#“haven’t you drawn like this exact thing before” smiles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seoafin · 2 years

Text

nail in the coffin

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags: established relationship, definitely not healthy relationship dynamics, explicit mentions of sex, dubious consent, happy birthday to my babygirl geto suguru im sorry this is so depressing, not exactly angst but not exactly fluff, unhealthy jealousy. talk of pregnancies and children. also mandatory gojo warning tag and he's not even in the fic. word count: ~3.8k read on ao3

“I don’t know what to get Suguru for his birthday.”

Shoko looks up from her paperwork at you. You lay on the infirmary bed closest to her desk, hands neatly folded over your stomach, as if about to relay all your worries to a shrink.

Your distress must be palpable because she shoots you a look of pure amusement. “You’ve done fine these past few years. I’ve never seen a man so happy to receive a potted plant.”

You stare at the ceiling, gnawing on your inner cheek. “It’s different now.”

“Oh?”

It is different now. Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe you’re overthinking it, about all the infinitesimal ways things have changed when they haven’t. It feels like you’re the only one floundering, overwhelmed, trying to navigate the dynamics of your new relationship with Suguru and Satoru. Except the two of them are the same as they’ve always been: smiling, laughing, touching you like their hands belong on your skin, bringing you close with the same confidence of two high schoolers ready to take on the world.

Except it isn’t exactly new, according to your two boyfriends. Satoru had said nothing would change. Suguru told you that you didn’t need to be scared, that now, the three of you could stay together forever, and isn’t that what you had wanted in the first place? A relationship was a promise. A promise the three of you shared.

You’re still uncertain. Terrified.

Maybe nothing had changed for the two of them. But you approached the idea of a romantic relationship with apprehension and the panic of a fleeing hare. You’re not made for it, built for their love in a way anyone else would be. A normal, happy person would be ideal. You’re formed a little too oddly: not exactly straight, bent and twisted in sharp angles, and battered in places only a child can reach.

But when they hold you, the world feels like a better place, and everything feels a little more okay. You wonder if they feel the same. And when they kiss you, you do all you can to cling to that feeling, otherwise you’d drown in your constant worries.

It’s a temporary solution to a sinking ship.

“You’re spiraling,” Shoko hums, the pen in her grip twirling around her hand. “Come back.”

You blink, feeling suddenly restless. “I just…want it to be special. More special.” You hesitate. “Satoru’s abroad too, so…”

Suguru hadn’t said anything about his upcoming birthday. Not even a mention of it. As if he had wanted to spare you this exact mental and emotional turmoil. Overthinking and agonizing over a seemingly mundane event. This morning, he kissed you, a brief passionate thing, before heading to Kyoto for a meeting at Kyoto Jujustu Tech, promising to be back before six. He had headed out the door only to come back three minutes later to take you on the counter, leaving you breathless and sated, your mind in twists and knots. Then while you had been in a daze, he had smoothed over your clothes, hands running over your body (a teasing pinch here and there), drawn you back back on two feet, and kissed you again, murmuring low declarations of love against your lip.

I love you. I’ll see you soon.

Love, love, love.

He pocketed your panties.

“You’re overthinking it,” comes Shoko’s reply. “From you, he’d be happy with a rock.” She eyes you as if she can discern every thought. “You don’t need to overcompensate. You’ve always been enough.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at her words, tension unraveling, despite your uneasiness, and you appreciate them. Any other year, a new book and your sorry attempt at baking a cake would have sufficed. But now you aren’t sure. What do people get their lovers on their birthday? What had Satoru gotten for Suguru on his previous birthdays? Suguru for Satoru? You won’t be able to measure up. Not with all your failings in romance.

After a disastrous first date, and Satoru’s absence, you only want to make him happy.

You reluctantly rise from the bed. “If Satoru were here…” You trail off. Two weeks abroad in the Philippines experiencing the last of torrential monsoons, discovering the sweets of a different culture, and documenting it all for you and Suguru and Shoko. You never get used to the feeling of missing him.

His presence would be welcome, but you aren’t sure this is something you could confide in to anyone but Shoko. Sometimes, you think your doubts are something they just wouldn’t be able to comprehend.

Just as you feared, a romantic relationship is profoundly different from sex. A purely sexual relationship with Satoru and Suguru had also meant your friendship could remain intact. Separate. Maybe at first, you had told yourself you didn’t mind, not when it made them so happy. Maybe you had always wanted it, but you didn’t need it. You were happy before, content. You don’t know how to be a lover. You don’t even know how to love, not in the way they deserve.

Bent and twisted.

You glance at the clock, feet hanging over the bed. “I should go. Tsumiki’s going to help the girls make a cake for Suguru.” You smile at the thought. Of course, you’d be relegated to clean up duty, but you wouldn’t be alone. Megumi would keep you company, just as he always did. A small extension of your shadow glued to your side while the girls fed batter to Megumi’s divine dogs and laughed, chattering about school assignments and their upcoming school field trip to the aquarium.

Only then would you be able to forget about your worries for a while.

Getting to your feet, Shoko stops you.

“If you’re really that worried about a gift. Have you considered pregnancy?”

You nearly trip over your feet.

She shakes her head, laughter on the tip of her sigh. “That got your attention, didn’t it?”

……..

Suguru comes home just as the cake has been wrapped and placed into the oven to cook. Nanako immediately moves to stand in front of the oven with Tsumiki, their bodies blocking the cake. Suguru feigns ignorance about the cake as Mimiko clings to his leg. He picks her up in his arms and plants a kiss on top of her head, drawing Nanako away from the oven to demand a kiss for her too.

You’re washing the dishes, giving them to Megumi to dry when Suguru’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you chest to chest. Before you can utter a syllable, Suguru kisses you.

To the delight of the girls, and the great suffering of Megumi, who wrinkles his nose, places the dry plate in his hands on the rack, climbs down the stool, and shuffles away, divine dogs nipping at his feet. The girls follow after him, giggling. Video games in Megumi’s room, you’re sure.

He’s unusually happy. You could’ve sworn he had been whistling the same tune you often hear from Satoru’s lips. “I’m home.”

You place a steadying hand on his chest, a slow smile spreading on your face. “Welcome home.”

Suguru chuckles, brushing the hair out of your face fondly. “You sound like a housewife.” Then he glances at the apron tied around your waist, and kisses you again until you’re breathless, fingers fisted tight in his shirt.

“I was thinking,” he says, not disheveled in the slightest. Unlike you. “How about we go out tonight? There’s an izakaya that just opened up not far from here. We can go and decide whether or not it’s good enough to appease Satoru’s high taste.”

As long as there were sugary drinks and more sugar, you’re sure that would be more than enough to keep Satoru quiet for dinner.

“I don’t mind.” You look on the counter and realize Suguru brought home takeout KFC for the kids. Mimiko will be delighted. “I thought you had to get up early tomorrow—”

“I can be late,” he replies, lips curling into a mischievous smile. “I wasn’t planning on an early night anyway.”

Your face heats at the implication. At the memory of his lips this morning, the shape of his hands, and the burning desire of his gaze. You look to his pocket, unconsciously, and his lips pull into a teasing smirk. You look away, embarrassed. Feel heat pooling between your thighs underneath his darkening gaze.

You don’t get to ask him about what he might like for his birthday, what Satoru’s gotten him on his previous birthdays (before you had been added to this convoluted romantic equation), or anything of that note. Mimiko runs back into the kitchen and demands Suguru’s attention for a school project.

……..

The izakaya is bustling, close to bursting open with the amount of patrons seated around the wooden counter and in small, packed tables around the restaurant, forcing people leg to leg, shoulder to shoulder. Suguru leads you in, and you can’t help but be amused at the way the waitress brightens at his arrival, and the sight of her disappointment when she catches sight of you, next to him. There are two empty seats at the counter and you raise an eyebrow at Suguru. On a piece of paper in front plastered to the front door: No reservations.

Upon being seated, Suguru and the waitress, Akari chat about the popular items on the menu as you look around the small area bathed in dim lights, and the scent of meat grilling on charcoal. You’d like to come here with Shoko on your next night out, and drink. Cheers erupt from across the izakaya. Five or six tables haphazardly pushed together to make one long table seating what looks like drinking college students. Girls on one side, guys on the other.

“A mixer,” Akari says, almost apologetically, as Suguru takes your jacket and hooks it behind him. She takes out a notepad and a pen. “I’m sure they’ll be ready to leave soon. You know how college students can be!”

“A mixer, huh,” Suguru muses. “I don’t miss those.”

“I’m sure you were popular with all the girls,” Akari blurts out. As if realizing her words, she flushes prettily. Suguru looks faintly embarrassed at the compliment, ducking his head.

“Well, I doubt I would’ve noticed either way,” Suguru says with a short chuckle, apologetic. “There was only one girl I was only ever interested in so…”

He’s looking at you. Even though the izakaya is thoroughly heated to stave off the winter cold outside, your face warms, insides twisting, and you swallow. Suguru takes your hand, massaging, warming it up from the biting cold.

“Oh!” She replies, clasping her hands together dreamily. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Three years, give or take. It feels like we’ve been together since highschool though.”

You blink. Three years? Since high school? According to your estimations, it’s only been three months. You don’t have time to dwell on it because Akari asks if you’re ready to order.

Suguru orders a little bit of everything. Braised foods, grilled foods, potato and cucumber salad, tuna and salmon sashimi, and two large pints of hakkaisan. You hadn’t planned on drinking tonight, but Suguru only grins conspiratorially, (“you have to try the seishu if you want to come here with Shoko”) and he’s right. Only the best for her. You note the menu has an entire subsection dedicated to western ice cream sundae desserts. Satoru will definitely like that.

Akari takes your order and briefly returns with your appetizers and two large pints of Hakkaisan. Suguru takes a picture and sends it to Satoru. Your phone vibrates from the force of the rapid stream of texts sent by Satoru's fast fingers. You turn your phone on silent.

When you take a large, long sip, it’s Suguru’s turn to raise an eyebrow. He wipes the foam off your lips and licks it off his thumb. You pointedly look away. Suguru’s laugh is good natured.

“Now,” Suguru murmurs, still audible despite the increasingly present background noise. He lightly bumps his leg into yours. He looks concerned. “What’s on your mind?”

Three years. High school. Birthday presents. His birthday. It all dies on your tongue.

“How was the meeting?” You ask instead.

Suguru doesn’t push. “Fine. Boring. Naoya was there.”

You down the rest of your Hakkaisan as Suguru looks on. You don’t know if you can be sober for this conversation. You don’t know if you want to. Satoru- kun , Suguru- kun . You frown. When there’s nothing left in your glass, you let him feed you a glazed meatball.

“Nothing about—”

“If Naoya wants to inherit the clan, leaving Megumi alone works in his favor. We both know how he feels about his inheritance, and I doubt he’ll change his mind.”

(Megumi, aged ten, coolly staring down at a seated Naobito: No. Thanks.)

“ Killing Megumi works in his favor,” you point out. It’s awful. He’d do it too like the coward he is. You’d previously held no strong feelings towards the Zenin other than annoyance and mutual dislike. He had liked Satoru and Suguru well enough, trailing after them while thinking you an eyesore, severely annoyed at your resistance to calling him Naoya- sama like his servants back home. Where, to him, is exactly where you belonged.

At least Shoko- chan is useful . Even if she is a woman, he’d said. You didn’t need him to tell you what you already knew. When he crudely told you that there were more useful things she could be doing, like passing down her reverse cursed technique, you had activated your own cursed technique and pushed him into the lake.

You supposed he was still sore about that, although you, yourself, had forgotten about it. After that altercation in high school, you never saw him again. Until Megumi.

“They won’t take him.” You say severely. “I won’t let them.”

Megumi and Tsumiki were yours , just as much as Mimiko and Nanako were Suguru’s, and you’d fight tooth and nail, just as you had when you were a high schooler to protect them.

“ We won’t let them,” Suguru says gently. “We’ll protect the children.”

You relax at his words. The three of you. Just like it had been in high school. But also it’s not really the same is it? Now Suguru and Satoru kiss you like they’ve always been doing it. Nothing’s changed, you hear Satoru say in your head, but everything has. Now you regularly fall asleep to the sound of soft breathing, sandwiched between two bodies, and wake up to hands roaming your body as if they belong there. And when they fuck you, it’s so tender you’re unsure of what to do. You never dwell on it too long, you can’t, because they’re insistent on keeping you with them, in the heat of the moment, until you’re so strung out you can’t formulate words. Again and again, over and over—

Have you considered pregnancy?

You aren’t even sure Satoru or Suguru want children, least of all with you. You’d be a horrible mother. Children—

You don’t know. Not anymore. It’s all so confusing. So you order the strongest whiskey cocktail on the menu, and ask for an extra dose of whiskey as Suguru looks on, and when Akari delivers it along with your first courses, you down the entire thing. And then order another.

……..

To everyone’s great astonishment, you had been twelve drinks in when Suguru cut you off. You’re not drunk. You think. Everything is slightly tilted towards the right but that might just be the weight of your head tilting precariously to one side. Even the dim lights are bright to your eyes. Okay, you’re drunk.

Suguru is looking at you, slightly swaying on your stool with such a lovestruck expression that the tangled bundle of nerves in your stomach slightly settles. You love him so much. But you also know that you are poisoning this relationship, this thing you have Satoru and Suguru, with your fears and concerns. It’s not right. It’s all your fault.

You love him and Satoru so much it feels like your heart might burst. You’re so happy that any day you’re terrified it might come to an abrupt end. You’re not ready for it to end. It will end. It always does. And it’ll be your fault for being so weak. For giving in.

You stand, placing a hand on Suguru’s shoulder to steady yourself. His hand automatically goes to your waist.

“Washroom,” you tell him and you slowly make your way to the door, Suguru’s gaze following you all the way inside. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights scratch your eyes as you hover over the sink and sigh. You shouldn’t have drank so much.

You breathe, splash water on your face, and wash your hands. You aren’t sober, but you’re on your way. When you exit the bathroom, two college aged girls are sidled up to Suguru, and you stare.

You aren’t quite sure what to do. From the looks of it, they could just be having a conversation. You’re ill equipped and unprepared to handle a situation like this. But then the brunette puts her hand on Suguru’s shoulder and smiles, white teeth flashing, lips ruby red. Her friend with dyed blonde hair and a voluptuous chest begins to start playing with a lock of Suguru’s hair.

The hair that he had left down because you liked it down the most.

Everything’s changed, you think, making your way over. It’s not fair for Satoru to say it hasn’t. If it had been before you would’ve been fine. You would’ve quietly excused yourself and made yourself scarce. You would have encouraged it. You would have wanted them to be happy with a nice, normal girl. It was alright when it was just sex. They promised that that was all that it was. Just sex. A way all three of you could feel good. Mutually beneficial. But they had to kiss you, bring you to tears and then kiss those tears away.

Maybe if you give us a kiss first , Suguru would croon, underneath you, watching your heaving, desperate body with lidded eyes. Satoru’s nearly luminescent gaze hungrily trained on you as you struggled to form words.

They had to want more than you could give them.

When you get to your seat, conversation falls to a sudden silence. The two girls size you up, but you don’t pay them attention. You don’t bother to say anything. You grab a still seated Suguru by the middle of his shirt and pull him up into you for a long kiss.

You try to keep it chaste, but Suguru doesn’t let you, doesn’t want to. There’s a nip at your bottom lip, a demanding swipe of his tongue, but you refuse him entry. He’s smiling into your lips when you squeeze his shoulder, hard enough to hurt, and the two of you separate. He’s not even out of breath. Just so pleased with himself you wonder if he planned this, let some random girl touch his hair, touch him.

You tell yourself you don’t care.

You turn on your heel, leaving him with the bill.

It doesn’t even take him five minutes to catch up with you.

“Are you mad?” He asks, your jacket on his arm. “You forgot your jacket—”

“Suguru,” you say. “What do you want for your birthday?”

You can tell he hadn’t been expecting that, because he momentarily blinks. Then smiles. When Suguru is taken off guard, it’s difficult to tell. Because he always smiles, but there are tells in his expression. “Anything wou—”

“Shoko said I should get pregnant.” You leave out the part where she had been joking. “Is that what you want? You and Satoru? How many children?”

You’d be lying if you said you had never thought about it. Birth control was only so secure, and Satoru and Suguru liked it, finishing inside of you.

You wouldn’t be averse to it. Satoru would give you a girl. Suguru, a boy, and maybe another girl.

Suguru’s throat bobs, watching you. He thought you were joking. You’re not. “A couple,” he says slowly, gauging your face. “Girls,” he says, expression soft as he looks at you. “Satoru wants girls. A boy or two, so Megumi wouldn’t be alone.”

There’s a future here. It terrifies you so much. They want it, the both of them, this future you aren’t even sure you’ll be present for.

“Now,” you say, licking your lips. You won’t let him look away, not now. “Tell me what you want for your birthday.”

“You,” he breathes out. He looks sad. “All of you.”

“Okay,” you say simply. Quietly. You’d do anything for him. For Satoru and Shoko. You look down at the frost lined streets and let your breath mist in the chilly air. You wordlessly take your jacket from Suguru and put it on.

You press your face into his chest. His arms envelope you. He’s warm, and for a few seconds you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You don’t mind if they hurt you. Never did. You look up at him. “I love you.”

His hands are surprisingly warm when he cups your face like you are the most precious thing in the world. But now you’ve made him sad. “I love you,” he says softly. “I love you so much.”

His words are undeniably true. He loves you. He and Satoru, in ways you never asked for. In ways that have brought them nothing but suffering. You don’t know if it’s worth it. You wonder if they regret it. You would’ve been forever content as a spectator.

In four days Satoru will be back home, right back in Suguru’s arms. He’ll kiss you greedily, all consuming, as if to make up for the lost time, and then the three of you will end up in the bedroom the three of you now permanently share, clothes strewn all over the room. Satoru will fuck you first if he hasn’t already had Suguru. Then Suguru. Then he will spread the rest of the night buried between your thighs, below you, on top of you, leaving his mark on your body, as if to make up for the lost time while Suguru takes your mouth. Then the two of them will fuck you together. You will cry, cling to them, and kiss them. Messy, cum swapping, consuming exchanges that swallow you whole. They will kiss you back to devour you, and only then will they be satisfied.

In the pale light of the morning, sometimes you press your ear to their chests, close your eyes, and listen. Like listening to the call of the ocean, the tides, in the opening of a conch. No two heartbeats are the same. Not even theirs.

But right now Suguru is not asleep. You close your eyes and dedicate yourself to memorization. In four days you will lie awake on Satoru’s chest, and listen to the heartbeat that makes him human.

Right now though, you think, this is enough, and you are content.

a/n:

-when i conceptualized this it was initially haha you get drunk and kiss geto. wouldn't that be cute. and then it turned into this. in an effort to defend myself i will say that the people wanted an established relationship!

-so i know this fic ends on a debbie downer mood but i swear they will talk about it. sometime later. maybe. rip!mc is just a lillll dumb so. she just needs space y'all (and maybe an apartment (to herself))) and we all know what boundaries mean to One Gojo Satoru. also yes geto can be a male manipulator at times. that's why we love him.

-yes rip!mc attempts to murder naoya yes she forgets about it right after. that's just how irrelevant he is. she probably saw a cat right after or smt idk.

-rip!mc still does not know stsg have been pining since hs. shoko is like you still haven't told her and geto is like. baby steps.

-nail in the coffin is a whisky cocktail made with japanese whisky. i thought it was hilariously ironic. also if ur a true shoko fan you should know she orders whisky cocktails in the light novel!!!

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru #m.jjk

436 notes · View notes

starilicious · 9 months

Text

mere haath mein (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader and echo's love story from strangers to friends to lovers throughout the clone wars (a 4+1 type of story)

》 series masterlist: (please read the masterlist before continuing on!)

click here to read on AO3

》 part 3 word count: ~2k

》 part 3 warnings: none

》 part 3 spoilers: none

》 a/n: a bit of a longer part! reader and echo meet again and reader is a lil bit confused, poor thing.

i really took some creative liberty with this chapter and it probably (definitely) does not really reflect what it's like to be fighting in a war in any manner but oh well!!!!! that's the fun of fiction, you get to make up your own world <33

hope u folks like the chapter!

३ (3)

The third time you see him, you’re back on Coruscant, and technically supposed to be on leave. You requested a few days off, much to Fives’ delight and Anakin’s dismay. (“Aw, come on Astro! Your opinion is the only one I can trust on this entire ship when it comes to engineering.” “Oh please Anakin, spare me your whining. You know just as well as I do that you’ll be perfectly fine. But I’ll miss you too.”)

Despite both being part of the 501st, Fives and Echo had very different schedules, and more often than not, Fives’ rotations lined up with yours, leaving you to suffer through his insufferable pick-up lines. You have no idea how you haven’t smacked the banthashit out of him yet. (Fives’ knowing smile always ends up stopping you)

In all seriousness though, he had been pestering you to take a break from your work after quickly seeing the toll it began to take on you. The responsibilities kept piling up and more and more often, you were sacrificing sleep in order to continue making improvements, even despite having your team’s help. In your mind, time couldn’t be wasted when good soldiers were losing their lives, and you would be damned if you didn’t take every opportunity to make sure they lived another day.

But Fives eventually wore you down. (You have a sneaking suspicion he was relaying everything to Echo who then in turn made sure Fives turned his “charm” up to the highest notch to get you to take a break.)

(It worked.)

If anything, you were shocked when you received the message that not only was your leave accepted, but you were encouraged to take a sabbatical for a few weeks.

You weren’t planning on doing so, but after Fives, Prauf, Sonia, and even Rex of all people ganged up on you, you didn’t think you had a choice.

Even now, you’re still not sure what to make of it. Granted, the extra time means you can reach out to family and dust off former projects, but you kind of miss the hustle and bustle of your job. It simply isn’t the same without your friends always nagging you and cracking jokes. You would never tell Fives, but you even miss his terribly endearing flirting.

