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gamarancianne · 3 months

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Hii I just read your rules and i think every thing is altight 🎀.I have benn carving some angst and had this idea for Helion x reader from acotar, where they have been with each other for a long time (before he became a High Lord), he says that he wants an open relationship, at first the reader agrees, after the years go by and Lady Autum heppens, she starts to be colder to Helion and becoms insecure about their relationship. Fast forward Helion throws a ball where someone start to flirt with him even though the reader is literally on his arm, he goes for some drinks or whatever which gives the reader the chance to escape, she does. After an hour or so Helion notices she is gone, and starts to look for her, he cant find her untill he asks a gaurd, who tells him she went to their bedroom, he finds her at first he is playfull but then relizes something is wrong. I would love if Helion said something like " you can't just leave me, I love you and we are together you cant do that, pleas" while crying hard. You can finish it however you like, presonaly a lot of angst and groveling at Helions side. If you dont fell like writing it there is no hard feelings❤️❤️❤️

Helion x reader - Always yours, never mine part 1

Hiiii, thank you for being this nice and don't worry i wrote it because I really loved the idea and there isn't enough Helion stuff here so let's change that ! 💗

Summary: in your open relationship, Helion always sneaked around with everyone, while you stayed there, waiting for him. But that was before, because solstice is the day where you are going to change that.

Warnings: angst, arrogant Helion (tbh he can 😩), heartbreak for 400 years, curse words, not proofread, my English.

Note: I didn't expect it to be this long so I'm definitely doing a part 2 ! I hope there was enough angst for you my dear and again thank you for your request and nice word !

"Everyone is looking for the sun"

"The moon only shines thank to the sun"

You had been his for 400 years. Being 550 year-old it was almost your whole life. But him, he had never been yours. In the beginning of your relationship, Helion and you had agreed that you both still could have dates or sleep with others. Well Helion had decided, and you desperately in love, had agreed. It was then an open relationship, Helion went out with other males and females, sometimes both, and you, well, you had been on dates to play by the same rules but hadn't really appreciated it. You didn't want them , you wanted and still want Helion, only him. Of course you had your moments, heated or not, together but it wasn't a proper relationship like you could dream of. It could have been okay if you weren't aware of every time he brought a lover to his Palace and didn't heard them both from dusk till dawn, but you were and you did. Oh yes you did. Like the one time of the high lord meeting when he had flirted with Mor, and had sleeped with her, asking you to go to another room. Sometimes some females even came to him while you were dancing or cuddling together and had the guts to seduce him in front of you. The pain you felt really started when he started sneaking around with the lady of autumn when he wasn't high lord yet. He then started to forget you, the one who had been truly there for him in every moment of his life, and you became insecure. It was mentally and emotionally exhausting. But you couldn't leave him (if you still were in a relationship), you loved him too much it hurt you and it would kill you to do so.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Today was the first day of the summer solstice festivities. It was a day full of colors, sun, dances, music, food; your favourite day of the year. But not today, you didn't feel well. Yesterday Helion had brought 2 females in his bed, and your room being next to his, you had heard them. You hadn't sleep, overthinking the fact that you and Helion hadn't slept or been on a date together since weeks, even months. Maybe you didn't have to go today, you could stay in your room, looking from your window to the happy people partying and laughing. That's what you would do today, drown yourself in your eating thoughts and cry yourself to sleep. What a program. In front of your mirror, you changed your sun dress for a nightgown and went back to you giant bed. As if hearing your thoughts, someone knocked at the door. Groaning you opened it and what surprise for you to see the said Helion, a flirty smirk on his lips, leaning against the door frame. Gods was he beautiful. You almost hated him fro that, it made every discussion with him very difficult for you. His smile dropped as soon as he saw you in an other outfit than your party dress.

"What's going on love? At this hour you are normally already dressed up, dancing with everyone ?" He asked.

"Well I suppose it is not a normal day then" you answered turning your back to him when he tried to reach for you. You instantly regretted you gesture.

"Are you sure everything's okay love ?"

You turned back and gave him a small smile to reassure him, you always adored when he called you love, you could never resist him. "Yes don't worry, I am just feeling unwell, I think I'll stay here today and rest a little."

He froze, never had you ever missed a solstice day.

"No, no, no. Go dress up dear, I'm sure a dance with me will give you your energy and joy back." His teeth showed up again when he flashed you a smile.

"What? No-"

"And I won't take no as an answer" he shouted when he closed the door to leave you alone in the silence of your room once again. Dressing up again, you cursed him for being this convincing and yourself for being this weak. And why would he show up exactly the moment you gathered a little courage to face him about your feelings ! But maybe this time he would change, and everything would be different. You had so much hope about him. Leaving your room, you frowned and searched him in the crowd. You relaxed when you smelt his now well-known scent invading your nose and felt his arms circling your waist.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours"

"Nothing really" I answered getting out of his grasp leaving him frowning a little.

He regained his composure quickly "Then let's dance dear."

You both walked to the dancefloor and pushed someone or two on the way. As the music began, Helion led the dance, and you followed, twirling at the beautiful notes. To anyone who looked at you, it seemed that you were two beautiful gods or angels, coming from the sky and flying in the sun. Two gods meant for eachother. But Helion didn't think that, nor did you, spiralling in your insecure thoughts and doubts about yourself. But you still danced for hours, leaving the crowd only to drink or eat.

Exceptionally, you both went out in the gardens, arm in arms and hand in hand to talk intimately a little. But unfortunately, your finally rediscovered happiness was short timed when a young fae lady approached you two. Well she approached him of course. She was everything you weren't, gorgeous, a bright smile, tall, thin. Indeed, how could Helion could really love you after people like her ? Then again he abandoned you again to yourself. And almost broke down in front of everybody when you saw them dance together, and cursed yourself once again the same day for being so stupid to think that one ridiculously charming cheeky smile from him would change anything. You ran away to your bedroom, tears streaming down your face as the pain was stinging your entire body. When you loved, you loved hard, with your soul, your body, you whole. But when you felt hurt then everything in you was heart, and there wasn't a single part you that was okay.

You cried and cried on your bed without even taking the time to step out the beautiful gown you wore today. A gown he had gifted you. Damn him ! Everything you did, everything you thought about reminded you of him! He was like oxygen and water for you, a living need, everything in you was attracted by him every single second of your whole life. It was at the same time making you breathe fresh air, and killing you.

Helion, him, noticed you missing only a few dances later with that young lady when he had the project to bring her back into his bed for a sleepless night. He had the intention to inform you not to wait for him but he couldn't find you. In the heat of his moment with his futur lover, he got upset at the fact that you somehow ruined it, and grew more and more frustrated. He excused himself to the lady and went quickly and furiously to your room after asking a guard about it. There wasn't an ounce of worry in his mind.

But when he found your door open, and heard your not so silent sobs, he calmed down a little and came to your bed. Feeling his weight on the other side of the bed, you stood up quickly and wiped, in vain the tears on your cheeks.

"You crying just ruined my tonight date you know ?" Helion chuckled thinking it would make you feel better.

But in the contrary, you snapped at him and lashed out all your feelings and emotions piled up and invalidated since 400 years. Enough was enough.

"How dare you say that to the only woman who have been supporting you for every damn moment of your life? How dare you hurt my feelings and my confidence again and again and again ? During those 400, I've given you all that I had even more, I've given you all from myself : my soul, my heart, my mind and my body. But what have you given me back ? Nothing, except a broken heart and insecurity that's eating me up every fucking day of my life ! A life now resumed to hope that someday you will understand what I'm going through, you will change for the better ! But no ! It's always the same thing ! I hope and hope for you but you still disappoint me at the end of the day going back to your bitches while I stay here, abandoned again by the love of my life, the only one in my mind, you. I'm tired and exhausted to feel empty every time I see you with another while you forget about me. Some even seduce you while I'm here with you !"

Helion froze at your words, never as he ever considered or thought that you could be unwell in this relationship. "But what didn't you say anything? Plus you had also the right to go with other males or females, let me recall we both agreed to those terms in the beginning of our relation-"

"No we didn't! You said it, and I was hopelessly in love with you so it was the better I could get from you ! And I tried and tried and tried to go on other dates but they were never you ! As telling you this, I can't because everytime I see you apart from heated moment, when I try to speak to you about it, another one of your numerous lover interrupt us and you don't care about it one bit! It's like I'm only there to sleep with you and nothing more where as you go on dates and give your lovers prince princess treatment ! So tell me ! What did I do to deserve that ? What did I do ? Because I am completely and utterly yours, but Helion you have to face it, you were never mine." Rage and frustration tears were flooding your face from your angry eyes, and you were out of breath.

"Are you breaking up with me ?" He asked softly.

"Oh gods I can't believe it ! It's the only thing you have to say right now ? After all I've told you ? Then yes, yes I'm breaking up with you ! I'm done with this, with you !"

"But you can't do this love ! Please you can't leave me we are together! I love you please! Don't do that !" He pleaded and kneeled in front of you, gripping your thighs.

"As much as I love you, and as it's hurting to do so, I can't do this anymore, I don't know who I am anymore. Every time I woke up, my goal was to make you change or to spend a little time with you ! I've been erasing myself to the thought of you and I need to get out of here in order to find myself again. I'm sorry."

"But where will you go ? You live here ? It's your home! I am your home !" He cried.

"Not anymore I'm sorry. And Mor will welcome me for a time, I already sent a note to Rhys, he'll come when my stuff will be packed." As my voice broke down on the final words that seemed too real for me, I wanted it to be a nightmare, and to wake up tangled in the sheets and his arms, I got out of his firm grasp difficultly and gathered my things.

Rhys appeared instantly, and I took one last look at Helion's bent form and wet eyes before we disappeared as quickly as he came, in smoke of black shadow.

#helion x reader #helion acotar #acotar x reader #acotar #acotar x you #helion x you #rhysand #day court #writers on tumblr #angst

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danikamariewrites · 7 months

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hi i was going through your eris x bratty reader fics, im literally obsessed with them, and i was wondering if i could request eris saying no to the reader after she asks him to buy her smthn and the reader just starts bawling her eyes out be he's never said no to her🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ this would literally be so funny, reader would literally be so confused, like what’s no??? what do you MEAN no?????

Did You Just Say No?

Eris x reader

A/n: I love brat tamer Eris 😚

Warnings: bratty reader

Taking you shopping was supposed to be a reward. For you because you managed not to behead any of his advisors this week. And for him to see that stunning smile of yours. Eris loves making you happy, but today he felt like conducting a little experiment.

Eris didn’t punish you earlier this week for acting bratty. He just reprimanded you a little and promised you anything you wanted if you were good until Friday.

You were in the last shop before you and Eris were to go back to the Forest House. A small yet very expensive boutique in the city. You had already picked out an exquisite dress, a pair of shoes to match, and a few other things.

Eris had no idea what you could possibly have left to buy but he waited patiently. You skipped up to your mate holding a beautiful autumn brown tunic with small leaves embroidered on it.

The garment was draped over your arms as you came to a stop in front of Eris, giving him your sweetest smile. “Can I please get this one Eris?”

Eris seemed like he was contemplating his answer. Which was odd. He always said yes. Eris looked you dead in the eyes, face straight and said the worst word ever to you, “No.”

You were so taken aback you physically stepped away from him. Your face contorted in sadness and anger. Your mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to comprehend what Eris had just done.

