#yes i gave them all heels

[deathspeaker]

Bad artists, to jail with you!

Artists (any artist, in the past and in the future) who draw Wonder Woman as shorter than Batman and Superman need to be put into a padded room and forced to draw the Trinity Correctly while being yelled at for their weakness by the ghost of Jack Kirby the short king who loved his tall women.

Jack Kirby's ghost will also be allowed to lay hands on the especially weak cowards who draw Big Barda as shorter than Scott Free.

[consultingskeletondetective]

Colonel's Girl

You’re the young army nurse on base and König decides to keep a protective eye on you. You don’t mind at all, the Colonel is sweet and safe - until he isn’t.

masterlist 🩷 ao3

tags: military inaccuracies, blood and injury, angst, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex

This was your first time on a real military base. You’d done field medic training of course, but this was the first time in your career as an army nurse that you’d been shipped out to base, far from home, calling a tiny bunk room your own in a building full of rowdy young recruits. 

Their daily training brought them to you constantly with scrapes and bruises and concussions. They were feisty, adrenaline-fuelled young men, and you were one of the few women on base. The catcalling and the leering didn’t surprise you, even if it was unwelcome. 

“What time do you get off, darlin’?” Private Turner drawled in a cockney accent as you applied butterfly stitches to a bleeding split across his eyebrow. “Maybe I can come to your room and we can keep each other company-”

“Turner!” It was barked, a stern command from an accented voice. The private paled as Colonel König stomped into your clinic, and you blushed. König was a very imposing man. He was at least 6”9 by your reckoning, and just as broad, in his late 30s or early 40s with a thick Austrian accent. His years of military training had given him a thick, muscular frame, with his broad thighs barely contained in cargo trousers and steel-capped boots on his feet, a black tee stretched over his chest and biceps the size of your torso. You knew what he looked like under that hood, square jawed and piercing blue eyes, but today he’d kept it on, his eyes framed and dark. It was no surprise you blushed whenever you saw him.

“Colonel?” He stood and turned. His voice held none of its previous bravado. Next to König, he looked like a mere boy.

“Two weeks of toilet cleaning duty.” König said gruffly, “and if I catch you using that kind of language again, it will be a month. Understood?”

Turner slumped. “Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my sight.”

Turner, chastised, scampered out of your clinic without looking at you.

König turned his hulking form towards you and actually had to look down to greet you. 

“Pardon, ma’am. He won’t step out of line again.”

Ma’am . Your blush deepened. You gave him a small, nervous smile. 

“Thank you, Colonel, that’s very kind of you.”

“These boys don’t know yet how to respect a lady, but they will.”

“Once you’re done with them?” You smiled playfully.

“If I have done my job correctly.” He said kindly, before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. You giggled. 

You didn’t see much of König at the start of training, his rank and his experience meant that he didn’t end up in your clinic as much as his recruits did, but when you did pass each other in the hall or by exchanging paperwork, he was nothing less than a courteous and charming gentleman. It seemed bizarre, considering you’d heard tell that he was a brawling killing machine out on the field, but he could switch from barking stiff orders to giving you a gentle smile that made you blush in the blink of an eye. You had to routinely remind yourself that this didn’t make you special, he was just being respectful, and you weren’t used to that. It didn’t matter that he was a soldier, or nearly twice your age, it didn’t take you long to develop a crush on the handsome and mysterious Austrian. 

A few days later and you were stood in line to the mess hall. It was breakfast, and you’d seen the black pudding in the warming trays as soon as you’d stepped in. You were practically salivating as you waited, it wasn’t often you got a creature comfort like this - something that reminded you of home - on base.

“Not often we get this kind of luxury, eh, miss?” You recognised the coarse accent before you turned. Lieutenant Riley had joined you in the line, a balaclava covering his face. You knew him a little, the infamous Ghost. You’d crossed paths with the 141 on occasion, and you knew Riley, sometimes even Captain Price, dropped into the base to provide training or engage your services. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to make polite conversation with you. In fact, it seemed the norm here. The high rankers felt a bit sorry for you, while the recruits made you feel like a piece of meat or an object of ridicule. 

You didn’t mind much, you were here to do a job, and you kept to yourself mostly anyway, but the offer of friendship was much appreciated. 

You smiled a little shyly in return. “I know, right? I hope the black pudding doesn’t go too quickly. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“A girl after my own heart.” The lieutenant chuckled. In front of you, two privates who had been turning around to eavesdrop on the conversation - more to get a look at Ghost, than you, you understood - burst into laughing at your admission. Your ears turned red and you wished you’d never opened your mouth.

Riley didn’t seem to notice, he was holding his gloved hand out to König, who had somehow appeared next to him in the line since you’d looked away. You actually had to do a double take. For a near seven foot slab of muscle, he was stealthy when he wanted to be. 

The two of them talked among themselves in low voices and you left them to it, knowing you didn’t particularly want to hear the contents of whatever they needed to discuss.

You reached the front of the line and the private in front of you - the one who had laughed - piled his tray high with black pudding until the warming tray was empty. He turned and smirked mockingly at you.

“You can have my sausage, darlin’, if you ask nicely.” At least three recruits laughed. You wanted to shrink down so small you stopped existing altogether.

König’s brick hand clamped around the private’s tray and wrenched it easily from his grip.

“Sir-my breakfast…”

“Get out of the line, or I will feed you my fist.” König didn’t even raise his voice, the cold delivery had the private skulking off empty handed. König placed the tray back onto the counter and then he turned to you. 

“Help yourself, ma’am.” 

“Oh.” Your cheeks were crimson. He cocked his head, his eyes, the only part of his face visible through his black hood, looked amused. It wasn’t unkind. “T-thank you.” 

König tipped his hood towards you before turning his attention back to Riley, and the pair of them moved off to a separate table. You sat by yourself, chewing your black pudding, and smiling like an idiot. 

You glanced over to König a few times more than you would like to admit. He put you at ease, that’s what it came down to, it gave you a confidence you didn’t usually have around military men. 

It was that very ease that left you wholly unprepared for the following week.

It was ballistics training out on the grounds, and you caught wind of an accident halfway through your sandwich.

“Come quick!’ An officer skidded into your office, “there’s been an accident - potential fatality.”

You cursed, and gathered your supplies, before following him out of your clinic and out onto the training ground. Recruits stood nervously holding rifles, their half-shot targets abandoned. A young recruit was wailing on the ground, another kneeling beside him and pressing against his belly with a jacket, there was blood on the sand. 

König was towering over a young private - the same young man who had laughed at you in the mess hall, you briefly noted - and barking bloody murder in his terrified face. It took you more than a moment to realise that König wasn’t actually speaking German, you could just barely make a word out in his fury. 

It was easy to tune out, you’d been out in the field before, and turn your attention to your patient. You knelt beside the terrified looking private stemming the bleeding, and carefully lifted his jacket to look at his wound while the young man screamed.

“You’re going to be okay.” You said confidently, calmly. “It’s nothing we can’t stitch up. Private, keep putting pressure on the wound, just like this, you’re doing a good job.” Just this once, you were obeyed without question. 

“I will have you court-martialed, dummkopf, you could have killed him. You come onto my base, you do not listen to a word I say, and now you attack my men? You sorry piece of -”

“König,” you cut through the accented remonstration, pulling bandages from your bag, “I need your men to carry him to my clinic immediately, then you have to-”

König turned swiftly to you, those bright blue eyes visibly narrowed in the slits of his hood. “Do not fucking give me orders, nurse.” He seethed, voice ice cold with rage, fists clenched and towering over you. “You address me as Colonel, you little girl.” The white hot fury in his eyes matched the venom in his voice. You baulked, in fear, in surprise, horrified to realise tears were gathering in your eyes. You looked back down on the man in your arms and forced yourself to regain your composure.

“I need to get him to my clinic, I can’t lift him myself.” Your voice was steady, if muted, throwing your gaze over your shoulder at König and the recruits staring at you. “Please, colonel .”

König turned from you and began barking your orders at his men and within moments, your patient was being carried between three recruits back to your clinic. You turned and rushed after them. You extracted the bullet from his ribs and sewed up the damage as numbly as you treated any one of your patients. You left your makeshift surgery room with bloody hands and sweat on your forehead, surprised to find König leaning against the wall in your waiting room. He’d stripped out of his uniform to a simple pair of combat trousers and a black shirt that looked like it was losing a fight with his bicep muscles. His hood was held lax in his hand, giving you a rare glimpse at his face. It was no surprise to you that he looked exhausted. He pushed himself from the wall when you entered. Like a gentleman , you thought bitterly.

“Will he live?” He asked you, his voice soft. It was just like every other interaction you’d had on base. 

“It was a flesh wound. He’ll be fine, Colonel.” Your words were stiff, and you walked straight past him without even a glance, feeling like a complete idiot that you’d ever thought he might treat you with the slightest bit of respect. You were angry until the adrenaline wore off, then you cried in your bed.

The recruit, Jenkins, pulled through the night, and the next day he was airlifted to the nearest hospital. The accidental shooter was gone, and you didn’t care to ask what had happened. Training was halted for a few days as a result and you had a quiet week, but you weren’t complaining, as you now had a mountainous amount of paperwork to complete. You were grateful when you were able to file the heft of paper into your pigeon hole to be sent off, and rewarded yourself with a sit down in the breakroom to the main office.

You looked up on instinct more than anything when the door opened. König walked in, in combat boots and a military vest, his hood over his eyes and helmet strapped to his head, like he’d just come straight from deployment. He glanced at you with tired blue eyes, but all you could see was the fury in them when he’d scared you the week before. You felt stupid for thinking someone like König would ever be nice to you. You were just the idiot girl on base.

“Morning, ma’am.” He said pleasantly when he saw you, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he poured himself coffee from the pot on the table.

“Hey.” You replied, voice flat, suddenly finding your nails remarkably interesting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” Another one word answer. You still weren’t looking at him. 

König shifted uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed. Of course it did, he was used to you being a blushy, smiling, pathetic mess for him. 

Concerned, König crossed the small space to you. He didn’t sit. From what you could see from your lowered head, his hand was no longer in his pocket.

“If this is about what happened…you did well, Jenkins will recover.”

“I know I did fine.” You genuinely didn’t mean to snap. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

The conversation went dead, the atmosphere was palpable. You didn’t know whether it was his culture, or his military status, but König went right to the point.

“Have I offended you?”

Was he being willfully obstinate? You felt your humiliated aggravation grow. Well, you were in it now.

“Just leave me alone.”

There was a pause. And then another. Neither of you moved.

“As you wish.”

He left swiftly after that, and you finally looked up at the empty room. You felt relieved, but also hollow. It was almost like you’d done something wrong. But you hadn’t, had you? König’s coffee was abandoned on the table.

König left you alone, and that pissed you off even more. He walked past you in the mess hall, he didn’t glance down to smile at you anymore, he didn’t come into the clinic, even though you secretly hoped he would. Your self-esteem was pretty much on the floor after that, and the base got just that little bit lonelier.

Two recruits barrelled into your office a few days later, one had a busted lip and they both had black eyes. They'd clearly been in a fight, but whether that was with each other, or someone else, you didn’t care to ask. You stayed quiet as you applied butterfly stitches to their cuts, and they were happy enough to complain between themselves.

“You’re a dickhead, Williams, the Colonel’s gonna fucking kill us.” 

“Relax, he’s not going to know.”

“He’s been such a dick lately. He put Taylor on shit detail for a fortnight for having his shoelace untied.”

“Probably because he has to look at your fucking ugly mug every day.”

“You’re done.” You cut across. “You can go.”

They thanked you and left, and you were grateful to get the foul mouthed privates out of your office. 

It was getting dark outside and you were tired. You left your clinic and crossed the training ground to the mess hall. There were still soldiers out here, practising hand to hand combat under the floodlights. You gave them a wide berth.  

You didn’t see the abandoned dummy grenade wedged in the sand until your foot hooked around it and you vaulted over with an unladylike grunt. 

A large hand curled around your wrist and stilled you before you ate dirt. You cursed under your breath and turned inward. König was towering above you, your wrist positively dwarfed by his gloved hand. His hood obscured his face, shrouding him in the darkness behind him, all except those bright eyes looking down on you.

“You should be more careful.” He grunted, releasing your wrist.

Your eyes hit the ground and you mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ before you scampered away to the mess hall. König watched your retreating back as you left.

The next few days passed uneventfully. You worked, you ate, you slept, you called home. The clinic was surprisingly empty. You wondered if the recruits were finally becoming competent enough that they didn’t need you every five seconds. You signed off your discharge sheets for the day and headed to the main office to dump them in the output box. You were surprised to find König in there, sans hood, rifling through a box of papers on the desk. He glanced up when he saw you and his expression wilted. He looked back into the box. 

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He said. “I just need to find the instruction manual for the - s cheiße .” The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground. He bent down to retrieve them and winced, arm circling his broad torso. 

You frowned and took a step closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Nothing.” He replied instantly as he straightened. His movements were slower than usual. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing, König, it looks like cracked ribs.”

“It’s fine, really.”

You put your discharge forms on the desk and walked up to him. “Lift your shirt.”

König sighed but complied after a moment. He lifted his dark tee to his pectorals. His deep abdominal muscles rose and fell under his breathing and you found your cheeks reddening under the sight. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his torso, and you reached out and lifted it. His skin was like lava against your fingers. He didn’t say a word as you lifted the bandage but he may have winced when your eyes widened. The right hand side of his ribcage was purple with deep bruising and lacerated with deep and shallow cuts alike, some were healing, and some were leaving blood stains on the inside of the bandage. 

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“Nothing.” König grunted. “Machine gun training. One of the recruits lost control of the barrel and clocked me in the ribs. It is just a scratch.”

“This cut needs stitches.” You said automatically, tracing the underside of the welt with your fingertip. König jolted and you took your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You didn’t.” He replied.

“I have cream that’ll reduce this bruising too-” König huffed and you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. He might as well have been wearing his hood.

“It is fine.” He said. “The bruising has disappeared a lot in the last few days…”

“ Days ?” You blinked. “Days, König? You can’t have been walking around like this for days. Why didn’t you come to me?”

There was a pause. He was trying to avoid your gaze.

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“König,” it was reprimanding, reproachful, your eyes slackened. “You always need to come to me when you’re hurt, even when I’m mad. I’m sorry.”

König’s eyes snapping to you made you regret the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the grazes on his ribs but your cheeks were already on fire. 

“Are you ever going to tell me why you are mad at me?”

You didn’t meet his gaze. It seemed pathetic now. “You yelled at me.”

König didn’t respond straight away. When he did - “I yelled at you?”

You fought off the sudden urge to say sorry.

“When Jenkins was shot.” You explained. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t like being screamed at, especially when I’m doing my job.” Your voice dropped a little. “And I’m not a little girl, I’m a nurse. You should respect that, just like the way you tell your troops to.”

You glanced up at König, he looked crestfallen. “I…” He frowned a little, as if giving up on any explanation he planned to give. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, embarrassed, and lowered his shirt.

“It’s not important now-”

“It is important. I don’t think you are a little girl. Sometimes in battle, things like this become heated. I do not even remember saying this to you, but I am sorry. I do not think that, I truly do not, I was…one of my men was dying, I was not myself. Please forgive me.”

Your eyes met. It felt like the first time you’d looked at each other in a long time. König’s blue eyes were soft and sad.

“Um, come to the clinic, this afternoon,” you rose, flustered, “I, uh, that cut needs looking at.”

You turned swiftly and left but not before you heard König utter a single ‘yes ma’am’ before you did. 

You thought about what he said as you sterilised your clinic for his arrival. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but you managed to keep your cool? Why didn’t he? Because he’s a soldier, you reminded yourself. He kills easily and without thought, he’s not the sweet gentleman you want him to be. You shook your head to yourself, that wasn’t the issue and you knew it. You didn’t care that he was a killer, or that sometimes he scared you. You knew what his easy dismissal of you meant - and it hurt.

König reported promptly to your clinic at 1pm that afternoon. He stripped out of his shirt and sat patiently down on the end of your bed and you had to pretend like having a 7ft goliath of a man stripped down in front of you wasn’t making your heart race. He truly was extraordinary. 

You stitched the large cut on his ribs that was worrying you the most and he didn’t make a sound. it didn’t much surprise you, you assumed he was accustomed to pain. It made your stomach flutter with something . 

He was even more impressive undressed, his body heavy with swollen, toned muscle, faded scars criss-crossing over his flesh. You had to remind yourself that you were a trained nurse just to stop yourself from drooling. 

König watched you work rather intently. “You have very small hands.” He remarked suddenly. You didn’t respond, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You both lapsed into silence for another long while. It was like a form of torture. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. You felt like a foolish little girl, trying to play with a grizzly bear. It must have shown on your face. 

You didn’t expect König to talk again. He must have thought that you were insane - pathetic, at the very least. 

“May I ask you a question?”

Oh. “Of course.”

“Why did you join the military if you hate being yelled at?”

You sighed and finished off your final stitch. “You don’t have to mock me, you know, I already got the message.”

“I am not mocking you. I’m curious.”

Forthright . You forgot.

You took a moment to respond, busying yourself with packing away your equipment. “I didn’t join as a recruit, I joined as a nurse.” You didn’t tell him the real reason, that it was because it was him.

“Right.” 

“It’s not your problem.” 

König stood, and pulled his shirt back on. “It won't happen again.” He said. “You have my word.” 

Your gaze flicked to his handsome face involuntarily. “Um, here’s the cream. Make sure to apply it twice a day, and try to take it easy for a few days.”

König grunted, a ghost of a smile on his face. You could tell he hadn’t taken it easy a day in his life. 

“What message?” König asked suddenly. 

“Sorry?” You froze, trying to backtrack to that particular exchange.

“You said you ‘got the message’.” He repeated. “What message?”

Oh. 

“Um, did I say that?” Your voice was uncharacteristically high. König tilted his head.

“Schatz, my English isn’t that bad. We both heard what you said.”

You blushed and your head dipped. You didn’t know much German, but you knew what ‘schatz’ meant. 

“Well, you know-” fuck, shit, fuck . “P-put in your place by the guy you have a crush on. I get it. I got it. I won’t go there again.”

“Crush?” König responded like a lightning strike, before he fell silent. His brain was calculating, before his expression turned to…well, there was no other way to put it, absolutely fucking floored. “You like me?”

Oh, this was very fucking bad.

“Well…yeah? I thought it was obvious-”

“Obvious? Schatz, I thought you hated me.”

You blinked. 

“Wha- why would you think that?”

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“You called me a little girl! In front of everyone.”

When exactly had you both gotten so close to each other? It was close enough that König could look down on you, and your heart was skipping a beat.

“You can’t like me.” He said quietly.

You frowned. “Why not? Have you looked at yourself? Plus you’re…you know, nice, and the only person in this dump that doesn’t leer at me or treat me like a stupid little girl. When people aren’t dying, I mean.”

“I…” Was König hesitating? The man who had nothing to fear?

“It’s okay,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Like I said, I get the message. Why would you want a pathetic sap like me who can’t even hear a raised voice without crying?”

“Do not say that.” König looked uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together. “You are like a...a flower. Not meant for men like me.”

“A…” Your brain couldn’t quite compute what you’d just heard. “Men like you? What does that even mean?”

“You need someone younger, for a start.” He sighed. “Someone who has seen less death, verdammt, someone who has caused less death.”

“Men like your idiot recruits, then?”

König didn’t respond. 

“I have to go.” He said instead. “Thank you for the…cream.”

“Anytime, Colonel.” It was softly spoken, you watched him freeze, then you watched him go. You smuggled a bottle of wine back to your room and drank until you fell asleep. This really was a new low.

…

The days passed slowly and without incident. On the face of it, there was no difference in you, except for a notably lacklustre delivery of your care. 

You were making notes at your desk when Private Jackson and his buddy, Williams, appeared at your desk, complaining of a groin injury. 

You rolled your eyes and returned to your paperwork. “I’m sure it’ll feel better tomorrow, private.”

“I’m sure it’ll feel better right now if you kiss it-”

“Shut up,” Williams chuckled, shoving him, “you wanna get a disciplinary? You know she’s the colonel’s girl.”

Your gaze snapped up. “What did you just say?”

Neither of them answered you, they just sniggered and slunk off. You watched the empty doorway with wide eyes. You tried not to ponder on it. You pondered on it for the rest of the day.

…

You signed the bottom of Williams’ sick leave and ticked off the various appropriate boxes, flipping the page and hoping that was all that was required until you froze. It needed the signature of the patient's C.O. König. Shit. 

You hadn’t even seen König since he’d rejected you and every time you thought about that particular exchange, your ears went hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You were too much of a pussy to talk to him, so instead you went to his office when you knew he was scheduled to be out at training, and scribbled ‘ sign me please :) ’ on a post it note, stuck it on the front page and left the form on his desk. 

You turned for the door with a relieved sigh and accidently walked into König’s solid chest. He was standing in the open doorway, he was the size of the open doorway, wearing his combat gear although he was unarmed, his hood draped covering his face, even so, you could see he was looking down on you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you realised he was ducking to fit in the doorway. That sent heat right to your cunt.

“Oh, hello.” You said stupidly, eyes hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hello.” He greeted you, accent gentle. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, right, I’m in your office.” You stumbled over your words. “Um, W-Williams needs sick leave approved, he needs gallbladder surgery off base, I need you to sign the form. I - I left it on your desk.”

König walked past you, he smelt of sweat and sand and some sort of hastily applied deodorant. He seemed unfazed that you were in his office, he certainly didn’t seem to be trying to avoid you as ardently as you were avoiding him. You cursed yourself for being so childish.

He removed his hood and draped it over the back of his chair as he picked up the form. His eyes were darkened with war paint, fresh stubble on his jaw. 

“A smiling face.” He remarked as he read your post it note, voice muted. “The way yours used to be.”

You blinked. “Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” You asked hotly.

“Not at all.” He replied, not looking up from the form. “It used to brighten my days.” He signed the form and held it out to you before you could really process what he’d said. “Let us hope Williams makes a swift recovery, he is one of my best.”

You tentatively took the form, mind drawn back to the last encounter you’d had with the young private. 

“He called me…” You bit back your sentence before you had a chance to finish it. But the damage was done.

König’s back straightened, his fists clenched. “Something inappropriate?”

“No.” Your shoulders hunched. Why did you even bring it up? “He said I was…they’re calling me…you know…the colonel’s girl.”

You glanced up at König shyly, to see if there was any truth in it. His back had relaxed, but his stance was still guarded. 

“What?” You asked.

“I told the recruits to leave you alone.” He admitted. “Or there would be consequences.” 

“Oh.” You blushed. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No, it’s not…some of the men have interpreted the order to mean I am keeping you for myself.”

You took a bold step forward.

“And are you?”

König looked at the floor. You sighed and turned for the door.

König’s large hand curled around the front of your throat before you could turn and drew you back, right to his mouth. You whimpered into the kiss. You were forced onto your tiptoes to meet him, feeling his fingers against your oesophagus with every exhale. His lips eased wetly and insistently against yours until you were dizzy, gripping his arms and pressing yourself closer. 

As soon as it started, it was over. König released your throat and took a step back. You had to blink a few times to regain just a few of your senses. You were still on your tiptoes, and you could still taste him on your mouth. Gunpower, and mint.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was ragged, his accent even thicker than usual. Fuck, it was hot.

He turned and left before you could even articulate a response, but you were sure you saw his back muscles twitching as he went.

…

The deployment for the first active mission came about quicker than anyone had been expecting. It was practically a dummy mission, you’d been told, leading a team of recruits on a sweep near cartel lands for stray activity or potential landmines. Still, the atmosphere was palpable in the base, the recruits were scared, you could tell.

You watched from the doorway of your clinic as the men stood by the jeeps, ready to roll out. Riley had returned, and he stood next to König as the latter zipped up his kevlar and clipped on his helmet over his hood. You wanted to wish him luck, even though you knew everything was going to be fine. It was a routine sweep, and he was König, he wasn’t in any danger. Still, your stomach pulled. Fate was cruel. What if this was the last time you ever saw him?

You scrunched your eyes shut, called yourself an idiot, and jogged across the sand of the training field.

Riley saw you first, he knocked König on the chest to alert him - you tried not to read into that - König turned, face obscured, body heavy with kevlar and weaponry. He had to lower his head to look at you.

“Schatz?” 

