#wonderin in anyone Has noticed it though

[scribbling-dragon]

I think the worst part about the most recent chapter is that there were two (2) scenes I had to cut bc it sent chapter off the rails a little/disrupted the flow of conversation :(

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Summary: Lt. Riley sure has been taking a lot of smoke breaks lately. Strange that you always seem to disappear at the same time too.

Author's Note: Just a quick little one shot I came up with to get me back into the swing of things and give you all a little snack for what's to come.

“Again?” Soap questions as he watches the lieutenant stand up from the back of the table, cigarette pack in hand. “Ye have a real problem mate. Swear yer married te those things these days, always havin’ te go out fer another smoke. Ye should get some help fer yer addiction, L.T.”

Lt. Riley doesn’t stop to reply, moving his chair back in without missing a beat. “Maybe I’m just tryin’ ta have an excuse to fuckin’ leave so ya can’t persuade me into stayin’ for more of your inane drivel,” he returns dryly. “ ‘Sides, it’s gettin’ late.”

Soap rolls his eyes skeptically at the statement. “Whatever ye say,” he chuckles, brushing off the comment like nothing and letting the lieutenant walk off without consequence, something rare for the mouthy sergeant, but Lt. Riley is too preoccupied to pay it much attention.

From your place at the table, you carefully sneak glances to watch as the hulking form of your superior locks eyes with you for only a second before he makes his way over to the door of the mess hall and opens it to step out into the night air. You force yourself not to linger too long in his direction, redirecting your attention back to your fellow operatives that still sit around you chatting even though dinner had ended some time ago.

It doesn’t take long for the conversation to pick right back up where it left off, though you stay silent as you slowly try to fade yourself out of the group without anyone noticing your absence. The heated topic of the best explosive types has everyone engaged and you see your opportunity to leave and slip out undetected.

Too bad you don't notice a couple eyes dart your way before they turn back to one another to share a knowing look and a smirk. Yet nothing is said out loud and you make it out with incident.

Stepping out into the cool night, you find it odd that there are no signs of life near the door, no 6’4” military officer propped against the brick smoking. The unexpected absence makes your heart leap, but as you let your eyes adjust to the dark you catch movement off to your side. At the edge of the building you can just make out the dissipating wispy trail of vapor as it floats up towards the sky. Bingo, that’s what you are looking for. Turning your feet in the direction of the smoke, you make your way over, the soles of your shoes crunching over the gravel scattered along the ground and echoing off the walls of the building. You don’t have far to go and as soon as your body rounds the corner, your wrist is grabbed up by long fingers into the palm of a large, rough hand.

You know this grip intimately.

“Lookin’ for somethin’, pretty girl?” the familiar gruff voice hits your ears as your body is pushed back first into the rough surface of the wall.

Tilting your head up, you look directly into that skull-masked face and instantaneously a smile spreads across your lips. “Was looking for someone, actually,” you answer confidently, a bit of playfulness to your tone.

Hooking your thumbs through the front belt loops on his jeans, you pull him in closer so that he is pinned against you. “And wouldn’t you know, I just found him,” you say.

Fuck, did you have to play on his one weakness so early?

“Was wonderin’ when you’d fuckin’ break away,” he chuckles to disguise that fact that your little maneuver has caused his pulse to race violently through his veins.

Those large, greedy hands find their place on the curve of your hips and he wonders if you can feel his thudding heartbeat through his touch as he stands there in the silence with you. He’s waiting patiently for what comes next, the simple ritual you've developed that you put into practice whenever you’re alone together. Right now he is still under the guise of Ghost and only you can bring out the man behind the mask.

Searching his chest to find the neckline of his shirt, you dig your fingers inside and find the edge of the fabric keeping his face hidden from you. You tug at the balaclava to free it before you pull it up and off his features, bunching it together and pushing it to the top of his head so that he wears it like a beanie. And suddenly there he is: not Ghost, not Lt. Riley, but Simon, your Simon in the flesh once again.

“Didn’t want to make it too obvious,” you return as you take him all in, fingertips following the line of his cheek, “the others aren’t that oblivious; they’ll put two and two together if given enough clues. We could get caught, you know. How long till they figure out that I always seem to go missing whenever you go for a smoke?”

There is a coolness on your hip now as one of his hands finds its way around the back of your neck to hold you in place as his thumb smoothly caresses over the delicate skin of your cheek in long, slow strokes. “Don’t care anymore,” he mutters as his gaze lingers at your eyes before they drift down to your full lips. There is a yearning in his chest watching them part as he drags that same thumb heavily across the length and it blooms as he hears the quiet sigh you release at feeling his touch over that sensitive bit of skin.

“It’s gettin’ harder and harder ta keep my hands to myself whenever you’re ‘round.”

He leans in as he holds you steady by the back of the head, his face getting closer and closer until his balmy breath wafts over your bottom lip. It’s intoxicating the way the presence of your mouth lingering just out of reach makes the skin on his tingle with anticipation and he suspends you both in the tantalizing feeling of the moment for a few seconds without speaking, just letting the sensations play out.

The agonizing depth of his need pools in the pit of his stomach, making him clench his hand around your spine as it overwhelms his body. “Don’t wanna have ta keep holdin’ back.”

Being pressed against you, you can easily feel him take in a shuddered breath. “Get such a fuckin’ cravin’ for your lips sometimes it feels like I’m goin’ insane,” he whispers the words into your face, his nose gliding against the tip of your own as his mouth ghosts over yours until you tremble in his grasp as his temptation overwhelms you.

Your heartbeat pounds hard against your ribcage and you can hear it in your head. His intensity is enough to make you dizzy, your vision hazy at best as you are consumed with him and only him. No one has ever had this much control over you, but with Simon it is effortless the way he owns all the free space in your mind so that it takes the most minimal effort to have you falling apart, melting in his hands.

In the shadow of the mess hall, hidden in the dark with just you and him, the world seems to completely fall away. Whatever waits outside that moment for you both is forgotten, pushed aside to make room for the need you share for each other.

“Simon,” you moan his name, your eyes fluttering closed as your desperation overtakes you and leaves you begging for him to break the distance still between you.

God, the way his name falls so sweetly from your lips makes him just as feral now as it did the first time he heard you use it. He is insatiable in the way he is willing to do anything just to hear you say it again.

The air outside tonight is cool, but the atmosphere between your bodies is heated from the sticky, warm breath that you both share between your mouths, the proximity of your bodies, the rise in blood pressure that makes your skin hot to the touch. It’s getting harder to breathe and yet the thought of you pulling away from him before he can get his fill of you is torture.

“Swear I’ve never missed someone tha way I miss ya when I have ta stay away,” he says, followed quickly by a groan into your face as you place your palm on his sternum to feel the weighty rise and fall of his broad chest.

Your touch is exhilarating and suddenly his whole body is aroused as if struck by lightning. Unintentionally, his hips move on instinct and begin to grind into yours, the growing bulge in the crotch of his pants making him desperate for more friction and you immediately meet his need with your own. That last shred of his sanity is waning fast the more you both rub yourselves against each other until out of the haze filling his mind and distracting him from his goal he finally finds the last bit of clarity to speak before he completely falls apart.

“Christ, I will never get enough of ya, sweetheart.” And with a brief pause, Simon inhales and leans in hungrily to capture your lips with his.

His mouth dominates your own with urgency, as if at any moment you will be snatched from his hands and he will be left starving for the sensation of your mouth tangling with his.

Your back is slammed into the uneven texture of the brick, jagged bits of clay grating the skin of your back through your t-shirt from the force of your lieutenant aggressively capturing your mouth over and again. Sweet spit and heated lips mingling as he insatiably devours your kiss to leave a wreck of flesh behind on the lower half of your face that only burns for more of his embraces.

Shrouded in the dark your bodies melt together with yours being swallowed by the bulk of his, those bulging muscles along his abdomen pressing into you, pinning you to the wall until you can hardly catch your breath. You hold onto him to keep him from drifting, two tight fists balled up with his shirt as your need overwhelms every sense in an intensity that is shared like an electrical current through your bodies.

Large, coarse hands cup around your face, tilting your head upward to him as his tongue juts out from between his teeth and over his lips to prod against yours until you open your mouth and allow him to shove it in. That thick muscle fills the cavity full as he explores, feeling you, tasting you, memorizing the inside of your mouth. The nicotine on his breath is still pungent from the cigarette that is glowing discarded on the ground at your feet, its sharp notes dancing over the surface of your taste buds as you suck on his tongue.

His knee finds its way between your legs, pressing up into the wall behind you so that the bulk of his thigh is pushed against the mound of your sex, giving you access to something you can ride as your desire intensifies. The stimulation is like a catalyst and without hesitation you begin to roll your hips into it.

Simon is pawing desperately at your clothing to get beneath it and make contact with as much soft, warm skin as his hands can enjoy when a sudden loud clang somewhere close by breaks you both out of the spell of your lust. Two heads return side to side in search for the source of the noise, only to find that nothing is out of place. But the moment is broken and you are both now fully aware of how exposed you are just out in the open.

“Meet at mine after lights out, yeah?” Simon says through heavy panting, holding your face cupped between his hands as he struggles to gain back his composure, at least enough to cross base without drawing attention to himself and the bulge straining against the front of his jeans.

You nod, scrambling to regulate your own quick breathing.

He quickly pulls your face back in for one more feverish kiss before releasing you, pulling down his mask, and briskly heading off into the night. It's still about an hour you have left to wait and though you know that it isn't that long in the grand scheme of things, as you clench your thighs together, you know it won't come soon enough.

[libingan]

IM BACKKKKKKKK

i was rewatching b99 and theres this one scene w captain holt that gave me the inspiration to write LMAO

something about reader being able to read simon like an open book is just so amusing to me

the base is buzzing with its usual sounds—radios crackling, distant chatter, boots hitting the floor in rhythmic patterns. you’re used to it all by now, the routines and rhythms, the way everyone moves around each other like parts of a well-oiled machine. today, though, there's an odd tension in the air, a stiffness lingering on the faces of the others.

you spot johnny and gaz huddled together, throwing glances at ghost, who stands near the far wall, still as a statue. he’s in full gear, mask in place, eyes dark and unreadable beneath the skull pattern. his shoulders are squared, his stance firm, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. there’s a quiet intensity to him that feels like it could crack concrete if he willed it. with his arms crossed over his chest, the black fabric of his sleeves stretching over his muscles, he looks every bit the silent, unapproachable specter he’s known to be.

johnny tilts his head in ghost’s direction, muttering something to gaz, who nods back, looking genuinely concerned. you drift closer, catching pieces of their conversation as johnny’s low, accented voice reaches you. “tell me that doesn’t look like a man on the edge,” he says, eyeing ghost. “i don’t remember the last time i saw him lookin’ this grim.”

“maybe he got some bad news,” gaz adds, brows furrowed. “you think he’s about to lose it?”

you glance over at ghost again, taking in the hard line of his jaw beneath the mask, the set of his shoulders, the way he seems to radiate an intensity that could send most people scurrying. but to you? nothing feels particularly unusual. you’ve seen ghost like this enough times to know when he’s actually having a rough day—and this isn’t it. so you shrug, looking back at johnny and gaz with a small smirk.

“bad day?” you say, trying not to laugh. “he’s in a good mood.”

the two of them whip their heads to stare at you, disbelief clear on their faces. “a good mood?” johnny echoes, brows shooting up. “that—ye’re tellin’ me that right there’s him happy?”

“yep.” you give a simple nod. “trust me. i can tell.”

johnny and gaz share a bewildered look, glancing back at ghost with renewed confusion. “so… that’s his version of cheery?” gaz says, more to himself than anyone else.

before they can keep speculating, ghost’s gaze shifts over, locking onto the three of you. there’s no warmth in it, but there’s a strange steadiness, a weight, that makes it clear he’s noticed your conversation. he starts toward you, his steps slow, measured, each one landing with the faintest thud on the concrete floor. when he reaches you, he stops just a few feet away, gaze flicking to johnny.

johnny clears his throat, glancing nervously at gaz before finally blurting out, “l.t., we were just wonderin’... somethin’ wrong today?”

ghost’s eyes narrow slightly, and his head tilts just a fraction. “wrong?” he repeats, sounding almost amused. “no. i’m havin’ a good day, actually. got an extra hour of sleep this morning.”

you can feel the stunned silence coming off johnny and gaz, both of them frozen as they process the idea that ghost—a man they’re used to seeing as an impenetrable wall of silence and scowls—has just announced he’s in a good mood. you can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face as you turn to them.

“told you so,” you say, crossing your arms.

johnny looks from you to ghost, and back again, a mix of disbelief and exasperation coloring his expression. “bloody hell,” he mutters, shaking his head. “how… how d’ye know that?”

you just shrug, catching ghost’s gaze for a brief second. there’s no clear expression there, but you swear there’s the slightest glint in his eyes, a hint of something only you seem to recognize. you don’t need words or explanations—you just know.

[junkdrawerfics]

hello!! i had a request for jasper, if that’s ok? i was thinking about him with an entirely oblivious reader. alice knows they’re meant to be together, and just cannot fathom how reader is this clueless to jasper’s flirting? LMAO esp with that southern charm and the fact that he’s actually talking to someone outside of his family 😭 just know id be blissfully unaware that man’s even interested even if he was breathing down my neck and his family is practically tearing their hair out atp 😭

Jasper Hale X Reader

Summary: You're oblivious. That's it. And it drives the Cullens (+ Bella) crazy. Jasper has to take a far more direct approach to get through to you.

Word Count: 1846

Note: I hope this works for what you were requesting! It was a fun write, I always like playing with different perspectives and even writing scenes without the reader directly in it.

---

“Anyone would think they’re dating,” Alice sighs in exasperation.

Bella follows the vampire’s gaze, noticing you and Jasper standing close together at your car. You’re gesturing wildly, eyes wide, excitement pouring off of you like usual. And Jasper’s just listening, a soft smile on his lips, one she’s only ever seen when the blond’s with you.

“Most of the school does,” she corrects, shoving her hands in her pockets, “Jessica brings it up all the time and Angela says she had to fight Eric to keep it out of the paper.”

Alice snorts softly, the sound somehow delicate. The humans love gossiping about their family, a fact that is unchanging wherever they go. She’s heard more than a few rumors about the two of you, and Jasper probably has too. You, however, remain blissfully unaware.

In her entire century of life, she had never met someone so completely oblivious.

“Does she know he’s flirting with her?” Bella asks, her brow furrowing as Jasper tucks a strand of hair behind your ear while you just keep talking a mile a minute, totally unphased. You, the girl who gets flustered at the drop of a hat with everything else.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Alice chirps matter-of-factly, “She has no clue that he likes her. It’s kind of sweet. But also maddening.”

“You’ve seen something about them?”

“Of course I have.” She sighs again, shaking her head. “It’s not even that, though! I don’t need a vision to know they’re perfect for each other. They’re both absolutely smitten with each other, but she’s even more oblivious than you.”

“Hey-!”

Jasper chuckles under his breath. You pause, head tilting as you follow his flickering gaze to the two girls standing at the other side of the lot. Alice has her hands propped on her hip, a smirk adorning her features as Bella turns impossibly red.

Curiosity washes over you. Eagerly, you whip back to Jasper. “What are they talking about?” 

“Bout you and me it seems, and they’re arguin’ about how…observant Bella is,” he murmurs, amusement clear in his tone.

You blink, pursing your lips a little, “They were talking about us?” 

“They were just wonderin’ if we are goin’ to the fall festival,” he lies smoothly. Jasper has no desire to expose you to the ugly rumor mill of this town. “What do you say, darlin? Want to go with me?”

“Yes! Yes, I’d love to! I’ve been thinking about that all week!” You squeak, confusion disappearing just like that.

The smile you give him is so bright, so genuine, it could cripple a weaker man. The blond has to bite his tongue, though, the desire to lean down and kiss you pulling at his chest viciously. He wants to see if your smile tastes as sweet as it looks…

 “We could see if they want to join us!” You continue, clapping your hands like a little kid. “Maybe that’s why they were talking about us. Oh, it’d be so fun to go as a group!”

The groan from across the parking lot is audible even to you.

---

“Gaaaahhh-”

Your groan gets cut off when you flop onto your bed and land face first in your fluffy comforter. It practically swallows you whole, you almost wish it would.

Bella watches, lips curling in amusement as she gently drops her backpack down and perches herself at your desk, “Jasper again?”

“-e’s su niiithee,” you whine, voice muffled.

“Try again.”

You turn over on your back, pouting at the ceiling, “He’s so nice.”

“He is.” Bella draws her knees up to prop her chin on and waits. The rant is inevitable.

“No, like, he’s so nice. You don’t understand, Bells.” You throw your arms in the air, letting them fall to the bed dramatically. “I’ve never met someone who’s just so nice. And he’s so pretty and charming and sometimes I just wish I could jump on him and hold on like a koala.”

“You could,” she points out, not missing a beat.

Propping up on your elbows, you can’t help but gasp at her, cheeks going positively red, “No I can’t! That would totally freak him out!”

“I think he’d like it more than you think.”

“Oh my gosh.” Your hands fly to your face, as if covering it will stop the blush from spreading down your neck. “You’re so mean to me, Bells. So crude.”

Bella snorts, “That’s not crude. And you’re oblivious.”

“Hello!” You yelp, sitting up. “Kettle calling the pot black!”

“It’s the other way around, actually.”

“Oh whatever,” you sigh, flopping back down. Your thoughts are always a mess when it comes to Jasper, and everyone teasing you like this doesn’t help. It’s easy when you’re with him, you kind of just forget about it all. He’s your best friend, afterall. A frown pulls at your lips. “And I’m not oblivious. We’re just really close friends. I think I’d know if he liked me or something…”

Bella has never been so close to strangling someone.

---

Eventually, a Cullen family meeting has to be held about the issue, despite Jasper’s reluctance.

“She’s clueless,” Bella groans, dropping onto the couch next to Edward.

Emmett snickers from his seat with Rosalie, “I thought we already knew that?”

“We did.” Alice sighs as if she’s mourning the thought. “But we’re afraid it’s worse than we originally thought. The girl is hopeless.”

“She is not,” Jasper chides, lingering on the edge of the group. A part of him doesn’t like having his family in the middle of this. It’s his relationship, or lack thereof. He hates feeling infantilized.

“Hush, Jasper.” Alice waves him off, earning a scowl from the blond. “You’re hopeless in your own ways. This is about (Y/n).”

“So what should we do?”

Jasper forces himself to take a long, calming breath. They mean well, he knows that. They always do. But their methods are usually far too…exaggerated. He might have considered asking for Esme’s advice, perhaps even Carlisle, but not Emmett, and most certainly not Alice. This is his decision to make, and he needs to go about it in his own way.

“Oh! Maybe we can hire someone-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he interrupts, cutting off whatever wild plan Emmett has concocted, drawing the family’s attention to himself. Jasper straightens up, giving them all a pointed look, “This is my business, and I will be taking care of it as I see fit. Thank you for your concern, but it is unnecessary.”

“What are you going to do, honey?” Esme speaks her first words of the evening, voice gentle and unassuming as always.

The blond softens, giving her a faint smile, “I’ll be straight with her.”

“But-” 

“Stay out of it, Alice.” The little ravenette pouts, though her eyes dance with excitement. A little push was all he needed, it seems. “It won’t do me any good if she learns of my feelings from one of you. It needs to be me. Even if I have to lay myself out plain for her to see.”

“If you’re sure that’s what you want, son,” Carlisle hums, relieved to take a step back. He wasn’t a fan of this plan from the start.

“It is.”

And it’s true. At one point, it didn’t feel like he had much control of his life, but now he does. And now he has you. It may just be a ‘matter of time’ thing, according to Alice’s vision, but he wants to do this right, at his own pace. 

Now, it’s just a question of how.

---

“Darlin…can we talk?”

“We are talking,” you giggle, writing down another formula.

“I mean a more serious talk.”

You blink, looking up from your chem textbook to meet a pair of nervous, gold eyes. Nervous? Jasper is nervous? Your brows furrow, concern immediately sparking in your chest.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, notes forgotten and thrown to the side. You can always study later. “What’s up, Jasper?”

“Everythin’s alright, just-” Jasper settles on the bed in front of you. He keeps a respectable distance, but reaches across to take your hand in his. You freeze. Eyes wide, you can’t stop yourself from staring at it. Your hands. Together. He’s holding your hand. Why is he holding your hand?

“Darlin?”

“Huh?” Oh right. You drag your gaze back up to him, catching a flicker of an amused smile on his lips. A blush creeps up your neck and you smile apologetically. “Sorry, sorry, um, what’s up?”

“I have something important to tell you,” he explains, thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that is far too distracting. 

It helps calm your racing heart, though, because a part of you is terrified. You have no clue what he could possibly want to talk about that would warrant such seriousness. Unconscious, you end up holding your breath, waiting for him to continue.

“I like you, darlin.”

What?

You pause. Process. Confusion swirls through your concern.

“I like you too, Jazz, you’re my best friend,” you chime, tone completely lost and befuddled.

An incredulous laugh breaks past Jasper’s wall of nerves. The tension drips from his shoulders. It’s ridiculous. So ridiculous that he feels like he can finally say everything he’s ever wanted to say.

“I’m ‘fraid you don’t understand, darlin,” he hums, giving you one of those gorgeous, slanted grins that make your heart melt. And the way you cock your head at him, eyes doe-ish and soft, does the exact same thing to him. “I want to take you on a date. I want to open doors for you and walk you to your porch afterwards. Maybe give you a goodnight kiss and watch you go inside. You drive me mad, darlin. I like you so much, it’s taking everythin’ in me not to kiss you right now.”

What?

Your head spins. It’s difficult to even process what he’s saying, everything swimming through your head at a dizzying pace. Maybe you heard him wrong.

“You-” You falter, “You want to- to what?”

Finally.

Jasper smirks, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip erratically, “I want to kiss you sugar. And trust me, it is mighty hard to control myself.”

“Okay um…” You scream silently in your head. Jasper wants to kiss you. Jasper likes you. He likes you. And you like him. “So, you- okay, I have no clue what to do now. I like you too, a lot. Which you probably knew. Wow. I can’t believe I didn’t…”

“Everyone tried tellin’ you,” Jasper chuckles, leaning back.

“I know! I just, I thought they were all teasing me, you know? Cause I like you,” you explain lamely, pouting a bit in disbelief. All this time, you could have just told him! “I just can’t believe how oblivious I was.”

“Trust me, darlin, none of us can. I have one more question for you, though.”

“What?”

“Will you give me the great pleasure of takin’ you on a date?”

You bite your lip, but it does nothing to stop the smile from spreading across them.

“Of course!”

---

I hope you guys liked this one! It was a fun one, though it took me a while!

[loveydovey-leviathan]

mammon x gn! reader

based on the nightbringer chat where mammon asks you to tell him you love him over and over again.

.

it's quiet tonight, you notice.

which is understandable. it's way past the appropriate time for anyone to be awake-- but you know that if you walked through the halls of the house of lamentation, you'd still hear a few of the brothers who reside here still up and quickly acting like they're asleep when lucifer comes in to do his nightly check-in.

you would be more worried about being in mammon's room at this time of night if you didn't already know that lucifer wouldn't mind. it's happened before and it'll happen again.

but something's different. there's nothing unusual about the way mammon's acting around you right now-- his head is tucked on your upper arm as he wraps himself around your body, and your hand goes through his hair in a repetitive motion, a movement you've become familiar with after all these years (not that he knows). all in all, there's nothing strange about tonight, just different.

mammon confirms your thoughts when he asks you "i was wonderin'... how'd you feel about me?"

that... certainly wasn't what you expected.

"what brought that up?"

"look, just lay it out straight for me, okay?"

"i love you," the answer is quick and simple, like it's second nature to you, because that's what loving mammon is-- it's as subconscious as breathing, as easy as blinking. it's sweet and loving because that's how mammon treats you.

heat gathers up in his cheeks and spreads all the way to his neck, like he's surprised at your proclamation of love as though you wouldn't shout it across rooftops. he bunches up the edge of your shirt and fiddles with the loose threads as he thinks of what to say.

"can you say that again?"

"you need some emotional support?" you tease.

he looks like he's going to explode (in a cute way). "i just feel like talkin' to you about this kinda thing, okay?! i can't help it! i gotta check, anytime, anywhere!"

"i love you, mammon," the confession is just as quick as the last one. "feel better now?"

he has a smile on his face, the one that shows his crowsfeet and makes the gold and blue in his eyes swirl together like marbles and jewellery.

"that ain't nearly enough, you gotta tell me a bunch more times!"

"i love you," and this time, you give him a forehead kiss to go with it.

"i love you," another on his nose. and then two more for both his cheeks.

the last one you place is on his lips, a deeper sort of kiss. he leans up to catch your lips on his and he curls his hands deeper into the hem of your shirt as a way to ground himself. he tastes like greed and warmth and want, he feels like everything you could ever need.

when you both part, he looks up at you like you're his heaven.

"...i love you, too."

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - July 9th

 I’ve started listening to podfics recently--it started while I was packing and moving, and it occurs to me that I should include that. So you’ll be seeing those occasionally--I’m extremely picky about podcasts/podfics, so if I’m rec’ing it, it’s fantastic. 

I’m also thinking about playing around to create a new weekly banner--so we’ll see. 

As always, please remember to kudos/comment if you’re enjoying fic! 

**Indicates a recent favorite. 

~*~ 

[PODFIC] Relativistic Heat Conduction by BlossomsintheMist by Pywren

Ultron has attacked, obliterating most of the world's superheroes and resistance in a matter of hours. The remaining heroes band together and share what strength they have to get through it, to survive, and defeat Ultron once and for all. Steve Rogers grieves in the wake of the disaster and the heroes' defeat, and no one knows if he will be able to provide the leadership they need--but Tony Stark isn't about to let him slip away that easily.

**Enchanted by iam93percentstardust

This night is sparklin', don't you let it go

I'm wonderstruck, blushin' all the way home

I'll spend forever wonderin' if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you

~

Steve starts making his way back towards the directions of the cars, wanting to greet her, only to stop dead when he realizes who her date is.

Natasha has brought Tony with her.

Tony of the pictures, of the stories, of Steve’s infatuated little heart even though he’s never met him in person.

**the depths of some divine despair by meidui

Steve blinks and stares down at Natasha, drawing a blank.

“Who’s Tony?”

Hey, u up? by FestiveFerret 

Tony's plastered, and all he wants is to hook up with his ex-boyfriend, Ty. Sure, he deleted his number from his phone, but he has an elephant's memory, even wasted. No problem.

Five Seconds by nanasekei

From the moment Steve suits up, he knows what he’ll do.

I could lie tangent to your curves by RurouniHime

Steve is bodyguard to a prominent young socialite with too much genius on his hands... and who has taken an unfortunate shine to him.

(Written for royal_chandler, who won the bid for my offer in Marvel Trumps Hate 2018.)

hold on to me (i'm a little unsteady) by halfasgoodatanything 

tony loses his memory. steve's afraid to get too close, because he can't take seeing tony without love in his eyes. steve also seems to be the only thing that helps him remember anything, so. heartbreak all around, until tony's memory comes back.

fill the new shape by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)

Steve Rogers's life changed dramatically once he hit college. But maybe that had been coming for almost two years already, since his ex Tony Stark broke up with him. Whatever the reason, he isn't expecting his past to come find him again in the form of one Tony Stark, returned from abroad. What comes after is the beginning of a journey to healing, but they both have a long way to go.

The Art of Winning by KandiSheek

During an Avengers bootcamp, Steve gets the mission to make Tony say the words "You win" or "I give up" to Steve specifically. Which would be fine if Tony didn't seem completely incapable of admitting defeat.

In the end, desperate times call for desperate measures. And it's not like it was Steve's idea to play gay chicken. He can hardly be held responsible for the consequences.

Those Who Mind Don't Matter by KandiSheek

Tony is an omega and therefore coveted by most of the alpha population. However, to everyone's surprise and outrage, he gets together with Steve, a beta. Steve knows he shouldn't care what anyone else says, but you can only read so many headlines calling you unworthy and inadequate before you start to question yourself. What if Tony would be happier with an alpha?

What's The Point? by shaggybeetle

Steve is getting further and further from intimacy with Tony and he is noticing.

He wears clothes to bed, he avoids sexual contact and is overall pretty sad...

Time to try make him feel like he IS worth it.

Knight of Wands by Sineala 

Steve has reigned as king for ten years, and in a few days peace will finally come to his kingdom. Representatives of the Kree Empire are soon to arrive for the negotiations that will end the war between them once and for all. Steve is looking forward to settling down, with his hand-picked Avengers at his side -- led, of course, by the masked knight Iron Man -- and also his trusted advisors, the most beloved of whom is Tony, his court magician, the most powerful mage in all the land.