“What?” Your voice breaks and your eyes narrow at him. “What is no? What do you mean?” Internally you’re panicking. Is this how he’s ending your relationship? Does he not want this dynamic anymore? You weren’t sure you could change, Eris has treated you like a princess since day one.

“No, you cannot have it.” On the inside Eris was praying to the Cauldron you didn’t make a scene right now. Maybe a public place was not the best idea for this experiment.

“Well, why not? You said I can have whatever I want?” Your voice was slowly rising with each word. “Is that not an option anymore?” “No, you just cant have this particular thing. You’ve had enough today.”

Ass soon as the words left his mouth Eris realized it was the absolute wrong thing to say. Your eyes went wide and you couldn’t help the sob that came out of your mouth. Tears started falling fast.

“Do you not want me any more? Just tell me you don’t love me anymore Eris! That’s better than no!” You tossed the tunic onto the chaise lounge in the middle of the boutique, crossing your arms and turning from Eris.

The other patrons kept shopping but occasionally snuck looks at the two of you. Eris was shocked by your words. Of course he loved you, how could he not? You are perfect to him.

Eris lightly grabbed your shoulder, spinning you to face him. “My love,” he says softly, “I will always want you. How could you even think that?” You sniffled, “Because you said no. You never say no.”

“Love, I didn’t know you’d react like this. I’m sorry. Of course you ca get whatever you want.” You stopped crying and leaned away from Eris, a bright smile on your lips. “Yay! Thank you!”

You pecked his cheek and collected the the tunic from lounge, speeding to the cashier to put it with the rest of your shopping.

Eris shook his head. He was happy you bounced back quickly but her was sure you’d give him an attitude about this later.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra acotar #eris x reader #eris acotar #acotar eris #high lord eris #eris x you #eris x y/n

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icallhimjoey · 9 months

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YES! yes hurt me won with 82.4% and i cant WAIT to cry over bookstore joey once more! he has my full heart and i need him to violently sob over me whilst clinging on and telling me he loves me: bitch, do you worst!

HURT ME!

fine, bitch. just know that i hurt my own feelings writing this, and none of you will be eligible for compensation :) here's the bit of when bookstore!joe and you had the saddest fight you'd ever had with him from the series A Whisper Away - enjoy Wordcount: 4.1K

---

But, I Love You

Date night.

You weren’t meant to be screaming at each other on date night. You rarely ever had date nights to begin with... maybe that was why you weren’t any good at them. But this disastrous? Neither of you had seen it coming.

Joe’d decided to mark a random Friday night in July in both your calendars as date night. With the store and the apartment empty, tidied up, and void of any immediate responsibility, you took a lot longer to get ready than you’d usually take.

Put some music on and took time to slowly do your make-up and to blend properly for once. Not that you looked any different in the end. You’d just been slower. Hadn’t rushed yourself until Joe said, “I’ll wait downstairs,” and you saw him walk past the opened bathroom door in a black trench coat.

You were going to look far too casual next to him in what you had on, so you quickly rushed your lip balm, sprayed your face with setting spray and went to find something else to wear. Something more sleek, and shinier, and... more black, for easy elegance.

You still looked casual.

Knew you’d look it especially next to Joe.

Didn’t know how to match Joe in smartness, even if you tried.

It wasn’t really a fair race if you were honest – fancy actor on a steady climb to more exciting things and bookstore owner that relished in the silence and comfort written words brought.

When you made your way down the stairs, out of the clouds of scents that hairspray, bodylotion and perfume left lingering, it was nice to step into the scent of books. Of old paper, and wooden shelves and old leather armchairs.

You weren’t going to lie, you amped that shit up by placing strategic scented candles around – never to be lit without supervision. Obviously.

Stepping into the store front, you expected Joe to maybe be tidying a little, like either of you would often do if you were in there for a little longer than a minute after closing. Straighten some shelves, pile some stray books that were left near the till, or even sweep the walkways a little.

Instead, Joe was just sat in one of the armchairs and seemed lost in thought. Not on his phone. Not holding a book. Just, looking up and around, but eyes quickly found you once you stepped into view.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he smiled, pushed his cheeks up and turned his eyes into slits.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you said, going to collect your keys from one of the drawers.

“That’s ok, we’ve got some time ‘til the reservation, we could even walk if we wanted,”

Rummaging, you noticed the keys to the front door weren’t where you thought you’d left them.

“Have you seen the–”

You heard them jingle in Joe’s hand before you looked up and smiled. Joe was already standing by the door.

“Walking’s fine, although, maybe not for the way back,” you said, revealing your heeled ankle boots when you stepped around the counter. “Or you’d have to be all right with holding me upright the whole way back,”

“Hmh, sounds romantic,”

“We’ll have eaten; you’ll be sluggish, and I’ll be extra heavy,”

“Yea, maybe not,” Joe said around a laugh, doorhandle in hand.

“Where are we going, again?” you slung an arm into a jacket. Sure, it was July, but it had been abnormally cold for the time of year. Felt more like autumn. Looked more like autumn too – grey skies, wet streets, wind.

When you mentioned the restaurant he picked, you froze.

Made eye-contact.

Dropped your shoulders.

Groaned as you tilted your head.

“Are you joking?”

Joe gave an awkward chuckle, looked confused. “Why would I be joking? You know I know Maurice,”

The head chef.

“Yea, but that’s like... that place is one big room with window’s all ‘round. Can we not go? Not there, anyway? You’ll be stared at all night.”

You would both be stared at all night.

Joe just shrugged. Scrunched his nose up a little.

“So? Let them stare. I’ll only have eyes for you anyway.”

And you knew it was meant to be cute. Meant to make your stomach twist and have it flutter with butterflies, because your boyfriend just said he wouldn’t even notice people paying attention to him because he only wanted to pay attention to you. It should have made you smile, giggle, blush a little, but instead, it made you grimace.

“Joe,” you pleaded. “It’s Friday as well.”

“It’ll be fine,” Joe said, voice carrying humour as he wildly beckoned you towards the door that he was still holding open, hoping that you’d step through already so he could lock it behind you.

You didn’t move, though.

“No, please, I’m seriously not... I don’t want to go out with Joe Quinn,”

Joe sighed. Let his head drop.

“Have my family group chat fill with photos of us with our mouths half open shoveling pasta in – that’s not,” you sighed. “That’s no fun for me, I’ll be on edge all night eyeing for girls who secretly have their phones out... can we just...” you looked around the store. “Can we maybe get take out and have a meal in here? Do a cute picnic?”

Joe grew more annoyed by the second and slowly closed the door. Turned to stand in front of it, both hands in his pockets, and then was quiet for a bit as he looked at you. After a few seconds he shrugged, and you knew he meant, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this?

“We don’t have to have it in here,”

The bookstore had been a touchy subject for a while now. But you’d changed the opening times for Joe – you were now closed on Sundays, and you opened late on Monday morning. And Anne worked the most hours she’d ever worked, because financially that was easy to manage now, and that also it meant that you didn’t have to work late every day.

You hadn’t wanted to change the opening times initially. Felt like Joe was forcing you out of your job, what with him wanting to move out of the apartment above it as well and all. But two weeks in, you had a whispered conversation in bed in which you confessed that it was nice to be able to stay in bed a little longer on Sundays. Have slow breakfasts together. Have Anne do the things you’d normally do after opening hours during her shift. Joe’d only made fun for a second, made you tell him he was right and wouldn’t stop poking you in the ribs until you squealed the words out.

“We could also... go someplace else?” you were the one to shrug this time, but yours was more unsure, more hopeful because you wanted Joe to smile and say, “Sure, of course, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”. That wasn’t what you got, though.

Before Joe said anything, he pushed both heels of his hands into his eyes.

Fuck.

You were going to have a fight. You didn’t know if Joe knew, but pushing his palms into both eyes was his tell.

“No, never mind,” you quickly backtracked.

You’d sit in a restaurant on edge all night if it meant evading a fight.

“Let’s go,” you stepped closer, wanted to reach for the door behind Joe, but he didn’t move. Instead, he grabbed the arm that reached and stilled you.

“What is it...” Joe started, eyes still closed. “What is it about– why can’t we...” he searched for the right words.

“We can,” you tried, but they were the wrong words if you were to go by the grip that strengthened on your arm.

“Clearly we can’t, I’m not... I’m not going to take you somewhere you don’t want to go,” he looked at you then, eyes all sad but definitely annoyed. “It’s just, it's the reasoning is what gets me, doesn’t it?”

Not a question for you to answer.

“It’s like you don’t want to be seen with me, so, then what? We just never go out for a meal ever again?”

That’s not what you meant.

“That’s not what I–”

“Can’t go out with Joe Quinn on the off chance that someone recognises me,”

Joe said it like that had never happened before. Like there weren’t still people visiting the bookstore on the daily in the hopes of running into Joe. Like there weren’t girls who walked past the windows and peered inside to make sure Joe wasn’t in before they’d look away again. Like every conversation you had with a stranger didn’t at some point suddenly turn into a question-and-answer session about Joe that you didn’t know how to politely get out of.

“Joe,” you tried for the door again, but Joe was the one to step further into the store now, signaling he wasn’t planning on stepping out with you just yet.

“I’ve been out, had dinner at lovely restaurants like... six or seven times this past month, and, I’ve not been bothered by anyone. No, I did, maybe once, but it was fine, it’s always kind people, nothing bad,”

“No, I know,” you didn’t know, but you wanted this to stop just as quickly as it had started.

“Never mind what I said, you’re probably right, let’s get going,” you gestured at the door, but didn’t step closer. You needed Joe to give you an inch before you’d do so.

Joe didn’t give you an inch. Sighed deeply instead and stared out the window a second.

“Sometimes... sometimes I think you don’t want this,”

Joe was right. You didn’t want to go out with your boyfriend and have people ogle all night. You didn’t want Joe to be all glossy and clean shaven and styled in a coat worth two grand, no matter how good he looked. You didn’t like Joe gone half the year, and didn’t like Joe growing in his success because that only meant more of all the negative things.

You wanted Joe soft and scruffy, with a book in his lap, sat in one of the armchairs in the window on a slow Tuesday morning when you’d get to make coffee for him and when Anne would tell you to stop staring at him because it was weird.

“That you don’t want to still do this with me,”

Oh.

No. No, you did want that.

“No, I do want that.” You were quick to state. Had to let Joe know that you did want to be with him.

“Yea, but,” Joe gestured. Meant, then what the fuck is it with you not wanting to go out for dinner with me?

You sighed a long breath, one that turned into a grunt at the end.

“It’s just that... I’m not in the mood to go for dinner with the whole world, you know?” because pictures would get taken and would circle the globe in TikTok videos where they’d zoom in and out set to music. “I just want to have a nice meal with you...”

“Which is what I planned for,”

“Yea, but...” you tilted your head. Gave Joe a face with scrunched up eyebrows. Joe knew you meant that that’s not how things worked out there. Going out in a busy area where Joe had had his picture taken in the streets before was the opposite of going for a quiet meal together.

It was quiet for a bit, and you hoped that maybe the cogs in Joe’s mind would guide him into making a decision. You’d go with either one. Would sit in a popular restaurant with him. Would have your picture taken by a sneaky phone badly hidden behind a music. Would much rather go somewhere where they could hide the two of you in the back somewhere, but, whatever Joe’d choose, you decided you were just going to go with it.

Was easier that way.

But Joe stayed silent. Stared at the floor a second.