Your insides ached at the familiar term of endearment that you didn’t deserve. Your mouth was as dry as the sand you were stood on, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say. Don’t go? Come back? How could you say any of those things to the man who didn’t want you.

König solved your problem for you. His fingers closed around your tricep, and his thumb stroked just once.

“Look after yourself.” You said quietly.

He nodded before he dropped your arm. Then you watched as they got into the jeeps and drove away.

…

The recruits were returned to you on a daily basis. Apparently, the drop point of the sweep was particularly hot for cartel soldiers, ready and willing to engage in battle. The wounds you were treating now were not the cuts and scrapes of training, it was cracked skulls and broken bones and lacerated flesh. And the men, Turner, Williams, Jackson, they weren’t the scrappy, joking lads they’d once been, they were crying and they were scared. 

You slept when you could but you were always exhausted. You were waiting for the first time one of them died on you. 

You were awoken that night by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jumped out of bed and tied your robe around yourself, already gathering your hair up to tie it back.

“What’s happened?” You called, opening the door, “who is it…oh.”

It took a moment for you to realise that you weren’t staring at the pitch black of night, but rather directly at König’s chest. He stood in a dark shirt, helmet removed, hood covering his face, head disappearing behind your doorway, but his blue eyes were bright and wild and looking down at you.

“König! You scared me half to death. Get in here.”

You stood aside and König ducked his head and walked, actually stomped, his way into your room. You prayed you didn’t have any stray underwear on the floor. His shirt sleeves were short and you could actually see his arm muscles thrumming. 

“What’s happened?” You frowned. “What’s wrong, König? Talk to me, please.”

“There was an I.E.D.” He replied, accent thick. You couldn’t imagine what his expression looked like. “Ghost saw it before I did. He pulled me out of the pathway. The fucking thing exploded five feet in front of my face. I could have died. I am a fucking idiot.”

“Oh, König, you…you didn’t die, and you’re not an idiot, okay? Every soldier misses…”

“No, schatz.” He walked forward, backing you against the wall. You swallowed when his large hand came up, pressing your collarbone back against the wall. “I’m a fucking idiot because I could have died without doing this.”

One hand curled around your hip and lifted you effortlessly, and you gasped as you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist - it was a stretch, he was so broad. König wasted no time slamming you into the wall next to your bed with enough force to rattle your bones. You squeaked, but that was all you managed to do. He pushed his hood up to his nose and captured your lips with his.

Your eyes crossed and closed as you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips slid against his. This was nothing like the first kiss - that was chaste, hurried, this was luxurious, long, wet and slow, the whole world went quiet as König pressed his tongue between your lips and lapped at yours with sure strokes that had you whimpering. Your fingers tangled in his hood as he kissed you like that, and you forgot everything else. 

He hitched your legs around his waist and you whined, muffled, as you felt a solid lump pressing up against your clothed crotch. You didn’t care – you ground down on him as you met his tongue with yours. He growled into your mouth and it reverberated through you, before he was pulling back, kissing along your jaw and grinding his cock against your heat harder than before. 

Then his eyes were on you, piercing and bright through the dark hood, the fabric sat askew on his top lip, his lips pink and swollen with your spit.

“I want you, schatz.” He said bluntly. 

“I - I want you, too.”

Your consent was all he needed. Suddenly you were airborne again, and you clung onto him as he lowered you onto the belt and knelt between your legs. The bed actually dipped under his weight and you blushed.

“K-König,” you murmured quietly.

“No,” it was short, and stiff, as he yanked your night shirt down by your collar hard enough to rip. You yelped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room and suddenly your tits were exposed. You whimpered in embarrassment but he’d already grabbed them in his rough, gloved hands, squeezing and rubbing, flicking and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

“Hhhh, fuck.” You blushed, biting your lip as your underwear moistened at the rough treatment.

“Fuck, do not tell me they are sensitive.” König’s voice sounded wrecked.

“Please,” it was a whisper, “please be gentle.”

“Wanted to get my hands on you for too long.” Was all his reply was as he squeezed your breast again and leant down, using his hand to guide your nipple into his exposed mouth. He sucked so hard that you thought he was trying to drink your soul out from you. Your head fell back and you gasped, grinding your wet, needy cunt as best you could on the side of his thigh. König took pity on you, lapping at your nipples until they were shining nubs screaming in oversensitivity, while his brick hand - when had he taken his glove off? - cupped your pussy through your underwear. His thumb was jammed right up against your clit. You didn’t know if he’d meant to do that, or if it was coincidental, but either way you ground up onto the solid digit until your eyes were unfocused.

“So wet for me, liebling,” he murmured breathlessly, between your nipples, “you are fucking soaked for me.” He stroked you with his thumb once and your eyes slackened and you came with a shudder, stiffening beneath him as stars danced above your head.

He let your nipple slide wetly from his mouth and suddenly those bright eyes were on you.

“Did you just have an orgasm?”

“Mmm.” You buried your head into his neck shyly, thighs shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your clit twitched against his hand. 

“Oh, sweet liebling.” He murmured, rubbing wet circles over the sodden fabric of your underwear. You shuddered as your thighs tried to close away from the intense pleasure, until one strong hand was on your thigh and pushing it wide.

“König!” You gasped. He was watching you intently as he pushed your underwear to the side with his fingers and pressed the thick digits through your sopping folds. 

“Such a pretty little cunt.” He murmured, stroking his fingertips over your slit. It opened with every heavy breath you took, dribbles of desire wetting his fingers.

“König, please,” you whined, “need you in me. Please -”

“Oh yes? Is that so?” The side of his mouth twitched up, then his finger was sinking inside you.

“Shit, fuck! K-König, you’re so big…” You felt your cunt stretching around his finger, clenching involuntarily down around it as your thighs tried to close but couldn’t, pinned open by his solid hand.

“I know, schatz.” He replied calmly. “You can take it.” He slid a second finger in without warning and grunted at how tight and wet you were, just imagining how your cunt would feel around his cock. You whined and threw your head back, the stretch aching after months of nothing, thighs shaking. You were so fucking wet that his fingers practically glided in, his knuckles against your soft pink entrance. “I want you to come for me, to loosen you up for my cock.”

“König, fuck, I…” Your cheeks were rosy. “My god, please...please move, I need-”

“Shhh, little one, I know.” He wasted no time shoving his fingers deeper in your aching cunt, and you yelped and lifted off of the bed entirely. König growled in disapproval and used the hand on your thigh to pin you down to the bed, keeping you still as he ploughed his fingers in and out of you. You moaned deliriously at the sudden intense, rough pressure to your sweet spot, watching the way König’s large hand was like a blur between your legs.

“I’m-” You couldn’t even say it before you were coming with a wet moan, your release splashing against his wrist and dripping all over the bed.

“Scheiße, liebling, making such a mess for me.” His fingers were still hard and circling your engorged sweet spot. Your body seized in panic as you gripped his wrist with all your might to try and still him. All you achieved was watching your own arms shake as he fingered you mercilessly. The noise was obscene, soaking wet come and slick filthy between your legs and soaking his hand as you squirted again, streaming down his arm with a mix of clear and white desire. You moaned and gasped and sobbed, the pleasure intense and spiralling, your pussy already felt worn out from the rough treatment.

“König, please,” you begged, “it’s too much-”

“Again.” He commanded, hand leaving your thigh and curling around your throat. “Want all of that squirt out of you.” he pinned you to the bed by your neck, using the change in position to drive his fingers roughly home deep in your aching, spent cunt. He didn’t stop when you came, and he didn’t stop when you came again - your eyes in the back of your head, body on fire with ceaseless pleasure, the bed beneath you soaked with your own humiliation. All you could do was take it, and shudder violently. 

Finally, König pulled his fingers from your gaping hole and slapped your cheek lightly, it was a wet noise and you blinked.

“Come on, little girl, do not give up on me.”

“König,” you slurred, heaving. “I…fuck, so good, never…I can’t…”

“Oh sweet one,” he cooed, crowding between your legs, pulling your thighs over his hips. “Fucked you stupid and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

You managed a tired smile as you traced your fingers down the front of his stab vest. You watched him drag the zip of his trousers down, rubbing just the once over the lump there before dipping in and pulling his cock free. It took him three tries - to extract the full, erect length of himself from the tight compression of his protective cup, before he was letting it hang heavy between his legs. 

“Fuck, König- you’re so big.”

“I know, baby,” he stroked the length of his long, engorged cock from length to tip and your eyes widened, cunt throbbing between your legs in your desperation to feel it deep in you. 

“König, please,” you begged, digging your heels into the small of his back, your wet cunt pressed up against his balls, inviting, begging him in, “my pussy - please -”

He chuckled before pressing the head of his foreboding cock against your clit and you trembled and cursed. He lent over you, hand squeezing your breast, the ends of his dark hood tickling your neck as you felt the hot, solid crown of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes were wide, nervous, feeling the pressure, the give, then the hot length sliding home inside of you.

You gasped and arched, clenching around him and his biceps shook where he held you.

“Fuck, schatz, fuck, not so hard, you will make me come.”

“C-can’t help it.” It was a whine, rolling your hips and digging your heels in harder, trying to pull him deeper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He panted, regaining some of his composure and locking his hand around your neck once more. His hips began to piston and you weren’t prepared for it, the shift of his massive cock in your tight walls making you moan and clench and writhe. Your cunt was obscenely wet, and every noise was a squelch that made you blush, until he was pounding into your sweet spot and you forgot everything.

“Fuck, König, fuck-” it was breathless, eyelids fluttering as you clenched and groaned and sprayed his cock, his balls, with your release. “I can’t - can’t stop, fuck,”

“Guh, fuck.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. His cock not slowing, pounding you like he was trying to nail the mattress beneath you. “So tight, liebling, your pussy is drawing me in. I’ve waited so long for this.”

You couldn’t ask him to explain, you were too busy coming, your world zeroed down to the tip of König’s dick abusing your swollen sweet spot. He curled his fingers under your knee and held your thigh up by your collarbone, exposing more of your vulnerable cunt to him as he thrust hard into your aching walls. 

Your moans were broken and never ending, blushing and squirming in delirious agony as you gushed and creamed on his cock, feeling your hot release on the backs of your thighs.

“Look at you,” König didn’t even have the decency to sound exerted as he took you apart. “You can’t stop coming, can you, schatz?”

“No.” There were tears in your eyes, your fingernails digging into his arms, holding on for dear life. “You need, please -” Your mouth fell open as you came again, the splash of your squirt explosive and filthy, “you need to come, please, I can’t, can’t come again, please, König, please.”

König framed your jaw with his hand, stroking along the bone as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing more of your come straight from you with a grunt.

“Nearly there, schatz.” He said into your mouth. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Fuck, please,” your walls clenched and contracted again, vaulted over the edge and nearly losing consciousness, clenching your fucked out cunt tight if only to help him get there. “Please, come, come in me, fuck.”

“Scheiße,” he groaned, cock jamming in your tight cunt as you came so hard you nearly pushed him out. He shoved his way back in and you wailed. “You want me to come inside? I’m not wearing…”

“König, please,” it was pathetic, and he couldn’t deny you, watching your sobbing eyes with his piercing blues as he slammed into your weeping cunt for a few more torturous minutes, then his forehead was pressed to yours and he groaned as he spilled inside you. He was so deep you couldn’t feel it, but you could feel his cock twitching, and you could feel yourself clenching and coming so hard you forced dribbles of his white come straight back out of your slit and dribbling down between your cheeks. 

König was breathing heavily against you as he held himself, forehead against yours, body framing yours, and you watched him as you shuddered and tried in vain to relax. He was…there were no words for it.

You let your hands trail down his clothed back, feeling the solid and bunching muscles there, feeling his cock heavy in your squirting pussy and wondering how the hell this had happened.

“König,” you had a warm, dizzying smile on your face. “You came back.”

He nodded mutedly, face partially obscured by his hood, as he stroked along your jaw, then your lips, and let his hulking body fall and rest beside yours. “Thought you might not want me.”

You shook your head, curling into his chest the best you could. He was still inside you.

“Want you, always. Don’t-'' He'd already curled his bear arms around you, drawing you into his warm chest and cutting you off. You were suddenly so overhot you couldn’t remember what you were going to say.

“I’m sorry I upset you, liebling,” he stroked along your back, his blue eyes slack. “I have always wanted you to be mine. From the moment I saw you.”

This felt like a fever dream. It couldn’t possibly be real. You couldn’t possibly be this happy.

“I’ve always been yours, König, I still am. If you still want me.”

He tilted his head as he watched you, lips pulling up, and you blushed.

“What?” You asked.

“You,” he said simply, voice warm like honey, “are smiling again.”

[vivwritesfics]

Steal Your Girl - LN4

Carlos is awful to his girl and Lando wants her. He gets what he wants.

THIS IS NOT A REFLECTION OF CARLOS SAINZ AS A REAL PERSON, ALL THESE ACTIONS ARE VRRY OUT OF HIS CHARACTER

18+ ONLY

Warnings: emotionally abusive relationship! smut! eating out, bj, finishing inside, fucking against the wall

Ex! Carlos sainz x reader, lando norris x reader

5.5k

Yes, I changed this up a lot from the original request, but Bianca and I have spoken a lot about this fic and it was decided that having it a friendship rivalry would make this so sweet so I changed Lewis to Carlos

Carlos Sainz walked into the British grand prix, his hand holding his girlfriends. It was warm for England, and he could swear it was getting warmer and warmer every year. Not hot, not compared to what he was used to.

Although he was now a driver for Scuderia Ferrari, he still had friends in other teams. Like Lando and Max. The year before he wouldn’t have minded being on a team with either of them again, driving alongside Lando in Ferrari or Max in a Red Bull.

But now Carlos was in a truly competitive car and, for the first time since his career began, he was a contender for the championship title.

As he looked at his girlfriend, she gave him a smile. Just a small one, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Carlos kept a tight hold of her as he pulled her through the paddock, heading to where he could see the orange hat on the smaller man’s head.

Lando was always his first stop if he could help it. Carlos loved him like a brother, the two of them becoming the best of friends for the short time they were teammates. Everybody in Formula One had their best friend. He had Lando, Logan had Oscar, Charles had… well Charles was a bit of a slut. He had Max and Pierre at his beck and call.

He let go of his girlfriends hand, reaching forward to smack Lando’s butt. Lando jumped out of his skin, spun quickly on his heel and came face to face with his best friend. His look of shock and horror turned into a grin and he wrapped his arms around Carlos, smacking his back as he did so. He looked to Y/N offering her a tight lipped smile.

Being Carlos’s best friend meant Lando got more of an insight into Y/N and Carlos’s relationship. All of the speculations he saw the F1 and WAG news sights posting, he could reveal how true they were. He wouldn’t; that wasn’t his place. If Y/N or Carlos wanted to come out about their relationship, they could. But he wasn’t going to do it for them.

But he felt sorry for her. He saw the way he treated her, how short and angry he was towards her after the race hadn’t gone his way. Lando had stopped himself from running over and getting between them several times. But, once again, it wasn’t his place. As much as he wanted to run over and grab Carlos, keeping Y/N behind him, he knew he couldn’t.

But he wanted to. Don’t get him wrong, he wanted to.

All Lando could do was watch, try and ask if she was okay without actually saying anything. He was observant when it came to her, noticed the way her smile wasn’t too wide.

I guess I should give some context. The year was 2024, and Lando and Carlos were both in the championship fight. It was intense – one week Carlos would be leading in the points and the next Lando would be. As much as it frustrated the both of them, it never affected their friendship.

The summer break was approaching and the two of them were way too close in the points for comfort. It wasn’t like the previous year where Max was practically a shoo in. You never would have guessed by the way they walked through the paddock together, Oscar joining them on Lando’s left.

He was another contender for the championship. It was only his second year in the championship, and he was fighting with the likes of Max, Lando and Carlos. It was insanely impressive, but not unexpected.

“You two got any plans for over summer?” He asked as they stopped outside of the McLaren hospitality suite.

As much as Carlos was happy to finally be in the competitive car, he still missed McLaren. As much as he loved driving alongside Charles Leclerc, he missed driving alongside Lando. But he loved fighting him on track.

Carlos wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her in close. “We are staying in Italy,” he said and kissed the side of her head. The smile Y/N shot in Oscar’s direction wasn’t a happy one. Her shoulders were hunched as she tried to make herself look small, her smile barely there and her eyes not meeting his. Whatever they were doing over the summer, she clearly wasn’t happy about it.

They went their separate ways, Y/N and Carlos heading off to Ferrari while Lando and Oscar headed into the hospitality suite. “Is she okay?” Oscar asked as he walked slightly behind Lando.

It was no secret how Lando felt about Y/N. It was no secret that he liked her. There had been one time where Oscar had physically held Lando back after Carlos had crashed earlier in the day and seemed to be verbally taking it out on Y/N.

Lando couldn’t answer. Because he really didn’t know. He didn’t know if she was okay, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t find out. He steadied himself and led Oscar into the hospitality suite.

***

It wasn’t a good race for Carlos. Y/N watched from the garage as he made contact with the Mercedes of George Russell and spun out into the gravel. “Ah fuck!” He shouted. “Fucking fuck!” He hit the steering wheel and pulled it out of the car, handing it to the steward that came running over. He climbed out of the car, keeping his helmet on as he made his way back to the pitlane.

As soon as Carlos sorted himself out, Y/N threw her arms around him. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered and kissed his cheek. Carlos didn’t respond. He just stared at the track at nineteen cars came speeding past the pitlane.

After the race and the ceremonies, when they were heading back to the plane, Carlos drove them. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he sped around cars, at a pace that was, quite frankly, terrifying to his passengers. “Carlos, baby,” she tried to say as she held onto the bottom of her seat.

But Carlos didn’t let her say anything. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

Y/N fell silent. If they weren’t driving down the motorway she would have demanded he let her out of the car, but she couldn’t. She just sat there, the familiar feeling of anxiety bubbling up inside of her chest.

If this was how she was going to be feeling for the rest of the championship, Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of this world. She loved Carlos and she loved travelling around with him, but it made her feel fucking terrible. He made her feel fucking terrible.

These feelings didn’t stop through the Hungarian Grand Prix or through Spa. They were miserable weekends for the girl sat in the Ferrari garage. In both races Carlos did well, which you may think  would mean he was happy. You’d think he’d be in a good mood and happily showing his girlfriend how much he loved her.

But for both races, a younger, less experienced driver beat him. In cars that seemed to be equal in terms of how competitive they were, Lando Norris beat him.

Although Carlos got a good amount of points from it, Lando had beat him, putting a bit more distance between them in the championship.

It made him vile to be around. The points, the championship, consumed his very being. Not in the way it did for most Formula One drivers, where their goal for every training session, every practice session, every qualifying and every race was to be the best. Carlos was a man obsessed it muttered about it, going back through past races to see if there were any way to take points away from his competitors.

He became snappy and rude to his girlfriend. She couldn’t even say his name without him sending a glare in her direction. Y/N was walking on eggshells around him.

It wasn’t as though she could avoid him. Carlos wanted her at every race weekend; her only respite was the few days she got to spend at her apartment.

During summer break, Carlos gave her a break from himself. He wasn’t crazy obsessive over points as they went to Italy. But that feeling of Anxiety was still in Y/N’s chest. Even as he took her out on the boat, she was still anxious.

When Carlos kissed her, she kept her eyes shut, unable to look at him. His touch was warm, but it still made her shiver. If he knew something was wrong, he didn’t say anything to her.

It was a sign, surely. A sign that she should have left him. But, no matter how anxious she felt around him, there was still a part of her that loved him. She always would love him, at least in some capacity.

Y/N pushed the feelings deep down. She loved him, she really, truly loved him, and she could get through this. They could get through this. As soon as the championship was over, things would go back to normal, she was sure of it.

As if to assure herself, Y/N walked over to Carlos, who had sat himself on the sun lounger in front of the pool, and wrapped her arms around him. She kissed the side of his head and closed her eyes as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

After their amazing summer break, Y/N thought maybe things would change between them. Maybe she’d get the old Carlos back, her Carlos back.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t work. Even though Carlos finished ahead of Lando at the Dutch Grand Prix, they still hadn’t quite come level with the points. Lando was still ahead of him and it was all Carlos could think about, all he could talk about.

The drivers went out that night. Well, a few of them did. Max took Lando, Charles, Carlos, George and Daniel out for the night. Everybody was invited to the club, but these were the few that went.

Of course, Y/N went with Carlos. Even with everything going on, she still didn’t want to head home alone. So, she dressed her best and walked into the club on Carlos’s arm.

Lando walked in behind them. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, and that little voice in the back of his head that usually told him that she was his best friend’s girl and he should stay away was suddenly quieter. Maybe it was because of the few drinks he had in his system already, but Lando wasn’t scared about Carlos seeing his lingering eyes.

But Carlos didn’t seem to notice. Maybe he thought Lando was being a good friend and keeping an eye on Y/N, who was definitely stunning enough to turn heads.

For the entire night, Lando stayed close to Y/N. He was behind them when she and Carlos danced together, followed her to the bar and got another round of drinks. And, when Carlos disappeared and Y/N found herself sitting alone in one of the booths in the club, Lando came to sit beside her.

“Hey,” he shouted over the music.

Y/N stared at him, clearly not happy. But she gave him a weak smile, leaning against the table in front of them. “You okay?” He shouted, furrowing his brows. Y/N shouted something back, but Lando couldn’t hear a word of it.

Standing up, he walked over and slid into the seat beside her. “You okay?” He asked and placed his arm over her shoulders. The drink must have been making him brave.

Y/N shook her head. “I want to go outside!” She shouted into his ear.

Standing up, Lando helped her. He shot Carlos a quick text and led Y/N to the smoking shelter outside of the club. Neither of them smoked, but they needed the fresh air, desperately. The smoking area was busy, but not as loud as the club; they could speak without much issue.

"What's up?" Asked Lando as he leaned against the wall.

Y/N looked at him and let out a huff. She folded her arms over her chest and looked up at the stars in the night sky. "I'm hoping you're drunk enough to forget this, but Carlos treats me like shit," she said and turned her attention towards him.

"I know."

Lando hadn't meant to say it, but it was too late to backpeddle now.

"And I fucking hate it," he finished.

Silence hung in the air between them. Y/N didn't quite know what to say. She was speaking to Carlos's best friend and she didn't want to slate him.

And Lando, well he was waiting for Y/N to say something. He didn't want to push and then have to deal with Carlos why she was crying. That wouldn't end well for anyone.

I think you should leave your boyfriend.

But he couldn't say that. It was a decision Y/N had to come to all on her own.

And she did. Just not for a while. Not until the end of the 2024 championship.

It was down to the wire, the deciding race for the drivers championship being the very last race of the season.

As Y/N sat in the ferrari garage she bit her nails, nerves bubbling up inside of her. It wasn't nerves over her boyfriend winning or losing. Well, it was, but more because of what he might've done to her.

Lando was the championship winner. Lando crossed the finish line less than a second ahead of Carlos.

As they climbed out of the cars and congratulated each other, it was clear Carlos was pissed. As he stood on the podium and listened to the British national anthem, he was angry, that much was clear.

Y/N could have left him then and there, but she didn't want to. There was a small part of her that loved Carlos and that didn't want to leave him.

But, after they had headed home that night, after skipping out on Landos offer of celebrating, Carlos was fucking horrible to her.

Never physical, just angry and verbally abusive. He roared at her, spitting in her face as he did so.

Y/N got up and left him then and there. She walked out of the door, not looking back.

There was a lot of speculation online on the couples break up. The news of it only came when Carlos was seen with a new woman, having moved on pretty quickly. Y/N just hoped this girl could handle him better than she could.

When the 2025 season started up, she missed it. But she couldn't even bring herself to watch it on the television.

She missed it, and she was missed.

By Lando, mostly. Although she'd made some friends from her time on the grid, it was Lando who missed her the most. He'd been the one to call her up and make sure she was okay when he found out about the breakup.

Ever since the 2025 season started, Lando had been desperately trying to get her to come to a grand prix. But Y/N shot him down every time. How could she go to a grand prix and face Carlos?

She couldn’t. As much as she would have loved to go to at least one Grand Prix, she couldn’t face Carlos. So, Lando had to find other ways to see her. He was the one who came to her apartment and spent time with her while she was having an emotional breakdown over Carlos. He was the one who brought her snacks and comfort her, watching movies and attempting to make her dinner.

