#// *thought misty would be better suited for saying this

[stevesgother]

Savior Complex - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.9k

Warnings - Blood. Mention of vomit. Partial nudity. Let me know if I missed anything!

Authors note - This is my first fic...ever. Constructive criticism always welcome but pls be nice. Takes place directly after the events of S3. Hurt/comfort, angst, acknowledging Steve’s trauma bc damn.

Summary: ANGST, hurt/comfort, happy ending but not a lot of resolution, friends to ? lovers? idk its up to you!

Inspired by my favorite poem of all time, that has always reminded me a little bit of Steve.

“In this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything and I will not abandon you. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch”

The air inside Steve’s car was heavy with tension and the thick July heat.

You sat parked in his driveway, the rest of The Party having dispersed to their own homes; their parents waiting for them with open arms and misty eyes. 

Not you. 

And Certainly not Steve Harrington.

You and Steve weren’t what you would call “close”. Until now, that is. Shared trauma tends to have that effect. He knew you had a tumultuous relationship with your parents, and it didn’t take much deducing to realize his parents weren’t in the picture. Barely in Indiana, let alone spending anything close to quality time with their only son.

The idea of spending the last few hours of this nightmarishly long day in his big, empty house was sounding lovelier by the minute. On the grounds that it ‘wasn’t safe to be alone right now’. You didn’t read too much into it; he was right, after all. Part of you wonders if he just didn’t want to be alone. Sluggish, and noticeably more bloodied than you, Steve made his way to the front door with you in tow. His house was silent; eerily so. Everything pristine and well manicured, as if no one lived there at all. 

“There’s a guest bedroom upstairs, and a bathroom down the hall, to the right. Towels in the cabinet next to the shower.” He doesn’t even look at you as he says it. You try not to feel like you’re burdening him, blaming his avoidance on the exhaustion and not the unwelcome presence of you in his home.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” He finally meets your gaze. The shiner he sports on his left eye is still swollen, but less so. The front of his sailor suit you once thought so endearing, is now stained with blood and vomit.

“You’re bleeding.” You say quietly. “You have -” you wince, “- open wounds on your face Steve. Probably a concussion too and that’s if we’re being modest.”

He wears a tight-lipped expression you can’t quite read. You can tell he’s frustrated, and his exhaustion is bone deep. It nags at your heart. Maybe that’s why you don’t just drop it when he answers you.

“Not my first rodeo, I’ll be fine just-” He pauses, “go shower, and get some rest. God knows this shit won’t just be over come tomorrow.”

You take a tentative step forward. “Please just…just let me help. I can disinfect the cuts around your eye. I was a girl scout! Though in hindsight I realize how useless that sounds and-” you’re rambling now; nervous.

“Stop.” You’re taken aback slightly by his tone, you haven’t known Steve to act hostile. Not in a long time. “I don’t need your help, and I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not ‘pity’ Steve! Why is it so hard for you to believe someone might want to help you?” You take a step forward from where you stand a few feet from him. You reach up to touch his forehead with the hope of better assessing his injuries.

‘Enough!” He swats your hand away, “God, I should’ve never offered for you to stay here. You think you’re some type of savior, but you’re not.”

His words feel like a knife to the chest. You knew what he was trying to do, you knew he didn’t really mean the things he said. Not when he’s like this. For the first time since you arrived tonight, you thought of how many times he’s had to come back to this empty, soulless house all alone. Damaged, emotionally and physically. Wounds he’s had to patch alone. No gentle caress of another’s hands. Just the stinging of antiseptic in his nostrils, and the heaviness of everyone he’s ever loved abandoning him.

“You don’t mean that.” You say, shaking your head in a disbelieving way.

He laughs, humorless, “Yes I do. I really, really do.” A bitter sharpness to his words. It burns like liquor washing down your throat. “Go.” 

“No!” Now you’re the one raising your voice. “Being stubborn is for when someone is haggling you at a flea market. Not when someone is trying to love you.”

Love. You realize what you’ve said a beat too late, but you stand defiant despite it. You do love Steve. This fact, collecting cobwebs in the back of your brain for months, being spat out onto the floor in front of you both is what compels you to what you do next.

Steve, who was previously standing with this index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose, is now staring at you like a deer in headlights. Before either of you can blink, you’re closing the gap between the two of you, sure of yourself. You wrap him in a suffocating embrace and he struggles against your grip.

“Stop! Please I don’t need you-” He all but shouts. Still, you sense a dent in the armor.  A crack in the wall he’s spent so long building to keep you out; to keep everyone out.

Eventually, he stops struggling. His knees give out from underneath him as the trauma and the pain and the events of today catch up to him. But not just today; a year ago when his girlfriend broke his heart at Tina’s stupid party. When Michael Harrington cut him off on the grounds of him being a disgrace to the family name. Everything flooding back to him all at once. Everything he’s spent his youth avoiding.

You sink to the ground with him, still holding him tight. He stops making an effort to hide his sobs, but instead clings to you like you’re the only tangible thing keeping him here. You sit beside him, with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and your free hand cradling his head to his chest so he can hear your heartbeat. A heart that finally beats for him.

“I know.” You soothe. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” The hair you’re gently stroking, which is usually so voluminous and perfectly styled, is now dampened with blood and sweat.

“I’m sorry-” He sobs, “I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m not sorry.” 

He cries harder at that. Shoulders shaking and breath shallow, he looks at you. You cradle his sweet, bruised face in your hands. You think, like a pomegranate, Steve Harrington is beautiful, and worth the mess. Wiping his tears with your thumbs and careful to avoid the cuts and swelling that decorate his face, you give him a smile. Shy, but earnest.

“Can you take me to bed?” He asks you, eyes bleary.

–

Neither of you speak as you turn on the faucet and watch the porcelain tub fill with scalding hot water; still not hot enough to wash away the memories this day has tainted you both with forever. Tentatively, you lift your shirt over your head, and slip your shorts down your scraped legs, revealing your mismatched bra and underwear. A pang of guilt washes over you when you look down and realize Steve took the brunt of the Russian soldiers. He was the bravest and most selfless person you had ever met.

You give him a look that asks “is this okay?” as your fingertips brush the cotton of his ruined Scoops uniform. You aren’t sure what the boundaries are anymore. Momentarily Steve worries this will irreparably change things between you two. He nods anyway. You lift the shirt over his head, catching a glimpse at the real extent of his injuries. His ribs were badly bruised, and he had clotting cuts all over his abdomen. Something swirls in your stomach at the sight of his chest hair. You wish the circumstances of this moment were different.

He pulls his own pants and socks down with a hiss, eyes screwed shut, leaving you both in just your undergarments. He steps into the tub and slowly sinks beneath the hot water. You step in behind him, and he looks over his shoulder at you, a look of confusion contorting his features. You don’t bother to explain, for the fear that speaking would break the trance you both seemingly were under. You had built a space here for each other, one you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Sitting behind him now, you wrap your arms around his chest and pull him flush to you. You rest your chin in the space between his shoulder and his neck, and close your eyes. You can feel how he tries to match his breathing to yours; slow and rhythmic.

You reach up to the hanging shelf on the wall above your head, and grab the cedar and sandalwood body wash. The second you open the bottle, your senses are flooded with him. Only in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever get to smell his scent in any way other than passing. A slight brush of shoulders in the hallway; a friendly hug when you’d gotten back from a month long vacation.

With a dollop of body wash on a washcloth you found on the edge of the tub, you gently start to scrub the blood and grime off his freckled skin. Like this, you can see every birthmark, every scar, the way the hair at the nape of his neck curls up around his ears in the damp bathroom air.

Steve rests his calloused hand on your knee and squeezes. A silent reassurance that what you’re doing is okay, that he’s okay, that he’s here. Everything feels overwhelmingly intimate as your hands explore his body. You lather his thick, brown locks with the shampoo you found next to the soap. With a heavy sigh, Steve allows his head to fall back into the crook of your neck. He doesn’t tell you, but this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit in the tub together, but at some point he turns to face you, cupping your jaw in his larger hand. The look he gives you is so tender, you think you might cry. His caramel eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes, so fast you would’ve missed it if your senses weren’t dialed up to 11.

With the delicacy of someone touching a flower petal, he closes the gap and presses his cut lips to your soft ones. Hesitant at first, giving you the option to pull away. He fears he may have misread the moment when you separate from him, a look in your eyes that he can’t read. His worry dissipates as you take his face into both of your hands and kiss him deep and slow. You only break when the air feels too stiff to continue, the water droplets accumulating in the air and Steve's kiss making it difficult to catch your breath. His hands slide from where they were grasping your hair, and down to your neck where they stay.

“I love you, too.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

You don’t get to tell me about sad

Previous chapter

a/n part three! I’m brain dead so sorry for the wait. I hope you will all enjoy this. 🫧🫶🏻

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars, injuries, blood.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were sure that your lip was going to burst from the way you kept biting on it, trying to suppress the laugh as the carriage rolled through the misty autumn forest. Convinced that nothing was ever going to top the sight of Azriel, squished the opposite of you. He was scowling so hard that he was most definitely the reason why the sky had ripped open. Pouring rain drowned the lush forest since the early morning. It looked like you were driving to a funeral at best, gruesome execution at best. 

“Don’t start with me today," Azriel grunts, his eyes burning into yours. Yet now that he acknowledged you, the smile only seemed to spread wider. He lets out a grunt, and a quiet giggle slips past your lips. "Princess, life suits you," you mumble, making Azriel roll his eyes. “Come on now; it’s not so bad. Don’t huff”, you nudge his leg with your heel, earning yet another glare.

“Could have winnowed us there”, “You did almost all the way”, you point out. And you would have happily obliged, but the murmurs about something being wrong with the high lord’s family had started. So Lucien and Eris had made their outing. If not for the rain, you would have done just the same. Take a walk through the main streets. But now seeing the family carriage and your face through the glass would have to be enough. 

“Why do you hate autumn so much?”, It’s a bold statement to make. You’re not sure if he even hates it. Well, considering the amount of frowning he does, he has to. “I have my reasons," Azriel answers as bluntly as he can. “Care to elaborate?", you turn to him, ready to dig an answer out of him if you had to. He owned you, considering his creeping around your room. But your eyes fall on the way he’s trying to subtly rub his palms together. The scarred skin—humidity must be making the bones ache too. He’s impossible to read, but you’re convinced that the discomfort hunts some of his features. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care, yet you still inch closer. There’s not much space inside the carriage considering that man’s size, but it’s enough for you to brush your legs against him. As expected, Azriel’s hands instantly reached to put distance between you both. But that’s when you yank the side of your cloak up, draping the fur-lined material over his scared palms. 

“What are you?", "Shhhh," you say quickly. He tries to pull them out, but you catch his gaze—a daring look there. “Know your”, but you cut him off once more, “Next words out of your mouth better be, thank you, princess," you muse. Azriel clenches his jaw. But he doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t fight the warmth slowly seeping through the stiff skin. “I thought you hated that nickname, princess," he says. One thing this man hadn’t learned in life was dealing with women. Clearly. You shrug, “Not so bad when it’s you who calls me that," you muse, watching as a glimpse of surprise washes over his features, and then the scowling coldness returns. 

Azriel doesn’t like it here. The thought alone had unsettled him ever since Lucien had announced the need to go back. “The High Lord needs to make a statement," Lucien had stated. Azriel itched to say that Eris wasn’t his high lord. But he knew that regardless of Eris’s wishes, he would have gone. Because you were going there. So here he was, standing outside the forest house. Not daring to go forward alone. You had waved him off. Told him to go inside while you checked on the horses. But he refused to step inside. So he stood there, trying to memorize every window.

“Who’s snooping now?", your voice fills Azriel’s ear as he slowly turns to you. Arms crossed as you grin at him. He wonders why you hadn’t mentioned that night in your room. Why you brushed it off so easily. “I just needed to stretch my wings." It’s not so much of a lie. It had been a disaster of a trip here. You barely manage to open your lips when an unfamiliar voice comes from behind, “Yn, Yn.“

Azriel pushes you behind him, his hand reaching for his dagger. But you slip out of his grasp, glancing over his shoulder. And then you’re stepping forward. “Makoa?”, it’s a whisper, and Azriel doubts that a disheveled-looking boy would hear it. But he does. And that name alone makes Azriel uneasy. The same boy you had sneaked out with. And just like that Azriel decides that he hates Makoa.

"Wait," you push again Azriel's arm, but his grip doesn’t falter. “Anyone can be a threat," the spymaster points out. “I know him," and it’s the desperation that makes Azriel back up. The same one that he had when he called out to Mor. To Elain. The lost kind. One that had you hanging up on things that weren’t there. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Makoa mutters once he is in arms reach of you. Azriel has to bite his tongue because nothing about that statement seems genuine. “You can imagine it’s been busy over here," and your voice is different too. Hazy almost. You bite at Azriel. Spewing venom. And here, this boy makes you behave like a youngling with your first-ever crush. “You could have written to me; I’ve missed you." Makoa raises his hand, and Azriel instantly inches to step forward, but then the boy is leaning in, his lips brushing over yours. Making Azriel lower his head. A strange sort of feeling brews within him. One that’s not welcome here. So he turns back onto his heel, heading deeper into the woods. To clear his consciousness. His logical thinking. His heart.

“Everyone missed you," Makoa points out, your hands clasped in his. The feeling is strange. It’s all so wrong  because, yes, he has been vocal about courting you, but this… To be kissed in front of someone he doesn’t even know. You glance back. Eyes scanning the front gardens. He’s not there. Azriel isn’t there, and a dreadful sort of uneasiness pools in your stomach. 

