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literalgrill · 4 months

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Do NOT Support Hard Drive On Patreon

You might see friends today suggesting you support Hard Drive on Patreon today. You know, the funny video games version of The Onion? As a journalist, I will firmly tell you DO NOT GIVE THEM A DIME.

The CEO has pushed out all former staff that have built the site up to its current greatness and has been pushing the use of AI. The staff begged to have a Patreon before basically all being pushed out, but the idea was refused until now, when it will only line the pockets of a single person instead of hard working writers.

I know they might have provided laughs before, but Hard Drive is a shell of what it was once. Let it die and support the people who actually made those moments of joy possible. Don't believe me? Check out what former employees are saying below:

Kevin Podas: Okay you know what, I would feel bad saying nothing about this, so here goes:🚨SAVE YOUR MONEY🚨

We passionately advocated for a Patreon at Hard Drive & were aggressively shot down. The talent & people who built the site were pushed out. To see this now is beyond upsetting. For the past few years or so I put a lot of myself into this website. I pitched a ton of jokes, got over 120 articles published, & met a lot of great people. I'm sure if you've been following me for some time you could easily see this.

However, there is a lot of misinformation. I was eventually promoted to Managing Editor of the site & was ecstatic. Grateful for the opportunity. Felt like all of my hard work in the comedy mines was finally paying off. But things took a turn for the worst, & each day there were new surprises that affected our livelihoods. These were all very avoidable surprises, mind you.

A patreon was going to be our hail mary, but alas, for some reason, the power that be did not want it. Causing us to leave a dream job behind. "At least we did all we could," we consoled ourselves afterwards. I put a lot of myself into this project. I pitched all sorts of ideas that could have helped-- we all did. Merch collaborations, Patreon-integrated YouTube content, so much more. And most of them were shot down out of sheer stubbornness and nothing more. To see lie after lie spread, and multiple big publications and YouTubers that I am a fan of promote this Patreon under these pretenses is incredibly upsetting. There are so many receipts.

Please share this and consider pulling out if you've already put money into this. On Hard Drive using AI, also from Kevin Podas: I can't personally confirm that part aside from some of the recent header images for articles on both Hard Drive and Hard Times are being made with AI. As far as writing, it's been mentioned in the past, but I personally do not know. Maybe others do, maybe not. MORE From Kevin Podas suggesting the owner denying a Patreon being set up earlier cost an artist a job that was replaced by AI: We had a social media person who was awesome! He made the images until this AI implementation. He had to leave because ad revenue was low and a Patreon was aggressively refused.

Luca Fisher: at the risk of burning some bridges, i have to back up kevin here. i've only been part-time, in-and-out of hard drive since i got in last year, but i can corroborate that management doubled and tripled down about not hosting a patreon/crowdfunding and that many other suggestions and ideas, including mine (and ones much smarter than mine!), were shot down in really long, apocalyptic threads of everyone left on deck desperately trying to come up with ways to keep the lights on. managerially it has been messy and sad

i've written for multiple publications that have long since died, ones that were in the process of dying, and ones that, in this case, are soon to be put in the ground. it is sad and sucks every time. i don't know what could have been done differently, but i do know that a lot of great writers and content creators were left shorthanded and unhappy by the way things have gone. and it is sort of puzzling to see the sudden championing of patreon after we were all told plenty of times that it couldn't work and we should move on also, just to add my own personal two cents here, i was really disappointed by the shuttering of many different article sections on the site over the past 6-8 months. i understand cutting corners in a deficit, and i know it had to be done. that said…

all in all, i'm really sad to see this all happen. i don't fault anyone, if only because i don't really know enough about how this all can happen to make sense of it. games journalism is in a sad, sorry state, and will likely no longer be a thing in the next decade

VideoSealMan: I'm gonna say this because I think I deserve to. For months, MONTHS on end I was bugging Hard Drive management about a Patreon. Often I got ignored for a week+, but when I actually got a response I was encouraged to - of all things, write up a Google Doc pitching the concept I did it regardless. I wasn't the only one trying to sway management on a Patreon, but so fiercely was I fighting for it that last night, I was accused of making this comment directly by the CEO! With no evidence whatsoever! After I'd been gone for over a month.

I vouched so hard for Patreon because I wanted all the writers and creatives working with Hard Drive including myself to get paid better. When I actually got a response, the idea was often shut down. Eventually due to the state of my company, my pay was cut for a second time I confronted management alongside a couple other important figureheads at the org and told them that if we couldn't do a Patreon - I could no longer financially justify staying there. The answer was still no, so I left. Baffled at the decision, but whatever.

It is unendingly frustrating to know that myself and many other people who put their soul into Hard Drive LEFT because of management's absolute refusal to compromise on a Patreon, to then see them launch one anyway a month later and get over 1000 people pledging money. I'm seeing a lot of things float around about greed and people being fired. No one was fired. Everyone who left, left because they were sick of management's decision-making. And honestly, management is a lot of things but I would not call them greedy. (From my experience.) They did genuinely make an effort to pay people as much as possible. I found the pay very fair for a while. I am not disputing that I was paid what I was owed - yet management frequently feels the need to remind critics of that. Lmao, yes. I was paid what I was owed. No one is disputing payment. You did the bare minimum a business owner should do and paid everyone their due, very well done. I make no allegations of greed, cheating or foul play. I make allegations of poor management and incompetence that has fucked over other people.

Basically the only people left at Hard Drive have been there for about 2 months. They will reap the rewards of this successful Patreon I and so many others passionately fought for for so long. We will not see a dime.

I do not know the new people at Hard Drive, But I feel bad for them. They were haphazardly thrust into Hard Drive's workplace with little to no explanation on how anything works, or given any context on the state of the place. Even now managements feeds them half-truths and misinformation about other people's grievances. I am broke and have been for a while. I had to move out of my flat in Reading and back with my family because of how little money I was making. This has basically doomed my flatmate to moving back in with abusive parents, which is something I feel guilty about every day. If we had gone with the Patreon I worked myself hoarse over back then, this could have been avoided. Some of my other good pals could also not have been fucked over.

It was a bad judgment call, but it's not a crime. It's just management getting it wrong.

So should you give to the Hard Drive Patreon? I don't know! I don't think any of the new people working there to patch up the holes left by the recent mass exodus have any bad intentions. Maybe they deserve it! But it is not the same site you knew a year ago, or even a month ago. Myself and many people who were there far longer than me and did far more for it than I did are all gone now because we could not deal with management's terrible decision-making and dogass communication any longer. That's what you should know, imo

I had an agreement in place with management that I would receive the next 8 months of revenue from the Hard Drive YT channel from my leaving in November. This was a deal I appreciated, and thought was very fair on management's behalf. So far, the deal has been honoured for 2 months. However as of last night I was removed from the Hard Drive Slack without warning, and as an editor for the YouTube channel. This means I no longer have any way of verifying how much I am owed, I just have to take their word for it. I'm sure management will make their own statements full of half-truths and weird language on the many cases being brought against them - I'd take everything they say with a pinch of salt if some of the screenshots I've seen of them talking about me are any indication lol

To management; I do not want to talk to you. I want you to DM me a screenshot of how much I'm owed every month and then send me the money per our agreement until June, then we can go our separate ways. Do that and admit to your mistakes, and maybe you can recover your reputation! That's it from me, lol. If they pull out of the deal and fuck me over I'll have more to say, but most of what I know is other people's stories of incompetence and poor decision-making, lol. I genuinely get no pleasure out of doing this; I do not think management is evil - I just think they're really bad at what they do and it's cost other, more talented people, lol. You should believe the writers imo

One last thing I wanna say btw, management did often stress that no one should try to make Hard Drive a full time thing. They were transparent about that, and that is fair. I was working on it because at a few points, I was lead to believe we actually were doing a Patreon. Many other ppl have similar stories of being strung along by management changing their minds and stop-starting shit every 2 weeks. We all made the fatal mistake of overestimating our manager - who would tell you one thing one day and something totally opposite the next week lol

Hunter R. Thompson:

I'm not your dad, but speaking as a Hard Drive writer, I don't know that funding Hard Drive on Patreon is worth it

The driving talent on the back end—behind the kickass site I joined in 2019—have peaced out over the years as the site's been (in our view) increasingly mismanaged. Mismanagement like, not setting up crowdfunding before the ship sank and all its best crew failed; or publishing a screenshot of Andy Ngo pedojacketing a trans writer, complete with her deadname; or a disgruntled ex-writer getting falsely accused of shit-talk, by actual staff. I'm grateful for the writing I've gotten to produce for HD (and will forever be kicking myself for not writing even more, in the four years I've had to do it!! i'm a dumbass!!!) but it is very much no longer the site I signed up for.

I don't want to resign as a contributor altogether, because I'm open to the idea of the site recovering and bad practices being retired as finances level out-- it would just be dishonest for potential backers to not be Aware Of The Circumstances, I think.

Jeremy Kaplowitz: i truly don't want to start shit, but feel compelled to say: i want to see Hard Drive succeed w/o resorting to throwing former writers & editors, myself included, under the bus. surely there's a way to save the site without building it over the corpses of those who left. my $0.02 i don't blame anyone who wants to sign up for the HD patreon and i support the website, but that includes those who worked on it for years, have complaints, and don't deserve to be treated like bitter assholes like this kind of stuff is just objectively true, meanwhile there's these new writers who joined the site after i left (meaning, in the last ~3 months) claiming people are liars. decide for yourself if you care, but this is what happened! [Quotes this Tweet]

Seth Finkelstein: Writing for Hard Drive has been a privilege the past few years, and it makes me so angry to see people I looked up to get jerked around behind the scenes. The amount of grenades the editors jumped on our behalf is immense, and I don't think the way they're being treated is right.

Other Bits On AI: We do know for sure however that AI art has been used by the site. Its fucking owner confirms it here:https://twitter.com/MattSaincome/status/1743040541603123622. Seems the owner pushed AI written articles as well! TayFabe: My vaguetweet is making the rounds & these made me apoplectic. - owner regularly lobbied using ai. Once he tested it & said ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. - ai images were used on the site & socials w/o consulting the team or disclosing it publicly I found the ai bit relevant to include bc 1) it illuminates a stark change in HD's current direction & leadership, 2) ai images have previously been used on the site and (since deleted) ig posts, 3) ai content fucking sucks, and repeatedly pushing to use it is a telling quality The "handful of writers who chose to leave" includes 2 editors-in-chief (both cofounders who wrote a combined total of >1,000 articles & defined the voice of HD), & at least 3 other editors. These guys put in WORK since 2017, so cool to be corrected by ppl who joined in Nov 2023 [Link to mentioned vague tweet from post.] More from TayFabe: owner continuously lobbied for using ai in every possible way. No one else wanted to do it, but he kept on, saying ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. Also, ai images were used on the site & socials without public disclosure or consulting the team.

The owner has responded now multiple times in a private discord... Thank you for people sharing screenshots! First Screenshot:

Kevin's Response: He banned me from the server for speaking out, so no, I didn't see it. And he gave no indication of a timeline, it was just "we'll do one when *I* say so" and gave every inclination he was totally against it. It bred an environment that pushed our hands to have to leave. Screenshot Round Two:

Kevin's Response: "Starting one in 3 months" is an absolute lie. He denied it, I have screenshots and others who can confirm. No timeline was given. Just "this is what it is now" and like, I couldn't live off of that. I wanted to do more but he was allergic to good ideas from others around him.

Matt, owner of Hard Drive, responds publicly on Twitter.

Matt: Kevin, the patreon launch was delayed because I didn't think it would work. Everyone is happy that it did work. Everyone who left the site because we didn't have money to pay for creative content which didn't revenue is welcome to return home. But unclear why the hostility.

Hard Drive paid out literally every dollar it had, then a bunch more, to creative people who worked on the site. When we ran out of money, we couldn't pay anymore. We did our best.

Kevin: Right, and my point of this thread was that it was completely and totally avoidable. This is reasonable to be upset about. How could I have been any more clear?

Matt: If we knew with 100% certainly that the community would have supported us via patreon, we would have done that. We didn't know. We had tried 4 years ago and got no support. We were wrong this time. We did our best to figure it out. We paid all the money we could.

Kevin: So you knew with 100% certainty this time? Or you took a leap of faith?

Matt: It was a last gasp panic effort after ad rates got cut in half on january 1st due to seasonal spending changes. We didn't know it would work. We were embarrassed to ask for support. We wanted to figure it out.

Kevin: Every site has a Patreon. Every YouTuber, comedy group, etc. But you insisted that nobody cared about Hard Drive. Which is wildly untrue. I know you see that now, but again, I think you can see why I and many others are pretty upset. A last ditch panic effort was long overdue. A couple more things from Matt:

It was about the size of the hole we needed plugged budget wise, the time I had left of personal resources, and the past data I had about us trying a patreon (which turned out to be a bad indicator). I didn't think the Patreon would help us fast enough. I made a bad estimation

aka "if we make $1000 more dollars a month via patreon, which would be 10x what we got last time, we will not solve any of our problems. If instead we try to plow down path B, we might make it out in time." That was the thinking. I chose the wrong path, but didn't mean to Kevin also retweeted this comment from the user Matt was responding to: So you're saying that you're bad at running the business, didn't listen to any of your employees until after they were forced to leave their jobs, and now you're going to get more of the money from the Patreon that was their idea in the first place? Matt's Response: Respectfully, I made a mistake delaying the patreon decision. But keeping a comedy site alive for 9 years is not easy, there are lots of potential ideas, and think overall we've done a good and honorable job. Will leave this thread in peace now to allow people their space.

Sorry for linking to Elon's hellsite (derogatory), but sources need links so...

#video games #patreon #hard drive #ai critical

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gay-dorito-dust · 29 days

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How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

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bluejutdae · 2 months

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• best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Minho x you

Chan, Changbin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: asshole date, nothing happens but reader thinks her date might follow her home

This night has been terrible so far. Your friend convinced you to go out with one of her colleagues to get over your crush for Minho, and you knew it was pointless, but she insisted so much you have lost the will to fight. So you wore a nice dress and a minute before you left the apartment, the guy texted you saying there was a change of plans and to meet two hours later and at a different location. Is the dating scene like this for everybody? You haven’t dated anyone for a long time, a bit because of how things ended with your last boyfriend but mostly because of the raging (unreciprocated) crush for Minho.

Minho’s now one of your closest friends, but you never actually gave up on your feelings for him. It’s almost comfortable, safe in a way, to love someone knowing things won’t change but won’t end either.

But for the sake of shutting up your friend, you are now in a very shitty situation. The guy is pretty, you’re mature enough to admit that, but he’s a major asshole. Even ignoring the last minute change of plans, the fact that he arrived 25 minutes later and apparently the new location is a nightclub. His hands have been on you the moment he introduced himself and the more you try to put some distance between you two, the more he’s all over you. You could just leave, that’s true. It’s also true that this guy is very set on never leaving your side and he’s so pushy you’re certain he wouldn’t hesitate to follow you home.

You wonder when Minho is going to be here so you can at least leave the club and have him keep you company, when you feel a hand grabbing your wrist. You turn to find the hand holding you belongs to Minho himself and he’s looking at you with a surly expression, teeth clenched and a frown between his eyebrows. “We’re going home.”

His voice is cold and firm, you’ve never heard him speak to you like that. Your date notices the scene and turns to Minho. “Woah dude, she’s mine tonight.”

Minho’s cold stare rests on the guy and at the same time your friend makes a step to place himself between you and your date. “She’ll never be yours, not tonight, not never. She belongs to me. Dude.” The last word was spat through Minho’s teeth, mocking and a bit cruel.

Words die on the guy’s tongue when Minho gets into his face and says something too quiet for you to hear.

A moment later he’s gently pushing you away and through the crowd, towards the exit.

“Well, that was intense,” you joke when you’re safe on the sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever put yourself into a situation like this. Ever again.” He’s on your face, almost screaming the words at you, anger contorting his face.

You can understand he was worried, but you don’t like the way he’s talking to you.

“Ya, Minho! Do you think I wanted that?” You raise your eyebrows. “I didn’t call you so you could scold me! I called you because I trusted you to help me, I know I was in a shitty situation!”

“And yet you still got into this situation!” He rebuts, and in this moment you hate him a little.

Why is he judging you like this? Why is he blaming you? Sure, you were a bit too naive but it’s not like you consciously decided to put yourself in a potentially dangerous situation.

“This clearly wasn’t what I expected.”

“No? You’re the one who decided to go to a club with a man you didn’t know. And you came alone! Was bringing a friend too easy?”

“Fuck you, Minho!”

You stalk away, towards the direction of the bus stop. Why is he mad at you now? He’s never been mean or cruel to you, despite what lots of people say about him, he’s a caring friend.

You can hear his footsteps getting close and you almost laugh at the thought that comes to your mind: you are always so focused on him, you can now recognize his footsteps.

“I parked in the other direction.”

“Then go the other direction. I don’t need you here. Sorry I bothered you. I won’t be your problem anymore.”

“You are my problem.”

“Oh, so I really am a problem to you.” You can believe him. All this because he had to come get you? You didn’t think it’d be such a hassle.

“Yes. You’ve been my problem since I met you.”

“You’re being so fucking cruel tonight, Minho.”

“I am not- can you stop walking?” He asks, sounding exasperated. You stop and face him, one hand on your hip and your lips pursed in disapproval. “So you can tell me more about how I’m a problem?”

“I didn’t say a problem.”

“You said exac-“

“I said MY problem! Emphasis on my. Because you’re not other people’s problem. And I don’t want you to belong to other guys, don’t want them to call you theirs! I want you to be mine.”