But when Steve's life is endangered, Tony makes the greatest sacrifice of all to protect his king, a sacrifice far greater than his life. And when Tony disappears under mysterious circumstances, Steve learns that even his closest friends keep secrets that he could never have suspected

Paint the Town Blue by ohjustpeachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

The weather outside is frightful by BladeoftheNebula 

“I can’t believe this!”

Steve paused, his hand hovering over the piece of firewood. Was that—?

“Of all the idiotic, selfish—“

The last of the words were cut off by the wind, but that was definitely a voice.

Steve frowned. The voice was too clear to be coming from a truck or a car, which meant they must be on foot. He looked at the heavy fall of the snow. No one should be out in this.

Or, Tony is an omega in distress, and Steve is just the alpha-in-shining armour he needs.

[PODFIC] inside my shell-shaped mind by Mizzy by Pywren

Before Ikaris of the Eternals died along with the rest of his people, he gave Tony Stark the power of the Uni-Mind, a power Tony used in order to help stop the Horde from destroying the universe.

The Magistrati are the Living Tribunal's enforcers of Universal Law. They are the judges, jurors, and advocates of the universe. And Tony’s Uni-Mind ability has been judged too dangerous: he must be put to death.

Steve thinks he has a solution. To save Tony's life, he must undergo an intimate version of the Uni-Mind known as the Gann Josin, a type of bonding that creates a mental union between two people...and makes them lifelong soulmates.

Well, it's probably not the oddest way to save someone's life, but it's certainly not going to be easy. Especially when Tony seems determined that the bond should be broken, as soon as possible.

(Set just after War of the Realms #4.)

When I Was New by isozyme

On screen, Kang’s standing on top of a bus in the center of a wrecked intersection. He’s holding a dark-haired, gangly teenager, clearly using the kid as a bargaining chip. At this point, Kang is clearly losing the fight and is looking for an escape route.

Steve winces as Kang hurls his human shield in the direction of the camera and bolts. The poor teen bounces on the pavement, bangs his head, then skids to a rest close enough to make out his face in the video.

Steve almost drops the tablet. The kid is Tony. He’s at least fifteen years younger, mustache barely grown in, and bleeding from his forehead, but -- still Tony.

***She by isozyme

Iron Man is strong and muscular and masculine, and Tony Stark wears a three-piece suit and walks with his hips stiff.  No colors other than navy or muted red. No prints bolder than a pinstripe. No luxurious silks and linens. His outfits are tailored to hang crisp and straight, his slacks hemmed to a conservative medium break.  The public won’t know. Nobody will go digging deeper, for classified ads and witnesses who remember him from half a decade ago. Steve will never find out all the ways Tony’s ruined himself.

The Art of Winning by KandiSheek

During an Avengers bootcamp, Steve gets the mission to make Tony say the words "You win" or "I give up" to Steve specifically. Which would be fine if Tony didn't seem completely incapable of admitting defeat.

In the end, desperate times call for desperate measures. And it's not like it was Steve's idea to play gay chicken. He can hardly be held responsible for the consequences.

***In His Eyes, You’ll Get a Glimpse by ralsbecket 

People tell him it’s supposed to be beautiful, seeing what your Soulmate sees.

Turbulence by KandiSheek

Steve has a major headache, and the businessman douchebag yelling into his phone at the airport isn't helping. There's only so much Steve can stand before he gets up and puts the guy in his place.

Finding out that they're actually seat neighbors is beyond awkward. Especially when Steve's anxiety kicks in as they fly right through a storm.

But as it turns out, the guy isn't as much of a douchebag as Steve first thought.

your kiss is on my list by robertdowneyjjr

The last thing Tony expected when Captain America was unfrozen and came back to life and had a verbal spat with Tony before teaming up to battle an army of aliens together, was for the super soldier to one day show up at the door to his workshop with a bouquet of sunflowers and ask him out on a date.

Teenage-Tony, who had two Cap posters (one in his dorm at MIT and one in his childhood bedroom), a stolen key to Howard’s room full of Cap memorabilia, and his own one-of-a-kind homemade Captain America almanac, would have been thrilled. Adult-Tony, who at the ripe old age of 43 is only now slowly trying to properly address his decades of internalized self-worth issues, thinks this is too good to be true.

rough enough for love by silkspectred

The first time they had sex was right after their first kiss. Steve dropped to his knees and then Tony reciprocated after making Steve lie down on the bed. The second time it was Steve that initiated it, slow handjobs under the hot spray of the shower, and Tony looked surprised by it. Like it was weird that Steve wanted it. Wanted him.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Enough pt. 2

Ted leaves Richmond.

A 3.12 fix-it - Ted Lasso / Rebecca Welton - mature content

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

Ted thought he’d try and catch Rebecca before training finished but when Beard came back down and told him she’d left for the day, he had to reconsider his options. He toyed with going to her house, sitting outside until she’d consider talking to him, but he didn’t want to make things more difficult for her if she was already struggling. He took the late afternoon to spend some time with the team and catch up with them. They were curious about Kansas and how his life was over there without them. 

“Lots of barbeque, yes Coach?” Jan asked with a huge smile.

“That’s right Jan, barbeque places for miles and miles.”

“And how’s Henry?” Jamie asked from across the room.

“He’s doing great thanks Jamie, it’s good to be back with him.”

“Did you get back with the ex?” 

“You can’t ask that!”

“I was just wonderin’! I mean, if you go all that way, there’s gotta be more - right?”

“No, no, just Henry.”

“I used to know a kid who spent each school term in a different country.” Richard said. “His maman was in finance and spent time in London and France, his papa was in oil and spent time in Saudi and Brazil. He spoke like 5 languages.”

“Amazing. I didn’t leave my hometown til I joined Richmond! I didn’t know anything about anywhere or anyone!” Sam said.

“You still don’t pal!” Jamie threw a pair of socks at him.

“Is bueno to know more about places, it’s one of our very great privileges.” Dani smiled. “Henry is very lucky that he got to come here.”

“I mean… he coulda spent more time here though? Shared custody and all that.” Jamie mumbled.

“Yeah well, that wouldn’t have been fair on anyone else. We got family to think about. I can’t just be uprooting Henry cos I felt like it.”

“But you weren’t just anyone though. It’s not like you were some guy with no money or resources. The boss has literally got a private jet - and she ain’t even used it this year! This is one of those situations where you can throw money at it.” Jamie fiddled with the cuffs of his training jersey. “I just think ya coulda stayed.” He looked at the floor. Sam threw the socks back and offered a gentle smile when he looked up.

“I think Jamie just means that we’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed y’all too fellas. I really have.”

“But it’s not enough.” Jan concluded. 

“Jan, mate, even Rebecca fuckin’ Welton weren’t enough. Why’d ya think she’s bendin’ over backwards to make sure everyone is ok except herself? I’m goin’ for a run. Sorry Ted. I have missed ya, I don’t mean to piss on your parade. It just ain’t the same no matter what anyone says.” Jamie left the others behind, with Roy following him out of the door. Ted watched with a frown.

“Sorry Coach. He just misses you. But as long as you have joy in your heart then we are happy for you.” Dani beamed. Ted stayed silent. The team soon dispersed in favour of the gym or showers, Roy returned and gestured towards the office. Ted took up Trent’s old chair and wheeled it to the doorway so he could see both Roy and Beard.

“Boys give you a hard time?” Beard queried.

“No worse than I expected.”

“Looks like we didn’t make sure their instructions were thorough enough then.” Roy growled.

“Royo here told them to go to town on you. Make you feel their love - so to speak.”

“Oh I felt their love. I missed ‘em.”

“I noticed you didn’t answer Dani. And you still haven’t answered me.” Beard pointed out.

“Beard, how can you ask if being with my son makes me happy?”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking. In fact, you’re openly lying to him by keeping up this charade.”

“Don’t call me a liar.”

“If the shoe fits.”

“What’s your aim here, Beardo? You tryin’ to get me angry? What, so I get so mad yellin’ at you that I spill the truth?” Beard watched his closest friend quietly.

“You saved me. And then you kept me going. And then you brought me here and I found the happiness I’d been searching for my whole life. A real, happy life here with you, the team, Jane… All I want is for you to be happy. Truly happy.”

“What if my happiness ain’t about being in Richmond?” Ted asked. Roy snorted.

“What if it is? I ain’t being funny, but when Rebecca told me practically word for word what she’d said to you - I fuckin’ cried like a baby. I’d have bloody, I dunno, married her on the spot if she’d said that shit to me! I just don’t get how you could hear it and it mean nothing to you.”

“It didn’t mean nothin’.” Ted said quietly.

“You’ve an odd way of showing that my friend. And you’ve come a long way to still not know what you actually want. You asked me on the plane if we were doing the right thing - were we crazy? Yes. I can tell you right now, 100% that we were crazy to get on that plane. That’s why I got off.”

“Did I ever tell you about that absolute bollocking Rebecca gave me just before the end of last season when I got Beard to do the press conference instead of me?” Roy asked. The other men shook their heads. “She really gave me an earful. She asked if the plan for the rest of my life was to walk away if it gets hard. She asked what I really wanted. Told me I’d convinced myself that I didn’t deserve anything good. She told me to get out of my own way.”

“A wise woman.”

“She is. So I did as I was told. She was right, she’s always right.”

“Fellas, I came because you both had me worried about her. I always figured that she’d be ok once she’d gotten over the shock, that was the thing upsetting her and she’d soon get over it.”

“She got over the shock. It’s you she can’t get over.”

“Michelle… Michelle agrees with Beard. First time ever - stop the presses!” Ted held his hands up, smiling softly. “I told her what you’d said and she thinks Rebecca might love me.” Roy brought his hands up in a slow, sarcastic clap.

“Well done Coach Obvious. Now tell me why you weren’t brave enough to tell her how you really feel?”

“Cos of Henry. I can’t be an absent dad.”

“Mate. I have known a lifetime of absent dads. In every team, every school, every community there’s the dads - and moms - who aren’t there. You aren’t one of them.”

“But I am if I’m an ocean away.” Roy shook his head firmly.

“No, it’s not about physical absence. It’s up here.” He tapped his head. “In the wise words of Rebecca Welton, get out of your own head man.” Before Ted could reply, Leslie appeared at the window.

“Ooh, is this a diamond dogs situation?” He asked.

“No, no. I don’t deserve to be a diamond dog today, Higgy. Good to see you.” Ted got up to hug the shorter man.

“Once a dog, always a dog Ted. And I’m firmly team Roy based on what I’ve just heard. My boys know that they can reach me whenever they need to, I don’t have to be hovering around them every minute of the day.”

“Thanks. Hey, how’s the boss doin’?”

“It’s been a strange day. Bury your ex-husband and then the love of your life turns up unexpectedly… It’s a lot. I suspect she’s recovering with a glass of wine in the garden.” He’d lost Ted somewhere around the ‘love of your life’ mark…

Rebecca was indeed in the garden. Stretched out on a blanket, eyes closed against the sun. She was doing some breathing exercises Sharon had recommended. As Rebecca continued to refuse to make an appointment, Sharon had instead sent through some guided meditation suggestions. Though she’d laughed them off at the time, they had been useful on particularly dark nights when sleep was harder to come by than usual. When her tears had run out but she’d still not managed to fall asleep. When she was so exhausted that not even a couple of shots of whiskey tipped her into a dreamless sleep. Or if she did sleep briefly, but woke in the night drenched in sweat and not remotely rested. She listened to the soothing voice via the earbuds, tried to feel it deep in her bones and tried to follow the instructions. She could feel it starting to work, starting to relax her. Until a call interrupted the app with a slight buzz. She tapped her ear to answer the call, expecting Keeley.

“Hey Becca. I’m outside, can I come in?” Hearing Ted’s deep voice directly into her ear after so long… she felt lightning coursing through her veins and she sprung up off the blanket. She cleared her throat, scratchy after spending the last couple of hours in blissful silence.

“The gate’s open.” She pulled the buds from her ears and stood up to greet him, finally. It wasn’t until he’d rounded the corner into the garden that she noticed just how short her shorts were, and how thin her vest was. And how the wide neck and arm holes of the baggy vest exposed her plain black bra underneath. “Shit. Shit shit shit.” She tried to drag the blanket up from the ground but it caught under her foot and twisted around her calf, pulling her leg out from under her. She could feel herself falling forwards but Ted caught her with one hand at her elbow and one around her waist.

“Woah, you ok?” The blanket pooled around her feet, Ted kept his eyes on hers.

“Yes. Yeah, just realised how underdressed I am, I was trying to cover up a bit.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I can go?” 

“No. No, please don’t. Just… just let me change. Make us some drinks?” She stepped carefully away from the blanket and into the house. She could still feel the heat from his hands on her skin, his breath on her shoulder. She hadn’t been able to look at him, hadn’t wanted to see her own reflection in his sunglasses lenses. She retreated to her room and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a more suitable vest. God she hoped he’d gone for the booze, she’d need the kind of courage only supplied by alcohol to get through this. She’d spent ten long weeks scrolling straight past the photos Keeley forwarded to her, avoided looking at his picture on the wall of fame corridor. She quite literally hadn’t laid eyes on him in all that time. Stepping into the kitchen was like a weird reverse deja vu of the morning after he, Beard and Jane had stayed the night. He’d looked so good that morning, if waking up to that every day was an option she’d take it every time. She’d been able to hear Beard and Jane through the walls that night, she’d wondered if Ted could hear them too. That night was the first and only time she’d willingly let her mind wander to how Ted’s hands might feel on her, whether his mustache would tickle against her skin. Her hand had slipped down into her pajama shorts as she pictured him above her, pressing hot kisses into her throat and gripping her hips, the weight of his body on hers. She shook off the memory and watched as he poured her a gin and tonic. The Kansan sun had given him a tan, he’d taken his sunglasses off and she could finally see the deep hazel of his eyes.

“You prefer gin in the summer, right?”

“I do, yes. Thanks.” She took a long drink, trying to buy a little extra time. 

“I’m sorry about Rupert. I hope you’ve been ok? And I hope Bex is coping?”

“Thank you. I can’t say I’m not unaffected by it. I was married to him after all. I just feel relieved, actually. He’s never going to appear when I least expect it. Never going to tell me in some underhand way that I’m not dressed appropriately or suggest that I’ve put weight on or I’m looking old. It’s nice to be free of that.”

“I’ll bet. How was the service?”

“I didn’t get to Rick-Roll anyone.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“I know.” She offered a tiny smile, an olive branch. They sat quietly for a few minutes, Rebecca reached for her phone. Ted had brought it in with him along with the blanket which he’d folded and put on the table. She put on a generic 90s playlist through her speaker system and turned the volume down. She took a steadying breath and turned to watch him for a moment over the rim of her glass. He looked tired, his tan was slightly lighter around his eyes. It was strange to see him out of his Richmond kit, in just a simple blue t-shirt. He either hadn’t styled his hair, or he’d been pulling at it all day. He looked softer. He looked breathtaking. She looked at his hands around his glass of gin, big hands with pianist fingers. She found herself wondering if he’d ever played a musical instrument, of all the silly questions. She felt that she knew so much about him, but so little at the same time. “So… how’s Kansas? How’s Henry?”

“Kansas generally is ok, hot. Unchanged. Henry is… well he’s mad at me. Turns out he’s been confiding in Beardo.”

“At least he’s been talking to someone. Why is he mad at you? I’m surprised he’s not over the moon that you’re-” she couldn’t bring herself to say home, “there. With him.”

“Oh he is, I think. He’s mad that I left.”

“Ah. Missing his jetset lifestyle.”

“Somethin’ like that. He’s got it in his head that I’m not happy.”

“Are you?”

“If I had a dollar for everytime someone had asked me that damn question in the last week.”

“I suppose they’d stop asking if you answered it.”

“S’pose they would.” He looked at her, tracing the pattern on her glass with her fingertip. “How about you? Are you happy?” a breath of laughter, an exhale as Trent called it.

“I’m fine.”

“Bet you can’t look me in the eye and say that.”

“Why should I have to? I’m not the one that left.” Anger flashed across her face.

“Ouch. Yep, I deserved that one.”

“You don’t need or get to know how I am or how I’m feeling.”

“Now hold on, I’m still your friend-”

“I can’t be your friend, Ted. Not right now. Maybe one day, but not now. I can’t be the woman pining over her best friend for all eternity.” She rolled her eyes. “I need space so that I can move on, and then maybe I could be your friend again.” The tension rose up between them like a wall. Gin fuelled honesty tumbled from Rebecca like a waterfall, “I need to make myself understand and believe that I am enough, just as I am. I can’t do that if I’m busy being a friend to someone who thinks I’m not enough. I have friends here who do believe in me, I’m choosing them.” She finished her drink and moved around the kitchen island to get another. 

“You are enough, Rebecca.”

“Clearly not. Clearly I’m missing or not understanding something very fundamental because when I’m with you, it’s like I can finally breathe, and it’s been like that for so long now I hardly noticed it happening. And now you’re not here and I have to learn to breathe again. It’s like I’m fucking suffocating in my own sadness, I’m pitiful.”

“Why didn’t you tell-”

“No. No, don’t you dare ask me why I didn’t tell you. I think I made my feelings perfectly fucking clear before you left. Multiple times. What do you need? Shall I get the lads to lie down on the pitch and spell it out? Get them to perform a dance number? You’re good with the public declarations, you tell me.”

“I’m sorry. I was… blinded by what I thought I needed to do. I couldn’t bring myself to believe what you were saying. I pushed it away, put it down to the leaving blues.”

“You truly thought I’d lie to you to keep you here? That I’d lie about how much I fucking love you?”

“I don’t know what I thought. I know you wouldn’t lie to me, but I believed that I was too much. I am too much.”

“Too much of an idiot, Ted Lasso. You are a ridiculous and infuriating man and my god, I wish I hadn’t said anything. If I could take it back, I would.”

“Just the words?”

“What?”

“Would you take back just the words or would you not… love me, if you had the chance?” Ted stumbled over the words.

“Not loving you is not an option, but I can’t keep dragging my heart out here to keep getting ignored. I shouldn’t have said what I did, regardless of how I feel. I shouldn’t have suggested you to stay, and we’d both be living in blissful ignorance.” Rebecca pressed a shaking hand to her forehead, the ice from the glass she’d been holding cooling her down. “I can’t keep doing this Ted. I’m tired. I’m so tired. You either feel the same, or you don’t, and I think I know which it is. I need you to go and get out of my life so I can get over you. I can’t do it while you're here haunting me. If you were any friend then you would accept that.” Her voice trembled. “I think you should leave now, please?” She turned away from him slightly, leaning on the island with one hand, the other coming down from her forehead to cover her eyes.

Ted felt his blood ignite. He’d been the one blindsided by leaving, not her. Pushing everything but Henry to one side, ignoring his own intuition and every cosmic suggestion at the expense of ‘doing the right thing’. He hadn’t checked in with his heart and gut. It had taken Beard, Henry, Michelle, Roy and Beard again to drag him back to the UK. But it had taken Rebecca for him to really see what was right in front of him all along. The one who’d been there from the start, who’d matched him measure for measure in personal growth and overcoming history. The one who’s baggage lined up perfectly with his. Her. 

"Holy shit." He whispered. 

"God, what now?!"

"Ask me again." Rebecca looked incredulous. "Ask me if I'm happy?" She shook her head. 

"Fine. Are you happy, Ted? Are you fucking happy?"

"No. No I'm fucking not, I'm miserable. Miserable and stupid - so stupid. I love you. I've always loved you, it's always been you." Rebecca shook her head again. 

"No, don't say it because you think it's the right thing to do. That's cruel Ted, don't be cruel."

"Baby, I'm done doing things because I think they're the right thing to do. My barometer of the right thing to do is way, way off. You're the right thing. Henry is happiest when he has two parents who are happy, and that isn't necessarily in the same town, or even the same country. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, Becca." Tears streamed down Ted's face. Rebecca was in front of him in an instant, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. One of his hands found her hip and pulled her even closer while the other went into her hair. Their foreheads meet, she was shorter without her killer heels so she had to reach up to kiss the tears away. He laughed softly before holding her still so he could kiss her properly. Her knees gave out and the hand on her hip moved to wrap around her waist to hold her up. His fingertips brushed across her lower back, making her gasp and allowing him to deepen the kiss. He nipped her bottom lip and she carded her hands through his hair, pulling gently. He turned them both on the spot and backed her into the island, pressing his whole body against her before trailing kisses down her jawline. She leaned back to give him more access, pushing her core against him. With the counter holding her up, he moved a hand back to her hip, again, pulling her as closely as possible. She ground her hips against him.

"You are such a ridiculous man." She managed to mutter. He hummed against her skin somewhere around her collarbone. 

"But I'm your ridiculous man. Is this ok, do you want to stop?" Rebecca moaned.

"I swear to god Ted, if you stop I'll personally put you on the next plane to Kansas and arrange for you to be barred from ever coming back." He paused fully to laugh. "Please don't stop, Ted" She whined. He quickly turned his attention back to her. 

"I got you baby, I'm not going anywhere." 

She grasped at the hem of his t-shirt, pulled it up and over his head and let it drop on the floor. She ran her hands up his arms and into his hair again, planting mirroring kisses to his shoulder and neck as he had to her. 

"If I knew you kissed like this, I'd have done it a long time ago." She bit his jaw, making him growl and bring her lips back to his. 

"We could have had more time, I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"Stop saying sorry, just, ohh-" she lost all coherent thought as his hand moved up to cup her breast over her vest, grazing across her nipple.

"Just what, honey?" She didn't reply, only moved slightly so that his knee was between her legs. He read her mind and pushed his thigh against her center. The change meant she could feel his length pressing into her hip, giving them both the friction they were craving. She sighed happily. With her caged between his thigh and the kitchen counter, he freed his hands to remove her vest and didn't waste any time in unclipping her bra as well. 

"Please Ted, I need you. I've needed you for so long."

"You thought about this?"

"Once or twice." She traced a hand around the waistband of his khaki shorts, popping the button. "Less so recently. It made me too sad to think I'd never have this. Never have you." He cupped her cheek gently and kissed her again.

"Well, I'm going to make it up to you. Again and again and again. Becca I've dreamed of this since the day I met you."

"Less talking, show me." She started to push the shorts down but he held her hands against the counter.

"Patience, Welton." He murmured, pulling the straps of her bra down her arms and following their trail with kisses. He reached down to pick her up, a squeal of surprise in his ear and her arms looped around his neck, he carried her the few steps to the table where she could sit more comfortably, and he could see and reach all of her. Once he'd put her down, he took a half step back just to look at her. "Jeez,  Rebecca. You're so beautiful." He reached for her quickly, kissing her briefly before dipping to her breasts. "So fucking beautiful." She heard him whisper against her skin, making her shiver. He gently pushed her to lie back on the table and continued to kiss and nip a path down her stomach. She squirmed beneath him, but at feeling his fingers hook onto the waistband of her sweatpants and underwear, she stopped to look at him. He'd rested his chin on her hip bone and was gazing up her body, a silent question in his eyes. She nodded and lifted her bottom slightly off the table so he could remove them. She flushed, embarrassed. Sensing as much, he took her hand, pulled her back to sitting up and kissed her. "Would it help if I tell you that it's just as overwhelming for me to see you like this, as it is for you to be as exposed as this?" She laughed a little and kissed him back. 

"It's been a while, that's all. And probably never as intense?" He nodded, understanding. 

"I know baby, it's been a slow burn." She tried once again to drag his shorts off, but he was quick to stop her. "But it'll be over much too soon if you have your way. Now, keep your hands to yourself, lay back and let me make you feel good, sweetheart." He smirked as she leaned back on her elbows, propped up so she could see him. He placed her legs over his shoulders and littered kisses from her knees up her thighs, settling at her center. With a final glance up at her, he traced his tongue through her folds before teasing her clit. A flurry of expletives and moans tumbled from her, she lay back again, unable to support herself on shaking arms. Instinctively, she reached down to run her hands through his hair again, he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to his mouth. 

"God, Ted!" Her breath caught in a gasp. He palmed himself through his shorts. He kissed and licked random paths across her sensitive core before slipping two fingers inside her. He moaned, pressing his lips against her clit, his mustache gently scratching her. He curled his fingers and pumped them inside her, feeling her unravel around him. She came harder than she expected, with his tongue at her clit and his fingers guiding her through. He watched her throughout, with dark eyes. She lay utterly boneless on the table. He took her hand to help her sit up, "Please, Ted. You're killing me, I need you inside me." She pulled him closer with shaking hands,

"Fuck, Becca what a way to go. That was more than I ever imagined." He let his khakis and boxers fall to the floor. Rebecca put all thoughts out of her mind, but she couldn't help but remember Sassy's comments on Ted which were for once, 100% correct. Rebecca hesitated before taking him in hand. She leaned in to kiss him, tasting herself on his mouth. He bucked against her, "Do we need-" Rebecca cut him off with another kiss.

"I'm clear. You?" He nodded. She lined him up, and he pushed slowly inside her. Her head fell into the crook of his neck with a low moan, "Good god, Ted." Once he'd bottomed out inside her, he nipped her shoulder, marking her skin and began twisting his tongue around her nipple. She grabbed his biceps while her body relaxed around him. 

"Ok?" She nodded against him. 

"This feels so… so good. Please, I need you to move, I need you-" He cut her off with a kiss, "I love you." She breathed, brushing a hand across his cheek. 

"I love you." He rocked into her, agonisingly slowly at first, he could feel the tension building inside her again at the way she grasped at his arms and met him with every thrust.

“More.” She managed to groan into his ear, placing a wet kiss to the corner of his mouth. He set a punishing pace, barely slowing as she came again and clenched around him. He slipped a hand between them and pressed against her clit,

“Come on baby, one more for me.”

“Fuck, Ted don’t stop-” They clung to each other as he ground hard against her. With a final push, he spilled into her but didn’t let up the pace - determined to see her fall apart again. He captured her in a hot kiss as she came a final time with his name on her lips. She leaned against him, unable to hold her body upright any longer. 

��God, Becca you’re gorgeous. That was incredible.” She shivered against him and he reached behind her to get the blanket he’d brought in earlier, wrapping it around her shoulders. She looped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his pounding heart. 

“I don’t think I can move.” She mumbled.

“You don’t gotta, baby, I got you.” He stepped out from the grip of her thighs and took one last look down her body before pulling on his boxers and handing her his t-shirt. She pushed the blanket away and dragged the t-shirt over her head. “Well, that won’t take long then.” He chucked.

“What won’t?” She smiled, sweeping her hair from her face.

“Til I’m ready for you again, seeing you in my clothes is… a sight. And we’ve got some time to make up for.”

“Well this is a side of Ted Lasso I didn’t expect to see” She grinned, finally hopping down from the table and coming up behind him.

“I don’t have to hide how much I want you anymore, so I don’t intend to.”

“Hmm. Same.” She kissed between his shoulder blades and reached over for her long forgotten drink, downing the contents. On the counter, her phone buzzed with a call. She answered it, leaving it on speaker phone.

“Hey babes, how’re you feeling? Do you want me to bring some food over?” Keeley asked kindly.

“I’m ok thanks Keeley. I’m feeling much... better.”

“Oh good, have you eaten?” Rebecca smirked.

“Not yet. Maybe later.”

“You should eat, you’ll make yourself ill.”

“I could eat, and she’s right - you should eat. I’ll order something.” Ted spoke up.

“Ok, menus are over there.” She pointed to the other side of the kitchen.

“Rebecca?”

“Yes Keeley, sorry, I forgot you were there for a second.”

“Ted’s there?” Keeley stage whispered.

“I am indeed Ms Jones. Shall I invite her for dinner?”

“Good idea. Want to come over Keeley? Just give me half hour to umm… choose us something and call an order through.” Keeley didn’t answer. “Keeley?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be there. Shall I bring Roy and Beard?” She squeaked. Ted nodded,

“Sure, sounds good. See you soon.” Rebecca hit the end call button and collapsed into giggles. “Think she knows?”

“Oh, almost certainly. You order food, I’ll go and start the shower.” Ted couldn’t help but watch Rebecca leave the room, his t-shirt barely covering her. He called for food and cleaned up after them before following her upstairs, determined to make the half hour count.

Keeley, Roy and Beard were on the doorstep before dinner - but only just. Keeley took one look at Rebecca and squealed.