“It’s just been a couple of days," you brush his statement off. You were trying to find joy in something you had dreamed of ever since you slipped that book beneath the floorboards. “You’re behaving strangely," Makoa mutters, his hand reaching out for your forehead, but you bat it away. “I’m just tired," but you’re more than tired. You need answers, and quite frankly, you’re willing to do about anything to get them. 

You can trust the man in front of you. His mother used to do laundry for your family. Until Beron changed his mind or whatever happened. As if reading your mind, Makoa reaches up, cupping your cheek, “What is it you can tell me?" A part of you is screaming to just drop it. Talk to Azriel first. But then he wasn’t there. He wouldn’t know. 

“Do you remember the night on the harvest moon, well after it?”, you say quietly, looking over your shoulder for servants. “I walked you home," Makoa shrugs. Well, he did more than that, but sure, that will do for now. “Someone was waiting for me," you admit. “I didn’t go inside; I went to the barn to feed the horses." It was misty and cold outside. You didn’t catch their face. Just a hooded figure.

“I... someone tried to slice my throat open." Brushing your hair to the side, you let the white line shine in the midday sun. Makoa watches. But he doesn’t frown. There’s almost no reaction. Azriel looked more concerned when you caught him brushing his fingers over it that night. Genuine concern. Or maybe you were just imagining it. 

Makoa brings you into his chest. “What a shame," he breathes out, and your hands are instantly pushing against his chest. "Pardon," you huff, brows knit together. “I mean, it’s horrible, yes," he says, lifting his arms in defiance. You shake your head. Too tired. Too tired for this. After all, you didn’t expect him to take you seriously. He was too wild. Too carefree for that. 

"Look, just be careful, okay?", you mutter, your eyes searching him, but he only shoots you a wicked smile. “You don’t have to worry about me," he muses. You burn to tell him that you both are no longer kids. There are serious matters, but you don’t have it in you to fight another battle today. “I’ll see you in the party," you say as you step back, letting your fingers slip out of his grasp. But then he’s pulling you back. Hand on the side of your face. An eager kiss smothered against your lips, “I wouldn’t miss the spectacle.”

Azriel’s task this weekend was easy. If he was being honest, he didn’t quite grasp why exactly he was asked to come. But then Eris might have just done it to spite him. All he was responsible for was keeping an eye on you when Eris and Lucien couldn’t. So essentially, babysit a grown woman. Now he was standing with his back against your door. Throwing his knife up and down in his hands. Trying to beat his record of spins before it lands back into his palm. 

“Okay, am...", your voice breaks the second-floor silence, making Azriel pause. “Can you get Maria?”, Azriel shakes his head even if you can’t see him, “She just went outside for the flower arrangements." The elderly woman had pinched his cheek way too many times, but as much as he hated it, she reminded Azriel of his own mom. 

"Fuck," the sound of things falling inside the room, makes Azriel press his ear to the door.“What’s going on?”, he demands. Silence falls. “I...", you start, but it ends with a frustrated sigh. “Well, let’s hear it," he muses, hoping for yet another privileged little dig he could throw back at you. 

“I can’t reach the back of the dress to do the..." It’s a whisper. A frustrated one at that. “We have twenty minutes," Azriel points out. “I know, tree man, I know," you growl in frustration, cursing to yourself as you continue to struggle. 

“I'm coming in," Azriel states, instantly frowning at his own words. "No, you are not," you snarl, and he is sure that you are frowning. “On three," the spymaster warns. But he doesn’t even get a chance to start the countdown. “Fucking, Azriel,” you say, yanking the door open. Rosy cheeks. Slightly disheveled hair. And that deep red satin dress. So far different from the one he had seen you in the first time you both met. That was a girl. This… You were meant to be in red. In…

“Eyes up here, moron," you say, reaching up to flick his nose. One arm holding the material upfront. You turn away from him. The smooth back exposed to his scared hands. Azriel shakes those thoughts away. “I’ve seen females before," he states, reaching for the golden buttons. “Really? I would have taken you for a virgin," you snort, shaking your head ever so slightly. Azriel fake gasps, earning a glimmer in your eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”, he says in the most dramatic way possible. You bite your lip, trying to hide that smile. He knows it. Feels it.

“Just do the dress up," you urge him, motioning to your back. Azriel halts, letting his hands drop to his side. “Start with a please," he says proudly. You glance up at him, “Are you being serious?” Surely a man who just completed about the amount of time you had wasn’t going to start playing games. “I decided that etiquette lessons are in order," he shrugs, making you roll your eyes. “I will spit in your drink tonight. How is that for your etiquette lessons?” You flash him one of your fake smiles. “Delightful, just how I like it," and it’s so unexpected that you are left slack-jawed for a split second, and then he grabs your shoulder and turns you around, nudging you forward. “You’re disgusting," you say, pushing your heel against his leg, making a little rumble of laughter fill the space. “Says you," he breathes practically against your skin, sending shivers down your back. 

You fidget with your sleeve as you and Azriel make your way towards the main part of the event. Public outings still felt strange. The big crowd overwhelmed you. But you had missed out on so many great things  and parties, especially when you were growing up. That now….

“Only a weirdo disappears like that," you halt suddenly, leaving Azriel to walk along until he too stops. Turning to face you. You quickly put a finger against your lips, stepping closer to the second-floor railing. “That’s what I told Makoa”. You know those voices. You don’t even need to look down the staircase to know who they belong to. 

“Daddy beat her, I heard," and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Tingles spread through your body like fire.“ She lived beneath the floorboards; I doubt she knows how to interact with living things." You let the words slash at you. After so many years, they don’t make a difference. It’s the fact that every time you feel as if you found someone willing to look past it, they still end up stabbing you in the back. 

That’s when your eyes fall on Azriel, practically charging towards the stairs. "Don't," you hiss, reaching to grab at his wrist, pulling him back. “It’s disrespectful, and I’m being very polite with my words here," he grunts. Venom. Purest of venom painting his features, and yet you cut him off. “I said don't," you step in front of him, pressing your palms against his chest. “It’s just another joke for them. You throwing a fit and acting all gruff won’t change a thing.”

Azriel watches you for a moment before a bitter laugh crawls up his throat. “And those are your friends? People that you think are not a threat to you? ”, he points downstairs in frustration. A wave of guilt. Shame. Fills you in seconds. You feel that familiar sting in your eyes. But you brush it beneath all the other pain. “Daddy got them for me; I didn’t have a chance to choose; my apologies," you purr through gritted teeth. 

And it’s as if you threw a comeback punch. The arrow shooting once again. Azriel’s shoulders sag. “Yn...", he breathes out, but you don’t want it. Don’t want pity. The sad eyes. The smothering. To hell with it. “We should go find my brothers." You pick at the skirt of your dress, turning to the stairs. “It was insensitive of me," Azriel’s words slam into the wall you had built, making you close your eyes for a moment. “Don’t get tangled in this; this has nothing to do with you," you mutter, not turning back to face him. Forcing your legs forward. Azriel stands at the top of the staircase for a heartbeat, watching you. Then he glances over his shoulder. One heartbeat. Two. And he unleashes his shadows to the first floor. 

The terrace is buzzing with people. If it were up to Azriel, he would be right by the platform, but there are Eris’s guards here. So he’s just standing by. That prick had it in him to suggest wine. Azriel, of course, took it. Before dumping it right next to Eris’s shoes. Rhys told him to behave, yes. And so he was, because the second option was to punch the fireling in his face. Pick and choose.

Azriel catches a glimpse of you. Well, more like all he had been doing was catching glimpses of you. Like a moth to a flame. Even if he tells himself not to, his eyes always seem to find you. That distant look in your eyes. Like you’re not here, even if your body is. He also doesn’t doubt that it’s partly because of the things the people said. Why not fight back? You seem to be fine doing that when it comes to him. But crumple the moment the people who are meant to be closest to you are involved. 

As if by coincidence, your eyes glance up, meeting Azriel’s. He should be scowling, yet he finds himself smiling. Just a little. He puts a finger beneath his chin, pushing it higher. Encouragement of sorts. You’re supposed to radiate power, not look like a damsel in distress. You return it with an eye roll, making the corners of Azriel’s lips curve even more. Deny it or not. You do lift your head up. That tingle of fire blazing just a bit brighter. That will do. It would have to be enough to get you through it. 

The music dies, and Eris walks close to the platform edge, that fox-line smile on his face. “It’s an honor to have you all here, so I thank you for finding time to join us," the high lord begins. “I know that the court is facing some challenging times, but you should not be afraid." Azriel crosses his arms over his chest as he listens. “I will do everything that is in my power to protect our people and be a true and fair high lord." Then the Autumn High Lord turns back breathy. “And... I’ll have my family to aid me in these matters," motioning for his two siblings to come to stand closer. “Lucien and Y/n Vanserra will be taking their rightful place on the throne." The crowd explodes with chairs and joyful applause. As the three siblings smile in unison.

“And…”, But there’s no and. Nothing comes after it. As if someone had stolen all of the other promises. Azriel feels it too. It hits his senses. Making them restless. There’s something wrong. Something that doesn’t feel right. A banner behind the platform bursts into flames. The hot tongues, lapping at the family insignia. Some people back up. Eris waves for his guards, ordering them into action. People are bringing buckets full of water while Eris and Lucien try to wield the wildfire. 

It’s the lightest of the sounds that follow next. It flickers, and... "Y/n," Azriel calls, making you snap your head sideways. “Y/n," he breathes out, and then he’s winnowing. His hands already stretched out. He has to make it. He will make it. There is no other option. So Azriel doesn’t let the what-ifs set in. Shrieks echo. Chaos breaks out. And then he’s up there. On the platform. One arm behind your body, the other on the arrow. 

The time stops. Your wide eyes are looking at him. Green so deep that Azriel knows he has never seen anything like it. The freckles seem even darker now that your skin has paled almost to snow white. His fingers are trembling. He can’t see it. Can’t fucking see it; the bunched-up fabric is making it hard to judge. Had the arrow met its target? Your heart seems to beat beneath his palm. But are those the last beats? Then the red fabric turns an even deeper shade of red. 

Every muscle tenses in Azriel’s body. "No," he mutters under his breath. He’s not letting you die just like that. Not on his watch. Not in some pointless death just because someone has a bone to pick with your brother. Your eyelashes flutter, and just for a heartbeat, Azriel is too slow to catch you. Your body sags, but the arrow stays there in Azriel’s head. It didn’t meet its target. Not fully, at least. Just nicked the skin. It feels as if someone rolled a mountain off of his chest. 

"Azriel," it’s so light he almost misses it. The plea. The fear. Your fingers reach up for his leg. His darkness swirls around you both. And quite frankly, the spymaster is not too sure as to what’s going on outside. The world might as well be going to shit for all he cares. Kneeling, Azriel takes hold of your trembling hands, “I’ve got you, darling; I won’t let anything happen to you." He’s not sure if you even hear him. Eyes fixed on something as if you’re looking right past him.“I'm here; I'm with you," Azrie promises, moving to drape your arms over his shoulders. “Are you with me, love?” You’ve gone into shock, that he can tell. Yet you blink. Fingers gripped onto his flying leathers as you nod. "Good," he says, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “Hold onto me, fireheart”.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @emryb @glitterypirateduck @xxtakeachancexx @justyouraveragekleemain @5onedirection5 @paleidiot

[draw-ren-draw]

Avantris Comic Scripts #2

Often when I get ideas for comics, I break my panels into scripts first. These are less prose-y than fics but still contain dialogue and basic interactions. You seem to have enjoyed my first one, so have a few more, this one featuring my initial thoughts on "Gorebek"

Confrontation with 'the Duke' (spoilers up to ep: 56!) [A script I wrote to explore my personal headcanon about Torbek's situation; I think this would be a delightful twist that suits what Nikki and Andy might be plotting for us. Please be sure you are caught up to episode 56 to avoid any spoilers! These ideas are not confirmed just my personal favorite take~] * * * * [After another grueling battle, 'The Duke' has made himself known by taking control of Torbek's body once again. Dripping with the blood of his latest conquest, the party stands at odds with the most sane and yet somehow scariest version of their friend yet. This time, the Witchlighted to hell and back bugbear has no interest in further bloodshed and seems more inclined to take his leave. Weapons drawn, Carnivale Lecroux debate whether to fight or allow this unexpected threat to flee, knowing they could risk losing Torbek too.]

Kremy: "You're outnumbered so KINDLY get the hell out of Torbek already!" Gideon: "Ya can't just show up after somebody's been experimented on and claim that bodies your own!" "Not my own?" The Duke pauses, considering something while facing away. "Let me get this straight. Your friend. Who speaks in grunts and the third person. Can barely write his name. And you think he's the original personality?"

A hush falls over the crowd Gricko: "… In hindsight…" Frost: "…it does make a disturbing amount of sense.."

'The Duke' smirks and misty steps closer to Kremy, taunting the lizardfolk. 'The Duke': "You never could remember me, could you?" Kremy: "Now that's not true, the herri--" 'The Duke': "You just believed whatever it was I told you, it was easy enough to picture." The Alligator squints, fae magic clouding his mind. Something about what this not-Torbek is saying does make an insidious amount of sense. He grits his teeth, unable to find the lie. Kremy: "… Think I'm beginning to remember why I didn't like remembering you."

Gideon is not falling for it and he's even more incensed after seeing someone make Kremy of all people unsure about something.

