffing him up the back of the head in a rapid strike.

His hat flies off and falls into his lap, and he can't help the affronted noise that makes its way out of his throat as he turns to Curt with wide, shocked eyes and a slack jaw.

Curt's staring him down with a look of disbelief and barely concealed annoyance, light blue eyes cutting through the very recesses of his soul and down to the bone. It makes Bucky want to shrink down into the collar of his coat, like frightened turtle hiding itself away from a predator.

"The fuck y' do that for!?" he yelps, rubbing at the back of his head tenderly at the still smarting impact that Curt made. It was more shock than anything, barely something resembling actual hurt, but he rubbed at it all the same.

Curt pointed his finger at him, jabbing in his direction, face still impossibly hard and serious. "I know you're a bull rider, but god, you can't actually be that dense."

Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but Curt shushes him, making him snap his jaw closed.

"That man over there thinks the goddamn world of you, John Egan. I've seen and heard things I wish I never did, but by god if there's one thing I do know, is that he only has eyes for you, no matter what your dumb mushed up brain is telling you. Or how much better Rosie's moustache is than yours,"

John looks at Curt with feigned hurt, an affronted scoff falling from his mouth but before he can retort, Curt cuts him off again with another well aimed jab of his finger, this time straight into Bucky's chest.

"I may have known you since highschool, Bucky, but I've known Gale a long fuckin' time too. Long before you showed up in our circuit. That man is the sweetest, most loyal soul in existence, and if you ever think that he'd give you up when he looks at you the way he does, I'll bury your body myself and leave a fuckin' note on his trailer door."

Bucky swallows, letting his eyes wander from Curt's back over to where Buck is standing with Rosie, still talking, and feels his heart stutter when Gale's eyes finally find him over the flames.

They lock on to him, and his expression and smile softens into something so adoring and beautiful that it steals John's breath right from his lungs.

He doesn't have the chance to smile back before Buck turns back to his conversation, Nash having joined him and Rosie, and John forces himself to look back at Curt again.

The other man is staring at him, no less intense, but there's something understanding there now too. He looks between Bucky's eyes, sitting back when he finds whatever he was looking for, and plucks Bucky's beer right from his hand to steal a swig.

John doesn't even try to protest, just glares un-bitingly in disapproval as he takes the beer back with a swipe when Curt offers it back.

"All I'm saying is, think for a minute or two for me, yeah? Before you go ripping Rosie to pieces over something that's not even there. You'd be surprised." Curt tells him softly, reaching out to Bucky's knee to pat it before hoisting himself up and starting to walk around the fire to where Ken is sitting with Douglas and Everett on the tailgate of Brady's pickup.

He watches as Ken's face lights up like the moon sitting high above them, letting Curt fit himself in between his legs dangling over the edge of the tailgate and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Curt's lips.

Everett wolf whistles in a quiet tone as Curt pulls Ken's arms around his waist with a smile, before Curt turns back around to Bucky, fixing him with a pointed look before bringing two fingers up and making the telltale 'I'm watching you' gesture between his own eyes and John's several times.

Bucky sees Ken look up to him too, a knowing smile aimed pointedly at him and Bucky feels like he's being judged over information he's not at all privvy to.

The rodeo the next day goes off without a hitch.

John absolutely decimates the lineup of bull riders with a near perfect score that has him throwing his hat off into the crowd with a well aimed toss as the announcer praises him name over the loudspeakers, just barely audible above the sound of the crowd and their exuberance.

He even landed on his feet this time, granted wobbling just that tiny bit and nearly face planting in to the sand as Curt rushed past him in his rodeo clown get-up to distract the bull, before he managed to catch his balance and sprint up to the chutes and leap his way out of the bull's raging war-path.

He had felt the heat of the bull's breath over the denim on his thigh as it had brushed past him, but it only kept that adrenaline rushing through every vein in his body, ramping it up to that next level as he'd been grinning like mad man, laughing at the rush.

After he'd calmed down and made his way into the alleys behind the chutes to get a better view of the arena, sweat damp hair falling into his eyes, he'd waited patiently while the officials had raked over the arena with the tractor for the ropers.

Felt the rapid thundering of his heart in his chest speed back up in anticipation of watching Buck take his run, only giving the thought of him partnering with Rosie as his heeler a momentary allowance before the speakers crackled back to life and the crowd started filtering back into the stands after a brief intermission.

Speas and Pappy went first, nailing their run and managing to heal and head the steer in almost perfect form, the two men smiling wide and giving each other high fives from where they were seated up on their horses as they rode past and then back into the alley to make way for the next pair.

It was a waiting game for Bucky, three more pairs of riders having their goes before finally he spotted Buck trotting a very eager Baby up to the starting pen.

The mare was bobbing up and down in excitement under him, nostrils flaring and tail swishing while Buck checked his rope, one set held between his teeth as he coiled the excess into perfect loops in one hand, giving no mind to Baby's barely contained energy.

Bucky couldn't help the smile from spreading across his face, bringing one boot up to rest on the bottom rail as Buck and Rosie finally squared up into their positions.

He kept his eyes resolutely on Buck, seeing the moment he glanced down at the cowboy manning the steer chute and giving that telltale nod.

And then they were off.

It barely felt like a blink in time as John watched, seeing the two riders move perfectly in sync as they took off after the steer, hot on its heels and lassos twirling with practised ease.

Buck had cast his out into a perfectly aimed arc and roped the steer's horns in a matter of seconds, shortly followed by Rosie capturing its heels and then it was a quick flurry of the two pulling their respective horses into the normal halt.

The horses knowing exactly what they were supposed to do and making everything look so easy Bucky wondered if they could have done the maneuvers without their riders, just memory alone.

John was expecting it, knowing that the fluid movements both Rosie and Buck had worked were the picture perfect dream team, but even as the scores were tallied up at the end of the event, he couldn't help the way his heart raced at hearing Buck's name spoken out in victory, letting out a loud celebratory whistle in the blond cowboy's celebration.

Seeing the way the other man had looked up into the crowd, taking in the fact that they were cheering for him and Rosie and the wide, bright smile that had lit up his face in turn lit up Bucky's entire soul, and he couldn't help mirroring it.

But he also couldn't help the way that the sinking feeling returned to his stomach when he watched Buck and Rosie ride up to each other, clasping hands and pulling each other in to a quick one armed hug, smiles beaming.

So when all was said and done, he turned his eyes away and decided to make his way back to Buck's trailer to strip off his gear and start to settle himself down in the adrenalised aftermath.

He resolutely ignored the tight restricting feeling crawling its way up his throat.

He had only been in Buck's trailer for a matter of minutes, hands fumbling with the straps of his protective vest in anticipation of stripping himself of the heavy material, when the trailer door had slammed shut behind him and startled him in to turning around.

Buck was standing there, but was very pointedly staring at the trailer floor, hands on his hips over the leather of his chaps and taking a long, deep breath out from his nostrils, face blank and unreadable.

Bucky took a small step back when he felt the sudden tense air fill the small space of the trailer, taking in the hard and trembling line of Buck's shoulders, heaving slightly with what John could only discern as barely concealed rage.

He didn't dare speak, just standing there with his fingers still paused in the movement of undoing his vest straps, and watched the way Buck's eyes still wouldn't meet his, the steely blue gaze hard and unflinching but flickering back and forth with silent thoughts.

Both cowboys stood there for what felt like an age, neither daring to move lest the other lash out like a snake at any sudden move, and Bucky could feel his heart sink lower and lower the longer Buck kept silent, dread crawling up his throat and into his mouth in a sickening wave.

When that feeling felt like it was about to bubble out of him like an overflowing shaken up coke bottle, he parted his mouth, trying to get some type of sound or word out, but snapped his jaw shut again when Buck whipped his head up to stare straight at him.

It felt like those blue eyes were boring holes into his very soul, stormy and enraged and something else that Bucky couldn't quite discern and didn't necessarily want to.

He kept himself still, not wanting Buck to unleash whatever was building there inside his head, just stared right back, wanting but not able to break their stares for fear of what would happen if he did.

So when Buck finally moved, making a beeline straight for him, eyes still sharp and unreadable, Bucky found himself taking another small step back, steeling himself as Buck got closer and closer until he got so close that Bucky felt himself swallow in a suddenly dry throat, ready for the rage of Buck's words to finally pour out.

