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uncouth-the-fifth · 1 year ago

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click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain.

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside.

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him.

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already.

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to.

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound.

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you.

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness.

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him.

…And Sam had.

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester x reader

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penkura · 7 months ago

Text

last forever [7/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: I apologize for glossing over and skipping fights and so much of this arc. Writing violence is not my forte, and I'd rather focus on the main relationship. We all know how One Piece goes anyway. I had to go back and refresh myself on some of the details, it's been a while since I read/watched Water Seven and Enies Lobby.

But also, I was SO NERVOUS writing a certain part of this, its NOT my usual style omg. But I needed to write what I did when it popped into my head. Just wait until a bit later, though omg. This stays SFW, I swear.

Taglist:

@misfits1a

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6]

When you finally make it to Water Seven, after your run in with the Foxy Pirates and Admiral Aokiji, it’s nice to be somewhere you recognize. Having only been here a few times when your dad had business and he chose to bring you and Elias, it was always your favorite trip to take when your mother would let you tag along.

The only person who knows this at first, apart from Zoro, is Sanji, when you choose to go into the city with him as Zoro watches the ship; Luffy, Nami, and Usopp go to exchange the gold for actually money, and Chopper goes with Robin to find a bookstore. Sanji laughs a bit when you tell him you’ve been here a few times, give or take.

“You may have been a bit sheltered, but you were well traveled!”

Laughing in return, you tighten your arms around Sanji, laying your head on his back as your Yagara ride continues down the water street, watching all the people. It’s been so long, you forgot how lively this city was.

“Mom would always try to make me stay home with her, but I’d cry and throw a tantrum until she let me go, normally because my brother asked for me to. I was a little spoiled back then by Elias.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Sanji looks over his shoulder to give you a smile, “You were the baby, that’s expected.”

“Tch, yeah,” scoffing, you don’t look up at him, “The baby no one but my brother really wanted.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead just patting one of your hands, which makes you fist his shirt in your grip for a moment before relaxing again. Sanji knows more about your life growing up than most of your crew, only Zoro really having the nearly full story. Even then, you’ve kept somethings to yourself, not because they were painful memories, but because they were some of the few good times you remember, they were more precious to you than any other memories.

The two of you quickly find the shopping district and purchase copious amount of local foods, Sanji reeling off different ideas for dishes as he catches sight of Robin, grabbing your hand to drag you along and around a corner he swears to you he saw her go down, but she’s nowhere to be seen and neither is Chopper.

Your doctor does find you both a few moments later, apologizing on your way back to Merry for losing Robin, but you tell him not to worry, she can take care of herself, she’ll come back later.

When you get back to Merry, the update Zoro gives you feels like a knife in all your hearts.

“What do you mean Merry is unfixable?!”

“Just what I said,” Zoro doesn’t fully look at Sanji, instead making sure you’re all right with the news, though the frown and starting of tears tell him you aren’t, “A shipwright came to check and said so.”

You hate the idea of having to give up Merry, whether that’s what Luffy’s decided yet or not, you aren’t sure, even as Nami returns and the situation gets worse with Usopp having been beaten by the Franky family and the two hundred million beri being stolen from him. The money didn’t matter, what mattered was Usopp, the rest of your crew going to find him and Luffy but Nami clinging onto you to stay with her, which you do to keep your friend safe.

The rest of the day is a blur, after Usopp is brought back, his fight with Luffy over Merry, and how quickly the rest of you leave to a hotel in the city. Some would probably think it’s strange that you’re holding so tightly to Zoro the whole time, rarely letting go of his arm, but you feel like you need some stability with how things have changed so much in just a day. You all still don’t know where Robin’s gone, you plan to go with Sanji and Chopper later the next day to try and find her.

For now, Zoro doesn’t mind you holding onto and staying by him. He tries to understand, it’s likely you’re thinking back to your parents, having told him of how they’d argue regarding you mostly, Elias being your safe haven who would remove you from the situation for safety.

Part of you doesn’t want to sleep that night, but Zoro makes you, forcing you to lay down. Really you’re worried you’re going to wake up and everything’s been a dream, none of your friends will be there, but Zoro, who you fully are coming to believe can read your mind, pokes you in the forehead before sitting by your bed with his back to you.

“Just sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

Every part of you believes him, you’ve got nothing but trust in Zoro.

+!+

With everything that’s happened involving Robin, your crew, Galley-La, and the Franky family, you’re surprised you’re even still on your feet as you follow everyone into Enies Lobby. You’d barely slept the night before and have been awake since early the previous morning, ending up following Sanji to the sea train that was taking Robin from you all. You fight alongside him, Franky, and Usopp, er, Sniper King, to try and reach Robin, only to lose her again in exchange for your own lives.

After the Rocketman train catches up to you and the four of you board it, Nami throws a towel over you since you’re sopping wet from the rain, and you start to draw yourself back from everyone for a few moments. You just need a bit to catch your breath, to keep yourself from crying due to how tired and upset you are. It’s going to be another sleepless night as you listen to everyone try and plan how you’re all going to attack the government island, you want to rescue Robin as soon as possible, even for the selfish reason of being able to sleep properly. Zoro tries to keep you out of the plan discussion, making you sit down and rest as much as you can, giving you water and sending you the slightest of glares if you try to get up too soon.

“Stay there, wife,” he’s quiet while he tells you to stay where you are, trying to keep his slip up of calling you his wife from those who don’t and shouldn’t know, “Rest until we get there. We’ll get Robin back.”

