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jobean12-blog · 1 year

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Neighborly Love

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,446

Summary: Bucky is your new neighhor and tension has been building since he moved in so when the water in his apartment stops working he comes to you first.

Author’s Note: So my dear love @mickeyhenrys made this edit for me and it sparked an idea because omg it’s glorious and Bucky in glasses is just 🔥🔥🔥and it all happened while we were thirsting over the recent pics of Seb and his MAN BUN! YUM! Thank you so much love and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you darling Daisy🥰

Warnings: Fun, flirty, some fluff, some tension, the doorbell is a pain in the butt, i-mpl-ie-d s-e-x-y time

The below edit is NOT MINE: credit goes to @mickeyhenrys thank you again my lovely

I’m also including the pic of Seb and his beefy bun below the cut because YES

After a long debate with yourself over whether or not you want to walk to the bathroom in just your tee shirt and panties you decide to make a run for it so you can wash up and change all at once.

With that decision, you open your bedroom door and step into the hall, about to walk to the bathroom when it’s door opens.

Bucky freezes in the doorway when he sees you, his eyes running down the length of your body.

“Mornin’ doll,” he says before clearing his throat. “Sleep ok?”

His long hair is curled around his ears, still wet and sending droplets of water dripping onto his bare shoulders that converge into a glistening trail down his naked chest, zigzagging through his sculpted abdominals before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Jeans that hang low enough to reveal the defined V-cut of his hips.

He raises his arm, towel in hand, and starts to dry his hair, drawing your eyes to his flexing bicep.

“UGH!”

You push him out of the way and slam the bathroom door behind you.

“Guess that’s a no,” he mutters before walking back into the living room.

Once you’re washed up and you’ve used the bathroom you stomp back out, having forgotten all about changing.

You walk over to him and shove his glasses at his chest, hard. “You forgot these in the bathroom.”

“Doll?” Bucky asks in confusion.

“You’re over here, using my shower, walking around like that,” you mutter as you clang angrily around the kitchen.

“Did I miss something?” he asks from the doorway.

“Put a shirt on Bucky,” you snap, keeping your back to him.

“Only if you put on some shorts and a bra doll face,” he replies with a chuckle.

You suddenly go still, remembering you’re only wearing your panties under your oversized tee. Whirling around with the intention to slip past him, you glower but when you reach the doorway he blocks your path, maneuvering you against the wall.

He raises an arm above your head and leans in, the clean scent of your shampoo in his hair. Your eyes travel over his skin appreciatively and when you meet his gaze you find him staring down at your legs. Your thighs rub together instinctively and he lets out a grunt filled with desire.

You try to unjumble your thoughts, the tiny rational part of your brain yelling at you to run.

But everything else is too loud.

“Bucky?” you breathe out and your eyes fall to his mouth.

He lifts his other hand and gently brushes his thumb along the curve of your jaw, in the process bringing your face closer to his. Goose bumps erupt across your skin at the scrape of his calluses and your mind fills with thoughts of how those hands would feel on the rest of your body.

You breathe out his name once more as his head dips, his lips just brushing along yours when the doorbell rings.

With a muttered curse, he retreats, his eyes filled with the promise that this isn’t over.

“I’ll get it,” you squeak.

He catches you by the arm to stop you.

“I’ll get it doll face,” he rumbles, letting his eyes sweep down your body. “No way I’m lettin’ anyone else see you like this.”

You nod with wide eyes and hurry back to your bedroom, quickly glancing back to watch as he lifts his shirt over his head and shoves his glasses onto his face.

“Who was it?” you ask when you return, now dressed in leggings and a new shirt.

“The landlord,” he answers. “My water should be fixed by five.”

“Ok, great,” you say with far too much cheer. “Coffee?”

“Sure, thanks doll,” he says as he takes the hair tie from his wrist and secures his hair at the base of his neck in a small bun.

You stare for a moment too long before looking away and trying to focus on making the coffee.

A few minutes later you walk into your small living room, mugs in hand and sit next to him on the couch. You place the steaming coffee down on the small table and snuggle into his side.

“Thanks again,” he says.

“For what?”

“For letting me crash here and take a shower.”

“Of course,” you tell him. “I’m just glad one of us has working water to use. It seems like everything goes wrong all at once in this building.”

Your gazes hold for a second before he reaches for his coffee. When he sits back you lean into him again.

“There’s a whole lotta couch ya know doll,” he teases.

“You’re warm and you smell nice,” you pout even as you push yourself away from him.

He goes to reach for you so he can tuck you back against him but unfortunately during all the shifting you manage to spill a spot of your coffee on his shirt.

“OH MY GOD,” you screech as you plop your coffee back on the table, spilling more, before you grab his shirt and pull it away from his body. “I’m sorry! Are you ok?”

He carefully places his coffee mug down and gives you a lopsided smirk.

“Pretty sure that was my fault,” he says sheepishly. “And I’m fine doll. Don’t worry.”

Your fingers slip higher and you lift the wet fabric, searching his skin for any redness.

His stomach muscles flex under your touch.

“Are you sure?” you whisper, finally dragging your eyes away from his skin.

“I’m sure,” he replies, his voice gruff.

Suddenly, the air feels too thick and the feel of him under your fingers, the heat from his body and the way his eyes shine with desire makes it hard to breathe.

You lick your lips, needing to kiss him.

His head dips to yours as you move upward and then his mouth is on you, frantic and hungry.

Strong arms circle around you, his hands splayed over your back as he pulls you closer until you’re straddling him.

You roll your hips against him, feeling how much he wants you. Your hands dance along his chest and reach behind his head to tug his hair free of the tie, letting it spill out around his face before you slide your fingers through the silky strands. His glasses go askew and he pulls away just fast enough to rip them off and drop them on the couch.

His large hands smooth down to your waist to grip your hips and you feel the pressure of him holding you down as you grind over him again and again. Tightening his hold, he lifts his hips, increasing the pressure.

With every roll of your hips you grow needier and his grip turns bruising.

“I need to come Bucky,” you murmur against his lips.

He growls your name, and then kisses you again, keeping your hips in constant motion over the hardness between his legs.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his cheeks flushed.

“Please,” you whine, your fingernails digging into his skin. “I need you. I need you inside m…”

Ding Dong

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he growls.

You’re still seated in his lap, your heavy breathing the only sound when the bell buzzes again.

“Don’t move,” he commands as he gently lifts you up.

He adjusts himself in his jeans and grabs his glasses, pushing them up and over his nose. With one last longing glance he starts to walk toward the door.

“Bucky wait!” you call quietly.

He stops and looks back as you hop off the couch and go to him. You press your body along his and reach up to fix his hair and adjust his glasses.

“There…,” you say. “Your hair was a bit mussed and your glasses were crooked.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin then grabs you around the waist, presses you so close that feel every inch of him and kisses you until you’re breathless.

Third buzz of the bell.

He stomps away and opens the door with too much force, making you giggle. Then you hear him saying a lot of “uh huh, ok, that’s fine, yeah, yeah,” and then the door slams shut and the lock clicks.

“Was that the landlord again?” you ask as he stalks toward you.

He nods but doesn’t elaborate and when you open your mouth to ask more questions he presses a long finger against your lips.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Now…”

He starts walking you backward toward the couch and sits, pulling you down over his lap.

“Where were we?” he murmurs with a whisper of his lips along yours.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @lookiamtrying @goldylions @sstan-hoe @late-to-the-party-81 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @randomfandompenguin @seitmai @littleseasiren

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #beefy!bucky x reader #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #neighbor!bucky #neighbor au #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

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bitchesuntitled · 13 days

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When It Rains

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! PWP, mostly porn but some plot, unprotected PIV(Don't do this IRL, be safe, make smart choices), kissing, fingering(f receiving), cream pie, flirting.

I'm trying to practice smut more, be kind. This is for @undercoverpena's April Showers prompt!

Thank you so much to @notjustjavierpena for helping me with the moodboard and the grammar stuff, @strang3lov3 for editing and leaving encouraging comments, and @beefrobeefcal for also betaing! Don't know what I would do without you lovely people! ❤️

@jay-zzle is my Spanish expert and dear friend who has helped me with a lot of my translations. Plus she's also one of the main reasons I'm trying to learn Spanish 🥰

divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

You’ve been assigned the stakeout with Javier Peña at a nightclub, where it’s been rumored that some of Escobar’s sicarios frequent regularly. It’s not a problem per se, but it could just be a tad distracting considering the circumstances. No one, not even Murphy, has seemed to catch wind of what has been going on between the two of you; the late-night meet-ups, the storage closet, the file room, hell - there was even one time late at night in the office the three of you share. You’re professional though, work always comes before play. That’s been the rule since the beginning.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” Javi comments, pushing his head to the car’s window, and looking up, “We could definitely use it.”

You hum in agreement, watching the nightclub like a hawk. As you listen to the pulsing music radiating from the club, watching people file in and out of the building, none seem to be any of Escobar’s crew just yet. The night seems to be growing darker as the clouds glide across the sky, covering the bright moon's light. Soon enough, small drops of rain begin to fall, turning into fat drops within minutes, downpour to follow.

“Fuck,” you hiss, gripping the steering wheel and peering out the dash window, “Of course.”

“Nothing wrong with some rain,” Javi smirks, looking at you.

“Except for the fact we can’t see shit!”

“Maybe we could do something else with our time?” Javi suggests, laying his arm against the back of the bench seat and scooting his hips forward to get more comfortable. His hand creeps onto your shoulder, rubbing small circles against the bare skin there, skimming past the hem of your tank top.

“Javi,” you scold, shrugging your shoulders to get your point across, “No, we’re working.”

“Can’t see shit in this rain,” Javi grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest, “Least we could have some fun.”

“Maybe it’ll die down,” you suggest, looking at him. He matches your stare with those pleading eyes of his. Those dark eyes, the way they make you want to melt every single time they land on you.

It’s been 20 minutes and the downpour hasn’t relented. After seeing how you wouldn’t be doing something else with your time like he suggested, Javi’s beginning to become restless.

“When it rains it pours, hermosa,” Javi says, grinning at you. Your pulse jumps at that word. Hermosa. He knows exactly what he’s doing. That’s how it always starts.

“Javi,” you warn, reminding him again, “We are working. You know the rules, work then play.”

He moves closer to you, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “We’ve played at work before, cariño.” Goosebumps pebble across your skin. You hope he can’t see them with how dark it is. You crane your head away from him and grab the binoculars from the dash, choosing to ignore the burning desire between your thighs. You just need to focus on work. You feel Javi lean back in the seat, his eyes boring into the side of your head. You put the binoculars against your face, grunting in annoyance when you still can’t see anything.

“Bebé,” Javier says, grabbing the binoculars from your grip, “Let’s call it night, hmm?”

He throws them into the back seat with a smirk, leaning closer to you, grabbing the back of your neck, and gently urging you toward him. His index finger sweeps against your cheek, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. He smiles warmly at you before dipping his head to meet your lips. Your hands rest against his chest, fingers fiddling with the open V of his button-up.

You moan against his mouth when he licks your bottom lip, allowing him access to slip his tongue inside. Your tongues caressing each other, your hands move to the nape of his neck. Your lips make their way to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth lightly scrape his pulse point.

“Mira que duro me pones(look how hard you make me),” Javi says, pulling you onto his lap, grinding against your center to let you feel his growing bulge. “Te deseo(want you),” he growls.

You let out a faint gasp. Javi has a firm grip on your thighs to keep you against him, one hand finding its way to your center, palm pressing firmly against your clit through the denim of your jeans. You moan against his throat at the sensation.

“Javi,” you whimper as he flicks the button of your jeans open and begins to tug on them impatiently. “Fuck, Javi. I gotta get my damn shoes off first.”

He grabs your jeans, helping you out of them after knocking your shoes off. Javi brings his hand back to your center, rubbing precise circles against your clothed clit, moving down to pull your panties aside. Javi hums, capturing your lips again, tongue tangling with yours, enjoying feeling the slick against your slit.

“So wet,” he says, teasing two thick digits against your entrance. You hum with a nod of your head, crying out when he pushes them into your wet heat.

“Javi,” you moan, putting your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips in time with his fingers. “Fuck.” Beginning to feel the coil in your belly tightening.

“¿Así, bebé?(just like that, baby?)” He asks, moving his thumb to massage small quick circles on your clit. You whimper his name when he curves his fingers just right, hitting that spot he knows you love. His mouth leaving open mouth kisses along your neck, reaching your pulse point he begins to suck lightly. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening more, your walls beginning to flutter against his fingers every time he hits that spot with the pads of his fingers.

“Eres mía(you’re mine),” Javi whispers against your neck.

“So close,” You whine, moving your hips faster, his fingers sinking in deeper with each roll of your hips. He moves his head from your neck to look at you, gripping the back of his neck, crashing your mouth into his. Javi moans, beginning to feel your walls clamp around his fingers. The coil in your belly snaps, shooting white-hot lightning through your entire body. Your hand pulls onto the hair at the nape of his neck, causing Javi to let out a guttural groan, pulling you back down from your high.

“Fuck me,” you sigh against his lips.

“That’s the plan, cariño(honey),” Javi smirks, kissing you again, scooting to lay his back against the seat.

Your hands slide down his chest, popping open the buttons of his shirt. You smirk, leaning into his collarbone and placing soft kisses before biting down gently.

“Fuck, bebé(baby),” Javi says sucking in a breath, moving his hands between your bodies to fumble with his belt, “Te necesito(need you)”

You lift up, swatting his hand away to work his belt and jeans open. He lifts his hips and helps you lower his jeans, his stiff member slapping against his stomach.

“Javier Peña,” you tsk, shaking your head at him, “Commando? Did you miss laundry day?”

“Knew about this assignment for weeks now. Asked to be paired up with you,” Javi smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. “Figured this would happen.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You laugh, playfully smacking his chest.

“Awe, come on now, chica sucía(dirty girl)” Javi says, placing your hands on his chest, “You know it’s—“

You grind against his cock, hands pressing firmly against his chest and he lets out a groan.

“That’s one way to get you to shut up,” you grin, slowly grinding your wetness along his shaft, the tip catching your bundle of nerves with every roll of your hips. Javi shifts up grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you to his lips in a hungry kiss. He moves his hand down to line his cock up to your entrance and you slowly sink down on it, taking it inch by inch. You're no stranger to Javi’s cock but each time feels like the first with how thick he is.