You stare at him for half a minute, silent and still. Putting aside the fact that he’s repeating the fact that you’re a problem, you try to read between the lines.

“Is this a fucked up way to tell me you have feeling for me?”

“Yes.”

This is ridiculous. Really ridiculous. Your crush has feelings for you. And the most backwards way of confessing. Well, considering he is Minho, it’s pretty in character for him. Still ridiculous, though.

“I didn’t know you decided to go on dates.” He says it like a second thought.

“I didn’t.”

“You were on a date.”

“Doesn’t mean I decided to go on dates.”

“Means exactly that.”

“Jesus, Minho. Can you ever drop something?”

“Not when it’s about you.”

This asshole. How can you find his otherwise annoying answers amusing?

“My friend insisted so much that she wore me down, so I accepted this date with her colleague. So, as I said, I haven’t decided to go on dates.”

“Good.”

“You can never be normal, uh? Always with a weird answer.”

“You like weird.”

“I do.”

“You’re normal. I like normal.”

He likes normal, and he likes you. And he tells you so in a Minho way at least another ten times in the following minutes, during your way home.

You say goodbye and you’re about to get out of the car, when he puts his hand on your arm, an hesitant expression on his face. “No more other guys, right?”

You smile softly at him. “No more other guys. There hasn’t really been another guy since I met you.”

His smile is all you need.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bluejutdae #skz #minho smau #minho imagines #minho fanfic #minho scenarios #Thiana writes Minho

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buckymorelikefuckme · 1 year

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cry baby

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 7.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smüt, ed*ging, overstimulation, crying during s*ex, mentions of flushed cheeks, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, lapslock.

a/n: this is arguably one of my absolute fave fics i've ever written. she is near and dear to my heart :') i've provided the link for ao3 if you prefer to read it there! it's originally posted in two parts but i've combined them here. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

“the boys are running late,” natasha informs you when you make your way to the table she’s conquered in the busy cafe. “sam texted a couple minutes ago and said he and bucky got stuck in traffic.”

it’s the second tuesday of the month, which means it’s brunch day. it’s a running tradition that’s stood for the four of you since your college days. the time and place has changed over the years, but everyone does their absolute best to attend every time. these tuesdays are your favorite, naturally.

you plop into an empty chair across from her with a heavy sigh. “good, that means i have time to bitch about how fucking horny i am before they get here.”

she snorts, taking a delicate sip of her latte. “what’s new?” she wonders sarcastically.

“you don’t understand,” you begin, leaning into the table, gripping the edge tightly. “it’s been months, and not like, a few, i mean it’s coming up on a year.”

natasha’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “a year? what about that guy you went on a few dates with a while back? didn’t anything happen with him?”

“no,” you grumble, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. you huff. “and even if something had happened, i doubt it would have been satisfying. i can probably count on one hand the amount of times sex has been even kinda pleasurable for me.”

“sounds like you’re picking shitty partners.”

you scowl. “i know that, but it’s not my fault. all these stupid men keep promising they’re gonna fuck me ten ways to sunday and not a single one of them can even get me to wednesday.”

natasha laughs. “you poor thing.”

“you’re really not helping me here,” you whine with a pitiful pout on your lips. “you are getting routine dickings, you have sam! i am not so lucky here.” you notice her attention flicks to somewhere behind you, but you’re not finished with your rant. “nat, i’m serious. all of my sex encounters are the equivalent of asking someone to scratch my back and then they scratch literally anywhere but the spot that itches. i want to be fucked so good that i cry, just—completely reduced to tears. is that too much to ask?”

nat is hiding her smile behind her hand, amusement painted across her sharp features. someone clears their throat behind you and you pinch the bridge of your nose. sam and bucky occupy the empty seats, sam next to natasha and bucky next to you. they’re both sporting wide grins, looking far too pleased about stumbling into this conversation.

sam opens his mouth, no doubt to make a smartass comment, but you cut him off before he can get a good inhale in.

“not a fucking word,” you grouse with a finger pointed in his direction.

he presses a hand to his chest, expression offended. “i would never make a joke about your truly tragic excuse of a sex life.”

bucky snickers quietly, but turns into a cough at your glare.

“i’ll murder you,” you promise.

“leave her alone, boys,” natasha says, rolling her eyes, though she’s visibly biting back her own laughter.

you huff, digging your wallet out of your purse. “i hate all of you,” you announce before getting up and going to stand in line to order.

bucky follows a moment later, coming to stand at your side and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“that bad, huh?” he asks.

you don’t have to look at his face to know he’s probably smirking right now.

“fuck off,” you retort, not bothering to push his arm away since you know he’d only put it right back.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he jests, “you know we just like to poke a little fun.”

you roll your eyes, throwing him an exasperated look. “yeah, but that was something only nat was supposed to hear. i hate talking about sex with you and sam because you two wouldn’t understand.”

“that’s not true,” bucky insists, which makes you roll your eyes again. “it’s not!”

“first of all, sam’s got natasha, so we both know they’re more than satisfied.” bucky tilts his head in acquiescence. “and you don’t have to worry about if you’re gonna have an orgasm when you hook up with somebody. men have it so easy.”

it’s probably not the best thing to talk about in line of a busy cafe (especially since you haven’t decided between a blueberry muffin or the ham and cheese croissant, and there’s only one person ahead of you now and you’d really rather not be discussing your lack of sex in front of an innocent barista) but it sort of feels good to get this off your chest, even if it’s to bucky.

“okay, definitely not true,” he replies with a frown. “i’m not always guaranteed an orgasm.”

you give him a skeptical glance. “i find that hard to believe.”

this time, it’s bucky who rolls his eyes. “whatever, whether or not i come when i have sex with someone isn’t what i was gonna talk about when i came over here.”

the person in front of you finishes their order and then you’re stepping up for your turn.

“hi, what can i get you today?” the young barista asks with a smile.

“a large mocha iced coffee with sweet cream and a blueberry muffin, please.” you pause, contemplating, then add, “and a ham and cheese croissant.”

if you can’t get fucked within an inch of your life then food will become your lover, you reason.

“just a black coffee for me, please,” bucky tells the girl, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and handing over his card to pay before you can stop him.

“i could’ve paid for mine,” you mumble.

“you also could just say thank you,” he replies with a short laugh as he ushers you to the side to wait for your order.

you pinch his hip, pouting. “thank you.”

“why does your gratitude come with violence?” he asks, rubbing the sore spot.

“you know how i am when people do nice things for me.”

“you should be used to it by now,” he points out.

“well, i’m not,” you huff. “anyway, what did you come over here to talk about then?”

bucky reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy all the sudden. “uh, well. i dunno, i just thought… you know, since you’re not—i mean, not that you couldn’t be, just—you haven’t been, so maybe… fuck.”

“spit it out,” you say with a giggle, wondering what in the world’s got him so tongue-tied.

“why don’t you let me?” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately after.

you tilt your head in confusion. “let you what?”

he sighs heavily, working his jaw in frustration. “you know…” he begins, digging his thumbnail into a knick on the countertop in front of you. “let me fuck you until you cry.”

“what?”

just then, your order is called. bucky quickly grabs it and turns to make his way back to the table, but you grab his arm to stop him.

“i don’t think so, you come back here right now and explain yourself,” you demand.

his eyes lift heavenward. “it’s just an idea, okay?”

“bucky, you’re talking about crossing a huge line. you can’t just throw that out all willy nilly!”

“i know,” he replies earnestly. “and it’s not—“ he grimaces at the phrasing, “willy nilly. you’re one of my best friends. i wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything, and i wouldn’t offer this if i thought that it could. this is something that’s obviously affecting you negatively in your life and i’m willing to help. i trust you, and i’m pretty sure you trust me, yeah?”

“of course i trust you,” you say, frowning.

he shrugs. “so, then it’s just… a friend helping another friend.”

“you make it sound so simple,” you muse in wonder.

“think about it?” he implores.

you swallow roughly, biting the inside of your cheek. “fine. i’ll think about it.”

he nods and walks back over to the table where sam and natasha are waiting. you hesitate for only a split second before following.

needless to say, you’re distracted for the rest of brunch.

***

you: what even makes you think you could fuck me until i cry anyway?

it’s been nearly a week, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re actually considering taking bucky’s offer. it’s all you can think about since he brought it up. you can’t lie, you’ve always thought bucky was attractive, but ever since you were gently but firmly placed in the friend category back in university, you never allowed yourself to think of there ever being more between the two of you. he’s a wonderful friend to have and you’d have been an idiot to pass it up. bucky is kind and generous and just enough of an asshole to keep things interesting without it being a problem.

but this… this has left you reeling. why would he make such an offer after only ever keeping things strictly friendly and platonic in your relationship? and more importantly, where does he get the confidence to think he could follow through?

bucky: experience?

you make a face at your phone, furiously typing your reply.

you: ew. do you realize how douchey that sounds?

bucky: well, it’s not douchey if it’s true.

you: says you

bucky: and a few other people :)

bucky: you’d know it too if you’d let me fuck you

you exhale harshly through your nose, tapping your foot on the floor anxiously, carefully thinking of what you should say next.

you: it’s apparently a tall request, and thus far, nobody’s been able to deliver. you can understand my skepticism…

bucky: if i don’t leave you shivering and twitching with aftershocks of pleasure, in a mess of sweat and come, and tears stained on your cheeks, then i will have failed you.

your thighs squeeze together at the mental image that brings you. jesus christ, if he’s half as good at fucking as he is dirty talking then he just might do as he’s promising.

bucky: so? what do you say? wanna give it a try?

biting your lip, you give yourself a moment to weigh the pros and cons in your mind one last time.

it doesn’t take you very long to make your decision.

you: okay. we’ll try.

***

it’s a slightly overcast sunday when bucky comes over with the direct intention to fuck you. it should be weird, but strangely, all you feel is anticipation. maybe it’s because you know him so well and know that, no matter what, he’d take care of you.

(or, maybe it’s because those repressed college-aged feelings are doing their best to resurface, even though you steadfastly continue to ignore them.)

you’d taken a thorough shower earlier to ease the little bit of nerves you had when you’d woken up. cleaning up the small mess your apartment gathered over the last couple weeks helped, as well, and soon you found yourself standing in front of your lingerie drawer with your lips pursed.

you weren’t sure if you should even bother with it, but it felt you wouldn’t be putting in any effort into this encounter if you didn’t at least pick out nice underwear. so, with a pleased nod, you settle on some simple black lace panties and a matching bralette. not too much, but enough to satisfy yourself, and hopefully bucky. you pick out a simple sundress to put on over it, since you won’t be wearing much of anything once bucky gets here. that thought has you flushing, but you ignore it to put on some makeup, just to freshen up your face.

by the time he knocks on your door, you’ve already finished a glass of wine and are pouring yourself a second.

he smiles when open the door, a bit boyishly, greeting you with a quiet, “hi.”

“hi,” you return, just as soft. you open the door wider. “come in.”

he walks passed you, stopping to toe his shoes off and hang his jacket on one of the hooks.

“do you want a glass of wine?” you ask as you head to the kitchen to retrieve your own from the counter.

bucky follows, stopping in the entryway with his hands in his pockets. “no, thank you.”

you nod, taking a sip from your glass, trying to figure out what to say. the air feels a little awkward and you’re not sure how to fix it.

“nervous?” he wonders curiously.

you shake your head. “not really.”

he quirks a brow. “then what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know,” you murmur. “i guess i’m just worried we’re making a mistake.”

he hums. you take a larger sip of your wine.

with cautious steps, he comes closer to you. “what if i promise that things won’t be weird after?”

“you can’t really promise that, though.”

“sure i can,” he says, smiling. “it’s me and you. we’ve been friends for so long. plenty of people have sex and stay friends after.”

you’re not just ‘people’ to me, you think.

you sigh, frustrated with yourself. you can’t deny how badly you want this. it’s all you’ve been able to think about since that day in the cafe. but the thought of losing bucky is heartbreaking, and you don’t want your stupid horniness to be the reason that you ruin a friendship, even if he was the one to offer sex.

“why don’t we go make out on the couch for a little while first?” he suggests after a moment’s pause.

you snort, in spite of your thoughts. “like a couple of teenagers?”

his eyes crinkle on the sides when he grins. “yeah. we’ll just see how we feel about that, and if it leads to more, then…” he trails off, shrugging.

“that’s not a bad idea,” you concede.

“great! finish your wine.”

you laugh and do as you’re told, downing the little remaining wine in one go, sitting the glass down on the counter resolutely as you swallow.

“let’s do this,” you say, determined.

bucky huffs a laugh, grabbing your wrist and tugging you behind him as he makes his way to the couch. he settles slightly facing you as you tuck your legs under you beside him.

“do you wanna talk, or do you want to jump straight into it?”

“if we talk anymore i’m gonna change my mind. just kiss me already, bucky.”

“yes ma’am,” he sasses before doing exactly that.

he cups your cheek with one hand as the other is placed on your knee. he guides your face to his and kisses you chastely. you’re not sure where to put your hands at first, but you tell yourself to quit being a goober about it and place them on either side of his neck, your thumbs brushing under his jaw.

it’s an okay kiss, you have to admit, but it’s not really doing anything for you yet. he has soft lips, softer than you thought they’d be. you’re beginning to wonder if maybe this confirms you shouldn’t go any further when he tilts his head, and… hm.

he parts his lips, taking your bottom one between his, kissing it, then nipping it. you wouldn’t say the sound you make is a gasp, necessarily, but it’s close. his tongue lightly caresses the seam of your mouth and you don’t even think before you open up for him, letting his tongue sweep in, flicking against yours. you hum, scooting a tiny bit closer to him, chasing the feeling. his kisses turn insistent then, teeth biting at your bottom lip and tugging, soothing the ache with his tongue. he kisses you like a man quenching his thirst, like you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s leaving you dizzy. you sway more into his space and he pulls away from your mouth.

“c’mere,” he whispers, gripping behind one of your knees to drag it over his hips so you’re straddling him. “much better.”

you don’t have a chance to process anything about the moment, his mouth back on yours in a blink. your fingers wind themselves into his hair, getting a good grip on it as you lick into his mouth. he lets out a soft noise at that and you try your damnedest to pry it out of him again, pressing your chest to his so there’s not even a sliver of space left between you.

his hands travel, down the sides of your torso to your thighs, back up to your hips where he holds on tight. it doesn’t take long after that before you find yourself grinding into him. you both moan at the same time, breaking the kiss to pant for breath.

you swallow roughly. “okay,” you murmur, “i think it’s safe to say this could work.”

bucky laughs quietly. “yeah? wanna move to your bed then?”

your squeeze your thighs around him, shifting minutely on his lap and feeling the beginnings of his erection beneath you. “yes,” you breathe.

quickly, you rise from your position and step back, allowing bucky to stand, then grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom. once you’re standing beside your bed, you turn to face him. he meets your halfway, pulling you into another, filthier kiss. you reach for his belt buckle, unfastening it and sliding it through the loops, tossing it to your floor. next are the button and zip of his jeans, shoved down his legs until he steps out of them and kicks them and his socks aside. he obediently lifts his arms when you slide your hands under his shirt and begin pushing it up, breaking the kiss to nearly yank it off, making bucky huff in amusement. once it’s tossed with the rest of his clothes, bucky grabs fistfuls of your dress and pulls you into him.

“my turn,” he says against your lips.

carefully, bucky helps you out of your dress, eyes raking over every bit of new skin shown to him. he bites his lip when he sees your lacy underthings.

“you got all dolled up for me?” he asks.

shifting under his stare, you nod. “wanted to look nice,” you admit.

he hums. “beautiful.”

he kisses you again, a little softer than before, but no less passionate. the urgency returns as he backs you up until your thighs hit the mattress. gently, he guides you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he follows you down and settles over you.

you soon find yourself in need of air and pull away with a gasp. bucky is undeterred and instead presses his kisses down your jaw, to your neck where he decides to bite and suck until he’s left a mark you’ll have to reprimand him for later. he licks his way up to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, drawing a whine out of you.

“bucky,” you whisper, hands gripping his sides as you squirm below him.

“hm?”

you close your eyes tightly when he makes his way back down to your collarbones.

“please,” you whimper.

“please what, sweetheart?” he asks, pushing himself up to look you in the eye.

“t-touch me,” you beg, cheeks flushing.

his lips quirk into a smile. “i am touching you.”

“bucky,” you whine.

“where do you want me to touch you, hm?” he wonders. one of his hands trails across your shoulder and down the center of your chest. “here? or… here?”

when his fingers glide, barely there, over your pebbled nipples, you push into the touch eagerly.

“or…” he continues, his feather light touch making a path down your stomach. your breath quickens in anticipation. “here?” he murmurs as his fingertips stop on your pantyline.

“yes, there, anywhere,” you agree hastily, “just —please. please, bucky, don’t tease me.”

he kisses you again, deep, full of promise. “you beg so prettily for me.”

he rearranges your positions until he’s between your spread thighs, sweeping his hands across the inside of them. he nods to your panties.

“may i?”

“yes, please,” you reply, lifting your hips to help him take them off.

he doesn’t give you a chance to close your legs in shyness, firmly grasping your knees in each of his hands and spreading them once again. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel unbelievably desirable, has excitement crawling up your spine.

“don’t forget,” you remind him, making his eyes flick up to yours in question, “you better make me cry.”

a slow, dangerous smile graces his lips. your stomach swoops eagerly.

a whine, high pitched and drawn out, escapes your lips. after you unwittingly challenged him, bucky took it upon himself to torture you—with sex. so far, he’s only used his fingers on you, in you, thrusting them steadily but never enough to bring you to climax. he’s taking his time and being a smug prick about it. you go to complain, again, hoping if you beg enough he’ll let you come, but before you can do more than open your mouth he’s quickening his pace.