“Remember that first year of us knowing each other?” you suddenly said, hoping to shift the mood. “Where you’d come in and would just... be around? Before we even had Anne working here?”

It was the weirdest but also the best time you think you’d ever had in the store. Of course, memories involuntarily got romanticized – your brain left out half the bad shit that happened, made you forget about the hardships and stressful days, but made you remember Joe and his fluffy hair, in his wrinkled linen shirts of which the buttons sometimes strained a bit around his chest and some skin would peep through.

You hadn’t even introduced yourself to Joe, but had learned how he liked his coffee and would give him a steaming mug of it whenever he’d been sat reading in one of the chairs for over an hour.

“No one ever recognised you in here,” you reminisced, couldn’t help but look over at the chair that was now Joe’s chair, even though he barely sat in it anymore.

“If I’d asked you to go for a meal then, you wouldn’t have gone either,”

Ouch.

Your neck almost cracked with how fast it turned to look at Joe. He seemed unimpressed.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not like you were that different back then,”

He was right. You hadn’t changed much at all, but, that wasn’t the point.

“No, but... it was nice to be around you and have it involve no one else,” and you willed a small smile onto your face, because you hoped maybe Joe would copy it. Would agree with you. Would stop this path towards more mean words and would just tell you what was going to happen for dinner because you were getting hungry and felt the itch to get out of there in your feet.

“I’m not going to put on a show and play myself but four year ago,”

“That’s not what I’m asking!”

“Then what? What are you asking?”

“I’m asking for us to go have our date night... we can still make the reservation, see Maurice, have him cook us beautiful food, I just... let’s go, I want to go,” with a little more confidence, you touched the door handle like Joe had done before.

Joe narrowed his eyes a little at you, as if suspicious, and deep in thought.

“Do you think that was when we peaked? When we wouldn’t even talk to each other properly?”

For a second you didn’t believe you heard that right.

“What?”

“When I didn’t know you lived upstairs and you googled me every night?”

“Oh my God,” you scoffed, offended. You did not google Joe every night, and Joe fucking knew it.

“When all I knew about you is that you ran this store? And you wouldn't fucking tell me anything else about you, ever? Was the fantasy of being with me better than–”

“Stop!”

You were surprised by the sudden volume of your voice.

“Stop it! No! Of course not! Jesus Christ, Joe, is that what you think?”

Joe looked pissed off as he breathed through flared nostrils, brow all furrowed in your direction.

“Is that what you think I think?”

“If that’s not it, then what is it?”

Yea, all right. This was just going to be a fight then. Fuck dinner.

You let go of the door handle and stepped away from it, more towards the counter. Further away from Joe who was stood nearer the windows, closer to the armchairs.

“It’s what I just said! It’s...”

There was more. You stopped by the counter, placed your hands on top and hung into your shoulders, head hung down. You were already regretting saying what you hadn’t said yet but decided to go for it anyway. Now seemed as good a time as any.

“It’s that... I can’t remember the last time I didn’t actively miss you, with your work, and your–”

“I’m right here. Right now. I’m here.” Joe held two arms out wide to demonstrate.

“And still!” you exclaimed, eyes all wide, slightly bent at the hips to get the words out closer to him.

Joe’s facial expression immediately softened yours – no one needed to see the hurt they’d caused reflected back at them through someone else’s eyes.

“I miss you, I’m missing you right this very second and I don’t...” you faltered, exhaled through flared nostrils and tried to pick the right thing to say from all of your swimming thoughts.

“Remember when we used to be apart for like four weeks and be fine?”

“I’d still miss you,”

“And I’d miss you too, but, I’d get things done, I’d still see my friends all the time, I’d still have fun, and then we’d call and I’d have all these things to tell you about, and then you’d tell me about the place you were at, and the people you were meeting and, yes, I would miss you, but it was never the gut-wrenching sort of missing you I do nowadays,”

What had changed?

You knew the answer.

“Now, when you’re away, I don’t even feel like I can function properly – everything is overwhelming and,” you winced at yourself before you said, “And I get so jealous that you just get to step out of all of this for a second, and I don't want to resent you for anything, I truly don't,”

“You want out?”

Joe didn't mean the relationship. He couldn't mean the relationship. He probably meant the store, referenced the thing you said about everything being overwhelming - that had to be what he meant.

“No, I don’t want out, but it feels unfair that you’re constantly leaving me to deal with all of it by myself,”

“You don’t have to deal with it by yourself,”

“I know I don’t! Doesn’t change the way I feel, though, does it?”

Another silence fell where Joe let himself fall into his armchair.

You want out?

Joe could not fucking mean the relationship.

Couldn't.

The silence was deafening, but you didn't want to be the one to break it. Joe asked if you wanted out. Was staring out the window now, after having just asked you if you wanted out.

What if you were out?

Just... for a second?

It was not like Joe's fame was going to stop growing all of a sudden. All of this was already hard enough as it was, but it was only going to get more difficult, wasn't it?

You tapped an impatient fingernail on the counter and saw how Joe turned his head more away from you.

Out.

The careful door that word had opened in your mind was scary. It creaked on its hinges and behind it, everything was a little dark, but, it felt like an out was exactly what you needed.

Out.

Just for a second.

You inhaled a sharp breath and let it out slowly, cheeks puffed out.

Out.

“Maybe I’m not made for this,” you repeated what you’d told Joe when you’d started the relationship. When you’d voiced your fears of making this a serious thing, and he’d been so reassuring, had told you that you’d be fine. More than fine.

Yet, look at where you were now.

Joe was in a ridiculously expensive coat and to measure up you pretended that your all black outfit was good enough.

It wasn't fucking good enough.

“I don’t think I can do this with you,” you were nearly whispering, afraid to hear the words come out of your own mouth.

They were vulnerable, made the area behind your eyes prickle, and you needed Joe to handle them with care.

“Of course you can’t fucking do this with me, what, with all the trouble it’s giving you,”

You got snappy sarcasm from him instead, insinuating that all of your worries and fears were unreasonable. Stupid. Not real. The thing you’d been scared of from the start was still looming over you so threateningly, and you were done with it.

Didn’t want that anymore.

Joe had said himself that you'd get to be with Joe. Not with Joe Quinn. You'd both known what that meant. You'd both been on the same page about that.

You were no longer with Joe.

You'd not been with Joe for a while now.

Had instead gotten to be with Joe Quinn, and you didn't want that.

And now, Joe was being mean about it.

The snarky sarcasm you got from Joe shot the last little bit of courage you needed into your system. They’d also shot tears into your eyes, and a weird numb feeling into your fingertips. But the courage was important, because the courage had been just enough for you to say,

“I think we need to take a little break from each other for a little while,”

You hadn’t been able to finish the sentence without tears escaping both eyes, and now each cheek felt a burning hot path being carved right down to your jaw where you wiped at them with a clammy hand.

It was like Joe’s mind registered what you’d said in slow motion.

You saw how his face fell. How his brows went from being impossibly low on his face, to knitting together up high. How his eyes went from narrow slits to big rounded wet ones. Ones that reflected those stupid Christmas lights that you’d put up that one time and then had never taken down again.

Joe tried to find a little hint of humour. Of this being a joke.

Instead he found trembling lips that tried to hide their shaking and eyes that were somehow both scared and determined at once.

“No,” Joe got up, waited for you to take the words back. Hovered near the chair with his mouth slightly open, face reading nothing but sheer shock that turned into desperation when you didn’t say anything.

You couldn't be fucking serious, could you?

You just stood there, by the counter, leaning into your shoulders whilst tears ran down your face.

“No,” Joe said again, making his way over now.

Out.

Joe had spat the question at you, but had never even considered the thought of you actually taking it there.

“Take it back,” Joe pleaded, now next to you, an elbow leaning on the counter to round out and face you. But you’d let your head fall forwards, had closed your eyes, made tears fall onto the counter in little drops and tried to deal with the overwhelming feeling of relief at getting the words out.

“Take those words back, we’re not–”

You shook your head and let a sob escape.

“No, stop that, we’re not going on a break, you take those words back,” you heard Joe's throat close up as he spoke, voice sounding more constricted with every word.

Joe was crying too now, and as much as you wanted to turn and hug Joe, you didn’t.

You weren’t going to take the words back.

“I think I want out for a little while,” you managed to squeeze out, head lifted and looking Joe in the eye.

You wished you hadn’t.

Hadn’t looked him in the eye.

Seeing the person you loved – and you did love him, so much, almost an unbearable amount – break right down the centre right in front of you was the worst thing you’d probably ever seen.

Joe ripped in half.

Broke down.

Fell apart like a book would do if you ripped off the spine. Pages everywhere. Front and back cover useless now.

“No,” Joe cried, voice hoarse, and he sunk.

His knees hit the floor hard, and you were pulled into a hug around your hips. Around your waist. All anger was gone now, no more snarky comments or risky questions left in him. Just sad desperation that tried to hold onto what the two of you once were together.

You knew that you hadn’t been that in a while, now.

Out still sounded good when Joe started murmuring things into your hip.

Out still sounded good when Joe’s grip grew stronger, and his sobs got louder until they got violent and hurt his throat.

Out still sounded good when Joe pleaded and begged and said the same things over and over as you cried silent tears above him, the only tell being the way you had to sniffle on every inhale.

“But I love you,”

You loved him too, but couldn’t say it back. It’d send the wrong message.

“Take the words back,”

You couldn’t. Didn’t want to take them back.

“I love you, I’m sorry, I,” Joe paused for a wet sob, “I love you, I love you, take the words back, take,” a deep inhale, “take them back, we can’t, I love you.”

Date night.

“I love you.”

Out.

“I love you.”

Out still sounded good.

---

The Taglisted

@05secondsofsexgods, @a-time-for-wolvess, @adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddie-joe-munson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @luvrsbian, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @yelyahcardella

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #bookstore!joe #a whisper away #but i love you #ANGST #hurt no comfort

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grapejuicestyless · 5 months

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i have been loving the song big black car by Gregory Alan Isakov lately and was wondering if you could write something based on it? maybe Conrad … maybe harry? this song reminds me of autumn and blurry scenes out of train windows and i would love to see what you could do with it xxx fluff or angst, whatever best suits your mood at the time ⭐️🧚🏻🫂 sending you loooots of love! thank you!!!! <3

Big Black Car

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: “Heartbreak, you know, drives a big black car.” She laughed, pointing at the empty streets. Stepping in the puddles, I watch our reflection bend. She sticks out her tongue, but I can only frown. I understand now that no matter how this ends she will forever haunt me. I’ll see her smile in the rain and hear her voice in the breeze. She was a phonograph, I was a kid. She was everything, and yet nothing.

ANGST

(I might write an alternate version thats fluffy lmk if thats something you would want <3)

I rode in red train cars with the patterned seats from the nineties. I read the novels my friends recommend me and I bit at my nails until they bleed. I leave red stains from my lipstick on my skin when I pull away, and I admire the leaves that stick to the cement.

I don’t mind the chill or the way my nose burns in the late November air. It reminds me of the holidays, big sweaters and sweet n’ low sugar in dirty coffee cups. I don’t complain about the dirt on my shoes or the wetness on the bottom of my jeans. I don’t care about how wild my hair is or how my smile is crooked and my freckles are scattered.

The world is spinning, round and round like a carousel. What would I be if I were to stop and complain. To sit still on a world made for dancing, a world that gifts us the chance to take it all in just once.