A slight smirk hits your face as you look up at him. “Trust her now?”

Zoro shrugs a bit, leaning on the wall beside you. “I guess. I trust you and Luffy more. But if you don’t rest, it doesn’t matter who I trust.”

Ah, that makes sense, why he’s trying so hard to make you take a break, other than you’re being up for so long now.

You’ll be useless in the fighting if you aren’t as prepared as you can be, if you haven’t had any kind of rest and keep worrying over Robin and everyone else. Even when you get there, convince Robin to let you all rescue her, most of your body wants to give up and stop, but you keep going, keep running to save her with everyone else.

You don’t really mean to get separated from everyone when you go to find the CP9 members who have keys that could open Robin’s sea prism stone cuffs, but it happens and you’re left defending yourself.

A few Marines get a little too close for comfort, but you cut them down fairly quickly, before going the other way from where you came and laughing to yourself at the same time.

I’m starting to take after my husband after all.

+!+

You’ve all returned to Water Seven after rescuing Robin from the government, you’ve maybe given her numerous hugs since even though its only been a couple of hours, and your unfortunate burial of Merry that’d left most of you in tears but all of you heartbroken. So much had happened that you had to step away from everyone for a bit, while there were discussions of what to do next although Luffy had once again fallen asleep from overuse of his powers.

Truthfully you wish you could go to sleep, you’ve been awake for well over twenty-four hours at this point, it would be nice to curl up in a bed and sleep the next several days. Its times like this that make you really wonder if you’re meant to be a pirate, maybe you should just go home and do what your parents want.

“Hey, you okay?”

Then Zoro finds you like always, quietly speaking to keep the others from eavesdropping, though Nami tries, a hand on your shoulder, this time he seems to grip a little tighter than before. You know him well enough at this point, there’s just the slightest hint of worry on his face as he looks at you, brows furrowed just a bit. Zoro knows you just as well, you step away like this when things start to get to be too much, you just need a few moments to clear your head and breathe, and since you’ve had that, you give him a real smile.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you really?”

You nod, Zoro doing the same in return as he knows to believe you, before surprising you by gently taking you face in his hands, as if he’s making absolutely sure that you’re telling the truth.

Having lost track of you while he’d gone on to fight the CP9 members to get Robin’s key, his mind kept wandering to where you’d gotten off to, if you were safe, if you were fighting someone or multiple marines, he really hoped you weren’t against a CP9 member. You had to stay safe, no matter what, you and Robin were his biggest concerns at the time. When you randomly ran into him, Sanji, and Usopp, he was surprised by the relief he felt to see you were a little banged up but otherwise perfectly fine. He’d made you let him carry you on his back the rest of the way, until you got to the ship and were able to safely be on the ground again. He’d barely let you out of his sight since then.

Zoro doesn’t make whatever worry he had about you obvious, only looking like he’s fighting to find something to say while he holds your face and you continue to smile, tilting your head.

“Zoro?”

“Glad you’re okay.”

Giggling a bit, you nod before wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, your exhaustion and the fears and worries you’ve had the last few hours finally coming to surface while you hug Zoro, making him do the same lightly, to keep you from embarrassing yourself in front of the others while you cry quietly, though you know they wouldn’t care or judge you.

You’re glad Robin is back, everyone is safe and alive, you all may have lost Merry but you’re coming to terms with it.

But most importantly to you, Zoro is safe, and to him, you’re safety is just as important, even if he barely voices it. The last thing he wants is for you to be harmed, in anyway by anyone.

He'll be especially damned if it’s by his hand so he comforts you the best he can, until you’re calmed down enough to rejoin your crew, staying beside him.

He doesn’t make you release his hand as you grip onto it, instead squeezing it back whenever you do so. When you lean into his arm later on, he lays his head against your own, telling you to go ahead and sleep, he’ll get you to a bed. You make him promise to stay with you that night, and he does once everyone goes to turn in, not leaving your side for even a second.

He’ll make sure you stay safe.

+!+

Zoro isn't sure how you two ended up away from the rest of the party. Too much alcohol, yes, but his tolerance is higher than a normal person's. He knows better than to wander off like this, but you took him by the wrist and walked away with a new bottle of sake in your hand, convincing him that it would be good to get away from the noise and everyone else.

You don't normally drink as much as he's seen you do today, he wonders if it's the alcohol that's causing you to giggle incessantly and steal glances at him every bit. Not like you had to steal glances, if you two had been talking you'd be looking at him.

But you'd barely said a word apart from when he asked why you were dragging him away from everyone else.

“Just want some quiet time, husband.”

Zoro never stops you from calling him husband, he's not sure why. Your marriage wasn't real, he should stop you from calling him that.

He should, but he never does.

He doesn't now, even as you lean against him and say “my husband” over and over again. It's only the moment you crawl yourself into his lap that he feels the need to stop you, despite knowing you're drunk or at the very least tipsy enough to not know what you're doing.

“Get off.”

He still doesn't push you off, he's not that heartless.

“Nooooo…” You whine and start to nuzzle your face in his neck, sighing happily after a moment. “My husband~”

“Ain't actually your husband, you know that.”

“But you're my husband still.”

“Stop it before someone sees.”

You pout, but lift your head up to look at him. Zoro can tell more so now that you're definitely drunk, you're more emotional than he thought you'd be. He always expected you to be a giggly or chatty drunk, not emotional to the point you're pouting but also looking like you might cry.

“You should...kiss me.”

“What.”