“I fucking knew it! Holy shit girl, you look thoroughly fucked - nice one, Ted!” Rebecca shook her head with a smile, holding the door open wide for them all. The late summer sun had gone down but it was still warm so they moved out to the garden to eat and drink.

“So,” Beard said, pointing his beer at Ted. “If I ask again?” Ted gestured for him to continue. “Are you happy?”

“I am now.” The small group cheered and raised their glasses and bottles.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Nope.”

“How long will you stay?”

“Indefinitely.” Ted smiled and leaned across his seat to kiss Rebecca.

“Whoo! Yesss, Julia Roberts. We are not letting you go again!” Keeley grinned.

“We absolutely are not.” Rebecca agreed, taking his hand.

“You gotta get a new job though. You ain’t havin’ mine.” Roy grumbled.

[haezen]

slytherin!atsumu x ravenclaw!fem reader ♡ part one

hogwarts au :D 

i love the idea of slytherin atsumu so i had to write it for myself!! this is my first time posting my writing on tumblr so i hope you like it.

part one | part two 

“Can I help you?” Tsukishima asked starkly. Your attention shifted from the potions book in front of you to the figure hovering over the table. 

There, to the right of you, was Slytherin’s star Quidditch player: Miya Atsumu. 

Atsumu sported a playful lopsided grin on his face; a grin that irritated your best friend, Tsukishima, to no end. He was up to no good and you could easily notice from the mischievous glint he held in his big brown eyes. 

Everyone in Hogwarts knew the Miya twins, but Miya Atsumu was a unique kind of famous. He was an extraordinary Quidditch player that often garnered a lot of attention in any game he played. Watching him play was exhilarating and he sold many tickets because people would go out of their way to attend the games he played in. Even though he was well known for being such a talented athlete, he was more well known around Hogwarts for always getting in some sort of trouble. Atsumu could charm anyone and get out of anything with just his charming smile.

Girls would line up for him after his games, crowd the Slytherin section, and wear the Slytherin scarf around their necks even if they were in other houses. As he walked through the corridors, heads would turn if Miya Atsumu passed by. Hushed whispers of his name would reach his ears everywhere he went. Atsumu would always smile at everyone he encountered and say something flirty to any girl that bat her eyelashes at him. 

Apparently, he even manages to charm the professors who are cursed to have him in their classes. All it takes are a few smooth words and a flash of his award-winning smile for him to get his way. And he always gets his way.

“Yeah ya can actually..” Atsumu started, glancing over his shoulder at his friends sat at the Slytherin table (who were staring at him intensely with amused looks on their faces) “I was wonderin’ yanno, like I usually do...”

“Spit it out so we can study in peace. It would be a miracle to study without hearing your grating voice a second longer.” Tsukishima’s words had no effect on the phony blonde but their eye contact proved otherwise. Both boys were sizing each other up through intense glares. Their eyes were saying something unknown to you.

 “As I was sayin’...” Atsumu huffs, “I was wonderin’ if yer beautiful minds would be up to the task.” He said while putting his foot up on the bench and resting his elbow on his thigh so he could lean a little closer to the two of you. Atsumu had to finish this up quickly. 

At the mere mention of challenge, Tsukishima’s interest was piqued. Your watchful eyes observed the glimpse of excitement flash in your friend’s expression. Tsukishima’s tells were subtle and if you were to put it simply, you could read your cold, emotionless friend like a book. After spending all these years by his side, you would not be able to call yourself his best friend if you could not do something as simple as read his body language. 

“What is it, Miya?” You turned your body towards the Quidditch player, completely forgetting about the potions book you had your nose in only a minute ago. 

His eyes met yours in an instant. To have his attention, if only for a couple of minutes, was incredibly suffocating. Atsumu’s gaze was captivating and in this moment, you understood why he has charmed so many people. To admit this to anyone was to utterly admit defeat. To admit that Atsumu might have caught your interest was the last thing you wanted. You did not want to be another girl added to his very, very long list.

You wanted this encounter to be over as soon as it started and Tsukishima shared the same sentiment. The three of you were all aware of the attention Atsumu had drawn to the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall. Everyone was supposed to be quietly studying, but more often than not, most of the students ended up conversing as quietly as they could without getting in trouble. Depending on the professor, some study hall sessions could get rowdy. But today was Snape’s turn to supervise.

“What is Atsumu doing talking to them?” 

“Doesn’t Tsukishima hate Miya? Hahahaha....he looks so bothered.”

“Why is Atsumu talking to (Name)? He should come over here instead...”

You tuned out all the whispers that had failed to do their job-- you could very well hear what they were saying and then some. From hearing people whispering and knowing their attention was on you made you feel uneasy. So uneasy that a sour look began to show on your face. Atsumu pretended not to notice.

“Are you just gonna stand there or what?” Tsukishima pointed out. “I’m sick of smelling your Slytherin stench from here.” 

Tsukishima always knew exactly what to say to grind someone’s gears, especially Atsumu. Anytime Atsumu was in the vicinity, Tsukishima would tense up. Whenever you tried to pry for information, you were shut down. There was no telling what had happened between the two boys but you figured it must have been something serious for Tsukishima to hold such a grudge. 

Atsumu’s smile faded as soon as Tsukishima’s snarky comment left his mouth. But before he could respond, a loud voice boomed from the other side of the hall.

“Mr. Miya!”

Everyone in the Great Hall flinched at Snape’s stern tone except for Atsumu and Tsukishima. 

“(Name)...” Atsumu broke his intense eye contact with Tsukishima and turned to you with a forced smile. “I’ll find ya after potions tomorrow.”

[sovtwords]

a king and his pawns

pairing: kita shinsuke x reader x miya atsumu warnings: 18+, royalty!au, threesome (M/M/F), bisexuality, anal, double penetration, hand jobs, blow jobs, doggystyle, kissing with cum, dom/sub undertones, fluff, established relationship w/c: 7.7k a/n: -AO3 LINK HERE- This is a little side-story thing I wrote for a royal!au I haven't actually gotten around to writing yet so WELP. It's fine tho, this was written for Kita's bday and he deserves it. LOVE YOU!! This fic features men engaging in sexual acts together so if that ain't your cup of tea then feel free to back out if you're uncomfortable! I'm bad at writing smut anyway, you'd probably be doing yourself a favour lmao. Regardless, enjoy!! Please lemme know what you think.

Kita Shinsuke was stressed. It’s not often the King loses his cool, but it seems as though life wishes to taunt him this week. Trade with Corvus has momentarily stopped due to an internal dispute meaning the Kingdom will be low on textiles for the unforeseeable future, a sudden drought has put the crops at risk, and Ginjima continues to test his patience with every new raid on the homesteads just outside of the kingdoms border - not within where Kita can arrest him, but close enough to be a thorn in his side.

He’s so very tired and so very alone, and everyone sees it as they convene for weekly meetings. They eye him with worry, yet he shrugs off every word of concern with the grace as befitting his title, though his Masters of War and Prosperity respectively eye him the most, the worry so potent on Lady Miya’s face he feels a warmth blooming in his chest. She even dares to lay a comforting hand on her king, and he allows only her to disregard her courtesies (not that she would ever forget them) and touch him. It’s nice to be treated well.

The meeting ends, and Kita is so close to retiring to his balcony to rest for a while until he notices that the happily married couple stay. “Ya alright there, Kita?” Atsumu asks, opting to drop all formalities and talk as friends like when they were younger. Kita’s glad for it.

“I’m fine,” he lies, and knows it wasn’t very convincing with the way they stare in disbelief. “Things are just tense right now. I’m sure we’re all feeling it,” he elaborates. Lady Miya takes his hand in hers once more, small fingers gripping tightly onto his. He keeps his eyes trained on them.

“That’s right, but you don’t have to burden this alone. It’s why you have your council. And you don’t have to hide anything from us. We’re here to listen to you, my King, so please – share your worries with us, so that you might feel better.”

Ah. His heart clenches with affection, and a soft smile grows on his face when he looks at the earnestness in your gaze, thumb idly stroking your fingers and momentarily forgetting that your husband is still in the room, sitting just to his left. But it’s so easy to forget that when his attention is focused on the right of the table, when Atsumu himself hasn’t said a word when normally he would screech if anyone dared get chummy with his wife, King or not.

“Thank you, my Lady. It warms my heart to know that you care so deeply,” he says carefully, pulling back with a quiet sigh. “But I’m fine, truly. I find that reading the books that you gifted to me helps me to relax.”

“I know another way ya might relax,” Atsumu interrupts before his wife gets sucked into a long conversation about stories.

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s something more suited for behind the doors of your chambers, if ya catch my drift,” Atsumu smirks, while his Lady looks appalled. Kita feels the tips of his ears burn but keeps his expression as stony as ever.

“That’s crude, Atsumu. And you know that I’m averse to…” he trails off awkwardly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. Atsumu laughs.

“I know ya don’t take concubines. But that doesn’t stop ya from reading the spicier books in the library, does it?”

“What’s yer point, Atsumu?” He asks bluntly. Better to get whatever trick he has planned over and done with. The blonde smirks, eyes shifting between himself and his wife.

“Was just wonderin’ if ya wanted a private show, that’s all. My Lady here makes for quite the spectacle. Just a way for ya to destress.”

Lady Miya gasps loudly, a blush burning on her face as she stares at her husband in complete shock while Kita’s heart stalls in his chest.

Watch his friends while they… No. That’s a boundary he should not cross. No matter how many times his eyes have slipped downwards to where your chest is pushed upwards by the corsets of your newer dresses, or how smooth your neck looked when you lean over to discuss reports with him, he…no. Such intimacy should belong in their bedroom, not his. Right?

“Atsumu, that's not a funny joke. You should watch your mouth and apologise to your wife for embarrassing her“

“Hold on now, your highness, she didn’t say no.”

Kita blinks. Looking to where she sits, he sees the obvious humiliation on her face, clear as day as the heat on her cheeks. But with it, a look of conflict, a spark of curiosity in your eyes when they lock with his.

“I…If it pleases my King, then I don’t mind. I would do anything for my King,” she says resolutely, and the way your voice grows airy every time she speaks of his title sends sparks straight to his groin. He swallows harshly, opens and closes his mouth a few times as he feels the heat of Atsumu’s smirk boring down on him. It had definitely been a while since he’d done anything of that nature, but… was this really ok?

It’s silent for what seems like forever. Eventually Kita calls out to the servant standing outside the council room.

“Find the largest chaise you can find and have it delivered to my room. I want it there by tonight.”

God’s above, save him. He was really going through with this.

- - - - - - - -

Night has fallen, the castle is quiet.

He doesn’t know how he should act. It seems as though nobody except Atsumu knows how to act, if the way Lady Miya sits with her back straight as a pillar and arms folded politely in her lap was any indication. Atsumu lounges against the chaise in front of Kita’s bed with a drink in one hand and fingers twirling through the sash of your robe in the other , waiting for either Kita or his wife to make any sort of move, though it seems as though their nerves have gotten the best of them.

“Shy, Kita?” the blonde Lord asks. Kita gives an embarrassed furrow of his brows, but stays quiet. Atsumu chuckles. “Well then. Does my King agree to let me be the one in charge tonight?”

How treacherous of Atsumu to ask, but with no real idea on how to go about this, Kita relinquishes control with a mute nod of his head. Better to let Atsumu take the reins than for him to accidentally cross a boundary he was unsure of. Atsumu downs his wine in record time, and moves to place it on a nearby dresser before returning to his Lady. He takes hold of your face with such reverence and love that Kita has to look away and swallow down the bitter jealousy swirling like bile in his gut. He hears Atsumu whisper some reassurances to you, and nimble fingers undo the sash around your waist.

You stand up at Atsumu’s request, and he takes your spot on the chaise, posted in front of the King for his viewing pleasure. “Didn’t want ya to miss this,” Lord Miya says, and swiftly loosens your robes, letting them pool around your feet and laying bare your silky and soft flesh for Kita to see. Dark eyes rove over plump breasts, wide hips and thick thighs, and he’s convinced that no concubine in the world could ever compete with the beauty standing in front of him, made all the more sweeter that you’re a coveted treasure by your husband, making Kita the only other man to ever see you like this. It makes his cock twitch in his breeches, and makes Atsumu smile devilishly because he knows the effect this is having on his superior.

Your gasp alerts him to the fingers that have slipped between your legs from behind to cup your sex, brushing against the light hair that Kita wants nothing more than to bury his face in right now. “She’s as sweet as a peach, this one,” Atsumu coos, pressing all the right buttons and gifting Kita with moans and sighs that Angels would blush to hear. “As wet as one, too. Let’s show King Kita, shall we?”

Without prodding you sit in Atsumu’s lap and allow him to spread your legs wide, and the candlelight makes the slick gathering on your cunt and thighs glisten, Kita’s brain faltering at the sight. His body grows hot with want, with need , and he nearly rips his shirt off of his body, composure slipping with each second that passes. Atsumu offered to let him watch, but now he’s not sure if he’s content to be just a bystander.

You hum and squeal when Atsumu pushes two of his fingers past your folds, pushing in and out at a gentle pace that you’re no doubt familiar with as he prepares you for greater things to come. “Yer so quiet, Kita. Are ya not enjoying yourself?”

The Lady  looks at him then, a gentle pinch to her brows. “Are you…not satisfied with me, my King?”

Atsumu flashes an exaggerated pout over your shoulder. “Yeah, my King. After exposin’ my wife like this for ya, is she not enough?”

“She’s beautiful,” he chokes, clears his throat but it has little effect with how thick with lust his voice has grown. “She’s perfect.”

The smile on your pretty little face does funny things with his head.

“Ya hear that, my love?” Atsumu holds you close and rocks you side to side. “The King thinks yer beautiful. I dunno if many ladies can say that. Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you, my King. I’m honoured,” you grin. Kita gives you a small smile in return, though it falters at the edges when Atsumu catches you off guard and thrusts his fingers into you with great speed. It sounds wet and hot and Kita’s hand wraps around the bulge in his pants, stiff and begging to be touched, especially when the usually composed Lady Miya in front of him whimpers and pants like you’re in heat, moving your hips in sensual ways and locking eyes with Kita to steal the air from his lungs.

“A-Atsumu!” you gasp, wrapping a hand behind you to grasp the hair of your husband, but the smirk stays on his face, enjoying your plight. “Be gentle!”

“You love it,” he shushes you, planting kisses on your neck and biting down on your shoulder when you grow too rowdy. “Besides, we promised King Kita a good show, didn’t we? I have to prepare ya, don’t want ya cryin’ because yer tight hole wasn’t ready to be filled.”

You moan loudly when Atsumu brushes over your clitoris roughly, small hands moving to cover your mouth, and it’s the final push Kita needed to remove his trousers and take his cock in hand.

You watch in silence as he undresses, eyes immediately zoning in on the length and girth of his member, biting your lip for a different reason than when your husband removes his fingers from your core. Atsumu brings them up to the light to look at them curiously. They’re soaked from knuckle to fingertip, and when he pulls them apart tendrils of your slick keep them connected. Kita’s overcome with the desire to touch it, to touch you, see how you taste.

The smile Atsumu gives him sends chills through his body, as if his Master of War had read his mind.

“I think he wants a taste, my sweet,” Atsumu rubs soothing circles into your hip with his free hand, keeping his calculating eyes on his King. “What do you think?”

“The King can have whatever he wants,” is your answer, hiding a smile in your husband’s jawline while he laughs. Fuck, they were going to drive Kita insane. What surprises him even more, is instead of offering your pussy for Kita to lose himself in, Atsumu holds out his hand, like offering his fealty to the King once more as he had sworn so long ago.

“Then by all means, have a taste.”

There is a moment where it’s entirely too silent save for the heavy breathing Lady Miya is trying to get under control. A million thoughts run through Kita’s mind as his eyes flicker between Atsumu’s fingers, his childhood friends’ face, and the naked woman before him. It feels like entirely new territory, uncharted waters that Kita has only thought about dipping his toes into before running back out for fear of falling too deep into the water.

But in Atsumu’s eyes there's nothing but trust and desire, and in your eyes there's encouragement and adoration. His heart hammers in his chest, and burns with the overwhelming love and support from his closest. It makes his limbs move before his brain can catch up, leaning forward with his mouth opening while Atsumu’s grin grows wider, taking the digits in his mouth before hesitation can settle.

It’s strange, to suck on your best friend’s fingers, long and thick in his mouth, calloused from years of sword fighting as his tongue brushes against the pads of his fingertips. He can barely taste the saltiness of his skin though, as your sweet juices invade his senses like a summer wine, pure and sweet like the woman they came from. He grabs hold of Atsumu’s wrist when he makes to remove them, licking and scraping his teeth on them in a way that makes Atsumu’s breath hitch with widened eyes, and Kita mentally records it as a win before slowly releasing with a pop, lines of spit breaking the further away Kita gets as he takes his place on his bed once more, precum leaking from his slit.

It is Lady Miya who breaks Atsumu out of his trance with a gentle hand cupping his cheek and turning his attention back to the situation at hand. The smile on your face is light-hearted, if not mischievous, a gleam to your eye letting Kita know that you enjoyed what you just witnessed. “I think, dear husband, I’m ready to get fucked hard for the King.”

An impish grin blooms on Atsumu’s flushed face immediately at his wife’s forwardness. Honestly, Kita had never expected the Lady to be this way. You had always been on the reserved side, befitting your rank and lessons in etiquette. Quiet, polite, spoke when spoken to. If someone had told him a few years ago when Atsumu had introduced you to Kita when you were still giving the twins lessons in etiquette that he would be witnessing you in such a lewd position and answering all of the fantasies he had locked away, he would have almost laughed out loud at the absurd notion.

Funny how life works.

“Should we let his Royal Highness choose how I do it?” The blonde pushes his hair out of his eyes, and both Lord and Lady Miya look at him, eyes alight with interest.

“I…,” Kita clears his throat, brain bringing forth images of every position imaginable. He squeezes the base of his cock. Save it for the grand finale. “I want the Lady on her hands and knees facing me.”

That causes Atsumu to laugh in delight.

“Ah, takin’ her from behind, like mounting a bitch in heat,” he snorts. You pout at the language, but Atsumu kisses it away, lips pressing lightly against the bridge of your nose until you’re smiling again. “Never would’ve assumed ya liked it that way. Not very proper, is it?” Atsumu comments.

“Are you here to question your King on what he likes in bed, or are you going to deliver on your promise and show me somethin’ good?” Kita remarks.

Atsumu delivers another laugh as he lifts his wife off of his lap and places her onto the soft, cushioned chaise lounge as promised, knees spread apart and encouraging you to lean onto your elbows.

For a moment, as Atsumu undresses, he regrets not choosing a position that allows him to watch more closely as he enters in and out of you, but any complaints he has dies when Atsumu spits into his hand and rubs at his stiff member, lining it up with your entrance. Kita nearly cums all over his hand when he locks eyes with the woman across from him as Atsumu pushes in with a sigh of relief, no doubt seeking any sort of pleasure for his aching cock just like Kita. At least he has a pussy to bury himself in. King Kita just has his fist.

Your eyes flutter as Atsumu goes deeper into your tight cavern, groaning and furrowing your brows while you clutch onto the chair beneath you. You whimper when he bottoms out, and are only given a moment to adjust while Atsumu looks at Kita in question.

‘Shall I start?’, he seems to say.

Kita nods, and watches in perverse fascination as Atsumu rears his hips back and thrusts forward once more, making you choke on a scream as he sets a relentless pace, not holding anything back.

Your moans mix with yelps and screams of pleasure as your husband pounds into you from behind, round hands on soft hips and curls loosening from where they were pinned back on your head. Kita’s eyes stay glued to where your tits bounce with the force, hand finally giving him some relief and stroking his weeping cock, unwinding some of the tension in his shoulders and stoking the fire in his gut. He wants to reach out and fondle your chest, your nipples, but stays his hand, fear of crossing that damned boundary getting to him.

Atsumu is loud, he realises, almost as loud as his wife is right now. He groans and he growls like a wild animal, so overcome by the feeling of his Lady, of everything that she is, and praises fall from his lips like the water rushes down the mountain’s peaks.

“F-Fuck, yer so tight, I love it,” he grits, reaching over to grab hold of your chest like Kita wanted to do so badly. “So wet for me, for your King. Ya love getting fucked in front of him, practically beggin’ me for weeks.”

Kit almost feels as if he shouldn’t be hearing this conversation, but such crude words make him fist his cock faster, wet with precum and helping him ease the friction of hand to dick.

“A-Atsumu, I-”

“Don’t lie,” he laughs. He pinches your nippple roughly, and earns himself a gasp. “Every time ya called me yer sweet King, you were thinkin’ ‘bout him, too. Weren’t ya?”

You can say nothing, only look at your ruler with unbridled lust in your eyes. It’s getting harder to breathe now as he pumps his dick in time with his friend’s thrusts, entranced by the look on your face and Atsumu’s voice.

“Thought s-so,” Atsumu stutters when he rubs at your clit and you squeez hard. “Well, I’d do anythin’ for ya. Guess that includes fuckin’ ya silly in front of your King.”

Atsumu tsk’s and lifts your torso up so Kita can have the best seat in the house. Eyes stay glued to where they are connected, pistoning in and out of your walls and glistening with your slick. It brings forth images of wanting to get closer, let his tongue feel the both of them at once but it's so outlandish that it brings heat to his cheeks and pushes him closer to his release, chest heaving with exertion as everyone in the room reaches a crescendo like a symphony of sex.

That is until Atsumu stops abruptly, and it's so sudden and odd when the sounds of skin slapping cease that it causes everyone to lose their high, cooling down with irritation and impatience.

Atsumu's chest heaves air with great effort, yet his eyes are sharp as he regards his King.

"I think," he starts, easing out of his wife slowly, making you whine at the loss. "King Kita is lookin' a lil lonely. And it's our duty as his advisors and subjects to serve the King, right my love?"

You blink in surprise, when a smile curls at the corner of your lips, one that you definitely learned from your husband. Affection blooms on Atsumu's face at your reaction.

"We should give him a hand," the blonde declares, and suddenly he's carrying his wife over to the royal bed, laying you down gently against the rich, maroon satins and silks, hair splayed around you in rivulets like water. With equal parts curiosity and hesitation lacing his limbs, he moves further up the bed at Atsumu's insistence, coming face to face with you as you smiled kindly at him, lidded eyes and bottom lip plump from where you bite it.

He gives you one in return, one of the rare, genuine smiles he reserves for when he's with his closest and when he's happy. The sound of a throat clearing snaps his attention back to where Atsumu kneels at the end of the bed, cock bouncing against his lower stomach with every shift on the featherbed.

"Does my King allow us to do as we please with him?"

It's almost embarrassing how quickly he says yes, aching to feel the touch of something other than his own hand for once. Atsumu smirks.

“Wonderful.”

Moving closer, all three find themselves huddled in a circle of sorts, with two sets of eyes hungrily staring at him. Atsumu looks at his wife, and she stares right back. It becomes apparent to Kita then and there, that there is no imbalance between them. Though you may fold your hands when appropriate and open your mouth when addressed in broad daylight, though Atsumu’s words and hands guide you behind closed doors and you part your legs for him like a blossoming flower, they are, without a doubt, equals in every sense of the word. Atsumu gazes at you with such adoration it would give the poets something to sing about for centuries to come, and he is certain that if you were to give an order, Atsumu would bend and do it for you, no questions asked.

It’s funny - the Master of War and the Master of Prosperity; two things that could never work hand in hand, but ultimately make for a wonderful pair.

And it makes Kita’s heart yearn for even a drop, an ounce of what they share, for someone to look at him the way they do each other.

“Maybe I should give you some tips on how to go about it, my sweet,” Atsumu says, and it’s all the warning Kita gets before a large, rough hand wraps itself around his member. He jerks at the feeling, eyes wide at the blonde smirking before him, and he looks frantically at the Lady beside him who offers nothing more than a demure upturn of her lips.

“What are you doing?” demands Kita, but the words end in a choke when Atsumu’s thumb swipes over the head of his cock.

“I’m showin’ my wife how to please ya.”

“I-I think she w-would..” Kita has to stop talking to emit a whimper when Atsumu’s hand squeezes his dick. He swallows hard. “I think she would know how to please a man by now.”

“Hmm, yer right. She sure does know how to get me going, but…”

He removes his hand from Kita’s shaft for a brief moment to lift his wife’s leg, dragging a hand through your thighs and bringing it back to Kita’s erection, now slick with his wife’s juices and providing smoother friction.

“No harm in remindin’ her of the lessons. Watch carefully, love.”

It moves expertly up and down his length, knowing when to twist and squeeze, when to go fast and slow. Kita’s hips jerk up into Atsumu’s hand, unable to help the sighs and moans flying out from his chest. It feels good, so so so good, and a softer, more feminine pair of hands scrape gently over his chest, toying with his pert nipples and sending sparks straight down to his groin.

“He seems to like that,” you whisper, pressing your lips to the pulse in his neck. Kita is positive it must be ready to burst from his skin right now, yet still you suck and nip and paint his skin in the most delicate hues while your husband’s hand increases in speed. His other hand reaches down to fondle Kita’s balls, heavy and begging for release. Whines and whimpers grow louder as he approaches that sweet edge.

Atsumu hums. “He’s got a pretty cock, doesn’t he, my love? I bet you’re just drippin’ thinkin’ ‘bout it inside ya. Hungry for another man's dick.”

You shiver from your spot beside Kita, a hand scratching at his scalp and sending tingles down his spine, and a pink tongue poking out to lick at his nipples.

“P-Please…” Kita begs.

“Well, ’m hungry myself,” Atsumu continues, and swiftly dips down to take the head of Kita’s cock into his mouth, sucking hard while his hand never ceases its upwards and downwards motion. It's wet and hot, and the swirling of Atsumu's tongue around his tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered is enough to make Kita moan aloud in surprise and pleasure. His face glowing red as he desperately thrusts into Atsumu's mouth but his brain is too clouded with lust to feel embarrassed at this moment.

His fingers grip onto rich bed sheets as he loses himself in the heat of Atsumu’s mouth, that mischievous tongue of his being put to good use and stroking the vein on the underside of his prick before bobbing up and down in time with his hand. It’s almost overwhelming, feeling tongues on different parts of his body but it feels glorious, to have these mouths worship and love him like he craves but never says aloud.

It feels like Atsumu’s mouth is barely on him for a moment before Kita is grasping onto the nearest things he could latch onto, Atsumu’s head of hair and your hand conveniently already in his, and he holds onto both for dear life as he cums with a loud and long groan, releasing into his friends mouth with surprise and twitching with the aftershocks when Atsumu keeps him in his mouth for a tad too long.

“T-Too much, please,” he stutters, and Atsumu takes pity on him for the time being, laughing at how wild and unkempt his King looks right now.

“I guess you’ll have to test out yer skills next time. Come here,” hands reach for his Lady’s face, and he lets drops of Kita’s cum still in his mouth fall into your own open and awaiting jaws, sealing it with a kiss that’s all tongue and wildness. The perverse sight of them sharing his fluids makes his cock twitch to life again with alarming speed, but it’s also the words echoing in his ears that stick with him.

Next time. Implying that this won’t be a once off thing, a strange night to remember for years to come.

It makes him hard in seconds, even after spilling his seed in his friend's mouth.

If the couple beside him are surprised at his recovery time, only Lady Miya shows it with a raise of your eyebrows in pleasant surprise.

“Do you wish for more, my King?” you ask, traces of his load shining on the corners of your lips. He stops himself from reaching over to lick it off.

“Yes,” Kita sighs, and his chest seems to deflate with the motion, his words needy and wanting. “Please - keep going.”

“What do you want? Anything for you,” your hand cups his face with such gentleness he could cry. How sad it must be, for the simple touch of a person could be enough to shake him.

“I n-need you, I want you on top of me-” he has to stop himself with a sharp intake of breath. Eyes wide with fear look over to where Atsumu sits, a uncharacteristically stoic look on his face that makes Kita’s anxiety flare up. After a moment of silent contemplation, he opens his mouth.

“Does my King command it?”

It offers Kita a moment to rethink his words, to retrace his steps before they were taken. And as he looks at the faces of his friends for any signs of discomfort, looks at you for clear rejection, he sees no hesitation or resistance in either of their expressions. Only eagerness, anticipation for what could come. It strengthens his resolve.

“He does,” Kita says, with the air and grace of the King in power he is. And Atsumu grins like that cat who got the cream.

“Perfect,” he sings. “Lay back, yer Grace. Let us do everythin’ for ya.”