“Estás tan apretada, mi amor(you’re so tight, my love)” Javi growls, against your throat, “No pares(don’t stop)” holding onto your hips as you sink further down on him, ass cheeks finally resting on his thighs. You kiss him, both of you taking a minute to savor the feel of one another, Javi gently rubbing his fingers up and down your spine with one hand while the other holds your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” Javi murmurs, caressing his nose against your cheek before capturing your lips again, moaning into the kiss as you tentatively roll your hips. His hand settles on your lower back, letting you take control at a slow tempo, letting you enjoy the way his cock massages your inner walls. You moan feeling your nipples beginning to harden between your layers and his chest.

“Javi!” You gasp when he snaps his hips holding onto your lower back firmly.

“Need to see you,” Javi huffs, moving his hand from your face to your shoulder and pushing you to sit up, breath hitching as you swallow more of his length into your core. He rids you of your tank top and pushes the cups of your bra down. You begin to lightly bounce on his cock, moaning at the feel of his hands on you, fingers from one hand beginning to pinch your left nipple while his other hand slides down your ribs, gripping your waist. “Eres mía(you’re mine),” he growls. You can feel your climax nearing, your thighs beginning to shake, feeling the heat running through your body as you bounce.

“Want to take you out,” Javi grunts, your walls begin to tighten at his words, “Make sure that ev-fuck-everyone knows you’re my girl,” he rambles, gripping your waist tighter, snapping his hips into you. “Eres mía(you’re mine).”

“Javi,” you cry out, wanting all of those things and more, your walls fluttering around his shaft, “Fuck, Javi- yes, yes, yes, yes!” Your walls clamp down on him, milking his cock while your vision blurs.

“Fuck,” Javi whines, hips stuttering, emptying himself inside you. He sits up, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him softly, leaning your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. Javi looks into your eyes and grins as his softening cock slips out of you.

“I’m serious, corazón,” Javi says, “Want it all.”

“Me too,” You nod, a grin stretching from ear to ear on your face.

“Peña?” You hear the radio chirp against the dash, Murphy beginning to call for you as well. “Anyone there?”

You giggle as Javi leans over, keeping a grip on you in his lap to reach the receiver. “Peña here.”

“The hell are you guys?” Murphy asks, “It’s been raining like cats and dogs for a fuckin’ hour, and no word from either of you!”

“Heading back now,” you say, shaking your head and laughing.

#UndercoverAprilShowersChallenge #pedro pascal characters #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javier peña narcos #javier pena smut #javier peña x you

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sassylegshayne · 9 months

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Idiots Present: How to Fall in Love With Your Best Friend

hi guys!! here is the original request from the lovely @winifrede !! I absolutely adore her and all her support, I'm so excited I finally finished this piece up. I love it so much and I hope y'all enjoy it!!

2.6k words!! xx mwah

Shayne's soft chuckle pulled your attention from your laptop in front of you down towards the man with his head in your lap. His nose was buried in his book, his blue eyes darting quickly across the words.

Your heart lept to your throat as his eyes finally met yours, a grin spreading across his face and yours.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Shayne taunted you, earning a light flick on his forehead.

"I have enough pictures of you already." You roll your eyes, trying to focus on your writing again, your best friend unwilling to help with that.

"Shayne," you warn in a hushed toned, your lips pressed together tightly as he sat up, his hand sneaking towards your side as he leaned into you. "Don't you dare."

"What? I'm not doing anything.." He chuckled, his cheeks bright red as you turned to look at him, the feigned harshness in your eyes qickly melting away.

Shayne's hand hovered at your waist, his mouth agape as his eyes searched your face. Your mind was racing as your eyes finally met his again, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Shan-Ye!"

You two jumped back a bit, settling back into the couch as your eyes looked anywhere but to the man beside you. Damien offered you a smile, but his eyes scanned over you suspiciously.

Damien, as well as most of your other friends, refused to believe that you and Shayne couldn't be just friends.

Sorry, just best friends.

"Are y'all busy for the next hour or so? We're about to shoot 'Idiot's Present' but we could use a few more audience members?" Damien asked, eyebrows raised with a hopeful grin. Shayne shrugged, checking his watch before glancing to you.

"I can't speak for m'lady, but I'm free." The brunette looked to you, an excited gleam in his eye.

"I mean, I'm free, technically." You chewed your lip, avoiding the puppy dog eyes both of your friends were giving you. do have to finish this sketch.."

You finally look away from your screen to find both men pouting dramatically, causing you to breaking into laughter, finally agreeing. You'd been in a few ideos now, especially with the recent amount of cast videos, but it was different because you often wrote for "ldiot's Present."

You begrudgingly gave up on fighting with Jeremy and Patrick over it. The two men were adamant in their arguments, claiming that they had the perfect idea in mind, all you had to do was trust them.

The videos you had been in were a huge hit, every small moment between you and Shayne had been the most rewatched parts. Shayne had his arm draped around your shoulder in one video, the next video fans pointed out how you had been wearing Shayne's dark green flannel.

The fans loved it, your Twitter mentions were filled with screenshots of the two of you. Shayne made it a point to watch the edits made for you two as soon as he'd discovered them. The last few shoots became a game for the two of you. You had so much fun watching everyone freak out over things that were so normal for the two of you, so what if you two made it worse?

You and Shayne didn't have any feelings for each other, none at all, so you two wanted to see how far you could take it. Shayne and you were more than happy to enact this plan, a recent stream driving the fans crazy. Shayne was building another Lego set, this time he had been able to get his hands on some Star Wars sets.

About halfway through the stream, Shayne had gasped when he found a certain figure. Grinning, he set the figure aside before glancing around behind the camera.

"Y/N, c'mere, I have something for you." Your head popped up from behind your laptop screen, quickly hopping up from the couch to join him on the set. You settled into the cushions beside him, waving at the camera.

Shayne set the figure slowly into your open palm, your face turning bright red as you burs into a fit of laughter at the sight of the Lego Jar Jar Binks in your hand. Shayne couldn't hold back his laughter as he watched you giggle at the inside joke, wiping away a few tears once you'd settled down.

"Should we.. I think we should explain it, right?" You asked, Erin commenting that chat seemed just as confused as they all were.

"Okay, it's, it's very stupid but... Jar Jar is into BDSM.." Shayne began, barely able to hold in his giggles as you hid your blushing face in your hands. "Call him Jar Jar Kinks."

"It's so dumb!" You call out from behind your hands as laughter ensues around you. Shayne didn't expect something so genuine between the two of you, a stupid joke you'd told him years ago, to become a moment the fans loved. The meaning behind the joke became a huge speculation for the fans, which you two found hilarious.

The more you two pushed it, the more your friends and coworkers began to question it. The two of you were blurring the lines of friends and more, and confusing everyone. No matter what, the two of you were adamant that you were just friends.

Finally, Jeremy and Patrick knew what they had to do, and set out on their plan.

Once you three arrive at the set, Damien is quick to fill the last seat in the audience, causing a quick burst of laughter to come from Shayne as the realization hits the two of you.

Your cheeks turn bright red as your mouth is agape, Kimmy and Kiana's giggles from behind you cause you to burst into your own fit of laughter.

"Okay, yeah, this is great!" Shayne called out sarcastically, clapping as you two are quickly mic'd up, the cameras rolling since the moment you'd walked in. "Hope you guys have the chimp ready."

"A double surprise, since we're double the idiots." You laughed as Shayne took your arm in his, leading you to the markers.

"We might be idiots on just about everything, but my partner and I are very clearly experts on today's topic." Shayne began, taking a step back, standing on the opposite side of the screen.

"That we are, Shayne. We've studied this topic alongside each other for years. Hell, l'd say, we've spent almost our entire friendship on it." You looked over your shoulder, Shayne nodding in agreement just as the slide changed.

You spoke with confidence, a small fit of laughter roaring across the audience, very few of them knowing just how deeply you'd just dug your grave.

The two of you stepped back, your arms spread as the slideshow began, grinning out at the crowd.

"Oh.. oh my god." Shayne shrieked with laughter as his eyes scanned over the title card, the room eruptina into fits of lauahter. Your head snapped quickly, your eyes wide as you squealed at the title, quickly doubling over in laughter.

"This is ldiot's Present: Falling in Love with Your Best Friend." You managed to get out, quickly turning your back to the board, glaring playfully at everyone that you could.

Your eyes landed on Patrick and Jeremy, their excitement evident on their grinning faces as they both offered you thumbs up.

"Shayne and I are best friends, who are definitely not in love, but we will show you how to become best friends in love today." Shayne took a deep breath, trying to hold it together as he looked to you. He couldn't read the emotions on your face, but the smile across your lips was enough to assure him that you two could do this.

"Step one," Shayne and you called out as you gestured to the screen. "Buying coffee?" You nodded in encouragement as Shayne read, the confusion evident on your face, as it seems to dawn on the brunette.

"Oh, okay." Shayne scoffs as he takes a step forward. "The easiest way to someones heart is through their.." He began, pointing to the crowd as they sat in silence. "Coffee order! Awesome, glad you quys got it."

You stifled your laugh as Shayne clapped, your cheeks blushing brightly as you realized where he was going.

"It's super important to learn the other person's coffee order early on, you need an excuse to talk to them." Shayne nodded, his cheeks blushed brightly as he took in his friends' knowing smiles. The two of you had been going to the same coffee shop since before you'd become friends, just now.. you know every one of Shayne's orders and he knows all of yours. Bringing each other coffee every morning, or afternoon, or evening is totally platonic and not just another excuse to see each other. "It's almost as important as step two, right, Y/N?" Shayne looked over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"R-right, absolutely." You agree, looking over your shoulder as the next slide is shown. You felt way more nervous than you'd expected to. Shayne and you had been pretending for a while, why did it all suddenly seem so real?

"Step two, sharing everything!" You turn to the audience, tugging at the sleeves of Shayne's flannel you had on, certain that your blush was permanent at this point.

"Shayne and I love to share everything, from clothes" You began, Shayne gesturing to you for example, the crowd giggling as he mirrored Will Smith's red carpet pose. "to food, to books, to friends!"

"They always say sharing is caring, and we love to show each other how much we care." Shayne nodded, stepping closer to you as his hand settled around your waist, tugging you into his side.

"Now, step three would be." You began, the screen displaying a set of pictures of you and Shayne, the two of you quick to look at each other.

The twinkle in Shayne's eyes left a flutter in your heart as you took a deep breath, chewing your lip softly before turning toward the crowd.

"Examples, and Shayne and give plenty of examples of how to fall in love with your best friend.." You giggle, your cheeks blushed brightly as Shayne takes a shaky breath.

"Yanno, you've met your best friend, you guys are super close, now it's time for all the cute stuff." Your fingers are intertwined with Shayne's as he speaks, squeezing your hand gently.

"You guys should share your music, hold hands, cuddle... all things that friends do.. when they're in love." Shayne spoke slowly, small chuckles scaping him as kept talking. You nodded your head, grinning brightly as Shayne glanced over his shoulder to you. His hands were shaking, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He'd never felt like this before, it was like he had been hit by a truck. Shayne is in love with you.

"For the next slide," You continued, finally looking away from his blue eyed gaze, worried about whether or not you'd be able to make it through the rest of this shoot. "We will be demonstrating how to admit.. your love."

You chuckled nervously as you read the slide, Shayne quickly moving to face you, his hands held out to you. You placed your shaking hands in his as you mumbled a small apology. You jumped bit as the crowd chuckles, pulling you back into reality. When you look up to Shayne, he gives your hands a gentle squeeze, taking a deep breath.

"Y/N.. my best friend, I.. love you." Shayne spoke out shakily, a small chuckle escaping him as his eyes scanned your face. A smile tugs at your lips, your mind and heart racing a million miles an hour.

Your mouth was agape as it dawned on you. You love Shayne. You've been spending all this time convincing yourself that you're not, but here you are, in love with your best friend.

"I love you too, Shayne.. my best friend." After a small beat, the room around you two burst into cheers of excitement. The two of you jump a bit, Shayne tugging you into him as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly.

Shayne places his lips softly to your forehead before taking a step back, a bright smile across his lips. You match his grin, your mind still racing, not certain of how true his feelings are.

"I mean that.. and I wanna talk about it off camera.." Shayne assured you, leaning in to speak quietly to you.

You two took a step back, Shayne's hand quickly grabbing at yours, your fingers lacing together. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in all the joy on the faces of your friends around you.

"And for the next slide," The two of you began laughing again as the final slide read 'Congrats Shayne and Y/N!'

"We will say our goodbyes! We hope you guys learned a lot today, my partner and I loved this opportunity to teach you guys how to fall in love with your best friend!" Shayne finished, holding your intertwined hands up in the air before the two of you bowed, cheers erupting from your crowd again.

Shayne quickly tugged you off to the side with him, frantically getting his mic pack off before he took a second, looking up to your grinning face. He couldn't believe he said those words, he couldn't believe he didn't realize it sooner.

You were quick to follow suit, taking off your mic before handing it off, leading the way off of the set. Shayne was quick on your heels, his heart racing even more than before.

As soon as you stepped into the hall, you turn around, wrapping your arms around Shayne, pulling him into you quickly. You can feel him sigh as he relaxes into your arms, holding you tightly.

The two of you hold each other for a few seconds, taking a step back and finally looking at each other again. You two break into a fit of laughter, the tension in the air finally seeming to settle after everything that had just happened.

"I'm never letting Patrick and Jeremy write for that again." You giggled as Shayne rolled his eyes playfully. "I'm thankful for that, though."

"You are?" Shayne looked to you with brows furrowed, your heart melting at the concern on his face.

"Of course am.. I don't know how I didn't realize it sooner..." You laugh softly, your cheeks burning brightly, finding Shayne's face matching yours.

"Me either, honestly. We're dumb." He laughed, resting his forehead against yours, your heart racing.

"Idiots, actually. Idiots in love." You spoke, Shayne sighing softly as his hand cupped your cheek softly, his lips lightly brushing yours.

"Shayne!"

You jump back a bit, a smile across Shayne's lips before he quickly presses them to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he issed you gently.

Just as quickly as it happened, he pulled away, turning over his shoulder to see Damien waving him back into the room. You lean to the side, peeking around Shayne as Damien gasps, holding his hands up quickly as he notices you.