So I don’t mind that I had to ride hours in a train to get to Boston. And I don’t care how he doesn’t wait for me on the platform like I would’ve. After all we are only gifted our place on this earth once. I’ve learned to hold no grudges, have no anger. I remember that I am not the only one living this life for the first time.

The red of their front door is the same red of my nails. The same red of my lips, the same flush of my nose and the red of my scarf. The color maroon reminds me of the fall, of the traditions and the cinnamon. Chai and tights and boots and fairy lights.

When the door opens, it’s Susannah who opens it. Her blonde hair is shorter and she has more wrinkles. The same smile lines she used to pull back and the creases between her eyebrows she used to complain about. There was nothing to complain about. Why would anyone ever be ashamed of the tattoos of their happiness. How beautifully they age. So I tell her she looks beautiful every chance I get. And I don’t say it just because I want to make her feel good, but because I mean it, and I hope she can see it too.

“Y/n, come in, come in!” She ushers me inside of the house, and her hands rub along my arms like I’d been waiting for hours in the baron winter. Then again, she’s more ill than I would ever be. She believes it’s colder than it truly is.

Unwrapping my scarf, I hang it on the banister. I leave my shoes by the door on the mat right below where my jacket hangs off the hook.

“Wheres Conrad?” I cant help but ask, running my fingers through each other repeatedly. The cold nipped at my fingertips and the wind blew harshly into my face, but it was autumn finally and I was in Boston. So who could complain?

“He’ll be down soon. Just finishing up some cleaning. You know how messy he is.” She smiles as she leaves, tending to the kitchen, making mashed potatoes and some main dish that smells like spices and butter.

The door at the end of the hall at the top of the stairs creaks, and heavy footsteps follow. There he is, I can breathe. I can breathe and I do, because the air is so much fresher when it’s the same air I get to share with my Conrad.

His hair is darker blonde than it was in the summer, and his sweater clings to his body perfectly. He looks so soft and cozy. It’s the same shade of maroon as my scarf and my nails and my nose and my lips. He’s smiling, faintly but I can see it. Right underneath the dark circles of his eyes, under his button nose. He’s just as charming as I remember.

“Con.” She breathed. She breathed like it was her first deep breath in a long time.

She looked so beautiful. Someone straight from a magazine. I swore even the lights above her head bent so they could shine down just on her. Full of so much life, so much love. I couldn’t help but feel dull being so close to her. A Plain Jane standing next to the most gorgeous woman. A miracle beside I, someone who was simply holding his space.

Each step seemed to draw out longer, my resistance to give into the warmth she radiated. The kindness that seeped out of her. She was understanding, smart. That empathy of hers really was a gift. A gift I wish I had, because then maybe I wouldn’t be thinking the things I was right now. Maybe then I could be happy with what I had.

When my mom called for us a few moments later, I silently thanked god for sparing me from my thoughts. The thoughts of her red lips, red nails, red scarf and how we looked like we matched. How I wanted to rip the cotton from my skin to differentiate us. To separate us physically.

I picked at my food with my fork that night at dinner. Pushing around the turkey and chewing at my cheek. Like she knew something was wrong she grabbed my hand, holding it under her own. She didn’t force me to curl my fingers into hers, which I appreciated. She knew, of course she did. How something was wrong. It wasn’t like me to be so distant, so closed off. No, not to the girl who had run around the beaches with me in late July, flying kites and kicking over each other’s sandcastles in fake fury.

She pressed a kiss to my hand then, and I saw the slight stain of red on my skin. She laughs about it, but doesn’t rub it away. But the red burns my skin and the reminder of her being so close hurts my heart. I rub it away quickly, smiling softly to her and letting her hand go. She doesn’t really mind it, and if she did she doesn’t have time to frown about it. Jeremiah is already asking about her college friends and if any of them are single. It makes her laugh, but he was being serious. Which is probably why it was so funny to her.

I can tell by the way he pulls at his collar and sweats from his brow that he’s tense. I know him too well for him to hide from me. I won’t lie and say it didn’t sting to see him brush away the mark of my kiss on his hand, but the pain is dulled by his family and his soft smile assuring me he’s still down on earth right here beside me. It’s all my naive, young love sick brain could ever need from him, and I’m back on my feet.

He doesn’t hold me like he once did. Maybe the salt in the air had clouded his vision, maybe the sunlight made everything feel more genuine. Maybe thats why he once held me like it was his purpose. Like by not having me, he was killing himself. Maybe it was the changing seasons, or maybe it was his mother. But then again, he doesn’t talk much anymore anyways. At least, thats what Jeremiah says at dinner.

He complains how Conrad has no friends at school because he prefers to sit quietly in his dorm, the door only open because his roommate requested it to be so. How his mouth is never dry, he must have so much to say but never says it. His teasing turns sour when Conrad shrugs and mumbles something I don’t quite catch under his breath. I understand it to be something bitter, something rude from the way his eyebrows are furrowed and how Jeremiah’s smile drops. He tries to find his train of thought again, but the more jokes he tries to make towards his brother, hoping for that old banter, the more he is met with silence. Soon the fork is thrown to the plate and the brunette is gone into the backyard to talk with the neighborhood stray cat.

I clear my throat, understanding the discomfort coming from Susannah, the anger pouring from Jeremiah and the quiet coming from Conrad. All their faces are red, blushing in embarrassment. Red like Jeremiahs eyes right before he stormed off. It didn’t really make sense, how quickly it turned sour.

Susannah gathers the plates in her hands, uncaring about the way potatoes fall to the floor or how the carrots roll onto the table cloth. I ask her if she needs help, I beg her to let me but she shoos me away.

“It’s too nice out to be here with me in the kitchen. I’ve always found peace in the repetitive action of doing dishes.” She explains calmly, “This time of year is too short to spend inside. You kids go have fun.” She tries to persuade. And I’m not going to go, but Conrad puts his hand in mine for the first time all night, and his pull is so magnetic I don’t even care how I barely have time to slip on my jacket and my boots. I don’t care that my scarf still hangs from the banister or how i’m slightly thirsty.

It’s wet outside, the sky painted with a sunset so pure, it felt like Van Gogh had to have painted it himself. Last bits of sunlight shining through the tree branches and down onto the street. As soon as we’re far enough to never turn back, not run in to aid Susannah, he drops my hand.

I think it must be from the way his palms get clammy when they are warm enough, but he sets them in his pockets and pushes down. I wish he would talk more, I see why Jeremiahs teasing slowly became bitter. I wish I knew what to say to him.

Her eyes look everywhere but into mine. I can feel them. In my pockets, on my feet, in the sky, through the bushes and over the stone wall that fell with the rain next door. I can hear her breathing in the silence, see her smile with the passing puddles. And her footsteps in the mist that falls down gently.

“Heartbreak, you know, drives a big black car.” She jokes, pointing at the empty streets. I watch a large van pass by, a single man with a frown behind the wheel. The jokes not that funny, is it even a joke? I’m not even sure. Maybe it was my silence, or my unwillingness to play nice. Maybe she was just making conversation.

Stepping in the puddles, I watch our reflection bend. She sticks out her tongue, but I can only frown. I understand now that no matter how this ends she will forever haunt me. I’ll see her smile in the rain and hear her voice in the breeze. She was a phonograph, I was a kid. She was everything, and yet nothing.

I’m thankful when I see the red door cracked open on my house. I’m thankful that my mother is asleep on the couch and my brother is distracted by the orange cat rolling on his back for stomach scratches. I’m thankful for my father’s absence and how quietly Y/n hangs her coat. I’m thankful I don’t have to make conversation and that the day is almost over. At least when I’m asleep, I have an excuse to ignore everyone.

My room feels like heaven. Carpet under my sock clad feet and the pillows bent in the way I slept. I’m ready to lay back and let the day melt into a faint memory. I’m ready to forget how I feel, and what I love.

The bed dips beside me when I lay down. I can hear the sigh leave her lips, conversation on the tip of her tongue. So I pull her back to my chest and hold her close.

“Con,” She mumbles quietly. I haven’t quite mastered the evening of my breathing. She knows I’m awake. “Why won’t you talk to me?” She asks, solemnly. Like my silence physically pains her.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” I don’t feel like talking. I can’t. Not now, I’m afraid it will all come out. I’ll spew out complements to cover my insecurities. How wonderful she is, a summer breeze passing through the darkest winters. The first break of sun after a long tireless night. And how I cannot compare, how I cannot have her because it’s not fair to keep the more deserving from her.

When she pulls away, the heater is not enough to warm my cold heart. When she frowns, my pillows aren’t comfortable enough to ease the pain in my heart.

Shes pacing the room, rubbing her temples. Her fingers leave little marks, changing the color of her skin slightly when she pulls too hard. It fades back into its warmth when he fingers fall to her sides.

“What do you want from me, Con?” Her voice shakes, but she does not shy away. She doesn’t run. She will fight with all she has, even if she trembles and cries. And she will speak until she has nothing left to say.

“I don’t know.” I admit shamefully, standing up, my long strides close the gap between us. I want to hold her in my arms and put her in my pocket forever. A photo would never be enough. A photo didn’t hum little melodies in the kitchen, a photo didn’t make stupid jokes and a photo didn’t have her laugh.

When my hands reach up to hold her, they settle on her face. I don’t know what to say, I can’t find the words. My lips stutter and only a squeak can get past my lips.

Her fingers meet my left hand, holding her hand gently on top of mine. But unlike at the dinner table, she interlocks our fingers and hold me there.

She presses another kiss to the palm of my hand, and like she had earlier, the red from her lips left a soft remnant of her lips. Staining the skin with a weak smudge. When she went to wipe it away, I flinched. Why did I flinch?

"No, don't." I pleaded softly. I watched her inch away.

"What are you playing at Conrad? One minute you hate me, the next you want me." I didn't hate her. I just didn’t know.

God, how could she think I hated her? All l ever wanted was her. I just loved her too much. I was drowning in her. Slowly killing myself.

"I don't know." I couldn't say much more, I couldn't even look at her anymore. This time, she drops my hand. And the red from her lips stings my skin like a bullet through my palm. But the tears in her eyes hurt much more than a loaded gun. I would have rather been shot through the ribs than see the way her eyes glossed over because of me. How her lips quivered and finally shut. She had no more back and forth to pursue. She had said everything she wanted to say. We had run our course, it seemed.

“Loose my number, Conrad.” And shes gone like the wind, out of the door in silence other than the shaking of the coat rack and the movement of her boots. I swear I hear Jeremiah come inside. He asks very softly where shes going. I imagine she’s smiling, holding his cheek like the good big sister she is to him. His role model that I so selfishly ripped away from him by breaking her heart. I wonder if they’ll keep in touch now that it’s over.

When the door shuts, I notice two things. One, Jeremiah is standing at the door, eyes wide and mouth open. He looks confused until he sees me, and the anger is surely possessing his body by now, but he doesn’t seem to want to move. His hand stuck to his cheek, covering the stain of red left behind on his cheek. The final kiss goodbye. I know then, he won’t hear from her that often anymore. At least, no right now.

Second, I notice the maroon scarf hanging on the banister. It’s soft and still smells like her perfume. I can smell it when I get too close. It’ll stay in our home, along with her jokes and the piece of her heart she left behind when her first love shattered her heart. Maybe it’s the look of guilt on my face, or the tears in my own eyes, but Jeremiah makes his way to me finally. And I expect a punch once he reaches the third step, but instead his arms wrap around my body and his head tucks into my shoulder.