In this time she and Lando became incredibly close. It didn’t feel right, the way she was relying on him for emotional comfort when he was her ex boyfriends best friend. At first, Y/N was scared Lando would just be a rebound, that she was feeling the way she did because she was upset about the breakup.

But, as time went on, she realised it was a lot more than that. She genuinely loved Lando’s company and she wanted to spend time around him. That didn’t mean she’d be going to a grand prix, though.

So, Y/N threw herself into her work. When she’d bought her apartment, she’d been with Carlos, and it was filled with memories of the two of them. She worked oh so hard to make it her own, erasing every memory of him from its walls.

On the few days before the British Grand Prix, Lando was in the UK. He was in Surrey, at McLaren before heading off to London. What was in London? Just the girl he was in love with.

Okay, maybe in love was a strong word. But everybody knew how he felt about her, knew how much he wanted her.

So, he hopped on a train to London (because there was no way he was driving through the city) and made his way to her apartment.

This was the first Grand Prix that he hadn’t been bothering her to attend. It was strange and, in and odd way, it made Y/N want to go all the more. It was too late now, though. She’d never get tickets she could actually afford.

There was a knock at her apartment door. Y/N stood up from her computer and strode over. She pulled open the door, coming face to face with none other than Lando Norris. “Lando,” she somewhat gasped, incredibly surprised to see him. “Aren’t you meant to be at Silverstone?”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” he said and walked into the apartment. He took a seat at her kitchen table as she got him something to drink. “I want you to come to the grand prix with me,” he said. He’d said it so many times already this year. Maybe the answer would be different now he was here in person.

Y/N let out a huff and Lando knew what was coming. She was going to shoot him down, to say no and send him on his way. But she didn’t. She sat back and stared at him, tapping her nails against the glass of water in front of her. “Okay,” she said and sat up a little straighter. “But I have conditions.”

Lando gestured for her to go on.

“I’ll go if you can guarantee I won’t see Carlos.”

It was an impossible request, but Lando just grinned. He held out his hand for her to shake. “Deal.”

***

It was Lando’s second win at Silverstone, and the home crowd was going wild. Y/N was with the McLaren team. When Lando pulled into Parc fermé, Y/N was waiting at the barrier. She watched as he jumped towards his team, all of them patting him on the back.

And then she caught his eye. Lando pulled off his helmet, placing it on the ground and strode over to her. “Congratulations!” Y/N shouted over the noise with a wide grin.

But Lando didn’t respond. He pulled her close, just the barrier between them, and kissed her.

It was quick, Lando didn’t have long until he was pulled away to do post-race interviews. And then he was on the podium as Y/N waited back in the garage. What had just happened? Lando had won his home Grand Prix but, more importantly, he kissed her. Lando Norris had kissed her.

And she hadn’t minded. Did that make her a bad person? That she didn’t mind kissing her ex boyfriends best friend? Well, more than didn’t mind. She liked it, and she wanted to do it again.

Carlos hadn’t quite believed what he was seeing when he climbed out of his Ferrari, having just missed out on third place. He was in a foul mood anyway from his result, and this certainly didn’t make things better.

There was a feeling of betrayal that settled in his chest. He was ready to tear apart the Ferrari garage and not care about the consequences.

If she couldn’t be with him because of his racing career, what the fuck was she doing here? With him of all people?

He stormed past everybody, his body language aggressive.

But Lando and Y/N didn’t notice. Why should they? Lando was wrapped up in his win and she was wrapped up in him. In Lando.

After the race Lando drove her back to her apartment. She invited him in, cooked him dinner, which they ate with a couple of candles between them. It was romantic, and they were loving every second of it. It wasn’t what Lando had planned for his win; he was supposed to go out to dinner and party. But he’d told those who were set to come with him to go without him, and this was definitely better.

“I want to ask you to be mine, but I don’t want to push you,” Lando had said as they ate.

Y/N immediately shook her head. She reached over, placing her hand on top of Lando’s. “I wouldn’t have invited you in if I didn’t want this,” she said and let go of him.

They didn’t sleep together that night; Lando kept up with the whole not wanting to push her thing. He didn’t want to push her into sleeping with him and then have her regret it later. So, he took things slow, letting her make the first moved.

It didn’t take long for them to get together, Lando as her boyfriend and Y/N as his girlfriend. But it took a long while before she returned to a grand prix with him. Sure, the world had seen them kiss in Silverstone, but Y/N still needed time. She needed to mentally prepare herself for facing Carlos and the rest of the grid again.

It was towards the end of the season that Y/N went to the next grand prix. She joined him in Brazil, proudly walking through the paddock with her hand held in his. When the cameras started flashing, Lando leaned close and kissed the top of her head. That way there would be no doubts as to who they were to each other.

Lando didn’t win in Brazil. But he didn’t care – his girlfriend was there with him and that was all that mattered. She watched him stand third place on the podium, watched him spray champagne on Carlos and his teammate.

When Y/N hadn’t been keeping up with the sport, before she and Lando were together, she hadn’t realised just how close the title fight was this year. She didn’t realise that the Red Bull car was, essentially, a piece of shit, and that the only real contenders for the title was Lando, Charles and Carlos.

She and Lando made their way out of the circuit together, hand in hand. “Well done,” she said and reached up onto her tiptoes to kiss him. Lando kept her walking as she stole his hat and placed it on her own head. “I love watching you race.”

“I love it when you watch me race,” he replied, squeezing her hand.

Ahead of them was Carlos and his girlfriend. Since she hadn’t been keeping up with the world of Formula One, Y/N didn’t know her name. But she was pretty and, if they were happy, then good for them.

Even though he had won the race, Carlos’s body language was tense. Y/N knew him well enough to know that. She didn’t say anything, though, not when he definitely hated her.

It took a few hours for anything to actually come from this. Both couples had decided that they would stay for the night in Brazil, get a good sleep before heading home. They were staying in the same hotel, rooms relatively close to each other.

That was why, when they were away from the prying eyes of fans of the paparazzi cameras, Carlos took a swing at Lando.

It was sudden and terrifying, both girls stood back in shock. Because, really, what could they do? Try and attack two athletes who were definitely stronger than them?

But then a full of fight broke out. They were punching and trying to tackle each other to the floor. Carlos had his arm around Lando’s neck as he punched him, Lando trying his best to get away.

But he was struggling, his face red. That was when Y/N jumped onto Carlos’s back trying to get him away from Lando. When Lando finally got away, Carlos got Y/N off of his back, knocking her to the floor.

Immediately, Lando got Y/N to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He spat at his old friend, holding his girlfriend close.

Carlos didn’t answer as he walked off to his own room, his girlfriend following him.

There was a moment where Y/N and Lando didn’t go anywhere. They put some distance between themselves and the Spaniard. Both their hearts were beating erratically, Lando’s breath coming out short.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N mumbled as they started walking again. “I can’t believe he did that.”

Lando held her a little bit tighter. “You don’t have to apologise,” he said as he pulled out their room key. “He’s being an asshole.”

Things only got worse between them as the title fight heated up. Just as it did the year before, it took the right to the end of the season, with tension between Lando and Carlos becoming worse and worse. The media speculated as they watched the two interact, most of the speculations having something to do with Y/N. They were right; the title fight was just a small part of it now.

***

Abu Dhabi, 2025. Carlos was leading for most of the race and looked set for the win. It would have been his first championship win, a dream of any Formula One driver.

But Lando? He was tricky, and he was fuelled by more than a desire to win. Just as Carlos thought himself set for the win, Lando overtook him. Carlos didn’t see it at first, he had already begun waving to the crowds as the orange car crossed the finish line just half a second ahead of him.

Y/N let out a scream in the McLaren garage. The atmosphere was insane, much different to the atmosphere in the Ferrari garage from the year before. Everybody was jumping around and cheering, rushing out to meet Lando.

When he climbed out of his car he jumped at his team, screaming, shouting and crying.

Just as he did in Silverstone, he pulled off his helmet and placed it down by his feet, leaning down to kiss Y/N. This time he didn’t care about the post-race interviews, he kissed her until he was starving for air. It wasn’t sweet of kind, it was definitely too much for the cameras. It was a promise for later, for what was to come.

That night they celebrated, the team out partying. Y/N and Lando left the party before everybody else, alcohol in their systems as they made their way back to their hotel room.

The two were giggling, drunken messes, kissing on the street every few steps. He kept a tight hold of her, hand just a little too low on her back, but not quite obscene.

In the elevator of the hotel, Y/N was pressed against it, with Lando finally holding her ass. He kissed her feverishly, his kiss bruising.

And she loved every second of it.

Lando was impatient to get her into their hotel room. He kicked the door shut behind them and began pulling off her clothes, only breaking their kiss when he pulled her shirt over her head.

"I fucking love you," he said and began kissing down her neck.

She let out a moan, eyes flying shut as she unbuttoned Lando's shirt.

When they pulled apart to undress themselves, Lando looked at the purple bruises he'd left on her neck, grinning as his tongue came between his lips.

He wasted no time in throwing her down onto the bed, her arms wrapping around him as he went back to kissing her.

He began moving down her body, kissing her chest and between her breasts, moving down to where she needed him most. Her breathing became laboured as he kissed her thigh and gently bit it, his manner teasing.

His large hands rested on her hips as he leaned down, licking across her folds. He sank off of the bed, pulling her closer as he began eating her out. Like a man possessed and licked and sucked at her folds, his skills expert.

Y/N moaned and whined, gripped his hair as he held her still. She tried to move her hips against his face, but Lando held her still, keeping her there as he worked. "Holy fuck," she cried, throwing her head back and gripping the sheets.

Lando grinned as he sat up, painfully hard. Y/N grabbed him, pulling him back up to kiss her. "I want you to fuck me against the wall," she whispered as she moved to kiss down his neck.

The chain he wore dangled between them, getting in her way, but Y/N didn't care. It was incredibly hot.

Lando whispered something in her ear and Y/N nodded eagerly. He set his phone up across from the wall he was going to be fucking her against, and pressed record.

Suddenly Lando was up against the wall, Y/N on her knees in front of him. He moaned as she bobbed her head up and down him. His hand rested on the back of her head, not pushing, just holding her as if he wanted to ground himself.

Before too long Lando was pushing her way. If he was going to celebrate his championship win, he was going to do it inside of her.

"Come here, baby," he said as he gave her one last kiss. He picked her up, Y/N wrapping her legs around him, and turned them around, so that her back was against the wall.

Using the wall to keep her held in his arms, Lando reached between them and lined himself up. He pushed forward, sheathing himself inside of her.

"Ready?" He asked, forehead pressed against hers.

Y/N nodded and Lando began thrusting. It was incredible how strong he was as he pushed into her, pulling himself out and pushing back in.

Y/N let out cries and whines and moans as he fucked her. Because it wasn't romantic, the pace Lando was thrusting inside of her was animalistic.

She moved against the wall, eyes shut as she tightened her legs around Lando, coming closer and closer to the edge. Lando was, too, slowing his pace, becoming sloppy.

When Y/N finally went over the edge she fell forward, leaning her entire weight against him. Lando kissed her head and squeezed his eyes shut as he came, painting her insides with his seed.

He pulled out and carried her back to the bed. Picking up the phone he pointed the camera at Y/N, keeping her on full display. "She's my girl now," he said and ended the video, sending it to the man who was once his best friend.

Lando went to the bathroom and ran the bath. He made it warm and filled it with bubbles. As he waited for it, watched the video go through to Carlos, watched as he opened the message.

He turned off the water and walked back out to the bedroom, where his girlfriend was still laying, her breath evening out. She was close to falling asleep, he realised as he walked over and kissed her forehead.

"Come on, baby," he said and gently coaxed her up from the bed.

Rather reluctantly, Y/N followed Lando into the bathroom. She leaned against the door as he climbed into the water, waited until he was submerged, and slotted herself between his legs.

Lando gently washed her, scrubbing the sweat from her skin and the mess between her legs.

***

Carlos wasn't sure when his girlfriend had left. It was just like last time, alone again after missing out on the championship. It was his fault, even if he didn't know it.

When his phone buzzed he picked it up, desperately hoping that maybe he wasn't so alone.

But then he saw the message, then he opened the video.

His face twisted with rage. He threw his phone across the room, the device bouncing of the wall, the screen completely shattered.

He was going to kill Lando Norris.

[uplatterme]

Imagine Idol Aether where you fuck him backstage but you don’t let him cum so he just has to perform horny🤫

Also can I be 🦷 anon

—idol!aether/manager!reader, sub!aether/dom!reader | edging, mentions of exhibitionism | reader has a dick and penetrates, gets called sir

aether continues to pant, his body hugging yours.

his poofy white shorts lowered to his thighs, cum leaking from both of you.

his music continues to play from the stage, loud enough to be heard here in his dressing room.

“please.” he breathes.

he feels your hand caressing his back, the soft touch just making it unbearable. he wants to cry so badly, he needs it and you weren’t giving it to him.

“no tears. it’s too late to get your makeup retouched.” you warned.

“y-yes, sir.”

each thrust pleasurable but agonizing, but he’d rather have this than nothing.

“you like it, don’t you? hearing your fans excitedly cheer for you…meanwhile, you’re here getting dicked down by your manager.”

the idol hides his face on your shoulder.

“c-can’t help it…you make me feel so good.”

you bend him on his table, the mirror facing him as he gets pounded.

“i bet you’d love to be fucked on stage, hm?”

he doesn’t know how to answer to that. it was a thought that’s crossed his mind before, he doesn’t dare to lie.

the urge to pull on his golden locks was high but you decided against it, not wanting to ruin his hair.

besides, you were already ruining his bottom half.

“you just adore attention, don’t you? you think those fans of yours can’t see under your shorts whenever you dance?”

“you made me wear it…” he argued, his lips trembling from keeping every sound in his chest.

no moaning or screaming, you said. it’ll ruin his voice, you said.

and yet here you were dicking him down ruthlessly as if that won’t affect his dancing. he bites the bottom of his lips, his thighs are already shaking on their own.

“you act like i forced you into this. i gave you options, didn’t i? but you still chose this one.”

aether lets out a soft grunt as he feels your movements directly hitting that spot.

the idol looked drunk, he wanted to grip on something but he could do nothing but close his fists on top of the table.

“what is it? you want to show off to your fans that bad? or is it because that one boy group you like is attending today’s concert?”

aether shakes his head. “ngh…no. only you, i promise.”

a knock comes from the door. one of the staff reminding them that they had to go in five.

“good. after all, a pure and sweet idol should stay loyal to the one he loves. isn’t that right?”

“y-yes!” he yelps, feeling his stomach warming up with your cum.

once you pull out, he already feels his shorts getting fixed without even wiping the stains or cleaning him up first.

he’ll try his best to keep it in, just like as usual.

he can’t wait to finish this concert and just get dumbed down without any worries.

each step has him quivering despite his shoes being short-heeled, cum slowly leaking out of his briefs whenever his body shifts wrongly. each nerve of his body wanting to just pounce on you and cancel this event.

“do a good job.” you say.

aether smiles at you, an idol’s perfect smile. “you know i will.”

you chuckle, unable to resist messing his hair up now by patting his head.

“i’ll make sure to reward you good afterwards.”

…

a blush creeps up on aether’s face just imagining it.

he has got to stop you with all this teasing.

[rapunzelbro]

Imagine Lucifer finding out you like ducks

Tw ducks? Lmao

Part 2 Masterlist Taglist form

I don’t know if him finding out you like ducks was a good or bad thing initially

Don’t get me wrong the dude loves them but YOU loving them was a whole other story

Only found out by the small and I mean SMALL ass duck figure trinket had on your nightstand

Expect to find more random ass ducks in your room from now on at the Hazbin Hotel

Don’t ask how he got in Charlie obviously let him in since she knows he likes you

Getting texts nonstop about them

L: Did you see the dick I gave you? 🐥🦆

L: Dick

L:“I meant to say Dick”

L:“I MEANT TO SAY DUCK”

L:“Did you like the duck?”

Y/n:“Yes Luci I love the duck you gave me”

Even if it’s the smallest of ways, he always does try to make you smile even if he isn’t ready to show his feelings for you yet (even though you already knew)

Oh yeah now you have a room with so many ducks it’s actually crazy talk now

But you were gifted them by the man you have started falling head over heels for and that’s all that really matters

[evielmostdefinitely]

please something about pregnant capitol!reader. maybe she's pregnant and coriolanus is over OVER protective?

watchful eye |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, pregnant!captitol!reader and protective!coryo.

contains: reader is pregnant. alludes to dom/sub themes. some talk of violence. protective/possessive coriolanus. mainly fluff.

“Are you alright?” Coriolanus' eyes scanned the room, a predatory gaze that commanded the room. His hand found the small of your back, a soothing rub over the material of your dress, pressing into the spot on your spine that was always aching lately. 

“Yes.” You nodded, giving a forced smile in case others were watching. Your hand smoothed over the swell of your abdomen, prominent now. 

You were surprised Coriolanus let you out into the public now that you were showing. He’d been so careful with the news, so cautious that others might find out and want to harm you. You supposed that's why he’d commanded more Peacekeepers to the Districts, curfews and whippings and hanging multiplied to anyone even seen with a rebel- to drive them out, make an example of them, scare the others. All to keep you safe, or so he told you. 

With the next games coming up, you were at the annual party hosted before the Reaping tomorrow, full of Capitol socialites all fluttering with excitement at your news. Still, a haunting aura hung in the air, like they were all scared- perhaps it was because of the way Mrs. Bezel was drugged away to Dr. Gaul’s torment chamber for touching your rounded belly. Coriolanus hadn’t even batted an eye before the Peacekeepers were yanking the elderly woman away mercilessly, dragging her through the crowds of terror-ridden onlookers. 

“If you need to take a seat-” Coryo started, waving over an Avox with a sharp flick of his wrist. 

“-I’m alright, darling.” You hummed gently, placing a calming hand over his. 

“You need to rest.” Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed lightly, the same stern look he always gave you with your defiance, one that told you to obey. 

You hated the way it made you throb, you’d blame it on the hormones again. “I’m alright.” You smile sweetly. “I’m afraid if I sit, I’ll never get up again.” You tease lightly, a real, honest grin spreading across your face. It made Coryo’s heart skip. 

“Are you tired, then?” Coryo asked, hand pressing into your back again, fingers rubbing the knot gently there. Your spine had curved, figure caved to accommodate such growth- the habitat of your unborn child. 

“Only a little.” You admitted, looking down at your swollen stomach. “I can last, Coryo. I will be alright-” 

“-Nonsense.” Coryo shook his head, waving over the lead of his staff. “Make the announcement and ensure everyone leaves.” He commanded, his hand still on you. “And we will see you tomorrow for the Reaping.” A chilling tone to his words that had you shivering, taking his hand gently. 

“You didn’t need to do that.” You hummed, slipping out the side door with him, down the hallway towards your own private living quarters. Your heels clicking against the marble of the floor, half steps to keep up with Coriolanus’ own stride. “I would have been fine.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Coriolanus rolled his eyes lightly. “You looked miserable.” 

You frowned. “I did not.” 

He snorted lightly, looking over at you, lips curled in a half smile. “Petal, you were restless tonight. Don’t think I didn’t see you slip your shoes off under the table.” 

You pouted, a waddle of a walk beside him, still clutching his hand. “They hurt.” You huff, looking down at your heels, swollen ankles aching from the wear of the beastly things. 

“I know.” Coriolanus smirked triumphantly. “I told you to let me know if it got too much for you. I’d have you escorted back.” 

“I didn’t want to go back.” You huffed, a swing of emotions Coriolanus was still struggling with understanding. “You’ve kept me under lock and key for months, Coryo. I wanted to be out, see other people, and socialize.” 

Coryo nodded, choosing not to chastise you. Not now, not with how your tone clipped, a warning that the floodgates of your angry, hormonal tears were not far behind. Instead, he turned the key to your wing, pushing the grand doors open, a hand ushering you in. 

Inside, he helped you out of your dress, moved your heels back into place when you kicked them off. You giggled at how he tickled down your spine, unfastening the hooks of your dress, a soft kiss to your shoulder that had you swooning. 

You lay on the bed, feet in Coryo’s lap, his thumb digging into the heel of your foot, smug at the way it had you sighing with relief, melting into the mattress. He told you the plans for the games, how he and Gaul had worked even harder to make them better than last year, the changes and added sponsors. 

“I’m sure they’ll be wonderful, my love.” You muttered, eyes drooping with a heavy tug of your lids. He was lulling you to sleep, not that it was much of a challenge, you’d nearly exhausted yourself tonight. 

“Do you want me to draw you a bath?” Coriolanus asked, scanning your relaxed features. “Would that help with your back?” 

“No,” You shook your head, eyes fluttering open. “I’m fine.” 

Coryo frowned. “If your spine hurts, you should let me-” 

“-Coryo,” You cooed, eyes soft when they opened and met him. “I’m alright. I’m comfortable, just… just keep doing what you’re doing, please. It feels great.” You sighed, wiggling your foot back into his grasp, an accidental brush over his crotch that had him flushing. 

If you weren’t so tired, he would have fucked you into that mattress. You were so sensitive with the pregnancy, insatiable nearly. He hadn’t expected to be so attracted, that his desire grew with every new swell and rounding of your features, yet he found himself buried in your cunt every chance he could. 

Coryo had already taken you before the party, the glow in your features waved off as from the pregnancy instead of the way he’d ravished you before. He supposed that could have aided in some of the reasons you were so tired. 

“Tell me more about your plans.” You muttered, rolling your head into the pillow to look at him over the hill of your belly, your foot in his hand. “Who are the mentors for the Districts this year? Anyone we’d know?” 

Coriolanus’ heart swelled, boasting with pride. It was why he loved you so, the interest you showed him in his work, in his passions. His thumb circled around a knot in your heel, grinning at how you squirmed, answering your question sweetly.

[lightsoutnaway]

I'm not clingy, you're clingy.

PAIRING: Max Verstappen x reader

WARNINGS: suggestive ending

SUMMARY: Max doesn't want you to go out on a night with your friends but insists he isn't clingy.

W0RD COUNT: 1,192

“Maxie, can you come here?” 

Max was in the middle of a round on his simulator, but when he heard your voice he paused the game and got up at once. Not once had he ever told you to wait when you called for him. Max may have been serious about his career, but even before that his job was to take care of you. He truly felt his first purpose was to make you feel happy and loved. 

“Coming, liefje,” Max called down the hallway. He took his glasses off as he walked down the hallway, cleaning the lenses on his shirt. He got into your bedroom, put the glasses back on and looked up at you. “Wow,” he murmured quietly. You looked up and saw him and your cheeks warmed bashfully. It didn’t take much from Max to make you feel beautiful. You were dressed in a form fitting party dress that was made of a spandex like material that smoothed your curves and gave you the perfect figure. It was black and shimmery and you had paired it with a pair of sparkly silver heels. Max had bought them for one of the many galas you went to with him.

“Can you zip me up?” You asked, turning around to reveal the open back of your dress to him. Max walked up behind you. He put his hand on the zipper, but before he moved it an inch his lips came in contact with your skin. The hand that wasn’t on the zipper slid over your waist. “Max…” You warned. Max pressed a firm kiss to the side of your neck before sighing as he leaned back and pulled the zipper up. You turned around to face him. 

“I forgot you were going out with your friends,” Max told you. You could hear the slight disappointment in his tone. He knew partners weren’t allowed to come. He had been complaining about it all week after you told him you were going out without him. 

“I won’t be out that late,” you comforted. “They know how clingy you are. They won’t mind when I go.” 

“I’m not clingy,” Max replied, seeming slightly offended that you might say that. 

“Maxie, you call me in between qualifying rounds sometimes,” you reminded him. 

“That was one time! You were in the hospital!” He defended himself. 

“I was just getting a blood test.” There was a moment of silence while Max attempted to think of an excuse. 

“I’m not clingy,” Max repeated when he couldn’t come up with anything else. 

“Sure, baby,” you said and patted his muscular chest as you went to check yourself in the mirror one last time. Max walked up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and tucking his chin into the crook of your neck. 

“I don’t get why I can’t come,” he complained. You held in a chuckle. 

“We haven’t all been in the same city in over a year,” you told him. “We just want to spend the night together.” 