You nod, leaning closer and touching your nose to Zoro's, making him glance away from you just the slightest bit from the proximity despite the bit of pink across his cheeks that you can see. This is the closest you've let yourself get to him ever, even the nights you sneak into his bed from nightmares, you've never placed your face so close to his.

“You didn't kiss me…when we got married.”

“We're not actu–”

“I'll kiss you then.”

You close the gap for the quickest of seconds, kissing Zoro so fast it's like it didn't happen. Despite your drunk state your face burns with a blush and you apologize, you're not sure why you did that. Must've been the alcohol controlling you or something, that's your excuse. You're both quiet but neither of you moves for a moment, before you decide to get up only to have Zoro hold you in place by your shoulders. His brows are furrowed and you're not sure what's going on in his mind, before he pulls you back into a proper kiss, none of this tiny peck of the lips thing you'd just done. He kisses you fully and for more than a brief second, it's several seconds before he pulls away, leaving you both breathless and you personally shocked.

Shocked for just a moment before you take his face in your hands and kiss Zoro a third time, which he returns, surprising you when he wraps his arms around your waist and brings you closer to him (how you could even get closer when you’re already on his lap, you don’t know). You refuse to let him be the one to end this. You don't want this to end, it needs to continue, even if just for you. Even if all it does is make your feelings for him stronger, even if Zoro later tells you it was a mistake and he still held no romantic feelings for you, despite that fact he's so willingly returning such affection.

Even though, a moment later, Zoro pushes you away gently by your shoulders, neither of you able to breathe properly for a moment, catching your breath as your slowly sobering mind tries to play catch up with what the hell just happened.

You kissed Zoro, and he actually kissed you back. He didn't shove you off or yell at you or anything like that. He accepted it and reciprocated without a single word. You figured he would fight you about this, that he wouldn't accept it so easily.

Is this the progress you've been hoping for?

Once you've both caught your breath, Zoro doesn't even look at you, instead moves just enough that you get the hint and get off his lap finally. It's a few minutes of complete silence between the two of you, that has you confused. You thought things were changing, that you two were getting closer than you had been even before Luffy brought you along.

The fact he'd just kissed you back for several minutes it felt like, you thought maybe Zoro was going to confess to you, but when he still doesn't look at you, you attempt to bring him back by taking his hand, which he lets you for a moment before gently pulling his arm back to himself.

“Zoro…I…I'm sor–”

“I think…you should go to bed, [Y/N].”

“Do you,” you gulp a bit, looking away before you finish, “do you want to come with me?”

“No. That's not a good idea.”

You know this, who knows what trouble you'd bring to yourselves or the crew if you two went to your room together? Whose heart would be broken the next morning if you took things too far when you weren't fully sober? You didn't know, the thought of either of you being hurt made your heart ache and you couldn't bear the thought.

So, instead of trying to convince him things would be fine, you really just wanted to sleep with him next to you, you nod, standing up and dusting yourself off, grabbing the bottle you'd brought with you and looking at Zoro again.

“Are you–”

“Gonna stay here for a bit.”

It's all you can do to nod again, apologizing for pushing things too far before you turn and leave, doing your absolute best to keep your tears to yourself as you return to the party, giving Nami a small smile when she asks where you've been, promising her you'd just gone off to spend some time alone.

She doesn't believe you and intends to get all the information she can later, but she does give you a hug that nearly pushes you over, and says she'll beat up whoever made you sad, especially if it's Zoro, earning her a laugh before you return to your room at the hotel.

I wish he had come with me…

Truthfully you don't regret kissing Zoro, not even a bit. Despite his rejection of your feelings, the fact he so willingly kissed you back made you believe that maybe things were changing in your favor.

Perhaps it was because he was drunk, or maybe he was sober enough that he knew exactly what he was doing, especially when he denied returning to your room with you.

Either way, even with your heart aching from another rejection, it feels like you're making progress with Zoro and your relationship with him, little by little.

For his part of it all, Zoro stays in the same place you'd left him for nearly an hour, trying to calm his own racing heart after that exchange with you.

How he never thought of kissing you before, but now he didn't want to do anything but kiss you (it's the alcohol talking, he swears it is). You tasted like the sake you'd shared and whatever sweet wine Nami had convinced you to take several drinks of. A combination he never expected to be so nice, something he didn't think he'd want to taste again. The moment he thinks about it again his heart skips a beat, and Zoro puts head in his hands in an attempt to stop such feelings.

No, no, shit I gotta stop this.

He sighs and runs his hands through his hair, pulling it slightly to get those thoughts out of his head. Any focus on romance, on you he wanted out of his head. There's been too much of it lately, the want to stay close to you, to pull you away from everyone else, to give in and indulge himself in you alone. He'd told you nothing was going to happen and he had meant it.

But then you had to go and kiss him. The most innocent of kisses, a quick peck on the lips but he'd gone and pulled you back for more almost instantly. Then you made it worse by returning it again and holding his face this time, he didn't know why he enjoyed that so much. This whole thing was ridiculous, there's no reason for these feelings!

The only thing he could do to get some time to think was to push you away, refuse to join you when you went to bed. Who knows what would've happened if he had gone with you? Of course, he knew your thoughts were innocent, you'd shared a bed multiple times when you turned to him after nightmares, it was highly unlikely you were expecting anything more than to just go to sleep and wake up with a hangover, Zoro by your side in case of alcohol induced nightmares.

And he had made you go to bed alone.

That realization, for some reason, causes his heart to ache and Zoro has to finally admit what he's been trying not to, over the last several months, even with the more domestic thoughts he's allowed himself to entertain at times. Something he was hoping would fade away, would disappear over time like it always did for others, the feelings he's finally realized were going to be more long term than he expected.