He mumbles something about it being okay, but it’s muffled against the loud memories of her that I try to keep locked in my mind so that I never forget them. He says it more for himself than for me, and I understand that I’ve left not one heart in pieces, but three.

Leaving that house, I leave behind pieces of me I wish I never gave away. I leave behind the Pinterest boards of wedding dressing and flowers and rings in boxes. I leave behind our future dog’s name and the house we picked out in the summer, the future we dreamed about.

Suddenly the color maroon didn't remind me of autumn anymore. Not of the traditions and the cinnamon. Chai and tights and boots and fairy lights.

It reminds me of the blood I left on my fingers where I bit them. Of the blood pouring from my heart now that it's shattered. Of the train I'll be riding home far too soon. Of my favorite scarf, that still hangs from the banister. That still smells like his house. That I wonder if he will keep it or toss it.

I went tor a walk that next morning. The sun wasn't up yet, and the birds were long gone. Families snuggled inside of their homes. When I walked down the stairs, I let my fingers touch the cool wood of the banister to wake me. I let my hand rub over the soft scarf thats not mine, but hers. And I bring it to my nose to see if I can still smell her.

When I go for my walk I turn to the left every time until I'm almost back home. I've gone in big circles.

Everywhere yet no where. When I reach the street sign, a neighbor honks to me. He's at the stop sign, driving a big black car. I don't wave back. I'm far too shocked to move. The same sad man sitting in the car with his dog in the seat beside him and his aging mother curled up in the backseat. He doesn’t look so sad today. He looks indifferent, but not sad.

When he drives away I can't help but raise my arm. I point. "Heartbreak, drives a big black car." I joke. And only now do I find the joke funny. Only now that I'm hurting.

#conrad fisher #tsitp conrad #conrad x reader #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad x you #conrad fisher x reader #conrad #steven conklin #isabel conklin #tsitp jeremiah #tsitp s2 #tsitp x y/n

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strid3rofthen0rth · 3 months

Text

Everest Quercus

A bone shuddering thud, immediately followed by an electric sting racing up through hands and arms. The pause, surprise and awe that it did not go. A glance filled with ill intent. The creak of stained, heavy leather gloves. Panting. A deep breath and a little bounce, like a fighter waiting for the bell. Finally, another swing, all the way from the toes, and Ker-rack!

There it is. Now we're splitting some wood.

Splitting firewood is about the most rewarding work I can do on a cold winter morning. The smell of cleaved hardwood mixed with sweat has been a touchstone for me since early boyhood. Nothing conjures happy images of my father more quickly or completely. My parents heated with wood for most of my childhood, as do I, so I continue to split. Concerns of climate change not withstanding, there is comfort to be found in putting up for winter. Canning, pickling, and splitting wood that we may emerge from the frigid dark once again, alive and raring to go.

It all began back on Maple Avenue. I'd been an apartment dweller for my entire life, six years young as it was. To suddenly have my own yard to dash around in, my own trees to climb, my own garden from which to swipe peas and brussel sprouts, was a gift from on high. Then one fine autumn morning, a huge truck appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and dumped a massive load of white oak right in the center of my playground. Another load soon followed. Everest Quercus, a towering mountain of firewood. Limbs longer than I was, rounds taller than I, heaped and tangled across the yard. There were bugs under the bark and mud torn up from the yard. It was the greatest thing I'd ever seen.

Choosing to invoke the selective hearing granted to all children when parents warn against taking certain actions, for days I clambered over and around it, sprayed the garden hose on the top to see where the water would come out, pried and pulled to see what was in there. My jungle gym and fort, gateway to imagination, and the beginning of my first big adventure.

Soon enough, men I did not know arrived to help my father break down my fort. They wielded chainsaws and cant hooks, wore long wooly beards over flannel shirts and pants so dirty my mom would have never let me be seen in them. And they swung splitting mauls. That sound of splitting the logs into burnable chunks -- half fastball jumping off white ash, half crunch of hard snow under foot. The action, the dynamic nature of it all, was intoxicating. I remember thinking there was a certain gravity to this new situation, though I obviously couldn't verbalize that thought at the time. Something big was going down, and I wanted in.

So Dad would set me up with a stubby little end cut, the easiest piece to split, and start a wedge for me. Wedges are often used in conjunction with a standard maul on rounds that are too big for the splitting maul. And with six-year-olds. He'd hand me a little two pound hammer -- I remember it now, a blue Estwing -- and I'd tink tink tink away at that wedge until I'd made my little split. Or until I got tired or bored, just as likely.

I had to choke up on that hammer quite a bit with my little pink paws, and somehow, whether through exuberance or inattention, I finally managed to mash the tip of my right pinkie finger between the face of the hammer and top of the steel wedge. I remember I cried at the sight of my own blood. I remember my mother hovering somewhere between harried, concerned, and angry on the drive to the hospital. I don't remember how many stitches I got, but they followed the blackened nail around the tip of my finger in a perfect tiny crescent, and I was chin-jutting proud of that in the days that followed. I'd earned my stripes. One of the boys.

That run to the ER aside, splitting wood has been generally good to me. It's one of the times you can stand outside pouring sweat, the mercury burrowing below zero, icicles clinging to your beard, and not have to worry if the rescue plane is going to find you in time. I like to unbend my back every once in a while, and lean on the maul. Think about pioneers and lumberjacks and other manly stuff. To feel muscled and strong, robust against the cold. Like I actually have my shit together for once. It's a chance to slow down and workout at the same time. And if you practice long enough, you can ring the bell every time at the carnival, and win your girl a Bon Jovi mirror.

Some woods are more testy than others. There comes a point in almost every session involving big wood when you are forced to decide whether or not you can carry on. You have your wedge started in a huge round, probably for the second or third time. This guy has decided to test you, deflecting your best attempts to cleave, stack, and burn. You begin with some slightly tentative swings, making sure the wedge is driven, and all is right with the world.

Now it's time to bring the pain. You coil and bend, storing all the energy to be released in one massive effort. Getting your feet set, you begin that big power swing, the best one in your arsenal. Knees, hips, shoulders snap into alignment as your fists slam together at the end of the handle, the head of the maul wails down squarely on the wedge, all the force you can muster behind it. PING!

Nothing... until, after a few moments heavy breathing, you begin to hear the faintest crackling. The frozen fibers beginning to give up their bonds. And you know, this beast will fall like all before him have.

It always amuses me when you see the leading man in a movie, lantern jawline and not a hair out of place, at his gorgeous log cabin, splitting up perfectly dry and straight pieces of maple for the fire. They merrily crack and fly apart with barely a touch from the axe or maul. You'll never see him sweating and cursing, trying like mad to extricate the maul from a gnarled hunk of burr oak. It's Hollywood, where the girls are plastic and all the firewood is kiln dried.

Fir and pines are a walk in the park. They fly apart with happy ease, the chosen favorites of Instagram wood splitters everywhere. Hard maple, frozen, is among the most satisfying to split. It requires effort, but it will come apart, and the sound of a good swing on maple rings out clean and pure.

Among all woods, elm is my nemesis. Like many of us who carry the maul and wedge, I can spot it in a wood pile from fifty yards. Mocking me. Daring me to even try. I'm sure there are more difficult woods to split. Ironwood can give you a backache just looking at it, so heavy and hard. Shagbark hickory, with all it's armored bark as a warning, will test your shoulders and your will. Black cherry strikes fear in the heart of mortal men. But that stringy elm so tirelessly indefatigable. So unrelenting in it's ability to hang together. It seemingly wills itself to remain unbroken, the Nelson Mandela of the wood lot. Many a wedge have been lost in a round of elm, waiting to be freed by the addition of another wedge. And then another. Until you find yourself berating an inanimate hunk of cellulose like a homeless wing nut cursing the weather and hot dogs on a street corner.

Swinging with precision is usually more important than swinging hard. A few stretches before you get going will prevent a lot of soreness, even if you do look like a goober doing yoga in a flannel shirt. Burn the elm in a campfire so you don't have to break it down as far. And wood gets heavier as you age. A lot heavier, but the pull of the wood lot is real, the desire to swing away, so we keep on going, chasing that perfect swing.

#my writng #repost #since we're talking about splitting firewood

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 2 months

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LUNATIC III

Summary:

Halloween night at Sins.

Notes:

Hello Heathens! This chapter is hella long! As I was writing more and more just kept getting added that made sense and so I kept it in. I thought about making it a 2 part but decided to hell with that! This chapter has been one of my favorites to write so far and I hope you enjoy it as well. *Fair warning: There is knife play as well as a little blood play in this chapter. There be some torture as well. ALSO...Sex work IS real work. If you can't get with that, please kindly leave as this fic is sex and sex worker positive :) Happy Reading!

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @unowakot

“Come one! Come all! To Sins Debaucherous Carnival!” Your voice proclaims across the entryway, out into the autumn air where a line has formed as far as around the corner. The video continues, your voice entrancing the waiting patrons.

“Tis Hallows Eve and the night is young. Prepare yourselves for a night of raucous fun! From spooky sexy skeletons, to our sirens sensual song, let your darkness be your guide as you travel the sins of the flesh we provide. Muahahaha.”

The team, having decided to celebrate, take in the entryway and swarm of bodies as they make their way to the main stage, where your act for the night is set to begin.

The atmosphere in the club is a bit darker tonight. The lights are dimmer and the wait staff look ghoulishly delicious, in varying shades of death. They arrive at their booth and settle in, anxious to see what you have in store for the audience tonight.

El Tango de Roxanne begins to play as the curtains open and a lone red spotlight centers on a single bed. The only other light comes from a lone window, in which the shadow of a well built man can be seen.

The spotlight fades to dimmed stage lights as you enter stage left followed by August, the perfect partner for this tango of tortured love. You're dressed in a skin tight black dress with a slit up to the waist on one side. Hair loose and wild. Dark smokey makeup adorns your face as matte black stiletto nails dipped in crimson grace your fingers. August is clad in a maroon button down, black slacks and gray suspenders. Hair disheveled and a scowl on his handsome face.

Clearly an argument is happening and as the song progresses and builds the fight turns violent. You pull a switchblade from your garter and point it at August. He scoffs, determined that you wouldn't have the balls to cut him. He takes a step too close and you lash out on instinct, slashing his pectoral, ruining his shirt as blood quickly rises to the surface.

He looks down in disbelief at the minor flesh wound. He reaches for you as you try to back away, catching your dress and ripping it from your body, exposing the black laced lingerie beneath. He tosses it to the side as you stand in shock for only a moment. That pause was all he needed to reach up and intertwine his fingers in your hair, pulling you in close to his body to dominate you with a kiss.

You lose yourself in his power, succumbing to the scorching chemistry you’ve always had. You cant let him think he’s won once again. The time to take your power back is now. You have places to be and people depending on you. Without wasting another moment you climb him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, providing yourself enough leverage to bite down on his neck, taking him by surprise yet again.

He walks forward until he can slam you against the wall, pinning you with his hips, dislodging you from his throat. You stare up at his darkened blue eyes, panting as you lower your hands to the bulge in his slacks, palming him once before undoing his button and zipper. Pulling him out, you give his thick length a couple strokes, spreading his leaking precum down his shaft.

Wrapping your legs around his waist you pull him close as you tilt your hips and use your body weight to turn you around, his back now against the wall. He grabs the globes of your ass so you don’t fall as he pulls your panties to the side, allowing you to impale yourself on his rigid cock.