After the glamour of the sabbatical wore off, you decided to dive headlong into the numerous ideas collected in your engineering notebook over the years. It’s an old gift given to you by your parents, made out of paper and bound by string, encased in a decorated hard-shell cover to protect the inside. Such rarities are difficult to come by these days since datapads are so prevalent, but you always liked the smooth glide of an inkpen against scratchy paper better.

You turn to a new, precious page and meticulously begin fleshing out a prototype. Each line is drawn precisely, every mark exact. As you design, you keep a datapad open with the list of items you need to get. You have a makerspace where you can engineer to your heart’s desire, but there are some select objects you require you doubt you’ll be able to find in the marketplace.

So you head for the makerspace in the engineering garage in the basement of the Senate building on Coruscant. Your office is still there, and you still have your holoid with you–you’ll be in and out in no time.

Or so you thought.

“Astro! It’s good to see you,” a voice calls out. You turn around to find both Ahsoka and Padme side by side, R2-D2 trailing behind Padme’s lovely gown.

“Padme! Ahsoka! I haven’t seen you both in so long,” you greet kindly, eyes curving into crescent moons. R2-D2 beeps indignantly as they stop in front of you and you laugh, bending down to pet the droid’s head affectionately.

“And hello to you too, R2. Anakin making sure that capacitor is working smoothly?” R2 whumps and warbles and you nod in satisfaction.

“For once, he’s actually taking my advice.”

All of you laugh, knowing just how headstrong Anakin is when it comes to technology–or anything, really.

“Why are you here? I thought you were taking some time off?” Ahsoka pipes up, her confusion as clear as day. You shrug in slight embarrassment at getting caught so quickly.

“I wanted to pick up a few things from my office downstairs. Thought I could do something useful to help the war effort even though I’m not here,” you explain and Padme raises an eyebrow.

“Astro, I believe the point of taking leave is to not do work?” she points out and you rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Yes, well, this...this is more of a personal project than a work project. I like to keep busy,” you say, hands gripping your bag tightly.

Ahsoka opens her mouth to speak, but Padme places a hand on the Padawan’s shoulder. “In that case, we won’t stop you. But please do take some time for yourself, hm? And you’re always free to stop by anytime,” she says instead, and you nod in agreement, not sure what else to say.

“Take care Astro! See you later!” Ahsoka fills the silence as the three of them begin walking away and you wave back in response.

Once they turn the corner, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, too focused on not slipping up in the conversation. At least that’s over.

You make your way to the makerspace swiftly, not keen on meeting anyone else. You love your friends, but you doubt you can handle any more guilt-tripping. Besides, you’re still taking a break–you don’t really see what the problem is here.

The sharp scent of oil and grease fills your nostrils as you step into the engineering garage, saws and cutters whirring throughout the spacious area. Lights spark here and there and you relax, feeling at home. Before you can make it any farther, your best friend seemingly materializes out of nowhere.

“What the hell are you doing here? Go home,” Prauf exclaims, already trying to push you back out the door. You roll your eyes as you easily duck under his outstretched arm.

“I am, I am! I just came by to pick up a few things–please, for the love of the Maker above, do not tell Sonia. She’s going to rip me apart to shreds if she finds out,” you please, clasping your hands in front of you as Prauf folds his arms over his chest.

He relents, though, sighing out your name in resignation, and you whoop in joy.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I promise I’ll make it up to you,” you say as you throw your arms around him and he pats your back gently.

“Yeah, yeah, you owe me,” Prauf agrees. “You should use your time to go on a date with your boyfriend though.”

He darts away back to his work before you can smack his forearm in retaliation because you do not have a boyfriend, thank you very much. Your heart beats faster at the thought anyway.

Instead of following him, you accept defeat retreat to your office to grab the materials you need. You end up needing a cart to tow everything back to your makerspace back home. Realizing you can’t walk back without the high chance of one of your parts being stolen, you opt for grabbing a speeder taxi up at the ship docking bay.

You make your way back upstairs, dodging busygoers this way and that before finally making it to the bay. So close…

But of course, the universe is against you when you see his telltale armor standing near a ship. Oh kriff.

You saw both Ahsoka and R2-D2 today, meaning Anakin and the 501st were probably here too. You can’t believe it didn’t connect the dots in your head sooner. For someone whose life's work is putting things together, it’s ironic you didn’t realize.

In an attempt to make sure he can’t see you, you turn at an angle and try heading for the far end of the hanger as fast as possible, pulling your hat down lower over your eyes to obscure your face.

It doesn’t work.

“Astro?” Echo’s voice calls. You close your eyes in defeat, posture softening into a sag. Damnit. But despite your reluctance at being caught, you can’t help the spark of warmth that shoots through your body at the sound of his warm acknowledgment.

“In the flesh.”

You turn around and Echo jogs up to you, a look on his face you can’t quite decipher. He gazes at you when he ends up in front of you, a small, disarming smile. It seems as if he knows something you don’t.

“Need help?” he gestures to your heavy cart and you look down, momentarily forgetting about it. You don’t comment on your surprise.

“Oh, uh–yeah. Thanks,” you say instead. You step back, but it’s not far enough. Echo bumps into you when he tries sliding into your space to take over. It knocks a breathless laugh out of him and your stomach flips. Whether it’s out of embarrassment or something else entirely, you don’t know.

“I–sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Echo waves you off nonchalantly. “Don’t apologize, happens all the time. You should have seen Fives yesterday at 79’s. Tup accidentally tripped him and he went careening straight into a commander. And boy did they give him a piece of their mind. All of us were losing it when he came back to our table,” he laughs effortlessly.

You’re suddenly jealous of how natural he is, how easily he smooths over awkward bumps and cumbersome smalltalk. Your hands curl at your sides, unsure of where to place them.

Echo guides you both across the large docking bay, filling the silence gracefully with one story after another, each as funny as the last. You stay quiet most of the time, appropriately laughing at this point and that, inserting a comment here or there. He doesn’t seem to mind though, instead building off of your reactions. It’s almost… relieving.

“And we’re here!” You’re shaken out of your reverie by the exclamation, and you look around to confirm that you indeed have arrived. Wait… how did he even know this is where I wanted to go?

You choose not to dwell too long on the thought.

Echo lets go of his grip on the cart, making space for you to push it. He waves down a driver and instructs them to load your parts into a crate to take on the back of a speeder before turning to you.

“Thanks, Echo. It was nice to see you again,” you remark, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. He smiles in acknowledgment and something about him pushes you to continue.

You hesitate for a moment before opening your mouth again. “Would… would you like to accompany me back? I’m working on a prototype and I wouldn’t mind an extra set of hands…” you trail off. The offer hangs in the air, uncertain–a lingering question.

Echo’s comm answers for him. He steps back and you feel the same urge as you felt in the cantina all those days ago to pull him back to you, pull him close to you. You stay stuck by the cart.

“As much as I would like to, duty calls,” he says apologetically, echoing your statement from when you first met him. As he walks backwards, he gives you a lazy salute accompanied with a lopsided smile.

“Until we meet again, Astro!”

And with that, he runs off, leaving you alone with the grouchy driver, mumbling about how he doesn’t get paid enough.

It’s only until you get home and unload the equipment that you realize Echo was the only one who didn’t ask why you were there.

---

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

18 notes · View notes

clotpolesonly · 1 year

Text

Lean On Me

Stiles stared at the teeth marks in his forearms. Every puncture was distinct. A dentist would kill for this bite print. His dad could probably solve a murder with it—not that Scott had committed any murders, so that probably wasn’t relevant. It also hurt like a bitch, but hey, anything with this much blood and flesh-rending was bound to, right?

The venom hurt too. Its exact composition was a mystery, but Deaton’s alarm when they had dragged Stiles into the clinic and described the creature that had clawed him up had been all the information they’d needed. Whatever it was, it was bad, and even their local guru didn’t have anything to offer them.

A soft hand on Stiles’ shoulder dragged his eyes away from their hail mary. Kira hosted herself up on the metal exam table beside him, close enough to swap her hand out for her chin and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Scott will be back in a minute,” she said. "Once he gets Liam’s broken arm sorted out.”

Once he got himself sorted out, Stiles filled in. The look on Scott’s face when he realized that giving Stiles the bite was their best option had not escaped him; they had both known it wasn’t what Stiles wanted. Scott had known that for years, and he had always been wholly in favor of Stiles making the choice for himself.

And, Stiles would argue, he had. The circumstances were not fantastic, and there was definitely an element of coercion in play, but it was not Scott’s coercion. Stiles didn’t want to die, and therefore, he had made the choice to get the bite for himself, but Scott’s guilt had been palpable before the blood was even on his teeth. It was probably for the best that he had let himself be drawn away to tend to his injured beta because otherwise he might have cried on the spot, and that would’ve been awkward while they sat around waiting to see if Stiles survived.

“He can take his time,” Stiles told Kira with faux nonchalance. “I haven’t died yet. If I was gonna reject the bite, I would’ve died by now, right? Spewed black goo all over the place and keeled over? That’s usually a pretty quick process, if memory serv—”

“Maybe try not thinking about death," Kira suggested. "Think living thoughts!”

“Mind over matter?” Stiles said wryly. “Think that works?”

Kira snorted. “God, I hope not. My mind is not a best-case-scenario kind of place. I don’t want to see what it would manifest if given the power.”

Stiles’ laugh was interrupted by a grunt of pain. He pressed his good arm against the bandages around his middle, still contaminated with fucking acid spit or whatever the fuck that thing had secreted into his abdomen. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, the muscle-deep wolf bite or the burning gashes in his stomach. They both fucking sucked.

Kira took his hand gently, carefully not to jostle him and make it worse. “I wish I had the pain drain mojo,” she said with a grimace that made Stiles smile in spite of everything; it was the only thing their resident kitsune envied about the werewolves. “Is it better or worse than before?”

“Hard to tell. You hurt in enough places at once and it all kind of blends together.”

The door flew open before Kira could do more than squeeze his hand in sympathy. Scott was at Stiles’ side in an instant, hands flitting around like he couldn’t decide what he needed to examine first. He had rinsed the blood out of his mouth at some point in the last eight minutes. His eyes, while red-rimmed, were dry.

“Stiles,” he said, a world of care, relief, and worry in that one word alone. “How are you feeling? Has there been any— I mean, is the bite— The venom, is it—”

Stiles pulled his hand from Kira’s to take Scott’s instead. “Deep breath, Scottie. I’m doing fine. So far, at least.”

“No black goo?”

“No goo of any colors,” Kira assured him.

Scott visibly deflated as the tension left him. The hand in Stiles’ turned to lace their fingers together properly and, with a softly released breath, he let his veins flood black.

Stiles groaned as the burning and the throbbing and the multitude of other pains leached out of him. “Oh, that’s so good, I could kiss you.”

Even with Stiles’ pain in his own veins, Scott smiled. “There’s literally nothing stopping you from doing that,” he reminded him.

Except for Kira’s head still on his shoulder, dislodged when he leaned forward. She pouted about it, but she perked right up when offered a kiss from both of them in apology. Then she shuffled down the table, tugging Stiles gently along with her to make room for Scott to join them. It was a bit of a tight fit for three teenagers, but they didn’t mind.

Stiles, now with his boyfriend on one side and his girlfriend on the other, flexed his hand, watching the muscles of his masticated forearm shift with morbid fascination. “Is it my imagination or does the bite look, like, older than it did before?”

Kira leaned close to examine it, unperturbed by the blood in a way that Stiles still had yet to achieve, at least when the blood was his own. “It definitely does. Does it hurt less?”

“Dude, I just got pain-drained, I can’t tell.” He turned to Scott. “If this works, you gotta teach me how to do that, first thing.”

Scott put an arm around him, pulled him closed, and pressed a kiss to his temple. “When this works,” he said, “I’m gonna teach you everything.”

That sounded wonderful. Stiles melted into the embrace; the activity and stress of the day was catching up with him. With Scott’s arms around him from one side and Kira’s warmth settled against the other, he let his eyes slip closed.

“Can’t wait.”

#Scilira #Stiles Stilinski #Kira Yukimura #Teen Wolf #fanfiction #fics by me

21 notes · View notes

thesunflowerdyke · 6 months

Note

52, 56, 61, 69, 74 for the intrusive questions

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why?

Oof, starting off heavy!

I’m really not one to give up on people. It takes a lot to get passed that point. I think that there’s good and bad in every person and everybody has the ability to change if they so choose.

With that being said, I guess you could say I’ve given up on my ex? It’s not so much that I think she’s irredeemable as a person or that she couldn’t change. It’s more-so that I know that she won’t ever change how she behaves towards me. Even if she did a complete 180 today, it wouldn’t change how I feel. Therefore, I’ve given up on any sort of relationship with her.

56. State 8 facts about your body

(Warning; this is gonna be a tough one for me because I don’t love thinking about my body. I don’t often do so in a positive light…but here’s my best attempt! 😅)

1. I have naturally auburn hair. It looks brunette in some lighting but in the sun it goes wicked red!

2. I don’t shave any of my body hair. If I need to do some maintenance, I’ll do a little trimming. But I can’t remember the last time I used a razor, and I love it.

3. I’m quite short. (Despite being the tallest of me and my sisters. Lol) I’m exactly 5’4 and a half. (And I know it sounds like I’m really reaching with that extra half inch lol but it’s the exact measurement!)

4. I’ve been told I am extremely ✨soft✨. I moisturize head to toe every single day when I get out of the shower and I love smelling good and feeling soft and cuddly.

5. I have lots of freckles. In the summertime especially when I get a little sun, they come out full force! I’m talking arms, legs, face, hands. And they are numerous!

6. I currently have 3 tattoos (getting a 4th in a little over a month!) and I plan on collecting as many more as I can manage.

7. I also have 3 piercings I’m currently wearing as well as a couple others that have closed up. I plan on getting a few new ones this year as well as opening some of the ones I haven’t worn in a while.

8. I’ve always loved my eye color. I refer to them as hazel. In the sun I’ve been told they go a very “warm” greenish golden brown.

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone?

I think I notice somebody’s general vibe? I don’t know if you wanna call it their soul or their aura or what. I feel like I can feel the vibes somebody radiates. How they make me feel. I’ve rarely been wrong when I’ve felt good vibes from somebody and I’ve never been wrong when I’ve gotten bad vibes.

But physically, I’d have to say I notice somebody’s eyes. I think they’re the best connection to your soul. I especially love when somebody has really expressive eyes and I can see their emotion in them when they’re talking with me.

69. What turns you off?

Rudeness or generally unkindness is the biggest turn off to me. Kindness is non-negotiable for me. (Now I want to make the differentiation between niceness and kindness here. You don’t always have to be nice.) But I could never fuck with an unkind person on any level.

For instance, if we were on a date and you’re rude to a waiter, if you talk down to people who you deem lesser than yourself or if you’re just an extremely self centered person, you’re not gonna get far with me.

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?

Truthfully, I don’t have many (if any) physical traits that I consider requirements for a partner. That may be a side effect of being demisexual or just not having a type in general? But if I had to choose something I’d say that I’m drawn towards a warm smile and expressive eyes (regardless of color) like I mentioned before.

Oh! I’m also a big fan of tattoos! 🤭

#loved answering these #ask me more stuff guys!#sapphic #lesbian #sapphic yearning #lesbian yearning #wlw #sapphic nsft #lesbian nsft #nblw #gnc lesbian #butch #femme #butch4femme #asks #asked and answered

4 notes · View notes

skyler10fic · 2 years

Text

To Have and to Hold: Ch. 2 Venue Adventures

Carol and Daisy have three available locations in mind for their wedding. Join them as they find the one that is just right for them!

Read on Ao3

---------------

The first thing to decide on was the location, which would determine the exact weekend around “early June” as their timeframe. Unfortunately, they discovered, four months was cutting it close for most venues. Three spots on their list, however, still had openings, so Carol and Daisy rearranged their schedules to visit them as soon as possible on the last Saturday in February. At least it was a sunny, comparatively warm one for the season.

First up was a barn-style venue at a country club. The manager picked them up from the front office in a golf cart and drove them around the property for what seemed like ages. Despite the warmth of the sun when they were standing still, the biting wind made the ride seem longer.

“We’re so glad y’all could come out here!” the manager shouted over the noise of the motor and wind in a thick Tennesee accent. “It’s been busy busy busy. We are filling up with events left and right.”

They finally arrived at the end of the winding trail to a little walking path. Golfers in sweaters taking advantage of the rare sunny winter day waved as they walked passed, and gorgeous huge trees lined the green.

“This is nice,” Daisy said optimistically. “I like the landscaping and everyone seems friendly.”

“Oh yes,” the manager confirmed. “We all watch out for each other too.” She waved at some golfers who waited until they had passed to tee off. “It’s just around here now.”

She led them around a curve in the path and through some trees to reveal a rustic-chic barn and open lawn area.

“This is where we put the buffet area,” she said gesturing to a concrete slab with poles to support hanging lanterns. “And this is great for a photo booth!”

Carol wandered away a bit, drawn by the sound of a nearby creek.

“Oh no!” the manager shouted. “Honey, come back on this side of the fencing.” She frantically waved to the whitewashed wood, unfortunately missing a few sections, that lined the wedding area as a golf ball whizzed past Carol’s head.

Carol’s heart raced as she quickly and carefully made her way back to the manager and to Daisy’s side.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Daisy concluded. “What if one of our guests got hit by a ball?”

The manager pasted on a customer service smile. “We do have a teensy waver for them to sign, but we can always add some decorations or signage to help keep them in the reception area. Before you make any decisions, let’s see the inside!”

Carol and Daisy exchanged silent looks behind her back as she led them into the barn. They would be hypocritical to be disappointed, as it was exactly what it said on the tin. Artistically arranged horseshoes, branding iron marks, and taxidermied cattle heads decorated the painted gray walls, with knotted, uneven reclaimed wood flooring and a white wagon wheel table at the entrance “for the guest book!” as the manager explained in delight.

“The website was less…” Carol faltered. “Western?”

The manager tsked and waved dismissively. “Oh we haven’t updated that yet to reflect the redesign, but themed weddings are so popular these days, and did you know we’re the only Western aesthetic venue in the region?! Of course, you can always tone it down if cowgirl isn’t your style. The longhorns are removable, for an extra fee for labor, and we have some nice floral paintings or some ironwork light fixtures with electric candles, whatever your taste. The space is very adaptable.”

The tension hung in the air as they tried to find a way to politely refuse. Daisy walked around the barn to give it full consideration. They only had three choices, so if the others turned out to be worse, she wanted to make sure they could make this one work.

Unfortunately, she was distracted in this thought process by wall decor with “Live, Laugh, Love” underscored by hunting rifles under each word, and she tripped over a knot in the wood, knocking over a three-foot-tall metal silhouette of a cowboy and cowgirl in a romantic embrace.

“Sorry! Sorry.” She tried to right the artwork and noticed she’d chipped the paint on the cowboy’s hat where it hit the ground. She grimaced and whirled back around to rush to Carol’s side. “You know, we’d really better be going.”

Carol took the hint and looked at her watch. “Oh, yes, we have another appointment, and with the ride back, we better go now to not be late. This looks, it’s very… aesthetic, as you said!”

Daisy pressed her lips into a smile and nodded and hummed in agreement. The manager surrendered in disappointment and led them back to the golf cart.

“Oh, watch out!” She stopped them just in time as a golf ball flew overhead. “Clive’s been losing his sight, poor man, but we can’t tell him not to come. His father was one of the founders of the club! So we just have to be extra careful on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”

Carol and Daisy sent each other another silent message with raised eyebrows. A Saturday wedding was their goal, assuming it would allow more guests to make it.

Back at their car after a long walk and golf cart ride, Daisy and Carol closed their doors and exhaled.

“So.” Daisy put the key in the ignition and started the car. “Safety seemed like a concern.”

“Right. And, as hot as cowgirls are, maybe not our ideal wedding aesthetic,” Carol emphasized and they both let out a giggle they’d been holding in.

“Okay, so we’re agreed. Not our scene.” Daisy backed out of the parking spot and drove on to the main road. “Though I will take note of the hot cowgirl comment for other activities.”

She glanced briefly over to Carol, who bit her lip as her imagination filled in the blanks.

“Yes, please. But next up is…” Carol announced as she programmed the address into her phone’s GPS app, “The Church of Love, a remodeled cathedral-style venue that doubles as a popular neighborhood bar, with live music, food, and drinks, drinks, drinks.” She paused, amused. “It says it three times like that. Drinks drinks drinks. There’s more information about the types of alcohol they offer than the space itself or the pricing or what’s included.”

Daisy sighed. “Yeah, I’m hoping they have more details in person. I mean, obviously, they are a bar, so that’s their business, but it would be good to know what ballpark we’re talking here budget-wise.”

Carol shrugged. “Probably standard to not have it on their website. Most places didn’t either. But like, do they work with caterers, do they provide a sound system…”

“It didn’t have many pictures either. Most of them were of the stained glass windows so I didn’t get a good sense of the space.”

They drove up to the steepled building with neon signs out front and beer ad banners flapping in the wind. It was only 2 p.m., so the parking lot was empty, save one car at the far end. They got out and knocked on the huge wooden doors, trying to avoid the judgmental gaze of the gargoyles and other creatures above and around them.

“Hey!” called a man with spiky white hair wearing a Hawaiian shirt in 40-degree weather. “That’s just for show. Entrance is over here.” He pointed to a normal-sized metal door on the side of the church and walked inside, so they followed. The entryway and lobby were dark, but the man flipped on lights and unlocked doors as he went, clearly in charge of the facility.

“Hi, hey,” Daisy greeted as they caught up with him. “We have an appointment to talk about having a wedding here? Are you Jack?”

“Jackie,” the man corrected, “Jack was my dad. And he’d be rolling over in his grave if he knew what I’d done to his church and hosting marriages between…” Jackie looked back at them, stopped himself, and had a wheezing coughing fit. “Sorry, nothing contagious, just believe ‘em when they say smoking’s bad for ya, kids.” He coughed again and Carol and Daisy tried not to visibly recoil.

