#&&. V; RIP THEIR HEARTS OUT & SERVE IT. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

firemenenthusiast · 8 months ago

Note

Can you plzz do a farleigh smut where he only rubs the readers clit bc the reader is too scared to finger herself, but then she gets the courage to finger herself and charles shows her how to do it??

—“spell”

farleigh start x innocent!reader

summary: farleigh had trouble resisting you since the first time he saw you so he laid his trap to which you walk right in, starting from agreeing to spend the summer at saltburn with him. the fact that you’ve never done anything with yourself boggles his mind, so he decides to lend a helping hand

warnings: boy where do i start. 18+, porn with plot, reader is innocent, naive and kinda stupid (bear with me), fingering, mirror kink, corruption kink, panties kink, posessive kink if you squint, size kink, praise kink, farleigh calls ready baby & princess, blowjob, face fucking, pussy job, panties job (?), cum eating, facial, dry humping, thigh riding, jerking off, p in v, let me know if i miss anything

a/n: we hit another milestone thank you everyone !! this is me showing my love to yall mwah. innocent reader finally out whoohoo. idk who’s charles but thank you anon for this request ! i hope it fits with what you’ve imagined

summer could be too hot at times. sweaty. sticky. but nothing could make you hate summer. you love summer. your favourite season ever. the blossoming flowers and clear skies are one thing, but summer also means that you get to wear the flimsiest, flowiest, thinnest fabrics ever. sometimes almost see through, because of the heat. maybe if you wear thin enough short dresses the heat won’t get to you. what other perfect time one could be wearing the cutest dresses around if not in summer ? atleast that’s your excuse. wonder if there’s any other reasons. i mean, your short skirts and flimsy tops surely dont have anything to do with how nice farleigh is to you, do they ? you’re just so— pure, even naive at times that he doesn’t have the heart to treat you how he does others. delicate fragile little thing like you should only be handled with care

farleigh start is really nice to you, he’d helped you picked up the books you accidentally dropped when he bumped into you. he even offered to help carry them while you walk to class, which had drawn you to him. you’d given him the cutest, most doe-eyed little “thank you” for helping and he could just feel his cock twitch in his pants. it’s not easy to find a decent man around here so when he often showed up to your convenience you believe that he’s just a good person, with nothing but pure intentions. sure, farleigh thinks you’re such a pretty little thing.

that’s why when he first saw you on college fields, licking away at your cherry popsicle that was dripping down your fingers, giggling about something with your friends, he couldn’t get his eyes off you. he couldn’t stop thinking about things— things that he could be doing to you. for every day of summer you would put on the nicest short dresses that you’d saved just for the season. the type of dresses that cling onto your skin if you sweat through the fabric. those dresses that look like they could get one hard tug and would rip easily.

it’s funny how such silly first meeting could lead you to farleigh. the both of you aren’t necessarily friends, he’s more of the nice guy you know and would greet whenever you see him around the faculty. he’d smile and wave at you across the halls. he’d offer you a seat at the cafeteria if he sees you looking around. he helps you with stuff around campus, like returning your books to the library and carrying your stuff. though you do find it weird that you couldn’t find the books he said he’d help return on the shelves anymore. and because he’s so tall, he serves as your guardian, protects you from other boys that try to bother you. he doesn’t ask for anything in return, just a smile from you would suffice, the smile that leaves him smitten. farleigh also knows about the love you have for summer, the way you always mention how great of a time you would have in summer. just casually telling him about that time you wandered into a hayfield and just laid there looking at the sky. or about that time when you were little you had just received a gorgeous little floral dress as a present that you wore everyday because you liked it so much. sometimes you just couldn’t shut your mouth when it comes to summer. you’re sentimental about it, and the fact that he would sit through your stories every time, no wonder how random it can be or how busy he actually is

you jumped when he asked you to spend the summer with him. “really ?? are you serious ?” you beam at him with uncontainable excitement. your toes springing up and down, his eyes follow yours as you jump and squeal, a huge grin plastered across his face. farleigh had told you about his saltburn home. the most perfect, ethereal place to be spending summer at. you love to listen to his stories about what they do at saltburn in summer. basking under the sun at the lakeside, playing tennis, rolling in the hayfield naked— so when he invited you to spend the upcoming summer in saltburn, with him, you couldn’t be more excited. it’s gonna be the best summer ever. “yeah it’ll be fun. besides, elspeth is always thrilled to have a guest. she loves a pretty face like yours” you feel your cheeks heat up at his words as you push him away. he smiles at your reaction, sometimes it’s almost too easy for him to get what he wants with you. it’s always been felix who would bring his friends, toys- over so he figured this time he’d do the same. he chuckles at you twirling around in excitement, eyes trailing down to your ass peeking out under the skirt. he could see the bits of your panties if you would just jump higher.

thinking about spending the summer at saltburn, you cant help but imagine how it would be like. you’ve heard people talk about the greatest parties that took place there, and how sex infested it can get. people do all sort of wild things there, the wildest you could imagine. the type of crazy that you could say what happens there, stays there. trailing your eyes along the corners of your ceiling, you let out a heavy sigh. you’ve always had a positive attitude towards sex and well, other sexual stuff. you’d hear crazy stories from your friends, about stuff they did or would do in the bedroom with boys. it’s understandable for people your age to be acting like they don’t have a second to spare from reproducing. their stories intrigue you cuz you’ve never done the things they’d talk about.

they would mention playing with themselves, you struggled to understand at first, thinking what is there to be played with yourself until you learned what it actually means. you’ve never done it though, you’re too scared and it feels so crude to be doing such thing. sounds like a sin. every time you would try to rub your dainty fingers between your folds, you’d retreat though it felt so good. you heard that you’re supposed to be stuffing your fingers inside, and that scared you even more. they’d mention being wet, as in aroused, but you remember the conversation you had with your mom when you were going through puberty. the one you went through at a very early age. she had told you that it is possible, and that if you ever become wet because of someone, it means that they’ve done something bad to you. like they have put a spell on you so you would succumb to the fantasy of pleasure with them. you believe her. she may had just wanted to protect you then but it fucked with your perception towards arousal so bad that when your friends told you stories about it, you’d feel bad for them. you feel bad cuz they’ve been put under a spell yet they seem so happy about it. you wonder if they knew.

it’s not like you’re a virgin. you’ve had sex when you were younger, with a lanky boy who suggested you to do it with him like it’s just another invitation to go hang out. not thinking much, you agreed to him. you didn’t feel any pleasure when it happened. it was just a weird sensation and shitty experience overall. you’ve been pretty avoidant when it comes to sex since. you feel like people talk about it too much yet it’s not that great. you think sex is overrated, so no one has ever touched you in years. boys would try to get close with you, talk nice to you but you see right through them. not farleigh though, he seems genuinely nice. or so you thought. you’ve asked farleigh about sex seeing that he frequents it along the course of you knowing him. he thinks it’s overrated too and he only does it for fun. he’s fucked a number of people you know here and he said none of them makes him want to come back for seconds. when you told him about that experience you had he laughed, “dont sweat it baby, he just sucked at it. probably got too turned on by you he couldn’t last more than 5 seconds” maybe he’s right. alas, farleigh wouldn’t lie to you would he ? no, he’s too nice for that. so when you told him you’ve never done things with yourself and that you haven’t been touched for years it came off as such a shock to him. girls he know not only would play with themselves, they even practically throw themselves at him just to get fucked. knowing that you’re so— reserved, he felt like you just got purer, more precious in his eyes. sometimes he feels like a predator eyeing its prey. the way he would think of ways to corrupt you. but those are just bad silly thoughts at the back of his head. he’s too nice to act on them, right ?

your first day at saltburn could be easily described by the word ‘crazy’. everything is just crazy around here. from the towncar the cattons had sent to fetch you from the train station, the butler and footmen standing still at the huge beautifully carved doors welcoming you, the green carpet spread out as far as your eyes can lay upon, the greek sculptures scattered along the garden trails, to the seemingly nice people that are farleigh’s aunt and uncle. he was right, elspeth called you pretty. like bambi she said. you met venetia, the only other girl around your age living in the enormous estate. she seems happy to be getting a girl company for the summer, showing you around the house and always borrowing you from farleigh. he paid no mind towards the friendship that is forming between you and venetia, as long as you’re having the best time ever. he wants this summer to be able to compete with your previous amazing ones. you’re walking alongside venetia with your knitted beach totebag across the field, towards the lake when felix greets you. he’s just as tall as farleigh, maybe a little shorter by an inch but you can see the genes connecting them both. “heard you’re farleigh’s friend, how’d you know him ?” you smile at his question before giving a quick answer. “he helps me around campus, he’s always so kind to me—“ before you could say anything further, he scoffs in disbelief. “farleigh ? kind ? think you got the wrong bloke there mate” he shakes his head before skipping away towards the yellow hayfields, his hair flopping messily. you look at venetia who’s giggling at you, also shaking her head while raising her shoulders. frowning at her, you couldn’t get to bask in your confusion any longer as she takes your hand and drags you towards the boys.

seeing her strip off, you look around to see the boys already laying comfortably, clothes off. most of them are covered by the tall grass but you can tell that they’re not wearing anything. particularly cuz you spotted the discarded clothes that they were wearing at breakfast not far from you. as you start to lift off the hem of your top, you feels venetia’s hand on your arm. “you dont have to, it’s just a stupid thing we do” you nod at her words, a little relieved yet you feel like you’re gonna miss out from the real saltburn experience if you dont do it like them. so you follow venetia’s actions before settling on the ground, in between the tall grass. she starts giggling at you as you slowly burst into laughter, not noticing the burning glance trailing along the outlines of your body. the grass covering the most of you teasing him, depriving him of the sight he craves the most at the moment. thankfully felix is too caught up in his cig to notice him practically eyefucking you, putting his imagination to work like he’s some prepubescent horny teenager. you felt your saliva caught up in your throat when you noticed his naked body in the grass when you were looking around earlier, and you’ve been trying to shake off the image of his tan broad shoulders, glistening in sweat, beads of it dripping to his defined collarbones since. as he seems busy flipping through the pages of his harry potter book, you hope for his focus to stay on the lore as your eyes continue to scan his beautiful face, his luscious curls bouncing off his forehead. his shoulders propped up against the ground, looking firm and shiny from the sun

weird tingling sensation crawls across your body as you struggle to take your eyes off him, or his body. he looks so flawless in his glory, basking under the sunlight, the sweat clinging onto his skin making him glisten. the tingling you felt turns into heat, seemingly most prominent around your core. the more you try to ignore the heat, the weirder it feels until you notice the forming stickiness in between your folds. fuck. you wanted to panic badly yet you keep your composure around venetia, not wanting to let her know what’s happening. you look at farleigh who’s still laying on his chest, your eyes widen at the fact that it’s happening to you. he’s put a spell on you. he must have, cuz one second you were looking at him and now you’re wet. just like what your mom had told you about. internally panicking, you quickly grab your clothes and try to put them on without having to stand up, to avoid flashing the boys. just as you’re done, you abruptly get up on your kneews before venetia notices. “what’s wrong ?” you look at her, offering a smile to convince her nothing’s going on. “nothing, forgot my sunscreen” she gives you a look of approval before sliding her shades back down. your swift movements and walk back to the house catches farleigh’s attention as his eyes follow your disappearing figure into the distance. he puts his book down as he slowly reach for his clothes before patting felix at the back, to which he pays no attention to. he’s too busy listening into the earphones connected to his walkman with his head settled on his crossed arms. farleigh’s eyes notice your small figure stepping into the foyer before taking the turn leading to your assigned bedroom, the men in suits along the corridor eyeing you as they stand still. hastening his steps, he tries to catch you at the coridor before you got into your room but failed. you’d planned to check yourself out in the bathroom, see what’s actually going on down there, hoping that maybe it’s your period though that’s not for another 3 weeks. pushing your underwear down your thighs, you notice the colourless wet patch at the crotch. trying to make sure, you dip your fingers in between your folds to collect some of the stickiness. holding your fingers up, you feel your breath caught up in your throat. you feel like you could cry, you couldn’t believe farleigh would do this to you. he’s supposed to be nice and kind unlike other boys—

just as you step out of the bathroom your eyebrow quirks at the tall figure standing just infront of the door, his linen yellow polo tshirt hanging loosely on his shoulders, his fingers fiddling with each other. “w-what are you doing— you shouldn’t be here” your eyes struggle to find something to settle on, trying hard to avoid his direct gaze. “is something wrong ? why’d you leave ?” his eyes trail to yours, trying to catch them as you make way to the wardrobe, opening the doors to see your clothes that have been neatly arranged by the maids. looking through the compartments and drawers, you’re actually trying to find a fresh clean pair of underwear to replace your soaked ones. seeing you suspiciously try to run and avoid looking at him, you leave him no choice other than to grab your arm. his action makes you turn to face him, he steps closer before crouching so his face levels with yours, his eyes searching into yours. pursing your lips shut, you didn’t want to confront him for what he did just yet but now that he’s standing infront of you- you decide to finally look at him

“i- i cant believe you did this to me farleigh” he cocks his head, taken aback by your words, not having any idea what you may be talking about. before he asks you decide to spare him the pretending. “the spell” you continue in a stern voice. “what the— what spell ?” his voice pitch higher as his eyebrows quirk. you let out a sigh, “i looked at you in the fields, now im- your spell, now im— wet” he looks like he’s still trying to puzzle the pieces together. rolling your eyes “you must’ve casted a spell to get to me, otherwise how am i this- wet ?” you wince at your struggle to explain to him, having to say the word ‘wet’ so much cuz you don’t know how else to make him understand. his face drops in realisation, finally getting to guess what you’re trying to say, yet he’s still weirded out. “so…you think i casted a spell on you that makes you wet..?” you squint your eyes at his slow response, is he pretending to be innocent or what ? “who told you that ?” he asks. “who cares ? i thought you were nice” getting defensive, you’re starting to feel that you’re being ridiculous. you notice his shoulders drop, his stance softening as he throws his head back with a smile on his lips.

“oh poor baby,,” he starts, before stepping back towards the bed, sitting on it.

“—come here” he ushers you, to which you compliantly follow. he grabs your arm to position you so you’re facing him, as he looks up to find your face. you’re now as silent as a baby deer, waiting for him to say something. he begins to chuckle lowly as he shakes his head. “so you think because you’re wet from watching me in the fields, i’ve put a spell on you” he tsks, before continuing with his dark eyes boring into yours “how cute.” his hands start to touch yours, ghosting his fingers along your wrist, trailing up your arms. a shiver travels down your spine at his touch, your eyes search into his, multiple feelings creeping into your head that you struggle to focus on one. one thing you’re sure of is you don’t want him to stop doing whatever he’s doing. suddenly his hands start smoothing over the hem of your skirt, his fingers carefully playing with the waistband against your navel, maintaining eye contact the whole time with an amused look on his face. “maybe i should take a look at the affected area, see it it’s curable hm ?” he suggests, both his index fingers already hooked beneath the waistband. you nod at him, your mom never told you what to do if one gets put on that spell but it makes sense if he needs to be the one to heal you. as he was about to pull your skirt down he changed his mind, he has a better idea that is to just leave your cute frilly little skirt on. slowly bunching up your skirt from the hem, he has his bottom lip between his teeth. you feel heat finding its way on your cheeks as you hear him curse under his breath. “oh- you’re really wet baby” the nickname makes you lightheaded. “all this because of me ?” he says proudly at which you frown at his stupid words. why is he acting like this is an achievement ?

“yes now can you cure me ?” you’re becoming restless the way you can feel yourself getting wetter. that’s not a good sign, it just means it’s getting to you. you’re worried that it might go beyond curable and you’re stuck living with the spell forever. not giving you any response, his hand still holding your bunched up front skirt as his fingers graze the fabric of your panties. he trails his finger at the top, where he can feel his cock pulse seeing the tiny ribbon. your panties had turn a shade darker from its original colour from your wetness clinging onto it. suddenly you feel his thumb press at your crotch, earning a gasp from you. you quickly pull your skirt higher to look at what he’s doing. the thumb that was pressing against your sensitive nub now rubbing at the wettest part of your crotch, pushing and rubbing the fabric in between your folds. he’s making you feel so good you wanted to tell him to keep going. his fingers are now grabbing the fabric together, before pulling it up against your folds making you moan. you look at him with wide eyes, he’s not looking back at you as he’s busier tugging and rubbing the fabric against your pussy, an amused look on his face. he could just see you getting wetter and practically drenching your panties. “fuck,, you have such a pretty cunny” his words making your pussy tingle before you decide to urge him, “help me, farleigh”

he lifts his head, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “i can cure you. but you have to be good for me” you listen to his words carefully before nodding, “i can be good” he smiles as his hands slowly grab at your arms, turning you to face the full body mirror mounted against the wall infront of him before pulling you down to settle on his lap. he rests his chin in the crook of your shoulder, looking at your eyes through the reflection on the mirror. his fingers creep up to your thighs, playing with the hem of your frilly white short skirt. as you try to breathe steadily around him you feel your breath hitch at his fingers’ sudden movement smoothing along your inner thighs. your eyes instantly shoot to his fingers now disappearing under your skirt before getting the clear view of his fingers playing with the side hem of your flimsy panties after his other hand had bunch up your skirt to your waist. you feel his plump lips plant soft kisses on the crook of your neck, his eyes gazing directly into yours. as you feel his lips, you can’t help but look into his eyes in the mirror, not breaking eye contact as he continue his kisses and his fingers grazing very lightly on the wet fabric of your panties. “farleigh-“ you let out a soft moan. “you told me you’ve never touched yourself ?” you shake yout head at his question, head too hazy to give him actual words. “that’s a pity” you dont really get what he meant by that but you dont think you’re missing out much.

he takes your hand in his, guiding it to your core. “here” you crane your neck up to him, looking into his face. he looks down, meeting your gaze. “i’ll show you” you keep silent as you let him pull your thighs even further, placing them over his. you can see yourself sprawled out on his lap in the mirror, showcasing your glistening panties clad cunt. farleigh’s fingers pull the side hem of your crotch, holding them to the side as his other hand bring yours over. “try grazing your fingers over the little nub there” he instructs and watch closely as you do what you’re told. you moan as you feel the pressure against the sensitive part. he continues to guide you through touching yourself the way it would feel so fucking good, that you’re a whiny moaning mess. you feel heat on your cheeks the whole time, embarrassed by the fact that he’s watching you touch yourself. “now try one finger inside” he suggests, your head shot up to look at him. “it’s okay, it’ll feel even better” his large hand grab yours, showing you to your cunthole. you obey him, prodding a finger at the hole, yet you feel nothing but discomfort. “it doesn’t feel good, farleigh” he pushes your hand further, your finger now fully inside. you bite your bottom lip trying to hold onto yourself. “now curl your finger” you take a minute to steady yourself before doing what he told you to. once your finger hit that spongy spot, you let out a high pitched moan at the newly discovered sensation. farleigh smiles at your reflection in the mirror, “there you go” you experiment with the all new experience for you, you try curling your fingers multiple times against the spot as it gives you pleasure each time. farleigh watches you get lost in the sensation in the mirror, fucking yourself on your finger. his eyes darkened as he feels a dark, lust dripping need form inside him.

as you rapidly fuck your finger into your pussy, you feel knotting in your stomach, a weird tingling making you feel like you were gonna pee. “farleigh-“ you call out to him, your free hand grabbing his arm that were resting on your waist. “you’re close baby ?” you knit your eyebrows at his words, unfamiliar with the feeling. “keep going, you’re doing so good” he encourages, his lips kissing against your neck, trailing behind your ear. he sucks the skin at the back of your neck as he feel your breath getting faster and heavier. all the overwhelming pleasure is new to you yet it feels too good for you to stop. “you can cum princess, cum for me” you can feel yourself chasing after something, until it all comes crashing down, the orgasm washing over you as the sweat making your hair stick onto your forehead. he looks at you through the mirror, offering you a smile as he pushes the hair out of your forehead and wiping the sweat from your rose tinted hot cheeks.

“you did such a great job, baby” your breath hitch at the new nickname, yet your head is too clouded to say anything about it. he let you catch your breath in his lap, his hands roaming at your waist. “that should cure you” he says before pulling you up, he gets up himself as he places you carefully on the bed, you sit at the spot he sat in just now. though you feel relieved, you feel like you wanted more, you wanted more of him, more of whatever that was happening, the pleasure clouding your better judgement. “farleigh,,” you call out just as he was about to walk away. “let me do something for you” he turns, his lips pursed to hold himself back from smiling at the fact that you’re about to walk right into his trap. he walks back, standing right in front of you. “yeah ?” he says, as you start reaching up and tugging at his belt. your eyes notice the huge bulge at his crotch. “you’re- hard, boys like it when girls suck them off when they’re hard, right ?” you ask him, he moans at your words. “well yeah, but you don’t have to” you shake your head at him, “i want to” you’re quick to respond as he bites his lower lip to suppress the strings of curses he wants to let out. “you’re the sweetest- fuck,,”

you begin to unbuckle his belt as he watches you carefully. he could cum right this second just by looking at your pretty innocent looking face. “god, you’re so breathtakingly pretty” he compliments, earning a giggle from you. you’re gonna look even prettier with a huge cock stuffed in your mouth, he thinks. his eyes follow your hands, that are now taking out his cock from his briefs, your hands barely covering the size of his length. you take a deep breath before looking up at him through your lashes, batting them at him with your doe eyes. he smiles at you before throwing his head back once your tongue start kitten licking at his tip. his hand automatically reach up to rest at the back of your head as he watches you suckling his raging red wet tip. “am i doing it right ?” you ask him, worried that you might doing it wrong for your first time.

“fuck, right- its your first time” “just- try squeezing your hand around the base while you suck at the tip, fuck-” he suggests, his head getting light from all the blood rushing to his cock. his hand involuntarily pushes your head down, his cock fucking into your mouth. letting out a whimper, he struggles to keep his hips from buckling, his length hot and heavy on your tongue. your plump lips now wrapped around his cock, perfectly fit for you. smothering saliva all over it, your hands squeeze at the base, and the rest of it that you can’t fit in your mouth, his tip already prodding at the back of your throat. “so good baby, you’re doing so good- look so pretty with my big cock stuffed in your face, mhm” he says, sending familiar heat down your cunt, you feel it getting wetter as before. you try hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head back and forth, your lips wrapped nicely around his cock. you hear him let out a low guttural moan. you look up at him through your lashes, he’s throwing his head back from the pleasure, his hips slightly buckling into your mouth making you pull away.

catching your breath, you feel his large hands cupping your cheeks, smoothing over the skin. “you’re a natural, princess” you smile up at him, before trailing your eyes down to look at his length. he’s huge, his tip raging red with precum trickling down his length. you lean in to catch the drop of precum at the underside of his base, earning a curse from him, before he moans. “how are you already so good at this, fuck-“ you cant help but smile at his words before continuing your licking and sucking on his cock. its not long until you notice him twitching, cock jumping as his face contorts in pleasure. his hand reach up to wrap his fingers around him before he starts jerking himself off, his hand moving rapidly with his jaw hanging low, mouth agape. his voice cracks as he’s letting out a loud moan, before you watch him shoot ropes of sticky white mess, landing on your face, most covering your lips and cheeks, some on your collarbone. you’re shocked, a little weirded out by his cum sticking on your face but cant help letting out a giggle while looking up at him. he was catching his breath as he noticed you giggling, before letting out a laugh himself. He reaches up to your face, fingers collecting the cum before prodding them at your lips. You frown at his action, weirded out that he wants you to suck at his cum covered fingers. He nods, encouraging you, “you can taste” he offers, before you decide to give in, trusting him has been giving you bliss until now. You open your mouth as he pushes his fingers past your lips, your tongue lapping at the sticky substance. Humming, you look at him, “‘s sweet”

“well im glad” he chuckles

“you okay?” he asks as you nod before gaining the courage to tell him about the wetness forming again in your panties. “farleigh im- im wet again” he lets out a chuckle, “your cunny’s wet again ?” heat rushing up to your cheeks at his words as you shyly nod, embarrassed. “you do realise that just means you’re turned on right ? nothing to do with me putting a spell on you” he chuckles at the silly concept you believe in. you’re taken aback by his words, realisation hits. the first time was maybe explainable by your mother’s words, but the second time around, now that you’re wet again, he might be right. he sits on the bed before pulling you to sit on his lap, your legs settling on either side of him, straddling him this time. your eyes roam across his face, appreciating his beautiful features, his long lashes, his dark brown eyes, his thick eyebrows, they’re all so pretty to you. you reach your hand up to graze your fingers along his lips, feeling every lines and crooks, slightly pulling at his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss him.

he lets out a breath as he leans into the kiss, pressing his lips softly against your plump ones, savouring your flavour. your lips dance against his, pulling him closer to you with his large hands grabbing at your waist. the kiss is soft, and pure in some way, it feels like there’s only the two of you in the world at the moment. your first ever kiss with him. his lips moulds perfectly against yours, making you want to kiss him forever. he’s a good kisser too, effortlessly returning your kiss and offering his own, his tongue swiping across your lips. his hand on your waist start grabbing firmer, moving you back and forth against his thigh and crotch. he lets out a sigh as he pulls away for a moment, resting his forehead against yours as he looks down to see the tent in his pants forming again. he continues to lean into you, kissing you once again while he guides you to hump at his crotch. the material of his pants serving you a little bit of pleasure as you try to chase that orgasm you had discovered from earlier. “you can go faster if you want” he says, offering you his lap to help you get off.

“use me” he continues

you wrap your arms around his neck, your boobs pressed up against his chest to steady yourself. his hands continue to guide your pace by your waist as he plant soft kisses along the crook of your neck and your shoulders. the bulge in his pants rub against your soaked panties before you accidentally angled yourself that you’re humping against your clit. the tingling of pleasure spreading all across your body leaves you a moaning mess, causing him to buckle his hips against your pussy. “you’re doing great princess, does that feel good to you ?” he asks as his hand roam across your back, encouraging you to get yourself off on his lap. you nod at him, too caught up in the pleasure now that you’ve found your sweet spot. “can you use your words for me baby?” you whimper at his request as you arch your back against him. “feels- feels so good far’” you manage to let out before letting out a whine.

“that’s my girl” he smiles.

you continue to work yourself on his lap yet you feel like you need more. grabbing at his polo, his eyes search into yours before trailing down at your hands pulling up the hem. he helps you take of his shirt as you marvel at his toned chest, fingers grazing along his collarbone. your pace on his lap becomes stuttered, interrupted by you trying to undress him. his hands grab your roaming ones, stopping your eager movements. “what do you need ?” not responding to his question, you grab the hem of your top instead, pulling it off of you. farleigh’s breath hitch as he moan at the bouncing tits in his face. he grabs at your waist to get you to look at him, his eyes pleading for your permission. you return his gaze, looking into his eyes for a moment before slowly nodding. he maintains eye contact with you as he slowly poke his tongue out, licking at your nipples, looking at you through his lashes. the warm wet tongue against your sensitive bud makes you moan, as you feel the bulge underneath you twitch. he’s now mouthing at your mould, his tongue spreading saliva all over it, all while looking into your eyes. pulling away, he grabs at both of them “such pretty tits, fuck”. you moan at his words, beginning to rub your clit against his crotch again. “need- need more farleigh” you plead him, before he grabs your waist to lift you up and lay you on the bed. now that you’ve had a taste of him, you can feel your body crave for more. for all of him.

“yeah ? that sweet cunny needs more huh ?” a sudden rush of hear creeps up your cheeks as you raise your hands to cover your face from embarrassment. you feel like you’re all exposed to him, like a platter waiting to be devoured. “you’re so small, i don’t think i can fit-“ he begins, as he leans down to plant soft kisses under your boobs, trailing down to your stomach with his hands roaming across the soft skin. “i’m gonna try something” he slowly takes out his cock that was covered by the crotch of his pants, his belt clacking as he winces at the friction against his length. he rests his cock on your soaked panties, his length heavy and throbbing. you look down to see his size, his tip reaching your lower belly. “such cute panties, shame it’s all ruined now” he smirks at the flimsy fabric of your panties that is now drenched in wetness. tracing his fingers at the cute ribbon at the top, he uses both hand to lift the fabric, stickiness stringing in between it and your pussy. he pushes his cock underneath the fabric before pushing it down with his fingers, creating a tight friction for him. he hisses at the feeling, before looking up at your eyes attentively following each of his movements, curious to see what he’s doing.

“‘m gonna fuck this panties okay ? rub my cock against your little folds. it’ll feel good” he informs, to which you nod. after that pleasure of riding his crotch earlier at his orders, you’re excited to see what this one’s gonna feel like. you hear him let out a moan as he starts moving, his hips fucking into your panties, his wet throbbing tip prodding against your sensitive nub, earning a whine from you. he’s right, it does feel good. and he looks so hot doing so, his face contorting and eyebrows knitted. his mouth agape as he lets out moans while looking at his cock going in and out of your panties, the wetness making the fabric translucent that he can see his cock fucking against your folds through it. he pulls the edge and pushes the hem further down, creating an even better pressure against his cock, pretending he’s fucking into your tight pussy. “fuck,, bet your cunny’s tighter baby” your eyes widen at his dirty words, your hands covering your mouth as you bite the skin on your thumb. not knowing where or how you gained the sudden confidence, “y-you can feel it for yourself” you offer, eyes carefully looking at his face, nervous anticipating for his reaction. his cock twitch underneath your panties before he throws his head back at your words.