“oh!” you gasp, clutching the sheets in your hands.

bucky slides his hand down your thigh, bringing his thumb inward to swipe around where his other fingers are buried inside you to gather your wetness and using it to rub circles on your clit. your back arches, head thrown back against your pillows as you feel your orgasm build. it’s not tears, but damn, it feels good enough.

just as you start to clench around his fingers, legs spasming, he stops.

your eyes open in a hurry, brows furrowing in confusion. “no, please, don’t stop,” you plead.

bucky smiles. “i gotta get the right build up.”

you groan in frustration. he laughs quietly and lets the inferno burning within you simmer down to embers, then starts inching his way down until he’s lying on his stomach, mouth poised above your pussy. the feel of his warm breath makes you shiver, and with no warning whatsoever, he leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth.

“fuckin’—oh my— bucky!”

you’re pretty sure you black out for the next several minutes, the only thing you’re aware of is the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears and the feel of bucky’s mouth on you. you’re lost in a mindless haze of pleasure, unable to think or feel anything else. you feel your orgasm cresting for the second time, and just as before, bucky pulls away before you can succumb to it.

“why,” you hiccup on a moan, wanting nothing more than to just come already, but he’s not letting you.

he shushes you, softly kisses your knee. sitting up to take his underwear off, bucky keeps his eyes on you, expression hungry.

“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he promises. “just a bit more. you’re being so good for me, yeah?”

“please,” you whimper, feeling completely pathetic.

he makes quick work of putting a condom on and then settles between your thighs. you sigh in relief when he wastes no time and pushes in, being careful not to go too fast. once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, wanting to give you time to adjust, but you’re back to whining.

“bucky, please, please just—fuck me,” you beg, squirming beneath him.

he takes mercy on you, finally, and sets a hard pace. your hands fly up to push against the headboard, moaning and gasping from his harsh thrusts, loving the stretch of him inside you. his thumb is back on your clit and you cry out, clenching hard around him, but his thrusts don’t falter. all too soon, you can feel yourself getting close. you hear your own voice chanting please, please, please, mixed in with bucky’s grunts and the sound of him fucking you.

you whimper, eyes squeezed shut as your climax hits the point of no return, crashing over you in waves. you think you might scream, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. part of you thinks this’ll be it, bucky will come now and then you’ll have had one of the best orgasms of your life and he’ll be on his merry way home. but no, that’s not what happens.

instead, bucky keeps thrusting relentlessly into you, dragging out your pleasure to the point of oversensitivity.

“s’too much,” you breathe, gasping for air.

bucky shakes his head, face contorted in concentration. “one more,” he tells you, voice gruff and deep.

unbelievably, you feel tears beginning to gather in the corners of your eyes. bucky’s still rubbing your clit, still keeping a steady rhythm of his hips, and fuck, he’s so beautiful. you watch him fucking you, wondering how the fuck you got to this moment, how you got lucky enough to bear witness to the sight of bucky fucking, let alone be the one he fucks. his body is ridiculous, looking like it’s carved from marble. you know how much strength it holds, as well, know that if he really wanted to, he could probably fuck you against a wall.

it’s with that thought, with the added bonus of the way bucky touches you, looks at you, like you’re something treasured and gorgeous, giving you such intense pleasure, that the tears threatening to spill over finally fall from your lashes.

bucky notices, because of course he does, and he thrusts into you just a little faster, a little harder, and your body seizes up and then you’re falling into another orgasm. it spreads through your veins, slow like honey, making sure this one settles deep into your bones. bucky groans as he, too, reaches climax, hips twitching into you in aftershocks until he stops moving altogether.

you both pant for breath, sweat gathered in every crevice on your bodies. you think you won’t be able to move for the rest of the weekend.

“need to pull out,” bucky says softly, breaking the moment.

you nod and he carefully pulls his hips back, grunting. you poorly suppress a whimper and close your legs, already hating the empty feeling.

“well,” he starts, plopping himself on his back next to you, “i think i deserve some kind of reward.”

when you turn to face him with an exasperated look, he’s got his arms crossed behind his head, a smug smile across his lips.

“how about i don’t kick you in the balls? how’s that for a reward?”

“i literally just did the impossible.”

“what, made me come twice? i can do that all on my own. you’re not special,” you retort with a huff.

he scoffs. “i fucked you so good you cried.”

“you can’t prove it,” you say to the ceiling.

“keep up this attitude and i won’t do it again,” he threatens, poking you in your side.

you wiggle away from the ticklish touch while trying to tamp down on the hope bubbling in your chest.

“oh, we’re doing this again, are we?” you say as casually as possible.

he rolls his eyes. “of course we are. now,” he sits up in your bed, stretching his arms as he stands and picks up his underwear, “i’m starving. wanna order takeout?”

well, you guess if you’d been worried about any kind of awkwardness before, you shouldn’t have. this is bucky, your best friend. he’d never let things change between you.

***

except, things kinda change between the two of you.

it’s not very noticeable at first, changes so subtle you miss them, until one day he showed up at your apartment and greeted you with a kiss. you stood frozen in your doorway as he rambled about how stressful his day had been as he kicked his shoes off. it was only when you heard him calling out from the kitchen that he was gonna eat your leftovers that you snapped out of it, yelling back that you’d kick his ass if he even touched your dumplings.

another day, he facetimes you and asks if you want to go to see that new movie you’ve been talking about.

“oh,” you’d said. “are nat and sam coming, too?”

he’d given you a funny look, replied, “no, i thought it would just be us two.”

“oh,” you said again. “okay.”

so you’d gone to the movies, let him buy you buttery popcorn and peanut m&m’s and a soda bigger than your head. he shared with you, despite your protests, and halfway through the film you felt his hand settle on your thigh. you blinked and stared at it for a beat, turning to him in question. he only smiled at you briefly before focusing back on the movie.

in between all of this, you continued calling him over for sex. honestly, how could you not? as much as you didn’t want to admit it to him, he was the best you’ve ever had. and if he’s so willing, why shouldn’t you take advantage while you can?

a week ago, though, you’d texted him and asked him to come over, replying to his question of what time and then started getting ready. you’d purchased a new piece of lingerie, a periwinkle babydoll nightie, that left very little to the imagination. it had a matching pair of panties and felt soft and luxurious on your skin. you’d taken extra time to do your hair and makeup, wanting to look like sex on legs, and you’re pretty sure you succeeded.

but when he got there and you answered the door in your sexy outfit, he didn’t see it right away. in one hand he held his phone, typing something on it, and in the other hand he held a grocery bag that you eyed curiously.

“i brought stuff to make spaghetti—“

when he did finally look up, his eyes widened and traveled the length of your body several times. you bit your lip, trying and failing to hold back your smile.

“how about we skip dinner?” you’d said, fisting his nice button-up shirt and dragging him inside your apartment. you grabbed the grocery bag from his hand and sat it on the floor, absently noting he was wearing his date jeans.

whoops, you’d thought, hope i didn’t pull him away from someone important.

you hadn’t let yourself dwell on it, standing up on your tippy toes and kissing him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he’d returned the kiss, licking into your mouth, drawing your tongue out so he could suck on it and made you moan embarrassingly loud.

“wait,” he’d murmured, “we should eat first.”

“or, you could eat me,” you’d retorted with a giggle.

he groaned like it pained him to say no, gripped your hips hard and put a tiny bit of distance between you. the look in his eyes had made you want to find the nearest flat surface and bend over.

“why don’t you be a good girl for me, hm? let me cook dinner for us and after we eat i’ll fuck you however you want me to. okay, sweetheart?”

you whined, but ultimately agreed, knowing he’d make it worth it.

and then there’s tonight, where he came over unannounced, armed with groceries again and promising to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had. to say you were confused would be an understatement, but you also didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

it’s just… well, bucky’s not really acting like a friend with benefits. sure, you hung out alone with him all the time before, but he never once cooked you dinner, and he certainly never helped wash dishes after. you guess the hello kisses could be explained away as part of the new aspect of your relationship, but something about that didn’t sit quite right with you.

after a truly delicious dinner, you find yourself on the couch with bucky as he scrolls through netflix to find a movie to put on.

“what do you want to watch?” he asks.

“mm,” you mumble, shifting closer to start kissing his neck, “don’t care.”

as he narrows down his decision and finally picks one, you make your way up to his jaw, sucking a small mark into the skin there.

“baby,” he protests softly, “let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

you pull back, confused. first at the pet name, then at his words. he’s never denied you before, which isn’t to say that he can’t, it’s just that he’s always seemed on board. and, you know, you thought that was kind of the whole point of this thing.

“okay,” you reply after a moment.

he gives you a smile and a sweet kiss, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side to cuddle. you can’t help but frown, feeling like you’re missing something, but not knowing what it could be.

it doesn’t take long for drowsiness to creep up on you. before he showed up, you had planned on probably ordering out for dinner and going to bed early since you’d had a pretty rough day. in fact, you remember texting bucky about it just that afternoon. your eyelids get heavier and heavier, finding it harder to keep them open as the seconds pass. your head droops and in the next blink, you’ve fallen asleep.

you’re not sure how much time has passed when bucky wakes you, but you groan, pouting and burrowing into his shoulder more.

he huffs a laugh. “c’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

“don’ wanna move,” you mumble tiredly.

“i’ll carry you,” he offers. “up you go, baby.”

you half heartedly argue about being jostled, but let him carry you to your bed where he carefully places you, helping you out of your sweatpants and pulling your blankets up around you. you sigh in content, feeling yourself already drifting back into sleep. you hear bucky shuffling, but think nothing of it until the bed dips beside you, then feel his warm body slide in underneath the covers and press in close.

“goodnight, darlin’,” he murmurs.

you’d ask him what in the word he’s doing, but sleep is just far too enticing to ignore. you fall into slumber with bucky’s warmth along your back, his arm draped over you.

the next morning, you wake to the feeling of his fingers playing with the tiny bow on the front of your panties and his lips placing gentle kisses on your shoulder. you hum, eyes still closed, in the back of your mind thinking this is a nice way to wake up. at the sound of you, his touches get firmer, more insistent.

“good morning,” he rasps, breath tickling your ear.

you don’t really get a chance to reply. he dips his fingers into your panties, making you inhale sharply, moaning as you buck into his hand. he fingers you for a while, kissing along the column of your throat, biting and sucking marks into the skin there. when you’re begging him for more, he relents, eases your panties off and lifts your leg to slide in from behind. the angle is so nice it has you gasping.

you clutch the sheets weakly, burying your face in your pillow and muffle your whines and moans. bucky keeps a slow, lazy rhythm, acting as if he’s got all the time in the world to draw this out. it’s good, so good, and you can’t hold back your whimper when he kicks up the pace a little, tells you to touch yourself. you come seconds before he does, shuddering through it and humming happily.

as you both lie there and catch your breath, awareness trickles into your mind. you swallow roughly, staring blankly at the wall as you realize your feelings have grown far too much for this to be only casual anymore.

bucky kisses your shoulder again. “i’m gonna go make breakfast, okay? i’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“okay,” you whisper, blinking rapidly to keep tears from forming.

hearing bucky bustle around your kitchen makes your heart clench with want; want for something you can’t have.

***

bucky: dinner tonight?

you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the text. you know you need to cut things off with him before you get anymore hurt than you already are. it’s not fair to either of you if you continue with this arrangement when you’ve caught real feelings for him. you have to tell him, and soon. with that thought in mind, you type out a reply.

you: sure. what time?

bucky: reservations are at 8pm, i’ll pick you up by 7:45.

reservations? where was he taking you? you get another text before you can ask.

bucky: dress nice ;)

with a sigh, you text back an affirmative and try to start mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you dreaded having. you could only hope and pray that he agrees to still be your friend after.

by the time there’s a knock on your door that night, you’ve worked yourself up into an anxious mess. you open the door to see bucky standing there with a single peach colored rose and a bashful grin.

“hi,” he greets, leaning in to kiss you on your cheek. “this is for you.”

he hands you the rose and you feel your heart crack in your chest. you muster a small smile.

“thank you. let me go put this in a vase and we can head out.”

he nods and waits patiently at the door. as you fill a vase with a little water, you take a deep breath, giving yourself a mental pep talk.

this was going to suck.

the drive to the restaurant doesn’t take too long, and when you see where he’s taken you, your eyebrows shoot up. this is one of the nicer places in the city, definitely not on the affordable side. he helps you out of the car, leading you inside with his hand on the small of your back. you’re led to a small booth in a far corner with overhead lighting that feels too intimate. maybe you’d have to wait until you left to tell him…

conversation is light, a bit surface level, and you get the feeling that bucky is a little nervous. you wonder if maybe he’s gonna let you down gently first, hoping that he doesn’t, because you’d rather not cry in such a fancy restaurant.

after the waiter takes your drink orders, bucky sighs.

“okay, let me just… get this off my chest.”

oh fuck, here it goes.

“i know i’ve never really come across at the most romantic guy, especially since i’ve never felt the need to be.” he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “you’ve always been so important to me, and this last month has been so, so wonderful.”

“bucky…” you trail off, attempting to somehow stop him, but he powers through.

“i just—i never thought i’d find somebody, you know?” he says, earnest, gaze locked on yours. another crack in your heart. “especially not somebody who was my friend first, that i already had a solid foundation with. the attraction had always been there, but the friendship meant more to me, and finally allowing that to blossom into this amazing, new, fun relationship has got to be the best decision i’ve ever made.”

did he start dating someone and not tell you? oh god, has he been sleeping with someone else? at the same time? your stomach turns, eyes burning, hating yourself more and more as he speaks.

“so, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself and smiling, “happy one month anniversary, sweetheart.”

you blink, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “what?” you croak, beyond confused.

bucky, however, looks concerned. “baby, why are you crying?”

“i…” you blink some more, eyes flitting around the room as if you’ll get some kind of clarity that way to the situation currently happening. “what?” you repeat.

“did i come on too strong?” he asks, looking embarrassed now. “i wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, but i’ve just been so happy with you—i’m sorry, baby, i should’ve asked.”

“bucky, what are you talking about?” you finally manage, unable to keep the bewilderment out of your tone. “anniversary?”

bucky frowns. “i didn’t get the date wrong, did i?”

“no, i—this isn’t—i’m not talking about—ugh, i mean, when did we even start having an anniversary to celebrate?”

bucky’s face goes blank, sitting back in his chair. your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, so fucking confused, so fucking hopeful.

“we… we’re dating,” he says, slow, unsure. “aren’t we?”

“since when?” you ask probably too loudly, cheeks flushing.

he opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “when i asked you out?”

“bucky, oh my god, you’re gonna have to be more specific before i lose my goddamn mind. when did you ask me out?”

he huffs, his own cheeks flushing. “at the cafe! a month ago, at brunch with natasha and sam.”

your eyes widen in disbelief. “when you asked if you could fuck me until i cried?” you hiss, ignoring the scandalized look on the waiter’s face as he brings your drinks over.

smiling apologetically, you thank him and wait until he’s gone before sending a glare bucky’s way.

“that’s not how you ask a person out,” you seethe.

“i asked if you wanted to give this a try and you said yes!” he replies desperately. “i’ve taken you on dates!”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking of all the times you thought he was being too romantic, more-than-friends type of behavior. you’re a fucking idiot, but god, so was he.

“at no point did you say anything even remotely close about us starting a relationship. i thought we were just fucking, bucky, i didn’t realize it was more than that!”

“you don’t—“ he starts, then stops, looking down at the plate in front of him. “you don’t want to be with me?”

“i didn’t know it was an option,” you say carefully.

“well, it is.” he meets your gaze, cautious. “i just spilled my guts to you. you know how i feel now. how do you feel? about me?”

you lick your lips. “bucky, i… i was planning to end things with you tonight.” his expression drops, even though he tries to mask it, so you’re quick to explain. “not because i don’t like you, but because i do like you and i thought you wouldn’t want anything more than just sex with me.”

“it’s never been and never could have been just sex with you,” he replies, quiet and relieved. he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “i meant it when i said you’re the best decision i’ve ever made. i want this—the sex, the dinners, dates, all the gross and sappy shit i never wanted before… i want it all with you, if you’ll have me.”

you can’t fight the smile spreading across your lips. “of course i’ll have you, bucky.”

he smiles in return, a laugh bubbling out of him, which makes you giggle, until you’re both laughing so hard and loud that patrons from other tables are sending dirty looks your way, which only makes you laugh more.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, laughter dying down. “there’s pizza and sex calling our names, i think.”

bucky moans dramatically. “i knew i liked you for a reason.”

he leaves money on the table and then the two of you quickly make your way through the restaurant, giggling and holding hands the whole way, even in the car.

#avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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queenariesofnarnia · 3 months

Text

never underestimate the bunny

gif not mine!

wc: 642ish

Alastor x f!bunny!reader

warnings: tiny amount of violence, some verbal harassment( not from alastor), a wee bit of blood, and a mildly suggestive ending

🦌❤️ You were a sweetheart no doubt about it and none of your friend s doing out what landed you in hell. Especially as a bunny demon, everyone believed they had to protect you. Until one day you and Angel were out shopping.

