#team sting wing

[gomagopowerrangers]

no lyrics for this one. he kinda just exists

he DOES have a playlist tho: Verlorene Mäßigkeit

palette for 1st vers of wings+words from Hot Headed Warrior

other versions under cut again lmao

rbs>likes!! <3

[cosmopretty]

Drunk In Love

Paige Bueckers x Fem smut

Synopsis: You’ve known Paige since you started going to UConn, her taking you under her wing. She’s always had a thing for you, and she finnally built up the courage to do what she’s always wanted to do.

Chilling on Azzi’s bed, the both of you laying down watching some TV show together relaxing. Azzi looks at you and nudges you with her arm “So any new boys or girls?” she not so suspiciously asks you, due to Paige’s request. Poor Azzi had to listen to Paige talk about you all day long, and she was sick of it so she put together a plan to get you both together.

“No Azzi you would be the first person I would tell if someone asked me out” You tell her looking away from the screen to look back at her. You squint your eyes at her “Wait what do you know?” you ask her smiling shaking her shoulders. Azzi gets up “Nothing I know nothing but the team is going out tonight and you’re coming” she states while looking through her closet to find an outfit to wear.

It’s not that you didn’t want to go out tonight it’s just harder for you to pretend you didn’t fall for your friend, Paige when you were under the influence. Azzi snaps you out of your thoughts “Which pants? These or those? With this top” she asks holding up two pairs of jeans and a crop top. You get up and point at the dark blue wash jeans “Those will look cute now Ima go to my dorm and get ready. See you later Az” you wave to the girl while grabbing your stuff and walking out the door. While you leave you hear her yell behind you “WERE MEETING AT PAIGES AT TEN”

After you’re done getting ready, in a short black denim jean skirt with a tight long tube top that showed off your belly button piercing. Not wanting to put on a lot of makeup only having mascara and gloss on. Sliding on a pair of black kitten heels you walk out of your dorm down the hall just too see all the girls down the hall. You jog up to them all “Sorry I’m late” you say sheepishly to everyone not to discreetly looking around for Paige.

Azzi looks you up and down “You look gorgeous boo” she says causing Paige to turn around and look at you. She stops and stares at you before Azzi elbows her raising her brows at the girl before rolling her eyes and walking away. Paige looks down at you “You really do look beautiful you always do” she tells you grabbing your waist and leading you out the door with everyone else.

Today Paige promised herself she would actually tell you how she felt about you and show you. The both of you hop in the back of Ice’s car, you stuck in the middle of Paige and Nika. The blondes hand stays on your thigh the whole drive to the bar, her thumb moving back and forth on your inner thigh slightly.

Once you get to the bar, Paige opens the door for you again wrapping her arm around you. The both of you were always touchy with one another so you paid no mind to what she was doing to you, besides the butterflies that erupted in your stomach from the way she was holding you. Walking inside the bar you all find a table before going up to the bar with Nika and Azzi. Paige sits down with KK and Ice talking to Ice’s livestream.

The three of you at the bar order a round of shots, you holding it up and click them together “Cheers” you all at once before downing the shots. You shake your head at the sting of the liquor in your throat before Nika grabs you pulling you to the dance floor. The both of you play around the music dancing with one another.

Paige watches you both jealous that she wasn’t the one with her hands on your hips, your body on hers. She sips her drink slowly starting to feel the effects of alcohol in her veins. Azzi follows Paige’s eye line to see you dancing with Nika, Azzi slaps Paige’s shoulder “Jesus girl go get her before someone else does stop being a pussy Paige” Azzi tells her rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a pussy” Paige’s defends herself before finishing her drink and wiping her mouth. Azzi smirks “Oh yeah go prove it” she says knowing Paige’s competitive nature wouldn’t let her back down.

The blonde gets up walking to the dance floor before grabbing your arm pulling you into her chest. You look up at her through your lashes “Hi Paige” you smile confused on what she wanted. She licks her lip brushing your hair from your face “Hi” she whispers before grabbing your handing interlocking your fingers with hers leading you out of the bar confused.

You follow her lead intrigued on what she wanted right now. She looks at you before opening the door to Azzi’s car for you “Where are we going?” you ask Paige not wanting to get in just yet. She freezes and turns around “Back to my dorm we have to talk” she states helping you in the car before closing the door and getting into the drivers seat. She drives you both back to the dorm not saying a word to you only having her hand on your thigh.

Once getting inside the dorm you sit on her bed confused “Paige what’s got you so stressed?” you ask her watching as she paces back and forth in front of you. She stops at your words and walks in between your legs looking down at you. She bites her lip and before you can utter another work she kisses you her big hands gabbing both your cheeks. You gasp into the kiss giving her an invitation to slide her tongue with yours. She pushed you down on the bed, climbing on top of you not breaking the kiss in between you both.

Her lungs beg for air as she pulls away from your lips an embarrassing string of spit between you both. You look up at her breathing heavily “What was that for?” you ask her scared of what her next words may be. Paige looks up from your lips into your eyes her hand holding your cheek, rubbing your thumb “I like you baby isn’t that obvious?” she asks cocky. Your face gets hot as your blush “Really?” you ask quietly looking up at her.

Nodding her head Paige looks at your lips once more an idea coming to her head “Let me prove it to you” she states before kissing you once more her hands finding there way under your shirt rubbing your waist. Paige’s eyes twinkled and she pushed you back into the bed gently.

She sat on the bed and waited until you were comfortable before pulling your pants and panties off leaving bare before her.

“so pretty, mama, so pretty” she mumbled against your collarbone, slowly pulling down the straps of your shirt.

Her lips press to your jawline softly, leaving opened mouth kisses down your neck. She was going so slow to savior every part of this with you.

You whine when she starts sucking on the sweet spot on your neck. She pulls away and kisses the purple mark she left on you “I know baby I know”

She parted your legs running her finger between your folds. You whined again at the contact, no doubt you were dripping already. You watched her carefully leaning on your elbows watching as Paige moves back on the bed laying on her stomach her face right above your core. She blows on your clit causing your hips to jolt up “Come on P stop teasing please please-“

She silenced you with a hard brush against your clit and you moan so loud you swore the people outside could hear.

Paige swore under her breath at the feeling of your warm folds enveloping her fingertips, she never imagined how good this could possibly feel. She drew slow circles around your clit, eyes trained on your face to see your reactions.

Your core tightens and you grab Paige’s head making her look up at you “Please need more please” you beg her out of breath. She nods and moves her big hands to spread your thighs wider and she licks a stripe up your folds before one of her hands move down her two finger prodding at your hole. She looks up at you her big blue eyes staring into you, you nod at her and she slides her two fingers into you slowly.

You moan at the stretch inside of you Paige moves down and presses a soft kiss onto the puffy bud before wrapping her lips around your clit sucking slowly as her fingers move in and out of you. Your free hand moves up to hold onto the bed frame as your stomach tightens.

You moan as Paige shoves her fingers deeper inside you curling them slightly hitting your g spot. She bites your clit softly before pulling away and leaning up climbing on top of you. She grips your chin and pulling you into a kiss as her fingers move in and out of you speeding up.

Paige feels you squeezing around her fingers as she pulls away from your mouth. She kisses down your neck moving her mouth to your chest. Her mouth wraps around nipple sucking slightly while her other hand toys with the other one.

You moan breathlessly “gonna- fuck P” you make out not trusting your words any more. Paige pulls away from your chest and moves her hand back down to your clit.

"I know, honey. give it to me." she says, pinching your clit and quickening the speed of her hips. You groan her name, your clit becoming more sensitive the closer and closer you get to your high.

When your high comes you moan her name your legs twitching as Paige moves her fingers slower fucking you through your high.

“There you go baby good girl” she coos in your ear slowly pulling her fingers out of you. Your out of breath looking up at her as she smiles at you. Paige gets up going into the bathroom after kissing you and grabbing a wet cloth before coming back.

She cleans you up quietly before helping you sit up on her bed, she pulls one of her shirts onto your body before laying you back down moving next to you.

Your head rests on her chest and you focus on her heartbeat as her hand runs up and down your back. Paige kisses your head “That was amazing” she whispers as you move around so your chin lays on her chest so you can look at her.

“Yeah no one’s ever made me feel like that before Paige” you admit to her moving your hand to cup her cheek your thumb rubbing across her features. She looks into your eyes and smiles at you “Your mine now ma I’m not letting you go ever” she states to you.

You tilt your head at her “Oh I’m yours now?” you ask her moving up and planting a kiss on her cheek. She nods “Oh yeah all mine and I’m yours baby” she tells you pulling you down onto her lips giving you a passionate kiss showing all her love to you.

[azsazz]

A Snowy Starfall

Daddy!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Batbabies waging their OWN snowball fight imitating their dad & uncles. Some take it too seriously, others don't take it seriously at all, it's pure chaos that ends in cocoa.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,003

Notes: Happy Holidays my loves 💙

_________________________________________

“Come on, you three,” you tut towards your mate and his friends. They’re standing before the large glass windows overlooking your backyard. The sun casts deep oranges and reds across the snow-ridden land, your children shrieking as they play in the snow. A valiant snowball fight is running its course, and Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand stand, faces pressed to the windows as they watch, quietly cheering their children on. “They’re going to notice you staring.”

“Maybe they already have,” Feyre adds from her spot at your kitchen counter. She’s concentrating intently on decorating a cookie, adding swirls of black icing to the gingerbread woman’s hand, creeping up her extended arm. The cookie’s dress is provocative, bare dough legs showing between slats of laced icing. She hardly glances up as she continues, “They’re probably imitating them as we speak.”

Curious, you peek out the window, too. Indeed, Wren and Baz have built a fortress in the snow to protect themselves from the onslaught of snowballs being thrown their way. Gideon and Nyx have joined forces against the two brothers, the latter packing the fluffy snow into tight, white balls, while Gideon launches their ammo towards your sons.

Your eldest daughter, Zuzu, and Nyx’s younger sister, Asteria, had joined the competition early on. They’d been a formidable team too, but grew bored of their brothers and cousin who were taking the snowball fight a little too seriously. Now, they are in the snow with little Castor, who had cried until she’d been let outside by her protective father, bundled up in so many clothes her wings nearly disappeared into the fabric. The girls are making snow angels, though Castor’s looks very much like a circle on the lawn.

Dark streaks dart behind the wall your sons have built and you frown, watching as Baz’s shadows help roll clumps of snow closer, creating perfectly circular snowballs. From what you’d heard from your husband’s friends, using shadows was against any and all snowball fight rules.

You cut Azriel a glance but he’s conveniently occupied, watching the game outside.

“Well, at least they’re both on the same team,” you comment to your mate, who refuses to let his gaze stray from the little boys. Good, he can watch them while he does the dishes then, since there’s a window above the sink. You pat him on the ass, nodding towards the mess of dishes in the sink. He nods in response, loping quickly over to peer out the window again. “So they’ll either both lose or both win.”

“They’ll both win,” Az responds immediately, a quick but pointed look your way. “They do take after me.”

Cassian scoffs behind you and you turn to see a scowling Nesta shooting him a look as he tries to steal a cookie. Jax giggles in her lap at his uncle's antics, but when Cassian hands him part of the cookie and its head falls off, Jax’s smile wobbles. He’s not outside due to the nature of his powers. As an empath, sensing the competitive nature of his siblings and the sting of a snowball to the face, it had been in his best interest to be inside around the luscious scents of cookies and warmth, instead of out in the bitter snow.

Nesta coos, bouncing him, and Cassian is thankful for the distraction, slipping further down the counter to where the High Lord sits, trying—and failing—to gain his mate's attention. The commander slips an arm around Rhys’ shoulders and glares at the back of Azriel’s head, continuing his complaining. “The only reason you’ve won so many is because of those damn shadows, Az.”

Azriel throws over his shoulder, wincing as Baz takes a snowball to the face, his face going red with fury. “How was I supposed to know they were unaffected by the magic restrictions?” he claims, sending said shadows out into the yard once he sees Baz’s slipping through the snow, headed for the icicles hanging off the railings of the porch. His intercept his sons in a display of authority, spearing them into blackened mist. Baz glances up to the window, locking eyes with his father, who wears a look of warning on his face, brow raised. Azriel watches his son visibly huff and take his anger out on the snow, building a ball and launching it across the playing field in frustration.

His gaze cuts across the yard, narrowing his eyes. Gideon and Nyx are crouched low behind their own pile of snow, looking like they’re scheming. He wants to trail his shadows in their direction, listen in on their conversation, but he’s alerted to Malos’ whines from the other room. If one of his youngest is awake, they either both are, or will be soon.

“Malos is up,” Az tells you softly, shutting off the water to the sink. He wipes his hands on a towel and kisses you gently on the cheek. You’re mixing color into icing for the cookies, getting ready for when it’s too dark out for the children to play. They’ll get all cleaned up and have some hot chocolate to warm their bellies, and you, Feyre, and Nesta have baked cookies for all of the children to decorate. “I’ll get them.”

“I’ll join,” Cassian answers, stealing another cookie off of a platter. He dunks it into your icing to the neck, the cookie dripping with sugary goodness as he lifts it to his mouth, shoving it inside. He ducks under your glare. “Gotta go get my baby.”

Cassian and Nesta’s youngest daughter, Sif, had been put down for a nap with both Knox and Malos. She’s still a little too young to be outside without supervision, and the eldest children of the Inner Circle demanded time outside without their parents, probably because they knew their fathers would try and take over their snowball fight had they been outside. They didn’t want any tips or tricks, not even your children, even with Azriel’s hundred of wins beneath his belt.

Jax climbs from Nesta’s lap over Rhys who lets out a harsh exhale when his knee lands a little too close to his private area, and then over to Feyre, who finally sets her cookie down to scoop your middle son in her arms.

“Pretty,” Jax comments, pointing at her decorative cookie. It looks just like her, and there’s one next to it that looks a little like Rhysand. Purple dots for eyes stare up at him. “Uncle Rhysie?”

“Good job, Jax,” Feyre coos, pressing kisses to his cheeks. They pink with a blush and he settles into her arms, looking utterly at bliss. He revels in the warmth of her emotions, the pride surging through her. It feels like warm bubbles in his chest, and he noses at her collar.

“Look who’s ready to party,” Azriel announces, entering the room, arms full with your two youngest children, Malos and Knox. Knox still looks a little sleepy, head resting against Azriel’s shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. His tiny wings are droopy with sleep, and his twin sister, Malos, is already reaching for the cookies. 

Nesta is quick to scoop her away from Azriel. She claims not to have a favorite niece, but Malos and her have an understanding. You see more of Nesta in Malos’ personality than any of the children of the Inner Circle, and you’re extremely happy that they have such a close connection. 

“Hi baby,” you greet Knox, who is signing mommy to you. You ease him out of Azriel’s arms, who promptly returns to his position in front of the window, pressing exaggerated kisses to his chubby cheeks. It makes him smile wide, flaring those wings that he hasn’t quite figured out how to control. “Are you ready for some yummy cookies?”

His dark eyes light with excitement. Of course your children are ready for sweets, they always are. They picked that up from Azriel, who has the biggest sweet tooth you’ve ever seen.

Cassian reenters the room with his daughter in his arms and Rhys pouts. Almost everyone in the room is preoccupied with a child in their arms, except for him. Maybe he can convince Feyre to have one more. The youngest children in the family are two now and he misses having a tiny babe around.

By the heated look in her eyes, his mate seems to be considering the same, sneaking past those shadowy walls in his mind to catch a glimpse of his thoughts. The High Lord smirks. He sends her over some imagery to go with his thoughts, and her cheeks go red. That hot look turns into one of warning, and she’s speaking out loud now, “Why don’t you call the children inside so they can get warmed up and decorate some cookies?”

“Of course, darling,” Rhys sweeps from his seat in a wisp of darkness. 

Breaking a cookie in half, you give part of it to Knox, who signs thank you, munching on the sweet. The other half is passed to Malos as you head towards where your mate is finishing up the dishes, leaning against him for a moment, reveling in all of your family happily together.

“I love you,” Azriel murmurs into your hair, leaning over to sneak a bite of Knox’s cookie. Your son stares up at his father with wide eyes, and like this, he looks just like Az. It makes your heart warm, and Jax squeals in happiness in response, your happiness radiating to him. It makes your grin wider, peeking over your shoulder to see him so content in his aunt's arms. 

“I love you too, Az,” you whisper back to him, resting your forehead against his. 

It’s a nice moment, until the children from outside are wrangled through the door by Rhys. The boys are arguing about who has won their snowball fight, while the girls are peeling away their winter gear, excited to decorate cookies with icing and sprinkles and the edible petals Elain had given you before her trip to the Summer Court with Lucien. 

“Now, now, boys,” Rhys starts, but the diplomatic tone he’s using does nothing to deter the cousins from arguing. “I’m sure we can come to a consensus without yelling and acquiescing.”

“But Baz used his shadows,” Nyx complains, wringing his gloves between his hands in frustration. “We all saw it.”

“Nyxie, don’t be mean to Baz,” Wren counters, brows furrowed. He doesn’t like it when his family argues, especially over trivial things. His heart is so kind. “You can win the snowball fight if you want, but Baz and I are gonna win the cookie decorating contest, right Bazzy?”

“No,” Baz says flatly, dropping his gear onto the floor. You give him a look but he almost seems un-bothered by it, done with the debate his cousins are currently having. “We won the snowball fight and we’re going to win the cookie decorating contest.” 

You share a look with your mate, watching the scene unfold. Baz is quite the Stubborn Suriel, no matter what it comes to.

“Dad,” Nyx groans, “Can’t you do something?”

Cassian is the one who comes to the rescue, Castor reaching up at him for her sister. He helps the little one down and the older one with her undressing, peeling her thermals off layer by layer. “It’s not about who won, right boys? It’s about spending time and having fun with the ones you love.”

Feyre, Nesta, and yourself awe at his words, but Azriel and Rhysand are rolling their eyes and muttering under their breath at Cassian’s cheesy words. 

“What a kiss ass.”

“Smug fucker.”

“Azriel,” you hiss, turning your body away from him, like that will hide Knox from his vulgar words. “Language.” 

He winces, “Sorry love.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now, bouncing Knox in your arms a little as you turn fully from your mate. You poke Knox’s belly playfully before addressing the rest of the room. “How about those cookies, then? They won’t decorate themselves!”

[meazalykov]

good things come to those who wait

laura freigang x barca!reader (requested?)

summary: you'll finally be the happiest girl on the pitch, according to aitana

authors note: one of my mutuals on twitter checked out this page. they asked if I could do a part two to a fic I made months ago. here it is :)

warnings: small age gap

part one here

its been a month and you've managed to come to terms about what happened in that dressing room.

for a while, you walked into the dressing room always feeling a hint of embarrassment from being rejected by esmee. however, alexia reassured you many times that nobody finds you embarrassing, even esmee.

thank goodness you had football, since you were able to focus on that instead of the wanting to having a relationship like everyone else.

you step onto the pitch at the deutsche bank stadium, the unfamiliar pulse of adrenaline coursing through your veins for the champions league match.

the crowd's roar is a distant hum in your mind, drowned out by the singular focus you’ve forced yourself to adopt.

you're a starting defensive midfielder this game, outside from being a right-wing backup for lucy. as you look over to the left, you see esmee tying her cleats.

the rejection from esmee still stings, but you've pushed it aside, determined not to let it affect your performance. you knew this champions league match against frankfurt demands every ounce of your attention.

the first half is intense. you had to be sharp, alert, and relentless as the german team throws their best forwards towards you.

frankfurt's forwards are quick, and their midfield is formidable, but you’re not one to back down.

one of their forwards nearly took advantage of a goal opportunity, but you were able to side tackle the ball away before she took a shot.

you stood up, adjusting your shorts as cata makes a free kick from outside the box.

taking a moment to breath-- you realized that frankfurt is putting up a fight.

you’ve faced tougher challenges before, and today, you're determined to be the player your team needs.

but then there's her.

laura freigang. #10 for frankfurt. she's everywhere—pressing high, tracking back, and always looking to exploit any gaps in your defense.

you clash with her multiple times, and each time, she meets your challenge head-on. some of the blocks worked, others didn't.

what catches you off guard isn’t just her skill, experience, or her tenacity, but the way she looks at you. even with the ball in play, laura’s gaze lingers on you, curious and intense.

it’s unsettling and, you admit to yourself, a little intriguing.

the match remains tigh. it’s late in the first half when laura finally breaks through.

she finds a pocket of space just outside the box, and before you can close her down, she strikes. the ball sails past cata’s outstretched arms and into the net. 1-0.

at the start of the second half, barcelona doesn't falter. aitana orchestrates a quick response, threading a pass through to salma, who slots it home with clinical precision. 1-1.

later into the second, you shot the ball up to mariona who heads the ball into the net. 2-1.

the final whistle blows, and the crowd erupts. victory is yours in the group stage match-- but your thoughts keep drifting back to laura.

as you’re talking to mapi and ingrid, sharing a laugh over some play in the match, you see laura making her way towards you. her steps are confident, a slight smile playing on her lips.

luckily, mapi and ingrid stepped aside due to vicky calling for their attention.. so they didn't notice the older german girl coming.

"hey," she says, her face warm and voice slightly breathless from the match.

"i’m laura. that was a great game."

"yeah, it was. you gave the defenders a real challenge out there." you nod, still catching your breath.

"you didn’t make it easy for me either. i couldn’t stop watching you—uh, watching how you play, i mean." laura chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"sure, just my playing?" you raise an eyebrow, a smirk forming despite yourself.

she laughs, a sound that’s somehow light and genuine. "maybe not just that," she admits.

"but i really would like to get to know you better, if you’re interested?" she continues.

your eyes widened, surprisingly, there’s a spark of something new in your chest, something you haven’t felt in a while.

"yeah, i’d like that." you say. there wouldn't be any harm in getting to meet new people, right?

"cool. maybe i could get your number?" she asks, her tone casual, but there’s a hopeful look in her eyes.

after you nod your head, she pulls out her phone from her jogger pants.

you take her phone, typing in your number, and hand it back with a smile. "call me."

and she does. the calls start off short, just casual chats about football, life in germany versus spain, your mutual love for photography, and favorite music.

but soon, they grow longer, stretching late into the night. you find yourself looking forward to hearing her voice, to the easy way you can talk about anything or nothing at all.

two months fly by, and before you know it, it’s time for the second group stage match against frankfurt.

this time, when you see laura on the pitch, there’s no awkwardness.

after the match, you muster up the courage that’s been building for weeks. the game is in spain, meaning that you're both here with no distance creating a boundary.