“fuck princess,, you can’t say things like that”

“like what” you’re borderline panicking that you might’ve said something weird

“i might not be able to stop once i get a taste of your cunny”

you’re silent at his response, not really understanding what he meant by that. you continue to let him fuck your panties, his tip bulging through the material with each thrust. his length against your folds and his tip prodding at your clit makes you moan in a high pitch, the shivers travelling down your spine making you arch your back. grabbing at his hands, he looks at you while he struggles to halt his movements, his eyes searching into yours. “can you put it inside ?” you shyly asks, wanting to feel what it’s like to have his cock inside you, wondering if it’s gonna be the same as your first time. “what ?” his eyes widen at your request. he wasn’t planning on stuffing you full, you’ve already given him so much than he’d planned. “yeah- wanna, wanna feel your cock inside” he swears he almost busted at your words, his cock now painfully hard. “are you sure ?” he asks innocently. he’s been wanting to fuck you ever since he first saw you, so saying this is just a fucking cover for him. a manipulator he is, and you’re like a bunny foolishly trapped. “yes please” you bat your lashes cutely at him making him smile. making you say you want him inside you is one thing, but making you say please ? he fucking won.

he takes out his throbbing wet cock from your panties, his length bouncing as he settles on his knees, his face now infront of your pussy. he kisses at the fabric clinging onto your folds, moulding against your every crooks perfectly. he reaches the waistband of your panties, his lips kissing at your inner thighs on either sides of his face before pulling the band off your legs. his hands grab at your thighs as he looks at you through his lashes, smiling. he looks at your pussy infront of him, “thank you” he says before leaning in to kiss at your clit softly. you giggle at his actions, saying thank you to your cunt like he’s grateful for the meal. he chuckles against your pussy before getting up to put the weight of his cock on it, your wetness spreading onto his length, covering it with your juices. he moves backwards a bit as he positions his tip at your entrance before pushing his head in. you whine at the feeling, even with only his tip you can feel its bigger than you remember. who are you kidding anyways ? he’s 6’5, of course he’s gonna be huge. you whimper as he continue to push into your pussy, you push through the sting, taking his length like a champ. biting down at the skin of your thumb, he didn’t bottom out before he starts pulling out slightly, and pushing back in again. it’s a tight fit, your walls wrapped perfectly around his length as you hear the squelching sound from all the wetness. you offer him a soft smile shyly making him throw his head back.

“you’re so cute- oh” his words stumble as he feels you clenching down around his cock. “oh fuck” as his slow thrusts become stuttered, you giggle at his reaction before clenching down again. and again. and again- that he’s now crouched down against you, his face settling in the crook of your neck. “you okay ?” you tease him, at which he lets out a strained chuckle. “y- cunny’s so tight baby” you hold onto his shoulders as he starts thrusting again, bottoming up in the process. moans and skin slapping bounce against the walls of the room, the overwhelming pleasure making you forget that you’re in saltburn, having notably the best summer. you let him continue fucking into your pussy, letting out whines and moans ever now and then at him founding and hitting at your sweet spot. it was easy for him to find, every spot is basically so sensitive to you, he could thrust at any spot and you’d cum instantly. which is what’s happening now. your high pitch moans and legs shaking against his tells him that you’re close. “you’re close princess, cum for me” you whine at his words, his fingers reaching down to toy at your clit, helping you chase that orgasm.

the added pleasure makes you moan louder, your eyes searching his for encouragement. he looks into your eyes, his soft brown gaze makes you feel safe before you look down at his fingers rapidly rubbing at your clit. screaming his name, your orgasm finally crashes down on you, your breath heavy as your chest move up and down. “that feel good yeah ?” he asks you, he’s also catching his breath from watching you riding out your orgasm before you feel his thrusts getting faster and sloppier. sounds of skin slapping all so dirty to you as you hear him let out uncontrollable moans before he takes out his cock. his fingers quickly wrap around his length before he starts jerking off rapidly while moaning. his eyebrows knitted and face contorts in pleasure as he lets out a loud moan before you see thick sticky ropes of white land on your stomach, and settling on your pussy. he catches his breath while looking at the mess he made on your body. he looks up at you, offering you a smile before mouthing a ‘sorry’. his hand reaches down to move the strands of hair sticking on your face away, before leaning down to kiss you. you smile at him as he says “you’re mine now you know that right ?” your eyebrows quirk at his words, sure you’d wanna be his but you don’t quite get what he’s saying.

“good girls fuck one cock, you’re stuck with me”

taglist: @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @luckystrikerealness @themoonchildwhofell @fuckshitslover @radioloom @love-me-pls @szapizzapanda @khxna

divider creds: @rookthornesartistry

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circus4apsycho8 · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, I hope you are doing well!! I was wondering if you could write a ninjago Cole x reader where the reader is the teams medic. Cole, being the muscle of the team, usually gets hurt a lot and the medic has to patch him a lot on and off the field. They grow closer and close and eventually become an established relationship. Angst, smut, fluff, whatever, full creative freedom! Love your writing!!

Hey, thank you very much! Love this request! I will be making this a 2-3 part series. One of the next chapters will feature a second related request, I believe. Originally I was going to publish it all at once, but then I decided to break it up a little bit. Also, not sure how accurate the wounds and whatnot are, but I tried :v Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: stab wounds, cussing, mild gore descriptions

Word Count: 11.9k

Masterlist for this Fic

knife to meet you. | cole x reader | chapter i

The clock is going to drive you insane.

Tick after tick, the hands click on, your sanity diminishing with each passing second. For the millionth time tonight, you rip your gaze from the dragging hands of the clock. Not even three minutes had passed since you’d last checked the time. A frustrated sigh tumbles from your lips, eyes venturing down to stare at the tea supplies scattered about the table before you.

“Stop looking at it,” you grumble to yourself, returning your hands to your task - bagging tea leaves and ingredients to assemble Mystake’s latest recipe. Her new tea is set to launch tomorrow, and she could be a stickler for keeping fully stocked shelves. The thought makes you sigh, knowing you’ll certainly be busy in the morning. Perhaps the promotion would make the day go by faster.

The repetitive motions of your hands eventually allow your mind to shift into autopilot mode, hands running on muscle memory as you wonder how much longer you would be here for - you’d come a long way since training as her apprentice, and by helping her with the shop, she allowed you to live with her rent free.

And while you’re forever grateful for Mystake’s kindness, you know this isn’t what destiny has planned for you. Running a tea shop was her dream, not yours. Deep within your heart, you feel yourself growing antsy. You wouldn’t thrive here, and a part of you wonders if you’ll end up stuck here.

The bell above the door chimes, snapping your body out of autopilot and into customer service mode. The smile plastered on your face masks the annoyance at having to serve someone so late. Who even thinks to buy tea this late at night?

You hop off of the stool. “Good evening! How can I-”

The sight before you jerks your body out of autopilot, a horrified expression overcoming you as your eyes process the scene in front of you:

Three men dressed in gis stand before you, two of them supporting a man in a black gi - his head is drooped, and he’s limp. His arms are strung around the necks and shoulders of two men on either side - one dressed in red and the other blue.

“Please,” grunts the one in blue. “We need help!”

“He’s been stabbed, and we didn’t know where else to go,” adds the red one, both looking at you with desperate faces. “You can treat wounds, right?”

For a moment, you freeze. Mystake isn’t here, and she always takes care of these things. You’ve only ever observed or helped with guidance. She certainly wouldn’t make it back in time to help.

What would she say right now?

...She’d tell me not to freeze. Just work and do what you were trained to do. Make a decision.

You snap out of your stupor, realizing that you’re on your own. This man needs help now, and you know you’ll never become a healer if you don’t start doing things on your own.

So, you force yourself to swallow your fear. “Okay. Take him in the back; take a right, then enter the second doorway on the left. I’ll be right there.”

The two oblige without question, immediately making their way to the back of the store. After making your way to the front, you lock the door and flip the sign to ‘closed’. Next, you jog behind the counter, swiping the emergency medical kit you always had stocked. On your way to the room, you swipe a certain tea you know you’ll need later.

With almost everything you need in hand, you hurry through the maze of tea shelves and doors until you arrive in the medical room.

The two men have lowered their friend on top of the bed, with the red one pressing down on his abdomen. Blood cakes the lower parts of his arms, eyes wide with fear as he holds the pressure.

“The blood…it’s not stopping,” the brunet drawls, tensing as he stares at the wound.

“Here, let me,” you state, immediately coming to take over. He relents, stepping off to the side. “I need you guys to grab me a few towels. They’re in the cabinet to the right.”

They nod, rushing to gather what you need. You’re quick to start applying pressure to the wound, face twisting in determination as you hold the fabric in place. The stabbed man grunts, hissing as he tosses his head back in pain. Normally a reaction like this would scare you, but you’re too hopped up on adrenaline to care at the moment.

“I’m sorry. I know this hurts like hell, but I have to get the bleeding to stop,” you sympathize, eyes still trained on his wound. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the blue one frozen at the side. Looks like he could use something else to focus on. “Hey, blue guy. Can you start steeping that tea bag over there? I know it’s an odd request at such a time, but just trust me.”

“Tea bag? Y-Yeah, I’m on it.” Thankfully, this snaps him out his stupor and gets his hands busy.

You note that the red one looks antsy too. A glance at the injured man’s tattered top gives you an idea for another task.

“And could you get his top off, please? I need to make sure he wasn’t hit anywhere else this badly.”

“Yeah. Yeah…okay. I can do that,” he replies, eyes lingering over the blood momentarily before he snaps himself out of his stupor. His hands fumble to his belt, where he slips out a small, silver shuriken.

You shuffle out of his way as best you can without hindering your progress on the wound, watching as the shuriken slices through the fabric. Mr. Red Guy gently pulls the sides off and out of your way, allowing it to drape over the sides of the table.

After thanking him, you quickly scan the rest of the stabbed man’s torso. There are a few bruises and cuts, but the stab wound seems to be the brunt of the damage.

From there, the room falls quiet save for his pained grunts.

“Fuck,” he curses, voice taut. “How...how’s it looking?”

“You’re gonna pull through, man,” replies the red one, his voice coming out stronger than he looks. “She’s got the blood loss slowing down.”

The blue one, on the other hand, doesn’t sound as put together. His voice is shaky and his eyes are glassy, but you can tell he’s trying to sound optimistic. “Yeah, Cole, you’re going to be just fine.”

“How’s the tea looking?” you inquire, trying to distract him from whatever’s making him upset. You need everyone to remain calm until the bleeding has stopped.

“I think it’s ready. Do you need it?”

“Yes, please,” you reply. “Have him drink as much as he can, even if it’s only a few sips. It should ease the pain a little bit and help prevent infection.”

The redhead nods, going to prop his friend’s head up while the other holds the teacup for him. You listen as they speak softly to him, words too quiet for you to hear.

It takes you a minute, but thankfully you’re able to get the bleeding to stop. Soon enough, the wound is sterilized and bandaged properly with the man now unconscious on the table.

You find yourself absentmindedly cleaning the last bits of blood off of his torso, realizing that the three of you are all quietly processing the night together.

“Are you two okay?” you speak suddenly, shifting your gaze to them. “You’re not wounded, are you?”

“No, we’re okay. Just a little cut up and bruised, but nothing we can’t handle,” the spiky-haired brunet assures. “Thank you. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t helped us.”

“It’s what we do. I’m glad I was able to help him,” you dismiss, smiling softly as you return your gaze to the task at hand. “Oh, and by the way…” You take a moment to introduce yourself. “I’m Mystake’s apprentice.”

“Only an apprentice?” the redhead wonders.

“I thought you were a master medic, what with the way you handled that. But yeah, I’m Kai, that’s Jay, and he’s Cole.”

You nod in acknowledgement, attempting to commit their names to memory. “Thank you. Well, I wish it was under better circumstances, but nonetheless it’s nice to meet you all.”

“Likewise,” Kai replies.

You debate your next question momentarily, but decide to just ask anyway. “And do you mind if I ask what happened? Stabbings are rare around here.”

“Well, I’d say you’ve more than earned an explanation for us barging in here with a dying man in the middle of the night, then handling it like a pro,” Jay interjects. “We were on a mission to investigate an incident of serial burglaries that had been occurring around a town close to this one.”

“Long story short, we find the guys, confront them, then things start to get heated,” Kai continues, staring off into the distance. “So, we start fighting, trying to apprehend and whatnot. Cole doesn’t draw his weapon yet because he’s pretty well-versed with hand-to-hand combat.”

“It was my fault,” Jay interrupts, eyes turning glassy again as he averts his gaze. “One of them tripped me up, and I caught sight of the knife they had. And I…I just froze. I don’t know why. But he pushed me out of the way just in time, and he took the hit in my place.”

“It’s not your fault, Jay,” Kai assures. “This was a rough job for us all. And it doesn’t help that Zane wasn’t here to help.”

“The important thing is that you’re all alive and healing,” you say, dumping another bloodied towel into a nearby bin. “And he’s going to be just fine.”

“I still can’t help but feel bad,” mumbles the redhead, your heart dropping slightly at the sight of his guilt-laced stare. “He shouldn’t have to look out for us when he already takes the brunt of the damage.”

Their words pique your interest, causing you to glance up with a puzzled expression. “So you guys do this a lot, then? Are you vigilantes or something?”

“We’re ninja,” Kai responds, gesturing to the symbols on both of their gis. “We recently finished our training with our master, and have been fighting to make Ninjago a safer place ever since.”

“Oh, I see!” you reply. That certainly explains the strange outfits and weapons. The conversation reminds you of a rumor you had heard from a few customers one day a few weeks ago. “You know, now that we’re talking about it, I had heard rumors about ninjas surfacing somewhere and taking out bad guys. I just didn’t think much of it considering nothing major has happened in our town since.”

Kai grins slightly at this, eyeing Jay with a small smirk. “Hey, sounds like we’re starting to make waves.”

“Waves? I think you’re giving us too much credit,” Jay notes, stifling a yawn.

“But it’s a start,” Kai adds, also yawning. The action makes you realize how late it is, knowing the two must be exhausted from the night’s events.

“Alright. It’s late, and he’s about as cleaned up as I can get him right now,” you comment. “If you two will just help me move him onto a stretcher, I can get him hooked up to an IV and then he’ll be set for the night. Mystake will want him to stay so we can monitor his vitals and ensure that the wound doesn’t become infected. You both are welcome to stay here while he’s recovering; we’ve got a spare room and extra clothes for times like these. Please, follow me.”

…

With Kai and Jay now settled in for the night, you find yourself preparing the IV for Cole in the recovery ward of the shop.

As your fingers work, you find your gaze drifting to the man before you. Now that he’s stable and your adrenaline rush has passed, you have time to observe him.

His gi had been black - that much you remember. Your eyes drift across his bare torso, noting that he has a few scars across his chest. His stature is muscular - seemingly more so than the other two.

You tear your gaze from him, double checking that everything is ready before taking his arm in your hands, flipping it over to find the right vein. Once you do, you insert the IV.

The action makes him stir, eyes opening slightly. Immediately, he tries to sit up, but your muscle memory kicks in just in time to push him back down.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” you say, holding him down gently. “You’re okay, but you need to rest.”

Thankfully, he settles, eyes relaxing slightly at your touch. Jaded green eyes study your figure as you gaze at him, watching to see if he’s going to try and get up again.

“Where am I?” he wonders, voice hoarse. “I barely remember what happened. Everything’s patchy for me...I remember that room, Kai and Jay were there...then I couldn’t stay awake anymore.”

“You’re at Mystake’s tea shop. This is our recovery ward. You were stabbed in a fight, and your friends brought you here. You’re all patched up now, but you need to rest so you can heal properly. Your friends are just in the other room.”

“Stabbed? Oh…it’s coming back to me now.” He groans, shutting his eyes and letting his head drop onto the pillow again. “Are they okay?”

“They’re fine, just sleeping now,” you assure.

It’s then you realize that you still have a hand on his chest. Your cheeks heat up as you snatch your hand away. “Oh stars, I’m sorry! It’s just been, well…a long night. I guess I’m just a bit distracted now that the action has passed.”

Cole chuckles, averting his gaze. He winces a bit, making his smile fade slightly. “You’re okay. I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Your name is Cole, right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

You tell him your name, words stumbling out in a mix of your default introductory statement and the mush that is your mind at the moment. “I’m Mystake’s apprentice. It’s knife to meet you.”

Upon processing the phrase you’d added through your post-adrenaline exhaustion, your eyes widen. “Oh my god. I’m sorry, I-I did not mean to say that out loud! That was so inappropriate of me-”

“Wow,” Cole responds, shaking his head at you with a small grin. “You can’t just cut down the stab victim like that, doc.”

“I’m sorry!” you squeak before realizing that he, too, made a pun concerning his injury. “Wait...you’re not upset?”

“Of course not. You saved my life,” he replies, glancing back down at his wound. “And I appreciate your humor. I know the guys have been pretty down about the whole ordeal, so it’s nice to know that you can at least make light of it.”

“Oh,” you reply, not expecting that response at all. “Well...I’m glad that you’re okay with it. I see so much gore these days that I...” you trail off, realizing you shouldn’t be spilling your innermost thoughts to a patient.

You shake your head, nervously chuckling as you take a step back. “I’m rambling, sorry. Are you hurting right now? I can get you a bit more of our pain-killing tea. It might help you sleep, too.”

“That sounds great,” he replies. “Thank you.”

You nod, standing up. “I’ll be right back, then.”

With that, you make your way towards the kitchen. You get another cup of tea steeping, taking the down time to drink a bit of water and get a snack.

A few seconds after you finish, you hear the door to the tea shop opening. You peek your head out from the back, relief coursing through you when you see Mystake behind the counter.

“Thank the stars, you’re back!” you say, sighing as she turns to you.

“I am. You closed the shop early?” she inquires, hanging her hat up on its usual spot.

“Yes. Two people brought in a man who had been stabbed, and I had to treat it and I-” you trail off, the stress of the situation finally catching up to you as tears pool in your eyes.

Mystake sets her hands on your shoulders, guiding you to sit down. “A stabbing? Oh dearie…I know it’s scary, but you did the right thing. He’s stabilized now, yes?”

You nod as she takes your hands in hers, sniffling a bit. “Yeah. I was going to give him some of that pain-killing tea so he could sleep.”

“Very good, very good. Here, finish what you’re doing while I have a look.”

Your stomach twists, hands coming to fidget as you nod in response. “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

With that, you’re left alone once more. Anxiety meshes with your post-adrenaline rush, leaving you lightheaded and nauseous. You can’t help but zone out for a bit, only jerked away from your thoughts when the water starts squealing.

The tea doesn’t take you long to prepare, and soon enough, you find yourself approaching the recovery ward once more.

The lights have been dimmed, causing you to wonder if he’s suffering a headache. You can still see well enough to notice that he’s still awake, though. Mystake is nowhere to be seen, meaning she must have finished her exam.

“Here, this should help,” you say, setting the tray on the table next to the bed. “It should be cooled enough to drink. Try to drink as much as you can.”

You hand him the cup, keeping an eye on his hands to make sure he doesn’t spill it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, hands seemingly steady enough for the time being. He takes a sip, face melting at the relief it must be bringing. “God, this stuff is magic. How does it kick in so fast?”

You shrug, smiling softly as he takes another sip. “I’m not sure. Mystake’s teas are incredible. She’s a master at her craft, that’s for sure.”

“Makes me wonder what else she can do with her teas,” he mumbles.

“You’d be surprised. She’s like a tea witch,” you reply with a chuckle. “Do you need anything else? Extra blankets, another pillow, snacks, water...?”

“I think I’m good for now,” he mumbles, sighing in relief. “This is already working wonders.”

“Okay. If you need anything at all, just push the button on the side of the nightstand. We’ll try to check on you shortly after sunrise. Try to get some sleep for now.”

“Being unconscious sounds great about now,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

You nod in response, smiling softly as you take the tray back into your hands, leaving the mug for him.

Just before you exit the recovery ward, though, his voice sounds once more:

"For the record, it was knife to meet you too.”

...

Mystake lets you sleep through the new tea launch, much to your relief. You don’t think you would have had nearly enough energy to deal with the rush today – not after all of last night’s excitement.

Once you rise, you stumble through your morning routine. Yawns rake your body as you attempt to wake up, brain foggy as you emerge from your room.

You can already hear customers chattering in the front, causing you to redirect to the kitchen. Through streams of unfamiliar voices, you can faintly hear Mystake’s voice vividly describing her newest creation. Looks like she’s doing just fine by herself so far. Which is great, considering you need a hot drink before you can even think about the public.

Upon arriving to your destination, muscle memory kicks in and you start working on your drink without thinking much about what you’re doing. Your hands work in quiet tandem, voice humming a tune while you listen to the distant voices of consumers and employees alike.

Once you’ve finished, you lean against the counter and take a sip.

Soft footsteps catch your attention, eyes drifting towards the entrance. Moments later, two groggy and disheveled ninja catch your attention.

“Morning,” greets Kai, hair frizzy and wild. Jay is in no better shape, eyes lined with circles as he offers a tired nod.

“Morning, guys,” you reply, setting your drink to the side. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Kai responds. You gesture for the two to have a seat, and they do. “Thanks. Is it okay if our Sensei drops by with our other teammate today?”

“Of course,” you assure. “What time will they be here?”

“Probably about an hour or so,” Kai answers.

Jay raises a notched eyebrow at this. “An hour? That’s...unusually quick for him, don’t you think?”

The brunet nods in agreement. “Now that you mention it, you’re right. Although he did say something about a smoke vision and needing to see something for himself.” Kai shrugs, running his fingers through his hair. “You know how he is. Cryptic and old.”

“A smoke vision?” Jay wonders. “Every time he has one of those, something big happens. What could it be this time?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say much about it, just that he needed to come see something in person. Who knows?”

“I just don’t get why a near-death experience would be something that triggers a vision,” Jay mumbles. “Oh well. His wisdom works in mysterious ways, I guess. It hasn’t failed us yet.”

Kai shrugs, not seeming too concerned about the ordeal. “Whatever it is, it’ll work out. Anyways, I’m starving. How about we make a breakfast run, huh? Let’s make it a race so we can get some blood pumping on our way there!”

You raise an eyebrow, chuckling nervously as the two start thrumming with an energy that wasn’t present last night. Maybe resting and seeing their patched-up teammate has brought it back? Then again, you don’t really know what’s normal for these guys either.

“You’re on!” Jay stands, a playful determination glinting in his eyes as he turns towards you. “Hey, what’s good around here?”

“There’s a small diner around the block that’s always good,” you note. “But you guys don’t have to-”

Jay makes an ‘ah-ah’ noise, shaking his head. “Nope. You saved our brother’s life, and for that you’re at least getting free breakfast.”

“And more upon request,” Kai adds with a flirty smirk and wink combo. You roll your eyes as he dodges a hit from Jay.

“Kai, you can’t just flirt with the doctor!” Jay admonishes, the two already zipping out of the kitchen. You try to follow them, but they’re flying out the door while yelling at each other.

All while going the wrong direction.

You sigh, chuckling to yourself as you shake your head. Oh well; they’ll figure it out. It certainly seems like they’ve got more than enough energy to spare today.

“What in the world are they so riled up about this morning?” Mystake wonders, staring at the entrance. It seems as if the initial customer rush is over for the morning, but there are still a few milling about and browsing.

“Breakfast, apparently,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I’m going to go check on Cole. I’ll be right back out to help.”

“Actually, I’ll need you for something else today. Pack your bags, dearie – I’ve got a job for you that requires traveling.”

“Traveling?” you wonder, turning towards your mentor. She merely flashes you an innocent smile – even though you’re sure it’s anything but.

“Yes. You’ve proven to me that you’re ready to start taking jobs on your own. So, we’re going to start trying them out if you’re okay with it.”

“Do you…do you really think I’m ready?” you wonder. “I know I was able to handle last night, but…”

“I do not think it is the disease, nor the injuries that scare you. It is the threat of change. You’ve been cooped up in my store too long, and now it’s time for you to work on your own more often.”

Her words strike you speechless momentarily. A change was what you’d wanted, right? More independence? More time to work on your own? But…this isn’t just any old job. It’s healing, and people’s lives are on the line. People’s lives are in your hands. Is that a responsibility you’re truly ready to take on?

A part of you wants to say no – to stay within the comfort of your routine, despite its repetitiveness. That way, you would always have help when you needed it. That way, you wouldn’t have to confront the daunting question of:

What comes next for me?

Mystake places her hand over yours, sensing your debate. “The leap into the unknown is always the hardest part, but it is one we all must conquer at some point. I know you’re scared – of making mistakes and determining what your next steps are. But that’s life. Mistakes are how we learn, my dear. Heck, that’s why I’m called Mystake!”

“But mistakes can get people killed,” you reply.

“They can. But you’re not trusting in yourself or your training enough. What happened yesterday is rare – in my lifetime, I’ve only treated a handful of stabbings. And most of the time, they weren’t as life-threatening as Cole’s was. You’re not giving yourself enough credit – you took action, followed your training, and saved a man’s life as a result. Look at it that way.”

You nod, watching as her steely eyes twinkle in a knowing fashion. “And truthfully…I don’t know what more I have to teach you. I truly think you’re at the point where experience will be your greatest teacher. Everything will work out for you; you just have to let it all fall into place. Before you know it, you’ll settle into your new normal without batting an eyelash over it. Because by then, it will feel right. And you’ll have been forever grateful that you took the leap.”

“Okay,” you reply, letting her words steep. “Okay, I understand.”

She smiles, setting a hand on your shoulder. “How about you take the day off from the store to think about it? Just tend to your patient and make sure his bandages stay clean. We can talk more about it later.”

“Alright,” you say, nodding in response. “Thank you, Mystake.”

With her words in mind, you set off to check on Cole.

…

Upon arriving, you note that Cole is already awake. Mystake must have dropped by this morning, because he’s reading a book you recognize from her prized collection. You take a moment to observe the way the strands of his dark hair fall around his face as he concentrates, eyes scouring the pages. It doesn’t help that he’s still shirtless, too – you’d been too exhausted last night to notice, but he’s nicely toned. To think you’d had your hand on his sternum, too…

You shake your head, reassuming your professional demeanor. No checking out the hot ninja patient!

“Good morning,” you greet, offering a demure smile as you gently shut the door. “How are you feeling, Cole?”

“Good morning. Definitely better today,” he answers, gingerly shutting the book and setting it to the side.

“I’m glad to hear it!” you chirp, noting that he’s also got a fresh mug of tea. “I’m going to have to check your wound quickly to make sure it’s not getting infected. I’ll get you some fresh bandages too. Our hope is that you’ll be back on your feet within the next two days or so.”

“Sounds great,” Cole replies. As you make your way towards the supply chest to the left of the room, he calls: “Going to make fun of me again?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want me to make fun of you,” you retort, grinning as you pull out a set of clean gauze as well as a special type of antiseptic cleanser.

“It’s better than being tiptoed around, that’s for sure,” he says as you pull a rolling stool up next to him. You set your supplies on the nightstand next to him, pulling on a pair of gloves. The bands snap against your skin as you wiggle your fingers until they fit snugly inside.

“Your friends were just worried about you. Really worried,” you reply. “But they seem better today. Way more energetic, that’s for sure.”

Cole simpers, shaking his head lightly. “That’s good to hear. Speaking of which…where’d they run off to?”

“They’re grabbing breakfast,” you answer. It’s then notice that his wound is covered by the blankets, so you push them aside. Cole ends up bunching up the sheets, letting them rest over his middle. With the fabric now out of your way, you start peeling the gauze away.

“Alright, let’s see here…” you trail off, inspecting the wound. Everything looks okay so far – no signs of infection or reopening. Good. “Not infected. Seems to be on its way to healing. That’s good. We’re just going to clean it with an antiseptic and magic-infused solution. Its purpose is twofold: to prevent infection and speed up the healing process. It should help the cut fully close within a day or so.”

“Great,” Cole acknowledges, watching as you pour a bit onto a clean rag. The solution fizzes, emitting a faint, white light.

“Fair warning, it’s going to sting,” you advise, waiting for the glow to simmer down a bit.

“Then I may not be able to handle this.”

You roll your eyes, unable to help but smile as you look up at him. Grassy green eyes glimmer back at you playfully as you respond: “Now you’re just being a baby.”

“Do you call all of your patients babies?” he questions, grin faltering to a grimace as you start cleaning the wound. The liquid sizzles angrily against the wound, working its magic.

After letting it soak for a few seconds, you start wiping the excess off. “Well, considering you’re the first and only patient that I’ve fully tended to, yes.”

“I’m your first patient? That can’t be true,” he remarks, studying your hands as they rebandage his abdomen with fresh gauze.

“From start to end, you are. Mystake has let me practice on others before, but only on certain phases of their injury or illness. You’re the first person that I’ve both patched up and tended to during recovery. And all by myself, too.”

“Huh. I never would have guessed that from watching you work. You’re a natural.”

His words leave you speechless for a moment, cheeks warming as you finish rebandaging him. “Thank you; that’s sweet of you to say. I’ve still got a lot to learn, though.”

“But I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. Give yourself some credit.”

Unsure of what to say, you smile at him in response. Cole returns your grin, pulling the blanket back over his torso. Somehow, the quiet between you two feels…fine. You know he doesn’t mind your lack of response. It’s comfortable; not forced.

You like that.

A moment later, you avert your gaze, fingers slipping underneath the bands of your gloves before pulling them off. “Well…I guess I’ll be back with something for you to eat soon. I imagine they won’t be much longer.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, doc.”

The nickname makes your heart stumble, but you’re able to play it off. “Absolutely.”

…

The ninja return soon enough – not only with breakfast, but with two unfamiliar people in tow. One appears to be around their age, dressed in a white gi while the other is an elderly man donning a bamboo staff and straw hat.

“Sorry we’re late!” Jay says as they file into the store. “We ran into our master and teammate on the way back and had to catch up.”

“That’s okay,” you assure, noticing that the two newcomers linger at the front. Kai and Jay, on the other hand, rush to the back. Knowing Mystake will greet them, you elect to follow Kai and Jay to the dining table.

“We realized halfway through ordering that we didn’t ask you what you wanted,” Kai admits, sheepishly grinning. “So…we just got a bunch of different stuff. Whatever you don’t want, Cole will eat. I assure you.”

“No worries,” you reply, watching as they unload the to-go bags. A mouthwatering scent floods the air, comprised of all kinds of breakfast foods. You note that they bought many more containers than you would have initially guessed, but factoring in the realization that ninjas probably eat more solves that puzzle. Just how much do these guys eat? “Have you two checked on him yet, by the way?”

“Yeah, we talked to him this shortly after we woke up,” Jay answers, spreading out a mound of wrapped, plastic to-go cutlery sets. Hungry hands are quick to snatch them up.