He took a small breath, not afraid of Buck but afraid of how truthful Buck's words would be, but instead found himself making a small sound of surprise as two hands came up to grab the sides of his face and drag him downwards into a fierce bruising kiss against the other man's lips.

It only took him a few scant moments before he let the tension ooze out of his body and melt into the other, allowing his eyes to close as Buck kissed him harshly, digging his thumbs into the sides of Bucky's jaw until he parted his lips properly and was rewarded with Buck's tongue invading his mouth with an energy he was struggling to compete with.

He risked moving his own hands, abandoning the straps he didn't realise he was still holding on to and fit them perfectly against the curve of Gale's ass, squeezing against the denim and soft leather of the chaps and pulling the smaller man's hips against his own.

Bucky couldn't help the disappointed groan he let slip when Gale pulled his lips away from his, breath panting hot and rapid over his lips in a staticky wild energy, both men's eyes still squeezed shut at the onslaught of emotion suddenly coursing through them.

He felt Buck's fingers shift back from his jaw to grip harshly at the longer curls at the back of his head, pulling until a sharp pain made him groan again against Gale's lips.

"You're such a fuckin' idiot, John Egan."

John felt his eyes fly open, a confused frown pulling at his brow as he finally looked at Buck, who was staring at him with that same stormy anger he had seen when the other man had entered the trailer.

He let his gaze scan over Gale's features, sitting on the kiss swollen redness of his lips before making eye contact again.

"What?"

Buck sighed, sharp and irritated and tugged at John's hair again that had Bucky hissing through his teeth as Buck knocked their foreheads together harshly.

"I said, that you're an idiot, and I can't believe you thought for even a second that I would ever think of replacing you, or be jealous of Rosie, for Christ's sake."

John gaped at Buck's words, feeling hot shame and embarrassment coil into his stomach, and had no doubt that his face was turning a bright shade of red as he cringed.

He looked away from Buck's eyes for a few seconds, trying to wrangle that shame under control before he looked back at him. He could feel the way his face melted into something sad and shameful, and he couldn't control it.

"Buck, I-"

"Shutup, and listen to me for a second. When I told you, all those weeks ago that you had made your home in my heart, I damn well meant it. And I don't know about you, but I mean what I say."

The shame increased for a few moments before something that felt suspiciously like relief started to chase it away, a new sensation building as he stared at Buck.

He took in the raw emotion that was growing in the blond's expression, the way his lips trembled slightly and the crease between his brows, a bead of sweat trailing from his hair and down the side of his face.

He couldn't help but think Buck was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, a thought that often overtook every waking moment.

"Rosie is not interested in me like that, John. And I can tell you that with complete honesty, right now. He respects me, is starstruck by me, has looked up to my dad and now me since he was a kid. There is nothing there besides respect and adoration for my riding and my name."

John swallows heavily, the shame now disappearing completely, and he suddenly thinks that he would really, really like to kiss the man standing in front of him again. "But I-"

Buck brings one hand around to grip Bucky's jaw in between his fingers giving him a gentle shake to quiet him again.

"Besides," Buck murmurs suddenly, a small grin crawling its way on to his lips, and Bucky watches the motion with reverence before returning his hold on Buck's eyes, which have gone softer in their intensity. "He likes Crosby."

Bucky feels his brain short circuit, like someone has cut the wires again, leaving him in a state of sudden confusion and shock like Buck had just slapped him with the hand still holding his jaw.

The sudden images of small secretive smiles, of giddy looks and signs that he had resolutely ignored, had pushed down into the back of his mind like unimportant information because all he had been focused on was Buck and Rosie, suddenly made him feel, indeed, very stupid.

He frowned at Buck, mouth opening and closing a few times as Buck watched all the pieces click into place in his mind with a self satisfied smirk on the blond's lips.

"Crosby!? Wh- How the hell do you know that?"

Buck laughed, low and quiet, and let his grip on John's jaw loosen slightly, thumb stroking over the sharp angle of it.

"Curt." He said simply.

Bucky sputtered, still trying to process the onslaught of information that he had suddenly been made aware of in such a short amount of time, and his head started to ache.

"How the hell does Curt know that?" John questioned. He brought his hands that were still sitting against the curve of Buck's ass up to rest comfortingly against the shape of his waist in a comforting hold. Buck rolled his eyes, his smirk only growing. "Curt knows everything, you should know this. He's also the reason I found out you were being a jealous idiot for the past week."

Bucky cleared his throat at Buck's words, averting his eyes in embarrassment and cursing under his breath, but was quickly pulled back by Buck's hand so he was face to face with the other man once again.

He was also face to face with Buck's sudden look of complete fond adoration, eyes partially lidded and staring over the contours of his face, eyes scanning every inch of it like he was seeing the stars for the first time.

He felt the continuous movement of Buck's thumb running against the skin of his jaw, the barely there whisper of movement that sent a shiver straight up his spine in an electric over load from being the sudden subject of Buck's soft attention.

"Told you you should'a worn a helmet. Your brain's startin' to turn to mush," Buck smiled up at him, amusement plain on his beautiful face and Bucky felt himself mirror it with a raised brow.

"Oh ha ha, Cleven's got jokes," he purred, slowly lowering his face down to Buck's until he pressed his lips gently against Gale's, feeling the ghost of his smart-ass smile melt away into John's ministrations.

He flexed his fingers against Buck's waist and the other leaned into the kiss perfectly, hand that had been gripping John's jaw finally releasing its hold and running down the column of his throat, fingers caressing in a barely there touch that had Bucky groaning into him.

The sound of familiar muffled voices outside the trailer suddenly had Bucky snapping his eyes open with realisation, pulling away from Buck's mouth suddenly as he leaned over to the window, reaching out with one arm.

Buck made a disappointed sound where he was still held carefully with John's other arm as the bull rider flicked the glass of the window open, face leaning closer to the opening as he shouted out into the open campground.

"You're a fuckin' traitor, Biddick! A big fat goddamn traitor!"

Curt's barked out laughter reached them from a short distance away, a half cut off 'You're welcome!' shouted back in answer as Bucky slammed the sliding glass shut and cut the world out again, leaving him and Buck standing in the ensuing silence.

Turning his attention back to Buck with a soft smile, he noticed the blond cowboy's eyes had dropped from his face down to the expanse of his chest, and he followed his gaze down to where Buck was suddenly fiddling absentmindedly with the still half-done straps of his vest.

Buck cut his eyes up to his again, smile spreading across his face, all sweetness and barely concealed mischief held behind the blue, and Bucky felt his cock stir unhelpfully against the harsh denim seam of his jeans.

With slow practiced ease, Buck lent up, by-passing Bucky's lips completely and instead brushed his lips against the shell of John's ear, making the taller man shiver and tighten his hold back on the waist between his fingers.

"Get this off, and get your ass up on that bed, now," Buck purred, low and so dangerously rumbled that it had Bucky huffing out a breath of surprise as Buck suddenly moved back and pushed a hand against his chest, making him stumble back a few steps.

He watched Buck with wide eyes as the other started fumbling with the buckles holding his roping chaps around his hips, eyes never leaving John's and Bucky felt his brain suddenly kick back in to gear, heart pounding in excitement.

He turned away from Buck for a few moments to hoist himself up onto the mattress of the bed in the loft, almost tripping in his haste and hands flying down to rip the straps of his vest open.

"Sir, yes sir, King Cleven," he teased, letting out a breathless 'oof' as he turned around to recieve a boot straight to the center of his chest, grabbing it before it fell to the floor with a laugh of surprise and then a yelp as a body quickly followed.

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expanding-hyrule · 2 months ago

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Hey there! Expanding Hyrule needs your help!

This is a budding community and I am only one person running it at the moment and I’ve only got so much energy in a day. Even less right now. No joke, I opened the EH Discord and then immediately got knocked out by con flu for two weeks, still pending recovery.

Which is where you come in! The Internet is massive and it’s impossible for me to get the whole thing archived for this niche all by myself. So if you know works in any medium or creators in any medium who would fit into the “Original Legends” niche, send them my way! The list currently compiled only got set up because of one post that happened to get some traction. Imagine what we can do with a community working together on it! There are way more creators in the space than I currently have on the list and I need your help to find them! This niche has never been organized before and it’s only going to get organized with a team effort! So let’s get to it, adventurers!

What is “Original Legends” as a LoZ niche?

