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the-mandawhor1an · 1 month ago

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Searching for the stars pt.2 | Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Summary: You come to terms with the fact that somehow, a Roman general ended up on your worksite. You and Marcus develop a plan to get him back home, or at least to reunite him with his wife.

Words: 7.4k

Tags: Time travel; wet puppy Marcus; Reader is a little horny; alcohol consumption; a hint of infidelity; talk about grief and loss; death during childbirth; angst; heartbreak; religious imagery; no use of y/n;

(further tags omitted to not spoil the outcome)

Speech in italics indicates that Latin is being spoken.

Notes: Well well, part two is finally here. I hope you enjoy it as much as the first one. Marcus is back and he's here to stay (or not, he wants to go home to wifey, after all)

Comments etc. are appreciated, thank you to @rivnedell for beta-ing this for me.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The next morning came way too quickly for your liking, even if you stayed on your mattress way past your usual time. The night had been very short and sleeping practically next to some stranger made your sleep anything but restful. It seemed you weren’t the only one dealing with the sobering realization that yesterday hadn’t been a weird dream.

General Acacius sighed in disappointment when he awoke on the couch. How he felt any kind of rested was beyond you, he had been tossing and turning and whispering his wife’s name all night, waking you up ever so often. To your luck, you could deal with little sleep as long as you would get some caffeine into your system.

Feeling miserable and Acacius frankly looking miserable, you had decided to bring him to your apartment. He deserved to freshen up a little and you craved the sweet salvation from this tiredness with the help of some coffee. Your guest was respectful and you had no doubts he would not do anything stupid in your little flat. After all, you could pretend like you had weapons all over your place. A remote, a laser pointer, anything.

Despite all the concerns for your safety, there was more you had to deal with. For example, you had to introduce him to a few concepts that were absolutely new to him, like the private bathroom you had. While in theory, what a toilet and a shower was, he would know, the way your accommodations worked was vastly different from the ones in his time. The toilet was relatively easy to explain, despite a little awkward exchange about the toilet brush that was in fact just for cleaning the bowl and not … the body.

With the shower, it was a different story. Hot water, cold water, playing with the handle to find the sweet spot and also… soap. In ancient Rome he would have been used to rubbing scented oils on his skin to get all of the grime off, and now it was scented soap. You apologized for only having floral shower gels, but then again, lavender and rose were at least scents he was used to. It was probably easier on his nose than any kind of soap for men would be. What did “active sport” or “cool ice” even smell like?

You handed him a towel and clothes you still had lying around from your ex, hoping they would fit, and then let him deal with the bathroom himself.

Seemingly, your little lesson in modern hygiene was enough, as he came out of the bathroom half an hour later, in your ex’s clothes. You’ve just finished making a simple breakfast, scrambled eggs and some bread, when he came over to you. The clothes fit. The dark t-shirt was a little tight, maybe too tight, as you could see the curve of his pecs so perfectly. Also, the grey sweat pants fit snugly and you did your best to not look to avoid blushing.

Coffee was ready and you filled some in your favorite mug, processing the sight of his wet curls for a second. “What’s this?” he asked and pointed at the mug. “Coffee,” you explained, he repeated the word and you nodded. “We drink it in the morning to wake up. And during the rest of the day because we’re addicted.” A second mug was placed on the counter, filled with a little and you handed it over to him. The mug suddenly looked tiny in his hands when he held it up to his face and sniffed. Of course, the scent of hot coffee wasn’t necessarily pleasant when one had never smelled it. When he took a sip, his face obscured and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “It tastes disgusting,” he complained.

“Try mine,” you offered and handed your mug, which was about 50/50 mixed with milk and a little sugar. He took another sip and while it looked like he didn’t enjoy that one either, his face wasn’t contorted as much. “It’s better.” You pulled milk from the fridge and offered him some sugar. In the end his coffee looked to be 80 percent milk and a lot of sugar, but he drank it, so what did it matter.

“Sit down,” you ordered him to sit at the table and set down two plates with the egg and bread. It was probably something that was easier for him to stomach than any other food you could’ve offered. “Eggs and bread?” he asked and you nodded. “The coffee is enough of a adventure for you right now. And the clothes.” “They’re so tight.” “My last partner practically lived in these,” you explained with a shrug. “Where is he? Did he die?”

“No, he just left. We had a lot of arguments and he didn’t want to stay.” Before it would go cold, you started eating your egg. It wasn’t a lot, but enough to give you a bit of energy to think about what to do today. That was, if Marcus was done with his interview. “Why did you fight?” “My work. It was important to me and he thought it was cute at first, but he realised it was my priority and he didn’t want that.”

Marcus nodded and took a sip of his ‘anything but coffee’. It felt weirdly domestic to sit here and eat with him, especially so because he was so relaxed about all of this. Sure, conversing in Latin was weird, but it wasn’t like you were forced to speak a lot of Italian around here either way. It wasn’t too far off.

“I saw the wall. When did your obsession start?” When was the last time someone was actually interested in something you did? You took another sip of coffee and then you told him in short. How you’ve been obsessed with Rome ever since you could remember. In the beginning it just seemed you never outgrow the ancient Egypt and Rome phase every child had at one point. One of your earliest dream jobs has been archeology. Every weekend you were at museums, every family trip had to be planned around to see the exhibitions there. Once old enough, you worked in the local museum, mostly administrative work but it helped you with getting into contact with other scholars. Also, you could spend your breaks in the exhibitions and just daydream a little. When it came to getting a degree, you studied classical Latin and archeology.

During your first year of university, they found a bust of him. It was only halfway there, it missed the face, but judging by the armor they could tell it must’ve been a general or a high-ranking officer in the Roman military. A copy of said bust had been in your museum for a while and you were mesmerized by it. It was a little later, midway into your studies, when they stumbled upon the name Acacius so often that they were pretty much certain ‘the General’ was Acacius. You became so obsessed with him, a general that history had almost forgotten, and you wanted to be part of the group that would unveil the mystery about him. Your professors were so exhausted with your antics by the time you had your degree, but this incessant interest is what made you land the job as an archeologist in the end.

“Why me?” he asked when you were done with your little story, and you shrugged. “You fascinated me. In the beginning it was the mystery around you and your life, also the prestige one would earn from finding more out about you. And then more was found, especially your obsession with starlight, it just… caught me.” He nodded. “It was our little inside joke because of her name.” “I know… I know. It developed into an obsession, the modern times are so boring compared to the Roman Empire. But… look how far I’ve made it. I found your villa.” “and me” A mischievous yet so attractive grin crept up to his lips and there wasn’t much you could do, you had to mirror it. “That came as a surprise.” “How much of the house have you found? What about the rest of the estate?”

You got up to get yourself some water. “We’re still on the lookout, why?” His eyebrows twitched and head dipped down. “I had a dream about my wife…” and as soon as these words left his lips, you were reminded that Marcus wasn’t just a handsome stranger you had met yesterday and had breakfast with right now. He was a grieving husband who was stuck in a different time. “She called out for me and told me she was waiting.” “Did she tell you where?” “Where she was laid to rest”

You fell silent for a bit. While you had daydreamed about meeting Marcus before, this was real. It felt weird to just have him sit at your table, in your ex’s clothes, talking to you like you were coworkers. You wanted to help him reunite with his wife, but also – you didn’t want him to go. There was the man you had been reading about for such a long time that it ruined your relationship, and there were so many questions he could answer now. You left your home to be part of this excavation. And yet you didn’t know …

“We have no documentation where she was buried. Also, most of the cemeteries didn’t survive all of this time.” Guilt washed over you. Here you were, one of the most knowledgeable people on Acacius’s life, but you didn’t know where they kept Astra’s remains. “She was buried where I proposed to her. There was a very old tree on my estate. We would go there and look at the stars.”

“Damn,” came out of you, unable to stop it. Marcus was like straight out of fiction, it seemed. A hopeless romantic. It really made your heart flutter. “Pardon?” “My apologies. It will just be very hard to find a tree that hasn’t been there in over a thousand years. With buildings we might find documentation, but trees? I doubt any map we can find would have accurate plant placement.”

Again, his face contorted as if you had just declined his marriage proposal. “I’m sorry, I just miss her so much.” It stung. You barely knew him but his pain was palpable. With a sigh you walked over to your table and leaned in, stretched out your arm and raised your pinkie in front of his view. “Do what I do.” He did and you hooked his pinkie with yours. “I promise I will do everything in my power to help you find her. Your pain must be bad. I can’t imagine what it must feel like but your face tells me enough.” He flexed his pinkie just a bit and dear God, that man was strong. “It’s unbearable at times. I’d rather be dead sometimes.” Strong, and intense, it seemed.

The pinkies unhooked and you took the dirty dishes to put them into the sink. Marcus wasn’t done with the topic, however. Your promise to help was one thing, but he had something on his mind. “Can’t I help you?” He could, very easily. “You’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t think about this myself. If there is anyone that would know about the layout of your estate, it would be you.” “How can I help there?” “We will get drawings of the ruins, and if you’re behaving, we can go back to your villa and look at it. But I need you to be quiet, don’t talk unless we’re alone.”

He nodded and got up. Just as he stretched, the shirt that was a little too tight on him slipped upwards, exposing some of his sun kissed skin. “Can I get different clothes before we go?” As much as I want to say no and stare at you for a little longer… “Can I leave you here unattended for a little?” “You can, I will behave.” “Promise?” He offered his pinkie and grinned. That’s all you needed for confirmation and you left for the shops. You had to guess his size, but judging by your ex’s stuff almost fitting, you knew enough, probably. One size up and you should be fine. Most importantly you got him some underwear because… the sweatpants weren’t hiding anything and you would unfortunately need to focus on work around him. You found some loose-fitting jeans and some natural fiber shirts. They were anything but cheap, but you were a little concerned with how well his skin would handle synthetic fibers, let alone all the detergents and softeners fabrics had in them. Thinking about it, it was a little lucky that he didn’t have any reaction to the soap you had offered him. Socks and some sneakers, and you were off on your way back.

After your return, he changed into a new set of clothes and you prayed that his poor, unpolluted skin could handle what it was exposed to, as there was no time to wash the clothes before he wore them, first. The rest of his clothes landed in the wash, though. His shirt, silky and almost black, had a little too many buttons and you helped him close them. You took the opportunity of being so close to him to give him a little pep talk. “Just stay close to me, okay? I don’t want you wandering around my workplace unattended.” Acacius was so close you could feel his breath on your skin. It made you a little nervous, especially because you could smell your shower gel on him, and he was closely watching you fumble with the buttons. “I’ll stay close,” he grumbled, just loud enough that you can hear it. After all, why speak louder when you were right opposite of him? Your eyes wandered upwards and found his, and it felt like your heart sank right into your panties. His lips were curled into a one-sided smirk and it took everything from you to not squeak.

One less awkward walk down to the office later, you found the layouts you had of the villa and placed them on the largest table you had in your little container-office. Marcus leaned over the table, causing you to bite your lower lip for just a moment. His butt looked so good in these jeans. “This is what we have found so far,” you explained and tried to detach your eyes from his backside before he would catch you staring at him. With a few steps you were next to him, leaning over the table just like he was. Your head turned to him. “Please don’t tell me we’re completely wrong,” you added. You felt a little anxious because he looked at it for so long. “No it’s… close enough,” he mumbled. Close enough?

Before you could ask for clarification, his fingers traveled across the gigantic sheet of paper. “It was a short walk from the villa in this direction.” His fingers soon left the paper and you took another plan. It was a further zoomed out satellite image of the area and the rough walls of the villa sketched in.

Acacius gave it a look, his finger traveled the same path over and over again, but as soon as he came close to the buildings that were there now, he seemed confused. “This is harder. Everything looks so different and it’s so small.” “It’s okay,” you reassured him and placed a hand on his shoulder “You don’t have to know right away. We can go down to the ruins, maybe it helps to just be there.”

And you were there all day. You were sometimes even arguing with Marcus until you remembered it had been his house and his opinion was more valuable than any of your educated guesstimations. And upon further inspection, some of the walls actually looked to be younger, meaning the villa had been used after his disappearance and partially rebuilt.

Philippe had observed you and Marcus all day, ending the shift with way too many notes about the villa. Changes that were to be made in the floor plan. If they could find evidence to claim these changes on rather than someone’s opinion. At least they could justify parts of these changes just by the walls being significantly newer and this would also probably mean there was more funding you could get for this excavation.

This evening you and the general went back to your apartment. He was very adamant that you should sleep in the comfort of your bed, and your couch was a lot more comfortable for him as well. Despite your reservations at first, you brought some wine and two glasses over to the couch, where Marcus patiently waited for you. “I know it’s probably not the outcome you had wished for for today, but we’re making good progress. I brought some wine, assuming it’s something you’re used to drinking. It might be a little strong. We can water it down if it is. You did good today and I wanted to celebrate it a little.” You filled the glasses with the wine, handing one of the glasses over to him “Thank you,” he nodded and took a sip of the wine. You took your glass and did the same. Marcus had opened the uppermost buttons on the black shirt and you had changed into a cami top and sweatpants, lazily lounging on your couch.

“Do you think we can find her?” “I’m sure. I can’t tell you how long it will take, but we will. How’s the wine?” He took another sip and nodded approvingly. “I like it. It’s very sweet.” “Just be careful, it might be a little strong for you.” Again, he smirked, this time just a little less cheeky. “I can handle it.” You believed him.

“So, tell me about her,” you said as you leaned back into the corner of your couch, one arm on the arm rest, the other holding the wine glass on your thigh. Hearing about Astra made you curious. Acacius really loved her, you were sure of it, and you wanted to know what made her so special to him. It was heartwarming to hear about other relationships, after all. That was, until you remembered that he had lost her.

“She was beautiful,” he mused. “I returned from war and it was like any other day. I was out in the city and she bumped into me at the market. She apologized profusely and our eyes met. She was so gorgeous it took my breath away.” He looked over to you. The candles on the coffee table reflected in his eyes. “She must’ve thought the same,” stumbled out of your lips, causing him to laugh. At least you hadn’t said you agreed with her observation, because this was awkward enough. You had another sip of the wine. The awkwardness flew over his head, or he didn’t want to make you feel any kind of uncomfortable. He just continued.

“I turned into the biggest idiot in her presence, I didn’t know how to carry myself. Handling legions came second nature to me after being in the military for so long. But being around her… I felt like a child, careless and a little adventurous at times. I took every opportunity to talk to her until she showed up at my villa one evening.” He emptied his glass and helped himself with some more.

You were hooked and asked “why was she at your villa?” His smile became wider and he sat back “It had been two or three days since I had last seen her, it was a busy week. She came over because she wanted to talk to me. We went to my garden and looked at the stars and talked. It became late and I didn’t want her to walk back home alone. I offered to bring her.” It sounded so romantic and you were a little jealous. Would anyone ever talk about how they met you in such a loving manner? “And she refused?” “She kissed me and asked if she could stay.”

Judging by his grin, the outcome wasn’t hard to guess. “And she stayed…” “Yes, she did.” You could only imagine what he was thinking about when he grinned like this. You cleared your throat and emptied your wine glass, set it down on the table. Was he aware of what this was doing to you? You were both on your couch, you were drinking – he had his damn chest out and practically openly talked about sex. It was hard to shake off the image of him in the grey sweatpants. It was like you could almost see everything.

“What about your … partner? How did you meet?” Marcus asked you, possibly out of courtesy. He wasn’t really interested in your love life, was he? “I don’t think it’s interesting. We’re separated anyway. I don’t miss him.” Short and sweet, and such a diplomatic answer. Of course you missed your ex from time to time, but he never understood your passion. Incompatible, that’s what you were. “Is it normal to not be married in your time?” With a shrug you responded “it’s… not unusual. We get married later in life, a lot never marry.”