He opened a final door and swept his arm around. “Here it is!” The first thing they noticed was the pride he took in it. The second as they stepped into the former sanctuary was the giant stained glass rose windows above with rows and rows of narrow panes of stained glass just below, throwing light all around them.

“Whoa,” Daisy smiled. “Okay, that’s cool.”

“Oh!” Carol lowered her gaze to see an equally huge bar counter under one of the windows. Neon lights lined the shelves full of tequila and vodka and beers of every variety and more. “Right here in the space.”

“Convenient, right?” Jackie waggled his eyebrows. “Wait ‘til you see this.” He pressed a remote and a disco ball descended from one of the archways. Then another. And another.

Daisy scrunched her nose in the way she did when she was trying not to be rude. “So, we were thinking the reception and the ceremony would be in different rooms. Is there anything like that?”

Jackie raised his hands in peace, “Okay, okay, I see where you’re coming from. We have these partitions built in for this.” He walked to one of the walls at the narrow midsection of the sanctuary and folded out hinged room dividers, and the other on the other side. “Back when this was a fancy church, they’d’ve had the choir up here, see, and the people in the back in what’s now the reception space.”

“Party in the back, got it,” Daisy confirmed. She followed Carol to the front where the altar still stood.

Jackie’s phone rang and he walked away for a moment.

Standing before the altar, Daisy followed Carol’s gaze up to the massive crucifix, complete with with Christ’s dying body carved in marble. Carol shivered. Daisy soothed her back. “You okay?”

Carol huffed out a half-laugh and turned to face the sanctuary. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s weird, though. I can’t decide if it’s too holy or not enough.”

Daisy noticed below the stained glass but above the party scene, another row of gargoyles and angels stared down at them. “On paper, it sounds so cool. But in reality, it just doesn’t feel right, does it?”

They noted the way Jackie’s voice carried as he ranted to someone on the phone, echoing throughout the sanctuary even though he was far on the other side.

Carol shrugged and gestured loosely to the marble bar counter with over a dozen marble stools and a whole wall of bottles. “It does seem like a cool bar concept. But maybe not for our wedding?”

“Nah.” Daisy waved to Jackie, who waved back. She wasn’t entirely sure if he understood that they were leaving, but it didn’t matter anyway. “On to lucky number three!”

The third venue had said to call first, so Carol talked to the receptionist who told them to come and reassured them that they would love the space, but that the venue’s manager was out dealing with an urgent situation and would meet them there as soon as she was available.

“Sounds like we have some time,” Carol said to Daisy after hanging up. “Wanna get coffee first?”

“God, yes.” Daisy pulled into a Starbucks and they went in for a rest stop and refreshments in their long afternoon.

Carol nibbled her thumbnail as they waited for their drinks. “What if this next one is another bust? What’s after that?”

Daisy blew out her lips. “We go back to the drawing board, I guess. Maybe some of the ones that said they were full have cancellations or a waiting list? Wedding venues must have cancellations all the time, right, with people changing their dates or whatever?”

The barista called Carol’s name and she stepped up to take her drink, thank them, and wait for Daisy’s. Then she had an idea. “We could get creative, maybe somewhere we’re not thinking of? Somewhere not on the usual lists.”

The barista called out a drink for Tracey. Carol made sure they didn’t accidentally mean Daisy, but no, a Tracey stepped up to get an iced coffee.

“Sorry, that’s mine,” Tracey said as Carol moved out of the way.

“Iced coffee in February,” Daisy remarked, “that’s something I would do.”

Tracey gave a little smile in response, then asked, “Hey, were you talking about wedding venues? I didn’t mean to overhear, just my wife and I got married last spring at a great place.”

With that sentence, Tracey had their attention. “We’d love any recommendations at this point,” Daisy confessed. “We’re aiming for June, and most places are booked already.”

Tracey searched in her phone for the information for the venue and showed them her screen. “Here, try this one. Gorgeous landscaping, right on this pond, there’s a wedding chapel and then an outdoor space and a reception hall with a kitchen. It’s owned by the city parks department, but as long as you bring in all your own people—photography, catering, deejay, whatever—and clean up when you’re done, it’s a good place to look into. We loved it.”

“Thank you!” Carol typed the name of the venue and the city parks website came up with a page for the park it was in.

“Good luck, and congratulations!” Tracey called as she left. Daisy's drink came just in time.

Carol saw Daisy was holding in a smile.

“What is it?” Carol asked as they walked out of the coffee shop and back to the car.

“Look at the next address on the list.”

“What?”

“Just do it!” Daisy urged with a laugh, getting out the keys as they reached the car.

“Wait. No.” Carol looked up over the car at her.

“Yup.” Daisy grinned and got in. When they were ready to go, she waited for Carol’s phone to bring up directions to the park. “Sounds like this is the one. Let’s go.”

“How did I not realize that I was calling the parks department earlier?” Carol asked herself. “She just answered with her name, I guess, and I assumed it was a business.”

Daisy stopped at a light and took a drink of her coffee. “I just showed you photos of this one, not the site, because honestly the web page sucked. City websites always suck, and I didn’t want you to hate it because of that or think it was run down or cheap or something just because it was a parks department venue.”

“Fair,” Carol replied, scrolling through the scant information on the park web page. It was poorly adapted for the mobile browser, so she had to scroll horizontally as well as vertically.

They arrived at the park just as a car with the parks department logo pulled in.

A woman in a maroon peacoat with a clipboard got out and rushed over to them at a speed her pumps would allow. “So sorry! I was running late because there was a raccoon at the playground…”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Daisy cringed that they had stopped for coffee after saying they were coming right over. “No rush. We just arrived.”

“Ah! Perfect timing then. I’m Anne.” She shook both of their hands and led the way up a wooden ramp to the wedding chapel. “Let’s see here.”

She pulled out a truly impressive ring of keys of every shape and variety and unlocked the door. An entryway with restrooms and a bulletin board of parks department activities opened up into a lobby area with a table, a few chairs, and carpet to prevent echoing. There was a simple wood stand for a guest book and a few windows for natural lighting.

“It was renovated a few years ago, so while it looks new, it has a long history,” Anne explained.

She opened the chapel doors to reveal a modern but simple chapel. One round stained glass window above the altar showed a rose surrounded by a rainbow of colors. Large plain glass panes in the front gave them a stunning view of the pond, surrounded by willows, oaks, and evergreens.

Anne apologized again, “It’s not the best view now but by June, I promise everything will be in bloom.” She pointed out which plants grew on which sides of the pond and the center where a fountain would be sparkling come spring but was off for the winter.

They turned to the inside. A wood podium stood at the front with various cables and plugs for the sound system. There was nothing particularly religious about the room, nor any other clear “aesthetic” or “theme.” Daisy did notice built-in hooks for floral arrangements or other decorations, and Carol pointed out the seating was movable pews, if they needed more or fewer.

“Yes,” Anne confirmed. “This is our standard spacing, but we have two more rows if needed or we can space them out a bit more to make the room look less empty for fewer guests. Or add a chair or two from the lobby.”

For every question and concern, Anne seemed to have an answer. She then walked them over to the outdoor and indoor reception area options, showed them the typical places buffet tables and gift tables and cake tables could go in each, the spots for speakers whether they decided to hire musicians or a deejay or a simple sound system, and a basic but functional kitchen.

Daisy’s heart raced. This was it. She looked to Carol, who took her hand and squeezed.

“Well,” Anne turned to them, checking off the last item on her clipboard. “That’s all I have, any more questions for me?”

“Just to confirm,” Daisy asked, trying not to get her hopes up too high yet, “you said this is available in June?”

Anne checked her clipboard as they waited with bated breath. “Mmhm. I have down that you want Saturday, June 4, is that correct? We put a temporary hold on that date for you, but I’m afraid if you don’t put down a deposit today, we’ll have to open it up again and we can’t guarantee it will stay open.”

Misinterpreting Carol and Daisy’s excited shared look as apprehension, she stepped back, “I’ll give you two a moment to talk it over. I’ll be out here.” She stepped outside and walked around the side of the building to remove some litter from a dormant flowerbed.

Carol’s smile bloomed as she saw Daisy’s. “Yes,” they both said at once. Daisy squealed. “I can’t believe it. We’re getting married. Here.”

“C’mon. Let’s test it out.” Carol led her back to the chapel. They hurried to the front and looked out at the pond, beginning to change color as the sun neared the horizon, just out of view. They stood facing each other, holding each other’s hands just as they would in the ceremony.

“I do,” Daisy teased.

“I do too,” Carol replied and winked. They kissed just as Anne found them. She waited politely until they noticed her.

“We’ll take it,” Carol confirmed.

“Please,” Daisy added.

She was tempted to add more pleases, but it was unnecessary as Anne replied, “Perfect! Let’s get the boring part over with, shall we?” She raised her clipboard to indicate she meant the paperwork.

She led them out into the lobby where there was a table to sit at, turned on a light as it was starting to get dark, pulled out the forms, and clarified the amount for the deposit.

As Daisy ran to the car for her checkbook, Anne confessed to Carol, “I’m glad it is a good fit for you two. Some people think it’s too plain or too small, but I’ve always loved this place.”

“It’s perfect for us,” Carol said, reading over the paperwork and signing where indicated.

“My parents were married here,” Anne said quietly, then put back on her cheerier parks department tone. “Of course, it’s been through two renovations since then. Wi-Fi, new appliances in the kitchen, and ADA accessible now.”

Carol finished her part of the paperwork as Daisy arrived back inside and sat down with them. She wrote the check and filled out her part of the paperwork as Carol asked Anne more about the park’s history, which Anne was all too happy to provide.

When they were done, they stood out front as Anne locked up, remarking on how it had gotten cold while they were inside. Carol and Daisy got out their gloves from their coat pockets, wrapped their scarves tighter, and took in the surrounding park.

“Call me if you have any questions,” Anne called out to them and waved goodbye. They waved and then turned back to the pond to watch the last of the sunset fade into twilight and the stars begin to appear. Daisy slipped her arm around Carol’s waist, and Carol laid her head against Daisy’s.

“June can’t come fast enough,” Carol sighed happily.

“I know what you mean, but, uh, we have a lot to do before then, missy.” Daisy pulled her away and back to the car as they started shivering in the February air. “Invitations, guest list, cake, food, drinks, a wedding website, registry, music, decorations, what we’re going to wear, what color we want so we know what to ask the wedding party to wear, honeymoon destination…”

“Okay, okay,” Carol laughed as Daisy started up the car. “I just meant, I’m excited to marry you right in there.” She pointed to the chapel.

“In our adorable wedding chapel! Aw, look at it.” They exhaled happily together, which made them laugh at their own cheesiness, and then Daisy drove them home where they could at least check off the biggest item on their list.

Who would come and what they would see and do and eat while at their wedding, well, that could wait for another day.

#daisy johnson #carol danvers #aos #agents of shield #captain marvel #daisy x carol #carol x daisy #wlw #sapphic fic #femslash #lesbian carol danvers #bisexual daisy johnson #skywriting #wedding au #aos au #captain marvel au #femslash february 2023

7 notes · View notes

bensolosbluesaber · 2 years

Text

Something Forgotten (Poe Dameron x GN reader)

Summary: Poe Dameron is the love of your life, but he can’t remember you. Still, Poe finds himself drawn to you and seeing flashes of a life he has forgotten.

Angst (with a happy ending because I can’t be sad for too long)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader (I intended to use gender neutral language for the reader. Please tell me if I used gendered language so I can fix it!)

Warnings: Memory loss

A/N: Might be drinking and writing, so please excuse typos and generally anything that doesn’t make sense:)

“He’s awake?” Your feet slipped as you rounded the corner and your body bounced off the wall. You ignored the dull pain, too excited to see the man you loved to be concerned about trivialities like keeping your balance and not running into things.

“Wait, wait, wait! Y/N, wait!”

“Isn’t he awake?” You turned to Jess with a big grin plastered across your face.

Her expression was the exact opposite of yours.

“What?” You felt the smile slipping away. “Jess, what?”

“He doesn’t remember. Whatever they did to him… he doesn’t remember…” Jess paused for a long moment.

“Anything?” You murmured as your stomach twisted into a violent knot.

“You.”

For several days, you avoided doing anything that would bring you in contact with Poe. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have him look at you without recognition. And you wouldn’t have to. Wouldn’t have to imagine that is, because there he was.

The Resistance had received a call, and Black Squadron was flying to Takodana. Poe jostled you as he ran past, shooting an apologetic glance over his shoulder. It was like he was ripping your chest open with his bare hands, tearing into your flesh, pulling apart your ribs until they snapped just so he could get a handful of your heart and squeeze. And squeeze. And squeeze. He didn’t know he was doing it as he met your eyes for a single second, nodded politely, and immediately began barking orders to his squad.

When they returned, your transfer was already complete. Poe Dameron didn’t notice that you had gone. Poe Dameron hadn’t even noticed that you were there.

You left a note for Jess, the only person who had known about your relationship with Poe.

It simply read, ‘He can’t be distracted trying to remember.’

As the war began in earnest, you transferred to a base as far from Poe Dameron as you could go. You followed his war time exploits from afar, heard he befriended a former Stormtrooper named Finn and the new Jedi, Rey. You heard he took out a Dreadnought, was demoted, then promoted. You heard the General slapped him. You heard he light-speed skipped the Millennium Falcon.

You should have been with him through all of it. If the galaxy had even the slightest concept of fairness you would have fought at Poe’s side until the very end. Instead, you lived out the war on your own, fixing ships, sometimes flying a mission, and doing anything to forget the love of your life.

And now you were here on Ajan Kloss in the aftermath of the Battle of Exegol surrounded by celebrations and staring at Poe Dameron.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, kid. Nice of you to answer the call.”

Jess’s voice startles you. You glance over at her, then back to the pilot you were- are in love with but who can’t remember he loves you. He was talking to a man you could only imagine was Finn. Broad smiles spread across both their faces. Everyone is smiling and drinking and celebrating. Even the people who had lost someone were toasting their fallen comrades and sharing happy memories.

“Jess!” Poe points at the woman beside you. He’s still absolutely gorgeous. He hurries toward you- no, toward Jess. “Nice flying out there!”

He claps her on the shoulder. Then his gaze falls to you. For a moment, something flickers in his deep brown eyes before he fixes you with a playful smirk that you might even call flirtatious.

“Poe Dameron.” He extends his hand in introduction as your mind empties. He is opening his mouth to say something else while you’re contemplating whether to take his offered hand. But before you can decide, Rey grabs his arm and drags him away, effectively making the decision for you.

Jess is saying something to you, something you don’t hear as you turn away from the celebration. You don’t know where you are going, but anywhere is better than here. With him. Memory-less him. Against your better judgment, you spare a glance over your shoulder to where Poe stands. His arms are crossed as he stares up at a tall dark-haired man in black clothes.

Solo extends his palm toward Poe. That’s all you can bring yourself to watch.

“It will take some time,” Solo mutters.

“Rey,” Poe ignores Ben entirely. “I don’t understand. He took a portion of my memories when I was captured. And now he’s what? Giving them back?”

“I didn’t take them,” Ben interrupts. “I-”

“Shut up, okay?” Poe puts his hand up in Ben’s face to silence him. “Rey?”

“It’s like he locked them behind a door in your mind,” she continues trying to explain. “Now he’s giving you the key, and it’s up to you to unlock it.”

“So he took my memories of something-”

“Someone-” Ben starts.

“Shut up! He took my memories of someone to torture me, and now he is so kindly giving them back. But - and just so I’m crystal clear - I still have to find this metaphorical door myself? How exactly am I supposed to do that.”

“You’ll just know,” Ben says.

“I’ll just-” Poe throws his hands up. “I’ll just know? Thanks, Solo. This has been very helpful.”

You sit with your knees pulled to your chest, head bowed, back against a tree. Leaves crunch softly as someone approaches. You opt to ignore whoever it is, hoping they’ll leave you alone. You sense rather than see the person kneel beside you. And then, as if the day couldn’t get any worse, he speaks.

“You alright?”

Fuck. Of course it had to be Poe. The sound of his voice, a voice that is speaking to you like he doesn’t know you, only makes you cry harder.

Poe sits down beside you so your bodies are only inches away from each other. In the cool night air, you feel the heat coming from his skin.

“You lose someone?” He presses. When you don’t answer he continues, “I guess I did. Lose someone I mean. Except I didn’t know that until a few minutes ago… Weird huh. Anyway, that’s why I’m hiding in the woods. Your turn.”

He talks to you like he knows you, even as his words explain that he doesn’t. But he does know that he has forgotten someone. Maker, he had been talking to Solo when you made your abrupt exit. That was the very man who took Poe’s memories in the first place.

You can’t look at Poe. You certainly can’t speak to him. It’s all you can do to keep yourself from sobbing aloud.

“Hey.” Poe nudges you with his arm.

It’s an attempt to get your attention. But for Poe, it does more than that.

“You’re not my normal mechanic.”

You raise your eyebrows at this pilot’s cocky attitude.

“He’s working on Wex’s right now. But don’t worry, Dameron, I’m qualified.”

You pull your hands from the engine and turn to him. He stares at the grease smeared across your face, then looks down and surveys the entirety of your body before bringing his eyes back to yours. You’re hot. It’s the only thought in his mind as he watches you wipe sweat from your forehead with your shoulder.

“Maker! You’re as bad as the rumors say!” You roll your eyes at him and turn back to his ship.

Poe knits his eyebrows together as he stares down at you, you who is unquestionably the mechanic in that flash of memory. Curls fall across his forehead as he tips his head.

“I know you,” he breathes.

“Please don’t, Dameron,” you whisper pathetically.

You move to stand, but the man grabs your wrist.

“You again?”

“If you’d stop blowing up your engine- shit!” You yank your hand back at the sudden release of steam that accompanies a burning pain in your hand. You press the wounded fingers to your side. “I hate this ship. Everything takes two people to fix-”

“Here.” Poe steps in close behind you, the heat of your body soaking into his front as he reaches into the engine to hold the parts together.

As you slip your hand back into the ship’s insides, you go still.

“That better be your blaster on my ass, Dameron.”

He stares at you blankly as, unknown to you, the memory plays through his mind. You yank your hand away from him, stumbling as you pull back. You crave his touch like a moth drawn to flame. Unlike a moth, however, you aren’t stupid. You know that fire burns.

Poe is on his feet and following as you stumble through the forest that is lit only by the distant glow of celebration. You have to get away from the fire that is Poe Dameron while you still can.

He might be the best pilot in the Resistance, but you know the ground. You know these woods, and soon you’ve lost him in the trees.

“Wait! Wait!”

He doesn’t even know your name to call after you, and he’s cursing himself for not asking you, for not remembering. There is no question that you are the ‘someone’ Ben was talking about. You were his mechanic, but those memories, those two brief glimpses into a life he cannot remember, suggest something more.

Another flash of a forgotten life sears through his consciousness.

“How does a mechanic even end up in med-bay?”

“How did you find out I was in med-bay?” You shoot back from your spot in bed.

Poe, uninvited, joins you. Your brows pull together at his forwardness as the bed sinks under his weight.

“Someone else will fix your ship, Dameron. Don’t worry. I’ll be out in a few days.”

“I realized something on my way here,” he starts as he tucks a leg up and gets comfortable. “I don’t know your name.”

“I’ve been your mechanic for a month,” you scoff but introduce yourself nonetheless.

He repeats your name, seeing how it feels in his mouth. Good. It feels good.

Once upon a time, Poe had unofficially shared this room with you. The entrance codes are still the same, and the space is exactly as you left it. Your life with Poe surrounds you, preserved and covered in dust like some macabre museum exhibit.

It hurts, like being stabbed over and over with a dull knife. It is agony to be on the same planet as Poe, a man who can’t remember your name. Being here is hardly better. This place reminds you of everything you lost. A few of Poe’s clothes still hang in the closet where they mock you.

You crumple to the floor, too drained to make it across the room to the bed the two of you had shared. The hard floor digs into your knees. The tile is cool against your hands. You’re fighting waves of nausea so violent that you don’t even hear the door open, don’t notice another presence until hands are on your shoulders, sitting you back.

“I’m so drunk, Dameron. So drunk,” you slur and stumble against him. “And it is… it is so nice of you to walk me home.”

“My name is Poe. You can call me Poe.”

“No.” You turn to pat his cheek. The stubble is rough against your skin, and you find your hand stuck there, turning his face toward you.

“No?” He questions with a chuckle and leans into your touch.

“I want to kiss Poe.” Drunk you has no filter. “I don’t want to kiss Dameron.”

“You want to kiss me?”

“I want to kiss Poe.”

“That’s me.”

“No. No. No, you’re Dameron.”

“And you’re drunk.”

Poe feels the memory slipping away as the real you, not the memory of you, starts talking.

“How did you get in?” you choke out.

“Was this my room? You meant something to me?” Poe asks as he rubs your shoulder absentmindedly and tries to figure out how he knew the codes to this room. “What were we?”

“Nothing, Dameron,” you manage to snap. Then you’re sobbing. It’s those violent sobs that make you feel like puking, that keep you from breathing.

“Okay, hey.” Poe draws you in closer and shifts into a more comfortable position. His back is to the bed as he maneuvers you between his legs and holds you tight.

Moth. Flame.

You lean your head into the familiar curve of his neck.

Burning.

Poe Dameron splays his fingers across the back of your neck to hold you to him, and another memory flashes in his thoughts.

“You sure this thing is going to fly?”

“Positive.” You lean over the side of the cockpit and press a quick, secretive kiss to Poe’s lips. “Any problems are pilot error.”

“I don’t make ‘errors,’ darling.” Poe grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for a longer kiss, an indecently long kiss.

Then another.

You are curled up on BB-8, slumped in an awkward hunched over position where you had clearly fallen asleep - in the hallway - while waiting for him to get out of his briefing. The droid chirps softly.

“We talked about this,” Poe chastises with a small smile. “You can’t let her sleep out here.”

BB-8 beeps indignantly.

“Then be more stubborn.”

Another.

“I love you.”

You sit up so fast you smack your head directly into the metal of the X-Wing suspended above you.

