#*hits rock bottom* *venture voice* this rocks!!!

[strawberri-blonde]

Spoiling the Prince - Neteyam

Photo credits to the talented @cinetrix

Summary: You treat Neteyam to a picnic and something else😏

Warning: Smuttt just Neteyam getting the blowjob he deserves.

Masterlist

Happiness filled every bit of your body as giggles escaped your heart-shaped lips while tugging an excited Neteyam along. Your four-fingered hand intertwined with the Olo’eyktan’s oldest son, and you pulled him eagerly along the forest floor. "Yawne, calm down." As Neteyam’s voice rang through your ears, you didn’t pay him much mind as you were looking for the landmark that you carved into a tree to guide the both of you towards the little surprise that you had set up just hours ago. "Where are we going?" This time, you stopped in your tracks once you saw the tree.

Turning around, you grabbed Neteyam's other hand with your own and pulled it up towards your lips, littering his palms with kisses. Of course, his once-blue cheeks turned a slight purple from your affection. "Nete…" You pulled his hands into your chest and looked up to his golden eyes with so much love that it had the boy purring. "I know how much your training takes up your time." Hearing those words, Neteyam's ears flattened, feeling guilty that the two of you haven't had that much time together. Seeing this expression, you let go of his hands to cup his face into your grasp. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips against his.

Neteyam couldn't resist pulling you closer to his strong, lean body. This week had been tough because his dad had been pushing him hard during training, especially since he's next in line to be clan leader. But right now, as Neteyam deepened the kiss by parting his lips and running his tongue across your bottom lip, it took everything in you to pull away. "I have something planned for us," you trailed off to caress his face one more time before dropping your hands to your waist, where his hands were drawing small, intimate circles. "I really set this all up for you." This made Neteyam's tail sway back and forth with curiosity.

The young man didn’t protest as you pulled him towards the tree that grew near a rock wall. “Just trust me.”

"Always Y/n," Neteyam said with a smile, which made you smile too, as you both climbed up the tree with ease. His movements were confident and fluid, as if he had climbed the tree before, even though you both knew he hadn't. As you reached the last thick branch, you held Neteyam's hand while you both walked down it, feeling the rough bark against the souls of your feet. The branch was secure against the flat top of the rocks, which had been smoothed over time by the elements. You both jumped onto the tall wall of rocks, which had molded together over the years, forming a natural barrier. As you walked across the moss-covered boulder, feeling the softness of the moss under your feet, you still held Neteyam's hand, feeling safe and secure with him by your side.

“It's this way," you said, approaching what looked like a bed of leaves, but it was actually a covering you'd woven together to hide the large opening of the rock. Neteyam barely saw the bottom of the hideaway from the darkness. "I wanted to keep it a secret," you said, holding onto the blanket and motioning for Neteyam to venture through the cave.

The young man gazed at his mate, and seeing the excitement on every part of your face, Neteyam didn't second-guess his trust for you. He carefully squeezed through the narrow opening and used the existing rocks that resembled steps to enter the dark cave. Leaf litter, along with broken twigs and moss, covered the cave's floor. Surprisingly, a sliver of light hit the rock walls, giving the boy a nice view of you covering the opening with the disguise you had crafted so beautifully. Noticing the wet leaves that he somehow managed to avoid while entering the cave, he sprang over to you, gripping your elbow to help guide you down. This, however, had you swooning. "Ma Neteyam, I've been here before." Both of your laughs echoed in the cave as the boy watched you carefully as you hopped down from the last step, pulling him closer to you.

“Obviously.” His mocking tone had you giggling before mimicking him back.

“Obviously.” Pressing your face into his warm chest, you both took an inhale of each others scents that meshed so well together; tree bark and grass.

Neteyam inhaled your wonderful scent before pressing kisses onto your hairline. “I can’t believe you found this place.” This cause another giggle to escape your lips.

"Oh, you don't think this is it, do you?" you ask, making the boy look down at you with confusion. You smile widely as you pull back but still hold onto his hands. You love holding Neteyam's hands. They are so strong but so gentle with you. "Where do you think the light is coming from?" This has Neteyam tilt his head, making a huge grin appear on his handsome face, exposing his teeth.

"Yawne-" you turn around, reaching your hand behind you, not bothering to look back, knowing that he'll grab onto you. As his soft but calloused hand grabs you just beyond your elbow, you reach the end of the cave and press a hand on the dewy surface. Neteyam's hand caresses your skin as it slides down to your hand, entangling your fingers together, making it so your palms are touching.

"Look," you say, gesturing upward towards the corner of the rocky wall where a faint light illuminates his handsome features. “It looks like it's a hole by the way the light shines..." You pull the boy to your side as you begin to walk sideways with your front still facing the back wall. "But really," you both reach the end, and you squeeze through a small opening from where the wall doesn't meet the existing rock. With his tall height, Neteyam ducks through the oval-shaped hole, letting you lead him through. "It's just trying to hide this treasure." Neteyam's eyes first hit yours before trailing along the grove. His golden eyes widen in awe, and his thin lips stretch out in a small gap, causing you to immediately fill up with pride.

“Ma Y/n,” as you step in front of the boy and tugged him towards the beautiful pond, that’s when his words began to stumble. “Where did you find this?” He laughed in disbelief as he saw a woven mat that clearly had to be made out of razor palm leaves; near the sandy bank. Nestled on top of the beautiful woven art piece was a lovely picnic, set up with a vibrant color scheme with delicious, fresh fruits. The blanket is covered in flower petals arranged in the shape of a heart, creating a beautiful and romantic atmosphere. The fruits are arranged in a colorful display, with juicy yovo fruit, ripe lionberry seeds, and sweet spartan. The colors of the fruits pop against the green mat, and the sweet aroma of the fruits and flowers fills the air. The set up was quite beautiful and only adds to the magic of the moment. “And what is this about. I didn’t forget anything did I?”

You toyed with his fingers that were still intertwined with yours. With a playful shake of your head, you spoke, "No, my prince, this is for you like I said earlier." Your doe eyes caused the boy to visibly melt. "I wanted to surprise you and let you know how much I love and appreciate you." Your soft, velvety voice made its way through Neteyam's ears, rendering him speechless. Without hesitation, he brought your hands to his chest while keeping a strong hold on them. He kissed you with all the passion he could muster up.

Your brain short-circuited as you felt his soft lips against your own. When his tongue poked at your entrance, you slowly opened your mouth and lightly bit down on the muscular organ that made its way into your warm, wet mouth. Neteyam's hands dropped down to your waist, squeezing them in need, while his rough fingers slipped along the thin fabric of your loincloth. "Teyam," you moaned out, frustrated with yourself as you pushed him away, not allowing him to ravish you where he stood. This was about him.

"Ma'Y/n." His tone was teasing, but the desperation could be heard clearly. You nudged your nose against his, pressing tender kisses on his face out of your own selflessness. He had the best face to kiss.

“Ma’teyam let me feed you.” Neteyam’s cock hardened at your innocent words being turned into the dirtiest thoughts.

"Yawne, let me have my meal." You grab onto his strong jaw in your hands as he leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, right in that spot that makes you lose control. Feeling your loincloth get damp, you shook your head, pulling yourself together.

After you said, "Neteyam, I'm serious," he mumbled a 'me too' that had you giggling like a young Na'vi chasing after a beautiful-winged insect. You pulled him towards the woven mat and immediately sat down on the bright purple evanescence flowers that were soft to the touch. You helped guide him down by criss-crossing his legs. Then, you stood on your knees to shimmy closer to him before plopping down, basically leaning all over his body.

Neteyam wrapped his left arm around your waist as you pulled away from him for a moment to grab the end-grain wood cutting board that shows all the beautiful tree-rings. The wooden tray displayed the various fruits, making Neteyam's mouth water for more than one reason. "It's all your favorites, yawne." You picked up the cut-up piece of spartan fruit, letting its sweet sticky juices run down your fingertips. "I gathered them all for you, even this spartan fruit. It was hard to find-"

"Since it's been too hot and the fruits have been drying up before they even ripe," he cut you off, with pure happiness and joy shining through his amber eyes. You smiled proudly as you pressed the purple and blue fruit to his lips, allowing him to open his mouth and consume the sticky sweet fruit. As his teeth sank into the juicy spartan, the nectar dripped down his chin. The sweetness of the fruit was almost overwhelming, and the stickiness of the juice made Neteyam's desire for you grow. Since you both mated just over a year ago, spartan had been his favorite fruit. Each bite was a burst of flavor that left him yearning for the nectar that resided between your legs.

"I looked for hours," you mumbled as you licked away the juices from his chin, only to place another piece of fruit into his mouth. This time, he licked your fingers clean, making your heat throb and clench around nothing but need. "Only the best for my big, strong mate," you said, and the growl that rumbled in his chest caused goosebumps to scatter across your blue skin.

After Neteyam said, "Yawne, you can't say such words and not expect me to kiss you," he pulled you into a kiss. Your lips moved freely against one another, but you eventually pulled away after lifting up a lionberry seed to bring it to his mouth.

"Patience Teyam, we have all day, even into the evening," you said. This caused the Omitikaya warrior to lift an eyebrow, letting you continue to feed him. "Lo'ak is entertaining your father while Kiri is with your mother."

“Yeah but-” you pushed another lionberry seed into his mouth shutting him up.

Speaking with nothing of pride you admitted, "I even bribed Tuk." Neteyam's eyes widened, and he let out a laugh.

“Not my little sister.” You let out a chuckle yourself, watching as Neteyam grabbed another piece of spartan then reached for the yovo fruit.

"All it took was agreeing to a sleepover next week, and I have to make another wooden Ikran, specifically a purple and turquoise one," you said while setting the wooden circular tray on the mat to grab Neteyam's hand, licking off the juices finger by finger. "But it was worth it," you added, looking into his eyes. Neteyam groaned in response, and you giggled, feeling a rush of affection for him. You leaned in and gave him a quick peck on his velvet lips, "because my prince needs to be pampered and a little spoiled."

Neteyam was overcome with desire as your words filled the air like a fog. His heart pounded wildly, and he felt an animalistic instinct surge through him. He wanted you, and he could feel his body responding to his desire. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his lap, pressing his hard, toned body against yours. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he held you tightly as he kissed you passionately. Your breathing became heavy as you circled your hips to meet his greedy thrusts, and you felt his tongue explore your mouth. Gripping his shoulders for support, you felt a sense of pleasure as he pulled away from your lips to leave open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

As he placed soft kisses on your neck, you let out gentle moans, feeling the pleasure of his touch. You yearned for more, but the reality of the moment reminded you that you both couldn't continue here. You wished to take care of him as he takes care of you every day, despite his busy schedule training to become the next clan leader. To him, making you his wife was the easiest job on the planet, and you felt grateful for his love and devotion. “Teyam.”

As you pulled away from the passionate moment, you felt a deep connection between you and him. You slid your hands from his shoulders down to his chest, and let out a soft moan. You looked into his eyes and said, "Come on." Gently pushing his chest, you took his hands in yours and led him towards the blue waters of the hidden cove.

"You're killing me, yawne," Neteyam said with a smile as you guided him to sit on the large, smooth rocks covered in soft moss that you had put in place to provide a worthy throne for the next in line.

"Who would have known that the mighty warrior is such an impatient child?" you asked. Neteyam's face heated up at your words, and his ears flattened against his head as he continued to settle into the soft, lime-green moss.

"Only for you, my mate," Neteyam whispered sweetly. His words made your heart soar, and your body throbbed with need. You pushed him back gently, as his legs were sprawled out with the water barely reaching halfway up his thick thighs. Without hesitation, you kissed his entire right thigh, loving the sound of his low grunts. "Thata girl," Neteyam said, using an English phrase that he must have learned from his father. Strangely enough, he never let it escape his lips until it was something intimate like this, and you loved it. If you weren't already a slave to his manly charms, you would have fallen under his spell like a woman in heat.

You pulled away from his legs and cupped his handsome face in your hands, giving his mouth sensual, open-mouthed kisses. "I'm gonna be your good girl," you whispered, the desperation and rawness of your voice making Neteyam's cock throb with desire. Kissing him again, you nibbled on his bottom lip and pushed into his chest, gliding down his body until your bottom half was covered in the warm water. "I'm going to be the prince's good girl, his most loyal servant," you said, your voice full of promise.

Neteyam's gaze was so intense that it felt like a bolt of electricity, sending shivers down your spine and making every nerve in your body tingle with desire. You were already on your knees for him, but his lustful look had you feeling like you could collapse at any moment. The intensity of his desire and need was almost overwhelming, and your body couldn't help but react with a surge of pleasure. The warmth of his gaze spread like a wildfire. You could feel your once blue skin turning a soft lavender hue. As your breathing became heavy and mind clouded with his fog, you felt myself melting into his embrace, completely consumed by his passion.

"I thank the Great Mother for you every morning," Neteyam rasped, his voice pulling you out of the fog of desire, but only for a moment. Gripping his thighs, you offered your mate a sweet smile before kissing, licking, and even sucking onto his skin that rested on his lower abdomen. You went so low that your chin was becoming irritated from the material of his loincloth. "Every evening," Neteyam moaned as his hips thrust forward, trying to find some kind of release, but you just kept going. "Every waking moment, my love," he continued, his confessions filling your heart with emotion.

"Teyam," you moaned against his warm skin, pulling away to capture his lips in yours once more. "Help me untie you." Without question, Neteyam leaned forward to begin untying his loincloth. As he did so, the pond's water began to form ripples which then softly turned to little waves that only managed to make the both of you wetter. Neteyam almost had his cock on display, but before he could reveal it to you, you pushed him back with one last kiss to the lips. As you returned to eye level with his crotch, Neteyam snuck in a sensual forehead kiss. "You're such a strong, loving mate who provides," you whispered, and the truth was that the boy felt like he could just cum from your words alone. You made sure to take your time as you kissed the junction of his legs that met his groin, trailing your act of love towards his abdomen. Meanwhile, your right hand couldn't help but stroke his covered member ever so slowly. "I just want to thank you," you said, lifting the material slightly and offering Neteyam your innocent doe-eyes. "Can I do that, Teyam? Can I make you feel good like you make me feel everyday?"

"Fuck," the Omatikaya warrior fell apart just like that. "You really are some angel, aren't you?" You didn't respond; you just pressed an open-mouthed kiss along his clothed cock. "Y/n, please," he begged. You squeezed his massive cock in your hands, pressing the still-covered tip to your lips. "Please, Y/n, touch me."

"That's my prince," you whispered, finally pulling away the soaked garnet that somehow managed to hide his massive size. "Soo big," you moaned, throwing the material on the dry side of the bank, then collecting his cock in your hands, making them look small. "I’m so lucky," you kissed the tip, wanting to have his taste in your mouth. However, this made the man jerk his hips from the sensation sending water droplets splashing your face. "Don't worry, Teyam." Twisting your hands in opposite directions around his pulsing member you pulled away to hold him in your right hand, then applied open-mouthed kisses along the whole length. "I promised, I'd take care of you."

You licked a straight line up from the base of his balls to the tip, making sure to give it the attention it so desperately needed. “Fuck.” You pulled back with a pop, only to go right back to work licking up and down his cock loving the taste of his pre-cum. Your hands scratched down his thighs while you took him in your mouth fully. Neteyam’s breathing became louder and more passionate making you want to hear more. So, you cupped his balls in your left hand, giving them a good squeeze, then jerked his cock in a steady motion. You opened your mouth, tapping his purple tip on your tongue a few times before taking him as far as you could until his thick cock touched the back of your throat. “Yawne, you’re so good at this.” You let out a hum, sending vibrations along his member, making Neteyam drop his head back, letting out low and throaty moans. “Great Mother.”

Humming again you pulled away with a load gasp but quickly covered it up with your words. “Praying for me Teyam?” You continued to jerk him off then leaned down to lick his balls. “Praying for this tight pussy.” Neteyam couldn’t help but reach forward to grabbed onto your braids, bring your face more towards him. You opened your mouth wider, swallowing around the soft but hard round skin.

You fumbled them only for a brief minute before licking up his shafted again to take his tip in your mouth sucking on it hard. ‘Oh yeahs,’ left his swollen lips as you took him as far as you could. “Thata girl.” Hearing those words, you stayed put swallowing around him, to only pull away in a gagging fit. Giving yourself a brief moment to recover you gave his cock long and hard tugs. You loved how wet his cock was from your salvia although some might say the pond water also played a big part in that factor.

Returning to work, you began to kitten lip his tip, then started to bob your head up and down his member. You felt the tightness of his grip in your hair and the way his legs were struggling to stay still, which would always have you thinking of this moment when you hear any kind of water splashing. He was enjoying himself, and if your bottom half wasn't in a pool of water, you're sure that your loincloth would've been soaked with your own juices. With hollow lips, you could taste his precum on your tongue, which sent your pussy clenching around nothing. "It tastes oh so good," you mumbled, taking him deep in your mouth again, making the Prince thrust into you a few times, then held you in place, letting you pull back with a gasp. "Fuck my throat so good, yawne."

“Do I?” This had Neteyam hold you down with both hands gripping your head as his eyes roll back at the feeling of you chocking on his dick. “Fuck, yawne you’re gonna make me cum.” Breathing through your nose, you could feel tears swell in your eyes but you didn’t care.

You pulled back with a choked moan and wrapped both hands around his throbbing member, twisting them nice and firm. "Give it to me," you said in a sultry tone, which made Neteyam tighten his fist and let out loud grunts that sounded like music to your ears. "I need your cum, Neteyam. It's so good." You kissed the tip of his cock one last time before taking him into your mouth, loving the way he bruised the back of your throat.

"That's right, baby," Neteyam moaned, feeling nothing but pure ecstasy as he was surrounded by the water of the pond. He could feel the tightness of your throat and the way your hands felt on the rest of his shaft and balls. "Don't stop," he panted out, feeling you moan around him, encouraging him to continue. "Right," he moaned, feeling the familiar tightness in his abdomen. "There." The strained, raw tone in his face had you still your movements, letting the blue man fuck in your mouth. And with just a few more thrusts, Neteyam had his goodness shooting down your throat, the passion of the moment almost too much to bear.

You didn't move a muscle until you knew your mate was done riding out his high. You popped off him with a satisfying moan, opening your mouth for your prince to show him the mess he made. "So good, Teyam," you said, jerking his sensitive cock, making him squirm. "Tastes like my favorite treat. Puffball tree leaves, salty," you licked him clean, making the boy caress the side of your cheek. "But sweet."

"Give me a taste." Without waiting for your response, Neteyam wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you up out of the water until you were sitting on his lap, then he pulled you into a deep kiss. A cold breeze danced its way across your warm bodies, making the atmosphere humid. Through the tense and hot air, the boy let his hands roam your body, while yours remained on his jawline, closer to his neck. Neteyam slipped his tongue into your warm mouth, exploring the taste of himself on your tongue. Moaning at the taste, you felt vibrations shiver down your spine. "It's not as good as you," you moaned as his confession causing you to slowly starting to grind on his semi-hard cock. "Let me show you." Feeling him pull away to kiss down your neck, you almost let yourself be swept away in him, but you weren't done with your surprises. This was about him.

“Nete,” you let out a high pitch moan as he moved your decorative chest pieces out the way to suck on your tit. Why was he making this so hard?

“That feel good, yawne?” Your mouth opened wider not even being able to breathe properly.

"Wait, Neteyam," you moaned, slipping your fingers into the back of his head, pulling him slightly to signal him to look up. "I'm not done."

He smirked up at you. "Yeah, me neither." Then, his hot mouth moved over to the other nipple, making you squirm in his lap.

"But this is about you. I wanted to spear a fish to cook for you, to feed you, my prince." The man's desire was clear as he bit down on your mound, sucking firmly, then pulled off to press it an open-mouthed kiss. He felt lucky to have someone like you, who only wanted to take care of him, but he was hungry for something else.

"Y/n, you know what would make your prince happy?" Your breathing became irregular as Neteyam lifted you up with ease, then set you gently down onto the soft moss. He kissed down your neck, kissing your nipples again before continuing. "You not denying me for the second time on devouring my favorite meal." And who were you to deny the future Olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan?

Hoped you guys liked it!

~ Caroline

[featherandferns]

daylight - seven

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 7 of the daylight series | read part 6 here

content warnings: none

word count: 2.7k.

blurb: with JJ gone the next morning, you distract yourself with work and reunite with Barry at the garage. The next day, following a surf day at the beach, you find yourself worried that this thing with JJ may do more damage than it's worth.

Just as he had when the two of you fell asleep at the Chateau; JJ is gone in the morning. You’re groggy as you turn over in bed. Picking up your phone, you find a text from Mimsy. It’s a winking emoji accompanying a picture of her in a guy’s bed, with Darren’s sleeping back facing the camera. Laughing quietly, you text a reply requesting a debrief later. You open the Pogue group chat next and scroll through the typical banter-like chatter. Kiara mentions a surfing day soon and you reply, telling her tomorrow would be better than today.

You had a photography gig lined up today. A photoshoot of a new, hippie-style smoothie bar that had opened near Figure Eight by some trust-fund college graduate. They were willing to pay you a hundred for the pictures alone and another twenty-five if you edited them on their behalf. After that, you needed to edit the pictures from the Country Club gala since you got side-tracked last night.

With the mundanity of your morning routine, it’s hard to believe JJ had been around the night before. If it weren’t for the polaroid pictures which have your face light on fire (and are promptly stuffed at the bottom of your sock drawer), you’d think you might have hallucinated the whole thing. You’d be lying to say that you weren’t a little crestfallen to not find a text from JJ. 

It feels strange to drive your car after hitching so many lifts with JJ in the Twinkie. It’s when you’re halfway to the smoothie bar that your car makes a concerning, clunking noise. After the incident a couple months back, you’re ready for the thing to start steaming again. Thankfully, it doesn’t, but it prompts you to visit Barry’s garage after your photoshoot. 

Wandering into the garage, the smell of cigarettes hits you hard and strong. There’s old sixties rock playing through the speakers, the quality crackly, and you venture the isles looking for a worker. You end up poking your head into the main body-works section, rapping politely on the open door. 

“Hello? Anybody here?”

A man grunts and appears from behind a car. It’s Barry. He’s got an oil streak on his cheek and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing his fading tattoos. He eyes you up from across the room. 

“Do I know you?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m JJ’s friend? We came by here a few weeks back now,” you say, semi-awkward. Barry wags a finger at you as his memory jogs. 

“You’re the one with the busted radiator, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you smile. “Listen, uh, it’s making a weird noise again and I don’t know squat about cars. I was wondering if you could give it a look? I’d be more than willing to pay, even for a glance over.”

Barry shoves his hands in his overall pockets and shrugs. “Course. JJ’s friend, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, anything for that kid,” Barry’s gruff voice says. He wanders over to you and follows you out to your car. Cracking open the bonnet, he talks as he inspects the engine. “You know, that kid’s pretty smart with these things, too. He’d make a hell of mechanic. You could’ve just asked him to check it over for you.”

“Oh. I mean, he checked it out when I broke down but I didn’t know he was that savvy with it,” you reply. 

“Hell yeah. Shame his dad’s such a bastard cause he’s got a hell of a mind for mechanics, too,” Barry chuckles, sounding almost sad as he does. “Poor kid got dealt a rough hand.”

“Yeah, uh, I get the sense he has a tricky relationship with his dad,” you tentatively say.

Barry spares you a glance. His eyes hold years of grief. “Don’t think his old man knows how lucky he is to have that kid around.”

Your mind darts back to the photo on the pinboard of his child. Smiling sympathetically, you nod. “He’s pretty special.”

“Damn straight,” Barry grunts in agreement. Then he continues inspecting your car in silence. 

You liked Kildare. The people were genuine and real. They looked out for each other on the Cut; offered a helping hand, generous with loans and handiwork. Sometimes it seemed quality of character was more important than money. You liked that way of thinking. Maybe if everyone took that line of thought onboard, the world could be a brighter place. 

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong,” Barry concludes, closing the bonnet. “Might’ve just been a screw or something shifting, or the brakes after going over a pothole. I wouldn’t stress.”

“Thanks,” you say. “I just thought it best to check it out.”

You reach into your pocket and pull out your wallet, fishing around for some dollar bills. Barry frowns at you and shakes his head. 

“You ain’t gotta do all that,” he says. 

“I insist,” you reply. “I mean, you’ve already helped me out for free before.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Barry returns. “Just leave us a good review or something. Could do with some more customers these days.”

You glance at the garage with that. It looks old and rickety, with dust stained windows and a tin roof. The font of the sign that lines the store is reminiscent of the seventies. You wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t been updated since then. 

“You know,” you say, looking back to him, “I do some photography. I’d be happy to pay you back by taking a few shots for some promo.”

He quirks a brow. “You any good?”

You dig out your camera from your bag and open the gallery, holding it out to him. Flicking through the shots of the smoothie bar, you let him take his time. His lips purse and brows raise, seemingly impressed. 

“These are pretty good. You sure you wouldn't mind?” he asks, handing it back. You smile and shake your head. 

“It’s the least I can do,” you reply. 

“Alright. You got yourself a deal. Come by whenever and we’ll get it sorted,” Barry returns, sticking out his hand for you to shake. You do so gladly. “What’s your name by the way?” 

You tell him. A sombre smile softens Barry’s wrinkled features. “That’s what we were gonna name my little girl.”

You’re not sure what to say and so you smile kindly at him. As you drive back home, you can’t help but feel as though you’ve made a friend. There’s the nagging feeling to tell JJ about it all but you don’t. Besides, he still hasn’t texted you since last night. 

The next day you go surfing. Walking up through the dunes, you find the Pogues on the beach dressed in swimsuits. Kiara is sitting on a towel, rubbing sunscreen into her leg, whilst the guys stand around talking. Their boards are scattered around them. Pope spots you first and waves. You wave back with your free hand, the other holding a White Claw. You’ve barely reached them before JJ’s hooking an arm over John B’s shoulder. 

“Hey, hey! Take a picture of us!” 

“She literally just got here,” Kiara scolds. 

Rolling your eyes, you entertain JJ. Fishing your camera out of your tote bag, you click it on, hold it up and take a mediocre shot. “Happy?”

“Yep,” JJ grins, letting John B free. 

Kiara stands up and grabs her board, dressed in leopard-print bikini bottoms and a plum-shaded bikini top. Before she can move, you blurt out for her to hold still and snap a sideways photo of her. 

“We didn’t just invite you here to be our personal photographer,” Pope assures you. 

Laughing, you ditch your tote bag on the towel. “I don’t mind. You guys take good photos.”

JJ wanders over to you, pinches your can of seltzer to have a swig, and looks out to the sea. “Waves look pretty decent today, right?”

“Hell yeah,” Kiara grins. Looking at you, she asks, “you joining?”