Marcus' reaction was expectedly negative. “Sounds lonely.” But you could reassure him “It’s not.” It really wasn’t. You had friends for your social interactions, and on desperate evenings, you had Tinder to remind you that most modern men were absolutely not worth the effort. Marcus seemed to be particularly interested in the latter part, as his next question struck you by surprise. “When is the last time you’ve been with a man?” You gulped and stuttered “I… uh… I can take care of myself.” Which technically wasn’t a lie, but you would rather die than teach him about toys right now. “Sure you can,” he took another sip and cocked an eyebrow. You motherfu… Was he flirting with you?

Quick, say something before it gets awkward again!! “I’m surprised that it doesn't bother you. Isn’t modesty one of the female virtues in your time?” He nodded, but shrugged shortly thereafter. “It was. But this isn’t my time. Do you want more wine?” His hand pointed towards your wine glass and despite knowing you shouldn’t, you agreed to another glass. Acacius reached for the bottle and leaned over when filling your glass with wine. You could see his heart beat on the vein on his neck, pulsing in the candle light. There was nothing you could do, you stared at him, so handsome in the dim light of the small flame. And so close to you. As if he had heard your thoughts, he turned his head to you, an eyebrow raised. You didn’t move, but neither did he.

Suddenly, the tension in the air was thick and you could make out his heavy but suppressed breathing. You watched as he leaned over, coming closer to you. One of his hands landed on the back rest, the other on the hand rest next to you, meaning you were caged against the corner on the couch. It felt like time was running slower when he leaned in and before you could react in any way, you felt his lips, kissing you ever so gently. Your hand was in his hair in an instant, pulling him in, tasting the wine on his lips. Reluctantly, he retreated just a moment later, and that’s when it also fully hit you: Marcus had kissed you.

All you could ask him was “why did you kiss me just now?” because it didn’t make sense in your mind. He had just told you about his wife and suddenly he was practically pinning you against your couch and kissed you. “It must be the wine,” he explained in a murmur. “My apologies.” After you had taken a breath, you shook your head. “It’s nothing. I told you the wine is strong. Don’t worry.” Still, you took the wine glass and held onto it for dear life. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to forget he’s married and just give into the urge and kiss him again. To feel the heat of his skin on yours, the ripple of his muscles and the sweet growl of his voice when he moaned your name. Stop it! You softly smiled at him despite your very dirty thoughts and tried to make the situation just a little less uncomfortable for the both of you. “The couch is yours, you don’t have to kiss me for it.” A sigh of relief escaped his lips. “Thank you.”

Acacius stared into the wine and swished it around, as if he expected there to be some kind of wisdom in the dark red liquid. “Do you think we can find her?” he asked. Maybe he wanted to remind himself that he was on the search for his wife. “I’m sure we will find her. All we need to do is trust in your memories. And we will need to be patient.” You meant it. You were adamant about keeping your promise, even if it took a while. The general was welcome to stay with you. It wasn’t like you weren’t majorly benefitting from his support. “Thank you again for helping me and stopping your work for it.” “We’re not stopping. You’re helping me immensely, your life is my work.” You chewed on your lip for a moment. How long had he been missing his wife now? How long did it take him to kiss a stranger? “How long has it been since she passed?” “In my time?” You nodded. Marcus sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. “A week. She went into labor. I was getting ready to be a father, to hold my child in my arms and suddenly I was a widower, left with nothing but my grief.”

“I’m so sorry,” you expressed your condolences. It made sense why he had been so distraught when he showed up here. The wounds were fresh. “It was a girl and she was as beautiful as her mother,” he said as a pained smile showed up on his face. “I still don’t understand what wrong I did for the gods to punish me like this. What did I do for them to take away everything I held dear.” Tears welled up in his eyes and sparkled in the candle light. If only he hadn’t kissed you, because now you hesitated placing your hand on him to soothe express your empathy. What were you supposed to say? No one believed in the old gods for the most part, but then again, science was definitely not able to explain why he ended up here, 1800 years into the future.

You’ve been in thought for a second so you didn’t see him lean forward and cover his eyes with a hand. Only the single sob that came out pulled you back to reality. You put your wine back on the table, leaned in, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Fuck, he’s warm. “I’m sorry. I know there’s not much I can do to soothe your pain, but I’m here for you. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to lose both your spouse and child but it must feel like you’re dying yourself.” That was definitely making it worse, as his sobs came out in full now. You sighed, swallowed the awkwardness and hugged him from the side. A moment later he put his glass on the table and turned to hug you back. With his face buried in your hair, you let him cry, only stroking his back. “We will find her,” you softly whispered against his head while he still was holding onto you.

Whether it was the soft touches, your words or the hug itself, you felt his breath become more and more regular. No sobs shook you any more. All you could feel was his heart beat and his warm breath against your scalp. Somewhere in between breaths you could’ve sworn he had whispered something into your hair. You stayed like this until he decided to let go first. Your fingers were in his hair again, giving his scalp a soft massage as he looked back into your eyes. At least you had found the right words to say while you held him. “I don’t care how long it takes. I might need to find creative justifications for why our research is taking a different turn, but we will reunite you with your wife. And your little girl. I promise.”

After this outbreak of raw emotions, you both decided to pour the rest of the wine down the drain and go to sleep; separately. You felt a little conflicted because it seemed like your presence was soothing to him but it also made him feel guilty, as if it pained him to be around you. And you couldn’t help feeling drawn to him. You’ve sacrificed so much for your research and you were so fascinated by him. Acacius seemed so soft, so loving and gentle deep down. Sure, you projected a lot onto him, imagining him to be the perfect man to his wife. How often had you wondered if you would ever find someone that would love you like he loved his wife?

And then you met him, he fell right before your feet. To be fair, your first meeting had been a little explosive but Marcus was so understanding and frankly… he had taken your breath away as soon as you had met his eyes with yours; it felt a little just like he explained reacting to first seeing Astra – but you didn’t feel like an idiot in his presence, just a little awkward from time to time.

The next days you spent basically remaking all of the sketches of the villa layout. It was a lot of work, but you had a good feeling that this would help Marcus estimate the distances better. He was your only hope with finding the location of the tree, after all. Then again, without him you wouldn’t be in this trouble at all.

You didn’t mind. Marcus and you grew closer, working all day on the site, sitting in the office on occasion going over some of the other things you found, only to go home with him, falling asleep in your separate beds to do it all again the next day. You became good friends, you found a routine. Marcus was invaluable to your research and in return for his help you offered what you could. A bed, a bath, lazy sundays on the couch, and an occasional hug when his grief overcame him.

It wasn’t a lot you could offer, but it seemed to do the trick. The bad nights were rare and you would start seeing a different side of him altogether. Marcus was an intense person, no one could deny that, but he was warm and gentle, even goofy, and sometimes even a little protective when he felt you were uncomfortable. Whenever he was approached by women, which happened more times than you had expected, you helped out. It didn’t take long for him to learn some basic words in Italian and also some in English. He was a smart man, after all, and despite this not being his time, he adapted fast.

He grew to like black coffee. That was of all things the biggest surprise. The face he had made when he first tried it convinced you he was more of a cappuccino type of guy, but on some mornings you stepped out of the shower and coffee was already waiting for you, your roommate humming to himself while looking out of the kitchen window.

It didn’t register at first, but for a while it felt like Astra was completely forgotten. You and Marcus worked alongside one another like he was just another coworker that just so happened to live with you. Nothing further than the kiss had happened between you two, it wasn’t like you were actively trying to make him forget about his wife. Rather he would listen to your theories, trying to connect stories of other Romans that lived at the same time. And he would deliver the hottest gossip no one today would know about.

Today, however, was a different day. “Maybe we should stay home,” you sighed as you watched the rain drops collect on the kitchen window. You were having breakfast, Marcus sat opposite of you in the same dark, silky shirt, the top button undone. “It’s just water, we should get over there soon,” he responded with a shrug. He was right, but still, part of you wanted to just stay in bed today. Was it the rain? Were you a little under the weather? You’ve never been sensitive to changes in this way.

Something was off with him today, but not in a bad way. There was a pep in his step, so to say, an enthusiasm to work you had not seen in him. At first he was frustrated, nervous, then joyful whenever you could cross off one task of the sheer never ending list. But today, it was like he had just won the lottery. He was all smiles and giddy about the same old work.

“We should try to find it, I think,” he said as soon as you entered the office. He went straight for the coffee machine while you draped the newest revision of the villa’s layout onto the table. He laid down on the couch and recounted his steps, while you tried to mark the way down on your map. It didn’t have to be 100 percent accurate, but if you had a rough idea of what area to search, you could just go there and see if you could find Astra.

Did you ever think about how absurd this was? Absolutely, but Marcus was here and very real, why was it so unbelievable that his wife would be here somewhere?

You spent all day going back and forth with him, until you decided right around sunset that it was probably for the best if he got to actually walk from his villa to wherever he expected Astra to be. “I’ll keep my eyes closed,” he explained when you stood at the ruins, the warm rain pattering onto his shoulders, slowly soaking him and you. You took his hand and nodded. “I will make sure you won’t run into anything.” Marcus raised your hands in front of his face and kissed the back of your hand, never breaking eye contact. As beautiful as the thought was to reunite him with his wife, you knew you would miss this. Miss him. He was by no means romantically involved with you, but his whole presence, who he was and how he was with you…

It would leave you a little empty and lost.

“Are you nervous?” you asked him as he started walking. As he had his eyes closed, you could sneak in a few glances. He was so handsome and the joy that radiated from his face made him even more attractive. If only he’d be smiling for you. “Do you think this is it?” he asked, opening his eyes just a slit to look over to you. Of course, you averted your gaze and scanned the environment, making sure he wouldn’t run into anything. “I have a good feeling about this,” you confirmed and nodded. It was a lie. You had a bad feeling about this and that’s what probably meant this was it. He was about to leave.

If this meant you would go your separate ways soon, you’d better make the most of the time you still had. One question about today burned in your mind. “Why today? What is so special about it? You’ve been so enthusiastic about it since we left the apartment” “The rain.” “The rain?” You both stopped for a second. By now you were almost drenched, but with the heat during the day, this almost felt refreshing rather than uncomfortable. And no one could deny that wet hair made him look even better. You should really stop thinking about him like this.

“She appeared in my dreams again. She said we would reunite when rain fell from the stars.” His explanation sounded convincing enough, but then again “you never told me you had dreamt about her again.” Your voice actually sounded a little accusatory. Marcus just shrugged “I … must’ve forgotten. It wasn’t like it had rained before today so – it wasn’t important.”

Huh, not important. You swallowed your pride and you continued on. “Do you think the stars might be crying?” He sounded confused when he replied “why would I think that?” “Well,” you began, “the poem, think of it as a sequel. You might have proposed to her on a clear night, but maybe they’re crying because they’re saying farewell to their sisters again.” “How did you know it was a clear night?” “Stars aren’t visible behind clouds”

Marcus stopped abruptly and looked at you again. His curls dropped forward, droplets of rain running along the salt and pepper strands and falling onto your face. Did he know how handsome he was, even by today’s standards? Despite all the scars? His thumb gently stroked your hand and a smile crept up to his lips. “You’re such a smart woman. It’s a shame no one appreciates that. Thank you for everything,” he mused. His words touched you, he was one of the few people whose compliments felt genuine. “Thank you, general. I’m so curious to meet her,” you responded, squeezing his hand ever so softly. Only a few more minutes and you could stop lying, to him and to yourself. “I can’t wait to hold her in my arms again.” Ouch.

You kept walking and after a few close calls with tripping hazards, he stopped for the final time. “This should be it,” he said and opened his eyes. You were in a small alley, behind a house it seemed. “No trees here,” you said softly. Not like you had expected anything else. If there had been a tree in Rome that was this old, you would’ve heard about it.

Marcus let go of your hand and walked towards a small shrine on one of the walls that had gathered his attention. You stared at your now empty hand. It felt a little cold now that he had let go. “What does it say?” he asked, pointing at a little sign by the shrine, and you followed him to a statue of virgin Mary with baby Jesus. The imagery must have been a little painful to see for him.

You read the small inscription. “It’s a shrine of the virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ, the… son of the Christian God.” You heard him mutter something, probably disappointment, or confusion why a virgin was a mother. “It says here they found the remains of a woman and a child when this house was built, so they put the shrine here.” you turned to look at him. “This must be it. We found her.”

And as much as it hurt you to know that Marcus would leave, the joy you saw in his eyes soothed your pain a little. After all, your friend had lost so much more than you would lose after he would be with his wife again. They could continue their life and you wondered what this meant for the present, for your time. Would history change?

Would he forget you for the sake of never letting anyone know where he had been?

You both heard steps coming down the alley. Marcus didn’t dare move and neither did you. As much as you wanted him to be happy, what about you? Could you be selfish for a second? He would leave you behind, separated from him by so much time. It wasn’t like there was much that held him here, besides the one friend he made.

The woman that came around the corner was definitely not his wife. It was an older lady under an umbrella, taking an evening walk or maybe going home, carrying a small bag. You and her exchanged pleasantries, distracting you for a moment.

“Astra, where are you?” he asked, as soon as his gaze was back on him, you saw the pain in his face. He ran his fingers through his hair. How you would’ve loved to do the same. “Astra!” he called out into the night and you flinched, startled by the sudden volume. “Astra!” he called again.

You heard some residents complain about the noise. You blinked a few times and afterwards looked at him, “Marcus,” you softly addressed him. “I don’t understand it. She said she’d be here, but there’s just me and … you.” He turned to look at you and disappointment left for confusion, one eyebrow raised. What?

“Are you crying?” You couldn’t feel the tears on your already wet face but you nodded, certain your eyes were tearing up because you would lose him. With a few steps Marcus was opposite of you, cupping your face with one hand and wiping your cheek. “Why are you crying?” “Happy tears” His head tilted to the side. “I can tell when you’re lying,” he grumbled. Marcus came a little closer, chest to chest with you, and his second hand joined in to cup your face. “Tell me.” How were you supposed to let this go without tears?

“I’m happy for you, or… I thought I was, but I –” he leaned in and shut you up by kissing you. You leaned in but at the same time you muttered out a “stop” in between kisses. He growled “no” and kept going. “Marcus,” you tried to get him to stop again, this time successfully, allowing you to take a breath.

“I thought we were over this,” you tried to accuse him of something, but it fell on deaf ears this time around. “You’re smart. Connect the dots.” His voice was so silky and you absolutely wanted to hate him for being so hot when you should be mad at him. “You’re kissing me here when your wife is about to show up any second to leave with you!”

“Carissima,” he stroked your cheeks. “It’s just us here. I should have known from the beginning when I first saw you.” “What?” “It’s you. It’s always been you. You have her wit, her heart… and her eyes.” He gave you a once-over, never stopping stroking your cheeks. “But the rain–” “As you so cleverly pointed out: Stars aren’t visible then it rains.”

And then it partially clicked. “The poem…” “Your eyes are the stars, and your tears are the rain.” Marcus leaned in and placed a kiss onto your forehead before he continued. “I was meant to stumble before your feet and fall in love with you all over again. And I fell hard.” “But you were so persistent to find her today,” you intercepted. Of course, you were a little overwhelmed with what was going on. Was he really implying you were some kind of reincarnation of Astra? He shook his head. “I was waiting for a sign that I was right.”

You raised your head to see him smiling at you. “Please tell me you feel the same.” It’s a little hard to process it all, but all you wanted was to give in, so you nodded. You had fallen for him a while ago, ever since you had seen the brown eyes for the first time. To confirm your gesture, Marcus kissed you again, one hand in the back of your neck, pulling you in even closer. Your fingers were in his hair, tangling in the wet curls. “Now it’s happy tears,” you whispered when he leaned in once more, forehead against forehead. He smiled warmly and gave you another peck on the lips.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked. Not that the rain wasn’t pleasant, but you stood here in a random alleyway when you had an apartment close. “Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” You offered with a grin. “I would love to. I love you.” “I love you too.”

