#so i doubt i'll be able to sort anything

[ur-ghostgirl]

~

[artficlly]

lessons in lovemaking [part three]

marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, handjobs, fondling, nudity, fem reader, bucky is touch starved, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, very consensual, safe words, kissing, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, bickering, sparring, training, mentions of alcohol, natasha cares, injury, blood, reader is lowkey depressed, trauma, mentions of past violence and death, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 9.9k

A/N: hey if you have dejavu seeing this, it's because the other post is glitched for some reason and some people aren't able to see it, i think it's to do with there being over 30 people on the taglist. i'll have to come up with a solution for that. in the meantime, pls enjoy and hopefully this post is actually visible!. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

"Go for the left."

Kate blinked. "The left?"

"Yes."

She looked from you to Bucky, eyebrows raised like you’d asked her to charge a bear with a toothpick. "We’re talking about the left? The metal freaking arm left?"

"That’s the one."

The look she gave you was flat-out incredulous. "Are you serious? Isn’t that the last place I should be aiming?"

You resisted the urge to sigh. "That’s exactly why you should aim there. Everyone goes for his right. They assume it’s weaker. Bucky knows that. He’s trained to defend that side, conditioned even. But the left? Sure, it’s strong. That doesn’t make it invulnerable. Watch him."

You nodded toward Bucky, shadowboxing in the centre of the mat, relaxed but precise, like a predator keeping his muscles warm. "See how he braces before a punch? That slight weight shift? It’s a habit. Subtle but predictable. It leaves a small window, but just enough. Learn to spot that, and you can drop someone twice your size."

Kate’s expression turned thoughtful, eyes narrowing as she studied Bucky more intently. "Okay… so how do you get good at spotting weaknesses like that?"

"Learn to observe. Don’t rush in swinging. Patience and preparation will win a fight long before your fists do."

Kate nodded slowly, rolling her shoulders. "Alright. Let’s see if I can prove you right."

She took a step forward, then hesitated, glancing back at you with a sheepish grin. "I am a little scared, though—"

You gave her a flat look. "Just go, Kate."

She groaned but turned back toward Bucky, stepping onto the mat with a reluctant sort of determination.

It was late afternoon, and golden light poured through the gym windows in long, drowsy streaks. Dust drifted lazily in the sunbeams, but the air was thick with tension—not the kind that came from training, but from something far more complicated. Natasha and Yelena had thought it hilarious to pair you not only with Kate for sparring but also with Bucky. You had no doubt they were watching from the sidelines, smirking into their water bottles. Those two were always scheming.

Natasha hadn’t said anything to you yet, but then again, you’d been avoiding her like the plague since yesterday’s meeting. She was too sharp, too perceptive not to pick up on the subtle shifts in both your and Bucky’s behaviour. The cracks were already showing, the slightly too-long looks between you and Bucky, the stiffness in your tone whenever his name came up, the defensiveness you thought you’d kept hidden but apparently hadn’t.

You knew you couldn’t dodge her forever. Sooner or later, she’d confront you. And when she did, you’d have to lie—or worse, tell some version of the truth. What that truth even was… you weren’t sure. Not yet.

And Bucky?

You had no idea how to tell him you thought she already knew. That kind of conversation was a minefield, one wrong word and you’d either send him into horrified silence or make him regret every second of the nights spent together. Neither option was appealing.

You exhaled sharply, arms crossed as you watched Kate bounce on the balls of her feet, testing the space between her and Bucky.

He stood still in the centre of the mat, arms relaxed at his sides, expression unreadable. Brooding and unimpressed, as always. He hadn’t looked at you once all day, not properly at least. And yet you couldn’t stop thinking about how you knew exactly what he looked like when he came undone beneath you, fingers tangled in sheets and voice gone rough with need. He had been about as excited as you felt when the ‘teams’ for sparring were announced. You were beginning to suspect some convoluted plot half the compound was in on to see you and Bucky go head to head.

Now, he was back to being the Winter Soldier, being precisely what H.Y.D.R.A trained him to be, stoic, intimidating, unreadable. He had a talent for making his opponents feel beneath him. Unworthy. It was a tactic, you knew that, but it still worked.

Kate circled warily, eyes darting as she tried to read him, every shift in her posture betraying nerves. You watched her movements closely, noting the hesitation, the constant foot adjustments. She was looking for the right moment. You just hoped she’d recognise it when it came.

Much to Yelena and Natasha’s annoyance, you had flipped their little prank back onto them, sending Kate out to spar first, hoping to break her out of that ‘swing first, think later’ style Yelena loved so much.

A shadow moved in the corner of your vision as Yelena strolled up beside you, arms crossed, her gaze flicking between you and the fight. Speak of the devil, and she will appear. 

"You’re staring real hard," she drawled. "What, got money riding on this?"

You didn’t bother looking at her. "She’s your pet project. Remind me again why I’m the one training her?"

"Apprentice," Yelena corrected smoothly.

You blinked. "What?"

She gestured vaguely toward Kate, who was still circling Bucky with the kind of careful precision that told you she was second-guessing herself. "She’s my apprentice, not a pet project. There is a difference."

"Uh-huh," you said flatly, entirely unconvinced. "And yet I’m the one teaching her how to think, instead of just swinging wildly and hoping the universe sorts it out."

Yelena smirked. "Because I am all wham, whack, bang, bam, action! Yes? You are all boring lectures and tactical talk. It is balance. How is she supposed to know how cool and awesome I am without hearing all your boring lectures about battle analysis—"

You turned to her, unimpressed. "Did you just make up sound effects?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said sweetly, then sipped from a water bottle like she hadn’t just made cartoon sound effects with complete sincerity.

Your focus shifted back to the fight as Kate feinted right, then hesitated—again. Bucky wasn’t attacking yet, just watching her with the kind of stillness that would’ve put even you on edge. He was waiting for her to make the first move, to reveal her plan before he committed to a real counter.

"She’s hesitating too much," Yelena observed.

"She’s calculating," you corrected. "That’s what she’s supposed to do."

Yelena made a sceptical noise. "If she waits any longer, he’s just going to knock her flat."

"If she rushes in without a plan, it’ll be the same result."

Bucky shifted—just a subtle test, quick and clean. Kate dodged, but barely. Her stance faltered. Yelena sighed, dragging her hands down her face. "Okay, this is painful to watch. You should just let me handle her—"

“No. I’m trying to teach her to think, not charge in like a wrecking ball.”

"Excuse you," Yelena gasped, touching her chest in mock offence. "I am a very tactical wrecking ball."

You didn’t respond, eyes narrowing. Kate was watching Bucky now—really watching. Good. She sidestepped his next move, then launched into the attack.

A feint to the right. A quick pivot. Just like you’d told her.

Bucky braced for the strike to his right, but it didn’t come.

Kate dipped low, powered off her back foot, and drove her elbow toward his ribs. Clean, sharp, decisive.

Bucky twisted fast, but not fast enough.

Her elbow landed. His breath left in a tight, surprised grunt.

"See?" you muttered, nudging Yelena with an elbow. "She’s learning."

Yelena lifted a brow. "Yeah, yeah. We’ll see if she follows through."

Instead of retreating, Kate followed through, using the momentum to drive her knee upward.

Bucky jerked back, but not far enough. Kate’s knee clipped his chin, snapping his head up just enough for the final blow.

You scoffed. "Give her some credit—"

A sharp smack rang through the gym.

Bucky let out a startled grunt of pain, staggering back, one hand cupping his face. Blood was already leaking between his fingers.

Kate froze, eyes going wide in horror. "Oh my god—Bucky! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—are you okay? Oh god, you’re bleeding—"

Bucky tipped his head back, exhaling sharply through his nose, which only made more blood drip down his lip. “No kidding.”

Yelena snorted beside you. "Okay, I take it back. She might actually be good at this."

Kate was still floundering, hands hovering like she wanted to help but had no idea how. "What do you need—should I get a medic? Ice? Tissues? A priest?"

Bucky shot her a glare, nostrils flaring as more blood dripped down his lip. "Just… just give me a second."

You stepped forward onto the mat. "Well. I’d say she followed through."

Yelena smirked. "Yeah. Maybe a little too well."

Kate turned to you, looking utterly betrayed. "You told me to go for the left!"

"I said to attack the opening on his left, not ‘punch him in the face like you’re trying to knock out a tooth’, but hey, improvisation is an important skill."

Kate groaned. Bucky muttered something low and vile in Russian as he turned toward the exit, blood trailing faintly in his wake.

Even Yelena blinked. “That sounded like a curse, Kate. Possibly an ancient one.”

“Don’t say that!” Kate whined in fear. 

"I’ll handle him," you muttered with a sigh, already following. You paused at the edge of the mat, glancing back at Kate. “You did good. Maybe pull your punches and ease off the full-force murder next time?”

Kate groaned louder. "That was me pulling my punches!"

Yelena’s laughter followed you as you crossed the room, clapping her hands together as she bounced on her toes like an excited child. "Oh, this is fun. We should do this more often."

You pushed through the changing room door and stepped into the cooler air beyond. The space was clean and sterile in that way that only rich tech-billionaire funding could buy. Polished tiles, dark wood lockers with brass fittings, and the faint scent of citrusy cleaner lingering beneath the hum of recessed lights.

The sound of running water guided you to the sinks.

Bucky was hunched over the white porcelain basin, one arm braced on the counter, the other still cupping the lower half of his face. The mirror above caught his reflection, blood-streaked, jaw-tight, brows drawn down in a frustrated knot. Crimson spiralled down the drain, bright against the ceramic.

“You look like a crime scene,” you muttered as you crossed the room.

Bucky let out a sharp breath through his mouth, meeting your comment with a pointed grunt that spoke volumes.

You raised a brow. “Are you going to keep glaring at me like I put out a hit on you?”

“You did,” he muttered flatly.

You rolled your eyes, making a beeline for the paper towel dispenser. You pulled out a few thick, folded sheets and pressed them into his free hand. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine.” he grumbled.

“Bucky.” You shot him a look, unimpressed. “Sit.”

His jaw tightened like he wanted to argue, but after a moment, he relented, pushing off the counter, and he trudged toward one of the benches in the centre of the room and sat down stiffly, wincing as he tilted his head back.

You crouched in front of him, studying his face. The blood smeared across his upper lip stood out starkly against his skin, but at least it wasn’t gushing anymore. His nose was red, swelling a little but not crooked. Reaching out, you ghosted your fingers over the bridge, careful and light. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

Bucky huffed. “Feels broken.”

“Yeah, well, maybe don’t let Kate punch you in the face next time.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t dignify you with a response.

Shaking your head, you folded a fresh set of paper towels and pressed them lightly against his nose. “Hold this. It'll keep you from dripping all over Stark’s precious floors.”

Bucky took them with a sigh, his metal fingers brushing yours briefly.

You sank to your knees without really thinking about it, watching as Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting the pressure with careful precision. His shoulders had lost some of their earlier tension, but his posture was still guarded like he was bracing himself for something more than just the dull throb of pain. The quiet hum of the ventilation system filled the space, blending with the distant murmur of voices from the gym beyond.

“Last night, I—” Bucky broke the silence first, his voice slightly nasal from the swelling.

“You fell asleep.” You cut him off gently, offering a faint smile. You didn’t know how much he had actually heard before exhaustion had finally claimed him. Maybe that was for the best. Perhaps it had been a mistake to let your guard down, to speak so openly, to bare your soul so easily. You had told yourself you wouldn’t burden him with your struggles. He already carried enough of his own.

And yet, he had this way of making you feel safe. Too safe.

It was almost ironic. He was supposed to instil fear, his name alone enough to make enemies think twice. And yet, all you saw was a rather sad, damaged, and tired man, his big, mournful puppy-dog eyes carrying the weight of things he could never put into words.

“Yeah. I don’t… remember it happening,” Bucky admitted, frowning slightly as if frustrated with himself. “One second, I was with you, and the next—”

“Did you sleep well, at least?”

He hesitated like he was debating whether to downplay it. But then, finally, he nodded. “Yeah. Best I have in a while.”

Your smile grew just a little. “I’m glad.”

Silence settled again, not awkward, but not entirely comfortable either. Then, after a beat, Bucky sighed.

“I’m sorry that I don’t talk to you much outside of… lessons.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Bucky. You don’t… owe me anything.”

“It’s just… I don’t know how to act,” he admitted, gaze flicking away. “Not with everyone watching. I don’t want them figuring out. I don’t like their attention being all over me.”

Your smile faltered for just a second before you forced it back into place. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, shifting the conversation.

Bucky’s brows pulled together in confusion. “How do you know about that—?”

You shrugged. It was your job to observe. To pick people apart and learn their secrets before they even knew them themselves. “During training, I’ve noticed you favour your right side. You block and punch heavier with it. You were compensating subconsciously because your left side was giving you grief. Have you thought about seeing a physio?”

His lips parted slightly like he hadn’t expected you to catch that. Then his gaze narrowed, a hint of suspicion creeping in.

“Is that why you gave me a massage yesterday?”

You smirked, tilting your head playfully. “Hm. Maybe.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Always two steps ahead, huh?”

You leaned in just a little, eyes glinting with amusement, a witty remark hanging off your tongue—only to dissolve the moment the door swung open.

Steve sauntered in, halting mid-step by the sinks as he took in the scene. You were kneeling between Bucky’s legs, a faint smirk tugging at your mouth while he looked down at you with something dangerously close to a smile—bloody paper towel and all.

Steve’s brows lifted. Confusion crossed his face, mixed with something harder to place, surprise? Suspicion? Whatever it was, he clearly wasn’t expecting this.

You jerked back instinctively, hands bracing on your thighs as you turned to face him.

“It’s not broken,” you announced a little too quickly, jerking your chin toward Bucky. “He’ll live. Bit of swelling and a bit of bruising. Nothing that won’t fade.”

Steve blinked, still trying to piece things together. “I didn’t realise you two were… friends?”

You let out a short, sharp laugh, already on your feet and several paces away. “Hear that, Barnes? We’re friends now.”

Bucky—who stiffly sat on the bench, with his hands still braced against his knees—remained utterly rooted in place as if one wrong move would shatter the illusion. His eyes flicked to you, then to Steve, then back to you, a silent plea not to say anything more.

Steve, on the other hand, still looked perplexed. 

“What?” you asked, turning back to the sink and rinsing your hands of the small amount of blood that had smudged across the skin during your brief inspection.

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing, I just, uh…” His face twisted slightly like he regretted speaking at all. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. It surprised me, that’s all.”

That stopped you. Cold. The smirk slipped from your face like it had never been there. Classic Steve Rogers. World’s most well-meaning bastard. Saying the worst possible thing with the purest damn intentions.

You hadn’t exactly made yourself the most approachable presence on the team. You kept your distance, never bought into the ‘team bonding’ crap that Stark and Fury constantly tried to shove down your throat. You weren’t here for friendships but to do a job. But something about how he said it—I’ve never heard you laugh before—grated deep. Like your silence was an affliction. Like you were broken because you didn’t play nice like everyone else.

Without thinking, you flicked water in his direction.

He flinched back with a slight grimace. 

“Thanks, Rogers,” you said, bone-dry. Then you turned, walking away without another word.

You could faintly hear Steve’s voice, panicked and confused, coming from behind you as you pushed the door open.

“What? What did I do?” he called to Bucky, his voice trailing.

“That was painful,” Bucky muttered loud enough for you to catch. “You always tell women to smile more, or is that just your opener? Remind me how you bagged Sharon talking like that—”

“That wasn’t what I was saying—!” Steve protested, his words quickly swallowed by the sound of the door snapping shut behind you

But it didn’t matter.

Because the truth was, you probably would laugh more if life hadn’t spent the past few years making sure you forgot how. If it weren’t for how every genuine emotion now felt like an act, something you wielded like a weapon to get what you wanted. The only time you really smiled or laughed anymore was on missions, tools of the trade. Smile here, flirt there, manipulate, mislead, vanish. You could fake it all like second nature, charm so convincing it fooled even yourself sometimes.

Because when it was real, it still felt like a lie.

You stalked back into the gym, trying to push the thoughts aside. Yelena’s sharp eyes caught yours almost immediately. “We’re going to the bar after this. You coming?”

You reached for your gym bag, slinging it over your shoulder without missing a beat. “No,” you answered flatly, prowling to walk toward the door.

“You’re not coming?” Kate had appeared from nowhere at your side, big blue eyes staring up at you.

You glanced down at her, deadpan. “Can you even go? Aren’t you like twelve?”

Kate’s begging expression melted into a playful glare, hands on her hips as you hesitated by the door. “No! I’m in college. I’m not a kid!”

You raised an eyebrow, her defensive tone amusing you. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” she shot back, almost proudly.

You grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “Ah, barely legal.”

“It’s fine, she’ll be with us!” Yelena chimed in, giving you a pleading look. “Nat is coming, the others too, maybe Kate can buy Bucky a drink as an apology for breaking his nose—”

“Hey! I didn’t break it!” Kate protested, then looked up at you with a fearful expression, voice dipping in volume. “I didn’t, did I?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning in dramatically as if giving a speech. “I can already see the headline: ‘Avengers Drunken Antics on Public Display’—.’”

Yelena scowled at you. “It’s fine!” 

You smirked, but the exhaustion from the past few hours still weighed heavily on you. “You’re probably right. I can’t say much, in Russia we had vodka with breakfast.”

“So you’re coming?” Yelena asked one last time, sounding hopeful despite your resistance.

“No.” You said it with finality.  “I’ve seen too much of your face today. I need a break.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow, but Kate was already heading towards her bag with a skip in her step. “Fine! More for us then!”

—

The training room was unusually quiet without Yelena’s smartass remarks ricocheting off the walls. Usually, the three of you trained together in the early mornings, but she and Kate were off on some covert infiltration upstate. Childs play for Yelena, really, though she’d taken her duties as a mentor for her little pet project rather seriously. That left just you and Natasha circling each other on the mat. You weren’t exactly thrilled about Yelena’s absence, which meant you were facing the full brunt of Natasha’s wrath alone. What didn’t help was that you hadn’t slept properly in days. You were running on fumes, and it showed. The last week had felt like one long string of wipeouts, each one dragging you down further with no sign of relief.

You ducked beneath a lazy strike, half-hearted at best, and swept your leg toward Natasha’s ribs. She blocked it with her shin like she’d barely noticed.

“Sloppy,” she remarked.