"Shit, I'm sorry! Take your time!" The purple haired man called out an apology before disappearing back onto the set, filled with embarrassment.

"Shayne," You called to him, a grin spreading across his face as he turned back to you. "I love you, seriously."

"I know." He chuckled, stroking your cheek gently. "I love you, too."

"This video's gonna drive the fans insane." You grinned, Shayne rolling his eyes playfully as he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly.

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nightprompts · 2 years

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&. 𝐟. 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from quotes of various f. scott fitzgerald works. feel free to edit as you seem fit. )

❛ you are afraid of being in love then? ❜

❛ i’ll kiss you if you want me to. ❜

❛ we’ll survive, you and i. ❜

❛ come and kiss me and let’s forget. ❜

❛ hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you. ❜

❛ i’m not used to being loved. i wouldn’t know what to do. ❜

❛ sometimes i don’t know whether we are real or whether we are characters in one of my novels. ❜

❛ wouldn't it be awful if we fell in love again? ❜

❛ i’m yours - you know it. ❜

❛ you’ve a place in my heart no one else ever could have. ❜

❛ books mean more than people to me anyway. ❜

❛ you’ve got an awfully kissable mouth. ❜

❛ i won’t forget you. i will promise to remember you always. ❜

❛ if i wait till i fall in love again i'll just wait forever. ❜

❛ things you’ve just said and forgotten, i’ve put myself asleep night after night remembering. ❜

❛ love isn’t like it is in books. ❜

❛ i'm telling you all of a sudden, but it isn't new with me. i love you. ❜

❛ i keep the light burning on your desk so i'll think you're there when i wake up. ❜

❛ the odd thing is that i’m in love with you anyhow. ❜

❛ won’t you let me lean against your shoulder just the smallest bit? ❜

❛ it’s been very rare to have known you, very strange and wonderful. ❜

❛ it's sweeter to be alone. ❜

❛ if you’re tired of kissing me, i’d better go. ❜

❛ i’ve formed the habit of liking you. ❜

❛ there’s something between us- a sort of pull. something you always do to me and i to you. ❜

❛ i won't have to build my love up. it's up in the skies now. ❜

❛ you’re trying to leave yourself behind, but you can’t. the more you try to run away from yourself, the more you’ll have yourself with you. ❜

❛ i’m sorry i had such a devastating effect on you. ❜

❛ i forgot everything. your lips were so beautiful. ❜

❛ say you love me. say it now — can’t you say it now? even if you don’t mean it? ❜

❛ i still love you. that’s the odd thing. ❜

❛ my god, you’re fun to kiss. ❜

❛ i wouldn’t change you for the world. ❜

❛ it's all so simple. he loved me and i loved him. that's all there is. ❜

❛ you’ve fallen for me — completely. you’ve got me in your dreams. ❜

❛ tonight there’s got to be no past or future, no time, just tonight, you and i. ❜

❛ of course you could never love anybody but me. ❜

❛ i’m a lost soul maybe — i don’t feel at all like i ought to feel. ❜

❛ i fell in love with you the first time i saw you. ❜

❛ in my heart i love her all the time. ❜

❛ and what in hell could we ever be to each other? ❜

❛ i realized what was the matter, what had always been the matter — i was deeply and incurably in love with her. ❜

❛ i’m more beautiful than anybody else, why can’t i be happy? ❜

❛ you intoxicated me. it was just as though you were making me love you by some invisible force. ❜

❛ it's because i love you, dear— ❜

❛ i once imagined you loved me a little bit, if you’ll excuse the presumption. ❜

❛ i loved you once — for a year i thought you were the only person in the world. ❜

❛ sometimes you think you’re so much in love that your love could fill the biggest palace conceivable. sometimes you haven’t got enough to fill one room. ❜

❛ his dark eyes took me in, and i wondered what they would look like if he fell in love. ❜

❛ people fall in and out of love all the time, don’t they? i wonder how they manage it. ❜

#f. scott fitzgerald #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #writing prompts #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #ask memes #inbox memes

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cameronspecial · 6 months

Text

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 1)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Talks about sex and drugs.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Coming home is supposed to be a happy occasion, but it's hard to be happy with your ex-boyfriend lurking around the corner.

A/N: This is a sequel series to Thorn In My Side, Rose in My Hand series.

Masterlist

Going back home is the last thing Y/N wants to do right now. The Outer Banks is full of memories from a heartbreak she does not want to remember. However, she is no match for the force known as Cassie and Marvin, and that is how she finds herself on a plane back to North Carolina. For the past five years, Y/N has done everything in her power to not step foot on the island again and now, it is all for nothing. “Please fasten your seat belts, we are preparing for landing,” the pilot’s voice stirs Y/N from her slumber. She can’t believe this is actually happening right now. The elderly lady beside her smiles at her, “First time going to North Carolina?” “Uh, no. I actually grew up there, in the Outer Banks, but I haven’t been back since I left. It feels a little weird,” she answers honestly.

“Ahh, so you were running from something.”

“Yeah, I was. But it looks like I can’t anymore. I just hope that something isn’t there anymore.”

The plane lands and Y/N gets her bags from the carousel. She waits for Mason in the pick-up area, running towards him when she spots his car. Mason crushes Y/N in a hug, “It’s so good to see you back on American soil. This is long overdue.” Y/N pats his back while returning the hug. “Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be home. Did Lace get Sparky here okay?” Mason picks her suitcase up and packs it into his trunk, “Yep, he’s probably being a little energy ball in our living room as we speak.” They both laugh at the joke and then hop into the car. “So how’s your internship at the architectural firm? Is it different from the one in Toronto?” she asks her brother, bringing her hand to the locket around her neck. Heading back to the Outer Bank is causing her to be anxious and playing with the locket calms her down. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Mason that she still wears the necklace and is playing with it.

“It’s going well. Most buildings that people look into getting built here are a different style than in Toronto. OBX wants beach boxes, while Toronto has a wide range of styles. It’s really fascinating watching how my boss’ designs still match to look different from one another.”

“That’s cool. I like the name beach box. It sounds fun. Like a giant sandbox. And are you enjoying it?”

“Yeah, I really am. Although, I do want to see if I can get an internship in an Asian country afterwards. They have a different style that’s interesting. How is the bookstore coming along?”

“A little stressful right now to be honest. Juggling my book edits and what I need to change or add so that the building is up to code and now being here. It’s all just a little too much. At least, I have a name Bookkeeper. It’s gonna confuse people who actually know what that career is but I think it’s funny.”

“It is a good name. It’s very punny.”

“Ugh, that was so bad.”

———

One of the worst places to be is her childhood bedroom. The countless days they spent cuddling on the bed haunts her. The love they expressed physically all over the room is practically engrained in her brain. She had never been able to feel that way again. She unpacks her clothes into her closet and goes to check on Sparky downstairs. He was left down there because she didn’t want him sitting on her suitcase like he did when she was packing her bags in London. He has gotten bigger and he has a little bit of an attachment issue. He doesn’t like being very far from his Mommy for very long. Y/N’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach when she sees the open front door and bolts out of it in hopes of catching her dog before he gets too far.

She follows his barks like a trail of breadcrumbs to the sidewalk. If her heart wasn’t already giving her problems, it certainly is now. The sight before her is one she never thought she would see again. Rafe Cameron is kneeling down and petting Sparky. Beside him is a beautiful woman in a sundress. Her long black hair cascades down her shoulders and her brown almond-shaped eyes show such warmth behind them. Her makeup is done to absolute perfection. Y/N slowly approaches the trio without hesitation. She doesn’t want to go near Rafe, but seeing as it doesn’t look like Sparky is nowhere near going home, she had to go get him.

“Hey Sparky, long time no see. It’s good to see you again, Bubba. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for ya. You’ve gotten so big,” she hears him greet. As she approaches, she accidentally steps on a stick and the crack alerts the others to her presence. “Hey,” she awkwardly begins. “I’m just here for my dog.” Rafe nods and stands up, moving to wrap his hand around the woman’s waist. “Uh, yeah. I remember a time when he used to be my dog too.” Sensing the tension, his companion introduces herself, “Hi, I’m Blythe Katsumi. I’m Rafe’s fiancée.” Blythe sticks her hand out for Y/N to shake, which she does. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Rafe’s- uh…this is Sparky.”

“It’s okay. I know you were his high school girlfriend. He told me about you.”

“Right. And he didn’t tell me about you.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and huffs, “Yeah, well it’s not like we were doing a lot of talking in the last five years. What are you doing here, Y/L/N?”

“You mean besides looking for my dog, in front of my house? The better question is what are you doing here Rafe?”

“I have every right to be here because unlike you, I’ve been coming back home.”

Before Y/N can retort, Blythe stops the conversation from going any further. “Well, it was lovely meeting you, but we need to go. We have to get some stuff ready for the engagement party.” Blythe waves goodbye and takes Rafe’s hand to walk away. This draws Y/N attention to Blythe's left hand with the giant diamond engagement ring. This causes a stabbing feeling to shoot through Y/N’s heart. Her hand shoots up to her locket and she begins to rub it for some comfort. This action doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe as he catches it from the corner of his eye.

———

Everyone has their own vices. Cheating. Gambling. Alcohol. Lying. Rafe’s is drugs. There was a period of time in his life when weed was not the outlet he turned to when in need of getting out of his own head. That one blissful year he had with her was his escape instead. But after the breakup, weed was the only thing that made him forget about her. Eventually, he became numb to the weed and he needed something stronger, so Barry introduced him to cocaine. Mason didn’t know that Rafe had stepped it up in the drug department because if Mason knew, he would’ve found some way to get Rafe to stop. And Rafe didn’t want to, he needed to escape the feeling of being consumed by her.

Before today, Rafe had managed to go a month without thinking about her at all. It was his highest record in the past five years they had been apart. There was no bookstore he walked by with a girl quite similar to her standing at the window. No hard kombucha in Mason’s fridge to indicate that she had been there. No caramel ice cream at the parlour that she would beg him to buy. It was like the universe was giving him a break from being haunted by Y/N. It seems the universe is done with giving him that gift because as he drives to Barry’s house, he is drowning in thoughts of her. He loved seeing Sparky, of course, but why did she have to come back? He couldn’t get the smell of her hibiscus body wash out of his mind. The sweet but gentle tropical scent she wore contradicted the foggy and rainy place she had moved to. Her hair is held back in a claw clip he used to play with whenever she would leave them around.

And the thing that had really caused him to spiral is her hand still holding the locket he had given her for their first Christmas as a couple. Has she been wearing it for the past five years? Had she worn it while she let other men make her feel good, but nowhere near as good as he can make her feel? Would she wear it when she told them she loved them? But most importantly, how dare she come back to what is now only his island and wear it as if she cared for him? She hasn’t been back in years or talked to him; she doesn’t get to pretend like she’s thought about him. It is driving him crazy and he needed something to stop him from going too deep down this rabbit hole.

Barry hears Rafe’s motorbike and is waiting outside for him. “Well, well, well, look who came back from the dead. Thought you went sober on me for a second there, country club. What can I get you for you?”

“However much you got. I got a feeling that I’m gonna be needing it more often.”

He knew he would need whatever he got his hands on to help him forget about her because if he didn’t then he would remember. And it would probably kill him to remember just how his heart almost leapt out of his chest when he saw Y/N Y/L/N right before his eyes.

———

When they broke up, Mason told both of them that he would not be used as a source to find out more about the other. He said it was for his own sanity in not wanting to be caught in the middle of his sister and best friend, but it was also in hopes that it would cause discourse between the two that would lead to their reunification. So it made sense that Mason would keep an engagement from her. But she still needed more information that she would give Mason no other choice but to give her. “How long have they been together, Mace?” Mason closes his eyes in a silent prayer that he isn’t about to have this painful conversation with his sister. He lifts his head from his laptop and turns towards her, “A year and a month. They’ve known each other for a year and a half.”

“How long have they been engaged?”

“Four months.”

“Did you help him propose?”

“He didn’t ask.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

At this, Mason can hear the sadness in his sister’s voice. He knew no matter how much she says she is over Rafe, it isn’t true. It’s why she still wears his locket after all. He knew she needed to know though.

“You know I don’t want to get in between you two. Also, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you something that would hurt you so much. I love you and I want to protect you from that pain.”

“Yeah, I get that. It just would’ve hurt less if it came from you,” she whispers, not knowing what else to ask or add to the conversation. She turns around and goes to her room, where she finds Sparky waiting for her. He gives her a pouty look, asking how come he couldn’t go with his Daddy. She sits down on her bed beside him and places his head on her lap, “I’m sorry, Bubba. But I did what I had to do. Breaking up with him was necessary. I mean I set him free and look at him now, he is getting married.” It hurt. It hurt that he was okay with marrying Blythe before he turned twenty-five. He wanted to speed up his life plan two years earlier just for Blythe. How come he was willing to do that for Blythe but not for Y/N? Was Blythe really that much better than her?

Doing what any other girl would do, Y/N resolves to some internet sleuthing. It wasn’t that hard to find Blythe’s Instagram. She has a public account and Mason is following her. She has an impressive 500K followers; probably because she is the heiress to a popular Japanese hotel chain. All her posts have her makeup done to perfection and her clothes are all designer. One of her saved reels is of her and Rafe partying on New Year's Eve. At least Blythe can keep up with Rafe on that level. Y/N moves her search to Google and finds Blythe’s Wikipedia page. She was born in New York and raised there. She attended UNC for fashion. From multiple tabloid pictures, she can tell that the party scene is one Blythe frequent but she is also a sweet girl. In one picture, she is giving her jacket to a homeless person along with some money when she is returning home from a party. She helps out at soup kitchens and takes children out on shopping sprees. Y/N supposes that Blythe could just be doing it for the media attention, but the look in Blythe’s eyes tells her it isn’t true.

After finding out possibly everything she could find out about Blythe, Y/N turns all of her electronic devices off to stop her from spiralling on social media anymore. She heads over to her bookshelf in need of a bookish escape. Her eyes glance over the different titles until her eyes find one particular book she had not thought about it in a while. She pulls the book off the shelf and opens it up to the title page with the inscription on it. The copy of The Lightning Thief that Rafe had annotated sits before her. She had left it here when she went to university because it felt too hard to bring with her. It held too much meaning. As she sits down on her window sill, she begins to read the book with a special focus on the inscriptions. She reads for hours, allowing herself to feel every bit of emotion that passes through her. God, it hurts to be back home.