“I’m gonna take some shots first,” you smile. JJ passes you back your drink; you down it and place the can in the methodical ‘trashbag’ Kie brought. Ditching your shirt and shorts, you join the others to wander down to the waterfront, everyone talking over each other. John B and Pope wade out into the water with Kie, and then they start paddling deeper into the depths. JJ lingers beside you for a moment. 

“You sure you don’t wanna join?”

“I will in a minute,” you say. Lifting your camera, you add, “the lighting’s just really good today.”

“Alright,” he shrugs, walking into the waves. Looking back to you, he loudly adds, “you look hot in that bikini, by the way!”

You hide your fluster with an eye roll, waving him off into the water. A cheeky, knowing grin turns away from you as he paddles out, calling out to the others. As the sun beats down on the beach, you adjust the camera settings and focus on one friend at a time. Kiara dips in and out of the waves, curly hair flowing behind her, face set in focus. John B and Pope bend and lean, tightening their cores, the shadows of the rolling water enhancing the beauty to their form. Naturally, JJ is your favourite. Maybe it’s the smile on his face, brimming and bright, like he was born in the sea and destined to surf its waves. He makes it look easy. Rakes a hand through his hair from time to time, like he’s taking a leisurely stroll down the street. When he catches your camera on him, he points to you with a holler. You manage to snap a shot before he bails. The next one you get is of him, sinking into the aquamarine waves. You take that as your cue to ditch your camera with the rest of the belongings, snatch up your board and join them in the waves. JJ cheers you on as you pass him by, a little rusty in your technique. They were right: it was perfect weather for it. The water was tamer today than it had been in other sessions. Not as brutal in its churning of you when you bail off. 

Somehow, the five of you find yourself sat atop of your boards in a circle, chatting away as the sun dries your water-speckled bodies. 

“I think that’s it’s completely unjust,” Kie complains in her environmentalist spiel. She looks to you, “I mean, it’s–”

Her brows knit as she looks at something on your neck. 

“Is that a hickey?”

You glance down, lifting a finger to your skin, and realise that the shabby concealer work you’d done that morning had rubbed off on your t-shirt and washed away with the sea water. The picture of abashed, your eyes dart down to the water. 

“Uh…No.”

“Yes it is!” Kie grins. 

Pope paddles over and investigates it like a doctor might.

“Definitely not a rash or a burn.”

“I will push you off your board, Pope, I swear to God,” you grumble. He takes a wary paddle backwards. 

“Who the hell did that to you?” John B sniggers. 

Your eyes glance fleetingly to JJ, hopefully without the other’s notice. He’s sat watching it all unfold with a proud, shit-eating grin. Asshole. 

“Nobody.”

“So you’re saying it’s a phantom hickey?” Pope jokes in his bizarre Pope way. You push him off his board with that. He crashes into the water as the others laugh. Through their laughter, you overhear Kie talking to JJ. 

“Why do you look so smug?” 

“We should probably head back to shore,” you announce, “me and JJ gotta start heading to work soon.”

Turning away, you start paddling back to shore before anybody can argue. Never much to dwell, the group happily abandons their line of questioning and follow. On land, you dry off and dress. John B and Pope start battling over a bag of chips and Kiara has taken off collecting stray pieces of litter along the beach. JJ wanders up to you and pinches your butt. Spinning around, you glare at him. 

“Thanks for your help back there,” you say lowly. 

JJ shrugs, grinning, “fun watching you squirm.”

You swat his leg with your towel and he cusses with a laugh, hopping away from you. “Dry off. We got work in fifteen.”

JJ mimics you in a high-pitched echo but does as you say, rubbing himself dry of salt water. The five of you share the load as you walk back to the Twinkie. JJ drives, dropping the others at the Chateau before taking the both of you to the Country Club.

“Our deal still on?” JJ asks you. 

“Hell yeah. Get ready to pay up,” you grin. 

The two of you had made a bet the other day, about who would hear the phrase “excuse me” more. You debate  bringing up the other night, as the two of you ride to work, but you pull up to the country club before you have a chance to muster-up the courage. 

Venturing into the staff room, you and JJ open your respective lockers and begin to change into your uniforms. 

“Listen, I hear it way more than you do,” you say to JJ, referring back to the ‘excuse me’ battle,  as you pull on your blouse. “‘Excuse me, miss, can you take a picture of me and my family?’ ‘Excuse me miss, can you get one of me and my wife?’”

“Oh, come off it,” JJ sniggers. “ ‘Excuse me sir, get me one of those shrimp cocktails.’ ‘Excuse me sir, I need a refill.’”

“Your customers sound a lot less polite than mine,” you snort. 

“Tell me about it,” he grumbles. He tugs his shirt off and you watch the muscles of his back ripple. As JJ buttons up his work shirt, he turns to you and smirks. “You might wanna cover that up.”

You glance down to once more find your hickey poking out. Buttoning up your blouse, you shoot him a half-amused glare. “Next time can you put it in an easier to hide place?”

“Nah,” JJ leers, clearing the distance between you. His fingers reach out to brush at your collarbone. “You have a spot right here that makes you squirm.”

The intensity of his unwavering stare traps you in place like you’re under Medusa’s watch. Someone walks into the staff changing room - Larry, from the kitchen - and JJ takes a step away from you, turning back to his bag.

“Hey man,” he nods to Larry. 

“Yo.”

And just like that he goes about getting ready as if he hardly knows you. Sends you a cordial smile and nod as he departs, with a fleeting “see you later”.

It shouldn’t sting as much as it does. And maybe it wouldn’t, if it weren’t for Tyler. If it weren’t for how screamingly familiar it felt to how you spent six months of your life in Vancouver.

That softness in JJ’s eyes, hidden behind laughter and rambunctious shenanigans and even anger, at times, reminds you of Tyler. Brings back that girlish thought: that all girls want a guy to look at them like that, and only them. Have that gentleness saved just for you. It reminds you of how you felt with your ex. How he used to be different around you in an inexplicable way. Soft, kind, vulnerable. Real. He’d hold you and spin you around, and make you feel safe and special, until you realise that it only happened when he was with just you. That around everyone else, even your friends, he was distant and distracted. He wouldn’t hold your hand. Wouldn’t kiss your lips, let alone your cheek. Leave you to fend for yourself in conversations, like treading water in the sea, whilst he and his family sat, relaxing on a yacht only feet away. Relied on the excuse ‘I was going to…’ and became a master at apologising. Slowly, with time, it stopped feeling like a privilege to know only that side of him when nobody was looking. Instead, it began to feel like a curse. And JJ, with his smug silence at the beach and passivity in the changing room, you were worried that you might be retracing your steps.

That thought leaves a bad taste in your mouth from the moment you leave the changing rooms, and it lingers like stale coffee on your tongue long after the end of your shift. 

read part eight here!

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[sinfulsalutations]

𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕒 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪, 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕘𝕠 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

ᴘᴛ ɪ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴇ. ᴘᴛ ɪɪ ꜱᴛᴀᴠᴇ. ᴘᴛ ɪɪɪ ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ. ᴘᴛ ɪᴠ ꜱɪɴ. ᴘᴛ ᴠ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ. ᴘᴛ ᴠɪ ꜱᴇɴᴅᴏꜰꜰ.

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ꜱᴇʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴇɴᴛᴀɴɢʟᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜰʟᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜰʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ ᴄᴏᴜɴꜱᴇʟᴏʀ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ ᴀᴜ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀ ᴡᴀʀꜱ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀᴍɪɴᴇꜱꜱ, ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ʙʟɪꜱꜱ, ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛɪɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜱᴋɪɴɴʏ ᴅɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ (ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ/ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ)

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 3ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

⋆ ★ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ ᴡʜᴏ'ꜱ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ. ʟᴍꜰᴀᴏ ʟᴇᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

After that night, the summer quickly becomes a glimmering haze of sexy, sweet escapades in slimmers of ample time alone.

Hunter becomes your best-kept secret. You act the same around others, amicable friends who get along well in the same room or during the same activity. But the moment you get a time without a horde of campers following your trail, you’re finding a secluded spot and placing your hands all over each other. It’s practically habitual by now.

They’re the best summer memories.

Hunter’s no longer a daunting figure of appeal far of your reach. He’s someone you have in your arms, and who’s just as enraptured with you as you are him.

You learn this fact one particular day as you instruct the campers how to properly scale the rock wall.

“Your harness is there to guide you, not to rely on,” You emphasize, looking down with a hard stare to get your point across. The campers look down with slack jaws and lazy eyes, legs itching to run and grab a harness and get to climbing already. You won't just let them, and continue your lesson.

“It doesn’t help you or your partner if you put your whole weight onto it.” Echo, who holds your belay below you, nods in agreement. “You have to communicate with your partner as well. Whether you need slack or for them to tighten your rope, you need to express what you need them to do. Nothing will get done otherwise.”

The campers nod adamantly, though you’re sure the second they get their hands on the harnesses and begin scaling, all your instructions will leave their minds.

Once you've climbed down and gotten out of your gear, Hunter’s holding onto your wrist loosely and muttering into your ear, voice soft and discreet.

“Y’think they can go on without you?”

His hand tugs your wrist closer to him as if beckoning you to come closer and follow him wherever he may lead. You glance his way excitedly, a bright-eyed, curious grin over your lips.

“Probably," you mutter.

Hunter’s smile matches yours.

“Backroom by the kitchens in ten.”

All you need to do is nod and wait to ensure Echo’s got it handled before you run off to the kitchens and into his arms, kissing him silly.

Hunter’s hands are on your waist, holding them to his in a lock you wouldn’t dare try to separate while he pushes you against a storage shelf. His fingers dip into your waistband; they don’t venture much further, only pinch at the waistband of your pants to keep you extra still and pliant in his hands. You don’t mind. 

You can’t mind when he’s kissing you like this.

It doesn’t take long for his bandana to slip off when your fingers run through his hair. Your hands map little paths to the roots of his locks to tug on when he kisses you just right, to encourage him to keep going, move there, stay just like that. Hunter’s a better listener than most; he’d happily do anything you ask of him.

The touches get more frantic the longer you kiss; his hands frantically move around as if he can’t decide where his hands deserve to be.

Then, the realization hits you; the desperation finally makes clear sense in your head as he nips at your bottom lip.

He wants this more than you do. He wanted you badly, mirroring how you might at any point.

“Really- hah -eager today, yeah?” You tease between light pecks, sighing as you tilt your jaw and Hunter leans down to kiss your neck. You tug on his hair. He groans.

“Kriff– yeah, I am,” His voice sounds so rough and keen you border on swelling with pride for making him this way. “You should’ve seen yourself on that wall.”

You raise an eyebrow, an incredulous smirk twisting on your lips before he kisses it away again.

“Yeah?” You mutter, still managing to smile a little as he litters kisses on your jaw, pressing up against you harder. “How’d I look?”

Hunter’s mouth leaves your body just long enough to tell you exactly what you want to hear.

“So damn pretty,” he swears, trailing his mouth to your ear. His knee gently parts your legs and encourages you to relax against his body, to let him hold you against the shelf; who are you to reject such an offer? “The way you worked so quick, how you gazed down, your ass in those jeans and thighs around that harness– fuck.”

Hunter kisses you nice and hard again, and you try your best to not feel so smug.

It’s rather nice knowing you have such an effect on him.

Moments like these happen often. Between or even during activities, after lights out when Tech has finished his nightly inspections. You end up on the docks again, legs careening back and forth over wading water while you intertwine his hands with his.

“That star up there,” Hunter points, turning your attention to the twinkling sky. “Right there, above that odd-looking tree. `You see it?”

“I do,” you confirm, tilting your head. “What about it?”

The stars in the dark sky hugging you from above glitters and twinkles, brighter than in any city or town. It’s always been the prettiest sight you’re lucky to lay your eyes upon every summer, and nothing had yet beat it. Until Hunter, at least.

“Well,” he begins, squeezing your hand that’s holding his. His finger trails a path from that star to the next on its left, then another, and another. “That’s a constellation. What do you think it makes up?”

You squint your eyes, unsure of what they could make. There’s little to tell from just a few stars scattered.

“A… line?” You answer dumbly. Hunter snorts and nudges your shoulder gently.

“`Thinking too simple.”

“I’m not good at this kind of stuff!” You retort, a little louder than you should. But you quickly correct yourself with a coy smile, your next words hushed. “It just looks like a bunch of lights to me.” You shrug dejectively.

“Don’t worry,” his reassurance only alleviates you slightly, and he tilts your jaw back to the stars with a keen gaze. “Just try one more time. For me?”

Your answer comes automatically.

“Of course.”

So you do try. Follow the patterns and see what sort of shape it could make, and, perhaps, what he might be trying to hint at.

When it does dawn upon you what constellation you’re looking at, you turn to face him incredulously. He’s already got that mischievous tilt in his eyebrows you know is trouble. Or deception. You’re still not great at pinpointing what he’s feeling or thinking.

“Is it a heart?” You ask, biting your lip.

“Bingo,” Hunter answers. A strand of hair falls from behind your ear to frame your face; this time, you let him tuck it back, as he’d urged you to do before. He gestures to the sky, and you look back.

“See?” He points. “Does it make sense now?” You nod. His index finger traces a short line from the star at the bottom of the heart shape to the one in the middle. “That’s the pole.”

“The… pole?” You repeat bemusedly, eyes still glued to the sky. Hunter chuckles.

“It’s kind of like… a marker. So we know which way to turn.” He pauses; in the flicker of a firefly wading by the shores of the lake, his light-hearted tone turns soft and he squeezes your hand again. “It’s the same with us.”

It’s your turn to squeeze. You gaze back in his direction.

“So,” he starts, eyes locking with yours. “You’re the one I turn to, right? No matter what the situation is.” By now he’s grinning like a fool, eyes alit with something gentle. “You’re the one.”

You smile back, confirming with a sealing, firm kiss.

“I am. And so are you.”

When you see the look on his face, an almost melancholy wave rushes through; the words that hang on the tip of your tongue mean something to you, something you wish were true, but ultimately can’t be. 

The daunting question in your head still remains.

How much time do we have left?

You say it anyway.

“Always.”

Hunter repeats it, that same coloring in his eyes, as if he’s asking himself the exact same question.

”Always.”

You hum and lean in, eager to mold his lips to yours again and let the hurtling feeling dissolve, and he doesn’t back down; he presses into you harder, quicker, hands grasping your waist to pull you to his chest. You want him to keep going until your heart starts to skip beats on the staff until you feel all the ways you’re ready to fall for him. 

He does exactly that.

“The water’s nice today,” Hunter pulls away from you abruptly, a boyish grin over his features. You smirk, raising an eyebrow as you watch him push his body up and reach his full height, body looming above you; somehow, it’s nowhere close to being threatening.

“Yeah?” You tilt your head as you gaze up. Hunter chuckles.

“I checked,” He confirms, gesturing toward the quiet ripples of the water. “Thought maybe you’d want to take a little dip. With me.” 

When his hand reaches out to yours, the rough callouses of his skin look so inviting and delectable when offered exclusively to you, that it’d be impossible to deny it.

So you take it and lift yourself, pecking his lips one more time before skipping off the dock and to the shore.

Hunter’s already shucked his shirt onto the ground just by the time you get your shoes and socks off, bare feet meeting the soft sand. You’ve seen him shirtless enough times at this point (in almost entirely amorous situations), yet the view always hitches your breath and makes you tug your bottom lip between two teeth.

And without fail every time, Hunter notices and smiles in that boyish manner you’re incredibly weak for.

“Are you just gonna stare?” he asks with a chuckle. You can feel it reverberate through your own body.

“I thought that staring is allowed,” you retort, raising your eyebrows. “Unless you want me to stop.”

“If you stop, we’ll never get to the good part,” Hunter smirks, kicking off his shorts and dipping his feet into the shallows, turning back to you. “Aren’t you going to join?”

It’s that same damn sight again. The one you tried so hard to block out of your mind that one night but never seemed to leave. Hunter wading in the water, in the dark, stripped completely. 

Who are you to look away?

With little hesitation, you shuck your bottoms off. Your panties come down with it. Hunter’s eyes pop out of their sockets for a split second, then he turns back into that casually composed charmer you know him to be.

You take off your shirt next, shifting your weight between your heels as you reach back to unclip your bra, and you let it fall beside the rest of your clothes, the sneakiest grin wrapped on your lips as you leave Hunter gawking in his boxers.

With a giggle, you join him in the water, caressing his cheek before wading further into the lake shore until your waist down is submerged in the lukewarm water.

“Are you just going to leave me in here?” You tease, curling a finger up to beckon him closer. Hunter’s frozen state finally breaks, and he laughs softly, shaking his head almost in disbelief. It doesn’t take much for him to strip down to nothing as well, leaving him in a half-hard state as he sinks into the water with you.

His hands don’t take long to find their place on your hips, thumbs gently tracing a pattern into the skin over your ribs.

“You’re bold today,” he comments. You scoff.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” He flashes you a knowing look, expecting you to agree without putting up even a little defense. “You’re always a little bashful about things like this.”

Slapping his chest lightly, he laughs again and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. 

“Well, let this prove otherwise,” you say. It’s the softest kiss you plant on his lips, simple yet sweet, and he pulls away smiling like a fool. “I’m not always bashful.”

Hunter nods. 

“You’re not.” He leans down to kiss you again.

“Thanks for agreeing,” you mumble into his mouth after you withdraw for a moment to breathe.

“Anytime, Maple.”

You step back further, inviting both of you to go deeper into the water. His lips find your neck, and he bites softly, paying no mind to the goose bumps that form on your skin the instant he gets his mouth on you. Hunter’s always been more than you bargained for.

“I never want you to stop,” you admit, shivering as a cold gust of wind hits the bare skin still not submerged in the water. Hunter pulls away.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

There’s a pang of frustration growing in your chest with his hesitance, but you quickly let it fizzle away when you giggle and splash a little water in his direction to lighten the mood.

“When have I not been sure, Hunter?” You tease, and he lets out a heavy exhale and smiles for you.

“One day you might not be,” he comments, dipping down to kiss you again. You hum against his lips then mutter with fluttering eyes.

“Today’s not that day.”

You press your body into him and bite your lip as you feel his cock twitch and harden fully against your stomach.

Hunter nods in agreement, holding your waist firmly before leaning down and sinking both of you into the water.

-

Keeping your little fling a secret easily becomes the most painful part of the entire summer.

It’s been a firm rule since you started as a camp counselor and has stayed the same even as Hunter arrived; dating another counselor is strictly against the rules. The rule had been easy to follow before, before you’d been swept and flown to cloud nine and right into Hunter’s open arms, now impossible for you to adhere to.

How could you? How could he?

But you try your best. Keep him at a safe and appropriate distance in front of others. Leaving marks in discreet spots. Smiling politely.

You only allow one indicator that something else may have blossomed. It remains wrapped around your wrist, with its matching counterpart on Hunter’s.

“What are your favorite colors?” His voice interrupts you one day as you do crafts in the mess hall. You startle, twisting your body back and raising an eyebrow.

“What?” You have to make sure you heard him correctly.

“What are your favorite colors?” He repeats, grinning.

You tilt your head, a suspicious grin on your lips.

“Why do you want to know?” You hum, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Hunter purses his lips, eyes flitting away before returning to your face with the cheekiest wink (you think no one else is looking. You hope).

“It’s a secret.” 

That makes you snort. With a light flutter of your lashes, you tell him and watch him spin off back to the table he and the Cedar cabin are sitting at, and you turn as well, staring at the bracelet adorning the same color his bandana.

And that same night, each of you has the same thought in mind.

“I have something for you,” you tell him, a gentle smile filled with affection on your face. Hunter raises his eyebrows, bemused as he bites his lip. You play with the bracelet behind your back, shoulders leaning onto the rock structure behind you.

“You do?” He asks. You nod. “What are the chances? I have something for you as well.”

You giggle softly, bringing your hand out from behind your back and showing him the silver and maroon, square-knot bracelet. He smiles.

“I like the color,” he tells you before reaching for the bracelet. You lift your hand away, tutting with a click of your tongue.

“You can only get it if you promise me something,” you challenge. Hunter hums in curiosity.

“What might that be?”

“That you keep it. Even after the summer ends. That you wear it,” your expression softens, a gentle switch to something more sentimental, almost melancholic upon thinking about what you’re vaguely implying; the inevitable outcome of this little fling.

Hunter’s tongue darts out to lick his lips slowly, as if contemplating your words; not as if he’s thinking about the request, but more thinking about what you implied. He then looks up again, eyes thoughtful as he nods.

“I will. I promise.”

Your lashes flutter and your cheeks burn when you smile again and put the bracelet around his wrist with the rest of them.

"Could I ask the same thing for you?" He then asks when you tighten it to the size of his wrist. You tilt your head, then watch him pull out the bracelet he made for you with a shy look. You'd already had your suspicions as to why he asked you for your favorite colors, but this confirms your prediction as you see the chevron knot bracelet.

“That you keep it, and wear it. Not all the time, but just enough... so you don't forget.”

He lets the final words hang for you to decide where he might go. Forget him, forget this summer, forget how he feels pressed up against you, perhaps something else entirely, or a combination, or all at once. He doesn't have to say it explicitly. Both of you are on the same page.

You instantly respond,

“Of course,”

Before lifting your wrist for him to put the bracelet around. He does it delicately, as if you’re the finest piece of art ever created, and rubs his pinkie over your skin thoughtfully. Your eyes bore into his.

“I promise I’ll keep it. Remember it. Remember you.”

Hunter smiles and kisses your wrist where the bracelet wraps around it, lowering himself until his knees hit the ground and proceeding to take your breath away.

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[highlady-sorcha]

I Can Be a Nurse (Cassian x Reader)

You'd broken your arm as a kid when you fell from a tree. The fall had seemed impossibly long, just watching the ground rush up to meet you, knowing it's going to hurt when you hit. At the same time, as a human, you hadn't had the flexibility or the knowledge to try and shift around so you didn't break anything- or try to not break anything. The jarring snap of bone as you hit the ground had stuck with you long into adulthood, even after you’d been made into one of the fae. 

  Nothing compared to the crunching of your leg shattering when you fell from the training ring of the House of Wind. 

   It had been a foggy morning. No one else had been there- Azriel off doing whatever it is he does in the shadows, and Cassian off to check on the Illyrian camps. There had been a report of a female having her wings clipped- something Cassian could not stand for. He’d wanted to shoot into the skies last night and hunt down the male that had done it right when he got the message, but you’d made him wait till dawn. The male wouldn’t have gone far if he really thought that what he’d done was right. He’d stick around to face down Cassian out of pure arrogance. 

And if he did run, there was no better tracker and hunter in Prythian than the High Lord’s General himself. 

It had been so long since you started training with Cassian up here, it seemed perfectly safe to venture out to the ring on your own- no matter the weather. You’d been out in the ring on your own plenty of times to stretch and mindstill when life became too much. 

You’d dragged a practice dummy into the ring, but still closer to the side than usual. Yesterday had been particularly brutal and you were sore, the practice dummies were particularly heavy. You’d pulled out a practice blade. A long, heavy great sword, and given the dummy several whacks as a warm up, before heading into practicing some of the maneuvers that you had just started to go over with Cassian. They involved incorporating gymnastics into swordplay, being able to nimbly move around the enemy in unpredictable ways to avoid their attacks and distract them from combat- giving you an easier way into their guard. 

A little over a half hour into the exercises, you’d launched over the dummy’s head, intending land on your knees and bring the sword into his groin. But, the moisture in the air had gathered on the grip of the sword, and it slipped. The butt of the hilt hit the ground just a split second before you did, leaving the point straight in the air, just below your navel. 

You kicked farther over, throwing your weight so that you’d land beyond the point of the sword and avoid disemboweling yourself on an early spring morning. 

It worked, you had not a knick on you and the blade clattered to the ground. Your weight shifted and you landed on your feet several yards behind the dummy, but couldn’t keep your footing and stumbled back- over the edge. 

You had screamed as you fell, grasping at the side of the mountain for any purchase- only managing to snag a rock and rip your fingernail off. You’d fallen and fallen. Down and down and down until you came to a stop at the bottom- landing with all your weight and strength and fear on one single knee. 

You’d passed out from the pain and shock- laid there for hours unconscious. Only when Cassian had returned that afternoon and not been able to find you did he go out to the ring and start looking around. 

“(y/n)?” He hollered, his voice echoing off the sheer faces of the mountains around him. “(Y/n)? We gotta go, we’re late for that meeting with Rhys!” He paused then, pricking his pointed ears, listening for any sound. 

He was just about to yell again when he picked up the sound of breathing, and bristled. His siphons glared, casting a red ring of light around him. Cassian opened his mouth and inhaled deeply. As the breeze blew around the edge of the house, he caught the faintest tinge of fear carried with it. Stale, hours old. 

Cassian clenched his jaw as he marched around the edge of the house, praying to the mother, the cauldron, anything out there that this not be related to not being able to find you. 

A stronger breeze blew in as he approached the edge of the ring you’d fallen over. The stink of fear was much stronger here, and for the first time he noticed the blade laying behind the practice dummy. The red light from his siphons flashed brighter, glaring off the shining blade. 

Panic gripped his gut as he jogged to the edge, noticing a scuff on the ground from your boot. When he looked over the edge and saw your body laying in a crumpled pile far below, he roared and leaped over the edge himself. Throwing himself into an almost vertical dive, he was at the bottom in a heartbeat. 

You laid at his feet, in a broken heap, just inches from the tips of his boots. He knelt as he screamed in his mind for help. 

Rhys, Rhys please help. Please, I’m at the House of Wind and- 

Before he could finish the thought, Rhys appeared out of nowhere, stepping onto the rock beside him. Cassian carefully scooped you into his arms, your limbs bent all the wrong ways, things shifting and cracking under your skin as he lifted you from the ground. Gut rolling, he cradled you close. 

Without a word, Rhysand had laid a hand on Cassian’s shoulder and winnowed you to the river house. 

Madja had visited. Spending hours setting bones to heal properly, doing what she could to minimize the lasting impacts. As night began to fall, you awoke in a haze of blinding pain.

“Cass..” You whispered. He was the first thing that came to mind for comfort. A gentle hand the size of a bear paw folded one of your hands into his. The palms were warm and covered in thick layers of callouses, earned from years of hard labor. 

“I’m here, kitten. I’m here,” he murmured before pressing his mouth softly to your temple. Pain raced up your neck into the back of your head as you turned towards him before prying your eyes open. Thick crust clung to your lashes, and your vision swam for a moment before focusing. 

You were in the room Feyre had given birth to Nyx in the year before. A room that you knew everyone generally avoided like it was cursed. Only when someone was sick and needed tending did they sleep in here. 

Cassian had pulled a velvet tufted chair up to the side of the bed. His eyes had dark circles under them, his mouth a taught line. He leaned close, on his elbows with your hand close to his lips. The intensity in his hazel eyes was too much. 