“laura,” you begin, pulling her aside as the rest of your teammates head to the locker room. you don't want them to know about this, not at least you're positive that this will lead somewhere.

“would you want to go out to eat tomorrow before you go back to frankfurt? like…on a date?” you whisper. again, hoping that nobody really catches you saying that.

you half expect her to hesitate, but instead, she grins. "yes, i'd love to."

the next day, as you're preparing for the date. you realize that you're stuck. you've never been on a date before, at least one that led into something.

hookups were one thing, but building an actual bond to form into a relationship was another ballpark.

you run out your apartment and go next door to seek out mapi and ingrid for advice.

they're your neighbors, so you're comfortable with asking them for anything-- they've always reassured you that you could. so you're sitting on the couch with ingrid as mapi sits on their recliner.

"guys-- I have a date tonight." you swallow.

ingrid smiles, happy to hear that you're moving on. mapi is surprised, who were you going on a date with?

"that's so fun!" ingrid says.

"who are you going on a date with?" mapi asks, protectively.

you're 21 years old, but mapi looks after you like an older sister.

"it's with laura. laura freigang from frankfurt. we've been talking for the last two months and since she is here in barcelona, we figured that we could spend time together." you gave a cheeky smile.

ingrid smiles knowingly, looking over at the protective tattooed woman. “ohh laura! mapi I know laura-- she's a good one. i remember playing against her in the bundesliga a long time ago. she’s got a heart, and i think you two will be good together.”

“just be careful, y/n. i don’t want to see you get hurt again.” mapi, on the other hand, is a little more skeptical. she didn't forget about the rejection from esmee.

ingrid gives her a look, her eyebrows flared.

“okay, okay. have fun, but i’m still keeping an eye on her.” mapi lets up, not wanting her girlfriend to be upset.

your first date with laura is everything you hoped it would be. she’s charming, funny, and there’s an undeniable chemistry between you-- considering that she's 26 and you're 21.

you go on a few more dates whenever your schedules allow, each one better than the last. sometimes you'd fly out to germany and other times she would come to spain.

she captures your journeys on film which you love. sometimes she'd let you take her camera to capture a few pictures of herself. this is special-- laura never let other people touch her cameras.

by summertime, you both find a long-break in your schedules and decide to spend it in mallorca.

the sun is warm on your skin, the waves gentle as they lap at the shore. it’s there, with the golden sand beneath your feet and the clear blue sky above, that laura turns to you, her eyes filled with a mix of nervousness and hope.

“y/n…would you be my girlfriend?”

for a moment, the world stops. then, with a wide smile, you nod. “yes, laura. i’d love to.”

when you tell aitana back in barcelona, she grins, pulling you into a hug.

“i’m so happy for you, y/n. you deserve this. remember what I said-- you’re going to be the happiest girl on the pitch now.”

and as you step onto the field for your next match, your love with laura and the memory of her smile in your mind, your teammates were right all along.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[dreamywriter143]

Breathtaking

Status: Oneshot?

Parings: Neteyam x Human Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Romance, Mentions of Violence, Some blood, Jealousy.

Summary: Y/n grew up with Spider. She played with him, fought with him, ate with him and slept with him. There is nothing they couldn’t do together….well, one thing. And that is leaving the base at any costs. Now, what will happen when Y/n does leave the base? Why had she been trapped in the base for so long? And why did a certain Na’vi take her breath away?

Word Count: 6k (Uh.....sorry😭)

A/N: Ok, I said I’d have my followers special out by now but everything is all over the place. I’m sorry😭😭 This is my first xHumanReader so please enjoy! I’m so sorry for the delay!

———————————————————————

“Then this huge viperwolf jumped on me! I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes until Lo’ak saved my ass” Spider chuckles nervously at the memory.

Currently he is seated in the medical wing as his arm is getting patched up. The gash wasn't too big, but deep enough to sting in pain.

 Y/n frowns at his words, being mindful not to apply too much pressure as she wrapped the gauze around the wound carefully across his bicep. Y/n bites her lips at the stinging pain of worry strikes through her.

“You should be more careful Spider. You cannot be reckless all the time, you cannot expect Lo’ak to always have your back either” Y/n says softly, her eyes wandering over the tiny scratches over his body in worry. Spider scoffs out loud, rolling his eyes at her words. 

“You worry too much Y/n, You don't even know Lo’ak, we have each other's backs” Spider assures, making Y/n sigh out loud. She holds the urge to nudge against his wound out of spite.

“Because I don't know him”

For as long as Y/n had known she had always been in the cold confines of base camp, what she knew to be her home. The only thing she had known truthfully. 

Y/n was born shortly after the war, her father was unknown, but her mother who was a well known medical officer of the team, sadly passed upon her birth. She grew up following Norm and Max around the lab, as they were the only people she felt any sort of connection to. They knew her mother well and raised her alongside Spider, who also couldn't be transported back to Earth due to being so young. 

Though Spider was younger then her by a bit, Y/n always trailed behind him within the lab. She had no other females around her age, it was natural to grow incredibly close to Spider over the years. 

“Well, you should. Next time I'll introduce you! He'd love you, come with me next time I go out” Spider says nonchalantly, not taking notice how Y/n’s shoulders slumped at his words.

 

“Ha Ha , very funny Spider” Y/n spits bitterly, tying up the bandage before turning around and leaving him for the tiny sink where she washed her hands begrudgingly. 

“O-oh,shit, I'm sorry Y/n…I didn't mean to sound…it came out wrong..” Spider apologizes, hopping down from the medical table to walk up to her. Y/n focuses on scrubbing her hands so she couldn't focus on the sadness bubbling within her. 

Y/n grew up alongside Spider, they ate together, played together and slept together while growing up. But Y/n…was different. 

For as long as she could remember, she had never set one foot outside the compound. Y/n even had her quarters on the farside of the base, as if they didn't want her near the entrance at any costs. That's why when Spider would sneak into her room to accompany her, she felt less lonely.

Over the years Y/n grew but not as tall as Spider. Spider was a hunk compared to her much tinier and delicate figure. Y/n always worked out within the base to increase her strength and endurance but she gave that up years ago when she came to the conclusion she would never be able to see the world outside the cold gates. 

Y/n always wondered why she was deprived of something Spider was allowed to do so freely, she would always boil with envy when she walked Spider as close to the gate as Norm would allow her. 

Watching him run off to his freedom only made her mental resolve crumble that much more. It didn't help when Spider would go on and on about his adventures. Y/n would always aggressively chew her food to drown out his words during communal dinners. 

Y/n had learned to tune out his words from time to time, but how can she when he was living what she dreamt about day in and day out?

When she questioned Norm and Max why she couldn't leave, they would claim it's because she is too delicate, that there are toxins and dangerous creatures out there her body could not handle and Spider could because he left the compound at such an early age.

Y/n chalked it up to something deeper they are not telling her, based on the constant blood tests and X-rays they conducted on her for ‘check ups’ when she never even stepped outside the facility. 

She never did question them too much on the tests, why would she? They wanted what was best for her, and she had no place to argue. Maybe she was, as they claimed, ‘delicate’. 

When they compared Y/n’s stature and physical maturity against Spider, they claimed it was for her safety that she didn't leave. That she wouldn’t be able to defend herself and that her body is more delicate than others. She was the only girl her age, the only young human girl in Pandora and they didn’t want to take a chance. 

Y/n always kicked herself for being room ridden in her early years that led her to not get used to the outside world. Always drinking in logs of her mother and Grace Augustine. She also convinced Max if she could see Jake Sully’s logs, which she was grateful for. The current Olo’eyktan, was a human like her. And now he is living his truth amongst his people out there. 

“It's fine, I'm not bothered by it anymore” Y/n says harshly, spinning around as Spider grabs her shoulders. He looks down at her apologetically.

“No, it's on me. I shouldn't even be telling you about my day when you….” he trails off frowning.

“No! No, it's fine Spider. I love listening to your adventures. Honestly. It's my form of entertainment and I love watching you happy” Y/n says smiling up at the taller boy.

Despite this Y/n always tried to stay positive, always helping around with research, helping maneuver samples and making sure the tanks are full for the exo packs they would take outside for excursions and for Spider’s constant usage. Y/n tried to be as helpful as possible, all to divert her attention from the void she felt deep within.

Her free time always consisted of watching logs, watching how her mother spoke about the Na’vi with excitement. Her mother had helped the clan recuperate after the war, helping alongside Mo’at with the injured. Y/n’s mother had even gotten close with Neytiri, the wife of Jake Sully. Her mother was also involved in Neytiri’s firstborn’s delivery. 

Y/n watched in amazement everytime memorizing how her mother spoke fondly about the world, the beauty that basked her in awe all the time. Y/n couldn't help but desire that as well. Fantasize about going out, running across the forest floor with no limits or the chance of running into a cold wall. She craved freedom. Craved adventure. Something more. Something beyond her personal prison. 

“Y/n! There you are!” Norm peeks into the medical wing, his hand gripping a tablet as he eyes Spiders wrapped arm in worry. Spider shows a thumbs up to clear his concern as he turns his attention back to Y/n.

“Can you double check on the exo-pack’s when you have time? The filters need to be cleaned and the power supply pack needs to be changed. Think you can do that for me?” He asks, offering a tiny pleading smile. Y/n forces down her pent up sadness and manages a tiny nod.

“Max told me to check them earlier. I just have a few left” She explains to which Norm sighs out in relief. “Good, did you fix pack #8? That one was almost busted the last time I saw it” Y/n waves him off, she wasn't in the mood to go back to recharding and cleaning the exo-packs, the very thing they needed to survive the outside world. The very thing she wishes she had the opportunity to use. 

“Yes, no worries. I’ll get them done!” Y/n reassures as Norm nods once more before ducking down to head for the laboratory. Y/n sighs out once he is out of earshot. She turns to Spider who had been quite the entire time. 

“Ok...wanna have dinner together?’ Spider asks, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear. Y/n smiles at Spider, her dear friend she grew up to love and cherish as a brother. 

“I’d love that, my room or yours?” Y/n asks, taking his larger hand into hers as she tugs him towards the kitchen.

“Yours, you have a more comfortable bed”

~~~~~~

“I’m off!” Spider calls out quickly grabbing an exo pack and securing it tightly against his face. Hearing his declaration and watching him walk towards the exit, Y/n scurries to his side, glancing at the watch on her wrist as she frowns deeply. 

“Are you insane! It's already nightfall!!” She hisses. She rolls her eyes noting how Norm and Max didn't seem bothered by the fact that Spider wanted to go out again, and this late into the day, the sun had already set a while ago which meant the dangers of the night would be out on the prowl. 

“So what? Kiri wanted to show me some cool bioluminescent plants. We can only see them when the sun has set anyways” Spider shrugs, tightening the pack against his back. Y/n bites her lips furiously, her nostrils flaring in a mix of anger and worry for the boy. 

“Spider, seriously? It's only been 3 days, and your wound hasn't fully healed yet. What if you run into trouble?” She rants, trying to stand in Spider’s way crossing her arms in frustration. Spider sighs out loud, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. 

“We won't be going too far out and I have this-” He gestures to the bow slung across his chest. Y/n raises an eyebrow, glancing at his injured arm as if to answer his statement . He playfully rolls his eyes, sidestepping her and quickly walking past her. 

“I’ll be fine Y/n, quit worrying!” He calls back, walking towards the entrance with determination. Y/n sighs out realizing she wouldn't hear the end of it if she took another step closer to the entrance especially since Norm and Max were in her line of vision. She throws her hands up in annoyance, turning to Max who simply offers a tiny smile. 

“Seriously? You're allowing this?” Y/n asks her cheeks flushed in worry. 

At this point Y/n didn't know what egged her to react in such a way. Was it a worry for Spider’s safety? Was it anger towards the ‘adults’ in the lab that allowed him to venture out so late? Or the more likely option, was it jealousy? Jealous over the fact that Spider could go out, and she can't. 

“Relax Y/n, it's not the end of the world. Let the boy live a little” Max says teasingly which caused the tiny girl to fume. 

‘Then, why can I live a little?’

Hearing the entrance lock from a few feet behind her Y/n whips around to leave the lab, intending on going to her room to watch her mother logs. Watching her mothers calming logs always helped calm her down. 

“Wait! Y/n?!” Norm calls from his seat, causing the girl to stop right outside the door. She glances back, her eyes cold and unwavering.

“Yes?” she asks in a monotone, not feeling in the mood to listen to what he had to say. “Did you check the exo-packs like I asked the other day?” He asks, not noting how Y/n looked ready to kill at this point. 

“Of course, now if you’ll excuse me. I have to go to my room” Y/n easily lies before marching out of the lab. Max glances at Norm who had a questioning look on his face. 

“The rebellious stage?” Norm asks, tapping his pen against his lips 

“I'd say more like just fluctuating hormones?” Max offers, glancing back at where she had stormed off to.

“Thank god I don't have children of my own”

 

“Norm….Y/n and Spider are practically our children…”

~~~~~

“No”

Y/n’s hands scurry over the hanger, rechecking the packs in her arms, her heart beating a mile per minute.

“No, no no no, where are you?” Y/n whispers to herself, her eyes jumping around as if it would magically appear in front of her.

 

After gloating in her room for half an hour Y/n decided to finally finish up her duty to clean and recharge the exo packs. She had been rather lazy the past few days, lazy to the point she kept putting off the chore entirely. 

The moment she arrived back to the lab it was empty, everyone must have left for their quarters or for dinner, a perfect time to quickly finish her work and be on her way to her room again. But unfortunately for her, life wasn't going to be that easy. 

She remembered leaving a few packs to do later, but one was missing. The very same pack Norm had emphasized on, the defective and nearly beaten up exo pack. #8. 

She looked around aimlessly, double checking the logbook to see if anyone had mistakenly taken the pack out. But she knew no one would be out this late. And if things couldn't get any worse, there were no loose packs lying around. No one would have mistakenly placed it anywhere. And the recycling system didn't have it either so no one decided on throwing out the defective pack. 

Which only left one, bone chilling conclusion.

 

“Shit…Spider” 

Y/n looks at the entrance a few feet away. Before the entrance seemed to shine, it seemed to always glow in her eyes. But right now, it looked menacing, scary even. It was the very same door Spider had run out of not too long ago, wearing the defective mask. 

Y/n feels sweat drip down her forehead, her eyes widening in fear. Due to her laziness, her foolishness. Spider was going to die. And all because of her. 

The exo packs would be good for a few hours even if they are near to running out of power, or even if the filter needed to be changed. But Y/n knew about that mask, #8 was defective. That mask should have been discarded weeks ago. And she knew Spider didn't have hours, he had minutes left. 

“What have I done? '' Y/n shakily covers her mouth, covering up her sobs as she feels the weight of her mistake weigh down on her. She couldn't seem to form a coherent thought  as she sobs out of sheer pain and guilt that shook her body. 

Just as her sobs die down she glances at the entrance one more time, before mindlessly grabbing two exo packs. She slings one across her arms carefully while placing the other one over her face, securing the mask snugly and slinging her arms through the power pack. She held the extra pack close to her, taking tentative steps towards the entrance. The closer she got, the faster her heart rang against her chest.

She knew Norm and Max would be devastated if they found out Spider was in danger , or worse dead because of Y/n. And she couldn't, wouldn’t live with his blood on her hands. She nears the entrance, her hands shakily reaching out to firmly grasp the cold handle. 

She didn't know how, she didn't know if she had the ability. But she would rather die trying than sit in the lab waiting for the inevitable.

She was determined to find Spider. Wherever he may be.

 

Glancing back at the empty lab once more she turns her exo pack on, taking in a deep breath. The hum of the power supply working flawlessly vibrates against her back comfortably. 

Locking the airlock she opens the door, shutting it behind her with force as she runs into the unknown forest ahead. 

Not sparing a glance back at her so-called; prison. 

~~~~~~~~

Y/n had been wandering around aimlessly as her feet carried her deeper and deeper into the forest. She didn't have the time to bask in the beauty of the forest she had desired for long as her worry and fear for Spider clouded her vision. 

Her eyes darted around, the bioluminescent plants aiding her in her quest through the dense forest filled with twigs and foliage that crushed under her hurried steps. 

“S-shit” 

Y/n comes to a stop in a clearing, resting her hand against the tree beside her to catch her breath. She had never run so far, and for such a long duration in her entire life. She felt her legs tremble under form as if it couldn't hold her upper body weight any longer. Her breaths came out in gasps occasionally fogging up her face plate. 

At the rate she was going she didn't know if she had a chance to even find Spider. Feeling all the adrenaline drain from her body, she slumps against the large tree, sliding down to sit on the cold forest floor beneath. Her eyes trail over the beauty as she tries to regulate her breathing, her eyes glimmering with  mild excitement. 

For a moment, she forgot that Spider was in danger. 

For a moment, she felt like she was dreaming. 

Her fingers clutch the leaves underneath her, they felt so soft yet rough at the same time, her eyes catching the various plants that glow and glimmer in the dead of the night. It was an indescribable beauty. Y/n found herself realizing  her mother had not done justice when describing the beauty of Pandora in her logs. 

Pandora was not simply beautiful; It was breathtaking.

 

Y/n smiles softly to herself, her eyes taking in the beauty of the night. She couldn't imagine how it would look during the day. What she would do to stay out and wait it out till day break. 

Her thoughts are cut short when she notices a small glittering thing float down to her from high above the treeline. She watches curiously, her legs regaining some strength as she shakily stands up, her grip on the extra exo pack for Spider secure. She stands to her full fight as if to meet the floating object halfway. 

A surprised gasp leaves her lips as realizes the beautiful being was floating down to her, her face flashing with recognition. The seed came mere inches away from her face.

Y/n shakily lifts her free arm towards it, facing her palm up. Staying perfectly still. The pure spirit hoes on to land on her palm swiftly, as if it intended on landing on her hand in the first place. Y/n giggles softly feeling the tiny tendrils tickle against her bare skin. 

“You're a Atokirina” (Woodsprite) Y/n whispers out quietly,  as if weary of scaring the delicate being. She watches how the seed stays on her hand, fluttering occasionally but staying put. What a beautiful sight, she felt her heart soar.

Y/n had learned a lot through her many ‘lessons’, from Norm and the logs. About the importance of a woodsprite and its meaning. She had also learned they were pure spirits and considered scared. Y/n bites her lips softly as a thought crosses her mind. Taking a moment to contemplate her question she takes a deep breath.

 

“I've lost a dear friend of mine…Spider, will you help me find him?” Y/n whispers, feeling silly for asking a favor out loud. She watches how the seed flutters at her request, floating up at her words. Taking this as a sign, Y/n pushes her wobbly legs to follow the floating woodsprite across the clearing and near a patch of bushes. 

She comes to a halt noticing how the woodsprite started to float upwards, floating further and further away. She tilts her head in question. Did it want her to continue on straight? Straight through and deeper into the forest? 

Y/n glances back at the bush in front of her, her eyes catch the slight movement between the leaves. Her heart jumps at the movement. Was it Spider? Was he in the bushes? 

Feeling like she had no other option she slowly comes closer towards the bush, watching the rustling increase the closer it got. She couldn’t help but feel fear ping inside of her as she came closer, her feet practically tip toeing against the forest floor. 

‘If it was Spider, why hasn't he come out yet?’ 

Gulping loudly she reaches out her free hand to move the leaves for a better view but within a blink of eye she is harshly pushed down to the ground. 

The extra pack flies away at the impact of her landing harshly against the forest floor, her back pressed down by a heavy weight. The deep growl makes Y/n’s  blood run cold. 

Her eyes widen in unbridled fear as she stares into the eyes of an angry viperwolf. Out of fear she trashes against the beast, screaming in fear which only agitated the creature who snaps its fangs at her. 

Tears pool along her irises as her body gives in, to warn out to fully fight back. She feels the creature get closer to her face, the warning growls disappearing as its eyes square down into her smaller form. 

She scrunched her eyes shut, waiting for it all to end in a second. 

Spider was right, your life does flash before your eyes. And all Y/n saw was her sad self, staring at her own reflection with no purpose. An empty shell of herself. No goals, no ambitions. Nothing. All because she was denied such freedom. 

Y/n feels her body relax. Maybe this was what she needed? Maybe this was meant to be? 

She silently prays when all of the sudden the weight is lifted off of her. 

Her eyes snapped open as she scurried to sit up. Y/n eyes widen in shock, her jaw going slacked as she watches the viperwolf snap defensively against her saviour. 

She drinks in the sight of a Na’vi male, and not just any male. A really tall Navi, his broad back facing her as he wrestled against the viperwolf. She catches a glint of a knife that was lodged into the creature as it whines in pain. 

Y/n had never seen a Na’vi up close before, sure she had scanned over files and pictures. She even got to interact with some of the avatars. But this. This was new. This was a true Na’vi. And he had saved her.

Y/n crawls over to the abandoned exo pack that had gone flying when she was thrown to the ground, making sure it wasn't damaged as she looks it over. Sighing in relief, she glances over at  the Na’vi as he looms over the now dead viperwolf, whispering something in their native language as he pulls out the knife. Cleaning it if it’s blood.

“T-thank you” 

Y/n whispers, taking tiny straps to get a bit closer to the now crouched male. At the sound of her voice he visually stiffens, his grip on the knife tightening as he sheaths back into its casing across his belt 

Not receiving a response Y/n clears her throat, she wanted to wipe her face of the tears that had slipped past her eyes at her near death experience. But the mask proved to be a barrier at the moment. 

“Thank you for saving me” Y/n tries again. This time she takes a cautious step back when the male whips around, standing up immediately to his full height towering over her. Y/n craned her neck to get a glimpse of his face, her breath hitched upon taking in his features. 

He must have been the most beautiful, handsome Na’vi Y/n had ever seen. The markings and stripes along his face displayed beautifully, his yellow eyes shining bright as they pierced into her soul, his locks braided neatly and laying past his shoulders. Decorated with beads and pearls. 

And his lips, so nicely shaped and perfect, Y/n found herself getting lost in them. But from the looks of it, he wasn’t smiling at her. No. He was frowning, his eyes burning with what looked to be anger. 

“Thank??” He growls slowly, pointing his index finger towards Y/n in accusation. His English accent thick. 

“You thank?? For this?!” He hisses, his ears flattened against his head. Y/n flinches at his tone, looking over at the viperwolf that attacked her earlier. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she realized he had killed a creature, a native creature for her. 

“I’m sorry…I-”

Y/n looks back at the handsome stranger, noting how his shoulders relax a bit at her apology. 

(A/N: The rest of the dialogue is in Navi)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way. Create a…conflict” Y/n says in Na’vi. Though it was broken and missing some words, the male seems to relax fully once she speaks to him his mother tongue. 

Once she had grown interested in the Na’vi culture Y/n had made Norm’s life a living hell until he taught her how to speak. She could understand almost everything after many years of practice, it was her speaking that needed improvement, 

“Why did you save me?” She asks, her voice shaky from the event that had unfolded. The male grunts at her question, choosing to look anywhere else but her. His tail twitches under her stare. 

“Because Ewya seems to have chosen you…for what. I don’t know”  he explained. Y/n eyes widen at his words. Had he been watching her the entire time? From the moment she walked into the clearing? And she hasn't known of his presence? He must be a warrior, judging by his stature, his precision and skills. 

“I’m truly sorry, it was foolish of me to provoke him…” She wipers apologetically. The male's eyes twitch upwards, taking in her world. 

The male shuffles a little, the storm behind his eyes seems to calm down at her words. He seems to contemplate something before looking over to her, his expression much more relaxed than before but still hard. 

“Where are you from?” he demands, but much softer than before. He looked stiff, ready to defend himself if need be, but the original hostility had dispersed once he saw the sincerity behind her apology, 

“I-I’m from the base camp, a good way away from here. I work with…Norm and Max?” Y/n explains, peering up at the giant. Y/n thought it best she use the names of her guardians who she knew were known amongst the Omatikaya. She used their names hoping for the male to calm down, and luckily it worked perfectly, 

The male's tail twitches at the names mentioned, a flash of recognition crossing his face. He lets out a grunt as he glances around the clearing.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone tawtute. I will escort you back so you may not cause anymore trouble. Is that clear?” (Human) The male says sternly, his eyes completely calm but filled with authority. Not waiting for her response he turns his back on her, taking two strides waiting for her to follow him. 

Y/n thought he was around her age, but his tone and choice of words, how he held himself made him seem older. That, or he was that of nobility. 

“I can’t!” She quickly objects.

 

The male halts his steps, peering over his shoulder with an unamused look on his face. He sighs out, 

“Why not tawtute. Do you want to die? It’s dangerous and you have nothing to defend yourself,” he warns. 

“My friend….My friend is in danger, I’m looking for him” Y/n holds the extra pack up as his eyes trace over the human invention. His nose slightly scrunches at the sight but he waits for her to further explain. 

“He left with a defective exo pack, if I do not deliver this to him in time he will die.” She says stepping closer to him. The male stiffens at her close proximity, his heart rate quickens as his nostrils fill up with her scent,  which he chooses to ignore. 

“Another tawtute? In the forest? It’s really late in the night, he’s probably already dead” he states, his tone holding traces of sympathy. 

Y/n eyes widen at his words. Had she truly been late, it’s true it’s been a while since he had left, the exo pack couldn’t have malfunctioned at any time. Was it all for nothing?

“N-no! I can’t let that happen. He’s alive, I feel it-” Y/n places her hand over her heart for emphasis. “Spider, he can-“ 

“Spider?!” The male jolts at the familiar name. His eyes light up on high alert causing Y/n to be taken aback.

 

“Y-yes, Spider! Do you know him!” She confirms, taking a step closer to the Na’vi. The male glances back at the exo pack one more time before offering his large hand out for her. 

“Come” 