#roll a trope challenge #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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f0point5 · 9 months ago

Note

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE WHEN?? I have never needed a written piece more than right now

I also reserve the right to imagine Emilia throwing a shoe at someone in this scenario. Idk why i just feel like it could happen. She is not happy about it

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE NOW!!!

Tell me why this went four different ways before I came to this version. The alternate version took place in a club and had Emilia spraying champagne at a bunch of people but fundamentally it didn’t work as a written piece because you can’t hear what anyone’s saying in a club for shit 😂 No shoe throwing but I hope you like it anyway 😂

Me writing action scenes is like something out of that book After it’s so bad I’m sorry but I hope you got where I’m going 😂

✨set after the Monaco Grand Prix 2018✨

I don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming

Another Monaco GP, another yacht party. You’re not even sure whose yacht it is but you don’t care. During GP weekend, drivers can pretty much walk onto whatever boat they want. You, Max, Clara, and Laurent had wandered onto the biggest boat with people having a party and set about forgetting Max’s nightmare weekend. The party is chaotic, you’re not sure how long whoever is in charge of the marina will let the noise and overcrowding go on, but you’re enjoying the high, four shots down with Max on the upper deck, lazily moving to the music emanating from the DJ playing his set downstairs.

“Where’s Laurent?” Max asks, practically shouting in your ear. He’s tipsy, which he deserves to be, his arm slung over your shoulder as he looks around, jerking your body as he turns. He’s out way too late, you can tell by how his t-shirt is clinging to him, and the fluffy top of his hair has completely broken free of the gel hold. He looks positively feral. You don’t hate it.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you don’t have to shout. “Probably fucking Clara in a bathroom somewhere,”

Max chuckles at that, taking a sip of his Red Bull. He offers it to you but you shake your head.

“I thought you were supposed to be supporting me,” he jokes as you avoid the can.

“Not by rotting my insides,” you tell him, squirming in his hold as he bops to the Dua Lipa remix he’ll pretend he’s never heard before. He manoeuvres you in front of him as if you don’t even have feet, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that you’re still trapped, but comfortable.

“Je bent niet leuk, schatje,” he says into your ear. The air on your neck makes you shiver against him, and he must think you’re cold because he holds you tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you tell him, which makes him smirk. “And I’m not your baby,”

“Ja, maar-“

“Max!”

You twist in Max’s hold when a guy you don’t recognise appears from somewhere in the crowd. Max lets go of you to greet him, and without being entirely engulfed by 80kgs of Red Bull and audacity, you realise you’re parched. You tell Max you’ll be right back and scoot out of reach before he can say anything. You creep through the crowd and then downstairs to where the drinks are without twisting your ankle, which, given how drunk you felt back upstairs, sort of surprises you.

There’s several ice buckets lining the edge of the deck and you peruse the options. You’ve certainly had enough to drink but one more vodka couldn’t hurt. You glance over at the cans of Red Bull and make a note to take one with you as you pick a glass off the table.

“Do you come with the bottles?”

Well, that’s a choice of opening line, talking to a girl like she’s a phone charm.

You turn to see what, not whom, actually felt comfortable saying that out loud and there he was. The epitome of a guy who would say that. He’s older than you, maybe mid to late 20s, all tan and tight jeans, dark hair cut in a fade, gold watch that could be seen from space and those Louboutin loafers. His cologne smells like Dubai.

You look him up and down very slowly and deliberately. “Not if you’re buying them,” you say, turning back to the ice bucket.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” his voice is closer now, almost in your ear. You turn only slightly and find his face already next to yours. ”Come have a drink over here,” he nods over to a seating area where a few guys sit with girls that look too young to be there.

You know the type - down on a girls trip for the weekend with only party outfits in their bags, they’d likely hung around the marina until the pack of jackals had brought them here to ply them with alcohol they didn’t have to pay for. You’re half offended that this guy thought you’d be anywhere near that easy.

“I’ve got enough, thanks.” You say, firmer this time, as you give up on the vodka and just grab one of the many bottles of champagne in the ice bucket. When you turn to leave, you practically collide with the hunk of meat now towering over you.

“Who do I have to speak to to get you to come have a drink with me?” He asks, as if that’s meant to be sexy.

You roll your eyes. “Your hairdresser.”

“Come on, just one drink. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his eyes glancing down. You follow his gaze, already steeling yourself for some vulgar gesture, but he pulls out the edge of his wallet from his jeans.

You roll your eyes again. “I’m not pay for play. Now leave me alone.”

You step around him this time, starting to make your way back towards the stairs when this experiment in protein shake consumption blocks your way. You almost trip trying not to crash into him, not that he would have minded if the way he leans into you Is any indication.

“Look, I’m not some nobody, baby, I’ve got real fucking money. I’m what all you pretty girls come out here in your skimpy dresses for,” he says, the noxious smell of chemicals and tequila almost making your eyes water. What makes you feel sick is the way he uses his height advantage to look down your dress. “So have a drink with me. It’ll be fun, I promise,”

Only now does he employ an actual smile, the kind that you’d never want to be in a room alone with. Suddenly, you don’t feel like making any more jokes, you just want to get as far away from this guy as possible. Turning on your heels, you figure you’ll double back around the deck, but a hand tight on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t walk away from me,” the words are growled, and you feel your pulse spike. Now you’re scared, but showing it will get you nowhere.

“Get off me,” you snap, trying to shake the giant cretin off you without causing a scene. He doesn’t let go and you’re just about to bottle him over the head when you hear Max’s voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Max strides towards you, looking as angry as you’ve ever seen him. He must have been watching from up by the railings of the top deck.

“Oh, here we go,” the guy grumbles, rolling his eyes as he looks at Max. You take the opportunity to wrench your arm free of him. “Don’t worry, bro. You can have her back when I’m finished with her,”

“You arrogant piece of shit,” you snarl at the guy, almost taking a step towards him before thinking better of it.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps back, pointing a finger at you. “Your ass isn’t that nice,”

“The fuck did you just say?” Max yells over the music. He guides you behind him effortlessly and you don’t argue, though you do keep hold of his arm.

“You heard me, you prick,” the douchebag says, flashing Max a cocky grin. That won’t go down well.

You pull on Max’s arm. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that this is getting out of hand.

“Max, leave it,” you tell him, pulling him again, and this time he listens, sighing and shaking his head. He knows he has to let it go.

“Jesus,” the arrogant pig sneers, and you cringe. “Has this bitch got a magic pussy or something?”

You don’t even have a chance against Max’s reaction speed. He’s moving before your eyes can even follow, shoving the guy backwards so quickly that the drunkard stumbles slightly, but not as much as you thought he would.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max growls at him.

Dickhead doesn’t take this well, shoving Max back. You’re too scared to get in the middle now. People are starting to stare, a couple of them even have their phones out.

“Max,” it’s more of a plea than anything. “Stop it,”

You know Max isn’t going to just drop it. He doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight, it’s just that normally his fighting involves being protected by a ton of carbon fibre, not that he thinks he needs it.

“You don’t want to mess with me, man,” the guy shouts, looking over Max’s shoulder to glare at you. “Certainly not over some dirty yacht slut,”

Once again, you’re no match for Max’s reaction speed. You don’t see his arm move. You’re barely able to process his fist connecting with the guy’s face. You just see Dickhead fly backwards clutching his jaw as he tumbles to the ground.

“Max!” You scream, but this time he totally ignores you.

“Fucking pussy,” he yells, at the same volume but now that the music has been turned down so that everyone can pay attention to the spectacle, it feels like the whole marina can hear him.

He steps towards the disoriented drunkard on the floor and this time you manage to catch up with him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards.

“Max, come on,”

He’s fighting it a little, and you press your nails into his skin as you fight harder, dragging him away from where Douchebag’s friends have swarmed around him trying to help. You know they’re looking in your direction but you ignore them and you’re hoping Max does, too.

He turns to look at you and it’s like barely recognises you, his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated and you don’t entirely recognise him either. It knocks the wind out of you, and for just a second you swear everything stops, even your heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” Max asks you, through frenzied breathing.

Your mouth is dry but you speak anyway. “I’m fine.” You don’t know if you’re lying. “Let’s just go,”

You don’t give him time to argue, and it seems he’s calmed down enough to realise now is a good time to cut your losses, because he follows you without complaint.

You don’t let go of him until you’re on the concrete pathway up towards the stairs that have street access. More accurately, that’s when you become aware that you’re still holding onto him. When two toasted revellers try to walk between you but can’t, and shout something at you in Spanish for walking too slow. You let go of Max but he still doesn’t say anything. You keep stealing glances at him as you walk. His shoulders are still tight, his jaw is clenched. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. He still looks livid. That’s why you’re nervous, that’s why you can’t catch your breath, that’s why it’s hard to look away from him. You’re worried about him.

“Well, that was stupid,” you say with a sigh, once you’re sure your words won’t come out as some kind of breathy invocation of a worse kind of chaos than anything you’ve already been involved in tonight.

“That guy was stupid,” Max shoots back, grinding his teeth.

“You could have got hurt, Max,” you tell him, shoving him in the arm. He rolls his eyes. Of course. When taking your own life in your hands is what you get paid for there’s not much you can afford to be scared of. “What would have happened if you’d broke your hand? Your dad would actually kill me,”

“My dad would have done the same thing I did,” Max counters, and you can tell by the several expressions that cross his face in quick succession that he doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“Your dad is an idiot,” you remind him. He doesn’t argue. “And so are you,”

He scoffs. “So I was just supposed to let him talk to you like that? Touch you like that?” It’s not really a question, more a general statement of unadulterated disgust and you can’t really blame him. “Fuck that. I’m not going to just-“

He cuts himself off, his jaw ticking again. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, but you know men behaving like sentient sewage is a sore subject for both of you. Maybe, you think, you shouldn’t make him feel bad for standing up for you. You’d never needed anyone to stand up for you, and you still didn’t, but the fact that Max always did means more to you than you know how to articulate.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, catching more of the corner of his mouth than you intended, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stops walking and looks at you, the left side of his lips twitching.

“You kiss idiots?” Max asks, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip.

“Exclusively,” you shrug, “judging by my dating history,”

That makes him laugh, a proper one, with that bark he does when he’s surprised how funny he finds something. All traces of the menace from the boat filter out of his body, and something in the back of your head tells you it was just in time.

“Hey,” a loud, obnoxious, and lovable voice rings out behind you. You turn around and see Laurent walking towards you with a well satisfied Clara on his back, holding a large bottle of pilfered champagne. “Where the fuck have you two been?”

#max Verstappen x reader

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year ago

Text

Pick You Up At 7

(Gator Tillman x Plus size!Female Reader)

Summary: When your date goes bad, Gator reacts in unexpected ways.

Warnings: Language, implied smut/smut, low self-esteem, body dysmorphia, food insecurity, fat phobia, fat shaming, Gator and reader roast one another, have nicknames, mentions periods, Gator being a tad misogynistic, anxiety, and depression.

Word count: 2,913

Pairings: Gator Tillman x Plus size!Female Reader

A/N: This one isn’t for the faint of heart, folks! It’s straight up self-indulgent, it’s intense. So… yeah. Read the warnings and read at your own risk! Wanted to provide a little release/comfort for myself, and I’m proud of this one!

You knew they were laughing as soon as you got into the office the next morning. Not so subtle hushed whispers and baiting for remarks that you’d normally snap back with. But you keep your head down, lunch forgotten in the car. You’d never let someone tell you what he had last night, not usually, but you’re sure that it’s what you expect from the guy you hate yourself for really wanting - will do, that’s got you worked up the most.

No, that’s a lie. It’s an added situation, but what happened on your date last night, you’ve never felt so disgusted or panicked.

The men continue to talk before they go back to paperwork and shit talking, leaving you to shed your winter attire carelessly by your rolling desk chair. You sit down as if it’ll break, pulling your long gray buttoned down cardigan over your form. It’s not what you usually wear, either. Proud to show off your figure, knowing the guys here aren’t into your extra pounds, it never bothered you that much to put your cleavage on display while working in the police station as their only secretary. If they have any inkling towards you, then it’s ‘do me a favor’ or ‘get a beer for me, maybe join the rest of the boys as we hit on every other female but you’ kinda thing.

The air in the place changes before the sound of his thick leader combats approaches your desk. You keep your head down and plead, pretending to organize old files that are ready for the shredder.

Please don’t. Please don’t come over here. Please. Please.

“Hey, twerp.” He leans over the counter, vape in one hand, his newly freed arm propped across his other.

You raise a brow as your simple acknowledgement, trying to hold your breath as his cedarwood cologne and mint hair gel soak into your nostrils when he bends down to sort through the little decorative holographic candy dish you keep. Annoyingly, seconds later he’s whining. “Where’s the goods at? The fuck? Shit’s practically empty.”

Go away.

You manage to speak, cringing at how cracked your voice is, dangling over the precipice of breaking down. Here. In front of everyone. In front of him.

“I’m working right now. Go to the Dollar Tree if you want candy so fuckin’ bad.” You don’t even address him with a nickname or his last name. And it unnerves him. With a shove of your small crystal bowl, you watch the leftover mints slosh onto the counter and over your papers, and only then your reaction is what he wants. He needs you to look at him.

He’s smirking and chewing on the filter of his vape, blowing a smoke cloud into the air and making you grit your teeth. That clock in the distance sounds louder, cheaper. And Gator Tillman takes your distracted gaze and creeps around and starts looking at your desk. It’s your space here, regardless. And up until now, he used to know that too. You sigh, asking him what he’s doing,

“Where’s your purse, kid? You must be hiding it all in there. You on the rag, that it? Would explain why you’re being a bitch and the stuff isn’t here.”

“Gator…”

He kicks your coat aside, but pauses his searching when you say his name. Like a damned addiction he can’t yet admit to

“Calm your granny panties down. Where is it at?”

“It’s not here.” You’re losing control of yourself. He keeps pushing.

“Why? You know nobody gives a shit if you bring your red tide plugs in here. Can’t have you bleedin’ all over shit. It’s mighty unprofessional, you know?”

“Take your shriveled little ballsack elsewhere, I’m bored with you.” He’s grateful you’re engaging, hands sliding over his cargo pockets and patting.

“Or —“

Your heart rate accelerates, knowing exactly where this is going. It’s why he originally came to your desk, you’re not stupid.

“ — You didn’t get laid last night. Would also explain this crap.”

“Stop it.” It's pathetic, a weak demand, even to your ears, but it’s all you got, that anxiety clawing your esophagus and winding up around your lungs like a cobweb, squeezing like a vice.

“I told you he was a loser, darlin’. You never listen. So what happened?”

“I asked you to quit.”

“And I asked you what happened. What? He’s too much of a pussy to put it in when there’s a little blood? Did it make him queasy —“

You’re out of your chair and facing him, hands on his leather jacket. And he’s down in your chair, the wheels moving so fast that he flies back and hits the filing cabinet, scattering things everywhere, his legs coming up and then his heels slamming down rather comically. The guys howl in the background, making Gator having to inhale sharply to get it together. You’re walking away from him and down the hall to the restroom where he follows, walking right in behind you and slamming his hand on top of the metal stall door to prevent it from closing.

You try but it’s no use. Your fight is gone, the burn blurs your vision, scorching your throat, making everything hazy.

“You don’t fuckin’ do that to me in front of them, you hear me? You don’t disrespect —“

A sniffle that would’ve been quieter, it echoes in the expanse of the cold, gray walls. You pass him and find yourself clutching the sink, pleading. It’s like you’ve lost all ability to walk, to think, to process how to guard your tightly kept emotions.

And it scares Gator Tillman to death.

“Gator, please just go away?”

His boots creak and squish on the floor as he pivots and finds a space beside you, folding knuckles resting beside your hand, nearly touching, a warmth that threatens you both within its encasement.

“Is this about your outfit? The baggy sweater thing? You know the guys all stare at your big tits when you wear those other tops, right?”