Damn it all…I'm falling for my wife.

+!+

Contrary to what many may think, Sanji doesn’t particularly like being privy to romance gossip, not the kind involving his crewmates especially. He thinks that such things should be kept between a couple, so when he accidentally hears you telling Nami and Robin how you and Zoro finally kissed the other night, he’s less than pleased to hear it ended with your swordsman pushing you back, not taking you back to your room, or even staying with you for the night.

How unbelievably rude of him! To steal your first kiss, and not even walk you back to your room!

That’s what Sanji would’ve done. If any woman kissed him, he’d walk her back to her room or home, at the very least, to ensure she was safe and nothing happened. Zoro not doing that, when you were inebriated, when you could’ve been hurt or worse, it angers Sanji more than anything Zoro has or hasn’t done thus far. He views you as his best friend, he hates the way you and Zoro seem to get closer to a real relationship, only for something to happen or someone to intervene and ruin your progress. He’s been cheering for you from the start, ever since you confirmed your feelings for the swordsman, only to now wonder if it’s worth it for you.

If Zoro really is what you want and makes you happy, why does it seem like all you do lately is suffer?

Sanji doesn’t fully mean to give Zoro the cold shoulder this time, or even the suspicious looks he throws at him, but Zoro noticed quickly, before anyone else, and confronts him.

“What the hell is your problem, cook?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit, you’ve been giving me worse looks than normal.”

Sanji bites down on his cigarette, finally dropping the knife he’d been holding to face Zoro with a scowl.

“I heard you and [Y/N] kissed the other night—”

“Damn it.”

“—and you didn’t bother to take her back to her room?”

“What, is that my job now?”

“As her husband it should be!”

“I’m not really her husband! Damn it, this is stupid.”

Zoro goes to leave, but Sanji stops him by grabbing his sleeve, holding on and telling him to stop.

“Look, asshole. I could care less that you two are married, real or not, or that you kissed her,” Sanji grits his teeth, finally letting go of Zoro’s sleeve, “But if you break her heart, I’ll never forgive you, mosshead.”

While Sanji turns back to continue prepping for dinner, Zoro stops for just a moment. The two have had fights before, that’s obvious to anyone with a brain, but they’ve yet to fight about you. And he wonders why it's only now, after you kissed him, that Sanji seems so hell bent on protecting you, or maybe he's always been like this, it's just more on display as you and Zoro start to get closer.

“What’s your deal with her?”

“She’s my best friend, mosshead. I just want her safe and happy, even if it’s with you.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, leaving the kitchen to find you lounging with Nami and Robin, the three of you in some conversation when you look up and see him, giving a slight smile that Zoro returns with a nod, before heading off to the crow’s nest. What Sanji last said is stuck in his head, partially wondering if you told your cook what happened that night in Water Seven or if he was good at guessing, but that’s not the biggest thing he wonders about.

Would you really be happy with me, of all people, [Y/N]?

+!+

“All right, wait, so, you honestly kissed him?”

“Nami don't make me repeat myself.”

Nami laughs while Robin smiles, both amazed you got up the courage to kiss Zoro of all people. Yeah, you were tipsy at the time, even though Zoro still believes you were fully intoxicated, but you couldn't help feeling bad about it afterwards, just for a bit.

“I didn't fully think it through. I just…I don't know, I wanted to kiss him so I did.”

“I don't think he's too upset about it then,” Robin nods a bit, taking a sip of her wine, “You said he kissed you back, if he didn't push you away right off the bat, it sounds like he was positively receptive to it.”

“Yeah,” Nami quickly agrees, giving you a grin, “Sounds like you're getting yourself a boyfriend.”

“I don't think he wants that.”

“Well, what do you want? Maybe you guys could talk it through.”

What did you want? You thought you knew, to be a world renowned swordswoman, to help Luffy become King of the Pirates.

But what did you want from Zoro? Just to be with him, to stay married to him? Do you want to maybe have a family of your own with him one day? You'd had those thoughts when your feelings first started surfacing, after your impromptu wedding at that backwater courthouse. You'd stopped entertaining thoughts for quite a while, but now, they're coming back more often.

More importantly, does Zoro want any of that with you?

“I…think… I want to be with him forever…”

Hearing Nami choke on her own drink, you give her a concerned look before she looks at you with wide eyes.

“You sound like you're in love with Zoro!”

You don't say anything for a bit, even with Nami and Robin looking at you like they're expecting you to deny such a thing. There was no way you were in love with Zoro, not at all. You two hadn't dated, your marriage was only temporary, it was meant to end as soon as you had something from your parents. You two weren't going to last forever, you weren't going to have kids together, live out your lives as a married couple. It wasn't happening.

No matter how much you may want it to. That's what Nami and Robin have come to think over time, from the things you've said to them.

“I am, Nami.”

Despite Nami's new outburst and saying she knew it with Robin laughing, you don't feel any kind of worry or fear about admitting your real feelings for Zoro. Neither of them would tell, your secret was safe as could be.

But for you, all you do is smile to yourself.

You love Zoro, more than anything. You've thought so for a while now, but finally voicing it aloud gives you a sense of peace and happiness. Whether Zoro ever returns your feelings or not, whether you two come to act as a married couple or not, you're more than happy to even stay by his side as his crewmate and friend. Even if you have to love him silently, you'd do so.

You'll hope he comes to love you back one day, but you won't force anything on him.

“I'm in love with Zoro.”