You begin to grind and ride him hard, unleashing all your pent up hurt and anguish on his impressive body. You hate that you ever let yourself love this man. One who thinks he can own you and control your every move. No more. It’s time for this little witch to fly.

It's a volatile seduction of limbs and flesh. Your claws rake down his chest as he tries to get his dominance back but is thwarted by your overwhelming need to consume him. Your other hand gripping his hair and holding him where you want him as you devour his mouth.

You end up allowing him to take you to the bed. He lets you remain on top, enjoying the view. As your climax nears you wrap your small hands around his thick neck and begin choking him. He doesn't resist as he is on the precipice of his own release, that is until you both reach your end and you add pressure to his windpipe. He tries to buck you off but his efforts become weaker the longer he is deprived of oxygen until he loses consciousness.

You remove yourself from his prone frame, fix your panties, grab a dress from the closet, and check yourself in the mirror on the wall before heading to the window. You throw it open, kissing the stranger on the balcony who pulls you through. He leans down to grab a bag at his side and proceeds to cart you away into the night.

Lights fade to black and the audience bursts out in uproarious applause.

Your favorite reusable bottle, full of ice cold h2o, is placed in your hand by Walter as you catch your breath backstage. You gulp down the cool liquid as he pushes a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear.

“That was intense, Bug.” He caresses your cheek, running his thumb along your bottom lip as you remove the bottle, capturing an errant drop of water, returning it to your tongue. “It looked like my brother's black soul left his body when you both came.”

You feel arms wrap around you from behind. “It practically did.” August confesses to his brother as he lays a light kiss on your neck. “Granted it’s an emotionally charged number as is, something was certainly different tonight.”

He backs up and begins removing his bloodied shirt, exposing his hairy, muscle bound torso. “I wonder if it had anything to do with you being told that the Avengers had just been seated at the booth you had permanently set aside for them.”

“Ah, yes. Earth's mightiest have taken a liking to our little Nyx.” Walter looks down to see you shooting daggers his way. “Seems the reverse can be said. Wade must be losing his mind.” They both laugh.

You take the washcloth from August's hand before he can clean his chest, drop your panties, step out of them and proceed to remove his spend from your body. “You know how I am. A glutton for all things that bring me pleasure.” You toss the cloth back to August. “Thor proved himself as mighty as to be believed and I would be lying if I said I didn't want a taste of them all.” You shrug.

“I know you well, darling. Always on the hunt for the one thing that may finally quench your thirst.” August imparts, as he places your right hand on the damp blood still staining his chest. “I also know that look in your eyes. You’re looking to lose yourself tonight. Need the release subspace brings.” He lifts your chin to catch your hooded eyes. “Been in control of everything for too long getting ready for tonight's carnival. Fuck, you had me practically bowing at your feet on stage.”

Walter cages you in against his brother. “Usually we’d drag you back to your suite and take you apart until we get you nice and floaty.” He kisses your shoulder. “Then I’d run you a bath and bring you back up to the land of the living.” He runs a hand up your thigh. “But I don’t think we’ll be enough for you tonight Ladybug.”

He looks at his brother, having one of those silent conversations they’re known for, before they both take a step away from you. “Let’s see how well these heroes can handle our favorite little hellion.”

Your bottom lip starts to protrude. August grips your chin quickly between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t even attempt to pout, Darling.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “If they can’t provide you with what you so thoroughly need, you know where to find us. We’re only ever a call away.”

He releases you and sends you on your way out to the main room with a swat to your ass.

“Give em hell, Bug!” Walter shouts followed by laughter as the door closes behind you.

You find the team with ease, clearly enjoying themselves and the libations your faithful staff have provided. It’s a sight to see them with relaxed postures and smiles abound. As you saunter over, you can’t help but notice the power emanating in waves off of the two former assassins, book-ending Steve.

As if sensing your presence, or quite possibly your arousal coating your skin, Bucky glances your way, tracking your movement to the table. “I see you all are enjoying yourselves.”

“Nyx! Just the woman we were drooling over.” Tony jests.

“Your performance did have me salivating.” Thor raises his large stein. “The control in which you have on your body is to be admired and I would not balk at a chance to explore it yet again. Perhaps to test its boundaries this time.”

“Always the charmer, Odinson.” You smile in his direction.

“Down puppy. Let the rest of us get a chance before you go in for seconds.” Clint barks out.

“Speaking of.” Tony interjects. “I know we just watched you have a good ol time up on stage. You look fantastic when you come by the way.” He winks. “But are you up for a little playtime this evening? Or are you too busy running the joint?”

You wriggle your finger for Tony to come closer. “Oh I’m done for the night. My staff has everything under control. I’m not leaving the premises, so if anything goes wrong they know where to find me.”

“And where will that be, doll?” Buck asks, locking eyes with you.

“In the Sanguine Suite of course.” You say nonchalantly.

“The blood suite.” Natasha quirks a brow. “That sounds like a party waiting to happen.”

“You’re welcome to join me.” You stare her down. “Only if you promise to bring you sharpest knife and the White Wolf with you.”

“So the name isn't just a clever moniker.” Bucky states.

“Well it is clever, but no, it is certainly more than just a name.” You bite your lip.

“So the woman who derives pleasure from pain also likes to get bloody in bed. Giving or receiving?” Nat, having gotten up from the booth, asks of you.

“Depends on my mood really.” You graze a finger along her collarbone. “I’ve already drawn blood tonight though.”

You notice Bucky approaching you both from the side. “That could only mean you are looking for a little hematic release then.” You nod your head. “We can certainly provide that for you, doll.”

“I won’t make it easy on you Wolfy.” You declare.

“Wouldn’t dream of it any other way.” He responds.

Nat leans in and gives you a sensual yet dominating kiss. Making your brain melt and your insides go gooey already. She pulls away, holding you steady as you sway on your weak legs. “Lead the way Malyshka.”

With a quick look to the table, you spot Steve with a wide grin on his face. “Have fun, dollface. Don’t worry bout us. I’m sure we can find something to entertain ourselves with.”

“Everything is on the house tonight. So please do enjoy yourselves. And if I don’t see you before the mornings light, I bid you a blessed Hallows Eve.” You grab Bucky's metal hand with yours and link your other arm with Nat’s as you begin your trek back to your personal suite.

“Welcome to my home away from home. Honestly I spend more time than I would like crashing here.” You let them in. “If I’m not out satisfying my thirst for vengeance, using Tartarus for it’s intended purposes, I usually work so late that I’m too tired to make it to my loft. Plus the bed is fantastic.”

“Looks it.” Nat agrees.

“Have a look around. Make yourselves comfortable. Get acquainted with the space. I'm still a bit of a mess from my performance. Sticky with sweat, among other things. I’m just going to wash the night away so the fun can begin. I’ll leave the door open. You’re more than welcome to join.” You give your most innocent smile, mischievous eyes giving you away.

Nat wastes no time following you into the bathroom. “Here let me.” She runs her fingers up your arms, pushing the straps down as she reaches your shoulders, letting the dress fall to the floor. She looks down and quirks a brow. “Your panties seem to be missing. I distinctly remember you leaving the stage with them on.”

“Everything about August is large. Down to the size of his loads.” You state. “Not to mention, the viscosity. I didn't feel like walking around with it slowly trailing down my thighs, so I did a quick cleanup and decided to air dry.”

You smile sweetly at her as she reaches around and unclasps your bra with one hand. “Let’s see if he left anything behind shall we.” Her dainty fingers traverse up your inner thigh, slapping each one to get you to spread them, before sinking her middle finger to the knuckle into your dampened folds.

She pumps her hand a few times, crooking her finger to reach all the good spots, making you weak in the knees already. Pulling out she raises her wet hand between you. “Well would you look at that, it’s all you.”

“Thor can’t stop talking about how amazing she tastes.” Bucky speaks from the door frame. “Is it true, doll?”

Nat licks her finger clean, moaning as your essence coats her tongue. “Fuck that’s good.”

“Guess I’m going to have to find out for myself.” He steps into the bathroom. “Turn around. Hands on the counter and present that dripping little cunt for me, doll.”

You easily comply, bending over the counter, ass high in the air, weeping pussy on full display.

He stands behind you, catching your eyes in the mirror before lowering himself to his knees. Placing his hands on your hips, the cool of the metal soothing your heated skin, he leans forward and runs his thick tongue slowly from clit to slit and back again. “I don’t think his words did you justice, doll. If I’m not too careful, I could find myself addicted to your taste on my tongue. I think I may be ruined already.”

You remain in place and just whimper at his words. “Someone is feeling subby.” Nat mentions. “She hasn’t moved an inch since you commanded her to present for you.” She looks at Bucky.

“That what you need tonight, doll? To surrender? Feel that loss of control?” Bucky asks.

“Yes.” You whisper out. “Yes, I just want to float away.”

“We can provide that for you.” Nat states. “Let’s set some guidelines before we begin.” You and Bucky both nod. “Good. We can go over them while you shower if you still wish to do so.”

“I do. Muscles are still tense.” You reply.

Bucky starts the shower, checks the temp, lifts you up and places you inside. “Wash up, but leave your hair dry if possible please.” He hands you a hair tie from around his wrist for you to do so.

“Okay. Now. Let’s clarify what is happening here.” He starts. “You want to partake in a scene where Nat or I…”

“Both.” You quickly squeak out.

He chuckles. “Where Nat and I Dom you. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” You nod.

“Great.”

“Anything specific you would like to have happen? Safewords?” Nat asks.

“I use the traffic light system for scenes. Simplest for all parties to remember.” You lather up your body. “And I do have a certain kink in mind that I would love to have utilized if you're comfortable with it.”

“Which kink would that be, doll?”

“I think I have an inkling.” Nat teases.

“Knife play. If getting a little bloody isn't an issue for you.” You look at them. “I wouldn't be opposed to being tied down at your mercy either.”

You watch the tent rise further in Bucky’s jeans. “I can most certainly accommodate that for you.” He twirls his favorite knife around his fingers.

“This is going to be fun.” Nat responds. “Anything else?”

“No that’s pretty much it.”

“Great. Now hurry up and rinse off.” Bucky states as he goes to grab a towel. “You’re to dry off and wait for us to call you into the room.” He pulls you to him by the back of your head and kisses you for the first time, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “Marks?”

“Nothing permanent please.”

“Understandable.” He kisses you once more and heads back into the room to set up. Nat places a light kiss to your lips then follows.

You’re standing, wrapped in a towel, waiting impatiently for your admittance back into your bedroom.

Måneskins I Wanna Be Your Slave starts playing from the bluetooth speakers hidden throughout the suite.

I see they took the time to inspect the space before play. They seem to have done this together before. I’m curious how this will all pan out. Lucky for them I’m not feeling too bratty tonight.

“Alright, Doll. Time for you to come on out.” Bucky projects just loud enough to be heard over the speakers. “Leave the towel behind.”

You drop the towel, take a deep calming breath to sooth the anxious, excited energy coursing through your body and step into the room.

The lights have been turned to their sensual setting. I see they found the control center. I’m not surprised. They are both assassins after all.

Nat steps up to you, ghosting a hand down the center of your torso, surveying your inked skin and stopping just above your mound. “Sit on the edge of the bed. Hands, palms up on your thighs.”

