#when I get more used to it I'm going to pick commissions back up

[bby-deerling]

Can you do a hc for zoro, law, kidd, and ace (or anyone else you chose) for the first time you let them go down on you? Like you never let them because (whatever reason you chose) and then one day you're extremely nervous and they ask and you say you wanna try it? (Bc maybe you heard a friend talk about it?)

If you aren't comfortable with this I AM SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME

(Also, just a little shy to come off anon bc you are like my hero and I'm nervous)

eeee nonny this is so good !! (and pleaseeee come off anon and talk to me u r so sweet!! <3)

going down on you for the first time (nsfw)

ft. zoro, law, kid, ace

cw: afab!reader, oral (reader receiving), teasing, marking, fingering

masterlist || commissions

zoro

when zoro slides down your torso and pushes your panties to the side, you start stammering profusely. "y-you don't need to, i can just take care of you—" you sputter; this was zoro's first time with you—or with anyone, for that matter—and you didn't want all the focus to be on yourself.

zoro clicks his tongue in mild annoyance as he grips the back of your thighs. "nope. not letting you get all shy on me." he insists, pressing sloppy, heated kisses along your inner thigh. "what's wrong? you think i can't figure out how to do it?" he teases.

"no—" you start, intending to explain yourself, but the way he licks a stripe across your clit with the flat of his tongue shuts you up.

"then lay back and relax." he says with a smirk as his head eagerly buries itself between your legs.

despite your shyness, zoro wants to taste you so badly, though you don't realize just how much he craves it until his tongue starts dancing across your needy clit.

he's inexperienced and a little clumsy, but he's messy and passionate and it sends electricity racing through your veins. he's a quick learner, and picks up on everything that sends you reeling and doubles down accordingly.

will not stop until he makes you cum all over his tongue. he has a deep-seated need to prove himself—to be the best—and that extends to the bedroom too.

ace

"ace—" you whine out as his fingers curl against your sweet spot; he feels good, but you're craving something more. "use your tongue too..." you plead softly, making his eyebrows quirk up in surprise.

"you sure, babe? you never let me—" he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish his sentence.

"ace, please—i need it!" you whimper, voice dripping with need as you stare down at him with lust-blown pupils.

"yeah?" he whispers as his tongue rolls across your clit. you arch your back in response and twitch your hips against him, but the reaction from your body alone isn't enough for him. "tell me how much you need it." ace murmurs, intent on making you work for it.

he definitely teases you for finally breaking down and deciding to let him taste you. he's been wanting to for so long—he's just been waiting for you to ask for it.

not afraid to use his devil fruit power to take things up a notch. now that you're finally willing to let him eat you out, he wants to pull out all the stops.

if you still haven't had enough when he makes you come undone, he's more than happy to let you grind your hips against his face until the sun comes up.

kid

"oh, so now you want me to do it?" kid asks, a crooked grin on his face—you'd asked him to go down on you after months of not letting him on account of not wanting his lipstick to smear everywhere the sun doesn't shine.

"c'mon, please, kid—" you beg, tangling your fingers through his hair as you try to nudge him downwards.

he smirks and lets out a dark laugh; the glint in his eye as he looks up at you is familiar—it was the type of feral hunger normally reserved for the battlefield, and feeling it directed towards you is intoxicating.

"alright, princess, i'll give it to you." he chuckles, sinking his teeth into your inner thigh and leaving a harsh bruise before moving upwards towards your clit.

despite his rough nature, kid is experienced, and knows exactly what he's doing with that evil, smart tongue of his. as with everything, he's brutal with it as he makes you cum, relentlessly licking at and sucking your clit, but the way your orgasm makes you shatter into a million pieces makes his methods worth it.

now that he's gotten you to beg for him to use his tongue on you once, it's his personal mission to make you do it again, and again, and again. he gains a certain type of satisfaction from turning you into a creature just as insatiable as he is.

he makes you wait for a little while before hopping into the shower afterwards; something about seeing the sloppy red marks from his lips litter your inner thighs and the top of your mound drives him crazy.

law

"hey, law?" you ask hesitantly, face turning pink as you try to ignore the way your heart thrums in its cage.

"mhm?" he hums, trailing kisses along your collarbone, though his sweet affection creeps to a halt when he feels you freeze up beneath him.

"i know i said that i don't like... being eaten out... but it's just because no one's ever done it properly for me before. but i've been thinking recently, and—" you ramble, words spilling off your tongue quickly and tangling into a nervous mess.

"you want me to go down on you?" he purrs as his lips curl into a satisfied smirk.

"please—" you squeak out; the reaction amuses law, and you feel a soft chuckle vibrate against your skin as he kisses his way down your torso.

law has no experience whatsoever before you, and has no idea what he's doing, but he's used his fingers to pull enough orgasms out of you by this point that he has a good idea of where to start.

he masks his inexperience with confidence and teasing remarks, which stops your mind from racing a mile a minute, and leaves you feeling relaxed and pliant for him as he experimentally drags his tongue across your clit.

admittedly, it takes him a little while to figure out quite what he's doing, but he doesn't mind spending all night with you writhing beneath him to make sure he gets it right. his ego soars when he finally gets you to come apart on his tongue, and he'll work twice as hard to get you to cum a second time if you don't stop him.

[generalsmemories]

hello jing yuan's wife!! congrats on 1k followers! you very much deserved it 😊 may i please request for jing yuan with angst scenario #5? thank you in advance!

Stubbornness

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompt used: needing to go to an event after a party and having to pretend as if they aren’t angry with one another the entire time || 1k event

✧ contents: established relationship, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, arguments cause yeehaw, however happy ending cause they are functioning adults, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: the amount of times ya'll have called me jing yuan's wife at this point HAHAH. anyway! first drabble to kickstart the 1k event is a sort of angsty one because why not but ya'll remember that one book where the sanctus medicus had 5 operations to try and get rid of jing yuan? yeah have that back in mind. - also not beta-read but who is surprised at this point LMFAO

"... You could've died."

Jing Yuan snorts, adjusting the bracers on his forearms without even sparing you a glance, "But I'm here right now breathing, aren't I?" he quips back instead, almost sounding amused at your worry.

It infuriates you. It baffles you how little he truly cared about the situation and at the severity of it. The hair you had for once tried to style already messy by the amount of times you've ran a hand through it out of stress or frustration the past two hours.

You're so glad you made Yanqing leave earlier to assist where it was necessary.

"Do you honestly see this as a mere joke, Jing Yuan?" you sneer, arms crossed whilst leaning one side against the doorframe. He must already know what you're referring to, being that you had finally opened the report handed to you from today - a report telling that there was yet another attempt on his life.

Another attempt that he didn't want to tell you about.

"Quite the contrary," he says, turning around to finally face you. His smile is still present on his lips which only serves to make you more agitated, "Nothing happened as you can see, and I'm perfectly fine. As such I didn't see the need to tell you about it because nothing happened. I wasn't even at the Artisanship Commission like they thought-"

"Because you got delayed."

He sighs, crossing his arms as well and cocking his head to the side, "Dear, with the amount you're worrying about me it makes me believe you have no trust in my capabilities to protect myself. Am I right to assume that?" he questions, his smile fading a bit after he had asked.

"Where the hell did you even get that from- Can I not worry about my lovers safety even when I'm aware of his swordmanship?" you ask, clicking your tongue whilst running yet another hand through your strands.

"And I'm telling you that it is a needless worry-"

"You're fucking unbelievable," you scoff, turning around to head for the entrance of your home, Jing Yuan quirking an eyebrow at your retreating form, "Oh? You're not going to nag at me further?" he asks, his tone may be lighthearted, but even you can pick out the slight bite it has to it.

"Even looking at you right now makes me want to punch you. The fact that you can't even see where I'm coming from is unbelievable enough, so fine! I won't worry more about our dear general," you bite back, slamming the door shut once you're at the other side.

You can come up with an excuse as to why the two of you arrive separately - it wouldn't be the first time after all.

"You must be quite delighted that the expedition finished earlier than planned, right [Name]?" Master Gongshu asks, handing you a glass and immediately clinking his own against it before taking a sip, "Even the tiny lieutenant made more of a name to himself out there."

You snicker, swirling the contents of the drink before you, stealing a brief glance over at Jing Yuan who is surrounded himself, "Indeed, I'm quite relieved to see him and Yanqing safely return to the Luofu."

Even though there was immediately another attempt on his life the moment he stepped one foot back onboard.

"But say, aren't you a bit saddened that the general haven't been by your side as much today? He's practically surrounded by the other commissioners and knights," master Gongshu points out, to which you only shake your head, "Why of course not, as long as I know that my husband is safe - I wouldn't have to worry about anything," you say - a bit louder than needed.

You know Jing Yuan heard you.

He kept his attention solely on the people before him though, not even sparing you a glance.

The sight makes you let out another loud sigh, bringing the glass to your lips only to immediately drink it in one gulp, Master Gongshu snickering beside you while calling another waiter over, "Oho, I see you're rearing to go so early! This is indeed what a celebration feast is about!" Master Gonshu roars, his laughter having been a bit too loud to attract the attention of other people, who merely snickered at his own energy.

Jing Yuan only narrowed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing in displeasure at your comment. It seems like you still haven't cooled down. But as soon as he heard his name get called, he was all smiles again, "Aren't you worried that [Name] is going to drink too much, general?" a solider jokingly asked, raising his own glass to have a toast with the general. Jing Yuan merely let out a low chuckle, "Of course not, and even if they were to, I'm here to take care of them."

At this point, the master diviner had made herself to your side with a few snacks - just in time to see your expression twist for a split second upon hearing what Jing Yuan said, letting out a laugh yourself, "Oh, don't worry dear. I know how to take care of myself, so there's no need for you to needlessly worry like this!"

She can practically sense the animosity between you two that no one else in the room has apparently picked up on.

But Fu Xuan does admit that seeing Jing Yuan's perfectly crafted smile twitch a bit in annoyance while his eyebrows furrowed a tiny bit did bring her satisfaction - a taste of his own medicine.

So while master Gongshu have wandered off to get a refill, she makes her way over to you with a raised eyebrow, "Trouble in paradise?" she asks lowly, you merely huff in return - turning around to lean on the fence, staring at the various starskiffs in the air, "... No."

"I applaud you for still wanting to lie in front of me," Fu Xuan comments, placing the tray of various snacks beside you for your perusal - you don't grab anything, already lost in thought.

"Is it a needless worry?" you end up asking, Fu Xuan having leaned against the fence herself while having her body turned to face you, "About what? His safety? Yes and no."

"Gee, that helps a lot."

"He's a general, [Name]. An attempt on his life is unfortunately common sense, moreso at this time too being that he had just returned from an expedition and would be by some standards - exhausted and have his senses dulled."

"So why-"

"But it's also because he is a general that precautions are taken. Even if he got delayed or not before coming to the Artisanship Commission, the Cloud Knights stationed had already intercepted the attempt - he would've still been safe."

You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from blurting anything more. In hindsight you were perfectly aware that Jing Yuan would be fine - but you're pretty sure there's not a single lover out there who would not worry about their own husbands' safety if his head had once again been targeted - even if it had been yet another failed attempt.

Before you can admit your wrongdoings to Fu Xuan, you feel an arm slither around your waist - delicate lips pressing against your temple, and from the faint breath Jing Yuan lets out, you can tell he's had a few more to drink than you in the span of your conversation with Fu Xuan.

"... I thought you didn't like to drink that much," you say softly, turning around in his hold only to be met with a smile, "And I thought you weren't going to speak to me?" he whispers back. You merely huff and let his head fall down to your shoulder, sending Fu Xuan a pleading gaze to which she immediately gets without you needing to say anything more - walking over to the crowd of onlookers to step in for both you and Jing Yuan.

"I am still mad," you finally utter after a few minutes of silence between the two of you.

"Whatever can I do to make my beloved not mad at me then?" he asks back in a whisper, careful to not let anyone else hear the two of you. You can tell from your peripheral vision that he's turned his head to face you, although you keep your gaze facing forward.

"Admit you were wrong," you huff, Jing Yuan letting out a low chuckle at how you're still holding onto that stubborness, "I'm pretty sure I saw that you were about to admit that you were wrong to the master diviner, no?"

You don't answer, merely looking away in a silent defiance. The sight making Jing Yuan sigh in amusement, "Alright, I'm sorry dear. I'll make sure to tell you in the future whenever I feel something amiss," he says in the end - but before you can accept that apology, he quickly adds on.

"In return, I do hope you tell me whenever the disciples also target you."

.... Oh.

"... You know you could've made me inform you in any other way than having us argue?" you state, back to your moody self - the switch in mood making your husband laugh, "Not such a great feeling being left in the dark, is it?" he reminds you - and you hate how effective this sort of method is.

So your only reply is to wrap your arms around his waist, "I'm sorry," You can feel his body shake with laughter, his own arms wrapping around your shoulders before you feel his lips pressing themselves at the top of your head, "Now stop being mad, because these few hours were quite tortuous for me."

"You just say that because I usually do all the talking."

"Precisely."

struggled with that ending for 3 days man.

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 4 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warning(s): homophobia becomes a central theme. mention of a close dead relative. internalized misogyny.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 5

You were sitting on the grass under the bleachers when Janis 'Imi'ike came up to you.

"I'm not selling right now." You said, suspecting she was here to see about buying alcohol or something. You had a contact and made a small bit in commissions around the school selling stuff.

"I'm- what? What're you selling?" Oh, well, guess not then.

"Nothing." You didn't want to incriminate yourself. It was bad enough you were smoking a cigarette right this moment. You took another drag. Usually, you didn't smoke during school but today was turning out to be a shittier day than usual.

"I'm not a nark, I could-" She seemed to shake herself. "Anyway. Why did you come to school with Regina today?"

"You saw that?" You inquired, alarmed but making an attempt to hide it.

"Yes. Now, why?"

"We live on the same street. Her car was having issues." You shrugged, trying to play it off.

"How'd you know her car was having issues?" She did not seem inclined to just let it go. It was beginning to annoy you.

"Because I fix it from time to time. Like I said, we live on the same street. We're not friends or anything." While you didn't like lying, especially not when you yourself were bitter about it, protecting Regina's rep was more important.

"I think that's a lie. We went to the same middle school for a while. You were close back then." She accused, crouching to be at level with you. You were officially annoyed now.

"You used to be close too." You took another drag and, noticing your cig was on its last leg, stamped it on the ground. "And how'd that turn out?"

Janis gritted her teeth. "Not well."

"Exactly." You gave her a tight, snarky smile and stood up. "Bye."

"Wait a minute!" She jogged after you as you made for the school building. "I'm not done!"

"I think you are." You called back, hastening your step. "There's nothing for us to talk about, Janis."

"Dude! You're being a huge dick right now." Janis caught up to you, gesturing as if she were offended. "Why are you so touchy?"

"I'm not touchy, I'm pissed that a stranger is getting all up in my business." You informed her curtly. "Lay off."

She held her hands up in surrender, an infuriating smirk on her face. "What business do you have with Regina?"

You halted and dropped your backpack on the ground. "What is your problem?" You advanced on her, not exactly squaring up but still getting a little too close for comfort.

"Woah, protective, aren't you?" She wasn't intimidated in the least. That only angered you more. "Has she ditched Cady already and found a new pet?"

"If I were you, I'd watch my mouth." You said as menacingly as you could.

"We could help each other out, y'know." She said, playing innocent.

"Why would I help you with anything?"

"Because she hurt both of us." You had to agree with that, however reluctantly. "I want revenge. She needs to go down." Now, that you did not agree with.

"What do you mean?" If they were planning a coup or something, you needed to get the details. You wouldn't be putting up with that shit.

"Cady's gotten an in with the Plastics." You'd never liked that stupid nickname Janis insisted on using. "She's still on the fence about them, but it's only a matter of time before I'm proven right."

"You've infiltrated the popular girl group like 007, great, because Regina wronged you somehow in middle school? Grow up." You rolled your eyes and picked up your backpack.

"She outed me, you douche!" She exclaimed before probably even thinking about it. Realizing what she'd said, she glanced around warily. Nobody was nearby since you were away from the courtyard.

Okay. Well. That made this a lot more complicated. You pinched the bridge of your nose. This was the exact reason you hung around skaters and stoner-wannabes. At least their drama was about graffiti and who had the good kush, not about whatever the fuck this was. You weren't aware you were living in a teen drama.

"Okay." You breathed in deeply. You did not want to be involved, no matter how justified Janis could've been. However, you needed information if you wanted to get in the way. "What've you got?"

A mean grin nearly split her face. Then, in just a second, it melted away. "You won't tell anybody, right? About, uh, that earlier-"

"I sell drugs behind the school, dude." You put it flatly. "You have more flak on me."

"True." She conceded. "So..."

Their plans weren't very well constructed, to be fair. Janis wanted to prove to Cady that Regina was a bitch, her words, and that was sort of just a waiting game. In the meantime, they were collecting information. So far they'd found out about the Burn Book, supposedly a scrapbook that Regina and her friends had filled with mean things about everybody at Northshore. Staff and teachers included. Apparently, Cady hadn't had much time to peruse it, so neither Janis nor you were in it for all she knew.

The concept made you nervous. You could very well be in that book and Cady just hadn't seen it. If everybody was in it, including nobodies like Mary Stigson and Amber D'Alessio, the chance was incredibly high.

You didn't even know what she could've written about you. Over the years you'd shared incredibly vulnerable bits of information with her. She'd shared with you too, but you weren't in any position to weaponize her secrets. You'd been through embarrassing moments that just the two of you knew of, had seen each other cry and rage and experience all sorts of overwhelming emotions, had made it through mortifying tweenhood phases together.

Regina could've written your whole life story, the nastiest highlights at least, without breaking a sweat.

You were like a zombie for the rest of the day. Barely paying attention in class, twirling a pencil in your fingers listlessly as whatever teacher went on and on. You looked up when a sharp, female voice called your name. You apologized to Ms Norbury and pretended to start working.

Calculus class, huh? You looked around, trying to be inconspicuous. You met eyes with Cady Heron. She quickly turned back to her work, writing numbers furiously. So Janis had told her about their new accomplice. Of course, you had every intention to tattle first thing once you talked to Regina again.

You knew she wouldn't want to be seen leaving with you, so you shot her a text that you'd be behind the bleachers waiting. You were her ride, after all. It would've been rude to leave her.

Relaxing somewhere quiet and alone wasn't too bad. You lifted your headphones over your ears and put on a Nirvana CD. Just this morning Regina had called you 'a hobo with a liking for grunge', or something along those lines. You did so love proving her right.

You lit a cigarette in honour of Kurt and closed your eyes. Something about this day, the utterly exhausting events, made you desperate to feel some release. Ever since dropping Regina off, you'd been a fucking mess. Janis having seen the whole thing and then coming to conspire against Queen Bee hadn't helped. You wished things could be spelt out for you.

Did Regina like you? Yes or no. You knew it wasn't that simple, that things weren't simple for her like they were for you. You liked her and so it was easy to let her walk all over you. You liked her so, of course, you sided with her even when Janis and you had a camaraderie. You liked her and so you chose not to think about the horrible thing she'd done to Janis.

Was it only a matter of time before she'd use that secret against you, too? Did it hang above your head even now?

"Hey, loser, stub the cig and let's get outta here. I'm sick of this joint."

"Who taught you to talk like that?" You opened your eyes and looked up at Regina. "Certainly not your father."

"What daddy doesn't know won't hurt him." She offered her hand to pull you up. "C'mon. I have a nail appointment to get to."

You hauled yourself up with her help. Over-balancing a little bit you tipped into her space, and for a moment there you breathed the same air. You took a hasty step back and tuned back into the conversation.

"And- and how're you gonna get there?" You already knew.

"We don't have enough time to go to mine first, so..." She smiled sweetly at you, getting that calculating look in her eye as she grabbed your arm and pulled it close to her chest. Looking up at you through her lashes, long nails stroking down your forearm, a smile so alluring it was evil on her face, she knew she had you. You couldn't say no.

Gulping, you inclined your head. "I'll take you."

"Thanks, babe." And with that, she pressed her purse into your arms to carry and skipped ahead.

Fuck. Fuck. You closed your eyes and fought off a groan. You'd almost forgotten the crush you'd nursed for her back then. It hadn't ever left, you knew that much, but it hadn't smacked you in the face quite like this before. You were familiar with moments that made your heart beat fast, scenarios that played on a loop in your head, and dreams you could never really make sense of. Now, though, hearing her call you babe and the physical reaction it evoked, there was no plausible explanation other than the obvious fact: You had a crush on Regina George.

You knew—knew—that it was hopeless. There was no world in which you and Regina could be a thing. Or maybe there was, but that was a pipe dream you'd do no good in entertaining. Your dad didn't care about who you dated, but you were sure he would be none too pleased. Regina's dad was a whole other case. He was way stricter than your dad, though just as distant.

You'd done this before. It would be fine. Admittedly, back when you'd been actively crushing on Regina you had been twelve and under. Back then you'd still tolerated skirts and girly hairstyles. Back then it'd been socially acceptable to cling to your friend like a koala, kiss her cheeks and hold her hand. If you tried that shit now, especially looking like you did, it would not slide.

(You'd been called slurs around the halls before. While you didn't generate much rumours or hubbub, you knew that you existed in people's peripherals in a certain way. They'd snidely ask if you liked the Ellen Show. Make vile hand gestures at you when you passed by. Garry Fort, resident church boy and social outcast, had even offered to pray for you. You had refused.)

"Jorts! Get a move on!" Regina shouted, a good distance away.

"Yeah yeah," You muttered, but picked up the pace.

"What took you so long?" She asked as she settled into the front seat.

"Lost in thought, I guess." Waxing melancholy about how we could never be together, sweetums. You opted not to say that. "So, where's this appointment?"

"Just drive to town, I'll give instructions."

"Sure thing." You bit your lip and tapped your fingers on the steering wheel. You hadn't had your licence for long but you'd been driving for much longer than that. You were a good driver. Back when you'd been young enough for your dad to feel obligated to spend time with you, he'd taken you to some backroads and taught you. Then, when that stopped, you'd done it illegally. Hey, girls gotta keep busy somehow.

"What's on your mind?" Regina asked, breaking the silence that'd turned uncomfortable.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." You swallowed. "How was your day?"

"How was my day, seriously?" She turned her body to face you, arms crossed and a displeased look on her face. "What is it?"

You tried to think of something to say. You didn't want to ruin her whole day by revealing she had a spy, of all things. You'd planned on waiting a little bit before telling her. You would've maybe taken her for a ride and then gently broken the news.

So, that was a bust.

"Cady Heron is spying on you. She's retelling everything you're doing together with Gretchen and Karen to Janis and her friend Damien Leigh." You blurted it all out. "I was smoking in my usual spot and she just came up to me. And, uh, recruited me. Apparently, she saw you leave my car this morning."

"What?" Regina screeched, face slack with shock as well as strained with fear, panic, and all sorts of jumbled emotions. "Did anybody else see?"

"I don't know!" Your shoulders lifted all the way up to your ears in a panicked shrug. Her emotions were rubbing off on you and you did not like it. "Did people act weird around you today?"

"No," She paused to think. "No, everything was fine. Karen liked my top."

"You mean my top?" You corrected.

"Whatever." Regina looked out of the window contemplatively. "Are you plotting against me?"

You rolled your eyes, and took your sights off the road for a second to shoot her a look. "If I was, would I be telling you?"