~~~~~~~

The male Navi pulls Y/n along with him as she walks quickly through the forest. Y/n desperately tried to keep up, her lungs burning at the sensation of her rapid pace. 

Y/n tried to get the male to give her some space, to let her run freely by his side as him pulling her seemed to pose a problem. But the only response she got were grunts of acknowledgement and nothing more, 

“C-can we slow down?”  Y/n asks, her chest heaving with every breath she tries to take. The male stops, turning towards her. His eyes burning with determination, his tail swishing behind me. 

“You tawtute are slow, weak. If you don’t hurry we won’t find him” the male hisses. Y/n realizes this male must be one of Spider’s friends. He recognized him the moment she mentioned him, and the urgency in his actions proved he cared for him. 

“I’ll try to keep up. Can I please walk on my own?” Y/n pleads, the arm that had been tugged at for the past few minutes throbbing with pain. 

The male scoffs, the tiniest smile playing along his lips. “Fine, do what you want tawtute, but move with haste” the male turns around taking a few steps but much slower this time to accommodate her speed. 

“I have a name!” Y/n huffs out.

 

“Oh? What might that be?” There is a small trace of amusement in his tone as he keeps walking forward. Y/n glances down at her footing. Being mindful where she placed her feet on the huge branch as she didn’t want to fall. It wasn't a big drop, but it was big enough to break a bone or two. 

“Y/n. My name is Y/n” she wheezes out. The male hums at her response, satisfied that she answered to him so quickly, 

“Y/n…Mhm…” the male says her name causing Y/n’s steps to falter. The way her name rolled off his tongue, so elegantly it seemed to cause her heart to skip a beat. The deep baritone voice only made him sound that much more….attractive.

“What's your-”

Y/n was so lost in her thoughts she misplaced her next step. Y/n screams in fear feeling her leg slip from under her, she is able to see how the male Na’vi whips around to the sound of her scream, rushing to catch her in time but to no avail. Y/n’s fingers slip past his by a few mere centimeters as she tumbled towards the forest floor. She landed with a huge thump, landing on her face. 

“Y/n!”

Y/n groans in pain, struggling to sit back up. Luckily nothing felt broken, but her entire body screamed in protest as aches and pain took over her body. She held her breath to calm her racing heart. Just as Y/n tries to stand up, the male jumps down to her side. He crouches down to her level assessing her for any injuries with a worried look. 

“Woah, that was a scare! Talk abou-hmpfhghaa?”

 

Y/n’s words get caught off as the males' large hands cover her mouth. Y/n eyes widen at the action, her face heating up at the feeling of his warm hand over her mouth. His hand was big enough to cover her entire face if he wanted to. But all she could focus on was the way his body heat radiated off of  his soft hand.

‘He feels so warm…..wait…warm?’ 

Y/n feels her heart drop to her stomach realizing why she felt his hand press firmly against her mouth. 

Her mask had broken clean off. Her face was fully bare.

 

If it weren't  for his hand she would have inhaled the toxic air. Dying in an instant.

“Mhdgjpfff!” 

The male's expression is filled with worry, his eyes dancing around for the extra pack she had with her for Spider. Unable to find it near them he growls in frustration. It might have slipped from Y/n’s fingers when she had fallen. Such luck. 

“Can you hold your breath? Do you think you can hold your breath till the base Y/n? Forget Spider, let me carry you back to your base!” The male says urgently, his face showing emotions he didn’t show earlier. Y/n ignored how her heart rate accelerated at him saying her name so freely. 

Her eyes mist over realizing this was the end. She shakes her head, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it, and with the extra pack not in sight it was as if she was meant to perish. Like everything that has happened today, happened for a reason. 

The Na’vi shakes his head in denial, refusing to take no for an answer.

 

“No, there must be something. Another way” He glances at the sky, he would call his Ikran but the question still stands. Would she be able to hold her breath for that long? 

Y/n smiles at the male, her tiny fingers reaching up to grab his hand, trying to tug his hand free from his hold. . 

The male shakes his head, refusing to remove his hand. Y/n feels herself get light headed  from the lack of oxygen. If this is what fate had in store for her, she was willing to allow it.

 

Noticing how her eyes got droopy, the male pulled Y/n into him, having her head rest against his free arm while she sat against his lap. 

He looks down at her with sadness, his eyes staring into her e/c eyes realizing there was nothing he could do. He felt utterly useless. 

Y/n nods assuringly as she is finally able to pull away his hand. The male closed his eyes, he didn’t want to watch her in physical pain in her last few moments. A shaky sigh escaped his lips. Y/n looks up at the star's above, her eyes closing to a shut. 

Y/n thanks the gods above for letting her see the forest for the first time, and for meeting a Na’vi at the first try. In a way she got to experience everything she desired in the span of one day, and that made her happy. 

She takes a deep breath and……

Nothing happens. 

Her lungs fill in with the air around her as her eyes snap open. The male peeks his eyes open as well hearing her gasp in surprise, his  widened as he watches her able to breathe the air around her. His air. The air that was supposed to be…toxic. 

Y/n smiles wide, sitting up straighter. She can breathe fine, in fact the air seems lighter as it travels through her, better than oxygen! She could breathe Pandora air! Had the great mother spared her life?

“W-hat?!” Y/n sits up fully now, still within his grasp. The Na’vi’s eyes bore into her in shock and surprise as she wiggled what was left of her mask off her face. She adjusted her hair and moved it from face as she inhaled deeply. 

“I…I’m not dead!” She declares, turning to fully to face the male. She squeaks in surprise when she realizes how close their faces were from one another as she is practically resting over his lap. She shyly looks into his eyes, him staring back at her in awe. 

The male's eyes widen at her , fully taking in her beauty. He hadn't noticed her when he was blinded by anger, or when he began to worry over his friend Spider.  

Now that he had her in his arms, he realized he didn’t want to let her go. He was able to see everything, and up close. The mask that seemed to hide her beauty finally gone, showing him what he had missed. What he had been blind to see before.

“W-what’s your name?” Y/n asks, beginning to shy away from his intense stare up close. Maybe she looked silly with her messy hair and puffy eyes? 

The male breathes in, a genuine smile twitching along his lips.

“Neteyam,…my name is Neteyam”

 

And for the first time in forever, Neteyam felt completely breathless. 

___________________________________

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! let me know what you think and if you'd like a Pt2?

[lotusbxtch]

The Best Ride in the Galaxy (one-shot)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x f!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for Poe's flight suit. He decides to be a cocky asshole about it. Sexy shenanigans ensue. Word count: 2k

Warnings: Explicit 18+, MDNI! Mostly porn with a little plot // Established relationship, thigh riding/dry humping, vaginal fingering, swearing, name calling, use of pet names (English and Spanish), dom!Poe, brief light violence (slap to the face), Poe uses a Spanish pet name (bebita) which is probably not canon but idc it's hot, no physical description of reader besides being AFAB and being taller standing than a sitting Poe, Poe makes a corny joke, Poe being a cocky smug asshole comes with its own warning, no use of y/n

a/n: This picture of Oscar & his thick-ass thighs, and @for-a-longlongtime mentioning how Poe-coded it was, inspired this fic in its entirety. A little over 24 hours later and here it is! This is my very first posted fic, so please show it some love, send it to someone who might enjoy it, and feel free to give (constructive) feedback if you wish! If I missed any warning tags, please let me know and I'll add them in. Big big thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for beta-reading and cheering me on, it means the world to me.

You run outside as soon as you hear the X-wings land, your heart in your throat. 

It’s been 7 days, but when he left, Poe promised you it wouldn’t take more than 4 for his small band of rebel fighters to complete the covert mission. Of course he insisted on going with them; he’d been stir-crazy as of late, the endless strategy meetings and arguments amongst leadership boring him to tears. He jumped at the chance to get back into the pilot’s seat. You paced restlessly those last 3 days, imagining the absolute worst had happened to him, with no way of knowing if he was even alive.

So when you rushed out to the tarmac and spotted him climbing out of his X-wing, immense relief flooded your body, followed quickly by a potent swirl of both anger and anxiety. He spotted you, his eyes lighting up, jogging towards you with that brilliant smile.

“Hey good-lookin’,” he crooned as he approached, “didn’t miss me too much, did you?”

What he didn’t expect was for you to slap him straight across his face.

You surprised the both of you - Poe was staring back at you, open-mouthed and silent, a rare occurrence; you were staring at him, anger flashing in your eyes, your palm stinging slightly from the impact.

“Baby, I know you weren’t keen on me leaving,” Poe stammered, “but this seems a tad bit–”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD, YOU ASSHOLE!” you snapped at him, loudly enough for the people around you to look around for the source of the outburst. “You told me four days, Poe, and it’s now DAY FUCKING SEVEN.” You turned and started storming back to your pod, Poe on your heels.

“Bebita, I told you it was a small team,” Poe tried to explain while keeping up with you. “We hit some hiccups in the plan and had to hide out a bit longer than we thought. If I’d tried to contact you, it would have given away our position. You know how these missions go.”

You angrily punched in the access code to the door of your pod. “Yes, I know, which is exactly why as co-general you’re not supposed to be out in the field putting yourself in harm’s way.” The metal door slid open, and you walked forward, not even looking back at him. “I don’t care if you got bored playing politics, that doesn’t mean you get to go rogue and get back in the cockpit.” Slamming your hand on the button to slide the pod door closed, you finally turned to face Poe since slapping him. You let out a shaky breath as your rage subsided. Your stomach was morphing into a simmering pool of nerves and regret. 

“Look,” Poe said, “I just… getting cooped up on base listening to those talking heads was making me crazy. I miss flying and I saw the opportunity and took it.” You knew what he said was true, but it didn’t make it any easier on you. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you scanned his body for signs of injury, until you realized… he was wearing his flight suit.

Fuck. That damn flight suit always did things to you. Obviously he had to wear it for functionality’s sake, but god, it was almost like he was made to look good in them. His shoulders looked so strong and broad, and the unisex, utilitarian cut of the orange suit somehow did nothing to hide the curve of his ample, round ass, one of your favorite features of his. You felt your mouth water as you drank the sight of him in, arousal slowly kindling in your belly.

That suit was your weakness, and the cocky smile slowly dawning on his face let you know he knew, too.

“I mean,” Poe smirked,  “at least you get to see me in your favorite outfit of mine.” Walking slowly away from you to give you a clear view of his rear, he turned and sunk into the chair in your room. You followed, magnetically drawn to him while simultaneously being flustered that he caught onto your ogling. You crossed your arms and put on your best annoyed face.

“I’m sorry for slapping you, but I’m not sorry for being mad,” you said, pursing your lips and looking away. “And trying to seduce me with your stupid uniform isn’t working.”

It was, in fact, working too well. Your breathing got shallower as you tried to ignore the gentle heat filling your body from your center outwards. Poe’s smirk deepened.

“It’s a good thing you’re not a covert operative because you are the worst at lying,” he said, grabbing your thighs and coaxing you closer to him. You acquiesced, trying and failing to look irritated, the desire plain as day on your face. Poe ran his hands slowly up and down your legs from your hips to your calves. Sliding his palms back and around your ass, he squeezed and your breath hitched. You looked down and those liquid brown eyes were staring up at you, twinkling with mischief. “I know you better than that, sweet thing,” Poe teased. “You absolutely cannot pretend that me wearing this suit doesn’t make you cream your panties.”

You fought to control your traitorous body, breathing slowly through your nose as Poe lifted the hem of your shirt and planted soft kisses on your belly, right above your pants. “Fuck you, you cocky asshole,” you tried to spit viciously, but it came out sounding slightly strangled instead. This Maker-forsaken stupid man and his stupid bubble butt and this stupid suit, you thought, your fingers weaving into the curls on his head. 

Poe’s smile only turned even more predatory, like a cat playing with a mouse. “Oh, I would, baby” he whispered, nipping your torso lightly, “but I haven’t showered in days. How about this instead…”

Suddenly Poe grabbed your hips, pulling you down into his lap and forcing your knees to buckle, your legs on either side of his thick thigh. His right arm wound around your lower back, holding you in place while his left hand snaked up your neck and into your hair. He pulled you in for a slow, soft kiss, which snapped the final tether preventing you from melting for him like he knew you wanted to. You surged forward, kissing him deeply, licking into his mouth and tasting the minty aftertaste of the gum he always chews while piloting. He groans, biting your lower lip, then sliding his tongue along yours. This draws your first moans out from somewhere deep in your chest, and his eyes quickly darken when you begin grinding on his thigh.

“Oh, you like that,” Poe crooned, lips turning up into a smirk. “So fucking eager for me. So desperate to cum.”

“Fuck you, Maker-damn it,” you pant, burying your face into his neck, the smell of sweat, jet fuel, and him invading your senses. “This stupid suit is going to be the death of me.”

Poe smiles wickedly. “Why don’t you take a ride on the best pilot in the galaxy before you die, then, honey?” he purrs into your ear. You roll your eyes at his cheesy line until you feel him flex the thigh you’re straddling, creating the most delicious friction against your clothed core. You let out a breathy moan and clench your own thighs around his, starting to rock your clit against his ridge of muscle through your clothes. Slick starts dripping out of you with each roll of your hips against him. Poe moves your arms to brace on his shoulders, then slides both of his hands onto your hips to help you ride him.

The pleasure in your core starts to ratchet up, and you grind yourself harder into Poe’s thigh, throwing your head back with a moan. Poe leans to your ear, kissing and lightly licking just behind and below your earlobe, that spot he knows drives you wild. “That’s it, baby, ride it out,” he whispers into your ear. “Use all that frustration to make yourself cum on my leg.” You mewl, circling your hips and chasing your high. Your pussy contracts around nothing, and suddenly all you can think about is how much better it would feel if Poe was inside of you.

“Poe,” you whine, “I need more.” Your slick is soaking through your underwear, the smell of your arousal filling Poe’s senses. He groans, his cock painfully hard in his flight suit.

“What do you need, bebita?” he says, kissing your forehead sweetly while gripping your hips like a vice, a contrast that has you moaning wordlessly. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you,” you beg, “I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me, please.” You can feel your clit throbbing, almost painfully. Poe moans into your neck. “Baby, I told you, you do not want me to unzip this suit,” he chuckles. “But I think I can still help. Lean back a little.” You comply, and watch with glazed eyes as Poe stares right back at you, slipping his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to get them wet. A shudder rips through your body when he slips both digits past the waistband of your pants and into your underwear. He groans loudly when he feels your slick folds.

“Fuuuuck me, baby, you’re absolutely drenched,” he breaths out. “Is this all for this dumb orange jumpsuit I’m wearing?” That cocky smirk reappears as he laughs at his own joke.

Letting out an annoyed breath, you huff, “it’s for you, idiot. You fucking drive me crazy. You’re the only one that’s ever gotten me this wet. Now fill me up before I lose my ever-loving mind.” 

Poe lets out another chuckle. “Yes, ma’am,” he quips, and then quickly slides the length of his fingers into your cunt, forcing a moan from your lungs involuntarily. He rocks you forward again so that you’re sitting directly on his fingers, with his palm cradling your pussy. “Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he commands. “Take what you need from me.”

You do exactly that, rising and falling on his thigh, swirling your hips over his soaked digits, your clit rubbing against the meat of his palm deliciously. He adds another finger, stretching you out and making you want to scream. Your hips speed up as you desperately chase your high. The wet squelching and slapping sounds of your pussy on Poe’s hand echo in the room. Poe’s panting fills your ears and your wanton moans fill his. You invade his senses in every way possible, and he can feel his dick pulse with every thrust of your hips against his thigh.

Suddenly, you start feeling the knot in your core tighten as you rocket ever-closer to your orgasm. Poe moans as he feels you clench. “Fuck, that’s it, honey, I can feel you getting close,” he whispers. “Give it to me.” His hips start lifting up, grinding, pressing his length into you as much as he can.

“Oh Maker, Poe, oh fuck,” you cry as your walls tighten. “You want me to fucking cum for you?”

“Fuuuuuuck yes baby, that’s all I want,” Poe pants. “Fucking cum all over my fingers, soak my hand, honey.”

The filth pouring out of his mouth finally snaps the knot in your stomach, and you nearly scream in ecstasy as your release shatters and blooms through your body. Poe moans your name as a rush of your slick coats his hand, and you feel him bite your shoulder as his body tenses. Sated, you slump against him, his hand still pinned under your body, both of you sticky with sweat and panting for breath. Poe uses his free hand to softly cup the side of your face, pressing kisses slowly and gently across your cheeks and nose.

You sigh as he carefully extracts his hand. Just as you peer down at him, he closes his eyes and slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking every bit of your essence off. You shudder in pleasure as you watch him. He locks eyes with you, and you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

“Feeling better?” Poe asks, the warm molten brown of his eyes having returned. You sigh and giggle a little. “Yes, thank you,” you murmur quietly, “but I wish I could have made you cum too.” 

Suddenly Poe looks sheepish, something that’s a rare expression for him.

“Well, uh…” he starts, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and averting his eyes. You pause, perplexed. He glances back at you, then down at the floor, and then back at you again. Poe clears his throat before he finally speaks.

 “I… actually did…”

You freeze silently, and then erupt into laughter. “Poe Dameron!” you screech. “The ‘best pilot in the galaxy’, commander of the Starfighter Corps, co-general of the entire fucking Resistance, fucking JIZZED in his pants like a teenager???” You start tittering uncontrollably, much to Poe’s embarrassment. “Shut the fuck up, idiot,” he grouses, which only makes you cackle even louder. He sighs, annoyed but begrudgingly satisfied.

“At least this suit needs to be washed anyway,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and you laugh so hard you start crying.

Tag list (it's here y'all!): @for-a-longlongtime @nerdieforpedro @lu62 @purelyoscar @clemdango04 @survivingandenduring @reggiesfilthylittlesecret @beezusvreeland @alltheglitterandtheroar @campingwiththecharmings @qveerthe0ry @agentjackdaniels @dizthemonster @beezusvreeland @queerponcho and anyone else who was interested!

EDIT:

Oh, you were looking for a part 2 to this one-shot? Well it’s your lucky day — Poe was being a total menace, so indeed there is now a part 2!

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 21

Hey guys!! The story is starting ramp up to the finish line! I hope you guys are still enjoying it as much I enjoyed writing it.

In this we have Steve taking back his agency, Eddie and Jeff having a little chat and Abbadon leaning on his friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

~

As soon as Abbadon grabbed the mic, the audience knew they were going to be in for a ride.

“Las Vegas!” he roared to the crowd, who roared back. “There seems to be some confusion about how naughty I got with Eddie Munson in Denver.”

The crowd went wild, screaming and jumping up and down.

“I never do anything without prior consent,” he grinned. “I’m a gentleman, until you tell me you want it otherwise.” He winked and the crowd screamed back. “I’m not saying I’m coming for Asmodeus’s job,” Abbadon said, draping himself over his guitarist’s shoulders, “but I’m no innocent. I don’t need protection.” He walked across the stage to Astraeus. “I’ve always been affectionate. But I think it’s time to be put the rumors to bed.”

“Oooooohhhhhh!” Asmodeus and Astraeus shouted and got the crowd to say it with them. Once they were loud enough, Azrael started rapidly tapping his drums to further build up tension.