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you

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slytherhys · 4 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

You can also find this series on AO3 - as well as all my other stories.

8th day of christmas - gingerbread house

CW: Explicit Sexual Content

No Crying Over Spilled Icing (Elriel NSFW)

Elain eyed the gingerbread house in front of her with something akin to misery. Only twenty minutes ago, when she had first taken the dough out of the oven, she had been immensely proud of herself – it had been baked to perfection, neither too dry nor too moist, with a beautiful golden-brown colouring and a smell so sweet Elain had fought herself not to eat the whole thing in one go.

Buttercream had been used to make intricate, delicate patterns on what would be the walls, as well as cute little tiles for the rooftop. Candies, too, had been used aplenty. It had looked promising. Beautiful even.

But that had been before she had realised one of the walls was cut too short – something Elain hadn’t noticed until she started setting everything together – giving the house a sort of crooked, haunted look that made it resemble more a Halloween decoration than a Solstice treat. The icing, of course, hadn’t helped either. The walls barely stuck together, and the rooftop was slowly falling to its demise. Elain watched it all unfold, unblinking.

A great architect Elain did not make.

When she had first told Feyre she’d be bringing her own gingerbread house – and not one of those sets the bakery sold every Solstice – she hadn’t been expecting a building made of dessert to be so damn infuriating. She was set to leave in an hour and a half, and she doubted she had the needed time to try it all over again. She doubted she could find the will to do it in the first place.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice startled her, her eyes finally turning away from the baked mess in front of her.

“A gingerbread house.” If it could be called that. It definitely didn’t look like one.

Azriel tilted his head, eyeing the house with a stoical expression. “Are those the ones from the bakery downtown?” His eyes flickered to hers. “Cassian had mentioned how he wanted to try and build one.”

Elain huffed, suddenly affronted. “Of course not.” Maybe she should have though.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Right. Dumb question.” He narrowed his eyes, eyeing the eyesore with curiosity. “Why is it…slanted, though?”

“Well, first the icing melted,” She explained, hating the way her voice wavered. “And then the wall on the left was too short.” Azriel nodded along as if she was making perfect sense. “And it smelled really good, so I might’ve eaten one of the windows and now it looks weird.” She dropped her eyes again. “By the cauldron, it’s barely salvageable.”

“Why not just take the side of the roof that’s slipping away? It could probably stand, even if it’d be a little crooked.”

She bristled. “Then it’ll be a gingerbread box.” He gave no indication whatsoever that this information alarmed him. “Az, no one wants to eat a gingerbread box.”

Azriel smirked. As if it were funny. “Calm down, princess.” He looked at the mess in front of them, going around the counter so he could stand by her side. “We can fix this.” He said, and Elain watched from the corner of her eyes as he came to stand right behind her instead, his arms going around her as he reached for the gingerbread in front of her.

“What are you doing?” She gasped.

“Why, helping you, of course.”

She highly doubted he was that innocent. His scent surrounded her, the heat from his body resting upon her skin as a gentle caress. It was all Elain could do to keep her eyes open, to follow his hands as he gently studied her creation. She could hear his steady breathing, quickly realising just how close he was to her. His lips were by her ear, his front pressing against her back every so often.

“Maybe we could do a tent instead?”

Elain frowned at the suggestion. It could work, even if it felt lazy to do so. She felt his hands on her hips, caressing her as she mumbled, “I suppose so.”

He seemed pleased by her quick acceptance, the feeling of his lips so faint against her skin, it was nearly unnoticeable. “Or just accept the defeat and do something else instead.”

Elain hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes, but at the sound of his lewd proposal, she snapped them open, promptly stepping closer to the counter and stepping away from him. “You’re distracting me.”

“Am I?” He stepped closer once again, pressing his nose against her neck, his lips a breath away from touching her fevered skin. “You smell good.”

Elain nearly whimpered “That’s just the gingerbread.”

He pressed his mouth against her shoulder, nibbling softly as if he couldn’t help but taste her. “I’m pretty sure it’s you.”

She turned around, ignoring her erratic breathing. “I still need to bake another batch-” She gasped as she felt his hands on her waist, raising her so she was sitting on the counter before she could finish her sentence. “Azriel, we don’t have enough time for that.” Truth be told, she was doing very little to push him away.

Azriel, of course, noticed that as well.

“I think we have more than enough time, princess.” He said, voice raspy as he stepped even closer. Elain wasn’t sure where her body ended and where his began, but as he kissed her jaw, the corner of her mouth, it felt like the most urgent thing that he stepped even closer.

Elain nearly whimpered as he pulled away, panting as he grabbed the hem of her skirts, pulling them up at an agonising speed.

Elain, however, wasn’t to be deterred. “Someone’s cocky.” She said, far too breathy for it to mean much.

He raised an eyebrow, scarred hands trailing up her legs. “Is that a challenge princess?”

Elain ignored the goosebumps raising all over her skin, ignored the craving that seemed to throb with her every heartbeat. “If you’re up for it.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” A smirk was all the warning she got before Azriel pressed his face between her legs. Elain cried out, mindless with want. Her legs quickly wrapped around his shoulders, pressing him closer to her at the first touch of his tongue against her center. She was vaguely aware of leaning back on her hands, accidentally spilling what remained of the icing on the counter.

She couldn’t bring herself to care – she reached for his hair with her other hand, moaning as he devoured her. He moaned her name against her core as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He was a man starved, licking her, and fucking her with his tongue as if this was both the first and the last time he ever got to do this. The feeling of his large, scarred hands pulling her thighs apart, the scratch of his beard against her sensitive skin, it was all too much. Azriel had barely pushed a finger inside her before Elain was tumbling over the edge, his name on her lips as she bucked against his mouth over and over and over again.

“Sweetest fucking thing in the world.” He growled, more to himself than to her. He was panting, eyes dark as he took her in. She probably looked like a mess, panting, hands covered in icing, legs opened in a lewd display of her arousal. Elain felt herself blush under his scrutiny, but any embarrassment quickly faded as he took her mouth, his tongue seeking hers. “Turn around, princess.” He mumbled against her lips, helping her get down from the counter before lightly slapping her ass. “We’re on a schedule.”

Funnily enough, that was the furthest thing from her mind. Nothing mattered – not the party, not the spilled icing, not even the gingerbread house that had somehow ended up splattered on the kitchen floor. There was nothing but him. Not as he pushed inside her, his length stretching her as if it were their very first time together. Her every nerve-ending was on fire, her body craving him even as he filled her again and again. There were only the sounds he made as he rutted into her, the gentleness in his hands as he pulled her by her hair, the wantonness in the way he kissed her.

“You’re making such a mess, princess.” He panted against her ear, pulling down her corset, his hands quickly grabbing into her bare tits.

“Please.”

“Are you close?” Elain could do nothing but nod. He had barely pulled out of her when she was being turned around, her eyes quickly finding his as he pushed back inside in one swift move, as if he had never left. “I need to see you when you come.” And then he was wrapping her leg over his hip, filling her even deeper.

He wrapped his lips around her nipple, nibbling on the sensitive skin as his cock kept pounding into her. The feel of his mouth, of his cock… All Elain could do was scream out his name as she crashed, coming around his cock just as he spilled into her.

“Fuck.” He panted, hips still bucking against her.

Elain giggled, high on his touch. “Think I still have time to bake something?” She asked, shamelessly pressing her lips to his chest, his throat, his lips, taking them between her teeth and pulling gently. He hissed.

“Not if you keep doing that.” His gaze roved over her before finally settling on her eyes with a mischievous glint. “And I don’t think that gingerbread cake is salvageable anymore.”

Elain supposed not, but she wasn’t a quitter.

In no time – and with a lot of effort – Elain was kicking Azriel out of the kitchen, scrubbing every nook and cranny of the counter and busying herself with something else. Something quick that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

Or so she had hoped.

“Where’s the gingerbread house?” Feyre asked only a few minutes later, eyeing the plain gingerbread cookies Elain had managed to bake in the measly thirty minutes she had been left with. Azriel, at Feyre’s question, gave Elain a heated stare, a smirk blooming on his lips as he casually strolled into the living room without a care in the world. Elain felt her cheeks heat up, pointedly ignoring her sister’s knowing smile. “Had a change of heart?”

Elain cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders as she made her way to the kitchen. “Sure,” she said. “let’s call it that.”

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #pro elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #christmas fic #gingerbread house #feyre archeron #12 days of christmas acotar edition #christmas stories #christmas #happy solstice #christmas prompts #my writing

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skinnyducky · 2 years

Text

burns & boo boos // v.h.

a/n not much to say about this one.. just a cute and fun write. hope you like and enjoy it!

vinnie hacker x fem!reader

Word Count: 1k, slightly edited

WARNING: language, mentions of burning, and i think that’s it.

---------

Y/n was having a lovely dream. It was a recurring one, one where she was dancing in the rain with a young Leonardo DiCaprio. The two swayed together in the empty city streets, their eyes glued to each other. She could melt at any moment. Then everything slowed down as the pair stopped moving. Leo’s gaze traveled from hers to her rouged lips. Right when he was leaning in, she felt the world shift and rock back and forth.

"What’s going on?" She muttered to herself, looking around at the collapsed buildings. She moved her attention back to Leonardo, who was still staring down at her. "Leo, what’s happening?"

Instead of directly answering her question, all he said was: "Wake up, Y/n."

"What?"

"Y/n, wake up."

Y/n’s eyes snapped open, the face of her loveable boyfriend, Vinnie, coming into view. He laid on top of her, shaking her awake. "Wake up," he whispered, careful not to wake up any of their housemates.

"What? What’s going on? Is there an emergency? Something wrong with Hera?"

Vinnie shook his head. "No, Hera’s fine. But, it is an emergency."

She planted both of her hands on his cheeks, worry filling her body. "Then, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?" She checked his temperature with the back of her hand, checking to see if he was running a fever or something.

Once again, Vinnie shook his head. "I’m not sick."

"Okay, then what is it?"

"I’m hungry."

At that, she pushed him off of her, the boy landing on the floor with a thud. "You woke me up out of my sleep just to tell me that you’re hungry?" Crossing her arms, she watched as Vinnie slowly got back up, rubbing his aching side.

"What was I supposed to do?"

"Uhm, I don’t know…go downstairs and make yourself some food, get a snack, and not wake me up in the middle of the night to complain about your growling stomach."

He pouted. "But, I don’t want just anything. I want some cookies."

Y/n shrugged, not understanding his point. "And? I have some Oreos somewhere in the cabinet. Knock yourself out." As she rested her head, gearing up to return to her time with Leo, Vinnie leaped back onto her.

"I don’t want Oreos, I want homemade cookies. I want your cookies."

"You can have my cookies later. Go to sleep, goodnight." Y/n closed her eyes, feeling Vinnie’s weight move off of her as he got situated in his spot on their shared bed. While she tried to fall back asleep, that proved to be difficult thanks to Vinnie’s mumbling and grumbling. She knew what he was doing; he was annoying her into submission. While she tried to fight against it, thinking that maybe if she pretended he wasn’t there, she’d fall asleep faster, that proved to be difficult. After a minute of listening to him complain, she finally gave in.

"Fine, you win." She ripped off the covers and got out of bed. Vinnie did the same, only he was more energetic. "You better hope I don’t burn these cookies," she warned, leading him out of the room. The two quietly made their way through the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

While Vinnie eagerly got out the supplies, Y/n preheated the oven. Once Vinnie had set everything on the counter, Y/n got to work. She was known amongst their friends for making the best cookies. Whether the dough was homemade or pre-made, there was always an added touch. She claimed it was "love" when it actuality she just added a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg.

Vinnie observed her, admiring the process. He wanted to help, but he knew she’d never let him, especially with her being agitated considering he woke her up. He didn’t understand her anger or why she was so hellbent on her sleep. All he knew was that whatever dream she was having, it must have been good.

Once she had rolled the dough into balls and placed them neatly on the baking sheet, she put them in the oven for about 11 to 10 minutes. In that span of time, the two chatted, Vinnie attempting numerous times to get her to spill about her nighttime fantasy. She wasn’t letting up, however.

"Why can’t I know?" He whined, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"You just can’t. It’s a secret."

He scoffed, "I’m your boyfriend. I should know all your secrets."

"That means nothing, Vinnie."

"But—"

Just as Vinnie was about to speak, the time on Y/n’s phone went off. She quickly turned it off and ran to the oven. But before she could lay a hand on the handle, Vinnie beat her to it. "I got this, baby." He smirked, opening the oven to reveal the perfectly round and golden-brown sugar cookies.

As he reached for the tray, Y/n slapped his hand away. "Go put on a mitten if you’re gonna touch the tray.”

"Please, they’ve only been in there for about a few minutes. I’m sure it's not that hot."

"Whatever you say." Y/n stepped back, letting the boy go for it.

Without hesitation, he went for the tray, no one to stop him. But, the minute his fingers came into contact with it, he let out an ear-piercing scream. He quickly pulled his hand out of the oven and fell to the floor. "Holy fucking shit!" He shouted, rolling around as if his whole body was on fire. "What the fuck!"

"I told you." Y/n smirked, looking down at him. "You should’ve grabbed a mitten."

Vinnie got up and blew on his fingers, ignoring the amusement on his girlfriend’s face. "I’m never going near that fucking stove again. It feels like I just fingered Satan’s ass."

"Well, maybe next time you’ll listen to me." Y/n walked over to the oven and reached inside, pulling the tray out with ease and placing it on the oven top. She was so focused on checking the cookies that she hadn’t noticed her shocked boyfriend.

"What the hell was that?"

She turned to him, confused. "What was what?"

"That. You literally picked it up as if it was nothing. Are you like a god or something?"

Y/n snickered, waving her hand over the cookies to cool them down. "I mean, I’m not a god, but I have been baking since I was little. Burned myself so many times that my nerve endings are probably demolished."

"You’re amazing, you know that?" Vinnie laughed before putting his finger in his mouth.

"I know."