Note 2: Me writing this: now KISS.

After writing: omg they kissed

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #last forever #fem!reader #roronoa zoro x reader

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callsign-venus · 9 months ago

Text

For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader | Part II

Part I | Series Masterlist

Summary: You immediately have doubts. As the morning goes on, they only get stronger. Good thing Bradley can be normal about this. Right?

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fake dating, fake dating Bradley Bradshaw in particular, completely implied age gap

a/n: Thank all y'all for the response to the first part :) I was so nervous to post it, but everyone has been so kind and encouraging! Also, I've created a taglist for this series -- please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Ok, ok, let's get this show on the road (literally, we're on the way to Tahoe lol), enjoy x

It was 6:15 am. Streetlights washed your walls a bright, sterile white. You paced in front of your door. Next to it, your pink luggage set waited for you dutifully. Bradley was supposed to pick you up 15 minutes ago. He hadn’t responded to any of your texts. Or your calls.

Were you dumb for thinking he really wanted to join you – and your entire family – in Tahoe? Was he drunker than he let on last night, or maybe he forgot entirely? You hoped not, you’d already bought him the seat next to you on the plane. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents why they were paying for two plane seats when only you arrived at the cabin.

You checked your phone. 6:17. Soon, you’d have to drive by yourself. Maybe he’d catch you at the airport.

Just as you made for your keys, there was a sharp knock at your door. You undid the deadbolt and flung it open. Bradley stood in the sickly yellow light of the hallway, looking better than you wanted him to in just gray sweats and a black hoodie.

“Good morning!” He was surprisingly chirpy for how early it was.

“You’re late. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“What texts?”

“The texts I sent you?” You grabbed all three pieces of your luggage and struggled through the door frame.

“My phone died.” He was tapping his phone screen like he was just realizing that it wasn’t turning on. He gave up, pocketed the phone, and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of your hands. “Jesus, how long are we going to be gone? It’s like you packed your whole closet.”

“Three days. But I have to be prepared.” You locked up your apartment and started down the stairs, your suitcase clanking down each step. Your neighbors were probably thrilled.

Bradley followed behind you, lifting your other suitcases as if they weighed nothing.

“So you’re just going to travel with a dead phone?” You asked when you finally made it to the lobby.

He shrugged. “Is your phone charged?”

“Of course.”

“Works good enough for me.”

He reached over your head to hold open the front door as you dragged your suitcase into the brisk early morning. His Bronco shone like adventure. You and Bradley loaded your luggage, and he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat.

“Coffees?” You asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.

He glanced down at the twin iced coffees lined up in the cupholders between you. “I thought it'd help us get through the early morning. I didn’t know what you liked though, so I just got you my drink.”

You stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of the coffee and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet. You coughed a little.

“You like it?” Bradley smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve perfected my order. Caramel and white mocha and cinnamon sprinkle on top.”

You take another sip. Without the sweetness taking you by surprise, it was much better. “It’s good. I would have pegged you for a hot black coffee guy, though.”

“I’m full of surprises.” He merged on the freeway.

The sound of the road passing under the Bronco filled the silence of the car.

“So…” Bradley tapped his thumb against the Bronco’s wheel, the echoes of some song you didn’t know. “What’s your family like?”

You watched lights flick on in the windows of the buildings you passed. People getting ready for their typical days. You pressed down a shock of panic. This was absurd. But Bradley seemed committed, and if it was going to work, you had to set him up for success. That meant warning him about your family.

“Well, my Grandma Sybil and Grandpa Thomas have been married for sixty years. Obviously.” Nervous laughter bubbled from your lips before you could stop it. “They’re Grandma and Grandpa. I grew up going to their house and stuffing myself on her cookies and falling asleep on his lap. But Grandma Sybil can be… stern.”

He stopped tapping his thumb to snag his coffee and take a sip. “Like, how so?”

“She’s just a little rough around the edges. She had a tough life before meeting my grandfather, and though she softened to him, I don’t think she softened much to the rest of the world. Just, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you right away. Or at all.”

“Noted.” You heard him swallow.

You picked at a seam in your pants. “And their oldest daughter is my Aunt Marnie. She’s married to Uncle Jim. They run a crystal shop just outside of Vegas. They might try to push moonstone or onyx on you. Just smile and accept it.”

“Ok. Marnie and Jim. Crystals.” He committed the names to memory.

“Their daughter Sabrine just got married.”

“You went to the wedding, I remember.”

You flushed, grateful that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet and the hotness of your cheeks dissipated in the darkened car. He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.

As the airport came into view, you told him about Sabrine and how she would bring her new husband Matt. She was already seven months pregnant. Grandma Sybil was less than pleased, but Grandpa Thomas either didn’t care or hadn't worked out the math.

“And what do your aunt and uncle think?” Bradley asked.

“I think they’re just happy that she’s happy. They sound excited to be grandparents. But Auntie Marnie did complain that the wedding was tacky.”

Bradley snorted. “Was it?”

“It was sweet,” you said. “It was in his mom’s backyard. The colors were red and black, but it was sweet.”

An airplane roared overhead, glinting in the sun that was just sharpening over the horizon.

Bradley pulled into the airport’s parking garage. He had only packed himself a duffle bag, so he was able to carry all of your luggage plus his own. In exchange, you carried both coffees and locked the Bronco. You slipped Bradley’s keys into his pocket as he instructed, your fingers warming where they grazed the fabric of his sweats.

The airport was fizzing with the whispers of early morning travelers. You rubbed your eyes as you stepped under the fluorescent lights, taking stock of just how many others were yawning and lining up at the baggage counter under those same lights. Why was the airport so busy before 7am?