Just when Abbadon was sure the tension couldn’t stretch much further he said, “I’m not a slut. I’m the slut!” The throng of people roared back. “And I’m not going to hide who I am to make myself palpable to people I’ve never met or no longer have any connection to me. I am Abbadon! I AM THE FALLEN!”

Waiting in the wings was Jeff and Eddie. They had gathered to watch Steve do this in person instead of watching it live in the green room.

Jeff cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “Whatever else you think of Abbadon and the rest of the band, you have to admit the man has charisma.”

Eddie pressed his lips together and nodded. He was proud of Steve. Of course he was, but it did sting a little that it took Shane to get him to talk about it. Not him, Not Robin. Hell, not even Simon, whom Eddie thought was unhealthily close to Steve. Shane. Of all the band members, Shane had the least in common with Steve. Spence had the EMT thing, Simon, the upper class upbringing. Other than them liking metal, they couldn’t be further apart then if God planned it that way.

Shane came from a middle class liberal family with an older sister he was close with. Hell, he even still talked to his parents while Steve definitely did not. He was a giant nerd who loved history and myths. Steve struggled in school and only made it out alive because he was on three sports teams and captains of two of them. Shane even slept around to Steve’s search for ‘the one.’ Which Eddie really, really hoped was him.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the reason Shane could get through to Steve was because they didn’t have much in common. Maybe their connection were their differences. That they were friends in spite of the gap between them.

Eddie almost wanted to get Steve into therapy like Gareth was. Because even though it always seemed to him that Gareth was one drink away from destruction these days, the therapy did appear to be working.

Steve could really use something like that.

They watched the set a little bit longer.

“Are you sure you’re okay with Abbadon flirting with Gareth?” Jeff asked.

Eddie blinked for a moment wondering where the comment was coming from. Because, sure, Gareth had talked non-stop about Abbadon being his favorite member, even going as far as to tattoo Abbadon’s mask on his left bicep. But Gareth didn’t seem interested in Abbadon as a person.

And it wasn’t like Steve was really interested in him that way before or after becoming a rockstar.

“Gareth and Abbadon both say it’s fine,” he murmured after a moment or two. “And I trust Abbadon.”

Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah okay. So this time it’s not going to be the duet?”

“No, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Abbadon is going to be taking the lead vocals on ‘Might as Well Fly’, I think he’ll lend a haunting quality to it.”

Jeff pursed his lips. Steve definitely had the pipes for it, but it wasn’t the song out of their discography that he would have chosen for Abbadon to shred.

Eddie huffed beside him and crossed his arms in front of him. “Let me guess, you have other ideas?”

“Can Abbadon play guitar?” Jeff asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I guess. He’s like able to play piano, violin, and guitar. Can he play the song you’re thinking of is the real question.”

Jeff turned to him with a grin. “Oh, if I know our friend as well as I think I do, he knows it.”

Eddie frowned at him and cocked his head to the side. “Which one?”

Jeff told him and Eddie rubbed his lips, skeptical. It was a good song. Harder than ‘Might as Well Fly’ and faster too. It had an extra guitar to it because it originally featured a famous guitarist. But it was also the lead guitar on that song.

“Do you really think he can do it?” he asked, licking his upper lip slowly.

Jeff scoffed, “Why? Do you think he can’t?” Eddie just shrugged. “Because holy hell, dude, I was talking to Asmodeus and he was telling me they formed their band over their love of our music. I’m betting if you asked Abbadon he could list his favorite albums alphabetically, chronologically, or which one is best musically. Even before you guys got together, before their band, before we even got a record deal, he’s been your number one fan. And he’s got the chops for it. You know he does.”

Eddie looked around to make sure no one had heard Jeff’s impassioned speech. He ducked his head. “Have Abbadon meet us before we go on to discuss the change while they setup our equipment.”

Jeff grinned and licked his lips. “You won’t regret this. And neither will they.” He jutted his chin out at the roaring crowd.

And yeah, Eddie knew he was being ridiculous about the song. He was trying to play this safe, but Steve didn’t need safe right now. He needed to take back his agency and Eddie knew that this song? It was fucking perfect for Steve. They would be able to feed off the roar of the crowd and give Steve a chance to really show them how good he is.

~

Steve loved the idea of the change in song. Don’t get him wrong, he loved ‘Might as Well Fly’. It just wasn’t the vibe he was trying to send today. Steve already was flying. Now he was raging at the people who were trying to clip his wings. And fuck them.

It meant that he couldn’t start on Gareth’s lap, but that was okay. This was going to be better. A hell of a lot better.

He pulled on his Corroded Coffin logo lined coat and swapped his mask for the lighter everyday one. He was going to need the extra movement for these vocals. He started in the middle again, this time in front of Corroded Coffin instead of between them.

“Hey, Las Vegas!” Eddie cried. “You bitches ready to rock?”

The crowd screamed back and Eddie laughed. “We’ve got a treat for you tonight!” The crowd screamed even louder. “We don’t usually play ‘Nightmare Killer’ because we don’t have that third guitarist.”

The audience went wild, screaming and whistling and stomping their feet in excitement.

“We asked Asmodeus,” Eddie continued. “But he’s too cool for us!” The crowd made teasing booing noises and oohhed. “But that’s okay, we found someone else willing to play.”

The room fell to a hush as Abbadon’s spotlight came on. There was some uneasy wrestling from the audience as he stood with his ear mic and white guitar. Something that eagle-eyed fans would know about Eddie and Jeff was that they didn’t own a white guitar. And all The Fallen fans knew that all of Asmodeus’s guitars were red and vaguely devil themed. This wasn’t his either. This was clearly Abbadon’s.

Abbadon began the opening riff and the crowd took a massive intake of breath as he sailed perfectly through the chunky bits of the original artist’s style. Then he began to sing, the haunting quality of his voice filling in the gaps of the silence that seemed to stretch on from the audience.

Eddie didn’t even bother trying to hold back the look of admiration on his face as he joined Abbadon for the chorus. Their vocals mixing beautifully to the backdrop of a hell beast looking for more from life than the violence it was weaned on.

Throughout the song the only sounds from the crowd were clapping in time to the beat. Eddie had never seen anything like at their concerts before. It was like there was this reverence for what was happening on stage.

Abbadon ate it up and played it up as he enticed the members of Corroded Coffin to him. Each of the members resisted. Then Abbadon handed his guitar off to a roadie and climbed the stairs to the platform that Gareth was on. He straddled Gareth’s lap and drumming cut out as his bandmates played on. From behind it looked like they were kissing, but with Abbadon’s mic off they were making fun of each other. Then suddenly he whirled on Gareth’s lap and hit the drums right on the last note with a crash.

Then in an instant the crowd thundered to life, cheering and stomping and clapping.

Abbadon blew Gareth a kiss and leapt off the platform to take his bows. The flutter of the coat revealing the Corroded Coffin logo again and the crowd screamed even louder. He blew kisses to the crowd and continued to bow. Eddie whistled loudly and Abbadon laughed.

Eddie grabbed the microphone. “Abbadon everyone! One very talented son of bitch! Another round of applause everyone!”

The crowd continued to go wild. Abbadon let out a whoop and jumped up and down, laughing. It was exhilarating, everyone just feeding the energy back to Abbadon and just feeling high off that. Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and Jeff winked. Eddie shook his head. Because yeah, Jeff won that bet.

Abbadon waved goodbye and walked off the stage. Once he was out of view of the audience Hopper swooped in and immediately threw a cool, damp towel over his head and Steve nearly sank to his knees in relief. Because try as they might, the hoods were still fucking hot. Hopper lead him to the dressing room where the rests of The Fallen were waiting.

As soon as the door closed tightly behind Abbadon, Steve pushed back the hood and ripped off the mask. His hair was wet and sweat clung to his face and neck. He let himself sink slowly into the soft cushions of the sofa and laid his head back.

A bottled water was being pushed into his hand and an ice pack was placed on his brow. He let out a small shuddering breath. He opened the water and dumped half of it on his face and the rest into his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” Steve muttered, his eyes fluttering shut. “How did I look out there?”

Simon huffed a little a laugh. “Like fucking rock god.”

“I’m with Simon,” Spence said. “It won’t silence the naysayers but it’ll drown them out which is even better.”

Steve laughed. “Fuck that was so much fun. Gareth called me a queen. So I called him a bitch. I honestly don’t know if he likes Abbadon more now, or less!”

“Considering how little time you had to prepare,” Shane said, sprawled over an armchair instead of on the floor for a change, “I say you kicked ass. You’re going to get people saying you weren’t really playing but, they can suck your dick!”

Steve lifted his head, the ice pack sliding into his hand. “I hate doing this without you guys, though,” he admitted. “But as Shane pointed out, I’m already super affectionate with you already and short of French kissing Simon, they aren’t going to believe shit.”

“Nothing against you, Steve,” Simon said with a wince, “but I really don’t want your tongue down my throat.”

Shane raised his hand. “I volunteer! I volunteer!”

They all laughed. Then Robin as Celeste slipped in and sat next to Steve. She grabbed the ice pack and pressed it to the back of her neck. They all waited as she let her defenses slowly come down. She pulled off the wig and tossed it Spence who caught it deftly.

“Vickie has been working tirelessly tonight to keep an eye on social media,” Robin began, “she even has two of her assistants watching all the accounts, constantly refreshing.”

Steve turned on the couch to face her. “And what are they saying?”

Simon and Spence immediately moved over to her to sit on either side of her and Steve. Shane sprawled over the back like some Renaissance painting. He rustled her hair and she huffed out a laugh.

“You’re getting the trolls from both fans shit talking about how Abbadon is better than Corroded Coffin and should have turned them down like Asmodeus,” she continued, pausing only for Simon’s huff of laughter. “The Corroded Coffin fans were whining about how Abbadon’s vocals ruined the song and that he probably faking the guitar playing for the views.”

“I’d like to see them fake that bridge,” Steve scoffed. “It’s insane.”

Simon nodded. “I don’t think I could do it.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll post a Tiktok of me trying to play it.”

“Wait!” Spence said. “Have Steve do it first, showing a close up of the hands dancing on the frets. Then you stitch it with your version. That should kick them in the ass.”

Steve and Simon fist bumped each other. “Hell yeah!”

“But the rest of the tweets and shit coming in is overwhelmingly positive,” Robin finished. “So that Tiktok should silence the Corroded Coffin fans.”

When Simon did his stitch of Steve’s video he made sure to admonish their fans about thinking who’s better than who. He was friends with the boys in CC and the being ‘too cool’ was a fucking joke.

Then Eddie did a stitch of both of their videos and showed them again how complicated the riff was for Abbadon to play by playing it himself. Abbadon and Asmodeus’s videos racked up a lot of views and shares, but Eddie’s really did the numbers. It blew up and completely overshadowed all the haters.

Steve made sure to thank Eddie for that later in the privacy of Eddie’s hotel room.

~

Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[eldritcmor]

DRABBLE

You came back wrong.

It took a while for the team to get back into Las Almas Base. Even then it was a challenge for the Monsters and Hybrids of 141 and Mexican special forces. Gaping maws in the earth filled with drip stone like teeth would suddenly open up beneath their feet. The trees would violently sway in the thunder shrieking winds as fat Heavy rain clouds let loose on the torn soil. All the while they couldn’t get the image of your corpse leaning in the doorway of your cell turned tomb, smiling over Graves’ shoulder as the earth gave way to teeth and blood at your cry.

The vampire had barely had enough to time to turn before concrete slicked into mud. He went tumbling with his thralls into a gaping chasm lined with obsidian fangs. Pain wracked his body as Those under his control were dashed against glass stone. He tried to pull his thralls to him. To call to The piece of his essence in each and every single one. No one came. He growled and tried again. No one. He looked up to the top of the pit only to see your dead eye’s mere inches from his, head cocked to the side as if listening.

A slow creeping smile stretched your pale blue lips, revealing rows of obsidian teeth. Graves barely had the energy to scramble back. He ignored the sting of glass piercing his palms as He pushed himself, further and further from whatever the fuck you were. A wail cried high in the pit and Graves flinched as Your head snapped to the noise. He would never forget the grinding crunch of bone if he made it out of this. Between one blink and the next, you were gone. Nothing but the clicking of volcanic glass in your wake.

Graves gathered himself, breathing harshly. The reports had said you were The 141’s weak link. A fragile human among powerful monsters. He had thought of Turning you into one of his Thralls. Making You a shadow. But, then. Well orders were orders, and Graves was nothing if not decently loyal to the people writing his check.

Shepherd wanted to rile The 141 up. Make them show their true colors. You were just the poor little human, that had wormed your way into the team’s heart.

He had drawn it out, after The transfer of the base went to shit with Ghost, Alejandro, and Soap escaping. Had taken his time with draining your life, drop by drop over the course of several days. Till your dinky little Cell became your tomb. After that it was a waiting game, and He got so tired of waiting. He decided to send a message to entice the 141. You weren’t supposed to come back.

Gaz stared at the massive black maw in the middle of Las Almas base. The place was deadly quiet. Not even the rain seemed to make a sound in the presence of the Obsidian Mouth. This was your doing?

He landed on a crumbled building at just the edge of the pit. He peered down trying to make sense of where shadows ended and black volcanic rock began, when he saw it. Bodies. Lots of Bodies. Twisted, Broken Bodies Lined the lowest points of the pit. Spiked through with Glittering shards of obsidian.

The harpy leaned further, flexing his wings and burying his talons in the concrete of the building to keep himself stable. A little red patch caught his eyes. Graves private little army. Shadows, then. He squinted. Something was off about the bodies though. They were pale. Not lack of sunlight pale. Blood loss pale. He finally let go of his perch and smoothly dropped into a swoop, right into the pit. The temperature hit him first. One would expect a deep maw of rock and earth to be cool maybe even cold. No, it was warm like a furnace, bordering on Hot.

Gaz’s mouth tightened in concentration as he landed next to one of the Shadow bodies. The obsidian had torn the poor thing apart but that didn’t explain the complete blood loss. The harpy kicked at the body. Something was off and Gaz was lost.

“Captain.”

The Dragon’s voice crackled through the radio clipped to his flight harness.

“Yes, Gaz?”

“Do you know any creatures that would drain a thrall dry?”

The captain humphed. “No.”

“Well something did. Every single body in this pit is completely drained.”

“Could be a ritual. We haven’t ruled out possession.”

Gaz flipped the body over. There! A thin channel formed into the glass, almost like someone was melting the glass as they dragged their finger through it.

“No we haven’t. I’ll keep poking around.”

“Be careful, Garrick.”

“Always am, sir.”

The harpy followed the trail. Meeting more and more thin little channels of dried blood. He barely noticed as the ground sloped. Pooling the channels into rivers til finally a deep pool formed at the very bottom of the pit.

Gaz stood at the edge of a massive dip, a single pillar of obsidian erected in the center. The walls of the pit were eating the sky, as Gaz peered up at the sun. The sun? Gaz had flown in under storm and wind. Is this what you saw before you left?

Gaz threw himself into the air. He knew you were long gone. The obsidian maw proved it. The maw’s spewed heat when formed. This one had long cooled. None of the bodies were burned.

taglist: @skylordgrey @bluegiragi @batw3nch @stick-the-dumbass @lilpothoscuttings @im-making-an-effort @stupidwingboy @apocalypticseagull @resident-cryptid @warenai @sleepyendymion @sellenedragon @queenofwolves210 @ummmmmbeans @makayla-666 @gogh-with-the-flow @diejager

[puck-luck]

8, clubs, Trevor Zegras would love for them to have some kind of history like enemies or exes. Something that really brings the tension

using this as a precursor to my FWB trevor fic that is otw! i'm world building and VERY excited to continue this story soon :)

warnings: choking, rivals, enemies with benefits, mentions of hooking up while under the influence, possessive trevor, dom!trevor WC: 1592

You and Trevor don’t get along. It started when you were working as an intern for the team at BU. 

Trevor was a freshman, riding the high of being drafted in the first round to a team that he’d known and liked since watching The Mighty Ducks for the first time as a kid. He didn’t like the Ducks as much as his precious Rangers, but he was just happy to be part of an NHL team after working so hard to make it.

You were a freshman, too. You had lucked into the internship, really. Sure, you had done work with the sports teams in your high school, but it wasn’t nearly as serious as your internship with the Boston University Terriers. You were held to a different standard with this team and it took you a little time to get used to your role– as you would with any new job.

Trevor left to go play big-time hockey after his first year at BU, whereas you had stuck out all four years, earned your degree, and truly blossomed into a confident employee in your sophomore and junior years with the hockey team. 

Trevor missed all of that– and he’s always remembered you as the little freshman who got lost in the rink, who had to reshoot footage for marketing stuff because you hadn’t put the camera on the right setting, and who conveniently left her bookbag on the bus during an away game. That last one was a problem because one of the other interns, a junior who had taken you under her wing, had asked you to carry the stat book. The bus was locked after the team disembarked, the driver had gone to treat himself to dinner on the team’s dime, and no one could reach him. Because of your blunder, the team was without statistics for the first period– because everyone conveniently forgets that you climbed through an open window on the bus during that same period to retrieve your bookbag. You literally broke into a vehicle to make up for your mistake, but you couldn’t live it down. That’s how Trevor remembers you.

And then you’d gotten a job for the Ducks.

To be fair, you’d applied to multiple NHL teams. You’d applied to your hometown team, to The Mighty Ducks because your friend’s little brother told you that you should, to some of the East Coast teams like the Bruins and the Devils, and to some other West Coast teams like Vancouver, Seattle, and San Jose. After your time with BU, you loved working in hockey and you couldn’t imagine working in another industry for the rest of your life. The Ducks had given you a great offer, and your interview with the team had felt so much more comfortable than the other teams, so it was a no-brainer. You joined the Anaheim Ducks team. 

It didn’t take long for Trevor to see you. You weren’t sure if he’d remember you. You hoped that he wouldn’t. At first, he didn’t seem to remember you. Then, Trevor was conveniently in the room as your boss asked for some random piece of information. Your boss had asked everyone in the room and you thought you had the info for him, so you dug around in your bag for a minute after saying that you could tell him the answer. The piece of paper holding the knowledge wasn’t in your bag, so you moved onto your phone. After searching through your iCloud files, and your Office app, you couldn’t find it. Because of your past, it was slightly embarrassing to have to look at your superior and tell him you didn’t have the answer for him, and that you were sorry for saying you did. He hadn’t thought it was a big deal, waving you off, but the sting was still there.

Especially when Trevor walked past you and smirked. “Just like in Boston,” he had murmured slyly, making your face turn even brighter red. So he did remember you and, although the Ducks was supposed to be your fresh start, your mistakes would continue to follow you everywhere you go.

Trevor started going out of his way to see you and make comments. They’re always snide and subtly biting and that hasn’t changed, even as your relationship turned on its head. 

It’s because of the Ducks mid-summer party. You’re mostly free of responsibilities over the summer because it’s the off-season, so each Friday and Saturday night fulfilled your desire to act like a young twenty-something, finally out of college but still in that party mindset, and now you have the funds to do as many fun things as you want. Your little group of colleagues, all the employees close to your age, decided to make the Ducks party a grand old time. You’re cool with your bosses and the older employees, so you’re not concerned about making a fool of yourself.

You didn’t realize the players would be invited, too. 

You get drunk with your friends, feeling the drinks hit you even harder every time you stand and mingle, moving from group to group. You found yourself next to Trevor when you were getting a new drink, and he was equally tipsy. He’s much nicer when he’s drunk you realize.

Somehow, that night, you ended up in an Uber with Trevor to his house, and your relationship has never been the same.

He’s still snide and cutting when he wants to be, as are you, but you’re hooking up. You’d describe it as friends with benefits, but you and Trevor don’t like each other enough to be friends yet– so you think of it as more of a rivalry, except you conveniently benefit from the pleasure of the other person.

He likes to come to the rink on days when the team plays at home. Home games are busier days for you and your team, but you can always find time for Trevor– in the closet near the stats office. He thought it was funny, you wanted to get laid, so now you meet here. Trevor will leave a note in your mailbox when he first gets to the rink, then he goes to the locker room to tape up some sticks or to the training room to get a quick workout in. You usually take a break around 10:15 a.m., which is when you check your mailbox and head upstairs. You’ve only got about twenty minutes before people start to wonder where you’ve gone– “bathroom and coffee” only takes up so much time– so Trevor is sure to meet you in the closet by 10:20. On days when he doesn’t leave you notes, you don’t go. It’s a fine system.

You’re expected to prep yourself most of the time, just because you don’t have a whole lot of time. At first, it was just your fingers. Then, as a gift (which was shocking, considering you’re not even friends), Trevor bought you vibrator that he can control from his phone. You wear it on home game days now, keeping you full and stretched– and, when Trevor is in a good mood, constantly on edge. During intermission, you can expect a few minutes of intense buzzing inside of you and on your clit, given the dual prongs of the vibrator, before everything ceases. While you wait in the closet for Trevor, you experience the same thing. He wants you desperate for him by the time he sees you.

That way, he can pounce right away.

Trevor has a thing. He likes to make sure his hand is cemented around your throat as he empties you of the vibrator, then fills you with his cock. You don’t complain because, quite frankly, it’s hot. You’ve become much more interested in the veins and curves on the back of his hand since you started hooking up. If his thing is choking you, then your thing is touching his hand delicately while he fucks you. 

“I like you so much better with my hand around your throat,” Trevor will remind you as his pelvis meets yours. He’ll squeeze when you start to make too much noise, cutting off your source of breath. 

Other times, when you’re too loud, he’ll slip your vibrator between your lips like a makeshift gag. He’ll make you suck on it to keep yourself occupied and quiet, tasting your desire for him all while he makes you come.

He likes it when you give up control. As neurotic as you are about work and about your reputation as an employee, you’re completely under Trevor’s spell when you’re in this closet and he’s got his hand wrapped around your neck. 

You’re his, and he’s possessive, and it’s getting harder to stay away from him outside of the closet. Especially when he starts inviting you over for late night booty calls on the weekend– when you’ll go to his place and he’ll fuck you on any surface he can. His hand never makes its way around your neck there. Instead, he’s free to touch your tits or slap your ass or lick into your mouth. You crave him. You crave his touch, but you don’t necessarily want him around. Your mind is growing befuddled and confused and this is why you never fuck someone who isn’t your partner… but it’s just too good to stop. The second his hand circles your throat, it’s like your hypnotized and unable to do anything but obey. Trevor is a drug.

