#when the guy in your head who keeps calling you shit like 'youre exquisite beautiful powerful we're completely alike etc.'

[merlinmerlot]

wasn't gonna draw anything until i finished the game but act 3 got me feeling so stressed n overwhelmed oh my god

anyways current tav state of mind. deeply funny to me that the most mentally stable member of the party at the start of the game is the one most currently over the brink of losing their fucking mind

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Guy Quotes

silly pizza manヽ(*＾ω＾*)ﾉ @capitalisticveins @miya-akiko he has been delivered!!

“You’re a jerk. Well. I like jerks.”

“We can’t be getting outta bed before 10, that’d be crazy, that would violating countless labor laws.”

“Oh, you are getting close. Hi! Hi baby. I love youuu~”

“I missed you. I always miss you. Days are long when you’re not around.”

“Jealousy’s a disease, get well soon to those bitches.“

“Come on, take my hand. Well if you don’t, I mean you could get lost on the way. Anything could happen.”

“I am not a menace. I am the menace. And I am your menace. I love you, honey.”

“I don’t need all that shit. I love you just like this. Eye rolling and grumbling is a totally valid love language.”

“Dishes? Dishes? You want me to do dishes? […] Honey, I like a little degradation as much as the next guy, but can’t you just put me on a leash instead, like a normal couple?”

“Let go of me, ahhhh I’m being repressed!”

“Oh, no, no I’m kidding, come here, don’t pout. Yes you are, you are pouting. It’s cute.“

“I vacillate wildly between either looking like an Adonis sent down like a gift or a literal gremlin that couldn’t pull numbers if his life depended on it.”

“No, you smile plenty. And it’s a beautiful smile when you grace me with it. It’s special when you smile.”

“But you are a softy with me. And the other people you care about. You feel things deep. That’s not a bad thing.”

“And how exactly do you expect to keep me in this bed now that you’ve got me here, hmm? Thought about that? Ooohhh gon’ tie me down, fifty shades of honey oooo~”

“You look really cute bundled up in bed like that. Shut up, yes you do. My cute little grumpyface. Aw is my grumpyface mad at me?“

“Aw. That’s so sweet. Who are you and what have you done with my lover? [hit] Ow, okay, there you are.”

“What do you mean you’re gross? You’re not gross, you’re amazing.”

“Thank you for seeing something in me. Something that mattered. Nah, I was talking about my ass.”

“You know wordplay reminds me of? Tongue-twisters! You know what tongue-twisters remind me of? Tongue-kissing, let’s explore that topic shall we—ow ow ow”

“That’s not nothing, that’s called quality time honey.”

“I only wanna be supine if I’m being supine with you!”

“I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me~”

“Ew, you can’t give me a forehead kiss, that’s too sweet! Who are you? Why would you do that, being all tender and sweet, that’s gross, you’re gross. No, don’t go. I like you tender and sweet and gross.”

“You have a wonderful hand. It does exquisite work. Ooo don’t make a boy a promise, you betta use it to cover this mouth, fifty one shades of honey ooo~.”

“Making my stupid jokes isn’t as fun without you rolling your eyes and pretending to hate it.”

“Is that why you put up with my memes and shit? Cause I got a big dick and a great ass?”

“I’ll never be sorry for a chance to spend a day at your side.”

“—eh, “Buy Low”, “Start Low”, what’s the difference? You say tomato, I say I wanna put my head between your thighs, it’s semantics.”

“It’s about your thighs wrapped around my head like you’re trying to crush a watermelon. Aw, come on, I’m made of tough stuff. Or not, but hey, that’s a hell of a way to go.”

“You know what this means though, right? Oh my god, they were roommates!”

“Honeybabydarling.”

“But I’ll restrain myself. At least until I can convince you to restrain me. Preferably to our bed. Unnhh.”

“I want to make you squirm under the touch of my fingers and the heat of my mouth and the weight of my tight, straining body pressed flush against yours. And then at some point you can shampoo my hair, cause that always feels nice.”

“Okay, okay, very serious… Canasta. Nasty canasty. Ow—!”

“I’m ready for instruction, professor. Mmm. Mmhmm. I think you’ll find I’m a very hands-on learner. Unnhhh.”

“Do they have to match suite kiss me. Hmm? No, I asked do they have to match suite kiss me, like does the whole canasta kiss me have to be the same suite please kiss me. I don’t know what you mean kiss me. […] kiss me, kiss me really hard.”

“Because no one’s gonna tell me I’m too sexy to be who I am.”

“And maybe I wanna get some, I don’t know! Who said that? Wait— who said that? Wait, who was that? I mean that wasn’t me… shit.”

“That’s my brain, and the only thing that’s gonna wake it up is some kisses. Slow sexy kisses. With tongue. For. You know. Kinetic energy. Transfer. In my mouth. Our mouths.”

“Thank you, honey. I don’t know. For a lot of things. For the water. For hanging out with me. For putting up with me. For being so hot and sexy. I repeat, for putting up with me.”

“I’d lick it off the fucking floor at this point if that’s what you want— anything. That’d be pretty fucking hot actually.”

“I love you, hun.”

“Ah, mm, no. I saw the smile. Yes you did, you can’t hide it from me.”

“Anyway, I am half naked. You are very mean. That’s very hot. You and me honey ain’t nothing but mammals so, uh, whaddya say we do it like they do on discover channel, unhh? Well, you know, personally I was thinking a little less nature documentary and a little more battle bots, you know? Like, I want you to just fucking snap me like a twig!”

“Can’t steal what’s already yours. That’s why you can’t steal my heart cause it’s already yours. Do not groan at me!”

“With you, silence doesn’t feel bad. You looking at me doesn’t feel scary. It feels really good. Feeling seen by you feels good.”

[anika-ann]

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

 There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

 “Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

 Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

 This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

 The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

 There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

 Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” –  a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it.  “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

 Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

 You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy getting hitched day! 1.9k, (sort of) ft. this

Most days of the year, Sam's the optimist.

It doesn't usually fall on Dean to keep the spirits up in times of war anymore. Or worse, loss. And Dean, well, he thinks himself as enough of an in-the-moment kinda guy to not wallow when everything's not going to shit, right friggin' then.

Sam, on the other hand?

Beacon of light when there's a little Hell to raise, harbinger of hope when there's a God to defeat.

And losing his shit entirely when there's an aisle to walk down, leading to the girl of his dreams and the best decision of his life.

"Dean."

Dean fusses around Sam in compact little semicircles fixing his already perfect tux, while his brother panics in a way Dean only remembers from before the kid stopped having to look up at Dean.

But he's looking down at Dean now, wide-eyed and sweaty like the very first time Dean saw him off on a date when he was fourteen — with supple, bullshit eighteen-year-old advice, he bets — and thirty eight year old Sammy is, clear as day, losing his shit.

"Yeah?" Dean channels all the calm he's got into it.

"What if I forget my vows?"

"Well," Dean lifts his eyebrows, and picks up a linen thread from Sam's shoulder that caught his eye. "First of all, would kinda serve you right for writing six pages worth of them."

"Stop being a —"

"Front and back, Sammy. Front and back."

"Dean." Sam glares, more indignant than mad. Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam continues, replacing the look immediately with a troubled one that reflects the dilemma in his voice. "I mean, I've learned them, of course. At least I think I have — I practised twice last night, once this morning — but what's to stop me from fumbling, or forgetting —"

"Your gigantic nerd brain?"

"This is serious." Sam frowns, levelling another look at Dean like he's the one with the stellar proverbial cold feet. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean throws back immediately, and pauses in his shuffling around for effect. "Also, no. No, it isn't." And Sam goes to argue with a bitchface already surfacing, but Dean keeps going, sterner, more confident. This is something he's been doing all his life. He can probably talk the kid down from a panic high like this in his sleep. "And you're going to stop being a dumbass, and listen to what I'm saying."

"'M not a dumbass." Sam mutters.

"Yeah, you are." Dean shrugs, completely nonchalant, and Sam laughs in spite of himself, nervous, but a welcome improvement as he waits for Dean to proceed. (Big brother voice never lets Dean down.)

He's still got it.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to get out there," Dean continues, smiling now. "You're going to hold Eileen's hand while the minister marries you. And approximately ten to fifty minutes later, when he asks you to, you're going to look into her eyes, and you're going to say your vows. All stupid six pages of them, verbatim, 'cause I know you, and you're going to that's why."

"They're not stupid."

Dean hums in consideration, then smirks. "There's bravery in acceptance. They probably are."

"Cas called them exquisite." Sam crosses his arms, and Dean uses the opportunity to pick up a hair from his sleeve with a disapproving look.

(Dean had offered to give him a haircut seventeen times and gotten turned down, and now Sam was shedding.)

"Yeah, well, he's a walking-talking scrabble board with good manners, what is he supposed to do?" Dean rolls his eyes but instead of the expected response of Sam snarking back at him, bitchfacing him or something, Sam sighs.

The air thickens with something that's probably a bigger deal than having to wing a couple paragraphs of page three of the vows.

Dean watches Sam fidget with the buttons on his cuff.

"How did you know, Dean?" Sam asks, subdued, after a pause. "How did you know that Cas wasn't — that Cas wasn't making a horribly wrong decision."

Dean's almost halfway to making a joke about the other shoe but he stops himself.

Because this?

This, he gets.

This feeling of thinking — knowing — you're not good enough, that you aren't right for the one you love, that you're somehow deceiving everything that your life has stood as proof of, in allowing someone else to bind themselves to you, forever, when you know that everyone who's ever meant something to you has lost, and died, and hurt.

And that is exactly why he also knows what to say.

"Because I trust him, Sammy."

Sam's eyes start glazing over. "I trust her too. I just, I'm just so scared —"

Dean winces at his words.

(That's Sam, but it's Sam in Dean's shoes. It was Dean's job — for better or for worse — to keep him safe. And he's failed, failed repeatedly, and now Sam — well, he's as broken as Dean.)

"I love her too much for anything to go wrong, Dean, and something — no, everything, always goes wrong." Sam grits his teeth, and Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Squeezes. "I get it. I swear to you, I do. But I also promise that you might regret the things we've done, and the things that have been done to us, but you're never going to regret this."

Sam nods jerkily, eyes downcast.

"And I get being scared. Hell, I was more scared than you the entire week, dude. But you know how — and why, I pushed through?" Sam looks up again. "Because at the end of all of this, there's something more important than the promises of eternal happiness, and forever, and the Celine Dion lyrics I know you've stuffed in your vows. There's them. The ones we love."

Dean swallows.

"And who love us too, because our fucked up heads be damned, I've seen the way she looks at you, Sammy." Sam's face breaks into a small, wet smile. "So you better believe she does."

"I do." Sam slowly nods, again, eyes brimmed with tears.

(Probably about to start spilling. The only consolation for Dean is that at least his tears don't fall. Means as long as he doesn't mind a blurry view of everything, he might as well ignore their existence like he means it.)

"There, was that so hard?" Dean laughs instead, although it's weak until Sam joins in, surprised, and only then registering the words he just spoke.

"Thank you, Dean."

Is all he says, and anything Dean might've wished to say (or wisecrack) back at him is dismissed immediately because he's being pulled into a full Winchester hug by his door-sized little brother, and all he can do then is hold onto Sam as tight as he's holding him, and hold on.

(Because they made it.

They found free will, they found love, and they found their happy ending.)

Because Sammy's getting married today.

And they don't just get to be okay anymore. They get to be happy.

Sam doesn't pull back from the hug for at least a whole minute, but Dean doesn't mind, because the tears welling up in his eyes are gone when he finally smiles at Dean, earnest. "I'm —" He starts to say, but gets interrupted by Cas walking up to them with a cluster of carnations in his hand, wearing a rich navy blue tux (the same as Dean's) and a wide smile.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything," Cas beams, knowing exactly what he walked in on, and Sam shakes his head courteously while Dean battles the weirdly overwhelming need to kiss him right there — Cas is almost ridiculously beautiful when he's happy.

(He doesn't, though.

Cause he and Sam may've just had a moment but it's not like that means he'd be any less likely to be a pain in the ass about urgently requiring brain bleach and therapy, if Dean did.)

Cas carries on.

"Actually, Eileen's friend, Cara, brought her flowers and she suggested I should bring some to you."

"A corsage." Dean realizes out loud, beginning to grin at once, while Sam resorts to ducking his head like an overgrown teenage girl on her way to prom. Doesn't mean that Dean absolutely doesn't put on his best chickflick Dad voice (after he's taken over pinning the flowers to Sam's pocket from Cas, cause he was doing it wrong) and pat the corsage when he says, "Get 'er home by ten."

"The dynamics of that are all wrong." Sam points out with a traditional Sam smirk, and yeah, he's okay.

"The dynamics of your face are all wrong."

"Great comeback, yeah." Sam snorts, and Cas smiles. "Points for effort. I think."

"Whatever, you're the one wearing flowers right now."

"Dean, you wore an ascot on our wedding day."

"Ascot trumps flowers!"

"No, it doesn't." Sam bitchfaces, and Dean turns to Cas, and —

"No, it doesn't."

And Sam lets out a victorious "Hah!", and high-fives a (only slightly) confused looking Cas before pulling him into a sasquatch-sized hug as well, while Dean rewards the entire ordeal with a heartfelt eyeroll and absolutely doesn't look on at two of the most important people in his life while he pretends to be bristled about being ganged up against on his special day as Best Man.

Cas and Sam separate sooner than Dean and he did, and just in time for Jack to poke his head out the church door and remind them they're ready.

Then, Cas leaves to get Eileen, with another big smile and a signed Congratulations at Sam, and a fleeting cheek-kiss for Dean.

Then, Sam and Dean get in position behind the door and Sam refixes his tie.

(Then, Dean has to stage-whisper "Jack!" about seven times before the kid realizes he's being cued — the band had just started playing, he makes it a point to try to explain to Dean afterwards — and the great, wooden doors finally swing open to reveal a beautiful white aisle, and dozens of their friends and family smiling from both sides of it.)

And then, Dean finally walks the kid he's raised and the brother he's saved the World with countless times, down the aisle.

*

(Sam only messes up once in his vows. It's the last verse of Thank You, by Celine Dion.

Rumor has it, it was intentional.

Something about the first time they met.

Dean tells Sam, "You're welcome", the next time he sees him.)

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 4- Four Marks

Summary: Your travels have taken you to a tavern where you meet the most unlikely of individuals. Then as per usual, trouble ensues.

Warnings: getting manhandled by some elves

Masterlist

Laughing into your mug, you catch the annoyed gaze of your silver haired lover who sits quietly to the right of you on this wooden bench, your backs resting against the stone wall. Its been a couple long weeks since either of you have had moment like this to just sit around and drink with each others company. Geralt may not particularly enjoy the surrounding company of the other tavern goers who fill the hall with their loud speaking voices and obnoxious laughter. But he knows just how much you love the easy entertainment of the civilians living their lives as they have a merry go of it.

"Did I not tell you my seductive powers would work wonders with that idiot from Bruna?"

"You did." Mutters Geralt humorously as he side eyes you.

"Ha, exactly. He had not a chance, try and steal Roach again and you will sorely regret it." You boast happily before taking a swig of your drink, "Hmm, this tastes not half bad either. I've had better of course, but this, not a terribly shit drink in all honesty."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it then."

You smile brightly at your stoic Witcher, he appears rather unenthusiastic but you know what emotions lay behind those two golden eyes of his. He's greatly content having you sit next to him and ramble on about your cleverness in the face of mortal men. He'd have no one else in the entire Continent do such a thing but you, and that's why you love him.

"Right? Great mead, anyways I am a force to be reckoned with, and you know he might have even pissed himself once I gave him a fright. It's what I like to do, lure them in with coy beauty and.." You scrunch your nose while making a fist, "...I got them in my clutches. They never even saw it coming."

"Not once." Agrees Geralt as you lean an elbow against the table to lazily look up at his handsome face.

"You know what?" You ask slyly, scarlet irises trailing all around his face.

"Hmm?"

"You actually look very nice in this lighting, the way you just look around at everyone like you hate the world. It's very sexy." He raises a brow as you smile, "Aside from the stench of horse, sweat, and blood that seems to ever linger on your skin..there's just something about your particular scent that I cannot quite put my finger on."

"You tell me this monthly."

"Do I?"

"Yes. Maybe it has to do with my blood?"

"No. Witcher blood tastes like old mule piss." You add before caching yourself, "Which I wouldn't have the slightest idea personally why. However I know a vampire or two who have divulged in that luxury and have lived to tell me....Not that it's a luxury as in a positive sort of mind, more so, an experience of indulgent sumptuousness for my kin." You're really trying to make this sound less horrendous.

"Drinking Witcher blood?"

You shrug half defensively through a sheepish grin, "What? I never said they killed these Witchers. Okay, okay, that also sounds bad. I promise you though, if they would have killed one of your brethren they would have boasted about the bloodshed. It's what vampires do. So no worries, your friends at Kaer Morhen are most certainly still breathing." Geralt simply holds back a grin as he shakes his head at you and your rambling.

He doesn't care if you know what Witcher blood tastes like, he wouldn't even care if you personally have tasted Witcher blood against your own tongue. He just doesn't want you to stop speaking, it distracts him from the sounds of the tavern goers and that bard. Geralt hums, "Y/N that could have happened three hundred years ago for all I know."

You pause a moment to think, eyes glancing from the window to him as you give a casual shrug, "It might have."

Soon the not terribly horrendous sounds of a bards singing fills your ears with the sweet tunes of an old lute giving what it can to the world as other tavern goers throw bread at the singing man. Oh right there's a bard here. You keep your witty comments to yourself as Geralt keeps his tense stare down with the wooden table while he tries not to grab anyone's unwanted attention, when you glance over to the bard again he's notably walking your way, drink in hand. What now?

Bringing your drink to your lips, you eye up the brightly colored bard as he saunters over, a peculiar smile playing at his features while he leans against a wooden pillar, "I love the way you two just...sit in the corner and brood, minus you my dear lady, what an odd place for such an exquisite creature to..."

"We're here to drink alone." Interrupts Geralt gruffly, you set your drink on the table, a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

The bard nods, looking down for a second before his blue eyes scan over you and Geralt once again, "Good. Yeah, good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except.." The curious bard walks around the oaken pillar before sitting down across from you and Geralt, "for you two. Come on. You don't want to keep a man with...bread..in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less." Inquires the cheerful bard, a smile upon his bright visage as he waits patiently for an answer. You pull your legs up onto the bench, leaning your right side into Geralt's strong body as you relax a bit more, amused by this bards bold questioning.

"They don't exist." You finally answer, tucking your hands under your arms as you attempt to get a little bit more comfortable. The bards give you a quizzical look, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"What...doesn't exist?" Ponders the bard as he raises a dark eyebrow at you.

"The creatures in your song." Retorts Geralt bluntly.

"And how would you two know?" Vouches the bard with a smile, excitement upon his face at this little guessing game he's just thrust upon himself, "Oh, fun. White hair...two very scary looking swords.." He quietly proclaims turning his attention now to you, "Hmm marvelous, irises the color of roses...dagger at your hip..." Geralt suddenly begins to get up, done with the bards never ending questions. You stand up yourself, the bard just continues to look at you two like you're the most interesting beings in the whole world, "I know who you two are." He confidently rules out while happily watching you both from his chair.