As if he could read your mind (or maybe he just saw you tense up at the sight of so many people), Bradley said, “It’s ok. We still have time.”

His reassurance drove you to action. You traded his coffee for your bags and shuffled into line for the check in counter. From the standstill line, you watched Bradley as he wandered around the walkway, taking sips of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling, and generally being a 6’1” hazard to the travelers rushing to get to the TSA line. You rolled your suitcases across the green gray carpets the check in counter line eked forward, nearly running into the old man in front of you as you kept your gaze on Bradley. Why was even his boredom endearing?

Just before you got to the front of the line, he stopped and stared up at the ceiling, causing a woman who was looking at her phone to crash into him. You giggled as you watched him apologize, and saw, in real time, as the woman went from indignant to flustered as she realized how hot he was. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he caught your gaze from across the room. Her eyes followed his, and when it hit you, she was quick to disappear into the airport crowd.

Your face grew hot. You mouthed sorry to him as the woman at the counter was calling you forward. You were a little sorry; she was very pretty. But some part of you delighted in being perceived as his girlfriend, even if it was easier to convince a stranger than your family.

“Ma’am, next guest.” The stern voice of the woman at the counter shook you from your thoughts.

Once your bags were checked, you caught up with Bradley. The two of you rounded the corner only to stop short when you saw the enormous security line.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groaned.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only 7:15.” Bradley nudged your shoulder with his. “Plus, it gives us time to get our story straight.”

“Our story?” You asked as you both stepped into line.

“Yeah. Like, how did we meet?”

You didn’t skip a beat. “Nat introduced us.”

“That was quick.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Well, let’s try to stick with reality as much as possible. And my family loves Nat, her stamp of approval will go down great.” You really hoped no one could hear you two. But the steady murmur of overlapping early-morning conversation seemed to drown out your weird topic of conversation.

“Well, how long have we been dating?”

That you had to think about. “Well, it can’t be too short, otherwise it would be weird that I’m bringing you.”

“It’s already weird.” He laughed.

“They don’t need to know that,” you said. “How long do you think we could pass for? 2 months? 6?”

“Aren’t they going to ask why you’ve never talked about me or brought me around?”

“Good point. We’ll say 4, and I’ll just tell them I wanted to be sure before I told them about you.”

“You think we could convince them we’ve been dating for four months?”

You shrugged, but your stomach somersaulted. “We can try.”

“Like this?” He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours.

Your hand tensed. Your stomach did a whole gymnastics routine. You were holding hands with Bradley Bradshaw in the airport. You looked around, sure that any TSA agent in your vicinity could sense your anxiety and pull you for secondary screening.

“Relax.” He patted your hand with his free one. “We’re not going to get far like this.”

You forced your fingers to meld with his. The iced coffee and your nerves were a terrible mix for your empty stomach.

“Better.” He kept hold of your hand as you shuffled up the line. Then he grinned.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You know those couples in lines at amusement parks?” A lopsided smile brightened his face. “When they’re waiting in line?”

“The ones that are really into PDA?”

“Exactly.” He dropped your hand, slid up behind you, and wrapped his arms across your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “All we need to do is follow their lead.”

You did everything in your power to stay upright and keep your breathing steady with his chin pressing into your skin. He kept hold of you as the line moved up. You clenched your hands, your nails digging crescents into your palms. There was no way he couldn’t hear your racing heart and your ragged breathing.

“And there’s this move.”

As the line slouched to a stop, he spun you around, still keeping hold of your waist, but now you were face to face. You looked up at him, tried to form a sentence, but found yourself completely dumb. He leaned his forehead against yours. Surely he could feel the warmth of your face, see the confused longing in your eyes. He smiled at you for just a second before he broke away from you and threw his head back laughing, drawing glares from your fellow sleep-deprived travelers.

You were practically mute through the rest of security. Bradley seemed to have fun grabbing your hand, draping an arm around your shoulders, and messing with your hair. You wondered if he knew the effect he was having on you or if he was earnestly trying to practice for your family. Maybe he was just trying to rile you up.

“You were great.” He patted the top of your head, causing your heart to shrivel a bit. “We’ll have them all wrapped around our fingers.”

You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Once you were through security, you broke up to scrounge some breakfast. Well, that’s what you let Bradley think anyway. You tried to beat down the butterflies in your stomach as you wove between slow-walking travelers toting huge suitcases and knots of families with waddling toddlers, straight to the bathroom.

The stall offered you just enough privacy to freak out. You felt your face, your waist, flexed your hands right in front of your eyes. It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?

He complimented you on a job well done, but in truth, he did all the work. You didn’t reach out for him once in the security line. Would your family even believe you liked him? After that performance, the idea that they could possibly think that you were in love seemed laughable.

The weekend stretched long ahead of you. You were beginning to realize how stupid it was for you to begin such a ruse that you’d have to keep up for three days. You wondered if Bradley would react poorly to being sent home after already getting through security.

You hurriedly texted Nat – who knew very well how you felt about her coworker, almost to the point where she might have purposefully orchestrated your trip. It was a bit of a text wall, detailing the TSA line and your dread about the weekend. If she wasn’t already working, she would probably be asleep for three more hours, so you pocketed your phone after hitting send.

The sound of a flushing toilet reminded you that, yes, you were having a small crisis in a public bathroom. That thought was so sad that you took a deep breath, set your shoulders, and walked out of the stall to face the world.