"I dunno, I vividly remember you being sorta stupid."

"Wow, thanks, Reg, that's high praise coming from you. Only sorta."

"Shut up. You're so annoying." She unfolded her arms and leaned back in the seat. "Cady Heron. A spy."

"Janis told me, and I quote: "She needs to go down." Which was pretty dramatic in my opinion." Regina didn't say anything. "I mean, we're in high school."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Regina inspected her nails. Pretty acrylics, sharp and lethal, decorated with gems and swirls. A little grown out, sure, but still in perfect condition.

"I just mean that..." You thought about what you wanted to say. "Y'know, on average women in America die, like, between seventy and eighty years old. We're less than a quarter of that right now. Five years from now, I bet the problems we have now will seem stupid and insignificant. And then five years, or ten, from that, the issues then will look the same way."

"Morbid." She turned to look at you. You couldn't tell what her expression was like, in the middle of changing lanes to pass a car going way under the limit. "Are you always this philosophical?"

"I could be. If you wanted me to be." You wondered if that edged a little too close to flirty.

"No. It's insufferable." You didn't know how to respond to that. "I don't fucking care about the grand scheme of things. My problems aren't stupid or insignificant now, so it's no fucking use thinking, oh, it'll all be fine with time! Well, it won't be, if I don't do something right now." She ranted, waving her hands as she did. "And I will argue that women die much earlier than that."

"It's a statistic, Reg-"

"No, women die at menopause at the latest. They get sad, saggy and undesirable and they die." She said with such conviction that it shook you. "When you stop being beautiful, it's all over."

"Regina, that's..." Wrong. Incorrect. A horrible way to think. "I don't think that's true."

"Women like my mom have nothing to offer. When dad stopped wanting her and started looking elsewhere, when she stopped being asked out at the grocery store and they started asking me, when Kylie poked at her flab and asked what her stretch marks were, she died."

Listening to her talk like that, about her mom nonetheless, was heartbreaking. Still, you couldn't help getting angry. "Your mom is alive and well, Reg. Your dad cheating isn't her fault, it's him being an awful human being. Being asked out at the grocery store isn't like receiving a fucking Nobel prize. Flab and stretch marks are what you did to her body. What Kylie did to her body." You bit your lip when it started wobbling. You bit down harshly to stop it.

You continued even when your voice crackled. "My mom's always gonna be young and beautiful. She's gonna always gonna have smooth, wrinkle-free skin. I won't get to ask about her flab or stretch marks. Not ever." Regina was quiet. You could feel her eyes on you. "You don't get to complain about growing old. Mrs George's been like a mom to me, you know that, so don't fucking insult her in front of me. You can get all the botox and surgeries you want, but I'm not gonna sit here and listen to that shit."

"Sorry." She said, quietly. She'd never been good at apologies.

"It's fine." You wiped at your eyes. "I'm sorry for freaking out."

"No, it's... That was stupid." She mostly muttered, now sunken into the seat.

You shouldn't have raved at her like that. Unpacking all that she said would've been much easier with a clear head. Now you were both stuck in this tension. Tears drying on your cheeks and snot in your nose, you wished things would be easier. You wished Regina had never been taught to think like she did, that she'd see herself like you saw her.

"I think you'll still be pretty when you're forty." You put it out there, going for casual.

"You don't have to lie." She huffed, assuredly rolling her eyes.

"I'm not lying. I don't think a few wrinkles are enough to ruin your face."

"I'm not gonna get wrinkles. By the time I'm old enough to get them, there's gonna be technology to prevent signs of ageing entirely."

You laughed at that. "Are you gonna pioneer that?"

"You think I'd be smart enough?"

"I think you're very intelligent, Regina."

"Hm." You could tell she was pleased, though she was looking away. "Take left here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Notes: I'm writing these abnormally fast. Usually, I'm a total sloth with these things. I guess the instant gratification of notes really is addicting. If I suddenly drop off, I promise I didn't die I just ran out of steam.

I have no idea how long this series will be. I have a general outline and character arcs going in my head, but I'm purposefully not drafting anything. I've noticed that when I plan too much I just feel like I've already written the story and don't wanna put any of the work in. So, with this method, though it has its flaws, I won't get bored of my own ideas!

Also, just to sort of put it out there in writing, they're meant to be flawed characters. OC might be self-aware to a point, but she too has her shortcomings. While Regina's more obviously flawed, neither of them are saints. They're teenagers with shitty home lives, they're gonna be fucked up. That also includes Janis and Cady. They're all dumb teenagers with unresolved issues.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer

[handsometheo]

norton and his hunter counterpart trying to fight for reader’s attention pls pls

Right my first attempt back into writing.. life is still crumbling but im hyperfixated on idv rn, hopefully I'll live..

W

Pairing/s: Norton Campbell (Hunter and Surv) x GN! reader

Warnings: none, just silly

-------

This happens every damn time. Don't get me wrong, I love Norton. Both sides of him. The second we're all in a match together though, chaos ensues and its not because Fool's Gold is particularly ciolent around me; I say me because he definitely does not hesitate to chair his survivor counterpart.

No, no, it's worse than that. I feel bad for the other two survivors who got paired with me and Norton. The second that Fool's finds out that I am here, he generally turns into a guard dog of sorts. Not wanting me to work so he wanders around with me, other survivors know that once hes latched onto me, they can pretty much run free as long as they dont come into his sights. He's like my sweet guard dog who is still trying to kill my friends but won't go out of his way to do it right now because he deems himself too preoccupied with me.

We are walking around the sacred heart hospital when I notice a certain prospectors magnet dropped on the floor. Unluckily, Fools does not see it and gets caught in its pull. Norton must be around the corner and drags Fools to it, making him hit his head. Dazed, he stands with a hand holding his head. Before I could check on him, though, I'm lifted over Norton's shoulder making me yell out in minor panic.

"Ah! Norton put me down! He wasn't going to do anything to me, you're just causing more trouble for yourself!" He grunts at me and runs away from the dazed rocky version of himself. Quickly hopping over a wall and ducking down while also forcing me to crouch with him. At least my feet are on the ground now..

Before I could fully register what was happening, I was shoved forward slightly just out of Fools Gold's collapse area. Norton however not so lucky and took enough damage for it to be a full hit. He gives me a quick peck to the cheek and an ever speedier "I love you, be safe." Before sprinting off to begin a kite against Fools Gold.

The hunter himself hops the same ledge we just arrived to this spot over, he picks me up off the floor and dusts off my shoulders before mimicking his survivors counterpart's actions. "I love you. I'll make sure he doesn't disturb us anymore. Dont you dare try to save him whenni chair him. You know I won't hit you." He scowls before kissing my forehead and making a quick dash towards where Norton just was.

What an idiot.

"Are they gone...?" I turn back and see a frightened Frederick peaking past a corner. This makes me laugh and nod at the confused composer. "Good, I'm partially afraid of both of them, especially around you."

-♡-

Done! Not my best work but something silly and fun to imagine. Also if anyone would be willing to commission me for any art or fanfics in exchange for skins/items on idv let me know and we can see about sorting something out

[vixstarria]

Another gift

This is a continuation of my headcanon of Astarion’s romance with bard Tav. I can’t remember the actual chronology of cutscenes, but let’s assume this takes place after you’ve started a sexual relationship with Astarion and are beginning to grow closer. I was going to take it in a different direction initially, but these things have a mind of their own once they get going. 

If you like it, check out my first fic. I do plan on writing more! 

P.S. I may have taken some liberties with the game background story and DnD lore and magic system here – if it doesn’t really match up or make sense – sorry! Also I’m still only on Act 2. 

Tav tries to comfort or distract a brooding Astarion. 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav  

Comfort, fluff, budding love, humour, angst, banter, no spoilers, non-explicit 

Approximately 2,000 words. 

AO3

 

Astarion was standing outside his tent with his back to the camp, staring into a silver mirror. The man had either lost his vampiric condition, lost his mind, or was simply brooding.  

“Looking at something?” he asked absent-mindedly, as you approached. 

Brooding. Definitely brooding.  

“Looking for something.” 

“Oh?” He turned towards you. “Just my company, or is there something else I can offer you?” 

“I'm the one making an offering, actually. I thought I’d bring you a little snack” 

Astarion grinned and beckoned you inside his tent.  

Inside, aside from his bedroll, was a trunk with a large mirror opposite, a lit lantern and a scattering of weapons, equipment and books. You assumed your usual position, cross-legged on the bedroll, and offered him your wrist. This didn’t take long. Just a little pick me up.  

He finished, planting a light kiss on your wrist, reached for his amulet and whispered an incantation to heal the wound. He kept hold of your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.  

“Do you have any idea how much I appreciate that you don’t sexualise this?”  

“I haven’t thought about it... Really?” 

“Well imagine that any time you went to, say, take a bite of a turkey leg, there was someone staring, groping themselves and wagging their tongue at you. When you’re just trying to perform basic functions to stay alive.” 

“Sweetheart, that’s an average evening at the pub for me, when I perform. With or without me biting on anything. ...But I see what you mean”. You contemplated what he just said in a brief silence. “I can't believe you just compared me to a turkey leg.” 

“You’re more of a ripe, juicy peach” he said. You found yourself oddly pleased to be compared to fruit rather than poultry. 

You glanced at the large mirror standing on the floor of the tent.  

“You own an awful lot of mirrors for a vampire. Why do you even keep this here?” 

“That? Oh, it reflects light... makes the tent appear more spacious... prevents anyone from sneaking up on me. ...Unless they’re another vampire.” Astarion said contemplatively. “And I figured, I woke up once with a tadpole in my brain that let me walk in the sun again – who's to say I won’t catch another parasite tomorrow that might cure my vampirism entirely?” 

“Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?” 

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity? Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red. My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I’ve lost. I wouldn’t even recognise myself anymore. It’s been two hundred years.” 

“But...” you fumbled, trying to wrap your mind around that. “You could have found a street artist to sketch you since then.” 

“In the middle of the night?” 

“Or commissioned a portraitist, those artistic types would accommodate you any time of day or night” 

“Commissioned a - …I’m sorry, at what point did I give you the impression that Cazador paid us an allowance..?” Astarion was growing agitated. “And before you say I could have stolen – remember, everything I had, anything I acquired by any means, the clothes on my back, my body, my will – it all belonged to the master.” He paused, regaining control of his demeanour. “There was no point in having any possessions, it would all be the bastard’s in the end. I didn’t want to give him any more than I absolutely had to.” 

You kicked yourself in the ass mentally.  

“Well how’s this... We get to Baldur’s Gale. We exterminate Cazador and take over his palace. Then we rip out whatever he’s got as décor, commission all the best artists, and hang paintings of you on every wall. There will be nothing but portraits of Astarion everywhere.” Astarion’s eyes softened as he watched you gesticulating and getting carried away by your own imagination. “Astarion in shining armour. Astarion on a horse. Astarion on silk bedsheets, half-covered in rose petals. Pirate Astarion. Astarion stroking a cat. Historic events, but every single person depicted is Astarion. Oh! And in the main banquet hall, there will be an enormous mural of you, fully naked, lounging on a divan and being fed grapes by a cadre of nymphs.” 

“With a fig leaf covering my unmentionables?” 

“A comically large fig leaf. Or better yet, no fig leaf, just your full unmentionable glory looming over the dining table” You paused, as if sobering up after being lost in your grand vision, and added in a more serious tone: “We can commission busts and statues, too. Get a mold of your face for a hyper-realistic one.” 

“We” he whispered, as if to himself, with a scornful chuckle.  

“Oh? Do you have someone else in Baldur’s Gate you’d rather spend time with?” You realised how callous that might have come across as soon as the words were out, and cringed inwardly. 

“...No, I don’t” he said absently. 

“Elves live long lives... Do you still have real family there? Friends from... before? ...A spouse? Children?” You'd wondered about this before, and figured you may as well lie in the hole you’d dug for yourself.  

“Gods, no!” Astarion blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t even considered a full adult by elven society then. No, mercifully I didn’t leave any little Astarions behind. All my friends from my youth are either dead or have blissfully forgotten me. And I don’t even know where my family is.” 

You gave him a sympathetic and questioning look, waiting for him to go on. He sighed and continued. 

“As you might expect, Cazador placed a restriction on me, preventing me from telling anyone about my affliction. I couldn’t approach my old acquaintances and go ‘Surprise! I’m actually alive! ...Sort of. I’m just someone’s vampire spawn slave now!’. No. I was to turn around and walk the other way if I ever came upon anyone who might recognise me. I was supposed to be devoted only to my new ‘family’.” he scowled. “I feared that Cazador would use anyone he thought might be important to me against me - for fun, or to teach me a ‘lesson’. And he would have, too: the mental torture he unleashed on his spawn was far worse than physical.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I couldn’t go and see my family, but as soon as I had my wits about me, I managed to arrange for one of the mercenary guilds to quickly escort my relatives out of the city. They were to be told that I made some powerful enemies who had me murdered, and that these enemies would come for them next. That they had to leave, change their names, and never return. I don’t know where they went. I can’t know, if I want them to be safe.” He looked away. “I can’t imagine how much they hated and cursed me. I ruined their lives.” he whispered. 

“You saved them!” you objected, taking his hand. He shrugged but squeezed your hand back. 

“I suppose I might have. Cazador would’ve left their heads on spikes in my crypt by now, otherwise.” He met your eyes again. “So yes, if anyone is going to be helping me decorate a palace, it’s you.” he added with a false cheer, clearly finished with the topic of Cazador.  

You thought he might want to be alone then and were about to leave, but he gently pulled you towards himself. He was sitting on the ground with his back against a trunk. You settled between his legs, your back against his chest, his lips right at your ear, one arm across your shoulders and chest, the other playing with your hair. The large mirror was on the ground right in front of you. He studied your reflection over your shoulder. You appeared to be lounging suspended at an odd angle.  

“How does it even work, anyway... It’s not just your body that disappears, it’s your clothing, too”. You grabbed a hat from the top of the trunk, holding it by its crown, and held it over Astarion’s head, moving it in circles against his hair. “Now you see it...” You let go and watched it disappear in the reflection. “Now you don’t.” 

“I’m actually not sure, darling. Maybe it needs to be supported solely by me. Or it’s got to do with movement” He threw the hat back onto the trunk, where it reappeared in the reflection. 

“Say...” threw your head back to look up into his eyes “Do you think my reflection would disappear... if a part of you was inside?” you bit your lip and grinned mischievously.  

“I don’t think so, but I love how that dirty mind of yours works” he purred in your ear. “Let’s check and find out” His hand slid towards the clasp of your pants, but you swatted it away. 

“Later.” Suddenly you were on a mission. “I have an idea.” 

The rest of your group were gathered around the fire as you made a dash for your tent and grabbed your kit of stage paints and powders.

“Chk, are you doing each other’s makeup in there?” came a scoff from Lae’zel, as you rushed past. 

“Don’t be jealous, Lae. We’ll have a girls night and braid each other’s hair tomorrow” you retorted, making Shadowheart choke on her drink.  

Back in Astarion’s tent, you reached for one of your loose facial powders. 

“You really don’t need to do anything, I’m used to it and nothing will work anyway” protested a confused and weary Astarion. 

“Astarion!” you said gravely, “This isn’t for you. This is for science”, and you blew the powder hard into his face. Sure enough, an outline of his features appeared briefly in the mirror, as the powder flew all around him. “It worked!” 

“Fan-tastic! Too bad you had to blind me to achieve that split second of a silhouette!” he coughed and rubbed at his eyes. 

“It should work with water, too, if you want me to pour some over your head. You need to wash all that powder off anyway, you look ridiculous.”  

He glared at you through the still flying powder particles and pointed a finger at your face.  

“No.” 

“Actually, hang on, I have a better idea.” You heard him groan into his hands behind you, as you ran back to your tent, to return with an amulet.  

“So, the good news is, I am really, really bad at this.” 

“If this involves setting me on fire again...” 

“That was an accident. Anyway... No, this lets me create a fog cloud. Or so it should. I can just barely manage some fog tendrils. Now if I just aim them at your face...” You concentrated on the spell. Whisps of fog appeared around Astarion. “Look...” As the fog tendrils twisted in the air, you could just make out a form that they floated around, in the reflection, one unmistakably of a face.  

“Well...” breathed Astarion, transfixed by the reflection, trying to make motions with his head to make the fog recoil. “It’s not much, but it’s more than I’ve seen in centuries” 

“Come on” you grasped his hand. “Let’s go outside, it needs a different light and a slight breeze” 

Astarion snatched his handheld mirror and followed you. He was actually eager.  

Outside, Astarion spun in the whispy fog, gazing at the mirror in disbelief, as you continued to concentrate on the spell. It was actually working. Your conjuration magic was just bad enough to make the thinnest layer of fog, framing his face like a delicate mask and reflecting in the mirror. What would have been considered incredibly precise work by a wizard, was made possible entirely thanks to you borderline failing.  

“That’s better... I’ll channel the fog right, you turn left against it. No, your other left! No, don’t go into the fire, you idiot, it won’t be my fault this time” 

You grabbed Astarion by the hand and tried to guide him away from fire and anything he could trip over – he was paying exactly zero mind to anything around him, as he semi-stumbled in circles, looking in the mirror. Scratch ran around you, barking, excited for a new game, and eventually tripped you both. 

“Another gift...” Astarion smiled at you, as Scratch did his utmost to lick his face.  

Meanwhile, the group watched the two of you from a distance, dumbfounded. Lae'zel broke the silence: 

“Your people have the strangest mating rituals.”  

“Should I... should I tell them I can probably just cast mirror image on him? I’ve only done it on myself, but it should follow the same principle” added Gale. 