Geralt walks past him as you follow at his side, the two of you heading for the door as the bard jumps up to trail along, "You're the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia....and you're the dhampir princess, Y/N of Alkatraz. Called it!" Concludes the bard enthusiastically, much too loudly for your liking. You ignore the turning faces of the other tavern goers before a curly haired young man rises to his feet before you can reach the door to freedom.

"A job I've got for ya's. I beg you." He pleads almost nervously, you halt your movement as Geralt does the same, the two of you abruptly turning to face the man, "A devil...he's been stealing all our grain. In advance, I'll pay you. A hundred ducat." His eyes nervously shifting from you to Geralt.

"One fifty." Chides Geralt, the man immediately pulls out a small sack of coin previously hidden within his coat, a hopeful smile upon his pimply face.

He flashes you a warm grin as his gaze shifts from you to Geralt once again, "I've no doubt either of you'll come through. You take no prisoners, so I hear." He gives Geralt the sack of coins, the bard watching intently in the foreground, time to kill a devil then.

——

You were able to walk bard free all the way to the gates of the small mountainous tavern and twelve feet into the gravely dirt road before the bard had tracked you two down. Now here you are, a good distance onto the road as you head for the hills where this devil hides, Geralt leading Roach as you walk in front of them, the bard trying to converse with Geralt to his immediate left.

"Ah. You guys need a hand? I've got two. One for each of the, uh, devil's horns." Confirms the bard breathlessly, trying to keep up with yours and Geralt's quick pace up the hill.

"Go away." Grumbles your annoyed Witcher.

You snicker, just imagining what Geralt's face looks like right now as the bard continues to pester him, "I won't be but silent back-up." The bard cheerfully exclaims, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis, you turn to look at him with an amused grin upon your face.

"Yeah I bet you really know how to muzzle that continuous yapper of yours." He smiles back at you, turning his attention back to Geralt.

"I heard your note, and, yes, you're right, maybe real adventures would make better stories..."

"That's if you survive them." You interrupt with a smirk, glancing back around, catching the animated face of the bard.

He smiles to himself as he holds onto the strap of his old lute, "Yes well, you two, smell chock full of them...amongst other things. I mean, what is that? Is that onion?" You turn your head to give him a questioning look, he gives you a quick nervous smile before continuing, "It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak, not for you two of course it's just a meaning..."

"It's onion." Mutters Geralt.

"Blood." You add.

"Right, Yeah. Yeah. Ooh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia and his dangerous lady Y/N of Alkatraz...the-the Butchers of Blaviken!" Bellows the dreaming bard, throwing his hands into the air, Geralt suddenly stops moving, turning to face the smiling idiot.

In one quick motion he punches the bard in his stomach, sending him staggering back onto the dusty road in a coughing and sputtering mess. Geralt turns back to you with a nod before he and Roach continue on past you, you give the bard a diverted look as he slowly picks himself up.

"You've been punched by a Witcher, how's that for your first taste of adventure?" You muse, raising an eyebrow at him.

Clearing his throat of dust he grins at you, "Better then I had hoped." He replies while letting out a small chuckle as he follows you up the road.

——

"Geralt of Rivia, the-the White Wolf or-or something. Mind if I hop up? I'm not really wearing the right footwear." Suggests the bard as he attempts to reach out for Roach's rider-less backside. You sit upon the mare in front of your man, Geralt kindly letting you lean into his leather armor clad torso as he holds her reigns.

"Don't touch Roach." Warns Geralt, the bard immediately pulling away.

"Yeah, right, yeah." He disappointingly replies as you lightly chuckle at the two of them. Soon you and Geralt reach a small tree, where Geralt jumps down to tie off Roach, you sliding off to take a sharp look at your rocky surroundings. The bard watches intently at what your plans are next, deciding to deliver some historical information about the landscape as he tells you how elves called this place Dol Blathanna before they gave it up to the humans. You let him ramble on, unaware you already are educated on the history of this part of the continent, you are almost five hundred years old after all.

You raise your head to find an opening in the large rock formation where the trail appears to lead. Geralt walks past you, sharing an annoyed look as you both listen to the bard rambling on about something you're not listening to. Geralt lets out a huff before turning around and walking down the dusty trail, you trailing after him as the bard lingers in the background.

Your crimson eyes trail over the nearby clusters of tall grasses as the bards loud voice fills your ears, "Geralt? Y/N? Wh-where are you two going? Guys, don't leave me. Helloooo? What are we lookin for again?" Inquires the bard noisily from behind the two of you while you walk past straggly protruding rocks and tall green grasses on either side.

"Blessed silence." Mutters Geralt.

"Yeah, I don't really go in for that. Have you two ever hunted a devil before?" He wonders as both you and Geralt stalk silently towards wherever this devil lays hiding in the brush.

"They don't exist." You add, pulling out your large silver dagger as you listen intently for any unusual sounds.

The bard continues to ramble on while you catch the sight of something tall hidden in the grass, you can hear the rapid heartbeat of this nervous creature. A second later a tiny stone shoots from out of nowhere, slicing Geralt on the forehead as the bard cheers excitedly about how "act two" of his adventure has begun. You watch as his eyes go wide once they spot the devil rising from out of the greenery, you turn to squint at the creature, unsure of what it truly is from here.

"Oh fuck." You whisper before it launches another stone right at you, with supernatural speed you shift to the side where the stone flies past your head, this time knocking out the chatty bard in the process. You and Geralt share a confused glance as you turn to search for this horned fucker before he ends up bloodying you next time. With the beast lost from your vision, you zero in on his thudding heartbeat, not even fifteen seconds later does the devil burst forth from the tall grass. Launching Geralt a good couple yards back as you watch in bewilderment, to taken aback to help him with his unexpected assault.

Within seconds your Witcher is on the hooved half-man, pinning him to the ground as they exchange clever insults with one another. You catching the creatures name to be Torque the Sylvan as it yells at Geralt before he punches the Sylvan in the face to daze him.

Suddenly you can hear the irritated thumping heartbeat of an unfamiliar being when something cracks you across the side of your head from seemingly out of nowhere, sending you staggering to your knees as a small trail of blood trickles down the side of your temple. Your hands catch yourself on the rough gravely dirt as your knees jab into some rocks while you land. When you look up again a large shadowed person is standing above you before they violently bash you in the face with their boot, then darkness.

——

When you wake up again your hands are chained to the wall and a steel collar has been tightly locked around your neck. Your eyes slowly look up to find an unconscious Geralt tied to an equally unconscious bard. The small stony cave prison smells of recent activity in the tell tale scent only an elf could have, shaking your head in agitation you listen to the quiet clinking of your chains. This is not how you intended for today to go.

When you try to pull at your restraints for the first time, you're welcomed with an intense burning sensation flaming the flesh of your left wrist. It appears whoever has taken you prisoner has coated this specific constraint with silver, so whenever you move it just right the metal makes contact with your exposed wrist, fantastic.

After waiting another ten minutes and listening to the bard complain once he finally awoken, Geralt at long last stirs, his eyes going wide as he desperately tries to look around the small stone room. Clearly in a panic and unsure how he got here in the first place.

Letting out an irked sigh you kick his foot to gather his distracted attention, "Oh good you're finally conscious, I thought I was gonna have to kick you awake." You quip at Geralt as the bard chuckles from behind him.

"Now, this is the part where we escape."

"This is the part where they kill us." Grumbles Geralt.

"Who's they?" Asks the bard before an elven woman races into the room, she smells almost sickly and looks even more furious as she kicks them in the head, quickly shutting them up as they grunt in pain.

"Beast." She fumes in Eldar, kicking Geralt once again as you hiss at her, gaining a satisfied smirk upon her elven features, you'd rather enjoy smacking that off her face. A dark curly haired one walks into the room, immediately his eyes catch the bards old lute laying on the floor next to your dagger and Geralt's sword.

You can't see as the bards eyes go wide in fear, "Oi, that's my lute, give it back!" Whines the bard as Geralt gives the she-elf a furious glare, "Quick Y/N, do your scary vampirey thing!" He quickly urges, you'd love nothing more then to shift into a half bat creature and scare the flesh right off this she-elf's bones, but a little problem called silver is preventing you from doing so.

"Shut up." Grumbles Geralt as the she-elf first kicks you in the legs and then Geralt, you're more pissed off then in actual pain from her brief assault.

"You shut up!" She barks in Eldar.

"My Eldar speech is rough. I only got part of that." Replies the bard as you roll your eyes.

"She said shut up." You implore before getting kicked again, the burn of the single silver handcuff sending fire into your wrist as you bite back the pain. The bard then replying to you in broken Eldar as you tell him to "fuck off" back in the same language, Geralt flashing you a confused grimace, unaware that you're fluent in Eldar.

"Do you wanna die right now?" She sasses, staring them down.

"As opposed to later?" Growls back Geralt as she kicks him harshly in the stomach, doing the same to the bard as he cries out for his now broken lute.

"Leave off!" Barks Geralt as she walks around to fiercely punch him in the face.

Your eyes shimmering blood red as anger flashes through them, "I'll slit your fucking throat you elven cunt!" You hiss as she whips around to thrust a boot into your side, the silver chain sizzling your broken flesh at the jarring impact sending you into a flurry of muffled curses, Geralt's eyes softening as he watches you grimace in pain, wishing he could do something about it.

Weakened with this one silver coated cuff, you're not even strong enough to break out of here. Damn silver.

The she-elf scoffs as she glares at the three of you tied up, "You don't deserve the air you breath!" Smack, directly into your Witcher's cheek, "Everything you touch, you destroy!" Another blow straight onto his face in the same moment that the curly haired elf breaks the bards lute in two. Well there goes that.

"You hide in your golden palaces. You beat a bound man, too scared to even look him in the eye!" Screams the bard angrily as you lift your head up higher so your steel collar can't completely suffocate your windpipe, the sting in your wrist keeping you alert and ready to fight.

She sneers at him, "Do you like my palace? Hmm?" She grins maliciously, crouching down to take Geralt's fuming bloody face in her hand, "Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?" She challenges quietly before you pull on your chains, striking her roughly in the nose with your boot, the burning of the silver worth her pained gasps as she stumbles backwards. Falling onto the sandy floor of the stone cave as she sputters and coughs, spiting out a glob of blood while the bard laughs.

"Yeah, take that, pointy!" He cheers as she coughs and wheezes some more from her pathetic spot on the ground, the bard suddenly looking concerned, "Wait, what's-what's wrong with her?" He wonders, trying to twist his head around to find you and Geralt. Suddenly a blonde haired elf and the Sylvan enter into your small stony prison.

"She's sick." He simply states, reaching down to kindly tend to his fallen companion from the ground.

Giving him a bewildered look you lean against the stony wall, "And who the fuck is this?" You snap, lightly pulling on your chains in frustration.

"He's Filavandrel, King of the Elves." Quickly answers the Sylvan as he rushes to the fallen elleths other side.

"Not a king by choice." Affirms the elven king Filavandrel as he glances over the three of you.

Geralt's brows furrow in thought, "You were stealing for them." He concludes with a sneer, blood still present on his lips, the Sylvan turning to answer him.

"I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathanna."

"Forced out? No, they chose..." Starts Geralt.

The elven king snaps his attention over to Geralt, "Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home? To starve? To have a Sylvan steal for them?" Angrily interrupts Filavandrel before turning his attention back to the she-elf, "Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt."

"What's three humans in the ground when countless elves have died?" She sneers, a messy trail of blood dripping down from her nostrils.

"One human. And you can let him go." Protests Geralt with a nod in the bards direction.

"Then Posada will learn that we've been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die...on both sides." Insists Filavandrel as he stands, walking over to look down at Geralt and you.

"The lesser evil." Replies Geralt as he raises his head to look at the elf king in the eyes, "No matter what you choose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me." The elven king crouches down, almost at eye level with your fuming Witcher, he's in a perfect position to crack across the back of his scull, but smartly you think otherwise.

"That's the problem. I can't. This is necessary." Implores the elven king.

"I understand. As long as you understand...that it won't be long before you follow me in death." Replies Geralt dramatically.

The elven king scoffs, "Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic."

"Chaos is the same as it's always been." You finally add, he turns to look down at you, "Humans just adapted better."

"You say adapt, I say destroy." Corrects Filavandrel, anger lacing his every word.

"You are choosing to starve. You're cutting off your ear to spite your face." You vouch back, his face morphing into one of great resentment and irritation.

"You think this is about pride?" He yells, "My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back, they were slaughtered. "The Great Cleansing," humans called it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow...our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don't wish to bury anyone else....I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I'm Filavendrel of the Edge of the World. If I bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing down to human sovereignty....They'll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half-blood children." Explains the elven king, sadness and hatred coating his very words, you truly do feel for him and all his kind have endured at the greedy hands of humans.

"Then go somewhere else. Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more then what they fear you to be." Argues Geralt, trying to help these elves see the light.

"Like you, Witcher?" Whispers Filavandrel.

"I have learned to live with them." His golden eyes suddenly finding yours before he looks back up at the elven king, "We both have, so that we may live." The she-elf, Toruviel jumps to her feet.

"Please my king. There are others. A new generation. Evellien who wish to fight! Let's take back what's ours. Starting now." She insists confidently, Filavandrel pulls his dagger from its sheath and your breath catches in your throat at what he may do next.

"Don't fucking touch him!" You growl, pulling at your tightly restrictive chains, the clink and slink of the metal sounding throughout the stony room, right as the Sylvan races to the kings side. "Wait!"

"Torque, stand aside!" Shouts Filavandrel sharply.

"The Witcher could've killed me. But he didn't. He's different. Like us." Swears Torque the Sylvan, Filavandrel simply pushes him aside as you pull on your steel chains, it almost feels like you can't breath with how tight the collar is around your throat, the fiery burning of your wrist oozing red hot blood from beneath the silver cuff and onto the dusty floor.

Your Witcher simply watches Filavendrel's every move, a defiant look his his golden eyes, "If you must kill me...I am ready." Pledges Geralt softly, staring down the elven king the whole time, no this cannot be the end, not now.

Pulling even harder on your iron chains, you growl at the king, "If you end his life I will coat the walls of your golden palace in the blood of every living creature that crosses my path!" You scream furiously, tears welling up in the corners of your scarlet eyes as you violently yank on your chains, more blood seeping out from your silver cuffed wrist.

Geralt sadly glances to you before looking back up at the elven king holding his dagger, "But the Sylvan's right. Don't call me human." Continues Geralt as Filavandrel moves to his side for a better angle to slit his throat. To your absolute horror Geralt locks eyes with you before tilting his head up, opening up his neck for a clean shot of his jugular.

Your face falls before turning into a wolf-like snarl, "I cannot promise you a clean death. But by god, I will let you watch your people suffer!" You cry desperately as the elven king raises his silver dagger, wet salty tears unknowingly begin streaming down the sides of your cheeks as your eyes go wide in hopeless dread. Filavandrel gives you one last look before thrusting his dagger upon your lover.

——

You sit silently upon the back of Roach as she's guided by Geralt who keeps one hand on the leather reins and the other hand across your waist. Your fingers hold onto his muscular arm tightly as a white bloodied cloth covers your left wrist where the silver cuff burned and tore at your flesh. It still stings and most definitely wont heal for awhile, but your pain doesn't matter, all that's of your concern is the fact that Geralt's alive and so are you.

"Credit where credit is due." Starts the bard as he walks beside Roach and the two of you, "That whole reverse-psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way." Says the bard before comically imitating Geralt's gruff voice, "Kill me. I'm ready." Geralt glares down at him before the bard continues, "Oh and you Y/N, with those incredibly convincing bloody threats, genius, they looked terrified.." He boasts for you, "That's the conclusion. They just let us go, and you give all of Nettly's coin to the elves."

"Filavendrel's lute not a charming enough gift for you?" You wonder, the bard swaggers with each step, a bright smile upon his dirty face.

"Yeah, she is a bit sexy, isn't she? I do have respect for Filavandrel. He survived the Great Cleansing once. Who knows? Maybe he can do it again? Be reborn." Suddenly the bard begins to sing, "Will the elf king heed, What the Witcher entreaty? Is history a wheel. Doomed to repeat? No that's...that's shit." Surmises the bard, squinting his eyes as the sun beams down brightly upon the three of you on the dusty dirt path.

"This is where we part ways, bard, for good." Remarks Geralt as you lean into his body, turning your head towards the bard.

"I promised to change the public's tune about you two. At least allow me to try." He politely insists as he whips his lute around to gently strum her cords, "When a humble bard. Graced a ride along. With Geralt of Rivia..." Sings the bard, happily strumming away at his new lute as he makes it up on the go, "And so cried the Witcher. He can't be bleat..."

"That's now how it happened." Grumbles Geralt as he quickly halts Roach, "Where's your newfound respect?" Wonders Geralt as the bard turns to look at him, an unbothered smile creeping onto his face.

Shaking his head he looks up at Geralt, "Respect doesn't make history." He corrects before turning around once again, "Toss a coin to your Witcher. O Valley of Plenty. O Valley of Plenty, oh-oh-oh. Toss a coin to your Witcher. O Valley of Plentyyyyy." He sings loudly, continuing to delightfully strum at his prized lute while taking the lead down the dirt path, out of earshot from your whispering.

Hugging Geralt's strong arm that's lazily casted over your abdomen, do you lightly laugh at the bards antics and Geralt's moodiness, "It's a bit catchy isn't it?" You muse while craning your neck to catch his annoyed golden irises, "Why not keep him around...until he gets sick of us or...maybe eaten by a werewolf, who knows."

Geralt raises a single eyebrow to you, "Our nights under the stars are about to get uncomfortable." He simply replies, hugging you pleasantly closer as he clicks his tongue for Roach to walk again. You chuckle at his adorably concerned remark, glad that today didn't end in sorrow and death for once.

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

[peachyteabuck]

remember what you love like

summary: is a lunch date still a lunch date after you leave the restaurant?

a commission for @buckysbunny

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 2,014

trigger warnings: allusions to compulsory heterosexuality, fingering, fluff, mentions of sexting

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Natasha’s hands are tangled in your forest green cardigan, one hand on the small of your back while the other is pressed into the back of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs when you pull away to gasp for breath, head spinning as a trail of spit connects your mouths in a sight you wish you could see in one of those giant oil paintings that draw large crowds to art museums. “My beautiful little Bunny.”

You preen under her praise, your own hands shaky as they find purchase in her hair, the beltloop of her jeans, anything you can grab as she pushes you into your apartment, pressing you against each and every surface she deems fit. Somewhere between your front door and the wall directly opposite said entrance you lose your cardigan and your shoes, clothes falling to the floor as you’re pushes down the hallway and, finally, onto your bed. You’d made it that morning hoping your lunch date wouldn’t end after you’d left the restaurant just as you had cleaned the rest of your apartment. In truth you’re not sure whether the frantic scrubbing and organization of your kitchen was to impress her or distract yourself for how nervous you were, considering you and Natasha have been dating for about three months now and hadn’t done more than cuddle and today, today of all days felt like the right to rectify that. The two of you had spent all night sexting after you’d sent her a picture of you in your new bra – a pale pink one that made your tits look exquisite. Things had only escalated, you shoving your hands down your pajama shorts to get yourself off at her direction.