From a little store, you picked up a berry parfait for breakfast and a bottled orange juice, since the TSA confiscated your half-empty iced coffee.

You found Gate 4. People were falling asleep upright in the airport seats, blankets and pillows abound. It smelled like the Jack in the Box across the way. You found two empty seats by the window and kicked up your feet to reserve one for Bradley.

He found you ten minutes later, carrying a bag stuffed with two bagels – one sausage and egg breakfast sandwich and one cinnamon raisin with strawberry cream cheese, he explained. You nodded as you dropped your feet and scraped the rest of your yogurt out of your cup.

“So your cousin Sabrine is pregnant and your grandma isn’t happy,” he said around a big bite of bagel, egg, and sausage. “What else?”

“Well, my grandparents’ youngest child is Auntie Elaine. She lives in Alaska with her husband. They breed sled dogs.”

Bradley paused right before another bite. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Some of their dogs run the Iditarod, and I think one was part of the winning team a few years back. They have twins a little older than me. Nora and her wife Madison, they’re… really cool. Last I heard, they were climbing K2. And there’s Nora’s twin brother Owen. He has a girlfriend named Addison, which I think is funny. Madison and Addison. The twins don’t think it’s as funny as I do.”

Bradley laughed. The bagel sandwich was gone, and he traded the leftover wad of greasy wrapping paper for the cinnamon raisin bagel. “And what’s the deal with Owen and Addison?”

“They’re pretty chill.” You thought about it for a minute. “Owen used to punch drywall, but he’s calmed down.”

Bradley stared at you, waiting for you to laugh.

The gate agent called you to board before you could explain. Though you didn’t think any explanation would be helpful.

The plane ride was nice and short. You slept through most of the hour and a half. You were mortified to wake up on Bradley’s shoulder as the plane jolted in the harsh turbulence that shrouded the Reno airport.

You sat bolt upright, fully awake. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He patted your thigh assuredly. “It’s good practice.”

You didn’t have time to freak out at his touch because the plane rocked again. You’d experienced this turbulence countless times, something about the mountains and the desert air made the plane bounce around like a toy in the hands of an overexcited toddler. Still, as the plane jerked down, it planted a pit in your stomach that made your hands clammy.

When the plane dipped again, you clutched the armrest. You didn’t want to look at Bradley, who probably thought your overreaction was silly. He’d experienced g-forces upwards of 8Gs countless times. It was bad enough flying next to Nat, who you knew would never judge you, but next to Bradley, you felt like a little kid scared of the dark.

“Hey,” he gingerly pried your hand off the armrest and held it with a softness you didn’t expect from him, “look at me.”

You tore your eyes away from the flight tracker on the display in front of you, worried you’d see judgment in his dark eyes. But his expression was everything soft.

He smiled when you met his gaze. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me, I’ve flown a plane or two.”

You laughed despite the plane suddenly banking upward.

He squeezed your hand as the plane leveled. “So here’s the deal: you keep looking at me. You can only panic if I start panicking. Deal?”

You nodded. “Deal.”

He held your hand and your eyes until the plane kissed the blessed tarmac. By then, the pit in your stomach had been flooded with a mushy feeling you simply did not have time to drain because the seatbelt sign dinged off, and you had a rental car to secure.

Getting out of the airport went as smoothly as possible. Within 20 minutes of deboarding, you and all your luggage was crammed into a rental Prius. Bradley’s nose crinkled when he first saw it, but he folded himself into the passenger seat without complaint.

You fiddled with the radio until you got it to play a throwback ‘70s station, then peeled out of the airport. Soon, the dusty city of Reno and its casinos were in the rearview, and the Sierra Nevadas loomed large on the horizon. When the road lifted off the desert floor and began winding through the foothills, childhood excitement drummed through your veins. As the car screamed along the highway, desert scrub blurred into pine trees that jutted straight up toward the endless blue sky. Patches of snow bloomed in their shade.

“Wow,” Bradley said as the trees grew thicker like a tightly stitched blanket over the mountains. Snow carpeted the ground. Little cabins shone through the forest and snow like jewels.

“Wait until we get around this mountain.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You carefully made a sharp turn, the mountainside steep and unwelcoming. But as the car straightened out, the trees yawned apart, and you caught Bradley gawking at the lake out of the corner of your eye.

Nestled between snow-draped mountains, it shone like a sapphire in the late morning sun.

You’d spent several summers splashing in its frigid waters with your cousins until your skin was so covered in goosebumps that Grandma Sybil threatened to pluck you for Christmas dinner. The same lake was the backdrop to hundreds upon hundreds of ski runs and one trip down the mountain with ski patrol. Your arm still ached to think about that late February day, even all these years later.

“It’s beautiful,” Bradley said, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

Your phone’s navigation system stated that there was only 20 minutes until you reached your grandparent’s cabin. You sucked in a breath between your teeth and cracked a window, hoping the cold, piny air would help settle your stomach. It didn’t. But you still had to finish giving Bradley the family rundown.

“My parents are Sean and Catherine,” you said. “My dad might try to intimidate you, but don’t worry, he’s a softie.”

“Ok.”

You couldn’t be sure he was paying attention, as his face was all but pressed against the window, soaking in the spectacular views. Even if you wanted to be mad, you really couldn’t blame him.

You stepped on the breaks as the road started dipping down a little. “My mom will be the most problematic. I swear sometimes she can read my mind. Whatever we do, it’ll be hard to convince her.”

“We’re going to be there in 18 minutes. Next time, a little more heads up please?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just tell her that you take me to Vino in La Jolla and buy me flowers.”