[littlest-w01f]

Shadows

Azriel x Amita (See Amita here)

For @acotar-omegaverse-week

Omegaverse week 2024 Masterlist

Day 3: All Tied Up

Summary: Amita and Azriel's shadows team up against him

Cw: Restraints, shadow play, Beta!Amita, Beta!Azriel, Smut 18+ MDNI

Azriel smiled watching Amita, as the female made her way to him, she was smiling looking in his general direction, "Here, love." He purred, his wings spread wide for show, curling around her to guide her to him, his shadows swirling in his lap and torso, reaching for her.

Amita heard him, a smile forming on her lips, making her way to sit on his lap, his wings caging her in, "I see you..." She smiled, seeing the darkness in gold that was her mate.

Azriel wrapped his arms around Amita, pulling her closer onto his lap. The heat between them was palpable, their bodies pressed together, each curve and contour molding perfectly against one another. His hands roamed over her body, tracing every inch of her skin, feeling the warmth radiating off her, watching her shiver from the cool touch of his shadows.

The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the moon outside, casting long shadows across the room. The air was thick with tension, filled with an unspoken promise of what was about to come. Azriel's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest, as he gazed up at Amita, taking in her beauty.

"Ah, my love," he whispered, his voice low and husky, filled with desire. His fingers gently brushed against her cheek, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

Her eyes were completely gold, her powers making him visible in her lack of vision, "I wanna be on top..." She whispered, hand experimentally reaching behind her to stroke his wings that caged her in. She knew he would say yes, they would always switch, matching in dominance, wanting to have fun.

Azriel grinned wickedly, a moan leaving his lips, his hazel eyes gleaming with lust and anticipation. He nodded, his hand sliding down to grip her hips firmly, guiding her onto his lap as he buckled up from her touch to his wing.

With a fluid motion, Amita straddled Azriel, her legs wrapping around his waist as she gasped from his hips buckling into hers. She leaned back slightly, giving him better access to her body. Her nipples hardened under her sheer nightgown, the deep neck of it giving Azriel quite the view of her dark skin against the golden gown. Both their arousal coating the room, the scent of it prominent.

Azriel's rough hands slid up her thighs, teasing her with promises of what was to come. His thumbs grazed along the edges of her lace, feeling the dampness seeping through. A low growl rumbled in his throat, a sound of pure male satisfaction.

"I like when you're in control," He murmured, his voice rough with need.

Amita smiled, feeling his chest, shivering slightly at his rough hands lifting her nightgown off her, "Yeah?" She teased, "I want to try something."

Azriel's eyes gleamed with lust as he watched Amita's nightgown fall away, revealing her curves to his hungry gaze. He reached out, cupping her breasts in his large palms, thumbs teasing her hardened nipples and she twitched in pleasure from his scared hands.

"I'm all for trying new things, my love," He purred, his voice dripping with desire. He lowered his head, capturing a pert nipple between his teeth, biting down gently before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Amita moaned, arching her back, and pushing her breast further into Azriel's mouth. Her hips began to move, grinding against his hardening cock through his clothes. The friction sent sparks of pleasure coursing through their veins, making her pant with anticipation.

His thick arms wrapped around her waist, his face in her breasts as she moaned on top on him, "Az..."

Azriel's hands slid down to grip Amita's hips, guiding her movements against his throbbing cock. He could feel her wetness coating his pants, her arousal matching his own. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin, leaving a trail of red marks that would later blossom into love bites, a reminder of their passion.

He lifted his head, his eyes locked onto hers, blazing with raw desire. "Tell me what you want to do to me, Amita," he growled, his voice laced with need.

Instead of telling, she showed him, she could feel his shadows trailing up her sides, their cool touch on her lower back, her core, and breasts, slowly covered in his shadows, "This." She moved his arms from around her waist to pin them up to the headboard, his shadows getting the message and leaving her back to lock his arms and wings on the headboard.

Azriel's eyes widened in surprise as Amita pinned his arms and wings, his shadows responded instantly to her command. He was now fully at her mercy, helpless to resist as she took control of their encounter. The thought sent another surge of arousal through him.

Amita grinned, her gold eyes glinting with mischief and desire. She rocked her hips against him once more, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of them. She could feel his cock straining against his pants, eager to be freed and buried deep inside her.

Amita reached her hand to his face, stroking his cheeks and chin till she found his lips when he gave the pads of her fingers a kiss, she leaned forward to kiss his lips, his tongue almost instantly invading her mouth.

With a wicked smile in the kiss, Amita reached down his body, his shadows accompanying her, feeling and scratching the straining muscles of his torse and helping her pop the button on Azriel's pants, then dragged the zipper down with a slow, deliberate motion. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. Amita wrapped her hand around his length, stroking him slowly as she continued to kiss him, his shadows joining in on the movement to make her hand glide smoother.

Azriel groaned into the kiss, his cock pulsing in Amita's hand. The sensation of her warm, slick palm sliding along his shaft was driving him wild. He could barely think straight, lost in the haze of lust and desire.

His shadows coiled around her wrist, guiding her movements, encouraging her to stroke him faster, harder. The pressure built within him, his balls tightening, aching with the need to release.

With a swift tug, he broke the kiss, panting heavily. "Enough foreplay," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

"Say please..." Amita purred, a teasing smirk on her face.

Azriel's eyes flashed with frustration and desire. He wanted to bury himself inside Amita right now, but her playful demand only served to heighten his arousal.

"Please," he gritted out, his voice strained. "Fucking ride me, Amita. Now."

His shadows released her wrist, allowing her to position herself over his cock. He watched, mesmerized, as his shadows wrapped around her thighs and hips, gasping a little as a few held his cock still for her to align herself with his throbbing cock, parting her wet folds to accommodate him and giving him a glorious view.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Amita sank down onto Azriel's cock, taking him deep inside her. They both gasped as they connected, feeling fully joined igniting a fire within them.

Azriel's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as Amita enveloped him, her tight heat gripping his throbbing cock. He could feel every inch of her, from her delicate inner walls to the soft mound of her clit pressed against his pubic bone.

"Ahhh, fuck," he groaned, his hands clenching into fists as he fought to maintain control. "You feel so good, my love."

His shadows caressed her ass, urging her to move, to ride him hard and fast as they held him still for her. But Azriel wanted to savour this moment, to relish in the feeling of being buried deep inside his mate. So he waited, patient, until Amita began to move off her own accord.

Amita's hips began to rock slowly, grinding her clit against Azriel's pelvis. Each movement drove his cock deeper, stretching her deliciously. The sensation of being completely filled by Azriel was overwhelming, Amita felt stretched and full, the pleasure radiating from her core. His cock throbbed inside her, his size ensuring every inch was claimed.

Each time she rode him, the tip of his cock hit a spot deep within her that made stars burst behind her eyelids. It was too much, not enough, everything she needed all at once.

She leaned back, using her hands on Azriel's shoulders for leverage as she picked up speed. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, her nipples brushing against his chest.

Azriel was moaning with his head thrown back, watching his shadows play with her, a fit of jealousy bubbling inside him as his own shadows restricted him from touching her while stroking her clit and playing with her breasts themselves.

Azriel's moans spurred Amita on, the sound of his pleasure fuelling her own. She could feel his shadows caressing her curves, flicking across her nipples, teasing the bundle of nerves between her legs.

Her pace quickened, driven by a primal instinct to chase after the orgasm that teased just out of reach. She slammed down onto his cock with renewed vigour, riding him with abandon.

As Amita's climax crashed over her, she screamed out loud, her entire body tensing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Her inner walls clenched tightly around Azriel's cock, milking him for all he was worth.

Azriel followed suit moments later, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train. His cock pulsed inside her, releasing hot spurts of cum deep within her womb.

As their orgasms subsided, Amita collapsed onto Azriel, her breath coming in heavy pants. She nuzzled into his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as their sweat mingled.

The room was silent except for the sounds of their heavy breathing and the occasional whisper of shadows moving to settle in corners.

"Did… Did you enjoy it?" Amita asked, breathless

Azriel chuckled softly, the vibrations sending pleasant tingles through Amita's body. "Enjoy? My love, I fucking loved it." He replied, his voice low and husky.

He gently stroked her back, tracing patterns on her skin with his fingers. "You were amazing, Amita. Absolutely breathtaking. Nowlet me take care of you, yeah?"

Amita nodded as Azriel slipped from under her, walking into the bathroom and bringing out a wet washcloth to clean her with.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

{Azriel Taglist- @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch @satorusemepls @fieldofdaisiies}

[crazyunsexycool]

My Little Love

Chapter 31

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

word count: 6k

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of blood, mentions of gun, SO MANY TEARS, Charlotte being the little rebel she is, Henry being a supportive big brother lol, The kids are just so fucking sweet, knives, implied thought of committing suicide (hydra command), If I forgot something please let me know.

A/N: OMG it's happening!!!! Please let me know what you think.

Series Masterlist

He drops the ironclad hold he had on your neck and releases the cuffs you had on. He leans into your ear and murmurs something. 

Your murderous gaze snaps up to Bucky’s.

You take slow measured steps in his direction. There is only one thing in your mind. Your only mission.

Hurt him.

He’s the enemy and he’ll hurt you. That’s what the man had said and you had no choice but to trust him. But the man in front of you seems familiar. You don’t fear him. Although your feelings in this don’t matter. 

“Sugar.” He says as he looks at you with anguish. He puts down the gun and holds his hands up to show he isn’t a threat. “It’s me, it’s Bucky. You’re safe now.” 

Your expression remains blank and you continue to move towards him.

“Charlotte and Henry can’t wait to see you.

You tilt your head in confusion. Those names are unknown to you. 

“I found her.” Bucky says. “I need bac-“ 

You don’t let him finish his sentence. Instead you connect your fist with his jaw. You advance on him and no matter how many blows you land he won’t hit you. He covers his face, he deflects but not once has he raised his hand against you. 

“Y/N, please listen to me. I know you’re in there. Sugar you can stop. It’s ok you’re safe now.” He pleads.

You don’t talk back, you can’t. The order was to hurt him not to talk. This time when you throw another punch he catches your fist with his left hand. You study it and then you flick your wrist so that you're holding his wrist instead. Then you squeeze. The metal crunch fills the otherwise empty hall. Bucky grunts as he falls to his knees. You’ve completely destroyed his left arm from wrist to shoulder and he seems to be in some kind of pain but you don’t care. You lift your fist again and you feel a small sting on the side of your neck before you lose consciousness.

****

“Are you ok?” Nat asks as she lays you on the floor. 

“What happened?” Steve asks as he rounds the corner, jogging up to Bucky and Nat. “Oh fuck.” 

Bucky’s arm was basically turned to scrap metal. His face was full of blood and bruises and there was no doubt that there would be more injuries.

“They programmed her.” Bucky said in between pants and tears. 

Steve first helped Bucky and then scooped you up from the floor. 

“The guy that was taking her out of here disappeared.” 

“I stopped him down the hallway, he isn’t going anywhere.” Nat says before she steps in front of Steve and starts leading them out of the building. Gun up and ready to shoot if necessary. “We should get her to Bruce so that he can keep her sedated until we get back to the tower.” 

Bucky just nods but his mind is a million miles away. What had they done to you? He was torn between needing to know and not wanting to find out. You were his best girl and he had let you down. 

“Buck, take my shield.” Steve says as the group approaches the exit. 

While the building was quiet there was a battle going on outside. The rest of the team, the CIA and the Dora Milaje were still fighting against hydra. 

“Wanda, Sam we’re going to need some help here. We have Y/N but she’s unconscious.” 

“On our way.” Sam says. A few seconds later he’s at the doors. His wings spread out and shielding the doors so that Nat can open them and let Steve walk out with you. 

There’s a ball of red magic that flies past them and hits someone and then Wanda lands beside them. Her eyes immediately go to you and her heart aches when she sees the state you’re in. 

“Let’s go.” She says with a nod. 

The five of them move in sync. Steve in the middle of the other four as they keep you safe. Okoye sees them and sends some of her fighters to help clear the way. In no time you’re on a jet and Bruce is setting up a drip before taking your vitals. 

“Stay with her Buck.” Steve takes the shield from him and pats his back before heading back. 

“She’s stable. Was she unconscious when you found her?” 

“No, Nat had to sedate her. She did this.” Bucky motions to himself and Bruce grimaced. 

“I’ll clean you up in a second.”

“Take your time. I’d rather you focus on her.” Bucky mutters as he sits beside you with a groan.

He takes your hand in his right and brings it up to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

“We’ve got you, Sugar. You’re safe again.” 

Bucky didn’t leave your side. Even when Bruce wanted to check for other injuries he just shrugged him off and said he could wait to be checked out at the tower. Bucky did ask Bruce to help him remove his left arm since it was no longer useful. 

You were still unconscious when you were moved from the jet to the hospital floor of the tower. Just outside the doors of the waiting room Ed was waiting for Bucky. 

“You did it, son. You brought back our girl.”

He pulled Bucky in for a hug. One Bucky desperately needed. He let silent tears fall as the relief of having you home finally washed over him. Out of personal experience he knew that the coming days or weeks or months were going to be difficult but he’d do anything he could to support you. 

Charlotte’s excited babbling made Bucky pull away. Her rushed steps were heard echoing off the walls and suddenly she’s turning the corner. 

“Dada! Mama’s home.” She exclaimed with absolute glee as she ran to hug Bucky. 

“Is she really here daddy?” 

“She is bub. Now c,mere.” Bucky hugged him too. The tension left Henry’s body the longer Bucky held him. “I need to tell you both something though.” 

“Mama sick. Is kay dada, mama get bettuh. I see it.” 

“That’s right, mama is a bit sick right now so you can’t see her just yet. But at least she’s home and we can help her get better soon.” 

Henry nodded although concern and sadness clouded his eyes. His attention moves to Bucky’s left side and the lack of an arm. “What happened daddy?” 

“It got ruined during the mission.” 

“But it is ok because I brought a newer version to replace it anyways.” Shuri’s voice fills the hallway.

 The doors to the waiting room are open and four guards, part of the Dora Milaje, stand behind her. Two of them holding a large black box in between them.

“Shuri.” Henry runs to her and they do their secret handshake. 

“Hey there little man. How have you been?” 

“I’m ok. Have you made anything new?” 

“Loads of things. I even brought some prototypes for you to try. But that will be after I help your baba.” 

“Ok.” 

“Hi Shuwi, mama’s home.” Lottie announces excitedly. 

“I’ve heard. I am going to help your mama get better, little one. How does that sound?” 

“Is good, tank you.”

“You are very welcome.” Shuri chuckles. 

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet  Shuri, Princess of Wakanda. She removed hydra’s programming for me, Henry and Lottie and also gave me my left arm. Shuri, this is Y/N’s family.” Bucky says as he introduces everyone.

“You’re really going to help her?”

“Absolutely. Whatever hydra tried to do we can undo it.”

“Thank you so much. We appreciate everything you’re doing not only for Y/N but for Bucky and the kids as well.” 

“It is my pleasure to be able to help. Now if you come with me Sergeant.” 

Bucky turns to talk to Ed but he just waves Bucky away.

“Y/N’s still asleep. For safety precautions we have guards outside of her room and she is cuffed to the bed.” Bruce says as he stands in front of everyone in the waiting room. 

“We will have to wait until she wakes up to run some tests to see what hydra did exactly.” Shuri adds. “Sergeant Barnes is also recovering. We had to take him into surgery to fix some of the inner workings of his shoulder implant before we could replace his arm.”

“How long will that take?” Ed asks.

“Just a few hours. He will definitely be awake before Y/N is. Although I should add that he shouldn’t be the first person she sees when she wakes up.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because the last command she was given was to hurt him. Until we know how the programming works we need to be careful.” 

Everyone agrees and then Shuri and Bruce are gone again to work on who knows what.

****

“Steve, Y/N’s awake. Why don’t you go in first?” 

“Why not Ed?” Steve asks as he gets up. Handing a sleeping Lottie to Nat. 

“Well like we said,” Bruce explains. “We don’t know how she’ll react. You can at least fight back.” 

Steve follows Bruce to your room. The guards at the door don’t move as Steve opens the door and steps in. The lights of the city kept the room bright as they came in through the large windows. You laid on your side, eyes trained on some point outside of the window but there was no spark. Steve sat down on a chair next to your bed but you didn’t look at him. 

“Hey Y/N. It’s me Steve.” He says softly but it feels as if he yelled by the way you flinch. “I’m sorry magnet. I didn’t mean to be so loud.” 

Your eyes shift toward him for a moment but you don’t respond. 

“At least you still don’t like the nickname.” He mutters before sighing. “I missed you. So did the kids. They’re very excited that you’re finally home. I mean we all are of course. But they’re in the waiting room and they refuse to leave.” 

“I don’t know you.”

“We are best friends, maybe you just don’t remember.” Steve said. “Your family’s here too.”

You whimpered at the mention of them and you tried to make yourself look smaller. The panicked look in your eyes when you finally looked back at him concerned Steve.

“Hey, it’s ok. You don’t have to see anyone until you’re ready.” 

His reassurance didn’t ease your mind though and the heart monitor started to beep faster. Bruce walked in a minute later as Steve tried to calm and comfort you. You were crying and shaking violently in the bed and nothing Steve said helped.

“I’ll have to sedate her.” Bruce says sadly.

Steve nods and steps away. He sighs with one last look in your direction before stepping out of the door. 

“How is she?” Eddie’s hopeful voice reaches Steve. Tear filled eyes look up at the older man.

“She didn’t recognize me and she wouldn’t really talk.” 

“Maybe she just needs some time. I mean she went through a lot right? We can’t just give up on her.” 

“And we won’t. It just pains me to see her like that.” Steve admits. “She’s the strong one in this friendship.” 

Eddie nods. “That’s my girl. But now it’s time for us to be strong for her.” 

Steve nods as Eddie pats him on the shoulder. 

“Now let’s get out there. Lottie won’t listen to anyone other than you or Bucky and we need to take her up to bed.” 

“Bubba?” Lottie calls out for Henry with a whisper. 

The room they’ve been sharing for the past few weeks is quiet and dark with only a nightlight casting a small glow. Henry is laying on the top bunk bed while Lottie is on the bottom. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Wanna see mama.” 

Henry shifts so that he can look over the railing and down at Lottie. 

“Daddy and grandpa said mama was sleeping, baby.”

“But mama home. Wanna habe seepover.” Lottie protests as she hugs her pink bear tighter. 

“I know baby, but mama is sick, remember?” 

“Can gibe Pinky.” Lottie holds up her teddy bear. “Make mama bettuh.” 

Henry looks back at his own bear and grabs it. In the kids’ mind it was logical. When they first got to the compound they each got a teddy bear and it always made them feel better.

“Maybe she’ll get better with two teddys.” Henry climbs down the small ladder while Lottie hops off her bed. “We have to be really quiet and you have to do what I say ok?” 

“Kay.” 

“Ok, don’t let go of my hand.” Henry takes Lottie’s hand and he turns them both invisible. 

As quickly and quietly as they can, the kids walk out of their shared room, through the living room where Eddie had fallen asleep on the couch and out of the front door. Henry keeps them invisible in the elevator and during their walk through the waiting room until he finds the room you’re in. 

The kids see Tony walk out of your room with a sad and concerned expression on his face. He leaves the door slightly open as the guards change shifts. Henry pulls Lottie against the wall in order to avoid having Tony run into them. Once he’s around the corner Henry walks towards the door to your room and peaks in. 

You’re asleep on the bed so Henry opens the door more and lets Lottie walk in. After they’re both behind the door he closes it he watches Lottie walk up to the bed and stare up at you. Her pink bear pressed against her chest as her bottom lips wobbled. 

“It’s ok baby. Mama is going to get better.” Henry whispers as he throws his arm around her shoulder. He pulls her in and kisses her temple.

“Can gibe Pinky?” 

“Yeah we can.” 

Henry pulls the chair closer to the bed so that Lottie can get up easier. She climbs the chair and then moves on to the bed and tucks the teddy under your arm and then does the same with Henry’s orange teddy. 

“You ah my sunshine, my onwy sunshine.” Lottie starts to sing. 

“You make me happy when skies are gray.” Henry joins in as they both sing the lullaby you often sang to them after a nightmare. “You’ll never know dear how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.” 

Lottie climbs onto your lap and lays down on top of you, resting her head on your chest. Henry takes a seat at the edge of the bed. He takes your hand in his and sniffles while running his free hand up and down Lottie’s back in a soothing manner. 

****

Against Shuri and Bruce’s advice to rest after having to have some plates replaced in his shoulder, Bucky went to your room. It was late at night so he was sure you were asleep. Bucky just wanted to see you and remind himself that you were back. The guards are standing by your door and he’s sure he recognizes one of them.

“Agent Richards?” He asks quietly.

“Good evening Sergeant Barnes.”

“Aren’t you on desk duty?” 

“I requested this assignment. Agent Y/L/N, saved my life out in the field once. It would have been a really close call for me. She took care of me and kept me safe until help arrived. I want to repay the favor.” She says.

“I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

Agent Richards nods. “Oh, it’s really sweet that you had the kids record that lullaby for her.” 

“Lullaby?” 

“Yeah, you are my sunshine. I heard the end of it as we got to our post. I’m sure they can’t wait to see their mom again.” 

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” Bucky nodded. “Thank you for standing guard. I’m just gonna sit with her for a little bit.”

“Of course sir.” 

Bucky opens the door slowly. Once he’s inside he spots the pink and orange teddy bears and knows the kids are in here. His eyes dart around the room but of course he doesn’t see anything. 

“Henry, are you in here?” Bucky asked softly. Of course there was no answer. “Lottie did you come to see mama even though you should be sleeping?” 

“No.” 

Bucky had to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing. 

“Alright let me see you.”

Henry turns Lottie and himself visible again. Lottie was still cuddled up to you and Henry was on the edge of the bed. Bucky opens his arms and both kids move from the bed to his lap. He places a kiss on both their heads and gives them a hug.

“What are you doing here? I said you couldn’t see mama yet because she’s sick.” Bucky asks in a hushed tone. 

“But Pinky make mama bettuh.”

“Doll, I know you want mama to be better but you have to do as I say. It’s really important that you follow the rules.” 

“I no wike the wules.” Lottie replies with an angry pout and her arms crossed over her chest. 

“I know you little troublemaker but you have to do it anyway. It’s important if you want to help mama get better.” 

Lottie’s response was a little gasp. 

“Mama.” Henry was the one to speak up, making Bucky’s eyes snap up to you in bed. 