“Maybe tomorrow” said Shadowheart. “Just let them enjoy this tonight.” 

~~~~~

Next in series

AO3

[charliemwrites]

Three to Flee

Commission from the very sweet @ignoreprotocol

Someone leaves the door open and the pets get out.

Content Warning: Established kidnapping situation, unhealthy relationships, collaring

Author's Note: This does not mean Keeper/Kept is back. As far as I'm concerned, that story is finished, but this was a special case.

Shockingly, it’s not Feral that brings it up first.

The girls are having a little picnic at the edge of Johnny and Shy Thing’s yard, shaded by the tall trees. The men are chatting on the porch, sharing cigars and whiskey, far from earshot. Good behavior has earned them this bit of privacy, and so far, they’ve just used it to exchange keeper notes and offer bedroom advice.

“I can’t believe you don’t even have a fence,” Good Girl muses, glancing at the forest beyond. Her own yard is well fortified. It’s not just the sturdy, unclimbable fence, but also the monitors and floodlights connected to it.

Shy Thing sheepishly mentions a failed escape attempt several months earlier, a mad dash through the woods that ended with her dirty and disciplined. That prompts Good Girl to confess her own ill-fated getaway, a midnight attempt at sneaking out that resulted in a bruised ass.

Feral listens with her head cocked, nibbling at her apple slices. When their eyes turn to her, she shrugs.

“I haven’t tried to leave in a while,” she admits, “but I don’t think it would go well.”

Good Girl frowns. “How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

Feral snorts. “You’ve met Simon, haven’t you?”

All eyes turn to the boys on the porch. And there’s Simon, watching. Feral makes a rude gesture his way and they can see his shoulders shaking with a chuckle.

“Besides… it’s not so bad,” she muses. “Most of the time.”

Good Girl sits back, expression twisting. “I don’t want it to be ‘not so bad,’ I want it to be good. And I want it that way all the time.”

Shy Thing shifts. “What’s so wrong with John…?”

Good Girl huffs and begins picking at threads in the blanket. “He’s… fine. I mean, he would be if I could just leave. Don’t you miss being free?”

Feral hums.

“I… I miss going to the store when I wanted… or just… walking around town,” Shy Thing admits slowly. “I miss coffee shops and parks.”

Good Girl groans in agreement. “I miss the internet. It’s like being a fucking teenager again, having all my activity monitored.”

With a little more momentum now, Shy Things continues, “I haven’t been alone in months. Just… by myself. Doing whatever I want.”

“And not having rules,” Good Girl adds, sipping at the mojito John put in a little travel cup for her. “Fucking… sick of having a bedtime and chores and a fucking collar. Aren’t you sick of it?”

It’s directed at both of them, but Shy Thing nods, hands fidgeting.

“It gets to be a lot sometimes,” she mumbles, “I think I warmed up to Johnny out of pure exhaustion.”

Good Girl huffs again, worked into a proper fuss now. “And they’re so smug about it. Like we’re just these good, trained pets.”

Feral pipes up, “We could leave together.”

Both girls swivel to her with varying degrees of shock, hope, and disbelief.

“You said you didn’t think you could get past Simon,” Good Girl says.

Feral snorts and stretches out on her stomach in a mottled patch of sunlight creeping through the leaves.

“Yeah, I couldn’t on my own,” she explains, “but between the three of us…”

It’s uncomfortably simple when it happens. They just need to wait until the next big mission.

All three of them beg (or in Feral’s case, demand) to spend that time together while the keepers are away. It’s not unusual for the creatures to meet up when one or more of the men are gone. With all three off on a mission this time, they sniffle about being lonely and wanting company. That their houses feel too big and empty, that cooking for one is depressing.

Johnny caves instantly; John agrees on the stipulation that Good Girl is on her best behavior before he leaves. Simon, of course, is a foregone conclusion.

They go to Simon’s house. It’s the safest of the three homes and has the most space. Not to mention the girls will have some sort of access to the outside with the enclosed sunporch.

On the day of the mission, Good Girl and Shy Thing show up with fully packed bags, ready for their extended “sleepover” with Feral. The pets see their boys off, behave as normal for the cameras until Shy Thing gets the “heading out” message from Johnny. That’s the greenlight.

Feral has her own bag of things that she packs quickly and expertly. They fill a fourth bag with nonperishable provisions, just in case. Each of them has cash that they filched last minute from their keepers’ wallets – knowing they wouldn’t check them just before a classified mission.

The girls know it’ll be a day or two before anyone checks on them. Even Kyle is away with the team this time.

And then it all comes down to walking out the door.

The front door is, of course, locked. All the windows have alarms on them, and so does the garage door. But the sunporch…

“He didn’t lock the door,” Feral realizes as it swings open. And the alarm only engages when it’s locked.

All three of them take a single step out into the open air. And stop. Stare at each other a little moon-eyed.

They just left.

They stride at a quick clip around the side of the house and down the road. It’ll be an hour-long walk into town, but they have thick coats and each other for company. They chatter as they follow the pavement, just within the tree line out of caution. Pretend its giddy celebration at their escape and not a distraction from the creeping mix of dread and uncertainty beginning to simmer within each of them.

When they reach town, they blend into the crowds, weaving through the streets until they find a low-end hotel. It won’t be anything fancy, but at least it seems clean enough. Good Girl does all the talking with the receptionist (also a lady, thank god) since Feral and Shy Thing are jittery from so many people. They get a one-bed room with easy access to the fire exit.

 It’s only after they’re inside that reality sinks its claws in.

They’re free. For the first time in months, they’re outside with no one standing behind their shoulders or holding their arms. No one to appease, nothing to behave for.

And Shy Thing throws up in the toilet.

“This is scary,” she wheezes, eyes watering. “I’m scared. I want—”

Though she stops, the other two know what the end of that sentence was. Good Girl rubs her back.

“Don’t worry, they’re not going to find us,” she soothes like she doesn’t know why Shy Thing is really scared.

Neither Shy Thing nor Feral reply. The answer hangs in the air, unspoken. We want them to.

Feral, feeling restless, goes back into the main room and begins rummaging through her bag.

“What are you doing?” Good Girl asks, giving Shy Thing privacy to clean up.

“Looking for something to cut that off with.” Feral nods to Good Girl’s collar. “It’s probably chipped or something. We should have taken it off at home.”

She stops as the blood drains from her fellow creature’s face. They stare at each other across the tiny motel room, the weight of their successful plan pressing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“I…” Good Girl rasps, “I…”

“You don’t want to.”

Her eyes well with tears. “No.”

Feral drops her bag and crumples to the ground, tugging her knees up to her chest.

“Why don’t I want to?” Good Girl whispers, curling her arms around herself. “This… this was my idea. I complain all the time. Why do I miss him already?”

Shy Thing appears in the doorway, sniffling. “I-I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t imagine life without Johnny. I… I don’t know if I want to have a life without Johnny.”

And Feral, still on the floor and trembling all over, just looks at them with huge tears running down her face.

Needless to say, when three rather miffed keepers in full combat gear throw the door open at 3am, they are not expecting armfuls of distraught creatures sobbing into their chests.

[penvisions]

coffee and candor {one shot}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: Frankie picks you up for date number three and he's got it all planned out. Unfortunately, you're a little out of your depth with what he has in mind...

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: insecurities, frankie being excited and adorable gets it's own warning, competence kink, kissing, matching clothing, this is so fluffy and soft, um i think that's it tbh

A/N: while i'm still taking a short break from regular fic updates, this was a commission by the lovely @whocaresstillthelouvre. the prompt was 'nervous frankie x not outdoorsy! reader go on a hike early in their relationship'. i rather like how this turned out! i am still taking commissions even if i'm not working on wips at the moment. anything helps, please check out this post and this post to know more about what's goin' on in my lil corner. no pressure all all lovelies, i know things are tough for everyone! love y'll and hope the day is good to you ♡♡

ao3 link || navigation || main masterlist || ko-fi

Body tingling with anticipation, you wait on for the rumble of a truck engine to round the corner. You were nervous, this is only your third date with the man you had met by chance at a coffee shop. A mix up of to go cups and you found yourself placating a very tired and embarrassed Frankie Morales.

He had picked up your drink by mistake. But if you were honest, it was totally okay that you had to wait an extra few moments to get it remade before you blipped off to work, because it gave you the chance to chat with him and scrawl your phone number onto the cup that was supposed to be yours. His kind smile motivating you to be a little bolder than you normally would.

The truck does indeed rumble around the corner and within minutes you’re sat in the passenger seat with the radio playing low and cruising down the highway.

“So what did you plan for us today? The truck looks suspiciously empty.” You eyed the cooler sitting in the extended cab, lid propped open and empty. Then the simplistic backpack beside it, it was always in the foot space between the two front seats. Frankie had admitted to you that it helped to ground him to know he had essentials within reach at all times, just in case. You hadn’t pushed for more of an explanation, knowing he had faced more than a few situations he felt less than prepared for.

But the rite in the rain notebook with the matching pen he had in his pocket along with his wallet at all times told you he was good at preparing for anything within reason. The situations he faced out of his control had not been shared with you quite yet but you would be content if they weren’t, only wanting for him to tell you if he was comfortable enough to do so.

With pink tinged ears he turns to you with a lopsided smile.

“The pack has everything we need, don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

“Not worried, just curious.” Your tongue peeks out from between your teeth and you see the way his adam’s apple bobs in response. His eyes snap back to the road and you feel a giddy sense of satisfaction at having flustered him a bit. He’d been the perfect gentlemen, his large hands only skimming around your body to lead you through doors, a tentative palm on your thigh as you sit beside him. No kissing, at least not yet. You were hoping today would be the day.

“I figured we would get out of the city a bit, go on a hike. It’s a really short one, only a few miles. Not too bad of an elevation gain, cleared out of poison oak, leads to a view I really think you’ll like. It’s an easy looped hike, so I figured we’d have a bite to eat at the midpoint. I packed up some snacks too, plenty of water. Even got some bugs spray and sunscreen.”

He rambled on, excitement obvious as he detailed the plan for the day, his face lighting up in the most endearing way. He was totally in his element and you….you were not. When you didn’t quip back immediately, he loosened a curled fist from around the steering wheel and reached for your thigh.

“That okay?” He jostled you slightly, worry seeping into his voice.

“Oh, um, y-yes.” You tried to muster up a smile, but it paled in comparison to the one he had only moments ago.

“I knew I should’ve run the idea by you. You don’t seem as excited now,” His bottom lip was taken between his teeth, worrying the skin of it as he regarded your profile. The slight furrow to your brow, the way your hands were wound around the flaps of your open overshirt. You had picked out a tank top and shorts outfit, tossing on casual button up over it, not sure what he had planned initially.

The first date had been coffee: to make up for him stealing yours. He had been nervous, his energy spiking and waning as he admitted he didn’t do this often. Date. Get random phone numbers. Have a lot of free time. He was a dad, to a bouncy and energetic seven-year-old. Nothing to worry about on the baby momma front, she wasn’t a part of the picture. A story you didn’t push on either, just making it as comfortable as possible between you two for him to want to tell you.

The second date had been dinner, with him in an ironed outfit and you in a slinky dress. It had been so much fun, the excitement obvious as you both hoped for another chance to see each other.

And now, the third: a hike.

You did not hike. You didn’t do anything considered outdoorsy if you were being completely honest. You were a lazy, take the day off to look through thrift shops kind of person. A curl up on the couch with a cup of steaming coffee or a cocktail and a book kind of person.

“Hey,” He breathed, soft brown eyes watching the way you had closed up. “It’s okay. We don’t have to, I promise I won’t be mad.”

“You’re so excited, though.” You move a hand to tangle your fingers with is, hand still on your thigh. Your stomach flutters, his skin is calloused and warm.

“I get excited about spending time with you, hermosa. It doesn’t matter what we do.”

“I want to do the hike.” You insist, wanting him to go back to the enthusiastic way he had talked about his plans.

“Please don’t feel like you have-“

“I don’t feel like I have to, Frankie, I want to. Because you want to. Simple.” You squeeze his hand in yours, placating him along with a soft smile.

“Simple.” With a lopsided grin and a press of his lips to your knuckles, the tension eases.

Gravel crunched underneath the tired of the truck as Frankie maneuvers off the secluded highway. Tall trees and various shades of green surround you. You both sat and listened to the clinking of the engine cooling down, taking a moment to breathe in the pine and cedar.

“I, uh, got you something.” He huffed a little as he reached for the back and hauled it into his lap.

“You didn’t have to- oh my gosh!” It was a hat, a baseball cap just like the one atop his head. Dark navy blue, emblazoned with a ‘standard heating oil’ patch. Your stomach fluttered at the implication.

“To help keep the sun off your head and outta your eyes.” He plopped it atop your head, the stiff thing just barely resting over your hair. “We’ll have a lot of tree coverage, but better safe than sorry.”

“We’re matching.” You can’t help the teasing smile that took over your lips, heat blooming in your cheeks as you realized you would look like an official couple to any onlookers. Something you had thought about more and more as Frankie filled your thoughts and messages.

“Yeah, would you look at that.” A dimple in his right cheek had you reaching out to caress it, silently thanking him for his thoughtfulness. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted one like mine, but I’m really glad you like it.”

“I do like it! I like matching with you, Frankie.”

His smile was dazzling as he looked back at you over his shoulder. You perked up a little, not wanting him to see the way it was hard to catch your breath or the falter to your steps as your legs began to ache from the incline. The slight brush of the long grass and reaching limbs full of leaves tickled but you tried your best to ignore it, opting to focus on the broad set of shoulders carrying a backpack.

Another bout of time passed, allowing for sweat to dampen your brow and the small of your back. You had removed your overshirt, tying the long sleeves around your waist. The stray pieces of your hair that had escaped from your hat floated around your face as you puffed out a deep breath.

Frankie seemed to pick up the moderate pace he had been keeping, his boots thudding the ground as he turned to pivot from the path as it began to curve.

“Uh, the trail goes that way.” You pointed over your shoulder, having followed the man’s lead regardless.

“I know, got a map in the pack if it makes you feel better.” He tossed you a reassuring smile, over his own shoulder. His eyes alight underneath his cap.

You were about to respond when he took another step and suddenly the trees fell away from around you, leaving you stood on an overlook. Valley open and wide in front of you, the view took your already short breath away. Frankie looked from the view to gauge your reaction. And he broke out into a wide smile as he saw how much you were taken off guard by the beautiful view.

Removing is pack, he set it down and reached to turn you toward him.

“This last month or so has been so amazing. Getting to know you has been some of the best parts of my life, hermosa. I was worried dating again after so long and not even looking for it would’ve been another lesson learned but everything with you is just so….”

“Simple.” You allowed him to caress his hands over the small of your back, your own reaching for his shoulders. The bills of your matching hats bumped, easy laughter bubbling up from you both.

“Simple.” He agreed, tongue swiping out to wet his plush lips. His eyes flicked down to yours briefly and your heart fluttered as warmth blossomed in your chest. Pressing more into his space, your chest bumped his, giving him the nudge he needed to close the gap even more.

Out on that ridge where you never would’ve trekked to on your own, you shared your first of many kisses with the man who had taken you completely by surprise. His lips soft and pliant against yours, his warmth seeping into you much like the sun on your skin underneath the open sky. You were the one to lick into the seam of his mouth, something he readily allowed you to do. The slid of his tongue on yours like heaven.

Breaking away, Frankie peppered kisses over your face. Lips tasting the salt from your sweat but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. Turning side by side, he kept his hand around your waist and you mimicked him.

Maybe hiking wasn’t so bad.

dividers by the lovely @/cafekitsune

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 10

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 9, Part 11

This chapter has sensitive topics! This time it's less on the religious side and more on the general awful shit that happens. It's specifically about a child (and adults) so you are warned!

Sunlight streams through the flap in the tent waking you up. Crawling out of the tent a gift laid in front sparkling for your attention.

A rough and raw cut Cor Lapis innocently sat where the hatchling used to be. Fingertips gently caressed the object before you stashed it away. Another item to be sold if you came upon hard times.

After packing up everything and eating a light breakfast you began the trek to Liyue. Activating and using that teleport waypoint would be so much easier but the suspicion you would get from it was just not worth it.

Farmers, hikers, and the occasional adventurer passed by as you hiked and eventually got to the Guild. Katheryne spots you and smiles.

"Ad astra abyssosque! Welcome to the Adventurers' Guild. Ready to start your first set of commissions Y/N?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You mutter as you take the paper from her hands. Moving to the side, more adventurers are welcomed and assigned commissions. Fingers crossed for easy commissions, you scanned the list and the corresponding map.

Straight to the Heart - Qingxin must be freshly picked to be made into effective medicine. Pick it off the mountain and get it to the caretaker within the time limit. Enemies may be in the area.

Full Speed Ahead - The path is needed for a transportation vehicle moving people. Make sure the path is clear within the time limit. Defeating enemies may be necessary.

Increasing Danger - Hilichurls are building towers in the circled area. Destroy these towers for the safety of the people.

That last one would be hard, you weren't comfortable at the thought of hurting the cursed people of Khaenri'ah as well as the other civilizations that Celestia bombed. Your characters were always strong enough to destroy the towers and leave but you aren't.

Perhaps you can lure them to a different area and destroy the towers once they were distracted? Do they count as creatures of Teyvat that could recognize you as the creator? Or is the corruption from Celestia too strong?

Spreading Evil - A abyssal mage is scheming something in the square area. Defeat it and it's hilichurl allies by preventing the completion of the ritual.

Nevermind, this one takes the cake on what you did not want to do. What will you do if the abyssal mage is electro? You're basically useless! Well, maybe not since you can light up a torch and burn it till the shield breaks but still. Your divine aura may be prominent to them and cause them to report back to the Abyssal Prince. You weren't eager to ever meet him.

You go back to Katheryne and show her the commission list.

"Just a question, is the abyssal mage in this a electro one?"

Katheryne opens a separate book and scans it for a second before nodding. "That's correct, it was reported to be a electro abyss mage with four hilichurl allies."

"I'm afraid I can't accept this commission. I can only control electro and the shield can't be broken by simply waiting for it to rain like I can with pyro mages."

Katheryne nods at your words and flips through the book as she speaks. "Understood, the only commissions left at this time are either in a rank above you or too far away. You can wait here or check back in a few days to see if we receive any more commissions."

Would it be worth it to try convincing her that as you have no rank, you can do any commissions? Probably not, arguing with a robot never goes well. Sighing you're about to move away when a man nearly bulldozes you as he tries to get to the counter.

"Please help me! I'll pay whatever I have to if a adventurer can accept my commission!"

Moving to stand at the side you look up at the man and narrow your eyes trying to figure out where you've seen him before. Katheryne takes the panicked state of the man in stride and asks what commission he is trying to request.

"My daughter Yiran was being babysat by a new nanny due to my regular one getting sick, and she was kidnapped! Treasure hoarders stormed the dock area, and the babysitter hid leaving Yiran in the open. I was working at the Blackcliff Forge when the Millelith approached me and told me what happened. The only thing that was retrieved was this."

In his hands is a child sized dirty dark teal shoe. You're only relieved that it isn't bloody. This man is the one who stands near the toy seller with his daughter. Manager Kuan if you remember correctly.

"Please, I'll pay whatever I have to for someone to accept my commission and find my daughter. The Millelith refuse to put more attention on my case due to the increase of monsters. But the more time passes the farther away Yiran gets."

Kuan speaks with urgency as Katheryne shakes her head sadly.

"I'm afraid we don't accept commissions like these. While the guild may rarely accept a lost pet commission, they are usually never completed. To protect our reputation the guild does not accept commissions that we aren't sure can be completed. Only if a adventurer or team personally accept it can we accept it."

This seems to break Kuan even further. Tears of frustration well up in his eyes making him rub them roughly pushing up his glasses. His grief and discouragement is visible on his face as he continues trying to convince Katheryne.

The wind rushing in your ears don't let you hear or make out his next words. The wrinkles in his face seem to deepen and his black hair turns grey. The once short fine hair grows into a shaggy mattered mess of silver. Facial hair grows and tangles together as his clothes are torn into ruin. The once middle-class looking outfit is covered in patches, holes, dirt, and dried blood. It's him.

Dad.

"I'll accept the commission." Your words come out quiet, but he hears them. Turning to you, you see your adoptive father's face flash for a second before it melts away to Kuan's face. The illusion is broken as your father's image is gone with Kuan shakily smiling at you.

"Really? Name your price, I'll pay whatever I have to, to find Yiran."

Closing your eyes in a look of contemplation hides the tears that threatened to build up.

"Let me make it clear. I cannot promise to find Yiran and I will not accept any money unless I manage to find her or her body. I will try my hardest to find her but if after a week, I cannot find her I will have to leave this commission undone. Mostly because she could be in another nation by that point and it would be impossible to find her then."

"I understand, I just want you to try while there is still a chance." Kuan speaks to you with a sad smile. It's uncomfortably too similar to your dad.

Katheryne begins to walk Kuan through the process of drafting a commission and Lan places a hand on your shoulder. The rugged sigh that leaves her as she speaks hint to what she wants to speak to you about.

"Y/N was it? Come and speak with me for a second." Silently you follow her around the building, a safe distance from Kuan.

"You may have talked big game while the funeral director was here but you're a beginner adventurer. Do you understand what kind of commission you just accepted? If you somehow manage to find Yiran, it won't be a little girl. It'll be a gruesome corpse."

"At least that way I can bring something back to bury. Something to remember his daughter by." You say with a sense of longing. Memories of you sobbing over the lack of items to remember your father by rise to the surface.

"Even still, you should have left this to the Millelith. It may be hard not to accept it but you'll regret it when you cannot find anything and come back empty handed. You gave him hope when it's better to just give up-"

Firmly you place your hands on her shoulders. Your grip turns bruising as you force her body closer to yours. Lan's brown bob brushes against your face as you whisper in her ears.

"How hypocritical of you Lan. Don't you realize? You take on any commission containing the word 'sword', no matter the difficulty, to give your brother a proper funeral. That man, that father, is willing to put up with the emotional pain of hope to make the best of his chance at finding his daughter before it really is too late. And I will do what I want, for who I want, for anyone that reminds me of my own motivation. If I have to come back to him and hand him his daughter beaten, bruised, bloody body, then I will."

You push yourself away from Lan as she steps back with fear in her eyes. Her expression changes into a mixture of fright and wariness. There's no doubt that she's wondering how you knew about her mission about her brother. And despite the consequences that can come from this, you can't be bothered to care.

Kuan was not your father but he reminded you so much of him. Your dad that took you in and cared for you how no one else ever bothered to. If helping Kuan gives you the same feeling as when you would help your dad, then you'll gladly do it.

Turning back you turn the corner and Kuan is already smiling tiredly at you. The ache in your heart grows as the swell of happiness refuses to stop.

"Again, thank you so much for accepting. The commission I filled out has all the information I got from the Millelith, it's very little I'm afraid. They are taking this very lightly." There's a bite to his words this time.

"It's okay, I'll make do with the information you gave in. I should get going now to make the most of the time. You can expect to hear from me by the end of the week."

Taking the commission from Katheryne titled 'Missing Treasure' Kuan gives a wave as you begin walking to the city's main entrance. Not wasting time, you start flipping the pages and skimming the pages.

Yiran, a few children, teens, and two adults were taken around the same time. The adults were homeless while the children and teens were either poor or orphans. It seems the treasure hoarders did their homework on their victims.

Kidnapping these vulnerable minorities is a commen tatic in human trafficking. Orphans have no one that would look for them and the government could care less about the homeless. Liyue is such a bustling and thriving market that these kinds of people are pushed out and ignored.

You've lived through that on Earth, you intentionally avoided the rich areas due to this reason. Living here as a homeless orphan would be even worse. People look past you like you don't exist while those that do acknowledge your existence tend to behave violently. The government doesn't fix the problem due the fear of homelessness fueling people to work even when it's not good for them.

Yiran was probably a mistake. Either they were targeting the babysitter, mistoke her for a different victim, or saw her as a lucky grab. If Yiran wasn't kidnapped, the Milelith would have done even less. You shouldn't have expected Liyue to be any better than other rich cities on Earth.

The walk past the glamorous streets feels almost taunting. The guards that doze off and leisurely chat make your blood boil. Scolding them now would do no one any good. It would only eat up the time you need to find Yiran's body. Your thoughts were better off solving this case.

Making a detour you go to the scene of the crime, the docks. It's damp, with little security and it's mostly children and the poor. Makes sense as the main docks are simalir to a tourist area, no one wants trash around.