“You’ll come home to sleep though, won’t you?” Max asked. You could hear the slight fear in his voice. He didn’t want to sleep without you. He had to do it often enough when you weren’t able to make it to races. He didn’t want to do it when you were both at home. 

“Yes, Maxie. I can’t sleep without you either,” you cooed. He blushed and hid his head in your neck, nuzzling his nose against you as he avoided your eyes in the mirror. 

“What time are you going to come home, schatje?” He murmured in question. 

“I don’t know. Around midnight?” You guessed. Max sighed. 

“What am I supposed to do until then?” He whined. 

“Go back to your simulator,” you suggested. “You know how wrapped up you can get in it.”

“Not when I know you aren’t in the house,” Max said. You raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s easier for you to focus on sim racing when I’m here and you’re ignoring me?” You asked. 

“I’m never ignoring you, liefje.” Max knew you were joking, but he couldn’t even stand the idea that he might not give you all of his attention whenever you wanted it. “I never go unless you’re already doing something else.” You were quiet for a moment as you thought about this. You knew he would leave his simulator for you, but you had never realized that he had never chosen sim racing over you–even in the off season when he was supposed to be practicing as much as possible. 

“I didn’t realize until now,” you admitted. Max smiled softly at you in the mirror. His eyes flicked away from yours and he let go of you. You stayed in place but turned to see him approaching the dresser. He picked up a necklace off the top of the dresser. You ran your hands over the empty spot on your chest where the chain usually hung. Max was remedying the absence of your necklace quickly, wrapping the white gold chain around your neck and locking the clasp. The pendant fell down against your chest. It was a circular pendant with diamonds bordering the edge and an “MV” engraved into the metal. 

“Can’t let you leave looking this way without your necklace on,” Max spoke quietly. You looked into his eyes in the mirror. There wasn’t a man alive who understood the concept of devotion like Max Verstappen and despite what many might think the thing that he was most devoted to was you. Your heart was bursting and when you looked into Max’s bright blue eyes you couldn’t help yourself. 

“I’m canceling,” you told him. Max furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Canceling what?” He asked. 

“Tonight with my friends. I’m staying home with you,” you explained. A small smile flashed across his face. 

“Are you sure, schatje?” Max asked. “We could just invite them over here,” he offered. You shook your head. 

“Uh-uh,” you grunted in disapproval. “I just want you.” 

“You haven’t seen them in a long time,” Max reminded you. 

“We’ll all be in London over summer break,” you told him. Max was holding in a smug grin, but he couldn’t keep it totally off his face. “Stop gloating.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” Max defended himself. 

“You didn’t have to say anything, you’ve got that look on your face,” you said. Max kissed your cheek and wrapped his arms tighter around your body. 

“You’re clingy too,” he murmured after a comfortable moment of silence. 

“You asked me to stay before I said I would,” you tried. 

“No, I asked if I could come with you,” he corrected. 

“Same, difference,” you muttered. 

"No, I was going to go with your friends. You want us to be alone," Max said.

"I"ve never heard you complain about being alone with me before," you teased. Max smirked at you.

“Who said I was complaining?" He asked. He pushed the strap of your dress to the side and kissed your shoulder softly. He looked at you in the mirror before he spoke again. "Now take this off and get on the bed."

[striving-artist]

We need to fricking stop with this CinemaSins TVTropes style crap in fandom. Actually, we need to stop that attitude in all creative fields, but I'm talking about fic right now.

I have seen many posts ragging on over-used phrases in fanfic, and yes, I find 'cerulean orbs' deeply strange, but if I ever said anything hateful on the topic I wish I hadn't.

You know why we say 'smirk' a lot in fic? cause its faster than 'gave a tiny smile to one side with their lips closed, a little cocky and provocative' Smirk is an easy way of saying it. It's the correct word. We say it in fic a lot because people smirk a lot in real life. Go people watch, its all over. Also. Bring me a true synonym for smirk, and I'll use that instead, but these ain't it.

If you have a better way of saying 'took off his shoes without untying them, just levered the heel with the toe of the other' that isn't saying 'he toed off his shoes' I'd love to hear it. Cause that phrase is perfect for it.

'Huffed a laugh'? Yeah, they did. Cause I'm not going to spend extra words describing how they 'exhaled through their nose once, amused, but not enough to fully laugh aloud' Its a specific action. You think people don't do that all day? five bucks says its exactly what you do when you see a meme most of the time. You didn't lol. You huffed a laugh.

The idea that something that's been used before is inherently less valuable is ridiculous. Same with the inverse.

If the phrase you want to use is common or widely used, but is the best way to communicate it? Use it. Don't fall for this trap that is currently consuming hollywood. You don't have to have a clever twist just because 'they survived and were happy' is a trope. You don't have to use some insane alternate phrase just because someone thinks fandom uses 'smirk' too much.

And, as always, if someone gives you hell and you don't want to fight them? let me know, cause I volunteer.

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Hands to myself

pairings - drew starkey x reader

summary - getting high with Drew.

warnings - unprotected sex, masterbation, hair pulling, language, drugs. (18+)

Smoke swirled above you, fanning throughout the basement. You took another puff and passed the joint to Drew, his greedy fingers nabbed it instantly.

Dropping your head to the back cushion, your bloodshot eyes stared at his lips. He brought the joint to them, taking in a deep breath. Your hooded eyes closed for but a second to reopen, his lips circled and he started puffing o’s into the air. You can’t help the rolling of your eyes, “Show off” you scoffed, nudging him in the ribs. He gave you a sloppy grin and took another drag, handing the joint to whoever occupied the seat next to him.

“Fuck your pretty” he states, his hand palms your face, thumb brushing at the apples of your cheeks that now sported a shade of pink. “Fuck your high” you chuckled, you stare at each other for what seems like 2 seconds but your being tapped on the shoulder and handed back the blunt so it had to have been longer.

You're quick to take it and look around the room, everyone is mellowed out. Chatting amongst themselves not caring what anyone was doing. The music drowned out the conversations, you felt like you were in your own bubble. You didn’t know too many at this party, it was mainly celebrities. The only reason you said yes to coming was because you couldn’t keep away from Drew, he was the reason you breathed.

You feel his hand on your thigh, giving you a soft squeeze. You take another drag of the blunt and pass it to him, he copies your actions, his eyes never leave yours as he passes it along. “No seriously, your so fucking pretty”.

“Kiss me”.

He pulls you to his lap, groping the flesh of your ass as his lips work against yours. Your fingers rake through his grown out buzz cut, a soft moan trickles up his throat and into your mouth. “You like that?” You mumbled, he’s quick to chase your lips and bring them back against his own. He answers you by biting down on your lower lip, rolling your hips down onto his. “Drew I-”

He silences you by kissing you again, you feel drunk on his touch. Your skin tingles all over, your chest feels heavy. You want him closer to you, you want to feel him all over your skin. “I need you” you whined, your favorite thing to do when high was fuck Drew. He had this new found stamina when he was off his chops, his cock stayed hard for hours. He had you cumming until your pussy was swollen. “Please” you beg, he’s quick to pull you both to stand. Neither of you cared what people around thought, moments later he was dropping you on the bathroom sink and locking the door swiftly.

“What did you want, pretty girl?” You're reaching for his shirt, balling the material in your fist and pulling him towards you. Your lips are quick to envelope his . Your tongue exploring the inside of his mouth, his fingers ran up the expanse of your stomach until they hit the wire of your bra. “Let’s get rid of this” he says, pulling the material of your shirt away from your body and unclipping your bra.

Your nipples hardened under his stare, head dropping towards your breasts. Suckling on your nipple, your back arched in his hand. Your head leant against the mirror as he sucked and palmed at your tits “I’m so wet” you announce, you can feel your arousal in your panties. It’s uncomfortable and sticky, you reach down to your shorts and unbutton them. “Uh uh” he tuts, slapping your hand away. He pulls his own shirt over his head and helps you pull the remaining off your clothes off, bringing the heels of your feet to the edge of the counter as he drops his pants.

Your wet cunt stares at him, begging him to touch. “Fuck… you really are wet” he hums, but he doesn’t touch you. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, he palms his aching cock between his fist, your pussy clenched at the sight and his eyes zoned in on your opening. “Please Drew!” You're begging again, your head feels fuzzy from the weed and your body warm. “Touch yourself”

You shake your head, you want him to touch you. You needed to feel his fingers inside of you. Your small ones never did the trick, his eyes snap to yours and he steps closer. You can almost feel the tip of his cock on your folds but he holds it away from you. “Touch yourself”.

You nod, reaching between legs and toying with your clit. You almost fall off the counter as your body juts at the sensation, he’s quick to hold you in place. He jerks his cock so close to your fingers, you could grab him and angle him to your hole, but you don’t.

Instead you close your eyes, bite your tongue and push your fingers inside of you. The palm of your hand rubs softly against your clit, your fingers are soaked with your arousal. “Fuck.. you look so fucking good baby girl”.

“Yeah? Oh fuck.. drew this feels so good” you moans, your hips roll into your hand. You needed more, you needed him. “Feel as good as my hands?”

“Fuck no.. I need your hands! I need your cock” you state, but you don’t let up your movement. You can feel the flutters in your lower belly. Your walls clench around three of your fingers. “Want my cock?” “Please oh god please!”

His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your fingers out of you with a ‘pop’. “Not god baby, just me” His eyes are on yours as he brings your fingers to his open mouth, and sucks them clean, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

His cock pressed between your folds, you grind your hips against him. “I could taste you every second of the day”.

“Mhmm but right now I need you to fuck me”

He chuckles, pulling your face to his for a kiss. He grabs you from the counter and turns you around, your eyes meet in the mirror.

He pushes his palm between your shoulder blades and kicks his foot between your legs, you widen them for him and stick your ass out high. “Such a good girl”

“Such a good girl who needs to be fucked right now”

You were getting impatient, your cunt was practically weeping to be filled up. “Needy baby” he chuckled, he ran the tip of his cock between your folds. You pushed back on him when he pressed your opening, you all but growled when he pushed inside, your hands clenched around the bathroom taps. “Jesus Christ baby, relax” he grunted, you squeezed him so tight not wanting him to remove himself from you just yet. “If you don’t relax I’m going to cum” he warned, you're quick to unclench around him. His hands held your hips, thrusting him in and out at a painfully slow pace. “Please Drew.. I’ll get on my goddamn knees and beg for you to fuck me harder” you whined, his hand on your back stopped you from pulling yourself up and doing exactly what you had said. “Damn baby, this weed has really made you whiny!”

You're about to protest but he shuts you up by pounding into you, your tits smack against the vanity table. The grip he has on your hips has you mewling and crying, his hips meet your ass with such force you're worried he’s going to send you through the mirror.

“Oh fuck.. Drew! I- oh”

The sound of wet skin slapping drowns out the music from behind the bathroom door, your eyes rolled back so far and mouth wide open. You can’t breath, his cock buried so deep inside of you has you dick drunk. “Come on baby girl… look at me”.

When you don’t immediately do as he says he’s pulling your ponytail, your eyes stare at him through the mirror. The grip he has on your hair is aching, his fingers grip at the root of your scalp. “Don’t stop looking”.

You nod your head numbly, his eyes switch between you and where you both meet. The look on his face could have you coming around his cock but he’s quick to pull out of you when he feels that familiar pulsating. “Hey’” you whined, he moved back onto the sink. Pushing himself into you again, your ass is cold on the marble sending a shiver down your spine. “You feel so fucking good” he groans, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His chest is hot against yours, his lips leaving behind small bruises on your neck. Your fingers scratch up and down his back, trying to pull him closer to you. “Such a perfect pussy”

He’s mumbling praise into your chest, pounding ruthlessly into your hole. “Like that! O-oh! Drew”.

You cry out in pleasure, his hand sliding from your hair to your throat. He gives it a slight squeeze, the breath getting caught for a moment. “Fuck” you breath when he lets go, that breathless daze you get when your running out of breath washes over you. “Again!”.

He gives you another squeeze and you cling to his forearm, rolling your hips against his. Your clit rubs against his lower stomach.

“Kiss me please” you beg, he grips your throat and presses his lips to yours. It’s hungry and sloppy and you never want it to end. “Oh shit.. I-”

The all too familiar feelings bleed through your veins, “I’m going to cum” you warn, squeezing your eyes shut and biting down onto your lip. He grabs your waist and angles himself deeper. He lets out a groan of pleasure, breathing harshly through his nose.

You can no longer hold on, letting the wave of pleasure hit you at full force. Physically shaking around him, a buzzing spreads through your eardrums and your visions splotches. You're soaking his cock, pure arousal dripping from every inch of you.

He’s quick to follow, rutting his hips into you a few more times before dropping his load deep inside of you. You can feel his cock twitch against your swollen walls.

“I need another blunt” you laugh, the high had been flattened by your orgasm. Your body buzzed from a different kind of euphoria.

🏷️ Tag list- @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @drewstarkeysbae @mrssturnioloo @darleneslane @tierra-0604 @xo-hayleyy-xo @ethereal0810 @eliana772 @gabys-gabs @applelovesposts @starkey-zegras @definitelynotholly-blog @renmpsworld @delicatepiratecloud @hdhdhsy @speedycomputerfury @tiacordelia02 @loverofdrewstarkey @bbycowboi @teresalesbian @imnotpretzelsstuff @its-ria-07 @jscameron @rafegirly @drudyslut @drewstarkeyslut @loverofdrewstarkey @ijustwanttoreadlols @sierraluvzz @sunny1616 @tiera-0604

(If you no longer want to be tagged please let me know and if you want to be tagged please let me know)

[natailiatulls07]

Because I liked a boy

Max Verstappen x female!Ferrari!reader

Summary - Ferrari's media editor and a redbull driver get into a relationship, something that her team are not happy about

Warnings - fake hate, Ferrari being petty, swearing

A/n - No hate toward Lizzie or Bella!! I love them both soo much <3

Face Claim: Lizzie Machintosh/ Bella Hadid

-

yourusername

Back in paddock with the team ❤️

Tagged: charles_leclerc carlossainz55

Liked by scuderiaferrari and 87,634 others

username I love Y/n in reddd

username Best media girl ever!!

charles_leclerc Did you like your own post through the team account??

= scuderiaferrari Yes I did 😇

username STUNNING

username The Ferrari employment team know what the people want 😍

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n L/n, Ferrari’s media editor, seen outside her apartment complex, in Central London, holding three bouquets of flowers. Has she found love in the Ferrari garages??

Liked by username and 43,862 others

username Secret admirer??

username Sooo happy for her!!

username Is this a soft launch kinda thing?? 👀

username It’s either from Carlos or Charles for sure!

= username Babes they both have girlfriends, stop being delulu 😃

= username I mean Y/n is definitely the home wrecker type of girl

= username Wtf shut the fuck up!

scuderiaferrari

Just filmed a new C2 videoooo ✌🏻

Tagged: charles_leclerc carlossainz55 yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 7,537,846 others

username Girl who gave you those flowers?!?

username Their faces LMAO

username Max liked!! Lestappen continuessss

username Three hotties!!

username When will it be out?!?!?!? I need to know!!

username Not Max casually showing his love for Charles 🥹

f1gossip

Spotted: A few f1 personnels attended a party in Monte Carlo just last night; Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz and Y/n L/n (Ferrari’s media editor). However, Carlos and Lando were seen leaving early and Max and Y/n are rumoured to be very very friendly together

Liked by username and 45,724 others

username All looking hot as alwaysss

username Max and Y/n, is this some Romeo and Juliet thing??

username She has the most iconic outfits EVER

username Ferrari and Redbull?!?!? 👀👀

username Those heels omfgggg

username Max not in team wear for once!! 😍

yourusername posted a story

username Not Y/n soft launching!! I can’t!!

username IKR I WANNA KNOW EVERYTHING

username What if it’s Max??! 🫢

username Nahh girlll stop being delulu

username Nooo because they were friendly at that party soo it’s not impossible 🤪

yourusername

Well before the f1 gossip pages get to post, our secrets outtt

Tagged: maxverstappen1

Liked by charles_leclerc and 9,327,645 others

username Wait what?!?!

username The cutest ever!!

username Wait explain!!

= username So basically Max just went up to her and kissed her after his win in front of all the cameras!!

username Oh shittt 🤩

username Max was like ‘fuck the soft launch!!😋’

username Traitor

username Bet she’s gonna share all Redbulls secrets to Ferrari

username If I was Ferrari or Redbull I wouldn’t trust her anymore

username Kelly was prettierrr

yourusername posted a story

f1gossip

Rumour has it: Y/n L/n has lost her job at Ferrari. In her recent instagram story she wrote 'living the unemployed life', does this mean her career with Ferrari is over? Many fans made it call how untrust and unloyal Y/n has become since the launch of her relationship with opposing team Redbull racing driver, Max Verstappen.

Liked by username and 57,256 others

username Thank fuck Ferrari dropped her

username Serves her right tbh

username The song!! because I liked a girl by Sabrina Carpenter

username It's the end of an eraaa

username I wonder what she's gonna do now

= username either relay on Max or join Redbull lmaooo

-

[justawritterwithideas]

law in pink | s.r

♡ next part ♡

summary: when the BAU needs an extra helping hand, Washington decides to send the best of the best, but what they didn't expect was to see... pink.

warnings: a bit of stereotypes, beyond that a bit of comedy and fluff. there may be mistakes in writing because I wrote it too fast :(

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,649 words.

a/n: elle woods from legally blonde comes to my mind constantly because is one of my favorite movies, so I wanted to make a mix called "ssa elle woods"; I hope you like it and you can understand the idea of reader as elle woods, I also hope I didn't portray it wrong and that it will be misunderstood T T

The BAU needed a hand with the rising crime wave, so, straight from Washington they sent the best of the best from their office.

And of course Penelope had to investigate.

According to her research, you had graduated from Harvard with honors and had given the honorary alumni speech at your class graduation. In addition, you were a part-time Harvard professor of Political Theory during the fall and part of a prolific group of researchers in your Washington office, which had the highest rate of successfully resolved cases in the last 5 years.

In addition, you had achieved on your LSAT a score of 179 out of 180 points.

Something inside Penelope reminded her a little of her friend, Spencer Reid, in you.

But what she didn't expect to see when she looked you up on the interwebs was the fashionista and family friendly life you had. The way your apartment was decorated with a pretty pink aesthetic, your outfits videos that reached millions of views and your day to day routines were the mantra of many girls, being all perfectly edited.

With that and more, anyone would think that your job was not to be a federal agent, but an influencer.

Penelope was already smelling perfume from her computer, and that made her more than eager to meet you.

It was seeing one just like her in front of her screen.

You were the perfect candidate to be her new best friend.

The clacking of your heels and the smell of your Chanel perfume filled the entire BAU office, causing the complicit glances of all the workers who were there.

"Have you seen Barbie yet?" "Is the model missing?" "What about her? Maybe she's a lost intern. First-timer problems."

Everyone was making comments you'd heard more than once in some police office, maybe it was the way you dressed didn't go along with the aesthetic they had or how feminine your attire might be, but that's who you were and for a couple of comments about your appearance and the stereotype they had they weren't going to sour your day.

"Excuse me, are you looking for someone?"

You turned to see a tall, dark man, who was watching your outfit from last season's Prada fit you to perfection.

"Oh! Finally someone nice." You commented with a smile. "Yes, I'm looking for Agent Aaron Hotchner."

"He's my boss, would you like help finding his office? I can help you."

"That would be great, thank you very much..."

"Agent Morgan, Derek Morgan."

"It's a pleasure, Agent Derek. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

You didn't like to introduce yourself officially as an agent, it made you look rather intimidating if you did, and that was what you didn't want.

It wasn't a long walk to the wooden door which was adorned by a plaque with the name of the person you were looking for.

"This is it, you come for a case? Any family members involved?"

"No, I'm coming to help. Thank you very much, by the way."

You gave him one last smile before knocking on the door, hearing a "pass" from inside.

"Who was the girl you were escorting, Derek?" Emily watched the man reach them, peering curiously inside Hotch's office.

"Her name is Y/N, she said she was coming to help, but... I don't know, she doesn't look like someone coming to help, maybe she's a witness."

Spencer's eyes scanned the situation, trying to conclude who the mystery woman inside his boss's office was about, but coming up with nothing on the spot. Like his friends, they were all searching for an answer to the abiding doubt in his head.

Who exactly was that girl and why had she said that? She didn't seem like a person whose job was an office job, but not one that was very risky either.

But before they could say anything, Aaron came out of the office with his ever-serious face.

"Meeting in 5" was the only thing he announced, so the group took heed and went to the place.

Once inside the office, Penelope found herself with her dear friends, who were trying to figure out the causes of the recent meeting.

"You don't know Pen either, do you?" J.J. was the first to speak.

"No idea, Hotch just asked me to be here."

"Just like everyone else." Rossi replied, settling around the round table with his coffee cup.

The conversation didn't last long when Hotch entered the boardroom.

"Good. I know there's no case yet or apparent reason to get them together first thing." Hotch began. "But as you may know, the last couple of months have seen an increase in crime for the BAU, which is exactly why we've been given extra funding to bring an extra agent onto the team."

Sounds of excitement came from everyone's mouths.

"So I've been contacting old colleagues, who recommended the best of the best. So they've transferred an agent from Washington to help us."

"Boy, they must be desperate." Derek's comment drew a few chuckles.

"I'd like to introduce you to the SSA, Y/N Woods."

Everyone's countenance changed to one of surprise when they saw you walk in, smiling in the friendliest way possible.

The same girl who looked like a model fresh off a runway was the newest member of the BAU.

"It's nice to meet you all, I hope we can work well together." You set your Prada bag to the side, being able to scan each of the members quickly.

"Woods, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, dr. Spencer Reid and our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia."

"Hey, I know you." You commented in the direction of Garcia, who was smiling politely. "You were the girl who commented on my recipe for the vegetarian tacos."

"Yes! They looked exquisite."

"Thank you very much, I hope they were helpful. We need to be a little more conscientious with our four-legged friends."

Spencer didn't know if he was dazzled by the whiteness of your teeth or the warm way you had entered into trust with Penelope with a simple recipe.

"Woods, Garcia. You'll have time to talk."

"I'm sorry, sir." They both replied at the same time.

"Fine, I'll go prepare the case, Garcia come with me."

They both walked out of the meeting room, leaving you alone with the rest of your new group of colleagues.

"I didn't know you were an agent." Derek was the first to break the silence surrounding them, causing you to turn in his direction.

"I didn't mean to mention it, I'm not a person who usually blurts it out just like that on the first interaction. You never know what kind of person a stranger is." You commented before you could look at him again. "No offense."

"No problem."

"From Washington, right?" Your gaze went to the blonde, who was watching from her position with a warm smile.

"That's right, even though I'm from California but I moved to Massachusetts after getting into Harvard, and then to Washington when I got an opening in the federal office there. So I'm from here, there and over there, but I'll always be a California gurl." A chuckle came out of your mouth after making a reference to the Katy Perry song, bringing your hands to your sides.

"Harvard? What did you study?" Spencer looked more and more interested.

"Law." You commented offhandedly. "I actually studied Fashion Merchandising at UCLA with a 4.0 GPA. But I wanted to prove myself and decided to get into Harvard Law."

"Switching from Fashion Merchandising at UCLA to Harvard Law is a big jump, how much did you get on your entrance exam?" Rossi asked.

"179."

Everyone's surprised face made an impression on you.

"What, like it's hard?" your eyelashes fluttered softly, before you remembered what you were holding as a "peace offering". "By the way, I made cookies yesterday for being the first day and making a good impression." Your hands went to your bag, pulling out a heart-shaped tupperware. "They're lavender and butter, it's a recipe I read on a fairly well known blog forum, they say Paris Hilton gets her recipes from there."

You held out the tupper to each of them to take out a cookie, leaving it on the table in case they liked to take out more.

"If they like more, just pull out. There's enough for everyone." A little smile tugged at your mouth. But before you heard any response from either person, the catchy ringtone of Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" interrupted any culinary criticism. "Excuse me..." Your hand went for your phone, which didn't surprise others by being pink, and you left the room letting out a "Woods" as you answered.

"This is new." Derek said.

"And delicious." Emily took another bite of her cookie.

"She's different than what we usually know." Rossi looked at the rest, taking a second cookie out of the tupper. "But I don't mind at all, in fact, I think new always comes in good."

"True, it's always good to have someone new and with a different vibe."