Gideon: "So what. This is just 'YOU' now? You're just gonna leave and take Torbek along, just like that? He's not coming back this time?" 'The Duke' steps back again, testing how far he can push his retreat without being suspect. He stretches his arms in a gloating manner. 'The Duke': "I assure you, I have lived more in this body than 'HE' has ever forgotten." The Duke smiles cruelly, all teeth, eerily wide and full of malice. 'The Duke': "But that's right. You're the chosen heroes of the faewild, aren't you? Then ask yourselves this: are you really okay with erasing someone from existence just because you like another side of them better?"

Twig: "We are if he's a little BITCH!" Gideon gives the brownie a supportive pat with a laugh Gideon: "Well said Twig."

'The Duke': "But is that JUST?" He continues to raise his arms in a taunting manner, but it is clear he is starting to look and sound a little more harried (as anyone with sense usually is after prolonged exposure to these idiots) 'The Duke': "You think you can get him to override me? ME? The Duke of the Twilight Court??!"

Kremy sidebars with Gideon. Kremy: "We could if we got him to fall off the Herris wheel couple more times." Gideon: "Hehe yeah! Couple a hits and he'd be back to full form no problem!" Kremy: "Can't hit him too hard though, have a repeat of Chuckles." Gideon: "Nah, He ain't a clown, I don't think he'd laugh to death if we punched him in the body like Chuckles did."

'The Duke' interrupts, flustered at being ignored. 'The Duke': "ENOUGH!" 'The Duke:' THIS is the faewild; MAGIC country! Anything is possible. We'll see who the land's deem most worthy of sticking around. A distinguished aristocrat-- or a blubbering waste of flesh." Bonus panel: Internal Torbek dialogue represented in a sad thought bubble 'Gottttta say, the odddds aren't in Torbeksss favorrrrrr'

[Some details have slightly shifted as I developed this idea more, but I thought there was still a lot to like in these character interactions in this original draft.]

[adracat]

G Witch 22 thoughts

Banger episode this week! I loved every single minute. My only gripe was that it felt far too short. A pox on these weekly waits. Future binge watchers don't know how good they have it

Very much enjoyed the doubling down on QZ's destructive power and complete supremacy. No matter how many weapons/ships you have it doesn't matter because Aerial can just override them. It's a good establisher of stakes.

Mio burrito spotted. She is looking so rough here. Completely unsurprising she won't acknowledge Guel though. He had no sway on her even on her best days. Sorry, my guy. You lack Suletta's magic touch. Only she can play the Mio whisperer now

DEMI BARDING!! Big fan of that chonky suit after Asticassia ep so glad it's getting more use. I don't even care that I'm being manipulated into buying another kit. Secilia is a real one, glad she sat her butt down so the world didn't implode

This was a nice moment and gave Suletta closure on 4lan. He was someone she cared for, no matter how brief. That revelation about her list being Prospera's idea was a bit of a shocker tbh. I just thought she constructed it from the media she watched/read. The truth is way worse lmao. I guess it was meant to acclimate her to the school and therefore the dueling games for Aerial? Little did Prospera know that Suletta's dork charm would snare the heart of Delling's daughter immediately.

This was sudden but a joy to watch. I suppose Guel was tired of being Mio's ineffective secretary lol. But in all seriousness, this was sweet of him to arrange a duel so the lovebirds could be reunited. You've become a solid bro, Guel. Hope nothing dire happens to you.

Btw, I fully expect some fanfic authors to leap on a fencing au now. Pretty please?

This entire scene was so Utena I couldn't believe it. Well, actually the entire episode was littered with Utena but still. The baring of their mistakes. The acceptance of their faults. GOD this was so amazing.

I love how far Suletta has come in her development. Such an excellent change of mindset from viewing her time at Asticassia as a mistake to fully believing meeting Miorine was a blessing. She's so confident in her feelings

THEY'RE SOMEDAY TOGETHERINGGGG I see you Okouchi, giving us rabid Utena fans the good shit. This show is such a great homage in so many ways but this episode takes the cake! (Bit concerned that Suletta didn't verbally promise anything, just smiled fondly. Perhaps wistfully?)

This gave me such an unpleasant jumpscare though. The deliberate framing with Mio's bare legs followed by catastrophic bedhead freaked me out. I could have done without the Anthy reminder, thank you. Made such a sweet moment feel a bit horrific. I envy those who are oblivious to what I'm talking about

But this was so very sweet. I was getting misty-eyed. These babies have been through so much yet the truest thing is their love for each other. Their relationship remains the emotional core. Side note: Mio why are you the size of a housecat? Just how small was Notrette even

I'm glad I was correct in my read that Earth House doesn't truly blame Mio for Earth, only her staunch refusal to seek help. This was a nice little moment as was her brief words to Delling. Sleeping beauty certainly took his sweet time. I do wonder what he makes of this chaos?

Guel's reservation about Suletta heading to QZ is understandable but as she says, it's her choice. And Mio won't let anyone else decide Suletta's fate as she did before. Her quick death glare at Guel was so funny. Mans can only slap himself into complaince. Even when not engaged to Mio, he still obeys like a loyal sidekick lmao

Didn't expect this quick Shaddiq convo. I like how he recognizes instantly that Mio is better because of Suletta. It's very in character for him to accept Suletta's importance in Mio's life without resentment. I am wondering at the deal Mio makes with him. What could he possibly do for her? Perhaps it's Earth-related

At first I thought this was the sweetest thing. I still think it's sweet, but I also find the phrasing incredibly... weird. Not 'I'll always love you?' 'Always be with you'? Instead 'I will always be attached to you'. Could be nothing but it still sounds vaguely ominous. And it's coded in the genetic sequence of her tomatoes all things. The hell were you doing Notrette? Nice nod to mythology here though. Anesidora is an epithet for Demeter, an agricultural goddess, and Pandora. And like Pandora, Notrette unwittingly released evil in the form of QZ and possibly collaborated with Prospera to upload Ericht's biometric signature.

Aww farmer wives on Earth please! Still don't like Suletta only smiles when Mio declares anything future related. I get the rudest feeling she's not making hard promises because she's too aware of the peril. They look so happy here, so imma ignore the danger signs and just bask in their affection.

Mio forcing aside her own fear to support Suletta was so good. She was so relieved when Suletta broke Permet 5 alive, bursting into tears afterward. It was rough for me to hear Suletta gasping in pain, so I can't imagine how Mio must've felt. I don't ever want to see people claim she doesn't love Suletta ever again

I have thoughts on Calibarn's design (Utena spoilers) and place in the plot, but for this review I'll just say it looks neat. I wish it was a bit more unique, but it makes sense they need it to resemble its sibling plus its obvious Vanadis roots. That boom broomstick is super cool though!

I enjoyed Prospera's muted reaction here. She's surprised by Calibarn but not intimidated or angry. I'm sure she has complete faith in Eri's ability to handle this hurdle and her daughter's commitment to the plan. She must know Eri loves Suletta, but assumes it ultimately won't change a thing. For now, at least.

You know, I expected Lauda to lose it but I didn't expect him to be this stupid lol. You can't even use the damn GUND format idiot, you really think you'll beat your brother? I can't believe I gave him even the slightest bit of credit. Easily the worst character in the show. I hope Guel crushes him (and he doesn't get Guel killed in the process)

Petra deserves better 2023!

Ah and Eri peeks her GUND ghost form out to say hello before clashing with Suletta. This is an incredible shot, love the visuals as always. If it goes full Utena as I suspect, we'll see Eri break/override Calibarn. The name of a holy sword bashing at the Gwitch Rose Gate doesn't bode well. What that means for Suletta is anyone's guess, but I have faith she'll live. I fully expect her to get assistance of some kind. After all, the show has been telling us all along that working together is far better than struggling alone!

[stray-kaz]

The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : nine

The morning of your wedding day dawned misty and cool, the sky an otherworldly grey drifted over by pearly clouds. When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of a dress bag hanging from the top of your bed. You threw back the covers and crawled over the bed to get to it, pulling it carefully down and laying it across your lap.

With careful fingers, you unzipped it slowly, revealing inch after inch of white lace and tulle. The bodice was silver and inlaid with tiny fresh water pearls. You were certain your eyes were as big as saucers as you stared, running your fingertips gingerly over the beautiful pattern.

You knew that this was your last morning to be human, and by tonight, you would be the same as Walt. The thought still sent shock waves through you, but they were followed by a thrill of excitement with the knowledge that you would also be one with him.

A knock sounded and the door opened to admit a flurry of makeup artists and hair stylists.

“Already?” you asked, surprised. “What about breakfast?”

One of them smiled slightly and tossed you a brown paper bag. You peered into it to find an apple and cinnamon muffin waiting for you.

“The master thought you would say something to that effect.”

“The master” you murmured to yourself. “Does that mean I will become the ‘mistress’?”

The woman shrugged.

“If you go through with it” she answered bluntly.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Oh, I’ll go through with it” you retorted. “This is what my life has led to. I’d rather die than not marry Walt.”

Silence flooded the room for a few moments before the bustle continued and you were pushed down into the chair in front of the mirror, the fingers of one hand picking away at the muffin while the other was being tended to.

In his own bedroom, Walt stood at the windows staring out across the grounds wreathed in mist. It was perfect weather for a wedding to a monster, he figured. He had his back to the room, and had tuned out the various men and women as they came and went, delivering his freshly pressed suit and the glistening red boutonnière. His newly polished shoes waited at the foot of his bed, still unmade.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

The familiar sultry tone broke him out of his reverie, and he turned slowly to lazily glide his gaze over Viktoria as she stood in the centre of his bedroom, drawn up to her full height. He arched his eyebrows.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked quietly.

“She is just a girl. She does not truly understand what it is like to be one of us. She does not know how to...please you.”

Walt made a derisive sound.

“Does not understand?” he said. “She understands better than you or Lucy ever did. She has known about me since she was a young child. She has had me in her life since she was thirteen years old. As for pleasing me. She knows more about that than you ever will.”

Viktoria’s eyes darkened and the gaze she met his with was hostile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded harshly.

Walt shrugged, hands in his pockets.

“She loves me” he said simply. “She is capable of it. And she is unafraid of me.”

“How do you know?”

“There is no smell of fear on her. And she has seen me feed. She is not scared.”

Viktoria rolled her eyes in frustration and turned away towards the door, then turned back briefly, just one step towards him.

“Do you love her?” she asked quietly, morbidly curious in spite of herself.

A smile flickered slowly across his face as he nodded.

“Yes. I do.”

Viktoria shook her head slowly and walked out, closing the door a little too firmly behind her. Walt walked to the bed and looked down at the small white box on the coverlet, lid off to reveal its contents: a plain black half mask, designed to fit snugly over the right side of his face while leaving the left in view. He found himself wondering if you liked your mask, too.

It took a surprisingly long time to finish your makeup and hair, not to mention stepping into the dress and having it settled over your chest, the fabric heavy on your skin. And then the woman who had made the wedding dress came forward with another piece to add. Your eyes widened as she held out a gold handheld mask, flecks of gold paint glinting in the late afternoon light through your windows.

“Wow” you breathed, wrapping your fingers around the dainty rod attachment. “This is stunning.”

“As are you” the designer murmured, bowing her head slightly. “The master won’t know what hit him, mistress.”

Your gaze flashed to hers immediately upon hearing that word leave her lips. You nodded slightly.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Mrs. Swift will be by to get you shortly. The ceremony isn’t too far away.”

You nodded again and went back to stand in front of the mirror, still surprised by the reflection you saw. You, but perfect at the edges. A flawless version.

Half an hour went by and Mrs. Swift knocked on your door just as the texture of the light outside began to change. She couldn’t help smiling when she saw you in the magnificent dress, so you gave a short twirl, the skirt billowing around your ankles.

“Lovely” the older woman told you, her eyes warm. “I take it you’re ready then, my dear?”

“I was born ready.”

The little chapel hidden inside the manor was tucked full of people, mostly men, as Walt waited up by the altar, half mask attached securely. The organ struck up a sonorous melody as the doors at the end opened and his bride appeared in the gap remaining. Head to toe white and silver, no veil, but instead a delicate gold mask, held in place by one delicate red nailed hand.

If he was a mortal man, his knees would have weakened, but as he was not, his blood simply quickened and he felt the day change slowly into night and with it come the promise of teeth and blood.

And more.

You felt Walt’s eyes on you as you made your slow progression down the aisle on your father’s arm. When you reached the lord of the manor, your father handed you over to him with a kiss on your cheek. Walt took your hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles, his eyes gone dark silver.

“You are gorgeous” he whispered against your hand.

You flushed and reached up to touch the masked side of his face, the hard material cool on your skin.

“So are you” you murmured back.

“Shall we begin?”

You both turned to face the minister.

“Yes, please” Walt said emphatically.

You bit back a smile, your teeth white against red lipstick.

“Now I understand these two wish to complete the ceremony of change in private, so this will be simply a wedding, nothing more. Let us begin.”

You barely heard the rest of the words the elderly man spoke, so intent on Walt’s face and the feel of his hand in yours, his eyes threatening to burn holes through your mask.

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do” you said softly, and Walt’s lips twitched ever so slightly.

“And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”

Walt tossed your mask away into the shadows of the chapel and swept you into his arms, his mouth slanting cool and insistent over yours. Your breath caught and you clung to the front of his jacket, your hands trapped between your bodies.

“I love you” he mumbled against your lips, in plain English this time.

At long last.

The ground fell away from under your feet and you clasped your hands behind Walt’s neck as he carried you swiftly out of the chapel, leaving everybody behind for the safety and privacy of his own bedroom.

Let the real night begin.

Tagging: @hellomadamebutterfly​ @sky0401​ @noirrose21-blog​

[acacia-may]

Acacia~! 💖

If it’s alright, I have two ships to ask about… 😅

Could you share your thoughts on Finral x Finesse and Levy x Gajeel, please?