The majority of the ships are gone meaning no sailors are around. The timing was perfect. For once the treasure hoarders pulled off a good plan. Did the traveler only meet the stupid bunch or were the smart hoarders avoid the traveler intentionally?

Either way you followed the rough path the hoarders took until they left the city entrance. A cart must have been driven due to the amount of people to carry and restrain is too much for a group. This helps you narrow it down that they had to follow the path shown on the map. Liyue's terrarin is filled with mountains and rocks that make it nearly impossible to go off track.

You cross the wooden bridge, pass the small pond, climb the stairs and begin trekking through the path. There's a teleport waypoint that makes you sigh in relief. You really didn't want to have to walk the whole way back, plus it's a quiet enough area that you don't have to worry about witnesses.

Climbing up the boulder, you touch the waypoint and begin climbing back down. You weren't eager to use your wind glider just yet. The hike is pleasant but you keep your eyes peeled for anything that can serve as a clue.

Eventually, you get to a small village-like area, it's nearly abandoned judging by the lack of, well, anyone. You do freeze at the sight of Morax's Statue of the Seven.

The only question that runs through your mind is should you touch it?

On one hand you would get the geo element and just more power in general. On the other hand that would basically summon Zhongli to your area and you weren't ready for round 2 with a Archon.

The conclusion you arrive at is that you'll wait till you're injuried to touch it. At least that way you can test if you're able to be healed by it.

Making sure to keep a safe distance from the statue to avoid triggering it, you're about to continue your journey when you notice something. A book on a flat rock with the title 'Tracking and Hunting - a guide for the new and experienced'.

Was this not the book you were trying to find yesterday? What luck, you could use this to track the treasure hoarders with more effiency! Grabbing it you flip to the first page but are startled by a yell.

"Hey! Apologies for the intrusion but that book is mine for the time being."

Xingqiu and Chongyun run up to you as you hold the book to your chest. The pale blue exorcist is too busy calming himself down from the jog to pay much attention to Xingqiu reaching for the book with a polite smile.

How fake.

"Is it really? I simply saw this book laying on this rock, all abandoned. If you can't respect a book then you definitely shouldn't have checked it out."

Xingqiu grits his teeth and his polite smile strains in his effort to keep his annoyance in check. "Thank you for the advise, I'll be sure to keep better track of my belongings."

It seems Xingqiu is putting up his act due to his reputation as the second son of the Feiyun Commerce Guild. You need him to break character so that you can recruit him to help you find Yiran. He's all about justice and chivalry after all.

"I'll be happy to return this book if you- wait what the hell is that?" Your tone goes from mocking to confusion as Xingqiu steps closer letting you view him. The change in your tone brings Xingqiu and Chongyuns attention to you.

You stare at Xingqiu's hair with increadibility that slowly morphs into laughter. Your laughter grows as Xingqiu inquires what you're laughing so hard about.

"What the hell is that haircut? It's more uneven than mountains, with more layers than an onion with some strands poking up like a porcupine. If you paid someone for this haircut then get your money back!"

You hold the book to your stomach as you double over in hysterics. Chongyun keeps a palm over his mouth as he struggles to contain his chuckles. Xingqiu's calm facade seems to crack with each ring of your laughter and your next words seem to break him.

"I don't know how much self-confidence you have to have, to go around with that hair, but I need some! Oh god, what are those bangs?!"

Chongyun turns away as he trembles with laughter that slips through his fingers. Xingqiu crosses his arms in annoyance as he begins his own tirade.

"What kind of person are you? Who begins to mock the person they are basically stealing from? Do you have no chivalry?! What gives you the confidence to give someone else shit for their style when you can't even choose one?! A Liyue style glider with Inazuma style clothing is terrible combination, only able to be worn by a simpleton like you!"

He pants harshly while pointing at you as the laughter dies down. Chongyun looks at his friend in some shock and seems to struggle in whether to intervine or not. You stand up with a smug grin and lean closer to the Guhua swordsman.

"Still not as bad as the bowlcut you're sporting."

Xingqiu groans loudly at your words and lays his palm open. "Let's just stop this stupid conversation. Return my book now."

"Like I said, I need it so either help me out or let me keep it."

"Return my book or else." Xingqiu's hands clench tightly and Chongyun places a hand on his shoulder. He ignores it.

"I'm not returning it unless you make a choice between the options I presented."

A sacrifical sword is quickly pointed at your neck as Xingqiu stares at you.

"Give it back or you'll know my sword." The familair line makes you smile happily as you place the book on his outstretched hand. "Sure!"

"It's just a shame that I'll have less resources to track down those treasure hoarders. I hope I can find them in time..." You speak outloud as you pass them making Chongyun glance back at you. Xingqiu is still gripping his sword without looking at you.

"Wait, please! Can you explain why you are tracking down the treasure hoarders?" Chongyun finally takes the initiative and calls out to you.

Smiling pleasantly you turn to Chongyun and speak while being well aware of Xingqiu resisting the urge to look at you.

"I'd be happy to. Last night treasure hoarders swept through the lower level docks in Liyue and kidnapped some people. That includes my commissioners daughter, Yiran. The cart they are driving must be following this path but I know it'll split at some point. That's why I wanted the book to help me track the hoarders down."

Chongyun's face returns to his usual frosty look. "I understand why you were in such dire need of the book. I would like to help you. My name is Chongyun and I'm a exorcist. I track down ghosts and evil spirits so perhaps my experience can help you."

"That would be a great, thank you so much! I'm Y/N and feel free to speak comfortably."

One acolyte joined, now you only need the other. But if Xingqiu is being too stubborn to help you then you're better off leaving him-

Your train of thought is cut off by the book being thrusted into your arms as Xingqiu walks toward the stairs leading further down the path. You and Chongyun send Xinqui a confused look at his sudden actions.

"What are you two doing gawking at me like that? We're wasting time standing around like this."

A huff of laughter leaves you at his words and you motion Chongyun to follow along as you begin to follow Xingqiu.

"Nice to see that his highness is willing to set aside time in his busy reading schedule to help out with this case."

"I'm a purser of chivalry and justice first and foremost. It seems you do know that I'm related to the Feiyun Commerce Guild. You've got guts to treat me in such a unabashed manner."

"What's the Feiyun Commerce Guild? Some small family business? You didn't really expect me to recognize you immediately right? I mean I'm just a traveler who recently arrived."

Xingqiu seems a bit embarrassed at how he psyched himself into revealing himself. The mockingly kind tone you use only enhances it.

"Can you two please stop arguing? The treasure hoarders will hear you both and run away before either of realize at this point."

Chongyun's calm demeanor and words remind you of your original mission. Now that you recruited the useful acolytes, it's best you don't get too distracted.

"Chongyun is right, why don't you tell me your name bowlcut?"

"My name is Xingqiu and I'm the second son of the Feiyun Commerce Guild. A great displeasure to meet you Y/N." He scowls as he speaks but there's no real bite to his words.

"Nice to meet you too bowlcut. While I read the important sections on your book, why don't I hand you the notes from the original comission? Are you intrested in reading it too Chongyun?"

"No, my main focus is on exorcisim. I'll just keep watch of you both while you read and walk."

Nodding you hand the notes to the curious Xingqiu and search through the book as Chongyun guides you both down the staircase. The treasure hoarders must have lost time going down this steep staircase without crashing the cart.

Finishing it rather quickly due to your previous knowledge on the subject, you spot two Milileth guards on the right. They might have seen something suspicious! Tapping Chongyun's shoulder you point at the soldiers.

"Let's ask them if they saw anything, a cart being driven must have caught some attention."

He nods and stops Xingqiu from walking off, Xingqiu only waves you both away as he stands in place. Being careful not to touch and trigger Chongyuns yang enegry you walk with him to the guards.

"Hello, we were wondering if you saw any carts passing by from the Harbor. If there was too many then were there any that looked particularly suspicious?"

Only one guard answers you as the second is too busy relaxing at the table. "We do a routine inspection on everyone that passes through. If any of them were suspicous we would have escorted them to the city."

"So who was watching over whenever you escorted a suspicous person/group back to the city?" You ask in slight disbelief.

The guard goes quiet as if contemplating on what to say... You aren't sure whether to laugh or sigh. The second guard is dragged over by the first guard.

"Oh are you both here for a face reading? The blue one has some striking eyes which indicates a strong spirit but the other one is a bit harder. That mask makes it difficult but I can tell that you have a, what's the nice way to say it? A rather plain but ordinary face, you can think of it as good thing if you think about how easy it is to change it to something more interesting."

Your expression drops in unison with Chongyuns at his words. You had a feeling Liyue's guards weren't the best but this was even more pathetic than you thought. It's clear this guy was slacking off during his whole shift.

"We don't want a face reading so don't expect us to pay for your crappy words. We just wanted to know if you saw any suspicous carts passing by."

"Oh well I kind of left for some tea at the Emerald Maple Inn on the left. A older lady passed by me and stayed by the roadside during that time so I suppose you're better off asking her."

Chongyun presses a palm to his face at the second-hand embarrassment. The only thing that's stopping you from slugging this incompetent soldier is Yiran and the fact it's a nice sunny day.

"Thanks for the doing less then the bare minimum. We'll be on our way now." You say in a polite voice and push Chongyun back to Xinqui while ignoring the offended man.

"That was so embarrassing. A traveler like you who is new to Liyue should not have had to see such a... lazy soldier." He puts the truth very kindly before holding a hand to his head as he steadies his breathing.

You get back to Xingqiu and explain what happened. He managed to look even more disappointed than Chongyun and the three of you climb the left hill to the Inn. Xingqiu had already finished reading and you swapped the reading material to their original owners.

Tables are set up outside the Inn and one of them has a elderly lady drinking tea at one of them. Walking up to her, you smile kindly as the guys hang back to question the owner of the Inn.

"Hello ma'am, around last night or early this morning, did you go down by the road? If so did you notice a strange cart passing by?"

"In fact I did, I told one of the guards when he came back but he didn't take it very seriously... Well a few people were driving a cart loudly talking about meeting a group at the fork in Guili Plains. I'm afraid that's all I know."

...Was the book even necessary now? What kind of cliche convient villain move is speaking about your evil plans out-loud? There goes all the compliments you gave them for making smart choices. But they did choose the one time when no guards were present. Does that cancel out their stupidity or show just how lucky they are?

"Thank you so much for the information. I'll get going now and use it wisely." The old woman nods at your polite dismissal and rejoin the disastified duo who brighten up at the information you obtained. Until a young boy comes out from the Inn asking.

"Is that the cough adventurer with the medicine? cough"

That sounded familiar, too familiar to be a coincidence. The old woman attends to the boy's coughing fit as you look through your handbook.

Straight to the Heart - Qingxin must be freshly picked to be made into effective medicine. Pick it off the mountain and get it to the caretaker within the time limit. Enemies may be in the area.

Yup, the area where the comission takes place is your exact location. This was your commission to deal with.

Turning back to Xingqiu and Chongyun who are patiently waiting for you, you explain the situation. They agree to seperate from you and continue the path to Guili Plains while you finish the commission. Promising to catch up with them soon you wave and Xingqiu shoots you one last remark.

"Oh and be careful when climbing! Geovishap hatchlings have a tendency to push off unlucky climbers!"

...He was joking right?

With a mental note to get him back for that, you turn back to the old woman and show her the commission paper.

"Hello again, before I leave to continue my journey I would like to get that pesky qingxin for you first."

She smiles relieved and brings you near the back of the Inn. Pointing upward to a mountain that was more of a rocky hill, she tells you of a qingxin that grows there.

After she leaves to prepare the rest of medicine, you begin climbing. Your climbing skills are rusty so you slide down at the worst times but you manage to pick up on your old skills relatively quickly.

So focused on climbing, the wind brushing against your cheek goes unnoticed until a leaf hits you. Moving it away leads you to looking at the gorgous scenary of Liyue.

The clear water of Luhua Pool. The mountains dotted with trees and grass. And even the areas with ruins make for a picturesque view. In the distance you can see the Wangshu Inn. You really hope Xiao never catches wind of you or else you'll constantly be monitored.

Finally arriving at the top, you sit down and rest your body. You aren't aching but you weren't about to pick the flower and jump off. Planning was still needed to avoid a broken bone.

Should you use the wind glider or speed climb down this hunk of rock?

The wind seems to pick up as the pebbles are thrown off the rock you're on. That was not a good sign for a beginner like you. Seems speed climbing it is!

Mapping out a route that would have you alternating between sliding and climbing you double checked it before standing up. The moment you pick the qingxin from it's place that you remember that the time limit for this comission is 30 seconds unless you defeat an enemy.

Scrambling you hurry down while mentally counting down the seconds. That's probably why you didn't notice the geo slime that you kicked off the mountain in your rush.

It's only after handing the qingxin just in time to the old woman that you notice how squishy your boot is.

You end up leaving back to the path with a bag of rewards from completing the commission and some slime concentrate in your bag. There's a clear crunch of the leaves as you walk the path quickly in hopes of catching up to the duo.

You pass by the wilderness and animals as you keep jogging. There's a small stone bridge and you spot the different shades of blue hair moving rather quickly. Getting closer you see the new third indivual.

A black figure with glowing red undertones dives between the sword and claymore clashing against the sacrifical knife. The pyro delusions and maroon mask makes it clear that the fatui agent isn't going to relent easily.

Summoning your sickle, you run into the fray as the agent dissapears leaving a red silloutte behind.

"I didn't arrive too late right?" Xingqiu blocks a strike and Chongyun uses his skill to apply cryo to the area.

"Right on time actually. Quite suprising for someone like you." Superconduct heightens your damage as your sickle slices the agent's arm with electro.

"Ha ha. On the other hand when is your other earing arriving? I believe it's long overdue." Xingqiu's raincutter is summoned making reactions fly around.

Frozen, superconduct, electro-charged, and some shatters keep the agent from barely moving.

"For the last time, will you both stop fighting and focus fully on the fight?" Chongyun's cold clear voice seems to momentarily redirect your attention to the fight. It's only now that you can actually look at the state of the Fatui agent.

A mask half frozen with chunks of it biting into his skin, the blood stains the ice red and the eye's flicker. His arm and legs seem to jerk at random times, most likely from the electro-charged reaction still running in his system. With multiple slash marks and grave wounds that breeched his suit into his skin. It's the hand barely hanging to his wrist that bleeds the most.

This was less of a fight and more of one sided beat down. Compared to when you and Heizou fought those Fatui skirmishers this was a breeze. Made sense but it still felt nice to see some progress in your own strength.

The bone is visble as the blood continues to spurt out of the wound as the agent staggers. None of you move as he sways before falling backword onto a huge chunk of leftover ice. It stabs his stomach letting you see the now pink tip of the ice that went through him.

The force also wretched the hand off his wrist making it land with a sickening splat. Lucky as always, it lands at your feet. Blood drips down from your sickle onto the decapitated hand making you sheathe it back into nothingness.

Looking back to the freeze team, their clothes have much more blood but they ignore it and walk past the body. With them as your guidance, you follow them and grip the agent's sacrificial knife in your hand before quickly stuffing it into your bag.

"So how did that fight even begin? I never saw any mention of the Fatui being involved with the kidnapping."

The way you easily move on to a conversation is comical. You had just committed a joint murder with a duo that you met a mere hour ago and yet you don't feel distraught. Not like the first time you killed in Teyvat. It seems you're starting to adapt to Teyvat's laws. Would you ever fully adapt to it's religious beliefs about the 'creator'?

"The agent jumped at us yelling something about paying back a debt due. But judging how suprised he was when he saw us, he must have believed we were someone else." Chongyun explains thoughtfully.

Xingqiu presses a hand over his mouth seeming to ponder something.

"Do you think the Fatui agent met with the treasure hoarders at the fork? Since the hoarders cart were the only suspicious people going through, it would make sense that they would be meeting the Fatui."

"Then if you're right, something must have gone wrong at the meetup. Damn I wish he didn't die, we could have questioned him."

Depending on the meetup, chasing after the treasure hoarders would be useless if they gave Yurin and the rest of the captives to the Fatui.

"We would have gone easier on the agent if we knew you could control electro. I don't see any vision on you so how do you control the elements? Are you similair to a cartain golden haired traveler?"

"Let's just say it's an ability I gained after an upgrade. It's not a delusion though so forget that kind of possibility."

Xingqiu shoots you a skeptical look at the nonchalant way you dismissed his questions. Chongyun, ever as guilable nods in understanding before asking his own question.

"Did that upgrade also give you your perfect spirit?"

Being careful not to trip on a abandoned wagon, you glance questionably at Chongyun.

"I have no idea what that means. I've heard of yin and yang energies but I'm not well versed in it."

He places a finger to his chin as he struggles to explain the concept to you.

"A perfect spirit is something of a legend. Everyone has a mix of yang and yin that can changes depending on the day, mood, constiution and other factors. I'm one of the few that has a pure yang spirit that I struggle everyday to control. But your spirit is perfectly balanced and even during the fight it didn't waver. It's not just perfect, it's also similair to a void. It feeds on the surrounding energies and stabilizes them. Usually I would spend half an hour after a battle to calm down but with you here I had no need to."

Was that a perk of being the creator? If so that can be pretty neat but on the other hand it also makes you terribly shady. Under a better circumstance you could use it as proof of you being the creator. It really is a shame.

"When I studied the books in my families library, it said that only the creator could have such a spirit..." Of course you had to be right.

The red scrapes that you earned from the fight seemed to grab the attention of both vision holders. To them, it's proof that you aren't the creator and to you, it's proof that no matter what kind of evidence you gather, your blood will always disprove it.

"All those little things about you don't seem to be adding up Y/N. The electro, the vague backstory, the strange aura that surronds you, the so-called perfect spirit and that mask aren't making you any less questionable."

Xingqiu's voice slips through the cracks created by Chongyun in your identity. The crushing of dirt stops as Chongyun and Xingqiu block your way.

"The creator is not one to be messed with or imitated. Evil spirits and demons are the only ones filthy enough to do so. There's a large chance you've been possessed by one. Allow us to purge you, I can promise that in death you'll be freed."

His prototype archaic claymore is summoned in his hands, he always had a one track mind when it came to exorcisim after all. Xingqiu stays behind but the sacrifial sword in his hands is clearly visible.

The day had been going so well too.

"I think you both are getting ahead of yourselves." The smooth words only make them freeze and glare at you.

"I mean neither of you even gave me a chance to speak! Chongyun do you really belive that the creator is only desecrated by evil spirits and demons? I mean just think of Xinyan's concerts, many of those people were just simply terrible."

His grip on his weapon is firm but he nods his head solemly.

"I'm well aware of that but I earnestly believe that you're possessed. Someone like you who accepted a comission to save a little girl isn't one who I would suspect to be a sacrilegious person."

"And even if you are simply a horrible person that finds enjoyment in mocking the creator in this fashion, I could deal with you instead." Xingqiu leers closer as he expertly twirls his sword.

"Defending chivalry and spreading justice is my passion after all." The kind smile on his face mocks you.

Taking out your weapon would only agrivate the situation and confirm their belief. Instead you bow to them and speak curteously.

"As the situation has degraded this badly, I may as well reintroduce myself truthfully. I'm Y/N, an oracle for the creator. My main purpose is to investigate acolytes and the citizens faith simultaneously. The creators spirit envelops me like this to protect me and help me protect others."

Your words catch them both off-guard. Xingqiu double downs on his stance as Chongyun takes a step back.

"I was ordered to be as vague as possible which makes me very suspicious but I have to be careful in what I say. The perfect spirit sitaution may be new to me but there's a very logical explanation."

"And what may that be? If it's not satisfactory I will purge you as soon as possible seeing as you must be possessed by a demon of unknown caliber."

"Think back to when the creater controlls you, does your yang enegry ever get out of control?"

"Of course not, the creators spirit inhibits us and allows us to access blessings that belong to them."

"Then why can't I, who is constantly connected to the creator access those blessings?"

"Thats-!" Chongyun bits his lip as he looks away clearly conflicted.

"The creator is all powerful! Do you think that their perfect spirit isn't strong enough to completely overpower mine?"

Chongyun loses his grip on his claymore and it's dissapears into the air. He's far too anguished between what he knows is a fact and what his own feelings tell him. Too easy, easy to the point where Xingqiu steps in.

"That's a nice runaround and although I can't comment on this perfect spirit conversation as I have not been allowed to read those books yet. I believe it's your identity as a oracle that is the most questionable."

"I know, a clever and eloquent man like yourself would not be so easily swayed by a charlatan like me."

"Cut the crap and show me whatever proof you have. Or is your hands as empty as your skull?"

Ignoring his words, you send a mental thank you to Ayato and display the fan. It would be useless to use in convincing Chongyun but Xingqiu would know due to his high-standing.

Just as you suspected Xingqiu's eyes widen for a second before he moves closer to examine the fan.

"It's the real deal... This texture is one only used in Inazuma for those close to the Electro Archon." His fingers brush against the fabric of the fan before he pulls away with a softening scowl. "I suppose you weren't lying if you managed to get this fan. The Kamisato Commissioner is said to be a elusive man."

Chongyun looks at the fan and Xingqiu in confusion before sighing and giving up on understanding the conversation.

"If that quells all remaining doubts then lets get going. We wasted a lot of precious time." Quickly you walk past them and smile at the sounds of their footsteps following you.

Putting the fan back into the safety of the bag you remember how thankful you are for meeting Ayato. At least with proving yourself to him, you managed to get such a useful tool. It's only fair to milk it for all it's worth.

The fork comes into view and your breath catches in your throat.

The lush grass was crushed under a mix of debris and blood. Crimson stained and dripped down the stone hedge as pieces of dirty clothing drifted in the area. The huge wreckage of a smashed up transportation vehicle was the main center piece.

Aside from the dead bodies littering the area.

Bodies of treasure hoarders with elemental wounds were the most abundant. A few Fatui skirmishers with makeshift reaction and weapon wounds laid in the clearing. The war-machines were deactivated as the bodies rot inside.

Taking steps forward to the middle of the wreckage, it's a single item that installs fear.

A pink flower pin lays innocently on the ground. The blood and dirt on it seems to glisten with malice as the sun reaches it's peak in the sky.

It's finally out!!! OMG it's been so long since I last posted. Work's been burying me, every weekend is a birthday/event/funeral, plus the fall semester is going to start soon. Not to mention Fontaine is almost here and I didn't even finish a single area of Sumeru. Someone stop time, I need sleep. I hope I gave reasonable explanations for the stories behind the commissions. You know the first commission completed with the Qingxin? If you climb the mountain I described, you will find a Qingxin. I know this chapter may be a bit boring since it focused on the kidnapping but I hope Xingqiu and Chongyun were written well enough. I don't think they have a romantic relationship like many fans describe. Then again, I don't like shipping in general. I gave Xingqiu a similair dynamic to Ayato but there is difference. Ayato is more of a 'pretend to be formal while insulting' meanwhile Xinqui is more juvinele with 'I feel annoyed by your presence and the fact I like it is even worse'. Both are fun but if something else works better with Xingqiu's personality please let me know! Time for me to actually finish exploring the summer event and go to even more activites I don't want to attend T-T. (I'll recheck it when I can on my PC) Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @undecidingfate, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @fluffy-koalala, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling

[writingquestionsanswered]

Trouble Making Stories Work

Anonymous asked: I keep getting stuck on ideas. I can pick out one base idea to work with but can't get further than that. I could get an idea for a external conflict, but no ideas for the characters or stakes. It doesn't matter if I get an idea for a conflict first, a character, a world, or a "what if" scenario, it all just stops after that. Do I just not have enough creativity? I've been wondering if storytelling is for me at all... I have read your Creative Well stuff multiple times. I do have one, but it doesn't always have what I need. And it takes time for things to get added. If I'm working on a story and get stuck, I need ideas as soon as possible. I can't really use my time watching movies and going on walks and hope for some ideas when I need them when I'm finally at my computer trying to write. It's not often I'm able to get myself to do it.

(Ask has been edited for length...)

If you make sure your creative well is full, and stays full, and you still struggle with ideas in the moment, the problem is that you don't have a solid enough understanding of how stories work. The ideas don't go anywhere because you don't know what to do with them. You don't have a solid enough grasp on internal conflict, external conflict, motivation, goals, internal wound, plot points, story structure, character development, and world building to know where to take each idea. It's a little bit like loving cars but trying to design one without knowing anything about car construction.