You’d laugh, even be prideful, but you don’t believe a damned thing right now. Because in spite of what he says, you know Gator has a soft spot in his heart that isn’t touched by his namesake’s cruelty. You shake your head and watch him take the vape out, your eyes glistening with tears when you take in his form. He blows a line of smoke and damn near chokes when he sees the actual tears drip down your cheeks.

“Can I have a hit of that?” It’s a bold move. In part because you always roast him for it, and two, because his mouth has just been on it and he’ll get to taste you. You’ll be tasting each other.

He hands it to you, fingers brushing yours. He wants nothing more than to touch you, and he has to fight himself where he stands, feeling an electricity at the nape of his neck that shocks his flesh full of goosebumps, as you wrap your lips around the mouthpiece and puff a few times, coughing. He smiles softly, in spite of the situation.

You, you’re trying to mull over how you can taste his minty saliva beneath the nasty ass acidic fruit cloud that’s misting over your lungs. “Jesus Christ, what flavor is that?”

Taking it back, he’s all too eager to sample you, clicking his lips together and pocketing the vape. “Think it’s banana kiwi.”

There’s a comfortable beat before you both remember why you’re here. It dawns on Gator then, and you both know it. There’s this dark look that pools in the mossy oak of his gaze, drowning out all rationality. His voice cracks sharp, a tone that you’ve never heard before. “Did he hurt you? What happened last night?”

“Just drop it, okay?” You find your voice again, but Gator is already seeing red, a tunnel vision of fire and brimstone with your date from the night prior.

You aren’t ready for it, not in the slightest. Your skin prickles to life, body drenched in elation, relief, and struggling to catch up with your racing heartbeat. His pointer and middle fingers find your chin in the gentlest press, tilting. “Kiddo…”

“Doesn’t matter what he did.”

“You know it fuckin’ does.” Gator’s thumb twitches as it catches a teardrop. It tracks across your jaw and back.

You’re a little angry now, finally snapping at him like an animal that’s cornered. “Fine. You wanna know what he did, Mr. Prom King?” Gator winces at how you use his former title, clearly not impressed. You didn’t run in the same circles and he knows where this is going.

“Twerp, c’mon —“

“Just shut your mouth and listen for once, since you want to know so badly.” Your hands leave the speckled counter and you step away, swiping at your damp eyes. “He took me to dinner and waited until the waiter came to take our orders, to tell them that he wasn’t paying for mine. And you know, I just thought he was a douche. But I guess he had the smarts to wait until the waiter left again before he told me that what I ordered wasn’t appropriate, so he didn’t feel comfortable paying for it.”

Gator, still a little confused, speechless, questions, “Well, what did you get?”

“Steak and fries.” You want to scream at what Gator is not seeing.

“But most people like that kinda shit? I eat that every weekend —“

You blow out a breath that causes you to choke on a small whimper. This causes Gator to change his tune. “Wait…”

“He thought I should have the side salad for ‘someone my size.’ And after dinner was over, he made it a point to inform me that no one would go out with someone dressed in a dress that tight. How embarrassing it is.”

Gator is positively seething now, teeth clenching. And the fact that you wore this for the dickbag and he wasn’t all over you?

“I pointed out that at least half a dozen women in the restaurant were wearing more revealing outfits, that it’s not up to him or anyone else to judge. And he couldn’t wait to cut me off to let me know that he didn’t care about that. He cared about…” Your voice breaks and you laugh in wet disbelief.

“He cared about what?” Gator’s tone is at toxic levels now, nearing a whisper.

There’s no way to hide how you're openly sobbing now, snotting, lower lip quivering. “He cared about girls like me thinking guys like him wanna see someone who weighs this much, wearing something like that.”

“He needs his ass strung up on a barn door and used as target practice —“

“Don’t act like you give a shit, Tillman. I’ve seen the posters in your room, the girls you flirt with at the bars, the ones you talked to in school. Don’t be a fucking marauder with me.”

“How do you know? You didn’t even know me in highschool!” He’s offended and it pisses you off. Another fib. In this small town everyone knows everyone, or at least hears of them - that is a given.

“Oh, I knew you. I knew your crowd. And you all made it abundantly clear I was to stay out of the way. You’re just like all of the other assholes around here when it comes to how you treat women, nothing changes. Weight defines everything, even when it shouldn’t, no matter what body type a person has. It always does to people.”

“Then why the fuck did he ask you out if he was going to act like a bitch?” Gator goes straight for it with a sigh of confusion.

You laugh this time, a sound that levels Gator with diabolical unease. “He was bored and wanted someone to get him off, so he thought I’d be an easy enough, sure thing. Entitled fucking prick.”

It’s a somber silence after, your dying sniffles ceasing as you swipe your nose and attempt to collect yourself, stomach hollow and nauseated. You can’t stay here anymore, not after this. You manage to look at Gator and step with one hand on the bathroom door. “I’m going back to work. If you can not tell the other guys, I’d appreciate it.”

And as Gator is left alone in the cool, dim light bathroom, he’s already formulating an idea, going straight out the back entrance and into his squad car.

The next hour went by quicker than you thought, giving you time to push away all thoughts of your confrontation and reveals with Gator. You’ve given him more ammo to tease you with, but you’re also wondering why he’s not here? You’re in the midst of stacking new department funding files when you hear it. Your date’s voice.

“I didn’t do nothin’! You know I didn’t!”

And another, one that has your mouth going dry.

“Get your ass movin’, pencil dick.”

Your jaw is close to dropping, becoming unhinged seconds later as Gator rounds the corner in his gear, your date’s collar clutched in his fist, the vape in the other, and a very noticeable split across your date’s lip, complete with a bloodied nose. Gator stops short in front of the desk, shoving your date into its edge. He’s panting heavily, raising a brow at you, Gator amused from behind.

“Hey, twerp.” Gator grins like the Cheshire Cat. “Got a booking for ya to process!”

“I… what?” You come up with.

“You gonna tell her what you did, shitbird?”

“What’s going on?” You and Gator are going back and forth, your former date nearly ignored. This is not a coincidence. And you’re practically glued to your chair at the notion that Gator went after him in your honor.

Does this mean…?

“Caught this fucker side swiping candy at the damned Dollar Tree. What kind of prick does that when it’s a dollar?”

“I was not!” Your date is shouting.

The Dollar Tree? Wait…

You feel as if you’ve been hit with a pillow and swallowed the feathers, enjoying their light tickles that scratch at your throat. You want to laugh. By golly, you almost do. Gator whistles for another officer that takes your date down the hall. Seconds later he’s leaning on bended elbows, jacket crunching, his voice a whispered hum for you to hear, and you alone.

“Didn’t wanna forget this.” He unravels his arms and slides one into his pocket, his massive palm full of the candy you both like. He lets it spill into your dish, waiting a few beats before speaking again. “All good now.” With a snatching of his favorite piece of chocolate, he knocks his knuckles on your countertop.

“Get him processed in, yeah?”

You nod dumbly, watching him walk away. He turns around and waves with one finger, however, before he meets the other policeman and your ex-date.

“By the way, be ready at seven. I’m gonna pick you up and we’ll get supper.” He elgonates a leather clad arm, fingertips drumming on the doorway. His voice is raspy when he focuses back on you, eyes dark in a completely different way. “Wear that dress too.”

Your legs tighten together and you pinch at your cardigan, fanning yourself.

“You get your ass movin’ down that hallway, short stack!” Gator finishes, turning to you one last time and flashing a cheeky little wink.

Gator did indeed pick you up in his truck. Seven on the dot. He wore nice dark jeans and a crisp white button up, loosened to let a silver chain peek out, nestled amongst the thick chest hair, his leather jacket over him, hair slicked back, and his watch and normal boots. You wore that tight dress with a little unease, and slightly heeled boots over your sheer black tights, a few rings adorning your hands. When Gator walked you to your side of the car after walking you out of your house, you weren’t regretting anything about the purchase of the form fitting dress any longer.

When you got to dinner, Gator waited as you ordered, encouraging you to get the steak and fries that he knew you wanted. And after drinks, you shared the biggest piece of chocolate cake in the joint. Conversation flowed easy, felt good. Your old date wasn’t mentioned, but you both knew. Gator had taken you back to his place (per your request), where he’d laid you down in his bed and held your legs open until you were begging him to fuck you. And that he did.

His hand splayed atop yours, your dress around your waist, he’d taken you from behind, plaster escaping his paneled wall as a result. When that had ended, he’d stripped you free of everything, and walked you to his mirror, chin on your shoulder, fingers in your cunt. Showing you what he liked about your body, but telling you that it doesn’t matter what anyone but you thinks. And if anyone thinks differently, he’d put them all away. Impractical, but enough to cause you to cream his thick digits and soak his floor.

The next day, you’d worn your most low cut top with pride, settling at your desk to another empty candy dish. When you look up, Gator is smiling in your direction, that damned vape in one hand, candy wrapper in the other.

We all need someone to help us feel good about ourselves sometimes.

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benedictscanvas · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I’m such a huge fan of your Ted Lasso fics! I completely agree that there’s not enough Roy Kent fics out there. I was wondering if I could request a fic where Roy has feelings for the physiotherapist on the team and she has feelings for him too, and he’s all upset after his final game because he won’t be able to see her anymore and he’s worried she’s upset because he undid all her hard work rehabbing his knee, but it’s all sweet and yearning. I know that’s a lot so if it’s not your thing, absolutely no worries!

i've been meaning to get to this one, because i really like it!! and i just want to thank you for ur support because ur user pops up a lot in my notifs and i appreciate you so much <3 also i've made up roy's injury and keeley is with jamie in this ahaha | 2k words (!!), tw language, hurt/comfort

Roy is barely holding himself together.

He sinks down onto the bench in the dressing room and stares straight away, eyes burning. It's like his whole body is on fire and he knows if he held his hand in front of his face, it would be shaking. He doesn't try it, instead curls his hands into fists, clenching the bench below him.

He's fucked it.

His knee. His career. His life. It had been coming, he knew, but he still expected to have a year or two left in him. Some time to come to terms with his whole world coming crashing down around him. Instead he does one stupid fucking tackle on Jamie fucking Tartt and now he's done. Even the crowd had known it. The thought of them chanting for him brings back a lump in his throat.

He sees a shadow at the door and hangs his head. Knows the outline of you too well to pretend it's anyone else. You've come to shout at him, or slap him around the face, or maybe mock him. Whatever it is, he doesn't want to hear it.

You enter silently other than the door clicking shut behind you, but Roy doesn't look up to greet you. He keeps his eyes on the floor.

"I don't-" he clears his throat when his voice comes out all hoarse. All wrong, "I don't want to hear it. I fucked it, I know, and I don't want to fucking hear it."

You don't respond, instead walking further over to him and crouching down in front of him. He'd waved you away on the pitch, surprised that you'd let him stand up and walk off. He didn't look back at you when he did, knowing all he'd see would be disappointment.

You've got your physio bag, he notices, and you're unzipping it, rifling through the contents.

"There's no point. Get out, Y/N," he tries again, voice more desperate this time, "Please."

"Would you just shut the fuck up?" you say suddenly, louder than the quiet room deserved. You sigh, at yourself it seems, but Roy is frozen in place. He'd prepared himself for you to come and shout at him, but still hadn't expected you to really do it. You never shouted.

Still, he did as he was told, because he was too stunned to argue with you.

You get an icepack on his knee immediately, grumbling under your breath but he can't make out the words. There's some gel that you rub on too, and that eases some of the pain he's in, not that he can bring himself to say thank you. When you've properly secured the icepack to his knee, you finally look up at his face.

"You might have hurt yourself more by refusing that stretcher, you twat," you spit out, and he can see the anxiety swirling across your whole face, "Why do you have to be so..."

You trail off, scoffing to yourself without finishing your sentence as your gaze drops back down to his knee. Roy is tired and in pain and frustrated - all three of which were reasons for not wanting to have this conversation right now.

"Reckless? Fucking stupid? Old as shit? It's just what I fucking am, alright? I couldn't let that shit score, and now it's over. Fucking all of it."

He hears his voice get small towards the end. You're back looking at him and shaking your head before he's even finished.

"For the season, yeah. Then we get back to fucking work, Kent. We can start you on the slow stuff, rebuild the strength. I can assess whether you'll need an op-"

"Y/N."

"Don't," you say harshly, pointing up at him, but there's a break in your voice he doesn't know what to do with, "You're not done."

"We both know that it's my fucking ACL. Two years recovery time, more 'cause I'm fucking ancient. It's over."

He sees the tears in your eyes then. Fuck. One minute he thought you were unbearably angry with him, now you were on the verge of crying? He felt slow in a whole new way, unable to keep up with where this was going.

"You've worked so fucking hard," you grind out, "It can't just...if I'd done more on your knee the last few weeks maybe...We knew it was a problem. I could have-"

It hits him like a freight train when he realises all your anger is directed at yourself. That you're blaming yourself, not him. He gulps, watches you staring off in the direction of Ted's office as your tears fall.

You've worked together ceaselessly this season. He needs a lot of treatment in a lot of areas nowadays, not that he likes to admit it. You've been there every step of the way, poking and prodding and kneading out every knot, but also laughing. Eating the occasional breakfast when he comes in early for you to work on him.

He's not sure he's ever been this into someone before. Where it's crept up on him slowly and then washed over him all at once - about a month ago when Phoebe visited Richmond. Seeing you with her was like seeing some kind of future he never thought he'd have.

He still didn't think he'd have it. This injury was proof enough that good things didn't have a habit of coming his way. It was why he'd kept quiet about it ever since he realised rather than pouring his heart out to you.

"Hey," he says gruffly, completely out of his depth, "You're blaming yourself? I thought you were fucking livid with me."

Your eyes shoot back to his despite their bloodshot nature. Despite the situation, he watches as you giggle in disbelief.

"Angry with you? When has that ever fucking happened?" you say wetly, wiping at your face with rough fingertips, "I'm your physio, Roy, I'm meant to prevent this shit. And fix it. And now I can't fucking do either."

A fresh wave of tears bubbles up over your eyelids and travels down your face as you let out a sob. It's the first time he thinks about another side effect of his career ending - he'll have to leave Richmond. All the people he's come to love, despite really not wanting to. That would include you.

With an instinct he didn't know he had, he reached out to tug on your hand. You looked up at him in surprise, but he helps to pull you up with a small groan when you don't really let him take any of your weight. He guides you to sit next to him on the bench, so you do, sniffling uncontrollably.

"You've done a fucking lot for me these last few years. Especially this season. Don't fucking beat yourself up about this. I'm the one who made the stupid tackle."

"He was through on goal. You stopped him."

"And it might not make a fucking difference."

"It might," you try, crying slowing down as you switch into protective mode. He's seen you do it many times, but it never fails to bring warmth to his face, "Look, if I can't beat myself up, neither can you. Let's just blame the fucking universe, yeah?"

He considers it. Sounds like a good way to vent his frustration without falling into a spiral of self-hatred, but it might also get you to stop crying which is all he wants in the fucking world at this moment.

"Fine. Fuck the universe."

"Fuck the universe," you agree, bumping your shoulder lightly into his own, "Now would you start crying, please, so I'm not the only one embarrassing myself?"

Roy smiles despite himself at that, happy when he turns your way and sees you smiling too.

"I'm going to cry later, in the privacy of my fucking home," he says, wrapping an arm around you because it feels like both the right time and the right place, "Like a normal fucking person."

"Fuck you," you laugh, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. Roy spots a stray tear on your collarbone and reaches to smudge it away without thinking. You shuffle closer to him, his arm still around you, and put your own hand on his thigh.

Roy's brain short-circuits.

"I'll be leaving," he says, sudden even to himself, "Can't fucking stick around if I'm not playing."

"I know," you say softly, tucking your head into his shoulder. He can't let his own head rest against yours, because he knows he'd get too comfortable. Knows he'd never want to move again.

He takes a moment. He knows what he wants to say, he's just not sure he can.