You threw a punch, weak and lazy. Natasha easily caught your wrist, spinning your body and throwing you to the mat. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs. She didn’t even break a sweat. She let out a short laugh, her hair spilling into her face as she looked down at you, amused.

But something was off.

Not in how she fought—no, that was as sharp as ever—but in her expression. Tight-lipped. Smug. And not her usual brand of smug, either. This was different, like she was sitting on a secret and absolutely itching for you to notice. She had that look again. The same one she’d had for the last two weeks. A silent challenge. An arrogant knowing. A game of cat and mouse neither of you had been willing to finish.

You groaned, deciding to cut your losses and pushed yourself off the mat, wiping sweat from your brow.

“There’s obviously something you want to say to me,” you muttered.

Natasha didn’t even pause. She moved in for another strike before you could fully recover, but you caught her forearm and twisted. She resisted effortlessly, that infuriating calm grin spreading across her face again.

“Nope,” she said. “Just… pleased, that’s all.”

“Pleased about what?” you asked cautiously.

Natasha pivoted out of your grip like water slipping through your fingers and swept your legs out from under you with a sharp hook of her foot. You hit the ground again with a dull thud. She didn’t bother offering you a hand up as if half-convinced you’d stay down.

“That I figured out your little secret before everyone else.” Her grin turned vicious. She started to circle you again, tone sing-song and entirely too satisfied. “Took me a while, but once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.”

You rolled up to your feet, levelling her with a look. “What secret?”

You played it cool. Innocent. But you both knew the gig was up. Natasha was like you, trained to spot what others missed, to read the body language no one else even registered. She’d probably clocked you and Bucky the moment you returned from the Gala. She and Yelena hadn’t exactly been subtle about their hunches, either.

She raised a brow. “Oh, come on. You’re really going to make me say it?”

You blinked back at her, expression blank.

“You,” she said, dragging the word out. “And Barnes.”

You deflected with a snort. “Yelena’s theories getting to you?”

“Don’t lie.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “He’s always making those puppy-dog eyes at you when he thinks no one’s looking.”

You barked a laugh, catching her off guard just long enough for you to swing a low kick her way. She dodged it neatly.

“Puppy-dog eyes? I can’t imagine it.” You lied through your teeth. “He always looks like someone kicked him while he was down. That or the brooding.”

Natasha’s smirk sharpened. “And you’re into that? He must be a very good fuck if you’re sticking around this long.”

“We haven’t…” You hesitated with a curse, missing a beat in your footwork. You shook your head, willing your mind to be able to focus on two tasks at once through the haze of fatigue. “Why would I want to fuck Barnes—”

“Considering our line of work, you’re a terrible liar sometimes.” You scowled at the amusement dripping from her voice. 

“It’s not like that between us.” You relented. “Not that it’s any of your business anyway—”

She cut over you, tilting her head. “You’re telling me you two haven’t had sex? God, don’t tell me it’s romance—”

“I’m just helping him feel normal.” You snapped back, hoping to shut her down before it got worse. “H.Y.D.R.A fucked him up, that’s for sure. The same way the Red Room fucked us up.”

Natasha made a face like something had clicked into place in her mind. “Shit.”

Your stomach dropped, movements stuttering as you realised you had unintentionally opened the floodgates. 

“Right,” she murmured, and something about her tone shifted. Not her usual brand of teasing. “You’re not… Never mind.”

You lunged toward her on instinct, catching her wrist with a clumsy grip. The contact was unsteady, your fingers didn’t have the strength they usually did, and Natasha didn’t fight back immediately.

“What?” you asked, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied too quickly, too carefully.

“You’ve said it now,” you pressed, breath short. “Go on.”

She hesitated, her jaw ticking as her gaze drifted down, avoiding yours. The tension in her body softened by degrees, like she’d been carrying the thought for too long and finally decided it wasn’t worth holding onto.

“I just…” she exhaled, slow and controlled, “I worry about you sometimes. I hope you’re not taking on too much.”

You blinked at her, the fog in your head thick and sluggish. “Why do you say that?”

“You know what I mean.”

You knew what she meant, even if it was a truth you’d been hiding from yourself. A truth you didn’t want to look at too closely out of fear of it consuming you whole. A dull ache formed your chest, a lump in your throat as you shook your head. 

You knew Natasha wouldn’t have had any way of knowing those forbidden words you’d uttered to Bucky, the ones he had missed as sleep had pulled him under, the thoughts that haunted you now that you had finally shown them acknowledgement. You felt sick. Rotten to your core. Like maggots and rot festered within, wriggling and twitching beneath the skin, just enough for you to pretend, smile, and continue like normal as your world shattered around you.

“I’m not some broken little girl, Nat,” you said, heat rising behind your words. “I can look after myself.”

“I’m sure of that,” she said softly, and it was the softness that rattled you most. Natasha didn’t do soft unless it mattered. “But… can you look after yourself? Or have you just isolated yourself for so long that you’ve tricked yourself into thinking the only person you can trust is yourself?”

Her voice, the quiet honesty of it, landed harder than any blow she’d dealt all morning.

You looked down, your fists trembling faintly. You flexed your fingers, opening and closing them like the answer might be written in your palms.

“I’m fine.”

She didn’t argue, but she didn’t believe you either. You could feel it in the silence between her breaths. Natasha never spoke unless she meant it. She was always calculating like you.

“I just…” she said, the words tentative like they were being picked up and examined before they left her mouth. “I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

She paused, then added with a wry twist of her lips as if to soften the blow, “Or Barnes.”

You snorted, the sound bitter and short. “Since when do you care about Barnes?”

“I don’t,” she said. “Not really. But if he gets attached and this doesn’t go how he hopes, he could spiral. And if you get attached and he panics…”

“I know.”

And you did. You knew it too well. The thought had curled up behind your ribs and sat there, heavy and unwanted, gnawing at you whenever he looked at you like you were something soft. Like you were safe. You didn’t feel like a safe option. 

“Just…” Natasha’s voice was quieter now, more cautious. “Don’t lose yourself trying to fix him.”

You met her eyes, forcing yourself to stay grounded. To not waver. “I’m not damaged.”

Her expression didn’t shift, but you saw how her brow pinched, the subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“You know what I mean,” she said.

You sighed, the weight of your exhaustion peeling every word from your throat like it didn’t want to come willingly. “I’m also not trying to fix him. We’re just… friends. With benefits. Nothing more.”

She gave a slow nod like she was willing to accept that on paper, but in her gut, she wasn’t buying it.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll believe you. Just… don’t go all radio silent on me like you do. I’m here for you, you know?”

You raised a brow, trying for humour but lacking the energy to pull it off entirely. “You getting all sappy on me now?”

“Never.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

“Hm. Maybe.” She swiped the back of her hand across her brow. “But don’t tell Yelena. She’ll rip me to fucking shreds over it.”

Despite yourself, you let out a faint, tired laugh.

But it only lasted a second before Natasha lunged again.

You weren’t fast enough this time—your sluggish body didn’t catch up to the signal your brain sent. Her leg swept yours, and the mat slammed into your shoulder before you even realised you were falling. Pain flared, dull and heavy, and you lay there. Breathing hard. Staring up at the ceiling like it might offer you some kind of answer.

Natasha hovered above you, arms crossed loosely, her expression unreadable.

“Seriously,” she said. “When was the last time you actually slept? You look like shit.”

There it was, the usual cool, snide remark to cushion the fact that she truly cared. Like she knew you’d run like a spooked animal if she showed too much kindness. You didn’t answer right away. Just closed your eyes and let the silence stretch.

Natasha let out a grunt, not the least bit impressed.

—

You would have to warn Bucky that if he kept looking at you like that, the two of you were bound to end up in a whole world of trouble. 

It was bad enough that Natasha was on your tail—worse than that—she’d found the bones in your closet, polished them clean, and lined them up like trophies. You knew she wouldn’t breathe a word to Yelena, or anyone else for that matter, but you could feel a future creeping toward you, one where her tongue slipped. Just once. That’s all it would take.

And Bucky? He wasn’t helping. Not with that look. Not when even Steve Rogers did a double take, brows ticking up as if to say really, Buck? 

You were fresh off a particularly gruelling recon mission at Karpin’s club. No fists were thrown, no bullets dodged, but that didn’t make it any less exhausting. Playing the role of an attractive, naïve dancer took more skill than most people realised. You’d spent the last six weeks prying secrets from Karpin’s greasy fingers. Details about his buyers, how payments were moved, anything useful. He never suspected a thing, too high on his own ego to realise the little thing on his arm was gutting him for intel.

Fury had been unmistakable in his instructions—get the buyers first. If they caught wind that S.H.I.E.L.D was sniffing around, they’d scatter like roaches, and the whole operation would collapse. So you played the waiting game. Carefully. Precisely. Night after night.

Now you just wanted a drink. And a scalding-hot shower. Maybe both at once. Your skin felt like it had absorbed the club, cheap vodka, cigarette smoke, and desperation.

You adjusted the fur coat around your shoulders with a groan, trying to ignore how your dress—if you could even call it that—kept shifting against your skin. Yelena had dubbed the coat your ‘mob wife piece’ after finally watching The Sopranos, and the name had stuck. Your heels were the real punishment, though. Tall, unforgiving, and cursed by whatever sadist designed them.

After every recon job, the standard protocol was to turn in evidence immediately—cameras, bugs, audio mics, and a hand-written report. After six hours of playing pretend, you were scribbling in agonising detail while the evidence collection agent across from you gave you a rather pointed, unamused look. You briefly considered banging your head against the desk.

And, of course, Bucky was watching you. Not subtly. No, he was seated in a glass-walled meeting room across the way, surrounded by agents and Avengers, but his eyes hadn’t left you in a while. He looked like a gambler who’d just hit the jackpot. You watched him watching you, and you forgot to be annoyed for a second. He looked... ravenous. Unapologetically so.

The meeting finally broke. Doors opened. Agents spilled out. That was your cue. Evidence was handed in, and your aching wrist is getting no thanks for its service. The agent slid your report into a folder stamped ‘CLASSIFIED’ in angry red ink. You almost laughed. God, the theatre of it all.

Natasha bumped your shoulder as she sauntered past towards the elevator. 

“Better keep loverboy in check,” she muttered in your ear as she passed. Her smirk was wicked. 

You shot her a scowl.

Bucky was in the crowd, still watching. His gaze wasn’t on your scowl, though. It was lower. Tracing the cling of the gold mesh slip dress, the way it shimmered under the harsh overhead lights. Tacky enough for the job. Tight enough to draw attention. It hugged every curve with intent, and though it wasn’t your usual style, you were beginning to wonder if it might become one.

You hadn’t pegged Bucky for the type who’d go wild for glitter and skin, but judging by the look in his eyes…

Thank god for lessons, or he'd be dealing with a very awkward elevator ride. 

“I think I’ll take the stairs,” you replied, more bitterly than you meant to.

Natasha smirked as the elevator doors began to close, her eyes dancing with amusement and just a hint of sympathy. But it was Bucky’s gaze that lingered until the very last second as if he could memorise the sight of you before the doors cut him off.

You turned sharply on your heel and made for the stairs, the ache in your feet be damned. The heels bit with every step, but you welcomed the sting. It was easier to focus on than the heat lingering after Bucky’s gaze.

Four flights up, your phone dinged.

You didn’t have to check it to know. You already had a feeling. Still, a smirk pulled at your lips as you glanced at the lock screen.

Can I see you tonight?

Bucky had taken to modern tech far better than Steve ever had. Where Steve still asked what a GIF was or accidentally created a new group chat every time he tried to reply, Bucky had easily slipped into the rhythm. 

You thumbed out a reply as you rounded the next flight of stairs.

Aren’t you going out for drinks with the others?

Fridays had become a ritual for the team, provided no one was off saving the world or buried in a mission, so there’d be a few rounds at a bar nearby. Laughter. Cheap beer. Temporary normalcy.

You watched the typing bubble flicker to life… then vanish. Then again. And again.

Not my scene.

A pause.

Is that a no?

You grinned, slowing your steps just a little. You could picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, hovering over the screen like the answer might change everything.

You typed quickly.

I’ll come to your room right now if you ask nicely.

You paused in the stairway, hesitating outside the door for the residential floor where all the apartments were located. Your pulse tapped a little faster beneath your skin.

Another ding.

Please?

That was all it took.

You pushed open the door.

On my way.

—

“I want to try something different,” you murmured against Bucky’s skin, your lips brushing the hollow of his throat as you nuzzled into the warmth of his neck.

It all happened in a blur when you stepped through his door. Heels abandoned at the threshold, your coat sliding from your shoulders like a shrug of tension gone loose. Bucky had lasted all of two seconds, long enough for a strained smile and a greeting muttered through clenched teeth before instinct took over. His hands found your waist. Your back. Your thighs. And then you were in his lap as he stumbled backwards onto the bed, the mattress giving under both your weight and the familiar gravity that always pulled you toward each other.

Mumbled apologies about the scent of alcohol and sweat were lost beneath kisses, the air thick with the smell of him—black coffee from his meeting and that damn aftershave—as you melted into your usual spot atop him.

His rough palm ghosted up the back of your thigh in lazy strokes, the pads of his fingers brushing skin like he already knew it by heart. You blinked up at him, studying the angles of his face, searching for that tell-tale flicker, tightening of his jaw, a furrow between his brows, anything that indicated hesitation or worry. But there was none. Instead, he caught your eye, the touch of vibranium fingers cool and featherlight against your cheek.

“Last time you said that,” he murmured with a low chuckle, “you blindfolded me.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?” You cut back rather smugly, only to be met with a reluctant hum of agreement. “I want to talk about something first.”

Bucky stilled, alert now in that quiet, observant way of his. “What’s that?”

Your fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt. “Are you afraid of me touching you?”

He blinked, surprised. “No? Is this a trick question—?”

“Do you like me touching you?”

“Yes.” His answer came easily, without hesitation.

“But you don’t like me touching your cock.”

That gave him pause. The stroking of your thigh faltered. There it was, his jaw ticked, the smallest tension rising between his brows like a storm cloud forming just behind his eyes.

“I don’t…Isn’t that what we’ve been doing these past few months?” His voice was low, cautious.

“You let me touch you near it,” you said gently. “But if I move my hand under your waistband, even just a little, you freeze. You ask me to stop. I just want to know why.”

His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. He stared at the ceiling instead of at you, like maybe the answer was written there if he looked hard enough.

“There’s no wrong answer,” you whispered. “I’m not upset. I’m not trying to push you. I just want to understand. To help.”

He exhaled slowly, brows knitting in thought. 

“It’s overwhelming, I think,” he said finally. “The added…feeling. On top of everything else that’s already happening.”

“So,” you said slowly, “if it happened in isolation. Nothing else, just that, you’d feel more comfortable? More in control?”

He nodded once. “Yeah. I think so.”

You hesitated, then asked softly, “Would you be okay with trying today? Right now?”

His eyes finally met yours, a flash of vulnerability behind the steel blue. “Putting me on the spot here, doll…”

Doll. That was a pet name you wouldn’t look too deeply into. Or acknowledge. He didn’t even seem to notice he had said it.

“You can always say no,” you reminded him softly. “That’s the most important rule, always. Either of us can stop at any time. No questions, no pressure, no hard feelings.”

He was quiet momentarily, gaze flickering between your eyes, searching for something. Then he nodded once, steady.

“Let’s do it.”

You paused, holding his gaze. “Are you sure?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a touch wry. “I trusted you when you blindfolded me, didn’t I?” he said, voice low, rough around the edges. “I don’t see any reason not to trust you now.”

That was all the encouragement you needed.

You slipped off his lap with ease, sinking onto the floor between his knees, the hem of your dress bunching up around your thighs. You blinked up at him expectantly, steady but unhurried. Bucky hesitated, shoulders tensing as his hands hovered uncertainly at his belt. A flicker of embarrassment was behind his eyes, the kind he hadn’t yet learned to hide from you.

You didn’t comment on it. Didn’t tease him for the blush creeping up his neck, or for the way his fingers fumbled slightly as he undid the buckle and began peeling off the layers. You just waited—quiet, patient, allowing him to find his own pace. You didn’t point out the irony of it all, how easily he’d unravel for you, but how nudity still brought hesitation. Like showing skin was somehow more vulnerable than offering up his soul.

His boxers were the last to go, and by the time he slid them down, he was already half-hard, his cock flushed with arousal. The pink tint on his cheeks deepened as his eyes darted away from yours.

You tilted your head, shifting closer until you were kneeling between his legs. The warmth radiating from his thighs drew you in like a hearth. Your hand brushed lightly over his knee in reassurance, and he twitched at the contact.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice more hum than a question.

He nodded, but it was too tight, too instinctive.

You paused.

“Need to hear your words, Bucky. I’m only going to do this if you tell me you’re okay.”

There was a beat of silence, his vibranium hand clenching in the sheets beside him.

“I want this,” he said, voice low but certain, even if his body still trembled faintly beneath you.

You held his gaze for a moment longer, reading the tension in his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell with shallow breath.

“You remember what to say if you need to stop?”

He nodded again, more grounded this time. “Yeah. I remember.”

Satisfied, you reached out, your fingers wrapping gently around the base of his cock. You were cautious at first, letting your touch linger without pressure, just the soft drag of skin against skin. A strained groan left him almost immediately, the muscles in his thighs tightening on either side of you.

You glanced up at him through your lashes, watching his face twist with the sensation. His jaw slackened, mouth parted, eyes nearly fluttering closed as you began to stroke him. Slow, deliberate, careful. He was thick and heavy in your hand, already pulsing with anticipation, growing harder by the second. You shouldn’t have been surprised. Not after the nights spent grinding into each other, his arousal pressed tight and insistent through layers of clothing, but still, the reality of him was enough to stir a wicked spark behind your smile.

You pumped him a few more times, watching how easily his composure began to slip. He was already squirming, breaths ragged, his abdomen twitching every time your palm slid down to the base and back up again.

His head fell back, a quiet whimper escaping him as you thumbed over the slit at the head of his cock. He flinched from the contact, one hand flying to your elbow and gripping it like an anchor, his whole body responding to the jolt of pleasure like he’d been struck by lightning.

“How do you feel?” you asked, voice low, almost teasing.

It took him a moment to answer. His lips parted, trying to form words while his chest heaved, his eyes glazed over with ecstasy. A drop of pre-cum beaded at the tip, and you collected it with your fingers, spreading it down the shaft to ease your rhythm.