“Good. I just changed his bandages; I think he should be up and walking within the next day or so. We’ve just got to make sure the wound stays clean for now.”

“Do you think he could come sit with us if we help him?” Kai wonders. “Kinda sucks that he’s stuck by himself.”

You don’t answer immediately, taking a moment to ponder the decision. “Yes, he can. But we’ll need to use a wheelchair so we don’t risk reopening the wound. I’ll help too.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Cole is successfully relocated to the dining room. Kai makes you pick a container of food before shuffling the rest to Cole. Everyone settles in – including the two newcomers. Mystake remains in the front for the time being.

Kai starts off the conversation by introducing you, then the other two: “...this is Sensei Wu, and that’s Zane.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” you greet, flashing the two a smile.

“Likewise,” returns the snowy-haired ninja. He seems far calmer than his teammates, and sports a more sophisticated personality. “We are most grateful for your aid.”

“Why? All she did was stick a band aid on me and call me a baby,” Cole replies as everyone starts passing around food.

Kai and Jay snicker, both accepting their to-go containers of food with ravenous eyes. Zane’s eyes scrunch in confusion while their Sensei chuckles.

“Only a band aid?” the icy-eyed ninja wonders. “Perhaps I heard the details of your injury incorrectly-“

“It’s a joke, Zane,” Jay explains as he unwraps his to-go plasticware. “The injury was really bad, but she got it under control.”

“Did you actually call him a baby, though?” Kai wonders, eyeing you expectantly.

You find your cheeks warming again, with expectant eyes on you. “Uh…I did, yeah. But only because he said he wouldn’t be able to handle the sting of the antiseptic when he’d just survived a stabbing-“

At your explanation, Kai and Jay break down in a fit of laughter. Cole shakes his head with a grin, but the mood remains light. It’s such a stark contrast to last night’s atmosphere that you can’t help but giggle too.

You can see it in Kai and Jay’s eyes, too - Jay’s striking blue eyes are twinkling with mischief, making the bags under his eyes seem less prominent. Kai’s warm brown ones are tired too, but seeing his teammate recovered enough to make light of the situation seems to have alleviated the worry he’d been experiencing throughout the night.

And, when you look at him, you can see it in Cole’s, too – the way his vibrant, green eyes have almost brightened since you studied them last night. They had been faded and dull yesterday, but thankfully that’s no longer the case.

You avert your gaze before he can catch you staring, though, electing to focus on your food instead.

“Regardless of whether or not my pupil was acting like a baby, I’d still like to thank you,” interrupts the elderly man. You note how the ninja quiet down upon hearing him speak, glancing at each to see that they’ve given him their attention. “You saved my student’s life, and for that, we’re all eternally grateful.”

A chorus of agreements emanate from the ninja as the reality of the situation settles over the group. “Of course. We’re healers; it’s what we do. I’m glad I was able to help.”

For a moment, it’s silent until Kai speaks up: “Oh, did you guys catch the last suspect? I know I managed to get two before the third slipped away.”

“Yes, we located him before we came here,” Zane answers. “He’s in custody now.”

Cole nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. “Good. I’m glad.”

The conversation turns towards the ninja’s training. While you don’t understand much of what they’re talking about, you’re able to chime in on occasion. They still manage to include you in the chat – namely when Jay suggests you could become a “ninja doctor”.

Which somehow turns into a debate about the conflicting nature of such a title – a ninja who could heal and hurt. It stuns you how the ninja are able to get so philosophical about something so silly.

“No, no, Kai, you’re missing the point. It’s like what Master Splinter said in the twenty-twelve version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” Jay argues before quoting: “’Do no harm, unless you need to do harm. Then do lots of harm!’”

Kai narrows his eyes, pondering Jay’s claim momentarily. “So, by that logic, are we all healers, then? Because we don’t do harm unless we need to?”

“Kai’s right,” Cole agrees, starting on what must be his third box of food. “That’s too general to go by. But it is a fantastic quote, though. Sounds like something Master Wu would say.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jay frowns, trailing off. “But she could be like Donatello, though. He fights but also kind of serves as the team medic.”

“No, no, Donnie’s way smarter than I am,” you counter. “I can’t invent or do anything as scientific as he can.”

Jay shrugs. “But you don’t have to. You’d just heal one of us and then go smack someone up with a bo staff.”

This makes you all chuckle, and leads you to another thought: “Hey, do you guys realize how similar you are to the ninja turtles?”

A collective epiphany dawns on Kai, Jay, and Cole as they stare at each other, eyes widening.

“Woah,” Jay mumbles. “Wait, wait, guys she’s onto something!”

The redhead points at Sensei Wu, then trails his finger across the table. “Sensei…you’re basically Master Splinter. Cole’s our leader, so he’s Leo. Kai’s the hothead, which makes him Raph. I’m the funny and cute one, so naturally I’m Mikey. And Zane’s the brainiac, so he’s Donnie. And Nya’s kind of like April!”

A sound of awe emanates from three of the ninja, nodding their heads at Jay’s analysis. Poor Zane just seems lost.

“Are you comparing me to a giant, mutated rat man?” Sensei Wu questions, amusement laced in his gaze.

“So, you do watch modern TV!” Kai cries, pointing an accusatory finger at Wu. “See! I told you he was lying to us!”

From there, they start to laugh about Wu before comparing the villains they’ve fought to the ones that appear in the show. That’s when you’re not able to keep up as well.

Regardless, you roll with the flow of the discussion, surprised at how much you’re enjoying it. A few times, you catch Cole’s stare.

He never averts his gaze, or makes you feel embarrassed. Instead, he smiles.

You’re not sure that your heart is supposed to be beating so hard every time it happens, but you can’t help it. Even so, you ignore it.

…

Shortly after breakfast, the ninja wheel Cole back into the recovery ward. Zane remains momentarily to help you clean up before joining them.

“I hope they haven’t been too rowdy,” comes the voice of Sensei Wu.

You shake your head. “No, they’ve been great. They’re…fun, actually. I’ve enjoyed having them around.”

“That’s good to hear. I’ve been training them for a good while, but even now they can be a handful.”

The old man quiets momentarily, free hand stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Mystake tells me you’re considering new opportunities to practice your craft. Is this true?”

“Oh, um…yeah, it is. I’m still not sure what I’m going to do, but…yeah, definitely thinking about it.”

Sensei Wu nods in acknowledgement, eyes contemplative as he selects his next words: “I see. Well, I heard about how you handled Cole’s injury from Kai and Jay. If you’re interested, I’d like to offer you a position as our team’s medic.”

Your eyes widen as your jaw goes slack, the unexpectedness of the proposition making your mind whirl. He wants you to become their official medic?

“What? Really?” you wonder. “But I don’t have any field experience yet! Cole is the first patient I’ve tended to from start to finish.”

“That’s all right. We’ve all got to start somewhere. The ninja themselves have only just finished their training and are now fighting together on their own. You’re similar to them in that regard. For all of you, experience will be your greatest teacher from now on.”

That sentence reminds you of what Mystake said earlier – about experience. It dawns on you that they’re absolutely right – you’re never going to get better by letting your fear win. You have to break the confines of comfortability and get out there.

Then, a question occurs to you: did Mystake know about this? Is this the job that she was talking about earlier – the one you were supposed to pack for? You’d have to ask her later.

“And if you like, we could even try out, say…a trial. You could come work with us for a few weeks and see how you like it. If it’s not what you’re looking for, then you won’t have to commit.”

“I…like the sound of that, actually,” you admit. “So…how would that work?”

“You’d stay at my monastery. Depending on the circumstances, you might travel with the ninja for missions that are riskier or farther away. Of course, you won’t ever get close enough to be in danger. If you like, we could even have you trained to help design our missions. Kai’s sister handles a decent portion of the mission planning, but a fresh set of eyes always helps.”

You like the sound of that. Traveling? Learning new skills? Working alongside the ninja? Just imagining the variety presented by the job gets you excited!

“Sounds dynamic and fun – which is exactly what I’m looking for. Let’s try it out,” you reply, offering your hand.

The old man grins, shaking your hand. “We’re looking forward to working with you.”

…

A few hours pass, with the ninja and Wu slinking back to the recovery ward. You take an hour or so for yourself, hanging out in your room while thinking about what you’d take for your trial run with the ninja. After much debate, you manage to get what you need packed while leaving out enough items for the day or so it’d take Cole to get back on his feet. Mystake’s healing antiseptic works wonders, so you know it’s simply a matter of time.

You wind up feeling too antsy to settle down, so you insist on taking over for Mystake while she takes a lunch break.

Thankfully, the main rush is over for the day. Once the last few customers pour out of the store, you decide to start restocking. A soft hum sounds from your lips as you climb a stepstool, a box of tea tucked underneath your arm as you make sure to maintain your balance.

While you work, a soft whistling tune drifts from the hallway, accompanied by heavy footsteps. When they approach the entrance to the shop, you turn your head.

Kai stands there, checking the shelves with scrutinizing eyes. You huff a silent laugh, wondering what’s he looking for.

“Need something?” you wonder, stepping down from the ladder.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t see you,” Kai notes, pivoting around to face you. “Yeah, Mystake was asking for me to grab some kind of tea. Reme-tea, I think she said?”

You nod, gesturing for him to follow you towards the back. “I know what you’re talking about. Follow me.”

“Are all of her teas named with puns?” he inquires.

“A lot of them are. She thinks she’s funny,” you mumble, rolling your eyes affectionately. “But she names others a little more artistically.”

“That explains a lot of what Master Wu drinks. He must shop here a lot.”

“I can’t remember if I’ve seen him here before,” you admit, stopping when you reach the correct shelf. You rummage through the tea, frowning upon realizing the shelf needs to be reorganized. “I’ve served so many customers that their faces might as well be a blur to me – especially since a lot of them come during the early hours.”

“I get that. I used to work at my parent’s blacksmith shop with my sister. Can’t say I miss the work; it got way too repetitive and bland for our taste. I can’t smith to save my life. It was a miracle that we made enough to scrape by.”

“Blacksmithing, huh? Sounds hard,” you sympathize, glad that someone else understands the pains of customer service. Even so, you wonder why his parents wouldn’t help them out. Knowing that might be a sensitive topic, you elect not to pry.

“Yeah, suffice to say it…wasn’t for us. I’m glad Sensei Wu found us when he did.” He pauses momentarily as you move your search to a different shelf, wondering where in the hell Mystake moved the Reme-tea. “But that reminds me…Sensei said you’d be staying with us to test out a work opportunity.”

You nod. “Yeah. I’ve been dying to get out of here, honestly. I’m just kind of scared to get out in the field, but…you know. I won’t find out until I do it.”

The brunet nods, turning to glance over the other shelves in an effort to help your search. “I know the feeling.”

“You were nervous to become a ninja?” you respond.

“Yeah, I was scared, but…I didn’t really have a choice. My sister was kidnapped by a group of Garmadon’s goons who’d come to our village. If Sensei hadn’t saved me, I would have been a goner…but they still got away with her. I had to change because she needed my help. So…I swallowed my fear and just worked. I didn’t give myself a chance to think about it. I went with Wu and didn’t look back.”

You gasp at the story, frowning. “I’m so sorry…that must have been horrific. I can’t imagine…”

Kai shrugs, smiling softly. You finally find the tea you’re looking for, reaching to grab it.

“It was scary at the time. But Nya’s tough, and she ended up being just fine. We saved her, introduced her to the team, and…well, we’ve all stuck together since. I dunno, I guess things just kind of…fell into place for us.”

You nod, curious at the mention of his sister. “I’m glad to hear that’s she okay. How do you guys like being ninja?”

“Honestly…” Kai trails off, seemingly searching for words as the two of you linger in the back. “At first, I was only doing it so I could rescue her. But…after we got her back, the thought of returning to the shop just…filled me with dread. I knew I couldn’t go back to the way I was living. Being a ninja is way more fulfilling for me. We get to travel, meet new people from all over Ninjago, fly on our dragons, fight for the greater good…and that’s all I need.”

“Wow. That sounds…perfect,” you mumble, mulling over his words.

He nods in agreement. “It really is. I think you’ll like working with us. My sister’s going to love you; as well as we all get along, I think she gets sick of us sometimes. But you’ll know for sure after a week or so. Though, you never know – you might get sick of us.”

You snicker at this, shaking your head. “I won’t get sick of you. Honestly…it’s been nice having you guys around, even for such a short time. I’ve never felt so…”

“Engaged? Not in a haze of repetition?” he finishes with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah,” you say.

“That’s how I felt too, working with the guys for the first time. It’s safe to say that’s a good sign.”

You nod, the two of you walking back towards the hallway. Once you’re there, you hand him the tea box. “I think so too.”

Kai smirks, thanking you before starting back towards the recovery ward. On his way back, he calls:

“Besides…how else are you going to keep making fun of Cole?”

…

The day passes with you dining alongside the ninja again – this time with Mystake. You notice that she’s uncharacteristically quiet through the event, causing you to make a mental note to ask her about it later.

Cole’s injury is healing faster than you’d thought it would. Mystake’s antiseptic solution combined with a new tea made for a speedy recovery. At this rate, he’d be up and walking come tomorrow.

As such, the team is preparing to leave. Watching them restlessly discuss what they’d do when they return made you realize your time in the tea shop is drawing to a close.

And it simultaneously excites and terrifies you.

While you lay in bed that night, you wonder if this is how Kai felt when he left to become a ninja. He had said he’d been scared. Somehow, that comforts you. Even someone as confident as him got scared too.

Late into the night, though, your mind gets tired of worrying. Instead, you decide to get excited about trying something new.

That thought makes you smile as you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

…

It seems like you’d only been asleep for minutes when you jolt awake to the vibration of…something. It rocks the building, making your eyes widen. Was that an earthquake?!

Another one shakes the shop, this time accompanied by…a roar? Your heart races at the noise, wondering what it could be. Especially at this hour – a glance outside tells you that it’s either very late or extremely early.

Chills erupt across your skin as you exit your room, eyes searching for potential source as you make your way towards the front. It must have come from outside.

Even before you open the door, you can hear voices outside. They don’t sound panicked at all, which makes you feel somewhat better as you push the door open.

Immediately, you’re met with the crisp, morning breeze. It makes you shiver, wishing you’d thought to bring a jacket out beforehand. The sky is still dark and riddled with stars, leaving you to wonder what time it is. Regardless, you press on, looking up to see Kai, who is facing the alley and speaking lowly to something. A strange, red glow illuminates his figure.

Cole, Jay, and Zane are towards the left side of the shop, all speaking quietly amongst themselves. Cole is back on his feet and seems to be doing okay. Even though it’s early, a sense of restlessness courses about the four. They must be ready to get back into action.

Deciding that you’ve stared enough, you make your presence known. “Guys? Is everything okay?”

The brunet is the only one to hear you, holding one of his arms out towards the alleyway. “Hey, morning. Sorry, did we wake you?”

You shake your head, stepping a bit closer. “No, I just...heard something.”

“Yeah...about that,” Kai lowers the hand that he’d held to the alleyway. “Those noises were our dragons. Sorry, we probably should have warned you guys beforehand. It just didn’t cross our mind.”

“Dragons?” you repeat, glancing into the alley. “You guys have-”

A pair of vibrant, neon orange eyes stare at you from the darkness, making you freeze. Out from the alley creeps a dragon.

A growl rolls from its throat as it studies you, its red head flecked with streaks of orange. Unfurling from its sides are a pair of brilliant red wings that exude a warm, red light. Its underbelly is protected by many rows of thick, orange bands that contrast against the darkened red scales of its body. Beneath the bands, you can see red patches swirling with energy.

You take a step back, seeing Kai’s arm swing out in front of you when the dragon steps towards you. It snarls again, giving you a mean glare.

“Stop being an asshole,” Kai scolds, stepping up to the beast while glaring at it. It lowers its snout, allowing Kai to pet it. “It’s okay, boy. She’s a friend.”

“You...have a dragon?” you question incredulously, heart racing as you study the creature. Its – his? - eyes flutter shut at Kai’s touch, wings furling in so that he doesn’t appear as massive.

“Yep. We all do,” Kai replies, gesturing behind you. You spin tentatively, breath hitching as you see three more accompanying each of the ninja.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, anxiety snowballing into excitement as you take your time studying each of them. “They’re...they’re beautiful. I never thought that I’d get to see one in person...”

“Wanna pet him?” Kai offers, hand lingering on his dragon’s neck. “Though, fair warning, everyone else except me says that he’s hot to the touch. Not hot enough to burn yourself, but hotter than you’d expect.”

You nod in acknowledgement, cautiously lifting your hand. The dragon doesn’t flinch, trusting in his master as you gently place your hand flat against his snout. A grumble rumbles throughout his body, seemingly okay with your touch. Through your legs, you can feel the vibrations of the growl. This has to be what woke you up.

“Wow...” you say, noting that Kai was right – the scales are burning up. It’s almost like they’re containing a full-on wildfire underneath. “Why’s he so hot?”

“He’s a fire dragon. He was guarding the Sword of Fire when we found him,” Kai explains, smiling softly as he strokes the side of the dragon’s snout. “Same story with the others and their weapons. We realized we needed to fight alongside them, not against them.”

“Did you guys name them?” you wonder, glancing back at Kai.

“Yeah. Flame.”

“Hi, Flame,” you mumble, smiling at the dragon. He huffs softly in response, small columns of smoke puffing from his nostrils. You feel like you’re standing in front of a bonfire; you don’t have to be terribly close to experience the warmth emanating from his body. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Kai chuckles, taking his hand off of Flame. “He likes you.”

“I...I’m at a loss for words. This is the coolest thing ever...” you trail off, slowly taking your hand off of Flame as well. The fire dragon shifts so that he’s laying down, snout dropping to rest on the grass. You're reminded of a sleepy puppy.

Jay’s is the next dragon you greet.

“Meet Wisp!” Jay introduces, telling your name to the dragon even though he can’t talk. Wisp tilts his head, curiosity flashing in his electric eyes. This dragon is a gorgeous shade of blue, built similarly to Flame with one exception. If you had to guess, you’d say that Wisp is sleeker – made for speed. Wisp also appears to be friendlier than Flame.

“Wisp. That’s an adorable name,” you compliment, smiling as you approach the dragon. “Hello, Wisp!”

You tentatively reach your hand out, giggling when Wisp bumps his forehead against the palm of your hand, eager to be pet. Jay grins at the interaction.

Unlike Flame, you swear Wisp’s scales are tingling with underlying magic. Electricity tickles your skin, making you pull away from the dragon with a giggle.

“He’s tickly, isn’t he? Poor guy can’t help it; he’s always emitting a low amount of electricity,” Jay explains, gently scratching Wisp in a specific spot under his chin. Wisp hums in content, leaning into Jay’s touch.

“That’s amazing,” you reply, smiling at Wisp before turning to the next dragon.

This one is Rocky – Cole's dragon. This guy is certainly the bulkiest of the four, with scales that feel like rock underneath your fingertips. He seems to be made to take and deliver hits.

“Hi,” you say softly, carefully scratching the area above his nose. Rocky nuzzles his snout against your palm, eager to receive more pets.

“Oh, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” you coo, watching as the dragon closes his eyes.

Cole pushes himself off against the wall he’d been leaning on, adorning a disbelieving expression. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” you wonder.

“He’s usually a jerk,” Cole grumbles, glaring at Rocky. You’re not fluent in dragon expressions, but you have a feeling that Rocky is taunting Cole somehow. “He’s always pushing us around, not...cuddling us! What’s your deal, man?!”

“I think it’s because you’re mean to him,” you retort, laughing when Rocky bumps his snout against your arm. You realize he wants more pets, so you oblige without complaint.

“Or because he’s a baby!” Jay calls, earning a laugh from Kai.

Cole rolls his eyes, stepping beside you to pet the dragon as well. You take note of how Cole’s eyes soften upon seeing his dragon. The sight makes you wonder what kind of bond they have, and how it came to be.

“And now they’re never going to let me live that down. See what you’ve done?” Cole says, turning to you with a smirk.

“I don’t feel too bad,” you retaliate before moving to the last dragon.

“Who’s this?” you ask, directing your question to Zane. He’d been sitting quietly alongside the icy blue and white dragon, which is laying down behind him.

“His name is Shard,” Zane answers, tone soft as he glances up at you. “And I must apologize...he does not like being touched by people he doesn’t know very well. I imagine he will come around in a few weeks.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I understand.” You smile, studying the dragon a bit longer. You decide to leave him alone for the time being, instead swiveling around to face the other ninja.

The other two dragons have settled for the morning too, all laying down. Kai and Jay are near the front of the shop now, the two speaking quietly. Zane joins them a few moments later.

Cole steps beside you, watching the three before answering your unasked question: “I think they’re going to try to get a quick sparring session in before we go. They need to loosen up and let some energy out.”

“You’re sitting out, right?” you inquire, eyes narrowing in concern.

“Yeah. I know the cut finally closed all the way, but it still hurts,” he comments.

“Good. I know that stuff healed your wound pretty well, but Mystake is still putting the finishing touches on that particular formula. So just...take it easy for a few more days, then you can go back to crimefighting and whatnot.”

“Are you saying you used me as a test subject?” Cole replies, crossing his arms as Jay gestures towards a small clearing across the shop. It’s grassy and spacious – perfect for a spar. You and Cole follow the three there, standing towards the side as Kai and Zane get into position.

“We try our new teas and potions on ourselves before anyone else,” you say. Just from observing their stances, you can already see how differently these guys fight from each other – Kai's stance is loose, and he’s staying mobile while remaining focused on Zane. The white ninja, on the other hand, adopts a more formal version of Kai’s. He’s not as jittery as Kai, but he’s studying Kai. Watching, and waiting.

“And then you just...perfect them as time goes on?” Cole wonders, the two of you watching as Kai launches an attack.

“Pretty much. Once you understand the base recipes, and how different ingredients affect the base, it’s easy to come up with what you need. So, there’s not much risk in involved.”

“I see,” Cole trails off, cringing when Zane exploits an opening Kai failed to notice. The white ninja lands a kick on Kai’s torso, eliciting a curse from the red ninja.

“Ouch,” you hiss, your ribs hurting just from watching them. “How do you guys do this? And enjoy it?”

“It pays off in its own way,” Cole replies with a shrug. “The risk is part of the thrill for us.”

“I think you guys are just crazy,” you mumble, eyeing the fight.

Your statement makes Cole laugh, the ninja unfolding his arms as he turns towards you. “You know, most people just call us noble. Or brave. Heroic, even.”

“I’m sure; I’m just not much of an ass-kisser.”

“And that’s exactly why she needs to be our medic,” Kai calls, he and Jay laughing at the exchange.

“I am not familiar with the act of ass-kissing,” Zane says, he and Kai stopping their match. “Is it in a literal or figurative sense? And why is imperative that our medic does not kiss ass?”

The white ninja’s remark cracks Kai and Jay up. Zane’s expression leaves you feeling a little bad for him, though.

You lean over to Cole again, making sure they aren’t listening as you ask your next question. “Is he always that dense?”

“Yep. Don’t get me wrong...he’s really smart, but stuff like this always flies over his head,” he answers before walking towards the others and answering Zane’s query.

“Figuratively, Zane. An ass-kisser or kiss-ass is someone who sucks up to someone else. It’s usually to win approval or favors; it depends on the context. And it’s not a required quality of a medic, but personally, I think it’s more fun that way.”

“She’ll be able to see right through our bullshit,” Kai adds. “She’ll do her job, but won’t baby us.”

Jay pulls himself up from his previous sitting position, stepping over to the group and adding: “Although, she’s not opposed to calling people babies.”

"Ah. I see now,” Zane says. “Thank you for the explanation.”

A silence sweeps over the five of you, partnered with a sudden chilly breeze. You turn around to have another glance at the dragons, watching as they all nap peacefully. A few onlookers have gathered towards the end of the street, ogling the dragons with hushed murmurs.

“We should probably get going soon,” Kai notes upon seeing the crowd. “Wouldn’t want to affect Mystake’s customer flow with our dragons.”

“Yeah,” Cole agrees. “We can strap your stuff to Rocky. He’s probably the best suited to carry extra weight.”

You nod in response, realizing that this is the last morning you’ll spend here for at least two weeks – more if the job goes as well as you think it will. A pit funnels into your stomach, hands twiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Okay,” you finally say, turning back towards the ninja. “I’m gonna go talk to Mystake, then.”

Cole nods, bits of understanding flickering in his eyes. “Take your time.”

You smile appreciatively, leaving the group and passing by the snoozing dragons. The bell chimes as you enter the shop, seeing Mystake at the register.

A glance at the clock tells you that the shop has roughly forty-five minutes until opening, giving you a bit of time to say your goodbyes.

The elderly woman looks up at you once you approach, smiling as you greet her.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Good morning, dearie,” Mystake says, expression softening as she glances out the window to look at the ninja. “I suppose today’s the day, isn’t it?”

You nod. “Yeah...it is.”

She steps around the counter, hand coming to clasp around yours. “Come with me. I need to give you something.”

Your mentor guides you towards your room, where your packed belongings lay. On top of your bed is a canvas bag. You note that’s it is your favorite color, complete with a crossbody strap, several pockets, and metal clasps. It looks to be built for durability and function – the straps are thicker than you’d expect to find on a regular bag.

“I’ve prepared this for you,” she starts, sitting on the edge of your bed. You do the same, settling in across from her. “I’m glad you’ll be working with Wu. I always give him a hard time, but he’s a good man. And, since I’ve known him for so long, I had an idea of what you should bring.”

With that, Mystake tugs the bag into her lap, snapping the clasps open. “This bag contains everything you’ll need to get started.”

The first object she pulls out is a wooden box – it's handcrafted and painted your favorite color, decorated with floral engravings along the sides. “This box is filled with your basic teas and potions. There should be enough for two weeks. Should you decide to stay with them, I’ve made something else for you.”

Mystake sets the box aside, hands delving back into the bag to reveal a handcrafted leather journal. The cover is black, painted with pink and purple symbols that seem familiar somehow. The pages are thick and gray, like a stormy sky.

“This is a copy of my recipe book. Every potion and tea you’ve ever crafted under my guidance can be found here – with the exception of my secret ones, of course. There are also a few blank pages in the back so you can create your own, too.”

Then, Mystake tilts the bag towards you. You peer inside, seeing various basic medical supplies – bandages, gauze, simple over-the-counter medicines. It looks like enough for two weeks as well. “And, lastly, traditional medical supplies. Enough for the duration of your stay."

With that, Mystake repacks the bag and sets it aside.

Your eyes are watering slightly as you stare at the bag, watching as she snaps the clasps shut. “Mystake...I don’t know what to say. I...”

She chuckles, taking your hands in hers. Wrinkled, steely gray eyes peer at you from underneath her straw hat, just as glassy as yours.

“It’s okay, because I already understand how you feel. I know what you want to say. I was in your position once, after all. I was standing before my family in my homeland, about to travel into this world so I could fulfill my duty. But I never could have imagined what awaited me in a Ninjago – a land where I could live a mundane life, set up a silly old tea shop. A land where I had the blessing to train one of the brightest pupils that I’ve ever mentored.” She pauses, squeezing your hands. “I’m so proud of you.”

That does it. You sniffle, letting yourself cry. “You are?”

“Of course I am,” she mumbles. “You’ve come such a long way since the day I found you. And now you’re preparing to work on your own…”

“Mystake…” You’re unable to finish your sentence as you envelope her in a hug – the woman who’d taken you in, mentored you. “You…you have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you.”

Her arms coil tighter still around your figure, and against your arms you can feel the scratchy wool of her handknitted sweater. An herbal scent floods your senses as you soak it in, knowing this will be the last time you smell it in a while.

It would forever remind you of her.

“I’m honored I got the chance to mentor you, and get to know you as a young lady. You’re going to do incredible things. The world is yours, dearie; grab it by the neck and throttle it!”

You giggle, already knowing that you’re going to miss her eccentric self. “I won’t ever be able to repay you for everything that you’ve done for me. All I can say is: thank you, Mystake. I’m going to do all I can to make you proud. I’m forever grateful for your hospitality and mentorship.”

“You’ve already made me proud. I know you’re going to be amazing. You’ll be the best damned medic in Ninjago, you hear me? Now get out there and make it happen. They’re waiting for you.”

With those parting words, Mystake stands, pulling the bag she’d prepared into her arms. “Ready?”

You make sure you have your bags before nodding, glancing around your room one last time. Without your belongings scattered about the room, it seems far too empty. Your eyes soften as you study the area, heart aching when you realize you won’t be coming back to sleep here again for a while.

Despite your reluctance, you smile, mumbling a soft “thank you” to the room that had sheltered you for all of those years.

A sigh escapes you as you turn, following Mystake out of the shop.

The sun is higher in the sky now, and the dragons seem to be reenergized. Jay and Wisp are play fighting where Kai and Zane had been sparring earlier; Cole is fussing over Rocky while Kai is adjusting a saddle on Flame. Zane and Shard are still sitting together, watching the others struggle.

“You rapscallions better treat my pupil well,” Mystake grumbles, eyeing the crowd still ogling the dragons. “We can hurt just as well as we can heal-”

“Mystake,” you interrupt, chuckling as Jay’s eyes widen. “It’s going to be just fine.”

“Here, let me take those for you,” Cole replies, reaching for your bags. You oblige, grinning softly at him as you hand them to him.

“Thank you,” you reply, watching as he sets them on Rocky’s back. Kai approaches once he’s done, holding a mix of ropes and bungee cords.

The two set about strapping your luggage to the dragon, making sure that they’re secure before asking Rocky to move around a little. After a few adjustments have been made, Cole nods in approval.

“Alright, I think we’re about set,” Cole notes, glancing around at the others. “Who’s gonna take Wu back?”

“I can,” Kai answers, the four grouping together as Sensei Wu emerges from the store.

“Alright. Then I guess we’re headed back to the monastery, then,” Cole replies. The others nod in agreement, preparing to board their dragons. The black ninja takes a moment to double check the bags before turning to you.

His green eyes sparkle in the morning light, lips quirking into a soft smile. “Anything else you need to do before we take off?”