You groaned as your stomach flipped, nausea rolling over you in thick waves. In turn, clenching and unclenching your throat. For a few moments, you fought the sensation, a clammy sweat breaking out on your forehead before your eyes snapped open. 

“Trash-“ you got out, before vomit filled your mouth. 

Cassian lunged to the rescue. A dented bucket was in his hand. He braced a hand between the back of your shoulders and pulled you up to sitting just as you retched, the sick slapping into the bottom of the bucket. 

You coughed and gagged and choked, until there couldn’t possibly be anything left to come up, ever again. Finally, you sagged back against the pile of pillows, drenched in sweat, your nose running and eyes stinging. The muscles in your stomach ached from the force of throwing up. 

Unable to do anything else, you just groaned and shut your eyes, trying to think back through what happened and how you’d gotten there.

Once you’d laid back, Cassian pulled the bucket away and set it on the floor beside his chair. He looked at your face, pale, bruised and cut from the fall for a moment longer before standing up. 

Cassian carried the bucket to the hall, murmuring something to someone outside the door before gently shutting it again. The sink in the attached bathroom ran for a moment before turning off, and the sound of water draining was the only thing that filled the silence of the room. 

A moment later, a cool cloth was laid across your forehead, covering your eyes. Trailing drips of luxuriously cold water raced down your temples, and you nearly moaned at how fresh, how relieving it felt. 

Wood creaked and groaned as Cassian took his seat again, the chair protesting under his bulk. He took your hand back in his, kissing your knuckles before allowing the room to lapse into silence. 

A considerable amount of time had passed, and you’d dozed before you felt better. The pain was still a raging presence, but it had lessened in some places- namely your head. 

You pulled off the rag Cassian had placed on your forehead, now warm from your body and struggled to sit up. 

Warm hands cupped under your arms and pulled you upright, against the headboard. Your head spun, but stopped after a second. Weight bowed the mattress beside you, and although your leg screamed in pain at the shift, you swallowed it back. 

Cassian was still in his leathers- never settled in for the night. Mud still crusted his boots and you could see that his chin length locks were disheveled from flying. 

His intense eyes were focused on you and he took your hand in his again. 

“I fell,” you offered. Your voice barely more than a croak.

Cassian gave you a wry smile that didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Yea, I’d say you did. Do you remember what happened?” 

Dutifully, you relayed your morning. The fog, the practice, a tiny mistake that had almost cost you your immortal life. 

“But I’m ok Cass- really. I’ll heal.” You assured him. 

Before he said anything, Cass reached for a glass of water that sat on the bedside table. He held the cup and tipped it to your lips. You braced your own hands over his, expecting him to let go- but he didn’t.

The water was sweet and cool, and trickled down the back of your throat in a revitalizing way. Gently, you pushed his hands away when you’d had enough. 

His eyes were soft as he took in your face. As you watched, they began to rim with silver before they overflowed. 

Cassian brushed it away, but not before you saw it. A lump formed in your throat and your own eyes began to sting. 

“What’s wrong Cass? Why are you crying?” You choked out. 

He scooted the chair forward so his knees were smashed against the side of the mattress and took your hand in both of his. Slowly,  he bowed his head and laid it on his hands. His long locks fell toward and tickled the inside of your wrist. 

“I got to the mountain a while after you fell. I don’t want to think about how long you were laying there,” he finally said. “I didn’t know what had happened, I just had this feeling I couldn’t shake and kept looking for you instead of just assuming you’d gone somewhere. Like, down in the city. When I finally looked over the edge of the ring and saw you laying there at the bottom…” He was silent for a long moment, his breathing evened out as he paced each breath to try and calm himself down. “You looked like a doll someone had thrown away. Like trash. I thought you were dead.” He sobbed. 

Your heart constricted. As much as your ribs screamed in protest at the movement, you twisted just enough to run your hand over his scalp, through his hair while murmuring that it was ok. 

He looked up finally, with tears in his eyes, his nose starting to run. “I know you’re in pain. I’ve had shattered bones and there’s not much that hurts that bad. I felt terrible when Madja said that was the biggest issue, because of how relieved I was.” He swallowed hard. “I just can’t lose you. Maybe I haven’t said it often enough- I probably haven’t. But there is no me, without you.” 

You laid back against the pillows and stared back at him, willing warmth and love to him. Praying that he could feel half the love you felt for him. 

“It’s a good thing I’m going to heal then,” you finally said. 

Cassian laughed, before sniffing and wiping his nose down his arm. He grinned then and fixed you with a mischievous smile. “It is, and good thing I can be a nurse.” 

**Thanks for Reading! This is one posted on my Wattpad account, but thought I would share it here. See if anybody was interested! Feel free to tell me what you think

[kaepop-trash]

Jaemin+ vaulted lace

What a sensational title! This came so naturally and I had to stop myself from writing too much. I hope this fic is as decadent as the name is. Enjoy!

_

Vaulted Lace

Sugar Daddy au

Summary: Once you were Jaemin's babysitter. With two very successful, very busy parents, you spend a lot of time with him while he grew up. Now Jaemin was all grown up. Very successful and busy in his own right, you bumped into him after many years and more lifetimes apart. He had climbed his way to the very top and you had managed to hit rock bottom. So when he offered an arrangement that was too biased to you to be mutually beneficial, you couldn't make yourself refuse. Even if it ripped apart the image you held of him growing up.

WC: 2276

-

Jaemin parked his car in the usual spot, ignoring the anxious valet who was still staring. He had been surprised when Jaemin parked by himself.

But Jaemin wasn't in the mood to talk. 

Once the engine was cut off, there was silence in the car. The brief silence allowed a sigh to escape his pursed lips, long and heavy. He took another moment to put the day behind him, gathering his thoughts for a quick review before he tucked his worries away under his seat.

He grabbed a bill from his wallet before getting out of the vehicle, tucking the object back into his jacket pocket. As he passed, Jaemim handed the nervous valet a tip to ease his worries.

The elevator ride up to the room felt longer than necessary and Jaemin could feel an exhausting mix of sleep and agitation clawing up his neck as the elevator slithered higher.

Jaemin knocked on the door twice, slipping his hands into his pocket and waiting. After several moments of no response, a crease set in his brows. Just as he pulled his hand out to rap against the door again, he heard the latch.

"Sorry. I didn't know when you'd show up. I was taking a shower." Her voice stumbled. Jaemin took a leisurely glance at her figure, taking in the ugly hotel bathrobe he had to traverse to reach her pretty face. Her hair was wrapped in a towel causing his lips to tug in a smile. Probably the first one he had all day.

"Can I come in?" He asked, finding a new reserve of patience in him after hearing her voice.

Her brows gathered together in clear confusion. "It's your room." She stated, stepping aside to let him through.

'Our room', he wanted to correct her. But his day had been too long to get caught up in this. He walked in, turning to face her just as she shut the door softly.

"I saw you at your office today." Jaemin said casually, hands returned to his pants pockets securely.

"My boss mentioned you dropped by. I didn't see you." She kept her voice neutral.

"I was on my way out." He turned to her, taking slow strides to trap her between the door and himself, "You were in a room with your manager."

Her bottom lip pursed as she bit down on it, certainly able to recall the incident he mentioned.

"How do you know it was my supervisor?" She questioned like it mattered. She knew why he was there.

"I asked." He took his final step, standing over her with a boyish grin.

After emerging on top of the tech world by selling his company for half a billion, there were a lot of whispers of what his next venture would be. Nobody would guess it would be an ad agency. Neither had her boss till Na Jaemin showed up with a deal.

There could be no visible reason he was willing to invest so much in an industry he had no experience in. Which is why she was grateful that their arrangement had continued to be invisible. After spending all day fighting her conscience, (Y/N) had decided not to bring it up.

"How was your day?" He hummed, his voice having the rare lilt that could calm anybody down.

"Great." She lied. He smiled because he knew the truth.

"Excellent. My day was terrible." He leaned in towards her. She took a shallow breath, expecting a kiss. Instead his forehead pressed against hers. Perhaps it was because of how unexpected the action was, but her heart began to pound loudly in her ears.

"You look exhausted." She agreed, taking the proximity and his closed eyes as an opportunity to get a look at his face. His eyes had sunken further in than the last time she had seen him, cheeks hollowing out like he'd been neglecting basic meals.

"I am." He conceded, a long sigh following his words. "So tired." A hand inched up her thigh, stopping at her waist. "Of everything." He sighed again.

"Me too?" She said to tease, to lighten the mood. Despite the twitch on his lips, the light didn't return to his face.

"Especially you." He whined, an old habit that came out in rare moments like this— unbelievably intimate moments. A pout formed of Jaemin's lips, making him look younger than he already was.

“What did I do?” She asked, the edge of her question dipped in humour. Instead of answering, he eyed the thick tie that held her robe together. He let the coarse material run between his fingers, toying with it without pulling at the knot.

“Did you get my present?” He mumbled, avoiding meeting her gaze. The moment’s hesitation in her voice was a loud message.

“Jaemin–” She sighed. Her tone was one Jaemin knew well. There was a time when she'd say his name the same way often. Like when he refused to come out of his room because his parents had decided a meeting was more important than coming for their son's track race. Or when they went on a vacation for weeks while leaving him with his babysitter.

The thought made him look up at her, fingers still playing with the tie. "Hmm?" He questioned.

"I appreciate your gifts. But I–" She sighed again.

"They aren't for you." He interrupted before she could say it. "I buy them because I like them. Because I want to see you in them." This time the pout that formed on his lip was involuntary.

"Yes, I know." She tried to reason, "But with this understanding between us. You paying my rent, I just feel th–" She tried to put her thoughts together.

"Hey." Jaemin smiled, reaching up to push her hair back and cup her cheeks. "You're worrying about things that don't matter. The money, the rent, the things. I do it because I like it. I like that it makes life so much easier for you and that I don't have to think twice."

He said the words so easily, holding it over her. If her circumstances were different she would have made the effort of pointing it out.

She gave him a smile instead, comforting and genuine. "In that case," She said softly, tapping against the knuckles he had wrapped over the tie. "Open your present."

The way his eyes lit up, made her laugh. The action was almost too innocent and endearing. He took a step back, grip tightening around the bow as his eyes fixed on her torso. 

The knot tying the robe together came undone with a single tug. Jaemin audibly held his breath as the garment unfurled, hanging on her shoulders and exposing what was inside. Her breath hitched under his scrutiny and it was perhaps the only thing that excited him more than the view in front of him.

He had been right to pick the set he did. The creamy white lace was so sheer that it looked fragile against her skin. The flowers weaved into the material were of various colours and had made the set stand out to him amongst the others at the boutique. It was unique. Fragile to look at but mesmerizingly intricate. The thing had looked beautiful when he first saw it. Yet that felt like nothing compared to how it looked now.

"You are absolutely breathtaking." He whispered in reverence, hearing her stutter and knowing without looking that she was blushing. "So beautiful." He threaded their hands together to walk towards the edge of the bed. Without looking away, he sat down on the bed, pulling her closer to him.

With curious fingers, he traced down her front. Closing his eyes to relish the friction of the gossamer material against his skin. The material was so light that he hardly needed to imagine what her skin felt like underneath. He kept his eyes closed because he knew that the thin fabric didn't hide much.

"Jaemin." Her voice was soft, the sound so short lived that he should have missed the hint of arousal that trailed behind it. But he'd long memorised the different ways she'd say his name, each time filling the word with every intention she needed. This one he was still getting used to.

"(Y/N)?" He asked, looking up and putting his chin right below her chest. They looked at each other like that in silence and it was easy to remember when he used to do this. In a time that felt like a different life entirely.

When her fingers pushed his hair away from his eyes, Jaemin's eyes rolled to the back of his head easily. He felt the small chuckle she let out.

"You're so tired, Minnie." She told him. Jaemin pouted at the nickname, the old term she would use. He wanted to tell her to stop using it because it made him feel like a child again. 

The word brought memories back like when he was beaten up at school. 

It reminded him of how he couldn't fight back, frozen because he had barely touched puberty and was unaware of the irrational aggression that came with it. He held back till he got home, hoping, praying, that nobody was home to see him like this. In truth, if his parents had been home he could have easily slipped their notice. But upon arrival he was disappointed to find his babysitter.

Her concerned questions made him angry at first, not used to it. He tried to dodge the questions, to just run to his room but a hand on his wrist stopped him. When he jerked it off, he expected her to take offense and drop it. But (Y/N), he would come to learn, was just as stubborn as he was. If not more.

"You don't have to tell me. Just sit down so I can clean up your lip." She wasn't asking and Jaemin conceded with a nod.

He watched her as she cleaned every wound on his face. While (Y/N) was barely in high school, at that moment she felt like a sage. With every wince that came from him, her brows twitched. Concern, he realised. She was concerned about him.

The thought stirred his gut and Jaemin found himself recoiling from her touch, desperate to escape to the solitude of his bedroom.

"Minnie–" She whispered when he refused to sit still. The way she said the word, with concern, twisted his gut further. "Let me take care of you."

That was the first time he had cried in front of (Y/N). The fear he felt from the punches, the helplessness he had in the face of the older boy, the anger from having been weak, all of it came out with his hot tears. She sat in judgement free silence while he told her.

The other instance that reminded him off was less than a year later, when Jaemin came home with bruises once again. By then he was used to returning home to (Y/N) instead of either of his parents. This time the worst of his bruises were on his knuckles because he had finally punched back.

His sense of victory had been short lived because (Y/N) had looked more angry that day than she had all the times she had to clean up his defeated face. Instead of giving him comforting words, she had been silent while she cleaned him up. It had made Jaemin say harsh words that still stung him when he thought about it. Words he'd still give anything to take back. 

That was the day their friendship had changed forever. Back then Jaemin was too young and angry to fight back. She quit a few months before leaving for University.

The memories lulled his nerves further, a gentle tug on his scalp bringing him out of his thoughts. Regret was always the most exhausting emotion.

"I've had a long day." He answered after a long pause. She hummed in response, avoiding talking about his work as much as possible. He mostly appreciated it, he just wished to have her ear sometimes. "Need you." He hugged her torso, the feel of his breath over the lace making her squirm. "Take care of me, (Y/N)." He wrapped his arms around her waist.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked.

Jaemin smiled, "You always know how." He closed his eyes, hands squeezing her closer.

(Y/N) dug her fingers into his scalp, massaging till he sighed and nuzzled his cheeks against her.

"Perfect." He breathed out with a sigh of relief that came from deep in his chest. (Y/N) smiled.

If there was one thing she was certain about when it came to Na Jaemin, it was that he was a simple man, sometimes deceptively so. He always wanted a grilled cheese sandwich with honey after school or work, and preferred it made for him. He didn't like drinking and hated that she did, something he tried his best to keep to himself. But perhaps the simplest thing Na Jaemin wanted was her.

Her hands moved onto his shoulders when his hands slipped inside the robe. The press of his cold arms on her waist made her wince, fingers digging into his shoulder.

"Sorry." Jaemin laughed. The relief the sound gave her wrapped around her heart, cutting off circulation. "Come here, I need you."

(Y/N) shivered as Jaemin slowly drew her into his lap. With his eyes fixed on her face, he slid his hands across her shoulders, pushing the robe off her.

-

Send me any Member+ Title/Trope/Summary/Prompt and I will write a scenario

[sleekervae]

Past Lives [0.2]

Masterlist

A/N: Wow! Thanks for all the love on the first part, everyone! Hope you enjoy part 2!

Warnings: mentions of InFiDeLiTy, nothing major

Back in 1997, when Jade Theodore was four years old, she had been obsessed with Disney movies; the most romantic in her prepubescent mind being Sleeping Beauty. Because even to this day, Prince Philip was the most handsome man Jade had ever laid eyes on. Not to mention the man could break an evil witch's curse with a single kiss? How much more romantic could you get?

Jade always fantasized about finding a great love like that; though as she grew up of course, that fantasy stayed just that as reality hit her like a bullet train. Especially when her family had hit rock bottom and her mom had signed her up to do some extras work to bring in some money. That first day on Even Stevens had kicked off a twenty year career in the making for the pop star, made up of moments both good and bad, but had shaped her into the inquisitive young woman she was today.

Some of those moments included getting to know her costars on a High School Musical spin off movie back in 2009, a dream come true at the time. However, getting to meet a then eighteen-year-old Austin Butler also made the experience memorable. He had never been outside of the country at the time (they were only in Canada so it wasn't that big of a leap), so with off days from filming, and Jade being a Toronto native, she was more than happy to show Austin some of her favourite places in the city.

She remembered Austin had this brand new Kodak camera he carried with him, taking photos of the skyline, the food they'd indulged in, and things he found overall curious. And of course, he had taken a photo of Jade at some point. She couldn't remember if it was in the moment or she had been posing at the waterfront railing. She maybe saw that photo once or twice, instead relishing in their friendship even after filming had ended.

He was shy in 2010, lanky, and left footed. His voice was higher and sometimes he'd stumble over his words when he'd become excited or nervous. Though his personality always shone through for Jade, he always treated her as though he'd known her their entire lives. Their friendship lived on as Austin continued to get movie and TV rolls and Jade's creative drive turned more to music in the early 2010s.

And Jade wouldn't lie if she'd said she hadn't developed a small crush on him.

That crush of course was stomped out with a platform stiletto when Austin was introduced to a friend of a friend, all the while Jade was negotiating with Disney to get her out of her contract. It all happened so fast, when Jade eventually found out, she felt like she had a bout of whiplash. Nonetheless, she was happy for Austin, and she always respected his relationship with his girlfriend.

Though as 2012 rolled around, Austin and Jade's relationship dwindled and grew stale.

Jade could still remember the last phone call she had with Austin; both of them so busy but trying to make plans to meet up again. She was running late for a negotiation with her music label, and she told him she'd call him back.

Being as scatterbrained as she was, she never did.

"I'll talk to you later!" she swore she had hung up before he even had a chance to say goodbye. And as it always did, too much time and energy apart had distracted Jade long enough before she came to the realization that she never did call Austin back.

However, time passed, she met knew friends, ventured onto new projects, and before long, Jade Theodore was now a name synonymous with modern-age alternative pop. And Austin had forged ahead on his own path. Their social circles were different, and truth be told, neither of them gave the other much thought in ten years.

How curious it was to see two people be so close before, and now suddenly they were strangers yet again...

In downtown London there was a sleek, modernized skyscraper, and on the 14th floor one could find an immaculate apartment facing the South-rising sun and its rays reflecting softly off of the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was somewhere within the seventh hour of the day, and Jade stood at the counter while she waited for her coffee to brew. She was already dressed for her rehearsal, though she didn't feel all that ready; more than anything she felt as though a cloud of fog had formed around her head and was stunting her train of thought.

A door down the hall creaked open, and Jade's roommate, Florence, came trudging out, yawning into her fist and scratching her fingers through her bed head.

"You're up early," she commented as she took a seat at the breakfast bar. The stool squealed against the hardwood floor. Her English accent was thicker in the mornings, her usually bright green eyes were a little hazy and droopy.

"I got rehearsal in an hour," Jade replied, "You want coffee?"

"Yes please," Florence grinned sleepily.

Jade was already on it and set up the coffee machine, "I didn't hear you come in last night. What time you finish?"

"Came home around two-ish. Then I had an interview with Kimmel around three," she shrugged, "I don't even remember when I went to sleep,"

"Babe!" Jade awed, "Go back to bed! What're you doing?"

"I knoooww," Florence drawled, "But Tommy scheduled me an interview for nine-thirty,"

"Call in sick," she replied, "Hell, I'll even pretend to be you and call in sick,"

Florence simpered, "Your English accent will insult the whole country, Jade,"

Jade refrained from rolling her eyes, "I'm not that bad," she slid the finished coffee towards Florence, and the sleepy actress took a long sip.

From beside her, Jade's phone buzzed. Florence was a little nosy, she could admit it, and she was curious as she saw an unfamiliar name flash across the screen.

"Some Austin guy's texting you," she said.

Jade glanced at the message quickly. He was just thanking her again for last night, and she smiled fondly at the message, "It's nothing," she replied quickly.

"Bullshit," Florence quipped, "Was that the guy you were on the date with last night?"

"It wasn't a date," Jade said, "We were just catching up,"

Florence scoffed, "Catching up maybe takes two hours? Tommy dropped by 'round seven and you still weren't back,"

"Still wasn't a date," Jade sipped her own coffee nonchalantly, "Wait -- what was your manager doing here?"

"Dropping off some new scripts he wants me to look over. But I'm just saying Jade, if you went on just one date, that loser would start leaving you alone. Oh! Speaking of," Florence shuffled over to their junk drawer and pulled out a letter, "He wrote you another poem,"

"Oh my God. This should be good," Jade ripped the letter open and skimmed just the first few lines. She cleared her throat and read, quite dramatically, "If love be love be love, let love be love, your kiss is like a strawberry meringue, you are the hand and I your winter glove, you are the song the singing singer sang --"

"Alright, enough!" Florence threw her hands over her ears, "I've heard enough!"

Jade's first response was to rip the poem in two, "'You are the song and singer sang' he's just so ick, now! What the hell was I thinking?"

"The singing singer sang," Florence corrected, "And I don't know what you were thinking but I wish I'd met you earlier so I could stop you from thinking those thoughts about him,"

Jade chuckled bitterly, "Probably would've saved me a lot of face if we'd met earlier," she grinned.

"Well hey, we were all young and dumb at one point. Difference between you and most other people is your willingness to admit what a bitch you were," Florence smirked.

Jade grimaced, then rolled her eyes, "Thanks, Flo,"

"Hey! I'm kidding!" Florence threw an arm around her shoulders, "I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself, Jade. And now you can have no qualms about obliterating that little turd in your song next week,"

"Oh, thanks for reminding me!" she took another quick sip of her coffee and grabbed her bag off the counter, "I'm gonna' go to soundcheck and you are gonna go back to bed!" and she started for the door.

"Not according to this coffee I won't," Florence shrugged.

"Oh, yeah? What if I told you it's decaf?" Jade asked.

Florence gasped, "You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?" Jade smirked, wrenching the door open, "I'll be home around four, should we cook or order in?"

"Let's play it by ear. Hey, wait a minute! You never told me about your date!" she called after her.

"It wasn't a date!" Jade called back before the door slammed shut.

Florence rolled her eyes, "Sure, Miss Blushy McBlush,"

The weather was a little cooler that morning but still held the essence of summer. Jade had her mask pulled over her face and her earbuds blasting away with Kings of Leon while she waited for her ride. Brixton Academy wasn't too far from where she lived, it was close enough she could practically walk. Though it was at the behest of Cam, her manager, that she be escorted from place to place. Jade glanced up at the skyscraper, already feeling the pull of anguish in her chest at the thought of leaving.

What she and Florence neglected to talk about were the boxes already stacked up in the apartment, still empty yet expected to be shipped out by the end of next week. Jade though had found a home in London, and despite the pandemic a new appreciation for a lifestyle that gave her a freedom from her stresses back in America. If it were up to Florence, Jade knew she'd probably have tied her up and locked her away in a closet just to keep her from leaving. She had told her just as much, and Jade loved her enthusiasm.

The ride to the academy was quiet, albeit pleasant, as Jade spent the ten minute ride just scrolling through her phone. She was one of a majority of people who were addicted to just scrolling through social media, not really amused by much of anything. One post was speculation about the new music Jade had been teasing in her own media, below the comments were freaking out (and also speculating pretty closely) to what would be released. Jade had to smile at the enthusiasm, she truly did have some of the most amazing fans on the plant.

The next post however stopped her cold, and a chill shot down her spine. It was an older Perez Hilton post from 2020, gossiping about the breakdown of Austin's previous relationship. People in the comments were speculating all the same; maybe someone cheated, maybe they grew apart, most of them were baffled at the fact that something so solid could suddenly break apart before their eyes.

Jade couldn't lie, she too was blindsided when she first heard the news. But she also knew better than anybody that pictures could be just a facade for the truth. Hell, her own parent's divorce took her by surprise, and she lived under the same roof as them.

"Truth be told, I fell out of love," it was an occurrence that happened more often than not, a statement so complicated and simple at the same time. It took Jade a long time -- even after she left her ex -- to get to that same point. Being alone and facing responsibility; coming to terms with your own company again -- it was all downright terrifying. But nonetheless she had done it before; ten years ago when she had to put her own feeling for Austin aside.

She knew Florence was only teasing her, but the notion of a date made her chest tighten. She was nowhere near ready to throw herself into a relationship, didn't matter who with. And yet, that little fantasy she had locked away was beginning to tinker -- just lightly tap its way back into existence.

"... eodore?... Miss Theodore?" a gruff, cockney accent took her attention. Jade quickly pulled her earpiece out, finding the driver was staring at her expectantly, "We're here,"

"Right, sorry," Jade blushed furiously beneath her mask, hastily making her exit, "Thank you so much,"

A few days passed, and soon enough Austin found himself putting together some semblance of a normal routine. In the morning he'd get up and go for a run, condition his body back to what it used to be, then he'd try to cook something sustainable. He wasn't the worst cook in the world, but he also wouldn't consider himself a Jamie Oliver type. He had found some new shows to watch, a stack of new books to read, and some new non-Elvis related music to listen to.

Inevitably so, one of Austin's new playlists included more than a few hits from Jade Theodore. Listening to her music for the first time -- and not just in passing at a grocery store -- had been like walking through a portal to another world where the saturation had been turned up and words were either wrapped in daisies or barbed in thorns. He was also surprised to see just how many collaborations she had worked on with other creatives: The Weeknd, Halsey, Doja Cat, the list went on.

His favourite song was from her first album, a song called Roman Holiday that was gritty and colourful, and painted the most spectacular imagery of romantic escapism. However, she also had done a collaboration with The Weeknd on a shorter interlude called Stargirl; infectious, erotic, and dripping in heavy synths and red haze. The FOMO sensation rippled like a spiking chill through Austin as he realized just what he had been missing out on.

He kept in touch with Jade throughout the week, she didn't have a lot of time to meet up again before her show and he respected that. Nevertheless, she made the time to keep up early morning or late night conversations, talking about the books they were reading or debating who made the best milkshakes (they didn't want to five Chick-fil-A the win so they settled for Sonic). Austin would sit on his couch with the TV as background, and Jade would be curled up on her ottoman while Florence was mucking around in the kitchen, and they would just become lost in their own world. It was a new normal that at the same time was so familiar to him. Everything didn't seem so far away when he talked to Jade.

Needless to say, he was grateful to her.

Soon enough Wednesday had hit, and it would be Jade's first live performance in two years. She had spent the last four weeks rehearsing with her band, putting together a set list of classic and underrated hits, and hoping and praying for the success of her new song. The label would be releasing the studio version tonight anyway, so she had to make sure she delivered.