“Toots you should get the red dress! it made ya smile sparkle” Angel told you as you tried on a new article of clothing. “Only if you get the matching black skirt with me!” you tell him laughing and he joins in. As you finished up shopping and began to stroll back to the hotel a group of sinners started pestering you. “Come here little bunny” one creep said “I bet you’d make a pretty little fuck toy” another yelled out. You grip your bags continuing on your way. Angel ignoring the thirst thrown his way since he was used to it. Until another one of them yelled at you. “Don’t be a bitch and let us breed you little bunny” the third one yelled. Huffing you place your bags in Angel’s hands. Your ear twitching in annoyance. “Angel be a doll and just head back. I’ll catch up” you instruct your friend. He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind but you gave him a nod of reassurance. You turn around facing the men before pulling a gun out your small purse shooting each man in their dick before pouncing on them ripping into them. Once you were through you placed your gun back in your purse turning away from the bodies to make your way back to the hotel. Angel witnessed it all, once you pulled your gun out he didn’t want to miss a chance to see you fight. “You got some blood on you toots” he gestures to your dress that was now stained. You shrug and laugh it off together. Making jokes about it until you walk through the doors. You receive a normal greeting from everyone until charlie screams. “You’re covered in blood!” she’s pointing at your dress. you just nod at her reaction. “Are you hurt?” Vaggie asked looking you over. “It’s not my blood” you tell them calmly. “Ya should’ve seen it.Cottontail here knows how to hold her own” Angel praises setting the bags by the couch before heading to the bar to bother Husk. He begins telling Husk the story as you head upstairs, you notice a shadow following you and don’t mind it until you get to your room. “You can come in but no telling Alastor if you see more than you should” you joke with the shadow. “Don’t tell me what cher?” the beautiful static voice reaches your ears as he appears in your room. “Well Alastor I was telling your shadows they may not inform you if they see more of me than they should.” you tell him with a smile. “Now my dear bunny, what is the fun in that hmmm?” he asks you stepping closer taking your appearance in. “Might I say you look like quite the dish covered in blood” he compliments his smile not leaving his face. “They probably would’ve tasted awful” you tell him jokingly. it made him genuinely laugh, it’s a rare sound you had the pleasure of hearing. “I’m sure you’re absolutely right my dear. I overheard our lovely spider friend telling dear ol’ Husker how you handled the scum who accosted you.” he steps closer to you caging you in between the dresser and his body. you are place your hands on his chest smiling up at him. “Your’e looking at me like I’m your next meal darling” your voice soft, the term of endearment slipping past your lips with ease. “With the way you look cher. You might be” he places a light kiss on your shoulder before giving you space. “Just say the word”

a/n: here’s pt 2 that no one asked for but i felt like doing :)

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #angel dust x reader #the radio demon

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kitashousewife · 10 months

Text

“yes, rintaro?”

“hi-jesus, a warning next time would be nice,”

“you called me,” you huff, picking at the now dried mask on your face in the small reflection of the facetime. “what do you want, rin?”

suna is outside, walking rather quickly as the background is blurred around him. he lets out an airy laugh before looking at the screen.

“i’m drunk;” he smirks, continuing to walk but tripping a little, shaking the camera. you raise your eyebrows at him to continue. he sniffs. “and i’m coming over.”

“is your house broken or something?”

he giggles, then shakes his head. “nah, yours is closer though.”

you sigh and accept defeat. you knew your best friend was in the neighborhood from his social media posts, so it’s no surprise he’s deciding to drop in. it’s late though, well past midnight. you shuffle into your bathroom to rinse off the mask, setting your phone on the counter.

“when will you be here?”

he clears his throat and swallows. “i’m walking up the stairs, so 2 min-fuck-minutes,” he trips up the steps and groans.

“what? okay give me a minute, i’ll be right there,” you wash off your mask quickly and run to the door, realizing too late as you slide on your socked feet that you’re only in a t shirt, suna’s t shirt. you open the door to find a very intoxicated suna, leaning against your with heavy eyes and a smile, which turns to a frown when he sees you.

“hey, that’s mine,” he taps the collar of your shirt before pushing past you, slipping off his shoes and throwing his coat on the floor.

“you reek, rin. god, where were you?”

he smirks. now making himself comfy on the couch despite your protesting glares.

“the club a few blocks away, it was packed and-“ he hiccups. “y-yeah it was just busy. aran was there,”

“don’t fall asleep on my couch,” you tap his leg as you walk past, tidying up a little. he opens his eyes and sits up, slumped into the cushions. “how do you feel?”

suna doesn’t answer. he scrolls on his phone at full volume, completely ignoring you while chuckling at the different videos he comes across.

one of the worst things about your best friend was how stubborn he is normally, but that stubbornness triples when he’s had enough to drink.

you stand in front of him with your arms crossed for a few more seconds before you clear your throat. he finally looks up and waves.

“rin, why don’t you-“

“so yeah, aran was there and-“ he laughs at something on his phone, losing his train of thought.

“how about you take a shower?”

“no,” he pouts again. “why don’t you take a shower?”

you huff. “i’m calling aran to get y-“

“i think i’m going to take a shower,” he grunts, standing up and following you to the bathroom while you grab towels for him. when you finish turning the water, he begins to lift up his shirt.

“uh-uh,” you laugh to yourself and slip out the door, pulling it shut. “you can do that in private. take your time, i’m going to bed.”

“but what if i wanted you to see?”

you stutter. “y-you’re drunk, rin. just shower, please.”

you hear him clamber into the shower soon after and retreat to your bed. as you settle in, suna’s comment continues to nag at you. sure, he jokes around and has his fun with you. but in the many years being his best friend, he’s never made any sort of effort to make a move on you.

you feel dizzy, suddenly picturing suna in a way you had never before. it felt like jumping off the high dive and into water all at once.

“what am i supposed to wear?” a very wet suna waltzes into your room with a towel on his waist, and you wish you could jump into that pool right now. you can’t take your eyes off his torso, eyeing the defined muscle as they flex with every step.

“there’s s-some of your clothes here from last time, they’re clean i just forgot to give them to you,” you jump out of bed and rummage through your closet before handing him his belongings.

“oh cool,” he walks back to the bathroom, bumping into the wall on the way. you slink back to bed without another word.

just as you’re drifting off to sleep, your mattress dips.

“hi,” suna breathes, getting under your covers with you.

“what are you doing?” you hiss, voice a whisper. he stares back at you with an irritated look.

“painting a picture, what does it look like? i’m going to bed,” he huffs, pulling your covers over him and leaving your legs exposed to the cold air.

“rintaro,” you pull the covers back over you and he groans. “i don’t want to hear it! if you’re going to sleep in my bed at least share.”

he remains quiet, making himself comfortable on the other side of the bed. meanwhile, your heart is racing and your mind is fighting between being bothered and pining over your best friend.

“did you use my shampoo?”

“of course i did,” suna’s voice is tired as he finally settles in. “the extra stuff you gave me sucks. and you smell good so thought i’d use it,”

your heart skips a beat. you don’t say anything, though.

your eyes get a little heavy, mind finally relaxing as the heavy sounds of suna’s breathing lull you to sleep.

the next morning you wake up next to your best friend, blinking a few times before you get a good look at him. he’s resting against the pillow, your blanket pulled up to his bare chest while he scrolls on his phone.

“good morning rin,” you mumble, yawning and sitting up. “did you sleep okay? are you feeling today today?”

“slept great,” he mumbles, eyes not leaving his screen. “i feel okay. head hurts,”

you nod, handing him your water bottle and an aspirin from your bedside table which he happily takes.

“thanks for letting me stay here by he way,”

“of course,” you watch as he sits up, blankets falling to his hips and showcasing his muscles once more.

“i feel bad that you had to deal with me,” he looks you in your eyes and for some reason, it feels different from normal. you shrug.

“i don’t mind.”

he smirks and gets comfortable once more, but begins typing on his phone with a giggle.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothing,” he smirks at the screen. “i just told aran we slept together, though.

“rintaro!”

#suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro drabbles #suna rintaro #suna fluff #suna x reader fluff #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff

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surielstea · 21 days

Text

Friends who Flirt

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Az have been flirting for years, what happens when they finally do something more?

8.3k words

I pad into the kitchen and am immediately met with a humming Azriel. Shadows swish around him as he goes about his daily tasks. His humming stops and I freeze, feeling like I've been caught for gazing for a moment too long to be considered friendly. "I can feel you staring, love." He croons, not even looking up from what he was doing. "How'd you know it was me?" I frown, crossing my arms.

"Your footsteps," He says, pushing a drawer shut with his hip as he turns to look at me, a slice of leftover cake from my birthday in his hands. "Creep." I joke, opening the drawer he just shut and fishing out a fork. "New nightgown?" He looks at me with creased brows. "Mhm, you like it?" I say doing a small twirl.

His eyes drag down the airy chiffon fabric, the baby blue color complimenting my complexion nicely, and the way the lace trim cups over my breasts don't go past his notice. He nods, eyes going back up to mine as I dig a fork into the cake he just sliced. He lets me— in fact, he lowers the plate so I can have a better angle.

"The shopkeeper gave it to me for free after I bought half her boutique for solstice presents," I explain. "It was pretty on the rack so why not." I shrug. "It's prettier on you." He hums and I flick my eyes up to him with a mouthful of cake. "How would you know, you didn't even get to see it on the rack?" I tilt my head and he shakes his. "I don't need to." He hums and I turn away from him with a heat rising to my cheeks. "Are you blushing?" He smiles teasingly and just as I am about to take another bite I freeze, then place my fork down. "I thought you'd be used to people calling you pretty by now? Or is it just me who affects you this way?" He presumes and I physically deflate, that he knows me too well to keep anything from him. "Can't I just go one day without you reading me like an open book?" I sigh, hoisting myself up onto the counter.

"Speaking of which, what'd I come in here for?" I look around the kitchen to get any clue but come up with nothing. I look at him and he shrugs with a mouthful of chocolate cake. "Can't you use your shadows to figure it out?" I swing my legs back and forth as they dangle. "That's not really how they work." He placed our dishes down into the sink, my eyes following him as he made his way in front of me. "Then, how do you gain information from people?" I ask, watching as his hands come to either side of my hips, caging me in between him and the counter. "I suppose I could interrogate it out of you?" He offers and I clench my legs together at the immediate sexual thoughts that pop into my head. "But my best guess is you came in here to get a glass of wine, as you always do before bed." He explains and my brows shoot up. "You're a genius," I smile brightly. I lean in and place a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Az," I exclaim and slide off the countertop.

"Anytime." He huffs a breath.

"Want a glass?" I offer as I open a cabinet full of wine glasses. He looks at his empty plate in the sink, then nods. "I'll cut some more cake."

———

Three glasses and two slices of cake later left me straddling Azriel's hips. I don't know exactly what happened, it was all a blur but what I do know now is that some selfish part of me doesn't regret it, and with the way the Shadow Singer was gazing at me it seemed he didn't either. Three glasses wasn't enough to get me fully intoxicated but, I was tipsy.

"Your eyes are so pretty," I observe, my hands cupping either side of his face as I angle it towards me drunkenly. "Like, super pretty." I smile and his cheeks go red. "You okay Az?" I ran my thumbs over his cheekbones so sharp they could cut stone. "I have a pretty girl sitting on my lap, complimenting my eyes. Why wouldn't I be okay?" He tilts his head. "Cause your heartbeat is so fast." I smile teasingly and he mirrors it. "So is yours."

His hand comes up and intertwines with the back of mine, pulling it away from his face while his other hand finds purchase at my thigh, bare due to the fact of my short nightgown riding up from this position. His gaze holds mine but he doesn't say anything, so neither do I. Something magnetic pulls me closer to him like we were meant to slot together. "This is dangerous," I mumble as my other hand snakes around to hold the back of his head. "I don't think you care that much." He hums. "You know me too well." I grin and he leans in, crashing his lips onto mine.

I melt into the feeling, hand shooting into his dark hair as both his arms secure around my waist and drag me into his chest. My hands roam from his neck down his shoulders, his tattooed biceps that flexed beneath my touch, the same ones I've stared at for years now, the same ones I've ached to get my hands on. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." He confesses, his voice raspy as he pulls at my chin and opens my mouth for better clearance. He's precise when pushing his tongue into my mouth, his movements are calculated and careful as he explores every crack he can mold to, analyzing and memorizing just in case this ends sooner than it should.

I buzz with need, I couldn't get close enough. Every part he didn't touch left me cold, and when he pulled away I was starved. His calloused, large hands map every inch of my skin, slipping beneath my dress to span the distance of my waist without barrier, pulling me into him with the same passion I felt burning through every nerve in my body. I smile against the electric pulse that darts through the both of us.

It just felt so right, like this was what we were made for. I felt like I was on fire, and it was his match that set me aflame.

The front door swings open, inviting the freezing air to enter. I tear away from Azriel at the intrusion and look up towards the doorway, where Morrigan stood, stunned.

A smirk etched across Azriel's lips as he leaned back into the couch, staring up at me still perched on his lap with glazed-over eyes and messy lipgloss. He was sitting there observing me caught red-handed like I was a statue he just finished sculpting. "I— I'm so sorry, I'll come back later!" Mor says, a bit frazzled as she tightens her scarf around her neck and turns on her heel, leaving the house.

I look back to Azriel with heated cheeks. "You heard her coming!" I grab a pillow and hit him repeatedly with it as he playfully pushes it away. "It's just Mor, what are you ashamed of kissing me?" He tilts his head and I drop the pillow. "I need to go get her and explain." I begin clambering from his lap but his big hands that still held my waist from beneath my dress forced me back down. "One more kiss before you go?" He flashed me a teasing smile, and to his shock, I leaned down and pecked his lips lightly in such a casual way it left the Shadow Singer dazed.

I successfully slipped off his lap, scrambling to grab my coat off the rack and shoving my arms through it as I left the cozy house and stepped onto the porch where Morrigan waited, hands shoved in her pockets. "What are you doing here so late?" I whisper shout to her and she whirls to face me with a wide-eyed expression. "You're the one who has explaining to do." She returned and my jaw clamps closed. "I was only stopping by to ask if you wanted to go to Rita's with me, but you're busy." She smiled teasingly and my cheeks flushed, I blame it on the cold weather. "It wasn't like that, we're drunk." I excuse. "And horny," I add and she deadpans. "You've also been flirting with him for years." She reasons. "I knew this would happen," She sings with a mischievous grin.

She had a point, the sexual tension between us was so thick you could cut it with a knife. "So, Rita's?" She brushed past the elephant in the room, sensing I wasn't ready to talk about it. "Maybe tomorrow, I'm going to bed." I huff. "Sure you are." She winks and I roll my eyes. "I'm picking you up tomorrow then, be ready— I don't want to walk in on anything my virgin eyes shouldn't be seeing." She joked and I playfully pushed her towards the steps down the house. "Have fun at Rita's, see you tomorrow." I giggle and she waves me off.

———

"Az?" I poke my head into the Shadow Singer's office only to find him hunched over a book with a crinkle between his dark brows. I smile and mosey into the room, heels lightly clicking against the hardwood floors as I find my way in front of him, my hip leaning against the desk. "Az," I call, putting a finger to the spine of his book and angling it downward so I could see his face. "I'm leaving, you sure you don't want to come with me?" I tilt my head and he shakes him, sinking deeper into his chair, wings fanning out on either side of him. "You sure you don't want to stay?" He offers and the tone of his voice makes it sound alluring. But I've been dying to get out of the house even since that kiss, he didn't mention it so I didn't either— but I didn't just want to ignore it, he felt what I did too, I know he did. He looks up at me and his book snaps shut, eyes widening slightly.

"You're wearing that?" He swallows.

"What's wrong with it?" I look down at the cerulean-colored dress that hugged my body in all the right places. His eyes narrow at me and he sits up. "It's a bit, short, no?" He tilts his head slightly, eyes tracking over my bare thighs and a smile curves my lips. “I’m wearing shorts,” I shrug and he twists his lips to the side, clearly upset at the idea of me flaunting in a dress so short without him there to make sure no one unwanted approached me. "It's a pleasure hall, I'll be one of the more covered ones old man," I excuse as I push off his desk and walk towards the door. "Wait," He springs up from his chair and meets me in the hall. "I'll go too— just, five minutes." He rushed down the hall and stumbled into his room.

I smile widely at the reaction, I always preferred when he went out with me. Pleasure halls and clubs were never my scene, Azriel might enjoy it more than me. If Mor hadn't asked me to come out tonight I probably would be snuggled up beside the fireplace with a steaming mug of tea and a good book. Whenever Azriel went to places like Rita's with me he was always a good escape plan. He was always there to take me home if I grew bored or tired. Always.

Exactly five minutes later Azriel came out of his room, appropriately dressed. "Ready?" I tilt my head, a lock of hair falling into my face at the movement. He eats up the distance between us in two long-legged strides. He nods, reaching forward and tucking my hair back behind my ear. "You look pretty." He said and I shyly smiled. "You don't clean up too badly yourself." I hum, looking up at him with wondering eyes. His gaze caught mine, that familiar hazel had something foreign lingering in them, something welcoming that I didn't quite recognize. His gaze, just for a moment, flicks down to my lips so fast I wouldn't have seen it if I blinked. But I did see it. I stumble a step closer, that magnetic feeling coming back but before I can get any closer the door swings open, and Morrigan stands there with a cunning smile. I whirl around to face her with pinched brows. "You need to learn how to knock," I sigh, walking towards the coat rack and shrugging my coat on. "I did?" She crossed her arms defensively. I look toward Azriel with a raised brow and he just shrugs silently.

"C'mon, I wanted to be there twenty minutes ago." She grabs my wrist and pulls me out onto the porch. I grab Azriel by the hem of his jacket and pull him with me. "We're on a schedule?" I mumble confused. "Emeries shift ends soon." She grabs Azriel's arm and winnows us without warning.