You were looking at the three of them. Eyes were distant as if you were trying to remember who these people were. If they had a connection to you, you didn’t remember. 

“Mama it’s me, it’s Henry.” He noticed your hesitation. 

“An Wottie.” 

“It’s Lottie. She has a hard time saying her Ls, remember?” Henry says.

The interaction breaks Bucky’s heart. He knows you don’t remember which is why he wanted the kids to stay away until Shuri and Bruce could run their tests.

In response all the kids get is a blank stare before you look up at him. Fortunately you don’t have a murderous look in your eyes anymore. The bad thing is that the lack of response on your part upsets the kids and Lottie begins to cry.

“Mama no wemembuh?” 

Bucky grabs both kids and walks out of the room. He takes a moment in the corner of the waiting room to comfort them. He knows it’s a very confusing situation for them and he does the best he can. By the time the kids have calmed down Josh and Sofia have shown up after Bucky asked Friday to call them to take the kids back upstairs. Once they’re gone Bucky walks back into your room where he finds you staring down at both bears. 

“May I?” Bucky gestures to the chair but you only stare at him. 

Bucky nods to himself realizing that for the past three months your choices have been taken away from you. He proceeds to sit.

“What is the last thing you remember?”

You look up at him, startled at the gentleness of his voice. All you’ve been around have been harsh, cruel screaming and mocking tones. 

“I-uh.” You had trouble answering his question. 

Immediately you cower as you wait for the blow or whatever punishment the man in front of you sees fit. When it doesn’t come you look back up at the man in front of you to find him with tears in his eyes. Slowly he reaches for your hand and takes it in his.

“We are not going to hurt you here. We want to help you, you don’t have to be scared. It’s ok if you don’t remember anything right now.” 

“I had to hurt you.” You whisper after a few minutes of silence. “It’s what he said I had to do.”

While you might not remember him, he felt safe. You felt at peace with him by your side so you let your guard down a bit. He just nodded. 

“Do you know where you are?”

You shook your head no. 

“You’re home.”

“I live in a hospital?” You questioned. The thought made you uneasy. 

“No,” he chuckles. “You live in the Avengers’ tower.”

That only distressed you more. The heart rate monitor started beeping rapidly and you struggled to get out of the restraints. 

“Please, I'm sorry. I’ll do whatever they want but don’t let the Avengers take me. They’ll hurt me, please.” 

Bucky didn’t have time to react because Bruce is walking into the room to see what’s going on. Suddenly Bucky is being pushed out of the room while Bruce, Helen and Shuri work to calm you down. With nothing else to do Bucky heads up to find someone to talk to. 

You woke up hours later in a groggy state. The restraints have been removed so you stretch your limbs. With a small groan you sit up and you take a better look around. Blinking owlishly to take in the room better and you remember what your mission was. 

From the other room you could hear voices. They were familiar to you but you couldn’t place them. This whole ordeal felt like being stuck in a zoo exhibit. You could feel there were people out there looking at you but you didn’t know who it was. Although it felt like you should know them. It was upsetting that you didn’t know who you were with and if you could trust them.

At the door you peek out and notice two guards at the door. Closing your eyes you concentrate on finding anything metal that you could use as a distraction. Once you find what you need and you crash metal against the floor the guards leave to double check what is going on. With them gone you slip out of the room and search the floor for a stairway. You remember the doctor talking to someone or something named Friday so you ask it where the kids are. The voice directs you to the right floor and in no time you’re walking into the apartment. 

There is no noise other than ambient sounds. You make your way to the kitchen and grab a knife before moving around the apartment until you find the bedrooms. The first one is obviously the kids room. There are toys and kids' clothing thrown about and a bunk bed that sits empty. You move on to the next room and there they are. The two kids that called you mama earlier were cuddled up together and fast asleep in the middle of the huge bed. 

Your last mission is simple. Kill the children and get out. If escaping is impossible don’t let the Avengers catch you alive. 

You take one step at a time. Slowly you make it to the edge of the bed and stare down at your true target. It’s now or never but as you look at their innocent and angelic faces you can’t seem to follow through. The need to protect and keep them safe overpowers the need to follow orders. It’s a war between your head and whatever hydra did to you and what you feel is the right thing to do. The hand that holds the knife trembles as you fight against the command your handler gave you. 

“Mama? Why are you crying?” The boy, Henry if you recall, is looking up at you. He looks a bit concerned.

“I-I don’t know.” 

“Mama habe seepover.” Lottie says, her eyes are brighter as she looks up at you. There’s so much trust in her eyes that something breaks in you as she holds her hand out for you. 

But the knife is in your hand and you have a mission to complete. 

Bucky, Steve, Nat, Tony, Yelena, Shuri and Eddie all raced to Bucky’s apartment. It didn’t take long for Bruce to realize you were gone and for Friday to inform him of your location. The obvious answer as to why you were looking for the kids sat heavy in Bucky’s heart and mind. Had hydra really stooped so low as to have a mother murder her own children? The answer unfortunately was yes. He hoped they could get there in time to stop it. If you went through with it even if it was against your will, Bucky knew you would never forgive yourself. It would crush you and who knows how you would handle it.

They all rush in as they hear Lottie asking if you’re having a sleepover. The best plan of action is for only one or two of them to go in so as to not scare the kids. Bucky opens the door and Steve is right there behind him. The image in front of them lightens the weight on Bucky’s shoulder. You sat in the middle of the bed, Henry tucked into your side and Charlotte on your lap with her head resting on your shoulder. A knife lay on the floor by the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief when you looked up at him. The look of utter confusion on your face as you continued to struggle between what you were doing and what you should be doing. 

“Dada, habe seepover.” Lottie pats the space next to you.

Bucky looks over his shoulder to find Steve fighting back tears. He wished it were that easy but he knows it’s not. 

“I will in a minute. Can I talk to you out here? Please.” He looks at you. 

You look down at the kids, upset that they’ll be upset if you leave them. It was still so strange to you that they provoked such strong emotions and you barely knew them. 

“I’ll be back.” 

“Don’t go mama. You just came back.” Henry pleads as he holds on to you tighter.

“She’ll be back bubs. We just have to have a grown up talk.” 

“I will.” 

“Ok.” 

You sat Charlotte down on the bed and walked out. The minute the door is closed behind you and you are far enough away from the bedroom there’s a red cloud in your face. As you inhale the substance you feel like you can see for the first time. 

Blinking away the fog your head had been in  you finally recognized your friends and family. Immediately your legs give out. Bucky is right there holding you and lowering himself to sit on the floor. Tears start flowing freely as you begin to hyperventilate. 

“It’s ok Sugar. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” Bucky murmurs but it doesn’t ease your cries. “Just breathe for me. Match my breathing.”

You do as he asks and then turn around to wrap your arms around him. The hug is bone crushing but Bucky doesn’t care. As long as you’re in his arms he’d let you squeeze the life out of him. The others stand around watching as you and Bucky finally reunite after three long and agonizing months. He kisses your temple and reassures you that you’re safe.

“The kids. Oh my god, they want-they wanted m-me t-to hurt them. I almost did. I al-almost hurt my babies.” You cry out. 

“Mama?” 

You look over Bucky’s shoulder to find Lottie looking at you wide eyed. Henry stood behind her, his hands on her shoulder to keep her close. You moved out of Bucky’s hold to get a better look at them.

“Hi sweet Angel.” 

“Mama!” Lottie shrieked as she ran into your open arms. It was really you again. “I missed you mama.” Lottie cried.

“I missed you too, baby.”

You opened your arm for Henry who walked towards you cautiously. His eyes darted from you to Bucky and back.

“Hi my sweet boy.” 

It was enough to hear you call him that for Henry’s walls to come tumbling down. His arms loop around your neck and he hides his face in the crook of your neck as he cries. You feel Bucky behind you holding the three of you. 

After a while the kids reluctantly get up and so do you. You move to hug your father who had been watching everything unfold.

“Daddy.” 

“Hey kitten, I’m so happy you’re home. I knew they’d find you again. You were so strong, you always have been.” He murmurs. 

You go down the line hugging and thanking everyone, even meeting Nat’s younger sister who apparently had the serum that helped you out of the hold hydra had in you. Steve is last and you can see his red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. It always surprises you how delicately he can hug you considering how strong he is. 

“I missed you.” He whispers. 

“I missed you too. Thank you for not giving up and for being there for everyone.” 

“We only found you because of my best girl.” Steve says as he pulls away. “She gave us the lead we needed.” 

You turned to look for Lottie only to find her next to you. Smiling down at her you pick her up and kiss her cheek.

“Did you find me?” 

“Mmhmm, mama I see you. An habe a beefing.”

“My hero.” 

“Am A-venguh wike Steebie.” 

“You are an Avenger, sweet Angel.” You chuckle.

“I hate to interrupt but we should talk.” Shuri says with an apologetic look. 

You just nod but you hate what could possibly happen now. 

“I’ll take the kiddos.” Eddie says and opens his arms to Lottie.

She pouts but goes with him. 

“I’ll be back sweet Angel.” You turn to see Henry standing by Bucky. “I’ll come back, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

You give him a smile as tears gather in your lash line. 

From the elevator to the hallway and even when you stopped in front of a conference room Bucky kept you tucked into his side. You appreciated the action, everything felt too exposed and unsafe. There was this nerve racking feeling in the pit of your stomach that hydra would be back. That they found drag you back into the hell they’d kept you in and this time they’d get their hands on the kids too. 

“You’re safe.” Bucky murmured in your ear.

You hadn’t noticed that you were trembling in fear at the thought. He stops outside of a conference room and pulls you in for a hug. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize. I can’t begin to imagine what they did.” 

“No, I’m sorry about your arm.” You look up at him through wet lashes. “I promised I’d never use my ability against you.” 

“Hey, don’t do that. You know it’s not your fault. Besides, Shuri upgraded it.” 

“Still…” 

“No. Trust me, if you start going down this path you’ll lose yourself down a rabbit hole of what ifs.” 

You nod but it wouldn’t be that easy. Now you really understood what Bucky had been through even though he suffered more than you had. 

“We are ready for you.”  Shuri’s head popped out of a door. 

“Let’s go see what they found.” 

You nod and let Bucky lead you.

****

In the conference room was the whole team who welcomed you back with open arms. Shuri’s team was also in attendance as well as some Dora Milaje. It made you uncomfortable. There were too many unknown people and you couldn’t focus on what Shuri, Bruce and Helen were trying to explain to you. You kept looking over your shoulder waiting for a blow to come. A taser to find its way to your ribs or even a knife to slice your skin. 

“Y/N, did you hear what I said?” Shuri’s concerned voice pulls you back to the present. Everyone was staring at you. 

You shrunk back in your seat at all of the attention. Your breathing became shallow and all you could hear was a  muffled chorus of voices around you. Rocking back and forth in the chair you were sitting in you began to cry again. Your hands flew up to your ears when everything suddenly became too loud.

Bright blue eyes find yours. Soft pink lips move but you can’t hear the words. One warm and one cold hand cup your face. 

“I’ve got you, Sugar.” You finally hear Bucky say. He murmurs reassuring words until you finally calm down. 

When you look around almost everyone is gone. Steve, Bruce, Helen, and Shuri remain. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N. You’ve gone through something very difficult. I think this was too much.” Bruce said. “Why don’t we end this here and we can meet tomorrow morning and make a decision then.” 

“Decision?” 

“Hydra placed some kind of tech in your head.” Shuri says cautiously. “Something like a computer chip.” 

“So they can control me?”

“Well we aren’t sure which is why we need to remove them as soon as possible. Take tonight to think about it and we’ll meet tomorrow.” 

You nod slowly. Bucky thanks them and helps you up. With his arm around you he escorts you back to the elevator with only Steve by your side. In search of more comfort and grounding yourself you take Steve’s hand. The look in your eyes however is distant and fearful. 

Steve and Bucky exchange a worried glance. The reports have been coming in nonstop and Steve has read some of them. It’s made him sick to his stomach the snippets he’s read of how you had been treated. 

The three of you made it back to the apartment to the sound of the kids playing with Eddie. It made you smile as you walked into the living room to see both Lottie and Henry on top of Eddie. 

“Mama.” Henry got up and ran to you first followed closely by Lottie. They both hug and smile up at you. “You came back.” 

“I said I would.” 

“Let’s let mama get comfy ok.” Eddie says from the living room. “Do you wanna change first? We can have a movie night if you’d like.” 

“I’d really like a shower.” 

“Yeah, I’ll get it started for you. We have some pajamas for you and everything.” Bucky kisses your temple and disappears into the master room.

“Go on. We’ll be here when you get out.” 

You nod but look at the four of them again and a heaviness sits on your chest. It couldn’t be this easy to be free of hydra. They have to have something else planned. 

Steve nudges you in the direction of the room and you head in for a shower. Bucky gives you privacy, something you haven’t had in weeks. Once you’re out and dressed you feel refreshed and you’re starting to feel like yourself. In the bedroom Bucky is waiting for you. He gives you a tired smile, one you return.  

You step between his legs and rest your hands on his shoulders. His hands instinctively find your hips and he pulls you closer. Bucky’s hands move from your hips to your lower back as he wraps you in a hug. The both of you stay there for a moment just being wrapped up in each other before going out to the living room.

****

In the living room everyone had found their spots on the couch. Henry and Charlotte sat either beside you or on your lap. Bucky sat on your other side. It had been a long few days for everyone it seems. 

As the movie the kids had chosen played on everyone but you fell asleep on the couch. The situation had been stressful and nerve wrecking for everyone and it took a toll. Steve and Eddie who had been sitting side by side were leaning on each other for support as they slept. Bucky’s head was on your shoulder as he snored softly, Lottie was resting against your chest and Henry was leaning into you. 

They’re  why you had done what you did. The reason you gave yourself up to hydra to keep your family safe. It was a difficult price to pay but you would do it again. 

You found it hard to sleep though. Anytime you close your eyes all you see is the hell you’d been in for the last few weeks. It didn’t matter though, you were back with your family and that was like a balm to your aching soul. And for now that was enough.

Ch. 32

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Post Shanghai Strollonso

A/N: I am coping well, in case you couldn’t tell :)

“Fuck!” Lance yells once he’s back in the safety of his drivers room, letting out the expletive with a breath he’s been holding since he first climbed out of the car and was cast familiar looks by staff. Not the pity, or the mildly impressed arch of an eyebrow that had come last year, when he’d had to use all of his willpower to pull himself out of the car with his wrists on fire and tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. But instead it was the usual cool indifference, the barely hidden smirk, the look that told him he should probably just avoid social media for the next few days - prepare for the meeting with his team where statements, and image, and body language were the terms of the day.

“Fuck!”

His race suit is low on his hips, sleeves brushing the floor because he’s too lazy to bother tying them around his waist, but it still feels too hot. Still feels like he can’t breathe. Even with the AC in the room blasting, even with the damp towel he’s got wrapped around his neck. He knows it’s not the heat at all, but he still fights to strip off the fireproof undershirt that’s clinging to his skin anyway.

He pulls at the neck of it, rubs at his Adam’s apple, the soft spot under his jaw, until the buzzing in his ears subsides enough that he can peel the sweat soaked nomex off of him with desperate fingers.

“Fuck!” He yells again, because the shape of the word feels nice on his tongue and the sound of it in the quiet space makes the ache in his chest hurt a little less.

His skin is red, flushed with heat and his own frustration, his fingers leave white flashes of colorless indentions when he presses them to his chest and tries to still the quickening beat of his own heart. Post race adrenaline, he tells himself, even as he knows the truth of it.

‘That weird incident’ comes the journalists voice playing on repeat in his head, along with the whir of the AC and the rapid pace of his own heart.

His front wing going up the ass of Riccardo’s visa-cashapp-Red-Bull-toro-rosso-whatever-the-fuck. Him looking away for one fucking millisecond at the apex and then turning back to find himself sending Daniel into the air.

Idiot.

He’s not sure if he means himself or Daniel anymore, is certain he knows who the internet will be directing the term at. Despite the fact that he’d tried to brake, slammed on the pedal so fast that his body had jerked with force of it. Hadn’t mattered in the end because he’d made contact anyway and that would be enough to cement the barrage of comments he’s sure will be flooding the Aston Martin Instagram any second now. At least there’s dependability in that.

The pressure in his chest isn’t fading, it’s spreading and making a home in the pit of his stomach. He presses a hand to his abdomen, the other to his collarbone, tries to breathe slowly even if it catches in his throat. In through his nose, out through his mouth, choke on the taste of it and start over again.

Sometimes he thinks it would be easier just to let himself vomit, hyperventilate until he’s dry heaving over the toilet, his body seizing with the force of it. Press his forehead to the cool porcelain to maybe ease some of the heat roiling off his body, sit there until someone came to pull him to the debrief and he’s forced to pack it all back away.

But right now he’s not sure if he’d even make it to the bathroom, knows it’s not vomit that would come up anyway, just his own bitter disappointment. He’s not sick, he’s just a screwup. There’s no amount of surgery or PT or encouraging words that are going to fix that.

His breath catches in his throat again. Loud, weak.

“Fuck,” he cries, this time feels the sting of tears that accompanies it.

He presses harder on his collarbone, moves to the soft skin of his neck, digs his fingernails in until there’s the pinprick warning of pain and then collapses down onto the couch behind him with enough force that it forces air back into his lungs. He keeps a hand to his neck, trails his thumb along his carotid.

It helps, gives him something to focus on other than the rattling feeling of his teeth clacking together when he’d hit Daniel.

The knock on his door, when it comes, is almost expected. Quiet, unsure, followed by Fernando saying his name.

“I’m here,” Lance forces out around the lump in his throat, hates how pathetic he sounds.

“Coming in,” Fernando warns before he’s opening the door, sliding through the crack big enough for his lithe frame, and then closing it behind him just as fast. It’s not the first time someone from the team would see him slinking in. Fernando doesn’t care, he only cares that they don’t see Lance. Pathetic and miserable as he must look.

He’s not crying yet, which feels like a plus. But he knows from how Fernando looks at him he must not appear entirely put together either.

“You are okay?” And he means the crash, it is always the first thing he asks, because the one time he didn’t Lance was hiding bruised ribs that were already turning his skin a dark purple.

“Yeah,” Lance breathes, tries to, grimaces when the word comes out strangled by his own incompetence. “It was small.”

Fernando would have seen the footage by now, playing on repeat in the media pen similar to the loop in Lance’s head. He would be able to assess that his inability to breathe properly stemmed not from the pain, but from the noise in his own head.

Lance presses harder at the soft skin of his neck, tries to stop the rising tide of static that is building in his ears so he can focus on the way Fernando sighs his name. He likes how he says his name, likes that it doesn’t come with any sort of expectation, or disappointment.

“Come here,” Fernando commands, grabs Lance’s hand that had been rubbing absentmindedly at his stomach, tracing patterns over bare skin, and pulls until Lance is sitting up on the couch.

“It is okay,” he promises as he inserts himself between Lance’s knees, holds the back of Lance’s head as it slumps forward to rest against Fernando’s abdomen.

Lance swallows, tries, blinks back tears.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. At this point the word has become as familiar to him as the expletives he’s fond of shouting in his empty drivers room. It comes easy in the space between them, hidden in the comfort of Fernando’s embrace. Easier here, where he knows it cannot be used against him, than to the microphones that had been demanding it.

Fernando doesn’t acknowledge the apology, instead he just presses his palm to the nape of Lance’s neck until the warmth of his touch forces Lance to feel something other than his own crushing ineptitude. His fingers are rough, calloused, where they find the soft skin and baby hairs, Lance pushes himself further back against them.

He’s got his arms wrapped around his body, hands tucked under his biceps, one protectively covering the tattoo at his ribs, the raw spot aching with the ghost of a needle and teenage nativity. His stomach still hurts, his chest is still tight. Like he’s got the full effect of g-forces still pressing on him and he can’t quite get the air into his lungs. The tears haven’t fallen yet, but he can feel them beading on his lashes when he tries to blink them away.

“Just breathe,” Fernando demands, thumb finding the hollow spot behind his ear, where his jaw gave way to muscle and vein, and pressing.

Lance stutters in a breath, swallows again, nods his head so Fernando knows he’s listening. That he’s trying.

“It is over.”

Lance wishes that were true, wishes he could close his eyes without seeing Daniel’s rear wheels come off the track. Wishes he could take back his own impulsive radio message because it will be nothing but fuel to the fire. Wishes Daniel would text him back, or hit him, anything to snap him out of this muddled headspace he’s found himself in.

“It’s over, Lance. In the past.”

“I tried to stop,” he hates how small his voice sounds, whiney, strangled. Nothing like Fernando’s and nothing like the usual indifference he shoots for. It makes him feel small. His hands wrap more tightly around his sides, his knees pull closer to his chest as he curls tighter in on himself.

“No, tesoro, come on.”

Fernando follows him, kneels until he can take either side of Lance’s neck in his hands and hold him up enough that Lance has no choice but to meet his steady gaze. There’s grey in his eyebrows, in his beard, age in the lines of his face that make Lance feel even smaller.

“I fucked up,” he cries, and this time the tears do fall, trail down his cheeks until Fernando wipes them away with the pad of his thumb.

“This race, yes. So you go to the next one.”

“I’ll just fuck that up too.”

“Maybe not. Maybe you win.”

The laugh that Lance lets out is stifled only by his own sob.

Fernando’s lips quirk up, “No? You don’t think so?”

“Not unless half the grid gets appendicitis.”

“Or food poisoning,” Fernando says suggestively, light in his eyes, mischief in his smile.

Lance laughs again, feels the rumble of it when Fernando’s hands cradle his neck tighter. But then he thinks about how Daniel has left him on read and the laughter dies in his throat. He thinks of future awkward FaceTime calls with Scotty and a cold shoulder from his sister and something icy twists inside him. His stomach hurts all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again.

Fernando’s smile shifts to something smaller, “is okay,” he promises before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Lance’s.

Not for the first time, Lance finds himself yearning for Bahrain. Not this year, but last. The way that when he’d come sixth it may as well have been a podium with how the team reacted. How they smiled at him and it felt like the closest he’d come to tasting champagne in a while. How Fernando had praised him and it felt like winning the championship. He never could tell if it was the pain meds or his own euphoria that made everything seem brighter that night. By the time he woke up the next morning his wrists were so sore it felt like he’d snapped them all over again and so Bahrain had become nothing more than a sweet taste at the back of his throat that he would forever remember the aftertaste of but never the full flavor.