Doing as told, Kita finds himself a comfortable spot against the pillows and cushions, cock resting hard on his belly and watching as Atsumu coaxes his wife to straddle his hips. Hands fly instinctively to the squishy flesh of your hips and thighs, smooth like satin, and his grip on you only grows tighter once he feels just how wet you are, practically dripping onto his lower abdomen. It drives him mad with excitement, knowing he’s seconds away from shoving himself into your tight hole.

“Go on,” Atsumu encourages when you look back at him in question. “I’ll help ya when ya need me.”

Biting your lip, you peer down at Kita.

“I’m ready,” he assures you with a squeeze of your hips. You reach down to grab his member and he hisses when you pump him a few times, dragging it up and down your soaked folds. He worries his bottom lip at the sensation, and just when he gets used to it you line him up with your entrance and begin to sink down on him, ever so slowly.

He loses the ability to breathe when your warm heat engulfs him. His eyelids flutter, his toes curl, and they haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. Atsumu hums in approval when you finally sink down, hips flush with Kita’s, sighing in unison. You can’t help the grinding of your hips, trying to accommodate his size and girth, but it makes him growl and still your hips. “Give me a second,” he pleads. And you do, leaning down to give him his first kiss of the night. He can taste himself on your tongue, taste Atsumu along with him, and your tongues tentatively brush and move against each other as you grow accustomed to the feeling of your lips on the others.

He catches his breath when you pull away, blinking out of a stupor, and it seems as though Atsumu has had enough with waiting, for he clears his throat loudly. “Ready to get started?” They both nod. “Good.”

With that said, Atsumu holds on tightly to your hips, hands over Kita’s that stay locked on your flesh, and begins to slowly lift you off of his cock, only to push right back down. Kita groans at the fluttering of your gummy walls around him, head thrown against the pillows while Atsumu increases the speed and pace with which he picks his wife's body up, getting you into a mindblowing rhythm and bouncing you on Kita’s member.

Atsumu certainly dictates the speed and rhythm right now, and the coil in Kita’s gut begins to make a reappearance with every clench of your pussy around him. You’re both at the mercy of Atsumu, who alternates between stealing the air from Kita’s lungs with bringing your hips down hard and fast, or slowly and maddeningly gyrating your hips so that Kita presses against every spot inside of you, massaging that sweet, spongy flesh hidden deep inside that has you gasping out a strange mix of their names and clawing onto Kita’s chest for stability.

“That feel good?” Atsumu asks. He’s met with a chorus of moans and whines from his Lady and his King, but he isn’t satisfied with that. “I said, does that feel good?”

“Y-Yes, my Lord!” You gasp, and are rewarded with kisses and nips to your neck by your husband. Dark eyes peer at Kita over your shoulder, demanding an answer from him as well.

“Yes,” the white haired man grunts. “F-Feels so fuck- fucking good.”

“My, my! Our King has a naughty mouth. My sweet, how does his cock feel?”

Your moans are light and breathless when Atsumu rocks your hips back and forth. Your juices stain Kita’s abdomen, and he’s tempted to reach out and swipe some up on his finger to lick. “He feels so big! So so so big, it’s too much, it’s- oh!”

Kita is almost as surprised as you are when Atsumu guides his King’s hand to your swollen folds, showing him how to rub at your clit with practiced motions. You careen in response, hips moving erratically and crying about how good it feels.

“Tell him, not me,” Atsumu laughs.

“Oh, my King, my sweet King, you feel amazing. I love your cock so much, stuffin’ me full, I can’t take it, I love it I love it I love it!”

Your praise, your words, the heat of your cunt; it all goes straight to his head and his heart, and the coil in his gut tightens dangerously, ready to burst his seed into you and fill you up, but Atsumu has your plans before he can reach his peak.

Atsumu lifts your hips up one final time, but doesn't bring them back down. The disappointment in the room is immeasurable, denied a high once more when they were just so close to falling off the edge. Lady Miya whines loudly and impatiently, having been denied her orgasm twice now.

"I know, baby, I know," Atsumu coos, pets your hair and soothes the furrow of your brows. "But I was gettin' a lil lonely over here. I wanna join in."

Your eyes light up in question, staring at him questioningly and obeying when he orders you to bend over. Chest to chest with Kita, the King cradles you closely, brushes loose strands of hair out of your eyes, and allows himself a simple peck to your lips, one that you return with two of your own.

But you jump in shock when Atsumu spreads your cheeks apart and spits loudly onto your rear.

"Atsumu! You...you mean to-"

"Shh. You trust me, don't ya?"

"Always," she answers without hesitation, and the smile he gives you is warm and full of love.

"Then just wait," he rubs a finger over your puckered hole, spreading the spit and watching in fascination how it responds to his touches. He loves your cunt like a drunk loves his wine, but your ass is just as addictive. Really, any part of you is more than enough for him.

You bite your lip when a finger dips in, struggling to accommodate the invasive digit. Kita distracts you with more kisses, hands on your breasts, pulling at your hardened nipples and drinking in your moans like he's breathing in the fresh air of the morning.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers in your ear, watching over your shoulder as Atsumu adds a second finger, pumps them in and out so carefully. The blonde reaches around to lightly toy with your clit - not enough to make you cum, but enough to make you relax and less restrictive. "He's lucky to have married ya."

"Shinsuke," she sighs into his own ears, and it sends shivers down his spine. It's very rare people can address him as Kita without his title, let alone his first name, but it sounds so beautiful coming from the lips of his friends.

"Yer doin' so well," Atsumu praises, free hand massaging the globe of your ass cheek once Kita’s clumsy fingers take over the role of rubbing your nub. "Stretchin' ya out real good. You want both of our cocks, don't ya?"

"I do, I want them so bad-"

"Think you can handle us?"

"Yes, please! God, Tsumu, I wanna be stuffed with both of your cocks-"

"Damn, you get loud when yer needy." Atsumu drags his erection through the folds of your pussy, gathering as much of your juices to coat his dick once again before he lines it up with your back entrance. "We'll take things nice and slow."

It seems as if Atsumu is reassuring more than just his wife with that statement, and Kita is grateful for it.

You bite down on the skin of his shoulder when Atsumu removes his fingers and presses the tip of his dick at your hole. You’re clenching hard and gasping at the stretch, and Kita works with Atsumu to soothe your cries and kiss away your tears.

He kisses your lips when you give a harsh wail as Atsumu presses in further, not even halfway in yet but groaning at how tight it feels. He spits once again where you're both connected while you twitch and sigh as Kita's fingers return to your swollen bud.

"Yer doing amazing, such a good girl," Kita peppers your cheeks with light kisses, and with one last thrust Atsumu is fully seated with his cock in your ass, glassy eyed and chest heaving with tension as he gives the pair of you a moment to adjust.

He bends over to lick and kiss a line up your spine. "Your turn Shinsuke." Kita stalls, wondering for a moment if you really are ready to take them both at once, but Atsumu mistakes his silence for hesitation. "Need help with that?"

Lord Miya reaches down to gently guide Kita towards your sopping hole, and he sucks in a breath as your hips lower agonisingly slow to sink down on him until both of their members are filling you to the brim.

You're a panting and whining mess atop of him, fighting to catch your breath whilst Kita fights to make sense of what he's feeling right now. He can nearly feel Atsumu press against him through a thin layer inside of your pussy, every budge of his hips making his chest tighten at the friction.

"Tell us when to move," your husband says. After a moment of getting used to the stretch with little twitches of your hips, you nod frantically.

"I'm OK, you can move."

"I'll let Kita do the honours," Atsumu smirks.

Lifting his legs higher up the bed for leverage, Kita gives an experimental thrust into your core. It feels so good when you clamp down with a whimper, and so he does it again, and again, until he's set a slow but steady rhythm and enjoys the look of pleasure on your face, the way you bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning too loud but failing miserably.

Gradually becoming more comfortable and succumbing to pleasure, Atsumu begins to move gently, pulling out slowly and pressing back in, so as not to disrupt Kita’s flow but your reaction is immediate, a sharp gasp and a whine for more, arching your back and trying to reach behind to your husband. He leans over to allow you to thread fingers through his hair, and begins to grind faster into you, trying to match Kita’s pace and intensity.

“S-Shit, yer so tight, yer... fuck-” he curses and stutters his hips. “God I love ya- I love ya so much.”

“Please, g-give me m-more!”

“My pretty little slut,” he coos, and you sob into Kita’s chest. “So- fuck, so fuckin’ greedy. You wanna get fucked hard?”

“Gods, yes! I want to be full of your cum, please please please-”

“S-Shit,” he swears, and Kita watches as the careful, calculated look Atsumu kept in his eyes all night suddenly turns wild, frenzied, just about ready to tear you apart like you desired. “You asked for it, pretty girl.” He gives Kita a look. “Ready?”

The King nods. “Ready.”

The blondes' lips curl up at the edges, and you’re only given a moment before both sets of cocks begin ramming into you with such great force that it has you falling on top of Kita, where he wraps his arms around your frame to keep you steady. Words turn into coherent babbles and cries as they piston in and out of you in near perfect unison, and it’s the friction Kita so desperately craved as your wet walls and Atsumu’s shaft rub him so deliciously that his orgasm rears it head once more, building so perfectly and steadily that he feels like he’s reaching Cloud Nine.

Kita unwinds one of his arms from around your waist to reach Atsumu’s ass to give the flesh an affectionate squeeze, causing him to meet Kita’s eyes over your head. Atsumu leans down to capture Kita’s lips in a sloppy kiss, one that’s more tongue and spit and passion than anything else, and the King barely has any second to catch air when he pulls away before your tongue prods at his lips, lips that he opens willingly like heavenly gates. And when Atsumu joins in again, and he feels two messy sets of tongues invade his mouth, one rough and demanding, the other soft and sweet, he can do nothing more than let out a whine and try to keep up with the wonderful sensations taking hold of his body.

He’s given some reprieve when Atsumu pulls back to sit up, grasping at your hips and fucking into you so fast you’re stupefied, mouth hanging open and drooling on Kita’s chest. He doesn’t mind - rather, he doesn’t really notice, too busy focusing on your bouncing tits in front of his eyes, on the occasional brush of Atsumu’s sack on his skin, and the rising coil in his gut, ready to snap at any moment.

Hips jump erratically off the bed when Atsumu rubs at your clit hard and fast, nearly crushing Kita’s cock from how tightly you squeeze the both of them as your husband brings you to your mind shattering end.

“I’m cumming! I’m- I-”

It’s all you’re able to say as your peak washes over you in waves of heat, and he feels your juices gush out on top of his skin as you do so. Fuck, he’s nearly there, so close, just a bit more-

“I’m c-close, I’m so close-” Kita stutters.

“Cum for me,” Atsumu growls, pounding into your ass with abandon while you fall onto Kita’s torso, arms wrapped around his neck and sobbing so pitifully in his ear. “Cum for us, Shinsuke.”

It’s the push he needed. He’s shooting his seed into your core with a strangled shout, pumping load after load right into you while Atsumu follows, unloading into your ass with a curse and a moan of your name, going balls deep and spilling all that he has while your walls milk them for all that they have.

Atsumu collapses on top of both of you with a tired sigh, and while Kita’s body protests at the added weight, his mouth can’t quite catch up with his brain at the moment, so he simply lays there as the heat of the room falls over all of you like a blanket.

Both cocks begin to soften inside of you. Ever so gently, they pull out, seed escaping your holes and dripping slowly onto the sheets as you whine at the loss and clench around nothing, feeling so terribly empty and almost wishing they had stayed inside of you. But it gives you an opportunity to rest, and Atsumu flips you on your side until he’s laying you down on the bed, littering kisses all over your body and singing praises about how well you did for them, how much of a good girl you are.

You smile sleepily, exhaustion overtaking your limbs, and Kita can only cup your face and rub his thumbs on your cheekbones, uncertain if kissing you would be crossing a line now that the deed has been done. You arch into his touch while Atsumu leaves to get a cloth.

“Was that ok for you, my King?”

Ah. Of course you would put him above yourself. He smiles warmly at that.

“That was wonderful. You were perfect,” he answers honestly, and you practically glow with pride at his words. When Atsumu returns, Kita takes the cloth, opting to be the one to clean the mess between your legs. It’s the least he could do after all that they’ve done for him.

It grows silent once he finishes, looking over to see Atsumu holding you close from behind. Your eyelids are drooping and your eyes grow hazy with every kiss and rub Atsumu gives to you, yet when Kita is about to excuse himself, to find solitude in a bath and let the married couple have his bedchambers for the night, you reach out to him, wanting to hold him, his face, to bring it close to you and trap him for the night.

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to…” he trails off with uncertainty. Atsumu snorts, offering him a kind and warm smile.

“The Lady always gets what she wants,” he jokes, and Kita lets out a fond laugh. “Besides - yer the King.”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he replies. And he means it. But his heart begs for the opposite, for you to not let him go and let him rest his head on your heart.

It seems as though you hear his thoughts.

“I want you to stay,” you murmur, sleepy but resolute in your words. “Do you want to stay?”

His eyes flicker back and forth between husband and wife. He could leave. He could end things right here, pretend like tonight never happened and go on existing as King like he always has. Things would become too complicated if he stayed. He knows this. And yet…

“I do,” he whispers, and curls into the warmth of your chest while Atsumu rubs at his hair with a fondness not common in him. Kita feels, for once in his life, at home. No castle too big and warm can ever compare to this. “I do want to stay.”

“Well then,” Atsumu says warmly, while you finish his sentence.

“Stay.”

[descendantofthesparrow]

Regained Passion - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 2 - proper meeting

=

Harry let out a slow breath as he stared into the void in his history class, it had been a full week since he started the dance classes, and almost every day Bert mentioned putting him into a higher experienced class due to his flexibility and the fact that Harry was already a good dancer. But again, Harry wasn’t into the dance class that much, he liked dancing, it's just he didn't like being forced to dance.

His counselor had tried to ask about his first week but Harry was stubborn as usual, even glaring at her during it. She had sighed and rubbed her nose “I can't help you if you don’t open up to me Mr. Hook” Harry had only glared again, he didn’t want or need her help, yeah, he was a little fucked up in the head but if he wanted therapy or a consular, he would get it, not something FG forced on him.

After history finally ended, Harry grabbed his backpack and walked out of the room, sighing in relief as he realized he only had one class left, and it was his favorite, history of sailors and the seven seas. It talked all about pirates and sailors, particularly one of his favorite pirates, Jack Sparrow. One of the few pirates that had escaped isle imprisonment, due to him being pardoned of his crimes after it was discovered that his branding of a pirate had been connected to his freeing of hundreds of slaves.

Harry froze as a now very familiar face stepped into the hall he was walking in, she was looking down at her book, her black backpack hanging off her shoulder, bringing her denim jacket down with it off her shoulder, revealing her gray t-shirt. She suddenly looked up, her sparking (e/c) eyes once again locking with his.

Harry felt the butterflies flood his body again and he ducked into the next hall, away from his class, and pressed himself against the wall, sliding down as he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands ‘what am I doing?’ he thought, gritting his teeth ‘hiding from a pretty girl? What the hell?’

“Are you hiding from me?” Harry jumped and slammed his head against the locker behind him, looking up to see the girl, who had covered her mouth in shock from Harry's sudden motion “Are you okay?”

“Me? Hiding? No-no I don’- I don’t hide” Harry laughed off his embarrassment, standing from the floor and rubbing the back of his head, wincing slightly “I don’ hide from anyone” the girl smirked and rose her brow as she tilted her head.

“I looked up and as soon as I made eye contact you leaped behind the wall, and then stayed there until I came around the corner, I think that classifies as hiding.” Harry pouted at her, his heart going crazy as she laughed. “Now why would you hide from me? Im, not my brother mind you” Harry rose his brow at that.

“Who’s yer brother?” Harry asked, smirking as she made a sour face.

“Chad” Harry grimaced, relaxing a bit as she laughed again.

“I’m so sorry” her eyes widened a bit and she laughed even harder.

“I accept your condolences, he’s not a fun person to be related to, it took me a month to convince half the school that Chad and I are very different even though we're twins” Harry looked at her up at down, she didn’t look like Chad? “I know, fraternal twins though”

Harry hummed, nodding along, he remembered a couple of sets of twins on the isle, and even when they were “identical” twins, they didn’t look exactly like each other sometimes. “You’re Harry Hook, right?” Harry nodded again, ignoring the flutter of his heart as she said his name “I’m (y/n), (y/n) Charming” (y/n) held out her hand, giving Harry a warm smile.

“Dinne think yeh would even say hi ta me, considering wha’ yer brother has probably told yeh ‘bout meh” he took her hand, stilling for a moment as he felt a small shock ran up his arm and through his body. Shit what the hell was going on with him!?

“Well,” (y/n) laughed, once again sending butterflies through his gut “after almost 18 years of dealing with his dumbass, I've learned to not trust his word, if he says you’re a ‘filthy pirate’ then you aren’t all that bad” Harry smirked and shook his head, not seeing (y/n) freeze for a moment and stare at his lips.

“Yer somethin’ else I’ll tell yeh tha’” he laughed, biting the inside of his cheek as (y/n) looked away from him and fixed her backpack strap. “What’s yer next class?”

“Um-“ (y/n) started, pursing her lips a bit as she thought “Oh! History of sailors and the seven seas!” Harry couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips.

“Same ‘ere, shall I escort yeh yer highness?” (y/n) gave him a look, then smiled.

“You may” (y/n) laughed, taking his arm as he offered it and they chatted quietly as Harry walked them both to class.

-

Harry threw his pencil on his table as he finished his English homework, leaning back in his chair and sighing. “Hey, Harry?” Uma started, looking up from her magic homework (a new class that FG had made for the magic endowed vks that needed to learn how to control their magic safely)  “You made goody-goody with Chad's sister right?” Harry looked over his shoulder to her, raising his brow.

“Aye? Why?” a devious look overcame Uma’s face, and Harry sat up “Uma” Harry started, a warning tone to his voice, they had just gotten to Auradon two months ago, at the start of the school year, and he loved Uma with all his heart but if she was trying to plan to overtake Auradon by using (y/n) he would have to put his foot down (which he didn’t know why he would defend the girl so eagerly, even turning against his oldest friend like that)Auradon was a lot nicer than they thought and he’d rather not lose the comfy bed and fresh food he had just gotten.

“Oh chill!” Uma scoffed, waving her hand and rolling her eyes “I’m not planning any takeovers or whatever, I wanted to know if she gets along with her brother or not” Harry mentally sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair again.

“Um, no, I said sorry to her that she was his sister and she accepted my condolences, called him a dumbass too” Uma smirked again, a glint in her eye…he knew that glint, it was the glint of pranks “Oh! Do yeh want me ta-“

“Yes,” Uma interrupted him, rubbing her arms together as he saw a plan forming in her mind “ask her if she wants to help us prank Chad, fucker decided to ‘accidentally” Uma used finger quotes “spill grape juice all over my new jacket, and we all know that shit stains, didn’t even apologize either” Harry grit his teeth. Chad, one of the very few teens at Auradon prep that still harassed the vks, he was a bully and a thief, something Harry could respect on the isle but even on the isle you didn’t bully Uma without getting Harry’s hook to your face.

“I’ll ask ‘er when next time I see ‘er, we don’ have a lot of classes together, and her dance class ends after mine” Uma smirked at that, leaning into her hand.

“How are those going by the way?” Harry just let out a raspberry, and Uma fell back on Gil’s bed, laughing away.

-

The next day, after Harry's dance class, he waited outside (y/n)s room, standing awkwardly and out of place as others passed by him, some looking at him oddly while others ignored him or simply glanced at him.

There were one or two flirtatious looks but Harry ignored those, continuing to wait for (y/n). about fifteen minutes of waiting, the class finally ended, and as (y/n)s fellow dancers exited the room, many of them stared at him, whispering amongst themselves for a moment before one turned to him. “(y/n)s talking to Esmerelda, she’ll be in there for a moment” She had a strong French accent and Harry nodded in thanks, the group finally moving on as the girl who had spoken up pushed them away from the room.

After a couple more moments of waiting Harry got impatient, walking up to the door and peeking in, seeing (y/n) standing in front of Esmerelda, looking down at her feet “(y/n) your posture is perfect, your leg is always perfectly straight during the Penché, everything you do during practice is perfect but…there's just no…passion (y/n), where is it? You are only doing the steps, you aren’t feeling the music, where is the love, the sorrow, the yearning? This is a dance to convey two people falling in love (y/n), and I don’t see any of it coming from you” Harry felt his chest hurt as Esmerelda sighed, looking away from (y/n) who stayed silent. “(y/n) if you can't find the passion I need for the piece…I’m going to have to switch you out, I’m sorry” (y/n) looked up at that, and Harry couldn’t see her face but he could tell there were tears in her eyes “You are one of my best dancers (y/n), but without passion, you are doing nothing but following the steps.” (y/n) nodded slowly. Esmerelda smiled and took her chin “You just have to find your spark again, I know you can do it…I’ll see you tomorrow” (y/n) nodded again, turning to grab her bag.

Harry ducked out of the doorframe and went back to lean against the wall, looking down at his converse as he waited for (y/n). “Harry?” he looked up, (y/n) walking toward him from the door and tilting her head “What are you doing here?”

Harry smirked, it turning to a smile as (y/n) smiled back. Good, that meant she wasn’t super down from her talk with Esmerelda. “I was wonderin’ if yeh wanted ta help Uma n’ I prank Chad~” Harry had hardly finished his sentence before (y/n) grinned, stepping even close to him.

“Hell yes!” Harry shared her grin and offered his arm again, walking her out of the building and back to the dorms to Uma’s room, where Uma would tell them her plan.

-

Two days later, Chad’s hair was puke green. And he didn’t suspect a damn thing, even as (y/n) held her laughter as she stood next to him, sharing a sly thumbs up with Harry and Uma as they cackled at him.

“You’re definitely cut from a different fabric princess” Uma chuckled, Harry moving to the side of the bench he and Uma were sitting on as you walked over to them when Chad bolted off screaming after realizing his hair was green (for someone who stared at himself almost all day it took him a while to notice his hair) (y/n) grinned in thanks and plopped down next to Harry, not noticing Uma’s smirk as Harry scooted closer to (y/n).

“I’ll take that as a compliment” (y/n) laughed, leaning against the table and looking towards the door “How long do you think it’ll be before Chad suspects us?”

“Three days” Gil decided, suddenly appearing and sitting down next to Uma. And as usual, holding a bowl of grapes “I give it three days”

(y/n) hummed at that, tapping her fingers on the table “Well Chad is smart,” (y/n) laughed a bit at Uma and Harry's look of ‘really?!’ “I know shocking…well less smart more cunning, but I say he’ll either figure it out by the end of the day or he’ll bolt up in the middle of the night and then figure it out, can't say which or when, but it’s one of those”

“By the way,” Gil interrupted (y/n), pointing his finger right at her “who are you?” Gil had been out of the room every time (y/n) came over to Uma or Harry and Gil's room to plan for the plank, so oddly enough he had yet to meet (y/n) before today.

“Gil!” Harry hissed through his teeth, Uma smirking once more at his reaction. (y/n) laughed and held out her hand.

“I’m (y/n), (y/n) Charming, Chad’s sister” Gil took her hand and shook it, giving her a sympathetic look.

“I’m so sorry” (y/n) laughed again, unknowingly sending a flurry of butterflies through Harry again.

“Harry said the same thing a couple days ago, I accept your condolences” Gil released (y/n)s hand and went back to his grapes as Uma intertwined her hands and looked at (y/n)

“So you and Harry go to the same dance school, right? Do you ever dance together?” Harry felt his cheeks turn red at the question and he pouted at Uma, not really wanting to bring up the topic of the classes he hated so much.

“I guess? Different classes but same building, I’m a ballet dancer, been one since I was a kid. Harry, I think is still in the beginner class but Harry?” He glanced at (y/n) with a raised bro and a hum “You said Bert’s thinking of upgrading your placement?” Harry huffed and leaned on his hand.

“Aye, somethin’ bout me being a higher level than beginner, I dinne kae I din’ listen more than tha’” both Uma and (y/n) hummed at that. “I din’ even wan’ ta do the damn classes in the first place so I don’t see why I should level up or whatever” Harry grumbled, pouting at nothing.

Uma forced the grin off her face. Harry, ever since he had made friends with (y/n), started to be more…enthusiastic when going to the studio, no longer dragging his feet. And after the first time he picked up (y/n) from her class he did it the next day, and the next. Uma knew Harry and she knew he was catching feelings for the princess, even if he himself didn’t realize it yet.

Harry had only known the princess for about a month now, but Uma could tell when Harry liked someone, and he really-really liked (y/n), he wouldn’t admit it until he knew what words to connect his feelings yet but, Uma could wait.

Now, Uma wouldn’t do anything to push Harry and (y/n) together yet, she didn’t know if (y/n) shared any feelings about Harry, but once Uma did find out? Oooh, it was going to be fun.

But for now? Uma watched (y/n) and Harry talk, smiling behind her hand at the sparkle within Harry's eye, she would sit and watch their relationship bloom.

-end of part 2-

part 2~ hope yall enjoyed and like (y/n) so far, and i do want to put a *sprinkle* of angst in this so it'll come with (y/n)s struggle to show feeling in her dance and maybe some Chad shenanigan's anyway~ yeah i think this will be a 10 part series at most, and im liking where its going atm.

anyway im gonna draw a blue ballgown now because i don't like any of the designs i found on google or Pinterest

Permtaglist

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​ @lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​ @musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @rintheemolion​

@imtryingthisout​ @verboetoperee​ @jatp-rules-my-life​

[shreddedparchment]

A World of Our Own Pt.06

Broken Hearts

09/20/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 6,012

Warnings: violence, blood, suggestive themes, language

A/N: I’ve been so excited for this chapter for so long. Probably just one or two more chapters after this. I hope you enjoy it! If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Ryan’s chuckle is infectious, and you can’t help but laugh along with him as he leans over to stoke the flames of your campfire.

It’s warm. Cozy by the roaring ocean waves that bring with it a cool briny breeze.

“Don’t laugh at me. It was very traumatizing.” Ryan demands, putting the large stick he’s been using to poke the fire aside before leaning back against new palm logs that he and Bucky had chopped for seating.

Even though you’re meant to sit on them, all of you seem to prefer to sit on blankets you’d stitched together from clothing too worn to use anymore.

“I feel bad for the shark. It has probably never seen a naked man before in its life and you’re out here dangling your bits all over its face.” You tease, shaking your head as if you really disapprove of him.

“Wha-?!” Ryan gasps, mouth wide open as he struggles to find a comeback.

“I was mindin’-” he takes a lengthy pause. “-mah own business-”

He places his hand on his chest as he pauses again, the wheels in his brain working quickly to come up with his excuse.

“-when this very large an’ scary fish comes out of the depths an’ charges me. I was the one scrambling ta get back ta shore. I was the one who was given a heart attack. Not the bloody shark!”

“Well, why were you swimming so far out?” You ask him, chuckling again and feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment at the memory of watching him run out of the water screaming at the top of his lungs, “Shark! Shark! Shark!” completely naked.

You’re not ashamed to say that there was nothing there that wasn’t worth looking at, but it was only an afterthought that you now think of as opposed to noticing in the moment.

You’d turned around instantly and gasped, completely confused as to why he was running towards you naked until you’d heard what he was saying.

“Should I start the fish?” Ryan asks, reaching for the folded leaves beside him where you’d put the cleaned fish when the sun had still been out.

It’s very obvious that Ryan isn’t answering your question.

Both you and Bucky have been watching him closely over the past month, since he’d first shown up completely wet, wondering where it is that he goes when he swims.

It wouldn’t make you so suspicious if he weren’t randomly disappearing when he takes these swims. He waits until you and Bucky are busy, distracted, then wanders off without a word.

Bucky has made you swear not to follow him, afraid of what Ryan might be capable of if he is up to something and is suddenly caught.

Problem is Bucky also refuses to leave you alone anymore, so he doesn’t get to tail Ryan either.

Until Ryan chooses to answer your question, neither of you will ever know where he goes.

“Sure.” You nod, then reach to place the metal sheet that Bucky had made for cooking food without having to deal with embers and ash on the fish.

Ryan separates each fish into one leaf on its own then places them on the thin sheet so that they might bake.

The two of you work in silence for a bit, sitting across the fire from each other, you steal glances at him, and he returns each look. He smiles, his expression kind and so trustworthy that you think in moments like these that you and Bucky might be wrong about him.

“Ryan?” You begin, hesitant.

He smiles to encourage you.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He nods, smile vanishing as his face becomes a little more serious. Confused as to why you think you have to ask.