So yeah, given all of that, you were decently confident that you would end up with her tongue down your throat and her hands groping at your tits – a thought that left you some weird mixture of overjoyed and frightened.

As your back hits your girly, patterned comforter your heart beats against your ribcage, each chamber trying to rip itself from the rest of the muscle just so that it can travel to each of your limbs and make them shake. Something – someone – is screaming in your ears, the high-pitched sound nearly loud enough to drown out the woman who’s crawled on top of you.  

Nearly.

“Hey,” Natasha coos, peppering small kisses along your face and jaw and neck as her center presses into yours. “Hey, Bunny-“

You finally meet her eyes when that pet name – her pet name for you - falls from her lips. Only then does she notice how terrified you look.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks, her own heart now picking up not because her fingertips are on fire and your skin feels just as hot. “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh-“ you struggle to find the words, wishing you kept your blanket-like cardigan on so you could hide in it. “I haven’t done this with uh,” you trying to swallow despite your dry mouth. “With women.”

Natasha exhales deeply, face visibly softening. It doesn’t feel like pity, though, which suppresses a tiny bit of your nervousness; the last thing you want is for the woman responsible for the menagerie in your stomach each time she texts you or says your name or worms her way into every passing thought to think of you as some sort of charity case.

“Oh, babes,” she places each hand flat on either side of your jaw, both thumbs rubbing soothingly into your heated cheeks. “You know I’m okay with that – right? I don’t want you any less just because you haven’t done with women before.”

You sniffle, trying to keep the tears that prick the corners of your eyes in their spot. “A-are you sure?”

Natasha nods, leaving a small kiss on the center of your forehead. “Of course I am, Bunny. I don’t care how many women you’ve had sex with.”

“E-even though I’ve had sex with guys?” your eyes are big and scared, petrified of rejection.

Natasha just smiles, pulling you closer to her. “Yes, Bunny. Your sexual history certainly doesn’t define you as a person and doesn’t change how I feel about you. Okay?”

You smile back, leaning into her arms as you sniffle once more. “O-okay.”

“Now,” she smiles as she pulls back, readjusting herself onto her side as you stay on your back.  “Where were we?”

And just like that – with fear quelled and uncomfortable twisting in your stomach now loose and simmering below your skin – she returns to her original mission, one that involves ghosting her fingers over your clothed chest before thumbing at the hem of your denim skirt. “You’re so cute, Bunny,” she murmurs. “Such an adorable little Bunny all for me…”

Natasha then pushes your skirt up to your stomach, keeping it in place with her forearm as she begins rubbing the two middle fingers of her right hand along your clothed slit. Your chest heaves as she grins down at your scrunched eyes, furrowed brow, and kiss-swollen lips.

“So beautiful,” she murmurs into your neck, teeth barely pressing into the bruises that deepen with each passing moment. “So good for me, Bunny…”

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as circles your clit, the adorable pink cotton panties you had specifically chosen that morning hoping and praying this would happen now completely soaked through. They’re rough against your sensitive, desperate clit – pussy pulsing around nothing as you buck your hips frantically.

“P-please,” you moan, voice nearly unrecognizable now. “P-please N-Nat!”

She presses a firm kiss to your lips, smiling as she moves her hands to rub at your pussy under your panties. The feeling of her hand there without anything between her skin and your is intoxicating – her fingers easily finding your clit once more. “Call me Mommy,” she murmurs, free hand pushing the sweaty hairs from your forehead. “Call me Mommy, sweet Bunny.”

“Mommy, oh fuck-“ you gasp, the feeling of her hands and the mention of that title you’d been discussing the night before shooting another bolt of lightning through your nervous system, hands bunch the sheets in your palms – your fingers nearly numb as all of your blood rushes to your core. “Oh fucking shit!”

For the first time in what feels like hours you find the courage to open your eyes – another moan deep in your chest filling the hot, thick air. You always wondered why people described being fucked as being consumed, as being the main course in a large meal presented to some rich, old-timey monarch after they return from visiting the more desolate parts of the territory they rule over.

Now, though, under Natasha’s heated gaze with three of her fingers stuffed inside of you while the other hand presses into your stomach – you feel like some prized pig slathered in glaze and placed onto an obnoxious silver platter with a whole apple placed into your waiting mouth as fruits and vegetables circle your flesh. If you had ever felt desired, it certainly didn’t match up to the fire in Natasha’s eyes as she devours each time you twitch, moan, beg for more.

“You sure you want more?” she purrs, fingers stroking that spot inside of you that makes your legs shake and eyes tear up once more. “Does my greedy little Bunny want her Mommy to give her more?”

You nod furiously, mouth barely able to keep up with your racing thoughts. “Yes, fuck Mommy please please please I want-“ you moan as she fucks into you harder, reveling in watching you fall apart. “Please I’ll take anything you want to give me Mommy please!”

Without further delay Natasha moves between your legs, maneuvering you so that one of her hands fucked in and out of you while the other circles your clit in hot, tight circles. Your eyes don’t know where to focus – on the sight on Natasha’s hands working you into some kind of putty or the woman herself, whose smug grin and furrowed brow are almost intimidating in their determination.

“M-mommy,” you gasp out, legs trying to shut themselves involuntarily, stopped only by the woman between your legs. Your toes curl, spine bending forward as the white-hot pleasure in your stomach curls itself tighter and tighter around itself. “Mommy, Mommy, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-!”

You come with a guttural moan you almost don’t recognize as yours – a sound so animalistic you wonder if Natasha had rewired your brain into some pre-human thing incapable of speech. It’s hot, so hot, and in your post-orgasmic bliss you wonder if life could get any better.

“How you feeling, Bunny?” Natasha asks, trying to find some signs of life behind your glazed-over eyes.

“So fucking good! I feel so good, Mommy!” you gasp out, mouth dry and lunges seemingly devoid of oxygen.

The woman above you just laughs, though, throws her beautiful head back and laughs and oh God – oh God you need to find it in you to tell her to stop doing that because you’ve only been dating for a few months and her beauty radiates with the power of the sun and you weren’t born with UV-protection in your retinas and if her light doesn’t burn you to a crisp first you think you’re going to fucking explode.

“I’m glad,” she tells you, running her now-wrinkled fingertips over the inside of your trembling thighs. Silence settles of you both as you feel your bones…vibrate? Or maybe that’s chest your heart again – the stupid thing incapable of handling this much joy and pleasure at the same time. It takes a long while for Natasha to speak again, not wanting to spook you in your fragile state. “Hey Bunny?” she asks, watching to make sure you’d heard her. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay?”

You give her a small “okay,” body still as she climbs off your bed.

You’re boneless – inert as you lay there with your arms flat at your sides and your legs in the same bent position Natasha had left them in before she had oh-so meanly abandoned you. Just as before, your chest rises and falls as if a forty-pound weight was pressing into it – each inhale painful and a struggle with the exhales happening all too quickly. It’s unfamiliar, being so satiated. Being with men had left you feeling fine, maybe a little out of breath, but with Natasha? God, you wouldn’t be able to move if the fire alarms went off; you’d just lay here, vision fuzzy around the edges as the smell of smoke came through the air vents. (Then again, given the state of Natasha’s arms, you think she’d be able to carry you out of your apartment building just fine.)

She returns – just as she said she would – with a mug of cold water that she holds as if it was priceless and not something you thrifted for less than a dollar when you had moved from your last apartment.  

“Thanks,” you croak as she hands it to you, watching as you sit up and wince ever so slightly as your sensitive pussy presses into the sheets. You’ll need to change them – and soon – but somehow that feels like an impossible task as you gulp down what, in your state, tastes closer to ambrosia than the shit in your Brita. When you’re finished Natasha takes the now empty mug from you, placing it on your nightstand before hugging you to her chest and pushing you back until you hit the sheets once more, lying down next to you and throwing her arm around your waist.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks again, a part of her always worried about you no matter how much euphoria pooled in your veins.

You nod as you curl into her side, leaving a kiss on her collarbone as you listen to her heartrate slow as it returns its resting pace. It’s calming, that combined with the feeling of her fingers twirling in your mused hair lulling you into the deepest sleep you’ve had in weeks.  

[esmealux]

Could you do 31 and 23 for the prompts?

I absolutely loved this prompt, thank you! <3

This got a lot longer (1.8K) and a lot angstier than I intended. But fret not, it's hurt/comfort at its core and it's Deckerstar stargazing. And also,

ANTI-SPOILER ALERT: This piece takes place after 5a/during 5b. I have not watched the trailer, nor will I. I therefore have no idea what is going to happen in 5b, or if what this fic suggests is remotely close to what is hinted at in the trailer—and I would like remain oblivious. *Looks at you with puppy eyes* So please don't mention anything from the trailer in the comments? It would mean a lot to me ❤ (And yes, I do realise I could've waited two days before posting this, but I wanted to give you guys a little something while you wait.)

Rated M, just to be safe.

Enjoy, my loves!

31. Lost in the middle of nowhere + 23. ‘Hey, at least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

He gets in his car, and he drives.

He has no destination in mind, nowhere but ‘away’. Away from Him. From feelings he can’t contain. From eons of neglect. From pain.

Far away.

He drives till there’s no more gas and ends up stranded where the streets have no name, in the moonlit desert.

The car shudders and comes to a halt. With ridiculously shaky hands, Lucifer brings a cigarette and a lighter to his lips, desperately needing the distraction. He flicks the lighter repeatedly, chaotically, but the fire won’t bite, and suddenly he’s hyperventilating, and both cig and lighter are sent flying through the brisk night air.

He roars into the dark void of the night. The thunderous sound resonating off the distant mountain walls startles him like an unexpected ghost. It sounds like him, but not like him. Not like Lucifer, Devil, fallen angel. It sounds like Samael, falling angel—screaming into the abyss as he plummets towards fire and brimstone, his fate and punishment, dealt by Dad.

Lucifer suddenly can’t get out of the car fast enough. He leans against the trunk, his chest heaving rapidly, his lungs fighting for air. He’d thought he was healing, that he was actually starting to put millennia of trauma behind him. And maybe he was. But then He waltzed down and ripped the wound right open.

Such a pestilent, tyrannous prick.

Lucifer needs a drink.

He finds a bottle of something strong and amber in the glove box and brings it back to the trunk. It’s only half-full, and he’d need at least five more bottles to just get tipsy, but it’ll have to do. He wasn’t looking to get shitfaced, anyway. He just wants to take his mind off things, to breathe. And right now, (now that his chance of having a smoke is lying somewhere in the sand) a couple of sips from a mildly exquisite whiskey and the ensuant burn in his throat are the best way to do that.

She finds him like that—because of course she finds him—sitting on the trunk of his car with the near-empty bottle in his hand and looking absolutely wrecked.

She’s tentative as she approaches him, afraid she’s not welcome, that he really did want to be alone. But as she gets close and he looks up at her, dark eyes glistening in the moonlight, she knows being alone is the last thing he needs.

Without a word, neither from her nor from him, she gets up on back of the car and scoots close to him, still keeping some air between them.

‘I thought you could use a friend,’ she says with a slight smile, exactly like she did all those years ago. Now, however, the last word isn’t an overwhelming, meaningful declaration, but a cosmic understatement, and Lucifer can’t help but snort.

Reaching over, Chloe grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers. ‘Also, I wasn’t gonna let my partner get lost in the middle of nowhere alone.’

‘I’m not lost,’ he objects, but his voice, hollow and lined with despair, betrays him. He may know the way back to LA, but he is definitely lost.

Sensing he doesn't want to talk about it, Chloe gestures towards the bottle still dangling from his fingers and asks for a sip. His lips tug up into the smallest of smirks as he hands over the bottle with a half-hearted ‘Be my guest’.

She leans her head back, eyes turning to the night sky as she takes a swig (just a nip; one of them still has to drive home at some point). It tastes like evening kisses. Occassionally, morning kisses too.

A cool breeze whirls around them, and Chloe snuggles closer to Lucifer. She does have a plaid in the car, and she will get it in a minute, but right now, she settles for stealing some body heat, hoping her seatmate doesn’t mind too much. She hands him back the bottle and snakes a hand under his layers, up his bare back. He sighs shakily, the taut muscles beneath Chloe’s hand loosening up. It tugs at something in her chest—the way he’s calmed by her touch alone.

Chloe looks up again, at the tiny, abundant jewels glimmering against the dark sky. ‘At least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

In the middle of downing the last drops of whiskey, Lucifer absent-mindedly replies with a ‘Hm?’

‘Stars,’ Chloe repeats. ‘They’re beautiful.’

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, Lucifer lets his eyes glide up. He’s quiet as he takes it in, the black canopy adorned with white, pearlescent specks. His gaze is somewhat distant, reminiscent. Wistful.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, not as a vocative, but as an eureka. She’s said his name so many times before, screamed it, whispered it, cried it—with passion and pain and everything in between—but now is the first time she says it actually knowing what it means. Or at least she’s pretty sure she does.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ she asks him with a whisper, more in awe than accusatory, and the soft, melancholic smile he gives her is answer enough. ‘You let there be light.’ It’s not a question this time, just an overwhelming realisation spoken out loud.

‘Well, technically,’ Lucifer corrects, glancing over at her, ‘it was Dad who created Light.’ His gaze turns upwards again, eyes suddenly twinkling with pride. ‘The almighty wanker was just too lazy to hang it up there himself.’

Stunned, Chloe stares at the sky with new reverence. It’s breath-taking, both the sight itself—diamonds and sparkling dust sprinkled across a sea of nothing—and the fact that Lucifer made that. He literally hung the stars in the sky.

The fact that he hasn’t mentioned this before, that he hasn’t boasted about it, hasn’t proudly told everyone he’s the artist behind the original Starry Night also says something.

Peering up at him from where her head is now resting against his shoulder, Chloe sees a look on his face she can only describe as ‘homesick’.

‘They remind you of your dad’s love for you,’ she realises, voice quiet.

Lucifer scoffs, but there’s no humour in it. Just pain. ‘What love?’

Chloe doesn’t blame him for doubting. With all the light God (apparently) gave Lucifer, He gave him a thousand times more darkness. (And she is going to talk to Him about that. Later. When she’s hugged the living shit out of His son). But Chloe can tell He, despite everything, does love Lucifer—and that Lucifer is using this resentment towards Him to avoid facing the fact that he, still, loathes himself just as much. If not more.

The thought makes Chloe sick, and she suddenly feels the need to tell him, ‘You’re worthy, you know?’

He looks down at her. A wet streak on his cheek catches the silvery light of the moon. ‘I do?’ The insecurity in his voice is a sharp jab in her chest. But again, she doesn’t blame him.

‘You are,’ she states again for emphasis, holding his gaze. ‘You’re worthy of love, and light.’ With her free hand, the one that isn’t stroking the small of his back beneath his shirt and jacket, she cups his face and swipes her thumb across his stubble. ‘You deserve it. You deserve happiness, more than any other person in this world.’

He doesn’t say anything in return, but he doesn’t have to. The smile he gives her in return, warming and breaking her heart at the same time, speaks for itself. Just to get her point across, she leans up and kisses him. It’s teary and tender, and it’s a promise. To always love him—both the light and the dark, and all the colours in between.

They lean their foreheads against each other’s when they break apart, eyes still closed.

After a long, needed moment, Chloe lets her hand drop from Lucifer’s cheek to his thigh.

‘So,’ she breathes, the pall from their prior conversation vanishing into the night with her light, playful tone, ‘constellations?’

He chuckles beside her, the sound low and warm in her ear. ‘Not what you humans make them out to be.’

She fights the urge to roll her eyes at his ‘you humans’, and asks, intrigued, ‘No Big Dipper?’

‘No.’ He clicks his tongue. 'But there is a Big Pecker somewhere.’

She glares at him. ‘You drew a dick in the sky?’

His lips spread into a proud grin. ‘And a pair of boobs, if you have a little imagination.’ He points to a distant spot above them. ‘Those seven points there, the brighter ones—they form a symbol in my mother tongue. A message for my dear twin.’

‘Oh?’ Lucifer rarely ever speaks of, much less in the celestial language. It’s another part of his past Chloe hasn’t learned much about. But hopefully, over time, she will.

‘Yes, it means… how would you say?’ He thinks for a second—or pretends to—and eventually concludes, ‘Cunt, I believe, would be the appropriate translation.’

This time, Chloe doesn’t resist rolling her eyes—because nothing about that is ‘appropriate’. Maybe except for the fact that it was directed at Michael.

‘I know,’ he says, like he’s reading her mind. But he really isn’t, because he follows up with, ‘An insult to the temple of pleasure I value more than any other organ.’

Having met the guy, Chloe doesn’t disagree; Michael definitely lives up to more vile name-calling than ‘cunt’. (Also, she's pretty sure Lucifer is wrong about it being his favourite body part. She’s pretty sure the organ he values more than any other is his own Big Pecker, because she’s seen the way he looks at himself in the shower, and all the other places she finds him naked; the vain idiot is practically obsessed with his own meat. Not that she blames him.) But before she has the chance to tell him that, he says-

‘You have to forgive me. I was only a couple of thousand years old.’ There’s a glint in his eye, and Chloe can’t help but laugh, because it’s true what Linda said; he really is the oldest, most immature person in the world.

Chloe tells him as much.

He simply smirks in return. ‘I may be old, Detective, but I’m more vigorous in bed than any mortal man, old or young, and you know it.’

It only proves her point, about him being immature, and obsessed with his penis. But frankly, Chloe does know it, and for once, she feels like stroking his ego (among other things). So she grabs him by the hand, leads him into the car, onto plush leather, onto her, and as the stars twinkle and gleam above them, they put that vigour of his to good use.

[earstwo]

     ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

I hit 7k recently after losing almost 1.5k followers when I converted to a Reylo blog (not sorry in the slightest) and decided it was time to finally compile some of the INCREDIBLE fanfics that I’ve read since joining the fandom in December. 

I’m constantly impressed by the talent around here and I'm so grateful to love a ship that has some of the most amazing content I’ve ever seen. The creators in this fandom are second to none. I’m so thankful for all they do and all that they give to us. 

Please keep never stop sharing your gifts. <3 

**Note: Most (pretty much all) of these are rated E. 

Without further ado, here are (some of) my favorite stories: 

The Jedi Path  by SouthsideStory | 19k | E | I am such a sucker for Jedi Academy Ben and Rey. It’s everything I never knew I needed, and this fic is a beautiful rendition. If you know me at all, you know that I devour Angst with a Happy Ending stories, and this is no exception to that rule.

Exile by Ernzo | 22k | E | Oof. This one hurts. Leia sends Rey to the planet where Ben is exiled. It’s angsty and sad and cathartic in every way. I’ve read it dozens of times. 