"I don't want to fucking leave," he gets out through gritted teeth, but he's left out the most important word.

You. I don't want to fucking leave you.

It's stuck in his throat as he peers down at the top of your head, still resting on him. He kicks himself inwardly when he can't get the extra word out before you start talking, index finger tracing gentle patterns just above his knee.

"Yeah, I don't want you to fucking leave either," you say, as if you're admitting something terrible. He can tell you're watching the movement of your own hand to avoid looking up at him. "You won't stick around, join the coaching staff?"

"Fuck no," he barks out, feeling you chuckle against his side, "I couldn't do that shit."

"You could," you insist, "But it's okay if you don't want to. I just thought maybe I could look after you if you did."

He tries to move away from you to look at your face with a smirk, but you stay rooted to the spot and stop drawing your patterns on his leg abruptly.

"Your knee! I meant look after your fucking knee, Jesus."

It's now or never. He's so sick of never saying what he fucking means around you, but if he can't do that, he'll settle for the next best thing.

"Do you make house calls?"

It's the worst line he's ever used. But you're here rather than watching the end of the match, and your head is on his shoulder, hand on his thigh. He wonders if maybe, his luck might be balancing out, if maybe you'll understand what he's trying and failing to say.

"Huh?"

He stifles his own chuckle at the confusion in your voice. Willing himself to just fucking do something, he takes your hand from his knee and holds it in his own, clasping on tightly. There's a spike in his heart rate when you grip his hand right back.

"I'm asking-" he begins, hoping you can't hear his heartbeat, "-if you do house calls. To look after my knee, and shit. Once I'm gone."

"Oh."

You've definitely understood his meaning. In past months, he'd be tearing his hair out over trying to read between the lines, probably taking it out on Ted or Jamie or Isaac or whoever was nearby to be shouted at. Now he's positive, as you cling to his hand, that you know what he's trying to say.

Even if he's not sure of your reaction yet, there's already a weight lifted from his chest. And whatever that fucking gel you put on his knee was, he hasn't felt the pain in it since.

"As a club physio, no," you answer slowly, but he knows that's not the end of your sentence, "No house calls. Also no going into the dressing room during a match, no putting numbing cream on an injury just cause you don't want a player in pain, no holding a player's hand."

He's grinning now. Maybe because you can't actually see him doing it, but then he locks in on something you've said amongst the floating feeling that's taken over his body.

"Wait, you put fucking numbing cream on me?"

"You're welcome," you retort, "My point is that I've clearly broken a few rules for you already. So, house calls it is. For the sake of your knee."

He squeezes your hand.

"For the sake of my fucking knee, yeah."

And because it doesn't feel so scary anymore, he puts his head on top of your own and reminds himself that he was going to cry later, not now. For now, with your hand lodged tightly in his own, he decides to think about that future he didn't think he'd ever get, instead.

---

please see this post if you would like to request your own roy/jamie drabble!! closing soon <3

#roy kent x reader #roy kent #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent fluff #roy kent oneshot #busy week drabbles!#like real people queue

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fanfictiongirlie · 3 months ago

Text

Marvel: Let Us Teach You - Chapter Ten

Click Here For Story Masterlist

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers

Description:

"Okay daddy, I trust you" I say. "What will you show me?"

"We'll start with something small, is that okay doll?" I nod to him, wanting him to know I said yes. Steve smiles at me, taking a deep breath, he swallows hard before speaking again.

"Lie back on the bed doll"

(Bucky and Steve have a daughter, and they teach her about sex)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2,328

P.s... This fic is not for everyone, it has incest. That is not a thing everyone likes reading, so if you don't like reading stuff like that, this isn't the fic for you. I'm no condoning any of this, this isn't real life, this is fanfiction :)

In the morning, I woke to Steve and Bucky smiling at me, I giggled a little at the fact they were both just watching me.

"Morning doll, sleep well?"

"I did, what do we have planned today?" I asked, hoping they would say lazy day, I think we had more lazy days than productive days.

"We thought we'd have a lazy day doll, if that's alright with you?" Bucky smiled. I beamed, getting exactly what I wanted.

"That's completely alright with me" I giggled, snuggling closer to Bucky.

"Oh yeah? You sure doll...we're not too boring for you?" Steve teased, his fingers trailing up and down my arm.

"Never" I reply "I would much rather spend my time with you than anyone else" Both Steve and Bucky smiled at me, Bucky's arms tightening around me.

"We feel the exact same way doll, the moment we're away from you, all we do it count down the minutes until we see you again" Steve spoke, I giggled a little and tried wiggling away from Bucky.

"You two are so squishy" I giggled.

"Squishy huh? Did you just call us... Squishy?" Bucky speaks softly in my ear.

"Yeah!"

"Well isn't that a nice way to speak to your daddies" Steve spoke in a pretend angry voice. I said nothing, but snuggling into Steve, Bucky followed my movements and snuggled us both.

"You're lucky you're so damn cute doll" Bucky whispered.

"Do we need to prepare daddy?" I ask, my eyes looking right up into Steve's eyes. Steve looked at me a little confused at first.

"Prepare for what doll?" He responded.

"For when we have sex" I say quietly, my cheeks going red.

Both chuckled a little, Steve smiled at me and moved his hand to hold my cheek.

"We'll darling, I'll need to use my fingers down there, make sure you're all relaxed and comfortable" Steve explained, his thumb stroking my cheek.

"Okay daddy" I smiled, happy to have my question answered, my stomach grumbled a little and I giggled.

"Someone's hungry, I guess we better make you some breakfast" Bucky spoke, his lips tickling my ear.

"Yes please" I say and we all crawl out of bed.

"Why don't you shower whilst I make breakfast" Bucky smiled at me.

"Okay" I say grinning, I looked over to Steve "Join me?"

"Of course doll, I'd love to" He smirked and followed me into the shower room.

I undressed and stepped into the shower, feeling the water hit my body, Steve stepped in and began covering me in shower gel making sure I was al bubbly. I copied his actions and washed him, it felt relaxing, the two of us showering, washing each other. Once all cleaned, I got dressed for the day and made my way to the kitchen, Bucky had finished making breakfast, so we ate together, sitting quietly.

"What would you like to do doll?" Bucky asked.

"Maybe we can play some games?" I ask.

"Sure doll, that sounds fun, we can do that" Steve smiled.

"Let's set up the Nintendo Wii! And I can show you both how to play...again" I smirk. Both Steve and Bucky laughed a little, they were awful at video games, and I mean awful, it was hilarious to watch, and secretly I loved watching them be awful at games but still trying to be good.

"That sounds perfect" Bucky grins. We finish up breakfast and Bucky and Steve go and sit on the couch, I set up the console and gave both Bucky and Steve a controller each, of course I showed them how to use the controllers, and that they had to point it at the sensor in order for it to work.

"You're like our little gamer girl" Bucky smirks at me.

"Well you didn't have video games in the 40s, someone had to teach you" I responded, giggling.

We play for hours, most of the hours are them learning the games, but nonetheless it was fun, and I loved winning every game, or getting higher points for them, it was the only time I did win against them. They hated losing. We had a few food breaks, but mostly snacks, we were in the gaming zone.

"Can I ask something?" I ask randomly during a game of Wii Resort.

"Of doll, ask us anything" Steve smiled at me as I turned to him.

"Will daddy watch us, when we have sex?" My cheeks felt red and warm.

Bucky suddenly pulled me into his arms holding me close. "Of course I will doll! You think I'd miss it?"

"No" I giggled, wiggling in his arms.

"I will be preparing you my sweet, and then daddy will show you sex" Bucky explained in my ear, he said it deep, his voice sounded low and husky in my ear.

"Okay daddy... Can we do it now?" I asked, looking at Steve with my puppy dog eyes.

"Of course we can, are you ready?" Steve asked, I nodded, and the three of us rushed to the bedroom, Steve crawled onto the bed, and watched Bucky and me. I started to take my clothes off, but Bucky stopped me. He slowly started taking my clothes off, kissing my skin as he went. Once I was naked Bucky lifted me to lay on the bed, he laid me next to Steve so I was pressed against his side. Our skin touching.

"You sure you're ready doll?" Bucky asked me.

"I promise daddy, I'm ready"

Bucky smiled at my answer and moved so he hovered over my body, he kissed me gently, his lips feeling soft and gentle against mine. His lips stayed on mine for a little while, taking things really slow. His lips left mine, kissing along my jaw and down my neck, he sucked my neck gently, leaving a mark. He kissed down my body, leaving little marks over my chest, his tongue played with both of my nipples until I was panting for more. He gently bit down on my nipple, his fingers finally threading through my wetness, I was soaked, I could hear how wet I was, I felt dirty but it wasn't a bad feeling.

"How d'you feel doll?" Bucky asked, his tongue tracing circles around my nipple.

"Really good daddy" I whimpered as two of his fingers pressed into my wet hole. I looked over at Steve, seeing him watch us, his hand was around his cock, I felt fuzzy inside when I saw it.

"That's what we like to hear doll, you're doing so good" Steve reached down to whisper in my ear. I whimpered loudly, Bucky's fingers moved in and out, repeating their motions faster and faster.

"Feels so good" I pant loudly.

"What's the plan doll, wanna make you feel oh so good" Bucky mumbled, his lips moving against my skin, his fingers slowed as he entered a third, I whined a little, it hurt the tiniest amount, but I could take it. He slowly moved his three fingers.

"So full daddy" I gasped. He looked up from my chest, his eyes full of worry, he stopped moving his fingers.

"No, don't stop daddy" I whined. Bucky chuckled, he moved up to kiss my lips. I spread my legs further apart, wanting more of what Bucky was giving. Bucky chuckled, his lips on my neck once more.

"You like that doll?"

"How will you know when I'm ready?" I asked, my words stuttering.

"I'm stretching you open baby, so daddy can put his cock inside you" Bucky whispered, his voice sounded so different from normal.

"Will I hurt?" I whimpered, a little nervous.

"Only for a short while darling" Bucky whispered, telling me the truth "We promise only for a little while" His fingers sped up. his hips were rubbing against my leg.

"Okay, I trust you" I whisper.

Bucky smiled at my words "You're such a good girl, you're doing so good" He whispered against my neck "Stevie I think she's ready"

Steve asked me again if I was sure, and I told him I was 100%, I was so ready. Steve looked over to Bucky and then back to me, his hand was touching his hardness. They moved around, Bucky moved to lay next to me, whilst Steve took his place hovering over me. He moved his hardness to line up with my hole.

"Hold Bucky's hand baby" Steve whispered. I listened to him reaching over to hold Bucky's hand, I shut my eyes and braced myself, I felt him poking at me, and slowly he pushed his hard cock into me, I gasped loudly, holding onto Bucky's hand tightly, my other hand reached up to hold Steve's arm, I held on tight. Steve pushed further into me, he groaned as he was now fully inside of me. I moaned loudly, feeling fuller than I had ever felt. My eyes were shut still, my head resting on Steve's shoulder, and pain and pleasure surged through me.

"That's it baby, you're doing so good" Steve whispered. The pain soon stopped and slowly Steve started moving in and out, slowly and gently, I moaned loudly at his movements, this felt amazing. Steve's breath was heavy, his head rested by my ear, and he was moaning with each thrust. Bucky was watching me, making sure I was okay.

"I'm so glad we doing this, it feels so amazing daddy" I moaned, I felt so stretched, his cock was so big, it was hitting so many amazing places, letting the feeling overcome my body.

"We're glad too, you're doing so good" Steve groaned loudly in my ear. His movements were still slow, so slow, I wanted more.

"Daddy, can you move faster?" I asked, my voice not sounding like my own. Steve nodded at my request, his lips finding my shoulder, kissing me, sucking marks, he moved his hips faster, thrusting into my quicker than I could imagine, I screamed loudly, holding onto his shoulder and Bucky's hand. Steve's hips backed away and then collided with mine again, each time harder, instinctively I moved my legs up, wrapping them around his waist, somehow allowing him to thrust into me deeper than before.

"Daddy you're so good at this" I panted, my words coming out with loud moans. I moved my head to face Bucky, he obviously knew what I wanted and moved forward pressing his lips to mine, I kissed him until I moaned again, allowing him to explore my mouth with his tongue.

"I love you both" I whimper, moving my head away from Bucky's lips.

"We love you baby" They both spoke at the same time. I moaned loudly, my head starting to feel dizzy.

"So close" I whimper, wrapping my legs tighter around Steve's waist. Steve's hips thrusted into my harder and faster, I screamed at the feeling as I cam hard, feeling my body shake as it hit me. I held onto Steve's arm and Bucky's hand hard, the only thing keeping me from blacking out at the feeling.

"Oh daddy, that was wonderful" I whispered wistfully.

"Good baby, I'm real close" Steve answered, his hips moving still.

"Daddy!" I gasped "Where will you come?"

"Can I come inside of you?" Steve asked me, his head moving to stare into my eyes. I nodded, he moaned loudly and pressed his lips against mine, his hips rutted against me, his movements becoming irregular, he moaned loudly, his breath getting heavier until he let out a loud groan, his head fell to my shoulders and I felt his cock pulsate within me, a warm feeling following that.

"That felt so good" I smiled, my legs rested back on the bed, feeling overused and shaky.

"You did so good baby" Steve whispered to me, kissing my cheek.

"I did?" I asked, looking at them both happily.

"Yeah doll, we're so proud of you" Bucky responded. I looked down seeing Bucky had finished all over himself.

"Sorry doll, couldn't help myself watching you both" Bucky grinned.

"I'm glad you felt good too daddy" I whispered, leaning over to kiss his lips. Steve moaned as he pulled out of me, I suddenly felt empty, my hole clenched around nothing missing the feeling.

"I want to run you a nice bath my darling" Steve smiled to me, his lips pressing to my forehead.

"Okay daddy, I really enjoyed myself, thank you" I whispered to Steve. He smiled at me and left the room.

"Would you join me daddy?" I asked Bucky, he nodded and helped me out of bed, my legs still felt shaky. I followed him into the bathroom, Bucky slipped into the water first and patted his chest, I smiled and climbed into the water and rested my back against his chest.

"You feeling good doll?" He asked, his voice soft in my ear. I snuggled into his arms, feeling safe and warm.

"Perfect daddy, I'm sorry you didn't get to have me first"

Bucky chuckled, his chest moving me in the water.

"It's okay doll, I'll get my turn soon enough" He whispers.

"Exactly!" I say, my eyes feeling heavy as I use the sponge to clean myself. Bucky grabbed the sponge and took over, he slowly washed my skin, his lips gently grazing across the skin of my neck.

"Mmm so relaxing" I sigh.

"You like that sweetheart? Feeling relaxed?"

"So relaxed, I may need to get out and go to bed" I giggled.

"You getting a little sleepy?" He asks.

"Can you blame me?" I answer.

We got out from the bath, and Bucky toweled me dry, I heard Steve in the shower as we left the room. Bucky and I crawled into the bed, and he pulled me in close.

"Daddy?"

"Yes doll?"

"I feel sore down there, it that normal?" I ask, my eyes shutting as I laid with him.

"Yeah doll, it's normal, it'll go away soon" He explains.

"Okay daddy, goodnight"

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers smut #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #first time #smut

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strawbsstarz · 1 year ago

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Late Night Snacks: Draco Malfoy x reader

this is my first time writing creatively outside of school so please be nice, I've read too many fanfics that I've run out TT. Anyways if this goes well maybe ill write again but for now :> thank you & enjoy!

There was something about Draco Malfoy that was alluring, an invisible magnet that always pulled you. Maybe it was the way you wanted him to be put in his place? To let him know that no matter how hard he tries to prance around the room as if he owned the place, you won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that what he says and does, irks you. You'll simply brush it off as if it was nothing, maybe comeback with a remark to get under his nerves, let him know how it feels to be on the other end of the stick.

And that's how it was in your first couple of years. You two were known for the constant back and forth of bickering and teasing and annoying each other.