“Why don’t you talk about your son?” You wonder, now having said the words your mouth keeps going. “You drop this bomb and then never mention him again. I wasn’t sure whether you didn’t want to talk about him, so I never asked. If you’d prefer not to, I understand. There are things I’d rather not talk about to. Everyone is entitled to their secrets. I just—a kid is such a big part of who you are, right? Not the only part of you, obviously but he’s your son. You must think about him all the time.

“Who did you leave him with? He must miss you so much. I’m so sorry that you’re stuck here, with us, instead of home with your boy.” You sigh, and your breath shudders.

You smile at him awkwardly, realizing you’ve rambled on nervously.

“Sorry.” You offer, “I kinda just go off when I’m nervous.”

Ryan’s face is the picture of relaxation, however. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t look upset that you’ve asked.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and you’re certain that he’s going to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it, but then… “To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really sure that you or Bucky cared to know about Conor.”

“His name is Conor?” You gasp, smiling already like an idiot as you start to imagine a mini version of Ryan. Sandy blonde hair, lovely eyes, light skin.

“Aye, wee tyke is only five but when he talks to you, he sounds much older.” Finally, he smiles, the admiration of a father pouring out of him as he thinks about his little boy.

“Does he look like you or his mother?” You wonder, eager for details now that he’s talking.

“He looks like his mother. Almost my exact opposite. Dark hair and skin. Perhaps a bit lighter than his mother but he’s her spittin’ image. Dark eyes too. Just as beautiful.” Ryan says, a bit more forlorn than before.

Your own smile falters, wondering if maybe he and Conor’s mother are no longer together? Jeez, you really hope that he isn’t still married and flirting with you the way he has been. Not that you blame him being stuck on an island with no other women, but still.

Ryan seems like the type of man to devote himself completely.

“Is she-?” You offer, just to see if he’d like to open up.

He meets your gaze, holding it for a long moment before he tilts his head a little as he makes his choice quickly.

“Grace died. Just after giving birth to Conor. Conor almost went with her, but he pulled through and we have made a go of it, I think.” He gives you another smile. “I think he’s happy. Or was, before all this.”

“I’m so sorry, Ryan. I’m sure Conor loves and appreciates you very much.” His story is tragic, and your heart truly breaks for him.

“Thank you. Gettin’ back to him is the only thing that matters now.” He nods, looking more at ease. “It feels good to talk about them if I’m honest. I havin’ really spoken about it ta anyone other than mah parents. That’s who Conor is with, by the way. You were wonderin’ earlier.”

“You can always talk to me. About anything.” You assure him.

His smile grows wider and any sorrow left in his eyes vanishes as he looks down at the cooking fish before giving his head a minute shake.

“What?” You ask, your own voice shaking with the hint of laughter at the amused expression on his face.

“I was just thinkin’ about how unfortunate it is that you’re taken now. You would have made him a proper step-mom maybe.” His bold words stun you.

At a loss for what to say, you can only seem to focus on the way your neck begins to burn.

Ryan clearly enjoys watching you squirm for the two second that he has to do so before Bucky’s voice breaks the tension.

“Keep that up and you’ll lose your room.” Bucky warns, a playful note in his voice but really you can hear how serious he is.

“I just got it.” Ryan protests, looking towards the hut down the beach.

Bucky worked so hard on the build, elevated and sturdy with each brick placed with care and somewhat expert precision. The gambrel roof, which Bucky chose so that you could use the extra space to hang clothes and food away from where animals might find them, is tall and thatched with the fronds you’d worked so hard to tear and resew to keep the hut safe from the elements.

The hut is split in two down the center with two entrances. When you face the hut, the left side of it is taken by Ryan, a flight of bamboo stairs leading up to the curtained entrance. The right side belongs to you and Bucky.

“Stop flirting with my girl then, and I’ll let you keep it.” Bucky threatens, this time it’s clear he means it.

Ryan holds up his hands in defeat as you turn to devour you freshly bathed Bucky. In jeans and a t-shirt, he looks almost as if he’s ready to begin his day but instead of being productive he drops his dirty clothes into the handmade basket you’d woven with the extra strips of palm fronds then moves towards you. He takes hold of your face, tilting it back so that you might look up at him.

He leans down to look at you, smiling pleasantly.

“Hi.” He tells you, voice deep and penetrating.

“Hi.” You reply. “You smell good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans down and kisses you, lips so sweet and fresh you could really just do this all night. He holds it for a few moments before he begins pushing you to scoot forward.

You move as he wants you to, looking back at him as he sits himself behind you, legs spread wide before he pulls you back to sit between his legs which he props up on either side of you. His arms wrap around your stomach and while your happiness quadruples with this unyielding affection he seems to shower on you lately, you can’t help but notice the way Ryan looks away, a small twinge of bitterness in his expression.

It’s just the island. You tell yourself, certain that if you all weren’t stuck here, you wouldn’t be so lucky as to hold the attention of two very beautiful men.

Although you’re certain, you can’t help but wonder if Ryan really does like you. Is it possible?

~~~~~~~~~~

Time doesn’t stop. Not for you stuck on this island. Not for Bucky, torn from the promise of a new life. Not for Ryan who misses his son and is losing more and more time with him. With time is taken all hope that you’ll ever be rescued but the three of you refuse to speak the words aloud.

In silence, there is the illusion of hope and you cannot afford to let it go.

Days roll into weeks and the three of you try to keep your spirits up. It’s easier for you and Bucky, you assume. Finally, being with him has changed very little and so much all at once.

The biggest change is your sleeping arrangements. The hut has been built for a while now. Two months it feels like, going on three. Six months going on seven since you three have been trapped here.

With the hut came privacy, the adobe wall that splits it in two gives you and Bucky the luxury of cuddling as you used to in the fuselage without the worries of being accidentally disturbed.

Because of this, in the morning Bucky’s warm kisses trail along your cheeks, your neck, onto your collarbone raising tingles in all the right places before he finds his way up to your lips.

His arms wrap themselves around you as hey lays himself over you and you raise your leg to hold him close.

“Good morning.” He whispers and your eyes open, devouring the beautiful image of him. Clean and dry. Not a drop of sweat on his perfect skin whereas your own is dewy and you’re in need of a morning swim.

“Good morning.” You whisper, your body burning for him.

It doesn’t help that you can feel him pressed against your thighs, stiff and awake with the morning.

With your lips suddenly dry, you run your tongue along them, wetting them as your breath hitches when he rolls his hips from side to side as he adjusts himself over you.

You know that he doesn’t mean it to make your blood boil, but it does and you snake your hands down to his waist before your fingers worm their way underneath his t-shirt and gently tickle his smooth skin.

“What are you doing?” He asks you, a smile in his voice as he raises an eyebrow but hold you closer.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, licking your lips again.

He huffs a laugh, cool air raising goosebumps along your neck.

“I think you know.” He counters, amused by your attempt to seduce him.

“Then why ask?” You reach down, sliding your hand down underneath the waistband of his underwear, breath catching in your throat at the swell of his bum.

“Y/N,” He pleads, a small hint of a chastising tone to his words. “We can’t.”

“But I want to.” You whimper, tired of begging. It’s been so long since the two of you have been together. For what feels like forever now.

“So, do I, kitten. Trust me.” He wiggles his hips, probably just trying to get comfortable but he inadvertently eggs you on, proves his point by pressing his erection against you—accidentally of course.

“Then…” You try it even though you know he’ll say no. Even though this argument has failed so many times. “…I can just-I’ll give you something and you don’t have to give me anything back.”

“I could never do that.” He argues, his face contorting a bit more. The hints of anger rising.

“Then we can just stop there, Bucky. We’ve got control, don’t we? I wanna suck your co-”

“Jesus, Y/N.” Bucky rolls off of you, sitting at the edge of the low bed with his elbows on his knees as he looks across the hut to the opposite wall, his breathing a little heavy.

You sit up, blinking away the tears of rejection because you know he doesn’t mean it in that way. You know what his worry is because it’s you’re worry too.

“I’m sorry.” You move up behind him, hugging him around his chest and resting your cheek against his solid back.

The rapid rate of his heart tells you how much he wants you even if he can’t see to let himself show it. You take solace in that as you splay your hands on his chest, breathing in the scent of the coconut oil you’d infused into the handmade soap you’d worked on several weeks ago.

“I…you know that we can’t.” He frets, still upset.

“I do.” You shake your head. “I’m just-”

He hears the sob trapped in your throat and he turns so quickly you nearly fall over but he’s there, holding you tight against his chest, hands caressing the back of your head as the other wraps around your shoulders.

“I want you, kitten. Believe me. I do. If I could be sure that we wouldn’t mess up…You were the one that set this boundary.” He reminds you, pulling back to look at you as shame overcomes you.

He’s right of course. You’d told him that you didn’t want to sleep with him until the two of you could be sure that you wouldn’t get pregnant. Not here. Not on this island. There was too much that could go wrong. Too much danger for a baby, not to mention birthing one here with no doctors in case something went wrong.

No, you couldn’t do it and so you’d both agreed.

But…

“I didn’t think we’d still be here.” You huff, burying your face into his chest to hide your embarrassment.

Bucky breathes a little more lightly, almost laughing again at the shift. This conversation has gone from up to down and right back up.

“I know, babe.” He whispers, resting his chin on your head as he strokes your back with both hands. “To be honest, my patience is also wearing thin.”

You pull back quickly, searching to get a look at his eyes to see if he might be lying. He isn’t and it does make you feel better that you aren’t the only one struggling with this abstinence.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to wait.” He confesses.

“Me neither.” You sigh. “But you already knew that.”

His face breaks into a smile and you’re calm again, happy to see that beautiful expression on his handsome face. Silver blue eyes all crinkled at the corners.

You reach up to touch his hair, giving it a decent appraisal. “You need another cut.”

“I think we should go shorter this time.” He nods.

“Like a little higher than your chin?” You touch the spot, but Bucky shakes his head.

“No, I mean, short.”

You gasp. “Bucky, I don’t think I trust myself to do that.”

“I trust you.” He counters but you shake your head.

Nope. You’re not going to risk butchering his lovely locks.

“I won’t do it, Barnes.” You frown.

“Stubborn ass.” He glowers.

“Fuck you.” You retort.

“Not yet.” He teases.

“I hate you!” You spit at him, because you can already see the laugh coming at that unfair statement and you shove away from him, moving towards the clothes you’ve got packed in one of the salvaged suitcases to pull out your favorite pair of jean shorts and a plain red t-shirt.

He’s laughing as you dress and doesn’t stop when you’re gone.

Making your way down to the campfire, you search for Ryan, half expecting to find him cooking fish for breakfast but he’s nowhere to be found.

As Bucky joins you, dressed in the same t-shirt with his own favorite pair of jeans on, you place your hands on your hips and look towards the stretch of water where the cockpit had once been visible.

It seems to have sunk to the floor now that the tide has risen and fallen so many times, taking the plane with it.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky wonders, lifting his foot onto the trough he’s been mixing more clay in again, working on something secret that he refuses to let you in on just yet.

“I’ll tell you when it’s relevant. Right now, it’s just a precaution. Trust me, okay? If I need to bring it up, I will.” Then he’d gone back to lining the outside of the hut with metal sheets from the plane before sealing them over with clay.

He laces up his boot but watches you as he works.

“He’s gone again.” You shake your head.

“He hasn’t tried anything.” Bucky ponders. “If he was going to hurt us, he would have done it by now.”

“I know, it’s just…” You bite your lip.

“He is hiding something.” Bucky agrees, this conversation having played out so many times. “But I think he also wants some distance from us. We’re probably annoying to be around.”

“We’re not that bad anymore.” You argue.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky whispers, his lips suddenly at your ear.

He kisses it, slipping your lobe into his mouth as your eyes shut to the pleasure the gesture raises.

“You’re not making this any easier.” You sigh but turn to look at him and without hesitation pull him down to meet your lips with his own.

The kiss is a frenzy, heated and eager as your hands grope and cling as Bucky’s also press and pull against the flesh of your hips and ass leaving burning bruises behind.

Out here where you might get caught is the safest place to be this affectionate. Where you can’t take this any further than this passionate kiss.

“Do ya really have ta do that so early in the mornin’?” Ryan’s voice cuts in, interrupting just as you both intend.

Bucky pulls away first, letting the smack of your kiss echo before giving you one devilish grin then marching back to the trough.

“Sorry.” You turn to Ryan, hoping your expression is rightly chastised. “Fish?”

Ryan holds it up to indicate his catch then moves towards you to hand it over for cleaning.

You settle down beside him on your usual stump, pulling out your makeshift knives and gut the fish with the precision of someone who’s done this everyday for half a year. Ryan gets to building a new fire, gathering as much of the ash for you as he can for when you decide to make more soap.

While you work, you watch him, stealing glances at the subtle downturn to the corners of his lips.

The longer he works the more he seems to wallow.

Once the fish is settled over the fire, you turn in your spot to focus your attention on him.

“What?”

Slightly startled, he turns to you with wide eyes, all traces of the depression he’s been in gone.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“What’s the matter with you?” You clarify.

“Oh.” He sighs and shakes his head.

You know you can guess. “Conor?”

“Aye, Conor.” The sadness returns to his face and your heart gives a painful lurch for him.

He must miss his son so much.

“He’s probably startin’ school this month.” He laments, stoking the fire.

“It’s his first year?”

“Aye, I hope he isn’t scared.” Ryan hopes.

“I’m sure he’s just as brave as his dad.” You offer in comfort, giving Ryan as kind a smile as you can muster.

“We’ll get off this island, Ryan. Someone will come. Even if it’s by accident. Even if it’s years from now. You’ll be with Conor again.” You hope, because even though you want it to be a promise, you don’t know.

Ryan’s face contorts, agony ripping through him for one quick second before he meets your gaze and reaches out to take hold of your hand.

“I think…” Bucky begins from the trough, Ryan’s hand freezing mere inches from your own.

He takes it back and clears his throat, the look of pain vanishing from his handsome face before he looks to Bucky just as you do.

Bucky’s gaze is focused on the horizon, the ocean waves unnaturally gentle. It’s a beautiful day.

“What is it babe?” You call, trying to pull Bucky out of his thoughts.

He turns his furrowed brow back to the two of you, “I think we might have to move to the cave. Soon.”

“The cave?” You rise, glancing at the fish to make sure they’re not burning. “The one Ryan was in when he landed?”

Ryan sits back, a perplexed gaze fixed on Bucky.

“Yeah. Do you think you can show me where it is?”

“Why would ya need to go there?” Ryan reaches out to stoke the fire once again, pulling his gaze away from you both.

“Bucky?” You worry, moving towards him as he straightens up and wipes his hands clean to take your hand as you reach him.

“We won’t need to go there yet.” He assures you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist to pull you into his side. “It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution against what?”

“It’s hurricane season. The hut is…I’m not exactly an architect. I’ve done what I can with what we have but that hut is not meant to withstand a hurricane. When it comes down to it, we might be able to take shelter in the fuselage if we have to but with the three of us, the cave might be a better option. How did you hold up in the caves during that first storm?” Bucky gestures to Ryan.

Ryan spares you both a glance before nodding. “There was minor flooding at the back jus’ before the exit by the jungle but otherwise it was dry and safe. It’s not a bad plan.”

“Then you’ll show me where it is?” Bucky insists.

“It’s not hard ta find, but sure. Tomorrow morning?” Ryan turns to him.

Bucky nods leaning down to press a kiss to your head.

The memory of that initial hurricane just after you’d crash landed here fills you with worry. What if you do have to go through another one and this one is worse? How likely is it that you’d die from a storm before you get rescued?

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll keep you safe.” Bucky whispers, reaching up to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand where there is no clay.

“I wish you didn’t have to shoulder so much.”

“Taking care of you is never too much.” Bucky smiles. “I kinda look forward to it actually.”

“Why?” You wonder, absolutely confused.

“Because I do. Don’t question it. Just accept it. You’re never getting rid of me.” He teases.

“Even when we’re rescued?” You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Especially when we’re rescued.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you once, then starts to lean down towards you for a kiss.

“I’m going for a swim.” Ryan announces, breaking the little bubble you and Bucky are in.

Without ceremony, Ryan moves straight for water headed towards the crash site without even feigning a different direction.

This draws both yours and Bucky’s attention as both of you are well aware that Ryan has still been swimming out to the cabin, but he’s taken such great care to go at it in roundabout ways. While strange, you guess that he must be more upset about Conor than even you could tell.

Your mind replays the agonized look he’d given you before when you’d promised him that rescue would be coming. Maybe he could tell that it was only your hope?

“He misses Conor. He should be starting school soon.” You explain.

“Mm.” Bucky nods, accepting your explanation.

“If there were any photos, he would have found them already, wouldn’t he?” You wonder, curious to no end about your new friend.

Sure, you have suspicions, but after so much time spent with him, you’ve both accepted him as a part of your life here. Ryan has your trust. And though you know it was given reluctantly, Bucky’s too.

“Maybe he just can’t bear to give up. I know I wouldn’t.” Bucky looks down at you, giving you a squeeze.

“If you had a son?” You ask.

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” Bucky stuns you, pulling you to look at him with his words to see how serious he might be about it. “With you. When the time is right.”

Your heart is pounding. Your mind is reeling. Bucky wants to have kids with you?

“You promise?” You gasp, so shocked your voice is mostly air.

“I love you.”

You smile, loving the words that spill from his lips.

“You do?”

Bucky smiles then chuckles, reaching up to squeeze the back of your neck, and you know that he’s telling you the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You smell good.” Bucky sighs, holding the blanket open for you as you take off your shoes and slip into the bed and nestle into Bucky’s arms. “Good bath?”

You can hear the exhaustion in his voice. He’s been working so hard to fortify the hut for smaller storms that might hit.

“Yes.” You hug him, cuddling in against his side as he drapes the blanket over you.

“You’re wearing your shorts?” He checks, and he’s right.

You’ve chosen to sleep in your second set of shorts, dark gray cloth instead of jeans and your tattered blue floral dress.

Because you don’t answer, Bucky adjusts to look down at you, forcing himself awake.

“Kitten?”

“I’m just…I want to be ready if we need to go short notice.” You confess, shutting your eyes and refusing to look at him. You don’t want him to see the fear.

“Ready for what?”

“Anything. Hurricanes.” You admit and wish you could throw away this fear.

You’re almost expecting Bucky to chastise you for your worrying but instead he settles into the plane cushion bed again and cuddles you closer.

“That’s smart.” He approves. “But we won’t have anywhere to run until tomorrow morning. Ryan has to show us the cave first.”

“Can I come?” You’re already drifting off, voice weak and slurring.

Bucky’s is the same, both of you exhausted from the day’s work.

“You kidding? I’m not letting you outta my sight.” He mumbles, his breathing getting heavier.

You almost smile but sleep takes you and your mind is overcome with dreams of thunderous clouds.

~~~~~~~~~~

For a moment Bucky isn’t sure what he’s hearing. He can feel you stirring to the sound in his arms and he tries to hold you tighter.

You were so scared before, the look of terror in your eyes at the prospect of being caught in a storm worse than the one you weathered before.

He wants to make sure you feel safe and secure with him. He’ll protect you from weather and predator, whether that’s animal or stupid fucking Ryan.

You tug away from him hard though and the sound…a humming…no, a loud thumping. It’s hard to place as he tries to both understand the sound and also figure out why you’re no longer lying beside him.

“Y/N?” He searches, sleepily pushing himself onto one elbow as he hears you bolt for the door.

Suddenly he’s wide awake and he can hear you rounding the hut to the other set of stairs on the other side.

He pulls his boots on quickly, sliding his feet in and lacing them with nimble fingers loosely.

“He’s gone!” You cry out, the pure panic in your voice as the sound overhead suddenly makes sense to Bucky.

A helicopter! It thuds loudly, motor whirring and buzzing and blowing sand everywhere while whipping trees back and forth.

Bucky springs form the hut and sees you already racing towards the trees where you can see the chopper headed.

He passes you quickly, easily. But he doesn’t stop because he knows that you would never forgive him.

Bucky runs faster than he’s ever run in his life, barreling through dense jungle but never once missing a step.

The branches of certain trees scrape at his skin and slap his face, but he doesn’t relent in his pursuit.

It takes minutes for him to reach a small field of tall grass. It’s sways violently in the chopper’s wind and at the center of this field is Ryan.

Bucky stops, taking in the sight as a blinding spotlight shines on Ryan first then quickly swings towards him.

Ryan follows the beam and when he sees Bucky take a step towards him, he reaches down to his hip where a holster suddenly sits. He pulls a gun, a 9mm Beretta from what Bucky can tell, and stops his advance.

“Stop!” Ryan orders, his voice tight and commanding.

As the chopper descends a little more to hover at fifty feet, a steel wire ladder falls down towards Ryan as Bucky begins to notice the metal case in his other arm.

“What’s in there?” Bucky asks, staying as still as he can until he might have a chance to pounce.

“The other black box.” Ryan says simply, his voice softer but defiant. “Parts of it.”

Bucky’s glare is piercing and if Ryan didn’t have that gun, he would probably have already fled.

“I had to…” Ryan begins, still combative in tone but Bucky realizes that the anger in it is not directed at him. “They have me by the balls, mate. When Grace died, Conor would have followed, but they found me, and they offered to save his life. That is a debt I can never repay.”

Bucky’s fists tighten, anger bubbling up to choke him so that he cannot speak. These schemes, it has to be Hydra. No one else would want him dead.

“Who’s they?” He forces himself to ask, just to make sure.

It could be the U.S. Government too if he’s being completely honest. They could very well want him out of the way.

“I don’t know. People.” Ryan throws out, and Bucky believes that he doesn’t know. “All I know is they wanted you out of the way. If I had known that she…I didn’t know that she would be there. I didn’t know that they would die.”

Ryan’s voice grows thick and he shakes his head, ridding himself of whatever thoughts his guilt have conjured up.

“If I don’t finish the job, they’ll kill mah boy.” He holds the gun steadier, catching his breath before he makes his face as stoic as possible. “This is all I can give her. I can’t save her, but I can at least do this much. I can give her you. They’ll think you’re dead. I’ll make sure.”

Bucky sees it now. The real emotions behind his eyes. Ryan does love you. He’s certain of it now. He also understands what he’s saying and leans forward, angling himself so that when Ryan shoots, the bullet will hit his shoulder. Too high to be his chest and endanger his lungs or heart.

“Tell her I’m sorry.” Ryan pleads, and squeezes the trigger.

Bucky’s mind races with possibilities. Ryan might miss. He could hit him where he will not recover and then you’d be left here alone on this island. You’d hate him for not fighting and hate Ryan for killing him. He could bleed out and Bucky can’t imagine you here without him.

The bullet pierces him just where he’d hoped and falls to the ground with a heavy thud and goes as still as he can possibly can.

He holds his breath, pushing through the pain that burns from his right shoulder, and hoping that the chopper will leave quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gasping with a stitch in your side and your legs made of jelly, you break through the trees onto a field you’ve passed a few times here on the island but avoided in case of snakes.

The sight before freezes you. Ryan shoots. Bucky falls.

Ryan turns to a wire ladder and begins to climb, and you race to Bucky, sobs already shaking your body.

“Bucky, no!” You gasp. “Please. Please, don’t be dead.”

As you reach him, you turn him over, and see that his eyes are wide open, reading your heartbroken expression as he remains unmoving while you press your hands against his wound.

You continue to sob, turning your eyes to the chopper overhead as it pulls away and takes with it all hope of your rescue.

As it fades into the distance, Bucky pulls himself up a bit, sitting up and pressing his much larger hand against the bullet hole on the front while you fuss with the exit wound in the back.

“W-We need to s-stitch you up.” You cry, voice low and controlled despite the sobs still ripping through your throat.

Without hesitation you reach down and tear away at your dress reducing its length even further, now just barely reaching your hips. You wrap it around the wound as best you can, slapping Bucky’s hand away to shove more fabric over it and then place his hand back over the spot.

“I’m alright, kitten.” Bucky tells you, voice strong and certain.

“Like fuck-all you are.” You sob, fisting the front of his shirt as you refuse to look back to where you can still hear the chopper’s sounds, fading. “H-He shot you.”

Bucky strokes the side of your face with his metal hand, directing your gaze up so that you can look at him.

As you meet his steel and ice eyes, full of warmth and reassurance, you fall to pieces as you realize that Ryan has betrayed you. All your suspicions, as unlikely as you’d thought them, were true.

Bucky metal arm pulls you closer, his lips pressed to your crown as you sob against his chest, knowing now that you will never leave this place. You and Bucky will live and die on this island and no one will ever know you were here.

[spice-chan]

I Wish

Tags : @sacro---sainte @pixxiesdust @ererokii @etegomanere​

Word count : 7 k 

pairings : Kirishima x reader  previous Bakugou x reader  

You were kicked out of Bakugo’s majestic and overrated castle. That’s fine, you find your footing somewhere better, and build a future anew with a handsome, shark toothed dragon.

warnings : angst, implied violence, mentions of slavery ( very brief), eventual happy ending. 

…...…….. 

Bakugou has had this thought for a while. A thought that plagued him whenever he laid in bed with you, whenever he strolled in his lavish gardens with you in the dim hours of the night.

This shouldn’t last.

Even as he reluctantly relents to your requests to meet up, spend time together, this thought plagues him. He was a king, and you were not royal, not even of rich descent. You were just...you. He was an ambitious king with plans for generations to come, enhanced senses and powers, a genius among geniuses. You were just a scholar who happened to intrigue him. Who got too close for comfort.

Bakugou, who’s mind was usually logical and unclouded, was seeing the world through rose coloured lenses.

A rabbit, with nothing on her name, and him.

But this was no fairytale, the struggle will just be ripping the bandaid off. Bakugou knows it will sting, but it will fade away with time, just like those ridiculous feelings.

“What is this about ?” You asked vehemently, trying to reason yourself out of thinking that this is true, willing yourself to believe in him.

“It’s exactly what you think.” Bakugou replied carelessly. Apathetically.

It’ll be just like ripping a bandaid off.

So why did it feel like a blue flames’ burn ?

Why did it sting like a snake’s bite ?

Time will tell, but until then, fake it till you make it. Maybe the apathy his face shows will eventually become all that he feels for you.

You just stared at him in disbelief, bottom lip quivering, eyebrows furrowing in a pained glare, sight getting blurrier.

You wanted him to tell you it’s a joke, that you’re the one that he wants to spend the rest of his life with, not a pompous, rich princess from a fairytale like kingdom. You wished he’d take you into his arms and tease you that you ‘liked him that much huh ?’

He rolled his eyes.

You wished he’d express his melancholy at parting ways with you. You wished he’d give you half hearted reasons why he’s marrying someone else. You clung to the hope that he’d lie to you, but he’d done enough lying. He broke every single promise he made to you. Still, you clung to the hope like a tiny child clings to the side of the pool, afraid of the traitorous waters.

“While you’re at it, pack your shitty things and leave, I don’t want to see you here anymore.” He ordered, moving to grab his writing quill and paper.

Writing away as if you didn’t exist.

You wished, but wishes don’t always come true. Your future with him was going to be one of those wishes, made to wither away with time.

You didn’t offer him any words of heart break, he wished you’d at least shout at him, maybe that way he’d hear your voice one last time.

No, the only thing he heard was your footsteps padding away, not even stomping, just softly enough that if his pen fell if would deafen him to the sound of you walking away.

The clock ticked, his door opened. The bandaid ripped.

And you left. 

You walked aimlessly on an unfamiliar path. Your eyes looked cold, dead, their bright glow lost along with the faint yellow light in the sky. The grass crunched beneath your feet, and the trees were growing ominously large, their spine looming over you.

But you continued walking, aimlessly, and without direction. But that was the last thing that plagued your mind.

He broke up with you, he kicked you out, without hesitation. You didn’t shed a tear, but you knew the dam was going to burst.

It was your fault for having naive expectations, he was a king after all, and who were you ? A nobody compared to him.

You were probably just a distraction, seeing as he didn’t seem to have a hair out of place when he told you to leave.

You just thought he was above arranged marriages, that he was capable of keeping his kingdom solid without the aid of another. But you supposed the deal wasn’t half bad.

While you were lost in your head, you didn’t notice the camouflaged figures that began to appear around you, slowly forming a caging circle.

A hand clamped around your mouth, silencing your shrieks, while your eyes widened in fright.

You attempted to pry his filthy hands off you, your muffled shouting and crying ringing out with an echo throughout the deadly forest. That is, until the frog like man around you started to laugh, mocking how easy it was to “capture a bunny that will bring them thousands”. You dreaded the implication of their words.