You don’t answer immediately, instead turning towards Mystake again. Wordlessly, you loop your arms around her neck.

She returns your embrace, voice soft in your ear as she says: “I’m going to miss you, but I’m glad you’re pursuing your dream. Remember what I said. Take care, dear. I’m always here if you need me.”

“Thank you. I’m going to miss you too.”

She pulls away from you, lips pressed together tightly as she releases you. “Now go.”

For a moment, your throat tightens with the things you want to say to her. Despite this, you hesitate, realizing that she already knows what you want to say.

With that, you turn back towards the ninja before you, glancing up at him through glassy eyes.

“Okay,” you murmur, nodding briskly. “I’m ready.”

Always happy to read fresh requests. Read my guidelines before submitting, please!

Masterlist for this Fic

#ninjago x reader #reader insert #cole x reader #cole brookestone x reader #cole brookstone & reader #cole brookstone x reader #ninjago knife to meet you series

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soap-ify · 1 year ago

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nsfw below , mdni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader.

04 — so when you leave me, i should die.

chapter summary — you go over to simon's place again.

tags / cw — reader has anxiety, reader has a panic attack, angst, tiny glimpse of reader's past though it won't really ever be explained (up to your imagination), self deprecating thoughts, lack of communication, some implied suicidal thoughts, unhealthy thoughts, situationship and codependency, nsfw, no foreplay, p in v, use of safeword, fluff, like wow finally, hurt/comfort, implied aftercare. [4.5k words]

☆ reader written to have afab anatomy but is referred to with gender neutral terms.

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

Your week couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Seated inside a tiny stall in the staff’s restroom with a hand clasped on your mouth to somehow lower the sounds of your shaky gasps — you almost wished that you had taken the day off.

Today had been going alright, you were serving people their orders normally in the cafe. Sweet and simple. You didn’t know where it all went wrong — was it the way the cafe seemed too loud today? The way you could somehow hear every whisper and sound? You hated that this had gotten so repititive, it made your skin crawl and throat uncomfortably tighten, eyes frantically looking around. You hated it, it was getting too much. Everything was getting too much.

All you could do was mumble some shaky excuses to your co-workers before hiding in the restroom, and here you were now.

Fucking stop crying, your raging mind tried to formulate while you were busy trying to ground yourself, leg uncomfortably bouncing while tears streamed down your cheeks — an useless attempt at cleaning your ruined state. Breathe in, breathe out. One hand was tightly tugging your chest, as if trying to rip your heart out and throw it across the room just so it could give you a damn break.

Your stomach felt so sick, ears ringing while your whimpers and hics echoed in the thankfully empty restroom. Though someone just passing by the door could probably hear your miserable cries, deciding not to help at all. Not that you’d want any help, it made you feel even more sick.

Look around. Look at the objects. This was nothing new to you. You had always done it alone, and you could do it again. Your blurred vision made it harder to see, your teary eyes looking around the stall and naming everything you could find — the toilet paper, the door, the little crack beneath the door and… a smudge of lipstick at the wall?

Slowly. breathe in, breathe out. You squeezed your eyes shut, mumbling quiet muffled instructions to yourself that you could barely remember in this state while your hands tightly clutched onto your arms, hugging yourself desperately and taking deep breaths.

You could do this.

Your manager had let you leave the work early after seeing your distraught state despite you having tried your best to hide it. Those pitied stares she threw at your direction made you feel nothing but sickening guilt that was cheekily comfortable in your throat, making you feel so damn incompetent for always creating a problem here and there.

Though you had to admit that you were way too at edge this week, and you hated that you knew exactly why. It had been four days since you last contacted Simon, since that happened. You weren’t being bitter or distant, no. You just didn’t know what to make up of everything at this point.

“You don’t ever shut up, do you?”

“I just want to sleep. I don’t need you here.”

His words had been swirling inside your head ever since that day, making you feel more and more melancholic. And an ugly part of you was mad at the fact that he had said it so nonchalantly — you wished that he had at least shown some anger or yelled at you. Shout and shove the idea in your head that he didn’t need you anymore.

But he didn’t. Were you so used to your parents’ shouts and harsh demands that you could barely think without them anymore? Probably. You knew you didn’t need their cruelly stated orders to function properly, but that’s how your body was trained with that from the beginning, wasn’t it?

The way Simon had always managed to keep himself reserved without just lashing out was hauntingly beautiful at times — the walls around him so high and mighty that you doubt that anyone would be brave enough to climb up the rocky bumps, no matter how bruised they may get.

And that’s what Simon was, wasn’t he? An undiscovered, tall and dangerous mountain. Too isolated to be found, too hard to be climbed. Alone in this miserable world.

It was as if that last interaction with him had somehow made you understand him a bit more. Despite your confused and depressed state during that, you could almost see the subtle and barely visible glint in his eyes that was almost familiar to yours when you were internally panicking.

Oh well, maybe you were just overthinking — reading too much into the interactions to somehow still keep the hope that you could be the brave knight that’d break the walls and save him. But save him from what?

Weakly stumbling out of the exit with your legs feeling somewhat numb, you decided to go home straightaway and find some new show to start, or maybe a movie — anything to keep your mind off of everything that was going downhill lately.

It wasn’t that easy, really. Even when you had managed to scurry into your apartment and change into some comfortable pajamas before sitting on your bed, your laptop placed on your lap as you watched a movie; all you could feel was the pain weighing on your heart.

You desperately wanted to contact Simon, hear his voice and just listen to it all day without any second thought. You wished that he’d just ramble your ear off, even if it was somewhat uncharacteristic for him. And you wanted to know if his fever had gone away.

God, you felt like some obsessive freak who just couldn’t leave a person alone. But every day without him caused your anxiety to spike up and the familiar sense of impending heartbreak to unveil itself. If he wanted you both to end your agreement, then at least he’d say something, right?

You missed him badly. You missed the way the tone of his voice would very subtly shift depending on his mood, and missed the way his silent presence would bring you a sense of comfort, just like the rainy weather — cold but comforting nonetheless.

You had your phone in your hand, completely distracted from the movie playing on your laptop, the chat between you and Simon opened. You had been staring at the screen for a few minutes.

And you had been staring at the little typing… appearing and disappearing after every few seconds at the bottom of the screen.

Hey.

Hi, love.

It’s been a while.

You okay?

Simon had been typing, deleting, retyping and deleting the texts over and over again like a madman for the past half hour, his thumbs slightly trembling in agitation.

Something in him screamed at him to stop, that he didn’t deserve to reach out after what he did a few days ago, especially after that. At this point, it was a shock that he hadn’t gotten a reward for saying shit he didn’t mean to.

He was about to give up and put his phone away before a loud ring of the notification pop-up caught him off guard, stopping his action.

You: Hello Si. I hope your health has gotten better.

Oh shit, were you online this whole time? Embarrassment crawled on the back of his neck, though a small relieved smile bloomed on his lips once his eyes read your message repeatedly.

But his smile was quick to fade, his hand shakily putting the phone away before he buried his face in his hands, a muffled groan leaving his lips. Why the fuck were you texting him? You were supposed to be angry at him, be rightfully mad and even block him. But here you were, actually reaching out to the wild dog caged for a damn reason.

Plus he was sure that you saw the perfume on the couch. It was too much, it was all just too much. You probably saw it. He was horrible. It wasn’t cheating, it wasn’t anything, but he felt as if he had betrayed himself and you. He was so quick to throw that damn little bottle away when he saw it laying on the couch once you were gone, a poor attempt to forget about that whole ordeal.

He felt sick to the stomach, the urge to throw up too tempting. Good job, Simon. He rubbed his exhausted eyes with his fingers, clicking his tongue before grabbing his phone once more.

You were so sweet, so sickeningly sweet that he just wanted to devour you in order to please his sweet tooth. But at the same time, he wanted to keep you far away from his ruined self.

After all, what more could a stray dog do other than messing everything up?

At times like these, he wished that he still had his mother to give him some advice. Years without her had made everything about her blurry in his head, but he could still vaguely remember the warmth of her embrace and the welcoming scent of the meal cooked by her very hands. He could remember Tommy, and the house they lived in, and—

And him. It all returned back to him, all of Simon’s thought processes always ending back to his father.

Simon was his father’s son after all, his blood. Was he him though?

Fucking hell. He tried to shake these thoughts away and focused back on replying to you.

Simon: You should come over.

If you want to.

God forbid he ever tries to have a proper conversation.

“I swear I am fine.”

Simon’s soft grumbles were not affecting you at all, your hand gently pressing against the bare skin of his neck to check his temperature, brows knitted in concentration.

“Just checking.” You mumbled sheepishly, slowly pulling away.

He could see the vivid signs of exhaustion etched onto your pretty face — dark circles adorning your under eyes and your smile all struggled. He knew it was all his doing, he was the one who made you leave all broken the other day. Apologies stood right at the tip of his tongue, but his throat would constrict as soon as he’d attempt at doing something, anything to show you that he knew how much he fucked up.

You had just arrived at his flat a few minutes ago, and the fact that you instantly started to check on his health made his heart ache horribly — both in a good and bad way. Why must you be so sweet to him? Why must he always bite the hand that is willing to show affection to him?

Both of you sat on the couch, silent and clearly on edge, eyes looking at anything but each other. I am sorry, Simon thought, You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Don’t leave.

He remembers reading somewhere that communication does wonders to one’s relationship with the other, and he knew that person was right. He had given this advice to many others too — such as Johnny who was sobbing drunk on his shoulder once, babbling about some lass who had rejected him or something. Simon was great at giving advice, though he just couldn’t apply those to himself.

“Those meds you gave me the other day helped.” He spoke gruffly, brown eyes slowly drifting over to you, watching your shoulders ease up slightly.

“I’m glad…” You smiled, still not looking at him, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“How was work?” He attempted to keep the conversation going, though once he saw you visibly stiffen up at his question, his brows furrowed a bit in concern. What happened?

“Um…” Your words were caught up in your throat, your hands restlessly clenching onto the bottom of your shirt while your eyes lowered down to the ground, teeth chewing onto your bottom lip. There was no use of lying to him, you knew that, but a part of you was scared that he’d think you were talking too much again.

“It was bad.” You tried to be as vague as possible, not wanting to touch on whatever happened in the restroom.

Simon didn’t reply for a good few seconds, thick silence falling between you two once more. You assumed that he had nothing else to say, or simply didn’t wish to. You hoped that he had nothing to say. The last thing you wanted was to burden him with your problems.

That was until you felt the gentle touch of his calloused fingers on the side of your jaw, his hands ungloved as he gently tilted your face so you’d look at him. Your breath was caught up in your throat, eyes widening just a bit as you looked at him.

This was one of the many moments where you wished you could see past the mask he wore, to see the expression that would be adorning his face. It was a desperate ugly feeling that clung onto your heart, yearning to feel what he was feeling. To see what he was seeing.

Just a situationship, just a fucking situationship. Your mind was tired of reminding this to you over and over again, though something in you told you that it wasn’t just that anymore. And maybe he thought the same way. You didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“You can talk to me about it, you know.” His words seemed carefully put together, as if afraid to show more care that could possibly break the barriers he had built around him.

Tell me. I need you to tell me.

“Just… Just got too overwhelmed.” You grumbled a bit, your bottom lip a bit bruised from all the harsh chewing you had been unconsciously doing throughout the day. “M’just so tired, Simon…”

Tired of us. Tired of my job. Tired of myself. Tired of you.

Simon’s hand moved down to your shoulder, gently rubbing against the stiff muscles while he leaned forward, tilting his head to the side. “I know… Me too.” He whispered, voice low and quiet.

Me too. That’s the most Simon would ever let himself open up to you — just a vague sentence that could mean anything and everything. Just a line he’d never dare to elaborate, leaving you confused and longing.

“Si…” You breathed out, hands carefully reaching out before holding onto his forearms, leaning closer. Do something. You needed him, needed him to just shut your brain down and make all the nagging go away, to make you forget about reality once again.

Your eyes scanned his masked face desperately, brows a bit furrowed as your fingers tightened around his forearms, almost digging into his tatted skin. Distressed, hungry. You were afraid that if he pulled his hands away, you'd stop breathing. Please hold me, hold me so tight that you are in my skin, just like the way I am holding you.

And Simon saw it all too well. In fact, he saw himself in you at that moment, and it made him have this sudden urge to bash his head against the wall.

“You need me?” He asked in a soft voice, his thumb brushing against your chapped bottom lip and gently pulling it down to part your lips.

“Yes…” You nodded, heat blooming in your cheeks while his thumb continued to caress your lips like that.

It was a sickeningly good feeling to always hear that from you — made him want to shower you with all the affection his wounded heart could muster but at the same time, it made him want to pull himself away from you and just disappear.

His hands gently found their way to your waist, holding you carefully before pulling you onto his lap with ease, propping you upright. He wanted to kiss the exhaustion away, he desperately wanted to. But he couldn’t. So instead, his hands begin to gently knead and massage your lower back, his head pressing against your neck while his fingers slid under your shirt and rub your skin, feeling how tense you were.

“Feel that? You’re so tense, love…” He grumbled softly, feeling the way your hips were trying to grind against him, movements sloppy yet laced with an undying need.

Something in Simon’s head couldn’t help but feel a bit strange about all of this. Just why were you being so needy today? Not that he disliked it, of course, given the way his cock was literally stirring in his pants right now. But he had never seen you like this before, almost initiating everything. What was going in that pretty head of yours?

You, on the other hand, knew too well about how you were behaving right now. You just wanted him to keep going, to keep him with you, to forget about the whole world. Your hands tightly gripped onto his shoulders while you gently rubbed your clothed heat against the bulge forming underneath his pants, trying to push the raging storm of thoughts in your head away. Go away. Just let me have this, please.

Soft shaky breaths and moans left your lips, your body shuddering when you felt Simon’s right hand moving down to your trousers, gently starting to slide them down. You lifted your hips up to accommodate his movements, your body burning up, all unsatiated.

“P-Please, I…” Your words were cut off when you felt his thumb gently press against your puffy folds through the soft fabric of your panties, gently rubbing up and down before feeling your clit gently pressing against his thumb.

“Hush, I know…” He cooed, but went quiet when your hand reached down to grab his wrist, shaking your head.

“No, I need you.” You whined under your breath, panting softly before you hastily started to unbuckle his belt, leaving the hunk of a man underneath you startled. What the fuck?

Something was wrong, he could feel it. You were never the one to turn down foreplay, you always loved it. But he just couldn’t speak out, letting you undo his pants and gently unzip it, tugging his briefs down while his eyes tried to read the look on your face — distressed, needy and… angry?

He swallowed the forming lump on his throat and let his hands gently rest on your thighs, trying to soothe you while rubbing the soft plush, biting back a groan when your hand gently wrapped around his girthy hard cock, your hips lifting up once more as you tried to line it against your entrance.

“Simon…” His name rolled off your tongue as a sweet moan once you felt the tip of his cock gently press against your hole, slowly sliding down on the length. His hands held you by your hips to guide you, being careful as to not push you down completely on it, feeling your gummy walls stretch around his meaty cock. He was glad that you were wet already, the fact that you didn’t let him prepare you beforehand was still eating him up a bit inside.

“Careful now, love.” He chuckled a bit under his breath, leaning back a bit so you could have more space. Your hands found their way back to his shoulders, holding them for balance as you begin to move up and down on his cock, your pace clumsy and urgent, trying to feel him fully inside you as much as you could. Your head pushed back a bit at the stretch, whimpering softly the way his cock pulsated inside you.

Your fingernails begin scratching and digging tightly onto his skin, dragging down so you could properly feel his biceps where his short sleeves ended, scratching there too. It soon dawned onto you that you were not just desperate, but very angry too. Angry at him for making you come back to him, angry at yourself for not being able to stop your feelings for him, angry at your damn manager for always giving you those looks of disdain — you were just angry at everything.

And it felt so good to let it out, your fingers leaving red unbruising marks on his skin that were going to fade away after a few minutes, your cunt drooling over his cock as you continued to move up and down his length, grinding against him. He wasn’t even wincing, and it made you momentarily forget about the fact that you were literally scratching him and just focus solely on the way his cock was rubbing against your sweet spots. It felt so good, oh it felt so good.

But then it didn’t. Your heart suddenly felt too heavy, your movements getting more unsteady as you became vividly aware od everything. It was overwhelming, too overwhelming.

Simon noticed the tears forming in your eyes, alarms going off in his head as he quickly stilled you by grabbing you tight, making you whimper and choke back on a sob, quickly covering your mouth in horror. Did he hurt you? He was just as horrified, his balaclava doing nothing to hide that since those blank eyes of his were all wide with concern now.

“Love…? Did I hurt you?” He cautiously asked, his thumb trying to soothe you by rubbing your skin. You looked at him helplessly, unable to explain the sudden train of emotions that just slammed into you hard.

“N-No…” You quickly shook your head, your grip loosening around his arms, trembling in his grasp as a tear slid down your cheek. “I don’t know… I… Red.” You squeaked out, looking away quickly.

Red. It was the safeword you both had decided when you first fucked months ago. You remember his persistence in making sure that you would use the safeword when you needed too, you remember the strange unidentified feelings in your chest at that time.

You always thought it was just a one time thing.

Simon gently pulled himself out of you, deciding to pull away though your hands continued to cling onto him, a silent plea to not let go.

His heart ached horribly at the thought that he made you cry. Everything around him was just a blur at this point, his sole focus being you. You needed him. Once setting you down properly on his lap again, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his warm embrace, letting you hug him tight as you buried your face into his neck, a wrecked sob leaving your lips.

“D-Do you hate me?” You sniffled weakly, his hand rubbing circles on your back.

“What makes you think that?”

“I-I just annoy you all the time. I know you’re mad at me… I am always bothering you with my feelings a-and…” Another sob dissolved your words until you just couldn’t speak anymore, your body shaking in his arms. “I am sorry…”

Your words were making his throat tighten up even more, an agonising pain spreading inside him as he tried to comfort you, shaking his head. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never…” He promised truthfully, pausing for a bit before speaking in a much quieter tone. “Don’t apologise. It’s me, I’m sorry…” Sorry for everything.

The words sounded so foreign, and felt not enough at the same time. Simon didn’t think he could ever do something that’d be enough for you in the way you deserved.

So he did what he could do, hold you and rub your back gently till your sobs subsided, soft hics leaving your lips as you tried to calm down, throat aching and face all teary. “M’tired…”

“I know, love…” He whispered softly, his hands gently moving up once you pulled your head back, gently cupping your cheeks. “Everything’s been shitty lately, I know.” He sighed.

It felt so good to hold you face. You weren’t flinching away from his tainted hands. Instead, you leaned into his touch, and that broke something inside him.

He slowly pulled back before hooking his finger underneath his balaclava, beginning to lift it up. You froze, teary eyes going wide as he lifted it up till his nose. Holy fucking hell, oh my—

He might as well just take the whole damn thing off at this point, though you didn’t bug him on that, too busy staring at the two scars that ran down his jaw, one small scar adorning the side of his upper lip. His lips. They somehow were just as what you imagined, in a good way. You swallowed and tried to speak, words getting caught up in your throat.

He leaned forward and didn’t wait for you to say anything, gently brushing his lips against the tear streaks on your cheeks, as if soothing the pain away. Your lips trembled at his little act, heart on the verge of exploding. “S-Simon… You’re beautiful.”

His movements halted at your words, lips parting a bit before he breathed out, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as a form of ‘thank you’. Too intimate. Those words rang in his head like a blaring siren, though he chose to ignore them for now.

I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry. Each kiss on your face was an apology. Just a poor dog trying to please his owner — the one who didn’t care about all the fleas on him, all the dirt and all the flaws.

Simon didn’t know what it was that he felt for you, but if it was love, then he was awful at it.

“Why…?” You sniffled, unable to hold in a soft giggle from leaving you due to the ticklish feelings of the kisses he was giving you, your heart slowly warming up. It was a genuinely question. Why? Is this affection now just temporary, and did something change within him? You were confused.

“Just felt like it.” You both knew that he didn’t just feel like lifting his mask up.

You nodded and just put your whole weight on him, relaxing in his arms while he started rocking you back and forth, your hands finding their way to cup his face. Next time you’ll make sure he takes his whole mask off.

What are we now? That question stood right at the tip of your tongue, but you knew asking that will end the comfort of this moment, and you didn’t want that. So you held your words in, feeling him being the most vulnerable he has ever been with you.

“Can we hang out sometime…?” You asked softly, earning a nod from him.

“Sure, love.” He pressed one final kiss on your forehead before sighing and leaning back on the couch, closing his eyes for a while. “Let’s… Let’s get you cleaned up, ‘kay?” He asked and you reluctantly hummed, tiredly getting off his lap.

You let him lead you to his bathroom, his touches so sweet that it hurt yet felt tender at the same time.

But for now, you both could just bask into the comfort and warmth of the moment — let the tears be covered up by kisses and pretend that everything was alright.

notes — don't be fooled by the fluff hehe >:3.

#are things going to get better or worse... phew!#not simon reading up communication advices #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty #yaaiad : masterlist #rurufic

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silvertiefling · 1 month ago

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" REALLY? 'Cause the way ya carry yourself says far different. You've been comin' 'round my tavern more oft' than not these nights. Ya bare an awful lot of resemblance to one of the ones that apparently saved this shit city - and ya order blood off the special menu. Hardly seems like your life ain't interestin'. Sue me for bein' curious about a new regular patron. "

@silvertiefling

❛ 𝐖hy do you care so much .ᐣ My life is far from interesting 。 ❜

#bloodszar #&&. V; RIP THEIR HEARTS OUT & SERVE IT.

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girlwiththoughts13 · 6 months ago