“Good,” he finally gasped. “Amazing. Did it always… I don’t remember it feeling—”

His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you leaned forward and kissed the tip. The contact was featherlight, but it shattered him. His metal hand shot up into your hair, not to pull or direct, but to ground himself, trembling as if the sensation threatened to lift him right out of his skin.

“Oh my god—” He began to whine.

You giggled softly, the warmth of your breath enough to send him over the edge.

Bucky came with a choked moan, his hips jerking as thick, hot ropes spilt over your chin and neck. His thighs trembled with the force of it, his head thrown back as if he couldn’t bear the weight of pleasure crashing through him. You stroked him through it, gentle and slow, coaxing every last pulse from him while he tried and failed to string thoughts together.

As he collapsed back against the mattress, boneless and dazed, you ran a hand up the inside of his thigh, using it as leverage to push yourself upright. His grip on your hair slackened and fell away, his hands lying limp beside him, fingers twitching faintly in the aftershocks.

“I’m gonna clean up,” you hummed, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He didn’t even open his eyes, just nodded, lips parted, breath still ragged.

“Okay,” he mumbled, voice thick and warm with lingering arousal. “I’ll be right here.”

—

It took only a few minutes to freshen up. You moved on muscle memory, warm water, damp cloth, and a quick sweep of your hair from your neck. You paused before leaving the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel in case he wanted it. 

But when you stepped back into the bedroom, you found he’d already taken care of himself, his boxers pulled back on.

Bucky was sprawled across the mattress like he’d melted into it, a sheen of sweat still clinging to his collarbone. He looked wrecked—in the best way. Hair tousled, chest rising and falling in a slow, almost dazed rhythm, but his gaze sharpened the second it landed on you. A lazy, crooked grin tugged at his lips as he lifted an arm in a silent invitation, eyes still half-lidded and blown wide with the afterglow.

You climbed into bed beside him, the weight of his body shifting as you curled into the space between his arm and chest. His skin was warm against yours, the hum of his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. You pressed a soft kiss to the curve of his jaw, and his breath hitched as your hand slid over his stomach.

His mouth found yours not long after, lazy and unhurried like neither of you wanted to break the spell. It didn’t stay that way for long. Hunger crept in. Familiar, greedy heat as his mouth parted and his fingers tangled into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath catch.

And then… you felt him. Again.

Your thigh brushed his hip, and you stilled. Then pulled back, brows arching in playful disbelief. “Already?”

The question hung in the air like a teasing note, half-smirk, half-curiosity.

Bucky’s eyes dipped, lashes fanning over flushed cheeks. He looked momentarily abashed as if he’d been caught red-handed, though the evidence quite literally pressed against your leg.

“It’s the super soldier serum,” he mumbled, the corner of his mouth curling despite himself.

You tilted your head, amusement rising. He was trying to play it cool, but the slight flush on his ears gave him away.

“Oh?” you drawled. “And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?”

His fingers scratched lightly at the back of his neck, a classic tell.

“Steve said something once,” he offered, deliberately vague.

You blinked. Your smile widened, slow and predatory.

“Steve?” you echoed. “You’ve been talking to Steve about this?”

“No!” His protest was immediate and rushed like a man trying to stop a landslide with a broom. “Not exactly,” he amended quickly. “He was talking about Sharon, I guess.”

A laugh bubbled up, and you bit your bottom lip to stifle it, your hand resting lightly on his chest. You could feel the way his heart kicked beneath your palm. Nervous, flustered. Bucky Barnes, caught in the act of oversharing.

“Sharon, huh?” you said innocently, voice tinged with mischief.

His eyes narrowed slightly, catching the shift in your tone. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said airily, pretending to inspect the stitching on the pillowcase behind his head. “Just something Yelena said the other day.”

Suspicion flickered in his gaze, but you forged ahead.

“She thinks Steve wasn’t as innocent as we all pegged him. Something about spotting him and Sharon… in a compromising position.”

Bucky snorted, turning his face into your shoulder to muffle the sound. “I wonder what they’d make of this.”

“Oh, I’d never hear the end of it,” you groaned, flopping onto your back with theatrical flair. “They’re already circling like vultures, trying to interrogate me about the gala.”

He shifted beside you, propping himself up slightly on his elbow to get a better look at your face. “And what did you tell them?”

You hesitated. Just long enough for the silence to tighten.

There it was, the flicker of guilt behind your eyes. You could feel it rise like a slow tide in your chest, swelling into your throat. You should tell him. About Natasha’s uncanny perception, the way her gaze had cut straight through you like a knife, and how you’d cracked under pressure with barely a word from her.

But you didn’t. You weren’t sure how he’d take it. Knowing someone else was privy to this—this, your quiet little secret.

“Nothing,” you said, soft but firm, hoping your smile would mask the lie.

His expression didn’t shift dramatically, but you saw his brow furrowed slightly—a quiet sharpening behind the eye.

“Nothing?” he repeated.

“I just…” You sighed, turning to face him properly. The pillow dipped beneath your cheek. “I figured you didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to make things messy.”

He was quiet. His gaze flicked to the ceiling, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower. “Yeah. It’s probably for the best, isn’t it?”

He didn’t sound entirely convinced by his own words, and you didn’t feel entirely convinced either. 

“It’s up to you,” you said eventually. “Everyone’s image of me is already… well, damaged.” You let out a soft, bitter laugh, fingers twisting idly in the edge of the sheets. “I’m sure this will hardly ruin my reputation. But yours…”

“That seems unfair,” he said, brows drawing together.

“What does?”

“The way they treat you.” Your breath caught slightly, unprepared for its bluntness. You looked at him, and he met your gaze head-on. No hesitation, no irony. Just honesty, raw and unvarnished. And before you could piece together a response, he spoke again. “Do you always do that? Make yourself smaller for other people?”

The question landed like a stone in your gut. You froze, eyes searching his face, almost disbelieving.

He hadn’t said it unkindly. But it lodged deep.

For a moment, you were tempted to laugh it off, to deflect, to be clever. Anything to avoid the sudden, unexpected vulnerability that cracked open inside you like a fault line.

Had he been watching you this whole time? Not just looking, but seeing? Had you been too busy circling Bucky to notice that he circled you in return?

You smiled weakly, wanting to fill the dreadful silence that had settled over the both of you. “I could say the same for you.”

His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you flush against him again. You could feel the weight of him against your hip, the heat building between you again.

You let your nose brush his. “Still something to do with the serum?”

Bucky smirked, lips brushing yours. “That… and you.”

You exhaled a breathless laugh, but something about the way his thumbs moved, slow circles against your ribs, made the warmth curl low in your belly again. The mood was shifting. Building. You could feel it.

And then his voice turned quieter. Uncertain.

“I feel bad,” he murmured.

You blinked, drawing back just enough to see the look on his face. 

“Bad?” you repeated, confused.

“For not…” He gestured vaguely between your bodies. “Returning the favour.”

You reached up, brushing your thumb along the line of his jaw. His stubble rasped against your skin.

“Bucky,” you said gently, “you don’t have to do everything all at once.”

He frowned, and you could tell he didn’t quite agree. Always so ready to shoulder weight that was never meant to be his. Always prepared to give more than he thought he was allowed to take. He carried guilt like it was just another one of his old injuries that could never quite be healed.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” you added, quieter now. “With information. Or… expectations.”

His eyes searched yours. “But I want to learn.”

“There’s a little more involved in getting a woman to orgasm,” you said, but your tone light as you tried to shake off the weight of his gaze.

“It doesn’t have to be… I just want to make you feel good.”

God. He said it like it mattered. Like you mattered.

Your resolve crumbled.

You rose slowly, coaxing him to sit up with you. Straddling his hips felt natural now, like returning to a familiar place. You took his hand gently, guiding it up over your shoulder over the thin gold strap of your dress.

“Okay,” you murmured. “Then help me take this off.”

His fingers moved with care, grazing over your skin, catching the strap between his thumb and forefinger as he began to ease the dress down your arms. The fabric slid away like a sigh, pooling around your waist, revealing the strapless bra beneath.

You felt him falter, brow furrowing in confusion. “How does this…?”

You turned around on your knees, back to him. “It unclips at the back,” you murmured, sweeping your hair over one shoulder to expose the delicate line of your spine.

“Just three hooks. Here.” You reached behind you, fingertips brushing the clasp.

His fingers met yours, searching as he followed your instructions. A breath escaped him, soft and shallow, before he found the hooks and gently undid them one click at a time.

The tension in your shoulders eased just a fraction. “There you go.”

His hands hovered, uncertain now that your bare back was before him like an empty canvas. You tossed the bra to the floor and reached back, guiding his hands to your waist, then up, encouraging him to cup the full weight of your breasts. He was hesitant at first, the pads of his fingers a little stiff, a little too tense. The contrast of warm flesh and cool vibranium sent a delicious shiver spiralling through you, eliciting a long, satisfied sigh.

That sound seemed to break whatever restraint he was clinging to. His grip shifted, confidence blooming. He began to knead and explore, thumbs brushing experimentally over your nipples. When a vibranium finger flicked one with the barest touch, you let out a soft whine, your back arching to press yourself flush against his chest.

“I think I like this,” he murmured, voice husky at your ear, breath fanning warm across your skin.

You let out a breathless laugh, turning slowly to face him again, your balance steady in his palms. His hands slid down to anchor you at the hips.

His gaze lingered, not just on your chest, but on your face. Like he was still processing, still memorising. Desire curled in your gut, a heartbeat between your legs. You fought the urge to reach down, to chase the friction your body was begging for.

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you again. Something in him had shifted. He wasn’t following anymore. He was moving with intent. And when he gently rolled you back onto the pillows, his weight settling above yours, your breath hitched.

You tried to ignore the instinct curling tight in your belly. Tried not to let the familiar feeling of being beneath someone stir that old panic. Like the walls might close in around you. Like control was slipping just a little too far out of reach.

His mouth trailed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, between your breasts, and you squirmed ever-so-slightly beneath him. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, a soft sound of satisfaction humming against you. He licked a rough stroke over one of your nipples as if it were a primal instinct.

You groaned, one hand gently scratching across his back, the other through his hair. His knee slotted between your thighs, parting them easily, the gold fabric of your dress bunched at your waist. Only a thin slip of lace remained between you. He didn’t look down. He didn’t need to, his lips were still worshipping your chest.

His vibranium hand curved over your knee, pushing you open further, his hips grinding lightly into yours, and that flicker of alarm surged. Too strong to ignore.

You moved fluidly before it could root itself. With practised grace, you flipped the two of you, rolling him onto his back and straddling his hips in a single, breathless motion. He made no protest, just let out a pleased groan as his hands found your thighs.

You exhaled slowly, grounding yourself in the present. In him. His wide eyes blinking up at you, still caught in the moment.

He didn’t notice the shift. Didn’t ask why you took control again.

And you were grateful.

As you steadied yourself above him, he sat up suddenly, arms sliding around your waist. His mouth pressed a slow kiss to your sternum. He looked up at you, lashes fluttering, nose brushing the curve of your breast.

Your breath caught in your throat.

As he pressed another kiss to your skin, you realised—without a doubt—that maybe this was the single most erotic moment of your life.

Not the act, not the heat of it all but him. The way he looked at you. The gentleness in his hands. The trust humming beneath his skin like a live wire. The way your name might’ve been forming behind his teeth, even if he hadn’t spoken it.

You sank your hands into his hair and pulled him closer.

You were still tangled in each other, the heat between your bodies humming like static, when the apartment door swung open with an easy, unthinking click.

“Hey Buck, you sure you don’t wanna come out with us—?”

The cheerful voice stopped cold. 

Steve.

---

PART FOUR

hello! i no longer have a taglist because it got too long and was reaching the tag limit. if you want to keep being notified of my updates please follow @artficlly-updates and turn on post notifications! i'll only be reblogging on there <3

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

text message. l Joel Miller

a/n : a while ago i got a message from anon asking me to write something for joel. i managed to do it today. sorry you had to wait so long. i hope you like it.

warnings : pre-outbreak Joel, some angst, misunderstanding, age difference (about 10 years), suspected pregnancy, argument, Sarah and Tommy mentioned, lots of uncertainty and fear

[Joel Miller masterlist] [my masterlist]

He shouldn't have done that. It was crossing all boundaries, violating your privacy and trust, but he couldn't help himself. When your phone made a series of strange noises that indicated a message had been received and you were in the bathroom at a gas station, Joel reached for it and looked at the screen. A cold chill ran down his spine a second later.

"Two weeks late? Did you take a test? You should see a doctor. What did Joel say?"

A heavy stone landed squarely in his stomach, and he felt his head spin. “Fuck!” he groaned almost silently, shaking his hand as he placed the phone back where you’d left it.

He immediately guessed what you and your friend could have been talking about, he had no doubts. If you were pregnant, that complicated everything.

Joel Miller wasn't entirely sure if he should do it, but when he met you on one of his bar crawls with his younger brother Tommy, he felt like fate had finally favored him. He was almost thirty-six, had a teenage daughter, worked hard, and couldn't remember the last time he'd met a woman. You, on the other hand, were simply beautiful, talkative, with a charming smile on your lips. You were also almost ten years younger than him.

It didn't bother him as much on your first date, or your second, or when you kissed on the couch, or after the first time you had sex. Joel felt younger and happier with you, and everyone around him noticed the change in him.

He fell in love like a stupid teenager, and you didn't make it any easier for him. It was only after a few months that he started to wonder. Maybe dating you wasn't so wise? Maybe you were really too young for him?

When you would visit him at work, bringing him lunch or something, guys would often make fun of him. Joel wasn't as immune to this as he thought. His insecurities grew, and worries about whether he was doing the right thing also grew in his mind too.

And now this. Pregnancy. When Sarah was born, he was too young, and now he felt too old to be playing in diapers. What if you, too, disappeared, like Sarah's mother? Would he be able to cope? What if no woman saw the possibility of a permanent relationship with him, and when the baby came, she simply ran away?

"Hey. Is everything okay?"

He didn't even notice that you had returned and were already sitting next to him. He nodded uncertainly and cleared his throat.

"Yeah. Tommy called, something at the construction site." he lied, quickly starting the engine.

"Do you want to go there?"

"What? No, I don't have to." Joel replied, "Sarah has a game today."

He didn't say anything else the entire ride home, and then to the game you went to with them. He seemed strangely distant, but you were certain he was constantly thinking about work. Even when you suggested ice cream afterward, Joel showed almost no interest.

You dropped Sarah off at a friend's for a sleepover and you were sure that you and Joel would go to his place, but when he suddenly said, "I'll drop you home." You already knew something was wrong.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked as he pulled the truck up in front of your apartment. Once again, you spent the entire ride in silence, which wasn’t normal.

He shook his head. "No, everything's fine."

“Joel? Look at me, please.” He did it reluctantly, but eventually your eyes met. “You’ve been out of sorts all day. What’s wrong?”

"I've had a lot on my mind lately and..."

"Please, don't lie to me." You interrupted him. You weren't mad, he saw concern on your face. "Did something happen?"

“I…” he began, but the words were hard to get out of his throat. He felt your warm hand on his forearm and it broke him. “Are you pregnant?”

"W-What?" you blurted out, completely surprised.

"I saw, quite by accident, a message from your friend. You're two weeks late. Something about a test and a doctor. I need to know."

You looked at him with slightly parted lips, a small wrinkle appeared between your eyebrows. You couldn't gather your thoughts in your head, but Joel clearly couldn't stop himself from talking.

“I think about it all the time. You’re still young, you have plans,” he said, and you felt every word hit you harder. “I know we should be more careful. This whole thing between us is still new and uncertain. You’re so young, I shouldn’t have… Fuck. I fucked it up.”

"What the hell are you talking about, Miller?" you gasped, completely stunned by his words "What do you mean - too young? I..."

"Look at us. I have a teenage daughter, and you're at the beginning of your career. You can leave this town anytime you want, because there's nothing keeping you here. But what if you're pregnant? That complicates things like hell and..."

"Stop it!" you raised your hand in warning "You're talking nonsense! I knew how old you were from the beginning, I knew about Sarah and it didn't bother me."

Joel rolled his eyes. "Now you say that."

“Oh! And you’re a know-it-all!” you snorted angrily. “So I think it’s safe to say you took advantage of a young and fresh pussy.”

Joel gave you a stern look, but you didn't even blink. You were ready to fight him if he wanted to. You were aware of his fears and insecurities, but you thought that by this point you had already shown him how much you cared about him. Age was just a number to you, and ten years didn't make much difference when you weren't a teenager anymore.

"I never thought of you that way." he replied, clenching his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning slightly white.

"I feel different now." you replied, shrugging. "Because you're acting like you're just looking for an excuse to break up with me. Because you read some message on my phone? Please! That's pathetic!"

“Pathetic?!” Joel raised his voice. How could you be so indifferent to how your life might change? No one in their right mind would decide to have a child so soon. But of course, you were still young, the romantic vision of a family still lingered in your mind, and you didn’t realize how much it would affect you.

Joel wanted to say something else, but you suddenly grabbed your things and got out of the car slamming the door. He quickly got out after you.

"Did you take the test? When are you seeing the doctor?" he asked, catching you before the door.

"Leave me alone." you hissed, ripping your arm out of his grip. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I think I do."

You looked at him in a way Joel had never experienced before. Your warm gaze turned hard and angry, your mouth a thin line, and your entire body took on a defensive stance. You had never argued like this before.

"Fine." you finally said. "I'll tell you. I have an appointment on Monday. Are you happy?"

"I'll go with you."

“Don’t be ridiculous, this doesn’t concern you at all,” you laughed nervously. “And it definitely doesn’t concern you now.”

Joel looked at you in surprise. So he's already screwed everything up? He's already erased those few really good months?

“I’m not pregnant,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “My last checkup showed I had ovarian cysts. They caused my periods to be irregular, and now my period is a few weeks late. The doctor said I should see him if that happens.”

"Cysts?" Joel repeated.

"Yes! I didn't tell you anything because I didn't see the need." you replied "I'm not pregnant, Joel. And you... You, fucked up."

You turned around and disappeared through the door before he had a chance to say anything.

Joel had all night to think about what had happened. All night without sleep, when he kept seeing your angry face in his mind, when he kept repeating your words and feeling worse by the moment. He picked up the phone several times to call you, but he kept giving up, terrified you wouldn't pick up.