That's how it always was, him snickering something to his friends and pointing at you which then makes you roll your eyes at him, him sending you notes during class with the stupid charmed paper cranes that you rip up and throw at him whenever the teacher wasn't looking, then he'd shoot you a glare and you'd innocently smile to yourself pretending to focus on whatever was being taught in class, it was always like that, until fourth year.

Ever since he decided to ditch the hair gel, something in your heart fluttered upon seeing him and after catching yourself staring at him a little too long, you shoved whatever the hell you felt deep within you, somewhere hidden.

Your interactions with Malfoy remained the same, nothing ever changes between you two. Until you noticed that you began looking for him every time you entered a room, how every conversation with him had made you heart pulse a little faster than usual, how despite being on opposite sides of the classroom, you two would catch the other staring.

By the beginning of fifth year, you still found each other incredibly annoying, but something different had crept its way in there, whatever it was.

The secrecy of glancing at the other no longer remained a secret, sometimes you found him openly staring at you in the middle of class or during dinner and all you offered was a smirk, sending him a wink before he scoffs and fixes his attention on something else, acting seemingly annoyed. The pounding you feel in your chest never leaves even after that, and you feel the corner of your lips curling into a smile. You had convinced yourself how you couldn't wait to tease him about it, but deep down you knew the real reason.

In the late hours of the night you began sneaking around the hallways of Hogwarts, wanting a snack from the kitchen despite past curfew. Trying not to get caught by any teachers or prefects doing patrol, you tip-toe your way to the kitchen until you hear footsteps tapping their way in your direction.

"Shit!" you whispered to yourself, frantically looking around for a hiding place. A hand suddenly grabbed you, pulling you around the corner and into a broom cupboard. Your mouth covered, your back pressed up against this person's chest. You bit the person's hand from your mouth, and almost punched the guy behind you. As you turn around you see the familiar blonde hiss in pain frantically waving his hand in the air trying to shake it away. When you opened your mouth to speak, his finger rushed to his lips and in a hush quiet voice he said,

"Shh! You're gonna get us caught!" You hear the footsteps from outside and unconsciously backed up into him, away from the door, holding your breath. After a couple of minutes the clacking had stopped, you turned to face Malfoy and gave him a slap on the arm.

He winces, holding the place where your hand had just been, "A thank you would have been nice.."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're sneaking around in the middle of the night past curfew to Merlin knows where, you were almost caught, you're lucky I saved you."

You glare at him, "I would've handled myself just fine without you!" And with that you turn around leaving the broom cupboard, he silently walks behind you. Annoyed, he whispers, "Oh please! I am not about to risk losing house points from your stupidity"

You roll your eyes and scoff, "I was just gonna grab a snack"

He walks faster and stands next to you, "Can't you do that in the morning?" You continue walking your way to the kitchen, "Malfoy, it is morning." He groans, "Smartass." You turn to him, "Why are you following me?"

"To make sure you don't get caught and embarrass our house," he grumbles. You roll your eyes no longer having the energy for the conversation, as you enter the kitchen you quickly grab a couple of cookies and set them on a handkerchief you brought. Draco waited by the door leaning on the wall with his arms folded to his chest, a look of irritation displayed on his face, as if he was forced to be there.

As you two continued to make your way back to the slytherin dorms, he continued to scold you about how stupid it was for you to sneak out past curfew to the kitchen just because you wanted a snack, and how you almost got caught, and blah blah blah. It went in one ear and out the other, you just drowned him out as you nibbled on your cookie.

"Are you even listening to me?" He asks and before you could answer you could hear voices from across the hallway, echoing along with the sound of their footsteps. You both look at one another panicked, you motion your head for him to follow. Hiding in the same broom cupboard you hid in the first time.

Your bodies faced one another and you didn't realize how small the room was until now. Were you two really that close when he pulled you in to hide earlier? The echoes of the voices continued to grow louder and you found yourself holding your breath in, to keep yourself from making any noise, or perhaps to keep yourself from leaning into his scent. You freeze as you wait for the echoes to fade, silently watching the door, and holding your handkerchief filled cookies to your chest, the only thing that was in between you and his body.

After a couple of minutes of silence you finally allowed yourself to breathe. You look down at your cookies to make sure they didn't get squashed. A sigh of relief escaping your lips as you then moved your head to look up. Your breath getting caught in your throat as you remembered the distance between you two.

You found him staring at you, like he does during class, except this time, when you had met his eyes, he didn't show any signs of annoyance. His gaze was soft, and you bit your lip nervously. You saw his eyes shift from your eyes to your lips and back again to your eyes, slightly leaning forward. You stared at his eyes, getting lost in the cold grey color, but, it wasn't cold like it usually was, it was warm, and the unfamiliar warmth made your heart flutter once again, like it did before. You weren't dumb, you knew something was about to happen. In a state of panic, you raise your hand that was clutching the sweet treats in between your faces, "Cookie?" You offered meekly. All the confidence you had whenever your eyes met with his was gone.

He stares at you, raising an eyebrow as a smirk crept its way to his face as he looks down on you. Your lips were inches away and you offered him a cookie? Really?

He lets out a laugh, and you stare at him as a blush hued your cheeks. "Is that a no?" You raised your eyebrow, trying to seem confident when in reality all you wanted to do was curl up and die from embarrassment.

"Merlin L/N, how long are you gonna be willingly daft?" He teases. You frowned and began making your way towards the door, turning the knob to leave. "No cookie then," you huff as you walk out, breaking a piece off and throwing it in your mouth, Draco swiftly following behind and giggling, continuing to tease you as you walked back to the slytherin dorms.

There was definitely something between you two, but for now, let's leave it as undiscovered territory, as it seems one of you still refuses to admit it.

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shortestcake · 2 years ago

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NEW SET

(oneshot)

Pairing: Modern!Ellie! x Reader

Pronouns used: none(afab genitalia described)

Gendered terms: perfect girl

Genre: smut+fluff, angst if you squint (mdni)

/ / mention of argument, oral(r! receiving), fingering(r! receiving), praise, dirty talk

Getting gel extensions after an argument with Ellie...

The "fight", if you could even call it that, wasn't anything serious, just happened to piss you off enough for this petty retaliation.

Now, sitting in your shared apartment, you looked over them, admiring them slightly. You never really got your nails done for obvious reasons, and even if you did, you'd keep your middle and ring finger short, so they wouldn't look cohesive.

The argument was currently the furthest thing from your mind, trying to savor what would probably be your last long nail set.

Ellie, on the other hand, was driving back home. Beyond pissed, not only did she have a shit day at work, but you were also giving her the silent treatment- that's what she assumed, at least- since she knew today was your day off, but you didn't answer any of her texts. Little did she know you were paying your dear nail tech a visit.

She knew the argument was mainly her fault, as were most of the minor disputes between you two. That's why she had a bouquet in her passenger seat, your favorite flowers wrapped in colored paper. Her tattooed hand gripped the steering wheel tighter the closer she got to your building complex.

By the time she pulled into the parking lot, you'd turned on the TV, looking for a cure to your boredom.

You bit back a smirk when you heard keys jingle behind your hallway door, curious to see how long it'd take her to notice.

"Baby, I'm home." She called once she entered.

"Living room!" You answered, after a few moments and some shuffling from the hallway, she walked into the living room.

You tilted your head, watching her from the couch. A cozy feeling of warmth and guilt simultaneously bloomed in your chest when you saw the bouquet she was holding. Okay, maybe you overreacted a little bit.

"Welcome home..." You mumbled as she got closer, giving in to the short peck she offered.

The upper half of her body leaned over your couch, nervously she lifted up the assortment of flowers. " 'M sorry about last night, baby." Offering you the bouquet to compliment her apology.

"It's okay, I got over it like..." You pretend to think for a moment, "20 minutes ago." She chuckled quietly at your reply.

When you went to grab the flowers from her hand, she caught a glimpse of your hand. "Oh? Did you get your nails done, hun?"

"Hm? Ah, yeah, I did." Suddenly timid, you bit your lip when she grabbed your hand, analyzing your new set.

"Wait.. did you?" Her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked up at you.

You looked away sheepishly, staring at the wall. A loud laugh erupted from her chest, "I really pissed you off, huh?" You giggled, "Yes, royally so."

"Hm, let me make it up to you." Now, she pulled your hand towards her face, kissing your knuckles gently.

Ellie moved around the couch until she was hovering above you, quickly easing your shirt off. "So pretty." She muttered against your chest, leaving opened-mouthed kisses in her wake. Eventually, she took your nipple in her mouth, sucking and gently biting while her hand worked on the other.

"Can I take these off?" She tugged at your shorts, snapping them against your waist. Instead of answering verbally, you lifted your hips, helping her dispose of the garment. In a few swift motions, you were left completely bare, squirming under intense gaze.

Her hand caressed your thighs, gradually coaxing them apart.

Ellie can never tease you- not as much as she'd want to anyway- she tried to take her time, running her thumb through your folds "So wet, this for me, baby?" but she can't help easing a finger in, then another. Both of you groaned at the sensation.

She wasted no time, starting at a fast pace as she pumped her fingers in and out of your pussy. Her tattooed arm was busy holding you down by your hips, stopping you from moving too much.

Your hands shot up to grab a fistful of her hair when she leaned down, sucking against your clit harshly. "Fuck, Els." You whined, pushing her head down further, and she let you.

"Always taste so good f'me, my perfect girl." She mumbled against you, the vibrations causing you to arch your back and pull her even closer to you. The hand that was holding you down was now gripping your thigh massaging the fat and squishing it ever so often. She looked up at you with those adorable puppy-dog eyes, moaning with you as if she was the one receiving pleasure.

"E-Ellie!" You gasped, eyes rolling in the back of your head when she adjusted her fingers, hitting even deeper inside of you. You used your own hand to claw at hers, making a little grabby motion, which made her smile before she intertwined your fingers. "So fucking cute." She mumbled, only making you cry out louder at the sensation.

"Baby, I'm close." Might've been your most intelligible sentence yet, and it has your girlfriend working double time.

"That's it." She cooes from between your legs. "Fucking come for me, all over my face."

Her words are enough to drive you over the edge, moaning a mix of her name and expletives. Ellie opts to curl her digits inside of you rather than continue to move them in and out of you while she helps you ride your orgasm out, pulling a few more whimpers out of you and whispering praise against your sensitive cunt, giving it a few kitten licks for good measure.

Once your breathing evens out, Ellie pulls out and sucks her fingers clean, making sure you watch.

"C'mere." You two shuffle around and eventually decide on you laying atop her chest.

While you both wind down, she takes your hand in hers once again.

"These are cute."

"Thank you."

...

"When are you gonna get them removed?"

"Babe, these were like $110...

First time writing Ellie, constructive criticism welcome!

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader

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leggerefiore · 10 months ago

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More funny and cute parenting scenarios! How about the kids finding their parents clothes and walking around the house pretending to be their parents! (Said parents watch in amusement)

Arceus forbid Volo’s kid finds his hair gel

I kinda did a little spin on this...

Ingo finally closed the laptop as he rested his eyes for a moment. Work truly never ended some days despite being out of the office. He got up for a moment to go get a drink of water and returned soon after. But, there was something amiss. The laptop was open again while tiny hands tried to type. Erin stood on his knees to reach the computer while a familiar coat was almost like a wrap around him. A black cap sat on his head just off kilter and leaning forward. A badly tied tie was much too long around the neck of the baggy shirt that came to his bent knees. He also spied much too large shoes on his feet.

Ingo cleared his throat. Erin jumped back in a panic, previously stern and frowning face not overwrought with fear. Ticking his tongue, he walked over to pick the small boy up. Eyes momentarily glanced at the screen to assess what damage his son had done. Nothing, really, just a misspelt attempt at addressing “Unkle Emet” for a “brake.” A chuckle came from him unconsciously. Spelling was a bit of an issue, but his ease at taking to maths was a bit scary.

“… I'm – I'm a Subway Boss,” Erin cried, “I was doing work!”

“Hmm, is that so?” Ingo fought back the smile that wanted spread across his lips, “My, that document isn't going to Emmet. It's going to a Depot Agent. Are you certain you know what you are doing?”

Erin looked flustered. His shoes dangled off his feet. Ingo could not be upset at the little guy. He instead let him sit in his lap while he worked. The Subway Mini Boss was more than happy there.

Emmet grumbled when Ingo handed him the wrong piece again. They had decided to build a model train together again on a rare shared day off, yet it seemed the older twin's heart simply was not in it. Both of them opted for a break and headed to the kitchen to grab some snacks. Maybe hunger was clouding their judgement. However, when they returned, they found a scene unravelling. The model pieces were all over the floor as two oddly dressed kids had taken over the floor. Much too big hats and coats were worn, while even larger shoes seemed to make them trip. The white shirts were more like dresses on them rather than their true purpose. Emmet stood stiffly.

Inka and Emma went deathly quiet with big eyes at the sight of their father and uncle in the room. Model pieces were strewn about from an apparent attempt to finish it. The instruction booklet was in the older twin girl's hand, even. She tried to hide it behind her. Emmet sighed and stepped forth. Picking up Inka, who was dressed in his uniform, and passing her to Ingo, then Emma, who wore Ingo's own, into his own.

“See! It was all wrong, Emma,” Inka shook in Ingo's arms, “I was named after Uncle Ingo, so I should have been in uniform and reading the paper thingy!”

“I'm the older twin,” Emma argued back, hanging limp like a feline in Emmet's hold, “Therefore I am like Ingo more. Plus, I frown like him! You smile like papa!”

Ingo and Emmet locked eyes for a moment. This felt like their own memories from youth. In the end, they both let the little girls help build. Their tiny hands came in very hand in the end. (All the while, Inka kept begging to wear Ingo's uniform instead, to not avail.)

Cyrus sat down his tablet on the end table. Standing up, he stretched and left the room for a moment to go stand out on the veranda. Fresh air seemed to reinvigorate his mind from the stupor that document processing lulled him into. Yet, he noticed an oddity when he headed back in to finish his work. Spiky hair was the first thing her noticed, alongside tiny hands tapping away on the lock screen of his tablet. Cyllene sat on the couch wearing a baggy grey vest with a family emblem on the chest. An even baggies long sleeved shirt was more like a dress on her smaller form. His grey slip-ons were also dangling on her feet.

Cyrus treaded over to her. She froze and nearly dropped the tablet. He caught it with ease and sat it back down, noting she had managed to actually unlock it. That would be addressed at a later point. Her actions bewildered his mind. Her use of too much hair gel quickly became apparent as he picked her up. It was still wet. His hand went to gently soothe her hair back down into its usual style. She just leaned into his touch.

“May I ask what all this is?” he spoke quietly, not to sure how to approach this situation.

“I am training to take over Team Galactic,” she replied simply, “… I was going to message Saturn to open Minecraft when I got to the office.”

Cyrus genuinely hated the chuckle that left him at her words. Her innocence was truly something he could help but adore. He informed that he was not going to the office today, and she pouted. It seemed all the attention his grunts and commanders gave her were deeply enjoyed.

A yawn left Volo as he headed back in from the garden. Cogita had insisted his repentance for his actions be earned through hard work. Her kindness was bewildering at times, but he supposed his current situation was not one she would decline. Their closeness was something silently understood between both parties. He stepped inside to a sight. On his bed stood his daughter, dressed in a much too big top and saddles that could only be slid to stay on her feet. Her hair was styled back in a manner that made his stomach twist.

“Strike him down,” her tiny voice came out, and he narrowly dodged the attack of her Gible.

“… Just… What are you doing, Astrea?” he walked over to pick her up and set her back on the ground before she fell off and hurt herself. She pouted up at him, barely reaching his knee in height.

“I'm being scary-dad!” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Mistress Cogita said you did this to them!” He shook his head. Was the old woman really telling her about what he had done to her other parent? He swallowed. Astrea was much too young to even understand what that meant in seriousness, but he did not like being reminded of his failure and actions. He petted her head and offered to take her for a walk if she changed clothing. She agreed.