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Where there's a Will

Daemon Targaryen x F!reader

Warnings: Incest/ P in V /infidelity/ Age-gap

Word count: 1k

~~~~~

The Iron Throne. It was coveted by all, from the lowliest knights to the highest born lords. Who sat down on the chair of swords was more than ruler. They were a protector, and to protect you must be strong. The late King Viserys was not strong in any sense of the word. He allowed leeches to squeeze through the cracks in his home and feed off of his blood and weakening reign. Allowed them to rip the Targaryen heritage and culture to install the gods of common men; symbols and emblems that would shame Aegon the Conquerer.

Though for all his treasonous faults there was a level of respect that had to be given to Otto Hightower for seizing every opportunity to propel his house forward. Whoring out his only daughter to the aged King in the interest of ruling behind a figurehead child of his own blood.

It was the perfect scheme, until Viserys named his daughter Rhaenrya as rightful heir of the 7 Kingdoms, a claim he steadfastly upheld even after the birth of male heirs.

How marvelous you'd believed it would be. Rhaenrya would have struck down structures that were In place to clip women's wings. Would have shown mercy when deserved and serve justice when necessary. The small folk would rejoice at her Queenship. She would intimidate the highlords of Westeros and rebellion would not be a known word. In your mind this was the Queen your lovely mother would be.

The Greens usurpation of the throne crumbled that dream. The hope of the great leader extinguished before your eyes. You watched for days as your mother reverted into someone you did not know. Frail and scared. It stirred something within you, that had not been there before. Took root deep within and fed off of your darkest desires. One that gave the promise of eternal glory.

The loss of a child could not be easy for certain. You yourself had not felt the grief you should have. No stirring of sadness or longing in your gut for your little brother. Not like Jace. It scared you as well as excited you. There was no weakness to be found and the prospect of an indestructible mind and heart was eagerly accepted by you. Aemond Targaryen's crime should have been answered swiftly and without mercy, alas all your mother could do was cry, losing herself to anguish. Get up! You wished to say, Focus!

Now was the time to strike show the false King and his court what true dragons were made of, fire and blood.

Control on your own treacherous thoughts were slipping, and left only the question, Could I be Queen of the 7 Kingdoms?

You would be one day anyway, as the firstborn, as the true born daughter of Laenor. What's the difference between then and now?

Your mother would have to die however, and you couldn't do that.

At least not alone.

Daemon was easy to convince, soul and heart already corrupt. You came to him like a dream unruly sliver hair and donned in a sheer iridescent nightgown. Whispers of greatness flowed from your pouty lips right into his ear. Face full of innocence and intention anything but.

You continued to spew your sweet poison as you rode him on the seat by the fire, the flames heating your already blazing skin.

He reached his peak with the thought of him as King with you by his side swollen with his babe. A conquerer in his own right.

Like your grandsire, you enjoyed sculpting the key parts of the realm, the only thing you shared with the frail man. Your most recent replica being the throne room. It's here in the safety of your chambers Daemon finds you fiddling with the chair you shall take soon.

He comes to stand behind you, his hands smoothing up the expanse of your arms pulling your back flush to his chest. Seasoned warrior that he is, his body is hard and unmoving compared to your soft pliant one, a perfect foot solider he will be.

Daemon nuzzles his head into your neck inhaling deeply "I have missed you". His time at Harrenhal left him craving your most willingly body. You're aware he views this situation much differently. Possibly believes that he has manipulated you, lead you down a dark path. A pure swan tainted so irreversibly. Not at all the still waiting dragon that you are. Ready to sink your teeth into his skin and drain him for all he's worth. You know he loves you or as close to love as he can feel. Do you return that sentiment is another issue because, of course not, he's your mother's husband, your step-father and uncle. You're strategic not vindictive.

Only your mother felt the need to be above Daemon and try her hand at triumph without him. He was a fool with a sword but that sword in his particular hand could bring down mountains. You needed him, for now. With your gentle guiding you had him believe your wants and ideas were his own.

You turn your head to meet his eyes. "No more than me" you sigh and lift your chin to claim his lips with your own. His hands tighten around you, trailing all around your body stopping here and there to grope you. Giving a pinch to your breast, a clutch around your neck. He pulls way to place his hand at the middle of your back giving a shove forward, you go easily. He flattens you over the table. He brings his hand from your back down to where the hem of your nightgown ends meets your exposed thigh. he bunches the material to your hips. Letting out a shudder at your lack of clothing underneath.

You hear from behind you the unlacing of his trousers, you keep your eyes trained on the figures ahead. The column, the banners, the throne. So small they could fit in the palm of your hand, but the longer you stare willing it to come to fruition the more the scene is happening before you. Your being enthroned and the highlords and ladies kneel before you, the small folk shout your name from outside the castle walls, you hardly feel the push in of Daemons cock in your own walls. You hear him grunt and groan behind you, rutting inside you wildly like a brute or the animal he is. He doesn't notice your lack of sounds to lost in his own pleasure, Daemons view of your backside hides your lack of lustful expression replaced with one of resolution one of assurance.

Your body is jostled up and down, Daemon's hand finds its way into your hair before trailing down to the back of your neck keeping you there while your eyes never falter from your soon to be rightful place.

The Iron Throne.

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader

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pennyellee · 9 months ago

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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings (preview only): minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, incision wound, blood, suicide attempt, strong language, mentions of God, ...

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 583

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

author's note: well, yall, life is getting in my way, it's certainly keeping me from finishing this chapter, but it shouldn't be that long before I actually do. I wanted to drop a little preview before the sacred day I was born, which is tomorrow, 1-2-3 birthday depression. Enjoy the preview and stay tuned for the chapter. I'll be also answering some asks tomorrow, yes, i see them, and i love you all so so so so much, I just have very little of free time lately. See ya soon! lots of love, p. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡🫧

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII

Time seemed to slow as Yoongi lunged forward, reaching out to stop her, but it was too late. The blade sliced through her skin, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as pain seared through her, her vision swimming with darkness. She felt Yoongi’s hands on her, his panicked voice calling out to her, but it was distant as if coming from a faraway place.

“Seokjin?!!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

He cradled her in his arms, his hands trembling as he pressed against the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

The sound of loud footsteps echoed in the corridor as others rushed forward to reach the doctor, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. But amidst the chaos, Y/N’s empty gaze remained fixed on Yoongi, her eyes still burning with flames.

“Stay with me, baby. Don’t leave me please.” Yoongi whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He pressed his lips to her forehead, willing her to hold on, to fight for her life.

But as he looked down at her pale, lifeless face, he knew that the road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges. For now, all he could do was pray that she would survive, that she would find the strength to forgive him and that they would someday find their way back to each other.

“Please don’t take her away from me, my Lord.”

Yoongi prayed that it was not too late to save her from the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

One thing remained clear in Yoongi’s mind: he would do whatever it took to save her, to make amends for the pain he had caused, and to prove to her that his love was worth fighting for.

Yoongi’s voice cut through the turmoil, his words a desperate plea for forgiveness. He begged for her to forgive him, to give him another chance to make things right. No more secrets, no more lies. No more pain. He was willing to rebuild their relationship from the ground up, on a foundation of honesty and trust.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the tang of fear, thickening the air with a palpable sense of impending doom. He ripped one of his sleeves a while ago, pressing the roughly crimpled fabric to the wound, praying that Seokjin was near. Or did anyone hear him scream frantically enough to relay the message?

“You can’t leave me, baby, please. I promise we’ll work everything through.”

He kissed and caressed her hair with his free hand which was covered with her blood. Tears blurred his vision as his hand trembled at the sight. A blood he never wished to shed.

“Please, Y/N, you have to forgive me.” The weight of his actions pressed down on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with the weight of his mistakes.

“Fucking goddammit Yoongi!”

—

Y/N set the plates on the table, pouring the hot water into a kettle of green tea as he joined her at the table. They exchanged smiles, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the kitchen and the windows providing a magnificent view of the sea.

“I’ve been thinking,-” she said with a smile on her face while she set the seaweed salad down in front of him. He hummed in response, reading today’s paper.

“About opening my practice.” He nodded, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

“Thought you wanted to wait until the babe arrives?”

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

PS: accounts highlighted in pink cannot be tagged, so if you want to be in the tag list, please make sure you have it allowed in your settings. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts @seonghwaexile

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 2 years ago

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Hello love! I was wondering if you could do a second part to your first Maegor one shot of him killing the readers husband and taking her and her younger children's. Like the second part could be her oldest son now grown up killing Maegor and his half siblings for the trauma Maegor gave to him and his poor mother. Like after reading your one shot I knew this man deserves the cruelest demise for what he did to the reader and her family. I love your writing!

A/N: I hope you like this! Thank you very much ❤️. I'm sorry if i did not follow the entire request but I just could not kill Vaella, I did not have the heart to

pairing: Fanon!Dark!Maegor Targaryen x Reader

summary: Reader's eldest son now grown up killing Maegor and his half siblings for the trauma Maegor gave to him and his poor mother. Like after reading your one shot I knew this man deserves the cruelest demise for what he did to the reader and her family.

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: Angst, killing, mentions of rape and childbirth, very dark themes, death of children, stillbirths, mother not caring for children

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You could still remember the day Maegor forced himself on you, the day your entire life changed from heaven to hell in a couple of hours. The day Maegor forced you to leave your darling Darrick behind in Casterly Rock and forced you to move with Gerold, Lancel and Martyn.

The second you stepped foot into the Red Keep he married you in the ways of his people, he threw a feast in your honour, rubbing it all in your face before he bedded you over and over again. Maegor was not particularly cruel with your sons allowing Gerold to become his cupbearer while Lancel and Martyn were still young and once all three were old enough they were given the right education.

You however have been treated nothing short of a broodmare, he fucked you more times than he spoke to you if that was possible. You could be laying in bed reading a book when he would march in without uttering a word, he would shed his clothes expecting you to do the same before he fucked his fill before leaving.

Logically you fell pregnant shortly after your wedding, your first child with Maegor was nothing short of a monster, born with scales like his other children from his other wives. He was with you in the birthing room when the lizard like child came out of you covered in your blood almost ripping you in half.

Maegor did not grow disheartened and resumed fucking you the second the maester announced you were healed enough for the activity. In less than four moons from birthing your child you were pregnant again. This time your child came out alive, pink and crying like any newborn. You could not bare looking at the son you bore the cruel king. He looked just like his father, the Targaryen hair and the facial expression, he was named Vaegon, Maegor's father's name with the V in honour of his mother.

At first you refused even looking at the child, he was too much like his father, crying every couple of minutes to earn your attention. He was cruel in you heart. As a toddler he would throw tantrums if your other sons were anywhere near you as if it was a crime in his eyes for you to love your boys, you could just not force yourself to love him. Maegor had to literally force you to hold him for the first time when he was three moons old, you held him for a couple of minutes before returning him to the wet nurse when he fussed hungrily, the next time you held him he was five moons old.

Then you got pregnant again. Maegor was the happiest man in Westeros throwing feasts in your honour, forcing your other sons to serve you wine as if they were servants. He rewarded you with a letter from your first boy who you had not heard anything of for almost five years at that point, he was three and ten namedays that year with three more years to go before he could take the power from his uncle, his regent. Your son responded almost as soon as he received the letter warming your heart with the news of his good health.

You gave birth to a daughter this time, a girl Maegor insisted to name Vaella, she was a quiet child which is probably why you tolerated her more than you did Vaegon. Vaegon did not grow jealous of Vaella as he did Gerold, Lancel and Martyn. The three boys were distraught but found something positive of the whole ordeal, you loved them more than you did their half siblings, you broke your fast with them every day, you ate luncheon with them every day and you suppered with them every night. You spoke of their father highly and kept his memory fresh in their minds. You even drew each a portrait of him to keep his face remembered, they kept those portraits hidden from Maegor's reach fearing his anger.

By the time Darrick finally reached his six and tenth name day you have been married to Maegor for eight years with three children of his own, all from you. Vaegon was six namedays old, Vaella was five while your youngest was two namedays old, a son called Gaelon. Between Vaella and Gaelon you suffered two stillbirths of scaled sons, both looking more like a lizard than humans.

Maegor organised for a feast to be held along with tourneys to celebrate Vaegon's nameday. As his mother you had to be there along with all your children. Maegor agreed this year to let your first three sons to attend as your sons instead of being cupbearers or squires to some knight who will eventually die in the tourney.

You sat on Maegor's right side unlike his other wives who were forced to sit with the rest of the crowd, a punishment for not baring him any living children. Gerold, Lancel and Martyn sat on your right while Vaegon, Vaella and Gaelon sat on Maegor's left, much to your relief. The only one you could tolerate was Vaella, she usually would sneak into your room silently, sit beside you on the sofa and sew some handkerchief silently not wanting to disturb you.

You did not care for Vaegon, he was a needy and spoiled boy you wanted to slap many times for the things he would say and do at only seven. You worried for Vaella from him, he eyes her very weirdly especially when Maegor would mention the fact that they were betrothed to one another, much to your disgust Maegor wanted to follow the ways of his ancestors. You feared for the poor girl, she did not deserve to marry someone like Vaegon, who was too alike Maegor, she deserved someone like Norrwin, someone who would love her and cherish her.

You felt guilty sometimes for caring for Vaella, you had always wanted a daughter, but from Norrwin but when Vaella was born you could not help falling in love with the small girl, it physically hurt you to put walls in between you two. You sometimes prayed for her not to marry Vaegon, prayed she would have a better life than you did, she was only a child after all.

"Lord Darrick Lannister of Casterky Rock" Your head snapped to the side, mind still fussy from daydreaming. You watched as a horse, black as the night sky trotted out, with a young man atop of it. The young man looked like he more muscles than a fully grown man, his helmet covered his head but it looked like it was made out of the purist of gold and shaped into a lion head. A spear was in his hand as he moved onto the field proudly.

"Darry" Gerold muttered beside you. Your eyes watered and your heart hammered in your chest. Whispers flitted all around you but you could only hear the blood pump in your ears as he neared the area you sat on. You almost did not feel Maegor's hand envelope your own if he had not squeezed it so tightly you yelped from the pain. You turned to look at him to find him glaring at you, angry as he usually was.

"Mother, I hope you find me worthy enough of your favour" He sounded so different, his voice was an identical one to his father and you had no doubt he had his face as well. When he was born you whined to Norrwin that you did all the work but he got all the credit from how alike the two looked.

You roughly retrieved your hand from Maegor's much to his shock, you had ceased fighting a long time ago. You stood up from the chair you sat on, moving slowly fearing that this was a dream. You picked up the wreath of flowers you weaved every single tourney out of courtesy and to teach Vaella how to make her own. You walked over to the edge as the first tear streamed down your face.

Darrick's spear clanged with the railing of the balcony, his eyes were the only thing you could see through the helmet, a blur of blue like his father's. You placed your wreath on the pointy end of the spear letting it slide down to his arm.

"Thank you dear mother" Darrick whispered nodding his head. Your hand snapped to your mouth to hide the sobs were trying to push through "Oh my darling boy" Was all the slipped through your lips.

You stepped back as he moved to his end of the field. You sat down back in your chair trying to ignore the burning glare Maegor threw your way, how dare you feel so attached to your son? How dare you loved children that were not of him? The man who made you a queen. His hand rested on your thigh, not caring for the place and time, he squeezed with a smirk as the two opponents charged at each other.

A gasp tumbled from your lips when Darrick's spear pushed the other knight off his horse, he smacked down on the floor so hard you thought he might have broken his spine. But he stood up in a second demanding for his sword making you feel even more anxious. You grabbed Gerold's hand fearing for your eldest's safety.

Darrick climbed down his horse also holding out his hand for his sword. His spear was discarded on the floor but your wreath was pulled back by him to stay around his wrist. Darrick let the enraged knight attack first, dodging easily as if this was another Thursday to him. You held your breath the entire time.

Your heart dropped when your son did not even flinch as he pierced his sword into the other man's chest ending his life. Your son was no longer the loving boy you knew. Your son turned back around to face you and Maegor who stiffened beside you.

"That was for my brothers" Darrick announced pointing at your sons. You tilted your head to the side confused as to what he meant. You were shocked when the helmet of the other knight was pulled off to show your sworn protector, the man who helped locking you in your room and once even held you down until Maegor came to your room to bed you. The man you sometimes heard laughing while you screamed with pain because of Maegor.

"You-" Maegor stood up from his chair pointing a finger at Darrick only to be interrupted when an arrow pieced his flesh. Your eyes widened in shock as he flopped down beside you gasping for breath. You stood up through your shock to watch as he squirmed dying.

"And that is for my mother" Darrick finished pointing at the dying king. You whirled around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find knights with a lion on their armour, your son's bannermen's men.

"Vaella" You called worried for your daughter. She sprinted over to you wrapping her small arms around your thighs in fear, the first time she ever hugged you in her life. The guards grabbed Vaegon and Gaelon, the spoiled boys yelling at them.

"Unhand me you filth" Vaegon kept repeating. His eyes blazed with the fire of the dragon. You picked up Vaella holding her close to your body, moving closer to Gerold, Lancel and Martyn who were huddled together watching with their mouths slacked open.

"My sons-" Maegor held his hand out to Vaegon and Gaelon who were forced down to the field where Darrick awaited them. He turned to look at you, pleading mercy but you did nothing, no one did anything for the cruel king, he had no friends among the people around, he caused himself this demise. You almost felt happy when the light left his eyes.

"I Darrick of house Lannister challenge princes Vaegon and Gaelon to a duel" It was unfair, he was a man grown while they were children still training with blunt swords.

You turned around not wanting to watch as your sons fought and at the same time shielded your only girl from the cruelty of men, even if they were her full- half brothers. Gerold escorted you and his siblings out of the establishment and back into the Red Keep where you learned that Maegor's loyal men were put into the black cells of the Red Keep.

You waited and waited with your girl shivering in your arms, you were glad that she would not meet the fate you did with Vaegon. You were glad that you were free of the cruelty of house Targryen. The Iron Throne only glared back at you as you waited. Darrick found you in the throne room without a single scratch on him but he was covered in blood, his brothers' blood but you did not care, you never did. You hugged him close smearing the blood on yourself before introducing him to Vaella, your daughter with your dark hair but the most beautiful purple eyes, a shade she did not share with her father and brother. Darrick accepted her with open arms, he could see how she feared him seeking refugee in your arms but he loved her, she was his little sister and he will protect her with his life.

#maegor the cruel #maegor targaryen #maegor imagine #maegor x oc #maegor x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house targaryen #house of the dragon #fire and blood #house lannister #requests #request

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konigbabe · 2 years ago

Text

heartburn

Pairing: John Price x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/Warnings: established relationship; (emotional) hurt/no comfort; angst; smut; p-in-v sex; soft sad sex turned rough(ish); female reader; female anatomy; fem oral receive; cunnilingus; unprotected sex; spoilers in the upcoming tags; breakup; heart break; cheating accusations; unintentional exhibitionism

Summary: Dressed in nothing but your desire, England was an entirely different beast. Ready for the remarks, John stomped into the shared bedroom, legs freezing upon the sight of you—skin bare, eyes wide, heels on but clothes not.

Part of my A to Z kinks game [L is for lingerie]. Inspired by Power by Isak Danielson.

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

Like a starved animal, begging for every ounce of you; to feel every inch of you. He already stole your heart. Took a part of you with him whenever he got deployed. Lost it on the battlefield; returned with gifts instead.

All you wanted him to do was make it up to you. Make it all go away, rip the rest of your heart out, leave an empty cave inside your chest only to fill it up with his essence. Only him.

John’s arm tightened around you when your lips brushed over his. Chasing that spark, that electrifying flicker. The gentle brush of your tongue over his lips, a silent cry; or a plea.

There isn’t much to save, anyway. Is it really worth trying?

Words spiralled in your head, the sour taste of cheap wine painting your tongue crimson red, making your world spin with each step. You watched as the wine splashed on the bottom of the sink, few droplets bouncing onto the rim, some clinging to your fingers.

The walk upstairs took way too long. Lights out. The strong flame of the candle cast dancing shadows over the kitchen counters. The perfect blend of musk, patchouli, sage and mahogany cologne remained you of him; Midsummer’s night—it served as the accurate distraction from the bittersweet loneliness.

The doors to the bathroom smashed open as you stumbled inside, hands shooting to rip the sweater off of your body only to notice it already gone; probably discarded on the way. Untying the knot on your sweatpants, you undressed completely; the chilly air coming from the simple white files caressed your heated flesh. The lukewarm water started filling the bathtub as your eyes fell on the beige bag, resting on top of the unmade bed. Lonely and abandoned. With a dizzying step into the bedroom, your blood-painted nails scrapped the soft, silky fabric.

The car ride was silent, only his fingers drumming on the steering wheel breaking the quiet. Heart racing, Price was eager to finally get to his destination; home, to you. A day earlier, mind already filled with plans on how he’s going to make it up to you—all the missed time, the months of lonesomeness he caused you.

The sun had already begun to dip below the horizon by the time he and his men landed back in England. Painting the sky in a wash of oranges and pinks. By the time he was already pulling up onto the familiar street, the darkness set in. Moon shining bright, enlightening the empty front porch of your shared bungalow; the one you designed and he help build with his own hands.

Still in uniform, John parked the car next to yours. His eyes remained focused on the front door; waiting that maybe, just this time, you’d come out. Welcome him with open arms, that adorable smile on your face. In that pretty sundress he bought you last time.

(“For the neighbour’s welcoming party,” his lips touched your forehead momentarily, hand warm on the side of your neck. The light gold necklace he gave you after returning from the previous deployment shone in the sunlight as he stood before you, a soft smile hidden underneath the overgrown beard. But in the end—

—he had to leave the morning of the party, leaving you to participate alone. As always.)

Rubbing his hands together, eyes fixated on the slight flicker of light in the kitchen, John came to the conclusion that you weren’t coming. That he had to go, fish the keys from his pocket and actually enter the house by himself.

“Good evening, Mr Price,” a soft voice genuinely surprised him while closing the door, causing him to slam them shut harsher than he intended. Looking at the pavement, he registered a woman walking her dog; the black tight pants blended into the night, making it look as if she was floating, matching a dog’s fur as it stood by her legs. It was big, strong, and John was sure that if the dog wanted, he could’ve easily dragged the woman by the leash.

She was pretty—made John feel sick with himself for even thinking about that.

“I’m your neighbour,” she followed with her name, catching onto the man’s confusion, “I had a welcoming party few months back. Your wife came. Brough Shepherd’s pie, said you baked it together.”

He felt his throat tighten; the pie was meant to be your lunch. You made plans to bake a cake together for the party or go buy wine. Yet apparently, that cake was never created. It made him wonder—what did you do after he left? In the early hours of the morning, when the sun was still half below the horizon. He left you in the bed, his old shirt clinging to your sleeping form, exposing a sliver of skin on your hip, the curve of your waist. It made him question himself; When was the last time he saw the skin of your torso? Traced the scar under your collarbone? Kissed the softness of your breasts?

“Girlfriend, she’s not my wife,” John interrupted the woman, swallowing to relax his throat.

The woman’s lips parted, “oh, well, um—who knows,” she shrugged, watching her dog sit.

But John knew; he saw the outcome, the impending ending. And you did too. The neighbour didn’t, she didn’t see what was going on in your house.

“She sure is very lovely,” the woman rambled on but John’s mind already drifted elsewhere, not really paying any attention to the neighbour no more.

“Have a nice evening,” he dismissed her. Back practically turned to her as he marched toward the front doors. The dog barked; he wasn’t sure if it was at his looming figure, covered by the night, or a random squirrel hidden somewhere in the trees surrounding the whole neighbourhood.

The smell of cedar and vetiver enclosed John, the candle’s fire barely surviving at the bottom of its thick glass. It made his head throb, the strong scent overwhelming his senses. Entering the room, the kitchen was a mess; used plates still laying on the dinner table, glasses stained with red substance thrown into the sink, one of them cracked at the rim. His fingers traced the line. One slight push and the glass would explode under his calloused fingers.

Two plates.

Two wine glasses.

Candle still lit.

The chair you always sit on carelessly untucked, blocking the way to the door.

His legs moved on their own accord, stopping at the bottom of the staircase.

Your sweater, inside out and hanging on the wooden railing.

Heart bleeding. John stomped onto the stairs, heavy breathing, he felt a pile collecting at the bottom of his throat, threatening to spill over.

The silk material hugged you tightly, exposing the flesh of your exhausted body. Lips painted burgundy red, matching the colour of your bleeding heart, your eyes stayed fixated on the reflection in the mirror, shadows from the lit lamp cast onto the side of your face contouring the pale skin.

Door swinging open, your breath hitched. The sharp light being turned on blinded you temporarily. A broad silhouette stood at the door. One hand extended, palm resting on the wooden material; John’s eyes scanned the bedroom first. As you stayed by the dressing table, feeling the cold surface calming the nerves.

He was back.

His name leaving your lips pulled his eyes toward you. You were alone. He exhaled, confused. The zircon blue raging with a storm as John takes you in; after months of separation and only hearing your voice, he mentally beats himself for forgetting the way you look. Especially now, barely dressed as if you were awaiting his arrival—or someone else’s, his mind wanders.

John’s gaze shifted from yours, eyes sliding over the barely covered body of his lover. Of you. The way the clothing highlighted your curves, the straps of the suspender belt hanging in the air loosely, begging to be clipped to the stockings that hug your legs, the soft muscles emphasized by the heels. He always knew you were beautiful, he made sure to let you know on every occasion he had; he used to. Looking at you now, at that moment, you looked breathtaking, magnificent. Made him bleed with a primal instinct—one held back by the heartburn spreading inside him.

It’s your name, escaping his chapped lips in a silent prayer that pushed him inside the lit bedroom.

“Is someone else here,” he breaks the silent wall between you, shattering it to pieces.

Eyebrows furrowed, you watched him turn the lights off again, leaving only the soft glimmer of the lamp flowing over your silhouette on.

“Why?”

Hip gently resting on the side of the dressing table, your fingertips fumbled with the clasp of the belt.

“I saw the kitchen,” John’s steps turned light just as the tone of his voice, the storm in his eyes dying down, softening the hardened features on his face. The same face you dreamt about every night.

Oh.

The rest of the alcohol was like a warm current, but then the coolness of the air touched you. Like a snowflake, the liquor evaporated from your system upon John’s words.

“I was lonely,” you exhaled, “I am lonely.”

I am lonely; your words haunted him, a pestering melody he could not get out of his head. Dizzying him, stunning his legs to the freezing point. The forlornness of your words enveloped him, choking him. It was as if someone had slipped a razor blade into his chest.

Just at an arms reach. Fingertips sparking with small jolts of electricity, all John wanted was to touch you, run his palms over the curve of your waist, touch the wet skin of your cheeks. Whisper sweet nothings in your ear—just as he used to.

Now he felt like a stranger in his own bedroom.

“I thought that maybe,” a tear ran down your cheek, the droplet leaving a wet trail behind as it reached your jawline, John’s eyes following, “maybe, if I just pretend hard enough; maybe I could get my brain to believe that—”

His hand moved to wipe away the tears, but he could feel something more pressing than the sadness in your eyes.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you, John,” his name felt heavy on your tongue, unnatural.

A series of No cascaded from his lips, a stark contrast to the love that had filled the room previously. Arms lingering on your cheek, the rough tip of his thumb caressed the contours of your cheekbones while his heart wept in time with yours. His arm sneaked around your naked middle, brushing over the silky soft belt, fingertips dipping slightly underneath the fabric to feel just a little more of you. A desperate attempt to keep you close.

Your fingernails scratched the unkept beard, the mess on his worn-out face as if trying to hold on to something that was already slipping away. Feeling the rough texture. The pricking of his facial hair. Palm resting on his bruised cheek, the fading blend of purple and yellow partly hidden by the beard. Exhaling, feeling the weight of your bleeding love on his war-stained shoulders, he closed his eyes, letting his head fall into your hand.

John’s arm tightened around you when your lips brushed over his. Chasing that spark, that electrifying flicker. The gentle brush of your tongue over his lips, a silent cry; or a plea.

One last time.

His nails dug into the soft flesh of your back, gripping the belt. Moustache scratching your upper lip, his teeth enclosed over your lower lip. A whimper escaped your throat. And he swallowed it. Like a starved animal, begging for every ounce of you; to feel every inch of you. He already stole your heart, your mind. Took a part of you with him whenever he got deployed. Lost it on the battlefield; returned with gifts instead.

Your back met the edge of the drawer, hips flush against John’s. Hand grasping the back of your head. Desperately holding onto the softness of your hair. Lips crashed over yours, his tongue swiped over the tip of yours, tasting the saltiness mixed with the sourness of the wine you bought earlier. His despair tasted of tobacco, sweet and spicy. And urgency.

His name felt plaintive as you whimpered against his lips.

Leaning into you with his whole weight, you welcomed the suffocating feeling. Nails marking his exposed biceps in crescent shapes, his beard tickled your chin, the edge of your jawline and neck as he tasted your skin, planting sloppy, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. Tongue slithering over the sensitive skin, soothing the aching bruises he kept creating.

“You’re beautiful.” I’m sorry.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous.” Let me make it up to you.

And you did; all you wanted him to do was make it up to you. Make it all go away, rip the rest of your heart out, leave an empty cave inside your chest only to fill it up with his essence. Only him.

Hand sneaking underneath your knee, he caressed the fabric of the stockings before hooking your leg over his broad shoulder. The tip of your heels dug into his back. Poking the taunt muscle as the man knelt in front of you; before you. Tantalizing touches left a trail of dire longing over the apex of your thighs. One that lingers long after John moves away.

Palm warming the inside of your thigh, his lips trace the damp centre, feeling the wetness seep through the thin material. He missed this. You. Yet he couldn’t shake off the feeling in his heart. Just for this one night, all he wanted was to be selfish and pathetic. Just for tonight. And your moan, the way your hips bucked into his lips as he breathed in your scent, you felt the same.

One last pathetic goodbye.

He cursed. He was a bloody captain; and not just any captain—a member of SAS, founder of 141. A hunter. A killer. A damn good sniper, he’d say himself. Able to face many dangerous terrorists, druglords, and took down a whole underground organisation; but not able to face the truth of his love life. To face you.

Rather opting for a sad fuck. He felt like a coward.