It was four o'clock in the day and already people were lining up outside of the Brixton. The air was buzzing with energy, anticipating, the time couldn't go by fast enough.

The green room was abuzz with stage crews rushing to finish the set, and the make up and hair artists were putting the finishing touches on Jade and her band. It had been so long since crews at the Brixton had put on a full show, Jade could tell as crews yelled back and forth to each other in the halls. She tried to keep her focus on the makeup for the most part, but her heart was fluttering more than a teenager on her first date. She had spent so much time practicing and somehow it still didn't feel like enough.

"Does this look dumb?" she turned to her guitarist, Maria, who was getting fitted into her faux leather pants.

Maria skimmed over the deep black liner and eyeshadow around Jade's eyes, but she shook her head, "No, you look cute,"

"You don't think all the black's too much?" she turned to her reflection.

"Who gives a fuck?" her drummer, Meg, asked. She was getting changed behind a divider, "You'll look metal as hell, babe!"

Samantha, her bassist, put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she did her own makeup, "Sweetheart, you look gorgeous. And you're gonna look hella' powerful with your outfit,"

"Which is extremely metal!" Meg added. She kicked out a sparkly pleather ankle boot before stepping out in her mesh maxi dress with a black bralet and shorts underneath. Her blue and purple galaxy hair feel in long, loose curls around her shoulders.

"Ooh, mama! Looking good, Meg!" Marie awed.

"Yeah?" Meg stuck her butt out, "We don't see no pandemic pounds showing, right? 'Cause I def packed 'em on,"

Jade began to laugh, "Girl, shut up! You're fucking gorgeous!"

"And I think we're all a little pandemic-pound guilty, anyway," Samantha added.

"We can't help it that we eat to make ourselves feel better," Jade shrugged. She finished with her makeup and went to pull her outfit off of the rack. She held the hanger up to her body, twirling back and forth in the mirror.

Maria watched from behind, "You feeling okay, Jade?" she asked.

"I think so," she exhaled slowly, "Kind of feels like the first day of school all over again,"

Samantha scoffed, "Find me a school that lets you wear that, I'm enrolling my daughter,"

"Sam, you don't have a daughter," Meg pointed out.

Samantha rolled her eyes, "When I have a daughter, smarty pants,"

Austin got to the venue about an hour before the show was supposed to start, a little worried to see the line up of people still waiting to get inside the venue. Nevertheless, covid protocols were still pretty tight in London so he could understand, and he fell into the line up with everyone else.

He scrolled through his phone to kill some time, rolling over some new pictures fans had taken with Jade earlier in the day. She kept her mask on when hugging fans, or standing two feet apart with a beaming smile. Her own joy and giddy reverberated through the screen, she was effortlessly beautiful even before getting dolled up, and seeing her look so happy made something flutter in Austin's chest.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt a tap on his shoulder, and Austin turned around, finding a shorter young woman staring up at him. Half her face was concealed by her own mask, her dark auburn hair tied back in a messy bun.

"Oi, are you Austin?" she asked, her Oxford accent coming in thick.

He was taken aback at first, only nodding at first, "Y-uh -- y-yeah,"

"Austin Butler?"

"Yeah,"

"Great, I'm Florence," she nodded in the direction of the theatre, "Come with me,"

Austin's gaze flickered between her and the line up, "Isn't this the line up for show?" he asked.

"Yeah, but close friends go in a different way," she waved him over that time, "C'mon! We're burning daylight,"

Austin was skeptical, Jade never said anything to him about a friend, though he was cautiously optimistic as he followed Florence past the gates and in through the back of the theatre. Sure enough, security let them in without a second glance, and Florence led him up the stairs to mezzanine.

"So, you're the long lost friend Jade's been telling me 'bout?" she asked as they walked.

"I wouldn't say 'long lost' necessarily," Austin answered.

Florence side-eyed him, "You ain't spoken in about ten years?"

"Yeah," he replied sheepishly.

"Sounds pretty long lost to me," she said, "What made you want to get back in touch after so long?"

Austin shrugged, "I don't know, just saw she was in London, figured I'd reach out,"

Florence stared him, he couldn't tell if it was out of curiosity or judgement, "Really?"

"Yeah,"

"Alright," Florence was skeptical. In the back of her mind she figured it couldn't be as simple as 'wanting to reach out because', as nothing in this world was ever as simple as that.

Austin cleared his throat, trying to brush away this awkward scrutiny he felt he was under, "Well, how do you know Jade?" he asked.

"We worked together on a horror film a few years back, been tight ever since," she replied, "When I heard she was coming here I took her in faster than you could blink,"

Austin simpered, "Yeah. She told me about her ex in California. I don't know who's more at fault: him or the mother for telling her,"

Florence shook her head, "Worst part about it is she thinks she deserves it,"

He cocked a brow at that, "Why would she think that?"

Florence nearly tripped over herself as she came to a stop, a blank stare overcoming her face. Her lips formed into an 'O', her green eyes narrowing.

"Ah, she didn't tell you," she surmised.

"Tell me what?" he asked, his curiosity increasing steadily.

"... Never mind," and she walked off again. Austin was quick to follow her.

They found their seats in the mezzanine, overlooking the gloriously lit stage down below. A plain white sheet was drawn over the stage, drawing in the patterns casted by spinning strobe lights. People had flooded into the pit below, crowding in together as though the pandemic had never hit at all.

The air was electric, the chatter of anxious and excited fans echoed through Austin's ears. Something in his brain snapped because for a second, just a minuscule moment, Austin pictured the stage set up for the Russwood Park shoot for Elvis. The dynamic was the same, the nerve wracking anticipation sickeningly familiar. Austin inhaled sharply, running his hands through his hair as he willed himself to get a grip.

Florence turned to him, "You okay?"

"Yep," he replied quickly, "I'm just a little tired,"

"I'll bet," she said, "Jade told me you were filming Elvis over in Australia. That couldn't have been a walk in the park,"

Before Austin could reply, the lights began to dim, and the energy was taken up a notch as the crowd cheered and chanted for the beginning of the show.

Meanwhile, Jade was sequestered off in the wing, watching the beginning set up unfold just as they'd been practicing for weeks. The melodramatic, synthesized organ opened slowly, eerily, a multi-pitched recording of jabbering nonsense from her last album played over the speaker. Jade took the moment to ground herself, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to calm herself. She was dolled up to the nines, her wires were plugged and her mic tuned, and yet she still felt so unprepared. She had sold out Brixton Academy, which meant well over two-thousand people were out there waiting for her; Austin and Florence included.

Florence knew Jade would put on a great show, she had been assuring her all up until this point. But Austin had never seen her perform, not really. He would be close enough, be paying close attention to every move she made and note she sang. Surely, he and the rest of the venue were expecting a banging show and Jade very well couldn't disappoint.

Jade started jumping up and down, shaking out her nerves and hyping herself up. She had been doing this shit for almost ten years, she had it down by now, what was there to be nervous for?

Everything?

The band began to kick into gear, playing the extended intro to one of Jade's bigger hits, 'She Knows It'. Austin had heard it enough times to recognize it; it was one of the handful of songs she had where she mentioned liking girls. The white sheet had been drawn up to reveal the tightly wound four piece band jamming out, behind them another sheet, this time pinned up to look like fine drapery with colourful flowers and lights twinkling in the strobes. It was colourful and simple, but it didn't look cheap, either. And at the last stroke of the drum beat, Jade came bounding out, bouncing along with the catchy beat until her verse started.

From there it seemed as though Jade was a firecracker that had been freshly lit, commanding stage presence and relishing in the echo of her fans singing along with her. Her outfit -- a two-piece leather top and skirt set -- was quintessentially her, just revealing enough, and the crystal crosses sown into the material twinkled against the flashing lights. And her bright green eyes were rimmed in thick, tightly polished black liner. She was sleek, sophisticated, as well as giving a little tease.

Florence was quickly caught up in the hype of the venue, singing along to her heart's content and dancing in place. Truth be told, she sort of forgot Austin was there, all the while he watched Jade, nodding along to the beat, and a smile draw across his lips. It felt like the scene in Ariel when she got her voice back from Ursula, and there was this inane satisfaction in watching this music he'd been listening to come out of her mouth so smoothly. Regardless to say, Austin had become somewhat mesmerized by her performance.

Jade played several more hits, taking a couple breaks to greet everybody and relish in the fact that they could finally enjoy live shows again. When she'd settle in for some slower ballads her eyes scanned through the mezzanine, flickering over every face until she landed on the two most familiar. Florence of course was jamming out, and Austin stood against the railing, his eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment. It was then Jade began to feel her body begin to heat up, likely from the jumping around and the blaring lights. And yet, her eyes kept drawing up towards Austin's again and again between takes. He seemed to be enjoying the show, and that made her happier then she cared to admit.

Jade's show continued to roar on for a good hour and some; the entire gig would've been no more than an hour and half. It was around the hour mark that the set had slowed down again. Jade sipped her water, splashing a little on her face and neck before getting ready to introduce the next song. Her new song.

"How many of you have been in relationships that... let's say, you regret?" she asked. Almost all of the audience gave a resounding 'I'.

Jade simpered, "Wow, I wasn't hoping for that many. Here's another question, how many people here have been cheated on?" and she raised her hand, along with the sea of fans. Jade was tentative as she thought of her next approach.

"Yep. This one's kind of different now: how many people -- if you feel brave enough to admit it -- have been the... home wrecker in a relationship?"

That question threw Austin a little bit, and a smaller faction of fans raised their hands. Jade waited for them to settle before she too raised her hand, much to some audible gasps and protests.

"Yeah," she sighed, "Some of you may hate me for this, but I was also the other woman in a relationship. And it goes without saying, I'm not proud of it,"

Something shifted in Austin, the shock and awe settled but also made way for a resounding sensation of disappointment. Jade was the other woman? This had to be about her last relationship, but how? The girl he knew would never, never in a million years so something so messy and toxic... wouldn't she?

"I was really young at the time when this relationship started. I was twenty-one, and he was eight years older than me. I thought I was special because this person who I trusted and loved very much had left his previous partner for me. What I didn't understand at the time was how manipulated I'd become by this person, and I was so devoted and blinded by what I thought was supposed to be love, I went along with it without question,"

The venue had become quieter now, but the crowd continued to chatter amongst themselves, discussing while all sucked in to Jade's story. Jade took a deep breath, "Now, I'm not trying to deflect blame, and I'm not going to defend myself either because -- to put it blatantly -- I got what I deserved in the end. And after I broke up with this person, I took a lot of time to reflect on what I had done and realized that I had become somebody I never wanted to be. What hurt the most is probably that I burned so many bridges with people who tried to warn me how in over my head I was; but I'm a Taurus, so I'm really stubborn," that elicited some laughter and agreeance from the crowd, much to Jade's relief, "Anyway, I'm trying to get better at talking about it, and thanks to time -- and a lot of therapy -- I came up with this new song..."

With that, the soft twang of an acoustic guitar began to play. The fear was written all over Jade's face while she waited for her cue, keeping her gaze fixed on the pit and only the pit as she slipped the mic into the stand. Florence watched tentatively, her arms folded and her breath hitched in her throat. Austin meanwhile was still trying to wrap his head around what the fuck Jade had just said.

"I am a magnet for broken pieces I am attracted to broken people I pick 'em up and now my fingers are bleeding And it looks like my fault And it looks like I'm caught red-handed"

The energy in the room had gone down, somber more than anything as Jade essentially rambled out a confession of regrets and her hopes to move on with her life. She gripped the pole of the mic stand tightly, her knuckles almost turning white as she sang, sadly, but still so beautifully and on point to call out both herself and her man.

"Hit over the head, epiphany Over my head, repeatedly Thick skull never did nothing for me Same lesson again? Come on, give it to me Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me"

A chilling silence took over the room, cut swiftly by gentle applause and cheers for more. That's when the music started up again, a funkier, droning, melody accompanied by a melancholic electric guitar and heavier drum beats. Jade started swaying gently back and forth, her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip. She met eyes briefly with Maria, who only nodded her on as she played her guitar.

"Only I know where all the bodies are buried Thought by now I'd find 'em just a little less scary Might get easier but you don't get used to it Keep on autopilot, hey, hey What's the body count up to now, captain?"

The song was an overall shift in direction from Jade's more upbeat, pop punk tempo set before. Austin got into it nonetheless, her words resonated with him on a deeper level than he'd expected. Her sadness and regret were profound, the strain in her voice sent goosebumps rippling down his arms. Despite it all, he felt this warmth simmering in his gut, he could liken it to a feeling of comfort. Though that comfort went hand-in-hand with some semblance of guilt:

"I burned so many bridges with people who tried to warn me how in over my head I was"

Austin had to wonder if maybe he'd been there for her, maybe pursued her a little more, then Jade wouldn't have found herself in such a taxing position. He wanted to take her and wrap her up in a hug, to apologize and wanting to promise that she would be okay.

The sea of fans were already on board, cheering for her as Jade finished out her final chorus with a roaring bang.

"Hit over the head, epiphany Over my head, repeatedly Thick skull never did nothing for me Same lesson again? Come on, give it to me

I pick 'em up And now my fingers are bleeding And it looks like I'm caught red-handed"

The music faded into a raucous applause, the guitar settled and Jade felt the mounting pressure in her chest begin to deflate. That was when she had the courage to look up, finding Flo jumping up and down as she cheered her on. And Austin stayed beside her, something fleeting in his gaze though he smiled at her nonetheless, applauding her on.

That was the most reaffirming applause she'd received in a long while.

[becomingbts]

NUMB - 08

Summary: It was hard to live on as if nothing happened. As if she didn’t lose her hands and one of her best friends in that accident. It didn’t help that her hands were everything she had and everything she was. Without them, she wasn’t sure she had any reason to breathe anymore.

Pairing: Y/N (fem) x Yoongi

Genre: Heavy angst and fluff

Warnings: deal with depression, suicidal thoughts, screaming, self-inflicted pain, mention of death.

768 words

Yoongi didn’t know why, but something felt wrong. He had tried speeding up on his way back home as if it would settle that uncomfortable feeling that had been plaguing him ever since he left the convenience store. Yoongi wasn’t often uneasy, but when it happened, his gut feeling rarely betrayed him. Everything had been fine before he left for groceries. Even while he had been paying, his mind had remained serene, only slightly shivering due to the cold temperature. However, once outside, something felt wrong. It was like an itch under his skin telling him to hurry. Hence, remaining prudent, he hurried up, trying to reach home as soon as possible before anything could happen.

Maybe he was unsettled because of (Y/N)’s reaction to their last outings. That must have been it, right? It could be anything, but Yoongi didn’t like the way chills ran down his spine.

Turning the key, Yoongi sighed at the gentle warmth of their apartment.

“(Y/N)? I’m home.” Quickly ridding himself of his coat and shoes, he ventured into the living room to drop the groceries in the kitchen before hurrying to their bedroom. However, he had not expected to see (Y/N) in the kitchen, in front of the stove.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing, you know it’s dan-” Yoongi’s breath hitched before he yelled her name in pure panic. He instantly dropped the bags, dashed into the kitchen, and tore (Y/N)’s burnt hands away from the stove, pulling them into the sink. Panicked, he opened the valve and put both of her hands under the cool water. The sleeves of her sweater were obviously getting wet, yet Yoongi couldn’t care any less. With only a brief glance, it was obvious that her hands were in poor condition. They might need to go to the hospital if his observations were to be confirmed.

“What the fuck were you thinking about? Why did you do that?” Yoongi did catch sight of her tears before he spoke, however, his own anger and panic clouded his mind for a few seconds. He definitely had not sounded nearly as calm as he usually was. (Y/N) did not react to his words, as if in a state of shock—Yoongi wondered if it was because of the pain or because of him.

“Answer me! Do you realize we might need to go to the hospital because of your-”

“I can’t feel anything, Yoongi.” Her voice wavered, barely containing her shock and terror. Yoongi’s eyes widened a bit at her words, “I couldn’t feel anything, it didn’t hurt, it didn’t do anything.” Yoongi swore in his mind. 

It couldn’t get any worse, could it? 

“I tried cold water, warm water, hitting the wall, cutting with the knife,” Yoongi was ready to burst at her words, but she continued as if not sensing his growing anger, “but nothing worked. I couldn’t feel anything, I thought-” she pinched her lips between her teeth, trying to keep herself grounded but it was obvious that (Y/N) was losing this battle against herself, “I thought that if the damage was extreme, maybe I’d feel something, maybe it would wake up the feelings in my hands, but it did nothing!” Her voice had rarely been that loud, except for one of their fights. With trembling hands and irregular breathing, she struggled to keep herself up, her body slowly giving up as the realization hit her. She might never feel her hands again.

She broke.

Yoongi had believed that (Y/N)’s state couldn’t get any worse, that she had already hit rock bottom. He had believed that the very little and slow progress they made together would never shatter, that he’d never let her touch the ground again, and yet here she was.

Breaking in his arms, burnt hands under the sink, while the sound of her tears fractured what was left of both of their hearts. Maybe Yoongi had been too optimistic, too trusting of her never-ending courage. His girlfriend was strong. He knew it. Despite everything that had happened to her, she had never fully resigned herself, never fully given up. That day, however, something that Yoongi couldn’t see but could clearly feel shattered, and once again, the only thing he could do to help was to hold her. It would not stop her tears, it would not prevent (Y/N) from breaking again, but he wouldn’t let her go through this alone. He was there with her, holding her as tightly as he could, and there was nothing else that Yoongi could do.

UPDATED EVERY TUESDAY AND THURSDAY

TAGLIST: @fluffyydumplings, @harmonie-writes, @might-be-a-rat, @wobblewobble822, @cuteipat, @0funsite0, @borahae-reads​, @princxssly82​

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Pet Names Masterlist

AM (ao3) - Migs Michael/Luke E, 10k

Summary: 5 Seconds Of Summer consists of Michael Clifford, Ashton Hemmings and Calum Hood. Luke Hemmings is the youngest Hemmings brother.

Before I Let You Walk, You Gotta Show Me How You Crawl (ao3) - punchinginadream Luke/Ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: Luke is happiest on his knees, when he's got his mouth on Ashton.

dive my face between your thighs (until i cannot feel my lips) (ao3) - ashtonsbabygurl Michael/Calum T, 2k

Summary: Michael and Calum's vacation in Florida has a little more feelings and cum than they expected.

Fine Print - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) Luke/Ashton, past Luke/Calum M, 61k

Summary: If Michael says Ashton Irwin will be a good bodyguard then sure, Luke will put his money on Ashton being a good bodyguard. Besides, all Luke needs is a shadow. So what if he doesn’t like him?

Who ever cared about liking their shadow anyway?

or the one where Luke is a heartbroken solo artist who can't sleep and Ashton is his less-than-enthusiastic bodyguard

Found Out (ao3) - Latefan_5sos1d_wherewasi Luke/Everyone E, 4k

Summary: Luke was very horny but all he had in the hotel was lube while his roommate was with the rest of the band as they ventured in the city. So while Luke wants something other than his fingers up his ass he searches the room and finds something.

A very slutty night in general!

After this night theres definitely going to be a big step up from their current relationship, but it’s not that any of them were going to complain.

Good morning (ao3) - orphan_account Michael/Luke E, 1k

Summary: Michael wakes up from a lovely wet dream his boyfriend next to him.

I Don't Wanna Be a Monster Among Men (I Won't Break Your Heart Again) (ao3) - Anonymous OT4, Michael/Ashton M, 2k

Summary: Ashton’s hand moves to finger Michael’s fringe. “It’s okay, honey,” he interjects, whispering. “If you want, I can listen and not talk. No pressure, though.”

Michael contemplates but nods slowly. He takes another blow of his joint and observes Ashton lighting his own before speaking. “I’ve been doing a lot of research on it lately. I don’t know how to tell people because they,” He pauses to sigh again, “wouldn’t get it.”

(Or where Michael isn't really Michael but struggles with telling his partners.)

i love the way you talk about me (ao3) - orphan_account Calum/Ashton, OT4 N/R, 13k

Summary: “I want you to understand.” Ashton continues. His eyes and voice aren't gentle anymore. “You're here to service me. To service us. You are a fuck toy, and nothing more. You do as I say without complaint or hesitation. You know this, calum, and I expect you to behave. If I ask you to jump…” “I ask you how high.” Calum says. His eyes are cast down, his cheeks filled with color. He’s upset Ash, he doesn’t deserve to look at him. “Good. Finally did something right.” Ashton says.

or the one where Calum is a brat to his boyfriend, who decides that he's going to make Calum sorry via his other two bandmates.

or the one where I hit rock bottom and write Ashton, Michael, and Luke fucking Calum into oblivion.

In the Next Room (ao3) - valiantnerd (arareads) Luke/Ashton E, 28k

Summary: Ashton moves into an apartment with walls made of little more than cardboard and foreign playlists, develops a gigantic crush on Luke, and takes a hot second realizing what's right in front of him.

Knee Socks, Sweaters, & Kitten Boys (ao3) - KiribakuBabe Michael/Luke E, 5k

Summary: In all the whole of four years that Luke and Michael had been married, he'd never once let the other man know about his habit. That habit being that he loved wearing knitted knee socks around the house with nothing else on but Michael's sweater.

That is, until he got caught...

OR

The one where Luke loves wearing stockings whenever Michael isn't home and then he gets caught wearing them..

Luke Hugged Him Back Just As Tightly And Heard Michael Whisper 'Friends'. (ao3) - destiel_lemmings Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton E, 28k

Summary: Luke knew that this was going to be weird. He new roommate/ex-kitten were now even more indulged in Luke's mind. The only problem was that his roommate was not only attractive but he knew Luke like the back of his hand, and Luke had just met the boy.

Or this is a continuation of 'With A Meow And A Belly Rub Luke Knew He Was In Love With The Ball Of Fur.' And Michael knows all of Luke's quirks but Luke is just getting to know the cute boy that was once his kitten. This is the journey through their friendship and maybe even relationship?

Oh You Know That Tonight I’m Fucking You (You’re So Damn Pretty) (ao3) - Migs Luke/Ashton E, 6k

Summary: The one where Luke says “Daddy can you pass the salt?” and Ashton and Luke’s dad both reach for it.

Revisiting the past (ao3) - Latefan_5sos1d_wherewasi Luke/Calum E, 3k

Summary: Calum gets a little frisky after stumbling upon a fan fiction of himself and Luke, his roommate and past lover. When Luke catches his display history is revisited and not regretted

Silent (ao3) - Smol_lou_lou Luke/Ashton E, 2k

Summary: "Baby, you got to be silent." Or where Ashton and Luke fuck in a movie theatre.

spread your wings for me (ao3) - orphan_account Luke/Ashton N/R, 32k

Summary: He likes watching Luke cough on smoke from a joint, or cry when he gets his lip pierced, or whine when he rides Ashton filthily. He likes the bruises he leaves on Luke’s thighs, and he likes that Luke has to wear turtlenecks to hide his hickeys covering his neck.

He likes destroying Luke’s innocence one little piece at a time.

And this is just another piece that he’s taking for himself.

Or the one where Ashton likes to watch Luke pray, and Luke is more than happy to serve the bad boy of the school.

The Bruises On Your Thighs Like My Fingerprints (You're About To Bloom) (ao3) - Migs Luke/Calum E, 5k

Summary: Calum doesn't like it when other people touch his boyfriend's perfect arse. Because what if someone can touch it better than Calum? What if Luke leaves him for some better arse toucher? Calum can't let that happen. He can't let someone take away his future with Luke, their two dogs and a litter of puppies, just because they worshiped that ass better than he did.

OR Calum gets riled up when other people touch Luke's butt so he reminds Luke who can satisfy him best.

the One About the Pride Parade (ao3) - twinkylukey Luke/Ashton N/R, 3k

Summary: basically, ashton and luke meet at pride and fuck.

Touchy - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) OT4 T, 7k

Summary: Ashton has eye surgery and the boys take care of him.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Happy and Hungover

Pairing: Cassie Howard x Reader

Summary: The reader has a bit too much fun at a party the night before. Luckily she has a loving girlfriend to take care of her who can handle her liquor much better.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol.

A/n: Hello all, I'm going to be updating just as much as yesterday but I just wanted you all to know that I love you all and I appreciate you beyond belief. Also I have a really big test tomorrow so if I'm MIA just know that I'm probably studying.

Cassie had a rocky history with liquor.

Her mother and father both drank themselves into stupors without apologies. Then her father left and ventured into heavier stuff while her mother kept up her same old shit. Bottles and bottles of wine to mend her broken heart.

Cassie told me that she first tried alcohol when she was sixteen, not having any interest in it before hand. But there was no way she was that good at holding her liquor if she didn't have lots of experience.

She stopped drinking about a year and a half ago. I was proud of her, but sad that it occurred after she had hit rock bottom. It was after the night in the hot tub during all the Nate and Maddy drama. She was horrified after throwing up in the hot tub, not wanting to put herself in a position to get that messy ever again.

But, when we started dating and she told me she didn't drink, she made it clear that I could still drink if I wanted. That it wouldn't bother her. I didn't drink that often to begin with but when I did, I had a tendency to get a bit too loosey goosey. It was fun for Cassie, though. She would say that I get really lovie and very appreciative when I'm drunk but I can never remember.

One time she compared me to a sheep and described how she had to 'cattle wrangle' me back to the car.

But last night was just one of those nights. I think I blacked out, not remembering anything after my sixth shot. But I felt comfortable knowing that Cassie was there the whole time and would've never allowed me to get into too much trouble.

I think.

Pulling the blankets over my head with a groan, I hear Cassie laugh from the doorway. The room was beyond bright, the evil sunlight peaking through the blinds of my room. I don't remember coming home last night but it was comforting to know that Cassie managed to change me into pajamas before allowing me to pass out.

"You went way too hard last night, huh?" She teases in a quiet voice, approaching my side of the bed. I hear her place down a glass beside me, her small hands pulling the covers back. Her eyes are soft as she looks down at me, my eyes squinting to make her out. My head pounds as the room around me spins, still feeling the effects of the alcohol from the night prior. "Hi pretty." She coos, kneeling down next to the bed as she cups my cheeks. She looks ready for the day, dressed and her face dawned with a light coat of makeup. Even in my agony, I could still appreciate that she was the most beautiful girl I've ever met. Don't tell Maddy. "I brought you Tylenol and some water." She nods her head towards the nightstand, a hum of appreciation leaving my lips as I snuggle further into the bed. "Maybe if you get up and shower, I'll join you." She offers with twinkling eyes, my heartbeat picking up speed in my chest. She giggles at my wide eyes, my head bobbing in a nod.

"Are you trying to tell me politely that I reek?" I ask in a quiet voice, it coming out croaky and strained.

"Yeah, baby, you're quite literally oozing alcohol." She giggles, pulling the blankets completely off of me as I shiver and I watch as she holds her hand out to me. "C'mon." She mutters, nodding towards the bathroom as I comply.