---------

tag list: @barbietiingz @tvdsure @suqarszn

#vinnie #vinnie imagine #vinnie x reader #vinnie imagines #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie hacker x y/n #vincent hacker #vhackerr #tiktok imagine

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thefiresofpompeii · 4 months

Note

if you've watched nightmare in silver i'd love to hear what you think — it's a pretty good episode in my opinion and it's one of the few cybermen-as-the-main-monster episodes i actually liked, but it's also one of those episodes that takes some of its most interesting elements from something i like a lot more from the eu so that coloured my perception a bit (turns out constantly going wow just like zagreus makes you less capable of just enjoying the episode as it is. oops)

it’s… a mixed bag of an episode, honestly, provided how much stuff is actually in it. i liked select parts of it a whole lot, much room for thought there, whereas others … skeeved me out, to put it mildly. i don’t think neil could possibly have topped the masterpiece that is The Doctor’s Wife, and whatever he set out to do here… could have stood a little more editing??

to get the grumbling out of the way: the kids. Most Annoying Who Side Characters Ever award goes to them, singlehandedly taking first place away from that stuck-up nerd in Poison Sky. i don’t know if neil intended for them to act supremely slappable, but christ alive. just the constant dour negativity and ‘bored teenager’ unimpressed commentary … walking vibe drainers. made it hard to care about their fate tbh. oh they got cyberconverted? oh they got rescued and brought back? Whatever. call me a boomer apologist… i’ve never referred to a pair of children (fictional or real) as ‘ungrateful spoiled brats’ before but this could be the day i start.

additionally: the hell was that stuff about clara at the end? “too short and bossy and your nose is all funny” “mystery wrapped in an enigma stuffed into a skirt that’s just a little too tight” go to hell gaiman. genuinely. here i was relying on you, thinking you’re immune to casual misogyny. especially since it doesn’t even make sense… clara’s skirts are never tight? not once? i understand that the former comment was a bluff to get out of admitting feelings but, again it’s not even accurate, since jenna coleman’s nose completely fits the beauty standard?? baffles me

those are all minor nitpicks bc other than that the episode’s fun! and creative, especially all the scenes with the cyber-planner and their high-stakes chess game (you like chess dontcha). i haven’t listened to zagreus (YET) but from what i’ve gathered from internet osmosis the doctor gets possessed by an … evil nursery rhyme? lmao. seems legit

anyway nightmare in silver has unfortunately made me understand people who find matt smith attractive. i’ve cracked it: it’s a dormant gene that only activates when he’s playing an intimidating villain. especially here, when he’s mr clever, a warped mirror of eleven, with the boundaries between the two blurring so far as to confuse even clara. this moment is top notch:

which one of you said that? she’s right to question it.

he’s been quietly manipulative with clara for the entire duration of their travels so far, concealing from her the truth about the ‘mystery’ that her whole existence presents to him, while she remains the object of his puzzle-solving quest. a particularly odious example in this scene in Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS, where the doctor is fully aware that their impending doom at the cliff is an illusion, but puts on the pretense that they’re about to fall to their deaths anyway, building all that fear just to to coax clara’s “secret” out of her (“since we’re both going to die here, you may as well tell me what you are”). as soon as he gets what he wants — or, rather, doesn’t, because there’s no satisfactory answer yet — he reveals that he’d known all this time that the TARDIS wouldn’t have let them fall.

that’s what makes mr. clever so insidiously, well, clever as a plot device: eleven’s not possessed by an external force, not quite. no: it’s his own shadow showing. he’s always been like this. the cyber-code slowly taking over the right side of his brain is just as smart as him, just as manipulative, just as much of a trickster. all his darker traits turned up to, well, 11 (sorry not sorry). “allons-y!” “fantastic!” “you’ve had some cowboys in here” mr clever is a parasite that takes the worst and best parts of the doctor, cuts them up and re-attaches them in a parodic audio-collage, and isn’t that just so fucking ingenious

another line that’s just a straight banger, not much to say about it really other than the fact that it cuts straight through to the core of the narrative:

this spun out of control and turned out far far longer than expected, my apologies (not really. you asked!)

#dw #nightmare in silver #doctor who #eleventh doctor #neil gaiman #matt smith #clara oswald #jamie catches up #jamie.txt #doctor who meta

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fluffypotatey · 1 year

Text

watching Leverage episode 1

if you saw a previous post of mine that started like this....no you didn't i meant to click edit not post y'all ( @0hheytherebigbadwolf & @shana-rosee ) have enticed me and i am very curious about this show. i thought i might as well live-blog my thoughts as i watch the show. today will be s1 ep1. general thoughts will be under the initial reactions spoilers, obviously

almost accidentally watched a different Leverage

i believe it was a reboot or an adaptation of this show?

anyway

not even 5 minutes in and it's not pulling any punches

oh my god that is tristan

WE ARE 3 MINUTES IN AND THE PLOT IS SPICY

"mr. ford, don't you want to screw over the insurance company that let your son die?" OH??? DO TELL

gotta say i love the editing so far of this show. going from the meeting between this ford dude and the guy who got his blueprints stolen to the Heist™️ just....*chef's kiss*

HE DID THAT FOR A BASEBALL CARD??? WHO IS ELLIOT

parker's dad said "be a better thief" and she went "aight bet" only respect for MY queen

"parker's insane," ford said. oh she can't be that bad-- *shows flashback of her childhood home exploding* ....ok i see his point, but like, her dad was a dick

you're telling me, that they accounted for everything and all was going well, but got caught because of the nba playoffs???

listen, i am already looking at this show with the ot3, so when elliot said "it's what i do" after saving alec from security detail, how can i not see alec's reaction as something other than "ok, so i might have a thing for him"

yes, yes the easier answer is alec is impressed by elliot's skills and is also impressed that elliot didn't just leave him to get caught, but i am a lady who likes to wear her rose-tinted glasses

"so this is plan b?" "technically this is plan g" sir...when did you switch to plan b???? was it when parker jumped off early??

omg the act the trio played as the left the building? oscar worthy, i would've been fooled

"did you have fun playing the black king instead of the white knight?" which one of those writers felt like a fucking king after writing that. i know someone chuckled in their little seat like 'now that's a banger line!'

we're only 15 minutes in and there's still more???

oh? the plot thickens!

ah, we're going with the explosion death fake-out i see

"he used my son" oh ho HO someone's going to die i see

oh...my god???? how he looks at sophie??? how she looks at him???? how they speak to each other???? it is only episode one wtf

i am in love with sophie. call me nathan because she's got me wrapped around her finger

elliot being the observant one to nathan's motivations??? yes

alec is me, that's it (not really but yes)

how??? were they able to do that meeting??? did they get actors to help with the con???

THE PLOT THICKENS MORE I SEE

YO?????? I AM BAMBOOZLED THEY WEREN'T ACTORS????

I LOVE AGENT HIGGINS! IS THERE MORE OF HIM PLEASE

their like little ducklings for nathan it's so sweet

"see you!"........."we actually missed working with you, we make a great team"

they used the black king white knight line again as a call back oh that writer felt so proud of it didn't they. "yeah, that line fucks. let's do it again" <- that's them

"we offer....leverage" roll fucking credits

General Thoughts:

WOW ok it is only one episode and i am invested. they give us great character dynamics, hints of backstory, hints of character dynamic backstory, hints of future plot points -> my cream and butter, my creme de la creme

this show hits all of my weak points. yeah, i can tell this was made early 2000s but that does nothing to hinder it. i am giggling, gasping, and sitting on the edge of my seat.

when mr. uppity shareholder man found out about his room being bugged, i was so worried because the plan was going so well and i really wanted to see this guy fall. AND THEN WHEN THE FBI CAME TO ARREST HIM??? HELLO????

but yes, very great pilot, i will watch episode 2

#leverage #i do giggle at some lines tho just because they're dated but like in the most endearing way #fluffy watches #or should i say...watching with a fluff potato?#hm idk #or fluffy reacts?#i'll figure out #long post #unfortunately no one died by nathan's hand (yet) but i can wait

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pokenk · 24 days

Text

I’m not much of a shipper but when it comes to villain Rwby in the AU I’ve been working on I do think about it more. And because yang xiao long is my favorite character I’ve been thinking about who she might end up with.

Edit I realize this post is way too long so I’m gonna colorcode parts of it so you can read it easy if you want

Bumblebee

Freezerburn

Now the obvious first answer is Blake. But I think a villain Blake, even one who has I’ve said would be a horny shit poster would probably be racist to humans . I think that can be an interesting dynamic I think it would probably prevent her from ever admitting her feelings. Although that could be a fun dynamic between them each of them in a secret love with each other Blake, who is not willing to admit to Yang that she loves her because she’s a human .

Or alternatively, they do get together, and she must keep it secret from her white fang allies that she’s dating a human. I imagine the dynamic if I was ever to summit up would be kind of the relationship that dragon ball abridged, Bulma and Vegeta have.

And from yangs perspective she doesn’t want to get together with Blake either because she’s feels too dedicated to Ruby as a sister to have other relationships. Or she swears never to be hurt again by people leaving.(tai, Raven, and Summer). And realizing that she’s falling for the trap of either caring about someone who’s not her sister or someone for who’s not herself. makes her feel all kinds of weird emotions.

And so the relationship is kind of a weird inversion of Yang and Blake’s relationship, which is based on trust, and their mutual belief they’ll be there for each other. Well, villain, Blake and villain Yang , clearly love each other. They cannot be honest with each other for fear of having the attachments around them in Blakes case(her connection to other anti-human Faunus ) and the ability to feel perfectly safe by not being close to anyone and yang case. prevent them from building the necessary foundation for any healthy relationships, both romantic and platonic.

The other relationship that I like for villain Yang is freezer burn, because the cruel sadistic leader of a banded organization is the perfect secret right hand for a aloof cold calculating businesswoman like a villain Weiss should be.

although I wouldn’t call a villain freezer, burn relationship healthy, I think it would definitely last longer than a villain bumblebee relationship. And it’s mainly down to how they view each other in relationship yang views herself as an instrument for Weiss’s to use she kills her political opponents, breaks up strikes and helps her gain her rightful position as air to the SDT.

Weiss views yang as an extension of herself as a way to do the things that a prim and proper air to a giant company can’t do. A physical way to enact change she wants to in this way Yang is her rapier.

And yang who’s trying to not feel all the emotions that come with being abandoned, and being forced to raise your sister, is really eager to abandon all sense of self, and just become Weiss as weapon.

And that’s why I think their relationship would last longer although it’s just as toxic and maybe even more then villain bumblebee the codependency they foster on each other would keep them together longer. also for comparison, think of a version of cersei Jamie without the incest(although I know, saying, that’s removing a pretty big part of their story)

Sorry for the essay posting

#rwby au #rwby fanfiction #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #freezerburn #bumblebee

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

Note

I know you've done Halo Infinite Sangheili so idk if you know this guy from the first Halo Wars, Ripa 'Moramee. he's been around years longer than the Halo Infinite guys but gets barely any content anywhere, so I'm curious how you'd imagine him falling for a human darling

Sangheili content my beloved... I'd love to! I have not played Halo Wars but I hope my research helps. Tried to stay in canon but was also creative.

Edit: I got carried away, this is long lol 😅 Guess I'm down bad 🤷‍♀️ I'd love feedback as this was REALLY fun to write. I also suggest having some background knowledge about Halo/Halo Wars to understand this more.

Yandere! Ripa 'Moramee with Human! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Violence, Murder, Religious themes, Manipulation, Internal conflict, Obsession, Human/Sangheili, Angst I guess, Violence against darling/wounds (You are enemies... it's only fair), Swearing, Denial, Feelings of betrayal, Kidnapping, Isolation, 'Moramee is losing his mind, 'Moramee is implied to have intimate thoughts, End is implied to also be intimate but nothing happens.

There's so much moral conflict in this pairing.

His whole purpose is to elminate the human race.

That's his whole purpose as Arbiter.

He thinks humans are weak, completely and utterly undisciplined in the ways of a warrior.

As Halo Wars is deep in the past of the Human/Covenant war, even before Halo CE, a pairing between Sangheili and human is forbidden.

Even more so if he's meant to kill them all.

'Moramee is known as ruthless with an insatiable bloodlust.

He's quick to anger and has a temper.

The moment he hesitates in killing you upon your first meeting... rage builds within him and tears him apart from the inside.

He's harmed humans, Unggoy, and Sangheili alike in his rage...

Why does he hesitate on a human!?

The Prophets demand your execution!

He's a savage beast even in Sangheili terms.

He knows nothing but anger and rage.

'Moramee has never had his own rage directed towards himself.

He likes victory.

The Sangheili had tried to hunt you down when he met you.

So when he finally cornered you on Harvest he was prepared to strike.

Why did he hesitate!?

He had one of his plasma blades lifted in the air, ready to strike.

Was he distracted?

Did you distract him?

Either way he hesitated enough to be hit by gunfire from your squad of marines/spartans, the Arbiter was forced to abandon his prey.

'Moramee is thrown into an enraging conflict with himself after this.

He doesn't dare tell The Prophets.

His subordinates notice his growing rage and keep their distance.

He's a yandere that would be driven to pursue his human through the desire to end his internal conflict.

He knows humans are weak and should perish in the wake of the Covenant.

However, the fact he couldn't slaughter you haunts him.

It scares him that you, as a human, make him weak.

He's a disgrace to The Great Journey....

He hates the fact you make him weak.

He doesn't even consider the idea of love... even if that may be what he's feeling yet can't understand it.

'Moramee loathes the idea of loving a human.

His moral and religious conflict make him volatile towards his own crew.

They already tremble before him.

Now when they hear him mutter to himself and roar in rage, they start to dread him pulling out his weapons.

If/When 'Moramee eventually tries to hunt you down again then he tries to do your abduction alone.

He can't have his crew find out about his true intentions with you.

Intentions he dreads but has to accept if he wants to regain his focus.

'Moramee intends to slaughter anyone he feels he needs to in order to solve his issue.

Expect him to send a small group of troops to remove your group.

Despite the order to kill your group and any humans they find aiding them, 'Moramee describes your appearance and gives the order to spare you.

Spare... something that baffles both the Sangheili himself and his troops.

He was not one to spare.

However, in a way you can view his true intentions as not sparing

His troops knew better than to question the Arbiter's judgment.

The order was sent... then executed like your team.

'Moramee awaits the fallout of the skirmish.

By the end of it you're standing in the middle of corpses making up your team.

Your skin sizzles around your wound, a plasma burst being the cause of your agony.

His troop had withdrawn and left you there, a wound to your leg and you gasping for breath in fear... and pain.

So much pain.