I really wish I could just say "do this" or "do that" and it would magically solve the problem, but there's no quick solution. You'll have to spend some time learning about your craft before you can bring these ideas into full stories. The more books you read or listen to, the more you'll understand how stories work. You can also read writing books and articles, and watch writing videos.

While you're doing that, you can continue to work on your current stories. Pushing your brain to come up with solutions is actually helpful, and the more you fill your brain with craft knowledge, the easier those solutions will come. Here are some posts that will help in the meantime:

Fleshing Out Plot Ideas Turning a Barrage of Ideas into a Plot How to Turn Ideas into a Story Finding a Story in Characters and Setting Finding a Plot to Go with Characters/Setting Can Come Up with a Back Story but No Plot Want to Write but Can’t Come Up with a Plot Guide: How to Turn Ideas into a Story Guide: Starting a New (Long Fiction) StoryGuide: Filling in the Story Between Known Events Guide: How to Outline a Plot Basic Story Structure Beginning a New Story How to Move a Story Forward Plot Driven vs Character Driven Stories Understanding Goals and Conflict

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[definitelynotafurinasimp]

I shall humbly ask for Shenhe, Eula, and Ayaka's S/O getting very shy asking if they can kiss for the first time.

The cryo women of this game have scrambled my brain

Them reacting to their S/O getting shy when asking if they can kiss

characters: Shenhe / Eula / Ayaka x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: "The cryo women of this game have scrambled my brain" Same Chris. Same. Just saying… Shenhe’s skin

That being said, I havent written *that much* these last couple of weeks, so I'm sorry if my writing is a bit rusty, I did give it my best tho.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Shenhe

Sometimes, Shenhe couldn’t help but find you… weird. You had no problems talking to complete strangers, happily chatting away as if you knew each other from way back in your childhood, were comfortable with praising, complimenting or saying other things many humans seemed to find embarrassing to her, and yet, when your hand as much as brushed against hers while walking side-by-side you’d apologize as if there was no tomorrow while your face turned all manner of red.

Perhaps you getting embarrassed from touching her wasn’t the weird part and your willingness to voice your feelings was, or perhaps these were two entirely different things that Shenhe had yet to understand.

So when the day came you turned shy simply by talking, it immediately caught her attention. And yet, your words didn’t seem to match your behavior at all. Wasn’t it normal or even expected for couples to kiss? Why were you getting so worked up about it?

“Sure”, she responded so bluntly that, for a brief moment, even you were starting to wonder why you had been so nervous in the first place.

She’d have to make sure to ask you about it later, although that could wait a bit, considering how happy and relieved you looked at this moment.

Eula

Being direct had never been Eula’s strength, so much was clear from the moment you first spoke to her. The Lawrence instead choosing to encrypt her true feelings and opinions in a matter that easily came over as aloof and stand-offish. And while you quickly took up her manner of speech when around her, your adaptiveness made the moments you broke character so much more jarring.

So when you asked her whether or not it was alright for you to kiss her suddenly and out of nowhere (also known as dusk at the end of a long date), with a face as red as a crimson fabric and enough tripping over your words to make a drunkard shake their head in disbelief, Eula couldn’t help but be caught off-guard.

Before she knew it, her face was on its way to mirror yours. The proud aristocrat suddenly finding herself at a loss for words as she desperately attempted to string together enough words to save face. Each second making the whole situation so much more embarrassing.

And yet, Eula somehow managed to regain her composure in time, swallowing whatever remnants of surprise and embarrassment she felt before speaking up with her usual grin.

“You may try, although you should think twice about it. I am a Lawrence after all, so you should know better than to trust us. But since it’s you, I might even allow you to leave in one piece.”

Ayaka

As the eldest daughter of the Kamisato Clan, the leaders of the Yashiro Commission in charge of cultural and ceremonial affairs, Ayaka was well-versed in all sorts of ancient traditions. And while she found no use for traditional courting rituals, she couldn’t help but pick up on them while trying to memorize the rest.

All of which was to say that once the two of you started to go out, her expectations and knowledge about relationships were somewhat outdated or out of place. So when the day came that you shyly asked her whether or not you could kiss her, Ayaka’s brain short circuited, not expecting you to ask in such an outright and sudden manner.

“Ah. You- What?” As the princess began stumbling over her words, she suddenly missed the days she could hide behind her paperwall while talking to you, getting all the positives from talking to you while not having to worry about her body-language. And yet, here you were, both of you slowly but surely getting more nervous and panicked as the awkward silence stretched on.

“That came out of nowhere, j-just forget I said anything”, you eventually broke the silence, too embarrassed to even look in her direction as you suddenly pretended to find a nearby tree irresistibly interesting.

When you eventually did turn back towards her however, only to be greeted with a kiss that was supposed to land on your cheek and instead ended up on the corner of your mouth and an Ayaka whose face turned even redder than before, your face heated up once again as you looked instinctively looked away, all the while wearing a large smile.

[meowmeowriley]

@forestshadow-wolf Had asked about Duo Fatui, and you know what? Fuck it! Have what will eventually be the opening to the fic ❤

Ghost and Soap are placed on desk duty for a year after an op gone sideways. They decide to make the best of it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Captain price roared as he stormed into the med bay.

Soap and Ghost were both laid up in separate cots, on either side of the room. Both now stared at him, wide eyed after his outburst.

"Sir," Ghost started but Price was not going to hear him out.

"No! Soap, what the hell were you thinking?!"

"Sir," Soap attempted to speak but Price cut him off as well.

"What the fuck were you thinking, giving a civilian your plate carrier?" Price seethed.

"Sir, he had important intel, we couldn't afford to lose him, and our route to exfil was taking heavy fire." Soap spit out his words quickly, probably to avoid being cut off again.

"Exactly sergeant, heavy fire that you took! You were shot, and you're a hell of a lot more important than some random scientist!" Price could feel his face getting red as he yelled. "And you!" He turned to face Ghost. "Now you're out of commission, because of his bloody fuck up!" He gestured sharply at a pouting Soap.

"We're the same blood type, I wasn't about to lose him over something I could easily help with, Captain." Ghost said flatly. To anyone else it would seem like Ghost was calm, detached even. Price could tell he was holding back his own anger.

Price found himself pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He wasn't actually angry at them. Soap had saved a man with insanely useful information. Ghost had saved Soap. He was angry that he hadn't been there to protect them himself. He was angry that he almost lost two of the best soldiers there ever were. Two of his men. He was angry that now they were both one kidney lighter. The transplant wouldn't take too long to heal, but the risk of rejection or infection meant he could still lose them. "One year." That garnered confused looks from both men.

"Um, no boss, the surgeon said-" Price cut Ghot off again, further souring the man's mood for sure.

"That the risk of rejection and infection will be significantly reduced after six months. I am placing you both on desk duty for one year, starting the day you get discharged from med bay." A horrified silence filled the room. "I hope you boys can find a way to keep yourselves entertained while Gaz, Roach and I pick up your slack." It may have ben a bit harsh, but he needed them to understand how important their lives were. To the world, to the team. To him. With that, he left the room.

***

"Ah'm sorry, Ghost."

"Shut it, Johnny."

"Ah am though."

"No." Ghost opened his eyes and leaned forward, looking at his hands. After Price had stormed in, ripped them a new one, and stormed out, he had leaned back in his bed and closed his eyes in an attempt to dissuade the rising rage. "If we're sorry, Price wins. That crabbit old man can kiss my arse. We did the right things."

"Hmmm... I have an idea." Ghost finally looked over to Soap again, urging him to continue with his eyes. "We're gonna be stuck on base for a whole year, aye?"

"Aye..." Ghost was unsure where this was going.

"We should do something unhinged, something incredibly stupid and pointless, every day. We'll have some random recruit record it, someone different every day if we can. At the end of the year, we'll play it on a projector in the mess for the whole base to watch." Soap was grinning at him. "Show Price what happens when you bench two of the craziest son's o' bitches in the SAS.'

It felt like a bad idea. Like making a deal with the devil. Like it would at least make the year of bullshit ahead of them go by faster. "I'm listening..."

[muddyorbsblr]

fateful favors [kinktober 2023: love bites]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: What started as a plan to join your sister at a tenant party in your new apartment building takes a trajectory you didn't expect when you discover she's arranged for someone to keep you company tonight

Pairing: Robert Laing x Reader

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, you know the drill and i am not the one); public sex; unprotected p in v; vaginal fingering; language; Wilder (yes he's a warning as he should be); mentions of alcohol consumption; slightest lil angst towards the end [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Reader is Charlotte's sister

"Charlotte I cannot believe you," you groaned as you paced your sister's swanky high-rise apartment, the clacking from her stilettos on your feet echoing with every step. "I thought the point of asking me to go with you to this forsaken party was so that you didn't have to ward off that creeper five floors below you and now you're telling me that you commissioned one of your former flings in this building to what? Babysit me?"

"Please, you should know me to be better than that, Y/N. I'm just trying to make sure that you'll be safe. Wilder has a more…ruthless tendency especially with new faces in these notorious parties with the rest of the tenants." She walked up behind you and helped zip up the rest of your dress, the top half now secure. "And he is not a former fling, he's a friend. Believe it or not, I do happen to have a few now."

"Right, sure." You scoffed at her description. "A friend you definitely shagged or else you wouldn't have described him as the biggest in the high rise." You waved your hands in her direction as if to say 'tell me I'm wrong' when your words put a bashful expression on her face. "Now this poor guy gets hired to be a glorified bodyguard against horny bastards when the point was that we stick together so that--ohh fucking Christ, that's it isn't it? You got him to babysit me because you're planning on hooking up with someone at this party!"

"I wouldn't use the term 'hired'," a new voice spoke from the doorway. "That would imply that payment will be involved."

When your eyes landed on the source of the new voice your jaw hit the floor.

The man wore a well-fitting suit that accentuated a clearly lean and muscular physique, the upper half of his white button-up shirt practically fighting for its life as it stretched across his chest. His trousers clinging just the right amount to sculpted thighs and highlighted exactly what your sister meant by the biggest in the high-rise.

He walked towards you with strides that you could imagine a wolf would take as it stalked its prey. With eyes dead set on its target with full intent to devour once the distance was crossed.

"And with someone as striking as yourself, I would hardly call it a hardship to keep you company tonight.” He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to your knuckles. "Doctor Robert Laing. I live two floors below."

Pick your jaw up off the floor, you hissed at yourself. "I'm uhm…Y/N. Just Y/N," you stammered, trying your damnedest to fight back the thrill that shot up your arm and made a bee line for between your legs at the feel of his lips on your skin. He's probably the most pro of the pros when it comes to getting knickers wet, Y/N, do not fucking fall for it.

He repeated your name slowly, as if he was rolling around each syllable on his tongue, all the while he still held your hand in his absurdly larger one. "Lovely to make your acquaintance. Shall we all head upstairs, then?" You could only manage to nod under his intense oceanic gaze, absolutely dumbfounded as he laced his fingers between yours and led you to the elevators.

You threw your sister a quick look in passing, mouthing 'Oh my God! To which she only gave you a knowing look as she nodded, mouthing back something that seemed like 'Have fun'.

When Charlotte invited you to a tenant party at the 29th floor, this was most definitely not what you were expecting. The party had extended well beyond the constraints of the host's apartment and bled into the hallway leading to its front door, the entire floor already beginning to give off the faint smell of liquor and sex. Some of the guests had paired off and were in various states of undress, pawing at each other and well on their way to becoming fully disrobed right there in the corridor.

The inside was much more scandalous, sounds of grunting and obscene moans coming from the bedroom inside, door wide open as if they were inviting the other guests to stand and watch. Or join in.

You and Laing found a spot to sit in that kept a bit of distance from the fornication, him genuinely seeming interested in your work and the events that led you to the high-rise in the first place. About how long you'd be staying in the city and if you'd already gotten to know the lay of the land where the building's amenities were concerned, offering to show you around in the weekend if you were still here.

Much as you wanted to buy into the notion that someone that was so obviously out of your league was interested in getting to know you, you couldn't help the thought that perhaps he was just investing this much effort into this to try and rekindle something with your sister. The thought wasn't completely unfounded, considering Charlotte's history with having former flings going absolutely astonishing lengths to get into contact with her again to this day for her to direct her attentions their way again. And Robert Laing might be someone that the women in the party looked to and regarded as if he was some sort of sex god with the outright lust on their faces whenever they snuck a glance his way, but he was still a man, after all.

And with the way she was describing him to you earlier, she'd definitely entertained the thought of a repeat performance with him at least thrice. Probably still had the notion on the back burner of her mind even as she chatted it up with another attendee, yet another shockingly tall head turner in a black suit that looked tailored within an inch of its life and slicked back onyx curls with a look on his face that did more than enough to tell you she wouldn't be sleeping alone tonight.

The feel of Laing's hand on yours snapped you out of your thoughts, fingers deftly taking away the empty cup that you'd been picking at with your nails for the last few minutes. "I'll just go get us some fresh drinks. I won't be two minutes." You gave him a nod with a well-practiced smile, his words ringing a little too familiar and conjuring memories of gatherings much like this one sans the public displays of lasciviousness that you'd once attended with Charlotte where the sorry chap that had to accompany you would say nearly those exact words and that would be the last you'd hear from them.

It was a song and dance you were all too familiar with. And after repeat offenses you'd grown numb to it, expecting it, even.

What you weren't expecting was the sharp look that Laing had thrown somewhere behind your shoulder before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Save my seat, darling."

All you could say in response was a stupefied, "Sure."

Not even half a minute after he stepped away someone approached you, positioning himself behind where you were seated on the sofa, denim-clad thigh dangerously close to your shoulder. "Never seen your pretty face at one of these events. Are you new to the building, luv?"

You looked at the man that approached you, the stench of nicotine, alcohol, and lust coming off him in waves. He looked like one of those 'adult film' stars that you'd often find in the tapes that various exes had had hidden away. The man they dreamed of becoming so that they could rut into women that looked like your sister with reckless abandon and get paid for doing a shit job.

"I am." You kept your answer terse. Clipped. You'd dealt with men like this before, and for the most part all they wanted was for you to steer them Charlotte's way. Once they realized how guarded you were they'd leave you well enough alone.

"Smashing," he slurred, shifting his stance until he rested his elbows on the back of the couch, a little more eye level with you and now you could see the dangerous predatory gleam in his eyes. You recognized this look, too. Someone who took rejection one too many times and now he would just let the words roll off his back and take what he wanted anyway.

Someone you should run away from as fast as you humanly could in these god awful heels that Charlotte practically shoved you into. Or maybe if desperate times really do call for desperate measures I could drive the heel through his neck, you pondered quietly.

And despite knowing that he wasn't coming back, you found yourself hoping that Laing would pop up and offer some form of backup in case your hunch about this leering imposing guest was correct.

"The name's Richard Wilder," he said incoherently, a thick meaty hand sneakily trying to move across your shoulder to play with the strap holding your dress up and keeping you relatively decent compared to majority of the party. "Perhaps we can go find a corner somewhere and…get to know each other a little better."

You could feel your stomach recoil in disgust at the implication, partnered with the way a finger had worked its way under your dress strap and he was already leaning in closer and closer, the stench of the cigarettes and alcohol invading your space and searing the path from your nostrils to your brain. "I'm already here with someone," you managed to choke out as you struggled not to take a breath. The lie felt heavy on your tongue, but you wielded it regardless like a makeshift weapon that could maybe ward him off if you said it convincingly enough. "He should be back any second."

Wilder let out a scoffing laugh, his breath on a mission to sever your sense of smell within the next sixty seconds. "Who? Laing? Sweet thing you really are new here. That man's fucked his way through this building and back. You'll be lucky if he remembers your name come Saturday." He shifted even closer to you, pressing his nose into your hair and inhaling like a drug sniffing canine on a mission. "I reckon he's shriveled up down there from getting it wet all the fucking time--"

"Well I always say better shriveled than dry," you shot back, your mouth somehow having lost its filter as the alcohol kicked in and melted away your inhibitions. "You're so obviously bitter over that fact I can taste your jealousy when you exhale. Now please, get gone and find someone else to torment. Or better yet, you could go home and get ahead of that absolute banger of a hangover you'll have in the morning and start sleeping it off."

"Hmmm…bed. Now that is an excellent idea." He moved his hand down your arm until his fingers hooked around your elbow, trying to pull you up to your feet. "Come on, luv. I can make you feel so good you won't ever let me leave your bed even when my wife's knocking down your door with a fuckin' butcher's knife."

"Fucking hell, you're married? You're married and you're still looking for someone to warm your miserable dry cock?" The disgust was already causing your stomach to coil up, the urge to just take off one of your borrowed heels and jam it into the arm that was holding you in place becoming more and more tempting with each passing second. You scanned the room to see if you could discern which of the other guests was the unlucky bastard's wife, finding a heavily pregnant woman seated near the singular exit out into the hall with sad eyes and a scowl on her face as she eyed the man with a sloppy grip on you. "You're vile, Wilder. Go home to your wife and actually try to be a decent human if being a decent husband is too tall of an order for your miserable arse."

He looked as if you'd slapped him clean across the face. "You mouthy little slut where do you get off speaking to me like this?" He pulled on you harder, knocking you off balance and having you struggle to keep from him pulling you over and across the couch. "Don't fight it, little slut. I'll take you somewhere you can put that glib little mouth of yours to good use. Maybe if you're a good girl I'll even let you cum tonight--"

"Wilder get your paws off my date. Now." You could feel the coiling tension in your stomach begin to relax at the sound of Laing's voice over the speakers, an arm wrapping around your waist delicately while the other clamped around Wilder's wrist in a vice grip. "While I still have the inclination to ask nicely."

The burly man released you from his hold, raising his hands in the air with a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You probably weren't even worth the effort anyway," were his last words before he walked away, setting his sights on another woman and approaching her, a similar look of apprehensive disgust on the woman's face as he no doubt singed her nose hairs with his smell of sweat and cigarettes as he had done you just minutes ago.

"Come on, darling," Laing whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, slowly leading you toward the balcony, the fresh air making you gasp desperately for your next breaths as if you were trying to clear the outright disgust from your encounter out of your lungs. He kept his hold loose on you as you relaxed against the wall, his forehead pressed lightly against yours while he guided you through deep breaths, his woodsy citrusy scent helping to calm you even more. "I shouldn't have left you alone with him on the prowl. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

"Hey don't be so hard on yourself I'm honestly surprised you came back in the first place," you answered back, still slightly feeling the effects of the alcohol on you. "It's alright, really--"

Before you could tell him he could be done with his favor to Charlotte and you'd just go home and sleep off your adrenaline from your unfortunate run in, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss. The thrill you felt earlier tonight from him kissing your hand had nothing on how his mouth on yours ignited a flame that quicly spread through your whole body, making your knees buckle as he pressed harder against you, his fingers weaving into your hair as his other arm wrapped around you while he worked his thigh between your legs.

"People like him don't particularly like hearing the word 'no'."

His words were fraught with meaning, like he was giving you a warning of what could befall you if you ever found yourself alone with him again. The mere thought of what could have happened if Laing didn't come around when he did and Wilder succeeded in dragging you off somewhere had you going frigid where you stood.

"Don't trouble yourself, sweet girl." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, kissing a trail to your neck. "You'll find soon enough that this place will set things right sooner or later. He'll get what he deserves eventually without any intervention from us. Until that day comes I'll do what I can. Make sure no harm comes to you." You let out a sharp moan of his name when his lips glided across your skin in an open-mouthed kiss, feeling your body grow weak when you felt his tongue lick at your skin. "The best way to do that is to make sure he sees you're spoken for." He kissed his way up to your mouth again, both of you groaning into each other's mouths when his tongue slid past your lips and tangled with your own. "Make him see that you're mine."

"Am I, though?" You cursed your filterless mouth for letting the question leave your lips.

"If you want to be," he shot back with a boyish smile, pressing another kiss to your lips, lightly nipping at your bottom lip. "For the illusion. For the night. For longer. Whichever you choose."

You felt overwhelmed with emotions, but part of you felt inclined to trust in his words that things would be set right soon enough, the conviction in his tone reassuring you and allowing your mind to focus on the fire that was spreading throughout your entire body. The only response you could give him was a little nod before he gave you a devilish smirk and pressed harder against you, his hand sliding down your torso and working its way under your dress.

"Oh sweet girl," he cooed when his fingers slid up the inside of your thigh, coming into contact with the slick fabric of your panties. "Tell me this is for me. Make my night, I beg of you."

He traced up the length of your slit with the tips of his fingers, applying just the slightest bit of pressure when he reached your clit, circling the hardening nub with expert precision and coaxing an answer from you. "Who else…would it be for?" you gasped, arching against him and letting out a moan drowned out by the party going on mere feet away from you.

Your arched back gave him the chance to wrap his free arm around you and pull you flush against him, kissing a trail from your lips down your neck and stopping at the base of your throat, biting and sucking a bruise into the skin. "You'll have to watch your words, darling. You're making it quite difficult to be gentle with you."

Those last words had you throwing all your inhibitions into the wind. "Then don't be. You said you wanted them to see that I'm yours if I wanted to be?" You pulled him by the lapels of his coat into a searing kiss, catching you both by surprise. "I want to be. Kiss me, fuck me, do what you want with me. Show them. Make them all see that I'm yours."

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your moans into his coat as he pulled the fabric of your panties to the side and slid two sinfully long fingers inside of you, twisting and scissoring at your walls readying you for him.

"Look at me, sweet girl," he growled, pressing you flat against the wall and lightly grasping your chin with his free hand. The sight of his stormy gaze becoming near black from his dilated pupils stole your breath away.

He curled his fingers upwards, finding a spot that made you completely delirious that your thoughts swirled in your head. The only thought that remained, the only one that mattered, was Laing. And the absolute devastation he was about to put you through.

His free hand slid down the side of your body, grabbing your leg and hoisting it up to wrap around his waist, opening you up even more for him and pressing your bodies closer together. The thumping music from the party was overpowered by your heart furiously pulsing in your ears, a knot tightening more and more with every sensuous stroke of his fingers at that tender spot inside you.

"Come for me, little temptress," he grunted, his breath hot against your skin as he rested his forehead against yours, giving you a knowing smile before lightly rubbing tight circles against your clit with his thumb, eliciting a scream of his name that had a handful of people diverting their attention to what was transpiring between you and the building's resident doctor out here in the balcony. You could still feel your walls clenching and spasming even after he'd pulled his fingers from you.

The air left your lungs when he wrapped his hand around your other leg and your feet left the ground before he moved you away from the wall. "What--" Your words died in a high-pitched whine when your back made contact with the cold surface of the table, the sight of Laing standing over you and unbuckling his belt kicking your racing heart into overdrive.

"I think they all need a touch more convincing," he told you, a devilish grin spread across his face as he lined himself up at your entrance and sliding to the hilt inside of you in a single thrust. Watching him throw his head back, neck muscles tense as he let out a moan of pure decadence would be a memory that might stay with you for decades to come. "F-fuck, it's like I was made for you, sweet girl."

He set a steady pace, both of you moaning and screaming into the night every time your hips came together. But what had your mind swimming was the way he lifted your leg and positioned it so that your ankle rested on his shoulder, turning his head to press a tender kiss to the reddening strip of skin caused by the strap of your shoe. The tenderness of the action in stark contrast with the way he rocked his hips into yours making you whine and moan his name like a wolf in heat.

His other hand moved up the side of your body, fingers running along the slit opening at the cleavage of your dress. "May I?"