The "Original Legends" tag is a temporary tag for stories about Hyrules thus unseen. So based on the franchise as a whole and not any particular game. The community is not yet big enough to run a vote on a final pick for a tag, which is where you all come in! We're currently gathering ideas on the Discord and off this blog, so if you have suggestions, let us know! The poll will run off this blog once we have a bigger following.

Does it include sequels or Links Meet?

So this is where I need to be a little pedantic. Because technically, yes, both could be Original Legends. But. Because right now this community needs to build a strong central identity for what the core of "Original Legends" means, there may be more scrutiny for whether they get added to the archives.

The thing about direct sequel and Links Meet works is that they have tags they can rely on, chiefly the game they're a sequel to or the Links Meet tags, those are both recognized tags across fandom. There is no tag currently for the full "Original Legends" niche, so for the time being it needs to become prominent enough in the fandom to stand on its own first and then we can add wider definitions. So not a full no, you're welcome to still use the tag if you think your work applies, but for the official archive lists here, it's a not yet while we establish what this tag is first.

Where do I send works I find?

You can send them as reblogs, asks, submissions, DMs, or just plain old @'s to this blog. Some of the lists do have to have manual additions (the blog archive, the Discord list, the Wattpad reading list), so it is better if you make sure I'm aware it's being added so I can update all lists accordingly.

For art, because we're trying to keep the archive list a little more manageable, be sure to see socials and tags you use for your project. I will try to include some pictures, but you will make my life a whole lot easier if you can send me the ones you want in the gallery specifically. Ones that scan scale down nicely are better so we can again keep that list more manageable to scroll through.

What if I’m a creator in this space?

Please reach out! I'm trying to follow everyone here on Tumblr to make sure I get updates, my main is @amelias-hart and my LoZ alt is @amelias-zelda-calamity-quintet. You can ping any three of those blogs when you have updates, sending them in asks, submissions, or DMs as I'm the only moderator on this blog at present and those are open. If that changes for this blog, then the other blogs listed will still have DMs.

We also have a Discord open if you'd like to connect with other creators in the space and you can share when you post there. I set up events for people who upload on a schedule as well for anyone who like reminders that way for when fics in our archive are updating.

Are there other ways I can help?

Share this blog! On and off of Tumblr. In order for us to organize a tag like this within the whole of such a massive community, we need eyes on it and I simply do not have the reach or budget to make that happen without help.

Long term, if you have Discord experience, I will need help running that eventually, as well as the blog. If I put too much of this work on myself, then I won't have time to write either! And I'd rather not get stuck in that again. Keep an eye on the blog for news on that, I've got not idea where or how that process will start.

But the biggest, check out the works in our archives! It's very hard to coordinate and share a work that falls into a niche like this without the use of the main community tags, so a lot of these creators have been struggling to find their audience for years. Community support changes that, which begins and ends with each of you. Be the kind of fan you would want for yourself. We're all just nerds on the Internet, so we gotta look out for each other, yeah?

What if I was added to this space and I’d like to be removed?

If for whatever reason you would like your work removed from the list, contact this blog or any of my alts if there's an issue getting in touch and I'll remove it. I will ask for some verification that a work is yours so people can't take other people's works off the list, but if you don't want to be in the archive, I'm not going to force anyone stay in it.

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

Sure can! Hi, I’m Amelia (she/they, 28), you might know me better as amelias-hart or, if you’ve been around my works a second, echosound. I started writing Original Legends fic back in 2012 with a work called Goddess of Secrecy, which I just managed to wrap up this summer (I may have gotten stuck in the Temple of Time in 2017). GoS got its start on Wattpad and I’m now expanding my horizons on AO3, so I’ve got a lot of learning left to do! Thank you for your patience while I am!

#zelda fandom #zelda fanfiction #loz art #original legends #loz: original legends #legend of zelda #loz zelda #zelda #legend of zelda fanart #loz #tloz

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coltermorning · 1 year ago

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Where Stubbornness Leads Pt. 1 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Arthur has found himself offering his help to you time and again, even if you’re too proud to accept it. When Hosea sends the two of you on a score pretending to be a married couple, the reason for Arthur’s helping hand is revealed.

Author’s Notes: Part one of two. This one’s straight pining and fluff and can be read as a stand-alone piece if you prefer that over its more devious part two ;) Told from Arthur’s pov and takes place during chapter two in game.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, mutual pining, fluff, eventual smut

AO3 Link

Where Stubbornness Leads

Word count: 5226

Part One

“Let me help.”

You glared at Arthur. He realized too late he was doing it again, offering a hand where it wasn’t wanted. He couldn’t help it—you were only a few weeks into joining the gang, and unlike all the other women who had joined, you had a tendency to take to chores that were better left to the men. Or so he thought.

“No,” you told him firmly, struggling to carry a hay bale to the horses. “I told you, I don’t need help.”

You were always claiming that. But there you were, carrying the thing by the strings because you couldn’t lift it from underneath. He knew how sharp those strings cut in from the weight of the bales and was willing to bet your hands were killing you. You ignored your pain anyway, choosing to spite him in favor of admitting defeat.

You reached the nearby trees and threw the bale down, lurching forward from the sudden loss of weight, catching yourself on the hay. Arthur felt a smile turn the corner of his mouth at your grit—the hulking thing had to be half your size.

You turned and eyed him, like you hoped he hadn’t seen that. “What are you looking at?”

He kept himself from smiling wider, only just. “Someone too stubborn for her own good.”

“I’m not stubborn,” you shot back, standing tall. Well, as tall as you could be considered. The effect was like a bunny standing its ground.

“You realize just saying that is stubborn, right?” He was unable to keep the smile at bay now.

“Why are you needling me? I’m only trying to help, and there you are at every turn, acting like I’m fragile as a bird, telling me I’m stubborn-”

“Because you are,” he added.

“Yeah, well so are you,” you shot back. That, he couldn’t well deny. He knew better, especially to try and deny it in front of you. So he let you be, resisting the urge to go get the second bale before you could reach it just to see what you would do about it.

“Fair enough,” he mumbled, keeping his laugh held in, heading back into camp.

This had all started when you tried carrying two heavy saddles over to their respective mounts at once on only your second day in camp. Arthur had stepped in to help, and your quick refusal had his amusement gluing him to the spot, watching you fumble them onto the horses all on your own. From then on, he felt it was his duty to offer his help on the off chance you felt overworked. He didn’t want all the chores to scare you off. But it had turned into a bit of a game with the pair of you, you doing things you and he both knew were too much for you, him nearly forcing whatever it was from your grip. You had stood your ground relentlessly, and he soon came to realize you would never take his help. Whether for pride or spite he wasn’t sure, but he found himself trying anyway. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had to do with the challenge in your eyes, the gleam in them every time he approached you. Whatever the cause, he found himself trailing you around camp more often than not. And it was this that got Hosea’s attention.

“Arthur!” he called out, waving him over. “I’ve found a lead, Arthur. And I need you and Y/N to work it together.”

“Y/N?” he responded, not liking bringing you into the line of fire so soon. “Why her?”

“You seem to have gotten to know her better than the rest of us, and I need an unfamiliar face for this job. A woman at that. You said you already took the other women into town a few days ago.”

“Not Molly,” Arthur offered. “Or Abigail.” Or Sadie. But Sadie was still in mourning, and he didn’t like the idea of bringing her on a score anymore than he did you.

“Yes, but Abigail needs to be here with Jack, and you remember what happened the last time you and Molly worked something together.” Arthur scowled, recalling when Molly had nearly blown their cover, too busy going on about Dutch.

“Yes,” Arthur muttered.

“Then Y/N it is. About time to test her grit, I say.”

“What is it? Ain’t too dangerous?”

Hosea’s face curved into a knowing smile. “Not unless you’re as terrible at cards as everyone seems to think you are.”

“Cards?”

“A poker tournament in Valentine. Stakes are high. I say we take a little of the winnings for ourselves.”

“Hosea, I just beat a man half to death in that town. Don’t think they’ll take too kindly to me forcing my way into a game.”

“That’s exactly why it has to be you. They won’t refuse you after winning a fight like the one I heard about. We need you, and someone holding you accountable.”

“I can handle a game of poker,” he said flatly.

“Sure,” Hosea said. “But, for sake of appearances, I think it best if you had a woman on your hip. Less chance for things to get heated.”