What would he have done if you hadn't picked up? Would that have meant the end for both of you? He couldn't believe that his own fears and insecurities had led him to attack you so suddenly. He could have done it differently, he could have waited for you to say something. Instead, he had cornered you and forced you to admit to something that was clearly your own personal issue, one that you wanted to resolve on your own.

He knew nothing about women's health issues. When Sarah got her first period, he managed with the help of a nice store employee, and then his daughter took over. For Joel, a missed period meant pregnancy, and that meant panic and everything he had experienced before.

No, he didn't want to make excuses for his behavior. He had screwed up. He felt like you were disappointed in him and he had no idea what to do about it.

It was still early when he showed up at your place. You opened the door, sleepy, with ruffled hair, in one of those oversized t-shirts you slept in.

"Joel?" you mumbled hoarsely, rubbing your face, "Did something happen? Something with Sarah?"

He shook his head. "No. I had to see you. I had to... Fuck." He scratched the back of his neck, nervously shifting from foot to foot, "Can we talk? I, I need to know that I didn't completely fuck this up."

You looked at him for a moment in silence, as if you were considering his words in your head. It was a really long few seconds, but you finally pulled away, allowing Joel to step inside. The apartment was bathed in morning sunlight, and Joel's eyes immediately went to the few framed photos of him and Sarah that you had at your place. Another needle stabbed him in the heart.

"So?" you asked, folding your arms over your chest. "I'm listening."

"I don't know where to start." he mumbled completely sincerely.

"I suggest you start from the beginning."

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry for everything I said. I'm a fucking idiot."

You tilted your head. "Good start."

Joel took a deep breath. He wanted to do it right, he wanted to take advantage of the chance he was given. Maybe it was the last one he had.

"I know now that I should have been honest with you from the beginning. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I still can't believe you chose me. I kept thinking we weren't right for each other, that we were too different."

“Are you still thinking about age?”

He nodded. "Yeah. See, you're young, and I..."

You rolled your eyes and cursed loudly. “If you’re going to give me this age difference bullshit, maybe just leave. Jesus! That’s not twenty or fifty. Joel, I’m an adult, I work, I pay taxes. I get to decide who I’m with?”

“You think so now.”

“I thought so from the beginning! When I met you, the first thing I thought was that you have gorgeous eyes and really broad shoulders. I felt good with you, I liked you, and I think you’re really sexy. It has nothing to do with your age.” You took a deep breath and put your hands on your hips, like you were trying to explain something really obvious. “Sarah is amazing, I love spending time with her. I love you, even though sometimes you drive me crazy, and yesterday you really pissed me off. I didn’t tell you about the doctor because there was nothing to talk about. But if you had any suspicions, you should have come to me instead of getting even more upset. I felt like you were just looking for a reason to break up with me.”

“It’s not like that.” Joel took a step toward you. “When Sarah’s mother left us, I was left to fend for myself. Yes, there was Tommy and my mother to help us, but single parenting is no easy feat. I was certain you would disappear, too. Not only would you leave me with a child, but you would simply conclude that I was somehow flawed, that I wasn’t cut out to be with you. I guess I preferred sabotaging us rather than simply facing my fears.”

You looked at him, trying to understand his words. His face, eyes, and body language told you he wasn't lying. Joel was full of uncertainty and doubt, but you thought you were past that stage. You told him many times that you loved him, you didn't belittle his needs, and you always helped him with Sarah or around the house. And yet he felt all of this?

“I’m trying to understand you, Joel, I really am.” You finally said, sighing softly. “But I can’t be the only one in this relationship fighting for us. I feel like no matter what I say or do, you’ll find a reason why we can’t be together. Do you even love me?”

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, moving closer and taking your face in his hands. “You have no idea how much I love you. And that scares me. I’m always afraid you’ll find all my flaws.”

"You have a lot of them. I do too. But does it matter when we're happy together?"

No, it didn't matter. The fear of losing you showed Joel what really mattered to him. He cared about you more than he could admit. He saw how perfectly you fit into his family, always trying to help everyone and make everyone happy. He didn't think he'd ever feel the same way about anyone again. 

"I'm sorry, baby. I don't know what I could do to fix this." He whispered, you felt tears welling up in your eyes at how much he was going through. "But I don't want to end what we have. I love you, I'm sure of that."

"You think so now." You replied, parroting his words.

He smiled slightly. “I’ve known this for a long time, and I think the knowledge scared me. The fear that you’d disappear and I’d be left alone with this feeling. I don’t want you to disappear. I want to stay, permanently.”

"I want to stay too, Joel. Don't push me away ever again."

"Never again, baby."

He kissed you, softly and tenderly, as if he was afraid he still might. But when you kissed him back, Joel felt an unimaginable sense of relief. He had you in his arms again, all the dark thoughts swirling in his head dissipated and he felt happiness fill him. Your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you, letting him kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

You could get through this, together. By being more honest, by giving each other a chance at happiness and love, by supporting each other. Joel knew he would do anything to deserve you, and you couldn't imagine not giving him another chance.

“I’ll go to the doctor with you on Monday if you want,” he said as you poured him a fresh cup of coffee and sat down next to him at the table.

“If you want. I could use some support,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

He kissed the top of your head and smiled. He would give you anything, and you never asked for much. You just wanted him to love you, and Joel wanted that too.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[kislnd]

handsy - chrismd~

synopsis: chris loses all sense of self restraint when he's drunk around y/n. notes: hey... i have returned after a very long while... with the chris fic based on this request from a while ago 🫶 getting back into the flow of writing so apologies if this isn't the best!! warnings: suggestive, alcohol word count: ~1.3k

masterlist

the pub was a haven of warmth amidst the cool autumn night, its windows fogged from the breath of numerous conversations and a slight aroma of alcohol and some sort of fried food clinging to the atmosphere.

y/n could tell chris was already a few drinks in and gradually becoming more and more competitive as he challenged each of his friends to a game of darts. "you still think you can beat me?" he teased to a more sober arthur who just rolled his eyes playfully, his voice louder than usual due to the alcohol loosening his tongue. "don't get too bigheaded, it'll be even more embarrassing when you lose." arthur grinned, standing to his feet to take chris on. y/n couldn't help but crack a smile at arthur's remarks - usually it was chris who would say things of the sort, especially when he was under the influence.

y/n watched intently as arthur went first, despite the fact he also had a couple of drinks he was still quite good - good enough that she wasn't sure if chris could actually beat him. "that might actually be a hard score to beat chris," she grinned at him from where she was sitting. "hey!" chris turned around abruptly to face her, a slight smile on his face, "you're supposed to be my number one supporter!"

"i am, i'm just realistic." y/n shrugged, "for some reason arthur is weirdly good at certain things." at this, arthur piped up, "that didn't feel like a compliment," he smiled, but remained fixed in his position, hyperfocusing on the dartboard to finish up his final few throws as best as he could.

"chris, you're up," arthur pulled his final dart out of the board, satisfied with his score. "i'll wait a second, let you feel good about your performance for a moment before i thrash you." y/n still wasn't convinced chris would be able to pull it off but she stayed quiet, anything could happen, especially if he was this dead set on winning.

the first couple of throws hadn't been too bad but in comparison to arthur's up to that point, they were slightly lower scoring. "you're going to have to really pull it out of the bag here mate," another one of the guys who was invested in the game commented. "don't worry, i know what i'm doing." chris nodded to him, y/n couldn't help but laugh - she wasn't quite sure when he turned into the grand master of darts but this mentality wasn't currently translating into skill. admittedly, she was hoping chris would win, moreso because after everything he had said, it would be a blow to his ego if he lost and painfully embarrassing.

as if by some miracle, chris' final throw was the saving grace of the entire game. arthur's mouth fell open in shock, he had been leading for most of the game and rightly so, had been expecting to come out on top. "i like to lure them into a false sense of security." chris grinned widely at arthur, who still hadn't fully processed how he had managed to bring it back to the point of victory. "yeah, i've no idea how you did that but fair play, well done." arthur shrugged, taking another sip of his beer.

chris finished gathering up the darts, went to order another pint and returned with his drink, situating himself next to y/n. "i never doubted you for a second." she giggled, shuffling a little closer to him. he smiled, resting his hand on her thigh, "whatever you say."

as the night drew on and the drinks continued to flow, y/n noticed chris' hand inching further and further up her thigh, pushing her skirt dangerously high. he was rubbing small circles on her inner thigh absent-mindedly, engulfed in the conversation at the table. every now and again, he would glance at her with clouded eyes that, despite being tired and obviously drunk, were still filled with love, maybe even something more.

y/n mentally confirmed he was in a certain mood as he inched closer to her, dragging her towards him so their sides were pressed together - one arm around her, resting gently on her lower back while the other continued to rub her thigh slowly, almost painfully. if they hadn't been in public, she was certain something more would have happened by now. chris was getting more bold, sliding his hand even further up her leg, earning a gasp from her. "chris!" she hissed, not wanting to draw attention to them, "really?"

despite being a little more than just slightly drunk, chris knew what he was doing, and y/n knew that for a fact. "what?" he smiled a dopey half smile at her, "can't i touch my beautiful girlfriend?" y/n rolled her eyes playfully, she still couldn't believe how cute he was capable of being - especially given the fact that he was generally quite mean when under the influence. she had to admit she couldn't get enough of the way it made her feel extra special, and honestly it did give her a good laugh. the way he would be super loving towards her and in the same breath call some poor victim, usually arthur, a rude name was just comical. "why don't we get this treatment?" arthur prodded chris in the side with a cheeky smile on his face. "last time i checked you weren't my girlfriend?" he snapped back lazily, head flopping onto y/n's shoulder, hand still firmly planted on her leg. "wouldn't want to be either, you're crushing the poor girl!" another one of the guys, one y/n honestly didn't recognise in the moment, added.

at this, another couple of people at the table darted their eyes towards her, noticing the way chris was near enough wrapped around her completely, bar his lower half. she felt the heat rising to her cheeks, she was never the type to do pda, but equally she wasn't entirely opposed to it - just as long as it wasn't something too crazy. "you lot as well?" chris sighed, exasperated at the attention from seemingly everyone other than y/n, "i'd like to enjoy my girlfriend in peace please," he shut his eyes slowly, clearly getting towards the tired stage of being drunk. "we can tell," arthur continued, noting chris' hand placement. y/n assumed that this was his way of getting back at chris - playfully of course - while he wasn't energised enough to argue. "i'll let you have that one, i won the darts," chris didn't bother to open his eyes to reply, he used what energy he had remaining to pull himself closer to y/n, "and i have a sexy girlfriend, so who really won?"

the table erupted into laughter - y/n couldn't tell if this was genuine shock or amusement or a blend of the two. the way chris could be so straightforward when he was drunk and come out with some of the most unexpected things was remarkable, he became almost the polar opposite of his sober self. "right, i think we'd better get home," y/n spoke lowly to chris, who hadn't moved from her seemingly very comfortable shoulder. it was getting late and everyone was visibly tired and / or intoxicated so she figured it was a good idea to slip out of the pub before the masses left.

chris only hummed in agreement, eyes still firmly shut, the few thoughts that were circling his mind were all y/n.

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Hey I was wondering would it be possible to do the dorm leaders with an s/o that suffers from Essential tremor.

And Essential Tremors is a nervous system condition, also known as a neurological condition, that causes involuntary and rhythmic shaking. It can affect almost any part of the body, but the trembling occurs most often in the hands, especially when doing simple tasks, such as drinking from a glass or tying shoelaces.

I have it and I was just wondering how they would deal or help with it

Disabled Yuu

I actually know a bit abt this but I did keep it vague as I don't have it myself. I also hope to do more disabled ayuus fr. I made Yuu assertive and exasperated in some parts– like Honestly if ur being an ass or demanding info abt someone's disability you have full right to return the energy.

I avoided the whole fixing thing in this too– though Azul’s part does bring it up. Platonic as I focused more on the hand aspect. Azul is Pre Overblot!! Hence why hes 2x as sleazy. I didn't Malleus cause it came out corny af. Also this is old and I wrote this on no sleep. Sorry this took so long I have like 70 reqs. Enjoy.

***

Riddle 

Since the first Unbirthday party you shared with Heartstabyul he got educated very quickly on the subject. He sees you shakily bring a cup to your lips and guiltily assumes it was because of his overblot. He doesn't blame you, I mean come on, he tried to kill you after all. It was then you explained to him your condition

Since then, he actually read up on it in his own time. He's honestly one of your biggest supporters– though you do need to remind him at times you don't need coddling. Still, you can appreciate it…

“Prefect.” You pause and turn your attention to the housewarden beside you. “Your tie is unkempt today. Will you allow me to fix it?” He asks thoughtfully, not wanting to intrude or risk coming off as rude.

“Ah, can you really? I'd appreciate it.” You presented your neck to Riddle, allowing him to reach over and adjust for you. His gaze was focused as he untied it, re-wrapping it with perfection as if it were second nature. Given his upbringing, you don't doubt it is.

“Thank you by the way, today I just didn't have the energy to deal with it.” When he's finished you pull away and nod at him. “Of course. Should you ever need help with anything in the future let me know. I'll be glad to help.”

Leona

Leona doesn't notice and doesn't really care. It's only when you share a room with him where he sees it, watching you tremble from where you lay. You have a blanket and the dorm is warm.  Why are you shaking?

“Look at you trembling in the lion's den. Do I scare you that much?” He quirked an uninterested brow at you as you turned your head to him.

“... It's a neurological condition…” You spoke bluntly, hoping that would be the end of it. “So it causes you to tremble like this?” 

“Yeah pretty much.” Leona merely hummed, and the subject dropped. No invasive questions. No taunts. No pity.

He's not mothering you or bending over backwards in the future and don't expect him to. It's clear you've been able to handle yourself well enough. Still, he takes it into consideration. He'll bite his tongue when you take a bit longer to do things.

You don't need to be babied, but when he sees you struggling to open a wrapper of some sort of a candy he offers his hand “Give it here. I'll help you out” You wordlessly handed over the candy and watched him slice through it with the claw on his thumb.

“Tch. You make me do too much…” It's an insincere remark as he hands off the candy bar and continues on his way.

Azul

“... I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly Azul, can you repeat what You said?”

“Cant believe your ears?” Azul wore a smirk as he put a hand on his chest, speaking once more with his confident tone. “The Mostro Lounge has quite a special deal just for you, dear Prefect! A special cure to your ailmen–”

“That's what I thought you said.” Azul paused for a moment taking in your annoyed tone. Did he miscalculate? “Something the matter Prefect–”

“Azul.” You now looked at him with a cold glare, clearly pissed. Azul swallowed, steeling his anxiety behind his businessman persona though the slight widening of his eyes gave away some of his true emotions. “... Yes, Prefect?”

“Why the fuck do you think saying that is okay?” You couldn't tell right now if your hands were trembling from your condition or rage. “Are you dense?” you ask, voice harsher.

“N-no, Prefect. I'm sorry if anything I said has caused you offense…” The deepened glare silenced him. “Think for a moment the implications of you wanting to cure me, and even if I did accept then what? You'd seriously hold something as sensitive as this over my head? Would you even be able to cure it long term?”

How badly you wanted to tear him a new one and let him have it, insults resting on your tongue. Instead, you sighed, exhausted from this conversation already. It wasn't worth your time.

“I'm not some ‘charity’ case though I doubt you know the meaning of the word. I don't need your ‘cures’. Just… leave me alone from now on. Don't talk to me, don't approach me.” you turned away and sped off, more frustrated than ever.

It would take until after his overblot for an apology.

Kalim 

Oh Kalim… he really does mean well but…

“And this spoon is designed for shaky hands!”

“I don't need…”

“And these are silk ribbons you wrap them with!”

“Thank you but–”

“And these magical devices are to help check blood pressure–”

“Kalim.”

Kalim blinked and tilted his head, still in the middle of putting the excessive amount of gifts into your hands “Ah?” He blinked for a moment. “Ohhh I know that tone, that's the same one Jamil uses when he tells me I go overboard…”

Kalim's brows knit together and he rubs his head through his white hair. “Did I go overboard again?” He's so genuine it's hard to be mad at him.

“... A little. Hey‐” You hold Kalim's face and pat him on the head. “Thank you though. It's very sweet of you to look out for me, but… I don't need all of these things. I'll be alright okay?”

“Oh! Okay! Well if you ever need anything I'm here!” Kalim pumps his fist then turns to the massive pile of boxes behind him. “So um… what should I do with these…?”

"Donate them maybe?”

Vil

Another example of doesn't really care. He inquired about it once, asked some polite questions and left it at that. There's no need for him to bother you.

When the VCD tournament comes around and he spends more time with you, he takes note of how it affects you. Many expect him to make comments or give you products to take care of your hands more, and he does, however he would have done that regardless of your condition.

Your disability doesn't define you and you're capable on your own. You don't need an able-bodied outsider to tell you what to do or how to feel. A really good ally. 

As he collects all the data on how your condition affects you specially, he's able to give you some welcome help. 

“This potion is good at helping with seizures, but it can also help with your Tremors. I will show you how to make it.”

Idia 

“So your hands can't stay still? Oof, bad RNG.” He immediately realizes he used video game terms out loud and dies just a bit. 

Really it's only Ortho that inquires about it. Your body's not any of Idia's business so why should he care? After all, how many times has he seen you irl? Yeah lol, he's cool. He barely knows you aside from a few random encounters on a bad roll. 

However Ortho cares. He cares a lot. And he's always trying to find ways to potentially help or cure you. Idia watches his little brother researching every book he can find on your condition and sighs.

“There's no cure right now Ortho. now even magic. Besides that's Yuu’s choice, isn't it?” He shrugs and looks off to the side apathetically. 

Sad beeps come from the humanoid. “Yeah I know that… I think I upset them but I didn't mean to…” The child's mournful expression suddenly perks up. 

“But! I'm not trying to do that! I'm researching the best way to make a game controller!” 

“A game controller? Isn't that pretty easy?”

“Well yes but…” Ortho pauses, reflecting on his earlier conversation.  “I asked Yuu if they enjoyed any video games and they said that they do. However, it's hard to play certain games because of their hands. So!”

Ortho shows Idia the 3d model he sculpted in his program. “I'm working on one that will work for them.”

“Working on one that works for them…” Idia looked to the side. He couldn't imagine a world without video games… and he doesn't have much to do… and he supposed the Prefect is okay…

“Send the file to me. I'll get to printing it.”