#ingo.ima #emmet.ima #cyrus.ima #volo.ima

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 1 year ago

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Poets and Painters (Late Afternoon) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss [and in this segment, more explicit conversation about death and what comes after], Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes the more the fic progresses (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word-count: 5,342

Late Afternoon

Everyone will look a little sun-kissed by nightfall after spending all day basking in the light of Little Archossi's nearest star. It'll be easier to notice on some members of the crew with skin different than the deeper browns commonly found among the Clones. Hopefully people found and remembered to use sun protection this morning. (Or, the medics aboard the Triumphant have a lot of bacta gel in case people come back to the cruiser looking redder than the skies over Dathomir.)

You’ve been doing your best to prevent getting sunburned, others don’t give a single kark in the galaxy. Much like this particular Clone who’s lazing in the grass, fingers interlocked and tucked around the back of his head, one leg propped up in the air on the opposite knee as he sways and bobs his foot in time with some song stuck in his head that’s popular on the Holonet these days. Maker alive, you can only hope he won’t get sunburn, given that he's a spacer. (You're pretty sure he is, anyhow, given the uniform of a naval officer.)

"I wish we had more days like this… Don't you, Arcadia?"

Those who spend much of their time in space and under artificial lighting are loving this. Sun lamps can only do so much for keeping their overall mental well-being buoyed. For all the technological advancements in the galaxy, there are some few things there are still no shortcuts for.

You certainly don't disagree, but you need to finish passing out the rest of this crate you volunteered to distribute to people on this side of the clearing. This trooper lazing about in the grass is slowing you down, so you playfully roll your eyes, and fix him with your best look to show him you're not afraid to mean business if he doesn't sit up soon. "Maybe when the war's over, soldier. C'mon, take your ration so I don't lose my momentum. Commander Wolffe wouldn't be happy to hear if anyone goes hungry today."

No, he probably won't be, the trooper agrees with a kind chuckle. He sits up and takes the ration gratefully. "First thing I'll do is have a picnic, I think. When the war is over." The troopers and crew are - technically speaking - having a picnic right now, you point out with a bemused grin, handing off another individually wrapped ration bar to his neighbor. "I mean a proper one. With food, instead of rations! Something with flavor. Not colorless and loaded with bland preservatives."

"Beige is a color." you retort.

"Karkin' ugly one, sure."

You fix him with a teasing grin this time. "Are you pulling a prank on me by pretending to be Orchid? I can actually tell the men apart from one another, you know." A careful balancing act of patience and practice, to be sure, but the time spent observing everyone pays off for moments like these grateful smiles.

"You can? Then who's that over there, slinking out of the forest just a little off to the left?"

Yes, you definitely can, you promise the Clone trooper who's decided to be cheeky with you. And- perfect! You've got just one ration pack left in the box, and he doesn't have one in his hands, as far as you can tell. "Everything okay, Comet? Have you gotten a lunch ration yet?"

"Oh good, I would've hated to miss chow. Thank you, Arcadia. And yeah, everything's good; just well-hydrated."

You toss him the last ration pack from right where you are and tuck the box against your side now that it's empty. "Better that than being dehydrated. Enjoy your lunch, Comet."

"Where's your's?" He's sweet enough to worry and ask why you don't have any food for yourself, but it's unnecessary.

"I'll get one from another crate, don't worry, Comet." you assure him with a warm smile. You'll probably see him soon enough when he joins the small assembly on the hill under the red and yellow leafed tree with Sinker, Boost and the Commander. You imagine you'll be joined by Plo Koon as well.

But will you still get to address Wolffe like an equal in front of his sergeants when it’s no longer just the two of you? Or should you play it safe and return to addressing him as commander and sir rather than risk looking, acting, overly familiar?

"All finished, Arcadia?"

"Passed off the last in the box to Comet." you explain, sitting across from Commander Wolffe rather than next to him. His brothers have taken up their places beside him, leaving you no room to join. And that's fine; you already sat side by side with Wolffe for hours.

“Then that should be everyone. Here.” Rather than ask one of his brothers, Wolffe gives you one of the rations in the box settled behind him in the shade, sheltered from the sunlight. You take it gratefully from his hand. “Thank you, sir. Hopefully these aren’t too bad.” Always a bit of a gamble, ration bars… Some are pretty soft and crumbly while others are tough and chewy. The flavor is oftentimes fairly plain at best, or rather unpleasant if you’re unlucky in your choices of supplier. But a meal’s a meal.

As you’re chewing your first bite of the ration bar thoughtfully, trying to imagine who in their right mind would willingly scarf these down were it not for a war, the Commander politely clears his throat to get your attention.

“You’re still welcome to call me Wolffe, Arcadia.”

The slight warmth in your face has nothing to do with the sun above you; it's the six eyes trained on you and your every little move as you further shuck the wrapper encasing the foodstuffs. "Sorry, I… didn't want to assume it was still okay now that it's not just the two of us." you explain, nodding hello to Sinker and Boost in kind. (They return the gesture just as politely.) But if you're still invited to address him without his rank, or a respectful term, then you certainly will. It had just been better to play it safe.

"I see…" His eyes narrow here, and for a heartbeat, you think he's almost sort of glaring you down, but you realize he's squinting and looking behind you. "What is the General doing…?"

You turn and look.

Master Plo Koon is standing at the edge of the clearing, speaking with Comet, who's pointing deep into the trees. He's making animated hand gestures, and demonstrating the size and shape of something to the Jedi. Tall, and coming to a peak. And he's not having a lot of luck with properly conveying a few other things, as evident by the long, growing pauses and the Kel Dor softly shaking his head. Finally Comet gets a better idea, and is gesturing for the General to follow him.

"Arcadia, could I use one of the pages in your sketchbook? There's something I'm trying to figure out how to explain to the General. There's something in the forest, I think."

That gets Wolffe's attention.

You carefully tear one of the pages out by the perforated edge, and pluck one of the graphite pencils from your bag for him to borrow. The words something in the forest sounded a little urgent to you, and like the Jedi, you want to understand what's going on now. Like Wolffe, you want to determine if this thing is a threat.

Comet thanks you, and begins to send the pencil shwoop!-ing against the page without a moment of hesitation. He's gotten a good look, some of the shapes looked pretty organic to him, from what he could make out. Boost chuckles, trying to lighten the growing tension when Wolffe gets to his feet, and stands beside his brother, observing.

"Yeah, they're called trees, Comet; those are pretty damn organic."

Comet shakes his head firmly, his full lips pursed together in concentration as he quickly tries to sketch down what he saw. "No, it looked different. Like a sort of… hut built around a tree. But it was really far away, so I couldn't see it clearly." When he came back from doing his business out in the woods, he meant to inform the Commander and General what he saw; but you had stopped by with food, a momentary distraction.

What Comet thinks he saw was some kind of structure from the inhabitants of Little Archossi. "Perhaps I should investigate the structure and the surrounding area, to determine what it is that Comet saw... Commander Wolffe, remain here with the battalion, and be prepared for anything." Plo Koon offers, beginning to walk where he's been directed.

Wolffe bristles at the idea of General Plo volunteering to investigate the structure alone. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, General."

He is invited to stand down, asked to watch over his brothers and the crew once again. "Don't worry, Commander," the Kel Dor adds soothingly, laying a steady hand on the shoulder bell that bears the face of the wolf on the flint-gray armor, "I do not sense any threats or hear any warnings from the Force, for the time being."

"... very well, General." the man with the mark of a survivor agrees reluctantly.

Survivors get scars for their efforts, Arcadia. Skin-deep, scrawled in the deepest recesses of their minds… it doesn't matter. A scar is a scar. But the victims… the dead… they are lucky if they get a crude headstone in this war.

"I'll keep an eye on the men. Wait for your orders." Wolffe promises a little more firmly. And you, interrupting Boost and Sinker without intention, offer to help the Commander keep an eye on everyone this time. The look the three of you direct his way says, in a way impossible to mistake for anything else says you think you're doing this again, alone?

Somehow, we'll pass the time together.

According to the display in the upper right-hand corner of the datapad in your hand, the time is 14:30. You have another half-hour to go before it is 15:00, and have agreed with Sargeants Sinker and Boost that is when you should start to become concerned for the male Kel Dor's absence.

Jedi Master Plo Koon left to investigate the structure out in the forests of Little Archossi at 12:30 sharp, and he has not yet returned. But he has touched the comlink at least once, to inform his commander of his findings.

"The structure is a crude hut… One in desperate need of repair; time has not been kind to it in its occupant's absence. I sense it has been empty for a long, long time. I saw other, similar structures further still into the forest - I intend to investigate these as well. No trouble in the clearing still, I hope, Commander Wolffe?"

"No sir. Everything is fine." Wolffe had promised him, likely grateful that the Jedi could not see the tightness of his jaw, and the disapproving shake of his head. He still didn't (and still doesn't) like the idea of his general being so far from the safety of the clearing without company. 'Someone should have gone with him' has been uttered more than once to the three who have volunteered to split the load of monitoring the company and the edge of the surrounding forest.

"General, I-"

"Yes, Commander?"

Wolffe had shaken his head again, and changed his mind. "...I thought you would like to know Tack confirmed the blue flowers are in fact Dinocaeruleus anthos and has checked the credibility of the original findings. He and Arcadia believe it will still be best not to draw excessive attention to them."

You and Tack both had been praised and thanked for your diligent assessment and skills as a researcher respectively before the Force-wielder said he expected to return to the clearing by 15:00 at the earliest. If anything delayed him, he would be making contact once more.

The nearest star is no longer directly overhead, and the shadows are just beginning to lengthen and throw themselves further eastward. You distract yourself from your worries about the General's absence with something to read for a moment, something chosen at random. (You were "instructed" to take a break as part of some protocol (one you are partly suspect of being made up).)

You're not paying much attention to the Aurebesh on the screen, quite honestly.

You're more distracted by the Commander and his acts of quiet anxiety. Patrolling the circumference of the clearing once again, routinely stopping and watching in the direction of the dilapidated hut for any signs of the Jedi. Discreetly conferring with Sinker and Boost. And when they can convince him, he returns to either of the tallest grassy hills for a moment to stop and observe all of his men at once.

The time is now 14:35.

And your reading material is about as interesting as an instruction manual on how to polish and clean up a blaster without corroding the material or compromising its firepower. So you decide it's time to try something else from the reading material you have loaded up on the device.

It's labeled as one of the free holo-novels of the month, courtesy of the five-credits-a-standard-month subscription service that was recommended to you, a best-seller. But there's no synopsis or pitch of any kind that advertises what you'll find inside and why you should read it. It boasts a generic title (The Rush of Hyperspace) and pretty innocent cover artwork of an astro-map.

Curious, you select the best seller just as Orchid passes by behind you. The whispered words from over your shoulder chill the very blood in your veins.

"Psst, hey, Arcadia! You realize you're reading that in public, right?"

"What do you-?" your eyes flit to the very first sentence now that the screen has loaded in, and oh galaxy and all her stars. The very first sentence talks about how much this protagonist - a soldier - misses his girl, and the steering column is not the only thing he's throttling at the mere thought of her… the words 'a loud, sinful groan filling the cockpit' are practically seared into your retina.

Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK!

You've never backed out of a story so fast, nor anxiously prayed that Orchid would keep his fucking trap shut. "I had no idea, I swear."

"One of those stealthy ones?"

"I don't know, Orchid. And keep your karking voice down." you warn him, removing the free story from your suggestions so you can't make the same mistake twice or be recommended more of the same thing in the future.

"Sorry. Was only trying to warn you that your screen was visible to everyone. What you do and don't read isn't my business, just like what I read isn't yours." Orchid replies with a casual, little shrug. "I ain't gonna tell anyone, Arcadia." he promises.

Your voice comes out in a low, threatening purr as you tell him you're going to keep him to his word. "They'll find you fertilizing the rest of the flowerbed if I find out you have, Orchid."

While the threat doesn't have quite the intended effect, you're grateful that Orchid is taking you seriously, in his own way… "Hah, I suppose that'd make for a fitting end. Name myself after a flower, get turned into flower-food when I die..." He smiles, finding humor in the threat while promising again that he really won't tell anyone.

"I hope I'll make really beautiful flowers when I die."

It's a little strange, almost unnerving to you, that the possibility of dying doesn't seem to phase him. That he's making jokes about it, almost. You suddenly feel worried about him. "Orchid-"

You're stopped with a single, apologetic smile. "Sorry, sorry. I know that all sounds pretty morbid, Arcadia. But I've made my peace with it and I don't bar myself from joking about it either, really. Now, I don't want to die, of course, but I'm not really afraid to, either."

You suppose that's fair, with some internal reasoning. "I guess that makes sense. Everyone has different thoughts about the inevitable end of a lifeform's conscious existence. What it means for them, to them. What happens to us after. Or, what we hope for, like…" you add with a nod to Orchid, "making beautiful flowers from… whatever's left."

There's a partial, amused chuckle from Commander Wolffe, who's recently returned to the hill following another perimeter sweep, and has been listening to you and Orchid for the last few moments. The time is now 14:50, according to a fleeting glance at the top of your datapad. "More of your philosophical ponderings, Arcadia?" And care to explain why you threatened to bury one of his men in a flowerbed, while you're at it?

(Thank the Maker he didn't hear what sort of novel Orchid had seen you open, at least. Something so raunchy it opened right into the act of self-pleasure and cultivation within the very first paragraphs.)

"Ah, y'know me, Commander," Orchid says dismissively, taking the heat off of you to explain away the situation, "just saying the usual banthashit that makes Soapsuds threaten to wash my mouth out. Arcadia got a little more creative than that, though!"

Commander Wolffe sighs, looking both surprised and unsurprised. Yes he certainly does 'say the usual banthashit', but to turn it into a discussion about death and what comes after, that's an unusual thing to follow up with. (Usually it's more lectures about discipline and reading the room.)

"Well, Arcadia has a knack for that."

Strange how only this morning, you and the commander were little more than perfect strangers, and by midday, you were calling the other by name in private. And now, here in the early afternoon, you had briefly shared lunch together, and still called each other by name, only now permitted - promised, even - to do so in the presence of others.

"Oh yeah, I saw the art," Orchid replies with a strangely wolfish grin, "good stuff. Looked like worship."

The words "The fuck do you mean by that?" find themselves clawing out of your throat before you stop and consider the tone, the snappy weight of them. Trying to cover your self-perceived blunder, you're now laughing nervously, tugging a hand through your hair in a harsh movement. "Maker alive there's something really weird about this planet, everyone's saying all this sage shit and acting so damn… strangely today!"

You've fooled Orchid. But you haven't fooled his commanding officer. Not entirely.

"Oh I just meant-"

"I would agree, Arcadia…" Wolffe begins with a thoughtful look as he regards a chrono for the time - now squarely 14:55 - and chews over something on his mind before speaking with brevity, "Today has been anything but normal. Strange planet. Strange plants and animals…" Strange lack of communication from his General, you figure he must want to say. This is a little out of character for the Force-wielder to behave in some of the ways he has today; by and large delaying the 104th battalion for most of a full day that could otherwise be spent traveling just for a day in the sun.

All for what? has been asked, secretly, over and over. By yourself. By the flint-gray Commander, of course. By Sinker and Boost, too.

Why are we here on Little Archossi? Where is Plo Koon?

And how will you keep a newly forged friendship of sorts from fizzling out after today? … Are you even friends? Have you misread your interactions of the day so far, believing there's something special? With you, for you?

You're not special.

You're just Arcadia.

Taking note of your silence, or perhaps a troubled expression, Orchid asks you what's wrong. "You look deep in thought. Something on your mind?"

"Just hoping General Plo returns or contacts us at 15:00 when he said we should likely hear from him." you offer after a shrug. It's true enough at least. Unless he's run into trouble, or has been delayed, there should be little reason that you would not see the Jedi as he concludes his search of the area beyond the decaying structure.