My head spins at the sudden jump in the atmosphere. The cold porch of my quiet neighborhood compared to the heat of the loud pleasure hall. A wave of nausea rolls over me and both of Azriel's hands come to my shoulders, steadying me before I can tip over. He doesn't say anything, he knows I just need a moment to collect myself. So he holds me near and away from drunken fae getting too close for his liking.

"You're okay?" He says over the blasting music and I look up to him. The flashing red and blue lights make him look angelic, gods he's so pretty— and I'm not drunk enough for this. "I think I need a drink," I say back and he nods, hands leaving my shoulders. "I can arrange that." Mor croons as she grabs me by the wrist and pulls me towards the bar.

The crowd parts in half for her, making a clear path to the bar with me in tow. She finds two vacant stools and quickly swoops them before anyone else can. Emerie walks over with a smile as she washes a glass. "What can I get for you ladies?" She sings. "Just get me what you usually get," I say to Mor and she nods. She and Emerie chat for a while then she orders. I rarely drank anything but wine— but that wasn't exactly a club drink.

Emerie slides some sort of cocktail in front of me and I thank her before lifting my glass and taking a small sip. I immediately wince and put the drink back down. "What's wrong?" Mor laughs as I force myself to swallow down the burning liquid. "Strong," I croak out and her smile only widens. "Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have ordered doubles." She shrugs and my brows shoot up. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" I scoff and she grins mischievously before slipping from her chair. "I'm gonna go dance." She evades and I roll my eyes as she leaves the seat next to me empty.

Cautiously, I take another small sip from my glass but it didn't magically get any better from last time so I set it back down and don't plan to pick it up again.

Azriel finds a place beside me on Mor's forgotten stool. I look over to him with a smile. "Already tired old man?" I tease, bumping his shoulder with mine. "What?" He creased his brows, clearly not able to hear me over the music. He leans closer, lowering his head. "I asked if you were tired already," I say over the music, then pull back to look at him. He smiles softly before putting his hand on the back of my neck and pulling me back towards him. "You keep calling me old but we're only like three years apart." He says and I shrug, leaning closer. "It's about the mindset," I say with a soft chuckle. He pulls back and looks at me confused. "I can't hear you," He yells over the music and I roll my eyes, leaning closer than before. "I said it's about the mindset," I repeat then pull back a mere inch, our faces centimeters apart and he stares at me, either trying to piece my words together or too distracted to think about anything because he wants to kiss me again, and gods was I praying it's the latter.

"You want to get out of here?" I ask with a tilt of my head. "You're not going to drink that?" He gestures to the cocktail in front of me and I shake my head no. "It tastes like rubbing alcohol and a squeeze of lime," I reply and a smile pulls at his lips. "We can open a bottle of wine at home." He offers and I nod. "You know me so well." I stand from my stool, I presume he doesn't hear me because he doesn't reply.

———

"Are you visiting your family in Autumn tomorrow?" Azriel asks as he refills my glass. "Unfortunately," I sigh, dreading seeing my parents again. "My brother is coming in the morning to winnow me there," I explain. I couldn't winnow to my childhood home by myself, it was warded so only people who lived there could enter. My father put that in place the day I left. "Why visit them?" He creased his brows and I shrug. "They're my family," I murmur, it's the only excuse I can manage to come up with. "You have a family here too." He reminds and a smile pulls at my lips. "I know," I take a small step closer to him. We stood in the kitchen beside the counter, the lighting dimmed and soft, the opposite energy of the pleasure hall. "But they let me live here on my own without ruling over my entire existence." I shrug. "I owe them a visit every few months." I finalize and he nods, not wanting to intervene any further.

"I'll be back by tomorrow night though," I smile up at him. "You won't have to suffer without me for too long." I tease before taking a sip of my wine. He raises a brow at me, clearly amused. "You're so annoying." He let out a breathless laugh. "That's not what you said last night," I quip, leaning back against the counter, pinned under his gaze as he looks down at me.

"Careful." He warns and the deep sound of his voice has my heart rate quickening. What is wrong with me? "You don't like the truth?" I hum, my bottom lip pinched beneath my teeth as I grin up at him. "Wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you." His expression hardens. My smile doesn't even falter. "Is that a threat shadow singer?" I tilt my head tauntingly. He leans closer, his hands coming to the counter behind me and entrapping me between his arms.

"Do you want it to be?" His brow raises a fraction and my smile seems uncontrollable at this point. His eyes flick down to my lips then quickly back to my eyes. "I thought you liked my mouth?" I taunt. "Shut up already," He grumbles, hand coming to my neck before pressing his lips into mine.

I melt at the feeling I've been craving since I pulled away last night. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and lean into him. He manually angles my head so he can kiss me deeper, prying my mouth open with his tongue before sliding it in. I allow it, reveling in the feeling of his chest pressed against mine, his hands all over me, and his lips pressed into my mind. It felt unfamiliar, yet we slotted together like puzzle pieces. He filled me whole, his hands traveling down my waist to the bottoms of my thighs where he lifted me in his arms.

I tightened my grasp around him, my chest pressed to him as he carried me away from the kitchen. “I don’t want to ignore this,” I murmur against his lips. “I want you,” I confess and he smirks at the sound of desperation in my voice, making my cheeks flush. “I need you.” He hums and the knot in the base of my stomach tightens. I squeeze my legs around his torso and clutch him closer to me as I plant my lips over his again.

He walks us down the hall but I’m too preoccupied with his mouth to care where we’re going. He hums in approval when I bite at his lower lip, hungry for more. My back comes in contact with a wall and I immediately arch off of it and into his chest. One of his arms carried me while the other roamed up my body, my dress that had ridden up a noticeable amount due to the position. “Fuck me Az,” I hum greedily. He smiled against my lips and with one last peck he pulled away the slightest fraction. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say those words,” He purrs as he travels down my jaw, placing messy kisses down the column of my throat.

I tug at his shirt, needy for my skin to be pressed to his. I get the material up to his chest and my hands leave his shirt in favor of pressing them onto his exposed abdomen. “More,” I mumble dumbly and he latches down onto my neck in response, finding that sensitive spot and sucking, licking, nipping at it without hesitation. “Az,” I sigh out and he bites down hard enough to pierce the skin. I curse at the oddly arousing feeling and he pushes off the wall, carrying me towards his bed.

He lays me down, still hovering over me as he detaches from my neck, most definitely leaving a mark. He stands over me, looking down at my willing expression. I spread my legs further in a silent plea and a feline smirk spreads across his features. He discards his shirt and I nearly moan at the sight.

Large black wings fanning out behind him, the broadness of his shoulders, and the defined v-line at his hips make me ache. Gods, he was some sort of angel.

“Please,” I whisper as I watch him undo his belt, he doesn’t bother with his pants and takes his place over me, kissing up the valley of my breasts all the way to my lips. His large, scarred hand pushes up my tight dress. His hips settle between mine and I feel the hardness of him right against where I want him most. “Do you see what you do to me?” He said into the crook of my neck, slowly rutting his hips down onto my clothed folds. “Az,” I moan at the friction, hand coming into his hair and tangling into the dark locks.

“This dress, I wanted to rip it off you all night,” He confesses and a teasing smile pulls at my lips. “Then what are you waiting for?” I croon but don’t get a reply and instead, I’m met with a reading of fabric, the expensive dress torn in two and being discarded somewhere on the floor. “Fuck, you’re even more perfect than I imagined.” He hums as he leans up to take me in, lying under him clad in nothing but my underwear and a pair of spandex shorts. “You imagined this?” I tilt my head with a smile and he nods, leaning down and slanting his lips over mine. “Every night.” He hums as shadows swirl up my arms and wrap around my wrists, pulling them together and pinning them to the bed. I pull at them but to no avail, the darkness is much stronger. “Az c’mon,” I whine. “No baby, tonight’s all about you,” He says as he kisses down my neck and to my chest, taking my nipple into his mouth.

I moan at the sight, arching up for his access. I squirm as his hands meet my hips, pinning them down and stopping me from grinding against the air. I moan as he does something wicked with his tongue on my hardened bud, flicking and sucking on it. The sensitivity of it left me quivering.

He leaves my breast with one last swirl of his tongue and leisurely kisses past my ribs, to my navel, until his lips find the hem of my shorts. His hands are quick to discard them, joining my dress on the floor.

He continues his journey downward, two of his fingers hooking under the waistband of my panties. I can’t help but grind up at the sensation, mewling as I get a fraction of pleasure. “This is okay?” He hums and I nod. “I need words baby,” He presses a loving kiss to just above my undies. “Yes Az, please.” I consent and without any other words, he shreds my panties, tearing them into two as they fall off my thighs and the cold air hits my heat.

The smell of arousal doubles and he seems drunk on it. He leans down and licks one long stripe up my cunt, gaze pinned to me as he does so and I can’t help but maintain the eye-contact. “Fuck, baby you taste so good,” He praises, fingertips digging into my hips and I could tell he was constraining himself, holding back from how he truly wanted me. “More,” I pull at the shadows but they don’t give. “I need more,” I sigh and he obeys, live attaching over my clit and I gasped, his tongue teasingly tracing circles around the bud while he sucked on it.

One of his hands left my hips and traveled down past my thighs, two of his fingers dragging themselves through my sopping folds, coating them in his slick. “Az, I need you inside of me,” I whine as he slowly treks them down to my clenching entrance, tracing circles around the area. “Baby, you’re so wet f’ me,” He admires and I clench my eyes shut in embarrassment as I feel my arousal slip down my thighs. “All for you,” I murmur and that seems to push him over the edge because the next thing I know two of his long, thick fingers enter my craving cunt.

I cry out at the foreign stretch, his scared fingers brushing against my sensitive walls. The sensation left me grinding up onto his hand. He sucked harder on my clit and the mixture of both had a familiar coil beginning to grow in the pit of my stomach. His fingers curl teasingly slow, and as soon as he finds that sensitive spongy spot deep inside me he begins to toy with it, the sounds that escape me are unsolicited. “M’ close,” I huff out, head digging into the pillows as he lightly nips at my clit, making me scream in pure pleasure. “Cum for me love,” He whispers against my cunt, his breath fanning over my wet folds.

Then he reattaches and digs his tongue into the pink, sensitive bud, causing that coil to tighten and then snap.

A flood of white-hot pleasure consumes me, waves of ecstasy wash over me, leaving me flushed and covered in my fluids, and when I finish, it’s his name on my tongue, like it always was on those late nights when I had nothing but my own hand— but now he’s here with his tongue delving through my heat, completely entranced with me.

His fingers finally leave my cunt and he lifts away, licking his lips as to not waste a single drop of my release. His hips returned to mine, his heavy, hard cock pressing into my bare pussy and suddenly it was too much, overstimulation absorbing me as he thrashed his pants off and his hard member smacked up against his abdomen. My mouth waters at the sight of it, his tip red and leaking pre-cum down the side. I tug at the shadows binding me, wanting to touch him, to run my finger down the pulsing vein at its underside.

He tuts and presses it down onto the apex of my thighs. The heat between us was enough to light a furnace, gods he looked so perfect above me like this— and finally he had his cock lathering itself in my own fluidity. I moan as the head of it snags at my clit, his pre blending with my own juices. “Az please,” I whine out and he aligns himself with me, prodding at my entrance. We both watch as he pushes into me, his glistening cock slowly disappearing inside of me. I can’t watch for long, my body too focused on how it feels for me to be able to hold myself up. I squirmed as his wide cock pushed deep into me, and every time he entered another inch I moaned, my walls molding around him as he stretched me beyond capacity. Fuck, he’s so big. “Gods, your pretty pussy is sucking me in so good.” He grits out, white-knuckling the sheets beside my head as he refrains from slamming into me. This pace was just as painful as it was pleasurable, I couldn’t imagine what would happen if he went any faster.

He rolls his hips and in doing so enters another inch, I arch up and he goes deeper finding that familiar spongy spot, and I mewl. “There, please right there Az,” I cry out and he lets out a soft chuckle against my shoulder. “I’m barely halfway baby,” He purrs and my brows knot, how could he go any deeper? I didn’t have to wait long for the answer because before I knew it he slammed the rest of him inside of me, his tip brushing against my cervix, and the unknown yet stimulating feeling left me screaming out his name.

My nails dig into my palms as he pulls out then slams back home. His hips snapping to mine, his balls slapping against my ass. “Gods you take me so well,” He admires as tears spring to my eyes. Every time he brushed up against my cervix I couldn’t breathe, he was so fucking big. He continued to ruthlessly ram into me, his speed unmatched as he pounded past that sensitive point nestled inside of me and instead pushed to places where I’d never been touched before, and gods did I love every second of it.

“Feel good love?” He hums below my ear and I open my mouth to reply but words fail me and I can only moan, too fucked out for coherent sentences. He smiles and bites at my lobe, then presses a kiss just below it.

He continues to hammer into me while I pulse around him. “I’m so, so close,” I rasp out, my pussy raw and red as he abuses it. “So fucking tight,” He grunts as he tries to pull out but u are clenching around him too hard, sucking him back in, needy for all of him.

He slammed back in, his base brushing against my clit and that was enough for me to let go, my release coming over me full throttle as a euphoric sensation crashed down onto me, my pleasure blooming right where he was inside of me.

But once I come down from my high he doesn’t pull out, he continues slamming his tight balls into me, rolling his hips over mine. I whimper as the overstimulation consumes me, biting at my bottom lip to stop myself from crying, tears flowing down my cheeks but he doesn’t care, because I realize he isn’t an angel, no, he’s a fucking devil and he wasn’t going to stop pushing into me until his release was nestled deep inside me.

The shadows leave one of my hands, only so he can grab my wrist and guide my palm down my stomach until I can feel his cock moving inside of me. “Feel how deep I am?” He hums and I nod, too fucked out to conjure up any words. “Gods you’re such a good girl,” He praises, pulling me close as I arch into him. My now free hand comes to his back, scratching down his shoulders as my nails dig into his skin. He twitches inside of me, signaling that he’s close. He curses, not wanting this to end, but he can’t help but chase his high, somehow managing to go faster. His face falls into the crook of my shoulder and he kisses and bites at the area. “Az— Ah, too much,” I shake my head and he twitches. “Fuck, say my name again.” He sighs out. “Azriel,” I mewl, hand finding his hair and pulling at the loose curls. “Az, m’ close please,” I whine out, tears streaming down my face. “Me too love, me too.” He reassures and I nod with a whimper.

He slowly pulls out to his tip, only the head of his cock inside of me until suddenly he pushes back in, ramming into my cervix I bite down on my lip at the pleasure, and before I knot it the knot inside of me snaps and my eyes are rolling back as I finish for the third time tonight. I’m too drunk on my high to even register his warm release as it spurts into me, at my cervix, and straight to my womb. I sigh as I milk his cock of its fluids. He groaned out my name as he finished, his lips lining kisses up the side of my face as he muttered about how well I did for him.

After a moment of him nestled inside of me, he slowly pulled out, dragging moans from the base of my throat as he brushed against my over-sensitive walls. “My sweet girl,” He whispers, pecking my lips and I weakly kiss him back. Shadows unravel from my wrists and are free to move off my own volition, but I don’t, my high still lingering as his cum seeps out of my cunt.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He tilts his head and I nod. The bed dips as he gets up, puts a pair of sweats on then walks back over to me.

Gently he picked me up, carrying me bridal style to the connected bathroom where a basin of steaming water was already ready. He placed me down on the cool counter and I smiled as I watched him get a cloth and begin to wipe down my legs.

He was being so gentle not to spike my pleasure any further, cautiously wiping away at my inner thighs. I lean my head against his shoulder, too tired to sit up on my own. Shadows soothe my back, the coldness of them making me sigh in relief. “Stay here okay?” He hums as he puts the cloth back into the basin and I nod, I doubted I could walk if I tried.

He leaves the bathroom and is only gone for a few minutes before he returns with a pair of clothes. A soft smile spreads across my lips as he pulls the nightgown over my head. It was a soft, sheer chiffon the color of a pastel blue. He then hiked a pair of clean undies up my thighs then over my ass, cupping my sensitive heat.

His hands come to my waist and he lifts me, carrying me back to his bed. He places me down onto the soft mattress, the sheets cold as my head hits the pillow. He joins my side, pulling the blankets over the both of us. I flip around and look up at him, his sharp features seeming so gentle in this light. I bring my hand up and cup his neck, my thumb rubbing at his jaw.

He stares down at me with adoration and I grin, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. I wasn’t worried about what this made us, or what we were going to say in the morning. I was busy cherishing the way his strong arm came around my waist and he pulled me towards him, needing me closer. I wrap my arms around his neck and no words are spoken as we lay beside each other, occasionally pressing kisses to the other’s lips when impulsed, basking in each other’s warmth and affection.

———

I was still half asleep when I heard a door slam shut and I startled awake, launching upward. The hand around my waist slips down and I'm greeted with a groan of protest, that same arm pulling me down again. "Azriel someone's here," I say maneuvering out of his hold. "Your brother?" He mumbles and I gasp, quickly slipping from the bed as I curse myself for forgetting that he was coming today. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I repeat as I scramble for something that offers a little more coverage than my sheer nightgown.

I spot Azriel's plain black shirt hanging from the side of his desk chair and swipe it, pulling it over my head. "Come back to bed," Azriel groans, still half asleep. "Baby please," He whines when I ignore him. I throw a pillow at him and he startles upward. "My brother is here," I stress. "As in, probably walking down that hallway right now and I don't have pants, so where are my clothes," I say and he rubs his eyes. "Hamper." He points to the laundry basket and I fish through the clothes, finding my pair of shorts from last night and hiking them up my thighs.