Before the Saber Swings by @waterlilyrose​ | 28k | M |  Fuck. When I tell y’all that this story fucked me up, I mean it from the bottom of my s o u l. It stayed with me for days. I literally couldn’t get it out of my head. It felt so real to me that I was in physical pain while reading it. I also made an AU gifset of the fic with a quote from Buffy because I’m extra and love pain. 

penitence by @bettsfic​ | 16k | M | Look, Betts is one of my favorite fanfiction authors of all time. Her Bellarke works are some that I’ve read dozens of times and I was fucking ecstatic when I found out she also writes Reylo. This is an A+ TROS fix-it that is lovely and soft and sweet. 

The Writings of Ben Solo by BurnedStars777 | 39k | E | This was recced to me by the fabulous @galacticidiots​ and is just a fantastic story all around. Rey finds Ben’s journal whilst stuck on a planet with Kylo Ren and she (eventually) connects the dots. Rey falling in love with Ben sight unseen? Here. For. it.  find a thread to pull, and we can watch it unravel by again_please | 17k | E | A fantastic post-TLJ story with angsty and broody Ben and just some all around quality smut. I devoured this and have read it multiple time since. 

We Could Plant a House, We Could Build a Tree by @likeadove​ | 124k | E | I will probably never stop reading this fic. It’s such a beautiful coming of age story for Rey and her relationship with Ben as she grows up is just... gah. It’s fantastic. Please read it.    

Soul Searching by OptimisticBeth | 205k | E | Soulmates AU where Ben is Rey’s teacher? Sign me the fuuuuck up, and Soul Searching is so fucking well written. I go back to this one every few weeks and just gush at how great the world building is. I love the relationship Rey has with Leia and Han. It’s rich with love and angst and fluffffff. So good. 

Coveted by OptimisticBeth | 82k | E | WIP | OptimisticBeth is just an incredible writer, so you should honestly read all of her stuff, but I am so, so, so into this fic. It’s A/B/O and Ben’s Rey’s pack leader. He, along with a bunch of other Alphas are trying to court Rey, a highly desired Omega. It’s so fucking delicious, y’all. Alpha Ben Solo is just...it doesn’t get much better. 

A Treehouse Covered in Salt by violethoure666 | 34k | E | This fic made me cry my eyes out. I’m not kidding. It’s so raw and real. It hurts to read at some points, but you care so much about Ben and Rey in this that you fight through the pain. They grow up together as neighbors and Han builds them a treehouse where they meet throughout their childhoods/teen years. Prepare to cry but also be so fulfilled and satisfied. It’s wonderful. love it when you call me lover by @kylotrashforever​​ | 66k | E | WIP | First, let me say that anything by KTF is going to be gold. These fics I have listed are just a few of my favorites at the moment. Lover is hot as fuck (as is all of her stuff) but also fluffy in the best way. It’s in Sadsville right now so I’m fucking PUMPED for her to update. Ben’s a doctor who basically gives Rey a sexual awakening when he proves her statement of “I just don’t think I can come from (insert sexual act here)” very, very wrong.  

mountain at my gates by @kylotrashforever​ | 26k | E | More A/B/O goodness. Omega Rey’s car breaks down on a mountain. Ben is a mountain man Alpha. You can probably guess what happens from there. *fans self* 

take me to church by @kylotrashforever​ | 26k | E | I love this story so much. Ben is the pastor’s son at the church Rey grows up in. They start hooking up in secret and are terrrrrrible at communicating with each other which leads to angst. But it’s so sweet and soft while also being super hot. I love this Ben and Rey so much. 

Your Pretty Little Heart by @ever-so-reylo​ | 64k | E | The A/B/O Reylo bible, I feel like. They’re doctors and he’s a grumpy as fuck Alpha. Shenanigans ensue. And by shenanigans I mean a lot, a lot, a LOT of sex. 

The Food of Love by @lovesbitca8​ | 60k | E | Y’all. If you haven’t read this yet, please stop what you’re doing and read it RIGHT NOW. I ate this fic up in one sitting because holy SHIT it’s amazing. It’s so well written and the story is just... absolutely exquisite. Ben is cellist that’s also a famous rockstar and Rey’s an up and coming violinist and they fall in loOOoOOve in the best, most angsty, sexiest way. Please just read it right now. The scene when she firsts goes to his apartment and plays one of his cellos............you guys. It’s a lot.

Already Home by AttackoftheDarkCurses | 81k | E | This is soulmates + A/B/O so naturally I am obsessed with it. Rey gets connected with her soulmate via a website and he’s going by the name Kylo Ren. At the same time, she’s also moving in with grumpy librarian Ben Solo. She falls in love with both but has no idea that they’re the same person. It’s INCREDIBLE. 

Tangled but Unbroken by AttackoftheDarkCurses | 20k | M | I read this the other night and it’s so fucking soft. I am such a fucking sucker for growing up together fics and this is just such top quality. The braiding kills me every goddamn time. Also, I’m making my way through all of Attack’s works right now and they’re all incredible. Highly recommend. 

Dear Mr. President by @shmisolo​ | 89k | E | I love this Ben so much. The characterization is so on the money. The angst is absolutely delicious. The smut is top brass. Oh, and did I mention they’re soulmates? It’s everything you need, I promise. 

Good Day, Professor by @faequeentitania​ | 38k | E | One of the best Professor Solo fics out there. I’m such a sucker for age difference fics. Of course there’s angst, who do you think I am? 

Embers by sciosophia | 34k | E | Breaking up/getting back together fics are some of my favorites and this one is fantastic. The pining with these two is ridiculous. You just want to smush their faces together. It’s a beautiful love story. 

Reclaimed by @bettsfic​ | 14k | E | Ughhhhhhhhhh, Reclaimed. I am so in love with Reclaimed. Alpha Ben adopts Omega Rey after she’s rescued from this terrible Alpha that held her captive for most of her life. She doesn’t talk and Ben has to help her learn to be a human being and not just a subservient Omega. This Ben is the Ben of my dreams. No contest. 

the following are all written by  @kylorenvevo​. please read them all if you haven’t already. 

landscape with a blur of conquerers | 362k | E |  Y’all know this shit is fire. It’s basically the bible. If you haven’t read this yet, consider this as me yelling at you to do it NOW.   

like young gods | 84k | T | fuck, the Sword of the Jedi series is incomparable when it comes to in-universe fics. I cannot begin to express how much I love this story. It’s so soft and intense and sad. Like, gut wrenchingly sad. Ben senses Rey on Jakku when she’s six and he and Luke take her back to the Jedi Academy. She grows up with Ben. 

to kingdom come | 145k | M |  The sequel to Like Young Gods. I’m not gonna spoil much here, but just know I cried through most of this fic. I downright SOBBED at the end. It’s gorgeous and I will never stop rereading it. The love these two have for each other... it’s unreal. 

i kill giants  | 34k | E | WIP | The TROS fix-it we all need. Ben is alive and finds Rey on Tatooine. It’s soft and Thea does a great job of soothing so many of the gaping wounds we were left with after TROS. My heart soars every time I read a new chapter. This is what we deserved. :( 

the heartbreak prince | 58k | E | WIP |  Harry Potter AU. Professor/student. Size kink. Virginity kink. ANGST. All the good things life has to offer. Professor Solo is fucking filthy in this and I (along with Miss Niima)  am here 👏 for 👏 it. 

place the moon at my eyes (and her whiteness shall devour)  | 29k | E | Another breakup/get back together fic that I absolutely adore.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Thank you to everyone that’s been so kind and welcoming to me the past couple of months! I love this fandom and its energy and enthusiasm and how much everyone seems to care for each other. I hope that I can continue to create content for you forever <3 

[forever-rogue]

Of Princes & Berries - Part 2

A/N: Thank you guys for all the support on part 1, I’m so glad you guys liked it! Oberyn has my heart, always.  As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: depictions of violence, overall :( (don’t hate me)

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your room was small. Sparsely decorated with the few items you had, and a bed pushed into the corner near the small window you had in order to soak up as much sun as possible. You always liked the sun, how it warmed up your face and seemed to set your whole on fire. Growing up as a young girl in the Reach, you'd spent many afternoons lazing about in the sun, soaking it all up. Now, as a woman grown, it was hard to find any light in the cold, stone walls of the Red Keep. Now it seemed like an endless monotony of gray and beige.

But ever since Oberyn and his Dornish envoy had arrived, everything has seemed lighter, happier, more sunny. You vowed to try and soak up as much of the sun as possible, even if it was only temporary. Sitting down on your bed, you kicked off your shoes and let out a long sigh as you stretched your tired limbs. You had been kept busy all afternoon, fulfilling all sorts of menial tasks that been found for you, no doubt due to Cersei. For some reason tending to the sows and roosters and sheep had suddenly become your duty. You had no doubt it was to keep you away from the main part of the castle, and hide you away from your new friend, the prince.

You’d decided that you’d try and steal a quick bath before changing into your other set of clothes and heading down to grab some dinner from the kitchens. By then it would be nightfall and if you were lucky, you’d be left alone and have some time to yourself. You’d acquired a new book recently, and were eager to crack into it. When you’d spotted the beautiful leather bound book abandoned in a quiet section of the castle, you’d taken it, hiding it under your skirts. You were one of the few servants that could read, a gift bestowed upon you from Elia Martell herself. She’d always treated you with such warmth and generosity; it was such a far cry from Cersei and how the Lannisters ran things. 

As you reached for your clean clothes and a makeshift towel to dry yourself off with, a loud knock came at your door. It was so loud, it startled you, causing the clothes to tumble to the floor. Groaning you picked them up, and set them on your bed, rushing to open the door before the person on the other side grew more agitated. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you squeaked as you pulled open the door, eyes widening in surprise when you realized who it was. Cersei stood on the other side with a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you spied the large, ornate bowl she was carrying in her arms. It looked to be filled with...berries. You gave her a curtsy before meeting her eyes; they always seemed angry and hateful, and whatever expression she tried to convey never quite reached them, “y-your Grace. What can I do for you?”

“Oh no,” her voice was pitched an octave and you could see she was refraining from expressing her true feelings, “it appears I am here to do something for you. Can you believe that? The Queen doing the bidding of a pauper prince and delivering something to a servant girl.”

“I-I don’t understand, your Grace,” you shook your head and took a step back, hoping she wouldn’t reach out and strike you. She’d had a period where she had been prone to that, slapping anyone who dared to question so much as a word she said. Luckily, it had been a while since you had personally faced her wrath. Something deep within you told that your time of smooth sailing was quickly coming to an end. 

“These,” she displayed the ornately carved bowl towards you and you could tell that it was teeming with all of Oberyn’s beloved berries, “are for you. From the Prince himself. He asked me, personally, to ensure that you receive them.”

“I had no clue he would do that,” you stuttered, backing further into your room, Cersei following you inside, “I-I’m sorry, your Grace. He must not be thinking clearly. I-I didn’t ask-”

“Hmm,” she reached a few hand up and trailed it along your jaw before touching a lock of your beautiful hair. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you tried to stop yourself from crying, feeling the familiar sting welling up at the back of your eyes, “I’m sure you didn’t, you filthy little whore.”

Her words cut you almost as much as her hand as she slapped you across the face with fury. You clutched the spot, already sore, and surely red as she pushed past you and leaned against your window. Wiping away the few tears that had rolled down your cheeks, you almost whimpered, “your Grace, I’ve done nothing...I don’t why-”

“Such a shame,” she said softly as she took the bowl and dumped the fresh fruit out of the window, letting them land on the ground outside. You made a small, pathetic sound as you watched a wicked smile cross her face, “all that exquisite fruit wasted. You should be more careful next time. If the prince were to find out I’m sure his spirits would be crushed. He had these brought in, just for you.”

“Your Grace-”

“And this lovely bowl,” she traced her long fingers over the carvings, “all the way from Dorne. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her. Whatever answer you provided her with would be the wrong one. On the one hand you could agree with her, after which she'd accuse you of being nothing more than a whore and confirming her suspicions. If you disagreed, she'd just call you a liar and somehow still make you the guilty party.

You remained silent as you looked at her wide eyes, cheek still stinging and burning. It would surely leave a mark for everyone to see in the coming days.

"No answer?" she mocked you, her voice a cruel sneer, "what a pity. I think it's quite beautiful despite being made by Dornish savages. But I suppose none of that matters."

Before you could open your mouth to speak again, Cersei took the bowl and smashed it on the floor. You watched in horror as the it shattered into a million tiny pieces, scattering all over the floor.

"Oh dear," she pretended to be shocked as you sank to your knees and tried to grab at the pieces, trying in vain to gather each little bit, "you should be more careful, silly girl. I wonder how the prince will feel when I tell him not only did you refuse his gift, you destroyed it all."

You looked up at her with teary eyes, still trying to scrounge up the pieces, feeling them leave little cuts in all over your fingers. You wanted to scream at her, to tell her she was a horrible person, but you refrained. Either you held your tongue or faced life locked away, or if she was feeling particularly cruel, death.

"Clean this mess up," she hissed through gritted teeth, "and then yourself, you smell like shit. And no supper for tonight."

You didn't even bother to say anything as she swept past you, her long skirts dispersing the mess further. Your warm tears mixed in with the little bits of brilliant red blood that had bubbled up on your fingers.

"If I ever see you near Oberyn Martell again," she said softly, "I will have you hanged. Remember your place - you're just a servant, you are no one."

Without another word she walked out and slammed the door loudly behind her. Listening to her treating footsteps for a moment, only when you were sure it was all clear did you allow yourself to fully collapse on the cold, stone floor, openly weeping by now.

But you kept at it, picking up each tiny shard until you had them all on the blanket of your bed. It was long dark now, only the glittering of the lamps outside casting a small glow in your room. People were still outside, even at this hour, feasting and drinking, and having a joyous time. And here you were, alone, hungry, and crying. All because you had a few conversations with someone that didn't treat you like the kitchen scraps. All because someone treated you with kindness.

You wondered where he was now. You hoped he was happy. You hoped he was having a good time with his friends. You hoped he would somehow know what happened and that you would never have acted in such a horrible manner.

By the time you were finished, it was late and there was nothing to keep you company except the inky blue sky, littered with glittering stars, casting the ghost of light throughout the Red Keep. You stood up, finally, and grabbed the your change of clothing, quietly heading out of the room to go to the washroom designated for servants. 

You were fortunate that you going yourself alone, letting yourself cry, deciding that you were going to allow yourself to wallow and feel sorry for this evening and this evening only. Tomorrow you would be steel; cold, quiet, emotionless.

Heating up water, you made it as scalding as possible, slowly stripping off your clothes and allowing yourself a peek at your reflection in the aging looking glass. Once you studied your face, eyes red and swollen with tears, and a large red welt across your cheek, you grew annoyed and covered up your reflection with your dirtied dress. Stepping into the scalding water, you hissed when it burned your skin, especially that of the cut flesh of your hands, but pushed through, telling yourself that it didn't matter, nothing matter. But you still found it around to remind yourself of that. It was hard to feel like no one when he had made you feel like someone.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of days, you were, once again, resigned to the dirty jobs throughout the castle. Jobs normally left for the men or the stable boys. You knew Cersei was waiting for you to come or make some sort of remark, but you remained silent and went about your duties without a single word. You didn't even appear at meals; at the end of each day you returned to your room, sitting there silently as the sun went down, and slumber took over. The welt on your face has turned into brilliant shades of blues and purples, but no bothered to ask what happened. No one had to.

By the third day, you had gotten into a rhythm and finished your daily tasks early, just as the sun was setting. Instead of going in search of dinner or retiring to your room, you decided to head to the seaside. If nothing else, it would serve to hopefully instill a bit of peace within you. Plopping down on the soft ground, you kicked off your shoes and sat your feet in the sand, raking your fingers through it, as a long tired sigh escaped your lips. The sound of the soft waves was soothing to your ears, along with the chirp of the birds flying overhead. For the first time in days, you felt somewhat normal, as you watched the sun sink over the horizon.

"It's quiet out here," the warm, velvety voice surprised you, but despite never having much of a conversation with her, you immediately realized who it was, "such a welcome change from the mess of King's Landing."

"Lady Ellaria," you turned and gave the stunning woman a small smile as she sat down next to you. It was hard not to stare at her; she was like a goddess incarnate. You could see why Oberyn was so taken with her.

"I am no lady," she insisted with a small smile as she picked up a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers, " unlike you, Y/N Hunziker."

You stiffened at the sound of your familial name, the one you had disowned all those years ago when you had left to find for yourself in King's Landing.

"I don't use that name," you said quietly, pointedly looking anywhere but her face, "and I'd prefer it if you didn't either. I don't know how you found out who I am and I don't care, but I go by Flowers now."

"Why do you choose to go by a name reserved for a bastard when you are not one?"

"I am no one," you shrugged lightly, looking away and studying the ebb and flow of the low tide.

"You've been absent for a few days," she pointed out as you stood up and brushed off your skirt. You were about to reach for your shoes, but she was faster, taking them and clutching them to her chest, "I've noticed. So has Oberyn. He has grown concerned."

"He has no reason to worry," you lied as you tried to keep from crying and breaking down in front of her. Your heart ached at the thought that he not only noticed your absence, but mourned it. You reached for your shoes but she refused to hand them over.

"Where have you been, sweet girl?" she asked gently as she handed your shoes over. You had inadvertently brushed your hair back, exposing your face to her. Her dark eyes immediately raked over the mark on your face, widening in surprise. Realizing your mistake, you quickly grabbed your shoes, covering your face with hair again. The angry red marks littering your hands and wrists were not lost on her, "Y/N?"

"I've been nowhere," you said quietly, as you started to walk away, "being no one."

»»————-　♡　————-««

You'd promised yourself you wouldn't cry anymore. That you wouldn't allow yourself to be weak and vulnerable. But once you found yourself back in your quarters you flopped face down in your bed and let the tears flow freely. You'd made one friend, two if you counted Ellaria, but you were destined to be kept apart all because of birth, because of a name, a family. And he cared about you; at least enough to express concern to his lover. Who had sought you out in return.

And so you wept. And wept. And wept. Until your tears had run dry, until your throat was sore and you had a headache. But before you could try and get some relief through sleep, another loud knock came at your door. Your anxiety only increased as came to the conclusion that it could only be Cersei coming to berate you further. Practically dashing to the door you pulled it open without hesitation, dropping it into a deep curtsy, "your Grace."

"Stand up, sweet girl, there is no need for the formality," but it wasn't Cersei's voice that met your ears. No, this one was much more inviting and pleasant - musical. You quickly stood up to your full height, scanning over Oberyn and quickly meeting his dark eyes; they were filled with concern.

He gently reached up to touch your face, but you flinched out of his touch. When he tried to stop you, he had reached for your hands, but tensed up at the feeling of your marred skin. Letting out a small sound of surprise, he took your hands in his much larger ones and examined delicately, a look of anger crossing his handsome features. You didn’t even know how he had managed to find you, to find your quarters hidden deep within the hallowed halls. Ellaria had no doubt told him what she had witnessed, which caused to break and pursue you. 

Pulling your hands out of his, you took a step back and studied your feet; you wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth, to tell him what had happened. But you refrained, afraid of what would happen to yourself, and Oberyn, if he was seen speaking to you.

“What happened to you? Who did this?” there was a dangerous edge to his voice, his heart plummeting to his stomach at your recoil.

“I-it’s nothing,” you lied quickly, “you should go. You can’t be seen here.”

“And why not?”

“Because it is improper,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “a prince should not be consorting with a servant.”