You writhed in futile effort to get away, but your efforts were rewarded when you heard a growl a few feet away. A growl that certainly doesn’t belong to anyone here.

Your eyes glistened in uncertain hope, turning your eyes to look at the approaching stranger.

Now that he was closer, you could clearly see that he was a dragon, his shark like teeth bared threateningly at the man around you, his tall and buff figure dwarfing the strangers around you.

“What are you trying to do to her ?” He questioned, his red eyes holding a bloody promise. Some wouldn’t bother for a mere stranger, but Kirishima wasn’t some. When he heard cackles and distorted crying, he hoped his keen ears were deceiving him, but his eyes testified.

“Nothing, move along.” Spoke the ‘leader’, who kept his hands around your mouth, his bravado was crumpling though, his hands were growing lax, but he still tried to keep the situation in his favor. Futile effort.

You shook your head desperately, your eyes bleeding his, watching them turn grim.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Close your eyes, you might not wanna see this!” He suggested way too cheerfully, giving you another look at his dragon teeth.

Nevertheless, you heeded his advice, closing your eyes tightly, the darkness slightly comforting, however, the loss of sight amplified your other senses, and you were once again painfully aware of the grimy hand pressed against your mouth.

With your eyes shut, you missed Kirishima’s throat turning red as he conjured fire, the blistering rage leaving his throat and burning  the man holding you. You quickly moved away when the hand left your mouth, but kept your eyes closed when you heard a painful screech. The fire of a dragon being the purest and most potent of its kind quickly transformed the man to ash.

You opened your eyes to see the remains of the man flying around the forest, disappearing into nothing along with his presence. By that point, the circle that previously surrounded you was obsolete, the cowards having fled to save their life.

You felt sick, having never witnessed something like this before, but you eased the guilt by reminding yourself that this man was going to sell you, make you a slave for some perverted and cruel old owner. Maybe even put you in a brothel with no escape. You should have been more careful, but now the lesson was seared in your head.

You could remember the barbaric laughs that rung all around you, finding humor in stealing your life, your future. They thought your struggle for freedom was comical.

They deserve to die, you bet they caused many others to wish they could. The life of slavery was a hard, inescapable one. The life of sex slaves even more so.

They deserve to die.

They do.

But that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning painfully, for your mind to keep replying the events in a loop, making you feel lower then dirt, even if you shouldn’t.

You felt nauseous.

You saw the dragon approach carefully, and despite your sickened state, you willed yourself to look at him.

“Thank you for helping me.” You said, giving him the best grateful tone you could muster.

It felt like an invisible weight was lifted from your shoulders when you saw him smile, but the sharpness of his teeth still served as a reminder of what he’s capable off.

He approached you slowly, tentatively, as if scared you might suddenly flee. Being a former knight, he was well trained into how to use his fire powers and such, so he made sure not to hurt you, but he was sure that something like that might be traumatizing for you, but it was the fastest way to ensure your safety.

When he stopped in front of you, you could clearly see his intimidating height, he towered over you, but it was hard to find him scary with that smile he sported.

“Hey, I’m sorry about that, are you ok ?” He questioned in a low voice, attempting not to sound intimidating. He visibly exhaled when he saw you nod.

“What are you doing here at night all alone ? Are you trying to reach the town ? I can escort you there.” He tried to berate you for your carelessness, but he saw how shaken you looked, so toned he down the scolding. He saw how the soft rabbit ears you had were droopy, the fluffy appendages signifying your mood.

“I don’t know where I’m going.” You confessed.

A minute passed, carrying the ongoing silence with it as you nervously fidgeted.

“Huh ?” Came the dragon’s dumbfounded response.

You lifted your head, your eyes looking up at him blankly.

“You heard me.” Came your brisk reply.

Kirishima furrowed his brows, trying to formulate a reply that wouldn’t offend you or worsen your state, but the frown on his lips showed how much progress he was making in that regard.

A chilly breeze swept past the area, making you feel frozen, even your bones felt iced. The forest was suddenly wider then ever, and you were suddenly just alone as you had been when you were 7. The moon shone, but it didn’t provide any light.

Your throat felt clogged, you tried to snap your self out of it, to say you were ‘fine’, and that ‘yes, I am going to town’. But the words wouldn’t come out, the lies refused to leave your lips.

Because no, you weren’t alright, the man you loved, the man you helped win wars, the one you woke up every morning wondering what the day held for the two of you, the one you sometimes spent leisurely nights with, planning your future, and making promises to love faithfully despite his flaws; is marrying someone else.

He said he doesn’t care that you aren’t royal, told you to stop pestering yourself with  those troublesome thoughts, because he belongs to you and only you. But he lied, he strung you along, then told you to leave. Callously showed you the truth in a letter he wrote accepting to marry a princess from a prosperous land.

It felt like the weight of the world was sitting on your heart, crushing the already bruised organ.

A breeze came by again, but your face felt especially cold. You lifted a hand up, softly touching your face and feeling wetness coating it.

Oh... you were crying.

A hand clasped your shoulder, squeezing assuringly. He more or less got the picture.

“Let it out, it’s ok.” He said. You felt overwhelmed by the kindness of a complete stranger, and -

the dam broke.

Your shoulders shook violently, tears streamed down your face in endless waves, and just when a wave crashed against the shore, another, more powerful one replaced it.

The man enveloped you in a hug, his warmth cocooning you tightly, making the looming trees seem shorter and meeker, and the biting wind a little less cold. You stained his clothes, but whenever you tried to force yourself to talk amidst your tears, to apologize to him, to thank him, he would shush you and tell you to talk later.

Eventually, the onslaught of tears died down to harmless hiccups. Even tears were turbulent, and emotions were sometimes out of control, but the warmth of a complete stranger anchored you.

And when the hiccups stopped, you had a feeling that the everything will be alright.

.....

“- and he told me to leave and never show him my face again.” You finished with red rimmed eyes. The man, who you learned was called Kirishima, nodded in understanding, but his eyes help a solemn anger towards that pompous jackass. Your heart hardened at the memory of your ex lover, remembering his emotionless face as told you to read it. Knives stabbed into your heart as you remembered the words of his letter, how willing he was to set himself a wedding date even though you were the one that always stood by him and offered him endless support and love.

You ground your teeth in frustration, anger taking root where the sadness festered. But the ambers of the fire illuminating the rubies in front of you smoothened it out.

“He reeks of douchebag, totally unmanly. You’re better off without him.” Kirishima said, nodding to himself in agreement.

It was beyond his imagination how someone could not only do that, but take your home away from you for his own convenience.

“Do you have a place to stay ?”

You sighed, shaking your head. You had no one. He knew you had no one. Nowhere.

“That’s fine ! You can stay in my cave with me, I’d love some company !” He exclaimed cheerfully, trying to put you at ease. Truthfully, he really didn’t mind the company. After he quit being a knight to indulge in his natural instincts, he found an uninhabited cave, as mature dragons often do, and begun hoarding in it. The cave is meant to eventually be their own family home until the hatchlings reached a mature age and moved to their own caves.

Kirishima was trying to memorize how to get to his cave by foot, and he was glad he chose today, otherwise he didn’t want to think about what could have happened to you. You seemed like a really nice person, and regardless, nobody deserves to be taken advantage of.

He didn’t know where this sense of protectiveness came from, it could be his knight instincts making a reappearance, but he didn’t want you to get hurt at all.

He could help you get back on your feet, after all, there’s nothing that Kirishima loves more then seeing people smile in true happiness, and he has yet to see yours. He somehow felt sure it will be enchanting. But you were frowning now and looking all mopey and sad so he can’t tell.

“Would you like me to shish kebab something for you ? Food always helps me ! I can shish kebab a deer or a chicken, or a rab- no thats cannibalism for you right ? Uhh I can roast some carrots !” He rambled, watching as your stare got more and more weirded out. He started to feel self deprecating knowing he probably made you feel worse.

You laughed at his attempt to cheer you up, your mood lightening up by his intentions alone. You saw him go quiet and thought you’d better talk before he thought he weirded you out.

“You know what, I think I did bring some comfort carrots with me.” You said, reaching for your bag and pulling out some peeled carrots in a container. You gave the container to him, trying to muster a smile, although it probably looked awkward.

He seemed to brighten up, his dragon teeth making a reappearance as he grinned at you while enthusiastically taking the carrots from  you.

“You can shish kebab the carrots, or whatever it is.” You said awkwardly, having never paid attention to those foods before.

He pulled out some stickes from his own bag, sticking it in the middle of the carrot so he can roast them comfortably.

Rabbit food, but he was too tired and cautious to haunt.

The carrots were clumsily made, but they tasted sweet after the roast, Kirishima appreciated the taste, although he still wanted meat. You, on the other hand, had your comfort food, but it felt like sandpaper as your mind kept replying the events of the day. Just yesterday, you felt like you had the world in your palm.

Everything passed by in a blur, you finished eating and then started walking, because sleeping here in dangerous.

You could see a faint trickle of light as the previously black sky begun turning into navy blue, and only then did you arrive to his cave. The cave that looked so high to seemed to be touching the clouds.

“If you tell me we are climbing that I’m going back to the forest.”

“Whaaat ?! No, no, I’ll fly us up there no problem !” He declared making your eyes widen in fright.

“No what the heck ?!  You’ll destroy the trees !” You exclaimed in shock, unable to believe he’d be so willing to shift here and damage the beautiful trees.

His eyes widened, he shook his head rapidly while he rushed to explain “No ! I can semi transform, don’t worry.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, suddenly seeing Kirishima in a new light. It takes an extreme amount of practice and mastery for a dragon shifter to do that. God, you really hope he doesn’t kidnap you. Maybe this was unwise, but you really wanted to sleep, and the streets were just as dangerous for all you know.

Kirishima impressively sprouted wings from his back, two horns grew on his forehead, and his skin pigmentation turning red, a clue to his dragon colour.

He carried you and flew up to his cave in ease, enjoying the familiar rush of air as he soured up to the sky, and the warm comfort of being back to his abode.

He saw the wonder in your pretty eyes as you took in the place, your eyes lingering on his massive hoard, whipping your face to him as you pointed a finger in its direction.

“You gathered all that ?!” You asked, making Kirishima puff up his chest proudly, who nodded at your question. Said hoard contained jewels unseen by the eyes of many in their lifetimes. It contained gold, rubies, emeralds, hand carved rings and hand made necklaces. Among many others.

Immeasurable to the untrained eye, but Kirishima knew everything about his hoard, down to the most minuscule jewels, because a dragons hoard is a sacred thing, a part of them, one could say.

But while every piece is cherished, one is irreplaceable. Kirishima walks over to his hoard, digging seemingly aimlessly, until he pulls out a golden ring with a ruby jewel incrusted in the middle, the first handmade jewel made by him, and the heart of his hoard. Without it, Kirishima would go crazy.

The ruby, which still shone immaculately, was his birth jewel given to him by his father.

He put it own, suddenly feeling content and safer with the weight of the familiar ring on his finger.

You looked on curiously, thinking that the red of the ruby complemented him pretty well, it brought the colour of his eyes out.

“It’s very pretty, did you make it ?” You questioned, peering at him inquisitively.

He nodded vigorously, moving his hand unconsciously to let you admire his ring better.

“I made all of those”

You did read something about dragons being hoard enthusiasts, you just didn’t imagine it’s to this extend.

Kirishima offered you some feather blankets to make your night more comfortable while you slept. Soon, you slumbered peacefully, feeling more content and safer then you have this whole day.

Life was more... anticlimactic after that day. But it a good way. You lived with Kirishima, due to his insistence and your situation, he persisted saying that you can stay with him as long as you need until you get your life back together.

He took you down the next day, as per your request, and escorted you to the town. He went to do his own thing, something about meeting old friends, while you searched for a job.

The town was full of all sorts of people, from mages to shifters, it was a very diverse place, you could even see some rabbits like you here and there. Back at the castle, there was a few rabbits that worked in logistics and the like, you were among them, as rabbits were great and distinguished problem solvers and thinkers.

Being a genius among already intelligent rabbits, you were given the opportunity to study at the age of 9 in the castle, and work there, which you did, but you guessed now you weren’t needed anymore.

Before you could get desponded, you walked  around, taking the place around you but still careful not to get lost and stray to far from the meeting place.

You saw someone exist a place with two thick books clutched tight to their chest. You glanced at the door behind them, seeing an ‘open’ sign. You stopped in your tracks.

You could start there.

You pushed the door open, hearing a bell jingle, alerting a bespectacled tall man of your presence.

It was a large library, and from what you could see, there was only the man in front of you working, while a couple of others sat in the seating area reading quietly.

You approached him, making him smile politely and adjust his glasses which slipped down the bridge of his nose.

“Can I help you miss ?” He asked, his back straight as a rod.

“Yeah um, are you possibly hiring ?” You replied, getting straight to the point. He faltered for a moment, before contemplating quietly.

“I suppose it is incredibly hard to manage on my own...” he murmured.

“Very well then, can you come back tomorrow around this time ?”

You kept your excitement at bay as you reunited with Kirishima later on, who didn’t question you, assuming you came back with no luck.

This time, he made you fly on his back as he lead you back to his cave, and only when he came back did let the excitement take over. You put rationality on hold for a moment, overtook by the moment, and tackled him in a hug, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Kirishima felt the wing knocked out of him, hugging you back awkwardly as he felt his face flush. ‘Damn, what happened ?’

You practically heard unasked question, and decided to elaborate.

“I got a job, and it was the first place I walked into ! It’s in a library.” You gushed. You liked libraries.

Kirishima’s cheeks quirked up, his eyes looking at you proudly, “I knew you could do it ! You’re so manly !” He gushed excitedly.

Manly ?...

“Huh, manly ?”

“Yes, To be manly you have to have a resilient spirit and courageous heart !” He explained, making you nod. Although you doubted his meaning, it was endearing, he was a pretty quirky dragon.

“Guess I’m pretty manly.” You mused.

...........

A while after working at the library, you managed to feel like you were finally getting back on your feet. You still think about Bakugo sometimes, and it still hurts, but the wound was scabbing, and the hurt was no longer threatening to pour out.

Throughout all of this, one thing was constant: Kirishima.

You will forever wonder what compelled him to offer his kindness to you for so long, but you will forever be grateful to him. When your heart was threatening to harden and ice over, he was be there to bring you warmth and melt it away, like a gentle flare he can breath out so effortlessly.

You never experienced having a friend like that, but you can admit that Kirishima was the best friend you ever had. He was different, but the more differences, the more things you can appreciate and learn about. He was not a man to shy away from helping someone, a quality he told you was hard earned; it’s something he had to implement into himself.

And when the moment came that you can move out, you didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

It almost felt like you were leaving your second home.

“What ? But you don’t have to go !” Kirishima said, quite loudly, that it bordered on shouting. He felt himself getting agitated, and his dragon become unsettled at the thought of you leaving. You don’t have to go.

“But, I’ve intruded long enough, I can’t take advantage of your hospitality any longer.” You coaxed, feeling yourself become upset too at seeing Kirishima’s frown. You never saw him so upset, he was always your cheerful, manly pillar.

“But you’re not intruding, I can’t even remember what it was like to live in this cave without you.” He persisted. But you had to stand your stance on this.

“You know I’ll still visit you, right ?”

His shoulders slumped, sighing, before nodding his head reluctantly.

It felt like he was parting away from his hoard for good, but he had to remember that you aren’t cutting ties with him. His adorable, bunny friend will still be around.

And so, you guys hugged goodbye, but with a promise of seeing each other.

He helped you move your stuff over to your new place, a small sharing house, you and one roommate. You accumulated quite a few things during your stay with Kirishima, along the things you took from ... that place.

Now, you got your own place, your own job, and an amazing friend, life was finally back on track, although very different from what you previously thought It’d be, this one somehow reminds you that you are still self sufficient, and even if a jerk didn’t see the point in having you around, you’ll still live a much better life then he can imagine. Even through the simplicity of it. And that, will be the best revenge.

A few months prior however, a certain hotheads mind wasn’t as lackadaisical about your parting as one would presume.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck

Did he really have to do that ?

Bakugo can remembers the heartbroken and betrayed look on your face and grimaces. He lost you forever now, didn’t he ?

Just like ripping a bandaid off, but it feels like his own heart was ripped out.

He stared at his wall, replaying his words.

He looked at his parchments, the courting letter he made you read flashes before his minds eye.

He tries to sleep, he remembers your adorable figure huddled up to him, demanding him to share his warmth, even though your own was so powerful, it seeped through to his very own blood.

He’s a king, he should behave like it and cut out those child like fantasies.

But then he thinks back to how he imaged you’d look ruling beside him. He always thought you’d look like a goddess with a crown adorning your head and a thron-

Bakugo grabs the nearest object, and throws it across the room, the chosen vase, unfortunately, shatters to it’s demise, it’s previous shape nearly unrecognizable, some pieces were so small, they were almost powder.

Bakugo grabs something else, throwing mindlessly, a beast who lost his sense of reason. He chose what he wanted to do, but his heart was protesting, urging him to go and fix things with you, to kiss you and tell you that you’re the only one for him.

Words that he spoke before, but didn’t live up to.

He looked at his room, panting in the wake of destruction.

Glass shards filled the floor, ink littered it, and blood was splattered, and Bakugou could vaguely feel a sting on his feet and hands, he wasn’t even what just occurred.

The servants cleaned it, and he finally managed to sleep, albeit restlessly.

When he woke up, a couple of hours earlier then he usually would, he sent for the butler, checking whether you were still here.

His heart fell when he heard that you left last night.

Fuck. Fuck. “Fuck.”

Where did you even go ? Bakugo processed the weight of his cruel actions. He sent you away from your only home, where was he expecting you to stay ? Was he stupid ? God, he must be a new, downgraded breed because what dickhead in their right mind would do this to the women they love ?  

His chest ached, he urgently sent guards to the nearby forest and all neighboring places to look for you.

While they were busy, he busied himself with something of his own. He crabbed his quill and a paper, writing an apology letter and cancellation of the wedding. He doesn’t want to marry some pompous princess, and he certainly doesn’t really need to. He only needs you, with your support, he can achieve more then what a measly partnership through marriage can give him-

“We found no trace of her, my king.”

- but he’d already written you off his future.

A heavy weight pressed against his chest. If only he can do things over.

And a month later, he married a princess whose name he didn’t even bother to know.

He saw you you in every corner of the walls, he saw your nose buried in a book in the library, saw your eyes as the moon shone down on you. Even the flowers in his garden remind him of how they looked tucked on your ear.

His ... wife, he supposes, although he despised calling her that, was just as pompous, bratty and arrogant as he assumed. But her kingdom was powerful, now he can reap the benefits, hooray.

She always tries to get him in her bed ( Bakugo couldn’t share a room with her, a requested a separate room a week after they wed) and looks down on anyone, declaring them beneath her and not worth her time with an egocentric huff and an eye roll.

You’d never do that, you were always so compassionate.

The familiar weight pressed down even harder.

He wonders how you’re doing now. Are you happier without him ? Or are you still pining like he is. Did you... find someone else, God, he hopes not, as selfish as it is.

Just like ripping off a bandaid, he thought.

Which brings us back to here.

You sat on your bed, exhausted, but feeling as rejuvenated as ever. This is the first time you lived truly alone, and while is was slightly lonely, it gave you the feeling of freedom you never had back in the castle, or with Kirishima.

You felt like you wanted to take advantage of that, but instead you opted to sleep.

You slowly but surely adapted to your new routine, waking up, doing your shift, visiting Kirishima when you can, and spending the rest of the day lounging at home. Utterly mundane, and your roommate disapproves.

You weren’t exactly close to her, she spent her mornings somewhere unknown, and her nights partying, only coming home to sleep and eat.

Somehow, even though you moved out from Kirishima’s cave, it felt as if you’d gotten closer.

His red hair and crimson eyes made your heart do flips, and his toothy smile caused your stomach to do summersaults. It was a familiar feeling, it caused your heart to ache with a familiar warmth, but the organ was bruised.

Kirishima felt close to you, but so unreachable, he was a free spirit, who where you to bind his wings ?

So, this caused you to do the stupidest, and most cliche move ever. Yes, you avoided him. You stopped going to see him, bringing him trinkets.

God knows you missed his virile musk and familiar warmth, you missed even lounging on top of his hoard, something he insisted on you doing whenever you went to choose a spot to indulge in reading.

You used to compare him to Bakugo a lot, used to sometimes miss the blond man through Kirishima’s actions, but the moment you stopped doing that, the moment you thought about Kirishima whenever you pictured a future, it should’ve warned you, but you were too busy turning to an apple whenever he caught your stare and -

No. “Stop that” you muttered to yourself, putting away the last book in the return pile to it’s

section.

“Good work for today, (L/N) !, see you again tomorrow !” Exclaimed your employer, Iida, making you smile and nod as you walked, leaving the bookshelves behind you and bidding the bespectacled man behind the counter goodbye.

You opened the door, hearing the jingle that you became accustomed to as you closed the door behind you. You only managed to take two steps before your feet were lifted off the earth.

You gasped, instinctively hitting randomly, but relaxing your muscles when you heard a familiar voice.

“Heeey, no need for violence, or did you forget me already !” Although his tone was cheerful, there was a slight bitter note in it that you couldn’t ignore of laugh off.

“How could I forget you, Eiji ?” You replied sombrely, glancing but at him with a small smile, which didn’t manage to fully brighten the seriousness your eyes.

Eiji held on tightly to your midsection as he flew you guys up towards the sky, and it felt like he was carrying you to heaven. The pedestrians nearby stared in astonishment at what seemed to be something akin to an abduction. It happened way to fast for the moment to have been real.

Eiji brought you so high, everyone else looked to be the size of ants, their existence irrelevant, but coexisting with yours and Eiji’s. Everything below looked so unimportant, but the hands around you kelt you rooted to reality as wind whipped through your hair, and his muscular chest pressed against your back, making you scared of making the slightest movements that could shatter the moment.

Suddenly, the landscape beneath you was scrapped and replaced with rippling blue waves and sand. The blue looked so pure and unadulterated, that when Eiji brought you closer to it, you kept almost see your reflection. What a reflection, wide eyes with a mouth to match, and a sexy hunk staring back at you through the glacier mirror. You brought a finger down, touching the water and creating a small, unnoticeable ripple in the huge ocean, afraid of touching it with your whole palm and tainting it’s purity. A small white ripple as you flew was the only fleeting evidence that you ever made contact with something so divine.

How ethereal beauty is, Kirishima mused. He wasn’t about to let you be ethereal in his life though, because although enchanting, you stumbled upon him to stay.

Eventually, he landed down on the sand, putting you down to your feet gently, but already missing your contact.

You guys sat down, uncaring whether your clothes got sand all over them.

Kirishima didn’t try to mask his displeasure anymore, frowning at you grumpily.

“Care to explain why you’ve been avoiding me you silly bunny ?” He asked. The ocean continued to coexist beside you, but Kirishima was once again the only existence you cared about.

You felt the urge to pour your heart out to him, the words traveling from your brain, down to your vocal cords and to the tip of your tongue, and before after-thoughts could plague you and render you voiceless, you took the plunge.

“I like you, no scratch that, I love you.” You confessed, your eyes looking away from his, missing the crimson becoming as intense as a volcano at your confession. You loved him too ? A feeling so euphoric traveled through Kirishima, his fantasies of a future with you were now more than mere fantasies.

Your nervousness spurred you on, making you grab one of your fuzzy ears and caressing it as heated words came out like word vomit. You spoke and spoke, but Kirishima remained silent.

Suddenly, he lunged at you ferociously, stealing the very words from your mouth.

He brought his lips to yours, kissing you roughly yet passionately, as if he was pouring all his repressed desires into locking lips with you. His slightly chapped lips created just the right amount of friction as amorous sounds filled the otherwise empty ocean around you. You brought your hand to the back of his head and pulled him closer, taking his bottom lip and sucking on it gently, and he understood your cue, opening his mouth to let you kiss him deeper.

It felt before like you stood up steady in the dark, finding your footing after stumbling, now, it was like the whole world was being showcased in a clear white light.

You moved back to Kirishima’s cave, his words being ‘no mate of mine is going go be staying far’, you had to complaints. Finally, you can call this familiar place your home. While Kirishima used to be something of a freelancer, he eventually opened his own jewellery store, as per your suggestion. It became incredibly prosperous, but nothing can compare to the incredible jewels of his hoard. Or the incredible mating gift he gave you, a more feminine version of his ruby ring, hand made by him, every time you looked at your hand, you remembered his eyes and a rush of happiness would coarse through you.

Although the income was pretty high, Kirishima would never leave his cave, it was already humongous, so it wouldn’t have trouble fitting family. The business was only there to provide for your future kids with no trouble.

And as another year went by, a hatchling joined your little family. It was a baby boy with black hair and red eyes. Kirishima eventually told you that he wasn’t really a red head, but you could already spot the black roots showing so it wasn’t any surprise. You assured him that his natural hair colour was already manly. He never died his hair again. The baby boy, Eito sprouted wings at the age of two, and managed to fully shift then. Quite early, bit we made do.

The process of teaching him how to fly was frightening for you and Eito though.

You had to have him shift, then throw him off , kind of like teaching a bird how to fly.

Eiji waited down just in case, but your nervousness vanished when Eiichi flapped his wings and soared.

A year later, you gave the three year old Eito a baby sister. A gorgeous baby with red eyes and your (h/c).

Finally, the huge nest Eiji created could be out to use.

.......

Bakugo finally found a reason to divorce his wife after a year of marriage. He found her giving the head night flirty looks, and his suspensions were later confirmed when he caught them in bed in her chambers.

The divorce was quite swift as her kingdom sought to keep the shameful scandal under wraps.

Now, Bakugo could mask in his memories of you in peace.

Four years passed by in a blur for Bakugo. It’s been five years since he last saw you, and weight on his chest didn’t get any lighter. It still hurts to think about the future he scrapped, the things he could’ve been doing with you had he not gotten arrogant and decided marrying a princess was better than pursuing his future with you.

He never searched for you again after that night, you’re better off without him. What would he say to you anyway ?

He’s pathetic, still pining after a woman who he hasn’t seen in 5 years.

........

Bakugo was in a nearby village, looking for any suspicious activity relating to the recent abductions. He wasn’t required to be here, but he had nothing better to do. He’s always at the top of his work.

He walked around, straining his senses to try and capture anything conspicuous or otherwise.

He eventually found himself at a tiny playground for kids. Although by the time he arrived there, the sky was painted a hue of orange, and the park was empty save for one lone figure on a swing. He would have turned around, but he was out for anything, and being at a kids park was slightly odd.

He looked at the figure, and his throat felt as dry as a Sahara. His heart palpitated wildly when he saw your familiar figure parched on a swing cooing at a bundle in your arms.

He always thought imagined what you’d look like with a baby in your arms, but seeing it now caused him un imaginable pain. His heart burnt, as if a dagger coated with poison kept stabbing him time and time again.

Before he knew it, his feet carried him over to you, and now his shadow loomed over your figure.

You looked up, your pupils shrinking upon seeing his familiar face, hooded with a pessimistic sheen. You’ve never seen him look like this, even when he kicked you out, its a foreign look on his face, like looking at a piece of art you’ve long given up on.

“(Y/n), is it yours ?” His strained voice asked, so softly, if could have disappeared with the passing wind. He was staring at you, his vermilion eyes seeing yours for the first time in years. You’d gotten even prettier.

“Yes, her name is Eiko.” His heart dropped at your answer. You seemed fo live her a lot, you probably loved her father a lot too. A pang went through him at the thought of the lucky bastard.

He looked down at the girl, he could pretend for a moment that her red eyes were his.

How ironic for your daughter to have the same - or at least similar - eye colour as him.

It’s definitely a slap in the gut when he sees a dragon’s mating mark on your neck, and then to see said dragon himself.

“Heey babe, I got you crepes !” He said, kissing you on the cheek as if you’re the only person he sees. Which is proven when he say Bakugo and frowned, turning to you.

“Babe, who’s that ?” He asked innocently, making Bakugo grind his jaw. His head felt shaky when he saw a short boy come out from behind his dad’s legs. He looked a lot like his father. You had what seemed to be the picture perfect family.

“It’s nobody Eiji.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet-ugly prompts: #13, Indruck, SFW ? 👁️👁️

Here you go!

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The Phoenix Starport is a labyrinth, while technically made of chrome and touch-screens, is really made of lines.

Duck stands in line to show his ticket, to deposit his bags, to go through three separate security check-points and, when he gets to the section for the shuttle to take him to the Starliner, a fourth one because when your clients are high paying, you don’t want them getting blown to pieces.