[obscuremantisman]

⁍Elliot x Reader ⁌

CW: nothing that i can think of tbh.

Elliot swears he's not going crazy. "It's just the stress", he says, "just the lack of sleep", he told himself, backing away in a corner, no stamina, at 1 hp, and in sheer terror as he watched a medkit float his way, yes, float.

He pressed himself against the wall, bracing for the impact, tears building up on his eyes. This is by far the worst round he's been in. Where's Guest 1337? Shedlesky? Two Time? Chance? Where the hell are they when Elliot needs help??

He braces himself for the impact, expecting only horrors to befall him. Maybe it'd explode? Leak poisonous gas? Or turn into a monster? Instead, Elliot was met with nothing. When he opens his eyes, the medkit is just.. frozen mid-air.

It stayed still, filling the pizza man with paranoia, waiting for something to happen as he glared at the object, specks of dirt falling off its rusty plastic. Elliot gulped, his trembling form slowly relaxing from the lack of adrenaline coursing through his veins. "What the hell is actually happening???" He mumbled out with a flinch. Did the medkit just drop itself down at his feet?? Elliot eyed it up suspiciously.

Hmmmm. It touched him and yet nothing happened. Could it be safe for use? His teammates hoarded and used all remaining medkits... So this is his only chance of survival... 75% chance of it being a trap, and 25% of it being his path to victory. It wouldn't be thaaat bad to try out his luck, right? right???? It's not like Elliot would end up surviving anyway if the killer ever finds him or something...

Seeing nothing happen once the kit was hesitantly taken in his hands. He opened the box, wrapping himself up in the bandages, and sighing in relief once finished. Elliot straightned his back, a satisfying pop sound coming from his bones. This felt so much better. Now all he needed to do is– "Hmm.. I'll admit, I fell just a tiny little bad for scaring the poor guy." Elliot furrowed his eyebrows, looking around frantically for the source of sound. What is it now? Is he going insane?? Has he been chugging down too many sleeping pills recently??? Why can't anything go his way in this place???? "But as long as the result is the one expected... who cares, am i right?"

Elliot felt a force push down his hat to cover his vision, getting his mind to swirls with even more doubts and fill up with panic, foreseeing a surprise attack that would never truly come his way. "Bye, bye, pizza boy! Don't die this round, ok?" What is this?? Is that... Is that a hand he feels? It caressed the top of his head gently before Elliot could react. "I worked hard to the bone to fetch this stupid medkit before your little friends could get to it, you know."

He looked up, but there was nothing to see. Perplexed, he tipped his hat back up, eyes darting around for something, anything to tell him he wasn't crazy and that this actually just happened. Are ghosts real? Did he get injected with 1x1x1x1x's poison and is he currently dying because of it while in some sort of crazy illusion created by it? Maybe it's all just a dream? Hmm no, that couldn't be it. He would've already woken up the moment he started panicking around.

Elliot wiped off his tears and got himself off the wall slowly, touching the spot he was pet. He didn't know what just happened and he probably wouldn't be able to figure it out anytime soon, but right now? Right now he was just glad to be alive, ready once again to help out his team and make this round a successful one. He could leave the questioning for when he gets to bed. There's a lot of this situation he has yet to digest.

[mygnolia]

please, say you love me. - maknae line vers.

or....perhaps not the first, but the most memorable of times they’ve said i love you. 

pair: maknae!enha x reader (separate) | genre: comfort, fluff, minor angst | wc: 1k HYUNG LINE VERS.

REN SAYS... i am always on that childhood friends to lovers agenda

—

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ KIM SUNOO

'i love you,  i always have and i always will.'

kim sunoo, who you’ve always had by your side growing up, and were simply the most inseparable pair. 

kim sunoo, who announces to you that he’s going to be attending the school of his dreams in the fall- but it’s hours away from yours. 

you’ve asked him what it’s like to have feelings, or what it’s like to have a crush. and sunoo answers honestly everytime. “i don’t know, ____.” and you believe that he truly has never felt the electrifying touch of a first love. you’re afraid to ask if he would ever try- afraid to face some sort of disappointment, or some notion that sunoo would never try to love you. 

it starts small, like a gentle appreciation for his physical comfort and words of affirmation- because sunoo has always been there for you, and if anyone asked, he’d say the same about you. 

you come to him a week before he’s expected to move in, fiddling with your fingers as you finally let the thread of doubt snap in your chest. “would you ever have feelings for me?” you ask, as he stands in the doorway. “i’m sorry, i know it’s a loaded question, but i just- i just wanted some sort of answer before you leave. 

and sunoo smiles, pulling you in to shield you from the cold night as he envelopes you in a long hug. when you stare up at the boy who’s always been your best friend, you feel only peace within your heart. 

“i have never been able to say if i truly love someone because for a long time i didn’t understand it- but i know i want you in a way that’s a bit more than friends, ___.” 

you feel your chest pouring with happiness, the elation reaching your eyes and your smile. 

“it’s crazy- and weird, and so unlike us, but i think i love you- and we don’t have to do anything about it yet- but just know i do.” you tell him, feeling a weight finally letting off. sunoo, even in the dark of his house, smiles, and kisses your forehead. 

“i love you, ____. i always have, and always will.” 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ YANG JUNGWON

'i love you, and i'll be around to say it again and again.'

yang jungwon, who does his best to spend time with you despite his hectic and busy schedule.

yang jungwon, who wouldn’t dare  do or say anything to hurt you, and promised to himself to be the best and only the best. 

there’s a night, however, where the air is hard to decipher- whether jungwon’s duties and priorities kept him late from coming home, whether you’ve also had a fair share of things on your plate, or maybe a combination of both; whatever it is, it plagues your conversation with uneasiness and discomfort. and you both know somethings up.

you go to watch today’s dishes as jungwon packs leftovers in the fridge, and you follow this routine of shared responsibility so well all the time that you wonder if maybe he’s grown tired of it. 

jungwon is keen to detail. he knows you, because he has loved you for so long. 

“what’s wrong, angel?” and he wraps his arms around you at the sink, his chin resting on your shoulder as he avoids your moving arms. 

you’re not sure when tears have sprung into your eyes, but at the first sniffle, jungwon is quick to tense up, turning to make proper eye contact with you before he reaches up with his thumb and silently wiles away the melancholy threatening to spill from your waterline. “i don’t know, ‘won.” and you know things will be fine, as he does, because you don’t push him away or stray from affection even when times are hard. “maybe we’ve just been tired and busy, but i’m afraid you just love me because of convenience.” 

“no- i would never,” and the look you see in his eyes only furthers his serious and unwavering tone. “i love you, ____, always- and i’ll be around to say it again and again.” and maybe nights like these or weeks like now are hard and rough around the edges, but with the way you cradle his face with a gentle kiss and downpour of love, you both know things will be okay.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ NISHIMURA RIKI

'i love you, and i promise it's for real this time.'

nishimura riki, who used to make hearts in the sand with your initials in the middle, giggling and snapping a photo for every-time you two marked your friendship.

nishimura riki, who used to snicker at you everytime you talked about your feelings towards other guys and brushed them off.

what riki never knew, however, was that your feelings were always for him, and despite the anonymous ramblings over a crush from middle school, it never piqued riki’s curiosity until now. until you’re older, and one night, he finds you ramblingly and giggling on his porch , asking if he’s loved you like how you’ve always loved him. and riki asks you carefully what it means to be in love, and you tell him how you think he’s attractive, how determined he is, or how he continues to work hard despite his obstacles. and he laughs, telling you he loves you too, but you take it seriously- more seriously than he expected. 

and now, you’re not so sure where you stand with him. 

“riki,” you call out as you two walk home from hanging out with your friends. “did you mean it when you said you loved me?” 

you ask all the questions he’s unsure of, and it slides things into place when he properly thinks about it. and there’s only one clear answer, because when he thinks back to the night when you told him just a few of the easiest things to love about him, he realized he harbored the same emotions for you. he’s just never had the chance to sit down and really evaluate what it means to be in love, but he sees it now, clearer. 

“i love you.” he blurts, and you quickly look over to see how he’s gone wide eyed. 

“do you mean it, though? or are you just saying it because you want me to feel better?” 

he shakes his head quickly, stopping the two of you on the sidewalk and taking your cold hands into his. “yes- i do mean it, and i never meant to take so long to realize my feelings.” he swallows, feeling all nervous inside. “i love you, ____, and i promise it’s for real.” and his lips curl into a toothy grin before his hands wrap around your waist as you lean in for a kiss. 

---

riki brainrot is real i need this man so bad im frl abt to read a 30k fic about him hes so cute

[runnning-outof-time]

Hasn’t Burned Down Yet | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @asherlockfandom

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) proves that she's still not one to be messed with when it comes to her business. Tommy's happy he's not the one in the line of fire this time.

Warnings: drinking, mentions of smoking

Word Count: 3475

A/N: I’m sorry it took me so long to share this one with y’all…I’ve been going through it lately hah. I had a bunch of fun writing it though. I hope you like it. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: this can be read as a standalone, but to really know the Tommy and (Y/N) in this story, I suggest you check out the first part: The House’ll Burn Down…you can find it HERE.

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"Someone's waiting up front for you, (Y/N)," Anna, one of (Y/N)'s employees, announced as she came into the back of the shop.

"Tell them I'll be out in five," (Y/N) responded, her eyes not leaving the latest sketch she was working on.

"He's not the sort that you keep waiting," Anna stated, her words making (Y/N) look up. The latter expected to see a look of worry on the former's face. Instead a slight smile was present.

"Ok...?" (Y/N) trailed off sounding slightly confused as she stood from her desk and walked to the front of the shop. Her brow stayed furrowed until she made it to the front counter and saw who was waiting for her.

"You forgot about my appointment, didn't you?" the man waiting out front asked, his one eyebrow quirked as a smirk played on his lips.

"Just come back, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) dismissed his teasing question, trying her best to hide her smile as she motioned to him, making Tommy walk around the counter to join her.

"I've got the front," Anna announced, smiling at her boss.

"Thank you, Anna," (Y/N) nodded, sending the younger woman a smile before she began to walk back to the workroom.

"Why do you insist on keeping appointments here?" (Y/N) questioned as she led him to one of the fitting rooms. "This could be done on our own time, you know."

"I thought it was you who insisted on keeping a separation between business and pleasure, hmm?" Tommy commented with a grin, following her into the fitting room before he took hold of her arm and spun her to face him. He pressed his lips to hers and slipped his arms around her waist before she could say a word.

"Separation between business and pleasure, hmm?" she quipped once they'd pulled away, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Was you who wanted it, not me," he reminded her, sending a wink her way. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the gesture, but she couldn't stop her smile from growing. "Wanted to do that from the second I saw you out there," he admitted then.

"Well I'm happy you were able to control yourself, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) commented, patting his chest.

"I try my best, Mrs. Shelby," he responded, making her let out a breath of a laugh before she leaned in and kissed him again. "Your composure's easy to crack," he commented with a grin once they pulled away.

"Let's just get this finished with...before I become upset with you," (Y/N) said with a smile, pushing on his chest to break their embrace so that she could grab the things she needed to begin taking measurements.

Truthfully she knew the measurements of her husband by now, but Tommy still insisted on these fittings. He wanted to make sure that things were perfect. It wasn't that he doubted his wife's work, if anything it was because this gave him another chance to spend some time with her. Time was something that neither had much of due to their busy schedules.

Surely you’ve noticed by now that things have - obviously - changed between (Y/N) and Tommy. It most certainly didn't happen overnight though. After (Y/N) put Tommy in his place, she fully expected him to take his business elsewhere. But he stuck around, and when he realized that she wasn't going to change how she dealt with him, he decided to change his approach. One thing led to another and eventually, as of two months ago, (Y/N) found herself with a new surname. She honestly couldn't think of a time where she's been as happy as she is now.

Along with getting married, (Y/N)'s business has also taken off. She's now one of the most respected tailors in not only Small Heath, but the entirety of Birmingham. She worked hard to gain her reputation, and all of the countless hours that she spent mastering her craft have certainly paid off.

"What will you be wearing to the event?" Tommy decided to make conversation whilst (Y/N) was still taking measurements.

"Since when is that something you care about?" she playfully quipped in response as she moved over to her clipboard and wrote a few notes before returning to him.

"I want to make sure you match me," he gave his reason.

"Oh I'll make sure you do, darling," she smiled at him, her eyes finding his for just a moment before she motioned for him to hold his arms out so that she could take the measurements for his suit's jacket.

She bit on her bottom lip to try and conceal the smile as she brought her tape measure up and held it against the underneath of his arm. She did this to both sides before moving it down to hold it against his torso. She really had to bite on her bottom lip as she slowly moved her hand down along his ribs. Just like she expected him to, Tommy flinched the second her fingers touched the space below his ribs.

"Stop moving," she teasingly chastised him, continuing on with making her measurements.

Tommy just grunted in response, watching her closely as she finished with his left side and moved onto his right. Here she slowed her actions down substantially. He couldn't help but flinch again when her fingers brushed over that same spot.

"I said stop moving, Thomas," she rebuked him again, lifting her gaze up to match his, showing him the smile that was present on her features.

"You know what you're doing," he commented, his eyes narrowing as they stayed locked onto hers.

"I do," she chirped, tilting her chin upwards, "very well."

"Then you should know..." he trailed off, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes, "that I know those exact same spots on you," he paused, his eyes dropping to sneak a glance at her frame, "very well," he finished his statement by reaching out and pressing his fingers into the skin of her sides, where she was extremely ticklish.

These actions made (Y/N) shriek and quickly drop her hands so that she could try to get him to stop what he was doing. It wasn't an easy feat. "Tommy, stop!" she exclaimed through her giggles, finally managing to get ahold of his hands and pull them from her sides after a few moments had passed. "We're supposed to be professional here," she hissed at him then, trying her best to hide the smile that just wouldn't stay away. She stopped trying when she noticed that he was already smiling.

"Fair enough," he nodded, showing that he was conceding to her. "Finish your measurements."

(Y/N) let go of his hands with a huff and bent down to grab the tape measure that had been discarded when this all started. They then sent each other a look: (Y/N) to check if he was really finished with his previous tirade, and Tommy to tell her 'no more funny business'.

The stare down lasted a few moments, but nothing else happened once (Y/N) resumed taking her measurements. The only time the envelope was pushed was when Tommy spun (Y/N) around and managed to sneak a kiss just before she crossed the threshold into the front of the shop.

(Y/N) made sure that Tommy's suit complimented her dress for the gala they were attending that evening. She had picked out a royal blue evening gown, and made sure that Tommy's suit was a charcoal color and had a blue tie to bring it together. She also wanted to include a blue pocketsquare but Tommy fought it, saying that the tie was enough. (Y/N) finally conceded when Frances came and announced that their car had arrived, instead telling Tommy that he'd need to make this up to her in some way.

Now the event was in full swing. (Y/N) stayed by Tommy's side, joining him in the conversations that he was having. She was able to add meaningful viewpoints, and Tommy appreciated that. Her presence was way more than just a prize on his arm.

"Mr. Shelby, I must bring attention to the fine suit you've got on," Elliot Thorsby, a man who was a prominent figure in automobile sales, began as he approached the couple. (Y/N)'s smile grew as she heard what he said. The suit she made had been getting compliments like this one all evening. "Might I ask where you had it made?"

"Me wife’s the one who made it," Tommy was happy to share, nodding his head to the woman standing on his right. "She makes all of my suits."

"Ahh," Elliot responded, looking surprised as he nodded slowly. "Is she open to taking on new clients?" he asked then, still speaking to Tommy.

"Now that's something that I wouldn't know personally," Tommy began, glancing over at his wife before he continued, "why don't you ask her yourself?"

Elliot held Tommy's gaze for a few beats before it seemed like he snapped out of whatever bubble he was in. That was when he finally turned his attention to (Y/N). "Are you taking new clients, Mrs. Shelby?" he asked, his bushy eyebrows raised in wait.

(Y/N) took a moment to respond to the question. She figured that he deserved to wait a few moments longer. After all it was him who decided to ask it indirectly in the first place. And she honestly quite enjoyed watching him squirm in his spot; obviously not used to being on the receiving side of this sort of situation.

"Well I've already got quite the schedule lined up, but for you, Mr. Thorsby, I'd be willing to make an exception," she finally informed him of her decision, a professional smile gracing her features.

"You would?" he sounded elated, almost like a kid on Christmas.

"I would," she affirmed with a nod.

"Wonderful," Elliot grinned. He paused as a man came to his side and whispered something in his ear. "You'll need to excuse me now, a business matter has come up. We'll reconnect at the end of the evening and schedule a time," he told the Shelby couple once the other man had left.

"That sounds fine," (Y/N) nodded at him, then accepting the handshake that Elliot extended to both her and Tommy. He was the first to leave the conversation, leaving the husband and wife to turn to each other.

"Got you another client," Tommy commented on the previous coversation as he fished the tin of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"We'll see how it goes," (Y/N) answered in a nonchalant manner, smiling at her husband as she shrugged her shoulders.

The earliest Elliot Thorsby was able to come to (Y/N)'s shop in Small Heath was two weeks after their initial conversation date.

She greeted him with a smile before telling Anna that she'd be taking this client and that the younger woman should man the desk while she was gone. Once everything was squared away in that regard, (Y/N) waved on Elliot for him to come back with her.

Things went well with the fitting. (Y/N) was able to get a good read on what Elliot wanted and had some great ideas for a design before she was even finished with the measurements. Now she couldn't wait to get some time alone to get started on her beginning sketches. But first she had to see Mr. Thorsby out.

The two returned to the front of the store. (Y/N) told Anna that she was able to return to her previous project, leaving her and Mr. Thorsby alone at the counter. She quickly got to work on calculating the price of the fitting visit and also what the suit would cost. She then shared that final price with him without second thought.

A few moments passed and Elliot still hadn't offered up the money yet. This made (Y/N) glance up from the ledger she was writing down the sale in. "Is there a problem?" she asked with raised brows, immediately noticing the sour look that was present on his face.

"Don't you think the price is a bit...much?" he questioned her.

"No, sir. It's spot on with what I normally charge," there was no hesitation in her answer.

"Yeah, but..." he trailed off, obviously not pleased with the response he was given. "But given my relationship with your husband, and the business we've conducted together…” he paused again, “well don't you think that warrants a lesser price?"