The group turned to look at Reid, who was holding the cookie with his right hand. The young man wasn't usually one to blurt out a comment, just like that, least of all referring to a girl.

"Oh kid, you find her attractive." Derek was the first to smile in amusement.

"What, no." The voice in a higher pitched tone than normal was what gave Spencer away.

"Spencer likes Y/N." J.J annoyed, walking out of the office laughing along with Emily.

"That's not true!"

"See ya, lover boy." Derek commented along with Rossi, who was gently patting his shoulder with a knowing smile.

And so it was that Spencer was left in the meeting room with his cheeks as pink as his new co-worker's heels.

♡ next part ♡

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[daycourtofficial]

Love Potion No. 9 Part 2

Summary: Azriel’s been subjected to the effects of a love potion, causing him to be incredibly clingy to you. You have to take care of him until it wears off.

Author’s note: ask and you shall receive! The people wanted it, the people got it! I’m also open to doing a short part 3 where they find out that Cassian and Rhys gave Az the potion - but let me know!

(Part 1)

You open the door, stepping back in. Immediately you are surrounded by shadows circling every part of your body, twirling through your hair, around your legs, your waist, your wrists.

“Thank gods, you were gone for hours,” Azriel whines, striding over to you, picking you up and spinning you.

“Az, sweetie, I was gone for five minutes.” You reply, chuckling as he sets you back down.

“It was days. I was starting to worry I’d need to eat my foot.” His hand gently caresses your face, before he crouches down and picks you up over his shoulder. He dashes over to the bed, placing you on top of it and then laying directly on top of you.

“You’re squishing me,” you mumble into his neck.

“Yes,” he replies, not elaborating more.

You huff, moving your arms out to get more comfortable. Without saying anything, his hands grip your waist, and he flips you two so you’re on top of him. Your legs straddle his waist, and he holds you impossibly tight to his chest.

“My turn!” He exclaims, and you’ll have to note that love potions make you 1) incredibly clingy and 2) essentially drunk.

You lay on top of him, wondering if he was going to fall asleep like this. He has been busy the past few days, and you always worry when he’s gone whether or not he sleeps properly.

You hear his breathing get deeper and you think he’s fallen asleep until he murmurs, “feels s’good.”

You didn’t even realize you were lazily tracing your fingers up and down his arm. You still yourself, worried that this was too much, that when he sobered up he’d feel violated. Cassian’s words ring through your mind, “I’m sure Azriel can find it in his heart to forgive you if you took advantage.” Was that true? Could he?

You feel yourself getting a little too comfortable, when a realization hits you. “You stink,” you say, beginning to untangle yourself from him, “you need a bath.”

“Trying to get me naked, sweetheart?” He asks, waggling his eyebrows as he stands up and starts undoing his leathers.

“No! No, you just have been gone a few days. You reek of the forest.”

He stops undoing the straps his arm covers, “do you not like forest men?”

You shake your head no, “no, I like clean smelling men. I’ll start a bath for you, okay?”

He whines, “will you help me bathe?”

You sigh, the pitiful look on his face working on you. “No, I think you’re capable of bathing yourself.” Being a healer, you were used to nudity, it didn’t bother you, except for when it came to the male you were head over heels for, who was currently standing in front of you.

He starts undoing his leathers again, taking his shirt off and throwing it on the floor. You can’t stop yourself from staring - watching the tattoos that cover his chest as they practically dance across his skin as he’s moving. Tracing your eyes down his arms, watching his fingers move, undoing his pants and letting them fall to the floor. You genuinely can’t stop yourself from ogling this man standing completely naked in front of you.

You, Feyre, and Nesta had all gossiped about which one of them you thought would be the biggest, all three of you declaring it would definitely be Azriel. Staring at this marble statue of a male, the three of you were right. There’s no physical way the other two brothers could measure up to him.

“Like what you see?” Your head whips up to meet his eyes, looking at you with drunken amusement. He chuckles, enjoying the way you looked at him. Your cheeks are on fire, you’ve never ogled a patient before. But also, Azriel’s never been in such need of patient care.

He walks over to you, and you take a step back. “You’re drugged, and it would be a terrible idea for anything to transpire while you’re in such a state.” You declare, trying to maintain some sense of professionalism.

“So you don’t want to join me in the bath?” He asks, trying to step closer, as you side step him. “That would be a very bad idea,” you say, stepping away from him and toward the bathroom.

“Actually I think I got injured on my mission,” he says, a pained expression overtaking his face, “I don’t think I can bathe myself. Can you help me?”

His expression shows mock pain, but his eyes are aglow with amusement.

You laugh, “okay, fine, if you get in, I’ll help you.”

-

You didn’t take into consideration just how much he would enjoy your touch on him as you bathed him. Honestly it was actually very pleasant - you lit a few candles for him, and gathered a few washcloths and some soap. He was still covered in dirt from his mission, so you started by dipping the cloth into the water and cleaning off his arms.

You start humming, enjoying the peace and quiet of the bathroom. His room was nice and cozy, a surprising contrast to the image he wishes to portray to the world.

After cleaning his arms, you ask him to tilt his head back, “so I can wash your hair.”

He does as you ask, and you had actually stepped out to your room to gather your bathing supplies for him. His room was sparse of supplies, so you figured he could just smell like you for a day or two.

You cup your hands together, forming a basin with them, gather water, and pour it gently over the top of his head. After wetting his hair enough, you lather some shampoo in your hand, gently coursing your fingers through his hair.

You hear him practically purring at the situation of your fingers rubbing into his scalp. “Does that feel good?” You tease.

“Gods, yes. I’m not sure anyone’s ever done that for me before.”

Your heart breaks a little at the admission, not sure how anyone can be so cruel to him. Teasing aside, he was always incredibly kind to you and all the other members of the inner circle. You swear you haven’t had to open a door for yourself since coming to the night court and you’ve never been worried that they don’t like you. The male before you had always made you feel so included, even when you hardly knew anyone.

“Well, if you want, you can ask anytime and I’d be more than happy to help.” You say, trying to get the sentiment across.

You two continue in peaceful silence, before he asks, “can you sing for me? I once heard you singing, you were in the kitchen, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

Gods, you thought, he’s really trying to make me a puddle.

“Sometimes I hear you singing in my dreams.”

“What do I sing about?”

He thinks for a moment, “seeing me again. You only sing in my dreams when I’m away. You sing to me, asking me to come home.”

His admission makes you want to squeal, but you oblige his request and start singing an old song, one you had heard in your home court at a bar. You sing as you untangle his hair, a tale about falling in love as if some force was pulling the subject of the song to the singer.

“You have delicate hands,” he says, his head still tilted back. You had finished rinsing out his hair, but he was so calm like this, you just kept raking your fingers across his head.

“And a beautiful voice. A beautiful everything, really. I’ve never seen someone so beautiful. And kind. And smart. You’re so nice to me.”

“I could say the same things about you, Az. You’re also incredibly kind and beautiful.”

He just kept his head tilted back, enjoying the peace of this bath. You’re wondering what he’s thinking about, when he starts speaking again, “can you do this every time I come back from a mission? Might make me come home faster too.”

You giggle, “sure, I can do this after every mission.”

You didn’t mind agreeing - either you got to do this or Azriel will completely forget he asked. Gods, you think, will he remember any of this? On one hand, you know he’ll be incredibly embarrassed and flustered, on the other, you’re not sure how you can pretend none of this happened.

You help Azriel out of the bath, handing him a towel so he can dry off when he grabs your wrist. “Thank you,” he says, looking into your eyes.

You’re not sure if the effects of the potion are starting to wear off, but he seems less loopy, but still just as clingy. You smile in response to him, turn to leave, when he tightens his grip on your wrist.

“Can you dry off my wings? I hate going to bed with wet wings.” He says, and his hand has reached up and is caressing your jaw now.

“Won’t that uh, make you.. ya know?” You say, gesturing with your hands trying not to say the words.

“Make me…?” He asks, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Your cheeks burn with heat, “aren’t wings like super sensitive?” You practically whisper. He laughs, “yes, but mostly just to touch from someone, rubbing a towel on it isn’t that seductive, I must say. Knowing you’re the one holding the towel, however..” he trails off, and he spends a moment just looking you up and down.

“Stop that,” you say, grabbing a towel.

“Stop what?” He asks, spreading out his wings for you to dry them. You start dabbing his wings with the towel, rubbing the towel up and down his left wing.

“Stop looking at me like I’m a meal,” you say, focusing on his wing.

His hand grasps your thigh. “But darling, how can I not? You’re taking care of me, touching me. Regardless, if I was a condemned man, I’d pick you for my last meal.”

You stop cleaning his wing at his words, “sweetheart,” he groans at the pet name, “nothing can happen while you’re still under the effects of this love potion, talk to me when you’re clear-headed.”

You resume cleaning his wings, honestly amazed at all the nooks and crannies. You’ve always wanted to see Ilyrian wings up close, but have never been confident enough to ask any of them. You know they’d probably let you look at them for medical knowledge, but they feel so… personal.

“But baby, I’m not under a love potion. I’m under your love spell.” He waggles his eyebrows, still with his eyes closed, enjoying both the cleaning of his wings and making you fidget like this.

“I did not cast a love spell or love potion on you!” You say indignantly.

“You existed and charmed me immediately.”

“I did not,“ you reply.

“After I met you, I spent days trying to learn everything I could about you. Your powers, where you’re from, your favorite cookies. Rhys caught on super quickly, unfortunately, and wouldn’t tell me more about you. ‘Ask her yourself’ he told me,” he says, doing a quite spot-on impression of the high lord.

“And did you ask me yourself?”

“I tried to get Cassian to do it, the bastard figured it out pretty quickly. You were just so pretty, how was I supposed to walk up to you and go ,”hello, tell me everything about yourself, I’ll listen. Are you free forever?” He looked so lovestruck, you couldn’t believe you could have this kind of effect on him.

You giggle, “well, I’m pretty easy to impress. I’m ashamed to admit it but that line would have worked on me. Honestly any line from you would have worked on me.”

He bolts upright, “you mean to tell me we could have been having gloriously hot sex this whole time?”

Your cheeks flame, “well I mean hopefully there’d be other stuff too, I’m not that easy.”

He tilts his head back in laughter, “you might not be that easy, but I am.”

You laugh, “okay Mr. Nice and Easy, I’ve finished drying off your wings, how are you feeling?”

He thinks for a moment, “honestly, I’m pretty tired. I don’t sleep well on missions - too wired to sleep.”

In addition to the clinginess, the love potion is making him so vulnerable. It’s nice to have him open up to you like this - how can you go back to how it was? You two were very friendly before, but this? This is a whole new level of vulnerability.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that as he was leaned against the cupboard, he had started falling asleep. You convince him to lay in his bed. He agrees, but “only if you come with me.”

He insists on you cuddling with him. You tell him you’ll go grab some pajamas, but he whines and takes off his shirt, handing it to you. “Your room’s too far,” he says, “besides I think you look adorable in my clothes.”

-

Azriel woke softly, a warmth pressed against him. He genuinely can’t remember the last time he slept so well - usually only when he’s injured and you or Madja provide him a concoction to sleep for days to heal.

He looked down, seeing your head nuzzled into his neck, his mind exploding with questions - did we do it and I forgot? Was I drunk? Gods, he thought, I hope not. He lifted the blanket a smidge, and both of you were fully clothed, eliminating that possibility. He did note that you were wearing his shirt, the back slits undone so we could see little slithers of your back. His hand was resting there, touching the exposed parts of your back.

He starts trying to remember what led him here - the mission, coming home, his brothers, the debrief, waiting for you to come check on him. Oh, gods. It all came back to him. He grabbed your ass, shamelessly. He flirted with you, shamelessly. He flirted with you, while he was naked. You bathed him. He wouldn’t let you go farther than 6 feet away from him. You dried his wings. You sang for him.

That’s it, he thinks. I’ll have to move. There’s no way she’ll want anything to do with me after forcing myself on her for hours. Maybe I can work for Helion in Day.

His thoughts are interrupted by you nuzzling your face into his neck. He swears he feels you kiss his neck, but he’s not sure.

He feels you stir after a while, and you look up at him, a sleepy smile adorning your face. “Hi sweetheart, how are you feeling this morning?”

He groans, “you can stop the nicknames, I think the potion’s out of my system.” He sees your face falter for a split second before composing yourself.

“Ah,” you say, “how much do you remember?”

He sighs, tightening his grip around you. Convinced you’re about to disown him and want nothing to do with him, he’ll take all the physical contact he can get right now. “I remember all of it, and I’m… I can’t believe I did all those things.”

“I don’t think you should feel too embarrassed,” you say, rubbing his arm.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, “and why not? I’ve practically been forcing myself on you for twelve hours.”

You giggle, still rubbing his arm, “did you know that love potions only work if you already have feelings for someone? Love potions work by just taking what’s there and bringing it to the surface. It smells different for everyone, smelling like things you’re attracted to.”

He stills at your words. He could deal with the embarassment of being all over you, but the knowledge that you now posess that he has deep feelings for you? It’s too much, he thinks, putting his face in his hands.

“People who take love potions are often covered in the smell of it, and it comes off of their breath like alcohol.” He feels your hands wrap around his that are still covering his face. “I uh couldn’t smell it on you. I smelled your canteen out in the hallway,” you pause, “it smelled like books, and fresh ink, and you.” His eyes snap to your face, and you look directly into his eyes.

You clear your throat, so what you’re about to say will come out as clear as possible. “If I drank a love potion right now, I would be hanging all over you, telling you how beautiful you are and how much I think about you. I’d probably also tell you that it was incredibly difficult not to give into your advances yesterday, because I did not want you to regret anything. As much as I wanted something to happen, I didn’t want it like that. At least, not the first time.”

He keeps your eye contact, searching your face for any trace of amusement.

“There’s a first time?” He asks, a smug look overcoming his face.

You laugh, “there’s as many times as you’ll have me.”

“Well I think it’s only fair for it to be your turn, falling all over yourself, telling me how beautiful I am.”

“Yeah?” You ask, putting your hands on his face. “Yeah,” he replies. “Well in that case,” you start, leaning in closer, “you are devastatingly gorgeous,” you kiss his cheek, “incredibly kind,” you kiss his other cheek, “oh so smart,” you kiss his forehead, “and I am hopelessly obsessed with you.” You lean forward, catching his lips in your mouth. Your lips move in harmony, his hands gripping your waist. You press yourself into him, deepening the kiss.

After minutes, hours, or days, you pull your head back and tell him, “now, uh, if I’m supposed to be hopelessly in love with you, I think you’re supposed to take care of me and give me a sponge bath.”

[landosjpg]

new year’s day | ln

the one where you and your boyfriend clean up after hosting a new year’s day party

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: just fluff

note: based on this request. not proofread & not really sure how i feel about this one so pls share your thoughts with me :)

you turned the music down and tied your hair up in a messy bun with a loud sigh. you were exhausted from the party, and the last thing you wanted to do in that moment was to clean the whole mess.

“y/n!” the giggles of your girl friends walking in the living room again made you get up from where you were sitting on the couch, trying to rest for the first time that night.

“our cab is already outside” your other friend added, announcing their departure.

you walked them to the door, noticing how they were carrying their heels in their hands while yours were still torturing your poor feet. you hugged them goodbye and watched as they walked to the car waiting for them on the other side of the road, stumbling and tripping a little. you could already see the sun starting to rise, but they were clearly a little tipsy still.

much to your disliking, you hadn’t had much to drink that night, too worried about your precious new house to not keep an eye on everything that your guests were doing.

it sounded quite controlling, yes. but the less you had to clean after everyone left, the better. lando had tried, unsuccessfully, to get you to stop worrying; but the thought of someone accidentally dropping their drink on your beloved couch was enough to make you stay alert.

that was part of your charm, lando always said.

you dragged yourself back to the living room, where the remains of the party made you regret having offered to host it in the first place. there was a thin layer of glitter all over the floor, and you knew it would take weeks to get rid of all of it.

with another sigh, you then walked to the kitchen where you kept the broom, just wanting to clean a little before getting to bed; the vacuum could wait for a few hours. as you walked in, you saw your boyfriend’s back to you.

he didn’t hear you, too busy cleaning the plates and glasses to do so. the corners of your lips perked up at the sight of him, the white shirt he was wearing sparking something inside you.

you slowly walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his torso, your cheek pressed to his back.

“hi,” you mumbled. you heard him turning the tap off and slowly turning around to wrap his arms around you too.

“hello, pretty girl,” he said, his fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “everything alright?”

he could feel that you were tired, so when you just nodded as an answer he pulled you closer and gave you a little kiss on the forehead before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“i’m almost done here. can you bring the bottles from the living?” he asked after a couple of seconds in silence, and when you whined to complain, he softly rubbed your back.

he chuckled, pulling back a little to look down at you.

“i know, baby,” he mumbled, squeezing you in his arms. “we’ll go to bed as soon as we’re done, yeah?”

his voice was soft; knowing that the only thing you wanted was to call it a day. he gave you a gentle smile, so with a dramatic sigh, you nodded and got on your tiptoes to peck his lips before slowly going back to pick up the bottles spread all around the house.

as you collected all the trash around the different rooms and threw it in a bag that you would take care of later, you made a mental note for yourself to never host a party like this again. lando’s giggles coming from the dining room interrupted your train of thought, making your lips paint a little smile.

if you had to choose a favorite sound, it would definitely be your boyfriend’s laugh.

“what is it?” you asked, walking to where the sound came from. he turned to look at you, a silly smile on his face as he showed you some polaroids that your friends had taken of you when the clock hit midnight.

it was nothing special, but it captured the essence of your relationship perfectly. the two of you just smiling into your new year’s kiss, then both of you breaking into a fit of laughter about some stupid (and probably even unfunny) joke lando had made.

his arms found their way around your body again, your back now pressed to his chest as you two looked at the pictures in silence, your smiles speaking for themselves.

“you know i love you, right?” he whispered, kissing the back of your ear.

you hummed. you didn’t need to tell him you loved him back, he already knew. for a few seconds, you closed your eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of his arms around you as you slightly swung together to the rhythm of the slow song still coming from the speakers.

“let’s go to bed,” he suggested a few minutes later, knowing that your feet were still probably in pain and that, if you could, you would fall asleep in that very moment.

gently, he made you spin around so he could lift you up and carry you to your shared bedroom. he lied you down carefully and helped you remove your clothes, making sure that you were comfortable after sliding one of his shirts down your body and tucking you in.

you didn’t question it when he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with just the dim nightstand light on, but when he came back with a few cotton pads and make-up remover, you were already fast asleep.

trying his best to not wake you up and knowing how much you hated going to sleep with your make-up on, he gently removed it with slow strokes. his lips pressed a kiss to your cheek as he finally got in bed himself, snuggling closer to you and keeping you warm under his embrace.

moments like those being the ones he would hold on to forever.

[throneofsmut]

Kinktober Day Twenty: Size Difference

Azriel x Female Reader

A / N : I found out Az is apparently 6’10” and couldn’t get it out of my head 🫠

Azriel had noticed the obvious size difference between the two of you, immediately when Rhys had introduced you to the inner circle.

You had all met at Rita’s one night to celebrate after Rhys had convinced you to meet the rest of his inner circle, after he had offered you a position in it and you accepted it.

You were eye level with his chest, having to crane your neck back to meet his eyes when you introduced yourself to him.

Then his shadows swirled around you as if excited to meet. Which got his attention.

They caressed your cheek and jaw before twining themselves in your hair making you blush. “Well, hello to you too.” You greeted his shadows in between giggles, which really piqued his interest because you weren’t put off by them like everyone else was at first.

After the inner circle and you, danced and drank until your heart’s content. All of them decided to call it a night, Rhys asking Azriel to fly you back home.

When all of you headed outside he offered you his hand to steady you on the cobblestone street because of the drinks you had and the tall heels you were wearing. You slipped them off not wanting to fall, which made you even tinier compared to him.

Noticing how his scarred hand covered yours entirely. Everything about you was so small in comparison to him. Making him more than happy to fly you back to the house of wind.

His lips were set in a smug smirk as you clung to him, his frame basically swallowing yours. He also didn’t miss the longing glances, passing touches and flirtatious smiles from you the whole night. You didn’t miss the ones from him either.

So when you both noticed you were the last ones to arrive and everyone else had gone to their rooms, he looked at your hand that was still in his.

“Stay with me ?” He whispered hopefully.

You simply nodded your head yes at him and he led you back to his room. Azriel readjusted your hand in his as walked through the dimly lit hallways of the House of Wind.

He looked at you over your shoulder and gave you a small smile and your hand a reassuring squeeze. Shadows twining themselves in your hair, one caressing your cheek and the others threading themselves between the fingers of your free hand.

You met his gaze. Dropping your eyes to his sensual lips and then to your intertwined hands and blushed. Making Azriel chuckle as he walked you into the bedroom, he held your hand until reaching his massive bed. Sitting on the edge of it as you stood in between his legs.

He placed a kiss on the back of your hand that was still in his before letting go and pulling you in by your hips. You kept your eyes down knowing that if you meant his, you’d blush. “Are you still okay with this ?” You nodded.

“I need words, princess.” He commanded, tilting your chin up so you’d look at him. You felt your cheeks heat up as soon as you looked at him, and gods he was beautiful.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” He smirked as his hands started to rub on your hips and the swell of your ass.

He tugged on the short hem of your dress, “Can I take this off ?” Nodding again to which he reprimanded with a glare, “Yes.” He turned you around by your hips. Placing soft kisses on your shoulders and back as he caressed your ass and gave it a couple rough squeezes. Groaning under his breath as he did. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his scarred hands lightly touched your skin as he undid the back of your dress. Letting it pool around your feet.

“Fuck.” He breathed out as he noticed that the shade of blue your lace bra and panties were the same color as his siphons. His shadows skimmed over your body, as if giving their sign of approval before they removed them.

He turned you around to face him. His eyes roamed every inch of your skin from head to toe, taking you in hungrily. “Gods, you’re fucking tiny.” He growled.

Azriel picked you up easily, laying you down on the bed settling between your legs. Grinding his hips against yours, as his lips claimed yours. Swallowing each other’s moans as he explored your mouth with his tongue.

You could feel how big he was. By the way he was rubbing against you. You were soaking his pants from the friction. Both of you pulled back to catch your breaths, and you tugged at his clothes, “Off.” He obeyed you without hesitation.

Stripping out of his clothes, eyes never leaving yours as you struggled to keep them open while his shadows played with your nipples and teased your clit. “Mhmm.” You felt heat starting to pool in your tummy as they continued.

Crying out as they brought you over the edge, they were relentless as they worked you through your orgasm. “That’s it. That’s it, good girl.” Azriel praised you as you came.

Your legs were still shaking when you opened your eyes, finding his cock fisted in his large scarred hand.

“Holy shit.” You mumbled as he stepped closer, reaching your hand out to wrap around it. The tip was red and angry with a bead of precum. The length of it looked like it would break you in half. “Fucking hell.” You whispered looking at him. Stroking him the best you could, Azriel groaned, noticing that your fingers didn’t touch together from the size of him. “Bunny, I have to prep you or I’m gonna hurt you.” You shook your head.

You couldn’t wait any longer. He was so big and you know he’s right but you wanted him to hurt you, to ruin you and you know he wanted it too.

Panting softly as you pulled him on the bed so he was flat on his back, “I want you to hurt me, Az.” Something flickered in his eyes at that, the scent of his arousal was palpable.

“Gonna ride me ?” He taunted as you straddled him.

You could see how slick you were as you grabbed his cock teasing it through your wet lips. “Think you can take all of me, princess ?”

Hissing when you teased the head of it with your entrance.

“Fuck.” Were the last words that left both of your lips as you slowly sank down on him, slowly. Azriel was panting heavily under you as his fingers dug into your hips, surely leaving bruises. You already felt full and he wasn’t even half way in yet.

Your hands were planted on his chest as you took a couple deep breaths. Then digging your nails into his chest, from the pain you felt the further you sank down. Even though you were wet enough, especially because his shadows had already made you cum. The burn you felt from the stretch was insane. “Just like that, Princess. That’s it.”

Finally bottoming out feeling your ass against his hips, you looked down, moaning at the sight of the small bulge in your tummy. He was so deep that you could see his cock inside of you. Azriel gasped when he saw it too.