She steps aside as you make your way over to your king size bed, noting the red rope tied to the normally hidden hooks in your headboard. You seat yourself on the dark gray silk sheets, letting the cool fabric calm your heated skin as you place your hands on your thighs, eyes cast to the floor on instinct.

“Would you look at that Bucky.” Nat casually states. “I didn't even have to instruct her to keep her head down. What a good girl.”

You feel the warmth radiating from your center, bump up a notch at her praise.

“I knew she would be the perfect little sub.” He replies. “All that control. All of the time.” He lifts your chin up with his metal fingers. “That bratty attitude. The need to fight back. Make ‘em earn your submission.”

You catch the glint of his switchblade as he twirls it in his flesh hand. “When in reality you're just waiting for the right Dominate. Or two. To come make you feel safe enough to just give in.” He runs the knife down your stretched throat. “Am I right, doll?”

“Yes, Sir.” You whisper out.

“Good, girl.” He presses the edge of the blade in just enough to cut the skin and a small well of blood to seep out before he removes it completely. “Now. You're going to take those dainty little fingers and undress us.” He instructs. “Every piece of skin you expose you will kiss. Understood?”

You nod your head. “Yes, Sir.”

With surprisingly steady hands you reach forward, sliding your hands under his shirt pulling up as far as your seated position will allow. He bends forward and allows you to pull his shirt off the rest of the way. You toss it to the side as he returns to standing, being sure to follow his command and lay gentle kisses to his flesh.

You glide your hands along his abdominal muscles, enjoying the tickle of his happy trail against your palms as you make your way to his waist band. You undo his belt, leaving it open as you pull his zipper down, allowing his pants to drop to his ankles. You admire the generous dick print straining against his boxer briefs, demanding to be released. You tuck your fingers in the elastic band and drag the fabric down his thick thighs, licking your lips as the thickness of him is exposed, a drop of precum glistening on the tip.

“As tempting as that pretty mouth is, I’ll have to try it out another night.” Bucky tells you. “You're doing such a good job. Be sure to treat Nat with the same care.”

“Yes, Sir.” You watch him take a step back to allow Natasha to stand before you, as he goes about removing his boots.

You repeat the same process to remove her clothing. Allowing yourself to indulge in the feeling of her soft, supple skin against yours. You took your time peeling her red lace bra down her arms, mouth watering at the sight of her exposed breasts. Your anticipation has been ratcheting with each kiss you’ve placed upon her silky skin.

As you go to remove her matching thong, you can’t help the small smile that teases your mouth at the sight of the dampened fabric. You chance a look up at her face. “All your doing Malyshka. You can go ahead and be proud.”

Your smile widens as you pull the wet fabric down her legs and take in the small triangle patch of red curls pointing you towards her exquisite pussy.

She runs a finger along your bottom lip and pulls your attention back to her face. “Lay back on the bed sweet girl. Head resting on a pillow, arms up by your ears.”

You place yourself in the requested position and wait on bated breath as you feel the bed dip on either side of you.

You watch with bated breath as they both take a hand, securing you to the ropes attached to the headboard. They make the knots tight enough to feel, but able to quickly be released if the need arises. You also notice the amount of give you’re provided with allows for some movement while still remaining securely locked in.

You legs remain free, which you are thankful for as Bucky leans down to give you a deep sensual kiss, groaning as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before sitting back up to reveal Nat holding a Wartenberg Pinwheel to your right. “What’s your color, doll?”

“Green.” You sigh out as you clench your thighs together.

“Great.” He ghosts his flesh hand down your torso, stopping to pinch your left nipple. “I’ll let Nat have her fun with these beauties.” He pinches the other nipple so that both are now standing at attention.

He trails his fingers down your belly until they graze over your mound, surpassing your slick soaked folds and teasing along your inner thighs. “I have my eyes set on decorating another set of anatomy.” You watch as he picks up the blade sitting beside him, running his thumb along the sharp edge.

While you are mesmerized by the way the light reflects off the polished silver, Nat takes the opportunity of your distraction to run the pinwheel down your chest with just enough pressure to have you gasping out. “You're a responsive little one. This is going to be even more fun than I thought it would be.”

“This is going to be quite the sensory overload for you.” Bucky states as he teases the knife across your inner thighs. You want to squeeze them, but doing so would take away all the tingly sensations the cold steel is providing you with.

Sensory overload was a correct assumption on Buckys part. You nerve endings have come alive with each passing graze from each instrument. There’s a hitch in your breath as Nat begins to circle your areolas, skirting fully across your nipple with some added pressure every once in a while. You close your eyes, tilt your head back and just let yourself bask in the torturous teasing.

As soon as you find a sense of peace, the temperature of the scene gets taken up a notch. Having had his fill of teasing Bucky asks you once again. “Color?”

“Green, Sir. So green.” You hum out.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he creates a shallow cut along the meatiness of your inner thigh. It’s small, just barely breaking the skin, not enough to leave a scar but enough to leave you reminders of this night for days to come. You squeak out at the sudden jolt of pain.

Bucky leans forward, running his tongue along the small trickle of blood seeping from the fresh wound before latching his mouth around it and sucking a bruise into the flesh surrounding. You’re really turning into a mess now. You try to squeeze your thighs together but he just places his shoulders taut so they stay in place.

Nat consumed by the sinful display in front of her, applies more pressure to the pinwheel playing beneath your breasts, leaving some marks of her own as she take a nipple into her mouth and bites down as she teases the tip with her tongue.

If you were a mess of sensations before you're a catastrophe by now. Whimpering and panting as you give in to that lovely pleasurable pain.

Bucky tilts his head back, admiring his marks on your left thigh for a moment. “Color?”

“Still. Green.” You whimper out.

“Perfect.” He then proceeds to repeat the same process to your right thigh as Nat switches to your neglected nipple. Each one ignoring your very aching pussy.

You're experiencing the sweetest torture, on the verge of begging one of them just to touch your pulsating cunt. You swear your heartbeat and clit have synchronized.

“Mmm, look at the mess you're making, doll.” Bucky states as he sits back on his knees. “Your sweet little pussy is just drooling all over these silk sheets. Got me hard as a fucking rock over here.” He squeezes the base of his cock and looks over to Nat. “I wonder how wet you’ve made Nat.”

“There’s only one real way to find out.” She responds, moving closer to your prone frame and throwing a leg over your chest, leaning forward, placing her hands on either side of your waist, allowing you to witness her soaked pussy and damp thighs.

“So, wet.” You whimper out, wishing you could run a finger along her folds.

“Go ahead and give it a taste, Malyshka. Show me what that tongue can do.” Nat requests. “I know I’m going to get myself a snack. Let’s see who lasts the longest.”

“Yes, Miss.” You quickly reply, as she backs up and places herself practically on your chin. As soon as she settles you get to work, licking her essence off of her folds before sucking her swollen little nub into your mouth, humming and creating a powerful combo between your vibrations and suction.

“Oh, fuck your good at that.” She moans out, distracted by your talents until Bucky touches her cheek, reminding her of her current challenge.

That was all she needed to lower her head and get to work unraveling you with her tongue. She refrained from using her fingers, wanting to add on to your desperation to be filled. Your tongue was on another level and she was having a harder time than she believed she would trying to get you to the finish line first.

It was time to pull out your nifty little party trick that has had many a vulva owner losing themselves on your tongue.

You can feel her thighs begin to tremble as she tries to keep it together and not cross the finish line first. This spurs you on further, the need to taste her orgasm on your tongue stronger than the need to find release yourself.

She lifts her head from between your thighs and lets out an uncontrollable moan as she stills above you. You feel her slick coat your tongue and trickle down your chin as you revel in besting the Black Widow. Her cum all the sweeter on your tongue.

“ Fuck that looked intense.” Bucky states, checking in on a panting Nat. “Need a minute?”

“I’m great.” She replies. “She’s more talented than I expected that’s all.” She spanks your juicy cunt. “With that out of the way I can focus on paying her back.”

Bucky spreads your thighs wider, allowing for better access to your leaking hole. He runs his dick along your folds, coating himself and teasing your sensitive clit. “I’m going to have to aid you in that Nat. I can’t stand another minute not buried to the hilt in this gorgeous pussy.”

He notches himself at your entrance and slowly pushes in, splitting you open, inch by inch on his thick girth. “Fuck your tight, doll. Little lips stretched out, hugging me so tight.”

Nat leans forward to get a closer look, fascinated by the sight. As Bucky begins to slowly thrust in and out, eliciting sweet moans to spring forth from your throat, she lowers her head down and teases your clit with the tip of her tongue.

“Oh, Fuck!” You shout at the added wet sensation.

“Shit! Keep that up Nat. She’s squeezing me even tighter the more you do those little circles. She’s so close to coming undone.”

Wanting you to feel as good as she still is, she doubles her efforts on your little nub, deciding to add just a little suction with the flick of her tongue. That was the right decision because seconds later you're screaming out both their names as you're coming all over Bucky’s cock and her tongue.

“That’s it. Soak my cock, doll. Such a good girl for us. Coming so pretty. Making all those sexy noises.”

Nat slides off your waist and heads over to your toy drawer as Bucky removes himself from your quivering channel.

“No. Want. More.” You whine out.

“Oh you’re getting more, doll. Believe that. I’m not finished with you yet.” He places his hands on your hips and turns you over onto your stomach, hands crossed as your wrists are still bound.

I knew there was a reason for the extra give.

Nat returns to the bed, placing herself in front of you, leaning against the headboard as Bucky scoots you back and lifts your ass in the air, spreading your knees to hold your weight. You notice she has pulled out a vibrator from your collection as you watch her tease herself before you.

“Color?” Bucky asks.

“Green. Very Green.” You reply.

“I’m not going to go easy on you. I’m too on edge at this point for that. Use your safeword if it gets to be too much.”

“Yes, Sir.” You arch your back, lifting your ass higher as you feel a hand smack down onto the flesh and squeeze.

“Fuck just look at that ass jiggle.” He smacks it again and then slams his length inside you. Wasting no time setting a lethal pace.

As his dick works it’s magic, carving out your insides, you watch as Nat matches his pace as she fucks herself on your toy. It doesn't take long for your next orgasm to hit. Not as big as the one prior but still toe curling to say the least.

You’re unsure how much time has passed as you continue to come on Bucky’s dick over and over again. Nat is thoroughly enjoying the show as she has gotten off twice more herself.

You notice the tempo of Bucky’s thrust becoming erratic. “I’m close, doll. So close. This tight little snatch just feels to fucking good wrapped around me.”

“Please.” You beg.

“Give me one more and I’ll give your a creamy treat. C’mon babygirl.” He smacks your ass and fucks you harder until your losing yourself once again, clenching around his dick so tight he’s barely able to pull himself out.

Somehow he manages to remove himself and kneel as close to Nat as he can get. He furiously pumps his cock until he unleashes his load all over Nat’s swollen pussy. Leaving quite the mess.

“I’m going to release your arms and I want you to clean up every drop of our cum with your tongue. Good girls help clean up the messes they make.” He tells you.

He releases you and you get to work relieving Nat of the semen coating her lips. The combined taste of them is unique and you find yourself at a loss when not a drop is left. You lift your head, open your mouth, sticking out your tongue and showing you didn't miss a drop.

“Such a good fucking girl.” Bucky praises you. “Come here. Let us massage and clean you up, doll.”

You’re cocooned between them as they alternate between soft caresses and massaging your sore muscles. It’s just the type of aftercare you were needing. It’s interesting to see such hard individuals being so soft with you.