I run my hands through my hair a few times and hope to the gods I look presentable enough to face my sibling.

I creak open the door softly, exiting into the hallway silently praying he doesn't spot me sneaking into my room. I'm quiet on my feet as I tiptoe to my bedroom, slipping in and closing the door behind me with a sigh of relief, then looking up and gasping when I spot my brother standing over my bed, my bed that clearly wasn't slept in last night. He looks to me with a quirked brow. "I was brushing my teeth," I gesture to the bathroom down the hall and he nods, taking in my appearance. "I'll be ready in ten minutes, I'm sorry, I slept through my alarm." I lie and he looks at me unimpressed. "It's fine, it's not like we're expected or anything." He snakily comments and I refrain from glaring at him and instead laugh at his sardonic joke. He leaves my room and I close the door behind him, quickly rushing over to my wardrobe. My legs were beyond sore but I pushed the pain aside. I found a day gown that was acceptable enough to wear to my parent's house and stripped out of my shorts and Azriel's baggy t-shirt before pulling the dress over my head while hobbling over to my vanity.

I was only going to brush my hair until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and decided just a brush wouldn't do. I tied my hair up in the easiest yet neatest style I could conjure. I was ready in less than five minutes and in all honestly, I was a little proud of myself.

I left my bedroom, expecting my brother to be waiting right by my door only he wasn't, he was nowhere to be seen in fact.

I wander down the hall. "I’m ready!" I call throughout the house but I get no reply. I call him again but, nothing. I pad into the kitchen and spot Azriel leaning over the counter, pouring himself a steaming cup of black coffee. "Where'd he go?" I murmur, mostly to myself but Azriel's shadows slip from his shoulders and run across the floor only to swirl up my ankles then zipping down the hall, leading me to who I was looking for.

I chase after them immediately, they traveled past my bedroom, and up the walls before curving into the creaked door of Azriel's bedroom. My heart rate picks up as I open the door wider and am met with my brother's unmistakable figure. "What are you doing in Azriel's room?" I demand and he stiffens, turning to me and revealing what he was holding up. "The better question is, what is your dress doing in Azriel's room?" He holds up the short, blue dress and I open my mouth to reply but I come up with nothing.

"Are you going to explain, or should I assume?" He tosses the dress back into the hamper, amused. I grit my teeth. "Why the hel are you going through his stuff?" I snarl and he shrugs. "Had a hunch," He explains and I deadpan. "And based on the smell in this room, I'd say I was right." He smiles down at me and I debate slapping him across the face. "Have fun explaining to mom and dad." He grins and my eyes widen. "No, wait—" I begin but he winnowed away.

Dread consumes me and I quickly winnow after him, my willpower taking me right to the porch of my childhood home halfway across Prythian.

There’s no getting in, the wards were too strong and I was far from a spell cleaver. So instead I bang on the door, balling my hands into fists as I shout through the door, two inches of wood holding me back from stopping my brother from spilling my whole life story.

It was highly frowned upon to share a bed with someone you're not married to in this area of the Autumn Court, especially with a race like Illyrians who seemed to have the exact opposite ideals as my parents. I wish I could say I didn't care what my parents thought of me but I do, anyone would.

"C'mon, open up!" I shout and before the side of my fist can come to contact the door again, it swings open. I freeze. What exactly is my excuse? I probably should've thought about what I was going to say before I tried to knock on the door. My brother was the one to open it, a smug smile on his lips as he moved out of the way to reveal both my parents staring down at me very disappointed.

"You have to let me explain," I enter the house. "We don't want to hear it." My father shakes his head. "We let you have your freedom in the night court but I won't allow you to whore yourself—" My mother begins. "I'm not whoring myself, it was one guy who I've known for over a decade," I explain and she squares her features. "Now you interrupt me? What have those brutes done to you?" Her hands come to my cheeks like I've been injured. "Nothing, mother." I swerve out of her touch. "And they aren't brutes. They’re kind people and if you had the decency to care you'd know that." I say and my father bristles. "How dare you? If we didn't care then you would've been abandoned in the streets decades ago." He claims and my heart crumbled. "You're cruel, all of you," I looked to my brother who was leaning against the bookcase, basking in the chaos he created. "I don't want to listen to your sob stories anymore," My mother put her hand up like she needed to physically stop me. "I've had enough of your, activities—" She says but I cut her off again, "I told you, I've known this guy for years," I stress. "Then I suppose you'll have no problems marrying him." She crossed her arms and I looked at her like she's gone insane. She can't be serious, right?

"What?" I say as if I've misheard her. "You know it's disgraceful to copulate outside of wedlock," She begins. "So this male must atone for stripping you of your purity." My mother reasons. My jaw nearly drops. Strip me of my purity? "If you think he's the first male I've been with you're sorely mistaken." I nearly laugh. "Well I'm sick of it, it's improper and I won't allow my daughter to be a common whore so you either marry him or I don't ever want to see you in this court again." My father bellows over the both of us and I look up at him, his eyes the same as mine. I struggle to maintain steady breathing, they can't mean that. Abandon their only daughter?

I look at my brother. This is what he wanted. He's always been the favorite, the golden child who's never had to struggle a day in his life because his mommy was always there to patch him up when he fell. I grit my teeth and decide that replying with every rageful thought I could think of wouldn't help the situation. So instead, I spin on my heel and march past my brother, towards the front door.

I grab the doorknob but before I leave I turn and look at all three of them.

"I'll see you at the reception." I hum, then turn back and slam the door hard enough behind me to knock books off shelves.

———

When I got back to the house, to my house, I finally regained control of my breathing. I open the door and slam it shut behind me, anger still pent up at my fingertips. I spot Azriel, who had frozen in the middle of the living room as if he was in the middle of pacing back and forth. "What happened? What'd they say?" He immediately questions, taking a step closer to me. My eyes fog over. Not only because I was upset about the predicament but the fact that he was wrapped up in all of this too. I assume his shadows filled him in on what happened before I winnowed away without saying goodbye.

I stay quiet and look to the ground where Shadows pool at my feet, flicking up and occasionally twining around my ankle. "Hey, we don't have to talk about it." He reaches out and grabs both of my hands in his and I wish the touch wasn't as comforting as it was, wish I could find a reason to be upset about the idea of marrying him. I didn't want to give them what they wanted.

"They," I begin but can't seem to get the words out without a lump forming in the base of my throat. "They said they're sick of me, whoring myself around," I mutter with an exhausted expression evident in my creased brows and slumped shoulders. "Whoring yourself? That's ridiculous my love you're not—" He starts. "I know," I pull him closer and wrap my arms around his torso. It seemed so intimate but if there's one thing in this world that I could rely on to make me feel better, it was Azriel's hugs. He was warm and strong and embraced me like he needed to show me his love in a way I couldn't describe.

"They want me to marry you," I whisper and his reassuring rubs on my back halt. I flinch, this is exactly what I didn't want— but his soothing ministrations quickly return after a moment so I continue to explain. “They seem to think I'm going to become a prostitute if I don't get married soon," I say, pulling back slightly and looking up at him.

"And if you don't?" He narrows his brows, mind already working to fix this. "Then they'll disown me," I mutter, letting go of him and bringing my hands up to my face. "I just— I don't know what to do," I speak into my hands. "Marrying you after spending one night together is barbaric, but that doesn't mean I never want to see my family again." I reason, my hands coming down to my sides so I can look at him. "They might be hard on me but, they're still my parents. They raised me. You can't just ignore that," I begin to ramble and his hands find my cheeks, making me slow down.

"And, obviously I want to marry you but that's not something I can force you into," I sigh and his brows rise a fraction. I wait for him to say something, anything. I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

Instead of any words he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips that I return without a second thought, so easy it's like we've been together for years. "I want to marry you." He claims against my lips and the tightness in my chest lessens. "I planned on doing it eventually, what's a little earlier?" He hums and butterflies soar in my stomach. "I just wish it was up to us," I murmur. "I know baby, I know." He presses his lips to mine once again and I melt into it. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and pull him closer. There was nothing lustful or hungry about it. It was sweet and soft and innocent, nothing like last night. He cradled my jaw with a gentleness I didn't know the Shadow Singer possessed and kissed me with such precision that I found myself falling into it. Somehow he managed to comfort me through the action, making me feel like this marriage would go just fine. I drag my hands down his arms up to his wrists and pull his touch away, then pull my lips away.

"C'mon, we've got a wedding to plan."

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zqcky01 · 3 months

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omg i love your alastor fic, can i get one where alastor's s/o is from the victorian times so she's teaching him how to properly ballroom dance

Learning Takes Time.

Alastor x Victorian Era! Reader

In which, you teach Alastor how to properly ballroom dance.

A/N: AHH!!! I LOVE THISJDBDKWJEMDKSNEJDJSNEEN TYSM FOR REQUESTING 🙏🙏 I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE!

━━━━━━༺༻ ━━━━━━

“Dear?” Alastor called to you softly. His smile shines towards you. “Ah—! Hello, my love.” You said, smiling happily, placing the book you were reading down onto your lap. You wore a Victorian ball gown, with pearls. Making your s/c(skin color) stand out. Titling your head to the side, “What can I help you with?” You asked, smiling. “Well, I was hoping you could perhaps teach me how to dance. A good friend of mine is hosting a party, a ball.” Alastor began, closing the door behind him as he moved closer to you.

You perk up. “Oh! Yes yes!” You cheered, clapping your gloves hands together. “I’d be happy to help you, my dearest!” You quickly, yet gently take his hand and pull him close. “It will take a few tries. But, learning of course takes time.” You said, tilting your head, your smile grew wide. “First! We need music.” You walked over to your small old-fashioned record player. You searched through many records of yours, before finding the perfect one. “Ah—!” You hummed, placing the record inside. It was a soft humming tone, and instruments playing in a soft tone.

“I can tell you’ve been waiting for me to ask, my lovely.” Alastor teased lightly, smirking. “Oh yes! Has a lady, you should never ask first.” You giggled at your small joke.

You stepped in front of him. Before slowly reaching out to Alastor’s hand. You placed his hand onto your shoulder, then his other hand on your waist. “You must keep your hands here,” You began, staring up at him. “And I’ll keep my hands here.” You placed your hand on his shoulder, then your other hand on his upper arm. “We’ll learn other dancing forms later on.” You smile. Alastor, allowed you to do what you needed to do. His eyes followed your every move, like a cat watching a mouse.

“One step like this. Move backward, follow the flow of the music.” You said, looking down at their feet, Alastor followed your instructions. He stumbled a bit, smiling sheepishly. “It's alright, you’re learning dear. You giggled. Moving your left foot in between his legs, before slowly turning. “Once the beat starts to slowly drop, start to turn slowly.” You said, glancing up at him. Alastor’s eyebrows furrow, before slowly turning, his grip on you tighten. “Better..”

“Then we do it again. Expect, we add a few more steps. Once again, follow the beat of the instruments.” You said, before moving your feet slowly. “One step, two steps.” You move your own feet backward, then forward. “I'm confused—dear. I thought I moved back?” Alastor stops, tilting his head to the side. His ears twitched. You smile. “Ah! We both move in sync. You move backward first, then we turn, then I move backward.”

“Ah.” Alastor hummed, his eye twitched. “Don't give up now-! We just got started.”

━━━━━━༺༻ ━━━━━━

“Do you understand now, love?” You asked, smiling sheepishly. You were leaning over a tired Alastor, who was sitting in a chair. His head spinning. “You’re such a drama queen. I told you, learning something takes time!” “Dear, I stepped on your feet how many times?!” “Oh Alastor…”

━━━━━━༺༻ ━━━━━━

A/N: tehehe i put the titled in the fic😉

#hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #x you #alastor x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader

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shoot-the-oneshot · 2 months

Text

SOULMATE

Lando Norris x Reader F1 as romance tropes Masterlist

If anyone asked Lando always knew he was going to be an F1 driver. It was his dream, his destiny. Not the words imprinted on his arm.

“At least he’s an F1 driver” were the words that appeared on his 16th birthday. At first, he was ecstatic it was proof not only he had a soulmate but he achieved his dreams. It wasn’t until he’d been at McLaren for a few years the words almost haunted him seeing the other drivers meet theirs and he was still walking down the paddock alone, well almost.

“At least you’ll know immediately when you meet her, mine says “hello” that could be anyone!” His best friend Max spoke seeing the dark look in Landos eyes watching Alex and Lily.

Lando scoffed shaking it off “And she'll only care that I’m a driver not about me.” That was the problem the longer you took to meet the worse his thoughts got.

“You don’t know that, she might just think you’re stupid,” at his friends' words Lando turned to glare at him who held his hands in surrender, “You say stupid stuff sometimes”

“You’re not helping you know.” Anything else Lando wanted to say got cut off by a new visitor.

“How’s it going gents, wait Lando what’s with the murder face?” George spoke as he joined the two men, the black Mercedes race suit a stark contrast with the orange of Landos.

“Lando is pouting watching the happy couple over there.” Max's thumb jutting over his shoulder towards the Williams garage and the other British driver understood while Lando tried to look anywhere but the the man now looking at him with pity

George knew how he felt, he felt like half of himself before he met Carmen. “Carmen has a friend in town for the race Lewis and I were going to all go to dinner why don't you come along and get out of your head for a while”

“Appreciate the offer mate but I don't think being a fifth wheel sounds that fun.”

“Lewis had a last-minute meeting he can’t make it now, you should come so Y/n isn’t lonely” lies George spoke before he thought, Carmen would kill him for this.

“He would love to text him the time and place! See you later George.”

Max shoved his friend who was silently thinking of an excuse so he could go home and drown himself in his sorrows so he was ready to go for the race.

“I'm not going,” Lando spoke as soon as they were alone and started walking again towards McLaren hospitality and into his drivers' room

“No, you’re not going home to sulk this dinner will be good for you, get out and socialize.”

“I don't need to socialize I’m fine where I am” the driver huffed stuffing his clothes into his bag ignoring the look his friend was giving.

“You like George and food this seems like a win-win to me!” Max spoke trying to convince him “And maybe the friend is hot plus you need to get out of this funk it’s depressing now go home and shave that god-awful goate and make yourself presentable”

Ignoring in insult Lando swung his bag over his shoulder and caved.

“Fine I’ll go but only to get as drunk as I can on George's tab” and maybe his friends were right and an easy night out would soothe the ache in his chest.

“I am so glad you’re finally here I’ve only been begging to get you at a race for years!” Carmen exclaimed from her spot on your bed while you picked through your suitcase for something the wear.

“Well this might be my last chance to meet Lewis so I figured I'd take it.” You joked, flashing the 44 hat you brought for the race waving it like a flag as she rolled her eyes at your behavior.

“Better not wear that to the garage George might feel offended.” Carmen sang a smile on her face showing she didn’t mean it

“Listen I love George but just like with Toto Lewis is first in my heart George second.” You laughed dodging the pillow she flung at you.

“Alright come on George will be here soon we can wait downstairs.” Grabbing her bag you followed behind her making small talk as you both waited for the Mercedes to pull up

You fake gagged as George immediately jumped you to open your friends' door with a kiss. “Y/n always a pleasure good to see you again.” He said giving her a quick hug while opening the back door for her to get in the car. Returning the sentiment

“I wonder if they have any shawarma at the restaurant” your friend spoke you could hear the smile in her voice as she teased you obviously payback for your comment earlier.

“Oh wow, that joke still hasn’t gotten old.” You deadpanned making George look at the both of you in confusion not getting the inside joke of your soulmate's words.

Choosing to change the subject you felt excitement filling you the closer to your destination you got

“George I cannot thank you enough for setting this up it’s a dream come true I’ve been watching Lewis race for years!” You smiled while Carmen laughed

“She’s been geeking out over meeting Lewis” she spoke as her boyfriend’s shoulders stiffened.

“Well about that….Lewis had a meeting but don’t worry I already took care of it everything is fine and I promise I’ll introduce you tomorrow.” He rushed out white knuckling the steering wheel as you deflated, you were disappointed but it wasn’t his fault.

“Who’d you invite?” You asked before he could answer he was already parked, he turned in his seat looking back at you.

“We’ve been friends forever… I’m sure it will be fine” You would’ve had more confidence if he didn't pause and have such a nervous smile on his face

Lando who was leaned against the building next to the entrance he’s pretty sure he’s accidentally scared off a few couples from entering with his brooding. He glances up hearing a car pull up his back suddenly straightened as if he was struck by lightning when the back car door opened.

His feet moved faster than his brain as he rushed to hold a hand out helping you out of the car.

A soft smile slid across his face uncharacteristically for his recent mood, but before he could dwell on it he locked eyes with you.

Shyly taking the offered hand you got out of the car slightly shocked by the turn of events not having expected George's friend to behave like that.

“Hi, I’m Y/N nice to meet you.” You spoke looking into a pair of awestruck brown eyes. “Umm hello?”

“Lando!” George shouted when you looked around the group when the other Brit failed to respond in choice of staring

“Lando yeah I’m Lando hi.” The man rushed out then mentally kicked himself when you nodded with a smile that made his mind go black again as you walked ahead with Carmen.

“Mate, what was that?” George spoke staring at the fellow driver whose face was covered with his hands “I don't know….” He groaned.

When they entered the restaurant you and Carmen were already seated Lando ungracefully jumped to the empty seat in front of you as if someone else would take it. Huffing out a smirk when you looked up at the sudden noise.