Your lack of filter once again had you cursing yourself. "You're already inside me, are you really asking permission to touch my tits?" He gave you that boyish smile again as you nodded your assent, his hand quickly working its way under the fabric to move the breezy fabric aside and expose your breast to the cold night air.

Near-obsidian eyes roamed your body laid out on the table before him, from the lustful expression on your face down to where your bodies were connected, the doctor biting his lip before leaning down to slant his mouth over hours in a frenzied kiss, your tongues tangling together as you buried your fingers in his hair. The slightest pull at his short curls had him growling against your mouth before he broke the kiss, making his way down to take your nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so slightly against the pebbled skin and making you release your hold on him when your eyes rolled back from the sheer ecstasy of it all.

When his thrusts became erratic you felt his hand at the swollen nub above your entrance, you let out a scream of his name as your climaxes overtook you both. You didn't know what came over you when you bit into his neck as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, but he took it as a cue to sink his teeth into the swell of your breast, both of you surely leaving a mark on each other that would stay for at least the next couple of days.

"There's no way I'm letting you drive home after this," he said softly once he caught his breath, pressing soft kisses to your cheek and temple while you were still trying to ground yourself. "Please let me escort you back to your place."

"Don't worry there won't be any driving required," you answered him, your mind still in a haze. "Just a walk to the elevator. 25C."

"Is that so?" You only nodded at him, giving him a fully sated smile as he moved the fabric of your dress to cover you again before tucking himself back into his trousers. He held your hand as he helped you off the table, pulling you into his arms again as soon as you were back on your feet to capture your lips in a tender kiss. "Well in that case…hello, neighbor."

This wasn't how you expected your night to end when you woke up this morning to Charlotte ceaselessly banging on the door to the apartment you'd just moved in to, practically begging you to go to the tenant party to both accompany her and celebrate your new home and the fact that you now lived so close to each other. You were more than ready to have ended the night with aching feet, slightly buzzed, and alone in bed. As you always did.

You didn't expect it to end feeling near boneless after spending the last few hours with the man that had initially been your companion for said party as a favor to your sister, bodies slick with sweat and without a stitch of clothing separating you. Coherent thoughts had ceased to form the second you two stepped foot into your apartment and he immediately hoisted you into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, and he brought you to orgasm so many times you lost count.

There was an air of utterly sexed out bliss that surrounded you that only shattered when both your labored breathing had evened out, and he pressed a kiss to your collarbone and spoke again. "I believe this is where we part ways, sweet girl."

Would it be entirely too dramatic if you said you felt your heart splinter at his words? Probably. But in the moment, that was how it felt. Like a rug had been pulled out from under your feet and you were immediately dropped from a vibrant fantasy world and straight back to the bleak reality that was your day to day.

"Should've known this was coming," you scoffed out, propping yourself up on your elbows as he pulled away, unable to hide the sting of disappointment playing at your features. "Should be used to it by now I really don't know why I even thought you'd be different, but fuck it. That's on me--"

"Wait, Y/N stop. Did…did you think I was about to leave because--"

"You got what you wanted. Fucked the new girl, novelty's gone, probably realized my sister's better, really I'm used to the song and dance. So really, everything's fine. Go. I'm a big girl, I'm not about to cry and moan about it." If only you could have fought against the tears that were stinging at the back of your eyes so you could actually sell the pitch.

"And here I thought you were about to kick me out of bed so I was just beating you to the punch. Leave with a shred of dignity, you know?"

His muttered words felt like ice water washing over your entire body, immediately reaching for him in the relative darkness of the bedroom, your fingertips tracing the marblesque features of his face as you touched your nose to his. "Who would ever be stupid enough to kick you out of bed?"

Your breath hitched when his fingers curled at the curve of your waist, his thumb stroking your skin and lightly brushing the underside of your breast. "If you say you don't want me to go then--"

"Stay." The word came out all too quickly, making you bite the inside of your cheek from how desperate you saw yourself the second you said it. No taking it back, now, you inwardly hissed. Fucking pathetic. "I--I mean only if you want to, if you don't really no harm no foul just pretend I didn't say anything--"

The rest of your words died in a surprised little squeak when he cut you off with a kiss, wrapping his arm around you and maneuvering you so that your back was once again laid flat on the mattress. "I want to," he sighed against your lips.

You two had settled into the center of the bed, your head resting on his shoulder while his fingertips traced down the length of your arm. "For longer," you blurted out, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw.

"For longer what, sweetheart?"

The endearment slipping from his lips had your heart doing  backflips in your chest. "You said something earlier about being yours if I wanted. For tonight or for longer. There's my answer. For longer."

The smile he gave you somehow shone brilliantly despite the dim lighting of your bedroom, with only the moon providing even the smallest glimmer of light. "You might reconsider that answer once I subject you to my cooking in the morning, darling."

"Well, nobody's perfect, Doctor Laing, but I won't hold that against you."

A/N: Welcome to Kinktober, everybody! I'm a couple days late because I literally just finished banging out (pun absolutely fully intended) the smut scene minutes before posting this. Like I mentioned before, I'm hoping to do 5 stories as an initial goal but I have 15 planned out. Anything that I don't end up making in October will still be made somewhere down the line, it's just gonna move down the priority ladder.

It has been a long while since I wrote smut, so please be gentle, I feel like I am babey again with how rusty I am. And also it's the first time I'm writing Laing so also…be gentle.

I'm already working on the next story which will be 'bath/shower' with an older Magnus Martinsson, so hopefully that'll be reaching your dashes in the next few days 🫡

Here's a gif for everyone that reads until the end:

everything taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

kinktober 2023 taglist: @azula-karai-27

[nonotnolan]

Fiverr Warlock: Holiday Magic

Christmas can be a tricky for us magic users. A lot of clients come to us, hoping for budget miracles or last minute holiday magic, so it's easy to start feeling like people just take you for granted. Plus, warlocks are notoriously difficult to shop for. Most of the things we really want for Christmas, we can just conjure something up ourselves. I was started to get really, really burnt out on the holidays until I figured out a trick to raise my spirits-- as a bonus, it's even easy to do. I just pick a random deserving person and give them some charity magic.

Take a look at Jake, here. He's one of the lowest clerks on the totem pole, but he's also the only tailor I know who sees me as a person and not a commission payout. When he told me last week that he was on his second low sales write-up and about to get fired, I decided to make him one of this season's recipients. I know he's a great guy, but I can't blame a random person off the street rejecting a tailor who can't even wear a properly fitting suit. Improving his appearance will go a long way, I think. The problem is Jake would never accept my direct help for free, so I'll have to be subtle about it.

The first step was getting rid of his facial hair. Some guys look good with scruff, but Jake's body isn't growing hair thick enough for a good beard. I'll start there, and work my way up. As far as Jake knows, I was there to buy some dress shoes. I was actually there to cast a delayed change spell on him that would remove all of that unwanted hair overnight. While I was there, I added some skin moisteners and a long-lasting fatigue remover. Finally, I added a mental shroud so that he wouldn't notice the changes to himself.

When I went back to check on my work, I was pleased to see that Jake already showed a noticeable improvement. He was clearly doing a lot better, even if he didn't know why. Could I have left it there? Sure. But I don't half-ass my charity cases.

He greeted me when I walked in, but today I deflected his attentions. "I'm just browsing today. I meant to ask you, though, have you ever considered OnlyFans?" My words hid the casting of a compulsion spell.

He blushed, and slipped his hands in his pockets. "Oh, I don't think I quite have the body for that... but thank you, sir. Let me know if you need anything."

To his credit, Jake's former body was pretty unremarkable. I say former because I cast another delayed transformation on him. This time I gave him 20% more muscle mass, a deeper voice, and increased his self-confidence. I also took a few more years off, for good measure.

The next day, I was able to find his OnlyFans account under his name. It was tempting to increase his muscle mass further, but doing so would risk breaking the mental shroud I cast over him. Besides, massive muscles and a bronze tan often went hand in hand, and I would hate to ruin his beautifully pale skin.

No, better to leave well enough alone. Otherwise I'd be casting minor spells on him for weeks. Jake was no longer struggling through life due to his disheveled appearance, and that's what mattered. Another Christmas Miracle, crafted by yours truly.

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

Want to read more by this author? Dicked (Over) by a Demon by Nolan Sempers, for sale on Amazon.

[soapisahimbo]

NSFW ABC - Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Edition

Here we go! Mister Garrick! I thought this one would be difficult, but I'm actually quite happy with how it turned out, and I hope you are too!

Contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

I will be working on a few more things for you, being some non-requested headcanons, Rodolfo Parra's NSFW ABC and jealous!Ghost NSFW headcanons, so I hope you look forward to it!

warnings: senseless smut, detailed descriptions, gaz is a horny little shit, hinted at female anatomy

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

He'll spend a moment or two just panting into your skin, stroking his hands over your hips and thighs while his dick is still inside you until the high has worn off, then he shifts to look at you and asks you how you're feeling. Kisses you gently, but passionately, and you'll feel him press himself closer to you once more, his tongue slipping into your mouth; unless you want this to lead into another round or two, you're going to have to redirect his attention. Break his train of thought by pecking him on the nose instead or tickling his sides and he'll get the gist. He'll chuckle out an apology before gently pulling out and leaning back to take a good look at you.

His next course of action depends on the time of day - if it's in the morning and you have plans for the day, shower it is. If no plans, whether you taking a shower or he just gets a warm towel to clean you off before you go to make breakfast together depends solely on if you can still walk. If one of you (most likely you) is out of commission, the one who can still feel their legs goes to make breakfast in bed. If it's later in the evening you'll most likely settle down in the sheets and stay wrapped around each other, kissing and touching until you fall asleep. This will probably, most definitely lead to another heated session once you wake up in the morning.

Washing each other off is almost casual and quite relaxing, and it feels like you're just hanging out with your best friend. Your very intimate best friend with wandering hands, a teasing smirk and an extensive knowledge of all your weakest spots.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Having a strong and capable body is incredibly important in his line of work, and he usually doesn't give much thought to his appearance if there are more important things to keep track of. But he knows that he's an attractive man, he knows that others look at him and wish that they had either him or his body, and he definitely knows that you watch him closely when he walks around, be it fully clothed or shirtless or with just a towel around his hips. If you have your own favourite part of his body, you can bet your ass he'll use it against you. Making you blush brings him endless amusement.

But if he's going to pick something on himself, if he really had to, he'd probably say his arms, chest and back. He's leaner than for example Ghost, but he's strong, resilient and balanced and it shows. He loves flustering you with his body; he wraps his arms tightly around you, or pins you to the wall and cages you in with his arms at either side of your head, and he grabs your hands at random and places them onto his chest and slowly guides them down his torso, down his abdomen, before smirking and just turning to walk away. Likes turning around and checking the scratches you've left on him in the mirror, and he will definitely tease you about that, too - nothing you do is sacred.

On you, he loves your neck, your chest and your hips. His hands never stay in one place - he strokes and caresses and squeezes any part that he can reach, but he finds that they're drawn to these parts more than most. He likes the way you feel in his hands, and as much of a little shit-tease as he is, he simply loves the feeling of burying his face in your neck, especially in non-sexual moments. He's an absolute devil with marking you up though, and if you don't feel like wearing a turtleneck for the next week or so, you'll need to stay on your guard.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

He loves cumming in your mouth if you let him, specifically on your tongue. He doesn't care if you swallow it or not, but just seeing you with your tongue out, with his cum dripping either off of the tip of it or down your throat; don't be surprised if he's ready to go again. Other than that, cumming on your tummy or ass also makes him feel like he's marked his territory, in a sense. He's by no means the jealous or possessive type, but he just likes knowing that only he gets to see you like that. Especially if he gets to spread your cheeks and cum just against the rim of your hole.

Will definitely cum in you if you let him or want him to, but he honestly likes seeing it on you more, and frankly, he wants your cum on him in one way or another as well.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Once, a while before the two of you started dating, when you were still just best friends, he caught you masturbating. He didn't mean to, he simply opened the door and there you were, half naked in bed and with your hand down in your underwear. He knew he should've closed the door the instant he realized what you were doing, left you to your own devices and forget he even saw anything. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He watched, with wide eyes, heated cheeks and clenched fists and a new sudden hardness below the belt as you brought yourself to climax, never noticing he was there. He couldn't help but take note of how you shivered, how your legs clamped together, how your hips bucked up and how your back arched when you came and he just knew instantly that that image would be burned into his brain forever. He quietly stepped back, closed the door and rushed away as he tried his absolute best to ignore what he just saw and how he felt about it, but he was helpless.

For the following couple of weeks, he could barely look at you, which was an insane challenge considering that you were one of his closest friends. But that image would pop back into his head every time you came into view, and he had brought himself to climax to it far more times than he would have liked to admit. Any time you spoke, he'd remember the sounds you made and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering, imagining what it would be like if he could make you shiver like that; if he could ever have you make those noises for him and him alone.

You could tell something was up, but he kept his mouth shut. When you thought that maybe you had done something wrong, he didn't confess, but he assured you that that was most certainly not the case and gave himself a mental slap for letting his fantasies get the better of him. There was definitely a change in your friendship, you could tell, but he refused to let you believe it was your fault. It was during a party, when you bumped his hip with yours and made a dirty joke that the floodgates opened, and he pulled you close and kissed you. He confessed, not what he had seen, but what he felt for you and how much he wanted you.

The first time he finally got to put his thoughts to reality, he was transfixed and eager, demanding that you show and tell him everything that makes you tick.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

It's safe to say that he's got a fair amount of experience - fooled around a bit during college and had a partner when he first joined the military, but it didn't quite work out. Once he joined SAS, he put all of his mind into his training and his missions. Considering that he's the youngest in 141, it hasn't been quite as long for him as it may have been for some of the others, and he's no stranger to one-night-stands, but he eventually found that it wasn't worth his time and energy.

Once he met you, he completely ignored any offers from other people; he'd much rather hang out with you, even if it was just platonically at first, and now that he has you in every way imaginable he doesn't need anyone else.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Go on, baby, get on top. He likes watching you, likes it when you take charge, loves when you ride the absolute life out of him. He'll hold himself off to the best of his abilities, wanting you to cum on his cock if you can, but if he cums before you he'll tell you to either get up on his face or lay down so he can give you "the good stuff". He's also more than happy - almost too happy - to take over if it's starting to become more and more of a challenge for you to keep the pace. Says it's to reward you as he switches the two of you around and wraps your legs around him; "you did so good, baby, you're so good."

He's probably the biggest advocate of cuddle-sex; #1 cuddle-fucker if you will. Laying on your sides, either facing each other so he can hold your leg over his hip, or spooning is a huge thing for him. He'll keep his lips and tongue on you as much as he physically can, moaning into your skin. Getting out of his grip will be a challenge, both because of his strength and because he begs you not to. Either let him give it to you, or give it to him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

The two of you were best friends way before you became a couple and you still are, so inside jokes, snarky comments, bickering and general sass is par for the course. Pinching, poking, teasing, tickling, you name it. There will most likely be lots of laughter between the two of you and there's not really a limit to what sets you off. If one of you goes, the other follows. Weird noises, dumb faces, an out-of-the-blue joke, an unexpected interruption, bumping heads, tripping and stumbling, getting stuck, pulling a muscle - you have had to stop fucking just because you can't stop laughing far too many times to count. This never kills the mood though. Once the laughter has died down, it's almost like the residual giggles turn you on even more and the sex just gets that much better.

That of course doesn't mean he doesn't have his serious moments. He's happy to have you in his life and he wants you to know this. He seeks you out when he's had a rough day or a mission has taken a bit more out of him than usual, only wanting to be held by you, and he will insist on doing the same for you if you're going through something as well.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Much like the hair on his head, but shorter. Black, semi-thick and tightly curled. It's spread out just above his pubic mound - not quite a happy trail but almost - and down the upper part of his inner thighs, sticking close to the skin. He usually does a full trim before deployment because it grows kind of slow, and then once more when he comes back home, but he doesn't do much with it during the time in between other than keeping it clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Remember, #1 cuddle-fucker. He lives fully and wholly for cuddles that turn into sex that turn back into cuddles and then back into sex. Of course he doesn't expect it every time, nor does he try to initiate it every time you cuddle, but it's for sure one of his favourite things. He's in no way awkward with affection and will look deep into your eyes when he tells you that he loves you.

He sighs into your ear as he holds you close and slowly ruts into you, he whispers all his love into your skin even if you can't hear him, he writes tiny little messages with the tips of his fingers even if you can't see them. You're not always aware of his professions of love, but he feels a need to get them out there anyway. He just wants to make sure you know how he feels about you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

It depends on the situation. If he's out on the field, he'll hold off without a problem. He has a steely determination and solid focus and if he thinks about you, it's mostly in the light of him just missing you and wanting to be back home. If he's in the safety of his own room back at base though, he jerks off nearly every night. It's a good way to get rid of tension, and it's a way for him to indulge in his fantasies about you after having to stay sharp for a longer period of time. He has some pictures and videos of you tucked away somewhere safe that he only takes out if he's 100% sure the coast is clear (Soap almost stumbled upon a photo of you in Gaz's wallet once and Gaz nearly snapped his neck for it). If he can, he might send you a video or a picture of his own, letting you know that he's thinking of you, as well as giving you an idea of what's to come once he returns.

If he's jerking off at home, it's mostly to tease you or because you're not there and he's impatient. You usually catch him in the act, and depending on how long he's been going, he'll either give you a smirk and ask if you're going to "lend him a hand" (pun fully intended) or he'll beg you to help him out and let him fuck you. It is highly recommended you use this against him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Not the kinkiest of the bunch, but is surprisingly into getting tied up and used by you. He'll grin at you and say things like, "you think you can take me, baby?" and while he might never ever openly confess this, there's a part of him that greatly enjoys when you put him in his place, so to speak; when you remind him that you can make just as much a mess of him as he can of you. Mark him up as much as you can, maybe in places that will be difficult for him to cover - if he whines, just tell him it's payback for all the times he's done it to you.

Matter of fact, he likes it when the two of you challenge each other. Who can hold off the longest? Who can make the other cum first or the hardest? Who will give in to the other first, who will touch the other first, who will beg first? Both of you will use the dirtiest tricks that you have to your advantage and each time is a real coin toss of who wins. But it makes it that much more fun and to be honest, losing isn't really all that bad either.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He's a fiend, and there's not really any limit to where he'll turn on his devilish charm and try to seduce his way into your pants. He does prefer the coziness of the bed overall, but he's not above sneaking you into a bathroom or a broom closet if he gets the chance. Is actually a pretty big fan of outdoor sex and wants to go hiking with you just to whisk you away into the woods somewhere where the wilderness will be your only witness. Also likes going out on shorter roadtrips just so you can pull over in some secluded spot and have some good old-fashioned car sex.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

He is incredibly domestic. He likes cooking and cleaning with you, likes curling up on the couch to watch a movie with you and just likes spending time with you in general. He doesn't always have mischievous intents when he starts touching you, sometimes it's just the safety and the feeling of being close with his friend and lover that warms him up in the best of ways. Any competitions between you two more often than not have some flirty or sexual undertones and you spend most of your times just pushing each other's buttons. Tease him, flirt with him, throw dirty jokes and innuendos his way and it'll have him more hot and bothered than he'd care to admit.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Absolutely no humiliation or degradation. To him, sex is a moment to indulge in each other, to feel good and to connect. If he heard anyone else call you something degrading, he would already have ripped their face off before they'd gotten the last syllable out, so the idea of willingly and deliberately doing something like that in any situation, even with your consent, is nowhere near his comfort zone. Things like choking are also a bit of a no-go, because the last thing he wants his to hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He's not really the type to spend ages and ages with his face between your legs (he prefers to do that with his fingers), but he does do it often, usually when you least expect it. He asks if he can go down on you at any random moment, like in the middle of a movie or while you're making something to eat, or before you're heading out. He gets you off once or twice in rather quick succession and will give you a wolfish grin as you're recovering from the sudden onslaught of his tongue. He'll crawl up to your face to kiss you deeply and depending on how you decide to take it further, he will either pull his pants down to fuck you, or he'll just spread your legs and go back down once more to get a couple more quick orgasms out of you. Wants you to look at him while he does it though, or he'll use some of the dirtiest tricks he knows to get your attention (as if he doesn't already have it). He definitely doesn't mind getting you off a few more times before he even unbuckles his belt.

He also doesn't expect you to spend any exorbitant amount of time sucking him off, but he surely isn't going to turn the offer down. Grabs you firmly, but carefully by the hair and watches intently as you move your mouth up and down. He kinda wishes he could see it go down your throat if you can take him that deep. He sighs and coos and praises you with whatever words he can form, but mostly he'll just stare with his mouth hanging open, not even bothering to try and hold back any moans that escape him. He'll get a bit whiny once he starts nearing his climax, but leaves himself entirely in your hands (and mouth) and throws his head back once you work him over that edge. He'll shake and quiver once he cums and he'll hold your head in place until he's calmed down, and then wants to see his cum in your mouth before you swallow it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Honestly, you're in charge. He himself usually goes for a rather quick pace, one that will have both of you panting in sweating in a matter of moments, but he loves the way you do it. He'll only tell you to slow down if he's trying to hold out a little longer and needs to catch his breath, but a part of him truly relishes in the moment if you keep it up. If he himself slows down, it's more often than not to tease you. However fast or slow, hard or soft you want him to fuck you, he's got it. One thing that you can always count on is that he likes to grind his whole length into you, no matter the pace of it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

It's a pretty regular occurrence in your sex life. He loves the longer sessions, but every now and then he claims that the two of you might need "something to hold you off" for a little while. If he wasn't so goddamn good at it, you'd smack that smirk off of his face every time he came up with a new euphemism for it (so far, he's used ones like "an appetizer before the big meal", "a little preview", "dipping the toes", "sampling the goods" and "a sneak peek"). The type to tug at you and say "give me a taste before we head out, yeah?"

Getting pushed up against the wall with his hand slipping past your underwear or suddenly having his face press itself in between your thighs or having him press himself up against you to whisper all sorts of filth into you ears - it's to be expected at this point. With your consent, of course.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

While he likes to push it, he'd never actually put the two of you in any direct danger or unsafe situation, and he trusts that you wouldn't either. For example, the risk of getting caught when he fingers you while stuck in a traffic jam is certainly there, but the windows are tinted and he's making sure no one's actually paying attention. He's not the kinkiest or the roughest, but he'd still want to establish some safewords, just for that extra layer of safety.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