On his hip?

“And who knows? Maybe she’ll prove better at cards than you. That would certainly help our chances.” He laughed that wheezing laugh of his.

Arthur scoffed. “You really want my help or just felt like annoying me?”

“Why not both?” he said, and for the life of him, Arthur couldn’t help but snicker right back.

Hosea suggested Arthur let you in on the plan, but he quickly shot that down, not wanting to have to tell you what role you would be playing alongside him. He had a feeling you would refuse. So, Hosea let you in on it instead, and Arthur watched from afar as you eagerly agreed. You soon ambled up to him, looking smug.

“Seems I’m to be taken out on my first score,” you told him, crossing your arms in a taunt.

“I wouldn’t call it a score,” Arthur said. “Just a clean game of cards. That’s what you’re there to make sure of anyway.”

“Is it?” Your smile widened, a wicked-looking thing. “And here I thought I was to play wife so you keep your head.”

“Wife? Is that what Hosea told you?”

You snorted a laugh. “At least act like you know how to relation a woman.”

He felt his face heat, his embarrassment turning to anger. “I ain’t concerned with that,” he spat. “I’m concerned you’ll give us away.”

That wiped your smile away. “I can act the part just fine. It’s you that seems to have a problem with it.”

“Only because I know how you are. You can’t stand me being around you, so how the hell are we supposed to play married?”

“What did you think I was going to do, stand there and look pretty? Why would I be needed if that was the case?” That was a good point. He didn’t quite know what he had expected you to be doing. And before he could think of what to say to this, you interrupted with another snide smile. “Look sharp. I’ll be ready at seven, dear husband.”

He went red again, annoyed at himself over it. He was going to have to make a better show of this if it was going to be remotely believable.

Night eventually fell, and seven came sooner than Arthur was prepared for. How to act married to someone who only ever fought him at every turn? He was starting to think Hosea had done this on purpose just to distract him from poker, for he could act as sweet on you as was needed, but he had a feeling all it would do was annoy you. Dressed and heading for the horses, he wondered if the pair of you could even last an hour doing this. Ten minutes, even. It looked hopeless as it stood.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice,” said a voice at his back. He turned to see you wearing a dress that made him double take. You usually wore pants, the occasional dress here or there. This was neither. His gaze hung on the curves of it, how it hugged your body. Nothing like he had ever seen you in. “What do you think?” you said, turning so the deep red skirts spun back and forth.

“It uh…suits you.”

You stopping spinning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” he said, grinning. Your face gave way to the same.

Arthur made sure all was in order with the horses and wagon, and the pair of you were soon atop it, riding out of Horseshoe Overlook. You discussed a bit of strategy on the way, namely your backstory to be sure you were on the same page. The town of Valentine soon came into view, more crowded than usual, most people walking toward the saloon on the main road. Finding a good spot to park the wagon, Arthur brought it to a stop. He was a little nervous if he was being honest with himself. A good score he could handle, a long night of poker too, but he never was very good at acting a part. And yet, he found himself doing it time and again, Hosea always finding a way to swindle him into it. The only thing that kept him from thinking the night would be a total disaster was the town knowing his face after his fight with that big brute in the saloon. That tended to keep most people from asking too many questions.

After helping you down, letting you take his arm as you walked, Arthur noticed nearly everyone he passed turning their heads. He wasn’t sure if it was due to his bare-knuckle reputation or you on his arm. What a sight the pair of you likely made, him a trussed-up fool stuffed into somewhat decent clothing for once, you looking like something out of a storybook. In fact, the more he walked, the more he was sure it was both things turning heads—folk wondering how a man rough as him had ever won something with such refined grace. The irony of it wasn’t lost on him.

Stepping into the saloon, Arthur knew Hosea had planned this perfectly. For those who immediately took notice of him cleared out of the way, some whispering behind hands, a few muttering outright what state he had left Tommy in. It grated on his nerves a little, but it had the effect he was hoping for. When he stepped up to one of the tables now converted to a poker table in the back of the room, a seat was immediately offered to him.

“Here, sir,” a scrawny-looking man said, having trouble meeting his eye. The others already seated at the table glared at the man, like they wished he had offered the chair to anyone else. But Arthur sat, remembering his manners, letting you step behind him as another woman with her husband did across the table.

They all eyed him, the man to his left finding the courage to confront him. “You the man left Tommy in a right state?”

“Hey, he started it. And it ain’t no cause for worry besides. I can play nice.” He leaned in close to the man and said lowly, “Or my wife’ll have my head.”

This seemed to calm him some, but Arthur knew it would take convincing for these men to trust he wouldn’t beat them half to death over a bad hand.

Hosea was right again thinking having a woman with him would help. And you did well, not drawing too much attention to yourself but keeping a pleasant air about the table. When the game started and a few rounds came and went, he was surprised to feel your hands sliding over his shoulders, to hear your whispering voice in his ear. “He’s bluffing.”

Arthur kept his surprise at bay, daring a look at the only other man who hadn’t folded. He wanted to ask how you knew but couldn’t give himself away, so he took a chance and made a bigger bet. Cards were laid out, and it paid off. He won.

He turned to where you still hovered by his ear and muttered, “Thanks, darlin’.” You gave his shoulders a small squeeze, and Arthur felt his heart give a happy kick in return. He ignored it, knowing this was all for show and reminding his heartbeat of the same.

You didn’t pitch in often, but what little advice you had was always spot on, and Arthur’s pile of chips was soon building high. Lucky Hosea had thought to bring you in, really. He was only ever average at best playing poker, bets too big and bluffs too noticeable. He soon realized that was the flaw in his strategy—he played for himself when he should have been watching the other men at the table like you were. When two men busted out, leaving three others and Arthur, he started leaning into you for advice every hand, losing very few when he did.

“Hey, you play your own game or sit her at the table,” one of the men said bitterly, his pile of chips running pitifully low. Arthur only had to shoot him a sharp look to shut him right up.

The night wore on, and Arthur was soon left with only one opponent, the money he had won substantial. The only problem was that he was beginning to lose it, the other man either very good or very lucky. Even your advice wasn’t helping to win, only to keep from losing too much. Finally, when you whispered, “Call it,” Arthur knew you weren’t talking about matching a bet. He wouldn’t have ever thought of leaving the table if you hadn’t been there, would have just kept on playing until he busted. He knew then Hosea had been right in thinking you would help him keep his head.

He hesitated, wanting to win one more hand.

“Arthur,” you warned. But he did it anyway, matching a particularly high bet. You brought your hands away, obviously annoyed, and he hoped like hell the cards would land in his favor for it. The turn proved unhelpful and the river even worse—he didn’t have a thing. “Fold,” you hissed, as his opponent had raised the bet even higher. Arthur debated it. You could obviously read the man well, but how was he to win and get a seat in the next game, the game where all the money was, if he folded now?

He raised the bet and placed his cards face-up. He thought he heard you curse under your breath behind him. The other man smiled and matched the bet, showing his cards—he had a straight.

“Damn it,” Arthur said, slamming his fist on the table enough to make the chips shake. He had just lost twenty dollars. Watching the other man rake in his winnings, avoiding his eye after his small bout of violence, Arthur finally heeded your advice. He stood. “I’m taking my money and my pride while I still got some.”

“Probably for the best, dear,” he heard, your hand finding his arm and giving him a reassuring squeeze. He looked to you and again felt his gaze catch—he was standing close enough now to notice the red on your lips, the slight color high on your cheekbones. You had really leaned into your role, looking the part so well that he found himself unable to tear his eyes away.

“Here’s your money, sir,” said a voice from behind him. He hesitated a moment too long, you raising an eyebrow at the way he stared.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, rounding quickly to cover his blunder. He had still won a fair amount, knowing Hosea would be happy with him and even happier with you for not allowing him to lose it all.

With that, he offered his arm to you again. “Back home then?”

You shot him a smirk and took his arm, pulling him to the bar. “May as well enjoy ourselves a little. Home can wait.”

You were soon making him buy you whiskey with his winnings, eating through a few bucks with ease when he joined you in it. When you asked for yet another shot, it was him raising his eyebrow this time. “You trying to drown out the thought of being married to me?” he asked with a grin.

“The thought of your stubbornness, more like, losing that last hand.” The next glass was set down in front of you and you threw it back without hesitation.