“Y/n this is Lando he drives for McLaren we grew up karting together along with Alex,” at the mention of Alex, Lando recalled the scene from that morning at deflated back into his seat.

“Nice to meet you I haven’t met to many of the grid yet so I’m glad to have started small.” You smiled across the table, still slightly in a mood he just politely nodded back

“You went golfing with Lily a few months ago didn't you?” George asked hoping to spark Landos' interest which worked flawlessly as the man perked back up.

“You like golf? I played in a tournament with the PGA guys for Netflix”

Out of all the things he had to brag about the Netflix cup is what he chose, god, Max was right he does say stupid stuff sometimes.

“You must be pretty good.” If Lando wasn’t proud of his previous answer his next one wasn’t any better. “Oh yeah, practically just hole-in-ones.” He smiled ignoring the look from the other driver, who tried to subtly yank on his sleeve to get his attention away from the two women who were giggling at his poor attempts at impressing you.

“Anyone who’s played golf with you knows that a lie pull yourself together” George spoke his tone hushed “I’m trying I don't know what’s wrong.”

The two men straightened up as if their little conversation never happened and looked over the menus. Lando who was reading over every sentence trying to collect himself.

“What in the world what is chicken shar-sharwarma chicken shar warma.” Lando stutters out thinking it was surely a typo.

George slammed his menu down on the table and looked over at Lando with the most disappointment he had ever seen on his face.

“What did I just say to you!”

“I’m sorry it’s confusing!”

“Chicken shawarma Lando it is not hard if you can’t say it don't order it!” George barked any rebuttal Lando had gets cut off by Carmens' loud gasp. Making both men turn.

“Oh my god!”

“I know he's a muppet” George who thought she was baffled by his friend just waved it off and went to change the subject before you spoke

“At least he's an F1 driver” Lando froze at your words swearing he felt a tingle on his arm where those very words sat. “Oh my god!” Carmen squealed in excitement at what she was witnessing.

“Plus he's pretty.” You lightly spoke still in shock at finding your soulmate who whined “See why wasn’t that part on there.” Lando threw his hands in the air wishing that’s what he stared at for years.

“Wait you think I’m pretty?” He smirked snapping back into the personality he was known for. His question made a flush appear on your cheeks and Lando is sure he just fell in love harder at the sight.

“Can someone tell me what’s happening?” George demanded seeing his girlfriend tear up and you and Lando doing whatever it was you two were doing.

Lando still on a high leaned his arm on the table rolling his white button-down sleeve to his elbow revealing the words you spoke, not taking his eyes off you the entire time.

“That George, was me meeting my girl.”

The rest of the dinner passed by in a whirlwind, all you could remember was the feeling of meeting your soulmate you never thought you’d say this but you’re glad Lewis had a work obligation or you wouldn’t be walking down the paddock hand and hand with Lando a brand new McLaren hat on your head.

“I’m still upset you threw my hat across the room.” Your words did little to dim the smile on his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry love, would a first-place trophy make it better?” He boasted feeling as if he was on top of the world with you by his side.

“Oh big ambitions today, huh, feeling good?”

“With you here, babe I'll be unstoppable, and once I win you have to throw out that dreadful hat I’m the only British driver allowed in your heart now.” He declared, his hand sliding down your arm to grab yours. Pulling you to a stop outside his garage.

“There’s the happy couple!” A new voice shouted from the sea of papaya. Max ran out, making Lando roll his eyes and you smile. You spent the last two days glued to each other so you knew all about his best friend.

“Finally so nice to meet you thank you for showing up and fixing this muppet!”

“I wasn’t a muppet, you muppet!”

“It’s very nice to meet you as well Max.” You interrupted the two before they could get started on the back and forth. Landos attention switching as you spoke threw his arm over your shoulder, a smug expression on his face getting to show you off.

“I know what lover boys words were but what was yours?” Max ashed almost bouncing on his feet in excitement. Lando groans immediately holding his head in your neck.

Rubbing your hand through his curls knowing this was going to be rough on him, you showed Max your other arm. “Mate you wonder why I said she probably thought you were stupid!”

Lando felt your head nodding in agreement making his shoot up to pout at you. “I’m sorry but come on it wasn’t your best moment neither was spilling wine all over the table.”

“He spilled wine! Come tell me everything.” Max gasped, pulling you away from Lando lacing your arm with his leading you down the paddock. Leaving the driver to trail behind the two.

A year later.

A hand came into your view as the car door swung open revealing your fiancé.

“For old times sake huh?” you teased refusing to the time he nearly tripped over himself to get to your door the night you met. Lando fondly rolled his eyes. “You act like I don't always get the door for you.” He bowed exaggeratedly pulling the large glass door open leading to the restaurant.

“Like how you acted like you were a golf expert?” Lando's jaw drooped in mock offense before collecting himself pulling you closer to whisper in your ear.

“Got a hole-in-one with you though didn't I?” You giggled hitting his chest as you reached the table. Lando left to greet George while you sat with Carmen and caught up.

Eventually, the men joined you both again, you only noticed when your chair was dragged to your right until you were pressed against Landos side, who held a menu for you to share. You smiled at his determination to keep you close.

Squeezing your arm which you now knew as his ‘watch this’ motion he winked.

“I think I’ll have the chicken shaworma chicken shar warma!”

“Mate not again!” George groaned while Lando laughed in mirth. Looking around the restaurant hasn’t changed a bit since the last time you were here and yet your entire life had, you now travel with your best friend around the world, and most importantly, found your soulmate

Hey guys we are back! After a very long break i got inspired to write again and while this one isn’t the best the other parts of this series are some of my favorites I’ve written so go check them out here but i do hope you all liked it

<< Charles Leclerc as brothers best friend

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destourtereaux · 9 months

Text

just a little bit of hope - peeta mellark x fem!reader

⤷ summary: with katniss and gale both gone, peeta steps in as an unlikely hunting partner for y/n. ⤷ wc: 2.6k ⤷ requested? yes. see request here. ⤷ follow @lovebirdupdates and turn on notifs to be on my 'taglist'!

⤷ a/n: two things - one, peeta has dimples here, it's just how i imagine him, so please bear with me; two, pretend gale's father is alive please, i didn't think our girl would be able to support two families, no matter how strong she is.

___

The day is horridly warm, exacerbated by a heavy humidity. As you wake, hot air suffocates your surroundings, and the sun glares through the window, hung on a span of blue sky. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, your bare feet find the ground, then immediately retract. The floor is burning hot, baked by the sun. You grit your teeth and force your feet back onto the wood, ignoring the searing heat. You have things to do.

You make a bowl of porridge, watery, but edible. You drink half, and leave the rest for your mother. Your father is off to the mines already, his boots absent. You get dressed, pulling on the prettiest dress you own. You're ready. Or, as ready as one can be.

Today, there will be no hunting with Katniss and Gale, no trading at the Hob. Today, there is only the reaping.

___

You spot Katniss at the edge of the square, gripping her sister's hand. Your friend looks nothing like she normally does. Gone are the boots and hunting jacket, replaced by a simple blouse tucked into a modest skirt. You nod grimly at her; neither of you feels like smiling.

Gale is over on the other side of the square, across from the stage they've set up. Your eyes meet, and he mouths "good luck".

After a few minutes of the routine announcements, Haymitch is introduced, then Effie. By now, the crowd has settled into an air of grimness, despite the clear blue sky overhead.

You don't hear Effie's jokes, and nobody laughs. She finally stops smiling, looking extremely awkward – you almost feel bad for her. Almost.

Then, she sticks her hand in the ball of names, each carrying a life, and pulls one out. Her smile is back on her face when she announces, "Without further ado, our female tribute is: Katniss Everdeen!"

You freeze, repeating her words in your head as if hoping they'd sound different. Your oldest friend – determined, brave Katniss, given a death sentence.

But Effie doesn't wait. Her next words are just as devastating. "And for our male tribute: Gale Hawthorne! Come on up now, dear, don't be shy."

Peacekeepers erupt through the crowd, grabbing your two best friends in the entire world by the shoulders, and forcing them up to the stage. Katniss whips her head around, looking at you with pleading eyes. You know what she's asking for.

"I'll take care of her, Katniss. I won't let her die. And you can't let yourself die, okay? Promise me. Katniss! Promise me!"

Your last words are hysterical, but ironically, Katniss is not. Having heard your commitment to Prim, she is satisfied. She yanks her arms free of the Peacekeepers and walks by herself, her head held high and her face serene.

You grab Prim's hand. Her whole body is shaking, wracked with sobs. You don't hear Effie's last words, but you know what they are.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

___

It's been two weeks since the reaping which stole your best friends. It's shocking how quickly you fell back into routine, as if nothing has even changed. The only indicator of their absence is an added part of your day: splitting your earnings between your family and Prim's.

There are now double the mouths to feed, so you spend double the hours in the forest hunting. Villagers are sympathetic – that may be the only reason you're all still alive. They love Prim, and they trust you. Everything you hunt manages to be traded.

But still, you're cracking. It's just too much, and you don't know if it'll ever get better. You have no idea what Katniss and Gale are going through right now, and you don't let yourself think of them. It would break your heart.

___

Peeta Mellark has always been observant. His teachers told his parents this, back when he was a child. It's this trait that makes him notice you. The girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, killing herself day after day to provide for not one, but two whole families.

He doesn't understand how no one else sees it. But maybe they do – it's just that no one in District 12 is really in a position to do anything about it. Still, the fact remains that you're close to breaking. You can't keep doing this alone.

Peeta Mellark has never been brave. His mother yells at him, beats him, and he takes it. He has never talked back to teachers, or dared disobey the Peacekeepers. So when he offers to hunt with you, he surprises even himself.

"What?"

"I'm Peeta Mellark. We were in the same class, and my parents run the bakery. I was wondering if I'd be able to hunt with you?"

So you weren't hallucinating. The baker's son – a boy you didn't think could kill a fly – had just asked to hunt with you. Your shock translates into a small laugh, not that anything about the situation is funny, really. Hurt flashes in Peeta's eyes, and you quickly backtrack.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm Y/N L/N, I know who you are. I just didn't think you'd be the hunting type," you explain. Because you're gentle, and kind, and I've never seen you hurt anyone, with your words or physically. But you don't add that last part.

"I've only ever hunted with Katniss and Gale, you must know them, they were reaped this year." Your voice cracks a bit with those last words, and Peeta acknowledges the fact with a nod. His hand twitches; he wants to pat you on the back, or grip your shoulder, anything to stop the melancholy leaking into your eyes, but he doesn't.

"But you're welcome to join me," you end with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

___

The new partnership starts early the following day. You meet a groggy Peeta near his home, and the two of you begin the walk to the Meadow.

You hear no electrical hum from the fencing, which means it's safe to touch, and you guide Peeta across the boundary which separates the Seam from the forest. This is all illegal, you know, but you're too used to it to even notice. Peeta, on the other hand, feels an exhilarating sense of rebellion as he crosses the barbed wire, following your figure into the woods.

"You've never hunted before, have you?" you probe, although it's more of a confirmation than an actual question.

Peeta nods. "But I'm a quick learner. And I won't get in your way, I promise."

You smile, a genuine one this time. "We'll see about that, Mellark."

Over the next hour, you go over all the traps you had set from the day before, collecting from Katniss and Gale's traps as well. True to his word, Peeta picks it up quickly, and even has a great eye for camouflaging the traps. This becomes his task, using grass and twigs and flowers as his medium, painting a deceptive scene which looks safe and welcoming to the many squirrels and rabbits in these parts.

You also start him on foraging. Only one type of berry is poisonous in the Meadow, and it's easy to identify. You make sure he's clear on which to avoid, and leave him to it, while you head to the hollowed out tree where you've hidden your knives. The familiar sight of Katniss' bow and arrows within the trunk brings a pang in your heart. You leave them nestled within and retrieve only your daggers. You were never a good archer.

Another hour passes, and you return to Peeta with a deer. You're happier than you have been in weeks – this will be enough for almost a week's worth of food. Peeta is not empty-handed either, he has two buckets of progress, one filled with strawberries, the other with raspberries. He gives you a soft smile – he has dimples, you think. He then immediately turns a faint shade of green, having noticed the dead deer.

You're seized with the desire to laugh, "Why'd you offer to hunt with me if you get queasy from the sight of game?"

He looks at you with an indignant pout, and you can't stop the giggle that tumbles out, then the full on laughter.

"I'm not like this with all game, just, you know, the larger animals. I can look at dead squirrels just fine – stop laughing!"

Making your way back, within the District, you stop just outside of the fence to split your gatherings.

"Take the squirrels and rabbits, and the bucket of raspberries. I'll keep the deer and trade the strawberries with the mayor," you offer.

"No, you take it all," he crosses the barrier carrying the buckets, and you follow after him, shaking your head.

"I can't, Peeta. That wouldn't be right. This is a fair split."

"I never said I wanted to keep what we hunt. Only that I wanted to hunt with you, Y/N. Take it. I know you need it more than I do. I'll see you next weekend?"

And with that, he pops a strawberry in his mouth, smiling at the sweetness, and walks away.

You're left with your mouth open, unable to process what had just happened.

___

The next morning, you show up at the bakery. His bakery. You earned a few dollars from selling your strawberries to the mayor, and you figure that if Peeta won't take anything, you should buy from him instead.

A few dollars is enough for two loaves of good bread, and so you head to the bread aisle. But your gaze catches on the beautiful cakes on display, decorated with multi-colored icing and swirling script written in melted chocolate.

"I did those," comes a voice from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you see Peeta himself, looking at the cakes with fondness and a bit of pride.

"You did what?"

"The cakes. I decorated them. My mom bakes, but I decorate. I like doing it – it's like painting, just on a different canvas."

"They're really lovely. You have a talent for it," you confirm, "I bet that's why you were so good at hiding traps yesterday. You can see nature's patterns."

He gives you a soft smile in return, and you can see the dimples again. They're adorable, you think. I want to see them every day.

He gives a small cough, looking at you questioningly.

You startle, and blush a deep crimson. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought. I'm here to buy bread. Two loaves," you say as you lower your head to stare down at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.

It's only when you hear a chuckle that you lift your head back up. Peeta's eyes are sparkling, and his dimples are clear as ever.

"I'll give you three."

___

Two months after the reaping, your partnership with Peeta is still going strong. Every Saturday, the two of you head to the woods, and spend half the day fishing, gathering, and hunting. Originally silent company has evolved into true friendship, with witty banter, fleeting touches, and shared smiles.

You have come to know Peeta Mellark. He isn't just the baker's son, the one who decorates cakes and hates seeing dead animals. He's the boy who saved you, when no one even knew that you needed saving.

Day after day, he has shown up, offering kindness, companionship, and warmth, without expecting anything in return. You care about him more than you thought you could ever care about someone who wasn't family. You care about his messy blond hair, and you care about his broad shoulders. You care about his blue eyes which sparkle when he tells a joke, and his beautiful heart which leads him to give the occasional customer an extra free loaf. Most of all, you care about his dimples, which come out when he smiles at you. You care so much about him, that it scares you.

And Peeta cares about you. He cares about your hands, calloused but nimble, lethal when holding onto your twin daggers. He cares about your face, how it glows when you laugh at his jokes in the woods, but dims a bit when you're back in the district. He cares about your hair, always tied in a ponytail when in the Meadow, but left to flow freely down your shoulders when hunting's over. Most of all, he cares about your smile, which comes out when Prim thanks you week after week for your help, and forces you to take bottles of goat milk and pet Buttercup. He cares so much about you, that it scares him.

___

This hunting day, Peeta comes with news from the Capitol. A few weeks back, he started giving you updates on the Games, after you told him that you couldn't stomach the thought of watching your friends fight to the death.

"Y/N! Good news!" he greets, exiting the bakery. As the two of you begin your walk, he adds, "I'll tell you when we get to the Meadow."

"You're insufferable, Mellark. You can't just hook me like that, and not tell me what it is."

Peeta doesn't answer, so you start walking twice as fast, ushering him toward the edge of the Seam so you could figure out what exactly he wanted to tell you.

Once in the grassy plains of the Meadow, between the forest and the fence, you turn back to the boy, the impatience evident in your face.

"Tell me, Peeta, or I swear I'll –"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, "but it's not really good news, per se. It's just a little bit of hope."

You nod, urging him to continue.

"It's about the Games. About Katniss and Gale."

The last traces of your smile fade. Concern is etched onto your face, and your eyebrows scrunch up, your jaw tightens.

Noticing this, Peeta pulls you in by the waist, so that your head lands on his shoulder. "It's good news, Y/N. Don't look so defeated. They're both still alive, and they're fighting."

"But at least one of them won't be coming back," you whisper into his neck, so quietly you wonder if he even heard. But Peeta always hears you.

"Y/N. That's the news. They could both come back. Caesar Flickerman has just announced that they will be changing the rules this year – allowing two victors of the Games, provided they're tributes from the same district!"

You look up at him in awe. A change to the Games. Katniss and Gale, not one or the other. Both could win. Both could come back.

You choke down a sob, staring at Peeta's brilliant smile and those mesmerizing dimples. And before you can process what you're doing, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a bout of bravery.

Peeta's frozen for a second, before he begins to reciprocate the kiss in earnest. He pulls you in, one hand holding your neck and the other wrapped around your torso, pressing himself impossibly closer. He tastes like icing and strawberries, and you can smell the comforting scent of warm bread.

The kiss ends far too quickly for your liking, and you're suddenly impossibly shy, all bravado gone. You lower your eyes so you won't have to meet his eyes, but realize that you're practically sitting on his lap, having moved there at some point during the kiss. This observation brings a flaming blush onto your cheeks, and you scramble to move away, but you're held in place by Peeta's arms, forming an iron-tight cage around your figure.