You lightly pressed your hand over it as you lifted your hips slightly and sank back down, whimpering, “Oh shit.” His own moan left his lips as he felt it. Azriel’s self restraint was wearing out as you planted your hands on his chest, moving slowly as you kissed his neck.

Then you whispered in his ear, your voice the embodiment of sin, “Fuck, baby. You’re so big.”

He lost it.

Screaming out his name as he lifted you nearly all the way off him before pounding back into. The choked out sobs leaving your lips only spurred him on further. Fucking into you like a wild animal as your nails dug into his forearms. Your tits bouncing in his face.

It was too much. At the angle he was rutting into you, he was hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “Az, it’s too much.” You whined.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and fucking take it.” He growled.

Your walls clenched around him as he tore you in half, claiming you. Azriel knew you weren’t far behind from the strangled noises that were leaving you and by the way your legs began to shake. He wasn’t far behind either.

Feeling his cock spasm inside you as he snapped his hips even faster, gave you the energy to try and meet his pace. “Good girl.” he praised as his shadows moved to circle your clit as his hips began to stutter.

That was all you needed to fall over the edge again, triggering his own orgasm. The both of you, drowning in pleasure together.

Kissing the top of your head as he continued slowly rolling his hips, fucking his cum back into as you collapsed on his chest. Uttering two words to you.

“You’re mine.”

Making a shiver go down your spine as you nodded your head in agreement, too fucked out for words.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

The Rain is Always Gonna Come if You're Standing With Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends. This one took me approximately 100 years to finish because school is eating me alive. This one is based on Peace from folklore, which is an underrated song, in my opinion.

Word count: 12.3k

Warnings: Bucky's negative self image, harassment, slight reader injury, people being assholes

"But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?"

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, doll-” Bucky said as you swiped the dirty dishes from the table. He made a grab for them, but his enhanced speed was no match for you. You expertly evaded his capture, slipping away from his grasp with almost no effort. You knew him too well, knew his movement patterns and habits. Anticipating his every move was easy. With a cocky laugh, you turned on your heel and headed for the sink. 

“Sweetheart, really,” he called after you, “I’ll clean up.”

“But you made breakfast.” You set the two bowls that once held yogurt, fruit, and granola in the sink and turned on the water. “It’s only fair that I do the dishes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and gave a laugh, “that wasn’t breakfast, baby. It was just a… a morning snack.” In only a few long strides, he met you at the sink. His large hands snatched yours and pulled them to his broad chest, halting your efforts to clean.

You cocked your head to the side, “A morning snack, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know we’re going out for breakfast, but I didn’t want you to be hungry.” He added a fraction of extra pressure to your hands, pulling them closer against his body. “I gotta take care of my girl.”

“Well, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you placed a quick peck to his lips. “And because you are so thoughtful and sweet, let me do the dishes.” With a playful tug, you tried to free your hands from his grasp. But Bucky held firm. 

He shook his head, “Nope. Not gonna happen.” Suddenly, he released your hands, spun you around, and landed a light slap to your ass; it happened so fast it left you giggling. “You go get dressed, I’ll take care of it.”

Your giggly “sir, yes, sir” floated down the hall as you marched toward the bedroom. This was to be the perfect day. A trip to your favorite bookstore, followed by what you swore was the best chicken and waffles the city had to offer. After breakfast, the two of you were set to visit the new shark exhibit at the science museum, eat lunch in the park, and grab an ice cream from your favorite spot. 

Bucky planned it all out, ensuring a flawless blueprint. And while you appreciated his attention to detail, you would’ve been happy with a day at home. All you wanted- all you needed- was to spend time with him. 

And time with Bucky was lacking as of late.

He stood at the sink, drying the now clean dishes as emotion overcame him. He couldn’t believe he was here- home- with you. He waited for this day. He hungered and ached for a day without danger, without bloodshed. He waited for a day spent with you. And only you. 

He’d just been so busy lately- too busy. Over the past few months, he’d been dragged around the world more times than he could count. His missions only seemed to grow longer. And each time he got the call from Hill, she sent him farther and farther away. 

He found himself struggling under the weight of severe, mind-numbing exhaustion. Anxiety. His body threatened to give out with each new wound he received, each drop of blood he lost. But he didn’t mind the constant paint or fatigue. What upset him most was spending so much time away from you.

The two of you lived together now. You shared an address, a roof, a bedroom. The universe somehow allowed Bucky to have a home- a safe, comfortable home- with the person he loved most. But he’d spent so little time there lately that he feared it wasn’t his anymore. That he had no claim to the space. He always felt like a mere passerby upon arriving home, like more of a wanderer than a resident. He always had to stop himself from knocking, had to force himself to use his key. 

But who was he to waltz through the front door after being gone for so long? Who was he to act like he owned the place? He thought maybe he didn’t deserve it, this home you shared. And he knew he didn’t deserve you.  

Over the past few months, he spent only a handful of nights at home while you held down the fort. You kept things together. He missed out on so much of your life; what if you didn’t want him to be a part of it anymore?

When Bucky did come home, he always showed up in the middle of the night. Sore. Exhausted. He’d drag his body into the bed you shared and pass out before he even got the chance to pull you close. He’d sleep late, his body too fatigued to wake before the afternoon. When he finally stirred, the two of you did your best to catch up. He wanted to hear every detail of your life, and you his. But without fail, the emotion won. You’d cry together, wrapped in the other’s arms, whispering “I love yous” over and over. 

And without fail, some world ending threat would interrupt. Danger always found a way to force the two of you apart, isolating you from one another. And only twenty-four hours after arriving home, Bucky would leave. Again. 

But over the last few weeks, things started quieting down. It was slow at first. Subtle. But Bucky sensed a shift in the air. He could almost feel the world settling. At first, he thought he’d lost his mind. But Sam, too, felt the earth calming. As did Hill. Whatever sweeping, overwhelming chaos that sent the entire planet into disaster so many months ago seemed to finally lose steam. Fewer calls came in, fewer alerts woke Bucky in the middle of the night. 

And three nights ago, Bucky came home for good. 

The adrenaline that kept him going for so long evaporated as soon as he made it through the front door. The anxiety melted from his body. It was the only thing, he realized, that kept him upright. And with it gone, his body gave out. He crumbled and collapsed to the floor as sweet relief flooded his every cell. He didn’t care that he was hurt, that he was worn out; he was just happy to be home.

But a sharp shriek flooded his system with fear once again. 

You stood frozen in the doorway of your bedroom, just a few feet away, with your hands clasped over your mouth. Tears welled in your eyes. Your chest rose and fell as sharp breaths dragged into your lungs. The sight of his limp body sent you jumping to the worst, most tragic conclusions. 

“No, I’m- I’m okay, baby.”  With great effort, Bucky pulled himself to his feet. 

It was then that you snapped out of your horrified trance. You rushed to Bucky’s side, throwing your arms around his neck, and pressing your body to his. You needed to be as close to him as possible, needed your souls to touch. His arms wound around you and pulled you closer still, desperate for you.

“You’re okay…” you whispered against his neck. It wasn’t a question, but an affirmation.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m home.” 

That night, after he took a shower and let you clean his wounds, he planned this perfect day. And though you told him it wasn’t necessary, he wanted to make things up to you. He wanted to apologize for being gone so long. For breaking your heart over and over and over again. For disappearing. 

He knew how his absences affected you. Knew you worried about him constantly when he was gone. He noticed the way you bit your nails down to the quick. How you picked at your cuticles till they bled. Your tired eyes looked bloodshot, and your bottom lip chewed raw. He knew your anxiety gave you stomach pain and headaches. Knew that you could barely eat or sleep when he was away. 

His constant disappearing act put you through hell. And he hated himself for it. All he wanted- all he ever wanted- was to make you happy. To bring you calm and ease and tranquility. And now that he was home, he swore to himself that he’d give you peace. 

Bucky finished with the dishes and headed into the bedroom, hoping to soak up as much time with you as possible. But just as he made his way into the en suite bathroom, your grumbled, aggravated voice caught his attention.

“Oh, what the fuck?” You let out a deep huff, staring down at your phone with a sharp seriousness.

Bucky popped his head into the bathroom, “Everything okay?” 

A look of surprise splashed across your face; you hadn’t heard him come in. “Oh- hey. Yeah. Everything is-” you gestured to your phone, “everything’s fine. My friend just sent me a stupid gossip article.”

“Anything good?” Bucky shot you a wink, knowing damn well he was clueless about the latest reality tv drama. 

“No.” The word carried a hefty weight and fell to the ground with finality.

Bucky clocked your tone, your expression- both struck him as too serious for a gossip rag. His muscles stiffened ever so slightly at sight of your displeasure. 

“Just dumb shit. People writing whole articles over things they have no idea about.” You rolled your eyes and slipped your phone into your pocket. A deep breath acted as a reset to your system, clearing the fog of frustration from your mind. “And it doesn’t even matter, cause we have a perfect day planned.” 

Bucky, too, took a deep breath. He relaxed into a smile and leaned against the door jam. “We sure do, doll.”

He was too accustomed to disaster. Always prepared for the worst. The slightest change in your demeanor sent him hurdling toward the worst possible conclusion. His body was home, but his mind remained stuck in a never-ending battle. 

“I’m just gonna put my shoes on- I’ll be ready when you are.” Bucky stepped away and did his best to shake it off. ‘Everything’s fine, it’s all good’, he said to himself as he laced up his boots. ‘It was just an article about Vanderpump Rules or whatever.’ His palms dragged up and down his thighs, his chest rose and fell rhythmically. He learned how to self-regulate, to talk himself down, long ago- before he ever met you. It was his only option back then.

The sound of your footsteps bounding down the hall commanded Bucky’s attention. He snapped out his dimly lit world and stepped into your technicolor atmosphere. A comforting sigh of relief spread though his body as he noticed the bright smile on your face. Any evidence of the upset your gossip rag caused was long gone, replaced by an all-encompassing warmth. 

“Alright, Barnes,” you grabbed your purse from the hook by the door and slung it over your shoulder,  “let’s do this.” 

The warm summer air greeted the two of you as stepped out of your apartment building. The busy city pulsed with the possibilities of a perfect Saturday. People passed by with dogs in tow. Cars honked. Birds sang. And finally, things felt right. Everything fell off its axis when Bucky was gone. The world turned in the wrong direction, the sun set on the opposite side. And only his return could set things properly in motion.

“Okay, to the bookstore,” Bucky weaved his fingers with yours and gave you a gentle tug in the right direction, “here we go!” 

Bucky never had an affinity for going out in public. He didn’t particularly enjoy the crowded sidewalks or busy subways. Throngs of strangers surrounding him from every angle only ever served to put him on edge. But he’d improved. He’d worked through his anxiety and his fears- all to be with you. It seemed, though, that his paranoia threatened to creep in again. After so much time away, surrounded by danger, he found himself scanning every face on the street, assessing possible threats. 

He always experienced some level of recognition in public, sure, but today felt different. Every pair of eyes seemed to bore through him, every mouth whispered his name. His muscles tensed, his jaw locked. 

“You okay?” you pulled Bucky to the side, out of the flow of people, “you seem a little on edge.”

“Oh-” Bucky snaked his hand out of yours, realizing all at once the force of his grip. He watched you rub at the sore spots he created and silently cursed himself. “No, I’m good, I’m okay. I think I’m just-” He eyed the area once more, “I think I’m just being paranoid. Is it me or is everyone staring at me?”

Your heart stopped. “Um, no, I don’t think everyone’s staring,” A casual shrug and a shake of your head punctuated your thought. “I think you’ve got some residual adrenaline or something, you know?”

Bucky nodded. “Must be it. I’m sorry about your hand, baby.” He pressed his lips to the indentations his fingers left behind. 

“I’ll survive,” you threw him a wink, “but the kisses help.”

The two of you continued your journey with Bucky’s worries only slightly assuaged. It seemed to him that hundreds of eyes raked over him with each passing second, but he forced his anxiety behind a wall. He wasn’t going to mess up this day with you- he couldn’t. He didn’t know how many chances he had left, and if this was the last one, he couldn’t afford to ruin it.

Block after block passed as you and Bucky got closer to the bookstore. Sure, there was a similar shop only a few minutes from the apartment- but it wasn’t as cute or as special as the one in the village. And Bucky wanted this day perfect. He’d do anything to make you happy. And so, he sucked it up and vowed to make the trek with you, no matter how nervous the public made him. 

But with only a few blocks to go, you pulled him to the side once again.

“Hang on, shoe’s untied,” you attempted to bend down and tie your loose lace, but Bucky refused to let you. He, instead, knelt on the sidewalk and gave your shoe a proper double-knot. 

He stared up at you with adoration in his eyes and a warm smile on his face, “this is almost like a Cinderella moment,” he joked. “Except I-” 

Something caught his eye. 

And before you had the chance to intervene, he was gone. He forced his way past cyclists and families with children, his body seemingly drawn in by a magnet toward whatever grabbed his attention. He stood with his back to you, examining a newspaper box. 

“Come on, Buck, no one reads the paper anymore,” you laughed, attempting to sway his focus. But he didn’t move. 

His gaze remained on the grainy photo of the two of you holding hands outside your building. For the second time that day, you scanned the headline: ‘SERIAL KILLER’S PR RELATIONSHIP: The Winter Soldier’s Attempt to Win Over the American Public’.

“What- what is this?” Bucky looked to you for help, for context. “Why did someone wrote about us?”

A haunting sense of hopelessness filled his eyes, leaving you gutted. And though he wanted to look away, he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from the page. Each second spent examining the harsh headline caused him more pain, more anguish. 

He truly couldn’t believe what he saw. And he couldn’t believe he’d dragged you into the crossfire. 

“Hey, don’t pay it any mind, okay?” You fought to meet his eyeline, “It’s just stupid gossip-”

A realization flashed across his face, “is this what you were reading this morning?”

A slow nod confirmed his fears. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, I just-”

Bucky snatched a paper from the box and began reading at lightning speed. With each sentence, the dread filling his chest grew heavier. “Hydra’s deadliest weapon has a new victim,” Bucky read aloud. “though she hasn’t been bloodied or brutalized…yet. We’ll see just how long Barnes’s new PR ‘girlfriend’ survives.”

The words cut him deep. They wormed their way into his brain and unearthed the fears he’d long tried to put to rest. He knew he was wrong to be with you. He was wrong to indulge in his feelings for you. Dating you meant putting you in danger, and he’d known that all along. But you were never scared of him- and if you were, you didn’t show it. This article, however, cemented his belief: your relationship was a ticking time bomb; being Bucky’s girlfriend meant signing your I love you’s in blood. 

“Wait-” he dragged his eyes upward and met your anxious stare. “What does this mean- what’s a ‘PR relationship’?”

You rolled your eyes at the phrase, just like you had earlier that morning, “’public relations relationship’. It’s a fake relationship that’s been arranged by a PR firm. People usually do it to get publicity or fix their public image after a scandal.”

Bucky knew there was more to your answer, and he had enough questions to last till dinner. But the article was long- too long. He knew it had to be full to the brim with the most brutal, vile rhetoric possible. Reading it would hurt, yes. But he needed to know exactly what the article said about him, about you. 

He buried his face in the paper once more, only surfacing to share a line or two with you. “They think you’re being paid to date me? That we’ve been doing something called-” he double checked the article, “‘pap walks’? What’s a pap walk?”

Even in times of crisis, Bucky’s lack of modern knowledge still managed to pull a smile from you. “It’s where you call the paparazzi so they can take pictures of you, but you pretend it was spontaneous.”

Bucky looked stunned, “Why would anyone do that?”

You shrugged, “you’d be surprised.”

People took pictures of Bucky without his permission constantly- it happened all the time. They snapped photos at the grocery store and on the subway. And no matter how subtle they tried to be, Bucky always clocked it. He could almost feel the lenses on him. But he didn’t notice the person taking this picture on the front page. Maybe if he had, he could’ve stopped it. Maybe he could’ve saved you from being exposed like this.

He shook his head and disappeared once again into the disgusting story written about the two of you. He didn’t care much what they said about him. People hated him- that wasn’t knew information. And though he didn’t love being one of the most reviled men in history, he’d come to terms with it. But now that someone dragged you into the fray, the fire within him reignited.

“His new ‘girlfriend’ functions as a means of improving the public’s opinion of Barnes and humanizing the ex-Winter Soldier. It’s a PR strategy we’ve seen a million times- one that could possibly salvage Barnes’s reputation,” Bucky read aloud. He eyed the people who passed, waiting until they crossed the street to continue. 

“But what if she herself is no angel?” He rolled his eyes at the thought. “Surely, no one in their right mind would risk their life to date a proven serial killer. So, it’s entirely possible that she herself may not be in her right mind. Maybe she, too, is a criminal. Acting as Barnes’s new love interest could possibly knock time off her sentence or hours off her court mandated community service.” 

Bucky stared at you, aghast. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I- I can’t believe they’d say that about you…”

“Buck, it’s okay,” you shrugged. “We both know I’m actually in love with you for real. I don’t have a prison sentence to shorten or community service hours to perform. And the last time I checked, no one is paying me to date you.” You cut a glance to the newspaper box, full of papers with front page coverage about you and Bucky, “I’m not worried about their bullshit.”

Bucky’s grip on the paper tightened, crinkling the edges. “But why’d they have to drag you into it? You haven’t done anything wrong-”

“Neither have you,” your tone was insistent, steadfast.

“We both know that’s not true…” Bucky loved your support, your assertions that he was an innocent man. But he never believed them. He knew he had blood on his hands even if you couldn’t- or refused to- see it.

“We both know you had no choice,” your rebuttal didn’t waver. “But, speaking of things that aren’t true,” you gestured toward the paper, “they also dropped Sam’s name.”

Bucky scanned through the article until he found the paragraph in question. “Why put in the effort to clean the blood from Barnes’s tarnished reputation? Two words: Sam Wilson,” Bucky paused his reading and stared up at you with wide eyes. All you could do was nod. 

“Barnes and Wilson have been seen together on many occasions and have even been photographed on Wilson’s family boat in Louisiana. But Barnes’s association with Sam Wilson, AKA the New Captain America, only hurts the Captain America brand. Even if the two did take down the Flag Smashers as a team, Barnes is a bloodstain on the brilliant red, white, and blue of Wilson’s Cap.” 

Hearing the words aloud twisted the knife. Sure, skimming the article hurt, but listening to Bucky read every last disgusting word hurt you in ways you never imagined. He deserved better. He deserved a world that loved him. A world that welcomed him home and celebrated his life. He deserved a fucking medal of honor for simply surviving what Hydra put him through. But he didn’t get medals or high praise; he, instead, got spit on by people on the subway. 

“But if this new woman improves Barnes’s image in the public eye, his destruction of Wilson’s mantle may be mitigated.” 

Bucky balled up the paper and crushed it into the nearest garbage can. His hands shook with anger, with anxiety. 

“I hadn’t even- I didn’t even think of that…” he leaned against the newspaper box, dejected. “I didn’t realize I was ruining Sam's reputation just by being friends with him.” Despair darkened his expression. He knew getting close to people was selfish- he just never realized how selfish. And in one fell swoop, he ruined the lives of the two people he cared about most.

“You’re not- you’re not ruining anything,” you took Bucky’s face in your hands, cradling his cheeks. “These kinds of stories are all made up, baby. There’s no sources or actual information for them to work from, so they just write whatever will get them the most attention.”

Bucky’s gaze fell downward. “I don’t know, doll…”

“But I do. I know.” Your words came out desperate, pleading. Something inside of you shook with a frantic need to mend Bucky’s broken heart. You’d never seen him this despondent, this torn apart. “And I’m not gonna let you doubt yourself because of some low budget, piece of shit gossip article.” Regardless of the emotion holding you hostage, your voice didn’t waver. You stood firm in your conviction, determined to help Bucky find his way out of the spiral. “I love you. I love being with you. I missed you so much- I hate when you’re gone. And Sam- Sam loves you, too. I mean, not as much as me…” you shot him a wink. “But he is your best friend. He cares about you. And I can guarantee that he’s never- even for a second- thought that you were ruining his reputation.”

Bucky gave a shake of his head.

“Hey, you know Sam doesn’t care about that kind of stuff- he doesn’t give a shit what people think.” Sam knew Bucky as the ruthless assassin, the broken fugitive, and the rehabilitated man seeking amends. He’d seen the darkest, most twisted version of Bucky created by Hydra- even fought against him. But he didn’t see Bucky as a villain anymore. He saw only his friend, the tortured soul who tried his best every day.

Bucky lifted your hands from his face and held them to his chest instead. He gave a deep, heavy sigh that vibrated under your palms. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Part of him wished to go back into cryo and escape the stares of the world. 

You could see him crumbling, collapsing in on himself like a dying star. He was drowning in his own mind, and you offered him a life preserver. “Hey, I know it must feel fucking awful to see a story like this about yourself. And I know you hate that Sam and I are involved. But it’s not your fault.” You gripped his t-shirt in your fists, desperate to get your point across. “This whole thing is so predatory and evil- it’s killing me to see you hurting like this. But I swear to you that this does not matter to the rest of the world. they won’t even notice.” Bucky’s stare sliced through you. Something in his eyes appeared hopeful- but only for a moment. The brightness died suddenly, replaced by despair.

“Seriously, Buck, people these days don’t even have the attention span to read an article this long.” Bucky didn’t laugh at your attempted levity. You dropped your joking tone and grew serious. “I don’t want you to think that this changes anything- it doesn’t. This will not have any ramifications. It will all blow over. The news cycle moves so fast now- by tomorrow, this same shitty paper will publish something that’s, like, ‘Elton John is secretly an alien.’”

Bucky didn’t answer. He simply rested his shoulders against the cool, brick wall and let his head fall back. He wondered if the fear people held for him would ever subside, if he’d ever be seen as anything other than a monster. His legacy was soaked in blood. It hung over his head every day, dripping crimson onto his skin. No shower could undo the stains- no matter how hard he scrubbed, he’d always be the stuff of nightmares.

“Okay, hey, how about this,” you reeled Bucky back in, saving him from the dark recesses of his mind. “Let’s just go home, alright? We can hole up and hide out. Watch movies, order takeout. We’ll just stay out of the public eye until this bullshit blows over.”

The offer enticed him. Escaping the stares of strangers, their horrified expressions- it sounded idyllic. The thought of just the two of you snuggled together on the couch, marathoning all of What We Do in the Shadows with Chinese takeout in hand was tempting. Bucky could feel the ‘yes’ forming on his lips. But at the last second, he refused with a shake of his head.

Bucky made a promise to you. After being an absentee boyfriend for months, he planned out the perfect day and swore on his life to deliver. He couldn’t break any more promises- not after he was gone for so long. And he had so much to make up for. So many date nights and lazy weekends fell by the wayside while he was away. He racked up a stack of debt in your relationship, and if he didn’t start paying it off soon, he feared you’d cancel his account.

But he knew you- knew you didn’t care about these things. You didn’t consider him accountable for the time he missed or hold a grudge against him. You were gracious- too gracious- of him. And if he rattled off his reasons for refusing your offer, he knew you’d sweep them aside. He knew you’d lead him home without hesitation and stay cooped up inside until the world eased up on him. And you’d miss out on your perfect day. 

Bucky wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I think it’s actually better if…” he eyed the people passing, certain they were shooting the two of you dirty looks. “I think it’s better if I just go about my day. If we go home and hide, I’ll obsess, you know? I’ll get trapped in my own head.” He quickly tacked on an addendum, “but if you’re not okay being out in public right now, I understand. They involved you in this mess, too.”

You shrugged, “it doesn’t bother me. I know our relationship is real. That’s all that matters.” 

And for a split second, Bucky’s worries disappeared. You were so sure of your love for him. So unbothered by what everyone else had to say. You didn’t let the opinions of others get to you; you loved Bucky, end of story. You adapted to every hurdle and challenge brought on by dating the ex- Winter Soldier. And you did so with a smile.

“Okay, good. Then I guess our next stop is the bookstore,” he said with a small smile. You tried to turn and head in that direction, but Bucky caught your hand, stopping you. “And hey- if anyone on the way there gives you trouble, you just say the word, okay?” 

But no one gave you any trouble. The walk to the bookstore was quiet. Unremarkable. No one hollered close-minded comments at Bucky. No one gave either of you venomous glares. The calm shocked Bucky. He’d been so sure that this day would fall apart. That everyone who read that article would converge on the two of you all at once, harassing and degrading you until you retreated home. But no one said a word. The two of you simply strolled hand in hand, soaking in the warm summer sun. And Bucky’s hope for a perfect day renewed.