“Yes, I’m a proper fool. But take it easy or you’ll blow our cover.”

You set the glass down, staring at it a moment. “Ain’t so proper for a married woman to be doing this, is it?”

Arthur shrugged. “Maybe. I ain’t quite the right man to ask.”

You laughed lowly. “I guess not.” Then, “Let’s go home, take the long way around. I need some time away.”

His gaze had fallen to your mouth again. Luckily, you didn’t notice, too busy straightening the lapels of his coat. It was an intimate gesture, domestic enough to make his chest hitch at the feeling that ran through him—longing for that life. For someone to care enough to straighten his clothes. The thought of settling down often plagued him, what with all that business with Mary and what he could have given Eliza and Isaac. But it hadn’t worked before and it wouldn’t work now, and your hands were soon falling away, and the moment was gone before it even began. Nothing but a facade, like looking in on someone else’s life through the outside window, never his to grasp.

Realizing he was still staring at your mouth through his moment of longing, he met your eyes and turned away just as fast, knowing he had shown you a part of himself he hadn’t meant to by the way you stared just as frankly.

“Come on then,” he mumbled, letting you loop your arm through his and leading you out.

Thankfully, you were silent for the walk back to the wagon. He helped you up, his hands on your hips making him feel something he didn’t know how to feel. Not now. It was only when he was back on the wagon pulling the horses into the street that you spoke, bringing him out of his reverie.

“I think I did okay, don’t you? Gonna put in a good word for me with Hosea?”

There it was—the truth that it had all been a ruse to you. That what he had felt when he was so near you didn’t hold weight, didn’t matter.

“Sure,” he said, trying hard to keep his feelings out of his voice. Then, to get back to something resembling normal with you, “And where’s all this compliance been the whole time? Here I thought you couldn’t go two minutes without an argument.”

“Oh, hush. Just be glad I chose not to. Some wives argue just as much with their husbands as I do with you, you know.”

He felt one side of his mouth tug upward at the comparison. “I guess so. Just seems you’re going against your nature, not running your mouth at me.”

“Trust me, there were plenty of times I wanted to,” you shot back. “Who knew you were such shit at cards?”

He turned to argue, but you were smiling so devilishly at him that he knew better than to reply. He instead settled in his seat, keeping the horses pointed toward the path out of town, dead silent.

“Oh, real mature,” you teased, giving him a small shove. “Admit it, Arthur. You love arguing just as much as I do.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t wrong so often.” You hit him this time. “It’s true,” he said on a laugh. “You’re too stubborn to accept that I’m right more often than not.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” He was grinning now, especially when he saw how worked up you were getting.

You turned away, making a point to cross your arms and turn your nose up.

“Now who’s mature?” he asked, poking you in the side. You jerked away and swatted at him, smiling despite yourself.

“You- big- annoying- bastard,” you said between swats.

“You know you love me.” He said the words before he could think to stop himself.

Hoping this hadn’t come on as too strong, he peeked at you to gauge your reaction. You were turned around again, arms crossed once more. Thank the lord. That is, until you mumbled, “I do, and it makes me hate you even more.”

Arthur’s heart started racing. Surely he hadn’t heard that right. “What was that?” he asked, playful but careful.

“You heard me,” you snapped, still turned away.

“Sorry, I didn’t.”

You spun on the wagon seat with enough force to send the thing rocking. “I said I do like you, but it makes me so mad that I do because of that stupid, smug look on your face.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“Excuse me?”

Arthur’s grin was wide, his heart still kicking a wild pace as he taunted, “You said you love me.”

To his shock, you blushed so deep he could see it in the moonlight. Then, sputtering, “I don’t- I didn’t-”

“Oh yes you did.”

You threw your hands up in defeat. “You’re impossible!” And he couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him, nor the feeling that bloomed in his chest when you turned silent again, never denying it.

The pair of you remained in silence as he took the long way like you suggested, down by the river. You were still fuming, refusing to look at him as he took in the nighttime scenery. It was pleasant and peaceful, but he couldn’t stop stealing glances at you. He suddenly wanted to know your innermost thoughts with a desperation that ate at him. He was consumed by the thought of you feeling anything remotely friendly toward him, much less anything that made you blush like that. He had never seen that out of you. And he started going over every interaction between you in his head, wondering if there was something he had missed. Maybe you had been seeking out his company on purpose, doing chores you knew would draw his attention. Maybe that constant challenge in your eye wasn’t what drew him but something much, much deeper, and he had been too much of a fool to see it.

“Fine night,” he said, breaking the silence. A pointless thing to say, really, but his thoughts were driving him insane. He needed something to cling onto besides the thought of you.

You gave a high, “Hm,” with nose still upturned.

He snickered. “You still mad then? Over me winning an argument?”

“You didn’t win-” You turned to him and saw the smile lighting his face. “Oh, for god’s sake.”

“What?” he pushed.

“You!”

“What about me?”

You huffed out a breath in annoyance. “You’re just trying to get a rise out of me. I won’t fall for it.”

“I ain’t trying to get a rise out of you.”

“Yes you are! It’s all you ever do, following me around camp all day, treating me like a wisp of a thing.”

“That’s not why I-”

“Really?” you interrupted. “Tell me then, why do you do it? Why treat me like I can’t do anything myself?”

The answer to that had just occurred to him, and it most certainly wasn’t something he was willing to speak aloud just yet. He hesitated.

“See?” you said. “Even you know deep down, that’s what you’re doing.”

“No it ain’t.”

“Then what?” You rounded on him, your usual temper taking hold. Only, he didn’t know what to say now that wouldn’t give him away.

He cleared his throat. “I just want to help. You’re new is all.”

“See, that’s what you’re always claiming. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“Why?” he said, trying desperately to cover up what he really felt.

“Because of the way you look at me when you walk up all smug, like you think it’s so damn funny I’m trying to do whatever it is I’m doing.”

“That’s not what-” He stopped himself. This was getting dangerously close to what he didn’t want to admit.

His sudden silence drew your attention. And, your voice changing to that of amused curiosity, “What is it, Arthur?”

“Ain’t nothing,” he mumbled, giving the reins a switch. He needed to be back in camp, out from under this conversation. The sooner the better.

“Tell me,” you insisted.

He shook his head. “What part of ‘ain’t nothing’ don’t you understand?”

He dared a glance at you. Your smile was feline. “Why’s your face all red then?”

Shit. He didn’t realize—didn’t have his hat to hide behind.

“Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” he muttered.

“Big, tough Arthur, all flustered.”

“Shut up,” he said, and with a laugh, you nudged against his shoulder with your own. But to his amazement, you dropped it, not saying another word.

Quickly taking you up on the respite, he changed the subject. “How’d you like your first outing then? As a Van der Linde?”

“It was fun,” you admitted. “Glad to get to play cards and get under your skin all at once.” He felt his face heat this time, remembering how you had caught him staring back in the saloon. Twice.

“Of course you are,” he muttered.

Going on about some of the hands he’d gotten in poker, you carried the conversation. He was glad for it. He couldn’t very well focus when his thoughts were on your mouth again.

Finally, thankfully, the path back to camp gave way to the familiar woods hiding the overlook. Arthur was moments away from escaping you, being able to breathe again and get his mind right, when you placed a hand on his chest.

“Stop here.”

Confused, he hesitated a moment then pulled up short, the horses stopping obediently. He looked down at you, wondering why you’d asked such a thing. You seemed…nervous. It made Arthur’s heart race, and he was wholly glad you had just taken your hand away from his chest lest you feel it pounding beneath your fingers.

“I…” you started, not meeting his eye. “I wanted to ask…”

You hesitated so long he spoke. “What is it?”

You shook your head and let out a small laugh. “I may be completely mistaken but…” Each word was slow, pulled apart like you were forcing yourself to utter them. You looked at him then, open and honest for the first time, entirely too close to him. “Back in the saloon. You’re either damn good at playing husband or…”

Arthur knew where this was going. He felt his heart pick up its pace more still.

“Or that look you gave me meant what I think it did,” you finished, staring at him. Your breathing had quickened. So had his. He debated whether to admit what he felt or not. He wanted to. Christ, did he want to. But he didn’t know how it would be received.

He took the look you were giving him now to mean the same as his in the saloon had and responded lowly, “And if it did?”