“Oh my sweet girl,” his voice softened and was enough to make you want to throw yourself into his arms, “who told you this? What happened?”

“I’m only telling you what’s right...what’s proper,” you allowed yourself to meet his gaze, but regretted your decision as he scanned your face, intently studying the painful looking welt, “I must remember my place. I am no one, and you are...a prince of Dorne.”

“Did Cersei do this to you?” of course it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together. He remembered how Cersei had acted when she had seen the two of you in the gardens. A bout of rage soared through every fiber of beginning as he imagined her inflicted this sort of pain upon you, “did that vile, wretched woman touch you?”

You didn’t confirm or deny anything, opting instead for silence, which served as an answer to his question anyway. He let out a long sigh, his gaze never leaving yours as tried your best not to cry anymore, “you need to leave, Oberyn. Please.”

“Did she...” he trailed off, running a hand over his face in exasperation, “did she bring you my gift?”

You didn’t know why you decided to lie, but you weren’t just honest with him. Letting out a shaky breath, your voice shooting up an octave, “yes...and I disposed of it. It’s not proper for you to be giving me anything. The Queen kindly reminded me of that.”

His nostrils flared as his eyes flicked across the room as he spotted the shards from the bowl you had collected. He knew you would never, ever do something like that. This was all Cersei’s doing, that much was evident. Oberyn put his large hands on either side of your face, gently as possible to prevent hurting you further, and forced you to look at him, “Cersei did this, didn’t she?”

You remained silent, unable to stop a few tears from rolling down your cheeks. Oberyn swiped them away, his heart breaking at the sight, “please, Oberyn, you need to leave.”

“Tell me,” he insisted firmly, “tell me exactly what happened. Please, my sweet girl, just tell me.”

“Nothing happened,” you lied directly to him, finding it both harder, and easier, than you thought, “the queen brought your gift to me and I refused it, at her suggestion.”

“Y/N-”

“I got rid of the berries,” your voice shook a little, “and I broke the bowl.”

“You did all this?”

“Yes,” your lip trembled as you hoped he would realize you were lying, able to red between the lines. You knew he would; he already knew the truth without even hearing it from your lips, “I did this.”

He hesitated slightly, how own hands shaking slightly before he pulled close to him, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. How you wished you could give into him, to let yourself be completely free with him, but you knew, deep inside that it wasn’t an option. It would never be an option.

“You really want me to believe you did all of that,” Oberyn was quiet and gentle as he tried to convey to you that it would be okay. He silently vowed that he would protect, no matter what that meant. He was the Red Viper for a reason after all. He gestured to your hands and face, “and that you did that to yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Are you scared?” his voice dropped to a low whisper so the question was barely audible, even to you.

“Yes.”

He nodded as he pulled back from you, a torn look on his face as he tried to decided what to do. He could have easily found Cersei and extracted his revenge, but he decided that was too rash. But he would do something, anything, to keep you safe and sound. That much he already knew.

“Oh, my sweet girl...”

“You need to leave, your highness,” you pulled back and turned around so you were no longer facing him, “and make sure you aren’t seen. You can’t come back here...we can’t see each other anymore, while you are here.”

“Why?” he asked softly, and you wished you could get him to see why this was a bad idea in so many aspects, “tell me one good reason.”

“Because I am no one.”

“And you do not want to see me again?”

“Yes, your highness,” you lied, as you stared out the window, at the sky which seemed to contain no stars on this horrible evening. You covered your face as you wept, Oberyn watching slightly as your shoulders shake with your tears, “that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[amphtaminedreams]

Paris Haute Couture Week S/S 2020 Plus a Little Jacquemus: Okay, Dior DID Suck (Part 1/2)

Hi to anyone reading,

Oh my god. I completely forgot there was also 2 haute couture weeks. I FEEL SO OVERWHELMED. Here I was getting all geared up for the F/W 2020 shows and suddenly it’s Jean Paul Gaultier’s last show and everybody’s (predictably) buzzing about the Jacquemus collection. I can’t keep up. But Haute Couture week is a lot less intense than the RTW shows so I suppose I should be enjoying this relative peace whilst I can. 

I remember my last post about Haute Couture week opened with me defending Maria Grazia from the wrath of the internet; if Jacquemus is social media’s Lord and Saviour, this woman is the Antichrist. She’s Michael Langdon minus the dramatic flair. But the thing is, I genuinely really liked the Dior collection last time. Maybe because I was newer to the discipline of scouring Vogue Runway, but the lack of originality didn’t bother me; it was still something I’d die to wear, gothic yet delicate and relevant for 2019. 

That being said, this time round, I have to open by doing the exact opposite and concurring: this time round, Dior was in fact, utter shit.

I feel mean saying it but...really? These were the slightly more salvageable outfits and my favourite of the bunch, and to be honest they don’t really capture the full extent of how outdated this collection was to me. I know that the concept behind the show was this idea of the divine feminine but Greek Goddess has been done SO many times. If you’re gonna go down that route, you have to bring something new, elevate it in some way. It can’t be THIS generic.

I can’t believe that in 2020 we’re really seeing plaited hairbands. The individual dresses are basic, but not so much the problem as the styling; they look like outfits I would’ve put together back in 2012. That’s not an exaggeration. I think even 2013 me would appreciate that you need to make things a little twisty. 

The colour scheme is pretty, don’t get me wrong, and I like the cowl necks-the white dresses are the highlights. I think the concept of this collection was conceived with all the best intentions. But as a designer you need to take risks and I don’t see one single risk here; there isn’t anything that wouldn’t already be sold in your local H&M. Dior is such an established brand, Maria Grazia has room to do whatever she wants. And yet it just comes across like she’s out of ideas. 

You’ve got to look at a designer like Ulyana Sergeenko:

When I say elevated (but still in the vein of wearable), I mean something like this. To be completely honest, I hadn’t heard of Ulyana Sergeenko until I saw shots of this show on Twitter. But what a perfect mix of kitsch and glamour. The influences are clear: Priscilla Presley, Barbie, Jackie O, Valley of the Dolls, the rich stay-at-home wife of the 60s, the Alessandra Rich/Scream Queens-esque sorority girl, Paris fucking Hilton. It’s exaggerated and it’s tongue in cheek with total grounds to call it trashy-there’s a corset resembling a Benjamin Franklin, ffs-but it’s all done with a wink and a nudge. And in all honesty, I just think it’s beautiful. Can you imagine Frances O’Sullivan (@Beautyspock on IG) in one of these looks? It would be worthy of the Rose McGowan cultural reset meme ten times over.

Everything is feline, from the very literal cat silhouettes and cat headed boa, to the makeup and the hair clips. It reminds me of the last RTW Ralph and Russo show but with even more attention to detail. And look at the STAGE. If this collection were a song, it’d be Disco Tits by Tove Lo. And no, I’m not just saying that because one of the dresses actually does feature a (cat shaped) disco tit. Like these are the clothes I dreamed of putting my Bratz dolls, and for null I’m sure, myself in. Absolute perfection. Plus, I’ve loved Coco Rocha since she was on The Face with Naomi Campbell; she is, after all, to thank for the iconic “check your lipstick before you come for me” line. Girl is really the martyr for all purple lipstick lovers, cut down in her prime by a pissed-off Naomi. 

Onto Alexandre Vauthier, which I also really liked. An interesting yet effortless blend of the old and the new, the masculine and the feminine, if I could sum this collection up in one word, it would be cool. I know, it’s not the most descriptive, but it pretty much sums up how I feel; I’m not AS gassed about it as I am about Ulyana Sergeenko or this season’s Elie Saab (wait for it), but it’s a fresh offering, even if the styles aren’t the most groundbreaking. Stand outs for me are the almost petticoat like, debutante dresses which have Elle Fanning’s name written all over them.

I was hard pressed to find favourites in the Armani Privé collection if I’m honest. I’m not saying it was awful, all I know is that it just isn’t my style. It’s all a bit TOO tailored for my liking, and kinda reminds me of the Zara pantsuits my Spanish teacher used to wear. In other words, I find it to be a bit dowdy. On a positive note, the colours, fabrics, and beading are all stunning, so I see that a lot of craftsmanship clearly went into it; I think my biggest issue is the styling and the shapes (or lack of) on show. I’m very much getting a 20s, flapper vibe and whilst that’s an era that fascinates me and that I appreciate was cutting-edge at the time, I’ve yet to see it be bought into the 21st century in a way that doesn’t look stiff or costume-y. 

Then there’s Azzaro. At the complete opposite end of the scale to Armani, it doesn’t look expensive, which I’m sure isn’t something any designer previewing their collection at haute couture week is striving for. BUT that being said, I’d be much more likely to wear something from this collection than I would from Armani Privé. I mean, I have no shot at ever wearing either but ya get me. 

Whilst I’m sure it or something similar has been done before, the mesh diamanté dress is exquisite and I’m a huge fan of the stacked gem chokers and belts. The whole collection looks like something a London socialite who parties by night but (deep breath in) plays in a shitty band so fancies herself a bit of a rockstar by day would wear (exhale) and as much as that doesn’t sound like a compliment, I mean it as one. I’m talking about the kind of person you’d see smoking outside a bar and think “I wish I was them but I am potato lol”. I mean, as far as faux fur and fedoras are concerned, I’m gonna find it hard to completely slate a collection so this is pretty up my alley.

Chanel was a huge step up from their last RTW collection, imo, and probably on par with their last haute couture offering. It’s that same blend of preppy Chanel detailing (i.e the exaggerated collars, the checks and the lace) and practicality, only even more austere this time round.

It’s funny because when I looked back on original notes on this collection, before I’d even done any research into the context, I saw that one of the things I’d written was “giving me Victorian orphanage madame” as well as “something something Amish” and I wasn’t THAT far off base. The collection is, after all, supposed to be a tribute to the nuns who raised Coco Chanel at the beginning of the century in an Abbey-cum-orphanage. This makes me really happy; I know not everyone’s a fan of Virginie Viard’s nods back to the past and the brand’s origins but as a history nerd, I definitely am. 

There’s also definitely a lot of things that can be translated into high street trends here: the combination of decorative white socks and black shoes is something I’ve seen making a comeback already, tulle is always a winner (I actually don’t mind it as an overlay, I think it’s pretty, sue me) and I have no doubt we’ll be seeing these dramatic collars creeping back onto tops and jumpers throughout the year. It’s been a while since they were a thing anyway and we all know how cyclical fashion is.

Another high note for Elie Saab this haute couture season; if I was an expressive person, I probably would’ve audibly gasped as I looked through this collection. It is SO FUCKING MAGNIFICENT. The colour scheme, the baroque prints, the floral sequinned embroidery, these are Cinderella style ballgowns taken to the next level. Elie Saab really is the definition of opulence and I’m not at all mad about it. Please, somebody put Lana Del Rey in one of these, PLEASE. Remind her how much of a princess she is and get her out of those “soccer mom” looks.

I’m so stuck between this collection and Ulyana Sergeenko as my favourite, and the latter might just pip the other to the post, purely because of the staging and extravagance of the presentation itself. 

Georges Hobeika was predictably phenomenal. Like, I’m not going to lie, I am easily won over by some sequins and tulle, I’ve never claimed any different, and if you can expect that from anyone, it’s this guy (ignore that phrasing making me sound like his proud mother). The colour scheme is very spring appropriate and so is the 3D flower detailing, and if there’s anything good to take from Ascot and English royal weddings, Georges Hobeika knows it’s the hats.

It was another strong year for Givenchy too:

Though Claire Waight Keller is also fond of the extravagant details along the lines of feather and tulle, it’s always done in a more organic way; the details are always more reminiscent of nature, something created by accident, than they are suggestive of painstaking attention to detail, the image of someone hunched over a dress beading for hours on end à la Georges Hobeika or Elie Saab. That is not a bad thing at all; if anything, it makes Givenchy more interesting to study and gives you more to think about. Sometimes a dress takes you a bit longer to fully appreciate, but I’d say that only lends to its memorability. This year’s willowy, billowing, and at times coral-esque structures  remind me of something I can see being worn down an Iris Van Herpen runway, set apart by that delicate Givenchy finesse. And side not: I know this post is to talk about the clothes, not the models, but I got super excited over seeing Sora Choi and Adut Akech walk too. 

Guo Pei is always fun to look at. I mean, this collection is giving me half Matryoshka dolls, half It’s A Small World Christmas edition and I can’t hate on that. 

And then there’s Iris Van Herpen, who knocked it out of the park once again. At this point, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Every outfit looks like something that could be exhibited in the Tate Modern (I know, it’s a basic opinion, but it’s true: TATE MODERN IS THE BEST MUSEUM IN LONDON), or honestly, the Design Museum, just for the genius that must go into the way these dresses move. Honestly, if I can see a goddess wearing anything, it’s more one of these looks than anything in the Dior collection. Like wife of Poseidon or something; I know it’s not very feminist of me to not know the Greek Goddess of the sea’s name but I only know who Poseidon is because I was a Percy Jackson fan back in the day so let me live.

It’s not like the whole under-the-sea theme is particularly new, Zimmerman did something similar last RTW (I think? Correct me if I’m wrong), but these constructions could’ve grown out of the sea bed themselves, which is more of an original take than “oo, blue and white and frothy hemlines!”. Additionally, we’ve got these dresses with the overlapping almost plaited fabric that are-we’re sticking with the goddess references here-fit for Persephone ruling over hell. As for the Grudge-looking dress (fourth down, far left), I could be reaching, but is anyone else seeing that as a nod to the oil spills polluting our oceans? Because that would just add yet another layer to this collection. 

Regardless, it’s all impeccable and I’m in love. Iris Van Herpen as a MET Gala theme. Make it happen.

Anyway, to end on a high note, that’s it for this post! 

Sorry it’s such a sudden cut-off but Jean Paul Gaultier was due to be my second to last to review and due to it being the final show, there’s an onslaught of photos that would not fit with what’s already in this post. Plus, I’d rather start a post with Jacquemus then end it as I feel like there’s a lot of hype around his collections online right now so 1). it’s clickbait (for what, I do not know, as I’m not exactly making any money off this blog, just losing my sanity as it transpires when Tumblr accidentally terminated it earlier today and I had a minor breakdown) and 2). this Steve Buscemi meme is the most accurate representation of only 21 year old me to grace the internet:

I will aim to post part 2/2 in the next week, including JPG, as I just mentioned, the Jacquemus co-ed show, Margiela, Valentino and more, and as always, thank you for anyone who read until the end! You are an angel:-)

Lauren x

[operationcavill]

Untangled - Part 3

Does Henry finally get Y/N number? Does Y/N remember to ask for his? Keep reading to find out!

Inspired by: Butterflies // Kacey Musgraves

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Sisters name

B/I/L - Brother-in-Law

Part 1 | Part 2

The über driver jumps when he hears someone shout as they slam his door, “You didn’t give him your number, AGAIN?”

“I panicked, S/N!” She puts her hand to her forehead, “He didn’t give me his number either.” The elevator to their room is silent, mostly due to the fact that her brother in law looks like he might lose his drinks any second.

Making sure they got in safely she hugs her and checks the time. Her sister has hit her needy buzzed phase of the night, “You sure you don’t wanna stay for a bit? We could watch Drag Race.

Not wanting to invade on them any longer she shakes her head, “Nah. I’m gonna head home and hopefully sleep through this storm. I really don’t want listen to B/I/N vomit again anyway.” She gives her sister a peck on the cheek as she shuts the door to their room. Y/N walks down the hall toward the elevator, praying she doesn’t get stuck inside of it if the power goes out.

The ding brings her back to reality, “Hello there.”

What is it about a man with an accent, “Oh, hi,” She bites her lip.

“I didn’t know you wanted to run into me so soon. You following me, Darling?”

The way he says, ’Darling’ puts her on her toes, “My sister is staying here. Are you following me?”

Henry crosses his toned arms, “Just a very nice coincidence.”

“I take it this isn’t your floor?” She enters the elevator, pressing the lobby button.

He lets the doors close, “No, but I don’t mind sharing a ride back down,” He takes note of the sound of her boots on the laminate floor.  He liked to see her in nothing but those boots. They were tall, black, cutting off at her knee and letting just enough room to show a bit of her thigh. They reminded him of something 60s, go go boots and all that. She was dressed very well but looked so comfortable. A simple dress with what she would later call ‘a fun cardigan, not a sweater,' “How’d you know it was gonna rain like that?”

She looks at him, smudged eyeliner making her look even more endearing somehow, “Hmm?”

“How’d you know it was gonna rain?”

She shrugs, “It’s just one of those weird things.” She taps her toes while the elevator beeps, still paranoid about getting stuck in the small space.

“Is it terribly forward of me to tell you how cute you are?”

“No,” She looks as if she’s embarrassed to be complimented, and he can’t understand why.

Henry moves closer, “Well, Y/N, I think you’re lovely.”

They approach the lobby, “I, um, need to catch my Uber.”

He licks his bottom lip, “What a shame. Can I wait with you?”

She tries to hide her smile but it quickly falls as she notices the rush of people coming from outdoors, “Ugh. Frickin’ rain."

“Don’t like storms?”

“I don’t mind them. I live in an older building so when it storms, we usually lose power for the night.”

“Ah, I certainly hope not. It’s surprisingly cold tonight.” He would love to keep her warm on a night like this.

“It is. Getting stuck in the rain didn’t seem to help,” Oh, what a playful look she gives him.

He laughs, “I admit I was wrong.”

“Shit.”

“Everything ok?”

“My ride cancelled on me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” His hands find themselves in his pockets again, “Um, well I can give you a ride if you like.”

“Oh that’s super nice of you but the bus runs—“ He almost rolls his eyes, the bus?

Henry hates the idea of her riding a bus alone at night, and in this weather? She could get sick. He couldn’t have that, “Please, I insist.”

He receives a quizzical look, “Are you sure?”

“Of course,”

“Ok, well, I’m telling my sister you’re giving me a ride. You know, just in case you turn into a psychopath or something. No offense,” Y/N laughs nervously.

“None taken, car’s this way,” He returns the smile, hoping she’s not too bothered.

She follows him to the cold garage, “I hope you have heated seats. Should’ve worn jeans,” She wouldn’t say it out loud but the wind was making her butt so cold that she could have worn it was going numb.

Henry grins as he opens her door, “You’re in luck.”

“Thank you.” Her sweet smile.

“So, where am I headed?”

Y/N suddenly get a bit more animated, waving her hands about, “Outside Squirrel Hill, when you pull out, go left, “ She points, ”and pop on Irvine.”

“Alrighty.”

“And at the second light, make a right.” She zoned out on his hand on the gearshift, he has very nice hands. They look soft, but not too soft.

“So, how’s your legs?”

She was too preoccupied by his hand movements to hear what he said,“Hmm?”

“Your legs were cold?”

Thank god its dark in this car, she blushing and wants to jump right out of the car, “Oh, yeah, the heated seats, they’re fine. “

“Good, it is rather cold. I should’ve brought a jacket.”

“Extra cold for the beginning of October,” A loud clap of thunder makes her gasp, “Oh!

He jokes with her, “Not scared of storms, huh?”