Once his troops relay back to the extraction point, 'Moramee stalks closer before wrapping his hand around your throat and decloaking.

Shock and fear paralyze you, the recent trauma of watching your friends die still fresh in your mind.

Along with the blood from their demise still staining your skin.

"You..."

The Sangheili growls, tightening his grip.

He could easily snap your neck.

"A human such as you should be killed for The Great Journey! You've ruined me!"

Upon your struggling 'Moramee and you most likely engage in one-sided combat...

It's enough to make the Arbiter vent his rage.

The entire time he curses you.

Every bruise... broken bone... he deals it to you for a purpose you don't understand.

'Moramee fights with you to try and clear you from his head.

You're fighting him to survive at least a little while longer.

By the time it ends there's barely a scratch on his armor.

Your breathing is painful due to your heavily wounded body.

You can only stare at the Sangheili attacker whose orange eyes burn with confused anger.

You swore you saw the rage flicker into regret for a moment before he snarls again and picks you up.

Your body is so fragile in his arms while he drags you back to the extraction point.

Due to shock trauma you pass out in the Arbiter's arms.

To make a point to his troops (and keep up an act) he holds your limp body by the neck before his troops.

A message that humans will fall by his hands for The Prophets.

When you awake you're laying in some sort of cell on Harvest.

All except you.

Cheers congratulate him... even when it doesn't feel like a victory to him.

Your neck and everything hurts.

However you notice you've been treated... albeit clumsily.

Covenant know nothing about human anatomy.

It confuses you why they bothered to treat you.

You squint through your cell, you had been brought into a captured facility from what you could tell, repurposed to be a jail for the Covenant.

Your blood freezes when the Arbiter who fought you before enters the room.

"You are my secret from all the rest."

He stands in front of you, orange eyes glaring at you in hate.

"You are my only failure as an Arbiter. The human I can't kill. You are something that's tormented my focus for far too long. I never gave a damn about honor. However... you are a stain on my reputation I can't get rid of if the truth comes out."

"What truth, you ugly bastard... why do they care if I'm kept here?"

The Arbiter is silent... as if dreading the reasoning for your capture.

"Really now?"

"... my orders are to kill all humans. To slaughter humanity for the sake of The Prophets... and I can't kill you!"

He's seething, each word strained.

"I don't know why so I intend to keep you in secret. My troops don't dare question me. They fear me... which I will use to my advantage."

"Soft for your enemy now all of a sudden? My team would've laughed at a Sangheili's mercy if they weren't dead."

The Arbiter only glares at you and you see his hands clench.

"Watch your tone...."

"Or you'll kill me?"

With a frustrated scream of rage the Arbiter leaves the room.

Not only could he not kill you...

It's deserved but frustrates him all the same.

You taunt him.

He isn't sure what he was expecting.

You to be scared of him?

You to be over the death of your allies so quickly?

Was he expecting you to show something comforting to him?

He shakes his head and gnashes his mandibles.

He had a lot to learn about you.

He was never this invested in humans.

Yet after mission after mission on Harvest for relics to appease The Prophets, he found himself back in front of that holding cell.

The troops on guard cowered at his gaze.

What he wanted with you was none of their business.

The Arbiter struggled to understand why he kept holding onto this human.

His rage at your existence used to be hot enough to glass a planet on its own.

He continuously stood in front of your cell to chat, asking questions and learning how to keep you alive.

Learning about you in general even if your species was to be destroyed.

Each talk brought it down to a smolder.

You always hated him but your hostility also lessened with time.

Those who caught wind of his talks between you were quickly ended.

An Unggoy or Kig-Yar heard something they shouldn't have?

They're left at the Arbiter's mercy.

A Sangheili? 'Moramee threatens them into submission or sinks his plasma sword deep into their gut.

He wonders if you care he kills for you?

You're special enough to not only gain the Arbiter's mercy, but his casual discussion and attention.

Denial still burns deep inside him.

Despite this... acceptance is a quiet thought in his mind.

Each time he looks at you in the cell... he remembers both failure and discovery.

Was he simply exhausted?

He was starting to care for you like a fellow Sangheili... and he wasn't sure if he still hated it or not.

Perhaps he vented all his anger about you for weeks on end... leaving only forced acceptance.

He would laugh at this... his ego shattered and behavior pitiful.

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

Whenever he looked at you he saw his biggest failure of all...

Him feeling companionship in a weak human heretic.

He could not be feeling adoration for you.

The idea brings a sick taste to his mouth... but a nervous and warm feeling in his chest.

The heresy of humans seemed infectious like the newly discovered Flood that threatened to taint the relics he sought after.

Ever so slightly you consumed his mind.

The Prophets wonder about his sudden distracted mind.

He assures them he is simply annoyed about the UNSC advances.

A lie... somewhat.

All to keep his human secret under lock and key.

It's gotten to a point he only ever talks to you with hesitant respect.

No one has broken his ego and mind like this.

You are certainly an anomaly in his eyes as a human.

Through his holy missions he develops other thoughts involving you.

Ones that he feels are even more of a sign of disloyalty to The Great Journey than simply sparing a human.

He's thought of releasing you.

He's thought of other things that would be considered sin among Covenant and Sangheili alike.

He's thought of how it would feel to take a moment a feel your skin.

His turmoil is at an all time high.

'Moramee coming to the conclusion that he sees you as that kind of a partner makes him sick.

The Arbiter is speechless on the topic.

His peers have claimed to see a broken look in the Sangheili's eyes when he passes by.

When asked he responds with violence.

The entire time he experiences moral turmoil, you have no clue.

You simply answer casual questions and refuse to answer anything that gives valuable information.

You speak to him with no fear or anger anymore.

You've been here too long for that.

As Harvest dies all around you, you're forced to speak casually with a leader of its downfall.

'Moramee hopes you're happy to cause him this pain...

It's only fair due to the pain he caused.

He feels there's only one way to deal with his problems.

'Moramee couldn't focus unless he got it out of his mind and system.

Rage replaced with irritation... 'Moramee makes his way to your cell.

He calls off the guards and taps at the keypad lock.

You're struck with confusion when the Arbiter enters the cell.

"Is my execution finally here?"

His alien eyes glare... but there's a hint of amusement within them.

You struggle when his much larger body shoves you against the wall... the Sangheili craning his neck to growl at you.

"Not in the way you expect, human..."

The Sangheili Arbiter places a hand against the black body suit you wore, stripped of its heavier armor long ago.

"You've infected my mind long enough. I plan to end this and make you my newest victory instead of my oldest failure."

#yandere halo #yandere halo wars #yandere ripa moramee #yandere sangheili #yandere teratophilia

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fillinforlater · 2 years

Text

Blonde: Chapter II

Female Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 2938 words

Tags: terrible day, everything goes wrong, helpful friends, saving and helping, light hearted fun, slow burn, character building, mystery toxic relationship, curse filled fight, hatred, terrible mother

TW: toxic relationship

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for editing. The real MVP behind the scenes, thank you!

(A/N: @firagaarmor bcuz of course and @ifeelsounsure0 bcuz he got me to write something fluffy. Love you two and I hope y’all enjoy this second part)

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m, I’m sorry, sir.”

It’s not going well for you today. In fact, it’s been quite terrible.

Your alarm didn’t go off as your phone didn’t charge overnight. For some reason the energy supplier cut off your electricity. Again. Is it because there was an issue with the powerline? Definitely possible, it wouldn’t be the first. It could also be because they haven't been paid last month.

A cold shower, dry noodles, and being late to school make you contemplate calling your mother and asking, no, begging for money. It's the worst form of humiliation and only has a fifty percent chance of succeeding. There is no painless way out of this, and this was only the beginning of the day.

After this disaster, you arrived at school. You are already in trouble for your bad grades and so it's a terrible look when you arrive five minutes before the lesson ends. It gets even worse when your explanation is a stuttering mess. Your teacher screamed at you for minutes straight. One more misstep and he'll let you fail.

And lastly, work. From the very first customer on, you made mistake after mistake: two items weren't scanned, three complaints with unsatisfying answers, and now, you drop a glass of jam. Luckily, the customer caught it. In his understandable anger he throws a tantrum, urging you to scan faster and faster.

"My God, is it really this hard to watch out? Every elementary school student can do this!

"S-sir, I'm sorry."

"This should not happen, I w—"

"Please, leave her alone, sir. She apologized enough already."

A soothing voice suddenly speaks up for you. Gaeul has a stern, confident glow on her features and can stand up for herself, for you, even if she's signifiantly smaller. The man backs off.

"I mean, she should just be more careful."

"I'm sure she will be."

"Okay, okay."

He scans his credit card and leaves with the usual clatter of the shopping cart.

It's just you and her now. Gaeul's blonde hair seems to glow silver-gray today, but it could just be the dirty white light above the store's shelves. She is once again carrying colorful cans, more than last time. Half a dozen.

"You, you two are more thirsty this time, huh?" you stutter your failed attempt at a joke.

"Hey, are you okay? You're crying."

"What, I'm not—"

Not yet. The tears in your eyes are like an avalanche about to break loose any second now. Gaeul can clearly see it as she softly inspects your face. No, don't cry now, you tell yourself and reach for the soda.

Pepsi. Beep.

"Yes you are and that's okay."

Coke. Beep.

"N-no, I'm not cryin'."

Mountain Dew. Beep.

"Hey."

It's too late. The can of green tea over the scanner is not only met with a beep, but also drops of rain. Your tears come down, nothing is able to stop them. Today is just too much.

Beep. Beep.

"Hm, how do I do this?"

Gaeul's breath brings you back from this freezing in place. She’s right next to you, on the side of the scanner only employees are allowed to access. Cautiously, she tries to read the words on the panel and keys, but you are in the way. Her body heat and calm breath are so close, you gasp and back off and feel something hit your elbow. A decorative vase at the back of your carrel falls over. The sound of china bursting on the stone floor makes Gaeul jump.

Gaeul scrambles awkwardly to quickly leave the carrel and walks to the pile of dirt and shards, while you try to balance yourself and look around. If your manager heard this, he will be here in less than a minute—

“What was that? Checkout three—”

“I’m sorry,” Gaeul interrupts the annoyed manager, “I must have accidentally touched it. It wasn’t on purpose and I—”

“N-no!” you interrupt Gaeul with a shocked stutter, “I, it was my fault. My e-elbow hit it when I turn—”

“She is just taking the blame for me,” Gaeul interrupts.

“Wh-what?” your manager says. He looks between the two of you.

Instinctively, you shut up and stare at the ground. Confusion keeps you from crying and instead raises questions. What is happening? Why is Gaeul doing this? What if I have to pay—no, what if Gaeul has to pay for the vase? Would she do it for me?

“Trust me, sir, she is taking the blame out of kindness,” Gaeul argues calmly. She then bows her head. “It’s my fault. I will pay for the damages.”

“Ah, no. It’s fine,” the bewildered manager responds, scratching the back of his head, “Thank you for your honesty. It was an ugly vase anyways. Just… be more careful next time.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry sir.”

You stare at Gaeul bowing again. Her upper body is covered by a simple, white t-shirt with a black cat on its front, something you haven’t noticed in your self-centered sadness. As the manager walks away, you’re still staring at her. Your heart beats faster and a warm thought arises in your mind.

This is the first time someone made a sacrifice for me.

The final rays of sunlight beam over the roofs. This time of the year, it’s your usual sight when you leave the store after your shift. You step through the employee exit, a white plastic bag in hand, and trot towards the parking lot. At this time, no one is allowed to park on the property of the store and the manager made it your job to check every evening. You scan the concrete area and as usual, no one dares to park here. If so, you’d write down the license plate number and—

“G-Gaeul?”

“Oh, there you are. Hey.”

Gaeul sits atop a metal safety pillar next to the entrance, each of her six cans lined up in a row before her. She waves and points to the pillar next to her. The sunlight reflected from the glass front behind her makes her bright hair glow brighter and you fly towards her like a moth.

“What are you d-doing here?”

“I was waiting for you. I wanted to apologize.”

“A-apologize? Why?”

Gaeul points at the pillar once more. Never not laying your eyes off of her face, you sit down on the metal surface. Through your thin skin-tight jeans you still feel its coldness. You want to jump back up and rather stand, but Gaeul reaches for your hands and you freeze on the spot. It’s not cold anymore.

“Because I had a stupid idea and made you feel uncomfortable in front of your boss? I think this warrants an apology.”

“B-but you actually helped me. I should th-thank you.”

Before you can fall back into your old habit of lowering your gaze, Gaeul brings you back with an assertive rebuttal.

“No, I made you trip and then the accident happened. It’s my fault and I am sorry. I should’ve used my brain back then.”

Gaeul chuckles. For the first time, you hear her voice as small and cute. You join her and a rare wave of warmth and appreciation overcomes all negative emotions. The rest of the day with all its burdens becomes irrelevant for at least this moment.

“Apology accepted. By the way, wh-what was your ‘stupid idea’?”

"Hm? What do you me—ah, yes! Well, uhm, I guess I wanted to help you by scanning the cans and finishing the transaction on my own. The scanning part was easy, but I had no clue how to, uhm, open the register. Hehe…”

Gaeul averts her gaze onto the cracked pavement. A faint blush turns her pastel pink cheeks rosy pink while her hand scratches the back of her head.

After a second of silence, you begin to snicker. Your mind cannot fathom why she looks so irresistibly cute when she is embarrassed, but also why she would attempt something this unnecessary. It’s nice that she wanted to help, but it was meant to fail from the start.

“I-I’m sorry, but I find this funny,” you say as your snicker continues.

“Is that why you’re laughing at me?” Gaeul asks, acting offended.

“No, no, I’m laughing because it was cute, but pointless.”

“Th-that’s why I apologized!”

Gaeul’s face jumps from the beautiful rosy pastel to the red of a ripe tomato. She buries it in her hand, making only her blonde bob—the light in the store betrayed you: it’s still as blonde as before—visible. Her body moves to the side away from you.

You stop your giggles and aim your hand at her shoulder. What was supposed to be an apologetic gesture to get back the beautiful girl's attention and explain yourself to her, turns to a shove. With too much momentum from standing up, you unwittingly push Gaeul, making her stagger and almost fall from the pillar. Luckily, she is able to put her leg down firmly and rescue the two of you from falling over.