You stared, your eyes flicking back and forth between his. He was holding his breath now, his heart thundering. He thought of kissing you but didn’t, wanting to know how you felt. So he sat there silently until, finally, in a voice so quiet he could barely hear the words, “Then I’d say we’re both stubborn fools.”

Your gaze landed on his mouth. And, doing what he had wanted to do for longer than he cared to admit, Arthur leaned over and kissed you.

All thought of you not wanting him like this melted away the second your lips met—you were gentle yet sure against him. Perfect. Everything he had dreamed. His mind went blank a moment before he remembered himself and his manners. Though it took everything in him to do it, he pulled away.

He watched a small smile light your face before you looked down at your hands, nervous once more. It was a strange-looking thing on you—he only ever knew smugness or stubbornness aimed at him. Not this. He certainly hadn’t expected this.

“That…what you want?” he asked quietly, like any louder would shatter the moment.

You nodded. “Wanted it for a while. I thought it was pity keeping you around though, not this. Then I saw how you looked at me tonight and figured I had to try.”

His chest felt like it would cave in at the thought of you believing he only sought you out for pity. And the timid look on your face now, the nerves he could see plain as day…he couldn’t have that. He placed his hand under you chin and lifted your face to look at him.

“Sweetheart, it weren’t pity. It weren’t ever pity.” You gave him a smile so genuine it made the side of his own mouth tug upward in return. “Just took me too long to admit it to myself.”

He leaned in and kissed you again, unable to resist. Slower this time, reveling in the fact that you felt this way toward him.

You pulled away after a moment, that usual spark back in your eye. “So it was your stubbornness keeping this from happening?”

He smirked. “You said it yourself, we were both stubborn fools. Blind idiots.”

“You calling me an idiot?”

His kissed the grin right off your mouth before pulling away, taking the reins back in both hands, urging the horses forward again.

“Now I know how to shut you up.”

You swatted him and laughed, the sound a pretty thing in the night. “Maybe I’ll argue more often then, see what it gets me.”

Arthur felt the heat cross his face but chuckled anyway, happy like he hadn’t been in a long time.

The pair of you got back and parted ways with knowing looks and matching grins. When Arthur was almost back to his tent, Hosea called over to him.

“How’d it go?”

After what had just happened, Arthur had clean forgotten about the poker game.

“It uh, went well. Got enough money to make it all worth it.”

“And Y/N?”

Arthur looked over at you where you had sat with the other girls, talking animatedly, no doubt describing his poor poker skills. He tried his best to keep the smile off his face. To no avail.

“She’ll fit in just fine. Kept me in line, at least.”

“That’s saying something,” Hosea said. And when Arthur met his eye, the gleam in them, he wondered for the first time whether Hosea had recognized something that made him send the pair of you off together in the first place, playing married. Arthur shook his head in amused disbelief, making for his wagon. The damn conniving sneak.

_________

Part two is here.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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a-s-levynn · 10 months ago

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I'm terrified to post this. So watch me sprinting away into the distance after dropping this.

Open love letter to -in extension to the wider ST community on tumblr, but especially- to the fellowship of Sleep because without you, life would be much more lonely

My Friends,

It was today when it finally dawned on me that you gave me the most undescribably precious gift. Many of you probably going to relate to this to some degree because i am not unique in any sense but i had to get this out. And by just the sheer lenght probably not many of you will read it. But i still need to put this out there, even if i'm being obnoxious and probably sound overdramatic and maybe even cringy.

I struggle with a lot of things. Anxiety, self doubt, depression, paranoia, self destructive tendencies, self isolation and the list goes on to even darker places. All in all i have a suboptimal mental state to put it lightly. I feel inadequate in many ways. Especially with connecting to people.

To this day, i struggle every day, seeing my friends, you, talk on a daily basis, have inside jokes and wonderful conversations and whatnot and either i like it or not, thoughts intrude: "am i doing enough? Am i a good enough of a friend? Do i really have a place among these wonderful bright souls? Am i intruding? Am i inserting myself into spaces i do not have any right to be? Am i forcing myself into your circles?"

For the longest time, on most days the conclusion was no. I do not belong. You were just being nice to the pathetic little creature in the corner because by nature you are simply kind. But as the weeks went by i learned that you are also awkward people with your own stuggles and hardships which are far harder and more painful than mine. That you are choosing to be kind every day, in spite of what life threw at you. Because you know.

I started to see you also crave a particular type of companionship and you reach out with the same trembling hands, hoping that someone sees it and grabs it. That someone finally says: you are not alone. I am here. For you. With you.

And you did. You've seen a bunch of hands fumbling in the dark, desperate to hold onto something and went: yeah.. i think i'll grab all of them. Because we are coming from the same darkness. And if i can help pull you into the light than you might have the strenght to do the same for me, so we can all sit in the warmth of the fire. The fire we built together. A fire that is growing ever brighter and allowes us to see even more hands on the edges to be pulled and invited into the circle.

So we have. For a while sitting almost silently, showing the things we found along the way. Tentatively feeling out the boundries. Than we broke the silence. You even started to call me your friend at some point. I already considered you mine because i'm painfully lonely and just the gesture, that you included me among the hands you grabbed was enough for me to see you mine. But all in all, for some unknowable reason, we became friends.

The weeks turned into months and i felt a bit more comfortable to approach you on my own clumsy and awkward ways. Many of you know by now that Tiny Token was born because i was too afraid to send a happy birthday ask to someone. I still apologize regularly just for adding thoughts to posts even if i only do it in tags. I am afraid. Of so many thing.

We still don't talk daily. Yet we still call each other friend. We have actual plans now. I still stuggle with the though of not being enough. There are still days when i feel you just feeling pity towards me.

But lately there is an other thought there. Which makes me feel bad for thinking that way. A thought that's never been there before. "If i was truly bothersome or annoying or any way too unpleasent, you could simply walk away. This is the internet after all. You could just block me. You have the option to walk away but you are time and time again choosing not to. No matter how many days pass by with us not talking, you are there. I can count on you. I'm still hesitant to reach out and dump my superficial adversities on you. But i also see you keeping the door ajar, leaving the option there to be approached if anyone needs it. So it would be not just a disservice but an outright insult to you if i'd think you are just acting out of pity. But if you like me than.. there has to be something about me to actually to be worth knowing?"

And that is doing something that ten years worth of failed therapy could not. You made me question my self doubt. It is still there and will be for the rest of my life. But now there is a steady counter balance i never had this solidly in my life ever before.

I'm still afraid to ask even if anyone would be up for a talk, let alone a call because i have little to offer in conversations. I don't talk much by default and that is not a good base for conversations. I'm still terrified of overstaying my welcome. But i also know now that you probably wouldn't mind from time to time. Because you understand. Maybe one day i will get there. I don't know when but there is a hope i never truly had before.

This is something i will never be able to repay you. Thank you for understanding that we all have different levels of anxiety and fear and not holding it against one and other. I'm writing this to you with immens love and eternal gratitude i cannot truly express in any way that does it justice: Thank you for showing me hope. Thank you for being the way you are.

You gave me the biggest gift there is to give.

You gave me your friendship.

I love you.

Yours in friendship,

Levynn

#i know this is long and probably will annoy some people on the dash but this one i refuse to hide under a cut #so i'm just posting this and inelegantly running away immediately in terror to check back hours later

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seeingstarks · 2 years ago

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on the level of the devil

summary : maxwell / mjf finds a way to deal with his brat s/o after his double or nothing match pairing : mjf x afab!brat reader cw : teasing, chin grabbing, cmjf mention if you squint, general bratting, talk-back, choking, dom/sub dynamic, daddy/babygirl, punishments, blowjob, ball massaging, general filth. a/n : this is my first fic since dec 2022, writers block truly hit me hard & so did irl things but i'm v happy to share this with everyone and that i actually had the inspo to write for once!! as always reblogs are v much appreciated! <3 there may be a few spelling/punctuation errors. word count : 1,090 words tag list : @josiewrites , @omg-im-such-a-masochist , @baysexuality , ( for the guy you love, hate )

being one of mjf's so called ring girls came with it's benefits, no one would be able to tell you apart from the rest except for the devil himself.

your h/c hair tucked gently behind your ears with e/c eyes as you peaked out from behind the lilith mask, a pit of jealousy forming in your stomach when watching the other women reach toward maxwell as his entrance music hit.

you wanted to be his one and only girl but max was always extra. you reached your hand up further than you were supposed to, a hand lightly brushing up against his crotch.

a growl falling past his lips that only you were able to hear, almost as a small warning but you continued your actions briefly until max left your presence.

once retaining, he didn't take much time to grab you by the hand and pull you back toward his locker room. he was covered in blood and sweat from head to toe but didn't care in the slightest, he wasn't going to take that kind of teasing from you especially before one of his biggest matches.

hearing the locks click on the door, knowing you were in for it. especially since he put the devil mask back on and hadn't spoken a word since the two of you reached his locker room.

with a thick gulp, you stared up at his tall stature, towering over you. "not so brave now that we're all alone, hm?" he taunted and lifted his hand up, holding your chin. you were barely able to see his dark hues through the mask but they were ones full of lust and desire.