It took everything in (Y/N) to stop the scoff that she wanted to let out in response to his statement. It made her look of confusion quickly turn to one of surprise. "Your relationship and the manner in which you conduct business with my husband does not have any effect on how I run my business, Mr. Thorsby," she began, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, "I take pride in my work and I know how much my suits are worth."

"But for a man with my standing, don't you think that..."

"You'll pay full price for the suit," she cut him off before he could even finish his statement.

Hearing her blatant demand made his jaw go slack. "And if your husband gets knowledge of the manner in which you're treating his associates?" he decided to try another direction.

"My husband pays full price as well," she quickly shut him down for the second time, not in the slightest bit fazed by his threats.

"Your own husband?" there was bewilderment in Mr. Thorsby's voice.

"He knows how much they're worth," (Y/N) doubled down, once again speaking in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I think you're making a rather grand mistake here, Mrs. Shelby," he tried one last time to try and turn the tides in his favor.

(Y/N) didn't waste a moment worrying about his threat. "I think I'll be just fine," she assured him, a tight-lipped smile forming on her face. She hoped that it added salt into the wound she'd inflicted upon his ego.

"You're not afraid of what'll come once word of this gets out?" he still continued trying. It was almost comical now. She sent him a look; a non-verbal way of asking him 'are we finished here?'. But he paid no attention to it, instead trying one last line that he used when he didn't get his way. "Do you not know how much power I hold?"

Ahh, the power card, (Y/N) thought to herself as she continued to try her hardest and hold back her scoff, where have I heard that one before?.

She was way passed finished with him and his droning on at this point. His pestering had brought her to the end of her professional rope. She was trying like hell to keep herself composed and not lose her cool. She wanted to keep taking the high road.

A few moments passed before she took a deep breath and finally responded: "I've dealt with the likes of you before, Mr. Thorsby. I've been given threats harsher in nature than the one you've just told me. My shop hasn't burned down yet. So I'm not worried about what your comments on the prices of my suits will do to my reputation." Her eyes never left his as she spoke, showing him that she meant every single word.

Another pause arose, and (Y/N) wondered if maybe she'd finally gotten through to him. Maybe he'll finally leave.

But, of course, he stayed standing in front of the counter. "Are you sure this is the path you want to take?" he gave one last try, his eyebrows raising as he tried to keep up his imposing figure. It was more then obvious that said figure wasn't working on (Y/N) though.

"Are you going to pay for the suit, Mr. Thorsby?" she asked him, no longer wanting to entertain his theatrics, her eyes still locked onto his. It became even more apparent as each second passed that she wasn't going to change her mind on this.

"You'll regret this, Mrs. Shelby," he finally conceded, but not without throwing one last threat out there.

"As will you, Mr. Thorsby. Have a nice day," she nodded, still unfazed by all of it as her dismissive goodbye made him turn and exit her shop. She stood stoic and watched as the door shut behind him. Only when she was finally alone did she shake her head and let out a huff. "Prick," she muttered to herself before she tore the ledger sheet out of the book and crumbled it up.

"Do you remember Elliot Thorsby?" (Y/N) asked as she moved over to the mantlepiece in Tommy's office later that evening.

"Course I do," Tommy responded without up looking from the paper he was reading, "what about him?"

"He came for his fitting today," she started, grabbing one of the decanters and an empty glass so that she could pour herself a drink.

"And?" he asked for more information, finally looking up at her just as she spun to face him.

(Y/N) didn't answer right away, instead bringing the glass up to her lips and taking a healthy swig from it. She hissed at the burn that accompanied the whiskey as it slid down her throat and tried her best to smile at her husband. Tommy raised his eyebrows at her as he removed the glasses from the bridge of his nose, now waiting intently for her to share something with him.

(Y/N) brought the glass back up to her lips and held it there as she let the silence linger for a little bit longer. She didn't quite know why she was waiting so long...maybe she enjoyed watching him as he tried to hold his intent composure. "I don't think you should work with him anymore," she finally told him.

"Why not?" he immediately asked for more information.

"He felt that he should pay less for his suit because of his connection to you; felt that I should honor your relationship and then threatened me when I wouldn't adhere to his tactics," she happily told him about her interaction with the businessman.

"He threatened you?" Of course this was the part of her statement that Tommy fixated on.

"Well he tried to...the threats didn't really take," she shrugged, finishing the rest of her glass.

"What did he say to you?" he was still hung up on it.

"Tommy it was nothing," she brushed his worry off. His expression didn't change. (Y/N) let out a sigh before she began walking in his direction. "He told me that I'd lose my clients because he has influence," she told him as she stopped in front of where he was sitting. He looked up at her with raised eyebrows as he turned the chair in her direction. She took that as her signal to sit on his lap. He went back to staring straight ahead once she sat. It didn't take long for her to notice that he still wasn't completely convinced. "Tommy..." she trailed off, taking hold of his chin so that he'd be looking at her again, "what're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that maybe I should go have a word with him."

"I told you it's fine. I handled it, and I'm not worried about what he's claiming he'll do," she assured him. A smile creeped onto (Y/N)'s features as she thought of something else to add. "Besides, it's not like he threatened me with arson...like this one client I had.”

Tommy couldn't stop the grin from forming as he immediately realized what she was hinting at. “Who’d threaten something like that, hmm?” he questioned, playing along with her.

“Someone who really wanted to try his luck,” she answered, letting go of his chin so that she could wrap her arms around his neck.

“I’d say the risk paid off,” he wagered, his hold on her tightening slightly so that he could pull her even closer.

“It seems like it did,” she agreed, leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

Their kiss was short, and he was soon parting from her to share the next move that he’d thought up. “Any business with Thorsby will be finished tomorrow.”

“Stop thinking about him and kiss me, Tommy,” she responded, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.

He chuckled at her abrupt statement and wasted no time in doing what she asked him to. His lips were back on hers within seconds, and Elliot Thorsby was the furthest thing from each of their minds.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @deadcrowcalling

MASTERLIST

[hebezuart]

HI ITS ME THE GUY WHO SAID I WANTED UR TENNA DESIGN DESPERATELY AND FOLLOWED IT UP WITH A WOOHOO I LOVE YOUR MTV AU AND I THINK THE DESIGNS ARE ABSOLUTELY GORGROUS. ITS RLLY IN CHARACTER AND ID LOVE TO HEAR ANY MORE THOUGTS YOU HAVE RELATING TO IT IF YOU HAVE ANY AT ALL. PENNY FOR THE POOR , PLS MAY I HAVE SOME MORE, ETC, OK THNAK YOU . I FEEL LIKE I SHLD SIGN OFF BUT I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO,. YOU PICK IF YOU WANT

Ooh, a returning customer!! (/silly)

Y'know, since you sent this ask, I actually have had quite a few thoughts about the AU. Which, funnily enough, are mostly pertaining to various theoretical gameplay mechanics. I highly, highly doubt this AU will ever become a ROM hack of any kind (seeing as how I... don't know how to make those), but pondering stuff like this is still really fun anyways. Lemme talk about it.

Their party is relatively similar to that of the Fun Gang's, in terms of specialty diversity. MTT is the lighter weapon user, mirroring Kris and their sword. His attacks can be strong, but usually that honor goes to Mads, the heavy hitter, much like Susie. With her brass knuckle boxing gloves, anything she hits is gonna hurt hard. And Blooky is the group's magic user, like Ralsei. Although, they're definitely not as skilled with it as they'd hope... we'll get into that in a minute though. Let's break each character down.

Starting with Mads, she's basically a mashup of Sonic the Werehog and an ARMS character. Her body parts are able to detach like they did in Undertale, so she uses the sports tape around her arms as a tether to rocket her fists forward for long range, hard hitting punches. This applies to her head, too: She can take it off and hold it in her hands, shooting her arms forward to use her teeth as an attack.

An extra strong attack that costs a lot of TP would entail something like spinning around like the Tasmanian Devil and dealing major damage to the entire enemy team, but taking a chunk of recoil damage in return. Despite this, she'd be one to attack as often as possible and quickly spend big chunks of TP for her finishers.

MTT is, for lack of a better term, a complete fail boy. Whereas the other two has some sort of intuition about how to use their weapons, MTT is completely out of his element. That element being... staying inside and doing nothing. His weapon is meant to be used like a spear, being long and pointy and used to keep your distance from enemies. However, he ends up using it half like an axe, and half like a sword. Swinging with wild abandon in fear, or trying to bang enemies on the head with it to little results.

He eventually starts to get the hang of it, of course, but most of the time opts for defending and gaining TP, letting Mads and Blooky do most of the work. However, with enough TP, he's able to do an attack that supposedly deals an insane amount of damage... with a 50/50 chance that that damage lands back on him instead, knocking him down instantly. He's a bit of a glass cannon.

Blooky I think was my favorite to come up with ideas for (aided too by my friends in the server we share). They're a magician, so they have both the magic from their wand and whatever they can pull out of their hat. The wand works like you'd expect, casting spells for both attacks and healing, all at a relatively low TP cost, but in turn, a relatively low-powered spell.

By saving up a little more TP, they can flip off their hat for a random event. Dubbing this the Hat Roulette, a number of things can emerge from the hat. A rabbit that heals a single party member, a flock of doves that does significant damage to the enemies (although, it has a small chance of doing that same damage to the party), and a host of other things. What comes out of the hat is completely up to chance, making Blooky really weigh their options before spending the TP.

I have lots of other ideas of course, but I'll keep it contained to just this for this post. This AU has already been loads of fun working on :)

[alphajocklover]

AirBoyfriendNBoyfriend

**based off an ask I accidentally deleted, but had already written a story for. I don't remember the exact words, but I'll do my best to paraphrase. Was written with the help of my friend, editor and beta reader, @innermostthoughtsartappreciation **

'My 2 straight friends and I are going on vacation together. We went to our AirBnB but things have been weird since we got here. One of my friends seems more muscular than usual? He was already pretty tall but not he's really built. And last night I swear I heard my friends talking about sex in the other room or something? And this morning I woke up with a ring on my finger? Whats happening?'

You say this all started because you and your two friends went to an Airbnb? And you woke up with a ring on your finger?

In this case, what's happening isn’t some sort of elaborate conspiracy conducted by a shadowy cabal, nor is it some nefarious scheme by one of your friends/enemies to transform you to their liking, nor is it anything else of that sort. What happened here is very simple: you guys used the wrong AirBnB.

No doubt you all know that I’ve talked about EB Jewelry before. You know the jewelry company that transforms people using their products. They’re one of, if not, the biggest name in the transformation business. Still, there are plenty of other companies out there that use transformation devices and items. Most are much smaller than EB Jewelry and try to fly under the radar when it comes to being able to transform people, but they are still out there. Including the very AirBnB that you and your friends signed up for. Air-Boyfriend-and-Boyfriend. Usually only referred to as simply AirBFnBF by those who use it, they’re often mistaken for AirBnB. You probably think they should be sued for copyright infringement, but you are entirely wrong. It is shockingly near impossible to sue a company that uses magic, and not as shockingly completely not worth the hassle and complications it would cause. For a $70 billion company like the real AirBnB to sue.

Despite their similar-sounding names and acronyms, the two companies do wildly different things and cater to a rather starkly different clientele. Airbnb lets you rent different houses for short periods and market themselves for all people to use, while AirBFnBF lets you rent out different relationships for however you wish to be in them, and usually exclusively caters their services to gay men.

Here's how it works. Just like with Airbnb, you go into the app or on their website and you choose the place you want to stay at during the duration of your trip from the list of vacant places. Unlike AirBnB however, you also get to choose the people you want to become during your trip. You can customize whoever each party member becomes, and your relationship to and with each other. It’s a way for groups of people, though usually a couple, to try out different fantasies and sexual scenarios together.

What I believe must have happened was that one of your friends earnestly mistook the AirBFnBF app for the AirBnB app, and skipped the relationship settings page entirely because he didn’t understand what it was for what it was supposed to mean. Therefore, if he did do that, the app would have gone to a random fixed preset, which there aren’t a lot of for a group of three men.

I have a friend who works for AirBFnBF, and they told me you guys have probably been randomly assigned their most popular thresome preset: A Newlywed Throuple: consisting of a Hunk, a Muscle Daddy, and a Twunk. I know it sounds strangely specific, but you’d be surprised by just how many people love to use this one Throuple in particular.

You’re going to be in for a lot of surprises during these next two weeks. Including a new body, new memories, and a ludicrous amount of hot & steamy sex with your two new husbands. None of you will remember your true- selves until the two-week vacation rental is over. So until then, enjoy yourself!

That's what you’re supposed to do on a honeymoon after all. Your friends will probably be very confused when these two weeks are over. However, on the off chance they or you all enjoy being big gay hunks and having tons of hot & steamy sex with you or together, there is a permanent settlement option you can invoke. It cost a small fortune, but with how happy, hot, and horny the three of you are all acting together now, I'd bet anything you guys will make your money back in no time

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

vox more than anything fic ending with fluffy makeup sex is all i need :,))) LET ME HOLD THAT TV MAN!!!

I didn't end up adding the spice because it didn't flow naturally with how this came out. I do headcanon that Vox would 100% try to initiate spicy times during a makeup because he wouldn't know how to handle the emotional vulnerability in any other way. Homeboy hasn't exactly had any healthy fight aftermaths. Hope yall are ready for the fluffy pain <3

Tag List: @luzzbuzz

More Than Anything Part 3 [Vox x Reader]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5 (Vox POV)

Things at the Vee's Tower seemed relatively normal when you stepped into the lobby. It felt a little weird if anything. When Vox was upset, it could shut down the entire tower for days on end if it was something more serious. You didn't hear the hum of the overbearing generators that would keep things running during his fits and your worry only grew as you stepped into the elevator. You swallowed down your anxiety as you scanned your badge that would let you onto the elite floor where the penthouses of the Vee's were at the top.

Did something happen to Vox? Was he not here for some reason? Where would he go? Did he... just not care?

Anxiety swirled in your mind as the elevator doors slid open. You saw Velvette on the couch scrolling through her phone and the young overlord perked up when she saw you.

"Bout fucking time," she groaned as she pocketed her phone and got off the couch. "Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it's been to babysit the man-child?" Velvette poked at your chest and you couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes as she frowned at you. "You owe me for this."

Ninety percent of hell didn't see past Velvette's tough-as-nails exterior and if it hadn't been for the time you'd spent with the Vee's due to your relationship with Vox, you doubt you would have ever seen through the cracks in her demeanor either. For all her bark and bite, you could tell she cared for Vox and Valentino deeply. She wouldn't look so damn exhausted right now if she didn't.

"I'll make it up to you," you sigh in relief as you drop your bag to the side. "Where is he?"

To say you were less than pleased when you saw the door held shut by the smokey chains of Valentino's magic was an understatement. You were pissed. While you still felt a semblance of gratitude for the other Vee's keeping Vox from doing anything rash, you were going to tear them both a new one for keeping him caged like a fucking animal.

Velvette lifted her hands and got the cue to leave as you triggered your demon form and slashed Valentino's magic to wispy shreds. You yanked open the door and your eyes searched the room for Vox maniacally. There we no cameras and the windows had been covered with some sort of blockers. It looked like the Vee's had the sense to leave him with some comfort items and non-tech-involved things to pass the time, but the only technology you saw was some ancient Nokia-looking phone lying by his foot that he wouldn't be able to use to teleport out of the room.

"Vox?" You breathed as you saw him curled up in a corner with his screen buried against his knees.

His head whipped up and he breathed your name, only to curse as his body glitched hard from the prolonged stress.

"Y̶o̸u̴ ̸c̶a̷m̴e̸ ̸b̶a̸c̸k̴?̷," he asks, and your heart aches as you watch him flinch at the static in his voice.

"Oh hun, come here," you sigh as you get down on your knees and pull his screen towards you. You didn't know much about tech, but his personal repair sinner had shown you some of the basics to take care of Vox if anything ever got out of hand.

You reached around the back of his head and did a hard reset for him, holding him close to you as he went limp against your chest. When Vox powered back up, he flinched hard and pushed himself away from you, backing up with wide eyes and frantic breathing before he processed it was you who had been holding him and not Valentino.

"Woah! Easy," you gasp, not expecting the sudden movement. You look over him and instantly regret leaving him for as long as you had. "What... What happened?"

Vox's heart was pounding rapidly in his chest as flashes of Valentino's manipulative words flitted through his mind. The promises of affection if he crawled back. The venom in his voice as he told Vox you'd never love him again. The back and forth between gentle lies and cold hard truths. The one time he almost, almost caved into Valentino's whims.

With a shaky breath, Vox stomped down on as much of his weakness as he could and turned away from you. "It's not important."

"Like hell, it's not," you frowned as you reached toward him, only to pause as he flinched at the tone in your voice.

It was obvious there was a whole new can of worms to handle and most likely a moth to strangle. But you steady yourself and take a deep breath, deciding to take things one step at a time.

"I'm sorry for leaving," you start slowly as you sit properly on the floor with Vox. "I was scared and angry and processing everything. I needed space. But I should have at least texted you back or checked in. I didn't..." your voice wavers. "I didn't think that..."

"It's fine," Vox sighed. "I get it. What I don't get is why you're here. Why did you come back?"

"I was always going to come back," you say as you reach towards him slowly. Your heart ached to know he had genuinely started to believe you'd just abandon him, but given the pieces of the unsettling image of what happened while you were gone, you understood where it was coming from.

Vox looks at you and hesitates before he leans into your touch and lets you cup the side of his face. "I was angry and hurt and scared," you admit. "I needed time to process my feelings. I didn't want to say something I'd regret."

You shake your head and chuckle, "I'd say I should have known better, but this is our first big fight now that I think about it. It's uncharted territory for us both."

Vox was silent as he slowly reached up and took your hand. He let out a shaky breath as he looked down. "I've... any connection I've had with someone. It's never... survived this sort of thing. Once shit hits the fan, that tends to be the end of it. I thought... I thought you were gone for good."

"I won't let you think that ever again," you say as you cup the other side of his face with your free hand. You make him look at you, but you're gentle. "We'll talk about this. I'm in this for the long run, you dorky TV man."

"But I tricked you," Vox shook. His face flickered between heartbreak and frustration. "I stole your soul. You have no reason to fucking t̵͍͌r̸̰̈u̵͉̍s̸̯͛ẗ̶̫ me."