He isn’t high-paying, he isn’t a seasoned space traveler, and he isn’t going to spend one second more on his feet than he has to. It’s been two solid hours of that just to get to this point. Unfortunately, every other passenger shares this sentiment. When the shuttle door opens a mass of lifeforms pile in, hunting for seats. Duck spots one, turns to sit, and finds it’s much fuzzier than it looked.

“Excuse me.” The creature whose laps he’s in reminds him of the pictures of Mothman scattered around his home state, “but this seat is taken.”

“Yeah, by me, because I saw it first.”

A click from inside the mothmans chest, “You are wrong. I saw it first, and did not foresee anyone being rude enough to use me in its place.”

Every other seat is filled, and it’s a fifteen minute ride to the Starliner. Duck crosses his arms, “you don’t wanna be a seat, you better get up.”

That earns him an annoyed chirr, “Not a chance.”

The shuttle ride is smooth, but his seat keeps prodding him with a clawed finger whenever he puts his weight on it. When they arrive, the two of them stand one after the other. The mothman shakes out his feathers, tosses a glare over his shoulder, and steps through the doors.

Unsurprisingly, the Sylvain Dream makes opulence seem subdued. There are rare flowers studding the fountain by the concierge desk, art from across the universe on the walls, and a sound dampening, shimmering carpet lining the hall to his room. He’s looking forward to some alone time; while all the suites at this level are technically two person, they’re so expensive that most travelers get their own rooms.

He keys open the door and comes face to chest with the same fucking alien from the shuttle.

“Ah. So we are in this timeline. Lovely.” The mothman says dryly, passing him to greet the bellhop who just finished scurrying up the stairs, “I see you have a message from minister Woodbridge. Kindly have someone reply and tell him that if it’s an emergency, they may contact me directly, but if the matter is anything else, they are to leave me in peace during my journey.”

“Yes, Seer Cold.”

“Thank you.” the seer drops a coin into his hand and brushes past Duck without another word.

Duck finally makes it past the entryway and gasps; when the people paying for his journey asked if he’d prefer forest, city, beach, or desert, he assumed it was some sort of vague theme. Instead, the carpet is lush, soft grass, there are flowers everywhere, and the furniture is all made to be woodsy and rustic. The bath and shower are like a mini water-fall and pool, his bed housed in a mock cabin.

“This is amazing.”

“If you are here purely for a leisure trip.” His suite-mate crosses both sets of arms, “some of us are being transported back to work.”

“Now look, this is a work trip for me too. You gotta admit this is pretty swank.”

“And an attempt to soften the blow.” Mothman mutters.

Duck rolls his eyes, decides this is not his problem to deal with, and goes to unpack for the month-long journey ahead.

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

For the first two days he and Indrid--which is what the aloof, perpetually touchy Sylph likes to be called--do their best to ignore each other. They’re stuck on the same dining schedule, which means Duck accidentally insults the alien by giggling when he sees him lick his dessert up with an absurdly long tongue. He makes it up to the next night by saving the pineapple soda delivered in their lunch basket for the Sylph.

On day three, he’s reading by the holo-fire pit when a white badge with blue writing dangles before him.

“Would you like to accompany me to the spa?”

“Uh….”

“Since I foresee you asking no, we do not have to spend the entire time together.”

“I, uh, I was gonna say sure, but was wonderin’ why you offered it to me.”

“Oh.” His antenna flick in a new way, “I, ah, they gave me two. I have no one else to go with and it seemed silly to let it go to waste.”

“I gotta wear anything special?”

“Since humans require clothes in all but a few scenarios, I suggest wearing your robe.”

The spa is just as elaborate as the rest of the ship, with cushy chairs and complimentary booze. The secretary hands them each a menu of treatments bigger than any Duck’s held at a restaurant.

“Sugar scrub….talon wax….rock massage. Do they mean hot rocks?”

“No, that treatment helps those with scales shed.”

“Huh.” Duck pokes his tongue in his cheek, “wish they said which of these were safe for, uh, squishy human bodies.”

Indrid reaches out a claw, tapping several on the list, “This ful massage would be good; you’re muscular, it will be nice to have those muscles tended to.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. Have been workin out more, nice to have someone else notice.”

The Sylph smiles, “you may also like the hair luxury add-on; I’ve always thought humans with salt and pepper hair should show it off.”

Before Duck can ask how Indrid developed that opinion or learned that slang, they’re ushered off into separate rooms. He’s scrubbed and rubbed until his body surrenders the last of it’s stress, the oils they rub on his skin and into his hair smelling pleasantly of pine and cedar. His session ends with one of the staff leading him to a small room covered in deep green marble, where he can rinse and dry off in his own time.

Indrid is in the same room, reclining in a chair with a sun lamp on his wings. They’ve been groomed, the feather straighter and smoother than this morning. Duck takes his first real look at them, notices how the black is iridescent and that there are two bands of deep grey on the inside close to Indrid’s torso.

He’s really quite stunning.

“I feel” Indrid murmurs, “as if we got off to a bad start.”

“You think?” Duck aims for a genial tone.

Indrid cocks his head, “Yes. That is why I said it. I, ah, I ought to apologize for my temperament over the last few days. I am so very fond of earth, of humans, and I’d hoped to be able to work there indefinitely. But Sylvain is in crisis, and so they need me near. Never mind that we have the capability to transmit messages quickly between planets.”

“What’s the crisis?”

“Our plants are dying or failing to produce the resources we need. The belief is that-”

“-it’s a leftover contamination or mutation from the earth plants that crossed through the gate before it was destroyed.”

Indrid blinks, then grins, “it is novel to be the one having their sentences finished. Yes, Duck Newton; the gate has been gone for over two hundred years, but both our worlds will feel it’s effects for many more years.” His antenna perk up, “you’re the one they’re bringing on to consult.”

“Yep. That’s why they gave me such a sweet deal on the trip; they know it’s gonna be fuckin exhaustin work. Even with all the other perks they’re offerin, I know a lot of folks didn’t wanna apply.”

“Why did you feel differently?”

He pushes to the other side of the little pool so they can be closer, “I spent my whole life in the town I grew up in. I love what I do, I love helpin forests stay healthy and regrow and I...I dunno, how often do you get the chance to go to space and see forests on another planet?”

“Once, if you are me.” Indrid closes his wings, clicks off the light, and offers Duck a hand, “and I am glad you will have the chance to do the same.”

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

“You know” Indrid passes Duck the plate of toast, “I am named for Sylph who was the second most recent seer after myself. He and I are the same kind of Sylph, and when my parents learned their mothling-to-be was the next seer, they decided I would be Indrid Cold.”

“Not gonna lie, people actin like your fate is set in stone from birth gives me the creeps.”

“Understandable. I would not admit this to the other ministers, but I am no longer content with reporting on the futures. I try to change fate when I can. In this way, I am also like the first Indrid Cold. He kept trying to intervene in disasters; that’s how he got seen when he should not have been.”

“Holy fuck, there really was a mothman!”

“Indeed. I also learned from his personal notes that he was so fond of humans, he ended up marrying one.”

“Damn” Duck passes him the sweetener for his tea, teases, “you share that habit too?”

Red eyes linger a moment too long on his body before Indrid grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

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

“You sure you don’t wanna swim?” Duck treads water in the green lagoon of some distant moon. The cruise is docked for an activity day, Duck having selected to spend it snorkeling and Indrid deciding to spend it with Duck.

“The wings are not built for it. Though the water does look pleasant.” Indrid lazily sifts black sand through his claws.

“You could wade in. It stays pretty shallow there” he points to a sand bar.

“If I get in over my head, will you come to my aid?”

“You know it.”

Indrid wades in, chirping as the waves hit his knees. When Duck next glances at him, Indrid is glancing right back. He’s smiling, soft and secretive.

“I am glad you picked this spot. The view is spectacular.”

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

They’ve hit turbulence a handful of times, all of which pale in comparison to the jolt that sends him tumbling out of bed. There are stabilizer controls to lighten the gravity in the room so they won’t feel the bumps as badly. But when he wobbles over, he finds it’s already up to the lowest it can be without him floating.

He stumbles to the window, the curtains shut against the vast universe. Is turbulence this severe normal? If the gravity doohickey isn’t able to help, maybe that means they’ve never hit a storm this bad.

Opening the window is a terrible idea; there’s no cause of the turbulence to be seen, and now he’s in a dark room staring into the depths of space, it’s so big, he’s so small, they all are, the forces of nature still have it in them to crack this ship like an egg, killing them all.

“Would it help if I said there are no futures where this storm poses a threat to us?” Indrid whispers from behind him.

“Kinda.”

“Would it help to see something breathtaking?”

“Wh-”

Indrid taps the glass, drawing Ducks attention to two massive, starry shapes, “Celestial whales. At least that’s the human name for them.”

“Holy fuck.” They remind Duck of Whale Sharks, but impossibly bigger, skin coated in thousands of star-spots, “how can they do that? I mean, obviously they ain’t mammals, but fuckin nothin thrives in deep space.”

“No one is certain.” Indrid sighs, happily, “isn’t it wonderful to know there are such things in the universe?”

“Yeah. AHfuck” He hits the wall as the whole ship shudders, “fuck, sorry-”

“It’s alright. It can be alarming when you’re on your first trip through the cosmos. I, ah, I have something that may help, if you’re alright with me touching you some.”

“Fine by me.” Duck follows Indrid to the Sylph’s bed. The seer sits cross-legged with his back against the wall and instructs Duck to rest his head in his lap. The points of his claws begin rubbing his neck and the base of his skull, Indrid humming at a low, steady pitch until Duck’s eyes start to close.

The pressure points are helping, he can tell by his loosening spine. But what soothes him to sleep is the repetitive reminder of Indrid there with him in the dark.

When he wakes up the storm is gone. His body is still moving, rising and falling in time with Indrid’s breath as he sleeps. He pulled Duck atop him in the night, and at some point must have wrapped him in his wings, since once, is still half-flopped on Duck’s back.

Seized with affection, Duck kisses his shoulder. When this earns him a happy chirp, he does it again, then kisses a cheerful path up to Indrid’s cheek. Red eyes open, sleepy and full of tenderness, just in time for the Sylph to turn his head and kiss Duck properly.

“What a lovely thing to awaken to.”

“No kiddin” Duck kisses him again, “fuck, Indrid, this is the weirdest goddamn thing to ever happen to me and I’m thinkin it might also be the best.”

Indrid hugs him close, “We shall have ample time to find out, if you wish to do so.”

“Hell yeah. But we only got a few days before we hit Sylvain.”

“Yes” Indrid kisses his nose, “but I happen to foresee Woodbridge ignoring my request for peace and sending me a message saying I will be working closely with a certain, visiting forestry expert.”

[santigarcia]

fly away with you

an ezra x reader fic~

rating: m for smut; virgin reader; some violence 

word count: 6,780

summary: Waking  up with no memory after a head injury, you find yourself in the presence of your rescuer - a handsome stranger named Ezra. 

a/n: I AM SO SORRY i’ve had this fic like...finished but i just never got around to posting it. i had it broken up in chapters, but i just decided to post them all here w/ breaks to signify where the chapter would have ended. (im also adding the first two parts - so if anything seems familiar this is why!) 

Ringing. There’s a loud ringing in your ears. Your vision is blurry, and that ringing won’t stop. You can’t hear anything else, and you’re not sure what you’re seeing. The color brown and green seem to blur together. What happened? Did you hit your head?

Reaching up to touch your temple, you feel wet. Your hair having been matted down with something sticky. Pulling your hand away, you look at it. Not that it does any good because your vision is still blurred. But there’s enough red on your fingertips to know it is blood.

Suddenly you smell it, your blood. And dirt. And earth.

Something else is mixed in, maybe smoke? Something in the air is foul.

The air.

You panic. Where’s your helmet? How long have you been breathing in this air? It’s the air you smell that’s foul. What if it’s toxic? Frantically you try to get up, but you can barely get your legs under you. You’re still too dizzy.

When your vision finally clears, you see your helmet on the ground next to you. There’s a large crack leading to a hole. Shards are everywhere. Some have blood on them, and you assume this is where your head injury is from. But upon further inspection, you see blood on the rock nearest you.

What happened?

It’s still foggy, but you try and retrace your steps from the day.

You had been with your cousin, whose whereabouts now you have no idea. It wasn’t even your choice to come along. But he claimed that your hands were the steadiest, and you’d be best for the harvesting. You had no idea what he was even talking about. You only agreed because your home world is the last place you want to be right now. And hey, he said he’d pay you so why not?

The ship ride over was a nightmare. It was smooth sailing quite frankly, but you’ve never been a fan of space travel. You like it on the ground. Though at the present moment the ground is covered in your blood, what a day it’s been. And you can barely remember it.

You do remember harvesting a couple of those things, you can’t even think to remember what your cousin called them. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t hard either. You did just fine.

You also remember some arguing? Something was happening? There were these other people?

It’s starting to come back to you, but this air is getting to you. How long have you been walking? Are you even going in the right direction? You feel dizzy again and things are starting to spiral.

Then everything goes black.

A voice this time brings you out of your stupor. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make out it’s a male voice. It’s not your cousin, this voice has a thick accent.

You blink several times to clear your vision again, and you take in your surroundings and this stranger.

First you notice you’re inside laying on a cot of some sort. Everything in the room is an olive green. An ugly yellow light shines overhead. It’s very dim. The space is small, it seems to be a large tent. There’s medical supplies and strange photographs on the wall. Where is this?

The man is sitting near you in a metal folding chair. He’s got no choice but to sit close to you, there’s not any room in this area.

He’s in a suit not unlike your own. His face is kind. His voice is deep, but nonthreatening. Light scruff dusts his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes are pleasant. There’s a small blond streak in his brown hair. And a haggard scar on his cheek. His kind eyes and kind smile almost seem out of place next to that scar.

He’s still talking, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s gesturing with his hand. Just one. It’s only then you realize he’s missing his right arm. You feel dizzy again. What if this man is dangerous? Or did he just lose that arm in some accident?

You reach up to touch your temple again, and you feel cloth. A bandage has been wrapped around your head. And you notice, other than a slight headache, you’re not in any pain.

“Where am I?” you wonder aloud. Your throat is so dry your voice croaks.

“At last, the lady is with us!” the man speaks and this time you understand him. His voice sounds nice. That accent is so strong. “Alas, I must admit, I myself do not know where this is. But I was out and about on my harvest when I saw you lyin’ unconscious on the ground. You were gaspin’ for air. So, I took it upon myself to bring you to shelter and here we are.” he gestures with his arm while he looks around the room. That ugly yellow light shines on his face, and suddenly the light is not so ugly on his tan skin.

“Thank you,” you tell him sitting up a little. You’re still feeling dizzy, but you feel safe. “What happened?” you think aloud again. And where is your cousin?

“I heard what sounded like gunfire off in the distance,” he explains, “that’s how I came to find you.”

“I was with my cousin; did you see anyone?”

“I am afraid I only saw some bodies, miss. You were the only one I saw alive.”

Your cousin, and whoever attacked you must have been near where you first woke up. But in your daze, you started walking and missed the bodies entirely.

You were warned this was dangerous work. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Grief and shock are setting in. Your cousin is gone, and your harvest.

“I’m stuck here,” you whisper.

“Nonsense,” the man smiles, it’s a warm smile. He seems so kind. You want to trust him. You may have no other choice. “I could not in good conscience leave you behind. You have suffered a mighty fine wound to your noggin, and your poor lungs have breathed in this nasty shit air we got around here.”

He is talking so fast that you can barely keep up.

“Now, I’m sure you’re a-wonderin’ if you can trust me. And right now, little birdie, I’m all you’ve got.”

In any other situation, if a stranger called you a pet name, you might recoil. But he says things so casually, you don’t feel any malice or perversion behind it.

“You can help me harvest, and I can get you outta here. There is my offer plain and simple. You can surely decline, but if your cousin is gone, my condolences. And you have no way to get home.”

Home. You don’t want to go home. You don’t want to stay here, but you don’t want to go home.

“What’s that?” he leans forward, his eyes squinting. He’s trying to hear; you didn’t realize you’ve just said that out loud. “Where are you from?”

“Zulara,” you mumble.

He winces, clenching his teeth, “I do not blame you one bit for not wantin’ to head on back to that planet. I am currently residin’ on Anvarvis V, and I’d be glad to take you along with me.”

You sit for a moment weighing your options. You’ve heard good things about Anvarvis V. or was it IV?

“We’ll split the harvest 50/50?” you ask.

He nods.

“Ok. It’s a deal,” you nod and stick out your hand.

“Alright,” he grins. “I’m Ezra, what can I call you?”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 And that’s how you began a partnership with Ezra. You worked well together. Tuns out you were really good at the harvesting part, and Ezra’s wit and charm made him a good salesman. He brokered deals and sold the product you’d harvested for a lot of money.

You’ve been so busy; you’ve not even gone to his home planet yet. But somehow you liked this life with him. There’s space enough of his ship for you, and you quite enjoy his company.

Truth be told you enjoy his company more and more each passing day. Your cheeks warm now when he calls you “little bird.” Your heart leaps into your throat if he ever touches you.

That first week with him he touched you a lot. Yes, okay he was checking the bandage on your head, but his fingers would graze skin and he was standing so close to you.

That’s when it first started you think. Being so close, seeing his soft lips surrounded by a dark stubble. His gentle brown eyes looking over your wound.

Maybe you were just lonely. Or maybe it was sharing such a small space with your rescuer. But you had a crush that only seemed to grow.

It started to suffocate you being so close to him and not being his.

The two of you fell into a natural routine and you grew accustomed to seeing him shirtless. That first time seeing him without a shirt almost sent you over. You ached to touch his olive skin. He looked so warm. You had to force yourself not to stare.

He thought you were looking at his right shoulder, where his arm used to be. And he began to ramble on about how it happened. You were embarrassed because that’s not what you were looking at, but you listened to his story all the same. He was opening up to you.

Ezra has the gift of gab, and he talks nonstop. But if you ever have anything to say, he listens with a deep interest. You’ve never felt so heard before. He never talks over you. His constant talking if often stories or little tidbits of trivia, but after that night of him opening up about his arm, things changed.

He was almost always in a good mood, but when he couldn’t complete a task due to his arm, he’d be a little grumpy and frustrated. But after telling you what happened, he let you help him without protest.

Maybe he got the feeling he could trust you back.

“Thank you, little bird,” he always said. And the last time he said it, you know he saw your cheeks turn red.

You figure at some point he’ll ask, or you’ll admit your feelings. You’re not sure which, but both options scare you. You’ve never done this before.

Back at home, you spent most of your life in school or working. There was no time for relationships, as much as you wanted one. You read stories of lovers, you kept them hidden under your mattress. The want was there, but no experience to fulfill that big question in your mind of what it’s like.

What it feels like to be loved by someone, to be held. You always were a little shy about the sexual parts of the book, yet those were the parts you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Ezra’s voice cuts in. A deep blush stains your cheeks. You’d been remembering of a story you’d read where a man pleasures a woman with his mouth. You look at Ezra’s mouth and feel your stomach drop and pray he can’t read your mind.

“Nothing,” you chirp at being caught.

“From that look on your face, I’m gonna wager a gamble and say it’s definitely something clanking around in that head.”

Scrambling, you try to think of anything to change the subject. He’s watching you squirm, and he’s delighted in it. Maybe it won’t be too hard after all to tell him if he can already see it.

“When’s the next sell?” you ask, nibbling the skin off your bottom lip.

“Pretty soon,” he replies. “I will head out soon. Won’t be gone long. Will you be alright to wait here until I make a triumphant return?” he grins.

You nod, returning his smile. You feel a heat pooling in between your legs. You shift a little in your seat trying to relieve the pressure. As soon as he’s gone, you’ll do something about it.

Two nights ago, you touched yourself thinking of him. That was the first time. You’d seen his bare ass when he was exiting the shower area. He had to have known you might see, and you couldn’t decide which thought thrilled you more. But the image of him naked was seared into your mind. And that night while he slept soundly, you touched yourself - wishing it were him.

You’d come up with a dirty fantasy, one you will play out again as soon as he leaves. And he can’t leave soon enough.

Normally, you’d go with him. But this buyer is a familiar one and can be trusted. You’re not worried about Ezra taking care of himself in a fight. He’s been in plenty of a scrap or two.

But if you’re honest, your brain is so clouded with the thought of getting a release you’re not worried about him in the slightest.

The thought passes in your mind you don’t know how long he’ll be gone, so you elect to leave your pants on. You lay down on your bed in your little corner of the ship.

The main hanger is around room, your beds are on opposite walls but still in the same room. So, you can see his bed from yours, and you consider going over to his bed, but you’ve already got your hand down your pants thinking about him on your bed.

You begin to tease yourself and you’re already wet from your own imagination. You think of him naked. What he looks like from the front. What he must look like when he’s hard for you. You think of his lips, and how his hand feels. What they must feel like on sensitive skin. You think of his stubble scraping your thighs. How good his long thick fingers would feel like inside of you. How he’d be gentle taking you for the first time.

Your thighs shake and you clench around your fingers wishing it were him.

The release hits you hard, and you gasp. It echoes through the ship. Your breathing is heavy but beginning to calm, when suddenly you hear:

“Well hello there little birdie!”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Horror floods through your veins and your heart is pounding in your head. You’re still coming down from your high, while fear spikes within you. Your eyes are wide, and you’re frozen staring at him. Your mouth is hanging open, and his mouth is curved in a playful smirk. 

When tears begin to fall from your eyes, his expression softens completely. 

“Little bird, I-,” he sticks his hand out trying to demonstrate he didn’t mean to embarrass you, but it’s too late. Tears pouring down your cheeks you run into the bathroom chamber and push the button to close the door harshly. It hisses loudly, and the moment it closes you sink to the floor. Cheeks red with embarrassment. 

In those books you’ve read, maybe the character wouldn’t have cared. And would have let the man know what she was doing. But this just isn’t how you wanted this to happen. As much as you do want Ezra to know you want him. The shock of the moment startled you. 

Ezra outside in the main hangar is uncharacteristically quiet. You can hear him rummaging around. From the sound of it, he’s taking off the bulky outer suit. It takes him a moment since he only has the help of one arm. 

He’ll be sitting down on his bunk and unfasten the clips and zippers. He grits his teeth sometimes, other times he bites his lower lip. You tease him about the different faces he makes when he’s concentrating on something. 

Deciding to clear your mind further, you turn on the shower. For a moment you hope he doesn’t need to take one after being outside, but you imagine he’s letting you have your space for a moment. 

While you shower, you try to decide what you’re even going to say. 

“Hi Ezra, I was touching myself thinking about you.” 

Well. That might not be a bad way to start. But that feeling of nerves hits your gut. What if he doesn’t want you back? What if he does want you? 

You mull this over in your mind and wash yourself clean. Normally the thought of being naked in here while he’s out there has sent you a thrill. Now you’re even more aware of him. 

You decide you do want him. But you don’t know where to start. Him seeing you is one way to break the ice. 

Gathering your courage, you wrap a towel around yourself and exit the bathroom into the main hanger. Your eyes fix upon him, and every nerve is on fire. 

As expected, he’d changed out of his suit. He’s sitting on his cot in comfortable pants, a worn black Henley, and some socks. His hair is sweaty, but it’s sticking up in multiple directions from obviously running a hand through it. His right arm sleeve is tied in a knot near his shoulder to stay out of his way. He’s got something propped up on his left knee, and he’s practicing his hand strength with his left hand. He pauses when he sees you, he doesn’t speak. 

He’s waiting for you to say something first. He can read the terror in your eyes as you step closer. Giving you full attention, he frees his hand, and watches you approach him slowly. 

When you’re right in front of his spread legs, he reaches out a hand to grab yours. 

“You doin’ alright there little bird? You are tremblin’ like a leaf on a tree with strong winds blowin’ every which way.” 

You open your mouth trying to think of what to say. You’d forgotten your entire plan you’d cooked up in the shower. Now that you’re here in front of him and he’s looking at you with those soft eyes, your mind is blank. 

You almost wonder if you should just drop the towel and climb on him, but you can’t help but want some romancing. 

“Say what’s on your mind little bird, I see the wheels turning in your head.” 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” is all you can think to say. But are you sorry? You don’t know what’s going on. 

“I’m not,” he grins, but the grin softens, and his eyes are gentle. He stands and presses his palm to your cheek. Shaking a little from the touch, you lean into his hand. “But I am sorry that my presence startled you so, and that I saw such an intimate act without your permission. I admit I was only present for the uh, grand finale as it were, but on my honor, I will not speak of this again if you would prefer it.” 

Your cheeks darkened as he spoke, and you can see the look in his eyes. It’s a gentle attraction. 

“I-” you start but only blush deeper under his gentle gaze. His eyes are big, he’s listening intently. 

“I understand your profound embarrassment, but there is nothing to be ashamed of seeking a fine release such as that. If I may say little bird, I’m only sorry I was not the one to give it to you.” 

Your eyes widen at the last sentence. You swallow hard. 

This is it. 

“You want me?”

“I do little bird. I have for a quite a spell now. You are, simply put, the sweetest thing I have ever had the pleasure to know, and you have brought a light into my dark life I did not know I was needin’.” 

His hand is still on your face, his thumb brushes you bottom lip. 

“I want you too,” you give him a shy smile which he returns, “only I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“You surely seemed to know a few moments ago,” he winks. 

“Ezra,” you groan and bury your face in his shoulder. 

“My sincerest apologies,” he teases, “I already broke my promise.” 

He’s trying to make you laugh, which it does. And the two of you share a moment of laughter before you pull back to look up at him again. 

“I’m serious though, Ezra. I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never-”

“Never what?” he repeats, thumb rubbing your flushed cheeks. 

“I’ve never even been kissed,” you tell him. 

“Well, little bird. It would seem the honor has been bestowed to me to teach you the lovely ways of liplockin’.” 

“What do I do?” you whisper, which he seems to find amusing. 

“You know something, I have never once been in situation quite like this in my lifetime.” 

That coaxes a smile from you, and you’re already feeling relaxed. 

“I can’t say that I have either,” you laugh. 

“First step, is to close those pretty little eyes of yours.” 

You close your eyes, and smile, you trust him. You think back to when you met him all those weeks ago when he saved your life. You certainly didn’t imagine this happening then. 

“Now, tilt your head just a little,” he pushes a little with his hand guiding you. “And open that mouth of yours, just a smidge.” He pushes down your bottom lip with his thumb. 

His voice stops, and you feel his breath on your face. He smells like mint and sweat. You decide it’s a good smell. 

You feel the tip of his nose first press against the top of your cheek. Then his lips gently press against yours. His tongue just barely touches your lips. His stubbly chin and upper lip scrape on your skin in a way you didn’t know you’d love this much. His hand holds your face gently, and what he doesn’t say, or can’t say during this kiss, is he wishes he could wrap his other arm around you. 

Your knees buckle, and you let go of the towel that’d you’d been holding on to so tight and mold your body to his. A strong thigh is in between your legs, your hands cup his face and you pull away gasping. Your heart is fluttering.

He’s slow to open his eyes, the smile splits his face before his eyelids even flutter open. 

“Now that,” he licks his lips, “was simply divine.” He leans in and places a couple quick pecks to your lips getting a laugh from you. 

You take a step back, and the towel is going to fall. And you were going to let it. But much to your surprise, his hand stops it by pressing his hand against your chest, keeping the cloth from exposing you to him. 

“Hold on now,” he breathes. “That little heart that’s fluttering under my hand has surely had enough excitement for one day. And as much as I would love to see that body of yours, I am not wanting to take you to bed in this dirty old ship. I would rather take you home. Since I am unfortunately missing a tool of the trade, I am not experienced in taking lovers into my bed with ol’ lefty here. It’ll be a learning experience for us both little bird. You alright with that?” 

You nod, putting your hand over his on your chest. 

“Then let’s get you home.” 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Your head is pounding, and you can see him. Your cousin. It’s like you’re on the outside looking in. You see the clearing of trees and two men with your cousin. It’s a standoff, everyone is frozen. There you hear a sharp crack somewhere in the woods, causing the men to take fire. One man shoots your cousin, the other steals the harvest from your cousin’s dead hands. Then that man is shot, he killed his own partner and took the harvest from his hands. He turned around to face you, and you saw his face. 

It was Ezra. 

With a sharp gasp, you jolt awake. Sweat is on your brow, your heart is racing, and you feel sick to your stomach. Panic sets in because you can’t remember where you are. 

Looking around you realize that you’re home, with Ezra. 