“Shit!”

You let every curse word you know spill from your mouth as you lay back. After taking a moment to regain your bearings, you slide out from underneath the ship to look up at Poe. He’s still dressed in his orange flight suit and covered in a fine layer of sweat and grime - fresh off a mission.

“What did you just say?”

Poe sprawls on the hangar floor, laying on his back beside you. He tucks his hands behind his head.

“I almost died today.” He says it so calmly that you are stunned into silence. “You know my last thought? I never told you I love you. And why? Because I’m scared you won’t say it back? It’s silly because whether you love me or not, I love you. And I want you to know that.”

A pause. He rolls on his side to look at your silhouette. The sun is setting behind you, casting long shadows through the hangar, sending flickers of orange and pink light across your face… across your shy and happy smile.

“I love you, Poe.”

“You love me,” he states.

At his words, you cling to him harder.

“I love you?” He whispers, more of a question than anything. The inquisitiveness in his tone makes your chest ache. Then with conviction he quietly repeats, “I love you.”

“Don’t, Dameron. Don’t.”

“I can’t remember… I- I…”

You lean away from him, putting a few inches between your bodies though you’re still half in his lap. He is in distress. You hear it in his voice, and all you want to do is hold him. But you can’t. You can’t.

“You should go, Poe.”

It’s the way you say his name. It’s that you say his first name all quiet and confused. That does it. Every stolen memory comes flooding back all at once, playing over top of each other and settling into his mind as if they had never left.

Images of you asleep in his bed, elbow deep in his X-Wing engine, head on his lap. You chatting with BB-8. Him watching you watch the sunset. Seeing you fly his X-Wing, surprising him with your skill. How you called him Dameron for months. The first time he heard his name on your lips.

“My name is Poe.”

He’d said that to you once. You were drunk, nearly out of your mind drunk, but you remember that moment. And you remember falling asleep in his bed, waking up beside him, and then kissing him for the first time. You had murmured his name so quietly as you woke, so bewildered at where you were and the sight of the man next to you, that you let his first name slip past your lips.

His hands find your cheeks and turn your face to him.

“How could I have forgotten you?”

His eyes settle on your lips then flick up to your eyes. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t look at Poe.

“Please don’t cry.” He wipes a tear from your cheek with a rough thumb.

“This isn’t funny, Dameron.”

“Stop calling me that, and look at me.”

You do. You don’t know why, but you do.

It’s in his eyes. All the love you thought was lost is alive in those warm brown eyes.

“I remember you, darling,” Poe breathes.

He leans in until his nose nudges yours, and there he waits. He waits for one second, the longest second of his life, before his lips are on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he kisses you hard, consuming you entirely. Your hands tangle in his curls. He murmurs your name over and over as he presses kiss after kiss to your lips and cheeks and forehead and anywhere else he can reach.

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?” You whisper when he finally draws back for a breathe.

“How can I be mad when I finally have you back?” He stands and pulls you up and into bed.

You kiss his cheek and can’t fight the smile as he looks at you with those big puppy dog eyes so full of love. It’s like coming home.

You are home.

My Masterlist

Tag List: @ay0nha @romanarose

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron angst #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you #bensolosbluesabermasterlist #poe x reader #oscar isaac fanfic #poe dameron fanfic #star wars sequel trilogy

1K notes · View notes

bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

Text

Metamorphosis | Bucky Barnes x Reader

H, friends! I was working on this fic and then got a message from @the-kestrels-feather asking for almost this exact story??? Tbh our brains are linked. They requested a non-binary reader, which I’ve never written before! So I’m a little nervous, but I did my best. :)

If you like my writing do me a favor and throw me a reblog 🥰

Warnings: Bucky’s trauma, anxiety, PTSD

———————

Now

Bucky’s head lay heavy on your chest, his mind finally quieting enough to let him fall asleep. His calm, rhythmic breathing brought a smile to your face as you gently tangled your fingers through his long locks. Knowing Bucky was getting the rest he needed always made you happier, made you worry just a little bit less.

The close friendship you’d developed with him was unexpected to say the least. You thought back on how everyone warned you about Bucky when you when you joined the team and moved into the compound. They said he was quiet, cold, aloof- and you’d prepared for him to ignore you completely. But he surprised you.

Things between the two of you started cautiously. You treated Bucky like a skittish stray cat, waiting for him to come to you at his own pace- and if he never came around, you’d understand.

But when he found you in the compound’s kitchen baking cookies in the middle of the night, he couldn’t stop himself from being drawn in by your gentleness.

-----One Year Ago-----

“Can’t sleep?”

Bucky’s deep voice startled you, forcing your heartrate into overdrive. He noticed the way you jumped and the wide eyes that betrayed your fear. He wasn’t sure if you simply didn’t expect company at 3am, or if you were afraid of who he used to be.

“Oh, sorry. I- I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just…” Bucky made his way to the cupboard and retrieved his favorite tea, “want a cup?”

With a simple nod, you accepted Bucky’s offer.

“I know this probably looks strange”, you motioned to the massive bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough resting on the counter and the mess that surrounded it, “but I’m not like, a weirdo or anything. I don’t always make cookies in the middle of the night”. Bucky gave you a simple nod, unsure of what to say.

“It’s just- I bake when I’m stressed. And I’m not used to living here yet…I kinda feel like a fish out of water, you know?” Bucky was all too familiar with the feeling of not fitting in, and still felt like an outsider after years of working with the team. “My anxiety won’t let me fall asleep, so...here I am,” you grabbed a fresh cookie from the cooling rack and extended it to Bucky, “wanna try one?”

He eyed the treat for a long moment before finally accepting. A smile instantly spread across his face as he chewed, and he couldn’t stop himself from shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “These are really good”, he said with his mouth full, “thank you”.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the cooling rack and extended it to him, “have as many as you want, Sergeant Barnes. Er, James…? Bucky?” Embarrassment colored your cheeks a bright scarlet, “I’m sorry- I just realized that we haven’t spoken yet. I don’t know what to call you…”

Bucky let loose quiet laugh, “it’s alright. Um, Bucky. Bucky is fine”.

He extended his vibranium hand to give you a proper shake, but quickly withdrew and replaced it with his other one. An apologetic look filled his eyes and he looked away, embarrassed. He couldn't believe he'd slipped up so severely, offering you the one thing about him that scared almost everyone he knew.

Just then, the tea kettle began to sing, making both of you jump. Bucky quickly removed it from the heat and prepared his tea and yours, offering you the cup with a cautious smile.

An overwhelming need to remain in your presence tugged at him, but his trusty anxiety wanted nothing more than to make him scurry upstairs and hide from you. He opened his mouth to wish you goodnight before heading back to his room, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“Hey, wanna help me finish with these?” you offered him a cookie scoop and raised a brow at him, “it’ll be fun, I promise. And you can eat all the dough you want. Deal?”

He couldn’t believe how genuinely happy he was, how comfortable you made him feel. Spending this beautifully innocent moment together helped Bucky forget the night terror that had woken him not half an hour ago. And suddenly, he found himself opening up to you. It was only the tiny things- his birthday, where he grew up, his favorite book- but it was more than he’d told anyone in decades.

-----

After that night, you and Bucky slowly became inseparable. Something about you felt safe to him, felt like home. He was warmer around you, his sharp scowl melting into a tentative smile. He didn’t know how to describe it, but Bucky felt drawn to you. There was something about your warm smile and kind eyes that welcomed him in immediately, and he found himself desperate to spend time with you. He wanted to see with you whenever possible, and you returned the feeling tenfold.

Bucky had a quiet energy that set you at ease. While the world saw him as the cold, ruthless killer who’d carried out countless murders as the Winter Soldier, you saw him as the sweet, shy man who helped you make cookies at 3am. Bucky made you feel heard, made you feel seen. He quietly observed, picking up on tiny details that others would’ve missed. In seemingly no time at all, he’d identified all of your nervous habits, and knew exactly when to ask if you were okay.

And after Bucky knew for certain that he was safe with you, he opened up. He unlocked the vault in his mind that held every gory, gruesome detail of his time at Hydra and let you rifle through his memories. But you never pushed him. The two of you talked through his decades as the Winter Soldier at his pace, and when it grew to be too much, you were there to bring him back to the present. You had a way of grounding Bucky that made him feel more present than he had in years, saving him from the spirals and rabbit holes that often held him hostage.

It became glaringly obvious to you that Bucky had been suffering in silence ever since joining the team, opting to keep his pain to himself rather than trust someone with his secrets. But things were different with you. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to trust you, to let his guard down and be completely and utterly vulnerable.

After you took his hand the first time, Bucky realized just what he’d been missing out on. He hadn’t been aware of how desperately he needed human touch, how safe the affection of another person could make him feel.

It was this physical comfort that saved him from his nightmares night after night, bringing him peace he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. Before getting close with you, Bucky dealt with them alone. He’d eventually scream himself awake, his heart pounding in his chest while cold sweat dripped from his brow. You’d heard him every night since moving in, but only when you knew he felt safe enough with you did venture into his room.

-----Nine Months Ago-----

As they did every night, Bucky's tortured screams startled you awake. All you knew was that he needed help, and you weren’t going to let him go without it. Reflexively, you ran from your room and burst through his door, anxious to rescue Bucky from his demons.

His strong form thrashed beneath his sheets, cold sweat dampening his forehead. His screams were full of a tortured anguish you’d never experienced before, and the sound of his cries sent shivers down your spine. With a quick flip of a switch, you turned on the lamp by Bucky’s bedside, filling the room with a soft glow. Your gentle hands rested against his shoulders, adding only a tiny fraction of pressure as you called out to him.

“Bucky. Bucky, hey. Wake up. You’re okay-”.

Suddenly, Bucky’s eyes flew open. They were glassy with tears and wide with fear as he stared at you, unbridled alarm still coursing through his veins. His chest rose and fell at an increasingly fast rate, and he did his best to orient himself, but couldn’t seem to get his head on straight.

“Buck…” you reached for his hand slowly and took it in yours, grounding him in the present moment, “you’re okay- it’s me. You’re safe. It was just a nightmare.”

With that, Bucky slowly let his muscles relax. He stared down at his hand resting in yours, relishing in the sensation of your warmth. Just like that, he felt safe. He leaned forward until his forehead rested upon your shoulder, mumbling a quiet “thank you” as he tried to catch his breath.

“Want me to stay with you a while?”

Bucky nodded almost immediately.

“Then I’ll stay,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “I’ll sit here for as long as you need”.

But Bucky didn’t want you to just sit at his bedside. “Do you, uh…” he lifted the covers and invited you into his bed- something he hadn’t done since the 40’s. “Would it be better for you to lay down? It’s the middle of the night…I’m sure you’re tired”. You gave him a pointed look, silently asking if he was sure, and he delivered a confident nod.

With you under the sheets next to him, Bucky felt like he was home. But his demons still clawed at the corners of his mind, chipping away at the sense of peace you brought him. They thrashed and screamed behind the protective walls your presence built, desperate to break free and tear Bucky to shreds.

He wanted to ask you to hold him, to wrap your arms around him and keep him safe, but he never wanted to make you uncomfortable. He opted to simply hold your hand, squeezing it every few seconds to bring himself back to the present.

“Do you- Is there anything else I can do?” you looked over at Bucky and clocked his tense jaw, “If you just need a hand to hold, I’m more than happy to help. But…do you need, like, a hug? Do you want me to- to maybe hold you for a while? Or is that too much for you?” Relief flooded Bucky’s expression as you read his mind, “it’s not too much. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

With your arms spread wide, you welcomed Bucky into your embrace. His head lay nestled against your neck while your arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders, protecting him from the outside world. An almost imperceptible shaking rattled his entire body, the adrenaline still ravaging him from the inside. The shaking stopped, however, when your gentle words and soft touch guided Bucky back to a restful sleep.

-----

And so began the nightly routine. Every night you’d fall asleep in your room, only to be woken by Bucky’s screams. And just like that, you’d rush to his side and provide him with the comfort and safety he needed. The two of you would always fall asleep together after that, waking every morning tangled in each other’s embrace. You did your best to convince yourself that, if you went to bed in your room first, sleeping in Bucky’s bed for the second half of the night was completely innocent. But not even you believed that lie.

The two of you held great affection for each other, and no one had ever made you feel the way Bucky did- but you couldn’t tell him that. He was always overly grateful for everything you did for him, but he had no idea what he did for you every day. He was so kind, so empathetic, so understanding. He just wanted to be there for you, to make you smile when you were down. Bucky knew exactly how to make you laugh. And when you needed a shoulder to cry on, he was there. His arms felt like home, like nothing could hurt you if he was holding you. He knew everything about you and accepted you for exactly who you were, just as you did for him.

But Bucky had a hard time understanding how you could actually be okay with his scars, both mental and physical. And so he opted to keep the physical scars under wraps. He never let you see the damage Hydra did to his body, never let you get even a glimpse of his abused form.

The first time you laid eyes on the reminders of his past, it was completely by accident. Bucky kicked himself for not being careful enough, not shielding you from his ‘disgusting’ deformations- but it only brough the two of you closer.

-----Six Months Ago-----

With your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you stepped inside the quinjet and thanked the universe that your mission was finally over. But just as you entered the cabin, Bucky’s deep blue eyes met yours in a look of terror. He stood a few feet away, almost hidden in the back of the jet, his top half completely bare. His insecurities screamed at him, begged him to put his tactical vest back on and obscure the gruesome evidence of his past- but he couldn’t move.

He was completely and utterly frozen with shame, his scars on full display.

To Bucky, they were hideous. The raised, uneven skin that told the story of his time at Hydra disgusted him more each day. Evidence of bullet wounds and knives taken to the torso littered his upper half, illustrating just how hard his life was as the Winter Solider. Bucky’s eyes flicked down momentarily, eyeing the biggest scar of the bunch. It ran the entire expanse of his shoulder, tightly hugging the seam of his vibranium arm.

It was gnarly and jagged, knotted and deep.

Bucky watched you and waited for you to react with horror- maybe even gag- but you remained silent. Your eyes flicked slowly over his abdomen as you took in each and every mark that made Bucky who he was. And when your gaze finally landed on the long scar that fused flesh to metal, he cringed.

With cautious steps, you closed the gap between the two of you. Tension buzzed in the air as Bucky’s stomach tied itself in knots, and he was certain the anxiety of it all would make him throw up. He knew you were kind and understanding, but the proof of his Hydra days was enough to make even the nicest person uncomfortable. It was almost too easy for Bucky to convince himself that the mere sight of his scars would leave your friendship dead in the water, but he was wrong.

“Can I…?”

You cautiously reached out a hand in the direction of his chest, stopping a few inches from the surface of his skin. Bucky wanted to say no, to reject your gesture- but the deep seeded need for comfort won his internal debate. He needed the gentle touch, the warmth of your hand, the peace brought on by physical connection with someone he cared about.

Unable to speak, Bucky nodded.

The pads of your fingers met his skin lightly at first, eliciting a quiet gasp from his chest. The sound filled you with regret and you almost moved your hand away completely, fearing you’d taken things a step too far.

But Bucky didn’t want you to stop.

He couldn’t believe how good it felt, allowing someone to gently touch the abused parts of himself. He’d known only excessive force for decades, and never imagined he’d experience gentleness again. But the way your hand gently ghosted along his skin gave him goosebumps. Your very touch left warmth in its wake and broke down the thick wall Bucky had built to protect himself. A deep, primal sigh of relief left his lips as you added your other hand into the mix, allowing it to gently lay against his largest scar.

“Were you nervous about me seeing these?” you stared up into his eyes, recognizing the fraction of worry that remained in his expression.

Once, more Bucky gave you a nod.

“I know you’re a good person- I know that you wouldn’t judge me. But I just- I really don’t want you to see me differently”. He let out a huff as he stared down at his marred chest, “I know they’re…unpleasant to look at. They’re pretty disgusting. And I thought that if you saw them, you’d be scared. I was afraid you’d put distance between us- I don’t want that”.

One hand left Bucky’s chest and moved up to his face, resting gently against his cheek. He leaned into the gesture almost immediately, desperate for as much physical contact as possible.

“They’re not disgusting, Buck. They’re you. Everything about you- even the stuff you don’t like- makes you who you are”. Bucky’s eyes flicked toward the floor. “I don’t want you feeling like you have to hide part of yourself,” you let one finger drag lazily between a few smaller marks near his clavicle, “we should play connect the dots with them. Who knows- maybe they form something cool? Like a velociraptor. Or a pretzel”.

Bucky’s eyes rolled so far back in his head that you feared they’d get stuck there- but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. His arms wrapped you in a bear hug and pulled you flush against his scarred chest, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace. Your hands snaked up his spine, taking inventory of the scars that littered his back and shoulders.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about the scars- or anything from your past. Especially not with me. Okay?”

-----

With you around, Bucky felt like a new man. Your presence warmed him from the inside out and made the hollow feeling that he'd plagued him for decades a thing of the past. He still flinched every now and then- out of instinct- when you raised a hand to play with his hair or rub his shoulders. Seeing him wince preemptively broke your heart every time, but the instances of fear slowly became less frequent.

He never had to wonder if he was safe with you- he knew. He trusted you not to hurt him; something he couldn’t say about anyone else. His defenses lowered a bit more each time he spent time with you, each time he felt your gentle hands raking through his hair or rubbing the length of his spine. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he didn’t feel like he had to protect himself. With you lying next to him, there was no need for hypervigilance.

You seemed to erode his defenses over time, like the ocean wearing away at a jagged cliff. Only one of his many defense mechanisms remained in place, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he felt comfortable letting it go.

-----Three Months Ago-----

Bucky had worn a pained expression all day, but wouldn’t give you a clue as to the cause. He sat through his debriefing, a team meeting, and dinner with Wanda and Sam, all while doing his best to hide his discomfort. But he couldn't hide it from you. You knew him too well, too intimately, to believe the manufactured facade that covered his pain like a mask.

It wasn’t until the two of you were alone in his room that he finally came clean. He dropped down onto his bed, grimacing the second his body hit the mattress.

“Buck? Can you talk to me? You’re clearly in pain- what’s going on?” You joined him on the bed cautiously, careful not to shake or jostle him in any way. His stormy blue eyes stared up at you and he did his best to prop himself up on his metal elbow- but faltered almost instantly.

“It’s my arm…” he lifted the vibranium limb ever so slightly, wincing as he did so. The look of confusion you wore would’ve made Bucky laugh- if it weren’t for the agonizing pain. “It’s not the arm itself- I mean, the arm is what’s hurting me. It rubs against my scar sometimes. It digs into the skin and puts pressure on what’s left of my joint”. He fell quiet for a moment and let his eyes drift downward until he found the courage to speak up once again.

“Is it okay if I- would you mind if I take it off?”

You cocked your head to the side, “Buck, it’s your arm. You don’t have to ask me permission-”

“No, I know. I just mean…I actually think I'd feel okay not wearing it around you, like I don’t need it. I know I don’t have to protect myself. But I don’t want to make you feel weird.”

Your fingers ran slowly through his long hair, gently scratching at his scalp like you often did. “It won’t make me feel weird- I want you to be comfortable. If not wearing it will make you feel better, then I want you to take it off.”

A small smile crept across Bucky’s face. He sat up slowly, grimacing as his metal arm dug into his scar tissue. His right hand moved upward, ready to undo the mechanisms that locked his arm in place- and then he stopped. He shot you a look, silently asking if you were sure, and your reassuring smile was all he needed.

His fingers worked nimbly to detach the arm from his body, a deep sigh of relief escaping his lips when the heavy vibranium dropped onto the bed.

“Better?”

“Better”

-----

The reminders of his past- his arm, his scars- brought him both physical and mental pain on a daily basis. With your help, the voice in his head that called him a monster fell almost completely silent.

When he looked in the mirror and ran his eyes over the version of himself that Hydra created, he couldn’t help but feel a little more at peace. You slowly helped him accept that he’d never be the bright-eyed kid from Brooklyn he once was, and he was okay with that. Together, the two of you found a way to help him grow comfortable with the scars that littered his body and the weapon that served as his left arm.

But something nagged at him.

He’d grown to accept his new reality, but there was one thing left over from his time at Hydra that wasn’t permanent.

-----Now-----

Bucky awoke suddenly, his head leaving its resting place on your chest.

“Buck? Hey, is everything okay?” you stared down at him, your hand still tangled in his long locks.

His intensity alarmed you. Only seconds ago, he'd been fast asleep without a care in the world- but a deep sense of urgency now set his eyes aflame. He quickly sat up and took a deep breath, the gears in his mind turning at an unmatched speed. He had a nervous energy buzzing around him that set you on edge. But just as you opened your mouth ask yet again what was wrong, he blurted out the reason for his unrest.

“I want to cut my hair.”

Admittedly, you hadn’t expected Bucky’s hair to be the cause of his sudden outburst. He’d taken you so off guard that all you could do was stare at him and simply repeat what he’d said.

“You…want to cut your hair?”

Bucky gave you a nod. “I’ve been thinking about it, and when I look in the mirror, I don’t look like me. I look like…him. I don't recognize myself. I can deal with the arm, and you’re making me feel better about the scars. I can’t change those things about myself- I’ll always have to have a replacement for my arm, and the scars aren’t going away, regardless of the serum. But the hair…it’s not me. I don’t…”

He swallowed hard, “I don’t want to look like the Winter Soldier anymore”.

All this time, you’d been so focused on helping Bucky find peace with the permanent side effects of his time at Hydra- but you hadn’t even considered the easiest fix. His long hair was a holdover from Hydra’s neglect, a sign of how little they cared about him. At no point did they think to give him the grooming he deserved, whether he was under cryo or fully alert. You thought maybe no one could get close enough to him while armed with scissors, but if they ordered him not to kill the barber, he’d obey. But you supposed that, just maybe, letting his hair grow was better than forcibly shaving his head and erasing even more of his identity.

“Of course, Buck. Let’s…” you reached for your phone and began searching the internet for barber shops in the area, “I’ll make you an appointment somewhere. We can-”

“I want you to do it.”