Give him a moment, he'll make it last a lifetime. If he wants it to last, it'll be 1, maybe 2 long rounds where he'll go slow and steady, no rushing, just good vibes. If he's feeling more heated and horny, it'll be about 4 shorter rounds, give or take, that will have you inclined to ask him how he's still going. He doesn't necessarily stop there though - there can be several rounds spread out over an entire day if you have the time for it. He never expects anything though - if you're not up for it, he'll hold himself off. He might jerk off, but most of the time if you're not feeling it, neither is he.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

Oh, he's definitely up for it. Wants you to give him a show first, especially if you've gotten something new. It's not like he's just going to sit there and watch though - he has to touch you, lay next to you and talk you through it, asking you how it feels and if you like it. "Is it good, baby? Does it feel as good as me?"

Definitely likes cock rings, just because it can make him last that much longer, and that ache is a sweet one. Unless you're in a mood for torture and get him one that vibrates - he won't know whether to love you or absolutely hate you for it.

He'll never turn down new ways to have some fun with you, and toys are a great way to really liven things up. If you use them while he's away you, he wants you to send him pictures and videos if you can. If not, you need to at least tell him about it. Or don't. Or do. He can't really decide on whether or not that's a good idea, because if he can't see or hear you while he knows for a fact that you're getting off without him, it'll have his mind running like a highspeed train.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

It's practically his middle name at this point. Switch "Gaz" out for "Unfair" and there you have it. He loves driving you up the wall when he knows you can't act out on your desires and there will be a ear-splitting grin deserving of a slap plastered on his face if you get even the slightest bit flustered. He's the type to act all seductive and heated and lean in to kiss you, but then turn at the last second and walk away as if nothing happened. Because of this, you have every right in the world to give him a taste of his own medicine.

He likes it when you turn things around on him, but that doesn't mean you should show him any mercy, nor does it mean it doesn't drive him insane.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Moans, sighs, whimpers, swears - he's not holding back. He can just about stay quiet if you're fooling around where someone else might hear you, but he likes letting you know that he's enjoying this. But he wants to know you're enjoying this too. If you're trying to hold back on those sweet, sweet noises without any actual reason, it'll almost offend him. Unless it's some sort of challenge, in which case, bring it on.

He's talkative, and he speaks in ways that would make even the boldest and most dirty-minded people fluster. He can have you weak in the knees from just his words alone, and he's sent you over edge several times through the things he moans into your ear while he fucks you, and you might need to gag him if you want to render him unable to use that against you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

You were sitting in the couch, chatting with a friend on the phone about unimportant happenings and plans to meet up when Kyle took a seat next to you. He mumbled out a "tell them I said hi", but didn't say much else. As the conversation with your friend dragged on, he started to get restless. You felt his hand on your thigh and you didn't think much of it at first, until it started to slide further up. You threw a playful glare his way, but he acted clueless. When he carefully cupped his hand between your legs, you covered the phone and whispered, "What are you doing?!"

He simply grinned and slid his hand into your pants. "Don't mind me, baby. Just act like I'm not here." Luckily your friend was too engrossed in their own story to notice your sudden lack of words as Kyle rubbed at your warmth between your legs. Before long, he slid off the couch and onto his knees, down between your legs, and dragged your pants down along with him. He lifted your knees up and placed teasing kisses along the seam of your underwear as you tried to pay attention to your friend. You tried to speak - or rather whisper - some sense into him when he dragged your underwear down as well and licked teasingly where your inner thighs met with your pubic mound, but to no avail. You were trying to think of excuses to give your friend to hang up when he looked up to you and said, "Like I'm not even here," and then gave a long, slow, wide-tongued lick and you prayed that your friend would never realize that something was amiss.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Somewhere between 5.5-6 inches and nearly perfectly proportionate to the rest of him. Curves upward a bit and to the right, but it honestly just helps him hit the good spots. Is a little bit thicker at the base, but other than that it's pretty even across the rest of his length.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He wants you one way or another practically all the time and he'll have you as much as you'll let him. You can usually tell by his kisses and touches what he wants, and the two of you often get each other in the mood almost automatically. He'll step back in an instant if you tell him that you're not feeling it, but he's nearly always up for it if you approach him with any sort of sexual intent. Rest assured, you will never feel unwanted.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Likes to fall asleep with you wrapped up in his arms. He doesn't fall asleep right away, but usually keeps mumbling about various nothings while stroking your arms or your face. The two of you will usually doze off while talking, your voices and the warmth of your bodies lulling both of you to sleep.

[nexusnyx]

baby, i'm gonna leave you

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 5 — The night I saw everything in your eyes. “It’s like looking in a magic pond… there’s so much hidden.” [8.2k] ⚠️Smut: unprotected sex, choking, body worship, rough-handling; | 🏷️ Angst, slow-burn, denial of feelings; | 📑 This work was commissioned by my darling Malin (@charlie-hunnam) and I hope they enjoy every single word of it.

SUMMARY: His first thought is that he messed up. Bucky messed up badly not only by sleeping with you, but by doing so while knowing how much everything about you got under his skin, fogging every corner of his brain in ways he wasn't used to. So Bucky fucked up. Whatever. It happened. Then, Bucky promised he would not do it again... Except—he does. Bucky does it again, and again, and lying to himself gets harder each time.

Being surrounded by books is the only comfort Bucky has.

Nothing else comes close.

Usually, work is his safe haven. Not everybody can say that. Everything about his books soothes him—the smell of them, their textures, arranging by authors, size, or colors; he has fun with his shelves, keeps his employees in line, and offers little to no sympathy for the University students who always come to him with Pussyboot Cat eyes and some shitty, feeble excuse as to why they need Bucky's help, desperately.

None of that is working today, and it's because of you.

Bucky feels irritable beyond words — an irony of destiny considering how many of them he knows — because, for reasons he's well aware of but refuses to accept or think about it too hard, you're giving him the colder shoulder.

If you don't look at him in the next ten minutes, Bucky might die.

If Steve were here, he’d call Bucky dramatic.

He’s not—that’s what he feels like.

Being in the same vicinity and yet getting no nod of acknowledgement from you was a kind of splint under his nails kind of feeling—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Kind of ironic, he thought, that he’d be the source of his own pain like that.

Because it was his fault. Undoutedbly.

He’d been the one to fuck up.

Again.

For the sixth time. Counting them was never his intention; there had just been few of them, and each one was more memorable than the other. Not knowing how many times he fucked up would be the fucking miracle—Bucky had the imprint of your mean chuckle tattooed at the nape of his neck, followed by the distinct taste of your tongue against his skin.

Not for the first time, Bucky takes a deep breath and, tiredly, exhales.

“Good gods!” Wanda’s voice is but a whisper, but Bucky’s ears are trained to pick it up among the overlapping conversation going on at the library, the several computer clicks and trays of books moving back and forth. “That’s like, the fifth thousand time I’ve heard you huffing and puffing back there. What is wrong?”

I went and did it again. Bucky’s eyes trail to your table once more, “No need to worry your cute little head over it.”

While he had no clue what would happen after he ignored you like a massive dick for days, Bucky expected that the weak — but plausible — excuse would mend some of the patches.

Nothing.

A dry, curt “hi” when you arrived to grab the necessary books, and then straight to your table.

“Bucky, I can hear you thinking. It’s eerily loud, for some reason, and it’s just the two of us inside our Weird Moon Valley.” Her soft, even voice gets closer, and Bucky looks up to see Wanda sliding with her chair closer.

"You're frowning." Wanda slides a hardcover copy along the counter until it hits his still hands. "Harder than usual, that is. What's up?"

"Nothing."

“Bullshit,” she spits back with a trained customer-smile still on her face. “It started when your girl—”

“She’s not my girl,” he interrupts, as always.

“—when your girl,” Wanda quips back, as always, “arrived, looked at you like you were one of the flies that surrounded her horse’s shit, got her books, then went away. Since then, mysteriously, your face’s been looking like that.” She hums, feigning curiosity. “I wonder if those are connected.”

“Your sarcasm is really over the top, you know?” Bucky considers leaving the reception and going to organize some books, but the idea is dismissed as soon as it comes. “And that description was hurtful. I’m wounded. ‘The flies that surrounded her horse’s shit’ is kinda mean, even for you.”

“My sarcasm is over the top and your attempts to pull this conversation away from the point is as horrible as your inability to play coy.”

“Harsh.”

“Alright, fine,” Wanda’s hands fly up to the sky in surrender. “I yield. Mope. Pout. Sigh. Stare at her longingly—stare at her ‘till you forget how to talk, again. See if I care,” she finishes with a dramatic sharp turn of her body, and Bucky just grabs her by the string of her apron.

He pulls her back a few steps and hits his own head against her back. "Wanda."

"Bucky."

He yields. Of course he does. "She is so mad at me." It's barely a whisper, but he knows she's heard.

He feels her scoff more than hears it. "Astute observation, dude. Do I wanna know why? And weren't you two cool until, like, a week ago? This is starting to get ridiculous."

"We were. Now..." There's a moment of hesitation in which Bucky's face becomes a wince. He wants to hide even further behind Wanda's back. "You know why," he eventually says.

Two weeks prior, Wanda had said: you two float around each other. gravitate, or some weird shit like that. you keep making the same mistakes—you gotta stand on what you two decide, dude. she'll lose her shit eventually if you don't.

A second after he says it—one heartbeat, and she understands.

It makes her turn the same way as she did before, facing him again. “Shut the fuck up,” she mutters when her pin drops on what he meant. “You didn’t.”

“Hey—technically, we did it.”

Wanda’s stare could punch holes through Bucky’s ribs. “If we weren’t at work, your left cheek would be on fire right now.” It’s not often Bucky hears Wanda’s angry tone, but it makes all of his stupidity the more real. “Are you serious?”

Did you really do it? “I… yeah.” 

Did you really go and fuck the girl who’s in love with you, and who you have feelings for, but can’t date, because unlike her you’re a slut — a polyamorous one at that — who’s never been and never wanted to be in a relationship, while she is someone who expects a ring on her finger? The woman who you entangled yourself with despite her telling you she couldn’t ever pursue something with someone like you and yet, and still, you seduced her because you ‘felt something you couldn’t ignore’ with her? 

Bucky heard and saw all those words in Wanda’s fiery eyes, and for a moment, he wanted to take it back.

It came and went in a flash, because the reality still was— “If I tell you how it happened you might not hate me so much?”

“I highly doubt that, James.”

Damn. “Can I tell you?”

Wanda’s nostrils flare as she exhales. “Fine.”

With a lengthy exhale, Bucky retells the rollercoaster of Tony Stark’s engagement party, and watches as Wanda notes—he has a point, after all.

2 DAYS AGO

"She looks so good, Steve," Bucky whined.

He wasn't one for whining, but tonight in particular, he felt stupid.

And she looked good. She walked in — drunken eyes check the glowing numbers on the microwave — 7 minutes ago. Not that he’s counting. Bucky muffles another whine behind his cup.

"God, you're whiny when you're drunk," Steve exhaled the smoke in his lungs and laughed right in Bucky's face. Little shit, Bucky thinks. "She just arrived, Buck. Get your shit together before you make the same mistake again, I swear—"

"I know, I know," Bucky's heard the speech enough times by now. "Don't worry. We're not doing that shit again."

Steve gave him a look. A single look. A “I heard that shit before” look, and “I know exactly how that promise ended, buddy” look.

"We're not," Bucky insisted. They’re not. Not matter if he wanted to. Bucky didn’t—he liked your friendship too much to fuck this up. He took another sip of his beer, then immediately regretted it. Alcohol had memories attached to its taste, had things in it that made his thinking skills fly off the goddamn window. "I need some water,” he decided.

"Fuck water." Steve opened the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke. "Drink this, then we'll go back."

Fuck.

"And don't you dare whine about soda or any of your gym rat shit about calories and training, it's the last thing I wanna hear tonight," Steve looked out of the glass walls that separated the kitchen from the outside, looking for something at the party. Probably his boyfriend, because Steve was now in love, and monogamous. "I'm so fucking anxious. He's gonna fuck this up somehow, I just know it."

"He's not gonna fuck it up."

"He might."

"Tony's not that self-sabotaging, Stevie." Bucky downed half of the can in one go, and then felt that little prickle in his neck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He hated going out. He should've stayed home. He should've stayed with his books, should've kept his mouth shut. Tony barely even likes him (a lie) and he wouldn’t even notice if Bucky wasn’t around (a bigger lie). "He's not gonna screw up the night he's been planning for months."

"What if he does? D'you know how hard it was to make that sculpture? I haven't slept in weeks. Weeks, Buck."

Bucky could tell. 

"Ugh, look away from me," Steve grunted and flipped the rest of champagne down ungraciously.

Now Bucky laughed. "What?"

"Your eyes say I can tell and I hate you for that," Steve answered with a pointed finger at Bucky, who laughed only harder. "Do I look awful? Do I have eyebags?"

"Shit, I forgot how fucking chatty you get when you're anxious." Bucky knew his best friend better than himself sometimes, but it was easy to forget things when habits change, and going out was one Bucky lost about a decade ago. "Steve, hey, c'mere."

It took him a second, but Steve walked until he stood in front of Bucky.

True to his words — or eyes in this case —, Steve looked a little under the weather.

Bucky drank the rest of the Coke, smashed the can with one hand and threw it in the trash. Then, he placed a hand in each of Steve's shoulders, and smiled at him.

"It's all gonna be fine," he started, smiling at him.

Steve took his first deep breath.

"Good," Bucky praised. Some habits, on the other hand, never died. "Your art is beautiful," his smile softened, something only Steve's art could do easily. "Tony's a really lucky guy to have you as a friend. He's gonna be lucky to have Bruce as his best man, because—guess what? Piper's gonna say yes. God knows why—"

"'cause She made her with the biggest rope of patience in the world," Steve offered in a low whisper, and Bucky laughed.

"—sure, buddy, because She made her that way, Piper's gonna say yes. And then they'll be happy together, for many decades, hopefully. They might even have kids."

"Oh god," Steve expression changed drastically. "Their kid is gonna be president."

Bucky hummed. "I—yeah. Probably."

"I don't know if I'm excited or terrified for it."

"A bit of both sounds good." Bucky put his hands down. "You better now?"

Steve exhaled. "Yup. Everything's gonna be fine. They'll be happy together."

"Yup."

Then, Bucky heard a chuckle. A familiar one. The hair at his nape answered before he even heard the voice, raising just at the realization of your presence dawned on him.

"Damn. Am I interrupting something?"

Bucky is fucked.

He should've stayed home, with his goddamn books.

He's not ready for this.

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed happily, as oblivious as Bucky had been of your approaching. "Babe, you came!" Babe. Bucky wanted to puke on Steve and your parade. "And please," he scoffed, walking your way. "You know damn well I don't fall for those pretty blue eyes anymore, no matter how close they are to me."

It was true. Steve was now in a sweet, monogamous relationship. "You lived with these pretty blue eyes,” he started, dated as well, loved, painted them, sculpted them, “so how about no slander towards them, hm?" Bucky joked, turning around to see Steve's gigantic body engulfing yours in a hug.

“Sure thing, Buck,” Steve replied with only a third of his attention.

When you were present, the air in the room differed.

Bucky could hear your whispered conversation if he tried, but he opted out. Instead, he got another soda can from the fridge while you two said your hellos and whatever else you two loved talking about when he wasn't around and waited for it.

It took only a minute, but it came.

Your eyes on him.

Bucky was a coward. He hid behind his can, sipping the liquid as he drank the sight of you as well.

Impeccable.

"Evening," he nodded.

"Hi," you answered.

"How was your trip?" he asked, even though he knew.

You smiled, probably thinking the same thing. "Good. You know that," you shrugged your shoulders, and had Bucky's chest been this tight since he left home? Since you walked in?

Since you smiled, maybe?

"I liked the pictures at the party," he drank another sip, then put the can on the counter. "You and your friend looked nice with those costumes on."

"You said I looked, and I quote, wow, she's nerdy AND she's silly."

"It was a nerdy, silly costume."

Your smile widened. "Please. He's your favorite character and I know it."

"He is," Steve agreed, looking between you and Bucky with amusement. "It did look nice, though."

"Thanks, babe."

"Now—you two behave. I'm going outside to check on Tony. Gotta make sure he's not being, too—you know."

"Himself?" you offered.

"Exactly!" Steve kissed your cheek. "See you outside. Wait—did you come alone or did you come with Yelena?"

"Yelena."

Shit, Bucky thought. "Cool," Steve smiled because he wasn't Bucky, and he wasn't currently one of the people on Yelena's Shit List. "'m gonna look for her."

And with that, he left you two alone.

It’s tense, electric, and Bucky wants to swim in the palpable air.

“How’s your back doing?” he asked.

A week ago, you sent him a picture of your sunburnt back. Your face winced at his question, and then you turned around, taking off your coat and—fuck, fuck him.

Backless dress. It’s fine.

“Damn,” he whistled. Not because he could still see the marks of bikini on your back, but because he remembered what tracing the muscles of your shoulders with his tongue felt like. He cleared his throat as you turned back around. “Not hurting anymore, at least?”

“Nah. Lena’s been helping with that,” you answered.

“The great Lena.”

You scoffed, and walked until you leaned on the counter along with him. “She’s not pissed with you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

You had no arguments for him.

Bucky smiled, and you mirrored him. He missed seeing that in person. “You look nice,” he commented.

It was more than just habit—he liked the outfit on you, and the blush on your cheeks tasted like cherry on the top.

There was the pretty black thing around your eyes, and Bucky wondered if you made it that sharp because it killed him more. Pierced through his soul—your eyes always looked at him with so much swimming under them.

“Thanks,” you said. The drink twirled in your hand. “Is Nat around?”

Outch. Bucky’s smile stiffened. “Nope.”

“It’s just—I still have her jacket. It’s in Lena’s car.” The tapping of your rings against the glass told Bucky your next words were true. “Wasn’t trying to be a dick.”

“Okay.” He believed you. “She went to Moscow to watch one of her first students perform.”

“Oh. That’s really nice.”

“If you don’t care about being in Moscow on late December—sure. Sounds lovely,” Bucky laughed behind his cup.

“Call me crazy but I just feel like someone like Nat is immune to the cold. Does that make sense? I just can’t bring myself to see her bothered about something like minus fifteen degrees.”

“She isn’t. I’ve never seen her bothered by any weather, actually.”

“Stronger and cooler than we’ll ever be,” you muttered, sipping your drink. It sounded like an ironic and fun bite, but Bucky knew the feeling underneath it—the Romanoff effect. 

It’s the thing that stands between you two, after all.

“She’s an alien,” Bucky whispered to you. Your eyes lifted, meeting his. “Or a secret agent.” The ghost of a smile appeared on the left corner of your mouth. “Let’s not dive into all the reasons we can’t be a Romanoff.”

Bucky hated to look at you now and realize what you were holding back.

“I don’t think I’d wanna be one, anyway,” you said eventually.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” The smile might’ve been hidden, but you made no effort to withhold with your look. “She’s not into horses,” you whispered, as if telling a secret, and Bucky walked towards you in instinct. “I can’t live without them. Not even to be an ex-dancer with a top secret job and the prettiest hair.”

“Your hair is pretty,” he retorted, gaining the smile as result.

“Thanks,” you chuckled.

“Plus—I’m sure you could pull off red if you wanted to,” he said, then closed his mouth shut.

It was too easy to get lost in it.

Not even two minutes in your presence and Bucky had walked closer, complimented you twice, and he was about to do it again.

He swallowed around the feeling of your eyes ranking up and down his body.

“I’m gonna go see if Tony’s embarrassed himself again,” ‘cause I’m a coward. From this distance — or lack thereof — Bucky smelled your perfume. “Wanna join me?”

One week without it and he was now drowning in it.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Let me just get the beer I came for.”

Everything he carried as okay crumbled more and more with your steps, but Bucky embraced it all night long.

Watching you laugh and feeling it like a punch to the stomach because all he could see was you bathed in sunlight, laughing at his morning hair dressed in his shirt? It was fine.

The way you sometimes leaned in closer so your scent was all over his space? Fine, too.

(Lies.)

All night long, he ignored the longing glances.

It was a hard task to fulfil—your eyes and his had magnets after what happened before your trip, and the distance made it that the pull only got stronger.

Through the drinks and overlapping conversations, Bucky tried to focus on what is instead of was.

Instead, he got cornered.

Close to the grill at first, you showed up with your wine glass in hand and pretended to not see him until the last second, then smiled with your wicked ways when he was forced to guide you away from the heat with hands on your elbows.

What he got was your eyes blinking up him, muttering, “‘m sorry. Slipped,” as if Bucky wouldn’t know better.

As if he didn’t see you clear as daylight.

Then, as he wondered why you were playing this game with him again, you did it again when he ran for the kitchen and decided to stay there while Thor made a show of creating spicy cocktails.

You entered the kitchen applauding already, smiling at one of Thor’s nice tricks, and the next thing Bucky knew, he felt your body pressed against his. It was a bit crowded in there. Not enough space for all those grown, broad bodies, but that was no excuse—Bucky had been there for minutes already, but it was on him that you decided to lay rest and watch the show.

“You don’t mind if I sneak in here, do you?”

Bucky minded very much. You knew that. “Not at all.” Maybe this was punishment. A way of you to get back to him, somehow. “He’s got some talent,” he commented, sipping the rest of his drink. “Here, have my spot.”

He left because he knew it was the alcohol.

There was not a mean bone in your body — also a lie — and Bucky recognized the telltale signs of a pissed off you. The lashing out and pettines kind of gave it away.

So he tried to escape.

He managed to stop Tony on the way from one room to another, give him a hug and congratulations, and say he needed to head home.

“Already? Well. I’m not gonna say I’m surprised,” Tony looked happier than Bucky had ever seen. “Rhodey and I have this theory that you might expire if you don’t sniff a book every X amount of hours and your early cue actually puts my guess in advantage, so feel free to skadaddle.” He hugged Bucky again—definitely drunk. “Thanks for coming, Barnes. I don’t say it much, but I’ve grown fond of you.”

It was all in motion.

All Bucky had to do was make it out of that stupid, gigantic mansion and—

“Leaving already?”

Fucking hell.

Bucky turned around to face you, gripping his jacket a little tighter in his hand. He put on a smile. “Yeah. You know me.”

“Sure do,” you chuckled.

“Sorry—I didn’t find you inside to say goodbye.”

The next laugh came accompanied by a roll of eyes. “You really don’t need to lie to me.”

‘You have a tell when you lie. Did you know that? Has anyone ever told you that?’

‘Do I?’

‘You do. It’s adorable.’

“You never told me what my sign is,” Bucky’s smile softened at the memory, but he tensed again when he saw you stepping closer.

“Can’t give that away. That’s important information.” Your step was steady and straight for someone who’s had so much to drink, but then again, your tolerance was kind of high. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can I get a ride home?”

Are these eyes playing with me or does she really need me? “I thought you came with Yelena.”

You nod, but don’t touch your hair. Maybe you do mean it. “I did. She’s not leaving ‘till the party’s over, though, and I have training tomorrow.”

Plausible. Bucky knew how much you hated to train with little to no hours of sleep. “Yeah. Sure.” What hard could a ride do?

The smile you gave him was so genuine that he almost felt like letting his guard down. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he needed to stop being so full of himself. “Let’s go.”

It’s almost unbelievable what a little bit of your charm or smile would do to Bucky.

He got inside that car without a worry in his heart. 

She just needs a ride. Chill, Buck.

The way his guard is disarmed by every single glance of yours out of the window instead of the chatty, witty remarks he expected.

The drive home happened without much conversation. This part you two already knew. 

It’s how you got close, in the first place.

You two existed well in silence. Sharing space was enough—comfortable.

As it was, you picked the music. Bucky asked about your course, which you were ‘okay’ with, as always. You asked about his few students, his phD. Work. 

Small talk.

It lasted all the way until your house.

When Bucky parked and said goodnight, he was examining your eyes in search for the alcohol and that glint he saw a few times during the night. Instead, he found a reflection—there was a search in yours, and his stomach tightened.

All the things we could’ve been…

“I’ll walk you to your doom,” his voice came out as nothing but a whisper. The air felt thicker, somehow.  “C’mon.”

You nodded, and opened your own door before he walked out of his side and reached yours.

The light of your porch lit up after sensing presence, and Bucky was thinking about how to unglue his tongue from the roof os his mouth and whisper something plausible, something, just something when you said it:

“Remember the last time you came here?”

Just like that.

He paused, hesitating his next step. “I mean…”

Yes. His whole body felt in alert, and a part of Bucky felt glad to still face your back because he imagined his face looking very stupid right now.

The last time he’d been here the two of you watched movies. Had dinner. Three bottles of wine, and two shots of a special tequila you had as a gift from your best friend’s trip to Mexico. Then, when you were showing Bucky pictures of you and friends on a trip to the beach, you two had been a little too close.

A little too personal.

That time, there was no alcohol to blame.

No party, no high, nothing.

Just that thickness hanging heavy in the air and the notion that both of your bodies emanted so much heat it was palpable. It felt palpable.

Much like now.

“I never thought I’d have the guts to do what I did.”

Your confession felt like a caress. They broke him out of his stupor. Reaching the door, you turned around, facing Bucky.

He wanted to be a good guy and wanted to abide by what you had asked him of staying away, but it proved difficult when everything pointed towards the fact that you wanted this. He wasn’t crazy. “Why are you telling me this?”