"Same here," Orchid replies, nodding to his Commander in a more respectful manner than he would when talking to Suds, "you too, I reckon, sir?" The singular, short exhale is Orchid's answer. "Oh, right, stupid question; of course you are, Commander." he offers almost apologetically, face darkening with embarrassment.

"I had to watch, helpless, inside that damaged escape pod, as my General and my brothers fought off those battle droids who were killing the survivors… Desperately trying to keep that distress beacon active, all because he had the hope someone would come for us."

You had finished adding some of the deep blue to the fluffy black curls of his hair that served as the highlights while Wolffe recounted for you, in more detail than what had been supplied by Tack, the Battle of Abregado.

And the way he was telling you, it seemed to suggest something to you. Something you could only guess at.

"Well… given that you're sitting here next to me, telling me this story, obviously General Plo was right. Did you…?" The words "not fully believe that at the time?" hang in the air between you, unspoken. He'll know. Smart and capable man that he is, the seasoned leader of the 104th battalion will figure you out.

"I wasn't sure." Wolffe admits with a grim expression, ripping up blades of grass by the fistful the longer he talks. "We were promised, pledged to, that we were not expendable to General Plo. Now perhaps General Skywalker and Commander Tano still would have come to scout the wreckage even if it wasn't for General Plo, because they seem to truly care for their men from the look of things… But we had no way of knowing at the time, for sure."

A tender hand is laid on his crossed leg, just for a moment, a silent offer of comfort for him.

He takes a deep breath before speaking in a hushed voice. "Given that I am sitting here, next to you as you said, Arcadia… ultimately, the General was right."

"I'm glad he was." you whisper back, just louder than the slow, smooth sweep of the coloring pencils in your hand against the page.

Stirring up such emotions to the surface will take a toll on him the longer you draw out the conversation, so you were sure to move on to something else. Something innocuous, something ordinary.

Does he ever play games to pass the time?

The chrono has barely ticked over to 15:00 when the Commander's comlink trills. A sound famous for being rather startling at times is for once one of the most wonderful sounds in all the galaxy: it promises that the Kel Dor is safe.

"There are more dwellings further from the decaying structure that Comet saw from the clearing. I believe I found one of the settlements, but I will be returning to the battalion instead of making contact."

"Why is that, General?" Commander Wolffe wonders, brow furrowed with confusion.

"I believe the inhabitants of Little Archossi are nocturnal… and should I wake them simply trying to make contact, I'm afraid I would appear to them as a threat instead." the Jedi explains haltingly, voice sort of rumbling down the mic and audio sensors. You wonder, with how cautious his tone is, if he is near the settlement right now as he speaks. "I will be back shortly… and will explain in more detail."

"Understood, sir." Commander Wolffe dismisses himself from the communication, just short of breathing a sigh of relief. The General is safe and will return in a timely manner, then. He can allow himself to loosen his guard.

Orchid is a little more crude in his relief as he thanks the Maker before excusing himself. Being soldiers, you rationalize that their language is going to be more colorful than most peoples', but Orchid… he's something else.

"How the fuck do you even spell that?" you wonder to yourself with a shake of your head, "And where does he find all these words?"

"It's best you don't ask." Wolffe cautions you. "Only inspires him to find more." The look he supplies you with suggests more than just speaking from experience. Don't encourage him. I don't need more headaches on the day we're meant to be relaxing, apparently.

"I'll be sure not to." you promise with a soft laugh and a teasing smile. "Best not to invite trouble in the General's absence."

Best not to invite trouble, or give the impression of it, at every available opportunity.

Wolffe, still as a sentinel beside you, greets the Kel Dor as he extracts himself from the forest and reenters the clearing. "Welcome back General."

You imagine you're being regarded with a great deal of confusion, an unexpected sight beside the Clone Commander. "...Arcadia, is something the matter?" To be greeted by his men is one thing, a normal and familiar occurrence, but this time one of the crew is present. Has something happened in his absence? Given your talents in risk assessment, have you found anything that would be a cause for concern?

"Just keeping him company," you explain, indicating Commander Wolffe beside you with a little gesture of your free hand, "while I sketch one of the Dinocaeruleus anthos flowers. For Tack." You felt you'd rested your wrist long enough when you made the offer to the researcher Clone, concerned for the device when he complained it was growing hot after hours without end in direct sunlight.

Offering to draw this strange little flower with blue silky petals, as accurately as you could to the best of your abilities, once again made for a pleasant distraction for the one-oh-fourth's battle-hardened leader. (He'll actually stay put so long as you're working on something, it appears.)

"That's very kind of you, Arcadia." Plo compliments you deservedly. "Making Tack a botanical illustration to reference at a future opportunity… Most helpful."

"Feeling rather spoiled." Tack chuckles agreeably. "An Arcadia artwork of my very own."

Stifling a sigh for the time being, you instead laugh softly and opt for teasing him in return. "Consider yourself lucky that I was bored and wanted to kill some time while waiting for General Plo to return. Can't expect these every time, Tack."

"Oh, I would never," Tack promises, "that'd be pretty karkin' entitled of me…" Swallowing his sudden nervousness, Tack recomposed himself after a beat. "It's good to see you've returned safely, General Plo."

The Kel Dor before the three of you dips his head in a gesture of polite agreement, mirroring the relief felt by the collective trio with gratitude of his own from the way his shoulders slacken ever so gently, and the time he takes to answer. "Thank you, Commander Wolffe and young Tack, both. I am relieved that no trouble found you all while I was away, and that I was able to return safely as well."

You don't need the use of the Force to sense the budding concern within the men to your left and right. "Oh? Did you run into trouble, General?" you ask, verbalizing the wonder shared by all.

With a simple shake, whatever fears swelling within you are abated, for the moment. "Not the sort you assume, no. There was something nearly troubling about the settlement when I came upon it; the stillness was unexpected. I presumed the inhabitants would be going about their lives up to my approach, expecting them to flee or fight if I made myself known, should I have made contact… But there was nothing. The entire place was still, deep in slumber."

And waking them up would have been unwise, Wolffe paraphrases the relayed message sent in earlier, connecting all pieces of the explanation. "Came back to avoid giving the impression of a threat in the event they found you."

General Plo nods before further adding he also sensed a strange presence in the Force in the settlement; he wants to wait closer to nightfall to potentially return, rather than leave. "I understand you must have your concerns, all of you… Especially yours, young Tack. But there was something strange… a flutter in the Force in that settlement that I cannot ignore."

His mere acknowledgement of the concern is a slight comfort for the moment. But why had Tack in particular been singled out? He had reacted the least between Commander Wolffe and yourself to the addressal of strange presences and the notion to remain on Little Archossi as night fell, rather than leave before the full setting of the sun as was originally planned.

The tight squeeze of the Commander's jaw had you concerned for the eventual ache to come following such an action; not to mention the sort of subconscious, nonverbal signals commonly associated with it were not entirely positive. Subtle insights to Wolffe's way of thinking.

The General wants to stay here past dark, now? A flutter in the Force could be anything, mean anything, or worse yet, nothing. Is the Force known for playing tricks on those it bestows its blessings, could this be a test? (But why would the General be tested here, now, on this likely uncharted planet untouched by war?)

Tack had given no such signs on the other hand, apart from now with the stammer in his voice. "G-General, I'm not certain what you mean…?"

Later, Plo Koon promises, he'll likely take the time to explain how he sensed the worries Tack has about this situation; for now, it appears he's getting a feel for the opinions of his commanding officer, Wolffe, and a member of the crew with training in risk analysis, you, first. "Are there any reasons you believe we need to consider that sway in favor of leaving before nightfall?"

Someone, between the two of you, gives a long-suffering sigh first.

"The safety of the Clones, and crew, sir." Short, to-the-point, and continual in his concern for his brothers, Commander Wolffe makes a rather obvious and deliberate point to communicate his reasoning.

And you did not miss the way his eyes, the brilliant silver and the rich vandyke, had raked you from head to toe as 'and crew' parted his lips. It wasn't a simple glance, or meeting your eye, but he eyed you up and down. (Why? Why had he done that?)

Since Wolffe has expressed concern for Master Plo's forces so succinctly, you opt to voice your concerns stirred up by the Kel Dor's observations he's reported back with.

"I'm not wild about the idea of looking like a threat to the people living on Little Archossi… There are so many of us. We had no real way of making contact before taking the gunships here this morning, and… I hate to make assumptions, but I have concerns we could vastly outnumber the inhabitants of the settlement and not know it. If I were them… I think I would be concerned about so many people suddenly showing up on my planet by the time I've woken up."

Two sides of the same credit, you and Commander Wolffe. In the end, the concern of overall safety, and the concern of appearing safe have been taken into account.

If he explains his findings to everyone else in the clearing, Plo Koon thinks inviting everyone to decide for themselves is the best option. It is officially the start of the late afternoon here on Little Archossi, and there is still time to plan for an encounter.

Those who wish to return to the Triumphant will leave before the sun begins to set.

With the will of the Force, and a healthy dosage of luck, any potential large-scale interaction between the soldiers of the Republic and the people on this forested planet will go off without a hitch.

Don't have a fic taglist form for the time being. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[FFF Masterlist] [Series Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist]

[Early Morning] [Midday] [Here] [Evening] [Deep Night] [Golden Dawn part 1]

[Golden Dawn part 2]

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duskwoodgirl4life · 2 years ago

Text

It's been 2 years since Jake and I broke up. We tried to make it work but having a relationship with a hacker that's wanted by the government at some point it's going to fall apart. I've never really gotten over him. No amount of dating can ever replace the hole in my heart. I've never stopped loving him even if he does move on or maybe he already is and he's with someone that makes him happy. More than I ever could. Lilly has set me up on yet another date tonight this time it's someone that she works with. He's been single for a while and wants to get back out on the dating scene again. My heart is not even in this date all I want is to be with Jake but yet that can not happen. We did break up on sort of good terms. He told me I could contact him anytime and he will always reply.

I pull my phone out and start to type a message to Jake. I think about it before I hit the send button. I hold back and delete what I've written. I don't want to bother him. I find myself standing in front of my bedroom mirror trying to find something to wear for this date. I picked out a dress that I haven't worn in a long time. I hold it up to my body and close my eyes. Thinking back to when Jake would wrap his arms around me when I wore this dress. It always drove him insane. We never did get anywhere when I wore this dress. It was a simple tight black pencil dress with sparkles all over the dress. I hang up the dress and go to shower.

I head into the bathroom and switch the shower on getting undressed while I wait for the water to get hotter. Once it's at the temperature I like I get in and let the water wash over me. I stood under the water that long I didn't notice it had started to get cold. I quickly wash my hair and use some shower gel so I can wash. Once I've finished I get out and wrap a towel around me and head into the kitchen to make a coffee. While I'm waiting I grab some fresh sweatpants and an oversized hoodie and put them on. I make a coffee and take it into the bedroom and start drying my hair. While I'm getting ready my thoughts drift back to Jake. I can still smell his scent on the hoodie even though it's been washed. It's like his scent has been imprinted onto the hoodie. A warm smile spreads across my face as I think about him.

I notice the time and realize I need to get a move on otherwise I'll end up being late not that I was all that bothered. I didn't even want to go on this stupid date. Yet I find myself rushing around my bedroom looking for my favorite pair of heels. Once I finally find them it's time for me to leave and head out to the restaurant. I fix my hair one last time in the mirror and grab my purse and car keys. Thankfully the restaurant isn't too far away. When I look up I notice it's the black swan, the place where me and Jake had our second anniversary of being together. I take a deep breath in and out to recenter myself and head inside the restaurant.

The waiter shows me to the table where my date is already waiting, "hi I'm Mike it's really nice to meet you" I fake smile and sit down in front of him. "I'm MC I'm sure lilly has told you loads about me already. As Mike's talking I start to zone out not taking any notice of what he's droning on about. I happen to look up and my mouth drops open. The next table I see Jake sitting with some blonde haired women laughing and joking. My heart feels like it's breaking into a million pieces all over again. I can't let him see me. I don't think I could face seeing him. He always knew when I wasn't okay. I don't know how he did it; he always got it out of me. I try distracting myself with whatever Mike is talking about pretending to fane interest in whatever topic he's talking about.

Mercifully our food arrives and I can focus on something else other than Jake, I've missed him so much he looks so cute all dressed up he always did look good in a shirt and trousers outfit. Somehow I managed to make it through dinner and part ways with Mike. He asked if he could see me again like an idiot. I told him to phone me in the week to set up another date. I took my keys out of my purse and unlocked the car before I could get in. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I knew that touch before I even saw his face. I turn around and I'm met by his beautiful ocean blue eyes. For a second I forgot how to speak. I got so lost in his eyes. "Hi MC, it's been a long time, how are you?" I try to regain control so I can answer him back. "Hi Jake, I'm okay, how are you?" I see that beautiful smile appear on his face. How I have missed that smile.

"You don't have to pretend with me MC I couldn't keep my eyes off you either I've missed you alot" my mouth drops open how does he always know he always knows what I'm thinking and what I want to do. "I've missed you Jake but you were the one that decided to end things between us" Jake's smile starts to fade away. "It's something I have regretted every single day. I should never have ended things with you. I love you MC" my whole body feels like it's frozen in time the words Jake's run through my head does he really want me back? Should I let myself be with him again? "I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around you and tell you how much I still love you but you hurt me Jake" I feel Jake's hand running up and down my arm goosebumps running all over my body. I can feel the electric building up inside me fighting to hold myself back but I can't.

My arms wrap around his neck and I kiss him deep on the lips, it's like electric cursing through our bodies. We both break apart not because we wanted to but because we need to catch our breath. "I've missed you so much Jake, I never stopped loving you. Do you really want to give us another go?" I could feel Jake's thumb running softly over my cheek and smiling. "I'd love to give us another go. I never want us to be apart ever again, I've got something for you I was going to come and see you tonight but I want to give it to you now" I look in confusion as Jake puts his hand into his pocket. "Jake what are you doing?" Jake gets down on one knee and opens up a box. "MC will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" I'm taken back by what Jake has just asked I never thought in a million years this would ever happen this is the reason why we broke up in the first place.

"But.. I thought you didn't want to get married, that's why we broke up" I look into Jake's eyes and I can see he means every word. "MC, when we broke up it was the worst decision I've ever made but at the same time I wanted you to be happy and find someone you love and get married. The more I thought about you I realized I made a big mistake. I love you and I want to be with you" I don't know what to say it's like I've lost the ability to talk. I managed to get out the words I've been wanting to say for so long. "Yes, Jake I will marry you" Jake stands up and puts the rock onto my finger. We embrace each other in a heated kiss. It's like we have never been apart from each other. We pull apart again trying to catch our breath.

"Jake, did you know I would be here tonight?" Jake smiles and looks into my eyes "I didn't know you would be here, Lily set me up on another date" I looked in shock at Jake when I realized what Lily had done. "Jake, I think we have been set up, lily set me up on a blind date as well" we both look at each other and start to laugh. "Should we go spend the rest of our lives together and be bus and wife?" I can't help but smile. I've not smiled like this in so long. "Take me home Jake let's go spend the rest of our lives together" we both get into my car and drive back to my apartment.

The next morning I wake up with the biggest smile on my face, I turn over in bed and see that Jake is still sleeping. He looks so beautiful laying there with his eyes closed I can't help myself. I lean forwards and kiss his soft lips. I can't stop at just one kiss. I can feel him starting to wake up and a smile spreading across his face. "Good morning my beautiful wife to be" I warm feeling spreads across my body. "Good morning my handsome husband to be" we cuddle up next to each other holding each other as close as possible ready to take on what life has to throw at us.

#duskwood #everbyte game #duskwood jake #duskwood hacker #iamjake #duskwood jake x mc #i love you jake #jake x mc #he loves me #i love you #pulled back together #true love

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