She sighs, “Took me by surprise is all,” The rest of the ride is quiet, a soft song playing and the rain violently hitting the sun roof.

——————————

He parks in front of the brick building and gives a sympathetic groan, “Well, I’d say your electricity theory was correct.”

She sighs, “Listen, would you mind walking me up? There’s a creepy guy on the 3rd floor that I wouldn’t exactly like to meet in the dark.”

His stomach drops, is she safe here? “Of course. Are you ready to brave the rain?”

No.“Count of 3?”

“1-2-3,” They both open their doors and bolt.

“Uh,” Y/N feels the icy cold drops hit her thighs as she runs.

He grabs her hand and encourages her run faster, “Hurry!”

“Oh my god,” She’s shivering now, and she notices the thinness of his shirt once more and the body underneath it, and that he’s still hold her hand.

Regrettably, he lets go to shake the water off his arms, “I think we might make a puddle in the lobby.”

She shivers, “Right. Steps are over here.”

"What floor are you on?”

She groans, “I’m on 5.”

“Well, you know what they say. Never skip leg day.” Henry huffs and gets a head start leaving her to skip to catch up.

As they reaches the 3rd floor, the creepy guy is waiting just as Y/N thought he would, “Who’s ya friend?” She moves so that she’s walking beside Henry, “You gotta name?” They continue on, rightfully ignoring him.

He goes wide-eyed, “Jesus. He is creepy.”

Y/N sighs and shrugs, “He makes everyone uncomfortable.”

“I can see why. Those emergency hallway lights aren’t exactly doing him any favors either.”

“So, here I am.” She’s suddenly very aware of her lungs. Her chest feels tighten as she looks at him.

‘Here you are.” If she was in a movie, this is what they meant by calling men ‘Dreamy’. His thick eyelashes and soft lips, even his stupid scruff is beautiful.

“Thank you for the ride. And walking up here with me,”

“No problem, it was good to see you, again, so soon.”

Another loud boom of thunder rips through the night, “God!”

He tries not to laugh, “I think you might be a liar about hating storms.”

Her voice falls, showing her shyness all over again, “I think this one just has me particularly jumbled.”

“Oh really?” Henry moves closer, mere inches from her face.

She swallows, “Yes.”

He’s so close to her face that she could feel the warmth of his breath, “Why’s that?”

“You’re just—,” Y/N is distracted by movement in the corner of her eye, “GET OUT OF HERE!”

Henry watches the creepy man from the third floor descend the stairs and looks back toward Y/N, “Does he do that a lot?”

“No, I’ve never seen him up here, “ She looks startled and he instinctively walks back to her with large strides, briefly touching her arm, “Do you care to come in for a second? I don’t really want someone eavesdropping on me.” He nods, shuffling inside with her.

She eagerly shuts the door, locking it, but bumping into henry as soon as she turns back around, “Oh, sorry. It’s really dark.”

“It’s ok. I have some candles and stuff. You want some tea? The good thing about these old buildings is that they always have gas ranges.” The light from her phone helps her navigate and see Henry standing there with his wet clothes, looking ridiculously attractive. She awkwardly takes her boots off before kicking them to the side.

He can’t contain a chuckle, which earns awkward silence from her, “I don’t mean to laugh, you looked very cute struggling.”

“That’s a weird compliment, you know?” He shrugs with his hands in his pocket. She motions at him even though they can barely see, “Take off your shoes, please. With my luck, I’ll probably slip and fall on a single drop of water. Come on, let’s make that tea.”

Henry walks behind her very closely, making Y/N’s heart race in the best way, ”Thank you for letting me come in.”

“I guess knowing a superhero came in handy.” She laughs, “So, tea?”

“That’d be great.” He watches her look through drawers, sifting through things with her aid on her phone light.

“I think I put all the candles in the hallway,” She hums before speaking,“I don’t have anything warm to offer you besides the tea. Unless you want to wear a robe with little gold stars on it.”

His mind goes off with how adorable she must look about of the bath. Her skin all flush and warm bundled up in a robe, “Ohh, sounds very fashionable but I’m ok. Thank you, though.”

“I’m going to dry off and change before I turn into an ice cube. I’ll be right back.” Henry looks around her kitchen and tries to make out all her knickknacks from the barely there light of the small window above the sink. She returns in a sweater and leggings, and a towel in her hand. Soft. Y/N bumps into him a second time, “Sorry, I can’t really see. Got you a towel,” She clears her throat, “Got the candles.”

He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy her body against his, “S’alright.”

She finds a lighter and joyfully announces, “Let there be light!”

“You are an exquisite hostess.” He rubs the towel in his hair, leaving it a curly mess.

“Thank you. I do try,” she searches her cabinet after filling the kettle, “black tea, green tea, or um, more black tea.

Henry looks offended, “I’m British.” He sits down in one of the wooden chairs in her small kitchen, somehow looking right at home.

Y/N puts on her best fake accent, “Oh, my mistake, Mr. Cavill.”

He attempts to wink, “Cheeky.”

“So, you’re in my kitchen and I barely know you. I’m either very stupid or very smart and pulled the hottest man in the world inside my apartment.”

“Should I say thank you?”

“Probably.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N plops the tea bags in the mugs, “Let me know if I’m keeping you. I didn’t really mean to just drag you in here. That guy is just such a weirdo,” She fills the cups, “I kind of panicked.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Sugar?” Sweet like her.

There goes those thoughts again, “Yes.”

“I, um, dont usually invite strange men into my house. So, I hope you’re not a complete crazy-pants.”

“Please, if you’re uncomfortable I can go. I don’t want to over stay my welcome, or make you think I’m a crazy-pants.”

“No, it’s ok. I actually like having someone here tonight. He’s never came up here before, and I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you, too,” he sits up straight, “and I like your flat. Cozy, it feels like a home.”

“Thank you. I try to make it my little hideaway.”

“It’s nice. Especially in this storm.”  

“I can’t believe how bad it is. I don’t think it’s rained this hard since the beginning of summer.” A bolt of lightning and loud clap of thunder shakes her, “Jesus!”

“Whoa.”

A buzzing noise comes from the counter, “Well, my phone is on 3% and there’s a flood warning.”

It’s then that he remembers his phone is in his car, “That’s cheerful news,” he watches her in the dim light. She picks at her sweater, seemingly avoiding his gaze and the glow of the candles make her all too alluring. Even when she isn’t speaking, she says a lot. Y/N’s body talks, and he wants to answer. “Ok over there?” She grants him pleasant smile with a nod.

She grants him pleasant smile with a nod, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” He can barely handle the few seconds of anticipation.

“Do you mind staying — would you want to stay here for a little bit?”  

He hates that he gets excited by these words, because maybe she’s too scared to be alone or maybe he’s misread the situation entirely, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t like the thought of you driving in this, or being responsible for Superman’s death. I’d feel better if you’d stay until it lightens up. It looks like there’s a bit of a blackout, I can’t see really see anything out there.”

He smiles widely, “Well, I’ll stay and chat if you’ll have me.”

Before they know it, two and a half hours pass by. They share their favorite books and what music they like. They both agree that they could eat gnocchi for ever meal. He struggles with jet lag and Y/N has never been overseas. She misses her niece and mentions how she’s always loved to paint, too. Henry finds her passion for her craft and love for her family endearing, and it’s something he can understand. He always misses his family when he’s away, but his drive to work is practically unstoppable.

“What time is it,” she stretches, accidentally giving him a glimpse of her stomach. He wants to touch her skin.

He pulls up his sleeve to expose his no doubt expensive watch, “Oh, it’s just past 1,” He shrugs, “time flies when you’re having fun.”

She yawns, “It does.”

“You’re cute.”

“Stop it.” Y/N sits up straight, ready to argue for no reason. She’s bit grouchy when she’s sleepy and not even Henry’s good looks and charming accent can beak that seal.

“No.” He can tell she’s holding back a smile.

Ok, maybe Henry’s charm can break her out of it, “Yes.”

He shifts forward, resting his elbows on the table, “Your cute sweaters and your stupid cute mugs.”

She gasps, “They’re not stupid!”

“Yes, they are, they’ve got blue frogs on them. Your cute smile and your cute sleepy voice,” She leans back against the chair, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

They stare at each other, the candle light flickering between them.

“Do you always pout at compliments?” He enjoys that she cocks her said to the side, gearing up to return the banter.

“No, In fact-,” A knock at the door cuts her off.

He shares confused glance, “I take it you’re not expecting anyone?”

Y/N gets up but stops to grab his forearm, “Come with me.”

He doesn’t hesitate to grab a candle and guide her, but her hands are so cold he can’t help but clasp his hand over hers, “Your fingers are freezing!”

Y/N is too worried to appreciate the sweet gesture, “Shut up and see who it is!”

“It’s your apartment!” He guffaws and rolls his eyes.

“Henry! Just look through the thingie.” The way she’s said his name could leave him melting right in the narrow hallway.

“Fine.... I don’t see anyone?” He tries not to show his concern in order to save her from worrying even more.

She squeezes his arm, “What?

“No one is-,” Another knock comes from the hall.

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message!]

@igotkatiepowers​ @xxxkatxo​ @lunedelorient​ 

[sherrybaby14]

People Can Lick Too

This is for my darling @barnesrogersvstheworld

Prompt:  People Can Lick Too.

Pairing:  Steve x Reader

Warnings:  Serial Killer AU,  Dub-con, rough sex, fem dom, choking,

Summary:  You don’t realize who your night time visitor really is.  

Words: 2800

“I’m telling you, it was shut when I left for work.”  You walked over to the closet and braced yourself, holding out the phone as you yanked open the door and shut your eyes. “Is anyone there?”

“YES!!! It’s the killer!”  Bucky’s voice carried over the phone.

“Eeek!”  You started jogging in place, almost dropping Bucky who began cackling away.  Your heart beat calmed down and you opened your eyes to see your coats hanging there.  “Not funny.”

“Well what would I do over FaceTime anyway?”  Bucky tilted his head and gave you that smug know-it-all look.  “Knock the guy out with my words?”  

“I know.  I’m just freaked.”  You walked back over to the windows in your small apartment and made sure they were locked again.  “I mean, those dead girls.  They sort of look like me and I swear the windows were shut.”  

“You’re on the second floor.  He’d have to be pretty strong to scale a brick building.”  Bucky sighed.  “There’s over 8 million people in New York.  None of the other girls lived near you.  I think you’re over reacting.”  

“Still a psycho killer on the loose?”  You went into your bedroom and flipped on the light, holding the phone in front of you so Bucky could scan the room.

“All clear.”  He sighed.  “Don’t forget to check the closet in there and under the bed, wait maybe he is hiding in the ceiling tile?  Can you push those up.”  

“Ceiling tile?” You glanced up at the solid plaster ceiling and rolled your eyes.  “Maybe I am being dramatic.  Can you just get here.  Please?”  

“I have to work late.”  Bucky scratched his head.  “The earliest I’ll get off is 2 am.  Then by the time I do closing duties.  The sun will practically be up.”

“So you’re not coming?”  You sat on the edge of your bed.

“I didn’t say that.”  Bucky’s eyes darted off camera.  “I’ll be there.  Just late.  You can’t wait up for me.”  

“But what if I want to?”  You pulled your feet up, folding your knees.  “It’s been over a week.”  

“You are a little devil.”  Bucky wiped his mouth.  “But you need to relax, get some rest.  How about I do that thing you like to wake you up?”

“Which thing?”  You raised an eyebrow as your brain scanned the many of Bucky’s talents.  

“You know, when I take your fingers in my mouth.  Lap my tongue at them.  Give a little suck?”   Now his tongue ran across his lips sending a shiver down your spine.

“That would be a nice wake-up.”  

“So relax.  You’re fine.  Nobody is in your apartment but you.  It’s too small for anyone to hide.”  Bucky narrowed his eyes.  “Be a good girl and get some sleep.  I have a feeling you’ll need some stamina for when I arrive.”  

“You’re right.”  You shook your head, the paranoia being replaced by giddiness. “Try and get out early?”  

“Not going to happen Doll.”  Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth and gave a lick.  “Mmmm.. yours taste much better.”  

“You are a tease.”  You unfolded your legs and stood up from your bed.  “You have your key right?  I’m not leaving the door unlocked.”  

“Shit. I left it at home.”  Bucky ran his hands over his hair.  “Leave your ringer on?”

“Fine.”  You strutted to your bathroom.  “If you get off early, stop and get it?”  

“What happened to get there as fast as possible?”  Bucky pouted.  

“That was before you convinced me I needed some beauty sleep.”  You giggled.  

“Well you are a beauty.”  Bucky’s teeth dragged across his bottom lip.  “Stop distracting me.  I have to get back to work.  Sleep well.  Get ready for a fun wake-up.”

“Have a good night at work.”  You winked. “See you later.”  

Bucky blew a kiss before disconnecting.  

You looked in the mirror and blew a raspberry before turning on the shower, letting the room fill with steam.   Thoughts of the window replaced by eagerness for Bucky’s visit.  You put on a playlist at full blast as you stripped down.  Planning on being extra clean for you man.  

~~

The adrenaline from this hunt was different than the others.  Maybe because she was aware of the dangerous in the city, noticed the window, or that phone call with her boyfriend.  She was an absolute trophy.  

Steve was certain any second she was going to peek under the bed and see him laying there.  Even if she didn’t have the time to let out a scream that boyfriend of hers would have called the cops.  It would have been game over.  

But fate was on his side.  Now the noise from the shower drowned out the creak of the floorboards as he slid out from his hiding spot.  

Killing one of his victims in the shower would make for easy clean up.  Not that he ever needed much.  He yanked his gloves down harder.  His hands the preferred method.  So intimate, watching as he saved them from the suffering of this world.  All these women were angels and deserved to head home.  He was merely a conduit.  

His heart raced as he entered the small bathroom.  The curtain was opaque and he got a view of her silhouette when he drew close.  His heart almost stopped as all the blood rushed to his south.  Exquisite.  She was the best of them in more ways than one.  Perfection.  

For the first time since he started this project Steve hesitated.  No.  She had to die.  Return to heaven where she belonged.  He moved forward again, but she started singing along with the music.  He’d never wanted one of his victims before.  Not like this.  

Was this a sign?  She was wanting.  He heard it in her voice on the phone.  Maybe he was wanting too.   Maybe this was the perfect set up for him to give her a better send off.  One more deserving of her.  Yes.  That was it.

Steve snuck back out of the bathroom.  The bed was too close a call.  She’d already checked the hall closet.  He slid inside just as the water stopped, the clicking of the door hidden by her tunes.  This was good.  Better.  It would be a shame to let this opportunity go to waste.

~~

Tossing and turning was an understatement.  You were in and out of dreams like you had a fever.  Some points you felt so cold you debated on getting out of bed and putting on clothes, but then the heat would come back and you remembered you wanted to be ready for Bucky’s arrival.  

You were in a light sleep when there was a hand on your wrist, lifting it in the air.  Your face turned into a smile and the problems melted away.  

“I didn’t hear you.”  You turned on your back, the room was pitch black, almost darker than normal.  You made out his figure, but before you could comment on it he took your fingers into his mouth.  “Mmmm.”  

Instead of sucking on them right away he ran his tongue down them, almost lapping at your fore and middle.  It was a different sensation that made you coo.  You started to press into his mouth when he bit down.  

“Ooo!”  Your sleepiness started to vanish.  “That’s new.”  

He relaxed his teeth and sucked hard, moving his head back until your digits left his mouth with a pop.  You stifled the giggle, not wanting to ruin the moment.   Bucky spun your hand and his lips crashed against your wrist.  His kiss was harder than normal.  The week break must have been hard on him too.

He kissed down, your core dampening as he got closer to your body.  You brought your other hand up to his shoulder and felt his bare skin.  Was he naked too?  That would be divine.  

When he neared the top of your arm you shifted, spreading your legs so he could settle between you thighs.  Skin on skin.  You let out a purr as his body loomed over yours, his lips touching your neck.  

You tilted your head to the side.  He lapped at you, sucking the skin hard, pulling it between his teeth, until CRUNCH.

“Hey!” You shoved at him.  “That hurt.”  

He pulled back a little.  In the darkness it was hard to make out his response.  

“I mean, I don’t mind a little kink.”  You rubbed your neck not wanting to ruin the mood.  “But the most you’ve been into has been finger sucking.  This mean you’re ready for more?”  

Bucky responded with his lips.  They crashed against yours with such power you fell back into the pillow.  His mouth commanded yours to open and you had no desire to resist as your tongues pressed for each other.  

This was new.  Exciting.  His hand came up and rested on your throat.  You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and squeezed, wanting him to do the same.  He was always so gentle with you.  Finally a little roughness.  

His fingers sank in and you moaned into his mouth.  They pushed down hard and more of your juices gathered as a result.  You tried to lift your hips, brushing your sex against his cock.  He was so hard it made you whimper.  

The sound made his hand vanish and body pull away.  

“No.” You grabbed the back of his neck and arched your back as you sat up with him.  “I won’t break.  I’ll let you know what I can’t handle and you do the same.”  

A growl left Bucky’s mouth as he dipped his head to your chest.  You felt the roughness from his beard tickle your breast as his mouth wrapped around your nipple.  

“That feels so good baby.”  You ran your hands through his hair.  Had he gotten it cut?  Not that it mattered.  “Keep going.”  

His hand came to your other breast.  He started kneading and pulling you to a peak.  Mixed with the pulsing of his tongue on your alternate side your body felt like it was on fire.  Then you felt his teeth graze and you started to pull away, but got a better idea.

“Bite and I’ll slap you.” You knew Bucky wasn’t kinky enough to try anything, why shouldn’t you play the dom? Knowing what you wanted.  

But then there was a quick pressure on your sensitive bud.  

“FUCK!”  You shoved him away, his teeth dragging your nip with him.  

The stinging pain made you bring your hand to your breast, pushing down to ease the sting.  

Never one for empty threats there was no hesitation as you pulled your palm back. CRACK!  The slap echoed across the pitch black room, loudened by the darkness in a way.  

His chest was heaving.  Stunned.  It was obvious he did not know how to respond.  But you, you were becoming more turned on than you ever thought possible.  

You through your body forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smashed your chests and lips together.  Now it was you in control again.  Would he make another power play?  You wouldn’t mind.

“Quit fucking around and fuck me.”  You got the order out as you spread your legs and lifted your hips, ready for him to spear you.  “NOW.”

A grunt left Bucky and this time both of his hands went to your throat.  He started squeezing hard.  No warm up.  All the air escaped from your lungs, your eyes started to bulge.  You couldn’t be certain if your vision was fading or it was just the dark room as he pushed you back into the bed.

Now this, this was what you were talking about.  He thought he was strong, clever, was trying to show his power.  You enjoyed how wet his control was making you and thought about letting him choke you until you passed out, but your soaking cunt had other ideas.  

You straightened your palm as hard as you could and pushed your fingertips into his ribs.  Finding that tender spot and digging harder.   His grip started to loosen and you took in a big gasp of air.  

Bucky made some unintelligible noise and you shoved harder.  His body twisted and hands dropped as he went to knock yours away.  

You worked his momentum against him and flipped him over so you were straddling him again.  

“Nice effort.”  You grabbed the base of his cock.  “Appreciate the attempt.  But I’ve had enough foreplay.”  