She removes her hands to reveal her shocked orbs. They are so close to yours, a breath away. Somehow your hand is still on hers and once again, everything is silent for a second. Instead of giggling, you fall to your knees this time.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t want this to happen, really. I just wanted to—no, I’m sorry, I always do things wrong, there is always trouble and—”

“Hey. Hey! Everything is okay, nothing happened.”

“No, I’m such a klutz, an worthless idiot—”

“No, you’re not. A funny little mistake doesn’t make you worthless.”

Gaeul’s soothing voice and soft fingers on your hair guide you away from your self-loathing. The pain you so easily get lost in lingers only for seconds, but when you see her eyes, it's gone.

"You mean it?"

You did not have to ask that as her genuinity was obvious in her gaze, her expression, her gesture. She doesn’t lie, her words are not just rootless. Although she might only act out of human decency, it feels like burning compassion.

Gaeul stretches out her hand and you take it. You get up swiftly and stand next to the beautiful woman, staring at her probably a second too long. She giggles and turns her head away.

"Yeah, I mean it. Don't define yourself over such a tiny mistake. Actually, it was kinda cute."

Turn away as well. She should not see the seemingly instantaneous, almost cartoonish blush taking over your face. There is no doubt that she once again was genuine and you scramble to come up with a response, with a rebuttal, but there is nothing. Your mind is so full, yet so void of words.

A ring from Gaeul's phone puts an end to the rising tension.

"Hi," Gaeul greets after fishing out her phone. A second in and she freezes in place. Her lips lose a bit of their already light color, her knees buckle lightly.

You watch Gaeul from the corner of your eye. Throughout the call, she is reduced to repeating simple words or inconclusive phrases. A 'Yes' here, a 'Me' there, sometimes an 'I know', other than that she is just listening. Her free hand scratches her blonde hair or hides shortly in the pockets of her baby-blue jeans.

When your eyes meet, you quickly spin around. She is clearly uncomfortable and you don't want to make it worse by eavesdropping on her. In an attempt to look somewhat disinterested, you look into the plastic bag you brought along. Soda, two days past the expiration date, along with instant noodles, rice, and a mixture of vegetables that still looked edible. It'd be a waste to throw them away.

"I'm sorry, b—"

You raise your head and Gaeul lowers her hand. Little beads of sweat trickle down her distressed features. In a hurry she collects all the colorful cans splayed on the pavement and tries the impossible task of carrying them in her bare hands. They of course tumble down and you watch as Gaeul’s body trembles.

“Ah, damn,” Gaeul says in a dull voice, adding a clearly faked laugh, “I have to go now. I missed something important.”

“Wait!” you shout as she tries to jog away with the unstable tower in her arms, “take this. O-otherwise, you won’t make it home without an accident.”

Stretch your arm towards her. A light breeze makes the now empty white plastic bag in your hand sway in the wind. It’s like a flag and your arm is the pole. Gaeul hesitates.

“Are you sure? Don’t you need it too?”

“It’s not that much. Look, a couple of packets—I can easily carry those.”

“I don’t know…”

You try to make your eyes look more pleading to finally convince Gaeul to just take the bag. You definitely want to help her and although you understand and cherish her care for you, hearing the shift in her voice to sadness leaves you determined—you will not leave until she accepts your offer, even if it takes a lie.

“Gaeul, please. If I should struggle to carry this home, I can just grab another bag from inside the store. You need it a lot more right now.”

With a residue of hesitance Gaeul reaches for and fills the plastic bag with her cans. Although she whispers a grateful ‘Thank you’, her expression is trying to hide something dampening her mood. You can’t help but think that there is something seriously wrong. Some dread seems to linger above Gaeul like rain-filled clouds.

You wave after her, but she doesn’t turn around. Her walk is swift, her blonde hair bops at each step and you admire how incredible she looks in this casual outfit. Form-fitting jeans, short white T-shirt—Gaeul can wear literally anything and still look stunning.

Who would want to cause any discomfort to someone this wonderful?

Scroll through your contacts. It’s certainly not a long list and you wish most of the names displayed on the screen were just non-existent, but you can still waste time by going down and back up.

Avoid at all costs, waste as much time as possible, maybe she will call on her own.

Naive thoughts to keep you occupied, but if you want your stove top to work or lamps to shine you need to call her.

Even this late, she is still surely awake. Even after years of fighting, she will surely pick up. Even if you are formal and nice, she might make this go sideways quickly. Having to call her was always your least favorite chore since living alone, and when her receiver is lifted and the line is clear, you freeze on the spot, like you have every single time.

“What?” she groans into your ear, not hiding her annoyance. There is an obnoxiously loud TV running in the background, some soap opera characters are fighting. You always hated these shows. They were one of the most irritating parts about here, but not as irritating as the barking of a dog. Last time you called, she didn’t own one. Maybe she is at a friend’s house, maybe she is getting her life together and wants to care for a dog, but God forbid she has a boyfriend now.

There is no escaping it, you already pressed the green button. Suppress the urge to immediately tap on the red one and end the call. You have to engage in this. It's no use running away.

"I need… there is no electricity," you say firmly, even through the little slip-up, trying not to sound too cold or desperate.

"Yeah, I know," she responds nonchalantly, interrupting her response to suck at her cigarette. Even after all this time, you can still smell the disgusting odor of the smoke she always exhales in a celebratory fashion.

"What?!"

"I couldn't afford it."

"Huh? And what am I supposed to do now?" you say resentfully, unable to keep yourself from shouting. Her attitude broke you faster than even your worst fears would have assumed. The barking gets louder and your mother half-heartedly speaks over it.

"Chill out! After my boss pays me, I'll be able to pay for your bill. That motherfucker is late again."

"And till then?"

"What do I know. Can't change it."

Your hand wrapped around your cell phone trembles. You grit your teeth and keep your rage-filled tears back.

"You want me to starve? I can't cook anything. Noodles, rice—"

"Then eat something else."

"And how should I shower?"

Your voice cracks, almost crumbles as you press the speaker onto your sweaty cheek.

"You'll survive without one."

"Can you fucking care for once?! I'm in trouble, again, and you don't give a shit, again!"

"I don't have to listen to you. You wanted to live alone."

"Because I can't stand smelling you and your fucking cigarettes all day."

"Shut the fuck up."

Her voice is cold, colder than ice, colder than a murderer’s heart, colder than the vaccum of space. It’s the coldest thing in the entire universe. If hatred was transferable through phone lines, she would wince and squirm on the ground right now. Instead, it’s you who is about to fall on your knees. The weight is getting too heavy.

The beeping of your phone after she hangs up just echoes through your empty mind.

One thought however resonates infinitely in this void.

I fucking hate you.

(A/N2: thanks for reading! Btw, why is she so damn beautiful??😳🥺)

#kpop fluff #gaeul fluff #ive fluff #female idol fluff #female reader fluff #female reader insert #Female reader #female idol

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megaweapon · 1 year

Text

The current situation with Wizards is yet another reminder of why I think it’s good for the hobby that people explore other kinds of tabletop games. There’s no one end-all be-all game that fits every player, every group, or every scenario. There’s a wide variety out there designed to do everything from play a funny one-shot to organize a whole campaign.

Spend an evening with your friends playing a round of Fiasco. Get up to some action-movie nonsense with a night of Wu Shu. Play a night of Dread, a game whose primary mechanic is a Jenga tower. Try one of the many PBTA-framework games out there--City of Mist! Scum and Villainy! Monster of the Week! Make up your own with the framework, if you like.

Fall in love (as I did) with the storytelling potential of the Genesys system, which can be adapted to all manner of genre (most famously in the fantastic FFG Star Wars series of tabletop games). Again, you can build your own world off of this system, and there are conversion rules to get around the biggest stumbling block, which is their proprietary dice (and free resources to replace physical dice like skyjedi in-browser and RPG Sessions on discord).

Explore (one of my personal favorite) sci-fi settings in Eclipse Phase, a game that’s distributed under Creative Commons, so you can get all the source material you need free and legally. ...I wanna recommend Shadowrun because I do like some of the stuff it has going for it (less so others) but god I’m still recovering from 5th ed. Hopefully the new edition is better. I haven’t played the new edition of Traveller but I remember it as being a delightfully weird but very fun experience.

If you want something a little scarier, there’s always Call of Cthulhu (my personal first TTRPG ever and what got me into the hobby), the newer more action-packed Pulp Cthulhu, or the 20th-century cosmic horror explorations of Delta Green. World of Darkness’s latest edition has done some interesting stuff if you like classic monsters, and the WoD LARP scene is still going pretty strong if you want an “extended cast with a vague murder mystery parlor vibe” kind of experience.

There’s a ton of stuff out there to suit all manner of sensibilities and play-styles. At the end of the day, it’s all about telling a story, whether that story is happy, horrifying, intrepid, or silly as hell. There’s more than one way to tell it.

I’ll wrap this rant up with my own personal experiences. Technically, the game series I’ve been playing the longest, continuously, is Exile Studio’s Hollow Earth Expedition. Me and my pals have, at this point, about a decade’s worth of storytelling, worldbuilding, and (most importantly) inside jokes from the several campaigns we’ve run from it.

It’s a defunct system now, and we’ve adapted our latest campaign for the Genesys system. We never got the third sourcebook we were wanting, so we’re making it on a WorldAnvil with our group. As a system, it was imperfect, and clearly not designed for the long campaigns we preferred. As a setting, it was compelling but definitely needed some tweaking and brushing up from players. HEX itself was a mere blip, and Exile Studios doesn’t even have a website anymore. Pretty sure they got snatched up by Studio2. Despite all that, though, it was the one that worked, somehow, for all of us.

You genuinely never really know which system is going to be the one that clicks in a way that lasts. Don’t hold yourself back from trying something new.

#ttrpg #idk man just my two cents #most of my current extended irl friend groups i met in SOME WAY #through ttrpgs #i hate to see the state the big names are dragging it in #a rant

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jen-with-a-pen · 2 years

Text

the weight

summary: Steve betrays Bucky in the worst way possible.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

warnings: Angst, cheating, emotional damage, swearing, mention of vomiting, hurt/no comfort, emotional hurt

word count: 3.8k

read here on AO3!

a/n: This is my submission for the lovely @maladaptivexxdaydreaming's Jardin de Poemas writing challenge! I was so so excited for this and decided to take it on as my first ever writing challenge! I had a lot of angsty emotional fun writing this and a lot of listening to Amber Run's The Weight on repeat (hence the title oops). This is literally my longest fic to date and I did my best to revise and edit it on my own!! Hope you like it!! divider by @firefly-graphics, banner by me I used the following prompts:

I would put you first, I would claim you, I would declare you when times were tough, when times were difficult, I would cling to you

Let go of the old love and tell it to keep its distance. Tell this love that I am the only one for you

The morning Bucky heard Steve had made it home from his mission, he felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. After six weeks of worrying, waiting for some sort of news, he was finally able to breathe again.

Bucky rushed to the rooftop the second the helicopter landed, ready to welcome back the love of his life. It was a tradition that developed over the five years they had been officially together: one happily welcoming the other home with the biggest hug and kiss, never mind who was around or watching. It was one of Bucky’s favorite things.

Next to Steve himself, of course.

The steel security doors flung open as Bucky hurried onto the landing pad as the propellers slowed to a halt. The door swung open, and Bucky couldn’t help the smile building on his face, wider and wider as the vehicle emptied. The first two agents exited, followed by a striking blonde woman in full business attire plus a tactical vest. C.I.A. in bold white letters plastered on the front of the Kevlar that fit snug over her white collared blouse. Shiny black heels clacked against the concrete as she strutted through the line of officials welcoming the team back.

Bucky paused, watching her, brow furrowing deeper into thought with yet each heel click. Bucky couldn’t put a name to her face; he knew he recognized her as she strode by him, eyes flicking up and down his form with the shadow of a smirk grazing her lips. His smile faltered.

What was that about?

Bucky’s gaze followed the woman as she continued into the building, his face contorted as he filed through his brain for some sort of name for her. He knew he’d seen her before, when and where–

“Bucky?”

Whipping his head back around, his grin returned immediately. Steve stood in front of the copter’s exit, donning his signature navy tactical suit, worn leather shield harness tight against his fame. His blond hair pushed back from his face with a few strands cascading from his crown; a sight that would make any man or woman fall to their knees. The cut lip he somehow acquired failed to take away from the sculpturesque features of his face.

Finally.

Bucky broke into a sprint, colliding with Steve’s Kevlar-clad chest, arms wrapping around his torso, warmth washing onto his skin as he buried his face in Steve’s neck.

“Woah! Hey, hey, Buck,” he coughed out, squeezing his partner back. However, Bucky noticed, it wasn't as hard as he usually did. Usually, Steve would squeeze back so hard Bucky would see stars. This was… just a hug.

Bucky swallowed the nasty taste on his tongue, immediately tucking the thought back with the other unnecessary doubts and intrusive suggestions he kept locked away. It had been a month, just one, and his brain was suddenly overanalyzing Steve hugging him.

“Here I thought you weren’t gonna make it in time, you let the copter beat ya," Steve laughed, dimples appearing on his cheeks.

“Had a late notice, but I still made it,” Bucky hummed into his neck. “I’d never miss this for th’ world.” He opened his eyes after a moment, greeted by a sight of purple-haloed bruises running up the column of his lover's neck. Bucky pulled back sharply as he held Steve at arm's length.

“Steve, what happened?” Bucky questioned, concern coating his tone. He'd never seen his partner come home with an injury like this before. He tilted his head to look at both sides, each riddled with various contusions in pinks, reds, and purples. Some even seemed fresh; Bucky, again, pushed the mere suggestion to the back of his mind. Steve’s eyes widened, immediately reeling his reaction in to keep his composure. Bucky swore he felt the man’s shoulders tense under his touch.

“Oh, um, they had this huge guy, a hitman ex-assassin,” Steve explained. “Guy got a good couple of headlocks, couple a hits ‘n kicks to me before I took him down.” He swallowed thickly, searching Bucky’s eyes for validation in his story. Bucky held his gaze a second more, finally relaxing his grip on Steve’s shoulders. He brought the blond back in for another bear hug.

“‘m just glad you’re okay, punk.”

“Me too, Buck. Now, let’s get inside, I need debrief, dinner, and a shower.”

×××

Sharon. That’s who the blonde was.