Teeth sinking into the plush flesh of your thighs, hard enough to leave prints, making you moan his name in a series of cries. Maybe if he marked you enough, painted your skin in love bruises, it would make you stay. Tie you to him in an insurmountable knot.

Your hand sneaked into his hair, feeling the strands move around your fingers. Head resting on the mirror, John’s lips brushed over your centre again, eliciting another wishful moan from you. The dull throb inside your abdomen intensified. You needed him. To feel his touch, the stretch of him inside. Heaving a groan, you begged the man to do something; to stop punishing you already.

He wanted it to last forever though.

“Fuck,” he cursed, pushing your panties to the side and collecting the wetness on the tip of his fingers, “you’re dripping, love.”

Somehow, it felt foreign to hear him use the l-word again. Shutting your eyes harshly, the muscles at the back of your thighs stretched uncomfortably as John stood up; your ankle hooked on his shoulder, he could feel the coolness of the heel against his cheek.

“Open your eyes,” his lips kissed your instep, “please.”

You followed his humble request. Watching as the zircon blue of his eyes turned sapphire, his fingers traced your red-stained lips, smearing your juices over them before you sucked his fingertips in; eyes never leaving his, fixated on the way the lipstick stained his skin. He wanted the colour to ooze into his skin. To tattoo it in, make it stay.

Your hand tugged on his shirt. Tongue swirling over the fingers, cleaning them. The taste of brine and salt filling your senses, John quickly discarded his shirt, throwing it behind with careless behaviour—lips crashing onto yours with a new-found desire.

The kiss was short. Aggressive, messy, sloppy. But too short; soon followed by him back on his knees, your underwear pooling around your feet as his mouth latched onto the throbbing nub of nerves. Fingertips teasing your entrance, sending shockwaves throughout your bloodstream, igniting that dying fire inside you.

Hands grasping the side of the drawer, John kept a hand around the suspender belt, gripping it like a collar to steady you. Tongue swirling around your clit, he devoured you like a man starved of water. The sides of his beard tickled your walls—The fork of his nose parted your lips and sent shivers through your body as he lingered on your clit, giving it a flick or two before tracing the length of you again. Then another flick. Another taste.

Tongue swirled and lapped, dipping into you so that he could gather more of you for himself, satisfying his greedy desire for you, selfishly chasing after this hunger to savour you—until finally you heard the knot of desire tighten inside your abdomen, like a violin string too tense to play, until at last it can hold no more and snaps with a great final note that reverberated into silence.

You felt like a coward. Instead of pursuing the man you loved with the remaining pieces of your heart, here you were, letting him savour you—the only way both of you solved your problems. Only this time, as the knot inside your abdomen tightened, with John’s finger scraping your sensitive, gummy walls, this was the last problem to be solved.

“John.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he murmured against your walls, beard scratching the inside of your thighs. Heel digging into the naked flesh of his shoulderblade, you desired to bring him close, to swallow him whole, keep him locked between your legs for the rest of your life; never letting him leave.

Adding another finger, he scissored them inside you, tongue swiping over your leaking juices as his thumb toyed with your clit. White hot flashes shot through you; erasing every thought from your overdriven mind, leaving nothing but the feeling of scorching hot pleasure, bubbling inside you like a volcanic vat near explosion.

You felt his lips curl into a smile. Something you wished to see but the blinding feeling of pleasure too overbearing to allow your eyes to open. Lips parted, his name mixed with moans as he curled his fingers against your sweet spot. His eyes locked on your face. Watching. Memorising the way your mascara smudged underneath your eyes, casting a blackish shadow. Or your lipstick, smeared around your parted lips. In his eyes, you looked like a goddess—to be worshipped, loved, taken care of; not left alone.

Back arching, spine rippling with each new wave of bliss, John’s hand gripping your belt moved to your thigh, holding you steady while you reached the dizzying peak. The sound of your cries a symphony to John’s ears. He never stopped; his fervent passion hadn’t diminished, if anything it only grew more intense as he relished in the taste of you.

“C’here,” you murmured, gripping the side of his neck to bring his lips to yours. Tasting yourself on his tongue, sweet and tangy, you swallowed his guttural groans. Fumbling with the belt on his pants, he quickly dropped them to the ground, not bothering to step out of them as his hands undid the hooks of your bra with expertise; the same passion you used to have years ago.

He hissed when your fingers wrapped around his cock. Already semi-hard, your name cascaded from his lips, stained by you; he crashed his mouth against yours again. Pressing his body onto yours with a throaty grunt, hands holding your face steady, you could feel his leaking tip press against your middle. With your hand locked in place by the tight squeeze of his body, he rocked his hips into you.

The air was pungent, filled with moans and grunts; John’s hands moved to your thighs, gripping the plump flesh harshly as he hoisted you onto the drawer. You spread your legs apart, accommodating his narrow hips, feeling the precum stain your centre, press against where you wanted him the most.

John’s hand rested on the side of your neck, thumb brushing over the edge of your collarbone. Lips latched onto the other clavicle, he guided himself inside you. Splitting you apart, slowly taking more of you with him.

And you let him.

You let him take all of you.

Your palm rested on his breastplate. Feeling the coarse hair splattered across his chest. The taunt muscle underneath the scarred flesh, feeling the rapid beating of his broken heart. Taking you apart, filling you up.

When his cock finally kissed your cervix, he stilled. Both of you relishing in the close feeling of the other, feeding off of each other’s desire. He felt the surge of power you got over him. Pulling out with a tantalizing pace, he could feel your walls sucking him in. Like a mockingbird in a cage, his heart sang the song of you; desired, broken. Lonely.

“I love you,” John stumbled over the words in a desperate attempt to cage you in with him.

He rested his head into the crook of your neck. Sucking the skin between his teeth, his hands enveloped your breasts; squeezing the soft tissue, tracing the indents, remnants of the scars around them. Steadily thrusting, feeling the tight, desperate squeeze of your walls, he groaned into your skin. Thumbs tracing over the hardened and sensitive flesh of your nipples.

“John,” a moan left your lips, “stop,” and he did, immediately upon hearing your words. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he moved backwards only for your legs to tighten around his narrow waist, stopping him from pulling out. Confused, his burning eyes met yours, the tip of his nose brushing over the heated skin of your cheekbone.

“I want it rough,” you mumbled, heels digging into the taunt muscles of his asscheeks as if to emphasize your request.

Pushing him off of you, the heels clicked on the floor as you leapt to the ground and turned around. Hands on the drawer, legs far enough to make you bend, you presented yourself to him. Ass pressing onto his hardened cock, there was absolutely no shame inside your body. Nothing but pure, primal desire to feel him deep inside, the deepest he could’ve possibly gone.

To forget it all.

And John was willing; willing to give you everything he could. Every inch of him. Every piece of his heart. Every beat of it. Tear his skin for you. At that moment, he’d give up everything; something he should’ve realised sooner but understood only now.

John's hand was like a vice grip on your waist, so strong and yet still gentle, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body as his fingertips skimmed against the fabric of the lingerie. He squeezed, feeling the flesh move underneath his palm. His knee nudged your legs further apart, making a shiver run down your spine as the cool room air slithered over your exposed, glistening walls. The tips of his fingers explored you with an urgency, feeling how ready and willing you were for him;. how willing you looked.

Guiding his thick cock to your waiting core, he paused—the swollen crown of his cock lightly brushing against your slick nub. A soft moan leaving your lips, your hands gripped the edge of the drawer tighter. With a push of your hips back, you rocked against him, silently pleading, begging him to give you what you wanted. Craved. Needed.

And he eventually did.

A soft growl escaped his lips as John finally pushed into you.

The tightness of your walls encased him, sucked him in with desperation. Grunting, he stayed deep inside you. In slow motion, he pulled out before ultimately giving up. Letting go. Hands grasping your sides, surged in and out of you with ever-increasing fervour. The heat between you built into a crescendo of pleasure, threatening to consume you as it built into a soft wail.

The room was soon filled with the sounds of your wetness, taking John in. With every thrust, it felt like the blunt head of his cock plunged deep inside you, splitting something within you with a dull ache. Like opening your cervix, the pain mixed with pleasure just right to make your mind go blank. Cock-drunk on John; his thrusts drawing his name out of you.

He watched; in the mirror—the way your lips stayed wide open, eyes closed as if you were trying everything in your power not to see his face. The pain indulged him. Maybe if he thrust hard enough, it would make you open your eyes—

—so he did.

Rutting against you, the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the room. Your name spilled from his bloodied lips, the skin cracking with the pressure of his teeth as he bit down on it. The metallic taste drawing the taste of you out, away from his tongue. And he hated it. Hated that even his own body was washing you away.

Bending over your perspiring body, you felt his weight on your back, arms enclosing your ribs. Just for a second, you opened your eyes—the top of his head rested next to yours. And you could feel the wet taste of his tongue, lapping at your skin, kissing the flesh of your back. His thrusts grew reckless. John was losing rhythm, nearing his own high as he felt you clench around him.

It was the way he looked up—as if he felt your gaze upon him, your eyes met his in the mirror—and you let go; completely submitting to the tied-up knot inside you, a cry left your lips, his name mixed somewhere in it too. John’s stare trapped yours as he watched your face twist in bliss and pleasure. The one he gave you; was still giving you. Guiding you through the orgasm, fingers moving to circle your clit, prolonging the sweet feeling. He wanted you to remember this. Needed you to do it.

You felt him reach his climax seconds later; the primal grunt, laboured breaths, teeth scraping your bruised shoulder, lips moving to your back as his hands gripped your sides with his nails digging so deep it felt like he pierced your skin. But you didn’t care.

Bruises and scratches heal over time.

A broken heart doesn’t.

It remains scarred.

His lips stayed pressed between your shoulder blades, relishing in the bittersweet taste of your flesh. Fingers caressing the curve of your waist, he remained still. Seated fully inside.

Maybe that way—with him encaging you underneath—you wouldn’t leave.

But you both knew the truth behind the silent pleas.

She was unable to tear her gaze away from the window; her eyes wider and heavier with guilt with each passing second—guilt of observing something she shouldn't, guilt of not looking away when she should, and worst of all, guilt of feeling a strange thrill from it all. Her skin prickled, breathing grew shallow as she watched, mesmerized. Spellbound.

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gingrrfrog · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

warnings: p in v sex, praise kinks, fluff, some angst? if you squint?, no mention of reader or y/n

summary: hours before his deployment, Simon thinks back to his time with you and how you manage to melt his heart

He doesn’t remember when, he only remembers what it felt like. It wasn’t cinematic, it wasn’t a rush of emotion that left him breathless.

It was calm.

A soft tingle in his fingertips he found whenever she was just slightly out of his reach. Tolerable it may have been, but the ache traveled into his arms and chest, suffocating his heart until her warmth melted the icy cage his heart was in.

“Simon?” She’d call out, pulling Ghost into her attention. It was always gentle, sometimes followed by a stretch of her arm so that her palm grazed his cheek—kind as she’s always been. A simple call of his name was enough to rip his gaze back to her, awaiting orders the way he had been trained—though not militarily—something deeper, the primal sense of devotion and worship, kneeled at her feet, his very own altar to pray.

Sometimes, the order was nonsensical, a simple task to be completed. Other times, the order was neither barked nor demanded, but whispered in between breaths against the other’s lips.

“Yes?” His voice is gruff, more so than he intended, but it’s out of sheer desperation to serve, to act in any way that pleased her.

“Kiss me,” she’d smile just enough to give him a glance at her teeth.

He would oblige wordless, their lips slotting together—Simon can’t help but to sigh, in relief of course, that his offering had been accepted.

She’s sweet and Simon doesn’t know if it comes from the candy always on hand or if from his own worship crazed brain. He listens to the soft sighs her mouth puffs out and gave a smile himself when she curled herself closer to his chest—safe, warm, secure—nothing would happen to them here.

“I love you,” she confessed, afraid that he wouldn’t feel the same despite his blown pupils and parted lips, eagerly awaiting another confession—physical or verbal, he wanted it all. But the words were stuck in his throat from the honey in her eyes and the raspberry marmalade color of her lips. All he could muster out was a raspy, “Let me.”

And she does.

Simon has little idea of what he’s doing, but the whimpers and the scrapes of her fingers against his scalp lead him. He can barely think with her cries and her pleas, her thighs wrapping and squeezing around his skull in a way that would make any mortal man lose his breath—but Simon was no ordinary man—he was trained for much worse. He drank eagerly until her thighs trembled until they fell limply on his shoulders as he continued to breathe praise into her center.

The pressure in his own tightens when he pulls away to see his work. She laid breathlessly pliant, her shirt pleated to her shoulders, the evidence of his adoration displayed on the most intimate parts of her chest, gentian petals crafted by his own teeth and desperate lips.

Simon hadn’t accounted or planned for anything else, this on its own was considered a privilege, but he was sure he saw heaven when she reached toward the front of his military issued trousers.

Somehow, Simon ended on his back as she sat on his lap, his stomach aching in anticipation as she hovered over him, her breathing coming out in broken breaths.

“Can I?” She eyed over his face for an answer, as if his pleading gaze wasn’t enough.

“Please,” He choked out, his hands finding purchase on her waist, “please, please—”

The rest of his supplication was drowned out by a grunt, her lips finding his again to swallow the moans that slipped from him as she lowered herself into a rhythm.

He isn’t sure that he’s able to control himself, not when her hands steady themselves on his chest, pinning him down as if he could ever think about leaving. Just as the though left his head, he’s startled by wet dripping on his chest, using his free hand to tilt her head to find somber eyes hidden by glassy tears running down her cheeks.

He panicked and immediately stopped his pace in fear that he hurt her, but she only shook her head and slipped into the space in between his neck and shoulders to let out a few more strangled cries.

“Don’t—” She choked a sob and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Please don’t go. Stay with me, come home to me.”

Simon kissed her hair and whispered praises before swearing empty promises. Who was he to deny? Though, who was he to promise something that depended on the humility of a higher power?

He promised anyway.

“Where else would I go, Love?” He smiled in her hair. “I’ll come back, I’ll make sure of it.”

“I love you,” He finally confessed. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here—with you. Forever.”

His pace deepens and he’s relieved to hear that whimpers no longer come from her cries but instead from pleasure while her fingernails scrape along the sides of his neck, his name falling from his lips in short bursts, in quick succession.

His grip on her waist tightens then, his knees bending to give a better angle as she bounced in his lap, cheeks flushed bright pink, a color that Simon swears he’s only seen on her.

“Where’d you want me, Darling?” He asked gruffly, making sure to punctuate his sentence with a nip to her ear.

“Inside,” She replied breathlessly. “Inside, please—”

He sat up for one final thrust that had her reeling over his shoulder, warmth spilling inside and spilling out the sides as her trembling and cries continue to spill over her cheeks.

They lied next to each other then. Silently.

It wasn’t until Simon pulled her against his chest again that tears were spilled once more, cries and concerns about Simon’s next mission, the severity, and whether or not he would come home. He did his best to ease her qualms, to assure her that he was a professional, and that the general would never lead them astray.

He would be due to leave the house in two hours, and it was in his best interest to calm her nerves.

“I can’t die if my heart is here, safe with you,” He promised, his hand tracing her neck before it stopped at her chest. “So long as you’ve got it, nothing’ll happen to me.”

“Promise?”

Simon kissed her hand, “Swear.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #simon ghost riley imagines

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juststoriesintheend · 3 months ago

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II. Trial

Chapter Pairing: referenced Master Sol x f!Reader + Osha Aniseya x f!Reader

Chapter Content: flashbacks, multiple POVs, grief/mourning, sexual scenarios, wet dreams, masturbation

Word Count: 4,325

《 [series masterlist] 》《 I 》《 III 》《 IV 》《 V 》

It’s easy to be distracted in the middle of a fight. Rather than focusing on the pain radiating from her sternum, Osha must focus on the saber hurtling toward her face and determine how best to block it. Instead of dwelling on the present, she must fixate on fractals of her past in order to find her equilibrium - her years on Coruscant, the saber forms the Jedi once taught her, the magic of her mothers and their coven. There isn’t time to linger on the loss, on the sorrow, on the anger and betrayal of her former Master when she is too busy molding herself into the perfect acolyte.

But the mask still slips when she least expects it. In the space between sleeping and waking, she sometimes thinks she’s back on Savareen, still wrapped up in you, still breathing in the moments before disaster. Qimir knocks her saber from her hands and she scrambles to grab it, and she sees a flash of Sol’s face, his eyes wide and kind, his mouth twisted into a promise as empty as her heart. She sees him fall dead, hears his final declaration, and it’s like she’s being ripped apart in the amount of time it takes for a star to be born. A thunderstorm slams into the coast and she thinks of her sister, of all the times they huddled together in Mama’s arms when the lightning scared them.

“In order to fight, you must be present. You can’t defend yourself when your back is turned.” Qimir taps his training staff against her shoulder to further enunciate his point.

Osha snaps her head to the left, then the right, cracking her vertebrae. She thinks of all those Jedi who died on Khofar. She thinks of your Master, cut through with Qimir’s blade because she hadn’t been fast enough to stop him. Osha suppresses the thought with enough force to make her hands shake, and that’s when she surges forward to land a double blow, her teeth bared in a snarl.

“I’m present,” she says as she lowers herself into a defensive pose. It’s a unique spin on something Sol once taught her, another piece of him that she’s taken and twisted to make her own.

It gives her strength, she’s come to realize, taking things that he once found sacred and forcing them to serve her. Qimir has rules, but they’re different from those of the Jedi. Here her passion is encouraged, driven to thrive rather than to be snuffed out. Her rage isn’t a matter of concern, but a point of pride.

The Force will set you free, Osha.

And indeed it has.

Mae is a problem that pushes at the very edges of your capabilities. She keeps you guessing even after you think you’ve finally figured her out. She’s powerful, more powerful than you think Osha ever was, and it’s a strange thought to have. Mae pushes when you pull, you lead and she surpasses, a never-ending game of back and forth that feels constantly out of your reach. She is more certain of herself than you are of your own abilities. She’s eager to learn and quick to understand, she’s the apprentice any Master would be fortunate to have, so why is she forcibly saddled with your muddled attempts at mentorship?

Master Vernestra would be a more suitable choice, but she’s adamant that you do this. “You may find closure over Osha Aniseya’s departure and Sol’s death in helping this girl to recover her memories,” she had told you, but you fail to see how. How can you possibly find closure when you’re haunted every waking moment by your greatest failure and deepest desire?

“I don’t remember his name,” Mae says when you ask her about the Jedi in her memories, such as they are.

“It was Sol,” you tell her.

She ruminates on the word for a few moments, narrowing her eyes as if she could somehow see him if she picked at the name for long enough. “He… killed my mother.” And though Mae says it with some level of resignation, you still have yet to accept that such a thing could have happened, that Sol would be capable of it. It punches the air from your lungs.

Your eyes flicker to the incense pot on your table. A few of the broken shards have been carefully plastered together while the rest lay in order of their most likely matches. There’s still a stain on the floor from where the ash had smudged the stone and you weren’t able to get it out of all the little cracks. Neither has the smell of sandalwood diminished in the days since it broke.

Selfishness drives you to ask the question you know you shouldn’t. “Do you know why?” Because there has to be a reason. There has to be an explanation for why the kindest man you’ve ever known would choose to strike down a frightened child’s mother, why he would then kill his fellow Jedi, your friends, his own Padawan, and then turn his blade upon himself. There has to be a line of logic in his choices or else you are lost.

“No.” She tries so hard to remember, but her memories are so fractured that there’s nothing left for her to find in the recesses of her mind.

It’s the first kindling of anger in the deepest chamber of your heart. You pretend that the ugly sting of it is just another stitch ripped open in your too-fresh grief, that Mae’s inability to explain away your love for a murderer doesn’t make you want to raze all of Coruscant to its foundations. No, you are a Jedi who has been gifted with a second chance. There is no such thing as rage or desire or the corrupting whisper of attachment, not for you. There is only the serenity of the Force and vows of the Jedi. Just like your Master taught you.

“What is this place?” Mae’s voice echoes for a moment before quickly dissipating into the mountain.

Your head tilts back to take in the arching walls of stone and steel, occasionally studded with saber scars and great cracks that travel throughout the shrine like the crackling tendrils of a lightning strike. It’s been close to nine years since you were here last, the night of your Trials, yet it still looks exactly the same. “This is the heart of the Temple. The very first Jedi shrine.”

Mae huffs a quiet laugh. “It looks like it.”

She’s not wrong. This place clearly hasn’t been touched in centuries, if not millenia. Dust has gathered atop the shrine’s centerpiece, a pale stone bench with the most ancient Jedi symbol known to the galaxy carved into its surface, and the steel beams forced into the stone that hold the weight of the spire and the hundreds of levels above you look like they’ve shifted several times over the years. Perhaps you’ll keep this visit brief.

“So, why are we here?”

Even for you, a Jedi Knight who has lived in this Temple all her life, the concept of this place is a strange one; it takes you a minute to find the right words to describe it. “The Temple was built upon a vergence. It’s a concentration of the Force, more powerful than anywhere else in the galaxy. To the Jedi, a vergence is like a window into the Force itself. We strengthen ourselves through it, we can see visions of the future or impressions from the past, and we use it to guide us.”

You can feel it even now, the heart of the vergence. It lies far beneath you in the heart of the mountain that once stood here, yet its energy is strong enough to vibrate through miles of rock and ore until it penetrates through your sinew.

The ghost of a non-existent wind whispers through Mae’s hair as she turns. “Mama…” Her body twists in a circle as her eyes are cast wildly about the shrine room, following something you cannot see or even guess at. “I remember…”

Your breath catches in your throat. “You do?”

But Mae only shakes her head, this time pressing her fingers to the star-white spiral on her forehead. “It’s not the Force,” she murmurs, “it’s the Thread. Mama taught us about it, me and… Osha.”

Could it really be so simple as this? You hardly dare to breathe, let alone to hope. “Do you remember her?”

She answers you, not with words, but with the quiet grip of her hand around yours. The Force thrums softly between your palms, like a breeze caught in a cage, but its sound and touch are different from how you know it or even from how you’ve been teaching Mae to wield it. The Force feels less like the steady, beating heart of the universe and more like a song. It feels tangible, not in the way of a cloud or the mist of the morning, but like a canvas stretching thin where you press against it.

Mae finally speaks, yet the words don’t sound like her. “Pull the Thread,” she says as she paws frantically at the air, “change everything.”

“Mae?” You can’t pull your hand free.

“It ties you to your destiny. It binds you to others.”

An actual breeze has started whipping around the perimeter of the shrine room, so dark and thick with dust that it chokes out the light of the lanterns and plunges you into darkness.

“Mae?”

“The power of two.”

The Force all but screams inside your head. “Mae! Stop it! Let go!”

Now it’s not the Force in your head, but Mae, her face a vision before your unseeing eyes, her irises black and endless like the night sky. The power of two - as if you have any idea what that means.

And then you’re falling.

Osha sniffles quietly into her knees. She hears the rustle of Master Sol’s cloak across the floor, then the creak of his boots as he kneels beside her.

“Death is a natural part of life, but that does not make it easy for those of us who survive.”

She waits for a moment, considering this, before peeking out the side of the fortress she’s made with her arms. Her Master’s face is sad and unfamiliar to her. She isn’t sure what to do with an adult who’s sad like she is.

“I miss Mama,” she says.

Sol nods stoically. “It is natural to miss those we have lost. But a Jedi does not mourn death. A Jedi does not fear death. We are all a part of the Force, Osha, and we return to it when our bodies die.”

It reminds her of something Mama once taught her about the Thread. “Is that… Is that where Mama is? And Mae?”

Hesitation dims the hopeful light in Osha’s heart, but Sol is quick to ease her worries. “Yes,” he finally decides. “Your family is with the Force now, Osha.”

Osha thinks it might not be such a bad thing to be part of the Force if it means she gets to be part of her family again. She tilts her head until it rests upon Sol’s shoulder. His hand closes around her a moment later, and it almost feels like a hug, the kind like Mama used to give.

Yet when she wakes, all Osha feels is the emptiness in her bones and the grief of becoming an orphan all over again.

This isn’t the first time Sol’s memory has come back to haunt her in her dreams, but this is the first time it’s left her feeling sick to her stomach. Growing up in the Temple, she’d looked to him for guidance and hope, and she’d trusted the council he gave her like it was the word of a god. All that time, he’d been lying to her and piling the blame on Mae.

I did it because I love you.

The inside of the cave flashes red, then the walls rumble and shake, and then Qimir has his hands on her shoulders. He’s calling her name, she thinks, but his voice feels far away. She can hardly hear him, but she can feel the weight of a saber in her hand and the crackle of energy as the exposed kyber crystal screams inside her mind.

She only has the time to blink before tumbling head first into another memory.

The first time she ever saw a lightsaber that wasn’t Master Sol’s was in the training rooms. A dozen Padawans at least five or six years her senior have been divided into pairs and instructed to practice their forms. There’s a young Wookiee who reminds her of Master Kelnacca in the far corner; she has pretty, plaited brown hair and a purple saber shaped like a tree branch. Next to her is… a Togruta, she thinks, all tall and elegant with white and brown markings on her head-tails. She looks fierce and strong like Mother Koril, and her lightsaber is blue like Sol’s. And there’s a Twi’lek, too, and another Wookiee, and a lot of humans who know how to do really impressive things, and then…

Well, and then there’s you. All things considered, you’re not really any different from the other humans, but Osha likes that you smile when you do something fancy. Maybe you’re not so stuffy like some of the other children here.

“When do I get to do that?” she asks.

Sol chuckles warmly before placing his hand on her shoulder. “First you must train. These Padawans have spent many years learning how to use the Force and find balance in it. You will learn that, too.”

It’s disappointing, but not surprising. The Jedi have a lot of rules and the biggest one is patience. She’s still working on that one.

“There’s so many colors.”

“Yes. Each one represents a different way of connecting with the Force.”

“What about yours?”

When Sol extends his lightsaber to her, he keeps his hand over hers. The blade suddenly flares to life and Osha almost drops it. It feels heavier when it’s lit, but also… powerful, mysterious. She likes that.

“When I was about your age, my master took me to Ilum so I could discover my kyber crystal. It is the heart of every Jedi’s weapon. I walked through snow and ice, and wandered into the deepest caves until I found mine.” The saber hums and collapses in on itself with a flick of Sol’s wrist, but he leaves the hilt in Osha’s hand. She turns it over once, twice, and pretends for a moment that it’s hers. “I didn’t know what kind of Jedi I wanted to be until I found my kyber and built my lightsaber. Blue is the color of justice and protection. It’s a symbol of the light and the fight against the Dark Side.”

Osha thinks it sounds kind of complicated, but she likes the idea of having her own lightsaber in the future. She wonders if it’ll be blue like Sol’s.

“One day you will find your own kyber, Osha, and it will help you decide what kind of Jedi you will become.”

She comes out of the memory with her arms slashing and her throat raw from screaming. She can’t see anything beyond the red, warped scars that her saber leaves behind in the Force, but she can feel everything. She feels the Force soaking into her skin and peeling it back until she’s little more than an exposed nerve. She feels the memory of her mother and the thrumming song of the Thread between her hands. She feels the night of your embrace and the echo Sol’s betrayal, and she feels it so keenly that she thinks she might die.

There’s a Padawan in the class above hers, a girl she’s only spoken to in passing, but her eyes are pretty and she laughs kind of like you do, so Osha likes her right away. Funny how she can be so mad at you but still want you around. It’s incredibly annoying. So annoying, in fact, that Osha finds herself following the Padawan with the long hair and almost-but-not-quite-you-smile into an old supply closet that smells like engine grease and cleaning supplies. The Padawan - who probably has a name, but they’re way beyond names at this point - says something about how pretty Osha’s lips are before deciding to kiss them, just to be sure.

Osha wishes she wasn’t pretending it’s you. But she is. Because she’s an idiot. And a bad friend. And a terrible Jedi. And an overall failure, really. But you’re too busy trying to find happiness in the mouths and hands (and other places) of other Padawans who aren’t Osha. You’re too distracted to even notice her.

Kissing the pretty girl who sounds like you is a weird way of getting revenge that only makes her feel worse in the end, and that’s when Osha starts to think that maybe she was never cut out to be a Jedi. She’s too lost in the idea of you to remember that attachment isn’t the Jedi way. And you’re too lost in everyone else to care.

All the Jedi have ever done is destroy things. They destroyed Brendok. They destroyed her coven. They took everything from her and told her to let it go, and now it’s like they’re taunting her. Sol, Jecki, Yord, you… All of it was a lie and she was too stupid to see it.

A massive chunk of the cave comes crumbling down behind her.

“Osha?”

Her pulse hammers wildly behind her eyes. It hurts. Everything hurts. She slams the meat of her palm into her eye socket and tries to rub the pain away, but it only strengthens.

“Osha!”

It’s too much, it’s all too much. She screams and the lightsaber goes flying - Sol’s lightsaber, the one she wishes she could have killed him with - and the cave dissolves into rubble around her.

You throw yourself to the ground with your arms over your head to avoid the chaotic arc of the red lightsaber as it whips around the cave, but a second goes by, then another, and another after that, and you can no longer hear the the whistle of plasma through air or the ragged and uneven breaths of the very woman who has haunted you since Savareen. You blink, confused, and peer cautiously through the gap between your arms.

Osha is nowhere to be found, nor is her saber… You could’ve sworn it was Sol’s. You’d know the hilt of his blade anywhere, but that’s not possible. It should’ve burned on his funeral pyre or at least been taken back to the Temple to give to… someone. Not you, of course, but someone who knew him, who cared about him in life and loved him in death.

None of this is right. The vergence should have allowed you to recall Mae’s memories, yet your mind is bursting at the seams with Osha’s past and a hint of her present. Your chest is heavy with her grief and your mouth tender to the touch as if it were you that the Padawan from her memory had kissed…

“Oh, Osha.” Your head falls into your hands in despair. All those years she spent pining after you and you never noticed. You were too enamored with the other Padawans and Knights, too enamored with Sol to even consider the fact that Osha might feel that way about you. Only now you know what it’s like to kiss and be loved by her, and you feel like a fool for never paying her more attention.

Mae, however, is thrilled. She’s sprawled across the floor with the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen. “Oshie,” she murmurs, her eyes glazed over and far away.

You’re happy for Mae. While this isn’t the discovery you had in mind, it’s good that Mae has a new connection to her sister. It should make the recollection of her memories easier now that she has something more tangible to focus her goals on. Master Vernestra will be pleased with the progress and maybe even impressed with Mae’s abilities. These are all good things. So why can’t you escape the steadily growing seed of despair that’s taking root behind your sternum?

The reason, of course, is Sol. Even from beyond the grave, he manages to torment you. You’d be amazed at his tenacity if you weren’t also heartbroken.

A sliver of Osha’s current mindset had slipped through to you in the chaos, fractional pieces of concepts and feelings that have burrowed into your flesh and refuse to release you. You see him on Brendok, a place you’ve never been nor seen a single holopic of yet you recognize it as easily as you might recognize Coruscant. He’s kneeling before you with tears in his eyes. You think he’s dying, but he’s not fighting it. It’s awful.

I love you, you think you hear him say to her, and you feel the most incredible agony when he does.

Then you see his saber. A crack runs along the seam between sheets of steel where the kyber’s been exposed. You can still feel the raw cut of the gem as it digs into your skin and screams for mercy. It’s been bled of all its light until the only thing that remains is the red-tinted shadow of Osha’s rage. The shadow of a Sith.

Suddenly the shrine feels too crowded and too dark for you. The weight of it is suffocating, like a hand wrapped around your throat. You scramble to your feet and in your desperation to flee, you forget about Mae. You forget why you’re here. There’s only the vision of Sol’s face and the jagged, smoldering scars of Osha’s anger carved into the walls around you. And a voice, beckoning to you from beneath the shrine, enticing you further into the darkness.

You run.