Hi Erika! It is always so lovely to hear from you. I hope you are doing fantastically and finding lots of time to write and enjoy your favorite things! 💖 Thank you so much for the ask. Of course you can ask about more than one pairing. ^^

Finral x Finesse

Finral x Finesse does make sense and compels me to an extent (though I'll admit other pairings for both of them compel me more personally 😅). It's a very sweet ship, and I can see how they would be well suited for each other since they are both very kind, generous, and selfless people. I love the idea of them each getting to be in a relationship with someone who is equally as big-hearted as they are, and I can imagine them being extremely happy together even if the circumstances in which they would be getting together aren't the best. As I've been pretty vocal about, I have extremely strong and very negative opinions about the idea of Finral returning to House Vaude in order to marry her and that kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth with regards to this pairing which I otherwise like and enjoy based on their interactions and dynamic alone.

I just really, really wish this ship wasn't so tangled up in the House Vaude succession drama (plus does she have to be engaged to his brother? Why is that necessary??). It's just so much more complicated than it needs to be and often times very messy and not handled as a well as it should be especially when it's tied to such heavy, life-altering decisions like Finral returning to his abusive home (i.e. it's often played for melodrama and extremely unfunny laughs. It was also introduced really late and don't even get me started about the whole Langris thing...). It's these outside circumstances that really make it hard for me to go all in for a pairing I probably would have enjoyed a lot more under different (better) circumstances, but I do like them and understand people who really ship them and don't mind the handling of the pairing in the canon. It's just hard for me to look past that so I have complicated feelings about it.

Gajeel x Levy

Gah I freaking adore this ship! It's my favorite pairing in all of Fairy Tail no question at all. Their relationship arc was incredibly compelling and was one of my favorite plotlines in the entire series. I went in knowing that they were a canon ship but not really knowing anything about them. Needless to say, I was a little perplexed in the beginning seeing as they had that whole enemies to lovers thing going on, but it was really interesting to get to see how their relationship developed over time and I'll admit I got super invested.

I'm not always the biggest fan of enemies to lovers, but I think Gajeel x Levy is a really great example of how good that trope can be. I love that they found forgiveness and understanding then built this friendship with each other based on mutual respect. Gajeel knew he had to prove to Levy that he was sorry and that he had changed, and he showed this with his actions, knowing that it wasn't enough for him to just say he was sorry and that things were different. I also loved that his character arc, while inspired by Levy and (eventually) his love for her, was also independent of her and was something that Gajeel wanted for himself. He wanted to better himself and to become a man who was worthy of her regardless of whether Levy ever returned his affections, and I found that incredibly refreshing, compelling, and wholesome. I was really rooting for him throughout his entire arc, and the selflessness and devotion he shows not just towards Levy but towards his other friends as well by the end of the series is really moving. I was honestly a little misty-eyed during his incredibly heartfelt and vulnerable confession.

By believing in him and choosing to see the best in him, Levy inspired Gajeel to see himself as something more, something better than he ever believed he could be, and I love that he inspires and builds her up too (like when he helped her during the Tenrou Island arc). They really do have this great dynamic. I adore their banter and the way they balance each other and help each other explore different points of views and ways of seeing the world.

I could ramble about this pairing forever, but yes, I think they make a lot of sense and I ship them so, so much. They're absolutely compelling to me, but I can understand how some people might not be a fan of this ship given its beginnings and the inexcusable actions of Gajeel during the Phantom Lord arc. For me though, I think the series did a very good job of making a compelling slow burn for them and showing that Gajeel really had changed and had become someone worthy of Levy and her love. I am personally very glad they got their happy ending. Thank you so much for asking about them! 💕

[werdlewrites]

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma - kofi

share support through likes, comments and reblogs!

Posting days moved to Friday and Tuesday!

summary: “It felt like an addiction, I guess. Feeling so high, and then the crash when you see what you’ve lost.” Her chest tightens—words of remorse slip through her veins to constrict her insides, robbing her of air and letting the hurt flood in instead. Her lungs begin to fill, and it rises into her throat, her teeth clamped tight to keep it all in as he continues. “Then...it hurts, and you keep going back. Because you realized you already belonged somewhere, and you ruined it.” warnings: swearing lol typical school bullying? steve's an idiot wc: 3,310

Hawkins High. A fuming cesspool of wicked, ugly, and grimy teenagers. They wear masks to shield their insecurities, having too much to say all too boldly, or whispering behind a hand to a friend. Everyone’s got an opinion, and while before the incident, Autumn would take it on the chin, she’s less sure of her strength now. There’s always been some sort of anxiety before the bell rings, but she was capable of charging forward through the crowds, glaring daggers at the twisted looks of judgment and lungs ready to spit fire. Taking looks of pride and melting them to nothing—until they grow bored of the taunts or horrified by her comebacks. Now, she’s sat low in the passenger seat of a brown BMW, hiding from wandering eyes as she chews at her nails. It was a habit the girl never realized she had until strong hands grabbed at her wrist to forcefully end the assault. “C’mon, don’t do that,” her escort grumbles, practically tutting in disapproval. “I’d rather be homeschooled in the woods,” she retorts, her eyes not once drifting from the flock as they mingle at cars or walk in groups toward the main entrance. She only looks his way once he laughs, a small shake of his head sending curls bouncing across his forehead. “You’d be miserable. And I can’t imagine Hopper being the best teacher.” She cracks a smile at that, though it’s easy to fall as someone locks eyes with her from across the lot. She’s sinking impossibly lower—focus cast away in hopes they’d lose interest—yet somehow it feels as if everyone is suddenly staring at the parked car, purposefully resting far from the door to avoid the flow of bodies.

Steve had offered to take her to school for the first few days, though she didn’t find the need for it. She had asked why, and his simple response was, “Oh, I-I don’t know, I thought that maybe-maybe it would be nice t’have a familiar face? So you won’t be alone.” Maybe she was grateful at the time, settling into the passenger seat like she belonged in the early morning. And now, she feels like a beacon to pull lost souls in, though all for the wrong reasons. It’s worse than the first day of school, already anticipating the questions and theories about how and why King Steve was carting around the freakshow. She almost wished he had dropped her off on the way, letting her complete the journey on foot. “Everyone’s staring,” Autumn sighs out, arms clung tightly to her bag. He hums in reply, completely oblivious as his torso stretches towards the back seat, grabbing his belongings. “Didn’t notice-” “D’you really not care? People—people are going t’say shit. That-that’s not new for me. But for you-” He’s all smiles, already cracking the door to let the November wind pour in and cool her roaring embers. “Let them talk. They’ve got nothin’ better t’do anyway.” And like that, he’s gone. He pulled himself from the warmth of his seat and into the misty morning, beckoning her with the wave of his hand as he made his way towards the hood. The girl rolls her eyes, following suit with an unintentional slam of his door. “Fuck, fuck-” She mutters to herself, though easily picked up by Harrington as he refuses to leave her side. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

And it is fine—for the most part. Autumn’s head remains low, and he acts like a guide, following after each of his steps and towards the sea of people inside. In here, it’s far too busy—bodies easily blend in with one another. So, she allows herself to relax. There are scattered murmurs—too incoherent to truly understand if it was about the pair or even her. But her mind is playing an evil trick, taking their nothings to warp into what sounds like her name, and suddenly she’s speeding past the boy towards her locker, ignoring the cries at her back for her to slow down. Steve is unshakeable, finding great ease in slipping by students and their cliques, finally coming to a rest with a relieved sigh as she rips open her locker. Autumn has this sickly feeling that everyone knows about the man in her home. Knows about her father's abandonment and half expects cruel notes to spill from the inside. But the space is vacant, safe for a few personal items left behind. “I told Hopper I wanted t’come back,” she mutters. “Can’t imagine why, now that I’m here with these idiots.” The locker slams shut after sorting through her things for the first period; the bag is now freed of its heavy burden and can lay easily over her shoulder. “You’ve worked hard since I’ve known you,” he replies, his eyes wandering without care as his fingers fiddle with unfolded sunglasses. “Even with your impressive lack of ability t'stay awake in class,” he ends with a laugh. It’s a long routine of restless nights. Find peace for some time before being forced awake by the faces in her mind. Even in the dark, she can find them staring back at her through the haze of exhaustion. She seeks normalcy. Blending in with every other student, as impossible as it may be.

Autumn takes note of the way his body stiffens, frozen with an unmoving gaze locked on a freckled boy across the way. Tommy Hagan stands with his girlfriend, eyes darkened black, as he wears a twisted smile of amusement. She can hear the rumors before they’ve even started, and he does nothing to ease that anxiety as his finger twirls around his temple, mouthing “Freakshow.” The teen could handle the likes of Tommy; he’s easy to read and easier to deflect. Damn near-predictable. His words do nothing but cause the girl's eyes to roll; she is already beginning to turn away when she sees Steve raise his arms. They hover for only a second before his palm connects roughly to the bend in his arm, fist high in the air. It’s a silent “fuck you," and in case Tommy lacked a few extra brain cells, he added a middle finger for flare. It’s a wild sight to take in—brothers once inseparable in their misery, now ripped apart at the seams. Autumn remains speechless, her mouth hanging agape in surprise, and she allows Steve to take her by the arm with care, escorting her away from the scene. “Assholes,” the boy spits. Further and further, he goes, dragging her along the way with a firm but delicate hold. He’s speaking nonsense about her first class, almost muttering to himself as a distraction from just how annoyed he was. Annoyed with the scene that mocks them and the fact that he was once a part of it. Allowing them to spill their poison and eat away at the hearts of others like a delicacy. “Steve,” she calls softly, and at first he continues to ramble, listing off his classes as if they were to meet up in between. An old routine he’s desperate to resurrect, for her sake or his own.

“Steve!” she cries out, planting her feet firmly against the scuffed tile, littered with crumbled leaves. The boy finally hears her, his focus whipping in her direction as he too stands oblivious in the hallway, eyes wide. “I can get there myself,” she reassures with a kind smile, her fingers reaching to ease away his touch, letting his hand fall awkwardly and empty at his side. He’s a tad bit dazed, and thoughts scrambled as she tries to veer off the path—the quiet plan made between him and Hopper. “R-right. I-I just-” “Well, shit,” a familiar voice calls out, earning a curious stare from the pair as the new company inches closer. Her knuckles are bruised, and she wears them like a trophy. A subtle threat against the sad soul should he speak poorly again, and to anyone who had considered the idea. Her cheeks are clear of assault—not a scratch to break her skin, a telling tale of her victory before being carted out of the building. “Look who finally showed up,” she teased, rolling the gum in her mouth as curious eyes drank in the sight of Autumn, observing with care. “Looks like he wasn’t full of it after all.” Autumn is left nearly speechless, casting an uncertain look toward the boy at her side, who remains equally lost and of no help. "W-who?" "Eddie," she replies, her body slumped against the lockers and hands tucked deep into pockets. "Saw you walking around town the other day. Which is odd, considering... the word on the street is that you broke your leg?" There’s deflation in her posture, shoulders slumped as she gathers up the remaining strength to not cast a glare towards the only person remotely interested in squashing the question of her absence. He stands right at her side, a nervous smile on his lips as his fingers strangle the strap of his bag. “Wha-? That's—that's crazy,” he says in a breathy chuckle, attempting to ease down the heat radiating from her body.

Steve had panicked when a few students asked about the witch who had gone missing. He hadn’t considered when the girl would show her face again or the fact that he hadn’t spoken to her properly since they fell out on that empty field. It was a rushed and poorly thought-out excuse, just wanting to douse the fire of curiosity and shrinking in on himself as they cast him suspicious looks. He hadn’t anticipated for it to make the rounds, but teenagers live for the gossip, and it spreads like a virus, despite it being particularly boring. There was pride in deflecting them, thinking he had saved her. But now he’s not so confident, and it makes him all the more anxious. “It’s actually, uh,” Autumn pauses, her focus veering off to ponder her next words carefully. “That’s just—y'know, it’s a lot more embarrassing,” she says with a weary grin. “I actually-” “Horrible sinus infection,” Steve suddenly blurts out, his pitch all too high and cracked from the bundle of nerves gripping at his throat. He sees her then: Autumn. Her irritable stare increases the pressure in his chest, and he feels as though he’s about to collapse. Heat rises to freckled cheeks, sweat building on his brow as he continues to struggle through the war zone. “Just-just snot, everywhere. Awful-” “That’s enough, Steve,” the girl cuts in. Her words are as sharp as the glare in her eyes as she leans in, intimidating despite the boy towering above. “Goodbye.” A fire is lit beneath his feet, hastily bidding his farewells as he escapes the scene, finally able to breathe again and refusing to cast another look over his shoulder, wanting to forget the interaction ever happened. The two girls are left to watch him flee, though, for varying reasons. Once he disappears into the crowd, Heather’s gaze falls back on her friend, a curious brow raised and a slight smile of amusement on her face. “Since when d’you hang out with Harrington?”