I slide out of bed, quickly downing the medicine beside me with a sigh. The water was much needed, the cool liquid soothing my aching throat. My feet hit the floor as I groan, my head shaking as I avoid the light coming in from the window. Cass just laughs quietly at me, her lips pressing against my forehead with a sigh.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

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

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[whosjunglejim4322]

Warnings: SMUT, husbandau!, aged up Johnny (by a little, he's around 32), sex without a condom, he fucks you back to sleep

You're usually not one to wake so easily. Well, truthfully, it's just your willpower in allowing yourself to be released from the peace of slumber that's weak. However, your body seems to know exactly what it wants before your mind does.

You're a little vexed to be pulled from your dream by the throbbing between your legs, the content in said dream being the cause for it. You can feel the slight slickness of arousal as you rub your thighs together underneath the comforter.

Instinctually, you reach over your husbands side, only to find an empty space where he'd usually be lying. Mouth agape, hair a messy halo around his peaceful, enchanting face, and all yours to rub up against and hopefully rouse.

You're a little upset, admittedly. Not at him, it's quite the normal occurrence for him to get up in the middle of the night to do some reading when he can't sleep; you just wish that you weren't so needy and desperate to feel the warmth of his palms against your skin. You wish your dream would have let him continue touching you, if waking up to his absence was the ladder.

Even so, not even your dreams can do him justice.

You begrudgingly pull yourself from the warmth of the bed, the floor cold against your bare feet as you walk to the door, and out the room. It's not hard to scout him from the top of the staircase, sat in his usual spot on the far right corner of the couch, a book perched between his long fingers.

He doesn't notice you at first as you descend towards him, too engrossed in his novel, black rimmed glasses perched on the elegant bridge of his nose. 

You really are sort of sad for the people who might not ever get to see him like this, bare faced and still heartwrenchingy beautiful in a loose tee shirt and sweats fit for bed. He makes your chest unbearably warm.

"I'm coming to sit on your lap." Your voice is quiet enough to not startle him completely, being any louder would be unnecessary anyways since it's just the two of you.

A warm smile tugs at the corner of his heart shaped lips, his adoring eyes finding yours in the dim light of the livingroom. He corners his page and leans over to place it on the coffee table, before opening his wide arms in a welcoming manner.

"What woke you, sweetheart?" He presses a kiss to the crown of your head as you settle against his sturdy frame, knees locked on either side of his hips, hands warm between the broad plane of his back and the cushions that he's reclined against.

"Mm, a dream." He feels you smile against his neck, and suddenly realizes exactly what type of dream it was, as your lips place a deliberate kiss to the soft skin just under his ear. He'd be able to guess your advances under any circumstances.

Still, he decides to feign obliviousness, the timbre of his voice sending vibrations through your chest as he speaks.

"Oh really? What kind of dream was it," His hands, wide and fever inducing, rub your back, up and down. "was it a nightmare?"

You shake your head, the tip of your nose gliding against the sharp edge of his jaw, absentmindedly admiring his familiar, redolent scent.

"It was a good dream, too good." His resolve to be teasingly indifferent begins to crumble when you wiggle your hips against his crotch like that, your underwear leaving such a thin layer between your pussy, and his dick that sits freely underneath his pajama bottoms; half hard and twitching.

His hands venture lower so he can cup the softness of your bum, a shiver of excitement slithering up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck. Your body and senses alike will never not respond to him.

"Well, tell me what happened baby," You let out a gasp against his throat as he guides your hips to rut against him, spurring you on with a voice that is almost akin to a purr. "I bet it had something to do with us, hmm?"

All you can do is hum, too easily enthralled by the feel of his length and the friction the cloth covering it provides for your clit. It's still an overwhelming thing, knowing he's yours, completely. It's been two years since getting married, and you're almost positive it'll always be this all consuming.

He knows you so well too, content with taking influence over the situation. After all, it's one of his favorite things; to have you in such an intimate way, to love you in all the ways he knows will have you putty in his hands.

"Let's see..." He begins, pushing his hips up against you in a manner that is too slow, and too light for your liking. "did I have my mouth on you? Was I making you feel good with my tongue?"

Heat fills your belly, thighs trembling slightly. Your soft whimper is melodic in his ear, your face nuzzled against his neck. He shivers.

"Or maybe, hmm...maybe I was fucking you," He doesn't give you time to asnwer his questions nor does he speak as if he is demanding one. He's taking his time, working you up.

"I'll bet I was holding you just like this, huh baby? Bet I was making you cry over my cock."

Your body lurches from the surge of arousal that shoots through you like a lighting bolt, piercing all other senses and forcing you to whine out into the quiet room. The rise and fall of his chest accelerates.

"Please, will you fuck me?" Your fingers are grasping the front of his shirt, head moving from the juncture of his neck to his face, the puffs of air from his plush mouth, warm against your lips.

He cups your face, not needing to strain his eyes in the dark room to already know your eyes are pleading. He feels it in the way you quiver against him, too.

"Of course, whatever you want." He smiles into the kiss, expecting it, awaiting it eagerly.

Your arms settle around his neck, fingers carding through the soft hairs at his nape that are a little bit longer than usual since he hasn't been able to get a haircut. You say it makes him look pretty, so he's okay with it.

He senses your urgency when your tongue slips into his mouth. He responds quickly by skimming past it with his own, skillful fingers moving between your bodies to pull his length from his sweats.

He's properly hard now, twitching. It's no surprise, he's always been weak for you. Too weak, he finds it embarrassing, but he wouldn't change a thing. There's no one he'd rather be a fool for.

You suck in a breath when you feel him pulling your panties to the side, your mouths parting for just a moment as your foreheads rest against eachother. He feels your jaw go a little slack in the way it always does when he first slides it in, and he bites down on his lip.

When you sink all the way down, backs of your thighs pressed to the top of his, he lets out a satisfied sigh, clinging onto you tighter with arms that encapsulate you like a boa.

You're thankful he takes care of you, his long legs give him leverage and allowing him to thrust into you from the bottom as you grind down onto him with a shared rythym. Your soft whines in his ear have him groaning.

"O-oh John." Your cheek rests against his shoulder, hands slipping underneath his shirt and settling on his trim waist. His skin is so warm underneath your fingers, muscles bulging from underneath the smooth surface as he works.

"Feels good baby?" His voice falters just for a second, your use of his formal name still sending throbs of warmth through his veins even after several years. Such a simple notion, so powerful when it's passing your lips.

And of course you've taken note of this, expecting the sudden and momentary fervour of his hips as they buck up into you, jolting you both as you cling to him.

You cry out, practically buried in his chest. You can smell the soap from his earlier shower clinging to his skin, the scent of the dryer sheets you used in the laundry on his soft tee shirt. Little things.

"Feels s-so good, your dick is so good." You might be slightly incoherent to anyone else, voice hiccupy through his thrusts as he hits such a sweet spot inside of you, you squeeze around him.

"I know sweetheart, you take it so well, so so well," his tone is a bit rougher now, you can tell by the sloppiness of his thrusts that he's close. But he'd never allow himself to finish first when he knows you need him so badly, woke up just to come find him.

"My sweet sweet girl, want you to cum all over me." He can feel you flutter around him, the sound of your wetness leaving an ache in his belly.

You kiss him, hard, and for a moment all you know is him. The slip of his tongue in your mouth, his nose pressed against yours, eyelashes tickling your cheek. For a moment it is as if your body never got used to being in the arms of someone so incredible.

You rock your hips against him, suckling his kiss bitten bottom lip as his cock throbs inside of you. At this point you'd never be able to wear a condom with him unless absolutely necessary, too used the feeling every vein and ridge of his thick length, the way it pulses when you say his name.

He's perfect for you, hits every spot like he's got you mapped out. His hands, big and warm come to grip your hips to help you fuck him, feeling your fatigue from the pleasure and lack of sleep alike.

"Cum for me baby, come on." He coos, kissing your neck so sweetly, in a way that makes your belly swarm with butterflies. Your clit rubbing against the area just below his navel as you grind on him combined with the warm plushness of his lips against your throat, has you meeting your end.

He holds you tightly, tighter than he has the whole night as you writhe in his inescapable arms, gasping out whines against the crook of his shoulder as you leak onto his cock. He feels the stickiness smeared on his thighs, and knows it's only gonna get messier.

He doesn't mind, not one bit, not when he can picture your expression so vividly in his head; eyebrows pulled together, eyes glossy and lips swollen. You're so beautiful, too beautiful, too overwhelming.

"O-Oh baby, you're so fucking-fuck, I'm close I'm so close." He's lost now, lost in the bliss just like you are. He's pumping into your sopping entrance, the glide effortless with the abundance of your release.

"M'gonna- oh shit I'm cumming I'm cumming."

His voice is cut off by a sound so sweet you feel your lower belly swirling with a fresh wave of arousal despite your fucked out state, panting against him while he throws his head back and groans your name.

You pepper kisses along his smooth skin as he twitches, the base of his throat, over his adams apple and just under his chin. He jerks lightly as he stills inside of you, cum surely to be coating his entire length by the time he pulls out.

You're spent, still you search for his lips, missing and accidentally kissing his soft cheek before he turns his head to meet you halfway.

Your heart soars in your chest, he smiles against you and rubs your thighs soothingly, as you find your rightful place under his chin and tucked against him, your safe place.

He smiles to himself, stroking your skin.

"I love you." He states is earnestly, steadily despite his heart beat that still thunders. You're vaguely aware of the rumble in his chest as he speaks, but you're not sure if you're dreaming or not.

He looks down, and you're already asleep.

"Alright, let's get you to bed."

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 01

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: violence, dark themes, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

SUMMARY: she was at the wrong place at the wrong time and a misunderstanding dooms her to a life as an ascendance card under the watch of the executer.

A/N: i’m so excited to go back to my mob writing roots with this one. there’s a bit of a few twists and changes to the traditional mob writing i’ve done before and i am really excited to be sharing chapter one with you. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER 

The ambience was dark, badly lit by the yellow flickering lights in the halls with echoes of the buzzing of the hot old light bulbs. There was no sound but that buzz and the heavy sound of his boots hitting the rotting wood floor boards. The scent in the air was putrid, a mix of what seemed like life meeting its end stage, cheap cider and weed. It was definitely different and he didn’t trust it. 

At the end of the corridor there it was. 107. The 107th flat in purgatory with the door slightly opened. He pushed the door open, the smell getting more intense and his boots sticky with the liquor spilled on the floor. 

     - What did you do? - each word was punctuated with intense disbelief, as if this was all a nightmare. 

     - Bucky, help me!

PRESENT

The wind brushed and pulled her hair into different directions as she stepped off the train’s step. She rushed through the streets of New York, hair pin stuck in the middle of her teeth as she fought the winds to try and set her hair into an appropriate hair do while running down the street at the same time. The chattering people and the sun peaking through the clouds was hopeful as she grabbed her coffee from the same vendor off the side street as her eyes gazed upon the Metropolitan Opera House which had been gracing the New York landscape for longer than she had been on this earth and now she was part of it, she was a small speck in an almost 60 year long history. 

Her smiled widened as her sneakers hit the pavement, eyes gazing over the fountain and the flags of the production coming down from the opera house’s arches. The same production she was part off. Sure, she was a chorus girl but the mere thought of singing on that stage, of watching that public in those red velvet seats under the chandelier just made it all more exciting. She walked inside the theatre through the stage door, meeting the manager at the door. 

     - Hi. - she leaned her hands against the desk where the manager was surrounded by attendance and cast sheets as well as a big laptop shining a blue light onto her face. The woman didn’t even look up, instead putting up a board with the names of all people in the production in front of her. - Do you need to see my ID? 

     - Just sign in front of your name. 

Y/N giddily looked at the list of names, hers closer to the bottom but there, written in bold Arial font. She signed her name in front of her printed one with the barely working pen, before pinning it over the board and handing it over to the manager who pointed inside the opera theatre. She held onto her gym bag harshly, padding the sublime floors and looking around with such wonder one would believe she’d never been here. She’d been here before, she was here every month to watch a performance but now she was not guest, she was not just another person walking in with a ticket, she was part of it, she was part of the show. After years of doing community plays, workshops and failed auditions, she had gotten here and suddenly all those days spent in bed feeling miserable in bed after getting rejected yet again didn’t matter anymore she was here.

Her eyes glanced at every tiny little ornament in the opera house until she entered the theatre room. Her heart filled with joy and happy nostalgia as the red and golden tones of the room involved her. There wasn’t anyone in the theatre yet except for a few musicians from the instrumental pit and some cleaners so she was free to roam around. Her fingers traced the suede velvet of the red seats, finding a few missing binoculars on the grounds but not really caring. 

     - You! - she whipped her head towards the voice which came from a woman, probably in her mid 40s all dressed in black with a gold name tag slightly above her left breast. 

     - Hi. - Y/N smiled, extending her hand towards the woman. - I’m Y/N, I’m the new ...

    - I don’t care, we need silk ribbons, now. 

    - Oh, I ... I’m new, I don’t know where I’d get silk ribbons, m’am.

    - The costume room? Go, stop looking at me as if you were Bambi and go.

    - Oh, okay. 

She made her way hastily out of the theatre room wondering how she was going to find silk ribbons, where she was going to find them and why she had to find them. Maybe it was a hazing ritual for new people, after all, she had been into various hazings during her career, including downing a whole bottle of honey which she couldn’t even finish, only eating one fourth of it before becoming nauseous. 

She stopped in the middle of the hall, wondering where the costume room could be. It couldn’t be on the top floor, that was usually where the bars and common rooms were so if the building followed regular construction protocols for opera houses, it was probably on the underground section of the house where the dressing rooms used to be. Y/N ventured into the lift, pressing the lowest number on the number chart of the panel until she reached the underground floor. Y/N looked around, people running in and out yet no one stopped whenever she tried to question where the costume room was. She had managed to find the costume shop but no luck finding the costume room until she was pretty much pressed against a dark door with those exact words by the passing crowd. 

She twisted the knob of the costume room door, tumbling onto the dark room as a result. The room was filled to the brim with costumes on each side of the room, a plexiglass divider between the two sides which stopped every meter or so and also appeared to be divided onto female and male costumes with the ensemble costumes at the back. She padded across the concrete floors, looking through dresses and accessories for ribbons but no successful attempt. The ruffling from the other side of the room had her turning around, forehead furrowed as she walked towards the plexiglass divider. 

     - Hello? - she questioned, wondering if there was someone in this room who could help her find silk ribbons. Great, she had barely joined the company and was already screwing up. Great, Y/N. Way to go, Y/N. 

She saw someone all dressed in black just like the women before, yet there seemed to be something which didn’t match up; black jeans, black shirt and black leathe jacket as well as a pair of also black boots, scruffed and probably entirely too old to still be holding up together. Her eyes caught his which despite the low almost non existent light of the costume room, were light, a sort of greyish blue like the calm sea before of storm. His gaze pulled hers in, like gravity and she couldn’t help but clutch the jacket next to her as a bad feeling along with something she’d never felt before settled in her stomach. 

His hair was mostly pushed back yet the ones which framed his face fell like dominos. She moved along the side where she was to one of the plexiglass gaps and he did the same still maintaining eye contact with her, until the two reached the gap. She didn’t notice she was holding her breathe in until she breathed out.

    - Hi. - her own hand gripped her wrist, shoe grinding against the floors. - Uhm, I’m new here and this lady sent me down to find some silk ribbons but I can’t find any. Do you ...

    - I... uh ... I don’t know where they are. - he faltered for a few seconds before regaining his posture.

    - Oh, I thought since you were here, you might be one of the stage managers. 

    - I’m not. - his tone was monotonous, almost as if he had the answer to her question before she even made it. 

    - Oh ... - she rubbed her neck. - Are you also looking for silk ribbons?

    - I’m looking for the dressing rooms, actually.

    - They’re down the hall. -  she pointed at the door as if it was the “down the hall”. - Hum ... Are you new here too?

    - Yeah. Thanks. - he walked towards the door, opening it and stepping out before catching her gaze once again. 

Y/N remained in the middle of the room as if she were in a transe and maybe she was. It felt like she was falling yet she was firm on her feet and she did not like that feeling. She did not like that feeling of falling, it wasn’t feeling, it was hopeless falling and she wondered why looking at a man who looked like an 80′s glam rock reject made her feel like that, so lost. Maybe it was the respect he appeared to command by merely looking at her or maybe it was the nerves about being new and not being able to find some goddamn silk ribbons. Damn it. 

    - Call for 30 minutes before dress rehearsal. - the voice came from the intercom and immediately her mind dropped the idea of finding silk ribbons and moved to finding the ensemble dressing room and get dressed and ready. Damn it, this was going well. 

She rushed down the hall, bag almost slipping off her shoulder until she saw the door with the ensemble plaque on it. The young woman peaked inside the room where pretty much everyone with a role on the ensemble were already sat down. She shyly walked in the middle row until she found her own little corner, her name written on a sticker on the mirror along with photos of how the makeup should be done as well as how to get the costume in correctly. The same goofy smile returned as she sat down and saw her name above her. It was fine, she was here, she was part of a company.

    - Hey you’re new. - the girl next to her twirled her chair to face her. She already had her makeup on and hair pinned curled up and ready to put a wig cap on. - I’m Elliot but people call me Elle.

    - Y/N, I’m the new chorus girl. First day. 

    - Aw, welcome. - she had a bright smile, inviting and almost as exciting as the whole experience of being there. - Do you want help pincurling your hair? I can get it done while you do your makeup. 

    - Yes, please. - she pulled out a big box from her bag which had all her makeup and pins. 

Elle started pin curling her hair up while she put an inappropriate amount of blush on which was just appropriate to get on stage under the bright yellow lights. Turns out half the practice for opera is learning to do your makeup under bright yellow lights and then learning to sing. 10 minutes to rehearsal start, she was along with Elle going down and up to the main stage where most dancers were warming up. Elle left her to do so, leaving Y/N once again to just stand there, looking around like a little sheep in the middle of wolves. 

    - I’ve never seen you around. - her shoulders almost went up as he turned to see one of the principal sopranos, if not the principal soprano. She had seen all of her shows ever since she was a teenager and she had even wrote an essay for university on her for a module. Catherine Vargas, the best New York could offer, if not the best the world could offer. - I didn’t know they were still casting dancers.

    - Oh, I’m a chorus girl, Mrs Vargas. 

    - A chorus girl? - she furrowed her brows at her, looking her up and down. - What type?

    - The type who ... is in the back with the ensemble. - her voice lowered at least a few volumes down, back curved as if she were bowing. 

    - I know what chorus girls do. I asked what vocal type. 

    - Lyric soprano, m’am.

    - A lyric soprano in the chorus. Interesting. Where did you train?

    - Julliard, m’am.

    - Julliard? - she looked her up and down again. - That is a great school. What is a Julliard graduate doing in the chorus line?

    - Everyone starts somewhere. - she laughed nervously, scratching her arm as she did so.

    - Not a lyric soprano from Julliard. Composers sure do love an ingenue, don’t they? Don’t worry, a few months with me and you’ll be supporting. 

    - That’s ... that’s really kind, Mrs. Vargas. Thank you.

    - Don’t thank me. Could you get me some honey from my dressing room? I’m feeling a bit strained. 

    - It’s 5 minutes until rehearsal starts.

    - It’s okay, chorus normally doesn’t do much during rehearsal. Can you get it?

    - Yeah, I think so.

She straightened her crinkled skirt, looking behind her back before going down the stairs which led down to the dressing rooms. This was good, right? Getting into one of the main star’s good graces besides she was right, the chorus didn’t really get much attention during rehearsals, at least not as much as the main characters. It’s easier to get away with screwing up in the back than in the front, her teacher would tell her which would always earn a few laughs from her colleagues. Yet, Y/N hated to make any mistakes. She would stay up all night in front of a cheap piano she had bought from a charity shop, playing and singing the same 5 note progression until her flatmate yelled at her to shut up. For her, if it wasn’t perfect and if she didn’t get any criticism while performing it, she hadn’t done it right. It didn’t matter at the end of the day but what did matter was to climb up the ladder. She didn’t want to be a star, all she wanted was to be able to be on that stage forever with the spotlight shining on her and she knew there was only one way to climb up. Actually there were two, extreme luck and connections. Now, she didn’t have the best of luck so her major choice was to make connections and reach that status. 

She made her way into the principal dressing room. It was probably one of the biggest she had ever seen, with expensive decor and various flowers covering it. She wondered how many flowers she received on opening nights if that was the number she had on regular days. Y/N made her way to the desk, opening drawers and more drawers to find honey until she found it on the lowest drawn. She went down on her knees to grab it, mindless and careless to everything that was happening until she felt a sharp pain on the side of her her.

Then everything went dark. 

TAGLIST: @lookiamtrying @buckyswillows @blossomslibrary @juliesland @iloveshawnieboi @unmagically​ 

[mxvladdy]

Oof, my little heart couldn't hold all of the feels you elicited with "Worth", so good. You were very thorough

Can I request a NSFW continuation later that afternoon?

Maybe a bit of praise kink since his little Giglio needs reassurance? (Also, 👀 demon daddy dick in a tiny human can't be easy)

A/N: *ears perk up* How did you know all of my weaknesses?

Pairing: Diavolo x GN! Reader

Warnings: Little bit of size kink, little bit of daddy kink, smut (18+)

Word Count: 4.6k (there is a lot leading up to it lol)

You decide to take the rest of your meal to Diavolo’s private solarium. While his inner chambers were comfortable enough. If you were going to take the day to yourselves you didn’t want to spend all of it in the bedroom. No matter how tempting the idea was. Dia takes you through the maze of corridors and hidden doors, both of you still in your night things, unkempt but happy to be so. Normally Diavolo wouldn’t be caught dead outside of a pressed suit or his uniform, but this was a treat for both of you after all. So now he strolled through his kingdom in nothing but a pair of sleep pants and sleepers, you nestled comfortably in his arms grasping a basket of leftover food and drink tucked in your lap. No stuffy clothes today or polite word play, just layed back pleasures.

Artificial sunlight greets you as he pushes the large glass door open to his garden with his shoulder. The warmth of it cuts through the thin fabric of your sleepwear, chasing away the last vestiges of drowsiness that clung to you. You unfurl in his arms, stretching out like the plants around you. Smiling up into the sun you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The breeze circling around you was sweet with the smell of blooming spring flowers and crisp creek water.

The first time Diavolo invited you into his secret garden you were in awe. He boasted proudly to you that he had designed it and planted the gardens himself back in his younger years before his duties took up almost all his time. It was a wild place. The plants growing free and unmolested by controlling hands or others' judgment of what beauty was. It reflected the unique characteristics of the Prince beautifully. To be given access to this place was an honor. Not even the brothers knew of this area. His personal beach was a place he didn’t mind sharing with his closest companions, but the gardens? The gardens were just his. Only he and Barbatos knew of it. Until you came along.

“Where shall we sit mio giglio?” His gold eyes sweep his grounds before looking down at you with a tender smile. “By the willows? They are in bloom, or perhaps the lake.” He nods his chin to the south following a clean well maintained brick path. Both of these places were your favorite places to relax after school.

You look down at the basket in your lap in thought. “No. How about the veranda by the hedge garden?” That was his favorite place to lounge.

He hums in delight, agreeing readily. “Wonderful! The cosmos should be in bloom by now.” He turns to the north traipsing through soft overgrown grass and sprouts of spongy moss. He didn’t have a path for this area.

“You can just make them bloom whenever, right?” You ask.

“And where would be the fun in that?” He shoots you a wink. “Magic doesn’t need to be used for everything you know.”

You huff. “Says the guy that can do magic.” He laughs but doesn’t disagree. The sound of a babbling brook grows louder and louder as you both venture further into the heart of his garden. The trees and bushes tickle your body as he walks through the grove of overgrown branches and vines to the most secluded part. Breaching one more dense shrubbery you arrive. He lets you down with a tender kiss before going about collecting the discarded floor cushions and blankets scattered about the patio. He works in silence creating a semi-circle of puff by the edge of the deck. You let him work placing the basket by the little nest forming and go to lean over the low railing separating you from a short drop down to the flowing waters traveling underneath you. The air was cooler here from the freshwater. It gives you goosebumps up your bare legs. “Careful,” Dia calls to you, looking up from his work. “The wood is slick there.”

You nod showing him that both of your hands were on the railing as you venture over to the bright blue and yellow flowers pushing their way through the gaps in the wood. They sway innocently up at you. Their petals are soft and forgiving under the pads of your fingers. They looked like human plants, but you were certain. “Everything here is safe for you to explore.”

Turning to your prince you laugh. His large body now splayed out over the nest he had just finished. His body faces away from you towards the unlit fire pit. He looks at you upside down, his head draping over a large bolster pillow. “Oh? Does that include you?” You match his teasing smile stopping inches away from his outstretched hands. He scoffs in frustration, making grabby hands at your thighs to make you join him.

“Of course tesoro. This day is for us… for you. If you so desire.” His voice is calm and light but his eyes are predatory.

“I do like that idea.” You inch closer bending down to trace a finger over his bare chest. You follow the swirling marks of his heritage up his chest and arms to his parted lips. “I do have some ideas…” You trail off feeling claw-tipped fingers circling your calves and travel up to your inner thighs. The tips of which brush dangerously close to the edges of your underwear.

Diavolo beams. “Dia!” You yelp in shock as he takes your knees out from under you. You tumble forward into his warm body and pillows. His laugh is jovial and bright, way too pleased with his little stunt. Straightening yourself out on his chest you match his gentle rolling laugh with your own breathless one.

“Mio Giglio.” He comes up to kiss the laugh lines curling around your lips. “Cosa c’é che non va?” He hugs you closer. You laugh accepting his affections. “Such a beauty.” He marvels. “Even with the dried drool.” He swipes at the corner of your mouth before you could protest.

“Hey!” You wiggle in his embrace elbowing his stomach in jest. “I do not!” You rub your warming face just to make sure. “Though, you would too if you slept like the dead. Mister toss and turn all night.” Dia chortles.

“I do not know that colloquialism.” He raises a red brow. You can see the excitement lighting up in his eyes at the thought of learning something new, something entirely human. “You do not reek of death.” He sniffles obnoxiously for comedic effect. “You smell alive and wholly mine. Though the latter is fading.” He nips your shoulder. “Has it been that long since we have lain together?” Your silence as you thought was enough of an answer for him.

“Apologies-” He growls. “I have neglected you more than I thought. Shall we rectify that?” Two warm hands grasp your bottom grinding you down slowly on the growing hardness between his legs. You groan letting him set a slow leisurely grind to your hips. You rock for a while capturing his lips with yours. His kisses leave you breathless. “May I?” You don’t know what he was asking for but whatever it was you knew it was going to be good.