Osha’s wedged between your thighs, her mouth hot and insistent on your skin as she draws your pleasure from you, a woman half starved and feasting at the banquet you’ve provided for her. She touches you as if you were the only person in existence, as if you were the only person she has ever known.

Then why do you think of Sol when she fucks you hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your head? It isn’t intentional. You aren’t seeking out the shape of him in your mind, but it comes to you all the same. Osha’s tongue laves over your clit, and you keen, and suddenly you’re picturing Sol in her place, flat on his belly with his hands on your thighs and his mouth on your cunt, and you very nearly come undone in that very moment. The neatly rolled spirals of hair in your hands almost, for a second, feel thinner and smooth, a passing shadow with the texture of Sol’s locks.

“C’mon, baby,” she pants when she finally pulls back. Her mouth is wet and dark, her lips kiss-bruised, and she is so painfully beautiful that you can hardly bear it. “C’mon. Make a mess for me.”

The desperate, guttural sound in your chest prompts her to smile, and when she dives back down, you find yourself careening into wild, open space, crying out the vague syllables of her name even as the ghost of Sol’s could-have-been touch lingers in your bones.

“-sha, Osh-!”

You jerk awake on Coruscant, lying in a pool of your own sweat. At first, the only thing you’re aware of is the pounding of your heart and the agonizing weight of loss between your ribs, but then you’re aware of the gentle snoring in the far corner, of the scent of long-stale sandalwood. And the intoxicating lick of arousal at the base of your spine.

You bury the meat of your palms in your eye sockets with a quiet groan. Of all the times to have such a dream, it has to be the night Osha’s sister is sharing your room?

You haven’t had a single dream of that night on Savareen, not even the first night you were back on Coruscant, although the memories have been repeating in an endless loop in the back of your mind, stuffed in between fractals of grief over Sol’s betrayal and his passing. But you can’t think about that right now. All you can think about is how much you wish he would have at least touched you, even once. Not the way Osha touched you - it feels wrong to pine after the dead in such a way - but a hand on your arm, a finger tucked below your chin, a whisper of his lips against yours…

The muffled grunt of desire that rumbles out of you as a result is shameful. There has to be something wrong with you if, after everything Sol has done, you still wish you could have shared a night with him, learning the way he shows his love, memorizing the scent of his hair and the freckles on his skin. Your eyes dart to the far corner where Mae is sleeping. He killed her mother, you remind yourself. He killed your Master. Where is your decency? Where is your honor?

Perhaps it was struck down on Khofar. Perhaps Sol killed it on Brendok when he chose to kill himself. Or perhaps you never had it to begin with.

When you finally worm your hand under your clothes and down between your legs, you’re overwhelmed with guilt and lust, and they both win out in the end. Your orgasm is unsatisfying and your heart aches, and you find yourself flickering between a mental picture of Osha in the throes of her passion and Sol with his infinite smile. Neither one feels real anymore.

taglist: @wolffegirlsunite @thatlittlered @evyiione @padawancat97

if you'd like to be updated whenever i post, you can sign up here! and if you want a continuation of the story, please let me know!

author's note:

both the ancient jedi shrine & sith shrine beneath the temple is a real thing in canon! the jedi shrine isn't named, but the sith shrine is called the shrine in the depths.

#master sol x reader #osha aniseya x reader #master sol #osha aniseya #the acolyte #star wars #x reader #verosha aniseya x reader #verosha aniseya

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frostironfudge · 1 year ago

Text

Labyrinth - Bucky Barnes - Chapter IX

Summary: labyrinth (noun), a complicated set of paths and passages, through which it is difficult to find your way. Bucky and You would do anything for Steve and Wanda, your respective best friends. In an attempt to avoid a tradition Steve and Wanda come up with a lie involving their best friends. A lie, that involves building a labyrinth. Bucky and You begin to build but will you two find your way out or be caught in it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, (Modern AU)

Word Count: 13.2 k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: chapter contains 18+ moments, minors DNI, fluff, sm/ut, dir/ty talk, p in v, hot bucky, swearing, soft bucky, protective bucky, drinking, a few derogatory comments from sharon and brock, feels cause wedding speeches. discussion about financial troubles, illness and surgery of family members

AN.: last chapter before the epilogue

Main Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Masterlist || Fic Playlist

New York City greets you with looming clouds, rain and traffic. Parting at the airport with the remaining couples, staring out of the taxi window and at the racing droplets a sigh escapes your lips.

It isn’t tired, nor is it one of relief but one that serves as a reminder. The reminder made you smile. Your thumb traces the ring, now that harbours a promise.

A promise of truths instead of lies.

A promise backed by feelings of love, reciprocated love.

A promise that Bucky and you would make it out together.

Puffin: Thinking of you, my Sunshine.

The message makes you giddy with happiness.

Puffin loves Sunshine.

Bucky loves you, you!

Puffin: you look adorable grinning at the screen, I didn’t realise I had that effect on you.

The grin drops and you search around the packed cars in the unmoving lane. How the hell did he know?

Puffin: Searching for me in the crowd? I’m in your heart, raza de soare.

Sunshine: You’re incorrigible. Pulling my leg like that.

Puffin: I had to pull your leg to get you to the edge, you denied me my pre-flight meal.

You shiver at the reminder, clit pulsing in memory of Bucky’s lips latched around it. Devouring you, the moans he prayed against you. Hands holding your hips, keeping you in place.

Sunshine: aiwurjd

This fucking man will drive you to the brink of insanity.

Sunshine: i meant um

Puffin: 🤣🤣🤣

Sunshine: oh you aren’t getting any meals now.

Puffin: Sunshine, you can’t deny me.

Sunshine: watch me.

Puffin: watch you?

Sunshine: yeah, you will know what I mean.

You had taken a few pictures in the pretty lingerie that was stuffed deep into your suitcase. It was supposed to be what you wore during your first night there but that turned to well, almost freezing and then being saved by Bucky.

You had however taken pictures while packing. Selecting three you send them off to Bucky, your face hidden in them but he would know it's you.

Puffin: qeuejdh

You giggle happily.

Puffin: where have you been hiding this pretty set? Why was I not allowed to take it off of your body with my teeth? Or rip it? And then buy you a new one and rip it too?

You can just imagine him shifting around in his seat.

Sunshine: oh just this was in my suitcase…

Puffin: And you did not put it on?????????? Is this how you treat the love of your life? Is this how I am to be treated by the love of my life???

Puffin: lots to unpack in that message but I mean every word.

He begins to video call as you type out the reply. Connecting the headphones you answer. Bucky’s face pops up, his hair is slightly dishevelled but his eyes are bright. A smile on his lips. Those kissable, love confessing lips.

You smile back, “Hi.”

“Don’t hi, me, I’m mad at you! I could have unwrapped you like the best fucking present and you deny me?” Bucky places a hand on his heart to convey his feelings of betrayal.

“Overdramatic much?” You shake your head but laugh at his antics.

“Sunshine, I meant what I said.” He adds, expression turning serious the way it does when he really wants you to listen.

“I know.” You hope your expression conveys it.

That he knows, you know because it is true for you too.

“Good, I was beginning to think I’d have to change cabs.” The camera shifts and you stare at yourself looking into the phone.

Blinking several times, you look at the side, sure enough Bucky grins and waves. His laugh thrums through you. You wave back at him and shake your head at his antics. The traffic clears and the two of you watch as the roads diverge, taking you to opposite sides of the city.

“I miss you.” You tell him, thumb running over his face.

“I miss you too.” The smile isn’t happy but one of solemn acceptance, “I’ll meet you soon enough okay? Work needs to be–great just got called in for a zoom meeting.” He grumbles, the screen blurring as Bucky switches apps to reply.

The call drops and he sends a string of texts, you assure him that it's okay. Soon enough as your apartment comes into view exhaustion creeps along your body.

The couch is covered in pillows. Your delivery app says the food will be here in five minutes. You’re aching to tuck into the comfort food and the comfort film ready to play on your laptop.

Deciding to text a picture to Wanda and Bucky of your plans seems ideal.

Wanda was AWOL understandably so, the family surprised them with a gettogether, luckily Sharon and Brock didn’t make the cut.

Wanda: ugh, I love my family, but I just want to go home and cuddle stevie.

You: cuddle? [insert corgi giving side eye GIF]

Wanda: we can do things before cuddling

You: there’s my Wanda!

Wanda: any cuddling involved on your end?

You: Bucky’s stuck in Zoom conferences, apparently another client is sceptical and Darcy requested Yusuf to have Bucky come in on board.

Wanda: [video attached]

You click play, Pietro pops up on screen, you laugh at his grumpy expression.

“You’ve betrayed me, sweet girl.” Pietro huffs, hands on his hips and now sporting a pout on his face.

You giggle. The doorbell rings, the video continues as you head to the door.

“I thought I’d play the long game but no, you had to let the guy sweep in and take what's mine.” He places his hand on his heart, “You wound me, Angel.” Pietro fake cries.

You laugh, “Hey, How are you– Bucky?”

There Bucky is, hair tied in a low bun, a few strands falling out. He’s holding your take out bag and one of his own, but his pretty blue eyes are narrowed at your phone.

“Pietro.” Bucky says with such disdain. The video continues, “The grumpy man always had your heart.” Pietro continues, “He better keep you happy.”

“Pietro!” Bucky grins, happy with what he’s saying.

“And honestly if he fucks up I’ll sweep in and protect your heart–”

Bucky grabs your phone, shifting both bags to one hand; breaking you out of your stupor and cutting video Pietro off.

“Hey Pietro, her heart is already protected so better luck with someone else because even in another life I’m hers and she’s mine.” Bucky smiles satisfied with the video, sends it and then grins at you.

“I thought you were caught up at work?” You still stare at him.

Bucky shrugs, “I missed my Sunshine.”

You grab the take out bags, setting them on the little cabinet. Immediately you fling yourself at him. Bucky catches you easily, kissing the side of your head. His arms tighten around you. His face is buried in the crook of your neck.

Bucky carries you in, shutting the door with his foot. Your fingers card through his hair, undoing the hair tie he hums then sighs. He’s addicted to the way you feel wrapped up in his arms, no longer does he have to hold back his affection. No longer does he ball his hands into fists so that they do not seek you out more than the little slice of your heaven he allowed himself to be carried toward.

You pull away in the slightest, noses brushing as your eyes meet his, he licks his bottom lip. Eyes closed as your fingers trace his jaw. The entire day your mind went back to the moment he confessed but even more to the way you felt half asleep.

Dreaming of this happiness.

“If i’m still dreaming,” You whisper, “If I’m still dreaming Bucky,” he feels your lips brushing over his forehead, “then please,” cheeks, nose, “don’t wake me up.”

“Sunshine,” He opens his eyes to the crack in your voice and the glaze over your eyes.

You shake your head, “You’re the love of my life too, Puffin.”

Bucky presses his lips to yours with an urgency that moulds into softness. There is heat underneath but neither of you make a move to burn in it. Opting to bask within each other. Hands lost in each other’s hair, trying to be as closely pressed as possible. Tracing over your back upon with stories of pleasure and stolen moments blaming exhaustion were etched.

When the two of you pull away, you’re straddling his lap looking down at his kiss bitten lips. Bucky’s tongue moves over his bottom lip, warm palm cupping your cheek. Blue eyes drinking you in, his heart hammering as your hand encases his own.

The ring he gave you gleams, he beams brightly.

“I love you.” He whispers, you lean into his palm. Smiling shyly at him, cheeks warming.

“I love you.” You whisper back, kissing his palm.

Bucky’s grin remains upon his features, the crinkles by his eyes have you fall a little more in love with this man.

There is so much more for you to discover and learn, likewise for Bucky towards you. The relationship would begin, not allowing the years gone by to get in the way. To make up for lost time but also not dwell upon it.

“How’s Alpine?” You ask once the food orders are sprawled across the table, Tangled set to begin on the monitor.

Bucky eyes the set up warily, using bigger books to prop the monitor, “She’s okay, I checked up on her, fed her treats and told her you’re officially my girl.”

“Officially your girl?” You turn to him bemused.

“She was very pleased, you will be getting a be my meowmmy card soon.” Bucky teases, then shakes his head, “I’d rant to her alot about you, usually after our meetings with Wanda and Steve.”

“Alpine’s your confidant isn’t she?” You smile at him, he nods.

“I didn’t think I would have made a great cat dad, but she's just, she’s part of my whole world you know? She helped me so much it was lonely when I moved out. I had so much anxiety leaving my parents alone. Even though I was on a good paying job and we were out of ‘the financial trouble phase’.” He sets his plate down, you follow, then turn to him.

In the weeks when lines blurred. He had told you quite a bit about his family life but not this phase. You knew him throughout all of this better never intimately. You never knew what he hid behind the scowls you threw at each other. The burning glares that singed everyone’s eyebrows off their faces.

“Things were rough, with student loans, Becca’s and mine… Mom working two jobs, Dad’s condition had gotten worse because of the diabetes, ulcer on the leg…” he sighs, you rest your palm upon his, he intertwines your hands.

“We were worried about surgery, if it became worse an amputation would be the only option.” He sighs yet again.

“If it turns into gangrene and hampers blood circulation…” You trail off knowing this as well, “My dad had the issue with his foot… had to amputate three and a half toes.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his own mind reeling, there was so much you both still had to share, still had to learn, “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through as a family...”

“I’ll tell you all about it, but first I want to listen to you.” You assure him.

“It healed though in time, I was in and out of the dorm with Steve, most days it was as if I was wasting money paying for the dorm. I worked up the nerve to speak to Steve and what he did was so fucking amazing I’ll never forget it. He told me he won some fucking keg drinking competition and that the frat house was paying for accommodation.” He laughs,

“He lied ofcourse, covered my end of the expenses for two years while we dealt with things at home. When my laptop gave me shit and broke down. He got three new ones saying his mom ordered two extra on accident for Christmas. He made sure Becca had a new laptop the first year she started uni.”

“He’s an amazing person.” You commend, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair. Bucky hums softly, urging you to continue. The soft touch provides comfort to him.

“He is, while I took up odd jobs, repairing stuff, call centre jobs, reviewing things, you name it. Steve tutored me in lectures I slept through, what free time I had during uni hours I kept myself in the library or study hall. Whatever I earned I was frugal. I put most of it towards my parents and Becca.” Bucky reminisced with a grin on his face, “She got hired and so did I right during placement week, both jobs are stellar in pay much more than the odd buck earned and things got better.”

“I’m proud of you, Bucky.” You squeeze his hand.

“Thank you.”

“Then I got hired by Yusuf Khan. The commute was brutal from home. So I moved. However, things were good, but I unfortunately harboured too much anxiety that day, technically late at night when I found Alpine; I was contemplating leaving, which is why I was pacing the parking lot. Going back home even though it was at max a 45 minute distance.” Bucky chuckles,

“Tiny little furball gave me so much love in the first interaction. When I gave her some leftover chicken bits, she stood on the kitchen island as if she owned the place. I knew I had to try. It may sound as if I got instant perspective, but that's not it.”

“She awoke hope within you, in that moment you finally had hope to think that things would get better.” You try to make sense of the feeling he may have had, when he nods you smile.

“I went to therapy, got myself in order, invested well. Got us in much better positions, bought an additional home on mortgage, flipped it, sold it for a profit, bought a studio with the profit and rented it out to keep some active income for my parents and now its a few years since and I’ve gotten all I wanted, now I just want more with everyone I have.”

It’s quiet for several moments when you reach for him cupping his face and then hugging him tightly. Bucky envelopes you in his arms, your sighs of contentment are an echo of one another.

“I didn’t know how much was going on, Wanda let it slip that things were hard but every time I saw you, seeing how much you persevered through it all I always felt proud and happy for you. Even if we bickered or just gave the hostile silent treatment I was proud of what you did for yourself and your family.” You admit to him.

Bucky runs his fingers over your back, he can hear the honesty in your voice.

“Tell me about your times now. I know we’ve covered why your contact is reduced with them.” He hopes the moment is safe enough for you to share.

A deep inhale and you close your eyes, “They didn’t approve of the baking business, I used to do it on the side for a little extra money and I enjoyed it alot. Pastry chef was the goal but then they convinced me to pursue well…”

“Get a ‘real degree’?” He offers, you nod against his shoulder, “I’m sorry you had to give up on that goal. Do you ever think of going back? Pastry school, I mean.”

“Sometimes I used to but, as I got more settled into the web design field I couldn’t keep it afloat.” You shift back, looking into his blue eyes that watch you with so much tenderness, “I took short courses during university breaks, those cooking for fun classes? Online stuff, books. Just wanted to learn how to make pastries and I did.” You smile.

“That's my girl.” His praise warms your skin and heart.

“The reason I stepped back was when all of dad’s health issues were going on, my brother did not step up to the task. It all fell on me. Mom was a wreck, my brother would rather be anywhere but at home. When I took the call for the surgery, the doctors said he would die because the blood supply had gotten very, very poor. They anticipated embolisms or infection spreading across. It was a split second decision.” You’re transported back to the ICU, monitors ringing, doctor’s words overlapping, and the nurse thrusting the consent form into your hands.

“Your decision saved him.” Bucky repeats what you’ve told yourself over and over, what the doctors told you and your family.

“It did, but my brother turned and twisted everything saying I gave zero respect to my mother or to him to collectively decide. My father thought I took the costliest way out. It got to a point where staying in that house had become horrible.” You sigh, “The year we met all this was going on… When things for us fell apart, it seemed as if it all was falling apart. I just wanted to be saved from it all.”

“Beck came in then didn’t he? Pretending to be everything you needed?” Bucky hates the venom in his words but he despises the guy.

“He wasn’t everything I wanted or needed, those criterias were only met by you.” You rest your forehead against his, Bucky sighs.

“But he did swoop in. I did get caught up. I did ignore the red flags. All because I didn’t want to feel as horrible as I did. I already moved into the dorm with Wanda, then when I got my own job I found a dude subletting his place, and dating Beck was expensive. Only the finest of things, he’d make a face at handmade cards or mementos for a long time. I didn't realise I lost so much of myself in that relationship. When I went back home because things with Wanda were starting to get rocky, my brother said I should have sucked it up and stayed for the money.”

“That fucking asshole.” Bucky swallows, “I’m sorry–,”

“No he was an asshole and I said that to his face and left.” You nudge Bucky’s nose with yours, he gives you a soft kiss.

“There’s more but that can wait for another night.” He kisses your temple.

You nod, still curling up against him, the food for now forgotten as he presses play on the movie.

Teakwood candles burn in the corner curated by Wanda. The darkwood office is well thought out. Steve watches on as Bucky paces. The brunette riddled with nervous energy, unlike his usual stoic self. The papers that are in Steve’s hands are no longer gazed upon by Bucky. The words and graphs committed to memory.

“Why are you so nervous? You've done it, the take over is happening.” The ‘corporate lawyer voice’ Steve uses is not unfamiliar.

“I’m worried about the underlying personal issue,” Bucky finally stops the pacing, deciding to sit on the carpeted floor of his friend’s office, “Beck will retaliate citing that, but I have more than enough to throw him down further. As much as I want to hurt him…”

“You do not want to fight her battles for her?” Steve offers understanding the dilemma.

“Yes… I, It is personal. Beck made comments to me in our Finance Major, but what he put Sunshine through is arguably worse.”

The two grow quiet again, Steve re-reads the papers, his firm knew of the acquisition, the main buyers had appointed them. The contracts were drafted by him and his firm’s best people. Under ironclad NDAs he couldn’t let Bucky know he was involved in the very deal his best friend was working hard to close.

“I can’t believe you’re working with Tony Stark though.” Bucky pats Steve’s back, grins forming on their faces.

“I know, they might have us on board contractually, too.”

“Stevie, that's great news!”

“I know, Buck, just this deal goes well and then we can get that contract. I’m trusting Y/N’s vision board.” Steve chuckles and Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Oh yeah, she probably won’t tell you unless what she kept on the board comes true.” Steve explains.

“She had you working with Tony Stark on her board?” Bucky was going to ask you about this board.

“Technically she said she had herself seeing me work with a dream client of mine.” The blond grins, “NDA, I couldn’t tell her who it was just that it’s a big client.”

“So Sunshine has a secret vision board?” Bucky whips his phone out, offended he doesn’t know about the board. It was date night but he would question you. A few days had passed since the night at your house. You had been over at his place as well.

Alpine curling up on your chest as you lay your head on his thigh while watching a movie. Bucky smiles recalling the way your hair felt between his fingers as he carded through them watching you instead of the movie.

He gazes back down at his device, an unread text awaits him.

Sunshine: I have an activity planned for date night! All the materials ready and we meet at your place

Puffin: I can’t wait, Sunshine.

Steve chuckles, “You aren’t demanding about the board are you?”

“It can wait.” Bucky dismisses the thought away, typing that he would arrange for the food and drinks asking if you would prefer any cuisine.

Bucky was fucking glad you both had exchanged keys, because the sight that greeted him of Alpine and you dancing to Taylor Swift in his living room oblivious to his presence as he recorded this moment was worth so much more than he could comprehend.

You notice Bucky, how could you not feel his presence the minute he would enter close to your orbit? Alpine’s blue eyes gleam at you as you sing off-key to the lyrics while holding her paw in your palm and pretending to waltz. Alpine huffs when she’s had enough pushing away from you and bounding up her dad’s leg to his arms.

“It is a nice sight to come home to,” Bucky kisses her sweet little nose, the furball purrs happily.

“She is adorable.” You agree with him.

“I meant you, Sunshine.” He meets your gaze, smiling as he can pinpoint the signs of your blush, the way you momentarily break away from his eyes, tilt your head and then look right back at him, your irises not just harbouring the colour he so deeply loves but also a warmth that burns him, consumes him. Your own love for him.

“So what is this date you’ve planned?” He diverts, Alpine leaps out of his arms heading to her water bowl and then to her lounging spot near the window.

“A couple’s vision board.” You grin at him.

“A couple’s vision board?” He raises a brow, his earlier conversation with Steve returning to the forefront.

“Yeah, you basically cut out pictures of things you want to achieve or manifest and well–if you find it stupid we can just paint on the canvas…” You pick at the hangnail by your thumb, trying to divert your mind from chastising you for the stupid idea.

Bucky cups your cheek, making you look at him, his right hand interlaces with your hand that was picking at the hangnail. He squeezes it gently.

“Should we put in a warm, sunny getaway? I think we’ve had enough of a cold climate.” He kisses your nose, making you grin. You nod, kissing his palm.

“Mediterranean?” You wonder, he nods, grinning too.

You lead him to the set up done in the living room, behind the sectional, fully complete with a sheet on the floor to prevent paint spills.

“Oh and should we sign it off as ‘Sunshine and Puffin’s’ or ‘Puffin and Sunshine’s’ Vision Board?” Bucky questions as he sits down, helping you unwrap the canvas, after he brings in his photo printer to be closer to you two.

“Puffin and Sunshine? Alphabetical?” You hum, going through images to find the perfect couple travel aesthetic.

The process begins then, finding pictures of each thing listed and settling on an image or a quote the two of you equally adore to print and place onto the board.

Bucky writes a list of things he wants the two of you to be able to do, he even downloads and prints a small picture of a wedding to sneak onto the board without you noticing.

After a while of cutting and glueing and smearing paint across each other’s cheeks. Bucky rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms around you. The two of you watch the vision board with awe and then your eyes narrow.

“Did you put ‘Have sex on hotel balcony’ right next to the Eiffel tower picture?” You look at his side profile.

Bucky holds back a laugh, “Well, do you not want to? Be full of me? While the lights shine bright, twinkling? Mimicking the way pleasure thrums through your body?” His hands move then from your waist to your thighs, parting them.

Calloused fingers moving along your inner thigh, “Tell me Sunshine? Do you not enjoy it when you’re bent over? Feeling me deep within you?”

Your breath hitches as his lips brush over the sensitive spot on your neck.

“People could see us, be oh so jealous of us. Two people so in love it consumes them. They would say our love and lust is brighter than their cities.” He cups your mound, the skirt pushed up to your hips, your panties pushed aside.

Bucky moans as your arousal coats his fingers, “I want to feel you claim me in every corner of the world. Every city we visit, Sunshine, I want to be yours, I want you to be mine.” Your head rests against his shoulder, his fingers part your folds, his middle finger sinking into you.

“Bucky,” You plead, needing more.

“Right here, baby. You feel so good, taking my fingers so well.” Bucky adds another, you moan, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. When did he move your legs apart further with his knees under yours, you don’t understand.

You fall fully against him when his left hand joins in, fingers rubbing your clit as his fingers thrust into you. Your hips raise and grind against him. Pleasure blooming across you, Bucky watches in the reflection of his balcony window as you fall apart for him.

You come with a cry of his name, panting and bliss dragging you under. He doesn’t stop not until he has made you ride through your orgasm. You watch with a half mast gaze as he licks his fingers clean.

“Decadent, my good girl. My sunshine. Soarele meu.” Bucky watches as you turn, straddling him pushing down his sweats, greed driving the two of you. When he calls you his, it illuminates you brighter, turns you a little feral you won’t lie. You love it, he loves it.

He smiles into the kiss you tease him with, that you haven't noticed yet, the picture he put of a married couple right next to a picture of the two of you.

Bucky moans into your mouth as you sink down on his cock, inch by inch. You whimper as he nips upon your bottom lip once he’s completely sheathed by you. Hands on your hips, your hands on his shoulders.

You stay that way for a moment, foreheads pressed to one another's.

“You tore my panties.” You huff realising through the haze.

“Sunshine, I’m a little preoccupied to even care about them.”

You narrow your eyes, clenching your walls, he hisses, his hands grip your hips and make you grind down. Your clit stimulated–you whimper and moan. He grins, your personal devil.

“Two can play, Sunshine,”

“I won’t move.”

Soon your back is against the floor, legs around Bucky’s hips.

“I can do the hard work, you just stay there and moan my name.” His cocky smirk sends a shiver through you, “Oh my pussy loves the idea.” He admires your cunt by softly tracing his fingers over your slick folds, tapping your clit and giving light thrusts.

“Bucky–,” You try to grab onto him, one hand pins down both of yours, you stare up at him. Anticipation pools in your belly.

“I told you, Sunshine. You just lay there and take it like my good fucking girl.” He brushes his lips over yours, you feel him pull his hips away, your walls clamp not wanting to let him go, he thrusts back in, his pace hard but slow.

The sound of flesh slapping against the other, your moans, his grunts, your whimpers and his groans. Your neediness, his praise, his dirty words and your praise. Your worlds collide and shatter in the best way, pleasure breaks across Bucky and your skies.

When he feels your orgasm take over your body, triggering his own, his hands grip your jaw making you look at him.

Bucky’s eyes close, he moans a prayer of your name. His hair falls across his cheekbones, your hand reaches up to stroke his cheek, his lips brush over the inside of your palm.

At night, after your little nap, you go to retrieve the vision board, to tuck it away into his wardrobe. That is when you see it, the wedding picture, you write on a small folded sheet sticking it near the picture.

It would be a little surprise for him, you’d pretend to not see the pictures, but whenever he sees the folded paper, he would know your answer to the unasked question. Three letters that would make him the happiest. Thereby making you the happiest.

Yes.

You stare at Wanda, really give her a good hard look. She stares right back, her eyes roll yet again as she palpates your reluctance. Her lips part to tell you that it's okay but you hold up a hand.

“I am not using your wedding as bait.” You refuse her plan, she glares at you, “What are you glaring at me for? It’s your day!”

Steve coughs from the living room.

“It’s your shared day!” You correct, then wince.

“Steve, stop eavesdropping! Go play with Bucky.” Wanda calls out.

“We don’t play–,” Steve begins,

“So why did I scramble to buy the damn PS5?” She counters.

Bucky guffaws and then yelps, then Steve yelps.

“Boys, anywho, come on, no other chance will you get, plus Sharon is planning to wear white.” Wanda adds.

Your mouth drops open, “That bitch!”

“Now will you please let us have their downfall at my reception? It will be my wedding gift.” Your best friend brings out her puppy eyes.

“You have my blessing to absolutely annihilate those shitheads.” Wanda grins happily as she watches your features change from reluctance to consideration.

You sigh, the rehearsal dinner was just done, the ceremony was the day after. Bucky had gotten the merger out of the way the news would break amidst the wedding reception. Steve’s team would take care to keep the ropes tight till he sent the message to allow the news to be published to the public.

“You’re okay with it?” You ask again.

“Look I have the main ceremony and who told you I won’t make it about myself–”

Steve coughs again.

“Myself and Steve! Jeez, will you let me complete sentences?”

“Sorry babydoll.” Steve calls out.

“Okay, let's get back at them.” You nod. Steve and Bucky enter the kitchen area again.

“Alright now, this is exactly how it will go down.” Wanda pulls out a rolled chart, unrolling it across the island top.

Bucky wraps his arm around your waist, “Ready for vengeance?” He whispers.

“With you by my side I’m ready for anything.” You look up at him, he smiles, his dimple showing.

“Aw cute, flirt later, listen to the plan first.” Wanda snaps her fingers.

“It’s all military time coded.” Bucky observes the steps.

“Well duh, I need my sunset beach picture of Steve kissing me as the minister declares us husband and wife. The beach resort was booked for the photo op.” Wanda looks at you with disbelief, “Are you sure you wanna date him?”

“Hey!” Bucky interjects offended.

“Wan.” You huff a laugh, giggling when Bucky looks at you offended as well.

“What I’m just making sure.” She raises her hands in surrender.

“Just tell him the plan, baby.” Steve kisses her forehead, “She’s just excited about being a mastermind.”

“Well no one is taking Sunshine away from me.” Bucky pulls you closer.

“No one can and no one will.” You assure him kissing his jaw.

Pink roses adorn the aisles, the breeze softly bellows across the resort’s private beach. The event management had put down the makeshift wooden flooring. Sand however had made its way onto sections but the altar was impeccable.

In the conservatory Wanda looks towards you, amidst the final check of her make up, the veil, her something borrowed, old and blue. Her assistant pours out a shot of vodka and the bride grabs it with eager hands.

The two of you laugh as she downs the shot just before the Wan and Steve’s mothers each enter to check upon their daughter.

Across, in the other wing of the conservatory Steve and Bucky share a drink. The two reminisce over the conversations about this fateful day. Bucky hands a small box sent over by Wanda to his best friend. The groom cannot help but laugh at the cartoon doodle socks with the note that said, ‘Incase you get cold feet. Don’t.’

Steve scribbles his own answering note back to Wanda which Bucky delivers in your hand. He waits as the bride and groom play this little game of passing the note along. The two of you indulge yourselves as well, exchanging kisses each time the note was delivered.

You hear the soft aw when you pull away from Bucky. Outside the groom’s door. Sarah Rogers and Winnie Barnes stand there with beaming smiles on their faces.

Heat creeps over your cheeks, Winnie only grins brighter at you. Bucky’s arm rests around your waist as he lets you shy away against him. He places a kiss on your temple. His mother was onto his denial of feelings.

Calling him out in Romanian when he told her about your shared confession. The entire time you gazed between the mother son duo confused when Becca walked in, giving you a full translation because she heard the yelling match to her room.

Three days after returning from the trip

“She’s calling him an idiot.” Becca says, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket and offering you the bowl of strawberries. Your fingers intertwine as you twist them nervously. Gaze bouncing between mother and son.

Bucky says something with an exasperated expression and shakes his head. Winnie clicks her tongue and the back of her hand meets her palm to emphasise her point.

This goes back and forth and Becca keeps translating, its mostly funny to watch and hear because she keeps laughing every time Winnie is calling out the shared stupidity of losing six years.

“He said, ‘Yes, I was dumb to not resolve things before but the two of us were manipulated.’ Then mom said, ‘You were not manipulated you were a dumbass to not approach her directly.’” The mother and son look at Becca.

“And now they will begin to tell me off, Mom come on, you should be happy he’s finally calling her Soare to her face rather than muttering it in his sleep or when he’s absentmindedly telling us about her.” She defends herself and the tips of Bucky’s ears go pink.

“You… How long have you called me Sunshine?” You ask, Bucky glares at his sister, who only grins at him and blows a kiss to him.

“You and Wanda should hang out, she’d love you.” You comment as Becca jumps off the chair.

“I know, I love Wanda, she’s my hero.”

Winnie had slowly stepped away, her happiness knowing no bounds.

“I’ve thought you were Sunshine since you brightened my day when I saw you first.” Bucky admits, you grin wider.

The two of you ignore the squeals of his family. Bucky walks around the kitchen island. Hands cupping your face.

“Sorry about them, they are just a little excited for me.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek bone.

“I think it's adorable. Plus Becca could be a wonderful interpreter.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but his gaze is soft, “Come on, let's go to the bookstore, I’ll buy you all the books you want.”

“You both are staying for dinner!” Winnie calls out, “I want to know your mireasă (bride) better.”

You raise a brow to Bucky, he scrambles and you worry about the word’s meaning.