The phone slipped from your hand. Your eyes flicked up to meet Bucky’s but he didn’t crack a smile or give you a laugh- he was serious. “I’m not- I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to cut hair, Buck. I tried to give myself bangs once and the results were…disastrous”.

But Bucky didn’t care.

“Please? I trust you…" he ran a hand through his soon to be shorn locks, "I only trust you”.

And that was all the convincing you needed. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night; only moments later, you'd gathered clippers and a pair of scissors, ready to give Bucky a makeover. He watched you in the mirror as you took inventory of his long locks. Your gentle hands moved through his hair, weaving their way in and out while you decided on a plan of attack.

“Okay. Um…” your hands slid down and rested on his shoulders, “we’re gonna- I’m gonna start with the scissors and you know, make it shorter. And then just, like, clean it up with the clippers? I guess?”

Bucky chuckled at your nervous stammering. His cold hand snaked upward to meet one of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze as your nerves bubbled over.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect- it doesn’t even have to be good. I just want to look like me.”

“Well, you’re gonna look like you, but with a shitty haircut”.

He eyed your hand as you reached for the scissors, a familiar sense of dread filling his chest when the sharp blades caught the light. His instincts wanted him to disarm you, to rip the scissors from your hands and prevent you from coming near him with the pointed metal. But he fought against the reflex. He did his best to remain calm, but his shaky breathing caught your attention. Slowly, you replaced the scissors on the bathroom counter.

“I know you’re not gonna hurt me…it’s just a reflex”, Bucky spoke with his head down, still trying to get a handle on his anxiety, “It's just- I see someone with what could be a weapon, and the training tries to take over automatically- no matter what”.

“That’s okay. Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. We can-”

“Yes. I’m sure. Please, I trust you”.

And so began the transformation.

Armed with a pair of scissors, you slowly moved in the direction of Bucky’s long hair. His shoulders tensed and his brow furrowed as the blades got closer, and it took everything in you not to tear up.

“You’re doing great, Buck. Take a deep breath for me, okay?”

He did as you asked- just as you made the first cut. Slowly and carefully, you cut away at Bucky’s soft locks. The tension in his jaw seemed to let up ever so slightly as your familiar hands weaved their way through his hair like they had so many times before.

He kept his head down and his eyes closed, forcing himself to keep his breathing steady as the scissors carved their way through his long strands. He was doing so well, staying so calm and still for you. It was only when you heard a quiet sniffle that you put the scissors down.

“Buck? Hey, what’s going on?” you knelt at his feet, your hands resting on his knees, “talk to me. Do you regret doing this? Cause we can stop. I’ll just-”

He raised his head for the first time since your started cutting and met your eyes with his tearful stare. “I’m fine- I’m better than fine. This is…these are good tears. I’ve been thinking about this for so long. I’m just- please, would you keep going?” He flashed you a small, reassuring smile that launched you back into action.

There were a few pauses here and there for you to watch YouTube tutorials and look up tips from experts. When you finished with the scissors, a deep sigh of relief left Bucky’s chest. He leaned his head back for a moment and rested it against your body, smiling to himself as your familiar warmth set him at ease. But the loud buzzing of the clippers set him on edge once again.

Even though you’d warned him of the incoming noise, a sharp flinch pulled his muscles into hard lines as the sound vibrated inside of his skull. You quickly shut the clippers off, reinstating the peaceful quiet. But Bucky didn’t want you to stop.

“It’s okay- I’m fine. You can turn them back on…” he said with his head bowed, “I need this”.

And so you turned the clippers back on, once again filling the small room with noise. Bucky flinched ever so slightly as the sound grew closer to his head, but found all the comfort he needed in your free hand resting against his shoulder. His metal hand reached up, laying atop yours and giving it a squeeze for an extra dose of security. this jaw remained tense as the clippers worked their way up and down his scalp, but your hand resting under his was all he needed. And when you were finally finished, his new style actually looked pretty decent.

“Um, okay. I’m done. Give it a look- tell me what you think…” you waited with bated breath for Bucky to finally give his new image peek. It took him a long moment for him to gather the courage to face himself; he’d been forced into change so many times, and now that it was on his own terms, it was somehow scarier. With a deep breath, Bucky faced the mirror.

More tears welled in his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks as he took in the final product. He couldn’t believe it- he actually recognized himself. Staring back at him wasn’t a tortured killer, it was the James Buchanan Barnes he used to know. He was quiet as he stared at himself in the mirror. His gaze never wavered, almost as though he feared that if he blinked or looked away, this version of him would cease to exist yet again. He slowly ran his hand through his short tresses, feeling more like himself than he had in years.

His quiet stare made you nervous. You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you couldn’t stop yourself from piping up, “Do you like it? If not, I can go find one of the guys, maybe they can-”

“The last time I looked like this, I was following Steve onto a Hydra train…”

The room filled with an eerie silence as Bucky thought back on that fateful day. He swore he could still feel the ice cold wind whipping across his face, the sensation of falling without any hope of a safe landing. A small shiver crawled up his spine, and you feared he may lose himself in the violent flashback. But a sudden light in his eyes gave you hope.

Bucky quickly turned around and enveloped you in a hug so tight you saw stars. He whispered thanks into the crook of your neck over and over again as the weight of the moment overwhelmed him completely. The two of you remained locked in each other’s arms for a few long moments, breathing together as Bucky regained his composure. The emotion of it all was almost too much but, as always, your presence brought Bucky back to earth, back to the present.

“Thank you. I know I just said it like a hundred times but…” Bucky pulled away and ran a hand through his hair, “thank you for doing this for me”.

The two of you walked hand in hand back to bed, exhausted from the 3am catharsis. Bucky’s head rested against your sternum as your ran your hand through his hair, getting accustomed to the new cut. Bucky’s body begged him to sleep, but he resisted the pull of rest. He had things he needed to say to you that were far more important than rest- but couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. Instead, his head remained on your chest, your heartbeat bringing him peace as he spoke.

“I can’t thank you enough. For everything. I never thought…I didn’t think I’d get to have someone like you in my life- someone so patient and kind and understanding. You’re just good. I hope you know how much you mean to me, how much I appreciate you. You changed my life. And I don’t know how much longer I have left, you know? But I’m glad I’ve gotten to spend even a little bit of my time on earth with you”.

And now it was you who couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. A few tears welled in your eyes and dripped down your cheeks, dampening your shirt. Bucky heard the uptick in your heartbeat as your emotions swelled, but didn’t point it out. He simply held you a little tighter, waiting until you were ready to speak- and even then, all you managed was a shaky “I’m always here for you, Buck.”

The two of you finally drifted off to sleep, your bodies tangled together in a safe embrace. For Bucky, getting close to you was never about anything other than being your friend. He didn’t open up to you in the kitchen that night because he suspected that you might’ve been able to help him wade through the dark waters of his past- from the very first smile you shot his way, he was hooked. It was a happy accident that being near you helped him learn how to trust again, to accept himself for who he was and who he could be.

And your goal was never to fix Bucky- he wasn’t broken. People joked about him being a problem to be solved or a question to be answered, but you simply saw him as a quiet, tormented man who didn’t deserve even a fraction of what he’d gone through. But when he started to thaw out, to grow comfortable with the idea of closeness with another human being, you realized just how good the two of you were for each other. Watching Bucky slowly rediscover who he was with you by his side felt like watching a chrysalis crack open at the beginning of spring.

——————————-

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @cwbucky @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll 💜

378 notes · View notes

theotheroccassionalfanficwriter · 3 years

Note

I forgot if I sent this request? But Zhongli breeding his bunnyperson lover while they’re in heat?? pleaseee?

Ask and ye shall receive! Yeah, this was the first zhongli breeding request I got so(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Dragon at the Top, Rabbit at the Bottom Summary: The first time you invite Zhongli to join you in your heat, he had ran away, years later him joining you for your heat was something that was established without any need for a contract.

As the God of Marriage and Harvest, you had no shortage of followers and worshippers. This abundance had greatly contributed to your survival during the Archon Wars and the subsequent fall out of the Tragedy of Khaenri’ah. Of course, your affair with the God of Contracts and Lord of Geo had contributed to your continued survival as the Ancestor of the Rabbit Clan, and Liyue’s God of Marriage and Harvest.

Though you had no qualms in displaying your indomitable strength to those who would challenge you, your lazy nature and natural rabbit inclinations had led you to be neutral towards worldly affairs. In a sense, you had only interacted with the mortal world and fellow gods on a work basis, in mortal terms you were a workaholic god. Where others would have been dissuaded by your nature, Morax had been enamored.

To him, you were dedicated to your worshippers and followers. Your good work ethic was a reflection of your appreciation for following contracts. Simply put, in Morax’ eyes you had no discernable faults thus you were desirable as a lover.

The memory of him appearing right before you in that bamboo forest was one of your most interesting memories. Primarily because it was the first time you had ever seen a dragon come into a rabbit’s den in the middle of their heat. It had brought you endless amusement, seeing Morax’ calm serene eyes marred with panic once the scent of your head began to permeate the air of your den.

The outer sleeves of your hanfu had slipped over, revealing the smooth expanse of your skin, a solid evidence of your life that was devoid of hardships. At the same time it was an evidence of your strength that no one had ever been able to over power you. Your long silk like hair was spread out on the soft cool wood of your den’s floor.

“To what great pleasure, do I owe the Geo Archon to have come to my abode without any invitation?” You greeted him, eyes half-lidded with lust as you maintained control of your lucidity.

“That-I-” Morax stammered as he tried to look away from your enticing form that was sprawled out elegantly on what he could only surmise as your nest, “I would like to invite you to see the first lantern rite with me...however I had been re-” His words faded as his eyes were drawn to the rustle of clothes.

Your inner sash was untangled causing your inner robe to slip down and reveal the smooth expanse of your chest, twin red peaks perked up as you smiled at him, “You were?”

“I wasn’t aware that it was your heat…” He gulped and averted his eyes, the red tips of his ears were the only indication that he was embarrassed.

“I apologize for the intrusion, I’ll be taking my leave.”

“I would not mind if Lord Morax would stay and...help me out in my heat?” You had teasingly offered him, your red eyeliner and red lips added to your seductive charm, the twitch of your long black ears gave you a playful look.

“...” His eyes widened before he abruptly turned around and left in a hurry.

You blinked, surprised at his action before your loud laughter echoed in your den. You sank in your soft nest and hoped to see that sort of expression on his face once more.

In his abode, Morax tried to calm his racing heart, he could feel the heat on his face and the slight hardness in his dick. It was the first time he had ever been exposed to such a potent scent of heat.

“Things must be done in order…” He reminded himself as he tried to banish away the images of your alluring half-naked body from his mind.

And yet as he uttered those words, Morax could not help but remember your soft teasing voice inviting him to experience worldly pleasures. Your soft laughter and this hidden side of you somehow tickled his heart.

Liyue, 3600 Years Later

The soft moans and distinct sound of flesh slapping could be heard loud and clear within the halls of your residence. You made no effort to stifle the sounds of pleasure that Zhongli easily coaxed from your mouth. Your hair was in disarray, a tangled mess that only served to make your naked body even more erotic in Zhongli’s eyes.

Your nipples were red and wet from Zhongli’s earlier ministrations, he was truly good with using his mouth not only in sharing Liyue’s history but also in his ability to apply the exact amount of pleasure necessary to make you come from his bite alone. The twitch of your black rabbit ears with each hard thrust of Zhongli’s hip made him aware of how much you were feeling.

His thick monstrous cock was scraping the insides of your slutty hole, making you arch your body from the pleasure that emanated from each thrust that hit your sensitive spot. Your nails dragged a long line of scratch on Zhongli’s back as you came from another bout of pleasure, instinct driving you to clamp on Zhongli’s cock to ensure that his seed would be buried deep inside you.

You felt his arms hold you as your body was lifted from the soft floor of your nest. The sudden change in position gave you a micro orgasm as the head of his cock brushed past your sensitive spot.

“Why haven’t you come yet?” You mumbled in his ear, softly whining from the lack of his thick come filling you.

You felt, rather than saw, his smirk as he placed a kiss on your shoulder. His dragon part took over from his human self as he answered, “You know that this year’s heat is more potent than the last, if I spilled all of my seed inside you right now you would definitely end up pregnant, my dear.”

His sharpened nails softly went down your back, before settling on your ass cheeks and spreading it, Zhongli continued speaking, “Or is it that you want to bear my children now? Would you like that, changing from the God of Marriage and Harvest into the God of Marriage and Childbirth?”

His soft sultry voice made your insides twitch in interest, your breathing becoming hard as the next onslaught of heat came again.

“Shut u-!”

Zhongli had lifted you up and slammed you into his dick, causing you to moan and once again sink into the haze of lust. Saliva dripped down the sides of your mouth as Zhongli repeatedly slammed you, in time with him raising his hips, into his cock doubling the pleasure you felt with each thrust that had you moaning lewdly.

Each thrust had you begging him for more, uncaring of the lewd face you were making which was a far cry from your usual composed face. You no longer knew nor cared for what you were asking from Zhongli, your mind was only focused on his thick cock that repeatedly slammed inside you, hitting your sensitive spot again and again, each thrust throwing your mind deeper into the haze of lust.

Zhongli’s grunts and moans mixed with the squelch of your wet hole as his cock impaled you again and again, scraping your insides and making you long for the feeling of his thick seed.

His hand went up to your tail and squeezed it, making you moan louder just as he thrusted into you before letting a thick load of cum inside your hole right as you came. You cried his name, your arms reaching out for him, wanting to be held as you rode out your orgasm.

And Zhongli, the perfect lover that he was, obliged and held you close to his chest. Opting to rest for a moment as he kept his cock sheathed inside you. He kissed you softly on your mouth while his hands wandered through the smooth expanse of your body feeling its softness before it settled in the dip of your waist.

“Mhmm...You’re already loose enough for my next form…” Zhongli told you and you hummed softly, baring your neck as you felt him transform his body to ensure that he would be able to breed you.

Had you been outside your heat, you would have flushed over Zhongli’s handsome form, one he wore in public as Rex Lapis, but with the heat clouding your reason you could only position yourself invitingly to him. Spreading your legs wide and lewdly inviting him to take you, to breed you with all his might.

Gone was the mortal shell he wore, adorned on top of his head were two horns, his pupils had turned into the slits of a dragon, his teeth had gone sharp, his hand up until his forearm had turned into the smooth scale of a dragon.

His dick had grown thicker and longer, split into two and both were leaking thick droplets of cum that had you biting your lips in anticipation.

“Yánwáng Dìjūn” You called him sweetly, arms outstretched for an embrace and Zhongli sank into your wet hole and into your embrace.

He inhaled the scent of your heat and pheromones that smelled like sandalwood, a comforting scent that never went away from the days before the Archon Wars and its aftermath. This was your scent that never failed to bring him peace, an everlasting scent that lingered for decades.

He moaned at the clench of your hole, biting your neck as your sharp nails dragged long lines on his back. He kissed the spot he bit as your legs hugged his waist, the sensation of his two dicks scraping your insides as it gushed out slick only served to fuel your libido.

Each thrust of his hip brought you immense pleasure, hitting your sensitive spots that had you losing yourself to the haze of lust. Everything in you felt on fire as Zhongli gripped your waist, thrusting his two thick and long cocks inside you again and again all the way. His balls slapping your buttocks making obscene sounds as your wet cavern squelched from the combined liquid of your slick and Zhongli’s previous cum. The sudden loss of his cock filling you inside went unnoticed as he turned you around to lay on your stomach, ass up and presenting your wet and loose hole that was dripping his and your cum into the silk sheets of your nest.

“Yánwáng Dìjūn?”

It was all you could say before you moaned loudly from the force of his dicks slamming inside you, making his thick load of cum from earlier spurt out of your hole.

“Fuwaaa~ahn!”Your broken moans only made him grip you tighter as you clung onto to sheets for your dear life, you felt your hole clench just as the comforting weight of his body enveloped your smaller frame.

His hand wandered to your chest, pinching and twisting your glistening and reddened nipples as his cocks repeatedly thrusted into you.

“Inside me-!” You moaned as Zhongli bit you and unloaded his thick white cum inside of you. The rest of his come dribbled down the insides of your things while some fell into a puddle below your hole.

Zhongli’s pants filled your ears as he gripped you into a hug. His hand then reached downwards to your hole, scooping some of his come into his hand and presenting it into your mouth.

You opened your mouth as his fingers went near and moaned as his fingers began fucking your mouth.

“As the new God of Childbirth, you have to lead by example” Zhongli whispered as you tasted his sweet cum in your tongue, he kissed the back of your neck, “Bear my children.”

Your hole twitched in interest, as you swallowed his cum. You reached for his cocks, noting that it was already hard again, perhaps it was the from the orgasm or maybe it was due to your heat but you found yourself uttering words you would never have dared,

“How bold, for a mere element like you that merely ascended by chance to demand such a thing from a God like me.”

Soon you found yourself being fucked once more, harder and faster, feeling Zhongli’s annoyance and even then you knew that he was still holding back. Nothing like the beast that he truly was beneath the years of knowledge he had gained from achieving the pinnacle of cultivation.

He chanted your name as he impaled his cocks in you again and again, making you throw away all your aloof dignity as you moaned and begged him for more, begging him to fill you up with his seed and show his might.

Zhongli didn’t stop thrusting as you came again and again from his cocks, he didn’t stop even when he came losing himself to the thought of breeding you and dominating you.

His cocks didn’t stop filling you and when your hole couldn’t take it anymore, he fucked your mouth, repeatedly thrusting his two cocks and spurting his come down your throat multiple times as your hole twitched from the jade pillar he had plugged it with to keep all his come inside.

Your face was stained with his come, some of it staining your hair. Your belly was filled with his come and Zhongli had shown no signs of stopping anytime soon. As you felt him come for the nth time you slowly felt your consciousness slip away, the edges of your vision darkening as you tasted the familiar sweet taste of his come fill your mouth.

‘Ah~ I really provoked this dragon this time~’ You thought with mild amusement.

You were quite sure that once your heat was over, you would end up pregnant with his child.

When Spring arrived in Liyue, the entirety of Liyue Harbor found the esteemed consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Zhongli, holding a visibly pregnant lady in his arms. Their belly was large and round, showing despite the considerably loose hanfu they wore but the most eye catching part was the possessive and caring way Mr. Zhongli cared for his pregnant spouse.

From the tips of their inky black hair to the pearls and gems that adorned their rabbit ears, the citizens of Liyue knew that Mr. Zhongli would have a litter of children. He had after all impregnated the most and highly esteemed race descended from Liyue’s God of Harvest and Marriage.

Unbeknownst to the town people, and only known to those who had a sharp sense of smell, the state of your pregnancy did nothing to stop Zhongli from breeding you repeatedly every night, everyday and in every opportunity that was presented to him. Even now as he assisted you in taking your daily walk in the boulevard, Zhongli was pleased by the flush on your cheeks.

It was after all the sign of you feeling the slow drip of his come from him fucking you earlier in one of Liyue’s seedy alley. His adepti powers concealing the act from everyone.

“I can’t wait once you give birth” He whispered into your ear as he hugged you from behind.

Your heat was long over, but the feeling of his cock as he discreetly rubbed it against your ass made you feel like it had returned.

“Mmmm...it’s going to be a long winter then…” You replied absentmindedly as you leaned on his chest. You felt your hole twitch in interest as Zhongli’s hand slipped underneath your skirt, you bit back a moan, pretending that nothing lascivious was happening. Idly, as Zhongli began preparing you for another round of breeding, you remembered that dragons had heats too.

And as you felt his cocks enter you easily, you lost your train of thought and fell into the haze of pleasure as Zhongli fucked you again.

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #R-18

2K notes · View notes

imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 2 years

Text

Warm - Benedict Bridgerton

Prompt: wearing your partners hoodies shirt when it’s cold in the morning. Part of the fall writing prompts.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader Word Count: 1,243 Synopsis: Benedict and the reader wake up in a cold bedroom after their first night together.

Warnings: slightly smutty.

Sun leaked through the window, its rays coating your skin in a golden glow. This was the first thing that Benedict noticed when he woke up. He wasn’t usually an early riser. Perhaps it was the sun shining into the bedroom at his private estate, fittingly named, My Cottage. It might have been the fact that he had forgotten to close the window last night and now a cool breeze blew through the room. But, the most likely reason, he presumed, was that he just couldn’t wait to see you again.

The night before, after months of visiting you at the local tavern, months of flirting, months of long walks through the park, Benedict had finally convinced you to come see his home.

Like most guest who came to visit My Cottage, you teased him for his nickname of the estate, but there was something different about yours. Something familiar. For some reason, when you were teasing him, Benedict could hear Eloise or Colin saying the same thing.

Benedict opened a bottle of wine and by the end of the night, the two of you ended up in bed together.

Of course, this was not Benedict’s first time, but again, something was different about sex when it was with you. Lying with you, kissing you, holding you, all felt different. Felt right.

“You’re staring at me.”

Benedict focused on your face again, his attention being momentarily drawn towards your backside, currently accentuated by the sun. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Good morning,” he said, grinning at you. You smiled back softly. He leaned in to kiss you, humming against your lips.

“Morning.”

“You look radiant,” he said. “The way the sun hits your skin . . .” he trailed off.

“You might as well paint me,” you said sleepily, “Then you could look your fill.”

“I would love to paint you,” he said, his voice sensuously low. “It would be a beautiful challenge, trying to create the exact right color of your skin, your lips, your--”

“Hush,” you said, moving towards him with a soft smile. You kissed him, running your fingers through his hair smoothly. He wanted to keep you close, wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you against him, perhaps even coax you into another round, but you pulled away from him a moment later and curled into his arms.

“It’s freezing,” you said, shivering against his chest.

“Well, here,” he said, puling the blankets up tighter around you. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had the chance yet to change the sheets to the warmer, winter ones.”

“You change your own sheets? I never would have expected that of a Bridgerton,” you teased, smiling up at him. He smiled back and leaned in to kiss your nose.