With your eager nod of encouragement, Dia flops back down onto his back and holds you firm to his chest. With his eyes on yours, he slides forward till his shaggy head disappears underneath the hem of your sleepshirt. His hot breath dampens the skin of your inner thigh. You squirm feeling a definitely inhuman tongue trailing up to your center, tasting the salt forming there. Relax my flower, let me in. His voice echoes deep within your head. Its low thrumming helps your body relax under his skilled mouth and hands. Your eyes close, more than ready for Diavolo to consume you in the best possible way. His purr trails up your spine while his face nuzzles deeper into the fabric of your damp underwear.

Then your stomach rumbles-loudly.

“Ha!Ha!” In a flash, Diavolo pops out from beneath your legs. His fangs glistening while he laughs. “My darling, have I now neglected one of your base needs?”

“You’re neglecting me now~” You try to grab his shoulders to continue, fighting like mad not to glow even hotter with embarrassment as your stomach roars again. He laughs louder. It booms out ricocheting off the wooden floor.

“Come now. I will claim you soon enough beloved. First, let us sate your other hunger.” Righting your clothes he nestles you in beside him reaching over for the basket. He chuckles, not letting your pouting get to him. He swats your ass teasingly making you squeak. “Coffee or tea?” He rubs the spot he just hit and pulls out two large insulated carafes.”

You eye him. “When did you plan this?” He smiles, serving you up a plate of goodies and a cup of coffee.

“This morning when Barbatos came to rouse me for my morning meetings.” He pops a piece of smoked meat in his mouth and looks out into the sunlit garden. “I suggested instead of getting my uniform ready, perhaps he would kindly bring some warm drinks and extra pillows to the solarium before leaving us to our own devices.” He leans back into the tufted blankets and pillows. “I thought some “air” would be good for-err...me. To clear my head a little before- you know.” His cheeks pinken.

“You’re hungover.” You snort into your toast. It wasn’t a question and he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he goes to pour himself a large cup of black coffee.

“I thought by the time you woke up it would pass.” He shrugs. “But I believe the fresh air and sun wouldn’t hurt either,” Diavolo pauses in thought before continuing. “Plus, I always wanted to fuck you out here.”

You choke. “You could have just said so.” You poke his leg.

“And ruin the surprise?” He pokes you back.

You eat your fill of the basket, topping each piece of the crusty pieces of bread you pull out with soft cheeses and savory prosciutto, sprinkling the tops of each with pine nuts and a drizzle of honey. All the while Diavolo sips at his coffee deep in thought. You catch his eyes several times while you eat, his eyes following the trail of your tongue as you try in vain to clean the sticky residue left from the sweet syrup on your fingers. The last time you catch him you offer him a tacky finger, getting dangerously close to his stubbly cheek. “Want some?”

The prince chuckles, tilting his head away. He grabs your wrist gently. “What a mess, my little human.” He licks one of your fingers, sucking the tip for a moment before releasing you. You pull your hand back, scrunching your nose up in distaste.

“I didn’t expect you to actually lick them!” He laughs, pulling a napkin out for you. You take it and wipe your hands.

“Please, you act like I haven’t tasted all of you before.” His playful gaze flashes hungrily over you for a moment. He takes your empty plates from you and places them to the side. “Come here piccolo giglio I believe we had some unfinished business, no?” You clamber up his lap spreading your legs wide to straddle him. Diavolo chuffs, the sound rattling your chest. “Shall I start where I left off?” He rucks your shirt up higher revealing inch after inch of soft skin till it bundles one your waist. His callous fingers skirt over your underwear to tug at the waistband.

Dia pulls you in for a searing kiss, teeth grazing over your lips and tongue. You follow his pace, his kisses languid. Before long he begins to lead your hips in a slow grind over his covered dick. His hands rolling your hips in time with his kisses. The slow tempo doesn’t last long. While he may have the patience of the saints you most certainly didn’t.

He grins into your kiss when he feels you huff in annoyance. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks in warning. “Stop teasing me.” You separate from him with a whimper. He grins taking a thick finger to the seam of your underwear.

“Is it not the devil’s job to tempt?” His gold eyes flash in warning before the world turns upside down. You land on your back, the cushions catching your tumble. Your shout of surprise turns into a high pitch whine of pleasure as Dia’s head buries itself between your splayed legs. His tongue follows the line his finger had just traced earlier. “Getting to indulge my sweetheart in a paradise like this? I am upset that I had not thought of this sooner.” He whispers to himself. He pauses, pushing away to look at you. The air around him grows thick. “Tell Daddy what you need.” You shiver, breath catching at the sharp drop in his tone. His jovial teasing was gone, replaced with a tone of authority that makes your toes curl. His hot whisper caresses your ear and your mind goes blank.

What did you want? What did you want first? You wanted his fingers stroking you to completion, his lips kissing every cry that spilled from your lips. You wanted his solid body covering yours rocking deep inside of you. You wanted him to erase every fear and anxiety that the court had instilled in you. “You.” It was all you could manage to say, but it was enough for him. Pushing you onto your back he grabs your hips and pulls them into the air, throwing your legs around his broad shoulders. You wiggle your shoulders deeper into the pillows grinning up at Diavolo as you squeeze your thighs around his ears. Groaning in satisfaction, he leans forward. Your underwear doesn’t last long now that he has you where he wants you. The soft fabric tearing in his haste to remove them, the tattered remains of the cotton thrown off into the bushes to be forgotten. There is no preamble anymore. His tongue laps broad patterns across your entrance.

“D…” You arch your back upwards, grinding yourself onto his face. “Dia.” Diavolo rumbles back, squeezing your quacking thighs to comfort you. He pulls you closer still, eyes locking with yours to watch your reaction as he circles your hole. He waits there playing with you until he sees something he liked in your expression. When he sees whatever it was that he was looking for he strikes, sinking his tongue deep, groaning with you at the feel of tight muscles relaxing around his intrusion. You cover your mouth trying hard to muffle your sounds in the silent garden around you. Even if you were alone, just the thought that you could be overheard sent a shudder through you. You could hear your heart hammering in your ears as the demon slowly worked you open. You wail, forgetting your previous attempts to be silent when you felt a large finger join his tongue.

He rubs against you slowly twisting and pulling his finger and tongue in mind numbing patterns to bump along your sides till you choke. He hums sucking noisily in triumph. Bringing his hands up, he spread your cheeks further apart burying deeper. “Dia-please.” You pull at his hair unsure if you were asking for more or less. You could feel a fire starting in your toes, static clouding your mind.

He pulls off, lips glistening with slick. “Say it properly.” He nips your leg in warning. You bite your bottom lip, worrying it between your blunt teeth. Your eyes blur with tears of frustration. You were so close… a finger toys with you pressing in on the edges of your entrance waiting.

“Daddy-please.” Your reward was instantaneous, his fingers thrust in, curling up to mimic the motions his tongue had done just before. He curls over the top of you covering you with his warm body. His lips brush against your temple and mouth to distract you from another finger slipping in alongside his forefinger.

“So good for me, so good, my little human.” Diavolo moans against your mouth before his tongue pushes past your lips once more. You tremble in the cage of his arms, soft mews falling from your open lips while he stretches you. It hurts, just a little sting, but it reminds you just how distant you two have been of late. Gripping onto his arms you struggle to take him. Even with your prince doing his best to distract you from the discomfort you feel it was a lot. He whispers praises into your sweaty skin while he peppers your shoulder with kisses. “Easy love, think you can handle one more.” Gods you were already overwhelmed, but still so greedy for more. You knew what to come would be even more. You nod. Anything to hurry him up.

He rewards you with a hard kiss before slipping in a third finger, his thumb coming up to rub soothing circles into your skin. You cry out in a daze. The rough pads of his fingers catch on your walls pulling strained notes from you with each stroke. He pumps in slow sporadic patterns just skirting over the areas that drive you crazy. He coos to you, singing your praises while his eyes linger on how your body clings to him each time he tries to pull out. But soon the burn disappears altogether and is replaced by the nagging pressure on your shoulders. The position leaning up against his kneeling form begins to agitate your neck and back.

Squirming in his attentive hold you tap his bicep in rapid succession. He stops immediately feeling your sign and pulls away. “Speak to me.” He looks you over. His tone turns soft once more, his domineering demeanor vanishes quickly. “Is this too much?”

Shaking your head you plant the balls of your feet into his shoulders and push him away. He moves away so you lay sprawling out in the cushions. Your body thanks you, popping and groaning as you stretch out. “No, no it’s perfect. I just need to change positions. I’m not as big and strong as you.” You wink. He chuckles sitting back onto your haunches to give you a moment to center yourself. He can only keep his hands to himself for a moment before they are on you again. He rubs up your ankles and knees, messaging any tense muscles he feels until you are melting, your body warming up again to the idea of him on you. “There,” You sigh popping your neck. “Now, where were we, Daddy.” You wrap your legs around his strong waist coming up to your elbows to tug at the waistband of his pants.

Hand around his thick cock you stroke up toying your thumb over his head. Diavolo grunts going rigid at the feel of your wondering fingers. Harsh words in his native tongue fall from his lips. He covers your slowly moving hand with his own to guide you just how he likes. “Gods, I miss this. How long has it been since the last time we have had time to indulge like this?” He watches your hand through half-lidded eyes, the gold of his irises molten.

“Too long.” You agree. You lean back and close your eyes enjoying the feel of him in your hand. “Did you?”

“Basket, left hand side.” He nods at the discarded wicker basket.

You give him an appreciative squeeze and lean over to rummage through the forgotten food. “Thought of everything, huh?”

“I promised to be attentive today, did I not? I always want to treat my little human right.” He twists his hand over yours upping the tempo of your strokes till he is hissing around gritted fangs. “I-was hoping at least.” He breaks his gaze from your joined hands. His cheeks tint pink beneath his dark skin.

You crane your neck up to kiss the strained expression from his face. You feel him vibrating beneath your touch, ready to spring. “Let me prep you?” You ask while reaching for the bottle you placed between your thighs to warm it.

“I don’t need much.” He admits moving away. “You drive me crazy.” He groans hearing you pop the cap and feel the slightly warm drizzle down his cock. Your hand returns with a smoother glide, faster this time. Your other traveling down to squeeze his balls. He gasps, losing control of his steel restraint for a moment to grab your shoulders. He arches into your ministrations groaning in great detail just what he was going to do to you into the cool air of the back garden. His blood is boiling in his veins when he finally pushes your hands away to lay you down.

“How do you want me?” You finally strip your sleep shirt away excitedly.

“Just like this for now.” He growls lifting your leg up and back over his shoulder while he wraps the other around his hip locking it down in his strong grip. “I need to see you.” He squeezes your hip lovingly. “Lay back.” You drop baring yourself fully for his perusal. Your arms spread up and over your head to wrap themselves in the rumpled blankets.

He thanks you with a light kiss to your ankle before lining himself up with your entrance. His breathing grows heavy, deep chuffs emerging again in his excitement. He can taste your eagerness mixing with his in the air. He teases you, playing his head against you, pushing in only enough to breach you before pulling out again. He plays with you like this till your mewling, your blunt little nails leaving tiny crescent shaped indentations in the tawny skin of his arms. The sharp little sting of your nails trying to break through his thick skin along with the feel of your body clenching around him in a futile effort to suck him in is finally enough for him. Setting his hips thrusts forward.

He steals the cry escaping from your mouth with a kiss. The smooth feel of his tongue and teeth pull your senses in twain scrambling your brain as he stretches you open more than his fingers ever could. You should remember the feel of him. After all the times you two have spent together he still takes your breath away.

The stretch was immense as always, your legs shaking in his hold despite your best effort to stay still. Another inch slips in and you yelp. Your hands fly up instinctively out and press against his tense abdomen to halt him. “I-a moment.” You are both shaking for different reasons while you will your body to relax, your muscles squeezing him to the point of discomfort. He waits halfway in and breathes deeply through his nose. Diavolo hunches over you, careful not to jostle you. Resting his head on your shoulder he whispers words of praise to you in languages lost since lost to mortal ears. His lips trace nonsensical patterns into your shoulder and chest. You melt bit by bit into his words and skillful caresses till you are relaxed and pliant.

You nod when ready, your body screaming for a release. His reaction is instantaneous, hips curling to push in with vigor. By the time his hips are flush with yours, you are on the verge again. “Dia, God-” Your words were cut off after a hard thrust from him.

He laughs breathlessly into your shoulder. “God? In my gardens? Such blasphemy…” His claws emerge, the black and gold tips rip into the cushions around you. “You would call for another in my presence? Must I remind you who warms your bed?” You bob your head eagerly, your heart leaping into your throat at the look he gives you.

He starts up again, his rhythm steady and solid, much like the man himself. The sound of skin slapping skin slowly begins filling the space between you. Diavolo is silent as he moves against you, his hands unable to find a permanent place to land. They roam your body, squeezing your hips and ass before traveling up to your pert nipples. His mouth follows his hands licking the valley between your pectorals and lavishing your neck with fresh blemishes the colors of the flowers around you. You love the solid weight on him pinning you to his front, but the tempo was too soft for his words.

“Thought you were going to leave your mark on me? Make sure I never utter another being's name from my lips again.” You pant tugging at his hair sharply pulling a deep grunt from him. “Make me yours Dia- you promised.” Your words did the trick. He grabs your hips once more, nearly folding you in half to sink deeper inside. You howl, the stretch of him pushing your borders brings you closer and closer to that sweet precipice. The devil bearing down on you was just what you needed.

The heat of him on top of you is dizzying, making your headlight and fuzzy. You can feel the small compacted muscles of his abdomen and stomach stretch and twitch with each smooth thrust of his hips into yours. Too soon for his liking, the fire building in his gut began to unravel. “Ah-mia dolcezza. Somo vicino.” The prince grounds out into your heaving chest. While you didn’t understand the words, the raw desperation in them sends a carnal shiver down your spine. You begin to beg, voice high and breathless as his thrusts quicken.

You lock your free leg around his waist while your hands drift down to touch yourself. He slaps your hand away only to replace them with his own strong fingers. His fingers sever the thin tether keeping you from coming and you tip. Dia’s own roar of completion was all but muted white noise in your ear. You gasp looking up blindly through a sweaty curtain of red hair as Dia twitches and spills deep within you. He falls atop of you crushing you into him, but you couldn’t give less of a damn. He was a safe space in this realm. He was your safe space. His purs melting on top of you as you massage his scalp comfortingly. The two of you bask in silence for the moment. “I can’t feel my legs.” You admit finally feeling a tingle starting in your toes and calves.

“In a good way?” His voice is muffled by the pillows by your head. You hum.

“Very- and you?” He chuffs, raising onto shaking arms, and slips out of you. He watches his seed trickle out lazily. He rumbles in pride as your body tries to keep it all inside. Already the smell of his claim was covering your natural clean scent.

“At ease and wonderful.” He flops to his side scooping you up to cradle you against his chest. His arm comes around your middle while his chin rests on the top of your head. Exhausted, you relax in his arms, eyes already too heavy to stay open. Soon he hears your breathing even out becoming deep and steady in your slumber. Diavolo smiles to himself looking out to the creek. He’ll let you rest, for now, already he could feel himself stirring once more his instincts to coat you in his scent pushing him into overdrive. He was far from sated. Hopefully, you felt the same.

[captainsimagines]

traitor

Summary: It was only one night, no strings attached, just two friends working through their grief together. Steve went to live his life with Peggy and within two weeks of returning, he peacefully passed. Unimaginable things happen everyday, jokes have negative consequences, and protection doesn’t always protect from the possibility… the possibility of carrying a child. He would have stayed if he knew, everyone agrees with this, so why is the world calling Steve Rogers a traitor?

One-Shot (with a happy ending)

Pairing(s): Avengers x Fem Reader; brief Steve Rogers x Fem Reader

Warnings: Unexpected pregnancy; serious talks about abortion; brief mention of suicide (if you squint); mentions of Endgame deaths; strong language; minor descriptions of actual birth; ANGST but with a happy ending! This is purely fanfiction. 

Word Count: 6,600+

A/N: So, Olivia Rodrigo’s album just came out and dude, jfc every song is magical. like... wtf. This is essentially a ‘song fanfic’, but ehhhh not quite. The lyrics don’t match the fanfic lmao but the melody does??? idk this is a shit ton of angst, be warned. It was from a request I got a while back, so this is kind of a request fanfic. 

~

Up until the moment Steve pressed his soft lips to yours, you were certain you had never experienced such a wonderful sensation of magic. You had been witness to actual magic, to beings from other worlds, and yet Steve’s gentle touch was enough to erase any other image, to completely overpower your senses, a kind of magic that dug deep into the trenches of your heart and settled in its new home. 

No, you and Steve were not a couple. There were some flirty remarks over the years, some fantasies that lay dormant, but there was never the craving to actually act upon them. But when half the world disappeared and the remaining Avengers came up with a plan five years later, the loss of a teammate prompted the sudden push of two touch-starved individuals. The rest of the team had gone to sulk in their own corners of the compound, some hard at work at constructing the final piece to the puzzle, and you and Steve ventured off to the kitchen. Two cups of tea each, silent but heavy tears mixing in with the sugar and milk. 

You were the first to break, shoulders crumbling and knees rocking under your weight. You fell to the floor, sobs and hiccups forming into a full-blown attack, your hands scratching at your neck. Steve fell beside you, pulling you into his chest and rocking you back and forth. He cried too, the final words of his best friend ringing in his ears like a dreaded song on repeat. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. 

Time was irrelevant, you had enough of counting time, estimating it, time-traveling through it. If you could sit there all night, all week, another five years huddled close to Steve Rogers, then so be it. 

‘I can’t believe she’s gone,’ you had sobbed. 

‘I can’t believe it either. I can’t,’ he had cried back. 

You had simply lifted your head and turned his face toward yours, searching his eyes for any hesitation before you had leaned in first. He had returned the intimate gesture almost immediately, gripping you tightly. Tears dripped in between your moving lips, sobs caught inside breathy moans, grips becoming tighter and tighter as each of you shared your first time together. No other partner up until that point had ever pulled such a pained but grateful cry from your throat, no other human being had ever made you feel so safe and peaceful. 

The final battle was over, you had lost yet another teammate, but the world had a chance to start over. And Steve had pulled you aside a few days before he returned the stones, letting you know that he wasn’t coming back the same man. He had been so scared of telling you, of possibly betraying you, but when your palms cupped his cheeks and you gave him a kiss on the lips with a soft whisper of ‘Be with her. Cherish her. Be happy. We’ll meet again’, his worries instantly shattered. He could only rapidly nod his head, grabbing your hands that were soaked in his tears, and kissing them until he said his final goodbyes. 

And he returned such a different man, but with a smile you had never quite seen before. Yes, he was older and you only had a few seconds to actually process that, but he was happy. He had been happy. He finally lived the life he deserved. 

Sitting in that pew two weeks later, both sad and happy tears streaming down your face, you felt at peace for the first time in a long time. You simply gripped Wanda’s hand as they carried the casket down the aisle, a sad melody drowning the church. 

`

The first round of sickness hit you the day of the funeral, but you obviously didn’t think much of it. It was the fits of sadness and grief, the hot coil in the middle of your stomach, you thought. It had to be. It wasn’t until your breakfast was regurgitated into your toilet only a few minutes after enjoying it that you were suddenly worried. 

You sneaked to some liquor store a subway ride away, careful of not leaving a trail. This was embarrassing, it was insane, it couldn’t possibly be real. You gave the cashier your money and ran to the stall provided, peeing on the stick the best you could before placing it on the dirty sink in the corner. You patted your hands on your thighs repeatedly, careful to not touch any other thing in a goddamn liquor store bathroom. 

‘Friday?’ your voice was so defeated, tears already stinging your eyes.

Your little bluetooth sprang to life, ‘Yes, Y/N?’

Your bottom lip was trembling wildly, hands now shaking. ‘Can you stay active with me while I read the results? I can’t… I can’t be alone right now.’

‘Yes, Y/N. Anything you need, I’m here.’ You sobbed openly, thanking her under your breath. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to contact anybody else?’

‘I can’t face them. I can’t face them if it’s positive, Friday.’

‘Okay, it’s alright,’ her voice was so delicate, so quiet and reassuring. ‘Just keep talking to me, Y/N. I think the results should be ready now.’

You inched closer to the test. ‘I’m scared, Friday.’

‘I know,’ Friday sighed, ‘But you will get through this. No matter the result.’

Grabbing the small device from the sink, you swallowed so much saliva that it actually hurt. The plus sign was so clear, so evident in its visibility, and your ears only registered the loud cries escaping your painful lungs because Friday was practically yelling in your ear. 

‘Please, calm down Y/N! Your heart rate is too fast-” she was stuttering, an AI was stuttering. ‘I’m calling for help. You need someone to be here with you. I’m sorry.’

It took ten minutes. Ten minutes of banging outside the bathroom door from the cashier, ten minutes of blurry vision and a strep throat. Sam broke through the door as quickly as he could, eyes flying around the small bathroom until he saw you huddled in the corner, a pregnancy test clutched in your small hand. He crouched down beside you, hands extended but not exactly touching you, and eyes trying to lock with yours. 

‘Y/N, Y/N?’

Just the sound of his voice, the voice of someone who didn’t need this added pain in their lives, it was just too much. Another weight added to your shoulders. 

‘I don’t know why,’ you choked out, ‘I’m so sorry.’

Sam’s face contorted into a pained expression, eyes brimmed with salty tears. ‘What are you talking about? No one is blaming you for anything. You’re safe, I’m here.’

You shook your head violently, ‘I didn’t mean to.’

But as quickly as those words left your mouth, the pounding in your head had become too unbearable. You collapsed into Sam’s arms. 

`

You woke to a single doctor who was monitoring your vitals. She was just sitting beside your bed, clicking random buttons on the screen in front of her. You whimpered slightly, the bright lights temporarily blinding you. The doctor quickly stopped what she was doing and removed the tube from your nose, allowing you to breathe on your own. You ignored the weird scratch that caused, and asked her the question you needed to have answered by a true medical professional - not a liquor store device. 

She confirmed what you already knew. There were no ‘congratulations’ or even ‘I’m sorry’s’, just the fact that you were pregnant and it was very early on. There were still options for you, it was healthy so far, you were healthy so far- 

Wait, options? 

The team were all huddled outside, nerves all over the place. They didn’t know what was going on. Sam knew but it wasn’t his information to pass on. It wasn’t until Bucky’s angry demeanor actually turned violent, a hole forming through the hospital wall. You were all on a private floor, completely displaced from the reality down on other levels, so any freak-outs were only slightly justified. Slightly. 

‘Sam, you gotta tell us. I made a promise to Steve, Sam! I promised to take care of her!’

Bucky’s words gripped Sam’s heart in a metaphorical vice. ‘She’s gotta tell you guys, man. It’s not my place.’

You had curled in on yourself, the doctor’s words echoing louder and louder. 

‘Abortion is an option. At this rate, it would be quick and safe. I can promise you that. It’s your choice.’

You wanted to die. You wanted the world to swallow you up and bury you alive. You wanted to disappear. If you had died in the snap, this wouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have happened. 

The ride back to the compound was a quiet one, with Sam driving you and the radio on low volume. 

‘Are you going to tell them?’

You bit your lip, ‘The doctor said I had options.’

Sam’s breath hitched and he tried to mask it, but you had heard it. You felt guilty, disgusting, like you betrayed Steve and the rest of the team. They had just lost him, you had just lost him, and you were carrying his child. And if Steve would have known, he would have wanted it. He would have encouraged you to have it, he would have been so happy, he would have been such a great fa-

‘The choice is yours, Y/N.’ He glanced over at you, ‘Can you at least tell me who the father is?’

The wrecked sobs were like second nature now, choking you with their strength. ‘I’m so sorry!’

Sam pulled to the side of the road and quickly took off his seatbelt, sliding over in the connected front seats to pull you into his chest. ‘Shh, hey. We are not going to be mad at you. Everything’s going to be okay. It may not seem like it now but-’

‘Sam!’ you cried, clutching his shirt in a tight fist. ‘I swear it was an accident! Steve didn’t know! He didn’t know, I swear he didn’t know!’

Sam’s mouth dropped open, an almost embarrassing noise of surprise sounding from the depths of his soul. He ran his hands through your hair, eyes rapidly searching for a single viewpoint. But he couldn’t focus on any one thing, not when you were shuddering against him and apologizing nonstop. 

Steve didn’t know. 

`

The team had reacted in a similar manner. They so desperately wanted to wish you a congratulations, it was the norm for this kind of thing. Especially with such a rough few years - bringing life into this world could be considered an ultimate blessing. But this was Steve’s child, his baby, his only baby in this timeline. It was a part of him, something he had unknowingly left behind. 

The team took a few days. The pain of losing Natasha, of losing Steve, of losing Tony. The gift of life. It was just too much. 

And you found yourself in front of Wanda’s bedroom door, hands clutching your night robe closed and knees wobbly. She brought you tea, she laid underneath the covers with you, she spooned you until you stopped crying. 

‘We weren’t together.’

‘You weren’t?’

You sat up, muscles straining due to your thousandth crying session that week. ‘No, it was one time. It was a mutual thing. We just… felt safe. And we made love.’

Wanda shut her eyes briefly, only to open them for two parallel tears to slip. ‘That sounds beautiful.’

‘We used protection. It really was an accident.’

Wanda interrupted, ‘No, don’t try and justify yourself. It happened. It’s done.’

You whimpered, reaching out to grab her hands. ‘I feel so guilty for even talking to you. I don’t know how you did it. I’m so selfish to be pouring all this on you-’

‘Hey, hey,’ she whispered, ‘But I am the only one who can truly understand. I have lost more in my lifetime than anybody ever should. But I am going to help you get through this, Y/N.’

You pulled her into a hug, ‘I missed you so much. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.’

Wanda slowly pulled away, eyes cloudy and touch of red twinge flying in her irises. ‘Alright. I won’t leave your side. No matter what you decide.’

` 

The chair was cold, the room was cold, no matter how inviting the hospital tried to make this room. It was decorated in the most neutral colors, so delicate in its designs, pamphlets and books scattered on every available surface. It was made to make the pregnant person feel secure, to feel comfortable in the hands of their doctor, but it just made you sick. 

And when the doctor asked if you would like an ultrasound first, that it wasn’t actually necessary for you to view it, you found yourself saying yes. You were at six weeks, it would be there. Wanda clenched her eyes shut, because even if you were strong enough to do that, she wasn’t. But she was here to hold your hand. She would hold your hand no matter what. 

It was the size of a grain of rice. That fuzzy, white figure off a little to the right of your uterus was the size of a grain. A literal grain of rice. The monitor shifted and the doctor cleared their throat, the slimy device absentmindedly being circled around your lower abdomen. 

‘Oh my god,’ you whispered, eyes locked on the place the doctor had their finger. Wanda brought her hand up to her mouth and looked away. 