As you sunk yourself down on him you couldn’t help but notice he felt bigger, you felt fuller.  

“It’s like you’re a whole new person tonight.”  When you settled all the way on him he was almost at your cervix.  “Maybe you’re ready to experience my other side?”  

Your hands ran up his chest until they got to his neck.  Bucky grabbed your wrists, making them feel small in his palms, but he didn’t push you away as you started to choke him.  You began to rock your body forward, dragging your clit against him as you tightened your grasp.

You knew you weren’t as strong as he was, but you could cut off some air.  And the power, the control of this strong man underneath you was enough to light a fire in your body.  You rocked in a wave motion, using him for your own pleasure.  

“When I squeeze harder.”  You applied more pressure.  “Your cock gets bigger.  And you like that? Don’t you?”  

His head nodded.  A grin covered your face as your head fell back.  

“Don’t forget what you promised me baby.”  You pulled one hand off his neck and shoved it into his mouth.  “Be a good boy and LICK.”

You moaned as Bucky did exactly as told, worshiping your fingers, his tongue pulsing against them as he sucked in.  You wondered how much he could take and started sliding the four of them down hard.  

A gagging sound left his mouth and you swore you had a mini-orgasm.  But that wasn’t enough.  You were ready for the big one.  

“You like this don’t you?”  You pressed his tongue down pushing them further and harder as you picked up the pace, adding a lift to your movement, driving your clit against him and his cock into you.  “Tell me I am in charge.”

An unintelligible noise left his mouth and a giggle left yours.  This power, this heat.  It was turning your into a mad woman with one goal.  The finish.  

As if Bucky could read your mind his hand went to your hips.  He started thrusting up as you thrust down. Your bodies working in tandem.  Your other hand went to his chest to brace yourself, letting him guide you to the release your body craved.  

“Fuck!”  You gripped at him, digging your nails without control.  “I’m going to cum. I’m gonna cum.”

He pushed your hips down hard and started dragging your body back and forth, you clit and g-spot activated at the exact right rate.  Even in the darkness you knew your vision blurred as you tumbled into ecstasy.  Sparks spreading through your limbs as you fell forward.  

Through the haze you felt his cock soften inside of you, your juices mixing together.  You pulled your hand out of him mouth and he coughed so hard his body shook.  You cuddled up to him as you climbed off, spent.  

“Thank you for coming…in both ways.”  The restlessness left your body as he kissed your head and grabbed your wrist, bringing your fingers to his mouth and licking them as you drifted off to sleep.

~~

A melodic tune woke you up.  Sunlight splintered in through your drapes.  You felt for Bucky, but the bed was empty.  You realized it was your phone and looked to see his name for a FaceTime.

“Where did you run off to?” The lazy smile stayed as you hit answer.  

“Please don’t have me.” Bucky was in his apartment.  “I had to stay later than I thought.”  

“What?”  You sat up in bed and pulled the sheet to your body.  “What are you talking about?”

“But at least you got a good night sleep right?”  He scratched the top of his head.  “What’s on your neck?  Curling iron burn?”  

“There’s something on my neck?”  You were out of it, but noticed a pain as you brought your hand.  “Wait.  I’m confused.”  

“Things got hectic.”  Bucky kept rambling as you got out of the bed and walked to the bathroom, eager to take a look in the mirror at what he was talking about.  

You flipped on the light.  The phone and bedsheet slipped from your hand as you stared ahead.  Your lipstick, open in the sink.

“What’s going on?  Did I lose you? Are you naked?”  Bucky drifted away as the world around you spun.  

Shock, fear, excitement.  All you could do was read the words over and over again:  

PSYCHO KILLERS CAN LICK TOO.

 -  

[doing-an-okay-job-miranda]

Fight or Flirt - Prinxety

AO3 / Fic Masterlist

Part Two: AO3 / Tumblr

Warnings: Drider!Virgil, I don’t know what else

Summary:

"Well, well, well, look what wondered right into my nest." Virgil sneers, his pedipalps jitter both with anxious energy and hopefully, to give the appearance of hunger. "What a lucky day for-"

"Oh my god, you’re gorgeous." The knight breathes out suddenly, startling Virgil so badly he rears back like the man just took a swipe at him.

"Wha-"

"Oh, gosh. I interrupted your monologue, I am terribly sorry! Please continue!"

"My mono-? Gorgeous? Wha- What?"

---

Virgil felt the vibrations of footsteps on his web long before he heard or saw them, someone stomping into his nest with about as much self-preservation a peanut and only about half as smart. The Drider doesn't waste time and crawls into the shadows, the dark colors of his body easily keeping him hidden as the stranger gets closer.

 Too heavy to be another dumb kid dared to come poke at the evil spider in the forest. The figure approaches carrying a torch which makes Virgil quietly click with anxiety, thankfully the figure keeps the flame carefully away from the flammable webbed walls all around them but that's only a small comfort until the stranger is close enough that Virgil makes out royal armor.

 A knight, great.

 Virgil hated when these guys came around to harass him for eating children or something in some self-righteous quest but such is the follies of living as a reclusive "monster" in the middle of the forest.

 The Drider slipped through the side passages of his next, moving silently and hidden in the darkness until he creeps up behind the knight who ventured in deeper without even drawing his sword.

 At least he's dealing with an idiot in light armor, Virgil can easily puncture through the leather parts.

 The knight paused and slowly turned around as Virgil's shadow towered over him, the spider half of his body giving him a good height advantage. Virgil stood between the knight and the exit which at the very least should keep the man from burning his webbing since he is trapped inside it. The Drider curled his lips into a crooked grin as the knight stumbles back a few steps with eyes wide.

 "Well, well, well, look what wondered right into my nest." Virgil sneers, his pedipalps jitter both with anxious energy and hopefully, to give the appearance of hunger. "What a lucky day for-"

 "Oh my god, your gorgeous." The knight breathes out suddenly, startling Virgil so badly he rears back like the man just took a swipe at him.

 "Wha-"

 "Oh, gosh. I interrupted your monologue, I am terribly sorry! Please continue!" The human urges, taking a step closer to Virgil instead of backing away so Virgil takes the initiative to move back instead all while fighting the urge to raise his front legs in a defensive posture.

 "My mono-? Gorgeous? Wha- What?" The drider's face feeling uncomfortably hot as he stares unblinkingly at the knight that's just earnestly grinning in front of him, his multiple eyes flick over at every littlest movement but there's no threat in the human's posture which just leaves Virgil confused.

 "Ah, I apologize. I've never seen such amethyst eyes before!" The knight reaches forward to so gently cup his cheek, thumb resting under one of the Drider's smaller eyes just under his main ones. "When they spoke of a terrifying Drider in the woods, they left out what a radiant creature you are."

 The warmth of the human's skin felt like fire to Virgil, his ears burned hot and he had no doubt that his face is flushed dark. "I- You- What?" He feels frazzled, he distantly realizes he's been backed against the wall of his nest by the human but it's hard to think of the roaring fire coursing through his blood.

 Virgil's fingers twitch as his hands hover dumbly above the human's arms. There's a brief moment of panic as the knight's torch drops from his hands but nothing goes up in flames when it lands, it continues to burn without setting its area on fire which the Drider would be very interested in if the knight's now free hand didn't slip under the collar of Virgil's shirt to rub at his collar bone.

"Your markings are just as stunning too, are these tattooed on or natural?"

 "Na-natural?" Virgil struggles out, he feels the knights full attention on him, studying him, taking notes of every inch of his form, it's dizzying and overwhelming for someone who hasn't been met with anything but fear in so long.

 "Amazing." The knight's hand thankfully moves out from under Virgil's shirt but relief is short lived as he starts to trail fingers down the Drider's torso. "And your muscle too- I must court you."

 Finally, Virgil snaps from his daze and gets his body to move. The Drider's hands snapping down to grip tightly around the knight's wrists, he's sure his claws would dig into flesh were it not for the human's bracers. "Stop." He grits out, watching the knight freeze in his grasp. "Just- Shut up. Shut up, who even are you? What the fuck?"

 The knight at least has to the decency to look sheepish. "Oh, I- Of course. I am Prince Roman Augustine. Forgive me for getting ahead of myself, my gem. I was struck by your beauty-"

 "Okay, back to the shut up part!" Virgil's voice comes out more screeching then growling as he intended but his head is racing.

 Why is a prince here? Why is a prince touch him and calling him beautiful? Is it some sort of trap?

 The Prince is looking at him with warm honey eyes and patiently waiting for him to stop freaking out which Virgil would appreciate more if he wasn't the entire reason the Drider is freaking out. It takes a long minute of just breathing before Virgil slowly uncurls his fingers from the prince's wrists and pulls his hands close to his chest, trying to shrink in as much on himself as possible. "What are you doing here?"

 "Well," Prince Roman, graciously takes a step back to give Virgil some room. "I was passing through this lovely town when I heard tales of a monstrous Drider that haunts this forest." Virgil winces. "I, however, am a seasoned adventurer that has learned to see the difference between a dangerous monster and someone just trying to be left alone." The prince chuckles softly to gloss over the sad truth. "Imagine my surprise when I find a diamond as exquisite as you hidden away."

 "I- okay. Alright." Virgil isn't quite sure how to handle this but at least he has room to breathe and the prince doesn't take any offense to his lack of royal etiquette.

 Virgil startles as the prince drops to one knee and places a hand over his heart. "Fear not, my darling. As a citizen of my kingdom, I will ensure that your neighbors are swiftly reminded that there are laws in place to protect you as much as them." Warm eyes burn with a fiery passion that steals Virgil's breath away. "I swear to you, should anyone disregard these laws and attempt to bring harm to you that I will personally bring a swift punishment."

 "Okay, okay, jeez. I get it, you like me." Goddesses below, Virgil has no clue what to feel about that, let alone if he actually believes it but the prince smiles as bright as the sun.

 "With your permission, I would like to court you." The prince stands once more and steps forward, this time much more gentle and slow. He gives Virgil time to pull away as he reaches forward but surprisingly the Drider allows the soft warm human hands to wrap around his colder gray ones. The difference is odd, prince Roman's hands are large and strong and almost seem golden in the torches glow while Virgil's fingers are too long and spindly with natural armor covering his knuckles but Roman doesn't hesitate to rub his thumb over the smooth unnatural bits of exoskeleton. "Know that even if you refuse me that I will still keep my word to ensure your safety, you have no obligation to give me anything you don't want to."

 Virgil's hearts are beating too fast, the warmth of the prince's hands on his makes him feel something he doesn't understand. "Can I- Could I think about it?" He must be lonelier then he thought, to actually entertain the idea that a prince might actually- it's outrageous and probably dangerous but prince Roman smiles so gently at him like he isn't some sort of monster or threat.

 "Of course, my amethyst. You can have all the time you need, I shall return to the village and make sure to... Gently remind them of a few of the laws I've mentioned." Virgil almost mourned the loss of the prince's hands as he pulled back, picking up his torture which Virgil could now tell wasn't actually putting off any sort of heat. "I'll return at the end of the week, I expect nothing but to gaze upon your beauty again so please don't fret if you're still unsure by that time."

 Virgil could only nod, the two share a long moment of just staring at each other before the prince coughs and says a final goodbye before leaving the nest. "Holy shit," Virgil whispers to himself after prince Roman leaves his sight. "Holy fuck-" giggles sprout up from somewhere deep in his chest, a giddy sort of hysteria taking over him now that he was left alone.

 Virgil would spend the rest of the evening and the following week in a daze of anxiety, both nervous and excited for his prince's return.

  Roman, later that evening, would scream into his pillow upon realizing he never asked his new love's name.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from the movie “Dogma”

“I’m as anatomically impaired as a Ken doll.”

“May I continue uninterrupted?”

“Mention something from a Charlton Heston movie and suddenly everyone’s a theology scholar!”

“Read that book again sometime. Women are painted as bigger antagonists than the Egyptians and Romans combined. It stinks.”

“So you were an artist? Big deal.”

“That’s why he’s the King, and you’re a schmuck.”

“ I repeat; this is not a drill. This is the Apocalypse. ”

“ We call this piece "The Fecalator.” One look at it and your target shits him or herself.“

” I just love to fuck with the clergy, man, I just love it.“

"Let’s kill people.”

“Ah, Sweet Jesus! Did you have to use the whole can?!”

“Or you’ll do what exactly? Hit me with that…fish?”

“Honestly, you bottom feeders and your arrogance, you think everybody’s just trying to get in your knickers.”

“Do you go around drenching everybody that comes into your room with flame-retardant chemicals?”

“I am to charge you with a holy crusade.”

“What’s the fine print?”

“I hate when people need it spelled out for them!”

“We’re here to pick up chicks.”

“Well, it’s a lot more compact than the flaming sword, but it’s not nearly as impressive.”

“How am I supposed to strike fear into the hearts of the wicked with this thing? ”

“What work did you do? You lit a few fires.”

“Mass genocide is the most exhausting activity one can engage in, outside of soccer.”

“You’re a man of principle.”

“We figure an abortion clinic’s a good place to meet loose women.”

“You’ll offer us sex as a reward?”

“Fucking Breakfast Club; all these stupid kids actually show up for detention.”

“Movies are fucking bullshit.”

“This is gonna sound really bad. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about this, but…”

"Someone told me I’d meet you and you’d take me some place I was suppose to go.”

“I feel like Han Solo, you’re Chewie, and she’s Ben Kenobi and we’re in that fucked up bar!”

“She’s the slut. Booong!”

“All right, well lets say we’re caught in a situation where we have like five minutes left to live. I don’t know, a bomb or something’s gonna go off; would you fuck us then?”

“Tell me something nobody knows.”

“When you do it, you’re thinking about guys.”

“Wars, bigotry, televangelism.”

“You’re saying having beliefs is a bad thing?”

“My eyes are open. For the first time, I get it.”

“Ours was designed to be a life of servitude and worship, and bowing and scraping and adoration.”

“You know, all I’m saying is that maybe one of us needs a little nap…”

“I think we may have to dispatch our would-be dispatchers.”

“See, don’t let your sympathies get the best of you. They did me, once. ”

“I’ve heard a rant like this before.”

“I have seen what happens to the proud when they take on the throne. ”

“Would you - could you - have believed me? You had to come to it gradually. Only now, after all you’ve seen, could you accept the truth.”

“I don’t want this. It’s too big.”

“It’s unfair! It’s unfair to ask a child to shoulder that responsibility, and it’s unfair to ask you to do the same.”

“I wish I could take it all back. But I can’t. This is who you are.”

“Everything I am is a lie.”

“No one can take that away from you, not even God. ”

“I guess this means no more cheating on my taxes.”

“Come on, demon, I wanna see you try that shit on someone who’s already dead!”

“And the pawns are moving into place as we speak…”

“But then your kind came along, and made it so much worse.”

“But true to his irresponsible nature, man won’t own up to being its engineer, so he blames his dark deeds on my ilk!”

“I’d rather not exist than go back to that…and if everyone has to go down with me, so be it.”

“The whole fucking world’s against us, dude, I swear to God. ”

“If I had a dick, I’d go get laid.”

“I think that God is dead.”

“I can’t wait to die.”

“Do you know what makes a human being decent? Fear.”

“I’m responsible for nineteen of the twenty top-grossing films of all time.”

“The humans have besmirched everything bestowed on them.”

“Don’t you think it’s time we went home?”

“No pleasure, no rapture, no exquisite sin greater… than central air.”

“What the fuck is this shit? Who the fuck are you, lady? Why the fuck did you hug my head? ”

“What the fuck is this, The Piano? Why ain’t this broad talking?”

“You of anyone should know that tits don’t make a woman.”

“But I’m a fuckin’ demon.”

“Guys like us just don’t fall out of the fucking sky, you know.”

“Beautiful, naked, big-titted women just don’t fall out of the sky, you know.”

“You’re Catholic, can’t you talk to them?”

“Consequences schmonsequences.”

“Snootch to the motherfuckin’ nootch!”

“Let it never be said that your anal-retentive attention to detail never yielded positive results.”

“You can’t be anal-retentive if you don’t have an anus. ”

“Ladies and gentlemen, you have been judged guilty of sinning against our almighty God, and I promise you, you shall pay for your trespasses, in blood!”

“I’m feeling a little exposed here…”

“Wings, now!”

“I know they were just kids, but we kicked their fucken pube-less asses!”

“Anyone who isn’t dead or from another plane of existence would do well to cover their ears right about now.”

“Are you saying you believe?”

“I’m telling you, man, this ceremony is a big mistake.”

“Go back to your paper routes, you Mighty Duck fucks.”

“Very basic strategy. If your enemies know where you are, then don’t be there.”

“Your continued existence is a mockery of morality.”

“You’re his father, you sick fuck.”

“You, on the other hand, are an innocent. You lead a good life.”

“You have more skeletons in your closet than the rest of this assembled party. I cannot even mention them aloud.”

“You’re awfully nude.”

“You know, maybe you’re wrong about this slaughter thing.”

“The major sins never change.”

“What, are you insinuating that I don’t have what it takes anymore?”

“Get me a… Holy Bartender.”

“Not born. SHIT into existence.”

“I can take anyone I meet and give a zillion and nine ideas a second, but I can’t keep any for myself.”

“I have issues with anyone who treats God as a burden instead of a blessing.”

“You people don’t celebrate your faith; you mourn it.”

“Your hearts are in the right place, but your brains got to wake up.”

“You were martyred?”

“I can’t believe we forgot about the magazine.”

“Smoke that motherfucker like it ain’t no thang!”

“NOBODY IS FUCKING ME! YOU GOT THAT!?”

“If you don’t pipe down, I’m going to yank your sack off like a paper towel.”

“Your hard-on for smiting has prevented us from negotiating what should be the relatively simple matter of catching or staying on a bus.”

“Well, I say we get drunk, because I’m all out of ideas.”

“Oh no, I’ve seen way too many Bond movies to know that you never reveal all the details of your plan, no matter how close you may think you are to winning.”

“You’re looking at eons of repression getting purged.”

“If only they’d let us jerk off.”

“Quit killing people, that’s high profile.”

“So do you do anal? Is it true that chicks fart if you blast ‘em in the ass?”

“The man was right about you. And I am going to go home and tell him so.”

“Quit leering at me. People are gonna think I just broke up with you.”

“You know, I hear pregnant women can have sex until their third trimester.”

“You’re a pure soul… but you didn’t say "God bless you” when I sneezed.“

"Holy shit, it’s the Pope!”

“Ever the fucking apple polisher!”

“Hey Big Bird! Wanna play the Counting Game? Count the shells, Sucker Duck!”

“Snoogans.”

“So this is all about revenge.”

“After the first couple million years, escape from hell became my all consuming reason.”

“You mean, I’m pregnant?”

“You think someone threw him out of a plane with a message written on him like in Con Air? You ever see that flick?”

“It’s the living dead! Kill it! Kill it!”

“Wait a second! Between guys with wings, guys falling out of the sky, and guys trying like hell to fuck me, I think I’ve been pretty patient so far, and I’m not taking another step until you tell me where the hell you came from!”

“I came from Heaven.”

“Is this why I had to come down here this morning, man? Is this why I had to miss my fucking cartoons?”