“Cruel thing,” he said, his voice delicate. You grinned and he kissed you again, his lips moving slowly with yours, his tongue guiding you to practically melt in his arms. You let out a soft whimper and Benedict pulled away, just to look at your face. “You are right,” he said, grinning, “I have never once changed my own sheets.”

“That does not surprise me.” You shivered again and Benedict frowned.

“You’ll catch your death. I will go and strip the other beds,” he said, throwing the covers off himself. “It will be a fun challenge for me.” You smiled but shook your head.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” you said. Your words practically turned him to mush. Benedict put a hand to his bare chest. “You provide warmth, and that is all I am concerned with right now.”

“The blankets--”

“Benedict,” you said, your voice soft, practically a whine. He smiled at you devilishly and made his way back to the four poster bed. Before he laid down next to you, he reached down for his shirt, forgotten in a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.

“Try this on,” he said, slipping under the covers. You sat up and raised your arms, making Benedict smile. For only a moment, he allowed himself to admire your bare chest, before pulling the white shirt over your head. You slid your arms into the sleeves and then wrapped them around Benedict. You were laughing as your lips met his. He pulled you back into his arms, your legs wrapping around him as the two of you fell back onto the pillows.

“Grab the covers,” you said, pulling away from his lips for a moment. He grumbled, kissing you a few times before reaching for the blankets. He pulled them up and over your heads. In the dark, his lips found yours.

“Keep me warm, Benedict,” you gasped, breaking away from him. He smiled against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck.

“I thought you wanted to stay in the covers.”

“I do.”

“And the shirt?” he asked, a wicked grin stretching over his face.

“I’ll leave it on.” You cupped his cheeks and brought him back to your lips, positioning yourself underneath him.

Once again, Benedict was struck by the sense of newness. The thought of you in his shirt, and nothing but his shirt, was somehow more intoxicating than the naked body he awoke next to. You wiggled underneath him, against him, and it was like he was a youth again, struggling to keep himself under control with a beautiful woman in his arms.

“Well, if it will keep you warm, it would be extremely ungentlemanly of me to deny you such a request.”

“Oh hush. We could cuddle and stay just as warm.”

“Well, now I like this idea,” he said, looking into your eyes as he lowered himself down your body. He kissed your chest, in the small section of skin that his shirt revealed. He lifted the shirt ever so slightly, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow when you began to protest. He kissed your stomach lightly, before moving lower.

He drowned himself in the sounds you made. You wiggled against his skin and with a firm hand he kept you in place, kept you within reach of his lips. He glanced up at you, found your eyes on him, his shirt clinging to every curve of your body, and vowed to see you like this again, whenever and wherever he could.

When you cried out, it was Benedict’s name on your lips, and with a few strokes of his hand, he was moaning with you. Once the two of you settled down, he made his way back up your body, kissing every inch of skin he could see until his lips found yours.

“Are you warned to your satisfaction?” he asked.

“I am.”

“Good, it would upset my mother to know that I didn’t assist a lady in her time of need.”

“I think she would be upset to know many of the things you’ve done in the last two days.”

“Good thing she is not here.”

“Indeed it is,” you said, smiling at him with something, something that may have been love, in your eyes. “Will you still hold me, though? I would hate to catch a chill after all that work you put in to keeping me warm.”

“As would I,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “I would do anything to keep you warm, Y/N. To keep you in this bed with me.”

“Except change the sheets to warmer ones?”

“For you? An exception could be made.”

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction

79 notes · View notes

thetypingpup · 2 years

Text

Fire and Sun AU- Starlit Splendor

Pairing: Storm goddess!Reader x Sun god!Haechan

Wordcount: 4.3K

Content: making out, fingering (female receiving), little bit of nippleplay, unprotected sex, friends to fwb, use of the petname ‘princess’, little bit of praise

Before he lit up the world, Haechan lit up your life.

Even now in the middle of the night, laying amongst the long tresses of grass dyed dark by nightfall, his presence beside you is still as bright as ever. He’s radiant in a way that even the darkness of night can’t take away from him, giving him a comforting presence you can bask in even if you’re not facing him directly.

The longer you stare up above, the longer you get lost in the spectacle. The sky is so deep and rich in hue it’s tinted purple, stained in streaked splashes with the silver light of the moon. A brilliant array of stars dots the dark canvas, creating patterns and shapes that tell an endless amount of stories with celestial jewels. You let yourself get immersed in the display of light, your line of sight darting from one cluster of sparkling stars to another. A smile automatically lifts your lips as you bask in the silver luminescence.

“What do you think is up there?” Haechan wonders aloud, the sound of his voice making you turn to face him.

“You mean besides the spirits of former gods? Probably a lot of nothing, but it sure is pretty from down here.” You hum in response.

“I mean past the stars we can see,” He nods towards a point in the distance far past your line of sight, “Up in The Cosmos.”

“That is a realm known only to the Primevals.” You shrug, reciting the same answer you’ve been given for your entire existence whenever you asked about it.

“So they say. But truly, what prevents us from going up there? I’m sure at least Jisoo has an idea of what lies above.” He reasons, and you’re not surprised by the emphatic insistence in his voice. This is far from the first time he wondered what’s beyond.

“The same way you don’t go past the fabric of the sky during the day, and I don’t go beyond the highest cloud, Jisoo only goes as far above as she’s allowed.” You explain in a tone you hope doesn’t sound too placating.

“And what sort of sky gods are we if we aren’t allowed to travel the entire sky?” He furrows his brows at the notion, and it’s as though you can see his thoughts running rampant in his mind from the expression on his face.

“The same way the underworld gods stick to their designated spaces underground, or the earth gods don’t go beyond the bounds of mortal territories. Even the sea gods have a point where they stop swimming and turn back.” You turn to him fully, propping yourself up on your side, “We all have our limits, and the borders are drawn around those limits.”

“Because of other deities from distant lands?”

“Presumably yes.” You shrug, quickly adding, “Though truly I’m not sure. I’ve never thought about it this deeply before.”

He falls silent, his focus shifting from the sky directly to you. You see his eyes search yours, and you can’t help but gaze at the way the moonlight highlights the high points of his face in a way that makes him look truly ethereal. It’s just like the sun god, to be able to glow like this even at night. Your thoughts meander the longer you gaze at him. Like the rest of the pantheon, he is unbelievably beautiful, but you suppose he’s been platonically familiar to you for so long, you haven’t allowed yourself to truly admire him before. Sure you’ve pictured a few things every now and again, but that’s as far as you’ve allowed to drift into fantasies about your best friend. Now, in this quiet moment, where you’re both completely alone with no chance of interruption, you let your gaze wander. You take in the planes of his round face, his expressive eyes, his plush lips, and you can’t help but appreciate the sight before you. Little do you know he’s doing the exact same thing with you.

“How are you feeling?” Haechan carefully breaks the silence with a soft voice, right before your gaze can dip much lower than his collarbones.

“Right now?” You consider the query for a moment before answering, “I feel fine, why?”

“I mean about…about Jaehyun and Rosé.” Even he winces at the mention of their names, “You haven’t talked about what happened in quite some time.”

“That’s because there’s nothing more to say.” You surprise yourself as well as him with how resigned you sound, how disconnected you seem to be from the entire situation. But it’s been at least five decades since you created the deserts in the east. You’re not sure what else there is to go on about, and you tell him as such, “I’ve done everything there was to do, said everything there was to say. There’s nothing left.”

A hum of acknowledgement emits from him before he falls silent. His lips purse in a way you know means he’s thinking, but all you can focus on is how inviting that plush pout is. His fingers move in a way you know means he’s debating on what to do with his hands, but all you can focus on is how strong and beautiful they look. It’s truly baffling, how you have been around him for your entire existence, and never let yourself take in how attractive he is before. You keep yourself from vocalizing your thoughts, not wanting to obscure the moment, but you certainly indulge in your fleeting notions.

It’s as though he can sense your sentiment, because he fills in for your silence as soon as your mind begins to whirl, “We should go up there. Up to The Cosmos.”

Your jaw drops slightly in an expression of dumbfounded disbelief, and you barely notice the way his eyes hone in on your lips, just in case you imagined it, “You didn’t hear a single word I said earlier, did you?”

“I heard you.” He nods, and the grass rustles as he shifts closer to you. You’re not sure what distracts you more, the fact that his scent is more pronounced the closer he gets, or the dark intensity of his gaze as he looks right into your eyes. You almost don’t hear him when he says, “I heard that there is nothing physically stopping us from going up there. The only thing preventing us are vague social constraints.”

“We go there when we pass on, just like everyone else before us.” You tell him, barely registering your own voice amidst the loud calamity of carnality beginning to accumulate within you.

“But don’t you want to see it before you become a cluster of stars?” His tongue peeks out to sweep over his lips for the briefest of moments and that’s when your breath hitches sharply, your chest lifting in a way you’re certain he noticed. And he did, if his brief glance downwards is anything to go by. You fall silent again, any words you try to say twisted up in the back of your drying throat.

You’ve seen him seduce others before. He partakes in indulgences of all sorts, so you’re used to him using various approaches to lure people in and inspire lust within them, approaches that so far have never failed him. And you can see why. You’ve never seen that smoldering smirk first hand, never felt the tension of him slowly approaching him while he makes statements riddled with multiple implications. But now you see it, right before you, and wow his aura is even more lustrous than you could’ve imagined. You’re drawn to him so easily, already wanting to close the distance between you both, wanting to feel those beautifully plush lips against yours as your bodies meet in an intimate embrace.

“Well if we can’t go up there…” He reasons, his voice taking on that telltale lilt that foretells mischievous intent, “Why don’t I bring the stars down here?”

“What do you mean by that?” Your brows furrow in the middle, your voice still cautiously skeptical, just in case you’re misreading this entire moment.

“I’m saying, if you’re up for it, I can make you see stars.” His eyes dip down to your lips before his gaze meets yours, a charming smile lifting his lips, “Up close and personal.”

The sound of your racing heart pounds in your ears, intensifying more as time ticks on. You’re surprised by how composed you sound when you ask, “Is this your way of coming onto me?”

He tilts his head slightly with a lopsided smile that’s far more attractive than it has any right being, “That entirely depends. Is it working?”

Oh he has no idea how well it’s working. His proximity alone illuminates a flare of arousal right between your legs, brightening with each passing moment. You’re just shy of spreading your legs right at this moment and inviting him between them. You’re still in disbelief that your friend, your best friend, is displaying the same wanton desire that you’ve only seen him display from afar. He may light up the world by day, but he’s been lighting up your world for far longer, and you feel as though you shouldn’t take that fact lightly.

“I can stop if you want.” His voice softens, his hand carefully fitting to the curve of your face, “The last thing I wish to do is obscure our friendship if you don’t feel the same way. Truth be told, I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time, having you like this. But it’s entirely up to you, how far we go, if we indulge at all.”

“I want you.” Your answer is immediate, and you lean into his touch to emphasize your point. You’ve gone so long without feeling anything, let alone sometime as simple as lust, and you don’t wish to feel numb anymore. And right now, with him offering himself to you so blatantly, intimacy with your best friend sounds like an excellent idea.

Both of his hands cradle your face when he kisses you. He starts off slowly, tenderly, easing you into the sensations. He acclimates you to his particular kind of fervor, fitting his lips against yours with practiced ease, letting them linger long enough for you to enjoy how plush and soft they are before leaning in for another kiss. His kisses relax you instantly, your lips easily parting for more. A wondrous glow of arousal ignites within you, gleaming right at the center of your chest before moving down between your legs. If it feels this good to kiss him, you can only imagine what other sorts of euphoria he can give you.

You lie back against the grass, grabbing onto the front of his robes and bringing him down with you. He hums against your lips, pleasantly surprised by your forwardness, and arranges himself on top of you. It sinks in that he’s not just kissing one of his casual flings, or a one time partner he met at a party, or someone he just so happened to find attractive. He’s kissing you, who he cares about more deeply than anyone else in his life, and his cheeks warm at the thought. He just wants to be perfect for you.

You can feel his heart hammering in his chest when he presses against you, conveying that he’s just as eager as he is somewhat nervous. His touch is accented with the slightest tremor as he moves them down your body and you’re surprised to see even a hint of jittery apprehension from someone who radiates so much effortless tenacity, particularly when it comes to sex. It’s rare to see him display any ounce of nerves, and you know that in those rare moments, he needs reassurance. So you run your fingers through his soft hair and let your tongue brush against his at a deliberately languid pace, wordlessly assuring him that you want this as much as he does, that he has nothing to worry about with you.

“Tell me.” His voice is deep and heavy when he speaks, searching your eyes with a desperation you thought would be foreign to someone so experienced with sensuality, “Have you thought about me before?”

“In passing, yes.” You confess, “And this is already better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

“I meant what I said, when I told you that I’ve thought about you like this before. I’ve thought about it quite often.” He starts to undo your clothes, letting the fabric slip off your shoulders. Even his warm touch sliding over your skin has you sighing in satisfaction. You can still sense a slight nervousness within him, as if he’s hesitant to go too far or make a move you won’t like.

“Then why don’t you do away with words and show me?” It’s your turn to let sensual intent seep into your voice. He blinks up at you, somewhat taken aback by your words. This time, you fill in for his silence and sensually kiss along the moles that dot his face, watching him relax and sigh at the feeling. Letting your thumb trace the contour of his cheek, you tell him, “Show me how much you want me.”

“With pleasure.” That confidence you’ve come to admire so much comes back in full force, and with a grin, he lets his mouth slip down your body. He kisses constellations onto your skin, as if illuminating your nerves and lighting up pleasure within you, soft and subtle like starlight. Kiss after soft kiss lights flares of passion that have your body relaxing right against the ground, your thighs subtly parting more and more with each passing moment. His mouth lingers over your chest, mouthing at the peaks and valleys of your breasts and memorizing the shape. Even as his motions get more fervent, there’s such deliberate care behind his every kiss and every touch that it makes your head spin. Even the way he wraps his lips around one of your nipples and sucks shows such passion that you moan out into the night. Spurred on by your sounds, he keeps going, his other hand fondling your other breast as he suckles on your nipple, letting his tongue swirl around the pert bud. Every stroke of his tongue illumes a radiant glow that permeates through your entire body, centering on the heat that rises on your face and pools between your legs.

“You’re so beautiful.” He hums before switching to your other nipple, his hands now making their way lower, closing in on your parted thighs. You arch your hips up, grasping the back of his hair to keep his mouth in place. You moan louder when you feel the turgid flesh of his length through his clothes, and you buck your hips faster in search of more friction. Keeping his mouth on your breasts, his hand trails down between your legs, finding your clit in a matter of moments. A brighter flare of pleasure over takes you as his fingertips stroke the sensitive bud in swirling circles, making you cry out with need.

“Haechan please, keep going.” You plead, spreading your legs wider, trying to coax his hand further between them. With a moan, he obliges, letting his fingertips dip lower, down to your entrance.

“Damn, you’re so wet.” He moans at the feeling of your slick arousal coating his fingers. He lets it gather on the tips of his fingers before rubbing your clit once more, lubricating you with your own arousal. His mouth works your breast, suckling faster, letting out these deep groans that send vibrations thrumming through you.

“Need more.” You gasp out, “Need to feel your fingers in me.”

“Of course, princess.” The endearment rolls off his tongue so naturally, as it has countless times before, but hearing him call you that in a voice heavy with debauched desire already has you clenching around nothing. Your lips flare and part for his fingers, inviting him into your tight heat, and your head tilts back against the ground as you feel the stretch of two of his digits. He effortlessly sets up an enticing pace, crooking his fingers with each thrust in a way that already has white dancing behind your vision. Your gaze hazes over, the stars above beginning to blur together as you indulge in the sweet pleasure he gives you. His thumb strokes your clit in tandem with his thrusts, irradiating bright flares of fervent desire within you.

“Fuck you’re so-- so good at this.” Your chest heaves with the effort to speak, your hands scrambling to find purchase on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere he can reach.

“I would hope so.” He chuckles against your chest, pressing a kiss right above your racing heart, “I spend the better part of my time doing this.”

And his experience definitely shines through. He finds your tender spots deep inside you without much effort, making dazzling flashes of bliss radiate with a brilliance you didn’t think was possible. With the added stimulation of his mouth alternating from nipple to nipple and mouthing along the peaks and valleys of your chest, you’re transported to a realm of overwhelming ecstasy. Your breathing picks up, your heart races, your hips arch up and buck in time with the spikes of pleasure. Your body writhes beneath him on the grass, basking in the light, letting out unabashed screams and sobs of his name.

As incredible as he’s making you feel, you don’t want to feel that peak of pleasure just yet. You want to save that for when he’s actually inside of you, so you grab his wrist sharply, stopping his motions. He halts immediately, his eyes darting over the planes of your face in concern, “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, your words taking on the form of a desperate whine, “Don’t wanna cum yet. I wanna feel your cock.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” With a smirk, he pulls back, making you whine at the loss of his fingers inside of you. He moves his clothes just enough out of the way to free his cock, and you can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of him. Saliva pools beneath your tongue as you take in the sight of his length, from the prominent veins etched onto the sides, to the pink tint of the flared tip, to the beads of precum that pearl at the tip that gleam in the moonlight. before dripping down right between your legs.

“I take it that you see something you like.” He quips, making a show of slowly stroking his length as he shuffles between your legs.

“Would it be wrong to say that I want to taste you?” You remark shamelessly, still mesmerized by the sight.

“Not at all princess, but perhaps some other time. Right now, I can’t wait another moment to be in you.” The head of his cock presses against your waiting entrance and you feel yourself practically aching with yearning, making you tremble beneath him.

“Then don’t keep me waiting and fuck me already.” You don’t care how demanding you sound, you need him now. Thankfully he seems to be just as desperate and slides into you in one smooth motion. You both let out synchronized moans once he’s fully sheathed inside you, hips flush against each other, bodies completely connected. He drapes himself over you, chest resting right atop yours, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily.

“You feel even better than I imagined.” He groans against you, rocking his hips shallowly, not wanting to leave the vice grip of your tight heat for even a moment, “So warm, so fucking wet. I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“Haechan please, please fuck me. Please, I need you to fuck me, now.” You grasp his shoulder blades, your nails already digging into the flesh, and those brief flashes of delectable pain are just enough to spur him on. He pulls out about halfway before sliding back into you, making you mewl with delight. He decides that now isn’t the time for fancy tricks or elaborate patterns. Now is the time to feel, and he does just that. He keeps fucking you just like that, making sure the head of his cock presses against that soft spot deep within you while he indulges in your rippling walls squeezing around him. You let your nails trace lines down his back as you lose yourself to pleasure, lose yourself to the wanton desire that consumes you, lose yourself to him. He rocks your body with each thrust, jostling your body over the grass in a way that makes the soft blades run across your arms and back, only adding to the myriad of sensations. Words escape your mind, dissolving into nothing as you take in the way he makes you feel.

Haechan gazes down at you in awe, wondering to himself how you manage to look even more beautiful. Seeing you completely lost to the throes of pleasure, seeing the way you look up at him with those dark, half lidded eyes, seeing your body tremble because of the pleasure he’s making you feel, it’s almost too much for him to bear. Holding your face, he kisses you deeply, moaning out against your mouth as he quickens the pace. He bucks his hips with ecstatic urgency as he already feels himself getting close to the edge. He holds himself back, wanting to savor this moment, wanting to hear more of those sweet sounds of delight pour from your lips in sharp cries.

That radiant flare of pleasure becomes more glaring and blinding by the moment, your inner thighs trembling in a telltale sign of impending release. The bright splendor of sensual bliss takes over your body, your hands scrambling for purchase as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in and making him slide impossibly deeper inside you. You kiss him back as best you can, right until that light completely overwhelmed you. You scream his name, your back arching sharply as you tighten around him in fluttering pulses. He picks up the pace in response to your peaking pleasure, and a sly hand sneaking between you and rubbing your clit is the last bit of stimulation you need.

He makes you see stars as you cum, just as he promised.

Feeling you cum around him takes him right to the edge, and hearing you scream his name like that sends him careening right over the edge. He moans your name right against the column of your throat, burying his face against you, shuddering as his hips stutter with each wave of liquid heat he shoots deep inside you.

He rests on top of you as you both come down, both of you panting heavily. Your mind still whirls, heart still palpably racing, and the only thing you can think to say is, “Wow…”

“I know.” He hums, kissing the spot on your neck right where he moans your name moments before, “That was incredible.”

“Now I see what all the fuss is about, why people can’t seem to get enough of you.” You giggle in post orgasm bliss, running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Glad to see my reputation precedes me.” You feel his chuckle rumbling deep in his chest, and something about being in such close proximity like this makes you smile.

“We are still friends, right?” He inquires, and you’re somewhat taken aback by the seriousness in his tone.

“Of course we are. It wouldn’t be the first time either of us had sex with a friend.” You remind him, wondering to yourself where the heaviness came from, especially since to you, Haechan is the epitome of treating the exchange of pleasure as something entirely carefree.

“Just wanted to be sure.” He smiles, and you feel your heart stutter for a moment at how breathtaking he looks.

“And was this…?” You trail off, your mind still racing to try and form words, “Was this just a one time thing?”

“It certainly doesn’t have to be.” He tells you as he holds your face, kissing you in a way that’s decidedly innocent considering everything that just transpired, “Whenever you need release, or intimacy, I’ll be here, should you so desire.”

And that’s probably exactly what you need. After going for such a long time hiding in fear from your own emotions, pleasurable indulgences are the perfect way to feel in a way that doesn’t stride into dangerous territory. And who better to indulge with than someone you trust on a level as deeply as Haechan?

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much.” You hum your assent, being sure to add the detail of, “Of course this doesn’t prevent you from being with whoever you want.”