That’s when you heard it. 

The steady rhythm of a strong heartbeat. 

Your chest started heaving, tears staining your cheeks as you listened to the beautiful sound. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ the doctor mumbled, ready to pull the monitor’s plug to end the live video but you gripped their arm before they could. 

‘No, no!’ you yelped, the heartbeat still sounding, so early in its actual life that this was for sure Steve’s child. 

You turned to Wanda, face contorting into one of agonizing regret. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Steve.’

Wanda gulped and took in a ragged breath, ‘Y/N, Steve’s not here.’

‘No,’ you whined, head turning back to look at the monitor. The monitor with yours and Steve’s child on it. ‘This is the only real part of him we have left, right?’

Wanda opened her mouth but shut it again, unable to formulate a proper response. 

‘This is Steve’s child,’ you stated, sucking in a breath through your sobs. ‘This is my child.’

` 

The team was alerted of your decision the minute you walked into the common room. They had known what you left for, dread itching in their souls and morals twisting greedily, but they hadn’t stopped you. They couldn’t do that to you. 

‘Hi,’ you mumbled, placing your things on the counter. Everyone kept their heads down, lumps growing in their throats as each second passed. ‘I’m okay.’

Clint was the first one to speak. ‘Did everything go well? Did they hurt you?’

You smiled with your teeth for the first time in weeks, ‘No, they didn’t hurt me. They didn’t even touch me.’

For a few seconds, no one caught on to your words. But Bucky was the first to register them, to etch them deeply into his brain, to stand from his seat and walk to you cautiously. ‘You decided-?’

You smiled wide now, happy tears falling over your strained cheeks. ‘I’m having a baby.’

The team erupted, cries and cheers deafening you. Bucky stumbled over and hugged you close, arms wrapped over your shoulders and face buried in your neck. He had to bend his knees to keep that position. He weeped into your shoulder and thanked you repeatedly, his own body rumbling with broken sobs. You held him close, fingers digging into his shirt and the skin of his back. 

‘We promise, Y/N,’ Sam said off to the side, waiting for his turn to hug you. ‘We promise to take care of you and this baby.’

A few more long-awaited congratulations were shared. ‘Guess I’m on desk duty for the next nine months, huh?’

Bucky held you tighter. 

`

The first four months were certainly eventful. Wanda insisted on taking pictures of you every few weeks. She had you model with a nice tight shirt to show off your growing stomach, different props in your arms as the weeks passed on.  Flowers, sporting equipment, random Avengers inventions, signs that read the number of weeks you were at. You even did couple shoots, with your teammates posing behind you with their hands on your stomach and an equally bright smile.

She had them printed out and framed, the compound common rooms now littered with random photos of you and your growing child. It was like a timeline, a museum considering you would catch someone inspecting the photographs. This time it was Scott, casually eating his cereal and balancing it in his hand as he walked the hallway. He had this silly smile on his face the whole time, milk dripping from his bottom lip. In his photo, he was posed behind you with a giant smile, back arched and head thrown back while you were trying your best to arch your back as well. And then he saw you watching him, eyes falling from your face to your stomach, and that silly smile growing wider. 

Happy insisted on doing yoga with you every other morning, his chosen playlists actually Tony’s. Half expecting the songs to only emit the essence of rock and roll, you were surprised when the playlist only contained acoustics. Happy winked at you, ‘He was a man of taste, Y/N. He, too, had those sad driving songs.’

Peter was hesitant to visit at first. He was still mourning Tony, as you all were, and seeing everyone again was certainly a hard thing to do. But he managed, and the moment he saw you there, trying to balance a plastic bottle on your tiny stomach, he burst into a fit of giggles. 

‘Oh, oh! I almost got it!’ you encouraged yourself, stomach not yet protruded enough to quite get it. 

Peter rushed over and caught the bottle as it slipped, ‘You’ll get there. How do you feel?’

You grinned at the kid, ‘Like I’m pregnant.’

Peter chuckled, ‘I wouldn’t know, so.’

‘It’s weird,’ you admitted, turning back to your abandoned bowl of fruit. You popped a piece of pineapple in your mouth, ‘But I just remind myself that they’re gonna be an angel when they come out.’

‘All slimy and angelic.’

You swatted at Peter, ‘They’re healthy. That’s all that matters.’

Peter placed his hand on your stomach, half-expecting something to happen. ‘I can’t believe you’re having his baby.’

You bit your lip, willing yourself not to cry. Steve should be here experiencing this. ‘Me neither.’

`

The next month had come so quickly. Your friends - your family - made sure to keep you occupied. Whether it was to shop, to nap together, to eat together, to exercise together, anything, they were by your side. It was so overwhelming at times, but not wanting to scare anyone, you took time for yourself whenever you could. You’d settle in your room, in a nearby cafe, in Natasha’s room, and just sit and breathe. With one hand on your stomach, you couldn’t possibly fathom the luck on your side. It always tore your heart in two when you realized Steve would never meet his child, absolutely mutilated it. But the realization that this child was going to have such a massive family, your family, uncles and aunts who would die for the kid - that realization was sometimes too much. 

The thunder from outside startled everyone. The quiet night everyone was having was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a certain god, hair now cut and beard trimmed, running into the common area. He was practically hyperventilating, his quick pace halting as he scanned the room. ‘Is it true?’

‘You got my message?’ Wanda asked, shutting off the water from the sink. 

‘I’m sorry, I was away. I just got the message and-’

Thor lay his eyes on you, your obvious stomach, and he started crying softly. ‘It’s true?’

You smiled at him, opening your arms for an embrace. But Thor fell to his knees in front of you, forehead resting on your stomach. ‘This is a miracle.’

‘It really is,’ you laughed, wiping away a few stray tears. ‘The condom broke.’

Laughter sounded almost instantly. 

Thor looked up at you, eyes red and eyebrows furrowed. ‘He didn’t know?’

You shook your head, ‘No, Steve didn’t know. I promise.’

Thor nodded, believing you. He stood slowly, encasing you in a tight squeeze. He hadn’t changed much since you last saw him, but he did seem to be drinking less. ‘After so much loss, the Heaven’s send us a gift from a beloved friend.’

`

Bucky seemed to be the happiest. Although he shared your beliefs that Steve should be here to experience this, to cherish this, to be the father he had deserved to be, Bucky couldn’t help but feel grateful that you decided to keep the baby. He knew he needed to stop relying on Steve to fix his mind, this he had to do on his own, but the bundle of joy inside of you just added to his undying love for his best friend. This was a piece of him, a true half of Steve’s heart that would soon be breathing air and opening its eyes. 

He was currently laying beside you, just woken up from a nap and lazily drawing circles over your clothed tummy. You were still asleep, deep breaths a little ragged since you were twisted slightly to your side. You had given up trying to sleep on your back nowadays. 

‘Hey there,’ Bucky whispered, a funny smile forming on his face because he can’t believe he’s talking to your literal stomach. ‘You know you’re a miracle, right?’

There was no response, obviously. But Bucky just positioned himself to lean on his elbow, temple resting in the palm of his hand. ‘We’re going to love you so much. Steve would have loved you so much.’

He placed his metal hand on your stomach, careful not to apply so much pressure. He was hesitant though, the metal hand now from Wakanda but still something he didn’t entirely trust. Still, he rubbed smooth circles on your side. ‘I already love you so much.’

Kick.

Bucky widened his eyes, a hitch in his breath. Was that real?

‘Did you just respond to me?’ Bucky asked, a little laugh escaping his lips. ‘Should I say it again?’

Nothing happened for a long while. He switched hands, rubbing a little deeper now. It was a free massage for you, anyway. 

Bucky bit his lip and looked up at your face, still peacefully dreaming. He leaned closer to your stomach and repeated his earlier confession. ‘I love you.’

Kick. 

Bucky shot up from his spot on the bed and covered his mouth, a loud laugh accidentally escaping and startling you awake. 

‘W-What?’

‘They kicked! They kicked!’

‘Seriously?’

Bucky was shooting through the stars, because even though it was a long shot, he felt like somehow Steve was telling him he loved him back. 

`

Sam’s leg bounced madly as he watched the doctor slick up the generator. You repeatedly tried to calm him, tell him that it would be quick and simple, and there was nothing to be worried about. 

You were six months now. Belly now protruding to the point where you could only see the tips of your toes when you glanced downward, and the baby was positioned farther into your back. If anything, you were having a giant freaking baby. He was a product of a super soldier. 

You remembered having that scary conversation with the doctors, your whole family beside you as they heard and relayed the information. 

‘Your baby is perfectly healthy. The serum isn’t affecting it. His lungs are forming less quickly than the other organs but there’s no serious worry.’

Bucky had literally cackled at that, confusing everyone in the room. ‘Steve and his shit lungs.’

But now you were finding out the sex. Only one person was allowed in the room this time, and Sam had literally begged you with his eyes to choose him. 

‘Are you two ready?’

You each nodded at the doctor, waiting for the monitor to spring to life. After a few seconds, the heartbeat was detected. You gripped Sam’s hand in yours, a quiet ‘thank god’ passing through his lips. 

Then the giant image of a literal baby appeared on the screen. It was so surreal. It resembled a quick sketch, like one Steve would have casually drew, and you couldn’t help but imagine him drawing that very image from memory. 

‘Y/N, I-’ Sam cleared his throat, smiling at you. 

‘Would you like to know the sex of the baby?’

‘Yes, please,’ you answered, gripping Sam’s hand harder. 

The doctor moved the generator a few times more, hitting the spacebar on the computer to capture the image. ‘Congratulations, you’re having a boy.’

You shuttered a tiny laugh as Sam flew out of his seat, arms extended upward for a moment before he brought his hands down to kiss them over and over. 

‘I’ll print this out for you,’ the doctor smiled, leaving you and Sam to celebrate. 

`

Everyone had gathered later that night to find out the news. You had printed enough copies for everyone who wanted one. Bets were placed, a multitude of gifts already mounted in online shopping carts. 

‘Don’t keep us waiting!’ Rhodey shouted, champagne bottle at the ready and propped up on his thigh for when you made your announcement. 

Sam was standing beside you, a massive grin plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes at him and urged him on, telling him that you were fine with him saying it. Sam didn’t need to be told twice. 

‘It’s a boy!’

Pop! Drinks were poured and hugs were shared, with even Friday coming over the monitor to congratulate you. 

Even in the midst of all the excitement, you felt a little empty. But you enjoyed your pre-baby shower, happy that everything was so unbelievably working out. 

It was midnight when you alerted Friday to call Happy to your room. You needed a ride. 

Happy was slightly irritated at being woken up, but once you told him where you were heading, he obliged. The ride was silent, comfortable, with Happy glancing at you once in a while to make sure you were okay. 

You walked across the grass slowly, hands resting on your stomach and just a little waddle in your walk. You flashed your phone light over the headstones even though the headstone you were looking for was in a secluded area. Happy trailed you, keeping a respectable distance. 

You stopped in front of the small building, the fence somewhat blocking your path. But there was no security around, and even if you were caught on camera, your face let everyone know who you were and your connection to Steve. You had no worries. 

You broke the lock easily and opened the door. It was almost entirely marble, a good deal of Steve’s actual aesthetic. So simple, not overly patriotic, and secluded. He had refused to be buried in Arlington. 

You sat on the bench provided, the three names in front of you standing out like they were begging to be read out loud. So you complied. 

‘Sarah,’ you muttered, smiling as the name rolled off your tongue. ‘Thank you for sending everyone a literal angel.’

You muttered his father’s name as well, but felt no personal connection to it. You spent at least ten minutes building up the courage to utter his name, to say his name in front of him again. He was buried right underneath your feet, his name the only thing for you to see. 

‘Steve,’ you sighed and rubbed your stomach. ‘Steve.’

You sobbed silently and watched as the tears fell on top of your resting hands. ‘I don’t regret it.’

You were met with silence. ‘I don’t regret any of it. God knows why he did this. But you lived your life, and I just can’t believe I have to bring life into this world without you here.’

‘It’s a boy, Steve. A lovely little boy.’

You brought your hand up to your mouth to bite the side of it, throat clenching. ‘Everyone is so happy. I am, too. I promise you.’

You lowered your hand back to your stomach. ‘I just wish that you could feel that happiness.’

The moonlight moved slightly, shining on his name brighter now. ‘He’ll know about you, don’t worry about that.’ You laughed. 

You didn’t want to keep Happy waiting. You stood from the bench slowly, feet sore. You walked closer to him, wishing you could easily bend down and give him a kiss. But you physically couldn’t right now, so you blew him one instead. ‘Thank you.’

`

Somehow the rumor got out that an Avenger was pregnant. And when Wanda was seen outside without a large stomach, all fingers were pointed at you. 

The news went ballistic, most positive and raving, while others pondered just who had gotten you pregnant. You had been seen with everyone in paparazzi photos, so no actual conclusion had been made. 

Until a picture of you at Steve’s gravesite was leaked. 

It was constant bombardment, timelines were stitched together, magazines and their headlines were having a field day. Rhodey had tried to cancel these news stories, to threaten lawsuits, but to no avail. The world was now cursing Steve’s name - ‘how dare he leave her while pregnant?’, ‘how could he leave her pregnant and for another woman?’, ‘did he even know?’

The team had done everything in their power to try and clear yours and Steve’s name, but no one was having it. Steve’s love story was now tarnished, with many calling him a traitor and a deadbeat. It was no use. 

You struggled to climb the stairs, inwardly cursing the staff for not installing a ramp instead. The flashes were blinding, the lights were hot, and the various microphones placed on the stand were comical. 

Everyone hushed, looks of sympathy and pity slapping you in the face. 

‘I know what you’re all thinking and what you’ve all been saying,’ you started, eyes wandering to the far corner of the room where your team were huddled. ‘But I need to clear a few things up.’

‘Steve didn’t know.’

The crowd erupted, questions flying at you like fast bullets. They were silenced after a few moments. ‘We shared a moment with each other before we brought everyone back. I didn’t know I was pregnant until after his funeral.’

The crowd murmured amongst each other. ‘He told me he was planning to stay in another timeline. To live his life. I encouraged him. He did not leave me alone and pregnant. He truly didn’t know.’

You finished, they didn’t deserve a deeper explanation. You ignored their calls for questions, some even trying to crowd you at the doors. But you pushed through them, cradling your stomach with a newfound sense of pride. 

`

It was time. 

You sat up in your bed and quickly wiped away the hard crusts from the corners of your eyes. You sat there for a few seconds before you felt another harsh twinge. ‘A-ah!’

You didn’t know why you paused, legs now thrown over the side of the bed. They felt like menstrual cramps, it could be false labor. You let out a heavy breath and pushed yourself up, legs wobbly. But the moment you did, it was like something snapped. Your legs were wet and a tiny puddle had started forming on the floor. 

‘Friday!’

The lights in your room turned on immediately, ‘Y/N, is it time?’

You moaned at the uncomfortable cramping, ‘Yeah, I think it is.’

‘I’m waking and alerting the team right now, Y/N. Sit back down, please.’

You listened to Friday, sitting at the edge of your bed for a few moments before you realized you had to pack a bag. You shuffled across your room and grabbed the duffel bag Scott had left for you a few days ago. You packed a pair of socks, sweats, underwear, vaseline and your toothbrush, hairbrush, and phone. You zipped your bag just in time for both Bucky and Sam to throw open your door, Sam struggling to put his shoes on and Bucky slipping on a jacket inside-out. 

‘Y/N, is it really time? Are you ready? Are you okay?’

You ignored the cramping in your back and laughed at them, ‘Yes! My water broke, I’m in pain, it’s time.’

With both Sam and Bucky at your sides, they held onto you as you all stumbled down the hallway. Thor was already waiting with the elevator open, the biggest smile on his aging face. 

‘Wanda and Bruce are preparing the room. Scott already called the doctor. Clint’s in route,’ Bucky reassured. The three men huddled into the elevator with you, all instructing you to breathe and to squeeze them if you needed to. 

But even though you were in pain, albeit not as extreme as it was going to inevitably get, you were so incredibly happy. They were all so loud, so chaotic, and you were as calm as a cucumber. 

The elevator dinged. ‘Good luck, Y/N,’ you heard Friday call after you. You pinched your eyes closed, the thought that Friday was ultimately a part of Tony’s consciousness - Tony was wishing you good luck. 

The pressure in your hips was starting to build and you didn’t know how long this would actually take. Some people had quick births, some people lay in labor for hours, some for a day. But it seemed like this was going to be pretty quick, because your next scream was completely involuntarily. 

Bucky winced, leading you to the bed Wanda had just lay sheets on. ‘You’re doing great, Y/N. Absolutely perfect.’

You laughed at Bucky and gripped his hand in silent thanks before slipping into the bed and trying to get comfortable. Before you could truly feel like you made it, like the first hard step was done, you sat up quickly. 

‘Wait, wait! Nat’s sweater! I was gonna wear Nat’s sweater!’

Thor was already out the door, ‘I’ll get it! Don’t worry!’

You smiled at the ceiling, beads of sweat now rolling down your forehead. ‘Oh, this hurts!’

It was an hour. Once you shimmied into Natasha’s purple knitted sweater, you lay there trying to control your breathing. Everyone had piled into the room one right after the other. The room was big enough, spacious enough for even Bruce to roam freely. Although you were in an immense amount of pain, you still focused on your team. 

Scott was on his third cup of coffee, sipping excitedly as he conversed with the others. Bruce was constantly checking your vitals and wanting everything the doctor was saying repeated. Wanda was beside you, a hand gripping yours and the other running ice chips along your lips. Bucky was on your other bedside wearing one of Steve’s sweatshirts because it still smelled like him. His logic was that if he was wearing something of Steve’s the first moment he held your baby, then the first thing he smelled would be the remnants of his father. 

And Thor was practically speechless, silent in his own little corner and feeling like the god’s really did bless everyone in this room after such turmoil.

Clint arrived with Peter trailing behind him just when the doctor instructed you sit up - you were at ten centimeters. 

‘You gotta push, Y/N! You gotta push when the doctor says push!’

You yelled until your lungs gave out, head almost rolling back but Sam held it in his palm. ‘C’mon, Y/N! You’re doing great!’

You usually had perfect pitch when you sang, never faltering when it was time to hit a high note. But your voice was cracking at the most unusual times, throat rubbed raw as you felt your hips splinter open. 

‘He’s crowning!’

Wanda traded places with Sam real quick, deciding that she wanted to see the baby when he was finally out. Bucky had a death grip on your hand, tears flowing freely and a smile to match Thor’s. 

‘Push, Y/N! Push!’

‘I’m-I’m! I’m sorry! I can’t!’

The doctor was working her hands around the head, trying to ease the baby out easier. ‘Trust me, Y/N. One more big push and the shoulders will be out. That’s the hardest part.’

The doctor’s words were starting to drown out, and your head lolled back again. You felt tiny smacks on your cheeks, ‘C’mon, Y/N. You can do this. Everyone believes in you. You’re so goddamn strong, Y/N!’

That was Bucky’s voice. Bucky. 

You opened your eyes, delirious for a second. ‘Steve?’

Bucky whimpered and nodded, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing kisses all over. ‘He’s here. I feel him, Y/N. You can do this.’

And you could feel him. You could see your family but you could feel him. It was so light, like a gentle whisk across the cheek, a promise that this truly was a miracle. 

You screamed as you pushed under doctor’s orders, feeling numb and abused but satisfied. His shoulders slipped out and along with them came his arms and torso, legs and all ten toes. The doctor caught him quickly, lifting him up vertically to let you see him. He was already crying. 

‘He’s here!’

You sobbed and smiled widely, laughter rattling your chest as the team bombarded you with quick hugs. Sam remained at your side, his eyes motioning for Bucky to go see the baby. 

‘Who’s cutting the cord?’

You looked around the room but you knew. You answered the doctor’s question. ‘Bucky.’

Bucky was truly confused. Not because of your decision, but because he couldn’t possibly be worthy of this. His hands, those hands that had killed so many people involuntarily, had almost killed Steve, those hands were now gripping a pair of medical scissors to cut the symbolization of new life entering the world. He turned to you for permission one last time, before he gripped the cord in his hand and cut where the doctor pointed. 

His shoulders felt a million times lighter. Like he was set free all over again. 

They cleaned the baby up quickly and swaddled him. The doctor placed him in your arms, all warm and utterly safe, to look back up at you with the same blue eyes as his father. 

You sobbed happily, brushing your fingers delicately along his pink cheek. ‘Hi. Hi there.’

He was no longer crying, just staring up in pure astonishment at the various faces staring back at him. 

‘Y/N, he’s beautiful,’ Clint said, tissue already in hand. 

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ you spoke softly. 

‘Do we have a name?’

It was like everyone said it in unison. ‘Steve.’

You snuggled into the bed and Natasha’s sweater, somewhat aware of the doctor still fixing you up down there. You would try feeding later, but for now your newborn needed to be passed around the group and be awed at. 

You carefully guided him to Bucky, holding his head gently in your palm. Bucky took him, arms instinctively curling in the correct position. Once Bucky had him in his arms, it was like everything that happened in the world was worth it. Absolutely everything. 

Bucky watched in fascination as the baby curled deeper in his chest, little fist clutching Steve’s sweatshirt. He took the sweetest little intake of air…

`

xxMoni

[storiesbymads]

NECESSITY NUMBER ONE: BOTTOMLESS MIMOSAS² ( sun kissed desires . )

Y/N finds herself on the lovers cruise she was supposed to be on with her fiancé—ex-fiancé—when she meets a single man in the suite right next to hers.

warnings: none

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You had, surprisingly, made it through your first night without another hitch. Room service brought you plenty of strawberry daiquiris and you’d even popped open the bottle of champagne. Suffice to say, you didn’t really remember your night.

What you do remember is the pounding in your skull when you woke up this morning. The way the boat was rocking didn’t really help the hangover, either.

Ungracefully, you pulled yourself out of the incredibly warm bed and made yourself somewhat presentable enough to get breakfast outside of your room.

The trip to your en-suite brought back unpleasant flashbacks from the night before and you took the liberty of vigorously spraying the tiny bottle of Lysol given to you underneath the sink. You pulled your hair back enough with a hair clip that you could wash your face and brush your teeth without it getting in the way, not even bothering with the idea of makeup before re-entering the bedroom part of your room. Your tiny makeup bag was still in the bottom of your suitcase and had yet to be unpacked, yet, anyway.

You unzipped the black duffel bag lying on the floor next to the dresser for the first time since you’d put it there. Grabbing the first pair of sweats and a tank top you saw, you slipped them on and shoved whatever necessities you’d need to leave the room.

The sound of another door clicking shut didn’t even register in your brain when you first got into the hallway.

“Good Morning,” a voice from beside you said. Your head snapped up to meet his gaze.

And there he was. He had a pair of black gym shorts on that showed off his thighs in the most glorious way possible and there was a small white towel thrown over one of his shoulders. Your eyes trailed the nakedness of his chest before the sound of him clearing his throat startled you out of your daze.

“Morning!” you blurted out. He offered you a small chuckle in response with a shake of his head before walking past you towards the gym near the end of the hall. Thank God you were walking the other way, lest you look any more like a creepy stalker girl.

“Alcohol,” you said as you started your venture to the dining hall. You were in desperate need of some solid food if you were going to continue on your champagne escapades.

It was pretty dead when you finally made it there. Figures since it was currently 7:45 in the morning and the only reason you were awake is because you passed out at 9:00 the night before. You found a booth situated against one of the furthest walls and practically threw yourself onto the blue leather.

“What can I get you?” a brunette woman with probably the whitest teeth you’d ever seen in your life asked. Her smile was probably bright enough to blind you if you looked directly at it.

“Waffles sound nice…” you trailed off. “Do you guys have waffles?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. The addition of the ma’am made you feel older than it should’ve. “Will that be all for you?”

“Chocolate chip waffles, please. And a mimosa,” you said.

“Just letting you know that we are offering bottomless mimosas for the extent of our allotted breakfast time this morning if you’re interested,” she said.

“That sounds perfect,” you practically moaned. If you didn’t get yourself together soon, you were sure you were going to get ejected off this cruise.

“I’ll be back with that in a little while,” the girl said. You dropped your head on the table the second you were alone.

You heard the seat in front of you being taken before you saw it, the leather crinkling beneath whoever was stealing your private time away.

“Honey, you look like you got hit by a hurricane,” Sigma said, her oddly freezing hand finding yours on top of the table.

“You’re so kind,” you said, the words muffled by the laminate.

“One of my many talents,” she said. You picked your head up off the table. She was in much better condition than you. She already had what looked to be a bikini on under a cover up and her hair was done up in dutch braids.

“Where’s your husband?” you asked, running the fingers of your free hand along your brow bone.

“Still sleeping. I was hungry and I couldn’t get him up, so,” she said, tossing one of the blonde braids over her shoulder. “What about you? I saw that key card of yours yesterday.”

“What?” you deadpanned.

“Your key card. You have a sweetheart’s suite…” Sigma trailed off. “Who’ve you got hiding up in there?”

Your face paled. Of course your room was a lover’s suite. That would explain the champagne. And the condoms.

“It’s not- I don’t,” you stuttered. “My ex booked this trip when we were still together and I’d already taken the time off work.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known,” you said, smiling slightly as the waitress dropped your first round of mimosas off at the table. You noticed that she’d placed one in front of Sigma, too.

Maybe it was the headache in the back of your skill you’d get to take care of and maybe it was the fact that you’d just been brutally reminded of the entire reason you were on this cruise in the first place but you found yourself down four mimosas within the next half hour.

And another twelve before you’d decided to call it quits and head back to your room for the remainder of the morning.

Thankfully, you found your room faster than the previous day and were standing in front of the wood within ten minutes of your disembarkment. And there he was walking towards you again. The incredibly, way too hot guy that slept in the room next to yours.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” you said with a slight giggle. Your words slurred slightly but not noticeable enough to bring any extra attention to it.

“Oh, yeah?” the dark haired man asked. He’d barely made a move to enter his room, key not even in hand. He rested his fists against his hips as his eyes raked over your appearance. You felt the sudden need to hide your body from his view, crossing your arms over your chest. “How’s your day drinking going?”

“How’d you know-“

“You weren’t exactly quiet about your morning activities earlier,” he chuckled. You silently cursed yourself out for making yourself out to be a drunk before the sun was even fully out. “Saying ‘alcohol’ while stomping down the hall like you’re on a mission isn’t the most subtle thing in the world.”

“I promise I’m not an alcoholic,” you said, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sure,” he said, though his tone was light enough that you could tell he was probably joking. Probably.

He was gorgeous, not that it was really all that difficult to come to that conclusion. His skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat in the fluorescence of the hallway lighting and the gold from the chain around his neck looked like it was sparkling. The towel from earlier was hanging out of his right pocket and it looked far from dry.