“She said dragă, which means sweetheart. Try it?” Bucky encourages you, his fingertips trace your jaw, left hand, grabs the chair, manoeuvring it so he stands between your legs.

“That didn’t sound like dr-rea-ga?” You attempt to say it correctly.

“Mea Dragă, my darling or my sweetheart. It’s actually said as Dragă mea. Sometimes the rules of English come into other languages when speaking quickly.” Bucky easily covers his mother’s slip up.

“Dragă mea?” It sounds better as you say it this time.

“Good.” Bucky rewards you with a kiss.

“What other words do I need to know?” You ask him, “Wait, the most important words!”

“What?” He tilts his head in wonder.

“I love you! How do I say it in Romanian?”

Bucky chuckles, azure eyes brightening at your eagerness to share his language, “Te iubesc. Two words, eight letters instead of three words.”

He repeats it, over and over. Letting you follow along as he breaks the word into parts then together. Till you get the pronunciation correct.

“Dragă mea, te iubesc.” You say to him at the end of the night as he stands at your door, hands in his pockets, cheeks coated in the blush that makes you swoon at his beauty.

“Say it again, Sunshine.”

“Puffin mea, dragă mea, te iubesc.” You hardly get time to recover, his body moulds against yours. Lips hungry, ravenous in the most loving way. His hands are just as eager and wanton as your own.

The door closes, you’re held up by Bucky. Your head moves to the side in pleasure, you don’t notice the frame of the order that saved your business tilts as his thrusts are frantic, the two of you repeating the words in Romanian and English.

When the event planner gets a whiff of the notes exchange programme Bucky and you are shooed away and the bride and groom are warned about the time constraints.

The crowd is seated, cell phones tucked away with a scary looking bouncer to allow only the photographer to take pictures. The bridesmaids and groomsmen walk down the aisle separating at the altar.

Your arm looped with Bucky’s both of you making sure you had the vows, rings and anything else needed to make the ceremony proceed smoothly. The song changes and you look at Bucky and then at Wanda.

The string instrumental is from the first song the two of you danced at the party, Counting Stars by OneRepublic.

“Our,” your throat constricts, Bucky smiles nodding. “Our song.”

You look back at Wanda with gratitude, she smiles at you, “Now go, I’ll be there in a sec.”

The two of you step out, the chorus of the song plays as the two of you walk towards the altar. Bucky can’t help but feel happiness, he mouths a thank you to Steve who shrugs it off. You part from Bucky with a kiss to his cheek.

The band changes the tune to the bridal march, Wanda walks down the aisle looking every bit beautiful. Steve begins to cry and looks at Bucky who pats his back and offers him a tissue.

“She’s my dream girl.” Steve tells everyone and sniffles, using the tissue to help himself. Her father sheds a few tears giving her hand into Steve’s. The father and son-in-law share a hug.

“Son, you’ve been taking care of her for the past many years, I know you will continue doing so, I’m giving you my princess, you treat her as the queen she is to you.” Her father says and Steve nods.

“I will, Sir.”

“I will, Dad.” Her father corrects, Steve can’t help the watery laugh that blubbers from him.

The minister begins the ceremony, you can’t help but tear up as it unfolds. Watching Steve and Wanda go from cheesy flirting to dating to living together and now being married.

A fairytale romance even though Wanda hated the fantasy association. Steve would agree though.

The minister smiles then allows for the two to say their prepared vows.

You hand Wanda her cue cards and take her bouquet from her for the time being.

“Stevie, I’ve known you through several phases of our lives. In each phase you have been the person I needed and wanted, you have been not just my boyfriend but my best friend, my confidant and above all my everything. When you proposed I knew I wanted to be yours and no I’m not talking about the ring, I’m talking about when you proposed for us to be together all those years ago,”

Steve chuckles and then sniffles.

“Steve, I vow to be the partner you need and want, I vow to make my famous butter chicken for you whenever you want,” That earns her laughs.

“I vow to be your friend, I vow to be your date at all boring lawyer events, I vow to be with you in health, in sickness, in happiness and in sadness, I vow to be your everything as you remain my ev-everything. Husband, I know you call me wife whenever you talk about me. I can’t wait until you don’t have to hide that and call me yo-your wife all the time. I vow to love you unconditionally.”

You hand her a tissue, your gaze meets Bucky’s and the two of you are misty eyed.

Bucky hands Steve his cue cards.

“Wanda Maximoff, you are my dream girl, baby. Ask Bucky, I would not shut up about you.” Steve smiles at her, she chuckles.

Bucky nods, “Affirmative.”

“You are everything to me and more, from the first day of correcting my presentation in the middle of my presentation,” Steve sheepishly shrugs it off.

“You used Comic Sans!” She reminds him not forgetting about it.

Laughter surrounds the couple.

“I would have kept using it if it meant I’d have your attention. Wan, you are the light in darkness, you are bewitching as the day that I met you. Whatever love spell we may be under, I hope it never breaks. Somepeople may consider marriage a hex but I don’t, thank you for allowing me to be your everything. Thank you for being my everything.”

Steve takes a deep breath,

“You have my vow, Wanda, to be yours for always, the way you need and want, through every crest and trough life sends our way. I promise you to be the best that I can be for you. I also vow to keep buying you notebooks for your mastermind plans.”

She swats him lightly. He only laughs, holding onto her hand that stays on his chest.

“I vow to be the husband that you, my wife will need and want in happiness, in sadness, in health and in sickness.” He takes a deep breath, smiling through his happy tears.

“I vow to love you, unconditionally.”

“Beautiful vows,” He goes over asking them for their I dos, both of them grinning widely at the other, “by the authority vested in me by the state of New York; I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister smiles, “You may now kiss the bride.”

“Don’t mind if I do, kiss my wife.” Steve pulls Wanda close, he cups her cheek. Their wedding track is played. Wanda smiles up at him.

The two of them are still misty eyed. They share a laugh. Before their lips meet.

The guests clap and holler, you can’t help but cheer them on through the happy tears. Bucky finds your gaze once again, reaching over to hand you a tissue without interrupting the couple.

You wonder what it would feel like standing at the altar with Bucky. The feeling dawns upon you as Steve and Wanda pull away from the kiss but rest their foreheads together lost in the moment.

You raise your gaze to find him looking at you, your heart somersaults. It would feel right.

Bucky knows it would feel right, making you Mrs. Barnes one day.

The fairy lights and candle lights flicker on as the sky grows darker.

“Guests and loved ones of the couple, may I take pleasure in announcing for the first time, Steve and Wanda Rogers!” The minister exclaims as the guests cheer on further.

Wanda turns to you, excited and she hugs you. You hug her back.

“I’m so happy for you Wan.” You tighten the hug as she does too, both of you sniffle in tandem.

“We have to be careful with eye make up.” She tries to keep her voice even.

“I made them use waterproof mascara.” You tell her knowing tears would happen despite her declaring she would not cry.

“Steve did cry seeing you.” You tell her on the lighter note, she laughs.

“He did good.” Wanda says, “I mean look at me, he won the fucking lotto.”

“He did win the lotto, he won the world with you Wanda.” Bucky adds and Steve’s wife returns in his arms.

“Aw, Bucky, are you going soft and mushy after all these grumpy years?” Wanda teases him, Steve chuckles.

“Love makes him all soft and mushy.” Steve earns an eye roll from his best man.

“There he is!” Stevepretends to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, “Thought I lost you there bud.”

“Now come on, at 2000 Hours we have a reception to execute.” Wanda reminds you all, the two of them walk back to the conservatory as everyone throws the flower petals.

Bucky offers you his hand, “Honestly, I wouldn’t have missed the wedding as I had planned months ago.”

You link your arm through his, giving him a curious look, you knew he wanted to skip because of the strained history the two of you shared.

“You’d torture yourself?” Your tone is light but the two of you know the heaviness that is held by the words.

The two of you continue your walk, faster paced than the rest to have a moment alone before the chaos.

“Sunshine, you own my heart even if I did not want you to, so yes. I would put us both through the torture of going through all of this for just a moment to be close to you. I know it sounds mean and selfish–,”

“I’d do it just for a moment of your time too.” You admit, Bucky leads you to a corner, pushing you against the wall.

“What does that say about us? Masochists?” He murmurs, you look to the side. He grips your jaw making you look back at him, “We’ve got time.”

“Unrequited love is painful, we lived with it for years.” You meet his darkening gaze, “We’re the only ones who can erase the pain.”

“Because we’re the ones that caused it.” He feels your lips brush his jaw, before he can taste your lips upon his own.

Bucky sighs into your mouth, your fingers run through his hair. His palms grip your waist, the ring digging into your hip. You moan when his tongue meets yours, he’s about to push up your dress to just have a little taste when the clearing of a familiar throat has you both pull away.

Wanda and Steve stand there shaking their heads.

“Your four minute window is up. Bridal party portraits now.” Wanda taps Steve’s watch.

Steve gives the two of you an apologetic look, he did try to distract Wanda.

“Why does no man read the docket? Horny stuff is scheduled for later tonight.” She shakes her head and turns leading the group to the photograph location.

“Please tell me she isn’t responsible for our wedding.” Bucky whispers to you.

“I can hear you and I am responsible. I’m the best damn wedding planner to exist.” Wanda calls out.

Steve and you laugh as Bucky huffs annoyed.

“Well I’d like several bouts of horny time scheduled.” He requests, “You know so Steve and you can blow off steam and not disappear on us.”

“It’s my wedding so I’ll let that slide, Barnes.” Steve waves a dismissive hand.

“It’s true though.” You not so subtly whisper.

“We heard that.” Is the Rogers' reply in unison.

Bucky and you giggle much to their ire but then straighten up when both of them glare at you both. Feeling as though toddlers are being told off by their parents.

The first part of the revenge plan was a carefully crafted invite for Sharon and Brock. Wanda had to stop her cackle when the two of them entered the reception area. Much after the couple’s entry.

“You altered the timing on their card?” Steve whispers, she nods.

“And the theme, I wrote disco.” Wanda adds on, her eyes move to Bucky and you, going over the speech order.

Bucky raises his head to look for Pietro as he would open up the floor for the speeches but what he finds instead he has to bite his cheek. He taps your shoulder several times to pull you away from texting Pietro, he was off wandering around instead of being ready for his speech.

“What?” You hiss at him because if Pietro fucks up you would be worst than Wanda.

“Look.” He gestures in the general direction.

You look at the direction and your laugh gets caught in a fake cough.

Sharon is dressed in a sparkly silver jumpsuit, her hair in tight curls and a hairband. Brock looks slightly in check with only his sparkly silver jacket being on disco theme.

You whip in the direction of Wanda and share a non verbal conversation just in looks.

She giggles behind her champagne glass. Steve shakes his head, chuckling.

Bucky lets a laugh slip and so do you.

“Um, did they come for the wedding or the senior’s 80s theme retreat in the other hall?” Pietro appears next to you.

Bucky raises a brow at him, he moves away in the slightest.

“I have no idea…” You try not to laugh.

“Well you gotta think they’re on their way here.” Pietro nods.

Bucky and you turn in time, his arm around your waist and pleasant smiles plastered across your faces.

“Sharon, Brock, we didn't think you were coming.” Bucky begins before they can say anything.

“Why would we not? We’re on time.” Sharon feigned nonchalance.

“You missed the ceremony. Oh Sharon it puts every other wedding I have been to shame.” An aunt of Steve’s walks up to the table.

Sharon laughs dryly, “I mean Brock and I flew everyone, well not everyone out to Spain.” She looks apologetically at Bucky and you. His fingers tighten slightly upon your waist.

“I know darling but the magic of the beach wedding today was beautiful. I was telling the other relatives and they all agreed.”

“Well they probably will remember the wonderful reception.” Brock intervenes as Sharon gleefully smiles.

“Oh the noise I remember that, anyways, dearest,” She turns to Bucky and you.

Sharon huffs, “Brocksie, get me a drink please?”

“The two of you are so sweet. I need some help with getting my husband’s wheelchair, these chairs aren’t very comfortable.” She explains.

“Which room are you in Aunt Tara?” Bucky questions, “I can have someone retrieve it back from the room. I know the hotel one isn’t all that comfortable.”

“Ah yes, let me go fetch the keycard, thank you.” She smiles at you all before turning away.

“Aunt Tara! Let me help you.” Sharon follows her, “And remind you of the beautiful lantern ceremony.”

“Alright I think you can.” Aunt Tara says, sighing.

“I’ll still have the staff help you out.” Bucky adds before she’s out of earshot.

“Pietro,” You hand him the mic, “You’re up first.”

“Good luck kiss?” Pietro smirks looking at Bucky.

“Don’t push your luck, Maximoff.” Your man grumbles.

“Bucky.” You reach up kissing his cheek.

Pietro places a hand over his heart. “You’re killing me, Feather.”

“Feather?” Bucky narrows his eyes.

“Pietro, stop trying to annoy my man.” You glare at him, he knew about the tumultuous life after one night you went to the Maximoff residence in tears.

Wanda wasn’t back home yet but Pietro stayed up with you making sure you were okay. The heartbreak you harboured was known to him and even if the two of you never saw each other as anything more than friends, he would always flirt with you.

“It’s fun, annoying him.” Is all he says before going towards the married couple.

“Asshole. Fought him off once, I’ll do it again.” Bucky mutters.

“Fought him off?” You raise your brows at him.

“It was when, well—,”

“Hey, where is Sharon? Also why aren't you guys in themed outfits?” Brock cut the conversation off.

“Oh hey, um she went with Aunt Tara.” You look around, sure enough both are missing.

“Then why did she ask me to bring her a drink?” He grumbles and you don’t know what to do.

Well you do, because Wanda told you to do so, “Hey, why don’t I show you your seat and send over a bottle just for the two of you?” Your offer is met by a nod.

Bucky squeezes your hand before you leave, he watches as you begin to converse with Rumlow on the way to show him his seat. He waits for your conversation to seem longer and then trails out of the reception hall, quick steps to follow towards where Sharon would be.

Just how Aunt Tara was told to do so.

Sharon stands there huffing, outside the room as Aunt Tara takes her sweet time to come out. When she spots him, her blonde hair is flipped back to show the skin of her shoulders. Bucky controls his eye roll, fiddling with his ring that solidifies his bond with you.

“Bucky!” Sharon beams, he gives her a curt nod.

“You were a while, I thought I’d help.” He shrugs, she nods.

“Yeah I think she’s gone to the bathroom, I keep hearing the flush…” Her nose scrunches with disgust, “Also why is no one in the disco theme?” Her gaze trails over him Bucky takes a step back, he was distant enough but her gaze was leering.

“You didn’t know? The printer fucked up with some of the invites… Relatives called because disco was never a theme that Wanda and Steve would choose. You didn’t rectify with Wanda?”

Sharon struggles for an answer, “There was a charity Gala actually, they were on the same theme so Brock and I just shrugged. You know how much I enjoy philanthropy.”

“I know. Noble of you.” He looks back at the door, pretending to contemplate something.

“Spill?” Sharon encourages.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this, I haven’t even told Steve.” He adds the spice and Sharon eats up the lie that is about to begin.

“What? You can trust me Bucky, I always want what is best for you,” Her gaze drops to his ring, “Even if it isn’t always right for you.”

“How much has Brock told you about the money coming in from the sale of the company?” The question has Sharon do a double take.

“Um, what do you mean by that?”

“Just tell me the number he told you, Steve told me in confidence there were some issues clouding around your family. I want to know if he is being honest to you.” Bucky reaches out to touch her arm as if offering comfort then he pulls it away.

“He’s said it's not a lot of capital appreciation.” Sharon’s lips press into a thin line.

“Sharon, I think he is fooling you. I. Please tell me you won’t speak to him right now, I don’t want you dealing with him alone. If he gets aggressive.”

“I can hold my own.” She smiles, indicating just how vindictive she can be.

Good Bucky thinks this will work out.

“He spilled about the prenup on the trip.”

Sharon’s mouth falls open, eyes wide and her breathing increases, “What? That fucker!” Sharon seethes, her fists clenching.

“Sharon, you promised to be calm.” Bucky shakes his head.

“You look as though you want to say something?” Brock chuckles looking at your shifty expression, your eyes dart to the door once more for good measure.

“I actually do…” You sigh, “I wanted to talk to you about Beck.”

Brock pauses, the two of you stop walking to his table.

“What not going to work out with, Barnes?” He smirks.

His gaze moving to find Bucky, you grab his arm.

“Brock is about what I overheard Beck say one night. Related to your company.” You feel relief when he stops his search for Bucky.

“What did he say and why are you telling me now?” He narrows his eyes.

“Because I overheard Bucky as well and I could not in good conscience let it go.” You reason, “Look the speeches have a few more minutes, I need to tell you before Sharon comes back.

“What does Sharon have to do with it?” Brock demands, fingers tightening around the glass of alcohol.

“You remember when Beck came back from the joint vacation you guys took?” You add an urgency to your voice, he nods, “Well I had found something in his suitcase when he asked me to get his toiletry bag,”

“What?”

“Can we go out… I don't want anyone overhearing.”

The two of you head out to the lobby, Brock rests a hand on his hip, the other beckoning you to speak, then he sips his drink.

“I found a few women’s clothes that matched Sharon’s from the pictures she uploaded to her instagram.”

“You do know I know she’s cheating on me. I told you about Beck’s infidelity too.” He shrugs as if this is old news.

“Well do you know he told her he bought your shares out? Bucky was saying that the deal does not look good at all for you, Brock over the work video call he had. Also, I’m telling you this in confidence, since you have always been honest with me. I want to repay that by telling you this, on girls night back at Aspen, Sharon mentioned a prenup after Wanda got an email from Steve.”

“You’re speaking in circles, Y/N. So what if she mentioned one?” Brock rolls his eyes, but he fiddles with his collar.

“Brock, she said and I quote, ‘pretty sure Brocksie will have nothing soon, the prenup I have and the proof of his infidelity he loses all the remaining money to me.’” You wait for the words to sink in, you watch on as the emotional colours on his face change.

The calmness turns into shock, into anger, finally into calculative mode.

You wonder if there ever was love between the two or was it only love for the money?

“Fuck so she’s probably filed for the divorce. She was speaking to the damn lawyer. That liar!” Brock roars and you step back as he throws the glass on the floor.

“Brock–,”

“Who have you told?” He steps close to you.

“No one! I told you all this in confidence! Because you warned me about Beck and breaking up with him was helpful to me.”

“Oh please I only told you to break up with him because he would be distraught and not pay attention to any side deals I was doing.” Brock runs a hand through his hair several times.

“I’m sure he was fine, given his continued trips.” You roll your eyes now, “Anyways, I’ve moved on to better bank balances,” The words sour on your tongue but you have to keep up the charade, “I’m telling you this so you can save yourself and your money from Sharon.” You have to draw attention away from Beck.

“Good you told me, I’m going to fuck her over in this entire divorce, she fucking cheated on me first.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Look, say nothing during this, keep up the charade. Then get your lawyer to have her pay up.” You advise.

Wanda had seen the prenup, reading through the main reasons had to be whoever cheats loses everything. They now had to just prove who cheated first. Which would be their own battle in this sham marriage of their own.

“You’re right. That bitch shouldn’t see things coming.” He agrees, “I’m going to my table, if I need to get in touch with my lawyer I’ll ask you to cover for me in front of her okay?”

“Okay.” You agree.

“Now calm down and lets head back before she sees anything.” You lead Brock back and Bucky leads pushing the empty wheelchair with Sharon arm in arm with Aunt Tara from the other entrance. Fuck.

Bucky’s eyes widen the same way. They could not see you and Bucky individually interacting with each other’s spouses. It could cause suspicion, they played this game once already. It cost the two of you too much.

You push Brock towards the buffet, “What the fuck?” he trips hands landing in the ice kept for the oysters.

“Your wife.” You whisper-yell at him, waving your hands for him to look away.

“Right. Go.” He mutters and you shake your head, returning to your original place.

Wanda, Steve and Pietro share a glance with you, a subtle nod their way has them speaking in hushed whispers again.

Bucky sighs with relief as they help Uncle Al onto the wheelchair and Aunt Tara gives him a kiss on the cheek. Sharon is already taking her place next to Brock. The two share a loving glance.

Bucky walks to you at the emcee stand you both were to share, “Went as planned?”

“Yeah, hopefully they bicker soon enough.” You look up at him, “I really want them to pay. They played with us and they don’t even respect their marriage.”

“I know Sunshine. They will. If this plan doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out.” Bucky assures you cupping your cheek.

You kiss his palm, Wanda coughs. You can hear her tapping Steve’s watch again.

Bucky closes his eyes, “It was enough that I had to deal with her because of Steve.”

You giggle, “Oh come on you love her.”

“She’s alot like Becca, annoying younger sister.” He huffs, turning to face her and he glares at her.

She blows a raspberry at him, Pietro laughs and Steve just records Bucky’s bewildered expression.

“Puffin, let’s host this wedding.”

“Best emcees on the planet, Sunshine.”

Sarah Roger’s speech has everyone misty eyed, the pictures she showed on the projector of a young Steve, fighting off several ailments and sharing the known fact that it was going to be a miracle if he pulled through his hospitalisations.

To her retelling of the day she met Wanda in the grocery store and told Steve about a redhead woman who put a racist asshole in place all the while continuing her self check out. Onto the moment that the very same redhead appeared at her doorstep and was introduced as Steve’s girlfriend.

“And today, I get to introduce her as his wife,” She turns to look at Wanda, “You’ve been my daughter for a long time and now it just makes it legally binding.”

Wanda gives a watery laugh.

Steve kisses his wife’s cheek.

The guests clap and cheer. Sarah hands over the mic to Bucky, who hands it over to you. Only Bucky and you remained to give your best man and maid of honour speech. You were excited since the two of you were keeping each other’s words as surprises.

You’re about to introduce Bucky to take centre stage, when the scrape of a chair draws everyone’s attention.

“Sharon just shut the fuck up for one night!” Brock yells and the scraping of cutlery stops, so does the small murmuring,

“Me? You want me to shut up? Why don’t you shut down your whoring around, asshole!” Sharon demands from Brock.

“Me? What about you sleeping around since fucking college? Then even most of the guys I work with, you’re the one whoring around!” He accuses her and she scoffs.

“Your dick isn’t enough to keep me happy.”

“Yeah well nor is my money! Beck, seriously? I mean its enough you chase after every guy Y/N manages to get but fuck, going behind my back and having a deal with Beck?” Brock has disgust written all over his face.

“Please, she has no fucking–, the audacity you have? I could get any guy, I’m the prize and fuck you, you’re the one hungry for money!”

Brock seethes, Sharon’s chest rises and falls both searching for a verbal attack.

Bucky and you exchange a glance, the tensions were rising between them. The loved up display crumbling as the words of trust and love spewed on from the speakers.

“Sharon–,” Her father begins.

“No daddy! I should have listened to you, he is useless, his money is also gone now! You know I’m wearing the socialite’s second hand outfit? Me! Second hand!” Sharon stops her foot like a petulant child.

“Are you so shallow? Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with you? Mr. Carter your daughter is a fucking mess! She slept with my fucking business partner to one up Y/N! All for losing Barnes’ affections!” Brock points finally at the two of you.

“What about you? You wanted to sleep with her too to one up Barnes and Beck! You thought telling her about the cheating will have her be an easy fuck! You even wanted to fuck Wanda! I even tried getting with ‘illness ridden cousin Steve’ to make that happen for you! You know how disgusting he is!?” Sharon throws her drink on Brock and he smears the mashed potato across her face and neck.

The guests gasp and so does Sharon, “You fucker! Now we won’t be able to get our money back!”

“Well good you nicked the fucking without insurance rental!” Brock reminds her.

“Excuse me?” Wanda’s voice rings out the mic you held now in her hands.

Everyone turns to her, she waves at the crowd with a smile.

“Now, hey hello, thank you all for coming to my wedding. Lovely to have you all here, while I have your attention, security is on its way to take out the trash. Yes I’m talking about you Sharon and Brock. You insult my husband, both my families. You even insult our best friends, hell you’ve been insulting us all for ages. Take your stupid sham of a marriage out of this event hall, hell off of the property. You dare not try and come back.” Wanda smiles as the security comes in escorting the two of them out.

As they are heading out, the struggle Sharon puts up makes way for a waiter to drop his entire tray of beers for the father’s and uncles onto Sharon and Brock by default. You cover your mouth with your hand and Bucky doesn’t hold back his laugh. Pure karma.

“I wish I could say I planned that.” Wanda giggles. Steve chuckles, “I’m giving you credit.”

Sharon’s parents look apologetic as they move out of the hall as well.

The crowd breaks into whispers.

“Are the two of you alright?” Steve questions Bucky and you.

You’ve held onto Bucky’s hand tightly, his thumb swipes over the back of your hand.

Bucky still processes everything, there was so much hate they harboured out of jealousy.

You aren’t upset, just surprised at everything that transpired, surprised at the jealousy people were capable of feeling.

“Puffin?” You find yourself looking into his eyes, “Sunshine?”

Wanda smiles at the two of you, Steve smiles as well while Bucky cups your cheek, his lips crashing to yours, the kiss is bordering on sweet, happiness felt across the way his lips curve upwards, you giggle as he pulls you closer.

“Alright everyone, back to the speeches.” Wanda says once the two of you pull away staring at each other goofily grinning.”

Wanda hands you the mic back, “Everyone, I would like to introduce the Best Man, James Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend and my everything.”

The guests cheer, the couple take their seats again. Bucky takes the mic standing at the mark.

“Good Evening everyone, thank you for coming out to celebrate one of the sweetest love stories I’ve ever witnessed. Steve and Wanda were a pair probably made in some chaotic portion of heaven.” Bucky chuckles, while Steve and Wanda narrow their eyes at him.

“What I said, heaven not hell, though that would be accurate. Steve used to drag me to these lectures, I understood we were sneaking into Wanda’s class. Now I had my own selfish motivations when it came to attending, I had my sights set on some too.” Bucky looks at you, your cheeks heat.

Bucky smiles at you then continues, “Now Steve realised quite soon that I could be bribed by my crush to do his bidding. Yet again they pulled the same stunt for the wedding under the whole guise of tradition, but Y/N and I would have been their go to people in a heartbeat. I’ve known Stevie since we were kids. I’ve seen him at his weakest and strongest, his will and inner strength however never deterred. When he saw Wanda and asked her out. The first statement he told me while nursing a pint of Ben and Jerry’s was that he would one day marry her.”

Everyone aws, Steve’s face turned red. Wanda’s head rests on his shoulder.

“I knew then that this day would come, I just hadn’t known that I would also have my Sunshine by my side, watching our best friends who fell in love get married. Wanda, I know you will love and care for Steve in the way he deserves. You told me months ago that you’re stealing my best friend. Well Wan, my now annoying sister through marriage to my brother,”

You smile at the happiness that Wanda feels at the acceptance Bucky gives her.

“You’re the only person I trust with Steve’s heart, so even if you steal him away, I won’t fight back, because I know for one, Steve will kill me if I take him away from you. But I also know that when two halves of one soul meet, not even destiny can separate them. So cheers to you for proving soulmates exist and for making us all believe in true love again. Even if we had our hearts clouded about its existence.”

Bucky raises his glass, the guests follow suit. He goes over to their table. Steve pulls him in the biggest hug and the two laugh and wipe at their eyes. Pulling away and doing a bro hug to offset the emotions.

Wanda hugs Bucky tightly, then whispers something to him that makes him laugh. He pats her head, before turning to the crowd again.

“Everyone, I hope you have space in your hearts for one more speech, from the Maid of Honour, Y/N, bestest friend of Wanda and my raza de soare, my Sunshine,” Bucky holds out his hand for you to take, he kisses the back of your hand while retreating to the emcee stand.

He watches you with the softest gaze, you can’t help but feel a little shy. You look at the crowd, taking in a deep breath.

“Hi everyone, I know you all want to move onto dessert so I’ll try to keep this short.” It earns you a few laughs.

“I met Wanda not as early as I’d like, college was amazing with her and sometimes we would imagine what all stages of school would seem like if we were together back then as well. We have different theories but one thing we know for sure is we would have remained best friends.”

“When Wanda came over one day gushing over Steve Rogers I remember asking her who? And I swear she almost disowned me for not knowing who I was referring to, it is only after I clarified that I hope you aren’t talking about the blue eyed brunette who was in our class but never spoke, did she tell me ‘no Y/N, I’m speaking of the blue eyed blonde!’ You can imagine my immense relief at that point.”

Bucky shakes his head at you, the college class and finds your gaze again and again playing over in his mind as though it was yesterday.

“Safe to say after that I was dragged to football games, which again as Bucky didn’t mind an extra class, I didn’t mind those matches because he would be here. So we both were a little selfish amidst the love story taking place.” You shrug, “At least Bucky and I don’t take the blame for being kicked out of several places. That’s on the married couple.”

A few common and old friends laugh knowing all about what you mention.

“When Wanda told me she wanted to propose to Steve, I only asked her if she had the ring size right. I knew that it was the easiest decision she ever made in her life, choosing to spend it with Steve.” You look at Steve then, smiling at him.

“Steve, you're one of my closest friends and not just because Wanda pulls you into one of our gossip sessions or because you think you have to be nice to me on account of Wanda. You’re the elder brother I always wanted, I know I can come to you in happiness or sadness and I know without a shred of doubt you would be there for me.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

Wanda wipes the corner of her eyes.

“I knew one day I’d be Wanda’s Maid of Honour, everyone who knows our friendship knows we decided on the flower arrangement within the first year of becoming besties. What I didn’t know was the maze, Bucky and I would have to conjure to honour the requests of the parents. We were lost in it for so long trying to find our own ways out, but together” You look at Bucky. He looks at you with a smile. You both know this is going off topic.

“But I don’t want to escape it, I want to stay in it with you. I want to fall into it again with you, dragă mea.” You pause your speech, Bucky and your gazes locked upon each other.

Steve and Wanda share a knowing look, their efforts bearing fruit would never stop feeling fucking amazing.

“So yes, Steve and Wanda,” You break out of your spell with Bucky, “Thank you for reminding us about the fact that true love exists, that bonds can stand the test of time. May we all gather again together to renew your vows because yes, Wan and I have even planned that ceremony.” You look at Bucky, grining, “With military timing.” you add to annoy him. He huffs, but smiles.

“To Wanda and Steve, from crushes, to first great loves, to marriage, to forever.” You raise your glass, everyone follows suit. Bucky joins you, kissing your forehead.

The dance floor opens up then, while guests either eat dessert or choose to dance.

Bucky and you decide to step out on the beach for a quiet moment together, before Wanda comes in tapping away on Steve’s watch.

Your back against his chest, the music from inside muffled. The waves amplified. Bucky sways the two of you with his arms around you. Ever so often you lean back to share a kiss or just look at eachother with pure love.

The door slides open, amplifying the music, Sarah Rogers and Natalya Maximoff are laughing as they step out for air. Bucky and you shift to let them get some space as well.

They sigh happily. You both smile at them.

“Wonderful speeches both of you.” Sarah praises, “Really beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The two of you say at the same time.

“I have a question though.” Natalya tilts her head, Sarah grabs her arm.

“What question?” Bucky frowns.

“What was that tradition?” Natalya continues, trying to free her hand from Sarah.

“The tradition you told Wanda regarding the Maid of Honour and Best Man.” You remind her chuckling, she looks at you still confused.

“Nattie, I think you’re too drunk.” Sarah laughs it off.

“The one where those two title holders have to be married.” Bucky adds on, Sarah chuckles, pulling Natalya away, “Oh look I see Aunt Tara waving at us!”

They take quick steps in, “There is no tradition like that though, Sar.”

“Oh hush, I know.” Sarah says, but you both hear them.

At that moment the music was switched from pop to a soft ballad.

You turn in Bucky’s arms, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That our best friends had a military timing plan for us all this time?” He raises a brow.

You nod, he grabs your hand. Heading towards the dance floor again, trying to locate the two masterminds,

Pietro gestures out, the main doors that lead to the aisle. Sure enough the deck has an abandoned wedding dress and suit. The waves carry the moans over making Bucky and you step back inside to a safer place. Heading back to the reception hall.

Bucky stares at you for a moment before grinning, you look at him before remembering.

“I put in ‘abandoned reception for sex’.” You tell him your answer for the bookstore bet.

“I put in the same thing, Sunshine.” He chuckles, the two of you begin to laugh.

“May I have this dance Sunshine?” He offers his hand.

“You may, Puffin, I believe we have six years of dances to make up for,” Your hand fits into his as though made for him. Your other hand is upon his shoulder. Bucky’s free hand moves around your waist, pulling you closer.

His lips brush over your earlobe, “You sure you want to be stuck in this with me, Sunshine?” He can’t wait to tell you he knows about your ‘yes’.

“We made this labyrinth together, we’ll stay in it together, Puffin. Forever even.” You answer him, the music changes to your shared song.

The song reaches it’s end with you pressed up against Bucky. Your hearts beating in sync, happiness and love surrounding the two of you.

Sunshine and Puffin finally get to kiss at the end of their song without any interruption.

A.N.: well we only have the epilogue left! sunshine and puffin are in their labyrinth and love every minute of it.... let me know your thoughts! also brb crying because i love this fic so much

tagging: @slutforsexyseabass @elle14-blog1 @sxnshinebxcky @sebsgirl71479 @pandaxnienke @stevesmewmew @tfandtws @povlvr @tanyaspartak@maggiejackson3@brodymarx @ladylee76 @buckyinluv @buckymcbuckbarnes @almostcontentcreator @alltoounwellread @unaxv @stickyjudgeturtleghost(strikedthrough if unable to be tagged)

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