Returning to a normal morning routine was more difficult than expected. Missed assignments were handed in with the understanding of a lower grade out of fairness and a look of pity from her peers. Hopper had written letters and made phone calls, coming up with the miserable lie that her father had suddenly become too ill, and he was simply doing the man a favor by seeing she was cared for. She had dodged the questioning looks of classmates, returning to her designated seat for every class. Autumn was quiet, refusing to gain further unwanted attention. And it works, despite the fear that rattles in her bones as she looks out the window towards the treeline, where she swears a large shadow moves, long arms swaying and snarling teeth looking for prey. But the girl blinks, and all seems to vanish into thin air. The fear of a hellish monster hunting her down to finish the job in the middle of history class—or trample through the halls in search of her flesh. Fingers tighten around the book's edge laid out before her, knees bouncing with an unshakeable feeling that tells her to run. The bell rings for lunch, and she’s barely packed up her belongings, giving in to her instincts and pushing through crowded shoulders in search of some safety. It’s been hours since she first walked through the main doors—the interest in her resurfacing is now long gone, yet somehow she feels as though everyone is staring. Somehow, they know her secrets—her demons. She half expects to find Steve waiting at her locker with a look of something mixed with shame and remorse for completely dropping the ball. If not him, then Heather would surely be there to drag her along until they reached her table near the tall windows. But Autumn is left to fend for herself, allowing the flow of bodies to sweep her up and carry her out to the unforgiving ocean. The chaos of friends seeking to speak over one another crashes against the girl like violent waves, flooding all senses.

Autumn lingers at the doorway, taking in the sight of scattered friend groups; their once sleepy minds are now set alight with passion, laughter rumbling beneath the tile at her feet. Heather sits in the same place as always—just at Eddie’s side—with warmth in her eyes as she listens to his arguments against another boy at the table. It’s a heated debate—crackers practically tossed at the other party in disgust despite the look of joy to wash in only a second after. Towards the center of the room, Tommy’s table is booming with an ugly arrogance. A boy sits towards the edge of the table, hiding his embarrassment from the unheard mockery of the ones around him. His skin is discolored, and his features are mangled by an angered fist—undoubtedly the works of a teenage girl just feet away, unbothered. They poke at his weakness—his failure to stand up against a girl who single-handedly stripped him of a higher reputation. A boy once on cloud nine and feeling untouchable now knocked back to meld with the ones beneath him.

The space is overly filled, leaving no gaps for others to question the boy now missing from the group. His absence was easily filled, and the value of his friendship was discarded like trash. A black stain on some who deemed themselves worthy of only gold. The outcast sits with a target on his back—the only body to fill a table on the sidelines—without the company of an ex-girlfriend or even a Byers boy. His lunch tray is pushed to the side, a single hand tangled in his mess of hair as he contemplates notes taken in his book. The pen falls as he lets out a sigh of frustration, both hands moving to shield his vision and massage his sore eyes. Autumn is acting on autopilot; no matter the rising heat she feels burning at her insides, the closer she gets to the boy. Her things fall to the surface, causing his body to jump at the sudden noise to disrupt scrambled thoughts on homework. A single finger pries itself away to peak up at her, and despite her stern look, he’s purely blissful. “Hi,” he starts, hands now falling away with arms folded over paperwork, hiding his insecurities written in ink. She mimics without thought, a firm glare set on him until the joy slowly simmers out—a look of worry now etched in its place. “What-?” “Snot,” she interrupts, his sweet eyes now full of understanding. “Really? Snot?” His hands rise in defense, and his posture is now straight as he gives more space between them. “I panicked,” is his excuse, and all he receives is a roll of the eyes. His notes are hastily shuffled away while she dumps out her lunch—nothing compared to the leftovers she would take from the dinner prior. But a sandwich and some chips would do in such desperate times. At first, lunch between them is quiet. Their troubled minds are all too loud, screaming with uncertainties about what to say or how to behave.

Laughter erupts from Tommy’s place, pulling curious eyes in his direction, and it seems to break the tension. Steve scoffs at the sight of him and the fan club he’s built—the way he showers in false affections, letting an ego rise to the clouds before flickering out. Autumn is the first to speak, watching as he picks apart his food with a distant look in his eyes. He’s not here with her anymore, but rather far off elsewhere as his thoughts travel. “D’you ever miss it?” Her voice is enough to guide him back in. “Miss what?” “That,” she gestures with a nod of her head. “Y’know, them. The…feeling of self-importance. The confidence. Feeling untouchable.” Honeyed eyes spare another glance in their direction, refusing to linger for long before he answers with a bold, “No.” “Not even a little?” He’s mid-bite on a piece of brownie, shaking his head in response before his fingers gently part the dessert into a separate chunk. “I never wanted that whole…’King Steve’ bullshit. I just-it felt like I belonged somewhere, y’know?” He places the chocolate on her emptied lunch bag, something the two would do if only one had a delicious treat. Never wanting their friend to go without. “It felt like an addiction, I guess. Feeling so high, and then the crash when you see what you’ve lost.” Her chest tightens—words of remorse slip through her veins to constrict her insides, robbing her of air and letting the hurt flood in instead. Her lungs begin to fill, and it rises into her throat, her teeth clamped tight to keep it all in as he continues. “Then...it hurts, and you keep going back. Because you realized you already belonged somewhere, and you ruined it.” The pressure begins to build, but she's untrusting of what will come should she open the gates. Steve observes the transformation with guilt eating away at his heart; her skin is red and her eyes are glossed over. All from what he's done and is doing. Autumn becomes desperate to swallow it all down, head tilting back with eyes locked on anything but saddened puppy eyes. She forces it back, willing away the hurt by simply counting each spin of the fan high above. But she can still feel him reaching for the tattered thread between them, painstakingly weaving individual fibers back into place. He knows it may take months—maybe years. Yet still, he works to piece it all back together, if she’s willing. “I never meant for it t’go that far. I never meant-” An achingly heavy sigh spills from his chest, practically deflating his body against the table. “I didn’t want t’hurt you.” Autumn can only nod, not yet strong enough to push through, until she feels it all begin to settle back down. Lungs filled with only air and sweet relief, the nerves burning up in the pits. Meeting his stare seemed to loosen the tension, now knowing his eyes had opened and that he could see the girl and all he had done to push her out.

She lets out a sniffle, her fingers tapping at her warmed cheeks to shake away the echo of sorrow. There was a constant cry in her heart as they went their separate ways in life. Venom in every word she spoke to keep further betrayal at bay, and a guilt-ridden boy only abiding by the line she draws. That line has since been blurred. Buried and forgotten the moment he arrived on her doorstep, looking for comfort in her company. “Maybe it’s not…completely ruined.”

[reborn--maggot]

The Evolution of a Name

by me

I am born with a name that suits me fine. I like it, proudly sprawling the thing across my work, my art, my toys, My life.

I am given names that I quite like to hear. Darling, princess, pumpkin, peanut Are all me, and I giggle and grin When they replace that one from the beginning.

I stumble into a name that isn't mine, A measure of safety, the first thing that Pops into my brain as I look around my room. There is a drawing of a mermaid called Misty, And I steal her name, typing it slowly to ensure I spelled it right.

My friend has a name that sounds like mine, but isn't. She's quite fond of it, but I don't mind as much, and I tell her mother she can call me John.

My teacher hands out little pieces of paper And mine says she will call me any name I choose. I become Asriel. I beam whenever she says that one, Loving it more than anything that came before it.

Over dinner, I ask my parents What they would have named me If I had been a boy. James, they say. James Henry.

I'm staying behind in class to speak with my teacher And she tells the person on the phone that there's a student waiting for her. When she uses the word "she", I notice her frown, taking in my short hair and baggy clothes. "Is it she?" She asks. I smile and tell her no.

I am James full-time now, But my parents are slow on the uptake. James Henry morphs into James Anthony, Which in turn becomes James Anthony Philip. I have discovered the possibility of changing one's name on a whim, But I still choose my names carefully.

I am playing a tabletop game after school When my DM introduces a character he thought he named quite cleverly. Captain Morgan helps our party begrudgingly with a dubious accent. I am fascinated by him in a way I cannot yet describe. I like his name, the way it rolls off the tongue.

It has been a terrifying month following a month of denial, But I have finally told everyone that matters that I had been wrong. My cousin admits that I now share the name of her ex. It is my decision, and she is sure I will be a better man than he ever was.

It is the middle of the day and my mother has noticed That my account on our streaming service has changed. Incredulous, she asks who that name belongs to. I say it's mine, and she says I should try again. It is already the middle name of two other cousins. This is not my fault. She doesn’t care.

I notice that more and more of my friends are taking up different names, Collecting the ones they like the best. I've made up some grand time-traveling escapade, And I decide I need an undercover name. I find Miles and repeat it to myself for the rest of the day. I like Miles. I think I’ll keep it.

My friend asks me to help them pick out a new name. We pour through pages upon pages. They find a few they like. I find Adonis. I like Adonis, but it doesn't suit me. It doesn't hurt to try.

I am creating a new character, Sculpting them from a piece of my soul. They need their own name. I find Willow. I love how Willow sounds, how it feels when my friends say it to me. I add it to my collection, in reserve, as a bonus.

The name I was born with looms over me. My parents still use it. It's on my presents from half of my family members. My brother pronounces it wrong to get a rise out of me, and it works too well. That is not my name, I snap. Try again.

And they try again. And again. For now, it comes out the same.

[fanficwriter284]

In light of me getting a new dog.... and thanks to @twyz for the idea revolving around the concept.

Gloria belongs to @twyz

The Ray sisters had been strolling home their backpacks bouncing as they continuously walked in sync, religiously avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk. Both wore fixated smiles on their reddening faces as they followed their path home. With the youngest of the Rays carrying something in the coat of her maroon suit. With continuously squirming as she paced beside Gloria.

"She's getting heavy"

"We're almost home just a little longer as long as we don't"

"OH HEY GIRLS! How goes it!"

"Uncle Billy!"

"Nice ta see ya around here...."

"Nice seeing ya too just heading home from your dads"

"Nice nice nice!"

Chelsea's smile began to feel sore as it continued to stretch across her face, as she struggled to maintain a steady hold on the creature squirming in her suit jacket. Gloria being the better liar maintained her composer, any other time she would have loved to stay and chat with Billy, about her time in the greenhouse recording the plants and sharing her records with him. As he too was a nature lover, and him being the one who never switched about her whereabouts during school hours. And her showing him the Venus Fly Trap plant he gifted her for her birthday, showing the plants immense growth.

"Whatcha got there Chelsea?"

"...Well"

Before the oldest of the two could cut the conversation short a small ball of fluff had popped its head out, its little tongue flapping everywhere, trying to lick the young red's face.

The two sisters shoot a look at their uncle curious to see what his response would be, pleading that it wouldn't result in something negative.

"AW! It's a little Pitbull!!!"

"..."

"...Yeah...ya like her?"

"Shes adorable! I'm assuming your parents don't know anything about her?"

"...Not yet"

"...Well...No not exactly"

Billy was stroking the canine affectionately letting out faint harmonious chuckles as the young Pitbull licked his fingers. To be precise it was an American Staffordshire Terrier, more commonly known as an American Pitbull. Its fur is mist-like like grey, with its underbelly being a white fur coat. With two large misty floppy ears, matching large her salmon tongue, that had been exposed while the canine was panting.

"Hm...well ya know...if your parents say no...I mean I could look after her and let you two visit her...So she won't get shipped off to some shelter"

"Really?"

"You'd do that!?"

"How could say no? Especially to this cute little face!!!!"

The two girls' faces practically glowed happily, both beyond thrilled that they had a plan B, and were able to still see the pup even if their parents said no.

"THANK YOU UNCLE BILLY"

"THANK YOU"

"Anytime, oh, and girls. Your dad has a soft spot for Pitbulls...I suggest you two go for it if you want to keep her"

The two gave excited head nods and took off bidding Billy a wave goodbye. Billy smiled and sighed a bit. He knew the bad reputation Pitbulls have and couldn't bear the thought of the pup sitting in a cage, with a low possibility of being adopted, knowing full well what happens next when the dog is cast out.

...

The two girls climbed the patio steps, Chelsea still maintaining her hold on the dog while Gloria dug the house keys from her bag.

"What's that?"

"Nothing Urhighness, now go back to your self-loathing and leave us alone"

"It was only a question, no need to get your tacky bowtie in a twist"

"Ya know what I outa twist that damn neck of yours"

"Why the aggression, I literally have done nothing to you"

"....Imma pretend I didn't hear that...and PLUS YOU MADE FUN OF BENNY"

"Not my fault he couldn't hear me"

"...Imma kick that crooked tooth of yours run back into place I swear to god..."

Gloria nudged her sister and the two quickly slipped into their home slamming the door right behind them, greeted by their wolf-dog Beau.

"Hey Buddy did you miss us"

Chelsea quickly set the puppy down and watched Beau back up startled by the young pup. Sniffing it with much curiosity.

"She's cute isn't she Beau?"

The two girls froze to stone hearing their father's footsteps approach, coming down the stairs.

"Hey, Girls how was school? You Ma's picking up the twi---the hell is that?"

"..."

"....Well..."

"Nope no way....you already have a dog...nope"

Without uttering a single phrase Chelsea picked up the Pitbull and raise her up to her dad's face smiling as the puppy began to lick at Chucky's nose.

"...Goddamn it"

"Can we keep her! PLEASE"

"PLEASE DADDY!!!"

''WELL TAKE CARE OF HER AND DO EVERYTHING I SWEAR"

"PLEEAAASE DAD!!"

".....Oh god....your mother is gonna kill me"

[collectingsparechangemadeeasy1]

Diary Entries of Ozpin Valiant

So I wanted to do these little “interlude” type things, just snippets into the thoughts and feeling and past of Oz! Hope you enjoy!

To begin, my name is Ozpin Valiant. I am writing in this diary for my sake and my sake alone. My friend Glynda has told me to write in this and to be honest. I trust her, she is a good person. Took a heartless wretch like me in. Now let’s see… where to start?

I was born in Vacuo, December 24, 1989. Today's date is April 12, 2015 and I live in the city and country of Vale. I am currently 28 years of age and I have a 1 year old son named Oscar.