“Should break my wrists again, maybe then we’d get a podium” he says, before he can think to keep that inside his own head, knowing it’s the wrong thing to say when Fernando tenses.

“Sorry. Joke. My bad.”

“Not funny.”

Lance isn’t really sure he meant it to be funny at all. Instead, he’s thinking about how easy it would be to replicate the accident. Take Fernando’s stupid little scooter and trip it over a crack in the pavement, let himself fall and land at the same angle. He’s thinking about the singleminded focus that had come with trying to keep his car under his control with pain killers in his system and fire in his veins. How there had been an almost startling clarity to it.

“Could be your hero again,” he teases, even as a small part of him means it, misses Fernando’s praise even if it’s still something he gets freely.

Fernando scowls, “You still are.”

“I wasn’t looking when I hit him. I was looking at the stupid apex.”

“And? You are both okay, yes? So it is over.”

But it isn’t, because Lance has been here countless times before, keeps landing here. In Singapore when he’d split the car in two. In Jeddah when he’d clipped the wall then been asked to bring his lifeless car back to the pit. Narrowly avoided it all in Suzuka. Either the universe has it out for him or theres something wrong with him. Lance is beginning to lean toward the latter, beginning to believe some of the toxic shit he’s managed to catch glimpses of online before the functioning part of his brain has enough sense to close out of Twitter.

Fernando wipes away the fresh wave of tears, but it isn’t enough. Lance is hungry, desperate to rid himself of the ache in his gut and the pain in his chest and the hole in his heart that searches for that last bit of champagne in a bottle that’s run long dry. He’s tired too. Wants it all to end. Wants to sink into Fernando’s arms and be told that he’s doing a good job and for it to not be a lie.

Stupid fucking apex, stupid fucking breaks, stupid fucking safety car.

Fernando pulls him closer and Lance goes, lets himself be guided to the crook of Fernando’s neck and held there while he sobs. Both of them ending up curled up on the floor, Fernando’s fingers trailing a path up and down the notches of his spine.

Fernando twists enough to press a kiss to Lance’s temple and he sobs harder. The softness of it all, kindness from a man who owes him none, makes him sick all over again. He wants to be hit, but Fernando only holds him like he is worth holding and it’s cracking something inside Lance.

Something in him has maybe broken, more than his wrists.

“It will be okay.” Fernando keeps promising.

Lance wants so badly to believe him. He thinks Fernando would keep repeating it until he does. Both of them stubborn, both of them unyielding. Lance fears it will eventually land them both in the wall, fears he’ll be the one to send them there. He hates that he’s old enough to have fears now.

Everything is so much easier when you’re seventeen.

“What do I do?” He cries against Fernando’s neck, the warmth of him, the strong scent of him that Lance has smelled in sheets and pillows and the hoodies he sometimes stretches out to force his way into. Like a panther that’s confused itself with a kitten, or a pampered lapdog the size of a Great Dane. Fernando’s been buying larger sizes out of expectation that Lance will eventually ferret the clothing away from him.

“Right now you just breathe. We deal with the rest later.”

“Danny hasn’t texted me back,” he maybe won’t ever, floor damage and a dnf might have been the final thing to sever whatever feeble string kept them on speaking terms.

Fernando keeps trailing a hand up and down Lance’s back, pauses at the nape of his neck to soothe at the skin there, waits until Lance relaxes marginally before he resumes his slow track back down Lance’s spine. The pattern, repetitive in its nature, is helping.

“Just breathe, Lance. For now, this is all.”

He breathes, it hurts to do so, but he manages. He’s become good at that, managing. His expectations, his emotions, everything but his view of himself and the way that everything he manages comes crumbling down the second he messes up. So maybe he isn’t actually managing at all.

“Lance,” Fernando says, hard-edged when he hears Lance’s breathing stutter again.

“Sorry.”

“No more sorry. No more thinking, yes? Just you and me.”

Lance finds the fabric of Fernando’s undershirt, grabs fistfuls of it so the world can maybe become a little more real, his head a little less floaty. Fernando makes a pleased sound.

“I am here,” Fernando promises.

He feels just as real as Lance’s hands on the wheel had, just as solid as the barrier, as Daniel’s silent, steely, anger. Lance’s grip tightens, keeps tightening until Fernando becomes more real than anything else. Until he can feel the floor of the driver’s room pressing hard against his knees and has enough sense to complain about it.

Until he can breathe and Fernando’s hand at the nape of his neck becomes a grounding point.

Later, in the debrief, he wears Fernando’s hoodie. Aston Martin green and tight on his shoulders. He pulls at the hem of it, breathes in the scent of it, thinks about Miami. He’s told to stay off of socials. And his chest tightens, until Fernando’s hand finds his under the table. A thumb tracing the ridges of his knuckles.

“I’m not the TikTok guy anyway,” he jokes, tries to anyway.

Fernando smiles, “Too old for it?”

“Nah, not cool enough.”

And what he maybe means is never enough. Means that Fernando is good at pleasing a crowd, drawing an audience, doing all the things Lance just can’t seem to get right. But Fernando knows that, which is why he squeezes Lance’s hand tighter- why he doesn’t let go.

“I think you are.”

Lance supposes that’s enough.

[boltedfruit]

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Steve's attempt at a record-breaking gangbang ends up with him flying back to Hawkins to track down number one-ninety-eight. The mystery man who left an impression. - A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings. Steve hopes he drew blood. “I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

Thank you to @cowboythighs for giving me permission to write this fic based on their super fun prompt, which you can read here~

Read the full fic below:

What’s in his fridge?

There’s at least one bag of broccoli, half a container left of that nice parmesan he splurged on…maybe the chicken wings in his freezer are still okay. Hopefully? He still has some of that decadent hickory barbeque sauce. There’s no reason he can’t cover a bit of freezer burn with a healthy dousing of the stuff. He didn’t do the dishes last night, but that’s fine. Has time to run the dishwasher before–

Something vibrates. Loudly.

Someone’s phone is going off in the middle of the shoot.

Steve lifts his head, annoyed that the director hasn’t called cut yet. The man on top of him is dripping sweat, a bead of which narrowly misses landing in his eye. Steve casts a look sideways, hoping to catch the director raising his walkie.

Nope. Still posted up behind his wall of cameras. Stoic as ever, the man watches Steve work.

Steve lets the moment drag, his expectant silence punctuated only by the grunting and groaning of the muscled man pumping away between his spread legs.

More loud vibrations.

He cranes his neck to see over the man’s shoulder, sees the clock over the huddled producers and decides himself it’s time for a break.

Steve presses a hand against the massive chest above him and pushes lightly. The man’s movement falters, stops. Steve meets his eyes with an easy air of I’m the star, get off me, and it does the trick. The behemoth withdraws from Steve’s body with a mutter and wipes the sweat from his red brow as Steve swings his legs over the platform and sits up. He tests his weight, but finds he can still place pressure where he needs to without any pain.

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Calls back, “Somebody’s phone is going off! It’s ruining the vibe.”

“What phone? I don’t hear a phone,” the director says in his heavy German accent, shrugging in a way that rankles Steve. “We’re almost at two-hundred, surely it can—”

“No, it can’t wait. I need five anyway.” His own assistant appears by his side with a robe.

Steve shrugs it on and heads toward the source of the vibrations. Around him, production comes to a standstill while fluffers and PAs run around tending to the talent.

Steve tracks the phone down in a bag near craft services, but a producer beats him to it. She sheepishly digs out her phone and shuts it off, muttering an apology.

Steve sighs, grabs another cracker and decides to take a much needed bathroom break. On his way, he grabs his own phone and sees a text from Robin.

still good for eight?

I’m only at 197, might be closer to 9 or 10.

big ew, but congrats. should I pick up dessert?

Coffee double dutch choco cake pls?

obvi, my very spoiled friend. have fun you little award winning superslut!

Thx, lov u!

Robin sends back a string of emojis. He finishes up in the bathroom, thinking of all the times he’s been nominated for an AVN but never won. And it’s not like it’s terribly hard. He chooses interesting projects. He works with skilled teams. He stays clear of scandals and keeps his nose figuratively and literally clean of all the seedy underground bullshit that comes with the job.

But best actor still eludes him.

It grinds his gears, or at least the ones he used to have back in high school. The ones driving him to be a better player than everyone else at basketball practice, the ones that pushed him to state championship games three of his four years at Hawkins High. The ones that crowned him prom king and made him a bullshit name for a bullshit time in his life.

It’s his inner machinery, and even though he’s grown up a lot in the last five years, he’s still yet to replace some old rusted parts.

As he returns to set, Steve runs his hands through his hair, pinches both cheeks a little to bring a fresh blush back to the surface. His assistant applies lip gloss as he situates himself back on the black and white platform where he’s been fucked for the last three hours by one-hundred-and-ninety-six men.

He’s aiming for three hundred before dinner. Three-fifty if more than a good chunk of the men left are two-pump chumps. It’s about scheduling.

Steve shifts his weight from one asscheek to another, feels a brief twinge in his lower back. He flips over, stomach pressing against the slim pleather cushion.

It’s almost five.

The director claps his hands, and once Steve is in position, everyone resumes their roles. He gets comfortable on his elbows, cock limp between his legs and showing for the camera. He hears the next guy shuffle up behind him, can hear the shaky breath leave him.

Everyone knows their part to play in this circus, and Steve knows his best of all. He’s front and center, surrounded by a seemingly endless line of men of all ages, shapes and sizes. He’s taken more dick and strap today alone than he probably has in the last few years combined.

He’s going to win best actor, and he’s going to win best gangbang.

The thing about sex work is that it’s like any other job, really. There are good days, long days, fun days, days that drive him up the fucking wall. There are times he’s excited, nervous, bored out of his skull. Most shoots he books last a day or two, and hardly ever does one last more than a week, tops. This isn’t his first gangbang scene, but it is a record breaker for him, and several others in the industry as far as he’s researched.

But so far it’s been a lot of the same. Almost two hundred men and he hasn’t held a steady erection since an hour in and now he’s been daydreaming while giving tried and true sultry looks to the camera, fake moans of practiced pleasure leaving his throat.

Steve’s good at his job.

He’s been doing it since his parents cut him off and kicked him out at eighteen. He moved to LA and lived in his car until Robin graduated and followed him to the big city. It was exhilarating at first, fun. These days, at twenty-three, he’s mostly just bored.

And he knows better than to ignore an ache. If he holds one position for too long, he’ll be wrecked for a week. He’s big enough of a name now he can negotiate a lot of his contracts, and so he always gets control over how he’s positioned. The cameras can figure it out from there.

“And…action!”

Steve pouts for the camera in front of him, parts his freshly glossed lips and crosses his eyes a little. He never got the cross-eyed thing, but it’s apparently a huge kink for some.

Fingertips tickle over his ass, lead to palms lightly petting his hips. Steve wiggles for the man he can’t see, encouraging and coaxing as he goes to his knees and leans back. Wants to be grabbed, manhandled. Add the potential for a little healthy bruising and the audience eats it up.

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, he hears a breathy sigh from behind him, and then the sound of spit a second before he feels it hitting his hole. It drips down slowly, painting him wet, and Steve keens for the lens trained on his face.

The thing about this shoot is that it’s been a nightmare to plan. A year to put together a schedule, another six months to find the talent. There’s been cancellations, reschedules, a few deaths even, more casting, issues with health insurance and testing dates. Steve’s been along for it all, because this is his project. His idea, his brainchild.

All for one day.

One day to break some records. Prove to himself he can do this. That what he does can win awards and not only nominations.

After that he can take a very, very long break.

The hand rubs up and down his spine, firm and sure. Applies a little pressure at the lumbar and Steve actually lets out a small moan. It’s nice. He might set up a massage for tomorrow.

The camera swings wide, leaves Steve’s face and gives him some breathing room. The hand on his back remains while the other presses two fingers to his hole. He’s stretched, lubed beyond the meaning of the word even before the spit. There’s no need to finger him open.

But he receives a gentle probing with two fingers, a few deep, slow strokes that press in search with what seems to be a practiced touch. Steve rolls his hips back. Takes a few tries, but when the extra finds his prostate, he gasps, drives back to meet that zing of electricity again and again.

“God, just look at you,” the extra whispers. “Can’t wait to feel you. I’m so lucky.”

Steve moans. Not so fake this time. He drops his head, catches sight of lightly haired thighs covered in scribbly tattoos. He doesn’t even take into account the size of the man behind him, too focused on his own swiftly filling erection.

Huh.

It’s not like it’s a requirement or anything, by contract or personal preference of his scene partners. A lot of the time the bottom isn’t hard. Not exactly fair, but a limp bottom does not a film break, or whatever. More than a few of the men who have been inside him today have paid him plenty of attention, even tried for longer than Steve felt necessary. But they were all here to do a job, and that was to film a gangbang scene with Steve as the gangbangee. Hard or limp, he just wanted them to finish in him so they could get the shot and all go home to a nice hot shower.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?”

Though dirty talk was common, it wasn’t in the script for this shoot. And it wasn’t the usual lead-in of fuck yeah, look at your puffy hole, you take it so well, you’re like a bitch in heat, take that shit, take it like a whore.

“That’s it, baby, relax for me.”

It’s sweet…it’s kind. Things a lover would say.

Another strike of lightning burns him from the inside out, and Steve lets out a breath he’d been holding.

The hand at his back glides down, calloused fingers smoothing over his skin, until the director calls for penetration.

Steve wants to snap at him to shut the hell up. This is fine. More than fine, even. His prostate hasn’t exactly been the star of the show today, and a little pleasure makes his job that more enjoyable.

The fingers leave, and in their place frustration grows. That is, until the blunt head of another cock is pressing against him–no, dragging. The man is rubbing himself over Steve’s hole. Isn’t shoving in and taking like all the others.

More spit hits his rim , makes him startle. The hand on his back draws circles to settle him like a spooked horse.

This isn’t lovemaking. This is a scene. Steve huffs at himself, thinks just stick it in already, dude.

The extra’s hands slide from his back to his hip, his other hand joining in and pulling Steve’s weight, using Steve’s own body to slide inside. Steve groans. The guy’s big, thick. Should have paid better attention while he had his head down.

“Knew you could take it, Harrington,” he says softly, and Steve almost misses it when the man whines as he bottoms out. Fingers dig into his sides, tight but not bruising. “Pictured it a little different, but a guy can’t complain.”

So the guy’s got a fantasy, that’s fine. A lot of the talent cast for this production expressed a desire to work with Steve. Came with the territory, and the long filmography.

But something about this man hits him a little different. His words have him melting enough to feel warmth build, begin to spread.

His legs are tingling, insides burning with the stretch and latent pleasure. He wants more.

He grinds his hips back, trying to put his weight into it. The man moans low and finally, finally, starts moving his hips. Drags Steve back on every thrust.

“Jesus, you’re so–so–” Another drawn-out moan and the man collapses along Steve’s back. He’s slim, but his arms are strong as they wind around Steve’s waist. More tattoos. Bats in flight, stretched faces with sharp teeth. Long hair tickles over his shoulder as the man noses along the back of his neck “You feel like a dream.”

It’s quiet. Quiet enough Steve knows the cameras won’t pick it up. It’s just for Steve, and that sends his blood rushing, dick kicking as tension builds in his belly.

“Shit,” he grinds out, feels drool slip from his open mouth to pool on the black pleather underneath. “Oh, God.”

“That’s it. Wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. Come on. You deserve to feel good.”

He’s so hard he’s aching. Feels the weight of himself slap his stomach on each ever harder, deeper thrust.

Steve’s going to come. He’s actually going to come.

“Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you. Wanted you forever. And look what you’ve accomplished,” he babbles, Steve’s heart growing three sizes, “You’ve changed the industry. You showed LA who’s king.” A particularly deep thrust has his elbows giving out. The man effortlessly braces his abrupt fall, a calloused hand snaking up to pillow his jaw. Steve is vaguely aware of the camera in front of them both, but he couldn’t care less if he tried right now. It feels too good. Feels better than anything all day, all month, all year. To the cameras, it must look like Steve’s being choked, but it’s the farthest thing from it. He’s being held, kept safe. “Always knew you’d go places. Get everything you wanted and more. I was actually jealous, and look at us now. Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Steve’s cursing, praying, something as he’s pressed into the pleather. Now, his cock is trapped, facing backward so every time the man draws out and pushes back in, their cocks drag for a brief moment of bliss. The cherry on top. Neat trick.

“Never thought I–never even dreamed–”

A gasp, a flash of teeth in skin and Steve is coming with a shout, flexing his ass to get more, more.

He feels warmth spread hot and wet inside him and knows this will only last another moment or two. He needs to turn around. To see the man that just took him apart without touching his cock. Needs to–

A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings.

Steve hopes he drew blood.

“I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Can’t comprehend past the pleasant hum buzzing inside him.

But then the weight on his back is gone, the cock inside him slips free and with it a spurt of come. Cameras circle back around to catch the aftermath, hears a muttered nice from some crewmember when they see the twin puddle beneath himself.

He rolls his eyes, safe to do with no coverage on his face.

He feels so empty. Cold begins to creep in.

Steve blinks quickly. Why is his throat suddenly so tight?

Then another man approaches, is lifting his hips up, is pushing in with absolutely zero patience or attention paid to Steve at all. And that’s fine. It is.

They’re on a schedule, after all.

-

“Yippee!” Steve claps when Robin sets the plate of cake before him.

She joins him on the couch, a forkful of her own piece of cake already in her mouth. “I don’t know how you’re even sitting right now.”

“It’s honestly not that bad.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Look who’s literally talking.”

Robin pulls her own fork free and sticks her tongue out. “Seriously though, you sure you don’t need anything? A heating pad? Ointment? Therapy?”

“Ha ha. I already took care of what I needed to–stop making that face, oh my God. I’m just dandy, Robs, don’t worry. I want to veg out and watch tv for the next six months and gain like twenty pounds.”

“You are too skinny.”

“My point exactly.”

“But, still like. Wow.”

“I know.”

“Three-hundred sixty-eight guys. Whole ass men were inside you today. That has to be a health issue for the community or something, right? How are your insides not melting out of you right now? I should have laid down a towel to protect your precious piece of shit couch.”

“You’re so funny, and it’s our precious piece of shit couch.” But even so, Steve preens a little. He did it. He broke his goal and then some. “I’m gonna win that goddamn award if it kills me.”

He looks over when she doesn’t answer. Robin is looking down at her plate.

They’ve had this argument before.

“I’m taking a break,” he says, reaching for her hand. She squeezes, and he squeezes back. “Promise.”

Robin nods. “So,” she says, shaking herself from the momentary tension, “you mentioned one guy was unique. I’m almost afraid to ask.”

He snorts. “Why?”

“I mean, was he like eighty or something? Was he dressed all in latex with one of those gas masks? Did he have two dicks or what?”

Steve laughs, drops her hand to grab a pillow, and throws it at her instead.

Then he tells her.

In as much detail as she can handle, anyway.

“Did you get his number?” Robin asks, and frowns when Steve shakes his head no. “What about a name?”

“It was kind of a rush, an in the moment kind of thing. Wasn’t really time for a lot of talking.”

“Oh my God, Steve.”

And then, his best friend in the entire world has an absolutely batshit idea.

-

He gets the call sheet from his favorite producer, an easy going older man with decades of experience in the industry. He doesn’t ask questions.

Three days later, Steve's got a list of three-hundred-and-sixty-eight names, including himself and the crew. Beneath the call sheet is a packet of numbers and addresses.

It might be a crazy idea…but Steve’s one of the world’s leading gay adult film stars. He can afford to be a little crazy.

So when his sabbatical officially begins, Steve starts calling.

-

The first thing he tries is going down to number one-ninety-eight. That makes sense, and even Robin had agreed.

But the man who answered was a fifty with a slightly higher voice than he remembers. He quickly thanked Steve for the experience, and the paycheck, but explained he didn’t have any tattoos. He was afraid of needles.

Steve huffs, crossing the name and number off.

His guy was definitely younger than that, had a deep, smooth voice. Had ink that looked homemade from a glance.

The list he has is in no discernible order. It’s neither numerical nor alphabetical. He checks the first few addresses and finds it has nothing to do with location, either.

So he calls each and every single person. Actually blocks out time to do it around breaks and lunch, time spent with Robin which they both agree is long overdue.

After a week and a half of calls, Robin drags him to the beach for an afternoon of sunbathing and people watching.

“I don’t know, Robin. I already crossed off the guys I know, the ones I’ve seen in other projects. But I’ve still got over a hundred people left.”

“Says the guy who wanted to bang over three hundred guys. This is your own fault.”

“I know,” he agrees, swirling his fingers through the sand. “I’m just…I don’t know. Worried, I guess.”

“Why?”

“What if he thinks I’m a freak for tracking him down? What if he wants nothing to do with me?”

Robin snorts. He looks her way, sees her nose and cheeks are red from the sun despite her large sunhat. Her toes are dug into the sand, and the book she’d been reading lays forgotten on her stomach.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Steve. From what you told me, it sounded like he had a little crush.”

“Yeah, but that could have been my filmography talking. Lot of guys say I’m on their shortlist of dream lays. It’s like a fantasy thing for them.”

“Disgusting. Absolutely abhorrent,” she says easily. “But you said your guy was different. You think it was just an act?”

“I couldn’t tell. He seemed…sweet. If that makes sense?” Steve shrugs, hands her the bottle of sunscreen. “You need another layer. You’re turning into a tomato, birdie.”

She cups her hands, and he squeezes a dollop out. As she rubs the lotion into her skin, she seems to consider what he’s said.

“How sweet can an actor in a gangbang be?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Then you have to keep at it. You have to keep calling until you find him. You may strike out more often than not when it comes to dating, but you have, like, a good good people radar.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you naturally attract decent people,” Robin says, smiling. “Take me, for example! I’m the best person you know.”

Heat climbs his face, settling at the tips of his ears. He sinks further into the beach foldout, embarrassed for a reason he can’t name. Robin’s smile turns knowing before softening into something closer to friendly pity.

Robin drops her book in the sand and stands, grabs Steve’s hand and starts pulling him toward the water’s edge.

“Come on, sourpuss, let’s go swim!”

-

He’s down to five people.

The phone numbers they gave were either disconnected or, more likely, fake. So he has no choice, really.

He decides to fully embrace his apparent new level of creepy stalker and physically visits their listed address.

The first three people are surprised but happy to see him, and he ends up sharing beers with two of them, but all three are very clearly not the person he’s looking for. The fourth is nice enough, if wary, but is in his forties and is trans. Is all too happy to show Steve the strap he used on the day. So that rules him out.