After your kiss with him, he got the ship ready and punched in the coordinates to head home. His home, but now it would be yours. You expressed to him your apprehension of space travel, and he took down the med pack to give you a medicine to calm your nerves. 

“Fear of flying is not uncommon,” he’d told you warmly with a kiss on your cheek. 

After the flight and landing, he gave you another medicine to help your lungs adjust to the air of this planet. 

You were so nervous, but full of excitement! You have a new home with this wonderful soul. 

The planet is gorgeous. The ship landed out the outskirts of the city. It’s nighttime so you can see it’s all lit up, and it’s blue. Every light is a twinkling blue. 

“It’s beautiful!” you’d gasped. Ezra was proud to show you his home. 

He was not originally from this planet; this is where he lives now when he isn’t prospecting. 

He owns a small house is near the outskirts. He could afford a city apartment if he wanted, but he preferred living out away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He likes his view of the trees from his living room, which are also blue. 

His house is humble. One bedroom, one bathroom, a quaint kitchen, a small table, and a sitting area. The shelves and walls are covered in artifacts and trinkets from other world’s he’s visited. You love it. It feels like a lived-in home. 

“We will have to share this bed unless you want me to take the couch?” Ezra tells you when you collapse onto his bed. It’s been too long a day with all the space travel. 

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, and he grins easily. 

“No gettin’ to business tonight little bird. I gotta rest, you do too.” 

You nod, you’re too tired for that. Though if he wanted to, you wouldn’t have said no. 

You fell asleep that night with his body close to yours. 

He’s still close by when you wake up from your dream. 

“Little bird?” he asks waking up, rubbing his eyes with his hand. “You alright?” 

You scramble out of the bed to get away from him. Your heart is beating so fast. 

“It was YOU,” you gasp, tears are beginning to fall. 

“Me? Birdie, I do not have a damn idea what on this planet you are referring to.” 

“You shot and killed my cousin! I saw it in my dream!!”

He sits up and tries to calm you down. 

“Little birdie-”

“Stop calling me that!” you cry. You hug your arms around your waist. 

“Look at me. Look at my face.” He waits til you look at him, there’s no joke or smile on his face. His eyes are wide, and you can tell he’s upset you’re upset. “I did not kill him. I didn’t even have my gun with me when I found the bodies.” 

You think back to when you first met him, and what you can remember from then, he didn’t have a gun on him. 

“But it looked so real,” you sniffle. 

“I had hoped this would not happen to you, but one of the side effects of the medicine I had given you is nightmares. You’re on a new planet, in a new place. It would not be a surprise to me if you had weird dreams. Now as to your cousin, I do not think you will ever uncover the mystery of his death. I can recall to you what I saw again if it will ease your mind.” 

You sniffle again and nod. 

He tells you what he remembers, and you do trust him. But that dream still felt so real. 

You had been finishing up a harvest when your cousin went to look for another. Your memory is hazy after that. 

Ezra fills in the gaps based on what he saw. He’d seen two bodies; one was your cousin and then another man. Your harvest was gone, and there were footsteps leading in another direction. Ezra, not wanting to get into it with this guy, went the opposite way. Which is when he found your shattered helmet and blood. He followed your footprints which led him to you. 

“So, I killed my cousin,” you bury your face in your hands, sitting down on the bed. 

“You are making less and less sense,” his eyebrows crease. 

“You said there was a large branch and I must have tripped, so me tripping sounded the alarm causing the gunfire to go off,” you being to cry into your hands. 

Ezra scoots closer to you to wrap and arm around you. He holds you close to him and kisses your hair while he shushes you. 

“That was a whole tricky situation and no one’s fault. I have been in a sticky situation like that before and it would seem that people who are trigger happy need no cue to fire away. You are not at fault. Besides, if all this had not occurred, I might not have met the love of my life.” 

You look up from your hands, tears still in your eyes. 

“What?” 

“You heard what I said,” he kisses the shell of your ear. 

Crying now tears of joy, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss all over his face. He topples backwards, laughing the whole way down. 

“I love you too,” you say between kisses. “I’m sorry I accused you of murder,” you laugh. 

He laughs, rolling over so he’s on top of you. He kisses your face and dries your tears. You start to writhe under him when you feel him beginning to harden on your thigh. 

“What do you say to some breakfast and then we come back to this bed huh?” 

Feeling a little bold, you reach down to cup him through his sleep pants. He gasps out in surprise and buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Why leave?” you ask, unsure of what to do, but you like touching him. You continue to, until your stomach rumbles loudly. He raises an eyebrow teasing you, even though you still have your hand around his cock. “Fine,” you laugh, “breakfast first.” 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 While Ezra makes breakfast, you look around your new home. Since the house is small and his voice carries, you ask him questions about different objects, and he rambles on from the kitchen.

There are photographs of him when he was younger, those are your favorites. You’re looking at one particular photograph, when he had both arms and no blond streak. He looked like a completely different person.

Your thoughts are torn away when you hear him call your name.

“Could you reach that spice for me off the shelf?” His one hand is too busy to stop and reach. “Just set it down on the counter there,” he nods. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smile and wrap your arms around him from behind. Kissing his cheek, he hums. “I’m sorry I’m acting so strange, I think I’m a little nervous,” you admit kissing his shoulder blade.

“Well birdie, it is no small feat to be joined in a union with another person in such an intimate fashion, especially when one is not experienced. It is a lovely thing but can be an overwhelmin’ experience. I am glad to assist and ease the knot in your belly of nerves.”

“I love the way you talk,” you smile kissing his shoulder again.

“And I quite love the way you are holdin’ me right now.”

“I’m sorry again about this morning. I’m sure that’s not the morning you had in mind.”

“No to worry. Grief and change do a wonder on your mind. I know that from losing my arm.”

“Tell me how you got that blond streak in your hair,” you murmur and lean your cheek against his shoulder.

“Now that is an interesting story!” One of which he tells for the rest of the morning. And when he’s done, you’re still not sure what exactly happened. But you laughed and all but forgot about the nerves in the pit of your stomach.

So much so that when he stands and reaches out his hand for you, you’re not sure what he’s doing.

“You ready?” he asks, motioning his head toward the bedroom. Your heart skips, but you nod, yes.

He leads you back into his room, and has you sit down on the bed. He moves around the room setting the mood. First, he pushes a button on the wall that lowers the curtains, dimming the room. He closes the door behind him and sits next to you on the bed.

“How does this work?” you ask a little timid, but very eager.

“Lay back,” he tells you. He lays down on top of you and begins to kiss your face and your lips. Anywhere his lips can kiss, he kisses. Your cheeks, your ears, your eyelids even. The tip of your nose.

Then he moves to your neck and chin and jaw. He adds some bites to your neck, and sucks on your clavicle.

“Can I?” he asks tugging on the hem of your shirt. You nod, and with his help, you pull it off exposing chest to him now. You swallow, feeling a little shy watching him eye your breasts.

You’ve never seen him so speechless. Instead of talking, he puts his mouth to use and suckles your perked nipple into his mouth. His hand cups your other breast and thumbs over your nipple. When you gasp, he sucks harder and pinches his fingers harder. Your hands fly to his hair and you pull. He growls a little and you feel slick between your legs.

“Ezra?” you whine. Your breast is shiny with his saliva, and there’s a sting left behind from his teeth and grit from his facial hair.

“What do you need birdie?” He murmurs into you flesh. His hand smoothing down your skin and gliding over your tummy and to the waistband of your pants.

“Ezra wait,” you gasp.

“Are my ministrations too fast for your likin’?” he questions, lips dragging along your stomach. He’s trying to make you laugh again, or at least relax you further.

“I-” you pause.

“It’s ok,” he smiles and kisses your tummy. “Help me?” he says tugging on your pants a little. You help him push your pants and underwear down, and you watch in equal parts arousal and embarrassment as he sees you.

He touches a pointer finger to your entrance, touching the slick gathered there. He dips inside and you arch your back feeling the drag of his finger inside. His thumb brushes your clit and you jolt.

“Now remember, I am not as well practiced with my left, so you’ll have to excuse any inexperience on my part, though I do know how to please a lady.”

“Ezra!” is all you can think to say when he slides a second finger in.

“But as it seems, you’re enjoying this regardless. That’s good,” he smiles and presses a loud kiss to your thigh. He doesn’t stop the toying with your clit. Even after you hit that first high and come around his fingers. He keeps going. Teasing you just a little more. “You are doin’ so well my girl,” he purrs.

He looks up at you when he pulls his hand away, his grin is pure lovesick. Your eyes are hazy from the high you’ve just been given, and there’s still more to come.

“I want just one more from you before we get down to it alright?” He tells you. He’s working his way up the bed, and you’re not sure what he’s doing. He pulls the pillows together, and he flops down on his back, his head on the pillows. “Alright little bird, c’mere,” he says and taps his chin.

Taking his meaning with heat covering your body, you climb up and carefully lower yourself onto his face. His tongue and mouth ready to accept your heat. You groan in unison as he makes the first lick. You’re still so sensitive from before, but wow it feels good.

Oh.

This is really good.

His mouth, of course, of course his mouth is as skilled in pleasure as it is in talking. His tongue moves expertly on your flesh as if he’s done this to you a million times. You’re coming on his tongue in mere minutes.

His arm is tight around you, and you buck against him as you come down.

His eyes open, and he looks up at you, he’s quite pleased with himself.

“Now if this isn’t the best view a man could have then I don’t know what is,” he smiles, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a beat, then back up to your face.

Carefully, on wobbly legs, you lay down on the bed, and Ezra works to take off his pants. You lean up to look at him, he’s on his knees now, naked. He’s stroking himself lazily, getting ready for you.

“Can I?” you sit up reaching for him.

“Be my guest,” he reassures, and you wrap your fingers around him. He winces and groans a little. “It has been far too long since I’ve been held but someone other than my own hand.”

He feels nice, and you have the desire to keep moving your hand until he finds his high. But he pushes your hand away.

“I do appreciate the eagerness, but if you keep that up, we won’t get to all the fun. Lay down for me alright?”

You do as he asks, and he pauses for a moment. He’s thinking.

When he gets the idea, you see it come across his face with a little “oh!” and a grin. He lays down on top of you, you’re chest to chest.

“Little birdie, I need you to wrap your legs around me? Got it?” You nod and do as he asks. From this position you can feel the tip of him at your entrance. Putting his weight on you for a moment, he reaches down between your bodies and lines himself up with you. “There might be a little bit of a pinch, but we’ll work ya through it alright?”

You nod again, and he pushes inside. He moves his hand back up to smooth your hair out of your face. He moves slowly, watching your face, kissing you more to get you relaxed. Once he’s fully inside, he waits.

He gives you a moment to breathe, then when you give the ok, he moves. His arm is up by your head now, keeping him from putting his whole weight on you and giving him some leverage. His thrusts are steady, and your body moves with him, gasping each time he hits that spot in you.

“It pains me that I cannot reach down to tease that lovely pussy of yours, but birdie, you gotta touch yourself for me. Can you do that?”

You slip your hand between your bodies and touch yourself in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he coaxes. “Don’t stop,” he tells you nibbling your ear. And you don’t. You keep going until you feel the high approaching. When it hits you, he’s not far behind. His cock twitches and pulses, and he comes deep inside you.

Exhaustion hits him and he puts more of his weight on you. Now with a free hand, he pushes your hand away and touches your clit again just to touch you a little one more time. That touch has you jolt, and he laughs darkly in your neck.

“Ezra?”

“Mmm?” he looks up at you, and you start to smooth his hair back.

“Can we do this again? Tonight?” you bite your lip.

“Hmm,” he pretends to think. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Ezra!” you laugh and playfully hit his chest.

“Okie,” he shrugs and begins to blow raspberries on your chest.

You stay with him then, tangled in the sheets all morning. And all afternoon, and into the evening. You can barely keep your hands off one another. And there’s not much desire to go prospecting any time soon, not when you’ve discovered something much richer in each other.

xx

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[consumedkings-archive]

v. equitable exchange ✤ pre-cult au

john/elliot + “ew, that is so sappy i might vomit” taken from this prompt list!

word count: 2k

warnings: john being himself. elliot’s mother is terror. otherwise, they’re just being cute and enjoying each other. also naughty language, of course!

“It’s incredible how relaxed you get,” John remarked, sitting across from her, “as soon as you get out of Hope County.”

Elliot blinked at him. They’d only been dating for six months, but in that short time, John had proven he was more perceptive than she might have given him credit for. Sure, he was a little dense (read: selfish), but he was exceptionally good at reading her, which was rapidly becoming a problem.

That was to say—Elliot did not like being so easily read. Especially not at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant, after not having seen John for two weeks because work had gotten so busy she’d thought about pretending to be dead to get a few days of rest, and then resurrect herself Christ-like to get back on payroll.

“It’s not Hope County,” she explained after a moment. She opened her mouth to say, it’s my mom, she’s fucking bananas and will not stop harassing me about dating some nice boy that one of her ex-debutante frenemies mentions on the phone every day, but that felt like a lot to say all in one go, and a lot to say to John Seed, so she didn’t. “It’s just—stuff.”

“Ah, the ever-enigmatic and elusive stuff,” John reiterated, snagging her hand and bringing her fingers up to his mouth to kiss. “Turn that brain of yours off for a few minutes, won’t you? If you’re not going to elaborate on what it is that’s bothering you.”

“Sure,” Elliot replied dryly, “let me just find the switch here and…”

As she was busying herself mock-searching for the non-existent flip that would shut her brain down—and wouldn’t that be nice, to be fucking brain dead for a moment?—her eyes traveled the length of the room and stopped short on a tall, lean blonde laughing with a few other women as they walked into the restaurant.

Their eyes locked. The woman said, “Elli?” and in an act of self-preservation, Elliot scooted her chair out from the table abruptly and came to a stand, as though to sprint away.

“Ell?” John asked as she ripped her hand away from him.

“Uh,” she said. She then failed to elaborate.

“Elli, is that you?” her mother called, more fervently now, that sugar-sweet Southern drawl ringing around in her head as the alarm systems went off. Oh no, she thought frantically, trying to think of quick ways out—bust a glass open and just end it, maybe, pretend like she had amnesia, or literally anything—oh no, oh fuck no, oh God, fuck, I can’t do this, not right now, I’m not prepared.

“We have to go,” she blurted out. “John? Earth to John? Code red, we’re leaving.”

“But I just opened the wine—”

“Elli, that is you!”

Bless his heart, John continued curiously, “Who is that?” when he noticed the woman, and Elliot stifled a moan of agony.

“That’s stuff,” she hissed, grabbing his hand, “please, can we go—”

All of her fight-or-flight had kicked in, which was ridiculous if someone were to look at the situation objectively—that she was having this kind of a reaction, but if anyone knew anything about Scarlet Honeysett it was that—

“Go where?” her mother asked, now standing directly in the nearly-perfect geographical center between Elliot and John, on the other side, and it was painful to experience. Scarlet looked, per usual, absolutely polished; meticulously-maintained golden hair perfectly curled, her blouse and skirt pressed and prim.

“Nowhere,” Elliot managed out. “I’m—nowhere, mama. Just—” She scrambled. “Just thought I saw a… Spider on the table.”

“Ah,” Scarlet replied, and she didn’t sound convinced. A long moment stretched where she was aware of her mother waiting for her to introduce John and John waiting for her to introduce him, when finally her mother said, “Well, who’s your little friend, honey?”

Little friend. Like they hadn’t been dating for six months (not that she knew), like she didn’t let John fuck her filthy every time they visited each other. Elliot felt a dizzying surge of anxiety shoot through her body and tried to push it down.

“He’s m-my—John,” she said, and immediately kicked herself. Dropping his hand unceremoniously, she added, “My… boyf-uuh… boyf-f-”

“… boyfriend,” John finished for her, like she hadn’t just gone fucking stupid in the last five minutes for some reason. He gave her a funny, questioning look before he turned his full charm on and reached his hand out to Scarlet. “John Seed. It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Honeysett, I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you.”

Scarlet shook his hand. Her gaze flickered down, and before John could retreat, she turned their gripped hands so that the top of his was facing up, inspecting it critically. Her eyes turned back to Elliot.

“He has tattoos,” she said and did not ask, in the kind of forced friendliness she used when she was talking to one of the aforementioned ex-debutante frenemies that liked to gossip about her.

“Yes,” said John, which was really all he could say.

“It wasn’t a question, darlin’,” Scarlet murmured idly.

“Mama,” Elliot began, “we should—um, can we—it’s just—”

“Elliot Savannah!” came an additional voice, and oh, she just wanted to shrink up and disappear when the flowery rose-perfume scent washed over her. The shock of bright auburn hair immediately came into her vision and warm arms were thrown around her neck. “I was wonderin’ if we were ever gonna see you again. Aw, honey, look at your red little cheeks.”

“Delia,” Elliot greeted, feeling faint. She returned the hug but could not ignore the way that John stood to the side. She was sure that he wasn’t accustomed to not immediately charming the pants off of anyone, and certainly, it was partially her fault they were now in this situation—after all, she hadn’t prepared him at all for what her mother was like. “It’s—so nice to see you again.”

“So nice to see you, my sweet girl,” Delia replied warmly. It was not lost on her that her mother’s one true friend was the first to reach and hug her, not her own mother. “And your very handsome man-friend, too.”

Delia swept away from Elliot to rescue John, who looked almost relieved to be admired and chatted to rather than glanced over with the sort of critical eye that Scarlet afforded to just about everything and everyone that came across her path. Delia’s apparent rescue of John left Elliot to shift under her mother’s gaze.

“Bunny,” Scarlet said, keeping her voice very mild, “have you been cutting your hair short?”

“Mama,” she sighed.

“I just think you look so pretty when it’s long. You know, your daddy never knew what to do with all that hair, but he learned to braid it just for—”

“We’re in the middle of dinner,” Elliot interrupted before her mother could wax poetic about the things that her father did well prior to his clinical and methodical abandonment of them. “And I haven’t seen John for a few weeks, so.”

So. The word hung between them, the sound of Delia fawning over John and feeding him all of the admiration and older-woman-flirtation he could probably want, and Scarlet waited. She didn’t speak; she was exceptionally good at this kind of little game, which they had always played, where Elliot would say something like so with the implication that Scarlet should be able to infer what she meant and her mother would refuse to.

“… just love our Elliot,” Delia gushed warmly. “You’re taking good care of her, aren’t you?”

“Oh, the very best,” John assured her. “It’s been—”

“Six months,” Elliot supplied.

Scarlet arched a brow upward. “That’s a long time to be seeing someone.” She glanced at John. “And so alternative, too.”

“Mother.”

“I only mean,” Scarlet continued, “that I wish you would have said something. I’ve been chatting with Blaire and her son is very interested in meeting you. It just feels rude to take it back, is all, and if you answered my phone calls—”

“I’m busy with work,” Elliot protested.

“But not busy enough to date someone secretly for a few months,” her mother shot back with all of the practiced politeness of a woman who made a living out of it.

John cleared his throat. “Six months.”

Elliot passed a hand over her face, exhaling sharply through her nose as she muddled through the anxiety and fury that her mother tended to inspire in her. A moment of silence stretched, too long and far too uncomfortable, before Delia clapped her hands together and made a soft sound.

“Well, I am just starvin’!” she exclaimed. “Scarlet, honey, you ready to eat?”

“I haven’t any kind of appetite,” Scarlet responded spitefully, and Elliot groaned and said, “You are so petty,” just as her mother plunged on, “but I suppose I’m ready to go.”

“Great,” Delia said, feigning cheerfulness. “Elliot, you’ll come and find us before you leave, won’t you? We’ll let you get back to dinner with your honey, and we’ll be waitin’ for you.”

As Delia steered her mother away and back to where the gaggle of ladies were standing around and watching the interaction from a safe distance, John sat himself back down at the table and poured his glass full of wine—far beyond what was normally considered a regular pour—and then did the same for her glass.

Elliot sat too and brought the glass to her mouth. Even though her mother’s presence inspired in her the most homicidal tendencies, so much so that she tried to avoid drinking at all around her, it felt necessary at this moment.

“That can’t be your mom,” John said conversationally. “She’s so tall.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Bunny?”

Elliot moaned, burying her face into her hands. It was the worst possible series of events that could happen: there was nothing in her that had prepared in the least to have to explain herself to her mother, and so of course the thing that she had done was not explain anything, because Scarlet Honeysett could not resist taking a dig at her daughter at any point in time.

“Hey,” John said lowly, scooting his chair over so that they were no longer on opposite ends of the table but rather perpendicular from one another, “drink your wine, we’ll lock the door on their insanely pretentious bathroom-with-a-couch, I’ll get you nice and relaxed, and then you’ll be ready to deal with your mom again.”

“You don’t get it,” Elliot protested, even when John’s words made heat crawl up into her cheeks

“I don’t really need to,” John replied flippantly. “Who gives a fuck if your mom doesn’t like me?”

“I do!” she insisted, distressed. “I care, and I had a very specific way that I wanted you to meet her, and she’s—God, she’s so—she always ruins fucking everything, John, you don’t get it.”

John leaned in, tilting her chin up, and kissed her. When he did, he tasted like red wine; his fingers slid to the back of her neck and cradled her there so that he could say against her mouth, “I’m not worried about it, hellcat.”

“I am.”

“Well, stop,” he replied amusedly. “You’re my girl, and regardless of your—very tall and honestly, statuesque—mother’s opinion of me right now—”

She sighed. “John.”

“—I will make sure that she likes me,” he finished. “I will charm her so fucking hard she’ll be begging you to marry me.”

Elliot made a low, tired sound. After a second, she said, “You’ll have to go to galas. And gatherings. Weddings. There are always so many weddings. Not to mention the charity functions, and—”

John hummed. “I will. Every single event that she invites me to. Maybe even a few she doesn’t, you know, just for fun.” He paused, and kissed her again. “All for you, baby. Anything for you. Even suffering through debutante events.” And then, playfully: “Bunny.”

“Ew,” the blonde groaned, suffering through the saccharine. “That is so sappy, I might vomit.”

“Please don’t,” he said, “I’m really enjoying kissing you.”

Elliot smiled against his mouth. “Okay,” she murmured, “but only if you don’t ever fucking call me bunny again.”

“Fair trade.”

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

caryl first date headcanon

i wrote a stream of consciousness caryl headcanon i was thinking about when i couldn’t sleep last night. no i did not proofread it. yes it is rambling nonsense. yes you can read it if you want: 

so i genuinely don’t know what the timeline for canon is gonna be now that we got bottle episodes, s11, and the spin-off, but just for a moment let us pretend that it happens during the bottle episodes and then we have all of s11 to watch caryl trying to figure out how to navigate a relationship with each other

cuz like, they gon fuck right away, bc things are gonna get heated, and tensions are gonna be high, and they’re gonna snap like a trip wire and fucking ravish each other, that’s without question

so the first little while of their relationship will be mostly getting intimately familiar with each other’s bodies down to every last freckle

but once they’ve simmered down some they’re gonna need to address the “oh shit, wait, how does a relationship work?” problem

cue: caryl’s first date

it’ll take place in commonwealth, and i’ve never read the comics and i know jack all about it outside of what i’ve skimmed, but we’re gonna ignore that for the sake of my fun post

i know enough about it to know that there are definitely places to have a date

daryl knows this too, tho he doesn’t rly think about it right away. at first he’s more confused and sort of standoffish about the whole place, bc he was always a forest-dweller even before the apocalypse, so seeing this new metropolis-like place after years of living like a gd pioneer is gonna throw him way off kilter

right up until he’s chillin’ with judith and she’s talking about how she’s excited to see her first concert, and they have restaurants, and things she’s only ever read about, and then out of nowhere she’ll pull out, “are you gonna take aunt carol on a date?” 

and daryl will stare at her

and she’ll be like “rosita was telling me about how father gabriel took her on a real date and how nice it was. you should do that for aunt carol” 

and daryl will stare at her

and then will hastily change the subject (she’ll see right through him, ofc, but she’ll let it slide)

but the thought will stick with him, and suddenly he’s looking at the schedule of upcoming concerts and plays and wondering if carol would care about any of it. does she like shakespeare? the most experience he would have had with shakespeare was ripping out a couple pages of his school copy of romeo and juliet to use to light some firewood

but maybe she’s into it???

eventually he’ll reach the inevitable conclusion that the only way this is going to work is if he actually asks her to go on a date with him, which should be easy, right? like, he was ball’s deep inside her last night and told her good morning by putting his face between his legs, so surely asking someone on a date is simple

it will not be simple

bc yeah, they fuck all the time, and obviously they’re head-over-heels in love with each other, they’re each other’s soulmates, yada yada, but also daryl’s extremely emotionally repressed and has the romance skills of a fifteen year old having his mom drive him and his date to his first homecoming dance, only worse bc he never even went to any school dances

but after Dwelling On It for ages he’ll finally get fed up with himself and will vow to stop being a pussy. he’ll ask her before the day’s over or he’ll shoot a bolt into his own foot, ok, no more excuses

so the whole day he’s jittery af

you’d think he’s trying to pop the question, but all he wants to do is go eat dinner with carol and then watch some people recite lines from a play written hundreds of years ago, like, what is his Deal(tm)??? 

(his deal is, ofc, that he waited so long to have her, and now every new thing feels tenuous, bc he’d rather die than lose her, and sure she knows him better than anyone, but never in this context, and plus her last dude basically bled passion and romance no matter how obnoxious, and what if she realizes just how fucking clueless he is and decides she doesn’t really want to be with a middle-aged man who still gets tongue-tied around a pretty girl?)

(but also she deserves a gd date, alright? she deserves it, and so he’s going to give it to her, even if going face-to-face with a walker horde is less intimidating)

carol notices something’s off with him right away, but she waits until after dinner, when the kids have gone to their rooms and the two of them are alone washing dishes to ask, “hey, so what the fuck?” 

and daryl will be like, k, it’s now or never

and he will 100% make a fool of himself by stumbling alllll over his words, like, “nothin’s wrong, i’m fine, everythin’s real fine, i was just wonderin’ if mb you’d wanna, y’know, i dunno, they got all these shows and shit that we ain’t had in forever and i didn’t know if mb you’d wanna go see one? and mb get some food? with me, i mean. like, together. like i’d take you there and we could do those things, like a, you know, a date. but it’s cool if not, no worries, i get it if it’s not your thing, but i just thought i’d ask, but no, you’re right, it’s stupid, forget i said anythin’, hey look at the time, well i’m beat, gonna go to sleep now, goodbye”

and carol will go, “hold up”

and she’ll take daryl by the wrist before he can flee the room (bc he definitely intends to), and pulls him close and kisses him all sweet, and she’s gotta stand on her tiptoes to do it bc she’s in a pair of knit socks and he’s got his boots on so there’s more of a height difference than usual, and after she’s successfully managed to keep daryl from falling straight into a panic spiral, she’ll whisper, “i’d love to, let’s go this weekend”

and then she’ll just turn back to doing dishes without another word on the matter 

(bc, as previously stated, she knows daryl better than anyone, and she knows exactly what all his insecurities are and how much it must have taken him to ask her that, and so she’s not gonna harp on it or tease him)

(daryl recognizes this and loves her desperately for it)

the actual date is way easier than daryl expected

bc he spent all this time hyping it up, but when it comes right down to it, he just gets to spend a night with carol where they don’t have the kids to worry about, or any council business, and they just get to enjoy each other’s company

she even dressed up a little for him, which was unnecessary, but he most certainly appreciates it and can’t wait to tear the outfit off of her later

(it does make him regret the fact that he’s only had one pair of pants for the past ten years, but she doesn’t seem to mind)

they end up seeing a shakespeare play

daryl understands like 2% at best, but carol holds his hand and rests her head on his shoulder the whole time, and apparently it’s a comedy bc she laughs a lot, and that alone makes it worth it

they fuck like crazy when they get home, obviously

but it’s different than it had been previously, bc now their “togetherness” seems more solidified

like, they’re officially a “couple” now

like the type of couple that gets a babysitter for the night so they can go to the apocalyptic version of dinner and a movie together and then have sex and then fall asleep right afterwards bc they’re domestic af

and like, deep down both of them knows that this isn’t the life that they’re meant to live in forever, a la commonwealth/domestic bliss, and he wasn’t kidding when he told her new mexico was still out there, and he can feel a shift coming sooner rather than later

but he also knows they’ll be together when it happens, and they’ll figure out their own version of “date night” when they’re out exploring

but for now he’s content to do it the old fashioned way, though

when she falls asleep on his chest that night he rubs her back and kisses the top of her head, and he’s already planning their next night out

he might pick a show with modern english, though

but it’s not required

just so long as they’re together

the end