“I thought it would be in this section…” Bucky scanned the ‘fantasy’ section of the bookstore, searching for a specific novel. He took the high shelves, and you took the low, meeting in the middle after a fruitless search. 

“Yeah, I didn’t see it, babe,” you rose from your squatted position, two mystery novels under your arm. “Maybe you should ask an employee? I can stay here and keep looking, just in case we missed it.”

“Yeah…” Bucky gave the area another cursory glance, to no avail. “That’s a good idea. I’ll be right back.” He dotted a kiss to your forehead and set off in search of a clerk, leaving you behind to double check the shelves. 

The hundreds of books lined up in perfect rows put you at ease. This shop was the coziest place in the city, a peaceful paradise free from the noise. And spending a Saturday morning with Bucky, wandering amongst the many titles, felt like home. Your fingertips brushed over a few of the spines, tracing the ornate lettering in search of Bucky’s book. 

“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice brought you back to reality, halting your hunt. 

“Oh, sorry,” you took a few steps out of the stranger’s way and continued your search, only for her to interrupt once again. 

“No, I want to talk to you!” her intense energy was out of place in the small, quiet bookshop. The eagerness in her voice rubbed you the wrong way. “Is it true?”

You stared at her, a blank expression on your face. “Is what true?”

“The whole PR relationship thing!” She pulled out her phone and shoved the article in your face, “I read about you two this morning.”

Your hands tightened into fists. Your jaw tensed. And though you wanted to wring this woman’s neck, you kept your cool; Bucky wouldn’t want you to get into a fight on his behalf. With a deep breath, you quelled the rage building inside you. You set down your books and relaxed your shoulders, forcing your breathing to steady.

This stranger had no right to ask invasive questions about your relationship, and no right to ruin your favorite bookstore. “Our relationship is none of your business,” you said, and turned back toward the bookshelves. This stranger didn’t deserve your eye contact, your attention, or your mental space. “Please, leave me alone.”

“Oh, duh! I bet they made you sign an NDA, didn’t they? I get it,” she threw an all too friendly chuckle in your direction. “Can you at least tell me what they’re paying you?”

With that, you brushed past her and attempted an escape. All you wanted was to find Bucky and put this whole interaction behind you. But she followed, phone in hand, recording the whole thing. 

“Are you a criminal, too? Are you getting time off your sentence or something?” she called after you. 

You let it go.

“How’d they get you to agree to this arrangement?”

You ignored her.

“Aren’t you scared? I could never do what you’re doing,” she said. “No amount of money could ever get me to be near that man- he’s a serial killer. He’s a monster!”

Something inside you snapped. You whipped around, rage burning behind your eyes. She crossed the line. She didn’t know anything about Bucky, only what the papers and tabloids said about him. And she

deserved to pay the price for speaking about him so harshly. But just as you opened your mouth to tear her to shreds, a large hand rested on your shoulder. 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky stared down at you, “What’s-”

Your harasser’s eyes widened. “Oh my god,” pure terror rendered her white as a sheet. “It- it’s him…” Clumsy steps carried her backward as her phone slipped from her hand. She scrambled for it, desperate to run in the opposite direction. Breathless, horrified sounds fell from her lips. Her hands shook. You watched with a smile as she snatched her phone from the floor and tripped over herself as she high tailed it for the door.

Bucky eyed the woman as she knocked over displays and ran into other customers. “What was that about?”

You gave a shake of your head, “nothing. She was just hounding me about the article.” 

Bucky’s shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly. Hit brow grew furrowed. “Oh, baby…” he sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t follow me around and ask me invasive questions.” You stretched up on your toes, planting a kiss to his cheek. “It’s not a big deal. I just hope I don’t end up on her Tik Tok.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open, “she was filming you?” 

You nodded. Bucky’s face fell. 

A rushed “Don’t worry about it, though” pushed its way past your lips. It had an over-the-top cheery tone and a thick affectation of reassurance. You could practically hear Bucky’s heart splintering and shattering with each passing second, and you had to stop it. “I’m sure she’s gonna watch it back later and delete it when she hears her own panicked panting,” you shot him a wink.

And you waited. Waited for the gears in Bucky’s mind to turn. To grind. The devil and angel on his shoulders fought one another, bare knuckled, to convince him of their arguments. The devil told him to spiral, to jump headfirst into a dark sea. He told Bucky this was all his fault, that you’d been harassed, followed, and filmed all because of him. The angel, however, urged him to listen to you. To take a deep breath. To hold your hand. To understand that the article wasn’t his fault- none of this was his fault. 

And after a long moment, he slipped his hand into yours. The gesture was a bit reluctant, sure, but you didn’t care. He’d resisted the urge to plummet into guilt and shame. And that’s all that mattered. 

You let loose a deep sigh as relief spread through your every cell. “Let’s get outta here, okay? We can head back home and-”

“What about breakfast?”

You eyed Bucky for a moment. “You still wanna go?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he gave you a small smile. “I know how excited you were about it.”

Of course, all he cared about was you. Your happiness. Your enjoyment. Your love for this diner’s chicken and waffles.

“We can just go another time,” you assured him. “It’s no big deal.”

Bucky sensed the disappointment, no matter how slight in your voice. He couldn’t ruin this day for you. He couldn’t let you down again.

But he thought about the walk to the diner, the hordes of people you’d encounter on the way. And just like that, he felt his manufactured mask of optimism slip.

A sudden rush of what if’s pummeled his psyche. He imagined more harassers filming you, more unhinged strangers following you. He heard them yelling the most despicable things in your direction, hurling insult after insult your way. The voices grew into a loud, almost violent cacophony that rattled inside Bucky’s skull. 

He couldn’t let you be exposed to the cruel world like this. He couldn’t take you to breakfast when an angry mob threatened you at every turn. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at, to be disrespected. And what if they turned violent? What if someone followed the two of you home? He couldn’t risk your safety like that.

But he still had to make up for all his time away. All the lonely nights you spent awake, wondering if he was still alive. All the weekends you spent alone, missing him until it hurt. And he’d made a promise- to himself and to you- that he’d rectify the pain his absence caused. 

Plus, he had to be over-reacting, right? Assuming the worst out of people he didn’t even know- it wasn’t fair. Sure, a stranger followed you around and gave you a hard time. But she didn’t hurt you. She didn’t even try to get violent. It was all in Bucky’s head- he was sure of it. He made a conscious effort to release his shoulders from their tension-locked position and forced a deep breath into his chest. 

“No, doll, really. It’s okay,” he gave your hand a squeeze. “I can tolerate a few dirty looks.”

The second the two of you stepped out of the bookstore and onto the busy sidewalk, you clocked the way hung his head. The way he hid from the eyes of the city. He tried to shrink himself, to protect himself. The confidence, the self-esteem he’d worked so hard to build came crumbling down in an instant. This wasn’t your Bucky, but the Bucky of years before. The Bucky who hated every fiber of his being. The Bucky who took every harsh word spoken about him as gospel. The Bucky who punished his innocent body to make up for his tortured mind. 

The reemergence of this Bucky twisted the knife with which the article stabbed you and rubbed salt in the wound.

The walk to the diner brought out your chatty side. Filling the air with lighthearted anecdotes and silly jokes seemed to you like the only way to keep Bucky afloat. If you could distract him from the pain, from the potentially hateful onlookers, maybe this day could be salvaged. But, much to your surprise, not one person harassed the two of you. No one asked questions or followed you around. Not a single errant camera flash dotted the street. Hope rose in Bucky’s chest. Maybe this perfect day could still go as planned. Maybe he could still keep his promise.

When you arrived at the diner without issue, Bucky found himself almost laughing at his own dramatics. He knew he worried too much, that he always considered the worst possible outcomes. He saw the world through a dark and stormy filter, always casting shadows over reality. But to his delight, he’d been wrong this time.

The bell atop the diner door gave a delicate jingle as the two of you made your way inside. The place had an old-timey feel that brought Bucky a sense of comfort, a sense of home. Large families sat packed like sardines in every booth. Tray after tray of French toast and eggs benedict passed by. The smell of bacon and golden-brown pancakes instantly pulled his lips into a smile. It seemed to Bucky that this joint was the real deal. He couldn’t wait to try the chicken and waffles you raved about. Couldn’t wait for a syrup-sweetened kiss. 

“For two?” the hostess asked when you made your way to the front of the line. You gave her a nod. 

She eyed the section to her left, appraising the area for an opening as a busboy waved in her direction. “Okay, this way,” she grabbed two menus from the host stand and gestured for you to follow. 

But just as you attempted to trail her through the sea of tables, a booming voice caught your attention. 

“Hey!” 

The restaurant quieted. Heads turned in the direction of the outcry.

A large, gray-haired man with a soiled apron stepped into the hostess’s path, blocking her way. A deep crease formed between his furrowed brows. Sweat dotted his bright pink cheeks. This was the face of a man who stood over a hot grill for twenty-five years. He was familiar, but only vaguely so. You could’ve sworn you’d heard that voice before- though with a kinder intonation. And then it hit you.

During your last visit to the diner, he stopped by your table to ask how you liked the food. He was so kind, so even tempered. He thanked you for choosing to spend your Sunday morning at what used to be his father’s restaurant. He was so proud of the old place. So compassionate for its time-worn booths and outdated wallpaper. He told you how he worked in the kitchen for so long that now, even as the new owner and manager, he couldn’t stay away from the griddles. 

But the kind-hearted man you met last time was long gone.

“Not in my restaurant!” He ripped the menus from the hostess and dismissed her with a sharp wave of his hand. He glared at Bucky, his eyes brimming with hate. “We don’t serve murderers here!” 

The lighthearted chatter died out altogether. Forks stopped clinking against plates. Children halted their laughter. Hundreds of eyes locked on Bucky as his cheeks burst into a red flush.

“Get out before I call the police!” The man took a step toward the two of you, “You’re not welcome here, you psycho.”

“You can’t talk to him like that!” you barked back. “He isn’t-” 

“Baby, don’t,” Bucky cupped a hand around your upper arm and tried to gently pull you toward the door. “Let’s just go.”

“No,” you cut your gaze back to the manage, “not until he apologizes.”

Bucky gave your arm another tug, “please.”

The desperation in his voice nearly made you crack. His eyes swept across the room and back again, taking in each and every horrified stare. With each taunt the manager threw his way, the weight of the public eye grew heavier. More suffocating. Their stares pushed Bucky’s shoulders forward and his head down. He was crumbling.

Not one person stood up for Bucky. No one- aside from you- called the manager out. No patron even gave a disapproving shake of their head. It sickened you.

With a small nod, you obliged Bucky’s request, and let him lead you out of the restaurant. The stares followed him the entire way.

Bucky wanted to disintegrate. He wished to, once again, turn to dust and evaporate into the breeze. If he ran, he could put a few miles between himself and this godforsaken diner in minutes. But he found his feet rooted into the ground. He was frozen. Trapped. Running wasn’t an option.

He leaned against the cool glass window of the diner and let himself process. He heard you talking a mile a minute, reassuring him until you ran out of breath. But he couldn’t pick out more than a few words. It wasn’t until a defeated apology fell from your lips that he snapped out of his trance.

“Wait- you’re sorry?” 

You nodded. “I’m so sorry, Buck. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” His gaze fell into a strange middle distance, landing on everything and nothing all at once. “I should apologize. That article… it ruined everything. I feel like I-” His eyes met yours, “your life is never gonna be the same after this.” 

You gave him a shrug, “who says I want it to be?”

His eyes met yours as an exasperated laugh left his chest, “You’re kidding, right? This is going to affect everything for you: jobs, housing, friendships. When people look you up online, all they’re gonna see is that article. They’re gonna see me.”

“Good. I want them to see you,” you said with a wink. “If I’m gonna date the hottest guy in the universe, I want everyone to know about it.” Bucky didn’t laugh. “Babe, I’m not worried about that kind of stuff right now. I’m worried about you.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze fall to the sidewalk below. “I’ve been through worse.” 

The worn-out, beaten down quality of his voice was enough to make you weep. Bucky didn’t deserve more pain. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a monster. But society cast him out and labelled him a vicious predator. They abandoned him, left him in a corner to rot and wither. All alone. 

And you weren’t going to let them do it again.

“Fuck that article and fuck all these people who wanna disrespect you.” You tilted his chin upward until his eyes met yours, “we’re gonna go home and order take out. We’re gonna watch some movies. And we’re gonna get through this bullshit together.”

Without another word, you slipped your hand into his and started off in the direction of home. But Bucky didn’t move. 

You turned back to him, an expectant look on your face. “You coming?”

“But…” he gave the diner another look, “You didn’t get your chicken and waffles.”

“What?”

“You should go back inside and eat,” Bucky pulled his hand from yours. “I’ll head home and-”

“Buck, I say this with love, but-” you cupped his face, “are you nuts?”

He let out a deep, genuine laugh. 

“I’m not gonna eat here ever again,” you spied the manager through the window, “fuck that guy.”

Bucky just wanted you to enjoy the breakfast you’d been dreaming of. He hated that you were willing to deprive yourself. That he’d ruined your special breakfast spot. But your fierce loyalty filled him with warmth. In that moment, he made a mental note. He planned to scour the internet and find the best chicken and waffles in the city to make up for today’s mess.  

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Bucky said. “You were ready to fist fight that guy.”

You put up your dukes and landed a few faux punches to Bucky’s chest, “hell yeah I was. No one is allowed to treat you like that.” Your hands fell to your sides. A sudden seriousness eclipsed your joking tone. “Ever.”

Bucky pulled you in for a hug, holding you close to his chest. He never thought he’d have someone like you in his life. Someone who loved him. Cared for him. Supported him. But, without fail, you had his back every time. You were his safe harbor, his soft place to land. 

Sometimes, he thought that maybe you were with him by accident. Maybe he was never meant to experience your gentle kind of love. Maybe he interrupted you on your path to someone else. Maybe he somehow got tangled in fate’s thread. But he didn’t care. 

You took Bucky’s hand once again, prepared to lead him in the direction of home, “Ready?” 

Bucky gave you a cheery nod, “let’s-”

“Fuck you, murderer!” a passerby shouted. He disappeared in a flash, bold enough to insult Bucky but cowardly enough not to hang around for the consequences. 

Bucky thought the man might’ve said something else as he bolted from the scene, but he didn’t quite catch it. He was too distracted by the vague sounds of discomfort grumbling out of your chest. 

“Doll? You alright?” 

Slowly, carefully, you turned to him. A look of shock yanked his features upward as he came face to face with the massive coffee stain covering your body. It splashed over the entirety of your chest, streaking down the front of your shirt. Steam still wafted from the drips running down your neck. Rogue droplets dotted your arms.  

“Oh my god…” Bucky didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help you. 

The boiling tidal wave seared through your skin, setting each nerve alight. You could’ve sworn it hit bone. The sudden rush of pain forced a trembling into your hands, an unsteadiness into your voice. A stinging rush of tears brimmed against your lash line, but you wouldn’t dare let them fall. Not when you could practically see Bucky choking on his guilt.

“Wow, I wish that asshole was more of a cold brew guy,” you joked. “And he ruined my favorite shirt with his shitty aim.”

Bucky’s chest seemed to fold in on itself. It shuddered and shrank, collapsing against his thundering heart. Each inhale was shallower, greedier than the last. Oxygen leeched from his lungs as the crushing panic set it. An ever-darkening shadow clouded the edges of his vision- but he couldn’t succumb. Not when you needed him. 

Before he knew what was happening, he used his body to form a protective shell around you. He ushered you toward the diner door, scanning the area for oncoming threats. No one else was going to get to you- not today, not ever. 

A deep sigh of relief left Bucky’s chest as he ushered you inside. Sure, it was only coffee. And you weren’t even the target. But every passing second brought a new, horrifying ‘what if’ to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. 

What if you’d been thrown to the ground? 

What if you’d been shot? 

What if vengeful people wanted to spill your blood as payment for Bucky’s crimes?

He thought he might throw up. 

But the second he made it to the hostess stand, his nausea dissipated. The fog clouding his mind cleared. You were his priority- everything else could wait. 

“Someone just threw hot coffee on her,” Bucky said to the hostess. His words came out quick, firm. “She needs ice now.”

The hostess’s features sunk with a heavy guilt. “Oh, shit. I-” She glanced across the room at the manager and watched him with narrowed eyes as he schmoozed with the regulars. “I’ll go grab some right now, give me one second.”

The seconds dragged. Anxiety coursed through Bucky, prickling at his every cell. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Bit down on the inside of his cheek. Anything to calm the worry. But he couldn’t help it; you were attacked- because of him. And he needed to remedy it as quickly as possible. 

“You doing okay?” He stared down at you, worry creasing his features.

You nodded, “yeah. Doesn’t hurt that bad anymore. I think all of my nerves have gone numb, ya know?” You attempt at humor sunk like lead. 

“Baby, I’m so-”

“What the fuck did I say?!” the manager stomped over to Bucky, his wrath on full display. “I’m calling the cops! I already kicked you out once-”

Bucky held up a hand in surrender, “We just need some ice- the hostess went to get it. As soon as she gets back, I’ll go.”

The manager rolled his eyes, “No- you don’t get anything from us. Leave! I’m calling the police!”

It was then that the hostess appeared with a large plastic bag full of ice. She looked at you with kind eyes, apologizing silently for her manager’s behavior. “Here you go. Is this enough? I can get more-”

“It’s plenty, really,” you hastily grabbed for the bag and pressed it to your scorched skin. The cool sensation flooded your senses, doing away with any remaining discomfort. “Thank you.”

“Great, you got your ice,” the manager spat, “now get out.”

Bucky thanked the hostess a hundred times over as guilt settled in his stomach. He knew she’d get in trouble for helping him. He knew the manager would scream at her- most likely in front of everyone. But she’d shown the two of you kindness. She did her best to help you in a moment of need, regardless of what others said. And it renewed Bucky’s faith in strangers- if only for a moment.

“How does that feel? Is it okay?” Bucky eyed the dripping bag of ice, the shivering in your fingers. “I can ask her for-”

“Hey! Do you speak English, or just Russian?” The manager yelled, “GET. THE FUCK. OUT. You understand?”

Part of Bucky wanted to disappear into a cave for a while. Wanted to hide from the ridicule. But he couldn’t check out. He couldn’t evaporate and leave you to fend for yourself. No, he’d made a promise to himself the day he met you; he swore he’d always protect you. And though he couldn’t stop the public from treating you with malice, he could at least get you home safely.

“Woah, hey- where are you going?” Bucky put a hand over yours, halting your attempt to open the diner door.

“Well, I don’t know if you heard the lovely manager of this fine establishment,” you said, “but he wants us to, and I quote, ‘get the fuck out’. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Bucky gave a fervent shake of his head, “No. You wait in here. I’m gonna get us a cab, and-”

“It’s okay, I’ll come with you.” You gave the door a tug, but Bucky kept it from budging.

“Don’t,” a dark seriousness clung to Bucky’s words. “I don’t want anything else happening to you.”

Bucky’s protective nature was always sweet. Always made you feel special. You couldn’t help the tiny grin that pulled at your features. “Babe, it was just coffee-” 

“This time,” a grave look ghosted over his face. “It was just coffee this time.”

Bucky let his eyes drift to the busy sidewalk outside. Every stranger, every passing face posed a threat to your safety. Anyone could have a knife. A gun. And while Bucky was certain that the hot coffee had been meant for him- that you were simply collateral damage, an unintended target- he feared how the city might treat you. You’d already been followed, harassed, filmed, attacked. People saw you as fair game, as a token of retribution. An eye for an eye that made the city blind with hate.

“Can you just-” He dragged his gaze back to you, “will you please wait inside?”

Bucky couldn’t remember ever being this scared. Not on the train, not at Hydra. This was different; this was your life at stake. Your vulnerabilities exposed to the world. It was as if a magnifying glass sat posed above you, giving anyone and everyone a detailed look into your life. Bucky knew there wasn’t much time before the rays of the sun burned you alive.

“Okay, yeah,” you released the door handle, “I’ll stay in here.” It was the least you could do. 

He was deathly pale, his hand shaking with anxiety. He worried about you so intensely that you sometimes feared he’d get sick. And though no part of you wanted to send Bucky out there alone, you agreed. 

His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly; the whisper of a smile crossed his face. “Thank you,” he dropped a kiss to your forehead and headed outside to the world that hated him.

And hate him they did. You watched from the diner window, the scene that played out filling you with anguish. Not a single cab even slowed down for him. Vacant taxis turned off their lights as they approached- only to turn them back on once they’d passed. Bucky’s shoulders grew more slumped with each unsuccessful attempt at hailing a cab. His head drooped; his expression grew pained. This wasn’t fair. After his pardon, he’d worked so hard to earn the public’s trust, to reenter their good graces. He made his amends, went to therapy, even did a few interviews at Sam’s suggestion. 

One poorly written article in a shit-rag paper, however, was enough to send him back to square one.

All Bucky wanted was to get you home safely, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t even provide something that basic, that simple. He cursed himself relentlessly as taxi after taxi flew by. He was supposed to protect you, to take care of you. And yet, he was the reason for your pain. Your peril. It made him nauseous.

After countless failed attempts at securing a ride, Bucky turned to face you. He stared at you through the dirty glass, shame and disappointment dragging his features downward. For a long moment, he just stood there. Completely still. Passersby bumped into him every now and again. People muttered under their breath about him being in the way. But he didn’t move. He just looked at you, the person he loved most. You, the person he cared for above all else. You, the person he couldn’t protect. Couldn’t provide for. 

Part of him thought it best to just walk away. His absence would make your life easier, less chaotic. Safer. If he left you alone, maybe you’d find someone else. Someone normal. Someone better. Someone who could take you out to breakfast without putting you in harm’s way. Someone whose mere existence didn’t prompt strangers to scream at you in public. 

But he couldn’t leave you- ever. He was bound to you from day one. 

One last fruitless attempt at catching a cab sent his heart sinking down, down, down to the soles of his feet. And as he approached the diner with his tail between his legs, he felt himself stepping on it with each pace. He was so embarrassed, so ashamed. With a quick wave of his hand, he beckoned you to the door and popped his head inside. 

“Baby, could you…” he was almost too downtrodden to speak. “Could you get us a cab? No one will-” he cleared his throat, “No one will stop for me.”

The look on his face hurt worse than your scorched skin.

“Of course, Buck. Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

It wasn’t lost on Bucky how quickly a cab stopped for you. It took less than a minute, maybe less thirty seconds. He stood on the sidelines, as far away from you as he could possibly get without leaving you defenseless. You looked good out there on your own, free from his burden. 

The cab ride home was quiet. Uncomfortable. The driver eyed Bucky in the rearview as though appraising a threat. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles lost all color. You swore you heard the gas pedal hit the floorboards more than once. The car sliced through traffic and screeched to a halt outside your building, throwing you forward in your seat. The seatbelt tightened against your scalded skin, pulling a groan from your throat.

“Thanks. Um,” Bucky handed the driver a wad of cash, “keep the change.” He kept his focus trained on you but couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice the way the driver flinched. The way his muscles yanked his body in the opposite direction. The way his hands shook as he took the money. Bucky wished to evaporate.

But he couldn’t, not yet. Not when you needed him. And so, he walked you upstairs and ushered you into the small apartment you shared. He double and triple checked the deadbolt, even pulled on the door to ensure your safety. He couldn’t let anything else happen to you- he’d rather die. 

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go take a shower,” you broke the tense silence. “I reek of cinnamon soy latte.” The laugh that punctuated your sentence did nothing to brighten Bucky’s stormy expression. 

“Sounds good, doll,” he nodded. “You can just drop your clothes in the hall, I’ll throw them in the laundry for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you frowned down at your coffee-stained shirt, appraising the damage done. “I don’t think this thing can be saved.”

Bucky shrugged, “It couldn’t hurt. I’ll give it a try.” He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, “it’s the least I could do.” And with a light tap to your ass, he sent you off to shower. The gesture wasn’t as lighthearted as it was just a few hours earlier, but he was trying. Trying to appear less dejected. Less broken.

But you saw through the façade.