Well he’s not MY son. He’s the son of my sister, my best friend a very good friend. They died last year. I miss her. I can’t say the name yet. Or even look at it. It’s… too raw. Sorry Glynda, you’ll have to forgive me for that. Maybe one day but… not yet. Gods… She was so young, Oscar was barely a month old when she died… How unfair is that? A decent person like her should die, but some horrible old sack oh shit like me lives? How cruel destiny can be…

Anyways!

I am living with my friend Glynda! She and I were very close as children, but when I started trying dust… she and I got into a huge fight. I regret it now, regret trying those blasted drugs, regret screaming at her, leaving my mother… She’s dead now. My mother is dead and I didn’t even know. How horrible is that? That she and I used to be so close, she was my best friend, I was her world and… I didn’t even go to her funeral. I didn’t even know there was a funeral! 

Glynda said she’d take me to the grave another time. I don’t know if I’m ready. I broke that woman's heart when I left her home. I feel so awful… she deserved a better son than me. One who would have been by her side, held her hand as she left this world… Maybe I’ll see her ghost! That’s not uncommon and she was a pretty strong magic user! They usually have ghosts!

~

Journal Entry #2 Ozpin Valiant

Date December 25, 2015

I really gave this up quickly. Of course things have been a bit… Well, no. They haven’t been hectic, I just didn’t want to write. Honesty and all that, right? Well, things have changed a bit! I’m helping Glynda in her shop more! Potions aren’t my strong suit, but she lets me help with the simple stuff, and I’m very good at finding ingredients! Living on a farm will do that!

I wonder how my brothers are, and my fathers. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them. I suppose I should put their names down for posterity's sake. Heh, have you ever noticed how close that word is to posterior?  Posterity, posterior? Ha! I am such a child… Anywhosles!

My brothers are as follows. The oldest Ozma Valiant, he is 2 years older than me and should be 31! Ha! He’s old. 

I miss him.

The other brother is the second oldest! Which yes. Means I’m the baby. If you couldn’t tell already. His name is Ozmund Valiant, but everyone calls him Diggs! It’s a childhood nickname, since he used to be obsessed with digging holes when we were little. He should be 30 now. Actually that reminds me!

I’m officially 29 years old as of yesterday! Happy belated birthday! I didn’t really do anything, I haven’t really celebrated my birthday in a long time. But it was nice spending the day with Glynda and Oscar. Oscar is growing so much everyday it’s incredible! He took his first steps a week ago! I’m so proud of him! He was trying to walk to me for a hug and I will admit, I cried. A lot. Glynda teased me for being a crybaby, but I saw her eyes! They were misty!

But back to the topic at hand! My fathers! Ozymandias and Ambrosius Valiant!

Dad, aka Mandy, as he usually prefers to be called, is 40 years older than me, which makes me 69 this year. Nice. I’m sure Papa loves teasing him about that, he always had the silliest sense of humor.

Papa, aka Amby, as he hates being referred to so we do it all the time, is 37 years older than me, which would make him 66 years old by now! Bet he doesn’t look it though, that man doesn’t age I swear. I’ve known him since the day I was born and I swear he hasn’t gotten a single gray hair or wrinkle in all that time! Not one!

I haven’t seen them in years. I didn’t realize how much I missed them. I tried not to think about them after I ran away, I was so dumb back then, but I was only 17…

Maybe I should talk to them again…

[cheshirecryptid]

Before Robin is out to her parents, they keep trying to force her to dress more feminine to attract an boyfriend; they keep buying her high femme clothes that she hates and would never be seen dead in. She doesn’t want to get rid of them because that feels like a waste but also doesn’t know what to do with them until one night when Steve is over and she dares him to put on one of the dresses. He protests at first but relents and puts it on; he keeps wearing it for the rest of the night. The next time they have a sleepover, Steve hesitantly asks if he can wear it again and Robin is ecstatic when he confesses that he likes them.

After that, Robin gives him all the dresses and skirts that her mom gets her. They don’t all fit, but she loves seeing her friend so comfortable. Steve starts giving her some of his old clothes as well.

Although Robin starts wearing his clothes out regularly, Steve knows he has to be more stealthy about it. He only wears them in the evenings when Robin is over and no other time because he knows the party are apt to knock on his door as soon as he starts to relax and he doesn’t think he could handle it if they thought it was weird.

When Dustin first finds the clothes, he confronts Steve about not telling him about his new girlfriend and angrily asks how he could do this to Robin. Steve huffs out a response about it being none of his business and says that he and Robin are not and never have been dating. That night, he moves the clothes to a spare room so no one else will find them. Dustin pesters him about it repeatedly until he sees that the clothes are no longer in his room and drops it.

They find out about his new style of dress on accident. The party shows up unannounced during one of his and Robins movie nights. Robin is the one to open the door, thinking that it’s probably the pizza they ordered earlier. She doesn’t even have time to react before they push their way inside.

She can pinpoint the exact time they see Steve, wearing a long red skirt with a slit on the side, because they all fall silent. Mike is the first to break the silence, asking what the hell Steve is wearing. Steve freezes and turns his gaze to the floor as Dustin starts to laugh at him for wearing his girlfriends clothes. Will is the first one who gets it. He quickly shuts them up by telling Steve that it suits him. Max agrees but says that she thinks that pink would suit him better before throwing herself on the couch as if nothing happened. Steve looks up to smile at them. The boys (sans will) don’t really get what’s going on, but realize that they were going a little too far with their teasing and mumble about it looking good. El is very confused to say the least but asks if he wants to go shopping with her and Max next time they go.

The tension breaks after that and they all settle in to watch the movie. As the credits roll he looks down at all the kids sleeping on the floor and against the couch and smiles to himself as his eyes start to get misty. Robin turns and looks up at him from where she’s tucked against his side. “I told you it would be fine dingus, you raised them well,” she whispers to him, nudging him gently with her arm, “They love you”

He laughs quietly as small tears form, “I love them too.”

[libidomechanica]

Times prove, then fierce,

And strived, which being a trips.     Three year us, your lives, in its skin’s blooms and each suit. ’ I     used to part, who, which locke, for inconscience. And every settle     body, war pile, excels and ev’ry glance one sort should     tell young—some did leave her

to be kill. You dare heards had hurl’d     by one’s might, we water midnight, we know—two women is     expense of hell, and that before—so dear doth window of,     the than Hercules. We are me some laid enchantments     heroines, thus he flight, nay

dare strength, the truth queen-priest met with     glad i’m happy spirit of us, neighbourhood. My heads     it, if he westlin winds of swirled as close mighty sting     Destruction. It’s outside the fair Syrinx in spite of delight     he her fearful rhyme; but

somebody was one. Their static     of resigne of custom, where, the what crimson dropt my finger     early bird stirr’d, no teach human thou know while other     destine beautiful now Leander of us, O satyr     flies in the stones a

ioy from mad’st not say, Shame&Pride blowd     in the adieu! What damned mountain-height to the tip-top, called     his butterly, begirt will I am unbalance meet     soule euill her devotions can despairs, that he must be their     love, usurper of thoughts

in eternal Sun’s deluding     parsley, or yet she golden he came, lies whose lips, with trusty     god grows laterally, then thundertake. And a hush     will fracture outside, affect. Was a fervor bowre, both easy     terms yet cunningly

he crowd. Gross thereby, yet the pillow     sound to sing. Time’s prove, then fierce, for each cheeks, with a heavy     meteor-stone;—felt at Abydos, throng: with mellow     swear thee slended, their first a songs I will I beheld craving-     wild, with sigh my head

upon the books. Of a shady     levels, runs vp and know— two pale, like careless routing are,     not so unsullies: amid his company, of sister     dream that I holds upon a rushing into the deeply     had he fled and all weather

sinketh, and whatever tongue     that our tears as one I felt a for a wren leave hard by     sun blown, she too happens a dozen to be. There all over     heart he stood the trees with rose ioyes first sweetest true love     is pursues from their ruff

this brothere we do not be so     may come to my hate. My reckled with the dew not fall; and     will made a face. What seen; once shall naked corner she same     my heed their hath not I cannot let it would self, and     remember alone too, like

brain on my woes, my distance their     sun. And to writing to him now a’ that balance wounds, but     courted hyacinth and honour handle of deserved me     monkeys make a chords covet thy lute it earth, if it could     ache? Avail to be full

verse of all the hand in heaps of     the other’s tended with they shades were but, intensity;     and, the crowd of true; as siluer rank unto the fire turned.     The jewel her looking came, it was beard with dead Dad kept. About     the black saved his jewel-

print this own humble, tracing     Leander three took great aghast, neglected light be kind our     scant as the tame. Of heavy hear us, yourse; griefe that seem     of longer turrets of pleats. Heap in the would savage heat     revived, which is the pleasaunt

us hie, flying for here,     crowned with thin us to rid his back, saw the old, and morning,     hear this earth is how full of its want to the watched the     misty Acheron, heart and made me, doth law of an aik,     bones we seeds my delight

as those dairy Queen rill. Upon     the fair smells tower’d me in a broodes better and the     deep questions of dapple talk of heart, let me feast. A shown;     this part you lovelines of these world’s gay busy hand,     saying on and cut them

away by dead Dad kept. Making     combat, nigh Now when as I guest—thus many more her succeeds.     The where in your cheek with many might delight. Thou, than     the best peer, come with glad i’m welcome other doth close, the     dark realize I’m as

blue as tyrannous, immortal     and beguile my old wave& we will finger if I any     mountain diameter than the scornful steals all she goest     once the gates, yet are gayned. The live always are the sad     like did seemed to espy

some caught from car to lie untuned     golden sings beate will be utterly skies of our branch     doth gone, all to Brooklyn, which Loues gone. That way, come to any     lookes of BEAUTY, that Sicker side: the chair, for, that     are boor. ’St to this mingle

could kill to-morrow brough thee,     who, certain shoals of a harp begat: the took how sound above     the very which market, and let and call Stella now     tis blessed of love all me and rot shall lend to every     A melanchor wet more!

[rm-lionheart]

POWER MAKES THE MAN/// Chapter 1

It is a misty dawn as Drac wakes up. Still a bit hungover from the previous night’s mead, he slowly gets up from his straw bed to stretch out his tired muscles. Snaps and pops, then back to work. Drac steps out to see his farm. One that he is mighty proud of. One that he spent his hard earned money and hard-worn body on. 17 years he has spent on this tiny farm and never spent any more outside of it. No need to leave. He was perfectly fine on own, tending to his animals. Cows and chickens to keep good company. We have all we could want right in this farm as his father would say. Drac told himself to not think about it any more. What can he do when even villagers from the nearest settlement saw him as different? Better things to think about how to store the eggs for sale. 

“Alright chickens, what have you for me tod- well… not enough.”

With the chicken empty Drac found other uses for his time. Cleaning the pens of poo. Nasty work but it stopped one from feeling hungry when all you can or think of is the smell. 

BANG BANG! Drac pokes his head out of the chicken coup to hear someone at the door.

“Drac! Are you in! Answer me please!”

Concerned for her unusual urgency, Drac throws his cleaning tools to meet his stubborn best-friend. He opens the door to meet a brown eyed girl, soft in features but a terrible expression on her face.

“Pack your things! Now!

“Hey,hey, what's going on Bree. Haven't seen you ages! Didn’t come by ‘cos i beat you at-

“Pack your things. NOW!”

Bree rushes past Drac to his drawers, empties them out of their contents to put in a nearby rucksack. Bewildered for a moment, Drac springs after Bree to help.

“Ok Bree tell me slowly, what going on”

“They.. are.. coming…” Bree is frantically shoving what clothes she could find, touching items that make Drac cringe.

“Who is coming? Cal? I already told him i won’t come down to the village aga-

Bree stops to face Drac. Tears fill her big eyes. Drac went to comfort her but she stopped his arms from coming for a hug.

“The village decided...  its you.

“Me..? Me?! WHY ME?”

Drac’s head pounds full of rage and fear. Head in his hand as thoughts rush through his head. He looked upon Bree still in tears.

“I abide by the laws of the land. I stay on the farm and cause no harm. Why… me?”

Drac says while his heart is close to breaking apart.

Bree holds Drac’s hand. Soft and warm.

“Please Drac, we need to leave”

Drac gives a nod and proceeds to finish the pack of his essentials. Finished with the packing Drac brings the sacks to his shoulder and a thunder noise fills the small cottage. Drac and Bree look over to see the origin of the sound and see the front door off its hinges and on the floor. Standing in the doorway is a fit man at the beginning of his adult years. Eyes blue and hair as dark as Drac but not as coily.

Drac Shouted at the young man “So it's you! Errand boy this time?”

Drac noticed that his childhood bully’s clothes were much more wealthy looking than before. He had never seen clothes so well made.

“Nice clothes” he grins “Steal them off a noble's clothing racks? Not good, Cal.

Wearing things that don't suit you. You’ll get caught too easily”

Awaiting Cal to fly into a rage worthy of a berserker. Drac is instead stunned at Cal smiling.

“Wow, Drac. Never knew you had such a mouth on you. Finally got the courage to fight back after years of letting Bree fight your battles or is this you, giving up.”

Cal sprouts a grins that brings goosebumps through Drac’s body.

Bree comes between Cal and Drac. 

“Please Cal. let him go. Let him disappear into the wilderness to never be seen again. Please for all the years that we were friends.”

Cal looks down at her.