Both your shoulders shrugged. “I don’t know.” You did. Bucky could see your eyes knew what the previous words meant. “‘Cause I’m still a bit tipsy? Or maybe—we just—we danced around it. Since we met. All the flirting and the kissing at Steve’s house parties.” Lower, you whispered. “I felt like a teenager.”

Goosebumps rose at the back of Bucky’s neck, and it felt like a confession of his own.

Despite being well over his thirties, he knew exactly what you meant.

You went on. “It was kinda exhilarating, I’m not gonna lie. I told my best friend about you and I kept thinking to myself ‘I never got this giddy when I was younger, what the hell is wrong with me’. And… I had convinced myself it was unilateral. You know? Just you indulging me in all my want.”

“That’s not true.” He couldn’t help but interrupt.  “You know that’s not true.”

“I do now.”

He fidgeted with his car keys, deliberating if pushing was the right choice or not. “Where are you going with this?” came out after a heartbeat of silence.

“I don’t know. I just—I spent all night today trying to avoid the fact that all I wanted was to drag you back here.” 

All he could do was whisper your name.

You weren’t finished. “And because of what? Because of me? Because I can’t deal with something that I already knew?” 

Bucky barely has time to think of an answer before—

“What if I want it again?”

Just another whisper. It had his feet moving before he could put words in back in his mouth, then out of it. “You know my answer to that.”

The widened eyes surprised him, just as much as his answer apparently surprised you. “Really?”

“Really. But it’s not fair. Because you say this now, but I’m not sure you’ll feel the same tomorrow. You’re tipsy—”

“—you know that’s not true.”

“Still. You drank.”

A single pause from you, but Bucky knew this was a lost battle.

 “Are you trying to find excuses? It’s okay if you don’t want to,” you said.

“I’m not. I’m trying to be rational. I don’t want you hating me tomorrow morning” it was very true. “I like our truce.”

“I do, too. But I also really like the way you’re the only man who’s ever been able to handle me. To do everything I wanted. I also really like the way I barely had to ask for things, and the way you gave them to me when I did. The way you stretched me out, and took no pity, and made me see how far even I can go. How much—”

Some things took a lot of effort, and others took none at all.

Pushing your body against the nearest surface was easy.

Muscle memory, even if he did it only a few times.

More than anything, Bucky liked the way you took work.

More than just with this—meeting you had taken work, getting to know more of you required gaining your trust. Unlike most people, you preferred to keep your life and energy private until someone proved they deserved to know more.

In bed, Bucky liked how none of it was performative.

Maybe he should count himself lucky—you fit him like a puzzle piece, if he was being honest, in ways very few people in his life did.

Steve, Natasha, you.

Winning him over was difficult, too.

All night long, Bucky let it all go.

He knew it was unfair the way he stared at you all along—Bucky saw in your eyes the way you dived in his eyes just like he dived into your body.

When he cupped your cheeks and your nails clinged to the back of his neck, Bucky knew how this would go.

Your kisses tasted like I’m gonna hate you tomorrow, and when you moan in his ear, his name coming out gravely and hoarse, Bucky heard the silent plea underneath. It’s hard not to spill empty words—Bucky bit his tongue so hard, so many times, that he wondered how he never tasted blood.

He preferred your taste, anyway.

It overpowered everything else, as always.

When all the clothes were on the floor and he pinned you against the nearest surface — your counter, just like the last time — Bucky wanted to slap himself instead of your ass.

“Stop starin’ at it.”

He slapped it. “You like it when I stare.”

“I like it better when you use your hands. C’mon, Bucky—”

“Fuckin’ impatient, as always.” He adored it. Your lust and his mixed in the air, clouding his thought. “I’ll give anything you want. You want my hands, baby?”

“Yes, goddamn it—”

“Then kneel for me.”

The sight of you on your knees between his legs would be his undoing for how long? He couldn’t tell, or bring himself to care.  He held onto your hair, gripped your neck thigh just the way you liked it, and let himself feel your lips wrapping around him like velvet; it’s a deja vu, as well as foreboding—Bucky loved to have you on your knees because you loved it, and after he came so hard all his senses mingled into one, it was a pleasure to pick you up and drag you to your room whilst feeling what undoing him did to you.

“Look at this, baby. Look at how fuckin’ wet you are for me—”

“Couldn’t cum the way I wanted to—please Buck, please—”

“Shhh, I’ll do it. ‘m gonna fuck you all night, baby.”

The neighbours must have heard it that day.

It was more than the first time—it was pent up frustration, desire, heartache, longing; Bucky did what he promised, and you gave back just as good as you received.

There was a pause for food and drinks somewhere around five in the morning. Not many words were spoken during that time—the glass windows let in the faint light of the sky changing colors outside, and in your kitchen, Bucky just wrapped you in his arms and fed you the food you cooked for both. The whispered conversation was meaningless, but as warm as your bodies tangled together.

“You think we’ll have many more Stark parties to attend now?”

“Buck—that man will use any excuse to throw a party. Yes. We will.”

“Don’t laugh at me, he’s gonna be married now!”

“Married doesn’t mean dead.”

“Eh. For lots of folks it does.”

“Since when is Tony ‘folk’?”

“...you make a solid point.”

“Always do.”

When the first rays of sunshine came through, Bucky woke you up with his head between your legs.

Your thighs were reason for worship, he always said. And worship he did; Bucky saw the bruises already forming from the previous hours and admired his words with his hands as well as his mouth. He licked his way up, and when you finally squirmed awake, he was already pulling your sleeping shorts down so he could taste you before anything else that day.

The sound of his name on your lips first thing in the morning would follow him for the rest of the day.

It was also the only sound he’d hear for a few days to come.

+++++++ ++++++++

Even Wanda admitted him to be right when he said it wasn't really his fault. At least, not only his.

At least, not only his.

There was a lot involved in this.

Desire alone couldn’t sustain a relationship. He knew that better than anyone. 

His desire for you alone could power a whole city—Bucky looked at you and the entirety of New York could have electricity to run for a fortnight; that’s how he felt.

The thing is—he also felt that way about other people. Few people, but still.

All it took was one Natasha and a few memories of Steve to stain what you two built over a year.

“You two worked better as friends,” Steve offered during brunch at Bucky’s apartment. Steve enjoyed offering his opinions, requested or not, and Bucky appreciated him for it.

“So do we.” The unspoken and yet, we were an item for over a decade hangs in the air. “Wish things were that easy, huh?”

“Nothing’s easy in life.”

Bucky laughed out loud at that. “Well, why don’t you preach.”

Steve smiled back, looking at him that way. “You know it’s true.” He scraped the rest of his food, and handed Bucky his plate. “I mean—take me and Sam, for example.”

“What about you and Sammy?”

“We—ugh, he hates it when you call him that.”

“I’m well aware.”

“You’re a douche,” Steve nudged Bucky with his hip, laughter stifled in respect for his man. “We shouldn’t have worked, right? I mean, we’re pretty similar except for all the ways that we’re not. He couldn’t handle the fact that I had non-monogamous relationships when we met ‘cause he didn’t understand it. Plus, he saw me the way most people do; as this goody-two-shoes that has unbreakable morals—”

“You do, though.”

“—and that’s, like, a republican or something.”

“Disgusting.”

“I know!” Steve sighed loudly, and prompted himself up on the counter. Bucky continued cleaning the dishes and did not think about how you loved doing that as well. “But then, we started getting to know each other better, bit by bit… and it worked out.”

“I’m confused.”

Steve turned to look at him. “Why?”

“Are you trying to say me and her are gonna work our shit our, or that we’re not?”

Steve hummed. “You know—I don’t even know?” He grimaced. “Sorry. I’m tryna say that whatever will be, will be.”

“Motivating.”

“I’m serious! If she wants to come here later tonight to talk, something’s gonna happen and soon you’ll know what.” Steve’s smile changed, and Bucky recognized it as his you smile. “She’s gonna be on her best behaviour.”

“What do you know that I don’t?” Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing much. Just that she’s been revaluating. She feels bad about ghosting you these days.”

“Really? ‘Cause from the way she ignored me every time she crossed my path I’d have thought she hated the guts outta me.”

“You know that—” Steve got interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing.

As always, Bucky knew who it was just by the sight of his eyes gleaming at the screen. While Bucky finished wiping the counter, Steve talked in his Sam tone about going back home in a few. He threw in a “Sam says hi,” to which Bucky replied with “Hi Sam, please answer my damn email!”; the laughter on the other side of the line could be heard even from a few steps away.

When Steve leaves, Bucky retreats to his safe haven.

His apartment is nothing much—small enough that he can clean on his own, but big enough to fit a study, a nice living room and a kitchen that’s not mingled with everything else. It’s been six years since he moved and only now Bucky realized he truly felt at home here. The staircase on the balcony outside where he sat for a smoke, sometimes with a book in hand or a cup of coffee, it felt like his place.

All of his home had tiny little memories of all the people that made up his heart painting the furniture and the walls.

He goes to his study for his two hours of research, writing and editing on his phD paper, but his mind is stuck elsewhere.

The phone call he got this morning which made him call for Steve keeps coming back, much like the dreams which are nothing but memories; Bucky saw you around campus these days without a word to spare for him, but inside his four walls, everything came back to him.

One single call and everything transformed into a hurricane.

The screen stared back at him, the numbers glaring holes into his skin.

21:32.

He ignored the way his stomach tightened even more.

She’s coming isn’t the thought that makes him anxious. It’s been months since she stepped foot here makes his palms clammy.

What had she said? ‘Right after work’, those were her words.

Bucky rubs both hands over his face, turns off everything in his office and heads for a shower.

Steve was right, he guessed. Whatever will be, will be.

“Hey, Buck.”

“Hey.”

“...Thanks for replying to my text.”

“You don’t gotta thank me.”

“I—yeah, I kinda do.”

“Hmmm. Why?”

“You know why. ‘Cause I need to apologize—fuck, I’m horrible at this.”

“You’re doing better than I did most of my life tryna apologize for stuff.”

“...of course you’d make me laugh.”

“I like your laugh.”

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

“...for what happened? Or…”

“For these days.”

A win. Bucky had counted that as a win. “Okay. Apology accepted.”

“Thanks… Can I come over later tonight?”

That had Bucky pausing. He almost knocked the pan out of the stove, because an apology came a long way, but an invitation, one for his house out of all places, was unexpected. “To my house?” he confirmed.

“Yeah. Right after work—I have a couple of seminars in the afternoon, then I have my client at the gym, can I go there after that?”

“I mean. Sure.”

“...’Sure’? Was that, like, ‘if you want, whatever’, or was that, like ‘’course you can even if I don’t know why the hell you’d want to’?”

It had been his turn to laugh. “The second option.”

“Okay. Then I’ll be there later tonight. Around ten? Ten thirty?”

“I’ll be here. It’s Saturday.”

“‘Kay. Cool. Is it ok if I bring a bottle of wine? Just one! Just—You know I’m nervous. It’s just so I don’t go to my cocoon or whatever.”

“Sweetheart. It’s ok. You can bring whatever you want.”

‘Bring whatever you want’ — why the fuck had he said that?

He’s unsure. He’s anxious, and excited, and his mind stays like this all night long until he hears the buzzing of you outside waiting to be let in.

Whatever will be, will be, Steve had said, but it’s sad when all that someone wants is one outcome.

He opens the door to find you outside in your work-out clothes. “Hey,” Bucky steps to the side to let you in, and watches as you take off your shoes and puts your gym bag on the floor.

“Hey,” your smile is weak, and tentative. “Is it a lot to ask if I can shower before we—sit, and whatever?”

Bucky shakes his head, and tries his hardest to push the images of you inside his bathroom naked out of his mind. “Not at all. You know where everything is,” he also holds back any stupid jokes or flirtatious comments that fall so naturally to the tip of his tongue.

While you shower, Bucky sets the station on the balcony outside. He brings two chairs to face the tiny table, brings the glasses, the pie Steve baked earlier. He sets everything on the table and rolls a purple haze for himself because if there’s one thing he needs right now, is to fucking chill.

That’s how you find him—with the corkscrew to open the wine in hand, and a blunt hanging between his lips.

Bucky mentally curses at the fucking scent you bring from the inside.

Peach. Wild berries.

“Do you take your stuff with you everywhere?” he asks before he can stop himself.

You frown. “What stuff?”

Bucky loves how big your thighs look in those shorts. He looks away to say, “Your creams and lotions and—skincare shit. All that.”

You laugh, sitting in one of the chairs, and you hold the bottle for him to open. “Not everywhere. Just when I go to the gym.”

“Hmmm.”

“Why?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Dunno. You always smell the same.”

“I like the way my stuff smells.”

“I can tell,” he chuckles.

“It was a gift from one of my best friends—you remember Nyx?”

He has to dig in his memory a little bit, but he finds it. “The one you met on your trip?”

You nod. “Yeah. She’s brazilian—their stuff smells amazing.”

“I can tell.”

Three words only, and the air in his small balcony shifts from light to heavy. Sticky. Honey sweet.

Instead of asking why you’re here and rushing it all, he lets you pour the wine into the glasses. He goes for small talk for now. “How’s your week been?”

“Fucking cold. I hate this time of the year,” the way you pout when you’re angry makes him pissed off. Bucky never wanted to do something so stupid and cheesy as kissing someone’s frown away. “The snow melting’s so fucking incovenient.”

“That it is.”

“And your papers? Still ripping your hair out?”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair; “Still have some left,” he takes out the lighter from his pocket and sets the thing between his lips on fire.

As the smoke fills his lungs, Bucky breathes easier. It’s ironic—but then again, so is the fact that your presence both calms and electrifies every inch of him.

“I gotta tell you—I thought you’d be one of those unfortunate suckers who lose all of their glorious hair by the time they’re thirty five—”

“I’m literally thirty nine,” he laughs.

“See!? Exceeding expectations.”

Small talk also exceeds his expectations.

At least, it does with you.

Other people? Bucky would rather not exchange a single word with.

You?

Half a bottle of wine goes in the blink of an eye. Sober him had clammy, sweaty hands, and an agitated leg that bounced up and down like a child who’s high on sugar. Tipsy and high Bucky focus only on the now, on the curve of your nose and how beautiful your hair looks underneath the street lights.

Even you indulge in the transcendental offer that is something to clear the mind, or maybe make it foggy.

Not that he minds sharing—Bucky sips your wine, you take puffs of his blunt, and he appreciates the way your fingers hold it between your lips.

He really likes your lips.

Both of them — the wine and the weed — have their expected outcome; so much that when you drop the bomb he’s been waiting for, Bucky barely feels his heart leaping out of his throat. It’s more of a skip; a small jump, if you will.

It comes after a lull in silence where you two are finishing off the cigarette, and he’s a little lost in the way Alpine curls in his lap when you say, “I think I know why we never worked out. Like… properly.”

Bucky’s fingers still in Alpine’s fur, and the cat nibbles on his hand to get him back at his job of petting. “Do ya?”

“Yeah.” The tilt on your chin tells him it’s true. It’s your little tilt of ‘I’m an expert at this topic’, so he figures this is what you must’ve spent those days doing—ignoring him in favor of thinking meticulously about the two of you, from every angle possible. “I mean; it’s pretty obvious, in the end. At least it must be to everyone else. But I hate it the all the same.”

“It’s not obvious to me.”

“No?”

“No,” he wished it was, many, many times. “Enlighten me.”

With a nod, you lay the words on the table. “I want you all to myself.”

Only six words, and they manage to knots every inch of his insides. He feels them everywhere; inside and out, from the tip of his cold toes to every last strand of hair he still has.

When he answers, it’s only a single breath. Your name, which sounds like a plea.

“I wanted that since I first saw you. It's those eyes—god, I swear to god only the skies above know how much I fucking love your eyes. And the way you look at me, Buck... When you kissed me at that party for the first time, I couldn't stop staring at them, remember? They're beautiful. Looking at them... It’s like looking in a magic pond… there’s so much hidden. All I could think about was: I want him. I want those eyes on me, always. I want him all to myself. But I can’t have that, right?”

“Sweetheart, I’m not pie.” It comes out exasperated, and Bucky hates how tired he feels of it, but he’ll be damned if he loses you like he almost lost Steve once because of that same stupid idea.

“What?”

“I’m not pie, love. Just because you get me, and someone else does too, it doesn’t mean they’re taking a piece outta me that you’ll never get it back. You do have all of me. When I’m with you, it’s all me.” He gestures from his head to his toe. “Right now? All of me. Every inch right here is yours. My mind’s thinking about you. I wanna talk to you. I wanna feel you. Does that make sense?”

It’s funny to think that sometimes, you can see the effect words have.

When he looks at you, Bucky sees the realization dawning bit by bit—the puzzle pieces are almost visible as they fit in your mind.

“You want all of me?”

The question catches him so off guard that it almost hurts.

Had it really been so difficult to see? 

Bucky swallows the knot that your question formed in his throat and nods. “I do.” Always did. “Since I fuckin’ met you—d’you think I do this all the time? This aggravating, stupid—fucking mating dance?” God, how he loves the sound of your laugh. “I hate the excpectations, and the unspoken rules and whatnot; you realize that you made me go to not one, not two, but three events last year? Three. I barely leave my house, sweetheart.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip means you’re nervous, but not about thoughts—about what you want to do next. “I’m a really jealous person,” the whisper says I’m confessing, and I’m sorry about that. “I don’t know how I’m gonna act in the future, Buck.”

“You’re a grown woman, I’m a grown man. We could work it out, couldn’t we?”

“We could. But I…” you trail off, the words lost in the night, and he waits. “I don’t wanna lose you completely.”

“I can assure you that the only way I’ll be completely out of your life is if you actively kick me out. Use the words I don’t want you around anymore or something like that. Otherwise? I’ll just wait. I’ll keep coming back.”

“Bucky,” it comes out breathless, and Bucky wants to throw the table that separates you two out of the balcony and onto the street down below. “These days were miserable.”

When your lip trembles, Bucky thinks fuck it, and gets up. Alpine protests, he apologizes, but without any heat to it.

Kneeling down in front of you, Bucky searches your face for any shadow of doubt. Any lingering trace of pain, or uncertainty, and when he finds none of those, his hands come up to cup your cheeks the way he loves to do.

“I hate when you’re miserable.” Bucky hates how hard it is to hold back, too—the cheesy, honey sweet stuff that comes to his mind whenever you’re around are too much, but the dem is broken now and when you lean on his touch, Bucky knows you’re both doomed. “I want you happy, sweetheart.”

“I’m happy when I’m with you.” Another whisper. Another confession.

He smiles at that, and watches as you smile back. “Let me make you happy, then?”

For both of your lucks, Bucky has enough strength to hold you when you throw your body on him. He’s not a physical person like you — carrying books all the time holds no weight to what you do in the gym — but he has just enough to pick you up and carry you to where you should be.

He has enough in him to worship your body like he dreamt all week, and this time, with no worries about whether you’ll be there in the morning or not.

Bucky drenches you in him—sweat, kisses, sticky bodies clinging together until they’re nothing but one.

He sees the happiness in you, and feels it reflected in him.

He’ll make it last, for as long as you let him. As long as you wish him to.

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[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Prettiest One

Summary: Dean's leg is broken and they've given him lots of morphine for the pain. What secrets will he reveal to Y/N?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None. Bit of Dean crack. Silly, drugged up Dean. Soft!Dean. Adorable!Dean. Lots of fluff. And a kiss.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 1,339

A/N: So, I saw this post and was reminded just how much I love this scene. Dean saying, "Hey look! Monster broke my leg." Is one my favourite Dean lines - it's just so ridiculously adorable.

So, it got me thinking what would have happened if the woman Dean was crushing on, came in when he was vulnerable and not all there. Thus this idea was born. Wrote this fast, sorry for any mistakes. 😊

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89.

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Y/N hurried through the long hospital corridors, ignoring the antiseptic smells and the incessant beeps and soft conversations happening around her. She just wanted to see Dean and make sure that he was alright. Sam had texted her to say Dean was injured on a hunt, but that he was recovering. 

Y/N texted back that she was on her way. Sam called her then, to reassure her that everything was fine; it was just a broken leg, and she didn't have to make the three hour drive to the Chicago hospital Dean was in. 

But Y/N had ignored that advice, determined to be of some help to the boys if they needed her. If Dean was gonna be out of commission for a couple months, Sam might need an interim partner.

That's what she told herself and what she planned to tell the boys. But the truth was, she just needed to verify, with her own eyes, that Dean was okay. He's my friend - I just care about my friends. She thought defensively, ignoring the little voice that was insisting that it was much more than friendly concern she felt for Dean Winchester.

She rounded the corner of his unit and approached the nurses station. The harried nurse behind the desk looked up at her and Y/N smiled. 

"Ace Frehley?" She asked, using the alias Sam told her Dean was going by for this hospital stay.

The nurse pointed down the hall. "615." She said before picking up a ringing telephone. 

Y/N walked down to the room and knocked quietly on the partially open door, not wanting to disturb Dean if he was sleeping, but just as she was pushing the door open she heard Dean loudly proclaiming his opinion on…Batman?

"Nnnn no no no, Sammy I'm telling you that’s wrong. Cause…cause, how? Ya know, how does Joker even stand a chance against Batman? Like, he's just a guy with, like…a face! Ya know?"

"Sure, Dean." Sam said, clearly placating his brother.  

But Dean wasn't listening anyway. "But Batman has the…the bats, and bat…things! The…you know…" He mimed something that looked like he was throwing an object. "You know?" He asked Sam again.

"Uh huh." Sam said clearly exasperated and mostly ignoring his brother’s ramblings..

"Hey!" Y/N said gently and Sam turned in his chair. 

He stood up and gave her a hug. "Y/N! Hey! I told you you didn't have to come."

Before Y/N could respond Dean caught her eye and winked at her. 

"Hey, Dean! How are you feeling?"

He looked down at his leg covered in a cast from the middle of his thick thigh to the bottom of his foot. 

"Monster broke my leg." He said solemnly. "But they gave me lots of morphine."

"Did they?” Y/N glanced back at Sam as she approached the head of Dean's bed. “How much morphine?"

"Lots." Sam mouthed back.

Y/N stifled a smile as she sat in a chair beside the bed and Dean's face lit up. 

"You look like the prettiest one." He said, with a sloppy smile. 

Y/N smiled quizzically. "The prettiest one of?"

"The hunters." He nodded, and then raised his finger to his lips. "Not supposed to talk about it."

"Hunting?" She asked.

Dean shook his head firmly. "No, the prettiest one."

Y/N looked back at Sam for an explanation, but he just shrugged. "Sorry, I'm not very fluent in Stoned Dean."

Dean grabbed Y/N's wrist and shook it to get her attention back on him. "No, but she looks just like you. The same eyes, and flowy hair, and the mouth I like." He sighed deeply. "I just wanna kiss her." 

He flopped back onto his pillows like a lovesick schoolgirl and Y/N could feel herself blushing. 

"Ah…Dean?" Sam started to warn him, but Dean looked back at Y/N and grabbed her hand again.

"You look like her, will you give her a message?"

"Um…" 

"Her name is Y/N. Tell her she's the prettiest one. And I want to kiss her." He snapped his fingers. "Ooh, and tell her I'm a good kisser. Look!"

Before Y/N could blink Dean yanked her forward across his chest and planted his lips on hers. Sam jumped forward and pulled Y/N out of his brother's grip, but not before Dean proved that, stoned or not, he really was (as she'd always suspected) a very good kisser.

"Jesus, Dean." Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Would you sober up? This is Y/N you idiot! She's just here to see how you're doing. Could you stop groping her?"

Y/N bit into her lip as some semblance of realization seemed to dawn on Dean's face. "Oh shit! You ARE the prettiest one! You're here! Can you say sorry!! For the other kissing. I only wanna kiss you."

Y/N stifled a laugh behind her hand as Sam slapped a hand across his face, "Oh, for fucks sake.." he mumbled. 

But Dean's face was so sweetly concerned, he looked like a little boy who was worried he was in trouble.

She sat beside him on the bed, facing him. She leaned forward and kissed him softly and briefly. "Don't worry, Dean. The pretty one is very flattered and just fine with the kisses." She leaned a bit closer. "The pretty one would actually really like to continue the kisses when you're…feeling better."

Dean shook his head. "No, not the pretty one. The PRETTIEST one." He clarified.

Y/N nodded with a blush. Dean waved her forward conspiratorially. She came close and he whispered in her ear.

"I think maybe it's you." His voice was soft, but low and in spite of his loopiness Y/N felt her stomach tighten in response.

She pulled back and his face was so beautiful and adorable at the same time that she couldn't help booping his freckled nose.

"Actually, I think the prettiest one might be you."

Sam cleared his throat and grabbed up his jacket from the back of his chair. "And I'm gone." He said, grinning. "Call me when he's normal again. I'm definitely gonna wanna bust his balls over this one."

Y/N nodded, smiling wide. "Will do." 

She spent the next hour or so having nonsensical conversations about Batman, Thunder Cats, The Golden Girls and Dr. Sexy, M.D.

Finally Dean dozed off in the middle of a sentence and Y/N smiled tenderly and gently covered him with his blanket. She stretched out alongside him in the bed, and was soon dozing too. 

She woke up a while later to a groan from Dean. She sat up quickly to see what was wrong. He was rubbing his eyes and then dragged his hand down over his mouth before giving her a slightly suspicious look. 

"Did I…" He closed his eyes. "Did I kiss you and call you pretty?"

Y/N grinned. "Actually, you said I was the prettiest one."

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. "Dear God.” He said under his breath. “Sorry! They gave me a lot of morphine. Is there any chance you could forget that?"

When she didn't answer immediately, he cracked open one eye to see her biting her lip.

"Do you really want me to forget? Was it just morphine-induced insanity? Or…?"

She let the question hang there and Dean took a long time before he breathed out deeply and answered. 

"Fuck it. No, it wasn't morphine induced. I mean, it was, obviously. I don't remember everything I said, but I promise you that's not the way I wanted to tell you that you're beautiful, and that I can't get you out of my head. But…

He slipped his hand into her hair to grip the back of her head and pull her close. "You're beautiful," he whispered against her lips, "and I can't get you out of my head."

Y/N shrugged. "Then don't try."

Dean smiled into the kiss. "Whatever you say, Prettiest One."

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