There’s one address left, and honestly Steve had been hoping it was a fluke. A mistake.

Because the address is in Hawkins, Indiana. His hometown.

He never chose a stage name, a mistake that many a producer and actor used to lecture him on in the first couple of years he was in the business. But he made it his own. It worked. His parents haven’t contacted him since he was kicked out, so if they know about his career choice, Steve isn’t aware. He prefers it that way.

He always imagined he’d send them a photo of him smiling with his AVN award when he finally won. A final, brief fuck you and career announcement all in one.

Needless to say he hasn’t been back to Hawkins once since he moved to LA. And though he isn’t shy about his legal name, Steve has never discussed his past, his childhood. Nobody in the industry that is legally allowed to discuss his association with Hawkins never has, because they simply don’t know.

Steve’s honestly a bit surprised nobody he used to know has reached out in the last five years. He knows Tommy at least frequented the sites his agency posts to. Nowadays, gay and straight films can be found in the same tags, same pages. Even if someone didn’t go looking for gay porn, they still might have come across Steve in something. An ad, even.

But no, nothing.

He’s not ashamed of what he does. He hasn’t actively avoided his past or anything. If anything, he’s simply strived to not care about it. It doesn’t matter. He hasn’t seen a Hawkins address in years.

Until now.

It’s weird. Could be some kind of underhanded prank. Maybe he should call his lawyer and tell him to expect some sort of blackmail soon.

The last four have led him to the neighboring cities around Los Angeles, but he’s not had to leave California yet. And being back in Indiana has him off his feet. Wrongfooted in some small way that leaves him feeling like a stranger. An impersonator.

He left small town life behind and made it big in a way that would have had every gossiping homebody’s heads turning if they knew.

Half expects to burst into flame the second he steps foot within city bounds.

But nothing happens. His rental car keeps driving. The turn off the highway is familiar, second nature.

He pulls into Hawkins and follows the directions parroted to him by his GPS. He notices several new fast-food places, the old mall has been redone, some houses seem bigger–but it’s still the same small, old town.

He comes to a crossroads. Left to Forest Hills Trailer Park where he’s never been, or right to what would eventually lead to Loch Nora and his childhood home.

He takes a left.

The trailer park isn’t huge, but each home has a small yard. He drives through a winding road that’s half gravel until he finds number fifty-three.

He parks, gets out and stands. Butterflies swarm his stomach, his palms sweating.

Steve gives himself a silent pep talk and walks up the short drive to the front door.

He knocks twice and waits.

It’s getting colder in Indiana. A few more weeks and there might be the first fall of snow. Back in California it was eighty-six degrees when he boarded the plane. He shivers.

Steve jumps a little when the door opens, the screen between him and an older man who frowns down at him.

“And who are you?”

“Hi! Hello. My name is Steve. I, um. Is there a Wayne Munson here by any chance?”

Steve steadies himself, tries to calm his rising nerves. He steps back to make room as the man opens the screen door and steps out into the early afternoon light.

“That would be me, son. Can I help you? You look a little lost.”

It’s not him.

Not his guy.

Steve’s stomach drops. Feels a little sick to his stomach.

The voice isn’t the same. It’s low, sure, but rougher with age. And Steve remembers the tickle of long hair along his skin. This man, Wayne Munson, is balding.

Unless he wore a wig…then, maybe…

He rechecks that this trailer is indeed number fifty-three.

“No, I uh. This is the place. This is going to sound strange, but I don’t suppose you have any tattoos?”

Wayne huffs. He pulls up his sleeve and shows Steve a faded old tattoo, a blue cross with blown out edges.

“Just the one.”

Steve nods, disheartened. “I see. Okay. I, uh, thanks for your time. I’ll just go–”

He turns, feeling foolish.

“Kid, wait a minute. Come on inside and warm up. You drink coffee?”

Steve debates. He’s cold, sure, but that’s an issue fixed by turning around and driving back to the airport to hop on a plane back to California.

Staying could turn out badly. Hawkins was never friendly to outsiders, and the rumor mill sprinted when it came to talk of things like sin and violating the good word of the Lord.

Steve’s pretty sure being a porn star is hidden somewhere in there.

And it was never a secret in backwoods like these people tended to dole out their own justice. Some kids were killed in Indy for being gay and working corners. Why not here, in the home of a man Steve doesn’t know?

He puts on his best smile. “That would be great, sir.”

The man drops his eyes to the ground, waves a hand at him. “Please, enough of that. I’m just Wayne. Always have been, always will be. Come on in, it’s not getting any warmer out here.”

Steve shuffles inside, thanking him. “Looks ready to snow soon.”

“Ah, another week or two I think. You from around here?”

“Used to be,” Steve says as Wayne gestures for him to sit on a stool at the kitchen counter. “I moved to California a few years back.”

“Hm.” Wayne starts a fresh pot of coffee, old-fashioned kettle on the stove. Steve’s grown used to his Keurig. “Big place compared to here. How d’you like it?”

“It’s busy. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I imagine there’s always something for doing.”

Steve nods. “You’re right.”

“What d’you do for work out there? I’ve heard it’s all tech companies and wannabe actors.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Well, actually…I’m an actor.”

“Ah, geez. Don’t mind me, it’s the stereotype.”

“No offense taken,” Steve says. “It’s kind of the reason I’m here.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I had this big, uh. Film. Scene. A big scene. It required a lot of background actors. Extras, you know?” Wayne nods. Steve is flubbing this big time, Christ. “I kind of hit it off with one of the–one of them. Fell a little in love if I’m being honest. My best friend, she had this crazy idea to get the call sheet and go down the list to see if I could find him.”

Wayne’s eyes go a little wide and it’s only when the kettle starts whistling that Steve realizes his slip up.

But Wayne beats him to it. He takes the kettle off the burner and starts fixing two cups of coffee. Says, “Young love’s hard to come by, kid. I’ve been telling my boy for years now, if ya find somebody worth chasing, you run. Doesn’t matter the obstacles, if they’re a boy or girl. Just run to em.”

“That’s…that’s really good advice,” Steve mutters, surprised and relieved when Wayne doesn’t seem to have a problem with him. “Means a lot, being from here.”

“Me, I’m from back south, but Hawkins is home. Strange as it is to hear, this town’s actually progressive compared to where I grew up. But there’s still work to do, that’s for damn sure.”

Wayne reaches into a cabinet and brings down a bottle of liquor Steve recognizes all too well. Good quality bourbon. Steve doesn’t miss the healthy pour that goes into each mug.

“Good for warmin’ up,” Wayne says as he passes one mug to Steve. He goes for the fridge next and pulls out a half eaten chocolate cake. “You fancy a piece? My boy whipped it up, but I told him like hell he expects me to finish it on my own.”

“Oh, I don’t want to take up your time–”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Wayne cuts in, smiling in a way his parents never did. Kind, warm. Real.

Steve relaxes the rest of the way, the tension leaving him all at once. Wayne Munson’s a good guy.

“I’d love one.”

-

“...and I told my boy, I said, if music is what you wanna do, you go and do it. Convinced him to get his GED and get out of dodge. School was never much of a Munson family pastime, anyway.”

“God, yeah. I hated school. I barely graduated, and that was still a few months after I got kicked out.”

Wayne shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. They’re sitting on the front porch, watching the sun begin its slow descent. Steve almost forgot how pretty Indiana skies could be.

“I knew your folks, y’know. Back in high school. Forgive me for saying it, but your father was a real piece of work.”

Steve can’t help the bitter sound that leaves him. “Trust me, I know.”

“Can’t stand a parent dumping their kid on the world like that. More like dumping the world on their kid. Real life is tough shit. If you love your children, you don’t just abandon them to figure it out for themselves.”

Steve hums. Takes a chance. “It sounds like you’re talking from experience?”

Wayne scowls out into the distance. “It was just me and Al for a long time. Our parents weren’t around much, and when they were they weren’t the best. We all did what we could.” He shakes his head again, meets Steve’s eyes. “Just a shame Al turned out exactly like our old man. Couldn’t spot respectable if it bit him on the balls.”

Steve laughs again.

Wayne lifts his beer and points out to the gravel road. “‘Bout time!”

Steve looks out and watches an old beat-up van wind down the road, music getting louder the closer it gets.

“You’ve got company! You should have said. You’ve been so kind, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Wayne tells him good-naturedly. “That’s just my boy. Owes me dinner since I’ve cooked the last few.” Adds when the van is parking behind Steve’s rental, “You should stick around for supper. He makes a mean lasagna.”

“I really should…”

Then Steve sees him.

Wayne’s boy, who he’d assumed at first was his son but learned was the nephew he took in after his brother fucked up somewhere along the way.

Steve’s throat goes dry.

The music cuts off as the van door opens and out hops a man with wild black curls tied up into a mess of a bun. He’s not even looking their way as he hip checks the door closed and walks back to the double doors. He swings them open, grabs a duffle, many bags of groceries baring the local Krogers logo, and a large glass casserole dish that looks far too fragile to be balancing the way it is. Before he closes the doors again, a large orange tabby hops out and winds around his legs, rubbing and trotting after its owner as he heads up the drive.

“Sorry I’m late, old man. Store was packed, and then Garfield here didn’t want to…Oh.”

He slows when he sees his uncle has company. Stops completely when his eyes land on Steve.

The guy’s young, could be a few years on either side of Steve’s age. He’s wearing all black denim, complete with chains and large belt buckle. His knuckles are tattooed and Steve wonders where else he has them.

And he’s familiar is the thing.

And isn’t that funny?

Because back in school. Steve would play reckless and brash. He’d skip school, get in plenty of fights he always lost. Made friends with the wrong crowd and got into enough trouble. And he would wonder, in the way only a closeted bisexual boy could in the Midwestern US, what it would be like to run away with someone a little older, a little rougher, a little more mean. Someone who knew more about the world. Who didn’t give a shit about kid stuff like Steve used to, like reputation and dating and getting into girls’ pants as much as possible. On being the best all-American athlete he could so others would think, wow, that Steve Harrington sure is going places.

He would wonder, in profound secrecy and silence and repression, what it would be like to kiss someone like the man stood before him under the shade of a tall tree in the woods behind his house. What it might be like to touch another boy and not have to be afraid to death of the idea.

The large cat, Garfield, rubs up along Steve’s legs then. Walks a figure eight between them and yowls to be paid attention to. Steve reaches down to pet between his ears, is vaguely aware of the two other men talking to one another, of Wayne explaining why Steve is here, who Steve even is.

And Steve knows this guy. He does.

He’s got long hair. Tattoos, maybe more hidden away. Has plush lips and flushed cheeks from standing in the cold with arms weighed down by too many things, and, and–

“You’re–”

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, straightens back up and holds out his hand. “Steve Harrington.”

The other man gawks. A bag slips from his fingers and a tub of cream cheese goes rolling right back down the small incline.

“Jesus, boy,” Wayne’s muttering, walking down to help with the groceries. He grabs the serving dish first, then heads for the runaway cream cheese. “Where’d your manners go? Introduce yourself!”

Wayne grumbles as he heads after the thing.

Steve’s hand is grasped, shaken, held. Steve smiles. Wants to roll up the long sleeves to see if he’s covered in the bats he saw during filming.

“I’m Eddie,” Eddie says, breathes really.

And oh wow. Wow.

Steve doesn’t let go, and neither does Eddie.

“I heard you make a mean lasagna.”

A smile splits Eddie’s pretty mouth. “That so? I wonder who said that.”

“Somebody who loves his nephew a whole lot.”

“Huh, no idea. Could you clue me in?”

Steve steps closer. “Think a little harder? Maybe you forgot.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says, and though it’s soft, it’s undeniable. “Always forgetting things, that’s me.”

It’s him.

Wayne passes them by again, taking another bag from Eddie’s hands. Eddie sets the rest down at their feet, sparkling, dark eyes never leaving Steve’s.

“Steve here’s an actor. Eddie, weren’t you telling me you had a gig down in LA with the band a few weeks back? What a coincidence, that.” He keeps walking.

Steve watches him go inside, Garfield hopping happily after him.

When he turns back around, Eddie’s close enough he can feel his breath.

Steve glances at his lips. Sees them bend with amusement.

“It’s funny.”

“What is?”

“King Steve, here in my uncle’s humble abode. What a surprise.”

King Steve is as close a moniker he’s ever received working in the industry. An irony that’s followed him from high school into adulthood, even though the two weren’t connected.

And something inside Steve breaks apart, blooms, shines.

It’s him.

Eddie reaches up, traces a thumb along his bottom lip.

“I think we’ve met.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Care to stay for some homemade cooking, your liege? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

The thumb at his lip dips, goes inside his mouth, briefly makes contact with Steve’s tongue. He wants to suck on it, wants to do a whole lot more.

“We definitely do.”

Eddie’s hand falls away. He picks up a few bags and lets Steve take the others.

And as Steve follows Eddie Munson, his mystery guy, inside it hits him all at once. A punch to the solar plexus.

Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you.

He knows him.

You showed LA who’s king.

Not just from the shoot.

“Oh my God, I know you! We know each other!”

Eddie Munson, the guy who walked over lunch tables and caused a scene. The guy Tommy shoved into lockers. The guy who dealt at every party. The guy who wore denim and leather and was in a band. The guy Steve watched, who watched him right back.

Wanted you forever.

I was actually jealous, and look at us now.

Can’t believe how lucky I am.

I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.

And Steve hurries in after him as Eddie’s knowing, familiar laughter leads the way.

[gee-arid]

ok, sorry if question is a bit long and if you have answered, please put the link for me to see please. Well... what are the names of the heroes? What was each heroe's first choice? (I mean the ladybug and cat holder). I know that Marinette is with the Fox and Ivan with the turtle, but for some reason I think that if they swap it would combine more (I speak more in symbolism, ivan who cannot lie with the "miraculous of lie"). What is the weapon of each carrier? About the turtle and Ivan, I think a purplish blue would match more (that leatherback turtle). What are the camouflaged forms of each miraculous? Do you have the reason why every person has every miraculous?

A big ask, but thats okay! I'd love to answer! Note that some answers like names and weapons are subject to change, im not great with names and im less familliar with some characters than others so, opinions and other ideas are awesome :)

Names and weapons, left to right:

Aliase Rouges (red wings), Cartoony sledge hammer

Veilluese (night light), Grappling hook

Bison? Hyland?, Guitar- its electric but doesnt have to be plugged in..

Adora (play on Adore), Frisbee

Ouroboros, Mirror shield (play on the medusa myth)

Tack (to temporarily fasten something together), Big Needle

Captain Stinger (shortened to Sting), Cutlass

Jockey?, Reins? maybe a whip

Alectryon, rooster body (i guess?)

Jack Rabbit (shortened to Jack), Pickaxe

Ridley (a type of turtle), Detatched shields- Bonus purpley-blue version: honestly it works just as well.

Tora (Japanese for tiger, i think), Sythe

R.A.T (acronym for Rodent Assist Team? idk, funny bit based on pokemons F.E.A.R strat lol, also sounds like a dj name??. also based on his purpose being mostly assisting pedestrians), Glow sticks (almost like a pair of lightsabers, without the deadliness. Basically glowing battons)

Boar, Boomerang (shaped like boar tusks).

Cirrus (a type of cloud, Aroure and Mirelle share the name and the miraculous), Lightning rod/ wind sock

Caprix (Play on Caprine), Chunky roller blades

Gibbon? (a type of monkey), one of those silly stretchy sticky hands

Reasons for each holder are here!

First choices are also listed there, if there isnt an alternative listed, they either had the same idea or no strong preference for a different holder. Regarding swapping holders based on symbolism (i.e. Ivan with the fox, Mari with the turtle) that would be super cool and i may draw them at some point in the future, but wouldn't fit with my au. This is because my bug and cat holders choose them based on preexisting relationships, traits, and talents.

Camouflaged forms are these:

Struggled with Alyas rabbit miraculous tbh, it doesnt quite fit with my au for it to stay a pocket watch anyway (the Rabbits power being swapped from Burrow in a time sense, to Burrow in a dig way) so i guess its normal activated form would be some kind of keychain? Alyas disguise currently is a tamogachi :)

Nino wears the mouse necklace wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet.

Max's snake bracelet turns into a smart watch.

Markovs claw connects to his existing claws, and mimics what claws he already has.

Mirelle and Aroure have similar chokers with the charm changed. Aroure has the lightning bolt, Mirelle has the rain drop. They have the chokers replicated by comission with Marinette so they can swap the actual miraculous between them when needed.

Sabrinas sunglasses are prescription. They could also be just normal glasses, no black tint, when appropriate.

Marcs ring, where rainbow, is iridescent!

The butterfly and peacock are still unavailable to our heroes.

[zriasstuff]

Friends- Blaise Zabini x reader

Fluff drabble, post-break up reconciliation <3

It’s been two weeks since your break up with Blaise already, and honestly when you saw him, you still felt a sting in your heart. It didn’t work out in the end because both of you couldn’t manage to communicate with each other, and as lazy of an excuse it may sound like, it was true. Towards the end of your relationship you barely talked with each other anymore. It was as if you were even less than friends. Perhaps you were never meant to be in a romantic relationship after all because functioning couples would probably try harder to stay together.

But you couldn’t even manage that, instead you grew apart. The only time you’d see each other was class and every time you guys even made remote eye contact, it turned awkward for both of you.

Besides classes quidditch was always and still is a common ground. Blaise was obviously known for being a great beater and you for being a talented chaser, whose role is also substitute seeker. During training you still caught yourself secretly staring at him, but it was all in a harmless manner. Innerly you wish you’d still be friends, after all he was an incredibly caring and sensible person, yet some things just don’t work out, no matter how much you want them to. And neither one of you made the effort to rebuild a friendship. Or rather, you knew that you lacked the courage to take the first step.

Right now you should probably take your mind off of Blaise though and focus on the big game on Saturday against Gryffindor. Draco had gotten himself into the hospital wing due to a stupid leg injury caused by juvenile fighting, so winning the game as seeker should be your primary focus…

*time skip*

“HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE THE SNITCH?”

“ARE YOU BLOODY BLIND?!?”

“GREAT, WHAT AN AMAZING IDEA IT WAS TO HAVE YOU PLAYING AS SUBSTITUTE”

Your team-mates were yelling at you from every direction possible. As you already established, some things, as much as you want them to work out, oftentimes just don’t. Sometimes you wondered how it was possible that whenever you wanted something badly, it never seemed to work out in the end.

Feeling tears already forming in your eyes, you can only mutter out a pathetic sorry and run away from everything. It’s incredibly unfair to you. They were acting like you were the entire reason you lost, just because you weren’t completely focused. Even if you didn’t play your best, it wasn’t only your fault, and it’s supposed to be a team effort anyway. Still, no matter what you try to console yourself with, you still feel like crap.

During times like these, funnily enough, Blaise would probably be a great comfort to you, you think to yourself. In those times when you did communicate, Blaise knew how to cheer you up the best. Drowning in your despair, you didn’t even notice how much time had passed until you suddenly heard an all too familiar voice.

“I knew I’d find you here”, the voice echoes down to you.

Your heart stops for a second. Almost electrified. Hurriedly, you wipe away your tears.

“B- Blaise? What are you doing here?”

Hopefully you didn’t sound and look too distraught. Did he follow you?

“Whenever you’re upset, you come to this tree in the forbidden forest”

He sat down next to you, and before you could pull back he embraced you for a hug. Subconsciously your first reaction is to cling onto him. You feel his strong arms wrap around you so lovingly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. All it took was one genuine, caring moment, and most of the awkwardness had faded away. No one in so long has been this familiar and comforting.

“You know, even though we’re not technically on speaking terms, I still care about you right? I just didn’t know if you still wanted to have anything to do with me”

“Of course I do, and thank you”, you sniffle. It was indescribably how much weight lifted off your shoulders in that exact moment.

“So, wanna start over as friends?”

“I would love that”

Apparently, a crappy quidditch game was all it took for one of the best people you know to be in your life again. And that “friends” term seemed good. At least for now…

[magnoliasandarson]

can i go home now?

Dick Grayson was trapped. Perched on the fire escape of his apartment building in civvies, trembling as the world crashed onto his chest. It snuck up on him, as it always does—the thoughts of his family and his place in it, or rather, his place outside it.

He had left Gotham- done it with a bloody grin and tear-streaked cheeks. It wasn’t his home then; it had never really been his home. The circus had traveled everywhere- Gotham just happened to be the shithole his parents were murdered in. He owed the city nothing, certainly not his life. 

Blüdhaven was a hopeless place filled with corruption and extreme violence. It was only supposed to be one case, but one case turned into a dozen, turned into countless more. Many years prior, when Bruce first offered him the chance to be more, he had asked the man why. Bruce’s face had contorted into something pained and solemn, his eyes distant as he said, “Because they need Batman.”

Well, Blüd needed Nightwing. Dick launched head first into being great, the city’s pride- their protector. And he didn’t have to dress up as an emo furry to do it. He got the key to the city, traveled the cosmos with his team, and saved millions of souls- he was brilliant.

He might’ve missed Bruce dragging another bright-eyed boy into the manor, might’ve missed that same boy’s funeral, might’ve lost his family entirely, might’ve watched the cycle repeat from a distance, but his city was proud of him. Blüdhaven loved him.

So why was he having trouble breathing, gripping a rusted ledge till little beads of blood escaped his palms? Why was he…. why did it feel like he was dying? 

He missed winter in Gotham. Blüdhaven was all giant glass skyscrapers, but Gotham was stone behemoths- gargoyles and old-school architecture. He missed dropping in unannounced at Wayne Enterprises, missed bothering Babs at the library. He missed the manor. He missed sparring with his brothers, he missed fighting with Bruce. He missed his family. 

Did he even deserve to miss them?

Jason was off-world, fighting with the Outlaws, but Dick had never fixed things with his Little Wing, so a brotherly call wouldn’t be welcome. Tim was in San Fran, not that he would want to speak to Dick, not after the Robin debacle. Still, Dick had update notifications for Young Justice on every platform he could think of. Possibly the most heartbreaking was Damian. The boy would never forgive him for leaving, but Dami wasn’t his son; he couldn’t be his father. 

His eyes squeezed shut, blocking out the last sign of a glorious sunset. 

Why had he left Gotham? Why didn’t he realize it was home when it was?

Why didn’t they want him to come back? Why wasn’t he there now?

Dick pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, tears stinging the open cuts. He couldn’t leave- Blüdhaven needed Nightwing; but Dick needed Gotham.