You feet safe and floaty, just as you had set out for.

Your bliss is interrupted as Declan, one of your security team, knocks on your suite door to inform you that there’s an issue in Talia's room.

You throw on your stilettos and a silk nightgown that reaches midthigh and head off towards the play rooms. Upon entering the room you find a man being restrained by Cassidy against the wall as Talia sits teary eyed and curled up in a ball on the bed. A sheet draped across her form.

“What happened here?” You address Cassidy.

“He requested some rough and tumble but forgot his manners. No matter the transaction. No means No. When Tal resisted he gave her a good smack. She ran for the call button and managed to tap it before he began choking her out. That’s how I found him and restrained him until you could arrive. Sorry for ruining your play time.”

“No worries Cass. My needs were already met before I was summoned. If anything you shortened my come down. It’s no matter. I’m sure this will provide more than enough extra stimulation for the night.”

“Everything alright in here?” You hear Bucky’s smooth baritone at the threshold of the door. You turn to see him standing next to the good Captain.

“It will be. Once I teach this spineless man a lesson.” You smile ear to ear. “You’re free to watch, if you're into that sort of thing. Be warned. It will get messy.”

“Doll, our mess is still slicking your thighs. And down your neck as well.” He steps forward and runs his flesh finger along your clavicle, collecting the accumulated crimson along the way. He places the finger against his tongue and licks your essence clean. You moan watching him consume you so thoroughly.

“Guess getting messier is of no matter than.” You steady your breathing. “Now keep yourself out of my way unless called for. You good Sir are distracting me from my business.”

“As you wish, doll.” He pulls Steve into the room and takes a seat with him on the love seat placed near the bed.

“Cassidy. Bring the rule breaker to me and escort Talia to the door. One of the girls will accompany her to the back rooms so she can be assessed. You are to remain at the door on guard. No one is to enter without my explicit permission. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He goes to do as he is told. You stop Talia on her walk to the door. “Anything I need to know before I begin?”

“He’s prideful. Boasts about his physique and title. He also has a wife and children.” She reveals.

“Wonderful. Thank you. That will be all for tonight. You are to take the next week off. And don't worry about pay, I will comp you for the days including the full for tonight’s holiday pay.”

“You’re too good to us Nyx.” She claims.

“You deserve it.” You remind her.

She leaves the room and you saunter over to your victim. "Since your actions have impeded my post orgasm high. I must let you know that I will be especially vicious tonight."

The scumbag scans your body and lets out a scoff. “You think I’m scared of you.” His eyes travel to the Winter Soldier sitting stoic next to Captain America. “Plus the good Captain is somehow here. There is no way his righteousness would let you harm an innocent man. I did nothing wrong. The little whore loved it.”

Steve just chuckles and shakes his head. Normally the man would be right, but one thing people seem to forget about him is that he is still a man. Not to mention that he always looks out for the underdog and the misfortunate as there was a time before he became America’s Golden Boy where he was treated as less than.

While the waste of space spewed his ridiculousness you took the time to retrieve the dagger hidden behind the headboard. As the last of Steve’s laughter rings out you have your arm wrapped around the d-bags throat and the dagger pointed at his groin. Resting nicely against the exposed skin, one wrong move and things will get bloody.

He stiffens as you nuzzle his cheek. “It’s funny how you think he’ll save you when this is my establishment and he is my guest. Now as much as I want to redecorate this room in your blood, it is one of our busiest nights of the year and frankly we need the room. So here is what is going to happen.”

You drag the dagger along his skin in a lazy playful fashion, grazing his dick along the way. “You my little piggy are going to sit nice and pretty, legs spread while I crave the word ‘Abuser’ into your ribs.” He begins to try to fight your hold and you squeeze his throat tighter. “Uh uh uh asshole. You broke my rules and marked up one of my girls. It’s only fair I return the favor. Now be a good boy and take your punishment or else I’ll have to ask the supersoldiers to hold you down.”

“Fuck you bitch” He spits out.

“Mmm. Wrong answer.” You quickly cut his inner thigh. “Strike one. Let’s try that again. They get deeper per strike. Now are you gonna be a good boy and take your punishment?”

“Your fucking crazy.” He seethes.

You cut him again, slightly deeper and closer to his groin. “Never claimed to be sane. I’m a product of my upbringing. As I’m sure you are as well. Last chance.”

“I’ll never submit to a whore.” He answers.

You deeply sigh. “Arrogance truly gets you nowhere.” You slice him nice and deep, quickly soaking the sheet in his blood. “Neither does false bravado. James, would you mind lending me a metal hand here.”

Bucky stands up, cracks his neck from side to side and makes his way over to the bed. You exchange a look before he proceeds to grab the man by the throat and pin him down to the bed with his metal hand. With the other he raises the arm closest to you and pins it above his head, exposing his ribs for your punishment.

“I was going to do this quickly and send you off to your banishment. But you just had to play a tough guy and now I’m going to take my sweet time.” You begin to cut the A right below his armpit, as he starts to scream. “Oh honey. Scream to your heart's content. The room is soundproof. No one to hear your sweet sounds of agony but those of us in the room.”

As promised you take your time carving out his scarlet letters. A sense of calm passes over you as you zen out while doing your task. You don't even notice the two sets of eyes that gaze upon you in awe with a haze of lust. The blood lust has taken over and you can't help but clench your thighs the more crimson is set free.

You finish the last letter, leaning back to admire your handy work before slapping the prick awake. “Rise and shine asshat! Where’s your phone?”

Delirious he mumbles out. “In my pants pocket.”

“Steve be a dear and fetch that for me will you.” You turn to watch him rise from the couch, a noticeable bulge tenting his slacks as he retrieves the phone for you and walks it over. “Thank you Captain.” You take the device. “I’ll be sure to show my gratitude in full momentarily.” You lick and bite your lip.

“Take your time, doll. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls your lip from between your teeth and turns to head back to the couch.

You shake yourself out of the lust haze to finish your task. “Thank you James for lending a hand. You may return to the couch with your Captain. Don’t want you accidentally attached to my message. I’ll only be but a minute more.”

You place the device in front of the man’s face, unlocking it. You quickly turn on the camera and snap a few photos. You send a copy to your private server as well as messaging his wife, close friends, family and co-workers the photos along with a text that reads: I chose to break the rules at Sins. Therefore I’ve been branded and banned herein.

You walk over to the door and open it, getting Cassidy’s attention. “The trash is ready to be taken out now.” You tell him. “As always, make sure he understands the parameters of his banishment.” You step aside to let him in, watch as he grabs his discarded clothes from the floor and lifts him up into a fireman's carry, uncaring of his comfort as he marches him out the door and down the hall toward the exit.

Shutting the club back out, you walk over to the music controls along the wall. You scan the selection until you land on the perfect song for your current mood. “Dirty Pretty” by In This Moment begins to play, your hips swinging along as the beat drops in.

You turn towards the supersoldiers, holding court, manspreading on the couch. You're still riding the blood high from inflicting your punishment on the waste of air that broke your rules. Steve is still sporting a rather sizable bulge in his slacks and you’re dying for a taste of the Golden Boy who clearly has a dark side.

You saunter over to the couch, keeping eye contact with the blonde adonis, you hike your dress up to your hips and sink to your knees, between his spread thighs. “I can’t think of a better way to show you my gratitude than to have you spilling down my throat Captain.”

You reach forward and undo his belt and zipper, reaching in to pull his large member from the tight confines. The tip is already messy with precum, unconsciously you run your palm up and through the fluid, making sure to coat his length with it on the way down.

He instinctively tilts his hips up at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him. He holds his breath as he watches you lean forward and take him to the back of your throat in one slippery stroke. “Fuck” He grunts out as you swallow, muscles contracting around his girth.

Bucky observes the two of you for a couple moments before his aching balls get the better him and he pulls his own cock out. He can still smell your slick mixed with his fresh precum as he wraps a hand around the base and gives himself a couple pumps.

As you increase your efforts, Steve’s large hands encasing your head as you bob up and down, he gets up from his seat. He kneels behind you, pulling the back of your dress up even higher, until he sees your drooling little slit.

“I didn't get to fill this perfect little pussy up earlier, doll.” He spread your cheeks wide, admiring the view. “Wanna fuck you so bad baby. Need to make sure you’re leaking me for days, doll.” He growls out.

You slowly pull off of Steve’s cock with a soft pop and look over your shoulder. “Yes, please. Leave me nice and full, Sir.” You reply.

“This is going to be quick. I’m still sensitive from earlier and this pussy just feels to fucking good.” Bucky states and he pushes his way inside you, holding still for a moment to catch his breath.

“You should feel her mouth. He throat game is fucking deadly, Buck.” Steve states as you lick him from base to tip before slowly sucking him back down your throat. “I’m close to bustin’ myself.” He groans out.

You’re feeling nice and full, spit roasted between the two best friends. The lustful haze of contentment is slowly making itself known, once more and you let out a moan, thinking about how hot you all must look right now.

Spurred on by the clenching of your cunt, Bucky draws back and slams himself deeper within you. Adding a slight grind to his hips as he sets a brutal pace. This has you practically screaming around the dick lodged down your throat. The vibrations of your vocal chords setting Steve into a frenzy as well. He grabs your head, holding it steady as he fucks your face like your his own personal fleshlight.

It’s quick and dirty. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping, groans, moans, and occasional sounds of you choking on Steve’s dick.

You feel Steve begin to thicken in your mouth as his hips become erratic. You have but a moment before your nose is buried in the blonde curls of his pelvis and you feel the first spurt of his cum hit your throat.

As you’re moaning and swallowing the large load, Bucky grips your hips tighter, slamming inside of you as far as he can go and burying his face between your shoulder blades as finds his own release. You can feel his cock twitch as each rope of his seed coats your walls.

He brings his metal hand down to your neglected clit and starts making little circles, whispering how good you fucking feel squeezing his cock as he fills you up, until your coming undone on his cock once again tonight.

He pulls out and admires his cum leaking from your abused hole before pushing it all back inside of you. “Mmm this pretty pussy might just become my new addiction.” He kisses your back and then moves to sit back on the sofa.

Wrapping a hand around your hair, Steve gently pulls you free from his length. He maintains eye contact as he wipes himself from your chin with his thumb, placing it in your mouth for you to clean when he is finished.

“Seems all of her is addicting.” He pulls his thumb out, watching you lick your swollen lips for any missing drops. “I’ll just have to make sure to get my fill whenever possible.” He pulls you up onto his lap and kisses you. Tasting himself on your tongue. “Let’s go get you cleaned up. You’ve had a long night.”

He lifts you up into a bridal carry and stands from the couch, following Bucky out of the room towards your suite. Uncaring that his belt and zipper is still undone. Thankfully his softened dick made it back into his pants at least.

Along the way you run into Trixie on her way to meet a client in her playroom. Steve nods his head at her as you pass, resulting in her giving you a wink and mouthing ‘I want details’ before you turn the corner.

Upon reaching your suite, Steve places you on the counter in your bathroom as he proceeds to run you a bath. Checking that the temperature is to his liking, he lifts you up and places you both in the large soaker tub. You’re lounging, chest to chest as he gently washes your back with his large hands. Caressing your skin and making you melt all the further.

If I’m not careful I could get used to this. Would that be so bad? Being all of theirs? I at least have to try the others out first right?!

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