“I do have a reputation to maintain.” He laughs, wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace, “Obviously that caveat extends to you as well. Just know that whenever you need me, I’ll be here. I’ll still look out for you princess, just in a bit of a different sense now. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

And as you continue to kiss him, you feel those wings of detachment begin to form. With each soft kiss, you feel yourself floating high above the earthly tethers of amorous emotion. You detach yourself from the weight of heartbreak, detach yourself from romantic expectations, and every kiss from your best friend adds a new feather to the magnificent plume that has you soaring high above the ground. The wax that holds the wings together is melted into shape by Haechan’s radiant light, and hardened by the cool night air.

#the pup actually types #fire and sun au #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct haechan smut #nct donghyuck smut #nct dream haechan smut #nct dream donghyuck smut #take two hopefully people see this

65 notes · View notes

frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

Naive (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the humans Wanda has met, you’re suddenly her favorite.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️ (be warned that this shit will get much darker in the future), subtle hand kink (don’t @ me)

A/N: special shoutout to the anon that inspired this fic series, I hope you enjoy this weird combo of AOU x IW Wanda. also if you have any previous knowledge of demons, throw it out the window before you read this because I guarantee that things will not add up here lmao

Wanda’s favorite thing about interacting with humans is her effect on them.

Walking through a crowd is fine. She’ll brush a few shoulders and rattle a few unsuspecting adults, flash solid black eyes at kids that either stare or scream. It’s temporary and brings a bit of fun to an otherwise dull day.

The real joy comes from direct contact. Wanda travels miles away from her apartment building, choosing different stores, restaurants and cafés just to keep things interesting. A new cashier each time. She’ll have an air of friendliness about her that isn’t exactly fake; she finds most humans to be charming, despite their fragile minds.

“Will that be all?” Roy--according to his name tag--asks with a grin and Wanda nods in response. “Okay, your total is $21.14. You can just swipe or insert your card in the machine there.”

Wanda inserts her card carefully, complimenting the decor as she waits for the transaction to be completed. After returning it to her wallet, she flashes a soft smile at Roy as he hands her the receipt, purposefully brushing her fingers with his. As his skin makes contact with one of her rings, she notices the goosebumps rising along his arm and hears his breathing pattern change.

“Roy? Everything alright?”

She hears the concerned voice of a coworker as she makes her way to a table to wait for her meal, already seated by the time Roy coughs in an effort to collect himself.

“Yeah, just feeling off I guess. I’ll be fine.”

A chuckle falls from her lips as she watches the poor cashier attempt to return to his previous state of mind, finding the urge to smile and wave when his eyes cut over to her. His voice trembles when he calls her name and he stands as far away as possible when she approaches the counter to grab her order.

“Thanks for everything, Roy.”

Sensing that he’s startled enough without it, she keeps her other tricks hidden in her sleeves and simply walks away, holding her laughter until the doors close behind her. A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

The next day brings Wanda to a bookstore around lunchtime. She takes a minute to browse the aisles, taking an exceptionally long time lingering in the section harboring books on angels and demons. The stereotypes amuse more than upset her like they used to in the beginning.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda turns to make eye contact with the employee behind her, about to ask a question for the fun of it when a laugh catches her attention. Her gaze redirects to the café counter straight ahead, and a warm feeling washes over her when she hears the laugh again.

You’re genuinely entertained by the elderly woman purchasing a bagel with exact change, and Wanda manages to catch the end of the conversation as she draws near.

“Safe to say, I haven’t worn the blouse since that day.” She bids you farewell with her bagel and receipt in hand, eyes twinkling as she observes Wanda on her way past. “You have such bright and beautiful hair, dear.”

“Thank you,” Wanda responds with sincerity, attention locked on you while approaching the counter. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you greet her with a voice much calmer than the one you use with most of your other customers. “What can I get you today?”

You watch the orange haired woman turn her head to study the items behind the glass, taking the time to do your own inspection. You admire the dark red jacket that covers most of her torso, gaze lingering on the multiple rings hugging her fingers that seem to be smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, almost in a nervous fashion. It brought you a bit of comfort, assuming that she was affected in the same way.

“What do you recommend?”

“Oh, well…” You walk over to open the glass case from your side of the counter, naming each item as you grab it. “I usually have this pretzel that’s stuffed with spinach and cheese and this brownie. I can heat both of them for you, if you’d like.”

“I would love that,” Wanda responds in a grateful tone, placing a bottle of water on the counter after taking it from the fridge. “And I’ll also have one of these incredibly overpriced waters.”

You begin her order with a laugh, and she watches you ring everything up with the speed and expertise of a seasoned employee, wondering how she’d gone this long without running into you. The total price is brought to the digital screen just before her card is inserted, and she takes the time to quickly slip her rings into her pockets while you’re taking the pretzel and brownie over to the miniature oven. The last thing she wants to do is scramble your brain before she even gets the chance to explore it.

“Here’s your receipt,” you announce while giving Wanda the slip of paper, your eyes lingering on her hand for a moment before looking at her again. “Your food should be ready soon.”

“Okay, thank you…” Her sentence trails off as she searches for your name, the letters rolling off her tongue with ease when she finally locates it on the apron covering your chest.

“You’re welcome…” You trail off in the same fashion and she catches on quickly.

“Wanda.”

“You’re welcome, Wanda,” you repeat as you hand her the water bottle before she can walk away.

Less than two minutes later, you approach the table she’s taken over with two small ceramic plates and a sheepish grin.

“I should’ve asked if you were going to stay a while, but I can grab some bags if you need to go.”

Wanda shakes her head with a laugh as she takes them from you, startling you when she doesn’t react to the excessive heat radiating from the dishes.

“This is perfect.”

She takes her time with eating, and your attention is drawn to her between customers, grateful that she’s too busy with her phone to notice your stares. On the other hand, Wanda’s mind is filled with thoughts of you. What you look like when you think she can’t see you glancing over, what you smelled like when you were close. The nerves, the kindness, the desire to learn her name despite her being just another customer to you. She knows that you noticed her missing rings, but she’s already prepared with a cover story. A two minute conversation has her dying to pick your brain more, learn your habits and become more familiar with your body, beyond a simple brush of your fingertips. She already wants you to herself, just the way you came, without her interference for now; that’ll come later.

A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

Despite Wanda leaving an hour before your shift ended, she lingers in your thoughts on the bus ride and walk home. You find yourself recalling her kind smile, fidgeting fingers and the scent of her perfume when she passed you on her way out, and you’re so deep in your memories that you end up colliding with your apartment door.

“That’s not going to get you inside any faster, dear.”

Your cheeks burn as you face Ruth for the second time today, the first time being earlier when you sold her a bagel.

“I know, Ruthie,” you respond sheepishly as you pull your keys from your pocket. “Is everything okay? You’re usually in bed watching a cowboy show by now.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I could talk to you.” She checks to see if the hallway is empty before opening her door and waving you over. “Come on, quickly.”

You scurry into the apartment behind her, taking in the scene before you while she locks the door. Having visited her before, you know she keeps the television at a higher volume, but it seems louder than normal.

“I know I might seem like I’ve lost my marbles, but I wanted to warn you about that woman you saw today....The one with the bright hair.”

“You mean Wanda?” you question, eyes widening when she nods. “Warn me about what?”

“There’s something off about that Wanda, if that even is her real name.” She snatches her arm out of her robe and brings it closer for you to see. “I’ve had these chills since I brushed against her earlier. Something’s not right with her. How do you even know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assure her as you help her slip her arm back in the sleeve. “I only know her name because we were having a friendly conversation and she used mine. I was just being polite to someone I’ll probably never even see again.”

“Just be careful,” she pleads as you head toward her door again, and you offer your best attempt at a relaxed smile.

“I’ll be fine, Ruthie. Get some rest, okay?”

You hear her lock the door behind you as you make your way back to your own apartment, rushing through the process of unlocking the door and securing it once you’re inside. As much as you don’t want to let Ruth get you worked up over a stranger, you can’t help thinking about the odd little things you noticed earlier.

It isn’t unusual for someone to linger after buying food or drinks from your counter, whether they have homework or even just a phone to keep them busy. Wanda seemed to be waiting for someone the entire time, and you remember hoping that she wasn’t on a date, despite not wanting her to be stood up. But she simply slid her phone in her pocket and departed with a friendly wave as if nothing had happened.

You especially remember her waving at you with those ringless fingers, and wondering silently where the intricate jewelry had disappeared to. Obviously you just assumed that the rings were tucked away on her person and not dumped in the trash, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up on her accessories in the middle of the day. Part of you--a part that you didn’t dare to address--wondered if she’d emptied her hands to send you a subtle sign. No, that can’t possibly be it.

Sleeping proves to be difficult with so many unanswered questions floating about, but you eventually give into the act. A few hours later, you peel open your eyes when you think you hear something in the room. The digital clock that sits on your bedside and serves as an alarm and occasional radio reads 3:34am, and you’re just about to close your eyes again when you hear another sound. You raise your head to turn toward your closet, and a scream is trapped in your throat as you catch sight of a figure in the shadows.

The next time you wake, the sun is out and your alarm is blaring on the nightstand beside you. Your gaze flickers over to the closet as you reach out to silence it, your heartbeat dropping slightly when you don’t see anything other than clothes. Deciding that you must’ve been dreaming, you shake away the fearful thoughts and head to the bathroom to start getting ready for another day of work.

The only thing you haven’t decided on yet is whether you want to see Wanda again.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #frosty's dark!fics

672 notes · View notes

nev3rfound · 4 years

Text

someone i once knew : b.b

bucky is left alone in the compound whilst the rest of the avengers are sent on a mission. yet, to bucky’s surprise he isn’t alone as he’s about to meet tony’s new assistant and someone from his past. (3.4k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX

“You sure you’ll manage on your own?” Steve asks as he walks alongside Bucky.

Bucky quirks a brow at his oldest friend. “What, you don’t trust me?” He quips back, hearing Sam let out a dry laugh from the quinjet as he helps load the last of the supplies. “He doesn’t get an opinion.” Bucky adds, and Steve chuckles under his breath.

“I do trust you, Buck. But I just wanna make sure you’re okay being on your own here.” Steve explains, crossing his arms as Bucky buries his hands into his jacket pockets.

It was going to be Bucky’s first time being completely alone in the compound. Everyone else was required for a mission, and Bucky simply wasn’t needed this time. Initially, it stung a little- that Sam was going over him, but some downtime never hurt anyone, right?

“I’ll be alright, Steve.” Bucky states as Tony emerges from the elevator, huffing loudly as he looks at his phone.

“Oh, tin man? Do me a favour and don’t scare my new assistant,” Tony calls out, and Bucky looks to Steve who simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Since when did you hire an assistant?” Steve asks, and Tony stops beside them, locking his phone as he puts it into his pocket.

“Since I lost the last one,” Tony retorts.

“You married your old assistant, Tony.” Bucky comments and Tony simply rolls his eyes.

“Just, don’t scare her off, she has potential.” Tony remarks before carrying on toward the Quinjet, leaving Steve to bid farewell to Bucky.

Stepping back, Bucky rolls on his heels. “Guess I won’t be completely alone after all.” Bucky huffs. It is one thing to be alone in the compound with one of the other Avengers, but someone he hasn’t even met yet, that’s a level of confidence and comfortability he has yet to reach.

“Hey,” Steve pats Bucky’s shoulder. “you’ll be fine, just be your charming self.”

“I think he died back in the forties, pal.” Bucky mutters as he shrugs it off, it’s only for a few weeks at most.

“Just, don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” Steve says softly as he steps back from Bucky, turning around toward the Quinjet.

Shuffling on the spot, Bucky watches as they leave. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky mumbles to himself as he walks back into the compound, wandering whereabouts his company for the next few weeks is hiding out.

It had been a quiet few days and Bucky had still yet to meet the newest addition to Starks team and started to wonder if Tony was messing with him for the fun of it.

At least, he thought as much until he was training in the gym when the faint sound of the piano caught his attention.

Pausing his work out, Bucky couldn’t stop his curiosity from getting the better of him as he exits the gym, hearing a familiar melody clearly coming from the shared living space in the compound.

As stealthily as possible, Bucky enters the open space and can make out a figure sat at the usually absent grand piano. Tony purchased it a year ago to fill the space, even though no one could play, it did work in making the compound look somewhat homely.

Stepping further into the room, Bucky knew the song, his Mother always played it on her radio and witnessed her and his Father dancing to it.

Humming the tune, you remain oblivious to the company creeping into the room as you remain concealed by the bonnet of the piano.

“Wake and dream medley?” Bucky speaks up, and you jump in your seat, hitting the keys of the piano causing an awful blunt sound to echo in the open space. “Sorry,” Bucky adds, now retreating into himself as you remain hidden. “I, I could hear you from the gym, I love, loved that song.”

“No need to apologise,” You chuckle, and Bucky tenses upon hearing your voice.

It sounds so familiar, too familiar for his liking.

Rising to your feet, you rub your hands together before closing the bonnet of the piano, now in full view to Bucky who can feel his whole body shutting down.

Bucky steps back in disbelief, clinging onto the sofa behind him with all his might as you hesitantly step forward. “I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner, Mr Stark had me doing a fair bit of paperwork so I’ve been holed up in my suite for the past few days.” You explain, but Bucky can’t seem to meet your gaze. “I’m Y/n,”

You extend your arm, holding your hand out to Bucky who stares in disbelief.

“Is this some kinda cruel joke?” Bucky questions, slowly looking up at your confused expression. “Y/n, is it really you?” He stares at you, but your confusion only deepens as you lower your arm back to your side.

“Are you alright?” You ask, but Bucky continues to eye you with evident shock. “Have we met before?”

A dry laugh leaves Bucky’s lips as he straightens himself up. “Do you not know me?” His voice is breaking as you shake your head, and Bucky can feel the moment of relief in his heartbreak once again.

“I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken with someone else?” You nervously laugh, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Bucky simply nods and straightens himself up. “I’m Bucky, Bucky Barnes. And I do apologise for that, you just remind me of an old friend.” Bucky brushes it off, knowing it’s not possible, it just can’t be.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Bucky,” You tell him with a smile, one that Bucky once knew and loved, but he forces himself to remove that thought, it isn’t her. “the song I, I guess it was from your time?” You ask, moving back over to the piano and opening the bonnet.

“Yeah,” Bucky walks over, leaning against it as you take a seat, resuming the melody as if you had never paused. “I remember it growing up. How come you know it?”

Your fingers glide over the keys effortlessly and your eyes close for a moment. Whilst they’re closed, Bucky takes the chance to look at you properly, noting your distinct features, identical to the girl he once knew.

“I’m not sure,” You admit, lifting your fingers from the keys as you glance up at Bucky. “I, I just do.” Your brows furrow together, and Bucky notes how you look back at the piano.

“Well, it’s a nice song, so thank you for playing it.” Bucky speaks up. “I’ll be around, so I’ll be seeing you.” He mutters before exiting the room and rushes back to the gym, barely hearing you saying goodbye.

Once Bucky is gone, you look back at the piano. There’s no sheet music, but you knew the song, you knew the exact keys to play and the words as you hummed along.

There was something about Bucky, something amicable and undeniably so. You could feel it in the back of your mind, a nagging sensation to remember, remember something, anything. Yet, as always nothing follows through.

You and Bucky had been living in the compound for an entire week, and you had only come across him three times in total. The first at the piano, the second was after an attempted run; Bucky watched as you reentered the compound soaking from head to toe after being caught in a rainstorm. You tried to make a joke, but Bucky merely grumbled and walked off in the opposite direction. And the third well, that was this morning.

The smell of burnt toast woke you up, and you rushed from your suite to the shared floor where the kitchen is located.

“Stupid toaster,” Bucky groans under his breath as he throws the toast into the bin, slamming the lid shut with his metal hand, nearly leaving an indent.

“You alright there?” Your voice is so soft, and Bucky can feel the tension between his shoulders ease.

Lifting his metal arm up, Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I just got distracted.” He shrugs as he turns around to look at you in your pyjamas, just a t-shirt and joggers. A lot more casual than the girl he remembers in the forties.

“Happens to the best of us,” You joke, moving past him to grab a mug. “want one?” You hold a second mug up, and Bucky nods.

He remains quiet as you pour him a cup and slide it across the counter to him. “Look alive!” You call out, and he grasps it firmly.

Silence falls between you both as you look over your shoulder to see Bucky holding the mug in his metal fingers, a distant gaze over his eyes. “Real smooth, Y/n.” Bucky eventually speaks up, followed by a short laugh as he raises the mug to his lips.

“I’ve never done that before,” You admit, now leaning against the counter.

Laughter fills the bar as soldiers pass through with open arms and cheers for a new day. “Hey, look alive!” You yell as you slide across a bottle of beer to the brunette soldier.

“Thanks, Y/n.” His bright blue eyes focus on yours as he winks before patting his blond friend on the shoulder and walks closer toward you, yet the closer he gets, the more blurred he becomes. “Y-”

“Y/n?” Bucky calls out, snapping you from your thoughts. “You in there?”

“Sorry,” You look up from your mug, forcing a small smile. “got a bit lost in my head for a moment.” You mutter. “I, I’m going to go get ready.” You sip at your coffee and head out from the kitchen, leaving Bucky perplexed as he hears you running and swearing from in the hallway towards the elevator.

So, your encounters with Bucky haven’t exactly been the best. Yet, there’s something about him that you’re drawn to but scared of. His cool exterior doesn’t intimidate you, you know his history, you know all of the Avengers’ history. However there is a part of you that feels like you know Bucky somehow on a deeper level than what you've read in his files.

Rushing through your suite, you gather the necessary files before heading out to the elevator. You knew you shouldn’t have left it to the last minute to get the meeting scheduled.

As the metal doors open, Bucky steps aside, his blue eyes focused on his feet. “Which floor?” He asks.

“Two, please.” You respond, and silence ensues over you both.

It was becoming harder and harder for Bucky to not see the Y/n he once knew in you, this version of her or a copy. You twitched your nose the same way when you laughed, your hair smells like vanilla and you add small quirks to the same words.

“Y/n, do you ever have the feeling that you’ve met someone, in a previous life?” Bucky asks out of the blue, taking you by surprise.

“I, er,” You stumble over your words as you reach level two. “I’ll get back to you on that one, Bucky.” You tell him before exiting the elevator and carry on rushing to the conference room for your meeting with Pepper.

“Thought as such.” Bucky sighs as the doors close, leaving him alone with his memories of you once more.

“What’re you doing up here? You’ll freeze!” You laugh giddily as you wrap your arms around yourself, seeing Bucky sat with a blanket draped over his shoulders despite the early spring chill.

“I’ve endured worse, doll.” It rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, his treasured nickname for his girl.

Yet, you smile at the nickname, swearing you’ve heard it before. You contemplate a response, but leave it and walk closer, sitting beside Bucky.

“So, what are you doing up here? Am I that bad?” You nudge him playfully and without a second thought, Bucky lifts the blanket up, allowing you to curl into the soft fabric for much-needed warmth.

“You never could be, Y/n, trust me.” Bucky sighs sadly as he looks up to the stars, aware of you studying him closely, your eyes burning into each of his features. “I’m sorry if I’ve acted a little off this past week, I, I’m still adjusting to well, everything.” Bucky tries to ease his growing nerves as you scoot closer, the fragrance of your perfume encroaching into his nostrils like old times.

“You’ve been just fine, Bucky.” You reassure him as a faint smile forms on his lips.

“I’d know if you’re lyin’ to me, doll.” Bucky turns to face you, kneeling down as you cross your arms playfully, refusing to speak up. “Well, I guess you leave me no choice.” He mutters, and before you can react his hands grab your hips and he starts tickling you senselessly.

“Calm down, soldier!” You laugh happily. “Will you stop?!” You breathe out as his hands rise further up from your waist, pausing as he holds your face, smiling smugly to you, knowing you were truly hooked.

“So, I was just fine then, doll?” Bucky raises a brow as you nod, his hands bringing you closer as he breathes out a sigh into your lips. “Well, I guess I’ve got a few things to work on.”

“That you do mister.” You mutter before kissing him, wrapping your arms around his neck as hollers from across the road sound, and the faint call of your name interrupts you once more.

“Y/n?” Bucky nudges you, and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you okay? You went all quiet on me for a minute.” He half laughs, seeing tears forming in your eyes as you shake your head.

“I, I’m not.” You admit, letting the tears fall. “I, you asked me earlier about feeling as if you’ve met someone in another life,” You trail off, seeing Bucky nod.

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, feeling the remaining strings attached to his heart hoist it up, hoping they won’t fray at this final attempt. “it was dumb, I know.” He brushes it off.

“No, it’s not.” You tell him defiantly. “I, I keep having these memories of sorts, but I can’t make out any faces.” You rub your eyes. “Every day there’s this nagging sensation to remember something, to recognise someone I believe I knew, like there's this guy and I think he's someone I’m meant to know.” You explain, and Bucky can feel the restraints in his heart tightening, the cogs in your brain now turning.

“I know the feeling,” Bucky comments. “when HYDRA had me, they wiped my mind of everything, any memories of my life before and brainwashed me into their weapon. It’s kinda funny really, it was all still in there, and it slowly started to come back.”

“How did you know which memories were real?” Your voice softens as you home in on his blue eyes, watching as they twitch under your gaze. “Like, which weren’t misconstrued.”

Bucky shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, I just, I do.” He murmurs. “So, this guy, what’s he like?” Bucky changes the subject as a smile forms on his lips as you laugh lightly.

“I wish I knew,” A light shiver crosses your body, and Bucky pulls the blanket off of him, wrapping it around you. “he’s just, this amazing guy who, who is funny, and caring. I have these snippets of what I believe was our life together, but it doesn’t make any sense.” You ramble, trying your best to comprehend everything.

“Take your time.” Bucky reassures you.

“These ‘memories’ I’m having, they take place in the past- that much I know. But I know my life, I know the year I was born, I have memories of my childhood and I know my family.” You explain, feeling your eyes welling up with tears as your frustration and confusion increases. “How can I have memories of a life I’ve never lived?”

"Maybe you can." Whistling into the breeze, Bucky shuffles and turns to face you. “Try and focus on one detail, okay? Do you trust me?”

You search his eyes for any uncertainty, and you nod in response.