"m-max... y'know how i get jealous when you're around other girls. don't like their hands all over you." you admitted, attempting to look away but he kept your chin in place keeping a firm grip.

maxwell laughed and you didn't know whether or not you wanted to punch the man, kiss him, or both.

however, he didn't utter a single word. for someone so talkative on the mic he was rather quiet at the moment, his hand leaving your chin briefly while he removed the mask. a whine slipping past your lips at the loss of his warm touch.

"look at you... so needy to touch daddy earlier and now whining all from one simple chin grab? pathetic." you knew he could be rather arrogant at times after a big match but even this was pushing it. so why not meet fire with fire?

"what's pathetic is how anyone backstage could have me screaming their name except for you, maybe i should give phil a call - surely you would know. dunno' how you could even call that thing between your legs a dick." you stared at him with a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

you watched as his dark hues flickered between lust and what seemed to be anger, slowly you pushed the man toward the edge and he was swift to act on it.

backing you up against the wall, maxwell spread your legs open. absentmindely, you opened them wider just as he taught you to many times before.

he reached his hand up, wrapping it around your throat and applying pressure to choke you just enough where you were still able to breathe.

"gonna say that to me again, doll? not'so brave now when daddy has himself pressed up against you-" his voice lowered and he leaned in toward your ear with a soft whisper, "here i was hoping you'd be a good girl so i didn't have to punish you..."

with the added pressure of him choking you and his hard on pressed up against your core, various moans and whimpers escaped your mouth. "daddy - promise you i'll be good." you glanced up at him with wide eyes, putting on a pout.

the man simply tsked and waved his finger, "you're not going to get off that easily, doll. daddy needs to teach you a lesson. no talking back. got it?" you simply nodded as he released his grip from your throat, you let out a much needed gasp of air.

"you're not on the level of the devil." tilting your head, simply confused as the man mimicked one of his promos. maxwell pointed toward the floor as you lowered yourself on your knees and looked up at him with hooded eyes.

"good girl, someone's finally listening. get to work beautiful and then maybe daddy will let you ride him on the throne later."

once your knees hit the floor, you swiftly removed his pants and burberry boxers. you never got used to seeing his massive size pressing up against the man's stomach.

after taking a deep breath, you placed your mouth on his tip, twirling your tongue in circles while sucking and making the perfect shaped "o". small groans fell past his lips as you licked the man as if he were your last meal or even a lollipop.

going deeper on his length, you began to bob your head slightly while taking his balls in your hands and massaging them at the same time. the noises coming out of his mouth were unknown to human.

he grasped the back of your nape, pulling at the ends of your hair which caused you to gag on the rest of his size, the locker room being filled with nothing but unholy noise as maxwell picked up the pace and started to thrust his hips in your mouth.

gagging and choking on his cock, maxwell quite enjoyed the sight under him as he twitched in your mouth feeling close to his release. knowing you had to come up for air at one point or another, you tapped at his thigh and the man simply just smirked. oh no.

momentarily, he thrusted into your mouth a few more times as you massaged his balls and he groaned out as you moaned around his cock, "mff-"

maxwell painted your mouth white, "clean up every last drop, sweetheart. don't want you wasting any."

you swallowed the salty white liquid with a big gulp and stuck your tongue out to show the man, he patted your cheek with a grin, "good girl, but i think you missed some."

he reached over to his dresser and pulled out a mirror showing you your face which was covered in drool and you had some of his cum dripping down your chin.

"such a messy babygirl... ready for round two with the devil?"

#mjf #mjf x reader #mjf x female reader #mjf smut #maxwell jacob friedman #aew smut #all elite wrestling #mjf x fem reader #wrestling fanfiction

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random-mha-thoughts · 1 year ago

Text

Observant (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, College AU

Word Count: 2,562

Summary: In which Shouto moves to the library to study, but it’s more than the quiet atmosphere keeping him coming back.

Tags: @yamichxn @liviitehe @cyanide9602

*Btw it's been a while since I updated my taglist and everyone's usernames I have are from like 2 years ago, so if you wanna be on it shoot me an ask/DM and I'll update it

A/N: Ok maybe I lied and this took longer to write than a week, but it's a lot longer than I thought it would be!

While I liked this idea in theory, once I wrote it I wasn't as big a fan as I thought. *sigh* The life of a writer... Always hating what you put out...

I hope you guys like it, it's more in Shouto's POV than the reader's which is different for me. I think it's pretty cute, and that's what matters.

-----

Shouto needed a change. Studying inside an empty classroom or in his dorm room alone wasn’t productive anymore; more often than not, he’s started spacing out or having to reread entire pages of his notes. It also didn’t necessarily help that his roommate this year caused so much of a ruckus every day - the roommate tended to have loud company over frequently, or he would stumble into the room in the wee hours of the night when Shouto was still studying - that Shouto's normally abundant patience had run out and he didn't want to sour their relationship by confronting him (Also read: he had no more fucks to give and it was getting on his last nerve).

Finding a replacement study space was the best decision he’d ever made.

Izuku took him to one of the school library’s quiet floors, the place he tends to study after class. The floor looked cozy; among the endless rows of library books, there were rows of desks pushed against a wall covered in windows. A wider clearing in the middle of the entire floor had a few larger tables to seat about six to eight students. On the other side of the rows of desks were locked rooms that groups can request to reserve for a few hours.

Izuku couldn’t stand the typical absolute quiet on this floor, so he tended to reserve one of the rooms with a classmate after a long day of classes; the extra privacy was an added bonus. Iida couldn’t make it, so the freckled fellow was grateful to Shouto for tagging along. The duo settled into a room with concrete white walls and a simple table, a large plane of plexiglass the only view into the rest of the library.

Shouto didn’t care about the room almost feeling like a prison; there was enough natural lighting from a double window, it was minimalistic, and he was in the presence of a friend if he needed someone to talk to when he took small breaks. He figured even if Izuku didn’t come with him every day, he could sit at one of the desks in the middle of the room with his earbuds in for a few hours. A completely focused section of the library with no distractions, just what he wanted.

Until some movement caught the corner of his eye through the plexiglass and made him do a double-take.

A girl with hair reaching past her shoulder blades approaches one of the nearby bookshelves, the white sleeves of her shirt folded up to her elbows and a burgundy skirt sitting just above her knees. The outfit alone earned a small glance from him, but what made him stare curiously was her actions. She moved a few heavy tomes aside, revealing a much smaller one hidden behind them. She plucked it from its place, opened up to a bookmarked page, and proceeded to twist the “bookmark” into her hair, making a neat bun near her nape, before walking away.

Shouto couldn’t help gawking at her receding figure. She not only hid a book in a secret hiding spot, but she used her hair stick - or fork, or pin, he was too far to tell exactly what it was - as a bookmark when she was done reading for the day. He’s heard of Fuyumi using everything but an actual bookmark to hold her place, but he’s never actually seen another person with such a habit. It made sense, one would want to pin their long hair out of their face to read - Fuyumi says she keeps her hair on the short side because long hair is a hassle to control - and Shouto acknowledges how clever she is. But then how does she spend the rest of her day with her hair down? Doesn’t it get it in the way the rest of the day? Going outside with the wind kicking around? Eating with her hair all over the place? Catching it on her backpack or her jacket? Maybe he was getting ahead of himself and this was a one-time thing, she just happened to not have a bookmark and the only thing on hand was her accessory and something was better than simply folding the page down.

Shouto realized he’d spent a whole 5 minutes ruminating about this mysterious girl and her hair and her reading habits. He’d just found a new distraction, and he wasn’t mad at it.