Bucky remembered the woman’s name as he failed to mingle at the dinner that was arranged for the return of Captain America from another successful assignment. Leaning his plated arm against the stainless steel bar top, he mulled over a cider he half-heartedly accepted when Steve offered it to him earlier. Sipping the lukewarm liquid, his gaze swept the room of people conversing, laughing with one another. His eyes flitted from one group of people to another, face after unfamiliar face as he searched the sporadic sea of people.

Stretching, Bucky checked his watch. Seven twenty. He’d been stuck to the bar like some outlying predator with an alcohol problem for thirty minutes.

"Buck, I have t' go 'n mingle, gotta make the press happy," Steve had told him, unhooking his fingers from the brunet’s plated ones as he picked up his phone again for the fortieth time that evening. Bucky had never seen Steve on his phone that much, fingers speeding over the keys, tapping rapidly as if his life depended on it. It felt like every minute they cycled through the same three things– talking, phone buzzing, texting, repeat– and when Bucky leaned in the slightest bit to see who Steve was chatting with, Steve immediately dropped the phone face down on the counter like he hadn’t even touched it.

Bucky noticed Steve’s eyes dulled each time they met his.

"I'll be quick, then we can catch up, okay?" He smiled genuinely for the first time since he'd been home. Bucky relented, returning the gestures half-heartedly with a soft 'of course, love' before leaning in for a kiss– to which Steve pecked Bucky's cheek and beelined for the first table he could find.

The faces blurred together after that.

"'m heading back," the soldier turned to the bartender, "if the tall blond that was here earlier with me comes back, tell 'im I went back to our place, would ya?"

The bartender offered a pitiful smile. “Cap, right?”

Bucky nodded, still hopelessly searching for his partner.

“Sure thing. You alright, Sarge?”

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘m fine,” Bucky mumbled as he shook out of his self-induced trance. He dove into his pocket for his wallet, slipping out a twenty and sliding it to the young man. “Thanks, kid.”

He stalked through the crowd towards the elevators, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip as anxiety began to pool in his chest and thought after intrusively doubtful thought raced through his mind. His heart quickened with his pace as he made it to the elevator and pressed the call button a little too aggressively. The elevator doors slid open instantaneously and Bucky looked up, freezing in place as he locked eyes with the exiting occupants.

Steve and Sharon stood side by side, eyes just as wide and surprised to see Bucky.

The three gawked at one another, unable to move or speak. Sharon parted her lips, another quiet smirk playing on her smudged red lipstick. She glanced to Steve– who had completely drained of blood at the sight of Bucky– and cleared her throat, throwing on another innocent smile.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she acknowledged, failing to hide the underlying curtness in her tone. She gave him another once over as she strutted back to the dinner party, heels clicking on the marble floor.

Bucky turned his attention back to Steve and quirked an eyebrow as a hard lump of annoyance and anxiety built in his throat.

“Sorry, baby, they, they needed us for a quick photo op!” Steve nodded his head as if patting himself on the back. The half-assed apology failed to reach his eyes.

And its target audience.

“‘S okay, I’m beat, gonna head up to the room,” Bucky shrugged, stepping inside the elevator and pressing the button for their floor. “You comin’?”

Steve was already halfway out the elevator by Bucky’s question. He stopped and turned on his heel, raising an index finger and pointing at his partner.

“No, but!” He gestured, “Sharon wanted a drink and I wanted to say hi to Maria real quick. I’ll be up in, say, fifteen?” The blond smiled, awaiting approval from the brunet.

“Sure. Fifteen.”

The doors slid shut as Steve all but ran towards the party. Bucky sighed, the lump in his throat expanding as the elevator hummed, one thought plaguing his brain on the way up.

Maria wasn’t at that party.

×××

Bucky knew someone had been in the apartment.

He flicked the light on as he let the door shut behind him, a sense of unease and doubt washing over him as he shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the counter. Standing in the open entryway made him fidget like he wasn’t supposed to be there.

Like he didn’t belong there.

He moved into the kitchen, taking out his ponytail, and carding a hand through the loosened locks. Opening a cupboard, he fished out a scotch glass and placed it on the counter, pulling a bottle of whiskey from another and pouring to his heart’s content. If there was anything that would put him at ease, it'd be straight scotch.

Bringing the whiskey to his lips, he froze, goosebumps littering his neck and arm. Something was off. He glanced over at the living room sofa, scanning the coffee table, end tables, the bookshelf.

It was subtle, but he knew.

The couch cushions were recently pushed in, the pillows in their wrong spots. The throw blankets he and Steve always shared were folded and draped carelessly over the back of the couch. The end table coasters were knocked to the floor, scattering across the area rug.

The picture frame on the coffee table, one of Steve and him from their first date in Central Park, tipped over face down.

Bucky downed the rest of the whiskey and strode into the bedroom as the rooms began to spin. Turning on the light displayed a similar scene. The bed was haphazardly made, with wrinkled blankets and more wrongly-placed pillows.

He must be making this up. It’s all in his head. It had to be.

The picture of him on Steve’s side of the bed, face down like the one in the living room, proved otherwise.

Bucky felt sick. His stomach somersaulted, twisting upside and inside out as his heart hammered against his ribs. He stumbled to the bathroom sink, blasting cold water from the faucet. He cupped and splashed it on his face, a futile attempt to stop the panic attack in its tracks. He braced the sink basin, gripping the granite countertop while attempting to control his breathing.

All focus dissipated, however, when he felt the counter vibrate under his palms. He glanced down, only to be greeted by Steve’s cell phone in the middle of the counter. The last bit of blood left Bucky's face, the lump in his throat dropping straight into the pit of his stomach.

Listening for the door, Bucky quickly peered over his shoulder and picked up the phone. It buzzed as he held it, a Pandora's Box beckoning him to open it.

He tapped the screen awake– only to be promoted for a password. Bucky’s brow furrowed, confused and offended as to why Steve needed a password on his phone. He never wanted one, nor would he ever bend to getting one despite complaints from Tony.

Bucky gulped as he racked his brain for possible options.

1945, no.

2825, BUCK, no.

72724, SARAH, yes.

Oh.

Bucky could feel his hand begin to shake as he opened the messages app. At the very top of the screen, Sharon's name illuminated the screen as unread. With attachments.

Oh fuck.

Bucky was paralyzed, unsure of whether to dig deeper or to pretend this was a dream. Without thinking, he tapped on her name.

Message upon message, photos from both sides of the screen, validations and sweet nothings and secret meetings. Bucky stopped scrolling at one excerpt, his heart all but stopping.

Sharon: what r u doing when u get back?

Steve: You, definitely ;)

Sharon: but what about bucky? he cant know

Steve: I won’t tell him!!

Sharon: u wont?

Steve: No, not ever. Only you and me til the end of the line :*

The phone left Bucky’s hand faster than he could lunge for the toilet, gagging over the bowl as the text burned into his brain, branding it forever into his memory. He clutched the porcelain as he heaved, purging his dinner and guts and trust and last bits of hope.

The bathroom door slammed open as Bucky heaved again. Steve suddenly appeared, frozen in place at the sight of his cell phone screen shattered on the floor while his partner hunched over the toilet. Steve’s stomach sank, refusing to let him move from the threshold of the bathroom.

Spitting and wiping his nose, Bucky looked up at Steve, tears and snot streaming down his face. Steve was the equivalent of a deer in headlights as the blood drained from his face at the sight of his lover.

“Why?” Bucky croaked, gagging again into the toilet. Having nothing else to give, he dropped the seat down and flushed, slumping back against the shower door. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his t-shirt, panting and sniffling like a pathetic child.

Steve’s lips formed the words he needed but sound failed to carry them. His grip only tightened against the door frame. There was nowhere else to hide.

“Why, Steve?” Bucky yelled, this time standing abruptly and biting his lip to quell the sudden sobs building in his chest. Still, with no answer he moved to pick the phone off the floor, gripping it in his prosthetic hand. The phone’s plastic body began to submit to the weight of his grasp, cracking under the pressure.

“Fuckin’ answer me!”

“I can explain, Bucky! It’s not what you think!” Steve held both hands out in an attempt to calm the brunet down, though it looked more like a zoo keeper calming a wild animal than it did a lover's quarrel.

Bucky’s rage only boiled over. He threw the phone at the ground, glass and plastic shattering and metal shrapnel flying everywhere. He balled his hands into tight fists and set his jaw. Tears streamed steadily down his cheeks, trailing the column of his neck, staining the collar of his shirt.

“You fuckin’ liar. Why? Why, Steve? When did this even happen? When did it fucking start?” He sobbed, his legs like jelly, threatening to give under him at any moment.

“Bucky I-”

“You’ve made enough goddamned excuses!”

“We were undercover for the mission, we… I didn’t mean for it to go this far!”

“Then why did you fuckin’ let it?”

The silence was deafening as Steve searched for an answer. He came up empty and Bucky shoved past him, heading for the front door. He needed to get the fuck out of there, away from Steve, away from it all.

“Bucky, baby, honey, please!” Steve begged as he followed. He knew he was crying, he felt like he was crying, but the tears refused to spill.

He couldn’t deny his guilt.

“Don’t you dare Bucky baby me, you lying fuckin' bastard!”

“I didn’t know what she was doing, Buck! She came onto me! And, and I, I dunno! I, I just went with it!” Steve appealed. “I was gone for a month!”

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks. He spun over his shoulder, daggers shooting from his eyes straight into Steve's.

“That’s your excuse? You were gone? For a month?”

Steve instantly regretted his words, opening his mouth to explain but promptly shutting it. He knew he couldn’t dig the hole any further than the bedrock he just hit.

“I was here. For a month. I slept, in an empty bed, for a month. I worked, alone, for a month. I was here,” his voice broke, “without my best guy. For a month.”

Bucky screamed the last of his words at Steve, grasping fistfuls of hair to ground himself– and to keep himself from punching a hole in the wall.

Steve remained silent, unable to further poorly defend himself. The tears still hadn't fallen.

"I was gonna leave but ya know what?" Bucky shook his head. He headed to the door, pushing it open and blowing in a sarcastic gesture of politeness. "You leave. Get the fuck out, Steve. I'm fucking going to bed."

Steve's jaw slacked, his slouched figure stuck in place in front of the open door. Bucky held firm in his bow, stifling sobs and sniffles as he waited with the last ounce of patience he could muster. Defeated, he slowly dragged his feet to the doorstep, turning on his heel with one last apology pulling at his tongue.

"Bucky, I'm–"

The door slammed in his face before he could finish.

×××

The thunderstorm hadn't started long after.

Bucky knew it was late. Just how late was unknown. He'd crawled straight into bed sobbing, drifting in and out of bouts of sobbing and rage.

It was sometime later he heard the front door open, closing softly behind quiet footsteps. He quickly turned on his side and huddled into the comforter, unwilling to allow Steve to know he was still awake. Unwilling to show him any more weakness.

He didn't deserve it.

Bucky felt the weight shift on the mattress next to him. His eyes remained closed, feigning sleep to avoid the man he thought he knew slipping under the covers next to him. The audacity, the gall, Steve had to even come back to bed.

To even come back.

His heart, however, refused to quiet. It pounded furiously in his chest, loud enough to match the roaring thunder from the storm raging on outside of the bedroom windows.

Underneath the rain pattering against the window, Steve sobbed softly. His hand muffled any escaping cries from his throat as he sat in the bed he and his lover shared. His forever.

But that was gone. The bed was just a bed now, no love to be found; it had been driven out by his stupidity and his selfishness. He wished he could find answers to his actions underneath the mattress, but only the remains of what he had, what they had, lay dead and dormant and decaying.

Bucky was tired.

×××

Steve awoke to a crack of lightning hitting the tower’s lightning rod, shaking the building like a volcanic eruption. He shot up, panting and covered in sweat, the silence greeting him gladly as the rain continued pounding at the windows. He rubbed his face as his eyes adjusted to the stilled darkness enveloping the bedroom. He glanced over at the clock that blinked 12:00 steadily.

As he came to his senses, his hand instinctively migrated to the space next to him. Muscle memory. Instead of finding the weight and warmth and presence of Bucky, he felt cold sheets and empty space. He looked around the room, calling out for his partner; getting up to check the bathroom, the closet, to no avail.

What he did find were missing items. A toothbrush, clothes, shoes.

Steve’s heart began to sink, to pound with fistfuls of anger and pain and sorrow as he ran out into the living room. When another crack of lightning filled the room, a glint of metal caught his eye on the table. Then he saw the note.

Neatly placed under the T.V. remote on the hardwood coffee table laid a folded piece of legal pad paper, blotches of ink bleeding through to the other side. Next to it laid a thin chain of weathered metal leading to two distinct dog tags detailing the information of one James Buchanan Barnes.

Steve gulped, silently pleading it wasn’t what he thought it was. That it was just a horrible dream, and he was still asleep, beside the love of his life and about to wake up in the arms of his one and only.

He refused to allow his tears to fall as they welled in his vision, clouding the contents of the note as he picked it and the tags up, falling back into the couch. The metal clinked as he gripped them tightly in his hand like a rosary, praying this wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. This couldn't be happening.

Steve -

I am a broken man. I always have been, and I always will be. But you were the first to fix me, to put me back together again and again after shattering. I stayed, for you, just as you waited, for me.

I have worked so hard to forgive. Every day of my new life has been forgiveness for all I have done, for all who have done it to me. I have even worked up to forgiving myself, something you and I both know has taken longer than we have been together.

I feel more ready to forgive myself now than I think I will ever be able to start to forgive you.

I had put you first. I had claimed you, declared you when times were tough. When times were difficult, I would cling to you.

But I can no longer do that. I cannot live pretending to be with someone I thought would never betray me. I cannot live with someone who put what we have through more war and hurt than what the both of us have seen.

I ask of you, as one last favor, one last time. Let go of this old love and tell it to keep its distance. Tell this love that I am was the only one for you.

This is the end of the line.

– Buck

Tears fell steadily onto the paper, bleeding into the inked page and smearing the final words Steve was privileged to even be able to read. His sobs finally broke through, echoing into the empty living room, reminding him of how lonely he was, now. He cried out, clutching the dog tags and the letter to his chest in hopes he could break through his ribs and store it in his heart. He crumpled up the paper and smudged the pen into his fingertips, the last thing Bucky ever touched. His heart pounded and his chest heaved as he howled like an injured dog, beaten and bloodied and bruised beyond recognition.

He deserved it, though. He had done this to himself.

It truly was the end of the line.

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