"I love you," you say without hesitation. Vox's eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to retort, but you shake your head and stop him. "You did a bad thing. You did break my trust. But I know why you did it. Loving you doesn't mean I'll forgive you every time you cross a major boundary, but it does mean that I will do whatever it takes to worth through the bullshit together," you say softly.

Your thumb swipes over Vox's screen as you feel him tremble in your hold. "You're worth that effort to me, Vox."

"Why?" Vox asked as his eyes darted over your face as if the answer to his confusion would be found there. He didn't understand. How could you come back? How could you want to forgive him? How could you be here in front of him, looking like he was the one who hung the stars in the sky rather than the one who drew souls to their doom like a siren song on a screen?

You kiss his forehead and pull him close as he shakes harder in your arms. "W̸̻͝h̴͖̒y̵̞̍?̵̝̕"

His claws dig into the back of your shirt as he hangs onto you like a lifeline. "I̵ ̷d̴o̶n̵'̶t̶.̴.̶.̵," Vox growls in frustration at the emotion that sticks in his throat. "I can't... I don't d̷e̴s̶e̷r̷v̴e̷ this."

"Because loving you has never been about what either of us deserves," you sigh as you kiss his head. "It's because despite everything, I know I could never replace you. So I'm willing to put in the work if you are."

A broken sob ripped itself from Vox's chest unwillingly as he held you tighter. Your heart broke, knowing this very well could be the first time anyone had actually tried to stick around after any of his fuck-ups. You held him close, rubbing his back as he worked through his emotions. You were there for him as he glitched and let out an anguished scream as everything he'd been holding in for so long finally poured out.

You don't know how long it is before he finally calms down. He looks up at you and you know his eyes would be bloodshot from the breakdown if that was how his screen functioned. He let out a deep breath and you smiled softly as he cupped your cheek.

"This isn't the first time I've thought you didn't belong down here," Vox admitted. His voice was hoarse from exhaustion and the pure angst session some cruel fucker decided would be entertaining to put him through. If he ever found that bitch, he'd wrangle her neck.

You laugh as you feel tears prick the corner of your eyes as you finally see the familiar spark in his eyes for the first time since you'd come back. "Nah, you know heaven wouldn't know the first thing about how to put up with my shit."

Vox barked out a tired laugh. "Damn right, they wouldn't. You're a menace."

"Yeah," you giggle as you press a kiss to his cheek. "But I'm your menace."

Vox reached up, his fingers tangling softly in your hair as he brought you in for a proper kiss. "Yeah. You're my menace. And I love you, more than anything."

[sundaycentric]

⌢  ⌢ yandere gojo x gn reader

␥ content — yandere, drabble, sfw, predator/prey ?, forced proximity, forced dependency, gojo is a bitch, gojo gets someone to (attempt to) hurt you, gojo treats you like a naive pet ... 760 words

Your feet ache. It feels like they are bleeding, and each time your heel hits the ground, you swear you can feel your skin tear and blister. Despite the pain, your desperation and adrenaline kept you running. You kept scurrying away, as your current agony was far, far more light compared to what awaited you if you stopped. Deep down, though, you knew you would suffer the same fate. All you were doing was delaying the inevitable: when he caught you.

Gojo never cared much for your pathetic attempts at escaping. You'd normally never get far, as he would always be able to you before you could truly begin running. Gojo would let you feel like you finally were about to do it, before shattering your dreams and taking you in his arms once more. He only laughed as you cried, and paid no mind to your weak hands hitting his chest. You were nothing compared to his strength, and no amount of fighting could get him away.

That is until you slipped away this morning. Somehow, Gojo didn't know that you were running away. Miraculously, his attention was elsewhere, and you could tell it was something serious. At least, more serious than you, since he hadn't been pestering you as much. You took your chances, and you ran. You could actually make it this time.

You didn't doubt that Gojo noticed your absence within a few minutes of you being gone, so you had to waste no time. You quickly stumbled around the buildings, taking you to the outskirts where only forest and sparse houses remained. You had left no trace of your direction, as far as you could tell, so there was no way he'd be able to trace you down. You wouldn't run into him.

But you would run into other people. Your aching feet forced you to slow down slightly. You panted slightly, making sure to survey the surroundings around you. That's when you spot someone. It wasn't Gojo. They turned around and noticed you pretty quickly. You softly smiled: perhaps they'd help you. You stumbled closer to them, desperate for some sort of shelter to hide in temporarily.

They smiled back as you came closer. You opened your mouth to speak before falling silent. They had a knife and had brought it up to you. It rested on your shoulder, the blade staring at your neck. They tightly gripped onto your weak, exhausted body. You couldn't move: you were overpowered, tired, and in shock. The person spoke up, "Has nobody ever told you to not trust strangers? You shouldn't be wandering around this late, especially looking so vulnerable. Don't worry, I'll make this quick."

Their smile grew wider as the knife grew closer. The tip caressed your skin. You shut your eyes, knowing you couldn't do anything as it came closer. Closer. Closer. And then it stopped.

You paused for a moment before opening your eyes. There was a hand around the person's throat. The one behind quickly through them to the ground and scooped you up. He caressed your neck, where a small, shallow cut lay. You recognized his hands, his touch. Gojo had found you. Part of you wished you had just died by the stranger, while another part of you was actually happy to see him.

Gojo hugged you to his chest before looking at the person on the ground. Gojo's hands that were comforting you gently cupped your ears, blocking your hearing for a moment. He said to the person, "You weren't supposed to cut them, idiot. Leave before I change my mind about staying true to my end of the deal." His voice was slightly mocking. He watched with a smile as the person left, before redirecting his attention to you.

Gojo moved his hands to your cheeks as he stared at you. He kissed the tip of your forehead. His voice was soft, but in a faux, manipulative way, "You shouldn't have run away. Do you see how dangerous it is out there? You're lucky to be with me, where I won't hurt you, yeah? It's okay, I forgive you. It was my fault for leaving a dumb pet alone without a caretaker." You only cried. You didn't know if it was from the fear of being killed, the slightly sting on your neck, or the fact that you'd been caught. But he was right, wasn't he? He didn't hurt you. Gojo loved you.

"You ran away because I wasn't giving you enough attention," He said. It was less of a question and more of a statement, trying to convince you that that was the reason you ran. He smiled wider.

"Let's go home now."

[sqgeism]

i saw the event and came RUNNING

anaxa x reader with summertime sadness by lana del rey?

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 got my bad baby by my heavenly side | anaxagoras x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; i know if i go, i'll die happy tonight ! with a lover as brilliant as he, how could anaxa ever ask for more? you're his light as he navigates the darkness in pursuit of higher wisdom.

love mail — jhh idek what i did w this ! thank u for the first request from the event ! :D cute song omg!! this is a professor x professor where u and anaxa r married i hope u like it anon >_> ♡ art credits : opalesaint on twt

genius and madness get along, as they say. to paint a picture; you were an engineering professor, a world-renowned inventor with machines that could change the world. and anaxagoras was a... professor with a reputation, to describe it politely. you knew of him through your fourth period students who let out sighs of relief when they entered your class. apparently their third period—soul physics—had an insane professor that chased them down with a gun for being late. on that note, it's become your favorite thing to tell people that your students' insane stories of anaxa had been the first impression of your future husband.

for the actual first meeting, you had become rather intrigued with this mysterious anaxagoras. you've seen each other in the faculty, no doubt, but you can't recall ever sparking a conversation with such an interesting individual. so you sought him out, choosing one of the science labs that you were told he frequented.

only to see him on the floor, coughing out what you now understood as some kind of alchemy potion. anaxa told you later on in your relationship that he believed it could help him see things that weren't there, hidden hieroglyphs, spirits, all of that sort. only for it to prove to be ineffective, and burned his lungs with each breath he took.

you took him to the clinic, had a nurse care for him, and your relationship continued from there onward.

the students began to speculate when they noticed you two beginning to interact, of course they would. you both taught them to question everything and anything, but they were picking up on things that you two seemed to be clueless about. as an example, anaxa had assigned his class to study on a paper that you wrote. in fact, he himself had made a summary video of the entire thing JUST so his students would understand your brilliant ideas and insights. on your end, you would mention some of anaxa's teachings on soul physics and alchemy as well as minor references to his own beliefs.

it was unintentionally letting the other person slip into their most important thing, their specialty fields. the thing they've spent years devoting their mind and body to study. and you and anaxa just let each other into that very special aspect without notice.

what should have been the first sign was when you caught anaxa borrowing a book from the library that seemed to be from your field, all the way down to the specific sciences that go into your inventions, parts and gears, and books you've mentioned to him before. what should have been the second sign was the fact that you started bringing in anaxa to your classes as a guest lecturer. he had taken such great interest in your field that he was recognized to be knowledgeable enough to substitute for you during absences. the students remarked that he taught with great passion, as if he was in love with the subject just as much as you were.

half of the truth. he loved to teach it, but he also loved the teacher. he'd grown fond of you, and he was enough of a man to be able to admit that to himself. and how should a scholar confess their undying affection to another?

that's right, through the acknowledgement section of his recent findings on alchemy. in his study of how alchemy can be used to further advance technology—it reads;

"Anaxagoras would like to thank (name) for their life changing support throughout his writing of his thesis. (name), if you would allow me, let me be yours and let's explore the truth of the world together?"

those words were in the final submission of the printed paper, and you gave a free copy to all of your students of that year. and in the next three years, you gave it once again to your new batch for a study assignment, only now with a ring and the biggest smile whenever a curious student points out the acknowledgement.

now the academy has become a museum of memories, every hall and room has a loving tie back to your relationship. longing stares and late nights reading each others work—becomes loving gazes and early mornings in bed with each other. in a turn of events, the formula of his life had changed with a new variable, a very loving, beautiful, and gorgeous variable. his significant other, his passion, his (name). in every aspect of the word; he had won in both the field of academics and romance.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[silvercat-s]

How would Silco react to Jinx calling him father or dad?

OKAY 

I'll give you the short answer first, so feel free to stop here if you don’t want to see me rambling nonsense for the next ten paragraphs: Before the events of season 1, he would probably freeze and pretend he didn't hear it, all while panicking internally and refusing to acknowledge just how happy and proud that makes him. After the finale, if he had somehow survived?  Just sheer happiness and relief, and he and jinx would be crying on each other arms. 

Allow me to explain  

Despite Silco behaving like Jinx’s father in every way that matters —whether it means going out of his way to comfort her in her moments of doubt or jumping to her defense when she is criticized, and that dynamic being something obvious to those closest to him, like Sevika and the chembarons, I don't believe for a second Silco ever referred to Jinx as his daughter out loud before, nor do I think Jinx ever felt secure enough in their relationship to call him dad.

I always felt like their relationship before the finale, while close, had some sort of emotional barrier. Silco is a broken man with deep-seated abandonment issues, I think he would avoid admitting, even to himself, just how much Jinx means to him. Acknowledging that would make him vulnerable, it would mean confronting his fear of being betrayed and abandoned again.   

And for the longest time, he didn’t have to. He had no reason to reflect on their bond, no reason to fear losing her. why should he? She works for him. she has no one else. she belongs to him. Everything was perfect the way it was...and then Vi gets out of prison.  

His whole world starts falling apart. He can’t pretend he’s not afraid of losing Jinx anymore, of her abandoning him for Vi. He starts spiraling. That’s why we see him act so manipulatively when she confronts him over lying, he’s desperate! and It's in this moment of desperation that he says "I'm your family"

And then by the time the dinner party happens, Silco has almost lost Jinx at the bridge, he’s had everything he’s ever wanted offered to him on a silver platter, yet found himself unable to give her up. and he has finally said the word out loud for the first time “is there anything as undoing as a daughter?” at Vander's statue no less, he has fully accepted what Jinx means to him.

When Silco tells Jinx “You’re my daughter, I would never forsake you” he nods to himself and almost chuckles, as if the words are so obvious to him now that he can’t believe he’s never said them before. And on Jinx’s part, it’s clear that hearing this means a lot to her.

What really stood out to me in the script of Silco's death scene was the line “Jinx, with the affirmation of love she’s always wanted ringing in her ears” referring to his last words to her. This admission of love is something she’s always longed for from him, she probably never had the courage to call him dad or to ask what she meant to him— Jinx, like Silco, fears rejection and abandonment. And for the first time, she has that confirmation, the emotional barrier between them is fully down.

That only adds to the tragedy of their bond, Silco only able to admit to both her and himself how important she truly is after all those years, and Jinx only realizing his love for her when he’s dying from the wounds she inflicted.

I do believe that if Silco had survived, they would have started to build a proper family relationship.

That's why I'm so upset they wouldn't let Jinx refer to Silco as her dad in season 2. I feel like her reasons for hesitating to call him that were completely resolved in the finale. Silco already called her his daughter, and Jinx now fully understands she was deeply loved by him. It's like the writers completely disregarded everything about the finale, their relationship and what it meant for Jinx's character going in season 2.

[liveontelevision]

Tap Out Vox X Reader

Ok, I am in LOVE with this god dam TV head lookin ass, so here's a quick one shot of him being an absolute Sub! Mess!

------

The All-Mighty Vees were the central powerline for entertainment and technology in Hell, but even those three dorks liked to have fun. Sometimes, they would play poker games on their rare nights off that miraculously lined up. Of course, money means nothing to these business partners, so they like to bet on favors. There were times when Valentino would lose to Velvette, who would get to use his studio for a day, or Valentino would get to borrow some of Velvette's actors for a shoot, little things like that; things that would be considered a minor inconvience. Until tonight, that is.

•••

Velvette created a sort of dancing competition program, and it was booming in Hell. The show was spiced up with a stage covered in landmines, falling spikes, randomly shooting arrows, etc. Contestants were judged by their talent and if they came out in one piece by the end of the routine. The season finale was fast approaching, but Velvette was lucky to get a quick game of poker in between her packed schedule. With her cunning and wit (and some cards under the table), Velvette managed to weasle a win from Vox. He was never one to complain about carrying through with these favors, so Velvette took the chance to bring her program to the next level.

"You have to compete!" She declared with pride, her hands slamming on the table, with a sly smirk. "It'll be easy, i'll get someone to train and. but i need a hook for this finale, and your dashin' face would be perfect. And! I'll pair you with my best dancer, eh? How's that sound, love?" She explained, showing no sign of wavering. She clearly had this planned ahead of time.

"Fuck me, Velvette." He squints, throwing his cards behind his shoulder. "Fine.. i guess the publicity will boost viewers on both our fronts- " He groans and crosses his arms over his chest. "- Hate to admit it, but i haven't been tuning in, doll. So, who's this dancer i'm stuck with?"

•••

You arrived in hell after a life of drugs, sex and booze. You always joked about going to Hell. It was obvious you wouldn't make the cut into heaven. What you definitely werent expectingbwas for Hell to look just like the busy and messy streets of the ritzy cities you would party in. With absolutely no shame or doubt, you were quick to work your way up in the industry to work for the Vees. You started with Valentino, working up quite an audience in that field. And he didn't even make a contract! You said yes to anything, so really, there wasn't a point. That grew to helping Velvette with some small rolls in some shows, then moved up to you, performing and acting often. You were the lead singer of a band in your life, and you had quite a few talents hidden up your sleeve. Truly, a perfect byproduct of the Vees. Once Velvette pitched the show to you, you immediately auditioned as always and were quick to get in.

Weeks pass, and you're finally in the top 3 of the show! You were a solo dancer throughout, but with the routines provided, you were required to find a dance partner. Velvette to the rescue, somehow managed to bag the other Vee, Vox himself. You'd be lying if you said this didn't get you excited.

During one of the dress rehearsals, you were finally able to work your routine with Vox. Sure, you've met him before and said hi in passing, even going out with the Vees for some press events, but you never expected to get this close to him. Velvette would provide some amazingly embarrassing footage of his dance lessons. The two of you couldn't help but giggle at the powerful demon, getting so frustrated to music. Still, seeing his towering figure made you siddently nervous to have such intimate contact with him.

He came into the rehearsal space with a black turtle neck and pants, going along with some heeled boots that he'd have to wear during the performance. No matter how nicely those tight clothes hugged his figure, it was immediately disheartened by the scowl on his face. You couldn't help but hold in a laugh, picturing the compilation of videos that Velvette had previously shown you of his many failed lessons.

You weren't wearing much, a lilac cropped tank top and some yoga shorts that almost seemed too small, as well as strappy jazz shoes that you had to wear doing the final performance. This get-up made Vox look you up and down when he finally meets with you face to face. His unethusiastic expressions made him look more childish and grumpy than intimidating.

To you, at least.

"So! Pleasure to work with you, sir. Can't wait to see how you keep up with me." You commented smugly, reaching a hand out for a formal handshake. He scoffs and brushes your hand away before simply walking off to discuss something with Velvette. You crossed your arms across your chest and huffed, letting some random assistant tie your hair up as you glared in his direction.

After Velvette scolded him on something you didn't hear, the rehearsal began. Since your usual style was fast pased and almost always involved some sort of sexual overtone, the plan was to choreograph something intimate to create a sort of power couple for people to route for. This involved a lot of close contact that you and Vox were immediately struggling with. With movements that involved swinging you around, dipping you, and generally keeping you close to his chest, it was no simple task for two demons with a competitive streak.

After hours of eventually getting the choreography down, the main notes involved the constant glares you two were giving each other.

"Hey! You owe me this, I won game night! So make this work, fucker!" Velvette was getting fed up with Vox at this point and there was a scheduled photo shoot for some promo images coming up, so you had to break anyway. You went into your dressing room to change into your costume for the shoot. A slinky red sequence dress with a tightened corset that hugged your hips and stopped right at the point where you had to pull it down every so often as to not flash anyone. Paired with some fishnets and black shiney jazz shoes. It was simple compared to some of the stuff Velvette's had you wear, but it'll definitely draw some eyes when plastered on a big enough billboard.

Finally reaching the studio after hair and makeup battered your face, you got a look at Vox. He wore a white button-up that was neary opened down to his clavicle, where the red belt of a tuxedo hugged his waist, tying your outfits together. He cuffed his sleeves while waiting for some kind of direction. You couldn't help but pause to take in some of his features that you've never seen before. The bare skin of his chest and the strong arms that led into the same blue claws that were just around your waist during rehearsal. He caught you staring and knew exactly what was going on in your head. His first response was to send you a smirk that you couldn't decipher as harmless or not. You both snap out of your gaze when Velvette yells in some directions to push you into the camera's frame.