When you emerged, free from the smell of coffee, you found Bucky in the kitchen standing over the kettle. He stared down at it, his hands resting on either side of the stove top, his shoulders nearly reaching his ears. You knew that look- he was lost inside his own head. 

“You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to watch that thing…” you said, snapping him out of his train of thought. “Otherwise, it’ll never boil.” 

His head snapped up. The darkness clouding his eyes parted. He smiled at your lame joke, letting your lighthearted tone lift his spirits. “I was just gonna make you a tea, I know you haven’t had the easiest day.” He just wanted to right the ship, to steer the two of you out of the dark, choppy waters in which you found yourselves. Maybe, this small, kind gesture could make up for your ruined Saturday. Maybe, it would keep you from leaving. 

“How was your shower?”

Just thinking about it made you wince. “It was fine, I guess. I had to use the coldest water possible- any warmth at all made my skin hurt.” 

Bucky’s eyes flicked from your face to the kettle and back. Worry creased his brow. “Should I not…” He sighed, “Are hot beverages out of the question?” He couldn’t believe how absentminded he’d been. 

“No! Definitely not,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you know I’ll always take a tea. Thanks, babe.”

A small, proud smile spread across Bucky’s face. For once, he didn’t disappoint you. For once, he didn’t ruin the moment. After such a nightmarish day, he finally breathed easy, knowing that he’d done one thing right.

“I was thinking I could run out and grab us something to eat,” Bucky said when he got you settled on the couch with your tea and a fresh ice pack. “I know you’re probably starving. And I could-”

“Baby, no,” you shook your head. “I don’t want you out there- I don’t want you getting harassed or attacked. We’re in hermit mode for a few days until this whole thing blows over. Okay?”

Bucky barely mustered a nod. 

“Let’s just order some take out. What sounds good?” You dropped your ice pack to the side, grimacing at the loss of the cool sensation. But comfort could wait. You opened your laptop and sat up, poised to take Bucky’s order. But he didn’t answer. 

He remained silent for a long while, eyeing the floor with a blank stare. His nails dug into the palm of his hand; his jaw tensed. Something deep within him fought tooth and nail to claw its way out. It scratched at his insides, screaming for release. Bucky didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to even chance upsetting you. But the words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

“Do you ever regret this?”

You cocked your head to the side, “Regret what?”

“This-” Bucky gestured to himself, and then you. “Us.”

The words hurt worse than your scorched chest. “No. Why would you even say that?”

Bucky shrugged, “Because you’re covered in second degree burns and it’s my fault.” Never before had he ever sounded this broken, this hopeless. Not even after Steve left. 

“Buck, it’s not your fault,” you shut your computer and inched closer to him. “You’re not the one who threw hot coffee on me-”

“But the person who did was aiming for me, and you got caught in the crossfire,” he choked out. “That’s my fault.”

“It’s not-”

He stood suddenly, his anxiety forcing him to move. “Can you deal with this for the rest of your life? All the staring and the harassment? And the hiding at home because everyone hates me? Is that the kind of life you want?” He paced with a fervent drive, fearing that if he didn’t burn through the nervous energy, he’d suffocate under it.

But, even in the face of his frantic movements, you remained seated, remained calm. Talking to Bucky in this state was like coaxing an injured animal into your home. One wrong move, and he’d bolt. Every move, ever word, had to be slow, measured. With an even tone and soft words, you refuted his sentiments. “I want whatever kind of life lets me be with you-”

“You want people throwing coffee on you forever? You want-” He paused, only to place your icepack on your chest once again. “You want to be kicked out of restaurants and denied cabs? Just to be with me?”

One small nod. “Yes.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his expression blank. “People used to vandalize my apartment, you know…”

“What?”

He nodded. “After I finally came back to New York and tried to settle in…” The memories of those uncomfortable, disjointed days filled Bucky with dread. He’d never been so lonely, so lost. He pulled away from you, fearing he’d complicated your life. He forced himself into isolation. And to make matters worse, his community turned their back on him. They didn’t welcome him home or celebrate his survival. They made him wish he’d never made it back. “They broke my windows, filled my mailbox with pictures of my victims, used animal blood to write ‘KILLER’ across my front door-” He let out a heavy sigh, one that came from deep within his bones. “That’s why I moved so often. My landlords- no matter how sketchy they were, no matter how much illegal shit they did to their tenants- kept kicking me out. I was too much of a liability, even for those shithole places.”

It left you reeling. Images of Bucky coming home to find his place completely trashed hurt you in a way you didn’t know was possible. You could see him, covered in blood, scrubbing his front door in the middle of the night. Wiping tears from his eyes as he looked through piles of photos of the people he hurt. Taping pieces of cardboard over his broken windows in the hopes of keeping out the severe, violent winters. He didn’t deserve any of it.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself back to the present. “Buck, I don’t care about things like that. They can vandalize our place if they want. They can throw coffee at me.” Slowly, carefully, you rose from the couch. “As long as nothing happens to you, I’m happy.”

A rough scoff launched out of Bucky’s throat, “Come on-”

“No, you come on,” Your words came out too intense, too hard. But you couldn’t maintain your even keel anymore. Not when Bucky was moments from unraveling. “I have been in this with you since the day we met. I knew- almost immediately- that you were the person I wanted to be with. Even when you didn’t know where- or who- you were. Even when you went back into cryo. Even when you turned to dust and disappeared for five years.” Dredging up the past hurt. It sliced you open and tore your heart into pieces. But you didn’t dare fall apart- not yet. “Even when you pushed me away,” your voice wavered, “I have been with you- and I always will be. Because I know who you are. I know you’re a good person.” A few tears dripped down your cheeks, “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.“

“Why?” Bucky shook his head, “I don’t- I can’t understand that.”

“Because you’re just- you’re you, baby,” you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Bucky’s existence. “You’re kind. And you’re thoughtful. And you’re compassionate. You care about everything. Everyone. I’ve never met anyone with a heart like yours…” You shrugged, “I love you. So much.”

“I know you do. And I love you, but…” His eyes dropped to the floor, “I feel like being with me is a waste of your time. A waste of your love. You know? You should be with someone good. Someone with less baggage, whose hands aren’t stained with the blood of innocent people.” He dragged his gaze up to meet yours, desperation in his eyes. “I want to give you everything- I want to give you the world. But I can’t. I can’t give you what other people can. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t want any of that- I don’t want the world,” you shrugged. “I want you.” To you, it was simple. Completely uncomplicated. But Bucky didn’t see it that way.

“Is that- am I enough, though? I mean, the quality of life I’ve given you so far has been…” He thought back on all the terrors and trials you’d face together. All the disasters to which he subjected you. He shuddered. “Everything I put you through is so fucking messed up. And scary. And painful. And-” 

He shook his head. Since the day he fell for you, he knew one simple truth. And for years, he did his best to deny it. Hide it. Run from it. But it came spilling forward all at once.

“There’s always gonna be something with me. Some problem, some mess. I’m either gone for weeks, fighting god knows who, completely unable to talk to you until I show up at home covered in blood,” he said. “Or I’m here with you while strangers to accost you on the street because they hate me.” He shook his head, disappointed in himself. Why did he allow you into his dumpster fire of a life? Why would he subject you to the heartache and the misery he knew lurked around every corner?

He fought the tears gathering in his eyes, the emotion that attempted to block his airway. “The waters are never going to be smooth. Not with me. And I don’t want you to have to deal with the fucking tidal wave of bullshit that is my life. You deserve better- you deserve better than me.”

“Buck-”

“I want your life to be safe. Peaceful. Comfortable. Not-” he gestured to the icepack on your chest, “whatever it is now.”

Without a word, you took him by the hand and led him to the couch. And for a long moment, he refused to sit with you. He didn’t want to give in, to lower his defenses and allow himself to get comfortable. But your red-rimmed eyes, glassy with tears, forced him to take a seat.

And when he finally rested beside you, you ditched your icepack and took his face in your hands. “Everything you said that you want for me? I already have it. I have all of that.”

He shook his head, “Doll-” 

“You make me feel safer and more comfortable than I ever have. Being with you is like being wrapped in a warm blanket made of bullet proof bubble wrap.”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from letting out a quiet laugh. 

“I’m serious. You can talk about how the life I lead with you isn’t enough and how you’re not enough, but this,” you gestured to yourself and then him, “is everything I’ve ever wanted. Being here with you in our home is… it’s the most peace I’ve ever known. Even when we’re just sitting in silence, it’s- it’s warm. It’s comforting.” You inched closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, “It’s like we’re the only two people on the planet. And we can just exist in the other’s atmosphere without pressure or fear. We understand each other. And it’s perfect.”

A rush of pink colored Bucky’s cheeks. Sometimes, even after all the years he’d spent with you, he didn’t know how to handle such loving sentiments. But there was no pressure to perfectly articulate his thoughts or express himself without flaws. A simple “I love you” did the trick. He leaned into you, allowing your warmth to soothe his aching soul.

“All that shit that happened today didn’t even bother me much,” you told him. “The lady in the bookstore, and the staring, and the coffee thing- I can deal with that kind of stuff. I can take that every day as long as I get to be with you.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair and caught a vague whiff off coffee but didn’t bring it up. 

“The only part that really upset me,” you continued, “was seeing people be so mean to you. And watching you get so down on yourself.” Reliving Bucky’s heartbroken expression at the diner almost made you tear up. “I can handle a rogue Starbucks, but I’ll never accept anyone treating you like that. You're everything to me- you always will be.”

Bucky handed you your icepack, begging you to put it back on your scalded skin where it belonged. “Well, I appreciate your support," he smiled to himself, "and your fierce loyalty.”

A mischievous laugh rumbled out of your chest. “Good. Just remember than when I call you from the county jail after I get arrested for burning that fucking newspaper to the ground.”

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

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[evielmostdefinitely]

Pls do something with peacekeeper!Coriolanus I have yet to see anyone do that trope + I feel like he’s more mean and protective in that era

mastermind |peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: based off above prompt, but wanted to tweak it a teeny tiny bit so this is how coriolanus meets capitol!reader. the plot of the original film is altered a little to fit this.

contains: tw- violence, guns, shooting. dark, protective, manipulative coriolanus. not super heavy, but there are some kinda darkish themes so read at your own discretion.

“Snow,” Commander Hoff’s gruff voice rang through the doorway, hitting Coriolanous head on, his heart lurching with fear. They found out about Lucy Gray, that she’d escaped after Mayfair and Billy’s death. Or maybe worse, maybe she hadn’t headed north, maybe she’d told them. 

His mind raced as he took a step forward, helmet in hand respectfully, hoping Hoff wouldn’t see the way his hands trembled. “Commander, Sir.” Snow held his head high. If this was to be the end, he wouldn’t go out crying. Not like Sejanus- no, Corio would have pride. 

Hoff set the papers down on his desk with a huff, head jerking back for Coriolanus to come towards him. “Snow, I need you to escort Miss Duke to the Mayor’s office.” He nodded towards the corner. “I guess with the recent tragedy of his daughter, Mayor Mayfield’s mind has been elsewhere. He didn’t get his quarterly tesserae count turned in. The Capitol sent Miss Duke to get them, so make sure she gets there.” 

Coriolanus’ eyes wandered to you, standing in the corner properly, hands clasped elegantly in front of you. A shining beacon in the dark skies of the coal country, a glimmering ray of good after all the bad Corio had. He could tell you were from The Capitol, though you tried to dress more humbly for the visit to the district, he supposed. 

You gave him a smile, and for a moment, Corio’s heart leapt with excitement. That familiar rush of heat returning, coursing through his chest. “Private Snow will take you there, Miss Duke. He’s one of our best. On his way to officer training in Two. You’re in good hands.” Commander Hoff nodded. 

You thanked him quietly, kitten heels clicking across the hardwood floors. Coriolanus followed you, trying to keep his stoic expression, though his eyes wandered to the swell of your ass, hugged perfectly in your dress. 

“Snow,” Commander Hoff called before he left. “A word?” 

The icy chill of fear flooded back into Corio’s system, gripping the knob. You didn’t seem to notice, nodding politely, shutting the door behind you. 

“Sir?” Coriolanus swallowed the lump in his throat, approaching the desk slowly. 

Hoff leaned back in his chair. “You know who that is, right?” 

Coriolanus blinked. His mind had been so occupied with his impending doom, his fate had seemed to turn and tread on the worst sides of things, he was so sure it would continue. “Miss Duke?” 

Hoff blinked at him, laughing softly. “Yeah, Duke, Snow.” He pressed. Coriolanus felt dumb, small like he did when he talked to Highbottom. “Snow, does the name Atticus Duke mean anything to you?” 

Coriolanus' eyes widened lightly, turning towards the door in surprise. “Atticus Duke? The-” 

“-The man who owns half of Panem?” Hoff snorted lightly. “Yeah, that’s his youngest out there. Only girl, alright?” 

Coriolanus felt his curiosity peek. He’d been wallowing in the loss of Lucy Gray, he didn’t even put it together. Thinking you were just another Capitol girl. Not the Duke Heiress. 

“Yes, sir. I-I see that now.” Corio nodded dumbly. 

“Good. So you know that her father paid for the destruction of the rebellion? That he funded the Capitol? And that if these people see her, those fucking Rebels are likely to want to hurt her?” Hoff pressed, his eyes narrowed in seriousness. “And that if something happens to her, our entire platoon will be hanging from that tree- or worse?” 

It shouldn’t have made Coriolanus as excited as he was. The thought of having that much power. He could easily have that level of control, have people quaking with fear- even the powerful ones, trembling at his feet the way Atticus Duke did. Oh, how he envied it. How he craved it. 

“Yes, sir.” Coriolanus nodded. 

“Snow, listen to me.” Hoff sat up straight, leaning over the desk. “If any of them get close to her, no mercy- do you understand?” 

Coriolanus nodded again, spine straightening with authority. “I have others trailing and leading the both of you- crowd control, but I wanted her to feel safe. Feel welcome. So I stuck her with you. Figured a familiar face from the Capitol would put her at some ease. Keep her from telling her father something that would have him questioning my rank and order around here.” 

“I understand, Commander.” Coriolanus said firmly. “I’ll keep her safe.” 

“Wow,” You muttered, looking around the cobbled street. The Peacekeepers ahead of you barking orders, scaring off any pedestrians wandering about. “Is it always like this?” 

Corio blinked, his gun cradled in his hand, finger on the trigger- ready. “Always like what?” 

“This,” You waved around you. “It’s very…” 

“Depressing?” Corio muttered, a grumble, eyes scanning the perimeter in front of him over the gray skies and smog filled air. 

“Yeah.” You smiled softly. “I pictured it… prettier?” 

“It’s the coal district, Miss Duke.” Coriolanus said, the barrel of his gun pointed for backup at a scurrying coal miner. 

“So that’s what makes it so sad?” You challenged, brow raised. 

Corio didn’t answer. He knew what you were implying, and he wouldn’t humor it. Instead, his eyes scanned the street. “May I ask why you’re here?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“What?” Corio snapped, harsher than he meant to. 

“Why you’re here?” You repeated. “I, uh, I don’t want to sound rude. I just- I saw you on the games. You were the mentor who won. I just, I figured you would be at University with the others.” 

“I made an enemy. A powerful one.” Corio quipped shortly, jaw set. He couldn’t let his mind race and spiral, not now. He needed to stay focused. 

“Oh,” You muttered, looking down at the wet, broken road. “I’m sorry.” 

Corio’s heart skipped, maybe with joy, maybe with fear. “May I ask you why you’re here?” Coriolanus asked, eyes cutting down towards you. 

“I have to get the count for the tesserae.” You motioned towards the Mayor’s office before you. “I have to take them back to The Capitol.” 

“Yes, but,” Corio paused, scanning the area. “You’re- Surely, you don’t need to do that, Miss Duke.” He muttered, voice dropping to a low octave. 

You blushed, sheepishly looking towards your shoes, ruined from the muck in the road. “So, Commander Hoff briefed you on me?” You grinned. 

Coriolanus didn’t answer. “I already knew.” He lied easily, eyes cutting to you. “We’ve met before. In passing. I was Sejanus’ friend.” 

“Oh,” Your face fell. “Right. I-I am so sorry for your loss. It was-” 

“-Yes.” Corio nodded, the bile rising in his throat. “We-We met at the Academy’s Ball two springs ago.” 

You turned, looking at him fully for the first time. He tried not to blush, icy eyes meeting your own for a moment. “That’s right.” You grinned. “You-You had longer hair. Tigris’ cousin?” 

“Yes.” Coriolanus nodded. 

“She was apprenticing for my aunt.” You smiled softly. 

Corio looked at you, his rigid posture slacking just for a moment, relaxing in your presence. “Why aren’t you doing something like that?” He asked, brows furrowing for a moment. “Or in University, yourself. Surely that would be… more appropriate than this.”

You bit back a smile, chin ducking down. “Maybe.” You shrugged. “I like this job, though. I get to see the Districts.” 

“Why would you ever want to do that?” Corio snarled lightly. “I can’t wait to get out of them. Get away from these people.” He muttered bitterly. 

You blinked at him, eyes narrowing lightly, stopping before the steps of the Mayor’s building. “You seemed quite fond of that song bird you helped win.” You countered. “And she was among these people.” 

Coriolanus was stunned, mouth opening stupidly, before swallowing his jumbled words. Instead, he offered you his arm politely for you to steady yourself on while you climbed the steps to the Mayor’s office. 

Coriolanus waited outside the office at attention while you collected the tesseraes for the quarter from a distraught, and clearly drunken, Mayor Mayfield. His slurred speech, pores sweating out whiskey soaked odor. 

You took the envelope, thanking him before quickly slipping out. Coriolanus stood beside you, falling back into step with you, the other Peacekeepers joining around the two of you. 

“You’re returning to The Capitol today?” Corio asked, though his eyes stayed straight ahead. 

“They asked me to stay the night.” You answered simply. “Something about a train leaving in the morning?” You looked at him carefully. You knew he was to join you with the others. You’d given the orders from Dr. Gaul to Commander Hoff that morning.

Coriolanus frowned, turning to you curiously. “Tomorrow? Why would they make you-” 

The ravenous bark of Peacekeepers in front of you made you jump, a deranged looking man, covered in soot from the mines, charging at you with a vengeful pace. You froze, clutching the envelope in front of you like a shield, glued to the concrete in pure fear. 

“Gimme that envelope, you stupid bitch!” The man roared, mere feet away from you. “Get my daughter’s name outta there! Take it out!” 

You flinched, bracing for the impact of him hitting you, his body hurling towards yours. It never came. Instead, a shot behind you had a gasp tearing from your lungs. The bullet so close to your own head, you heard it whizzing past you like the June Bugs that flew in the fields in the countryside of the district. 

The man grunted, a bloody gurgle, a crimson patch seeping through his stomach. The other Peacekeepers seized him, shouting and grabbing at him, hauling him away roughly. Your hand trembled, pressing to your lips. Coriolanus stood behind you, gun lowering, finger still on the trigger. 

His face was hard, stoic, eyes narrowed dangerously- furiously. “Come on.” Coriolanus muttered, a hand gently on your back, guiding you forwards. The crowds were peering, poking around at the sound of gunshots, the groans and screams of the man. “We need to get you to the Commander’s Quarters.” 

“Snow, hey, look we-we didn’t see him-” One Peacekeeper jogged frantically, hands trembling in fear. “He just- He came out of nowhere. I’m so sorry, Miss.” 

“It’s alrig-” 

“-Come on.” Coriolanus hissed, cutting your apology off short. “We need to get her back quickly. Can you manage that?” He snapped at the other boy. 

The other boy faltered for a moment, scrambling back into line. You were still shaking, pushed into Corio’s side far closer than what would be appropriate for two strangers. “He-He was just saying sorry.” You muttered, your own eyes scanning around you. 

“He nearly got you killed.” Coriolanus snapped, his eyes hard but they never met your gaze, scanning around you protectively. “His carelessness nearly cost you your life.” Cost us all our lives, Corio thought. 

You didn’t respond, only stepping with his quickened pace. 

“Are you alright?” You asked Coriolanus, peeking around the corner of the train station towards him. 

He was surprised to see you, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been. He assumed the ‘Princess of Panem’ would have her own private carriage on the train, not subjected to riding with him. 

“I think I’m supposed to ask you that.” Corio gave a half smile, a tone much lighter than it was before. 

You blushed, looking down. “I’m alright.” You sighed lightly. “I told your Commander that. I promise I don’t need an escort back to The Capitol.” 

Coriolanus looked down at his bags. “I’m not- I’m returning to The Capitol as well.” He said, chest boasting at the words. 

“Oh?” You lifted a brow. “No District Two?” 

“No,” Corio shook his head. “I’ve been asked to return.” It was vague, and he knew it- knew it piqued your interest. 

“Well, congratulations. I’m sure your family will be excited.” You smiled politely, lifting your own overnight bag when the train doors opened. 

“Here,” Coriolanus stopped you, reaching for the strap of the bags. Your hands brushed in the smallest way. Overlapping as he took the bag politely, a surge of electricity jolted between both of you, rapid sparks that would crescendo in the days, weeks, years to come. 

You blushed, turning your head to hide the way it flustered you. It was so embarrassingly juvenile, his eyes sparkling, lips tugging in a grin when he looked at you, pinky grazing over your knuckle just for a moment before he held the bag. 

“Allow me.” Coriolanus was smug, proud, pulling the bag up. He let you on first, placing the bags away, eyes cutting towards you. You were stealing a glance at him, turning after being caught sheepishly. 

You had the window seat, looking out at the smoggy station. “Is this seat taken?” Corio asked, hand resting on the arm of the seat next to you. 

You shook your head, moving your hands to your lap. You were so poised, Corio knew it had been drilled into your head since you were young, just as it was to him. His mind raced with excitement, the idea of getting you to be so improper, defile you. 

“Do you know your orders once you return?” You asked, looking at him carefully. The trains whistle trilling in the background. 

“I’m not sure.” It was a complete lie, he only knew a fraction of what awaited him when he returned. All the more reason he needed an ally, a powerful one at that. 

“Why?” Corio pressed, leaning forward to look at you. His dog tags hung loosely around his neck, draping over his underclothes of his uniform. It made your heart race. 

“I was just curious.” You shrugged, swallowing gently. 

“You were wanting to see me again?” Corio pressed, boldly. His heart skipped when you whipped around, staring at him with a wide eyed expression. 

“W-What?” You choked out, trying to remain calm, composed, but your heart was beating so fastly you were sure it would burst. 

“Were you wanting to see me again?” Coriolanus hummed, shifting in his seat to turn towards you. You were pressed against the glass, pinned by his gaze. “Because I was hoping to see you again. If you’d have me.” 

“You would?” You squeaked, sure that your fluster was apparent all over your face. 

“If you’d let me.” Corio purred smoothly. “I’d like to take you out sometime. Get to know you better. I’m very,” His fingers brushed over your own hand, satisfied at how you shuddered. “Interested in getting to know you.” 

You swallowed. No man had ever been so direct with you. He’d saved you the night before, so effortlessly. The feeling of his bicep around you, shielding you away, strong and steady. It had you sneaking your fingers between your thighs later that night shamefully at the thought. 

“I-I would like that.” You nodded, mind screaming when his hand held your, cradled with such care, you almost forgot how brutal he was yesterday. 

“Tomorrow?” Coriolanus asked, head tilting to the side. He wanted to set the date before you forgot, before you had time to ask around about him or think too much about his actions before. 

“That-That would be lovely.” You nodded, tongue swelling thickly in your mouth, heart hammering as he pushed closer and closer. 

His hand cradled your jaw softly, thumb stroking over your cheek bone. “May I?” Corio hummed, eyes lustful. 

You nodded. You weren’t quite sure why, you’d certainly never done something like this before. But then his lips were on you, hand cradling your jaw, moving to the back of your head gently. He migrated into your chair, somewhere between the Districts, hands on your back, pulling you in closer and closer. He kissed you like a man starved, possessively and passionately all at once- it made your head spin. 

It dawned on Coriolanus, what Dr. Gaul was talking about. Sacrifice, while brutal, was necessary. Losing Lucy Gray, Sejanus, without that would it have ever brought you to him? He would be in the woods, starving with a girl who nearly used him to survive, or hanging from a tree next to Sejanus. Certainly not sitting side by side in the train car, stealing small smiles and gentle kisses with you. His fate had turned, re-routed and he could see it now- his future, his empire with you.