“Let me give you a little inside information about God.”

“People die for it, people kill for it.”

“His piece will be rubbing inside of your armor!”

“You know ,death is a worry of the living. The dead like myself only worry about decay and necrophiliacs.”

“I told them I was coming up on a routine possession.”

“'Makin’ with the love.’ It’s a nice way of saying boning.”

“Do I come off as gay?”

“I got half a stock when she kissed me.”

“I hope you’re the skeeball type.”

“Bow down, stupid!”

“It never ends!”

“What the fuck happened to that guy’s head?!”

“She’s a clever girl, that one.”

“You ready to make some of those changes I’ve been talking about?”

“One of the drawbacks to being a martyr is that you have to die.”

“All is being taken care of.”

“Why are we here?”

*touches nose and makes funny noise*

“I told you she was a woman.”

“She’s not really a woman. She’s not really anything.”

“She’s something alright.”

“Are you saying you believe?”

“Crisis of faith over?”

“Why don’t you name the kid after me?”

“We’re in Mexico?”

“I couldn’t help it, the bitch was hot!”

“You know, you can’t talk to me like that anymore, I’m gonna be somebody’s mother.”

“Yo, we should go to Quick Stop.”

[sukirichi]

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

y/n - ‘I was born to make everyone’s life a living hell’ maam this LINE?! JAW DROPPED, TIME STOPPED being insecure all her life and wanting to live up to the expectations to her dad just to have that sliver of attention from him, that sentence gives us a glimpse on how little she felt despite being accomplished, rather successful actually because she always cleans her boss’ mess have a lot of baggage to unpack. and when the secret was confirmed, her anger rejects all of the entity that ties with her past because both her parents deprived her for the things she was supposed to have– becoming greedy to fulfill those. then eventually, somehow, going back to her roots aka being humble after having the talk with her dad. As most of her insecurity started because of him and how she had to be the bigger person for his other family, clearing out the misunderstanding between them brought a sense of peace  while she’s settling in the restless turn of events.

and with our main man gojo, this guy, it is not wise to- 😤😤 how can you say you’re engaged after doing the body tango huh? esp when you said you want y/n to be your wife? oh gee and the revelation of his past relationship with mia and how he sees her in y/n is so fucked up. can’t help but think that satoru wanting to marry and be this lovey-dovey with y/n is just him reliving the moments that mia never gave him in the past. and y/n accepting that their current relationship is based on how they’re filling up the cracks in their needs and settling for the sake of familiarity. imagine how deep in love our girl is to keep satoru in her life 💔 im still in it for the second lead agenda

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

BUT i know you mentioned this many times but laywer! naoya all poised and in his best behavior while helping y/n in her new situation has my heart go💕💕 winning lots of cases and is known in his field, he proved that he is both beauty and brains. and the pen spin??? man be pulling those fast spins either to distract or impress the person he is talking to flashing those perfect white pearls wtf now i can’t get that out of my head naoya brain rot 🥵🥵 also celebrity chef! sukuna in charge of all those delicious, exquisite cuisines? imma make myself broke just to taste his masterpiece🥲 ooh but how about him being a michelin star chef and owning a michelin-starred resto?! no doubt, left and right you see this man appearing on some high food magazine on the cover 😊😊 oh oh i also saw that supermodel! choso?? also his face is plastered on magazines AND luxurious advertisements ex. shibuya crossing! where most people be drenched in his glorious presence yea weird shibuya arc ref pls kill me and everyone talks how handsome and intimidating he is while he just have a rbf and only the closest people in his life get to see him drop that front 😌😌

with that in mind, imagine supermodel! choso being a godfather to the baby of y/n?? he would go soft immediately at the sight of the child and would probably love giving lots of branded clothes it will be good enough for more than a year ☺️🥲😭

oh and there is this one scene in chp7 that reminded me of the recent korean movie i watched i dont wanna say it in case you wanna check it out its called sweet and sour and oh god idk why but watching it, mind keeps on prompting your fics 😬😬 maybe bcos i some of your fic always had med related topics and the main actress role there is a nurse. i remember that you’re on your clinic training so maybe thats why 😳oohh pls don’t forget to take breaks and be safe heart and oh ur a psych major too? oh wow hi ig in relation to one actress in the sweet and sour fic, she was also in a kdrama the heirs- which was popular at the time with it being packed with some solid household actors and actresses. sky castle tho, ig it relates to the theme of reckless more because its mostly how parents from the upper class will mindlessly destroy someone’s life to attain their materialistic desires  🤧🙂

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

i hope you’re doing well nowadays :’)) we need to find gege the best chiropractor to take care of his back, so good that it’ll make naoya respawn to life 🙂 suki i don’t think i’ll get tired of saying how much i love your work that it feels illegal im reading it for free 💔. i don’t really have much to offer, but im wishing you good health and success in your life :’)) aah i’ve mentioned this already but take care always 💕💖😊🥰

- 🍳

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

y/n - ‘I was born to make everyone’s life a living hell’ maam this LINE?! JAW DROPPED, TIME STOPPED being insecure all her life and wanting to live up to the expectations to her dad just to have that sliver of attention from him, that sentence gives us a glimpse on how little she felt despite being accomplished, rather successful actually because she always cleans her boss’ mess have a lot of baggage to unpack. and when the secret was confirmed, her anger rejects all of the entity that ties with her past because both her parents deprived her for the things she was supposed to have– becoming greedy to fulfill those. then eventually, somehow, going back to her roots aka being humble after having the talk with her dad. As most of her insecurity started because of him and how she had to be the bigger person for his other family, clearing out the misunderstanding between them brought a sense of peace  while she’s settling in the restless turn of events.

and with our main man gojo, this guy, it is not wise to- 😤😤 how can you say you’re engaged after doing the body tango huh? esp when you said you want y/n to be your wife? oh gee and the revelation of his past relationship with mia and how he sees her in y/n is so fucked up. can’t help but think that satoru wanting to marry and be this lovey-dovey with y/n is just him reliving the moments that mia never gave him in the past. and y/n accepting that their current relationship is based on how they’re filling up the cracks in their needs and settling for the sake of familiarity. imagine how deep in love our girl is to keep satoru in her life 💔 im still in it for the second lead agenda

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

BUT i know you mentioned this many times but laywer! naoya all poised and in his best behavior while helping y/n in her new situation has my heart go💕💕 winning lots of cases and is known in his field, he proved that he is both beauty and brains. and the pen spin??? man be pulling those fast spins either to distract or impress the person he is talking to flashing those perfect white pearls wtf now i can’t get that out of my head naoya brain rot 🥵🥵 also celebrity chef! sukuna in charge of all those delicious, exquisite cuisines? imma make myself broke just to taste his masterpiece🥲 ooh but how about him being a michelin star chef and owning a michelin-starred resto?! no doubt, left and right you see this man appearing on some high food magazine on the cover 😊😊 oh oh i also saw that supermodel! choso?? also his face is plastered on magazines AND luxurious advertisements ex. shibuya crossing! where most people be drenched in his glorious presence yea weird shibuya arc ref pls kill me and everyone talks how handsome and intimidating he is while he just have a rbf and only the closest people in his life get to see him drop that front 😌😌

with that in mind, imagine supermodel! choso being a godfather to the baby of y/n?? he would go soft immediately at the sight of the child and would probably love giving lots of branded clothes it will be good enough for more than a year ☺️🥲😭

oh and there is this one scene in chp7 that reminded me of the recent korean movie i watched i dont wanna say it in case you wanna check it out its called sweet and sour and oh god idk why but watching it, mind keeps on prompting your fics 😬😬 maybe bcos i some of your fic always had med related topics and the main actress role there is a nurse. i remember that you’re on your clinic training so maybe thats why 😳oohh pls don’t forget to take breaks and be safe heart and oh ur a psych major too? oh wow hi ig in relation to one actress in the sweet and sour fic, she was also in a kdrama the heirs- which was popular at the time with it being packed with some solid household actors and actresses. sky castle tho, ig it relates to the theme of reckless more because its mostly how parents from the upper class will mindlessly destroy someone’s life to attain their materialistic desires  🤧🙂

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

i hope you’re doing well nowadays :’)) we need to find gege the best chiropractor to take care of his back, so good that it’ll make naoya respawn to life 🙂 suki i don’t think i’ll get tired of saying how much i love your work that it feels illegal im reading it for free 💔. i don’t really have much to offer, but im wishing you good health and success in your life :’)) aah i’ve mentioned this already but take care always 💕💖😊🥰

- 🍳

y/n becomes a real baddie when she’s pissed off 😫

hmm y/n wasn’t really working hard for her dad’s attention, it was more like she felt so left out and unwanted (she feels unwanted wherever she goes) that she just decided to pack up and support them from afar bcos to her, she’s so alienated in her dad’s family that she felt like she had to work hard to earn a spot in their table. she knows she’s the outsider but she wants to feel like she can be part of them, that she is also a child deserving of love and care, but becos her stepmom focused more on her actual kids and her own dad was too busy with his new family now, it made y/n feel that she had to do something to be worthy of that.

that’s why most of the money she made working in tokyo was still wired to her family; she put her brothers in school and supported them, all because she hoped it would make them accept her more. now, things are different because she finally found her biological family, but even if valeria and co. still don’t want her, y/n is now more focusing on building something that’s truly hers that no one can take away. yes yes, she did become greedy, but more for power than of acceptance. she got to a point she doesn’t care as much vying for her parents’ approval and now thinks her luxury gives her comfort; only because at least she has that much. like she said in the latest chapter, happiness was not what she needed, it was stability and money - all things she lacked before.

and yea she did go back to her roots! all of her issues started with her dad anyway but that part is slowly patching up 🩹💔 oooh actually your theory is right bestie 🧐 gojo found y/n interesting bcos she reminded him of mia, so the more she pushed him away, the more he’s like wait, i’ve been here before, let’s not repeat past mistakes but i can do better now. on the part where gojo talked to mia while she was asleep, notice how he said he’s given a second chance to do better now, all because he couldn’t do them with mia but he could with y/n.

ohhh actually y/n was the one who established that ‘fulfilling mutual need and settling for familiarity instead of being lonely’ type of relationship. gojo avoided her for weeks and he’s pretty settled in keeping his distance, but she was the one who sought him out. deep down, y/n is afraid if she doesn’t at least use him as an anchor to her more humble roots, then she might spiral out of control and end up like valeria, thus using him as a ‘distraction’ but in reality, she needs his comfort to be grounded.

SECOND LEAD AGENDA OMG LETS GOOO 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ geto the fine fine option.

NO BESTIE MOMENT U MENTIONED LAWYER NAOYA I JUST KNEW I WAS GONNA SCREAM. okay but lawyer! naoya is so fine, i love his character so much bcos he’s a pure bean. originally, i was gonna make him an antagonist but i found he had more potential as a good, supportive character. HIS PEN SPIN HELPPP WHY COULDN’T HE JUST BEEN OUR BABY DADDY 😫 he pulls them fast spins bcos he’s nervous btw HAHAHAHA y/n can be quite intimidating and lawyer! naoya is sometimes too precious.

celebrity chef! sukuna is MEAN! he was pictured after gordon ramsay so lmao. omgggg sukuna being famous not only for his food but also his handsomeness 😳 he gets so cocky over how no one can get in his level while popping a battle of champagne, listening to ‘careless whisper’ while dancing to his reflection in the mirror 😤

also yoo supermodel! choso is THE hot shit 🥵 he’s so famous his schedule is packed for an entire year and a half and those are just for very selected brands and designers! ugh imagine going to work on the subway when you see supermodel! choso with rbf posing sexily and you swoon because he’s so sexy. plot twist that choso doesn’t know how to drive bcos as a kamo family member, they grew up with drivers taking them to and fro, so when his driver got sick and everyone else was busy, supermodel choso takes the subway himself and hides behind a face mask and cap while still wearing extravagant clothes that makes him stand out more. he does not have ‘subtle’ on his book at all.

and yeah people say he’s intimidating but its more his height and build + rbf! in reality, he’s just as soft and sweet as naoya, but both of them go into protective mode when someone they care about is being crapped on. and boy when they DO get into “what did you just say?” mode, better run away 🏃🏻‍♀️ supermodel! choso is also an heir to the kamo empire though not after the business, but he still has enough power to take you down in a second.

meanwhile, lawyer! naoya didn’t become this successful without being so savage yet composed he makes you question your entire existence before he drags you to court. lawyer! naoya is so scarily convincing that he can make you plead guilty even tho you did nothing wrong 💀

aaaah omg supermodel! choso LOVES babies actually! as the eldest child who looked after his brothers bcos the kamo parents are always away for work, being a father figure is so natural to him. i can picture him being the one who cries harder than gojo if the baby is born bcos he’s so excited, then reads poems to the baby before sighing that childbirth is such a beautiful thing 🥺

omg i know sweet n sour, the actresses are one of my faves tho i haven’t watched it yet! oooh they’re a nurse? i didn’t know that 🧐 i actually finish my short training in a week so i’ll be heading on to heavy majoring in psychology! wait bestie are YOU also a psych major 😳💕 oh and i see i see, sky castle *jots that down for future references* reckless actually has lots of significance in terms of the parents’ roles so i’m excited to see that! and aww thank you so much, can’t believe i made it in someone’s top three 🥺💕

HELP AHSKWKW i’m gonna call the best chiropractor in the world and send them gege’s way, i’ll cry a river if that’s what it takes to bring my boo back to life 😭 and noo baby the support already means a lot to me, i’m just happy to indulge in my hobbies and share it wih you all so thank you very much for everything 🥺 please take care of yourself too n have a nice day!! kith MWAH 💕

[manessqueeze]

The Waiting Game

For Malex week, free day, but it’s a meet ugly since I missed day one. Read on AO3

As far as court mandated punishments went, Michael supposed therapy didn’t sound so bad. Sixty days in the slammer? No thanks, he’d go to the damn therapist and try to do something constructive for once in his life. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t bitch about it.

“I’m so proud of you, Michael. I think this will be really good for you,” Izobel said as they pulled into the parking lot. She had insisted on driving him to his first appointment. Probably to assure that he went. He didn’t blame her.

Skipping out on it had crossed his mind a time or two, but he couldn’t take another lecture from Deputy Dad, also known as Max. Michael could almost hear his voice in his head. “When’s your appointment, Michael?” “Don’t forget your appointment, Michael?” “Don’t make me regret vouching for you, Michael.”

“You’re gonna be late if you don’t get out, Michael.”

Michael turned his head to glare at Max in the backseat. See what he had to put up with? Mother hens, the lot of them. He knew it meant they cared, but he had issues okay, hence the need for intense psychotherapy.

“Alright, I’m going,” he huffed as he took off his seatbelt and pushed open the door.

The office looked generic enough when he made it inside. He filled out some paperwork the receptionist gave him then took a seat in the corner. He checked his watch several times as he bounced his knee to try and dispel some of his anxious energy and keep from vibrating out of his skin. He could’ve probably ran a marathon with the amount of adrenaline running through him.

“Dr. Brady’s running late,” the receptionist said, probably taking pity on his nerves.

He nodded and thought about thumbing through some magazines while he waited, but the door jingled open before he could decide, and the most delicious hunk of eye candy Michael had ever seen strutted right up to the reception desk. The man’s shirttail rode up when he leaned his elbows on the counter, and his tight jeans left little to the imagination where the guy’s exquisite ass was concerned.

“Hey, Mary. I’m here for my appointment,” the guy said, voice a velvety melody Michael wanted to snuggle up in.

“I have you checked in, Alex. Dr. Brady’s running late.”

“No problem. I’m off today.”

“Oh, have any big plans?” Mary asked with a smile that made Michael go a little green around the edges.

“You’re looking at it.”

“Well, enjoy your down time then.”

“I will.” Alex smiled at her before turning around, his gaze landing on Michael who hadn’t managed to tear his eyes away from that perfect ass in time. He gulped at getting caught, but if Alex’s smile got a little bigger because of it, Michael’s heart couldn’t tell ‘cause it stopped.

Aw, dammit. So much for stomping out that bisexual awakening he kept trying to ignore.

He looked away but tracked Alex in his periphery as he walked toward the adjacent corner and took a seat two chairs down. Michael let out a long sigh and leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees, hoping it might stop the bouncing. It didn’t. So he sat back up and popped his neck.

“Therapy virgin?” Alex asked, and Michael’s eyes darted over to him at lightspeed.

“You could say that, yeah.”

“It’s not so bad. Dr. Brady’s really good.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice. It’s court mandated,” Michael bit out, trying to push the guy away before he even realized it, the action so ingrained in his brain.

“What’d you do? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t remember,” he lied. “Something about a parade float and a watermelon stand, or so they tell me.”

Alex’s eyes crinkled in confusion before morphing into recognition. “Michael Guerin. You’re the dickhole that stole my float!”

“Your float?”

“It was my parade you ruined,” he said, reaching down to pull up his pant leg to reveal a prosthetic.

“Oh, shit, Alex Manes?" Michael hadn’t recognized him out of uniform. He looked hotter somehow.

“Three quarters of him, anyway.”

“I’m—”

“Sorry? Yeah, well, it’s not about the parade. I couldn’t have cared less about that. The watermelon stand however, was my nephew’s and he’s been crying about it ever since.”

“God, I am a dickhole. I’ll, uh, I’ll build him a new one. I swear.”

“Yeah, you will.”

The conviction in Alex’s statement should’ve pissed him off. In fact, it would have if it had come from anybody else, but coming out of that pretty mouth did weird things to his dick. Yeah, he’d definitely have to add a sexual identity crisis to his list of therapy goals. Not that he considered it a crisis, because the war hero was fucking hot.

“Is that why you’re here?” Michael asked, motioning toward Alex’s missing leg. He half expected Alex to tell him to fuck off, but he didn’t.

He sighed heavy instead as he nodded. “Partly. PTSD is a bitch, but I was messed up long before that. Major daddy issues on account of him trying to beat the gay out of me. Joke’s on him though, ‘cause it didn’t work.” He huffed out the cutest little laugh that had Michael mirroring it.

“Major abandonment and intimacy issues thanks to growing up in shitty foster care.”

Alex smirked at him, the twist of his lips a beautiful thing. “Are you trying to one up me with your trauma?”

“Hey, you showed me yours, thought I’d show you mine.”

Alex hummed, his eyes turning contemplative as they stared at each other in the quiet room. “This is probably a massive conflict of interest or something considering the circumstances, but would you maybe wanna grab a drink with me when we’re done here? You know, to discuss the architecture of watermelon stands and what not.”

Michael couldn’t have hid his smile if he’d tried. “Can we make it a milkshake instead? I’m trying to lay off the booze.”

“Right,” Alex agreed. “Good call. And yes, I’m definitely down for milkshakes.”

“Great. Then it’s a date.”

"Is it?" Alex asked with the quirk of a brow.

"I sure hope so 'cause I plan on kissing the shit out of you after."

Alex's cheeks flushed as he bit his lip. "Okay, then. But you're still rebuilding the watermelon stand."

"Absolutely."

And just like that, Michael felt a thousand times lighter than he had when he first walked in. Maybe this whole therapy thing had promise after all.