“Wait a minute. Have you been working out this whole time?” you asked, jae practically hitting the floor at your realization.

“You’d be surprised about how long I can last,” he said only for a redness to england his features seconds later. He must’ve realized what he’d insinuated.

“Wanna prove it to me?” you asked. Maybe bottomless mimosas weren’t a bad idea.

The man coughed, halfway choking on his own saliva. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine,” you said. The flush had already receded from his cheeks, though the slightest bit still stained the tips of his ears.

“My name is Sidney,” he said. “And maybe when you’re sober.”

He pulled the key card out of his pocket as he spoke, leaving you alone in the hallway before you really had the chance to comprehend what all had happened.

tagged @barzysthighs @kiedhara @butgilinsky @damndunner @thefootballfaithful @stuetzlesumlaut @penstxgal1968 @linkingdolans @englishmuffinwritesbooks @mrsvech37 @honeybearbarzal @burningbiatch @jdrysdales @hannabritta

[wastelandcth]

Better Love - cth

part four: a darker blue

summary: The rain stops. 

author’s notes: I've loved writing this story and I hope you have all enjoyed reading it!

warnings: mentions of sexual themes. 

masterlist || request || join my taglist!

part one || part two || part three

And I've never loved a darker blue Than the darkness I have known in you, own from you You, whose heart would sing of anarchy You would laugh at meanings, guarantees, so beautifully

Calum was running. His legs carried him through the overgrown forest and over fallen trees. The wind around him bit at his skin, leaving him gasping for air until all he could feel was the burn in his lungs, one that was different than the burn the cigarettes he smoked gave him. Behind him, the footsteps were getting closer and closer, never stumbling like Calum had. In his arms, the beating heart pumped, racing and then slowing in random increments that left Calum's blood running cold. He hadn't remembered the way back to the cottage, the thick forest trapping him in and spitting him out somewhere unknown. The lighthouse had been the only thing high enough above the trees that Calum could see, his legs burning as he ran closer and closer towards it. Somewhere behind the wind, the ocean waves crashed into the coast and shook the world beneath him, making him stumble whenever a particularly large wave hit.

He was alone and running from something he couldn't see.

As Calum ran, the forest disappeared behind him and all that was in front of him was rolling hills of green. The footsteps behind him had stopped and Calum leaned over himself to catch his breath, the cold air burning his throat as he tried to listen for anything or anyone else. Stepping towards the hills, where the ocean roared right below, Calum's eyes watched the lighthouse in awe. The light illuminated the world around him in glimpses, making its round across the landscape to warn ships that would never come of the land. The father Calum got from the edge of the forest, the darker the sky became, leaving him to wait until the spinning light was cast his way in order to take the steps up the rocky hillside.

"Calum?" a voice said behind him, echoing through his body as rocking the Earth much like the dark blue waves beneath him.

Calum turned sharply, his eyes scanning the forest at the bottom of the hill, searching for that voice in the darkness. The whirl of the lighthouse, which got louder and louder with every pass of the light, made Calum dizzy. His head hurt with every pass of the bright light, but he kept searching until his eyes finally landed on her. The wind had whipped her hair across her face, her clothes soaked with mud and leaves that left her shivering at the edge of the forest. Calum wondered if she had been chased her too, how she had managed to outrun something that Calum barely did.

"Maeve?" he called out, his voice lost in the wind and the waves, the sleeves of his sweater ripped to shreds by the trees behind her, "Come on! It's safe in the lighthouse, we have to get there!"

"I-I can't! I have to go back to the cabin!" she sighed, Calum's ears aching at the pain in her voice, "I can't go with you! I have to stay there!"

Calum frowned, watching as Maeve turned back around and ventured deeper into the forest. His body ached, his escape making his legs burn and his joints ache front he cold, but he took another glance at the lighthouse. One last look at the promised safety before he rushed down the hill and headed towards the woods once more, calling out Maeve's name.

Calum woke with a start, his lungs aching for a breath of fresh air as his eyes looked around at the dark room, trying to gain a sense as to where he was. The bed under him was soft, the mattress pillowy and not at all like his hard mattress back home. Next to him, Maeve's soft voice was slow and even Calum's mind too panicked to listen to the words she was whispered. But the softness of her skin against Calum's was what truly made his mind wake up and made his eyes meet hers in the darkness. He was sure he looked like an animal caught in the middle of a dark road, his face illuminated only by the sliver of light coming in through the blinds of the window. But Maeve's voice brought him back down, brought his breathing into a steady rise and fall of his chest until his forehead was leaning against hers.

"Hey, I'm right here," Maeve whispered, one hand cupping the side of his face as the other was placed over his heart, feeling the pounding of it against her palm, "You're okay." Calum's lips found hers in the dark, the soft sigh that left him as their lips connected making him forget for a second all about the lighthouse and the forest.

Maeve was on his lap, their bodies moving in a slow and lazy rhythm before Calum would even remember the dream. He was lost in the way her body curved into him, how her back arched back into the palm that was keeping her steady. The bed was squeaking with every move of their hips, hidden under the groan and soft grunts leaving them both as they melted into one another. With his eyes adjusted to the dark room, Calum could see how Maeve's face twisted in pleasure, her nose scrunched up and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Calum was sure his own face looked pretty similar, his grip of Maeve's waist tightening when he felt her clench around him, the waves of pleasure rolling off of her as she got closer and closer. Calum's hand, which had been shaking in fear only a few minutes before moved between their bodies, his thumb running through the hair at her mound before moving lower and finding the bundle of nerves that had made Maeve gasped and whimper the night before.

"Come on, pretty girl," Calum breathed out, his thighs tensing underneath Maeve as he rocked up into her, "Let go for me,"

And Calum had never heard such a pretty noise like the one’s Maeve made.

"Choose life?" Maeve whispered into the darkness, her fingers slotting in between Calum's.

"Mhm," Calum breathed out, his eyes unfocused in the darkness of the walls and the bouncing of their voices, his mind still reeling from the high she'd brought him, "From the movie Trainspotting."

Maeve's shifted, moving onto her side as she rested her head on Calum's chest, her fingers tracing over the words against his skin again and again as she listened to Calum whispered about the movie and how it had changed his outlook on life. She felt the goosebumps under her touch, could feel the blush that ran down from his face to his chest. Her lips had been leaving trails of kisses on his skin, her smile pressing against his skin whenever Calum's voice stuttered from the kisses left on his skin. They'd been lying there for what could have been hours, in Maeve's mind, both enjoying the afterglow of being together in more ways than one.

"I like it," she whispered, placing a soft kiss over the peak of his nipple, "Always question the world, huh?"

"Always." he breathed out, his hands exploring the softness of Maeve's curves.

Maeve had decided that the Scottish air was infused with magic. Every day, she’d try and spend as much time outside as she could. In the beginning, it had been to give Calum some alone time; but after their eventful night and early morning, Maeve has needed the fresh air to clear her mind and stretch out her sore limbs. Her walks in the forest had been a lifesaver in the beginning too, they gave her peace and quiet and a sense of calm that hadn’t been around since the crack of a bridge had forced her to lodge with a stranger. Well, not so much a stranger anymore.

“Or is he?” Maeve thought to herself, a frown on her face as she leaned against a tree to tighten her shoelaces, “All you two do is talk and get to know one another, Maeve, you’re not so naïve to sleep with a stranger!”

In the short time that she knew Calum, she had found a lot of herself in him. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, but that hadn’t mattered last night or this morning when she woke up wrapped in his arms. She knew that Calum had a passion for learning and exploring, much like she did. She knew that Calum had been in a different situation than her, relationship-wise, but that hadn’t meant he was broken. If she was being honest with herself, Calum had been in the exact opposite of her situation. She wondered if he knew that too, if he resented the fact that she could leave someone so easily and not be affected by it or if he sympathized with her. Maeve felt the pain in his voice that night when Calum spoke about his ex-fiancé like she was the stars and the moon before the supernova wiped them out of his universe. She knew that he had loved her and he wanted a life with her, even if he had rushed into things.

She knew Calum just wanted to feel a love that would never be there.

The sun had filtered in through the brightly colored leaves, the kaleidoscope it made on the ground below Maeve leading her back from the depths of the forest to the cabin where the man who had made her see stars just hours ago had been when she left only an hour before. She had wondered for a long period of her life whether she was broken or not. Whether her heart was defective and unable to love since it had seemed like she was never able to love her past partners. But last night with Calum, under the safety of a dark cabin, she had felt her heart race and her mind go numb to anything but the thought of him. Maybe she’d been alone for too long, Calum’s soft touch and grunts in her ear stirred something inside of her, or maybe it meant more.

Maybe Calum had become something more.

"Do you think you'll stay in Scotland longer?" Maeve asked as she walked into the kitchen.

Calum was stood by the small window, watching the sway of the trees, a cup of tea in his hands keeping him warm. He'd been lost in his head again much like he did nowadays, the worry of heading back home to deal with his problems instead of running away pressing against his temple. Maeve’s soft voice had drawn in his attention back into the moment, his body turning towards her, pulled by the softness of her presence and how hours ago that same soft voice had thrown him over the edge. Since he’d watched her walk out of bed, dressed in only the shirt she’d thrown off of him, he hadn’t gotten the image of her out of his head. How the sliver of moonlight had shown him sneak peeks of her body; the shade of red her chest had turned from Calum’s lips, the darkness that the hair on her mound had been. He’d been thinking of her ever since she walked out of the bathroom past him in a dark blue sweater, her boots leading her outside before Calum was once again left in the dark and silence of the cottage.

“My flight leaves in two days,” he said quietly, setting the cup of tea down, “If we’re ever rescued,” he teased.

“I’m sure we will be,” Maeve laughed quietly, “I’ll jump from tree to tree if I have to. There’s no way I’m missing this interview.”

“They’d hire you anyway,” Calum chuckled and shrugged, his eyes meeting hers, “They’d be foolish not to.”

The afternoon sun beamed down on both Maeve and Calum, leaving them warm and energized. The hike, which Calum had forced Maeve out of the cottage for, had taken place on their last day alone. Maeve had brought a blanket, making Calum carry it in his backpack which was also packed with snacks, water, and a camera that Calum had insisted was necessary. They'd walked next to one another, their hands grazing one another every once in a while. Calum's eyes were focused on the trail, knowing that no matter how far they walked, their way back to civilization grew farther and farther away. Eventually, his focus turned from the panic of being alone again and the reminder of his dream to the way Maeve's warm hand wrapped around his. He looked down, where their hands were joined and swinging with every step they took, his heart jumping at how right it all felt. "Is this okay?" Maeve asked quietly, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth.

"Of course," he whispered and nodded, giving her hand a small squeeze as he continued on through their walk.

When the grassy field came into view Calum had unfolded the blanket and set down the backpack, sighing at the relief his back felt when the heavy bag was no longer straining his muscles. The field was surrounded by trees, leaves scattered around them as the sunshine warmed the air. They'd sat in comfortable silence, listening to the songs that the forest would play for them. In the daylight, where the trees, birds, and river could see them, the distance between Maeve and Calum grew until they were nothing more than strangers again. They would drift off into their own minds, stuck in the waves of anxiety and tension that came from sleeping with a stranger. But that afternoon, their last afternoon, things were different. The sunlight brought soft touches and laughter that floated into the leaves above them. Calum's lips were puffy from the soft kisses that Maeve would leave every time she giggled at something he would say.

"I'm going to miss this," Maeve whispered at one point, her eyes focused on passing clouds, "I don't think I've ever felt this carefree before."

"Me too, I didn't think my trip to Scotland would've ever ended up like this," Calum mumbled, his own eyes watching the clouds swim across the sky, "I'm jealous you get to stay here."

"Do you think we'll see each other again?" she asked softly.

"I think the universe trapped us in a cottage together for a reason, no?" Calum asked and chuckled softly, his head lifting up to look over at Maeve.

"It seems that there is no theory for which to explain a moment like this," Maeve whispered and smiled as she watched Calum lean in closer to her, "I'm going to miss you."

Their last morning together, was one they hadn’t even realized would be their last.

In the morning, when the sun hit both Calum and Maeve, the bedroom was quiet. Calum's chest was rising and falling, the soft snores that usually left him hidden by Maeve's shoulder. The wind had no longer whistled against the cottage, the last of the raindrops from the night's storm falling down with a drip, drip, drip. The birds outside were singing, cheering as if they knew the bad weather had passed and the final storm, an encore complete with thunder and lightning, had come and gone. Calum's eyes opened slowly, his hands pulling the warm body next to him closer. His body leaned closer to hers, the warmth between their bare bodies a reminder of the night before where they both held one another as their moans were whispered in between kisses.

Calum had been stroking her skin, lost in the softness of her and the way his heart ached knowing that his life would never be the same as it was in that moment when he heard the familiar accent of Mrs. Bagby. His body tensed, his arms reaching out to pull the curtain back, flooding the room with light and being met with Mrs. Bagby, who was waving from the other end of the broken bridge. Calum's wide eyes and shaky hands had forced him to pull the curtains closed, his body moving on its own as he grabbed his sweatpants and sweater, before rushing out of the cabin. His shoes were covered in mud as he jogged over to the bridge, his breath hitching as he watched the roaring water splash against the rocks below him.

"Mr. Hood! Oh no, this is horrible, are you and the girl okay?!" Mrs. Bagby called out, "When did this happen?!"

"The day I walked out here! We couldn't contact anyone! The power hasn't worked since that storm blew over!" Calum yelled, watching as the older lady’s face turned into confusion.

"Storm? Darling, there hasn't been a storm here since before you arrived," she said with a shake of her head.

Calum frowned, standing at the edge of the broken bridge, his eyes searching the older woman for any hint of a joke. But Calum was met with a worried look that made his blood run cold. He'd clearly remembered the rainstorm, remembered hearing the tumbling of the bridge and how Maeve had gasped from the room next to the kitchen. He remembered walking out that next morning and standing where he was now, trying to figure out how he was meant to spend the night with a stranger who had taken his breath away.

"Calum?" Maeve asked quietly, her voice still laced with sleep as she stood by the door. She was wrapped in a blanket, her hair a curly mess around her head as she looked at Calum confused, "What's going on?"

"I'm going to get help! You two pack your bags!" the older lady called out, the engine of her car rumbling through the forest as she disappeared down the road.

And then they were alone.

Maeve had been quiet, packing clothes and memories of a day she couldn't help but think would be the last remnants of Calum she would have. Calum, who was sat on the couch, had packed his bag and sat in silence wondering whether he was ready to leave the cabin behind. Whether he was ready to leave Maeve and the safety of the dark powerless cabin. The past couple of days had been a whirlwind, they had been tiring and filled with silence. But Calum had loved nothing more than spending time with Maeve and learning about her in those moments when the silence was broken. He'd never met anyone like Maeve before, she was open and willing to tell Calum her story with no hesitation and yet, Calum found himself wanting to know more and more about the woman in the bedroom next to him. But the sound of a car across the river brought him back to reality. Brought him back to the fact that he had to go back to a sunny city where his life had been. A city where every street reminded him of the fact that he was alone and where the only trees he could see were palm trees. He'd be back in a city where his friends tiptoed around him and the way his heart had been broken.

Maeve had been outside, sitting on a stone that had looked more comfortable than Calum assumed actually was, staring up at the sky. The sunlight had illuminated her, leaving her skin a soft golden color that looked breathtaking in the dark sweater she'd slid on after Calum had taken it out of his bag and handed it to her on the car ride back to civilization. The car ride, which had consisted of Mrs. Bagby, or Baird he still didn't quite know, apologizing profusely for all the confusion and for leaving them trapped in the forest. Maeve had been focused on the passing trees and the way the river was no longer a constant noise in her ears. But when the rolling hills of the Highlands came into view, Calum felt the ache in his heart, knowing that their little universe was far away and no longer just theirs. The sweater engulfed Maeve, leaving her protected against the bitter wind that nipped at her skin even through the sunlight. Her bags had been sat at her side, like two piles of rocks ready to float away and leave Calum stranded.

“You’re going to do amazing,” Calum mumbled as he walked over to her, “They’re not even going to know what hit them.”

“Thank you,” Maeve whispered, her head turning up to look up at him, “I hope you have a safe flight back, take lots of pictures of the ocean.”

“And you take lots of pictures of those hills for me?” Calum smiled, the flash of his teeth disappearing as the car that would take him away from the woman, and the country, he’d fallen in love with, “It was nice meeting you, Maeve.”

“It was nice meeting you, Calum,” she nodded, her arms wrapping around his waist as they both hugged, hoping that maybe the world would bring them back together again.

The sky outside of the forest had been a bright blue, the white clouds puffy and soft as they floated towards one another before separating and going their own way. Some clouds would find their way across the world, seeing bright cities and vast oceans. Others would find a patch of weather that filled them with so much water, eventually draining themselves until all they became were a forgotten memory. They would change from the white and puffy clouds above to the dark grey and condensation-filled rain clouds that hid the dark blue sky. It was unfair, Maeve thought to herself, how such an aching moment in her life had been on such a beautiful day. How the man who had unknowingly changed her life in a matter of days had left on such a beautiful and sunny day. Maeve’s eyes focused on the black car, watching as it drove down the same dirt road she’d traveled on a few days before taking a turn and disappearing from view.

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[honey-dewey]

The Sunspear Mermaid

Pairing: Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/GN! Reader

Word Count: 2,045

Warnings: None

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell​

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and I included a photo of the reader’s tail as well. 

There were plenty of things Oberyn didn’t believe existed anymore. Dragons, mainly, but there were other things as well, creatures that had long since faded from everyday life and had become nothing more than tales parents told misbehaving children. So when a fisherman came running through Sunspear saying he’d fished up a merfolk, Oberyn assumed him insane. But Doran, who had always had an active imagination, requested the fisherman bring the merfolk to the palace. They had a pool in the palace they could keep the thing in for now. 

Oberyn sighed, watching two horses pull a covered cart up a hill. He was in his room, Ellaria by his side. She peered curiously over his shoulder, resting her cheek on his bare skin. “My prince,” she said softly. “Should we not be at the pool with your brother?” 

“I don’t believe in things as childish as merfolk,” Oberyn replied, turning from the window. “But you may attend if you wish.” 

Ellaria nodded, shuffling into a thin robe and walking out of the room, leaving Oberyn alone with his thoughts. There was no way merfolk were actually still real, right?

————

To say you were pissed was an understatement. Trapped in a glass tank, you huffed, pounding on the sides yet again. It was a fruitless venture, but you tried anyway. How could you have been so foolish? Your mother told you that the land men were getting bolder, that they were fishing near your home and you had to be careful to steer clear of their nets. You just hadn’t expected them to come as close as they did. 

Sinking to the bottom of the tank, you sulked, swaying as the water sloshed around. You hoped the land folk didn’t intend to keep you here forever. It was much too small. 

Thankfully, the tank stopped swaying eventually and you felt it tip sideways slowly draining the water over the edge. You could hear it splashing into a different pool of water, and you perked up. Getting the message, you swam to the top of the tank, following the flow of water and falling into a much bigger pool of water. It was decorated with shining rocks on the bottom, the smooth colored surfaces arranged in such a way that an intricate pattern was created. Looking up, you spotted many plants above you, and some interesting architecture, but the details were lost to the rippling of the water. 

Land folk began to surround the pool, and you stayed firmly on the bottom, not wanting them to have the satisfaction of seeing you. Muffled words were spoken, and you huffed, sending a stream of bubbles up to the top of the water. You continued blowing bubbles, entertaining yourself as best you could. You would explore the pool later, when you were alone. For now, you just waited. 

The land folk disappeared shortly after, all wandering away and allowing you to swim around the perimeter of your new home. Some parts of the pool were covered, shadowed and secure beneath overhangs with arches and columns. You set up in one of the corners under the biggest overhang, yawning widely and wishing you were home before curling up and beginning to sleep. 

It was hours before you woke again, hearing loud footsteps running through the palace. Night had taken the sun from the sky, and your only source of light was the silver of the moon. The footsteps grew, and you floated out, wanting to see what was causing the commotion. 

A man was running around the pool, seemingly running from someone. He looked in both directions, seeing no way out, and dove into the pool. 

You shrunk away, pressing yourself into the corner. Did he not know you were here? How could he not? 

The man turned, seeing you. He let out a shout that stole the air from his lungs, and you immediately rushed forward, grabbing his face. He had facial hair that tickled your hands, but it was no concern of you as you pressed a firm kiss to his lips. He flailed, but you held him tight, pushing air from your lungs into his mouth. When you pulled away, the man swam backwards, gasping. He put a hand to his throat, surprised. He was breathing underwater. 

You examined the man. He had distinctly land folk features, with brown eyes and short brown hair. His face was angular and beautiful, and you wondered if he had merfolk blood in him. He wore yellow robes that swirled around in the water, his feet bare and his robe loose. You carefully stripped him of it, letting the useless fabric float in the water. Underneath, he wore a linen shirt and simple pants. 

The man tried to speak, but nothing more than bubbles left his mouth. You giggled, swimming in a smooth circle around the man. He twisted to follow you, but you were too fast, flicking the bare points of his skin with the tips of your fluke. He was entertaining, even if he did seem scared of you. 

You blew bubbles in his direction, and he flinched as they harmlessly hit him. He looked at you and your curious blinking. Hesitantly, he blew a few bubbles back. Clapping, you blew a large bubble and held it in your hands, tossing it to the man. He tried to catch it, but it popped when he touched it. 

A shout at the top of the pool pulled your attention away from the man. You looked up, grabbing the man and dragging him with you as you broke the water’s surface. He gasped when he hit air, and you tsked softly, using your tail to keep him above the water. 

“Prince Oberyn!” A sharp voice yelled. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” the man said, his voice strained. You knew, in that moment, he absolutely had some form of merfolk blood in his veins. His voice was silky as a siren’s and twice as enchanting, even marred by his breathlessness. “I’m fine. Stand down.” 

The men around the pool relaxed, helping the man out of the pool. You watched him go, a bit disappointed. He had been fun. What had the men called him? Prince Oberyn. So he was land folk royalty. You snorted, turning to go back to your corner and spotting something in the water. Swimming towards it, you realized it was Oberyn’s robe. You grabbed it, swirling it around you and eventually deciding to put it on. It didn’t exactly fit, but the deep yellow complimented your tail well and you liked how it moved when you swam. Curling up in your corner for the night, you sighed out, snuggling down in Oberyn’s robe. You would definitely be seeing him again. 

Oberyn did not visit you for a while. Other land folk came around to see you, but none of them were your mysterious land prince, and so you were uninterested. 

Finally, after months, Oberyn ended up at the pool again. He had a familiar land woman on his arm, and you tipped your head at the woman and she and Oberyn walked around the pool. She was watching you, her eyes full of curiosity. She spoke to Oberyn, who looked at you and shook his head. You scowled at him, swimming to the top of the water and sending a spray up, soaking Oberyn and the woman. She laughed, waving to you as you circled slowly, watching the pair. You waved back, giving her a mischievous smile and beckoning her close.

The woman broke off of Oberyn’s arm and sat on the edge of the pool. The water was too shallow for her to get her feet wet, but you swam to the surface, floating on your back and taking a few burning breaths of air before your lungs adjusted. 

“Do you have a name?” The woman asked, looking down at you. 

“I do,” you said. “Do you?” 

“Ellaria.” 

You hummed, flicking your tail and watching the water dance across your white gold scales. “Ellaria,” you purred. “A lovely name. I’m (Y/N).” 

Ellaria smiled. “This is my lover, Prince Oberyn.” 

“I know,” you said. “We’ve met.” 

“Oh?” Ellaria looked at Oberyn, who was standing nervously behind her. “He never told me that.” 

You giggled, waving to Oberyn. “When are you going to take another late night swim?” You asked him. “I miss you.” 

Ellaria laughed. “Is that where you got that robe?” 

Nodding, you fiddled with the sleeve of the robe. “It’s very comfortable.” 

Oberyn sighed. “I’m going back to our room,” he said, and you pouted, swimming in a frustrated circle. “What?” He looked down at you and your scrunched face. “If you have something to say, say it.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

It was not what Oberyn was expecting. He was silent for a moment before sitting beside Ellaria. “I was unsure of your existence,” he finally said. “You and your kind were a fairytale to me. I am merely unsure of how to approach you.” 

You nodded, holding a hand out. “Join me,” you said. “My father used to say the best way to learn is to experience.” 

Ellaria stood, removing her robe and dress and sliding into the water with no hesitation. You steadied her, watching slightly as Oberyn pulled his robe off more hesitantly. He remained in his pants as he followed Ellaria, the water cradling him as he joined you two. 

The first few minutes were full of patience, with you circling the land folk pair and encouraging them to swim with you. Ellaria dove first, Oberyn following. You swirled around them, urging them lower. When it seemed Ellaria was running out of air, you kissed her. Kissing her was very different from kissing Oberyn. Where she was soft and eager, he had been rough and hesitant, although you found yourself missing the scratch of his facial hair against your skin. When you pulled away, Ellaria gasped in a breath, eagerly lighting up when she realized what you had done. She beckoned Oberyn closer, tangling with him and kissing him slowly and smoothly. 

The three of you played in the water for a while. After a good hour, during which the sun began to paint the sky with streaks of pink and orange, you eventually exhausted your land folk friends. You showed them how to weigh themselves down, laying across the patterned floor of the pool. Oberyn and Ellaria were pressed together, as if they were trying to become one being. You watched, almost jealous, until Ellaria summoned you close. 

Unable to speak, she scooted away from Oberyn, gesturing to the space between them. You slid in, finding a comfortable spot and immediately purring as warmth surrounded you. Tiny bubbles rippled to the top of the water, and your rumbles made your two partners smile. Oberyn wrapped an arm over you, pulling you closer to his chest. Ellaria sandwiched you to him, and your purring deepened. You wanted this every day, this gentle warmth and tight embrace and feeling of pure bliss. 

Eventually, someone must’ve noticed Oberyn was missing, and guards in various states of dress surrounded the pool, all shouting. You looked up, hissing slightly and tightening your grip on Ellaria’s shoulders. Oberyn smiled, kissing your cheek and floating to the top of the water. He spoke to the guards, who all nodded and dispersed quickly. Swimming back down, he embraced you and gestured to the surface. Reluctantly, you followed him as he crested the water once more. 

“They want us back in our room,” Oberyn explained. “I think they thought you had kidnapped us.” 

You sulked, face stuck in a pout. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

“I know,” Oberyn murmured. “I’ll speak with my brother tomorrow morning. I’m sure we can find a way to get access to my room from this pool. Worry not, we will remedy this.” 

He climbed out of the pool and helped a very reluctant Ellaria out as well. You waved, calling goodbye until your new lovers were out of earshot. Floating to your sleeping corner, you hummed, curling up and watching Oberyn’s robe swirl around you. Maybe being captured by the land men wasn’t such a bad thing after all.