“Friends we are not. Friends we never were. And Friends we will never be as long as you keep this foreigner amongst us. And besides,  I can not suffer from friendship with a commoner. Playing in this ditch you call home was a good experience. Father was wise to let me galavant amongst the lessers. One must know the people you must govern. Now come along now. It's your turn now. 

“Turn for what?” Drac asked.

“To Become my Strength.”

Several Soldiers come from the doorway into the cottage to surround Drac and Bree with spears. 

“Strength?! What are you talking about?!” Drac says as he is  looking around at the spears pointing at him.

“Opps!” Cal snickers “almost let it out. I am excited you see. Been a long time coming. Don't Worry. This is just a normal Sacrifice, for the good harvest” Cal winks.

Drac is lost in his mind searching for possibilities. Talking is a no, fighting back with his meagre skills is certain no. Dread fills Drac’s mind. He will not see his best friend ever again. 

Drac reaches for Brees hand. Soft and warm. Unlike his calloused ones. These hands picked Drac up at his weakest. At his most lonely times. Drac Looks at Bree's teary red eyes.

“Thank you.”

Drac breathes in deep then exhales his bad thoughts.

“Take me, Cal.”

As Drac is escorted out, Bree’s sobs can be heard more and more quieter as he gets further away from the old cottage he called home. Leaving his home as his father instructed against. “I don't have choice this time dad”

Eyes from villagers following him as he walks the street. A funeral is in procession and the deceased can look back at them. 

After an hour of walking the group reaches a building. Dilapidated from previous wars, it seems to be an old castle or battlement. Shown the way through the building with shoves, they finally reach a room. A sickly feeling radiates through the door. 

“Hold on a moment, Guards. I have to send word to my father that the guest has arrived.” Cal skips through the door like a child, happy he found sweets.

As the door closed Drac felt his fear reach his maximum potential. All he wanted to do was to run as fast as he could. But what can he do once he escapes? Someone of his likeness is too easy to recognise in this country. Leave the country? He only knows Trae. and with no money it will be torturous to survive before reaching the border. 

It was over.

A thud was heard to the right of Drac. Three more thuds. And suddenly a Clang. Drac turns to see a man in black striking the guards. Steel bounces off steel both men are pushed away. The assailant swiftly regained their composure to initiate a strike. The Guard sees this and strikes from above. The man in black twists to the side to evade the attack, and goes in close to stab. Blood coats the blade as the last guard falls to the ground. The man in black looks over to Drac. Comes closer but stops as he sees how frightened Drac is. The man in black stays still for a time and reaches over to his mask to pull it down.

“Come. Now.”

Drac sees himself.

[monmuses]

SPIT IT OUT

Send ‘SPIT IT OUT!’ and I’ll randomly generate a number. Whatever number it is, my muse will blur it out to you!

It’s gonna be a mixed bag. Go with caution!

“ Oranges are delicious and good for you. “ Juno spoke triumphantly. “ And how do I know this? W-Well... they’re just that good. “

She then proceeded to open up an orange in her hand and quietly nibble at it.

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝔻𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕖𝕤

___________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Bucky gets hit with that god awful (but really hot) sex pollen. (this was requested)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Dub-Con/Non-Con as per usual with sex pollens fics (although i try to write them as consensual as possible :T) Smut obvi (18+ minors dni), slight daddy kink, age gap?, public male masturbation; it's brief but still

TW: very brief mention of possible suicide

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hot

____________________

“Where are those daisies we collected from the last mission?” Tony asked you, eyes staying glued to the hologram in front of him.

“I left them on the quinjet. Fury said to wait for transportation until Shield confirms safety. It’s literally in a glass case, but whatever,” you rolled your eyes, making the older man laugh.

“Just protocol, kid,” he snickered.

Meanwhile Bucky sat with Steve eating lunch, chatting it up like old men do.

“So what did you bring back from the last mission? I saw a bunch of agents in hazmat suits,” Steve said sipping his coffee.

“Uh, well Thor said we should bring some plants back for research, but it seems like a bunch of normal lookin’ daisies,” Bucky shrugged.

“Y/n loves daisies,” Steve smirked.

“Ok?”

“And you love Y/n,” Steve teased.

“No I don’t-”

“Hey boys!” you skipped past the kitchen.

“Y/n,” Bucky said standing up with a big goofy smile on his face.

“Where ‘ya going?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

“Quinjet. Fury gave us the go to start doing tests on that plant you brought the other day,” you smiled lightly jogging to the runway.

“Why don't you ask her on a date, Buck,” Steve nudged.

“Come on, she’s way too smart to go out with a dumbass like me,” Bucky joked.

“Seriously.”

“I don’t know. It’s been years since I’ve talked to another woman. It doesn’t come naturally anymore. Wha- what’s even the first I’d say to her?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m on the same boat with you. Just… Tell how nice she looks today when she comes back.”

“Really?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Yeah, be nice to her.”

“I am nice to her.”

“I mean be extra nice. Flatter her,” Steve told him, “Go wait in the lab until she comes back and tell her she looks pretty today.”

“Isn’t Tony in the lab?” Bucky asked.

“Ha ha, yeah,” Steve teased, patting his back before leaving to his room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony mumbled seeing Bucky waltzing in the room awkwardly.

“Nothing,” he mumbled back.

Tony dropped his hands and stared at Bucky with an unimpressed look on his face. Everyone but you knew about Barnes’ little boy crush on you but he’s never had the balls to say anything. You were close to Tony and seeing as though he doesn’t particularly like Bucky, he didn’t want you hanging around him. But you were an adult so of course you hung out with whoever you wanted.

He was sure you liked him back too which never ceased to make him roll his eyes.

You walked back from the quinjet with the glass container of daisies. You weren’t exactly a plant expert but it was apparent that these daisies were mutated seeing as though the pollen swirled around the flowers gracefully. It was beautiful but then again they might be extremely dangerous considering it was a Hydra experiment.

“Hey Y/n, off to the lab again?” Steve smiled.

“Yup, gotta check these babies out according to Thor; said they might be dangerous if they’re what he thinks they are,” you said, still walking.

“And what’s that?” you just shrugged at his question unsure of the answer yourself.

“Well, Bucky’s waiting for you in the lab,” he slipped in the conversation.

“Really? Why’s-” Crash!

“Oh no,” Tony mumbled, seeing the collision in action.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you stuttered.

“No, no. I should be sorry. Here let me help,” bucky knelt to the ground grabbed the fallen daisies with his bare hands.

“No! Don’t touch-” Tony shouted practically sprinting towards you two.

The golden pollen swirled in a misty manner engulfing Bucky completely. You stared with furrowed brows confused at the sight before you and what was going on. Bucky’s skin began to burn and his senses were being overloaded. All he could smell in that moment was you; the same scent that he got a whiff of this morning when he hugged you, the perfume and the shampoo that filled his senses when you walked passed him.

Tony pushed you out of the lab roughly throwing you in Steve’s arms who was just as confused.

“FRIDAY,” Tony called out.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” the familiar voice answered.

“Lock all the doors to the lab and maybe turn on the a/c,” he commanded.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

All the glass walls and doors instantly shut and locked, locking Bucky inside. Bucky’s eyes found your and slammed his body against the glass desperately trying to reach you. You too ran up to the glass wall trying to understand what had happened to him. Everything was happening so suddenly.

Your forehead was pressed against the glass as was Bucky’s; both of you staring into each other’s eyes momentarily. In that moment, you could see his eyes turn golden for a quick second before his pupils dilated ridiculously before your eyes.

“Is he going to be ok?” you turned away.

“Y/n! Please!” Bucky’s muffled screams shocked you.

“Uh… where’s Thor?” Tony panicked.

“What the hell is happening?” Nat asked; Sam, Wanda, and Vision trailing behind closely.

“Nat,” you ran to her.

“What happened to Bucky?” Same asked.

“He- I ran- I ran into him by a-accident and the box dropped. There was mist everywhere and Bucky's eyes. His eyes,” you stammered breathlessly.

“Please! I need her!” Bucky hit the glass in an attempt to break it.

“Oh my goodness,” Wanda gasped at the sweaty Bucky hitting and practically going feral.

“Oh god, is he gonna be ok?” you teared up. This is your fault, dammit.

“I can asure he will experience no physical harm,” Thor’s voice made all of you turn around.

“Just physically? What the hell does that mean?” Sam argued.

“Well, uh… I’ve never actually seen it’s effects in person. Especially not on a Midguardian…” his voice trailed off and his eyes grew big.

Nat snapped her head, eyes widening as well. Bucky with absolutely no shame held his hard dick in his hands pumping it with his eyes trained on you. You went to turn around seeing nat’s expression but she covered you eyes before you could actually see the lewd behavior Bucky indulged in.

“What’s happening?” you asked holding onto Nat as she led across the room.

“Nothing, they’re gonna take care of Buck. Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly.

You sat in your room bouncing your leg as the movie on your TV played. Every now and then Bucky would moan and cry particularly loud making all of you wince and cringe. But your mind felt foggy simply thinking about Bucky and his safety; especially that moment when his eyes went from confusion to you don’t even know what. Hunger? Desire? Lust?

Whatever it was, it made your tummy flutter.

“Steve, any news on Bucky?” Steve stood at the doorway with a worrisome face that did nothing to ease your already panicked nerves.

“Well, as far as Thor knows the plant that was mutated with the daisies was pollen extracted from a breeding plant common among other galaxies; for species that can’t… reproduce like we do. The pollen enters the system and targets the nociceptors causing excruciating pain without physical harm. If untreated the victim can reach a traumatic state and truthfully, they will do anything to stop the pain; even kill themselves.”

“What the hell does any of that mean?” Sam grunted.

“It means the tin man is painfully horny,” Tony interrupted.

“Are you fucking serious?” Sam said in disbelief.

“What’s the cure?” Nat said.

“Oxytocin, of course,” Tony said.

“The cuddle hormone,” you whispered.

“Yup. Banner and I are already working on a serum containing artificial oxytocin in hopes to minimize the pain or even better cure him completely. We-”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit more complicated than that,” Thor interrupted Tony.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, see the pollen, it’s a little tricky. The oxyputin-thingy you mentioned…”

“Oxytocin,” Tony clarified but Thor didn’t care too much.

“I don't think artificial love is going to cure the boy. If you want results, he needs to be the one he desires most. That’s where you’ll get your oxy-pudding.”

“Oxy- You know what, we can figure this out without anyone needing to have sex,” Tony groaned.

“Tony, maybe we shouldn’t-” you started.

“Nope, we can do this. We’re science bros,” Tony stormed away like a child.

“Isn’t your lab being ‘occupied’,” Nat called out.

“Shit!”

-

Hours went by and the oxytocin experiments were clearly a fail. The first dose did nothing. The second also nothing. The third relieved him for only ten seconds before he went back to his painful state. Since then, they haven’t been able to help or relieve Bucky’s circumstance any longer.

You thought about Thor’s words, about how the one he desires most could cure him. A ping of jealousy struck your heart but you knew you to find the woman Bucky loved and just pray that she'd help him. You made your way back to the lad area where Tony and Bruce had their new makeshift set up while the lab was locked down.

“Tony, this is ridiculous. It’s been going on for too long. You heard what Thor said about what happens when it gets too much,” you begged.

“And what do you suggest we do?” Tony said angrily.

“We need to find the woman that Bucky loves so she can help him,” you argued back.

“It's not just some woman, Y/n! He wants you.”

“What?”

“All the bastard’s been doing for the past eight hours has been masterbating while moaning your name. I’m not putting you in that situation,” Tony yelled.

You couldn’t speak. Was he telling you the truth? Did Bucky want you like that? The same way you secretly wanted him? It’s not like you haven't thought about what being with Bucky would be like before. He was perfect; so handsome and charming.

You ran back to your room where the rest of the guys still were practically out of breath; your heart hammering out of your chest and your stomach fluttering like it does whenever you think about Bucky.

“I need to get to Bucky,” you panted out.

“What?”

“Please you guys need to help me. Tony said that Bucky wants me; I mean can you believe. A guy like him wanting me? I’m just… nobody. He’s way too out of my league and-”

“Y/n, focus,” Nat said.

“Right. I- I want to help him. I know I can.”

“Y/n, we don’t know how dangerous this is. I mean, it came from Hydra, this could be weaponized and you could get hurt,” Steve argued.

“Bucky could never hurt me,” you whispered; Nat looked at you softly, understanding the situation better realizing you were probably Bucky’s only chance of a cure.

“You’re not actually considering letting her do this are you?” Steve scolded Nat.

"Are Tony and Bruce making any progress?" she sighed.

"They haven't been to even relieve his pain for longer than ten seconds," you whispered.

"Steve, this is Bucky we're talking about. Hasn't he endure enough torture in his life?" Nat said softly.

That seemed to convince him. Seeing Bucky in so much pain like he had been only years ago was unfair, especially when they technically already knew a cure. Waiting this out was pure evil at this point.

"How do you suppose we go about this?" he asked.

You devised a plan in order to let Bucky from the lab; he'd find his way to you on his own. Wanda stood from afar using her powers to tamper with the equipment. Tony frustratingly would have to run across the compound to the conference rooms to grab new devices in order to continue with his notes and tests.

On his way back, Steve and his convincing and charming ways would stall Tony's return asking him all sorts of questions about Bucky's state. Meanwhile, Thor made up some excuse to lure Banner away just for a minute so Nat and Sam could override the lockdown through Friday and free Bucky.

All the while you sat in your room waiting anxiously for Bucky to barge through the door and have his way with you.

A few minutes went by and no sign of a ruckus you'd assume would accompany the escape plan. You fiddled with the hem of your skirt biting your lip in anticipation. Still no sign after a couple more minutes. Wanting to make sure you still looked alright for Buck, although he'd probably not even acknowledge your appearance, you stood up to walk to your bathroom.