You were menuvered physically, someone essentially adjusting your position until it looked right. The final pose had your chest flush to his, and your leg hiked up his body as you swung backward to look at the camera. Vox was there to hold you in place by gripping underneath your thigh and having a tight hold onto your waist. It was difficult, but after multiple other provocative positions, the shoot was finally done. The two of you quickly pulled away from each other, smothered by the clashing energy.

"This'll have to do, i guess. Okay, flat face, you're good for today. The next rehearsal is tonight, now shoo." Velvette doesn't even look up from the screen in front of her as she nearly throws the two of you out of her studio. The door shut with a slam after you stumbled directly into Vox. He had grabbed onto your forearms, forcing your hands to lay on his chest to brace your fall. You quickly pushed off of him to stand straight, crossing your arms and stubbornly looking away. The tightened laces of your dress pushed your cleavage up a bit, giving a lovely show for the TV demon that towered over you.

He lets out a sigh of disgust after snapping his gaze away from your body. "Knock it off, will you? You're acting like a brat." He hissed at you, beginning to walk towards the hallway with the dressing rooms. You quickly stumbled in the same direction, attempting to keep up with his long strides.

"Fuck you, Vox! I'm just trying to do my job!" You quickly retorted, finally walking alongside him, your arms crossed again. He takes another quick glance at your body, unfortunately getting caught. "And stop that, you freak! You'vs been eyeing me up all day, you might as well fuck me in the dressing rooms if your so interested in my tits." You snapped at him, but your last response gave Vox a wicked idea. He wasn't one to refuse a challenge.

"Sure, we've got time, doll." He shrugs off the comment as you start to turn into your room. You quickly turned your body to face him, an angry yet reddened expression on your face.

"Seriously, fuck you." You muttered, turning to enter your dressing room. You go to open your door before you're cornered against it by Vox's arms, caging you in. You turn back to face him, trying to appear disgusted even with the heat crawling over your cheeks.

"If you think you can handle it, sweetheart." He smirked down at you, enjoying watching you squirm more than he'd like to admit. It finally evolved into an unspoken game of chicken. You took your doorknob and opened the door, letting the two of you fall in. Aware of your action, you slid back to keep Vox from falling onto you. He stumbled forward while glaring at you, still not planning on backing down. But neither were you.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and smashed your lips against his. It felt like a cold screen for a moment before quickly melting into the sensation of physical lips. He was shocked by the bold move but has played this game all too many times. It was always easy for Vox to charm or hypnotise his way out of a situation like this, but his competitive spirit was strong. He was quick to lift you up from under your legs and essentially drop you onto the vanity. The wood hit your tailbone with a thud, and you let out a flustered yelp into his lips. Your arms quickly found their way to his shirt, untucking it until it loosely hung around him. He lifted himself away from you but was still close enough for your legs to be nearly draped around his hips. He began to unbotton his shirt that you had so kindly untucked.

"You sure you wanna keep this up, sweetie? I wouldn't want to overwhelm you or worse -" he leaned in, becoming uncomfortably close to your ear. "- injure you before your big show." The threat only made your blood boil, but a flashing light caught your eye. His chest was dark, with glowing blue circuits that occasionally seemed to flicker.

"As if. You couldn't even keep up with me even if i was injured." You spoke smugly, trying to keep your cool while denying the heat pooling in between your legs. He scoffs and starts to undress you, while you assisted. It was aparently a two person job, with an unspoken understanding that Velvette would kill both of you if the dress was ruined in anyway. After it was safely tossed the side, Vox was quick to start running his claws along the curves of your body. You pulled him impossibly closer, your legs nearly wrapping around his hips. You tried your hardest to stifle any response to the claws trailing down the center of your stomach. Finally, you pushed him away, letting your hands lead him to fall back on some decorative couch that was nearby. You were quick to straddle him, feeling the buldge in his pants to gauge how much of an upper hand you had.

"Aw, was the idea of fucking me on my own vanity getting you all excited?" You asked him in a teasingly sweet voice, running your hands along the bottom of his screen, then tracing your hand down towards his pants.

"I could ask you the same thing." He muttered, taking a hold of your hips and pullimg them closed towards his groin. You were quick to lift your hips off his lap, pushing his back fully against the backrest and breaking that contact. You let out a deceivingly sweet chuckle, before planting a small kiss on his neck. His skin really was metal, no matter the heat you felt through his pants. It was cold to your lips, but once you noticed a reaction from him, you just had to keep it up.

His breath became a bit heavier as his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing his clawed fingers into it almost to the point of skin breaking. You tried your best to not let a noise out, luckily your face was hidden in the nook of his neck and his shoulder. Even with his robotic anatomy, his skin was melting with each mark, bite and kiss you left on his chest. The action of covering his chest in the bright red lipstick you wore, brought the both of you closer to together, your hips finally meeting his again. As your chests became flush, you looked back up to him, seeing the eyes on his monitor glazed over, somehow some dewy tears beneath them.

You were winning.

You tilted your head back for a moment, seeing the large mirror from the vanity was directly behind them, leaving the both of you entirely visible to Vox. You tip his monitor foward with a forceful lift, holding tight as you made him look over your shoulder.

"Look at you.. quite a sight, huh?"

You teased in a harsh tone, leaning back a bit for him to see the cluster of marks and stains you left on his collarbone. "What do you think? Red really is your color. You look soo pretty." Your words were meant to piss him off, but seeing how he melted and let out a breathy groan when you called him pretty was an even better reaction. He looked away from the mirror, flustered at the sight of himself.

"Ohh, is Mr. Bigshot here enjoying some tender love and care? Aww, well, all you had to do was ask, baby~" You crashed your lips against his again, shocking him back into the moment, as he held onto your hips to brace himself. You were quick to pull away, leaving him unfulfilled before peppering multiple kisses across his screen and making sure you were to leave as many vivid red lip stains as you could.

"F.. Fuck you..." he mumbled, "fuck this'll be a pain in the ass to get off.." You look down at him from your higher position, an almost dark look across your face.

"Then tell me to stop. Either give up and accept defeat-" you started, beginning to stand in front of him." Or give in. And let me take care of you." You ran your hand along his pants, your fingertips brushing across the stiff tent in his pants. He let out the smallest yelp, not expecting the sensation. You continued to just lightly touch his groin, reaching to fiddle with his belt buckle.

"So? What are you gonna do? You gonna give in? You want me to keep touching you, hm?" You teased, leaning towards his face by placing your hands on his seated thighs. Your bent position left a great view of your ass, still clothed with sleek red underwear and fishnets. He pouted, looking into the mirror momentarily to appreciate the sight. You looked over your shoulder, grabbing his screen to jerk him back to your eye level.

"Tap. Out." You hissed, glaring into his eyes.

"Fuck! Fine, whatever! I tap out.. I-I.. Keep touching me.. i want you to keep touching me." He let out, getting progressivly flustered as he spoke. You looked at him, trying desperately to hide a smirk by biting your loeer lip. Noticing that you still weren't making a move and definitely wouldn't let him take the upper hand at this point, he rolls his eyes and looks towards the ceiling to avoid your eyes. "Please." He blurted out, a cyan hue growing across his cheeks. You let out a confident chuckle, before immediately dropping to your knees in front of him and continuing to fully release his throbbing cock from his already dampened trousers.

"Good boy~ Now enjoy the show, okay?" You let out before taking a hand around the base and sending a long lick up his length, immediately drawing the head into your mouth. You worked your magic, running your tongue in circles around the head and pumping your hand across the rest. The heat of your mouth on his tip and the coolness of the room barely breezing across the rest of his hard on made him shutter. He was looking down at you, instinctively attempting to buck his hips. You were quick to use your other hand to push his hips back down, running your neatly done nails across his thigh to the point of leaving marks, clearly indicating don't try that shit again.

You start to take in more of his cock into your mouth. Bobbing your head to set a nice rhythm, nothing that couldn't finish him off just yet, but enough to make him lose his composure more than he already has. You look up to meet his eyes, seeing him stare down at your work. You slowed to an impossibly slow speed before quickly pulling your mouth away, a line of saliva still connecting your lips to his member.

"That's not what i meant." You spoke strictly, reaching up to tilt his screen back towards the mirror. He did enjoy the pretty sight of you on your knees, but his mess of an appearance and reactions embarrassed him."If i see you looking anywhere else - if i see that you're not enjoying the show-" you squeezed his cock that had cooled from your hot spit hitting the cold air of the room. Almost too tightly. He winced, looking back down at you with a wide concern. " -Then i'll just have to stop. I can't reward that sort of behavior, hun." You sounded almost threatening and continued to tighten your grasp. He reached down, squeezing your shoulder before fixing his weary eyes to look at his wreck of a reaction in the mirror. "There we go! See? Look how lovely you look." You switched almost immediately to a sweet voice, loosening your grip and nuzzling his cock against your cheek, right at the corner of your mouth. "So? Are you gonna play along? Be good for me?" You spoke with hot breath against his member, your lips hovering just over the head. He nodded reluctantly.

"Say it." Another sudden transition from that sweet tone back to a stern voice.

"Nng... I'll be g-good.." he spoke quietly, ashamed that he had to say that while looking into the eyes of his reflection. You let out a sly chuckle, immediately assuming a quick pace. You weren't quite able to reach the base, but you made up the difference in your hand, and your other still dug your nails deeply into his thigh. The combined sensations of pain and pleasure made him whimper, struggling to keep his eyes open and his head foward. Every time you saw him start to lose his computer, you either slowed to a complete stop, ran your sharp teeth across his shaft as a warning, or behan to squeeze at his base. Each warning was enough for him to realize he was losing his attention. As he got closer, still somehow managing to stare into the reflection, he reached for your hair, running his claws across your scalp.

You allowed this, he's been doing so good for you, after all.

Holding his hips down to prevent any involuntary jerks, you began to sloppily cover his cock with your spit, speeding up even more. You needed him. Now. He was quick to let out moans and groans, not very domineering ones, which almost surprised you. He was truly unraveling.

"I-I'm gonna.." he started to say in between breathy moans. As soon as you heard you sped up right until you felt his cum hit your tongue. But as soon as you felt the smallest amount, you stopped and held your grip tightly around his base, not stopping him from finishing but definitely making it more difficult to enjoy. You pulled your head back, catching your breath. You sit up on your knees and pull his monitor to reach your lips, kissing the small amount of his cum into his mouth with your tongue. His eye twitched at the new flavor in your mouth and was quick to pull away, wiping his lips ftom a combination of drool and his own fluids.

"That was good! You handled me so well.. But i didn't give you permission to cum did I? And you ruined my hair." You almost pouted, looking back to the mirror to attempt to fix your hair up as much as possible. You got a good look at his full body and smiled into the mirror. "God, you're beautiful, Vox." You said, your voice dripped with sweetness as you turn a decievingly genuine smile his way. It only made him blush more. The sight made you absolutely giddy. You finally looked down at him, seeing him begin to go soft." Ah ah~, you need to deal with the mess you made, baby." You took a hold of his still twitching cock, moving your hands along it again. It was quick to stiffen up again, but the overstimulation from just finishing drove Vox to lean his head back and let out more breathless moans. In a quick motion, you were back in his lap, just hovering your entrance over his member. You moved your underwear to the side, running your own fingers between your folds and lifting your hands back up to his view.

" See what you're doing to me? You lost your little game, and now, i'm left with this mess." You spoke matter of fact, licking your own fluids off your fingers. You quickly pressed another kiss against his mouth, the mixutre of both your fluids making this an especially messy one. His senses were overloaded. Every now and then, some moans would come out with a slight delay or glitch to them. He placed his hands on your hips, wanting to get at least one victory out of this. With one claw, he carefully ripped the fishnets covering yout entrance before forced himself into you, bottoming out immediately. You shot up, yelping at his sudden courage. Giving you time to relax into him, you gripped onto his shoulders. He led you up and down on his cock, barely guiding you before you began to move at your own pace, beginning to unravel yourself. He tilted his head to look into the mirror again. Seeing you from both angles made him drive up into you harder. He had to admit, it was a great view.

As you bounce yourself on his cock, you take his hand and lead his fingers to rub your clit. He immediately picked up the note and began to run tight circles with the sharp tip of his finger. The sensation made you shiver, his metal like claws a start contrast to the warmth you were amitting. Beginning to hit your g spot timed with the constant contact of his finger to your clit, left you breathy, a moaning mess. He was reaching his breaking point, making his body physically react to yours. Small and sudden shocks would amit from his finger and occasionally through his cock, causing a sensational pain. His voice continued to glitch, indicating how he was about to finish, which you noticed immediately. You slam down onto him, lifting his eyes towards you by grabbing a hold of his neck, lightly squeezing.

"You have to get permission to cum. Got it?" You said sternly, your sudden halt making his leg twitch and shift underneath you. "O-okay.. fine..! Keep going, i'm close-" you yanked him closer.

"Ask. Nicely."

"Fuck... C-can I cum for you..? Please... let me-" his voice began to trail off as you quickened your pace again. "Such a good boy. Okay, but only because you asked so nicely." You praised and tapped your finger against his nose(?) mockingly, then felt another shock run up inside of you. He finished almost immediately hearing those words. You felt his cum fill you up, but you guided his hand back down to your clit to continue rubbing as you kept up your pace. His sensitivity left a twitching static shock inside of you, which was quick to lead you to finish, the heated pain in your stomach finally releasing.

You fell onto him, your head resting on his shoulder as you simply stay seated om top of him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. He was nuzzling the side of his screen into your ear and kissing just along your neck. As soon as you regained your senses, you melted into his aftercare. You wouldn't expect him to be so sweet to you after this, but he was holding on to you like his worse fear was you getting up. You ran your hands along his back, enjoying how much comfort he seemed to need so desperately.

The sweet moment lasted for a while, before you pulled away gently and looked up towards the clock near the door.

"Fuck! Rehearsal! Get up get up!" You quickly lifted yourself off of him, before you looked at eachother. Your fishnets were ripped, some small bruises on your neck. He managed to plant a few, but that was nothing compared to the sloppy lipstick covered state he was in. "Ugh, god dammit!" You stormed off and quickly grabned some wipes, scrubbing the lipstick off his screen and chest." Velvette's gonna kill me..!" You groaned, nearly getting everything off.

"Calm down doll, I'll get some people from hair and makeup to fix up this mess." He snapped his fingers, which somehow alerted an imp assistant to knock on the door. You quickly reached for a nearby robe and tied it around your waist just as they entered the room. "-and they will have no problem with keeping this little secret, right?" His eye began to run hypnotic waves as he was quick to brainwash the assistant. You hesitantly sat and let the imp quickly fix up your messy appearance after finding new fishnets and hanging up your delicate dress to put back on later. Vox sat there, his shirt still completely undone, his legs crossed and arms splayed across the back of the couch. He simply sat there, watching you get pampered to perfection again. Every tine you made eye contact with him you began to turn red. Sure, you had the upper hand just moments ago, but the effect this demon had on you was immense, making the immediate poeer dynamic switching back to him.

Once the two of you had cleaned up a bit more, you headed towards the door. He spun you before pressing a quick kiss on your forehead, then turned you back and let you walk out in front of him.

"I told you i could handle it, and it for sure seemed like you couldnt keep yourself together. So, i win!" You clarified as the two of you walked down the hall, back towards the rehearsal space.

"Fine. Sure. Watever you say. Keep telling yourself that.. if that's what it takes to make you do it again." He shrugged off your obviously victory with that dumb invitiation. You punched his arm as the two of you continued to argue. It was still clear to you both. You came out on top this time.

[acourtofthought]

"Gone to the mat again and again to fight for that future with Feyre"

Rhys may have stepped back and kept his distance for months when he thought Feyre would be happy with Tamlin but what Cassian said is true, Rhys did consistently show that he was willing to fight for Feyre.

Lucien fighting for his future with Elain:

Lucien breathed, "Where is he keeping her?"

"I don't know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he'd use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I'm aware of them." "Tell me anyway. List all of them."

"You'll die the moment you set foot in his territory." "I survived well enough when I found you."

"I need to find her."

I asked Lucien to escort me, and he'd been more than happy to do so, given that his own status of mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days".

"I'm getting my mate back."

"Tell me about her - about Elain," Lucien said quietly.

"My mate is engaged to a human male." I want to see her. Just once. Just-to know." "To know what?" "If she is worth fighting for. And then I'll ask your mate how he survived it - knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male's bed."

"I would like to see them first. I know you're anxious -" "Just do it," Lucien said, bracing his forearms on the stone rail of the veranda. "Come get me when she's ready."

But Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he'd heard ever word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her.

Lucien stiffened - not at what I'd said, I realized, but at the tone. A hostess. But he asked, "What of - Elain?" "I need to think about it," I answered plainly.

"I would never hurt her."

"She needs fresh air." "We'll judge what she needs." "Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two."

"I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And ... sorrow. Longing."

"Let me do something. About Elain. I heard - from my room. Everything that happened just now. It wouldn't hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally."

"Please tell me," Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer. "What the healer says. And if- if you need me for anything."

"I'll go." Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke.

Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he'd run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little.

"I heard - what happened. I'm sorry for your loss. All of you."

"I heard you made the killing blow."

Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain's side.

"How is she?" "Good. But is she still..." A muscle flickered in his jaw. "Does she still mourn him?

Lucien had encountered him, I realized. Somehow, in living with Jurian and Vassa at the manor, he'd run into Elain's former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

"The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her."

Cassian's heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. "

Two years after their bond snapped "he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

From the start of their bond snapping until where we are currently at in the series Lucien is still fighting for Elain.

Is he being pushy? No, because that's not what would best for a female who recently had a broken engagement with someone she loved.

But does he still think of her? Does he still long for her? Has he been loyal to only her?

That is the author showing us that Lucien remains committed to their bond, he is fighting for their bond.

Authors do not write loyal kings as not ending up with their HEA and Elain will always be able to take comfort in the fact that he wanted her, he waited for her, he allowed her to set the pace of things while he suffered for her.

That is how you write a real love story. Not a guy who rejected her at the first real test to their love as Graysen did, not a guy like Az who hadn't thought of a future with her beyond his sexual fantasies and proceeded to feel a spark in his chest at the thought of another female's happiness mere hours after he rejected Elain.

Lucien is loyal to Elain regardless of what he's getting out of the situation and that's exactly what we saw from both Rhys and Cassian with their mates.