“Close your eyes.” Bucky whispers, and you oblige. “Think of him, think about any details that you have relived, any conversations or scenery you noticed.” Bucky suggests, trying his hardest to not reach out and take your hand in his.

Keeping your eyes closed, you try to focus on his face, hear his voice, but it’s all too much of a blur. “It’s no use.” You sigh, burying your face in your hands. “I just, I know if I ever saw him again or met him somehow, I’d know who he was.” You mumble into your palms, unaware of Bucky tearing his eyes from you, the ropes pulling his heart snapping for good, now beyond repair.

“You’ll find him, Y/n.” Bucky pats your back, hearing you sniffle.

“You think?” You ask, lifting your head back up as you half-smile to Bucky who nods.

“I’m sure of it.” He forces a smile, but you can tell it’s not reaching his eyes.

“Thanks, Bucky." Silence falls between you both, stifling the cool air. "I, I better go in before I catch a cold.” You rise to your feet, removing the blanket and hand it back to him. “Can’t have Mr Stark complaining about me coughing senselessly on a conference call.” A light laugh escapes your lips as you wave to Bucky before heading back inside.

As the door closes behind you, Bucky blankly stares out at the sky. “Oh, doll.” Bucky pleads to the stars. “Please remember.”

Now back on your floor, tears freely cascade down your cheeks as you sob into your hand, barely able to reach your door before you fall to the ground. “Come on,” You cry, feeling snippets of memories colliding together of the childhood you knew versus one you don’t recall, two boys by your side at all times.

Forcing yourself to your feet, you shut the door to your suite behind you, hearing laughter echo in your mind.

“Steve! Stop, I need to keep my dress clean!” You plead, looking down at the splashes of mud coating the hem of your dress.

“I warned you, punk.” Bucky sighs, hitting Steve over the back of the head with the newspaper. “You still look beautiful, Y/n.” Bucky winks to you, watching as you roll your eyes in response.

“Thanks, James.” You mutter, ignoring the burning of your cheeks as you reach your front steps. “I’ll see you boys later, seven still good?” You ask, looking between the pair as they nod. “Okay, well, don’t get in too much trouble without me.” You chuckle before turning on your heels and head up the front steps, unlocking your front door as the radio plays faintly.

“James?” You whisper to yourself, rushing over to the nearest mirror. “My name is Y/n Y/l/n. I am twenty-four years old. This is my home. My parents are Y/M/N and Y/D/N.” You recite, staring at yourself in the mirror. “This is who you are.”

Running your fingers through your hair, you step away from your mirror and fall into your bed.

“Ms Y/l/n?” FRIDAY calls out, and you quickly sit upright.

“Yes, FRIDAY?”

“Tony is calling you, would you like to answer?” The AI asks, and you groan into your pillow, it’s not like you couldn’t answer your employer.

“Sure, FRIDAY.” You reply, reaching over for your phone and answer the call from Tony. “Hey Mr Stark, how’s the mission going?” You feign positivity as you force a bright smile. Even if Tony cannot see you, the walls have eyes.

“Hey, Y/n, I told you before, call me Tony. We’re on our way back now, I just wanted to make sure the tin man hasn’t been causing you any trouble.” Tony asks, moving away from other voices in the background.

Your eyes rise to your closed door, picturing Bucky mere minutes ago by your side, trying to help you remember him, James Buchanan Barnes, your James.

“Jam-” You cut yourself off and move the phone away from your ear, allowing a moment to compose yourself for your boss. “Bucky’s been fine, I promise Mr, sorry, Tony.” You chuckle uneasily, but Tony doesn’t question it.

“Well good to hear, listen we’ll be back in an hour, and you can meet the rest of the team in the morning. Get some rest, Y/n.” Tony tells you and hangs up before you can respond, leaving you alone once more with the impending thoughts weighing heavy in your mind.

“This is who you are.” You repeat like a mantra as you lie back down in your bed, wishing tomorrow would never come.

P A R T T W O

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

@biss-stuff @psychicforest @lourightm @mywinterwolf @justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx @courtneychicken @marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81 @smilexcaptainx @fandom-princess-forevermore @sarge-barnes-sir @pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated--fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs @eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8 @notbrooklynsblog @nikkixostan@cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976 @sarcasticallywitty15 @multi-fandom-princess07 @16boyfriends-and-me @courtneychicken @mackevanstan80

880 notes · View notes

kaiqarker · 3 years

Text

the watchtower’s lighthouse | stan vogel

pairing: stan vogel x reader

warnings: smut, swearing

summary: months after a disasterous first date with stan vogel, your paths cross once more when you’re lost within the depths of kern canyon national park during a thunderstorm and stan happens to have inherited a shift patrolling from the watchtower.

a/n: back from the dead because of this man. hope y’all enjoy :)

THE SKY EMULATED STAN VOGEL'S morals, consisting of gray unpredictability. If he was within the familiar walls of his assigned cabin, located along the grounds of Kern Canyon National Park, it would be an indication he wouldn't have to do much patrolling. Campers usually stayed put if there was rainfall, sticking to their own site and not off doing God knows what to the land Stan takes pride in preserving. Cascading a thick husk of superiority and knowledge was his favorite thing about the job, which is why he was disappointed he was stuck maintaining the watchtower for tonight.

The surveillance for the watchtower was run by a tight knit schedule of volunteers and the occasional firefighter that needed a change of scenery for a couple days. Needless to say with all the strange occurrences and sightings, there have been less and less people willing to take on the task. And now the duty was bestowed upon the park ranger— at least for tonight. He swore to himself that at sunrise he would be out of there and back to being the persistent, vexing gum stuck to the bottom of everyone's shoe.

Stan now sat in a wobbly chair, feet propped up on the desk and his trusty binoculars in hand. His surroundings were darkening, quicker than they would at his cabin because of the parade of trees towering over the area. He could mostly only see shadows and the outlines of the forest. His paranoia kept him on the lookout, knowing all too well what kind of perilous entities the park harbored, dark secrets he was trusted in keeping.

It was why his body jolted and he nearly fell out of his seat at a sign of movement. His hands itched to drop the binoculars and reunite with the shotgun propped up in the corner. His burst of anxiety was halted, however, once the lenses revealed a person. A wandering, soaked person clearly becoming victim to the thunderstorm that had been periodically easing and worsening for the past two hours.

Stan stood, walking over to the window with his binoculars hanging from the strap around his neck. He easily pried it open and stuck out his head. The drizzle of rain didn't reach him because of the roof stretching out along the perimeter of the watchtower, but he still felt the dip in the temperature. He estimated that it had dropped at least fifteen degrees since the start of the storm, the disappearance of the sun only escalating the drafty change.

He was about to shout down at what is most certainly a woman who had strayed too far from her campsite but then she twisted around, finally noticing the light emitting from up above. Recognization crumbles both of their attentive expressions. She becomes more than a drenched, carmine tank top, huddled body, and ropes of wet hair. He transforms into the exact opposite of a saving grace when his beige uniform and ironically angelic face are perceived.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. Stalking your ex, eh?" Stan called down to her. The pattern of swift and drawned out words, swirled into a provoking and often mocking Australian accent, reached her ears over the light patter of rainfall.

She sighed, dramatically enough for Stan to see the rise and fall of her diaphragm. She considered turning around and braving the unknown of the wilderness again. If it wasn't for her sore feet and her prediction that she would develop some sort of hyperthermia if she stayed out in the cold, then she would've already been on her way.

"We went out on one date. You don't count as an ex," she clarified, craning her neck up at him. His smirk from knowing she was in a miserable condition and that he was the only one that could do anything about it ignited the first sense of heat she had felt in awhile. Her fists clenched against her crossed arms. "And you're the one with the pervy binoculars. On the prowel for half-naked campers, are you?"

He scoffed, winding his head to the side for a moment. "Enough with the bullshit. Are you coming up or not?"

In any other situation, he probably would've dragged their reunion out, teased her for being so helpless and naive. But she was shivering and looked so small curling into herself; it was a sight that played his heartstrings like a mystical harp. Even after a date gone wrong and the resentment that followed, he couldn't bare to see her like this.

She, on the other hand, still clung to some hesitation. Cozying up in a small, confined space with Stan where there were no other people around to ground her into the realms of sanity wasn't a compelling option. The both of them simply didn't get along. The nightmare of their date was very vivid in her mind, too, and she didn't want tonight to be a repeat of that.

Almost like nature could sense her doubts, thunder crackled and reverberated around the forest. Lightning flashed, incandescent and forbiding. The rain intensified, hitting her bare skin with a harsh force. Muddy shoes stumble forward a few steps but still don't gravitate towards the ladder.

"Better move your ass, sweetheart! Unless you'd prefer to get struck by lightning? Not to mention all the dangerous things lurking around that you haven't the slightest idea about."

Undeniable complacency was weaved into his taunt. However, it did get her moving. If she would've bothered to look up or if there wasn't such vast distance between them from their differing heights, she might've seen the concern nestled into glimmering, cobalt eyes.

Suffering through a climb where her wobbly legs and white knuckles were put the use, she eventually made it to top. Stan already had the latch swung open, bent down in the center of the room and waiting for her with an outstretched arm. Reluctantly, she took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her inside the watchtower.

"Crickey, you're freezing," he murmured. There was a softness to his features and the low timber of his voice. He'd even began rubbing over her fingers with his own, attempting to summon some warmth back into him, before he realized what he was doing and backed away.

"That's what happens when you get lost and separated from your friends and then get caught up in a storm," she summed up, monotonous.

"Your friends are idiots," Stan muttered.

She was about to deter the insults back his way until she suddenly felt a subtle weight on her shoulders. The scent combination of spearmint gum and lingering campfire smoke was sensed with a mere sniffle, and soon her hands were reaching up to pull on the sage green trim of his coat.

"You don't even know them," she settled for saying.

"They let you get lost, didn't they?" Stan's eyes found her wide ones, squinting slightly in familiar anger, but she could tell—this time at least—it wasn't directed towards her. "Yeah, bunch of mates, they are."

It was her turn to break the intimacy blossoming between them. She disconnects their stare that was inevitably going to convey all the unspoken feelings that still flourished inside of her to spare a glance over his shoulder. The furnace filled with a burning stack of dry wood lures her away from Stan, and she kneels down in front of it.

His hands go to his belt, elbows bent outward like he was posing as a chicken. He was unsettled by how consumed he was by his emotions. He wanted to give her space but then he finds himself reaching for her. He wanted to remain civil but the distaste in her tone and her infuriating, unreasonable glare casted towards him causes him to delve into his own hostile urges. The confusion of what to do and how to deal with her presence was boardering on insufferable.

But facing her, watching her beneath the firelight, the strain of his internal compass ebbed. He was no longer directionless or purposeless. The orange glare enducing a riveting shine to her hair and her tranquil countenance she upheld gazing into the flames had him feeling certain in just about every single thing that made the universe, the universe.

"You're staring," she whispers, a tremble in her reply she blames on recovering from the weather.

"And you won't even look over at me for a second." His observation coaxes her into peering at him, finding that he enclosed the distance between them by a few steps. A playful smile twitches across his lips. "What? Don't like a man in uniform?"

"I wouldn't be bragging about your outfit, Stan. You're a glorified Boy Scout," she remarks, rising from her position on her knees. Her thumb and pointer finger pinch the small, golden slate pinned to his shirt. "Even have badges and everything,"

"Get your grubby little hands away from my name tag. You're gonna smudge it," he grumbles, smacking her hand away; she lets out a humorless, short-lived laugh at his overreaction.

"Still an uptight asshole, I see."

"Still a mouthy brat, then?"

His retort makes her face harden. "Being honest doesn't make me a mouthy brat."

"Just inconsiderate?"

"You're preaching to me about being inconsiderate? You live off of ridiculing people. On our date, you insulted and humiliated our waiter because he didn't know the exact species of deer mounted to the wall."

"I was just taking a moment to educate him!"

"You called him a fumbling idiot who didn't know the basic fundamentals of biology!"

"Oh, like you were any better! Shoving your tits into the bartender's face to get free drinks!" He throws his hands up, easily overtaken by frustration and unresolved jealously.

"I know how much you make, Stan. You should be thanking me for that," she says slowly, deliberately, bringing up the one thing she knows will push him over the edge. He takes the bait, but she doesn't expect what he throws back at her.

"You're right. Thank you, sweetheart, for acting like such a slut on our first date that all anyone had to do for dessert was crouch down between your open legs."

Her mouth dropped at his statement. His exasperation dissolves to shock at processing his own harsh comment. He isn't able to focus on it for long, though, because she properly acts by allowing her palm to connect to his cheek.

Head snapped to the side, he can begin to taste a droplet of blood on his tongue, emitting from where his incisor pinched his bottom lip. He licks over the minor wound thoughtfully, heaving out a breath of false amusement. When he looks at her again, his face is dark and full of cruel intentions of revenge.

Stan surges forward and doesn't stop until her body crashes against the wall like she was just a bag of dismantled bones. His coat falls from her shoulders and slumps against the hardwood floor during the journey. His towering height and weight pin her in place, leaving her at the mercy of splayed hands and the relentless motions of his mouth against hers.

The awakening, leftover flavor of gum he must've chewed eariler just sinks in when he bites down hard on her lip. A whimper, the first sound she makes besides the ejection of a surprised gasp, is forced out her from the harsh gesture. A metallic taste replaces the one prior, one eager swipe of his tongue rolling past her parted lips.

The instinct to shoot her hands up and enmesh them in the soft, chestnut strands of his cropped hair is interrupted by an action of his own. He eases the intensity of the kiss, allowing her to breathe through languid, desperate puckers she reciprocates, but his fingers hook around both her bra and tank top straps, yanking them down her arms. She lifts herself out of them only to have him grasp the collar of her shirt and pull it down, her bra in tow, until they were just bundled material around her midriff.

Calloused hands fondled her breasts while his mouth diverts to her neck, sucking and nipping until her skin resembled the colorful patches of a quilt. She throws her head back against the wall, leaning into his touch and letting out the most delicate moans that had all of his blood gushing to the apex of his legs; she felt proof of it when he rutted himself against her.

Her forearms are squeezed between their bodies so she can reach the buttons of his shirt, manicured fingers working hastily and with not as much care she knew Stan would've liked, but he seemed to be too preoccupied by kissing her all over. Soon her hands were tugging up the white t-shirt he always wore underneath his uniform, and he helped her out by shifting it over his head and discarding it to the growing pile of clothes.

His chest was warm and inviting compared to hers. Her skin felt like cool marble underneath his fingertips, keeping her nipples pebbled and sweat from the heated exchange at bay. It was quite a contrast as their bodies continued to press together, her hands sliding along the expanse of his taut back while he concentrated on undoing her shorts.

"All mine," he mumbled against her jaw; it was certainly hard to disagree with him and all his handsy clutches and kisses that left her craving more.

"All yours," she confirmed softly.

The words barely left her mouth before she felt the heart-jolting sensation that was his hand sliding past her unzipped shorts and underwear. His fingers ran up and down down her folds, taking his time, ever the explorer. He often grazed her clit, encouraging her hips to arch into him for more direct contact, but he was careful to only give her a slight, fleeting amount.

"Stan." His name parted from her in a low whine—somewhat shamefully because she never thought she'd be in this circumstance, begging a hardass park ranger with a major superiority complex for a release.

"So wet for me. Awful naughty of you to get this soaked from one arguement with me, don't you think?"

She nuzzled her face into the side of his, nose brushing along his chiseled cheekbone. "Please."

"Aw, look at you. So sweet. You'd never think that you live to slander me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I am nothing but nice to you."

"Oh?" He inserts his middle finger into her, curling it precisely, while the heel of his hand grinds against her clit with every deliberate pump.

"Yes," she gasps.

Shallow pants gradually rack through her torso, and the ache of his throbbing cock becomes unbearable at the sight of her defenseless against his advances. He adds another finger, the grip and warmth of her slick walls causing him to shudder in anticipation.

"Such a little liar," he groans out after a particularly provocative contraction around his digits, one that rids him of whatever patience he had left.

He abruptly removes his hand from her shorts, something that makes her closed eyes flicker open. Her mouth immediately morphs into a pout and she squeezes his biceps in protest.

She isn't left waiting for long, hands on her hips guiding her away from the wall until the underside of her knees hit the edge of a cot. His mouth parts from hers once more, a sweet dragging of overlapped lips exchanged during the slow steps, so he can pull back the blanket. She looks over her shoulder at the neatly presented cot, which Stan must've brought with him along with his own fitted bedspread. She was now appreciative that he always came prepared.

Without having to be told, she crawled underneath the covers after ridding herself of the remainder of her clothing. Stan did the same once she was settled, becoming the final layer that draped over her body. The blanket and the crisp white of a top sheet stopped at the dimples of his back, and she was trapped in warmth, intensified by the glorious weight of his bare body on hers. Arms on either side of her head latch the cage as he leans down for another kiss.

"Don't mistake me keeping you warm as forgiveness. I'm still very mad at you. You drive me crazy," he sighs against her jaw, his eyelashes fluttering against the apple of her cheek.

"Don't mistake me moaning for you as an apology. You don't deserve one." Her strokes at the nape of his neck never faltered. Her thighs spread, legs winding around his, desperate for him to do something with his cock that laid twitching and swollen on her navel. "Well, you might if you fuck me hard enough."

"Shut up already."

Long fingers brick over her parted mouth in time with the repositioning of his hips, muffling the cries of consumption that came from him sinking inside of her. Eyes roll to the back of her head, almost completely sated by just the feeling of being filled. The head of his shaft glided against her most sensitive spot like a brush of shoulders, and her thighs tightening around his waist was her turning around, ready to chase shattering gratification.

Although slow, his thrusts into her were brutal. They held onto to each other like you would to ropes of a ruinous bridge connecting two cliffs, like they would be faced with a plummeting death if they were to let go. And yet, they were fighting along the wobbly planks, the semicircles of hip bones clashing together like medieval swords. It was all extremes, but neither of them would have it any other way.

He was making the most beautiful sounds above her. Through his ruthless motions, were breathy moans and whines of her name, the occasional praise intertwined into his enticing responses. Eventually, he allowed his hand to stop sealing her lips, sliding it down to clutch the flesh of her thigh with the promise of bruises. Her soft pleas and moans of euphoria joined his to create a symphony worthy of a ballet orchestra.

Strings of saliva conntected rouge lips to the marked skin of his neck, where she continued to suckle and playfully nip. The roll of their bodies picked up speed, both becoming impatient by the delicious ache they kept provoking, daring one another to spasm out of control. They craved for their muscles to become a tightrope and for the most intimate parts of them to pulsate from the finality of release.

"You've never looked prettier than you do right now. Your cunt squeezing me so tight, your mouth only able to form breathless whispers... completely wrecked. I love it."

"Please," she cannot help but beg, flickering eyes undecided on whether to shut her continue their hazy, half-lidded stare into his own.

"You want to come?" The inward pull of his eyebrows and the slight curl of his parted mouth way as well have been a mocking pout. "I know you do. I shouldn't even let you, though. You've been intolerable. I should just come all over your writhing body and leave you here without any satisfaction. Even if you were to finish yourself off, it wouldn't be enough. It would only feel subpar, and you know that, don't you?" His breath fans her face like the furnace had moments ago, and she can only whimper in reply. "Only I can sate you, sweetheart."

Her hands, whose nails had already inflicted damage to the freckled canvas of his back, sweep over his shoulders to cup his jaw. Her thumb strokes his jawline while the other ventures down the column of his throat, feeling the bob of his adam's apple with every constristing swallow he took. She could tell he was close, too, and decided to nod her head gently in agreement to his words, to wave her white flag.

Her surrender is reassured by fingertips dragging down her torso to her enlarged clit, granting bone-vanishing swipes that causes stuttered gasps and limbs going slack. It only takes a few seconds of coaxing rubbing for her release to erupt, the molten lava bursting from the pit of her stomach to electrify just about every nerve in her body. Her encompassing walls clutch around him so tightly that it summons a delirious climax from him.

His strenuous pace wavers, his hold on the cot becoming prudent, as if it was a buoy keeping him afloat through the thrashing waves of pleasure. White, sticky ribbons coat the inside of her thighs, and it's only when his heartbeat ebbs from his eardrums that he cracks his eyes open and collaspes into the small remaining space between her and the wall.

Stan speaks after catching his breath, remaining pants interwoven into his declaration. "This should've happened sooner."

"It would've if you weren't such a prick," she noted, sparing him a quick glance.

"Okay, maybe... I wasn't on my best behavior. But I was nervous. I liked you a lot. I wanted to impress you."

"And you thought bragging about how you're a know-it-all when it comes to plants and wildlife and the park's terrain was going to the trick?"She questioned, snorting at his logic. His nose twitch, an indicator of embarrassment, and she grabs his arm and tucks herself into his side. "You're such a dork."

He smiled at the gesture before she continued, "I'm sorry that I flirted with the bartender. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were second best or anything. Honest to God, I just wanted free stuff."

"Well, the cream puffs you got out of it were actually delicious," Stan admitted, tilting his head in her direction.

She smiled back at him. "I know, right?"

Stan may not be a prime example of a good guy but he had always took glory in being good at his job. That's what kept him going, that's what fueled him all these years. Now, he was considering what life entailed outside of that. Outside of the stressful responsibilities and government conspiracies and the never-ending studious tendencies. She came to him for refuge tonight, but, the truth is, he had been relying on her for a long time. To fascinate him, to stand up to him, to guide him back to where he belonged.

He felt like he was finally pursuing something that was more important than his duties here, than anything else he's ever experienced. He was an off-bound ship, cruising blind into the dead of the night, and she was a lighthouse, promising purpose and salvation from every bad thing that ever tried to sink him.

// idk who to tag but i think @sojournmichael @fckinsupreme & @instinctsxbaby might be interested (you’re all so talented)!

#ahs #cody fern #american horror story #american horror stories #stan vogel #stan vogel smut #cody fern smut #xavier plympton smut #ahs stories #stan vogel x reader

222 notes · View notes