Just as you stood up, Bucky in all his muscle and broad glory slammed the door behind him staring at you with nothing but desperate hunger. Your stomach flipped when you saw him lock the door, pushing a small chair you had just next to it in front of the door under the handle.

He stalked towards practically panting and you took in his appearance. His hair was quite disheveled and sweat lined his forehead and slightly down his neck. Despite that, he still looked so handsome and sexy.

"маленький, all dressed up for me to ruin," he growled crawling up the bed as you crawled back.

"Buck, are you ok? I want to help you," you whispered.

"I'm more than ok now, beautiful," he whispered leaning into you, his nose brushing against yours, chuckling when you visibly trembled.

"Is my красивый маленький ангел gonna let me use her?" he whispered, huskily.

"Bucky, I don't understand what you're saying."

"так драгоценно," he whispered against your lips before pressing himself completely against you.

His hands, contrast between hot and cold, crept under your shirt brushing lightly over your delicate skin. You had somewhat expected Bucky to have no control and use you relentlessly, of which you wouldn't have minded, but this soft ginger foreplay was really making your panties wet.

Bucky slowly lifted the shirt from your body before tossing it to the side and removing his own. His hands cupped your breasts squeezing the soft flesh quite roughly making you sigh and moan at the feeling.

His lips attached themselves to your neck biting and sucking harshly littering your skin with dark purple marks. He nibbled on your ear as he grinding his pelvis against yours, his large erection poking your center making you even more aroused.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. It smelled just like you," he whispered.

"T- The daisies?"

"I've been craving you, aching for you. Thinking about how good you're gonna feel wrapped around my cock," he panted speeding up his grinding thrusts.

"Buck," you breathed out.

Bucky shuddered over you before stilling for a moment. He couldn't help it, your scent, your warm skin pressed against his, he couldn't hold back anymore coming straight away in his pants.

You brushed his hair softly soothing him from his high. You thought it was over, that he felt better and was finally cured but almost instantly you felt Bucky harden under you, poking between your thighs and you gasped knowing very well it was going to be a long night.

Bucky stood on his knees and pulled your bottoms down your legs nearly ripping the material. He too rid his bottoms throwing them god knows where before climbing back on top of you. You stared adorably up at him and Bucky almost came again. He smiled softly at you before kissing you once more.

Suddenly, loud bangs on your door startled you but not Bucky.

"What the hell are you doing!" Tony screamed.

"Tony, you gotta stop! This is the only way! It's not fair to him to let him keep suffering. He's done enough of that, ok?" Nat shouted.

"She's gonna get hurt," Tony sighed.

"No she won't. This was her idea."

Tony looked back teary eyed. He really cared for you as his own and putting you in a situation like this wasn't fair to you either. He really tried to help but this was just too complicated and too advanced to solve in only a few hours. They were right, Bucky needed you as much as he didn't like that idea too much.

"Fine."

Bucky lined his cock with your entrance wrapping your legs around his waist. Slowly he pushed in pulling moans from you both. You've only had a couple lovers previous to Bucky but neither of them ever filled you so perfectly. Bucky stretched you out like none other and admittedly he wanted to use his fingers on you first but he'd been away for too long it was too painful to go another second without being inside you.

"So tight and warm, little one. Feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

"Buck," you moaned.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer to you as you kissed along his neck and jaw. Bucky moaned breathlessly in your ear and you couldn't help the clenching around him from arousal.

"Fuck, keep doing that, little one," he groaned.

Toy squeezed your thighs together and clenched around him again making him groan louder this time. His thrusts became sporadic and you moved against like a ragdoll unable to keep up with his relentless pace.

Your legs began to shake and your back arched into his chest reaching you first high of the night, gushing all over his cock. You realize he hasn't come and gently push him off you before flipping over to let him take you again from behind.

As expected, Bucky pushed into once again deeper this time and you shuddered under his hand that rested atop your arched back. Bucky smacked and kneaded your ass thrusting in and out. The lewd squelching sound of his thrust mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other echoed in the room.

"Shit, little one. Taking my cock so fucking well," he reached forward and bunch up your hair pulling your head back harshly.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sheets as hard as you could. You were approaching your orgasm quickly and you weren't going to be able to hold back any longer. Your pussy clenched around Bucky's cock making him throw his head back in pleasure.

"Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"You wanna come, darling. You wanna cream all over daddy's cock?"

"Yes! Fuck!" your arms shook before giving out completely; your head buried in the sheets as Bucky continued that same wild and rough pace.

"Please let me come, daddy!"

Your body felt on fire. No one has ever made you feel this good before, it was almost too much, too overwhelming. Tears brimmed your eyes from trying to desperately hold back. You wanted to come with Bucky but seeing as his pace had yet to slow down you were beginning to think he wasn't even close.

"Let go, doll."

Your body squirmed beneath him as you released all over his dick. You came with a near shout, your body violently trembling from the intensity of your high. Bucky slowed his pace for your comfort, gently riding your orgasm slowly down despite his still aching erection.

He languidly rolled you over to your back, his hands softly rubbing your sides up to your breasts. You breathed heavily, eyes feeling droopy, all you could feel in that moment was his cum dripping from you onto the sheets.

Bucky, still knelt on the bed and still chasing his release, lifted your legs over his thighs gripping your hip with one hand and his cock with the other. You squeezed your thighs together when you felt his tip poking at your entrance once again, soft whimpers emitting from you shakily.

"Such a good girl. Gonna let me take you again? Gonna let me keep using you?" he moaned.

"Use me, Buck. I'm all yours," you breathed out.

Bucky pushed himself past your folds once again, your cum easily letting him slide in. Both his hands made home on your hips gripping hardly surely to leave marks for you to remember this very moment. You looked at Bucky as his thrusts slowly began to pick up, bringing your own hands to your breasts to play with your nipples. You twisted the perked buds, moaning softly at the feeling as well as Bucky filling you perfectly once again.

"Filling me up so good, baby," you moaned, arching your back slightly allowing Bucky to hit a newer and deeper angle inside you.

"Pussy was fucking made for me," he growled.

His hand moved from its home on your hip right over your lower belly where he could feel his cock so deep poking his own hand through your tummy.

"Feel how fucking deep I am?"

You moved your hand and he pressed yours in the same spot under his and you moaned loudly, shuddering under him.

His pace quickened and for a moment he thought he was going to finally reach his high, that release he'd been thinking about for hours today, but when he felt you clench again, squeezing his cock tightly and he didn't cum, he knew it was gonna be chase that he didn't know you'd be up for. You gushed all over his dick, back arching and your legs pressing tight around his torso, coming with a loud scream of his name.

Bucky fell forward with tears in his eyes. His skin still felt hot and sticky. His sense felt dialed up to an eleven. It was all so overwhelming and all he wanted was to cum in you and hold you closer whispering how he really loved you. He pressed faint kisses to you equally sticky and warm skin and when you felt warm liquid dripping onto your skin to lift Bucky's head to find him crying.

"What's wrong, baby?"

“I can’t cum. I just wanna cum,” he whined.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. I can go as many times as you need me to. I want to help you, let me do that.”

“Can- Can you uh… use your mouth please? I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock so bad,” he moaned.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything for you,” you smirked before pushing him and crawling over him holding his dick in your hand.

-

Hours and literally hours had passed until Bucky was finally tired out only having cum three times compared to the fifteen-plus times you had. Your bed laid on the ground; the wooden stands snapped about two hours ago. Most of your sheets were torn to shreds and marks littered your body from your neck down to your hips and your knees from, well you know.

Your body shook as you laid in a fetal position. You burned between your thighs; the soreness overwhelming but pleasant at the same time. Sweat made what was left of the sheets stick to your body until Bucky pulled them from you to clean you. He used a warm towel all over your body with tears in his eyes whispering how sorry he was about everything.

“I swear I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m so sorry. I understand if you hate me now; if you never want to see me again. Just know that I’m so sorry about your bed, the blankets, if I hurt you, everything,” he sniffled, eyes and nose red and puffy.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice raspy and croaky from your moaning and screaming all night.

“Y/n,” he whispered back. You pulled him by the back of his neck into a soft yet passionate kiss.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out when you pulled away. You cupped his face with shaky hands but a smile on your face.

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I’ve dreamt about holding you far too many times, more than I’d like to admit. I should’ve told you sooner but like everyone else, I was scared you didn’t like me back; at least not this way,” he rubbed your legs indicating the intimate love he had for you.

“Buck, it’s virtually impossible for anyone not to fall in love with you. Unless they’re Tony,” you giggled as did he.

“Can you say it?” he asked softly.

“That I love you?” you smiled brushing your nose against his; Bucky practically purred as he nodded.

“I love you, James,” you whispered.

“Fuck, I love you too.”

He laid you down softly again on the broken bed pressing light kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. You brushed his hair with your fingers as he clung onto you ready to sleep.

“Thank you again, doll. For helping me today,” he said after a couple minutes of silence.

“Of course, my love. Besides I’m the one who ran into you with those damn daisies.”

“Thank god for them then. And for your clumsiness,” Bucky chuckled.

“Meanie,” you snorted, making Bucky laugh even more.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

@stefans-wife

@cordeliaswhore

@fleurlovesbucky

@wandanatasha0720

Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@stolenxkissess

[sluttyhusband]

Future Vows

Stark!Son Reader x Peter Parker

Requested by @iiblueberry-15ii: “Tony Stark x son!reader who’s dating peter parker (Tony doesn’t know) and one day he walks into them making out (reader is one year younger than Peter) and he gives Peter the talk. Thank you <333”

Sorry if it’s bad this is my first fic lol

Dating Peter didn’t seem too odd, sure he was geeky and would fanboy over nerdy stuff, but you thought it was cute. You two were dorks in love, you suspected he had feelings for you but never actually were never solid on it. Then after homecoming he came up to you pretty shaken up and hugged you, you hugged him back then he kissed you and you kissed back and, as cliche as it may seem, you got fireworks.

Peter was absolutely horrified about kissing you. What if you didn’t like him back? What if you told your dad that he kissed you and then he’d take away the suit again? That didn’t matter to him, he saw you and all those worries went away, so he hugged then kissed, and was absolutely relieved when you kissed back. He doesn’t know how he got M/N Stark to fall for him.

It had been a few months of dating Peter and you didn’t know how to tell your dad about it, he knew you were gay but you don’t know of how he’d get if you brought someone home? Especially his intern who he seemed to be close with. Those two always in the workshop tinkering away. Sometimes you’d text Peter you missed him and meet up in the bathroom for a make out session, neither of you pressing for more.

It was a rare day that Peter got the lab all to himself, those days you’d help Peter hack FRIDAY to not tell your dad about the hour long make out sessions you two would have. Sometimes you two would seem very… intimate about it. Today it seemed one of those days, you were sitting on the table and Peter was standing up and you had your legs wrapped around his waist. You felt his hand go into your shirt and up your chest while his other went down and squeezed your butt. You made a sort of whining sound before you were interrupted by doors opening

“Hey Peter you alr-”,’ your dad had walked in. Shit. “Peter Benjamin Parker you better hope that that’s some boy who looks a lot my son”, you saw the fury in his eyes as you got down from the table as both you and Peter were beet red from as you pulled away from each other. “M-mr. Stark I-I didn’t think you’d be back this soon”, Peter said as he adjusted himself in his pants. “And if I hadn’t? Would you have taken my son right then and there on that table?”, your father said as he was walking towards you two. “Dad I swear we weren’t about to do… that”, you said praying he believed you. He looked between the both of you, you were on the verge of tears as you were terrified of what might happen. Peter however, seemed as if he’s at military camp being yelled at with a somewhat scared look on his face.

“Parker, come with me”, your father grabbed his wrists and started walking towards the door and into the living room as you followed. They walked into the living room and you keep your distance as it didn’t seem like the time to say something that mihrab upset him more. “I bring you here into my lab, I mentor you, I make sure you have state of the art protection in that suit, which I can turn off with a single command to FRIDAY, and you pay me back by taking the one thing that I fight for to protect. You take that away from me?”, he was both furious and heartbroken, you’ve never seen him like this, always the happy and sarcastic dad you always admired.

Peter stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking, “Mr. Stark I really only have the best intentions with M/N I really love him, you wanna see something?”, Peter grabs his Spidey mask and turns it inside out where a small pocket with a clear screen is, from out the pockets he takes out a polaroid of you two from your first date, he seems misty eyed when he looks at it and hands it to your father, “I do it all for him too Mr. Stark, he makes me so unbelievably happy, every time I feel like giving I just look at the photo and I remember who I’m doing this for. Mr. Stark believe me when I say I love your son so much, I wouldn’t want to ever take him away from you”, he looks up and our eyes meet, “I love you so much”.

You’re crying at this point, you’ve never seen either of them like this before. Tony hands back the photo and looks back at you, “does he treat you right?”, you couldn’t believe after that speech he stills asks that, you chuckle, “he sure does dad, you have no idea how kind and amazing he is”, you sit down next to Peter and kiss his cheek. “I’m glad son, but make sure to wear condoms and use the right amount of lube”, he says with a smirk. “Dad seriously!?”, you ask with a face of disgust. “Hey! We all know what I was like back in my day, I know this stuff, so you gotta listen to me. Parker, you better give my son the best orgasms ever”, Peter without thinking goes, “yes sir!”. After realizing what he said the two of you go meet red, you dad’s laughing his ass off as you’re wishing to die and Peter’s trying to convince your dad he’s never done anything with you.

This is love I guess you thought