He brings a hand to your chin, lifting it up, and kisses you again, more gently this time.

"Don't go all shy on me now, Y/L/N," he teases, and holds the back of his hand against your forehead, as if feeling for a fever. "You're burning up, darling."

"You know damn well that's not a fever–", you start, but you're cut off by his laughter, and once again distracted by those dimples of his.

Maybe Peeta was right. Maybe there is just a little bit of hope left for you.

___

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whirlybirbs · 27 days

Text

BEYOND THE VOID — !

1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

( MASTERPOST | AO3 | SPOTIFY ) summary: torn from time yet again, it's thursday. six months pass. while you grapple with a newfound uncanny ability to premeditate, loki grapples with the fact he's slipping back into his old self without you. enter brad wolfe. now playing: a whole lots gonna change by weyes blood word count: 3.3k pairing: loki / f!reader, established in from the void, with love tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki season 2 (2020) spoilers a/n: finally, they return in "beyond the void". i can't thank everyone enough for the unending enthusiasm for this little project of mine. it's fitting to have the first chapter release with an eclipse. this is for all of you :) the beautiful gif for this chapter is from this set by @tomshiddles.

"Okay."

There's a long stretch of silence between Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster.

In the liminal stretch of the apartment building's hall, there's little sound except the loud drone of some horribly, desperately sad song beyond the door of Unit 1131. The two women share a long look with one another, and then Darcy gestures urgently to the door.

"Go ahead," she nudges her colleague.

"What?" Jane asks in a harsh whisper, "No, you knock."

"You were the one that said we needed to do an intervention—" Darcy argues back in an equally low tone.

"Oh, so now this is on me?" Jane fires back, "She's our friend—"

"Our friend who has been babbling nonsense about things that have not happened and has been seriously obsessing with that Low-key dude—" Darcy rushes out, bringing her face closer to Jane's, "I don't even know what we're walking into here!"

Jane inhales. She pinches her brow. With a long rub of her face, she exhales. Then, she knocks.

She gives Darcy a 'happy?' look before stepping back and crossing her arms.

Almost immediately, the music stops. There's the sound of a shuffle. A meow. And then, the door opens only wide enough that one exhausted eye can peak through the chained gap.

"Heeeeeeeeeey, girl!" Darcy chides, waggling her hands in the air, "Surprise!"

On the other side of the door, your heart clenches.

It feels a little bit like a cruel joke, y'know?

All that wishing, begging, clawing to go home and — well... you are. You're home. You've been home. For six months, you've been home in New York City. You're back in that little studio apartment, with Sigurd, with your research, with your doctorate.

ALL I WANT TO DO IS GO HOME.

You try your best to give both Darcy and Jane a smile, but it comes out mangled and exhausted and not quite right. You've been crying. Sort of par for the course these days.

"Oh, uh... Hi guys."

Sigurd meows.

"You got a sec?" Jane asks, raising a folder in her hands, "We, uh... Erik gave us some new anomaly data to look over and we figured... you're the one for the job! Y'know? It's... kinda... your thing... have you been crying?"

Your eyes dart between them both. You wet your lips.

"No. Nooo, no. It's..." your mouth hangs open as you search for a reason, "...Allergies."

There's a beat of embarrassing silence, and then Darcy moves fast as lightning. She wriggles her arm through the gap and unlocks the chain — almost as if this is definitely something she's mastered before — before pushing her way through the doorway of your apartment. Jane follows close behind, and Sigard squawks as he scurries away from underfoot.

The infiltration is almost immediately regretted because... woah.

Like, big woah.

Darcy has seen crazy. Like, she has an Uncle on her Dad's side who is totally in on the whole "they're coming for our thoughts" thing and does not leave the house without at least six layers of Great Value tinfoil stuffed under his baseball cap. She knows crazy. She works for Erik Selvig.

But this?

This is, like, soooooo above her pay grade.

Jane's jaw is slack. The folder is immediately forgotten on the kitchen island in favor of the wall-to-wall documentation of... whatever the hell this was.

LOKI MISSING? in the center of it all, with string and equations and runes and news articles and tabloid pages. There's an alarming amount of photos of the God in question pinned up beside ramblings on... Time? And... Quantum mechanics...?

There's another loooooong stretch of silence. And then, Darcy and Jane both turn slowly to look at you pressed against the door.

You swallow.

Your face is set in horror.

"It's not what it looks like—"

"Uh, dude, it totally is what it looks like—" Darcy starts, stepping closer to the board and pointing a black, manicured finger at a paparazzi photo of Loki being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower, "What's with all the Loki paraphernalia?! Need I post a lil' throwback Thursday to when he tried to kill us all?"

IT'S THURSDAY AGAIN.

You wince. "You wouldn't understand—"

Then, it happens.

The same thing you've experienced dozens upon dozens of times these last six months happens again: A rush of chatter in your mind, a cacophony of whispers that claw at your thoughts and flood them with has-beens and will-be's. A million things all at once, a little bit of everything from all of time, and then— one thread. One thread that stands out against them all.

"Jane, don't."

Across the room, Jane's fingers pause on the contact number for that pretty S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've met once or twice now — the one who is managing the Asgardian anomaly cases. With Loki missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been desperate to track him down. If this is a lead... If you know where he is...

Jane's face freezes.

Her brows knit.

Your face is split in panic. "I know you think calling Agent Hill is the right thing to do, but—"

"...How did you know I was...?" Jane's voice falls off, her eyes searching your face.

Your voice splinters as you step forward. "If you call Agent Hill, she is going to section our entire division within the week. Thor will be exiled from Earth on conspiracy four days later. We will sit in a cell for five years until they decide we have nothing to do with Loki's disappearance from Asgard."

Darcy's eyes bounce between you and Jane.

"Why are you saying all that like you know it's going to happen?" Jane asks slowly, putting her phone down and closing the gap between you. "Doc, what's going on?"

Your eyes flicker with fear.

And then exhaustion. The walls you've built to keep this away from the others crumble with one worried look from Darcy, and you crumple against the kitchen counter.

Your voice is far away.

"It all started that Thursday."

You thought it would be better now that someone knows.

Truth be told it might be more trouble than it's worth if not to soothe the burden of secrecy — because Darcy keeps treating you like a Magic 8 Ball that, when shaken, is going to spit out readings on the future.

It isn't that easy. I mean, if it was, you would have definitely done everything in your power to avoid the commute traffic this morning.

You don't know why it happens. Or how. You have a theory it has something to do with Alioth, but... without any sort of control, there's no way of knowing. All you know is that in those moments, you're presented with a weave of potential sequences. And in those moments, you can choose to act. Or not.

So far, acting seems to be the best course of action.

But, yea, no. No fortune-cookie-level stuff. No crystal ball, no tarot cards. Just... weird time-whispers. And a migraine that seems to never go away. And dreams. Really vivid dreams. Dreams that happen? And dreams that don't.

If it was a horoscope sort of thing, maybe you wouldn't have missed your morning bus after waiting in line at that coffee shop three blocks down. They always make your coffee a little too bitter, but the girl behind the counter is an NYU grad student you recognized from a mechanical engineering lecture you sat in on three months ago. You've got a soft spot for her. She's always nice to that guy in the baseball cap who seems unhoused.

You hope it all works out for her in the end.

But, Christ this coffee is bitter.

You buzz into Stark Labs at 9:37 am, and you're setting your stuff down at R&D by 9:43 am.

Bruce Banner looks up briefly from his work to slide you a welcoming smile. You return it gently as you settle down on your stool and reacclimate yourself to last week's work.

Mondays, man.

Tony is, as always, later than anyone else. His entrance is followed by the usual boisterous chatter meant as a morale booster. More often than not it's a genius-level comedy routine built on absolutely torturing Dr. Banner. You opt, more often than not, to refuse to enable the bad behavior.

Any laughter is buried deep into these readings from the Tesseract.

And so this has been home for the last four months.

Avengers Tower. R&D. Erik Selvig's Research Team. Theoretical Physics and Quantum Mechanics. Day in, day out.

No TVA, no TemPads, no Sylvie, no Mobius, no Capybaras.

...No Loki.

But, plenty of whispers.

It rocks you out of your focus, iced latte halfway to your lips as you're rooted in this little pocket of voices and threads and whisps of time. There's a thousand, then a hundred, then one.

Your voice is soft.

"Bruce, try the equation again."

From across the room, Tony's voice dies down and Bruce's eyes rise to meet yours. He points to himself, with a questioning raise of the brows.

You nod, then continue to take a sip of your coffee.

And so Bruce does. Wordlessly. And, after a minute, he looks up with a grin.

"So it was right."

"Woulda never known if Iron Dick over here didn't shut up for one second."

Tony's grin is bigger than Bruce's as he meanders over to your lab table and throws an arm around your shoulder. He squeezes you gently. You avoid his eye contact — and in doing so, you miss the momentary grace of concern.

(Tony has known you for a few months now. He knows you adequately enough to gauge that your triple-shot espresso should have been a sextuple. The bags beneath your eyes are dark. There's an edge there. Something jumpy. You're exhausted.)

"Now, that was mean."

"You're torturing him," you fire back lightly, non-the-wiser to his scrutiny.

"It's called exposure therapy—" Tony croons, leaning back and thumbing through some of the notes on your desk. You allow it.

Good. Still sharp. Still better than anyone else at what you do.

"Exposure to workplace terrorism?" You rib back with one cocked brow, "No offense, Bruce, but I like you better not green. Okay, Tony?"

"None taken!" Dr. Banner calls lightly from across the room. He's working on the second part of that equation now.

"Sure, sure, alright, Doc," Tony heads your words, raising both hands and stepping back, "I guess someone hates fun."

"Absolutely," you say blankly, chewing your straw; you point at him, "No laughter."

"None," Tony waggles a finger.

"Not a peep," you remark causally as you spin in your stool and snag your pen from the drawer behind you.

"Any news on the other green guy we hate?" Bruce asks slowly, eyes bouncing between you and Stark.

Your blood goes a little cold. Just like always. It's hard not to react — especially when that other green guy is all you think about day and night.

WHEN YOU LOSE HIM YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET HIM BACK.

You wordlessly shake your head. You shrug. Bruce turns to Stark. Tony is hunched over his bench. His words are a bit muffled by the soldering project he's turned his attention to.

"None. According to Thor he just up and poofed. He was in the middle of atoning before the Buckingham of Asgard and... just warped on out."

So you've heard.

"Hill has been working every lead she can but... the Asgardians are a little touchy-feely on the whole 'earthlings in the domain of the Gods' thing."

"Understandable," you mutter absently.

Tony sits up. "Only time will tell."

...Indeed.

Home.

Unit 1131.

Lonely.

It wasn't before all this... It was full to the brim with contentment. It was comfort, it was bliss. It was indulgent mornings slept beneath the covers and bright music in the kitchen. Cheap wine from the liquor shop on the corner and homemade meals. It was "I finally made it".

Now, it's none of that.

Because he's out there — and you know that you don't belong here anymore.

You drop your bag by the door.

Your boots follow in a trail.

Sigurd mews expectantly, and you scoop him wordlessly into your arms as you weave through the chaos of papers and books. Your carpet is hidden beneath a layer of obsession masquerading as research.

But, there's one thing that pulls you back in each time.

It's that photo.

The one Darcy had pointed at earlier.

Loki is being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower. He's looking back at something, and his expression is broken.

It's you.

You know he's pleading with Thor at that moment through a muzzle, desperate to call your name. He's looking at you, being whisked away by S.H.I.E.L.D. as they clear the area, and your voice is silenced by grief.

You wish you had called out to him then — told him you'd find him again.

Regret is a hell of a thing.

Grief, too.

How do you mourn something you never really had? Not here, not in this timeline.

So you stand there, in the dim lights of your apartment, staring at the photo. And you cry. Just like every night, for the last six months.

In your desk, that magical little daisy made of grass waits.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

That's the mission.

Mobius M. Mobius thinks it's funny — back then, man if only he would have known that lil' hunch of his was right. Maybe a part of him did. And... Now? Things are different. I mean, everything is different. The TVA is different.

Loki is different.

They say to be loved is to be changed an' all that.

The first thing out of Loki's mouth was your name when Mobius finally saw him again — and then a word vomit of panic, induced by the death of He Who Remains and... time-slippage as OB called it. Lotsa moving parts. Lots to keep track of. But, ultimately, they're in a better spot than they were yesterday.

1.) Loki is no longer falling through the metaphorical cracks in time.

2.) Mobius did not get toasted alive when standing before The Loom.

3.) He never, ever, ever has to do that again.

And now!

They're in London.

1977, huh. Zaniac.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

...Unless you find him first.

Loki isn't exactly thrilled.

No, Loki knows better than to get his hopes up. Sylvie isn't here. He already told Mobius that. It's too safe. It's a damned movie premiere. There are no radiation burns, no falling stars, and no rampant gunfire. It's too quiet.

It's a movie premiere and you're out there, somewhere, alone. You're... you're lost. He can't protect you here. He can't protect anything. You... You're all he has and you're gone.

And he's here, wasting his damn time.

Brad Wolfe is about to waste more of his time.

Loki's gaze is sharp. His strides are long, and as they approach the fray, the God stands amongst the tallest of guests. He cuts a mean profile. It's times like these that Mobius remembers he is a God.

(It's times like these that Mobius can also see the ever-increasing edge in his partner-in-time. It's a little... worrisome. But understandable. I mean, rip a God's soulmate from his hands and see what happens, right?)

"So, he's an actor now?" Loki comments off-handedly, his irritation grating his heartstrings in a way that reminds him of who he was before all this. He hates it. But, he's angry. He will get you back. Without you...

Without you, he doesn't know what he'll do.

"Or he's undercover."

As they weave, Loki's brows knot in distrust. "Looks pretty real to me."

It smells like cigarettes and perfume, and the flashbulbs bite sharply into Loki's peripherals. The raven-haired trickster winces, tucking his hands into his slacks.

On the red carpet, X-5 moves from interview to interview. Occasionally his laughter rises above the clamor. Each time, Loki's nostrils flare and he rolls his eyes.

It's when he reaches the end of the line that Mobius moves in.

"Will there be a Zaniac Two?"

The look on Brad's face says enough for Mobius to know there's more going on here than just an undercover bit. Brad's laugh, as equally pained as his smile, just cements the fact.

"Mobius! Woah!" A clap on the shoulder, a big hug. "I used to work with this guy!"

Still a show. Still a weasel trying to survive on his little slice of time.

"We're going to need to catch up," he begins, backing up slowly, "You know, why don't we chat after the show?"

"How about now, maybe?" Mobius counters just as Brad turns on his heel and comes face to face with Loki.

The God sneers.

"Woah. Okay, ha, whole gangs here!" he chirps, "Isn't that... great? Wow. I mean, you look — you look great, Loki."

"Why thank you, Brad."

Brad's eyes are manic, and he's searching the crowd quickly — no doubt looking for an exit. Then, they catch something. When Brad claps his hands together and pats them on both Loki and Mobius' shoulders, the two TVA agents pause.

"Everything alright?" Loki asks, head tilting in faux concern.

"Everything is great, actually, because when I was here," he begins, words quick and anxious as he tries to weave some sort of story, "I met a mutual friend!"

"Sylvie?" Mobius asks tightly.

"No, no, uh, better—"

Loki's jaw tightens. Enough of this. "We have some mutual friends back at the TVA who would like a word, as well—"

"Doc!" calls Brad after finally finding her in the sea of people, turning on his heel and calling out over his shoulder, "I got people I need you to meet!"

And just like that, it's like Loki's whole world splits wide open again.

In the fray of photographers and journalists, in the fray of drinks and the haze of smoke, there's you. You're smiling at Brad, positively beaming. You're bright as a star and Gods, there's no one in the room when you step forward with a laugh.

Your dress is green. Your hair is different.

There's a beauty mark on your left cheek. His version of you has a scar that lies there. A mistimed gift from Sylvie before their period on Lamentis.

"Doc, these are some of my friends from work," Brad points, his hand falling along your waist in a way that makes Loki's blood boil; the ex-TVA Hunter leans close to your cheek, "They're the real deal."

You laugh into your drink, then extend your hand to Mobius. He's trying his best to hide his growing dread. "It's a pleasure."

Mobius takes it and shakes it gently. "And how do you have the pleasure of knowing our starlet, Brad?"

Damn it. He's losing Loki in real time here.

"Doc here did all the practical effects on set for Zaniac," Brad's eyes connect with Loki's — but the God is focused on only you... Her. Until Wolfe digs in with a low murmur meant to do just what it does, "She's a real wiz with her hands."

The God's face snaps. He will kill Brad, he decides. But, then this other-you moves to offer her hand and he can't help but melt.

His fingers are trembling when he touches her skin.

"Have we met before?" comes the soft lilt of her voice — this Variant's eyes are brown. They search Loki's face for a shred of recognition but all that's there between the two of them is raw attraction. A law of time and space unhindered by meddling hands. No matter where, no matter when, you will find one another.

Loki's mouth is dry. Your lipstick shade is a dark rogue. He thinks about that kiss back in the Void. He's stuck there, with your hand in his, when Brad bolts.

Her face contorts in confusion. She pulls away. But, Loki lingers.

He has to... He...

He needs you back.

Now.

#beyond the void #from the void with love #loki x reader #loki x doc #loki x y/n #loki reader insert #loki/reader #loki/you #loki imagine #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert #loki season 2 fic #marvel fanfic

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