After a few hours of homework and studying with Izuku in the locked room, Shouto noticed the girl walking slowly back to the same bookshelf, nose buried in the pages, bun still in place. The boy silently chuckled to himself as she stood completely still for a few beats, he figured she was just finishing up a chapter.

He suddenly stops short and his eyes widen.

In one swift motion, she pulled the stick from her bun and, as if in slow motion, the silky strands were freed, falling past her shoulders as she shook it out. It was more satisfying seeing it all fall down after she meticulously pinned it up. And of course, it just looked pretty.

In doing so, her glance catches him from her periphery. His heart stopped as he quickly turned back to his laptop screen, already holding his breath. He’s not a creep, he told himself as his face heats up, his mind was just bored and his eyes wandered and he just so happened to catch activity happening. Simple. It’s not like he wanted to see her do it again.

Izuku stretches his arms over his head. “Yikes, I didn’t notice how late it was. Wanna break for the night and come back tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

~*~

Shouto has come to expect the usual schedule of events: He would settle into the study room with his study partner and unpack as he waits for the girl to come retrieve her book. He would watch as she’d expertly weave the stick in her hair, give a cute little head shake to make sure it was strong enough to hold, and then disappear into the library to read her book. A few hours into his work, he’d wait for her to come back to her book hiding spot. The most satisfying part of his day would be watching her pull the stick out of her hair and letting that cascade of silky hair fall past her shoulders. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of that. On his way out one day, he snuck a peek at what book she was reading and inspected her hair stick. It was a simple enough design, thin and gold colored with a leaf pattern at the very end of it.

Sure, it sounds creepy to an outsider. But he’s not a stalker, he’s just a creature of habit.

Or, that’s what he tried to tell himself whenever he would accidentally meet her eyes and have to turn his head quickly. Which has happened more times than he’d like to admit in a 3 week span.

“What’s IcyHot looking at so intently?” Katsuki’s gruff voice alerts Shouto out of his trance one afternoon as he waits for the mystery girl to appear at the end of the day as usual. “You’ve been looking over there all day.”

Shouto tears his eyes away from the bookshelf, clearing his throat and staring at his screen. “Nothing, I thought I saw something.”

Katsuki and Izuku’s eyes darted to where Shouto was looking to find the girl retrieving her book as usual. A smug look spreads across the blond’s face as he leans back in his chair. “Ohh, I see. You’re watching the pretty girl.”

Shouto clamps his mouth shut, not wanting to give the boy the satisfaction of being right.

“You like her, right?”

“No!” Damnit. “She just happens to be here every day too.” He can’t stop the heat rising to his cheeks.

“Well she’s coming over here, be ready.”

As soon as Shouto’s heart lurches, there’s a soft knock at the door. Shouto glances around to Izuku and then Katsuki, who’s smirking. “Go on, answer it. She’s not looking for us.”

Shouto wants nothing more than to punch his smug face, but he hurries over to the room door to open it. He stiffens up when he sees the girl standing right in front of him.

Up close, she has a slightly rounded face, her black-framed glasses framing cat eyes and long eyelashes. Her mouth was slightly agape for a split second before stiffly closing it to compose herself and stand up straighter. “Um, hi. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

Shouto closes the door behind him. “No, not at all.” He shoves a hand in his pocket to try looking casual while his heart flutters at being close enough to someone he’s been watching from a distance.

“I actually wanted to ask you a favor.” She pushes her glasses up on her face nervously. “Do you mind hiding this somewhere in your study room?” She’s clutching her book to her chest, the dark cover contrasting against her white sweater.

Shouto’s eyes couldn’t help taking a quick glance down; the dark book cover contrasts against her white sweater tucked into her black plaid mini skirt ending just above her knees, the rest of her legs covered by sheer black tights and ending in a pair of black boots with a low heel.

“I usually hide it behind one of the sections of books no one reads,” she continues, pivoting a bit to point, letting Shouto glance down quickly to the black plaid mini skirt, sheer tights, and black heeled boots before she turns back around. “But I figured someone might move it one day. And I just happen to notice that you’re in this room every day at the same time, I can count on it being in the same place…” She tucks a hair behind her ear and Shouto nearly melts at the way her voice trails off sheepishly.

Shouto reaches out to take the book she’s offering to him. “Yeah, I’ll keep it here in the room. It should be locked overnight.”

She clasps her hands in front of her and smiles at him. “Thank you! I’ll come back to get it tomorrow, promise.”

Shouto dazedly smiles back at her. “Sure… See you tomorrow, then.”

She gives him a little bow and walks away from him, letting him get a whiff of her fruity-floral perfume. He stands there a moment to watch her, containing his excitement before collecting himself and ducking back into the room. He realized his palms were sweaty when he sat back down and wanted to study the book cover.

He feels eyes on him, only to meet Katsuki’s shit-eating grin and Izuku’s eager smile.

The blond is the first to break the silence. “Well? What did she want?”

Shouto plays back the conversation in his head. “She gave me her book to keep in the room overnight.” She happens to notice me here… Shouto thinks, Every day… Just like I notice her here every day… “She must think I’m a stalker or something,” he mumbles.

“Oh my god.” Katsuki facepalms. “It means she likes you, you idiot! She just wanted an excuse to talk to you!”

The clueless boy blinks, causing the blonde to groan. “Why else would she come up to you specifically and not Deku?”

Izuku gives his childhood friend a hard look. “I agree with Kacchan, she looked shy to talk to you. Maybe you should do something nice for her and ask her out?”

When the pieces finally click in place, Shouto’s face turns brighter red than his hair at the prospect of the girl possibly being interested in him too.

“IcyHot’s got such a huge crush!” Katsuki guffaws, hitting the table.

~*~

“Thanks for taking care of my book again,” the girl smiles.

Shouto’s already racing heart squeezes as their fingers just barely brush during the exchange, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s a regular occurrence, but the gesture never fails to fluster him. “N-No problem. I know it’s important to you.” He coughs. “I actually read a little bit of it this time.” He thinks she stiffens up for a moment. “I apologize if I was intruding!” he says quickly.

“N-No, it’s fine!” She clutches the book to her chest tightly with both hands, managing a nervous chuckle. “How far did you get?”

“Just the first three chapters, I didn’t get too far.” Her nervous behavior makes Shouto sweat. Did he cross a line? She must think he’s indecent now if she didn’t before.

“Oh.” She visibly relaxes. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d look. I thought it looked too…girly for you to be interested.”

“I figured you’re reading it so intensely, it must be good. I was just curious, I’m sorry.” He feels his face heat up in shame again. He keeps glancing at the book, not knowing if he should find some way to take it back from her or not; only adrenaline had let him go through with his plan.

The girl realizes the book feels thicker in her hands, the split created by her bookmark now a small hole. Her fingers reach inside and open up to that page, eyes widening.

She plucks out a thin golden stick with a burgundy flower at the head, a matching chain tassel with a gem at the end hanging off of it. “What’s this?”

The boy’s throat is parched and his heartbeat almost deafens him. “I know how much you like using these sticks to tie up your hair, and you tend to wear reds and burgundy a lot. I wanted to give you a nicer looking one that matches.”

Shouto almost wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole when she stares up at him wordlessly. The girl finally smiles warmly. “It’s really pretty, thank you, I love it!”

The boy lets out a held breath, the cold fear slightly leaving him. “Oh good, I’m glad.”

She hands him the book to hold as she wraps her hair up and places the stick in the bun. Shouto’s chest fills with pride as she turns her head to show him. “How does it look?”

“Stunning,” he blurts out and his eyes immediately widen at his unintentional candor, earning a giggle out of her. He hangs onto the wondrous sound and the way her warm eyes bore into him. “Would you grab dinner with me later?”

She slightly tilts her head at him with a smile, sending more warmth through him. “I’d love to.”

Shouto smiles back, his whole body relaxing and his heart full. “Great! See you later, then.”

The girl reaches both her hands to gently retrieve her book, allowing more contact to linger between them as she shyly keeps their eyes locked. “See you then.”

As she walks away, the burgundy tassel swaying side to side, Shouto leans back against the door for a moment and smiles to himself. He feels lighter now, looking forward to his date. As he turns to go back inside the room, he briefly wonders if he should learn how to use one of those hair sticks; maybe he’ll get the chance to weave his fingers through her silky hair and place it himself. He’ll get the chance to pull it out, eventually.

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