“Is that what your ideal man would do?”

Would it be so bad if you just drove off the road? The steep mountainside looked more inviting by the second.

“Shut up.” You froze your gaze to the winding road. “I have a brother, his name is Tommy.”

“I know,” he said. “I think I’ve met him once – when he was in San Diego for spring break?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” you said. “Well, he and his girlfriend Georgia are high school sweethearts. They’re the perfect couple, and it makes me sick.”

Bradley chuckled. “Noted.”

“So first goal: be believable.”

He laid his hand on your thigh. “Done.”

“Good.” His hand was burning hot. The car swerved ever so slightly as you lost focus on the road for a moment. “Second goal: be a better couple than Tommy and Georgia.”

“Let’s not try to overshoot this. We’ve only been dating for 4 months.”

You laughed in spite of yourself. When you eventually found your real partner, and everyone gathered in Tahoe again for Tommy and Georgia’s wedding, or a wintery ski trip, or whatever comes next for your family, you’ll come clean. You’ll cling to your partner and tell everyone all about your good friend Bradley Bradshaw and how the two of you never really dated. Your grandparents’ anniversary will be a hazy memory, but everyone will remember the tall, good-looking naval aviator and his (totally out of season) Hawaiian shirts and giant mustache. There would be shock, but eventually it would be an inside joke for years to come. You just had to get through this weekend.

Too soon, you were pulling into the cabin’s long, steep driveway. The cabin itself jutted off of the mountainside, its tapered roof giving it a harsh look, though you swore when you were little it just made it look cozy and inviting. Its windows were like glassy eyes following the Prius.

You put the car in park and turned to Bradley.

“Ready?” You asked.

“Ready, babe.”

Before you could fully register the fact that he called you babe, the cabin’s front door slammed open, and your family bursted out to greet you and the mysterious man you’d arrived with.

The knot in your stomach tightened like a noose.

Read Part III here!

Taglist:

@djs8891 @avengersfan25 @cornishkat @julielightwood @makingpeoplelaughsince1995 @abitdemented @darksparklesficrecs @igotmajordaddyissues @cupofchamomileeee @imaginationlover101 @simpfictionalcharacters

#top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 1 year ago

Note

dear sweet m if you end up writing about bucky with a vibrating arm can i pretty please be tagged?? (i don’t know if you do taglists, i couldn’t find anything that indicated either way, totally fine if not!)

Ah yes, Bucky and his vibrating arm. I’ve been hinting at it for ages. And you’d be surprised to find out…

There is no reason for the Wakandans to give the arm some extra functions. So any other vibrations than the mild ones from the inside mechanics were unnecessary. But as we’ve seen from Bucky ever since the 1940’s, he’s quite fascinated by technology himself. Also quite skilled with that brain of his. And as mentioned a while ago, this man has the sexual curiosity of a teenage boy – especially after everything that has happened to him.

So it took him some time to perfect using tools with just one hand, but he has managed to add in some extra functions to his arm. Peeling away at the vibranium carefully and programming some new things into the limb. Some things functioning as an element of surprise in battle, yes, but some functioning as an element of surprise in bed.

The first time he tried it on himself, he had taken a few deep breaths before activating it, squeezing his cock in his metal fist and supressing a low grunt. He had already been so close and had been edging himself for a while. He’d been throbbing and the artificial nerves in his metal arm could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat pulsing through his cock. How had he gotten so nervous doing this all of a sudden? It was a lot, but God, he’d needed to come! It had been unbearable, the need for release. Almost as unbearable as the thought of finishing it the way he normally would.

So he had turned on the added function, the vibrations rising carefully to a steady buzz the way he had programmed it, and the noise that sprang from his mouth had been borderline pornographic.

And he couldn’t stop. Moaning and whimpering as his palm vibrated against the hilt of his cock, he had barely managed to squeeze and pull his hand up to the aching tip of himself. Definitely hadn’t managed more than two pulls before he had spilled months of pent up frustration onto his toned chest with a helpless cry as the vibrations dimmed and he pulled himself through his vision-blackening orgasm.

And as much as he loved using the hidden feature, he hadn’t yet used it on a bed partner. It felt too intimate, too controlling for some reason. Until you, of course.

Because yes, Bucky has a kink for corruption and even though he knows there’s little left of you to corrupt, the small nudges out of your comfort zone felt like drugs to him. The man loves to be on his knees for you, worship the ground you walk on, but there are few things better than getting you to submit to him. Even fewer than ruining the sheets below you while he is still dressed.

And tonight, you looked beautiful. Sinful in the classiest way. He’d suffered through wearing a tuxedo to the party, as long as you felt confident next to him. And in turn, he felt powerful next to you. It was one of those moments where Bucky’s heart swelled three sizes because he realised that you both make each other want to be better. In the big things, but also the small things like tonight. Looking good, charming people, bragging about each other and hyping up one another. He was in cloud nine and it was about time he paid you back for it.

You are already breathing heavily, draped on your shared bed with your dress discarded and your heels still on. Your hair messy and makeup smudged slightly. Your skin is throbbing and flushed and the ache between your legs is nearly numbing. You stare up at the ceiling lazily, coming down from another Bucky-induced high as he prowls around the bed and watches you – jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“I’ll never get enough of making you come, you know,” he says before he once again climbs over you. Kisses are pressed to your belly, your breasts, your neck. You almost purr at the feeling. “And I will always look for new ways to get it done. New ways to make you feel better.”

You want to tell him you already feel great, fight him on it, tell him there is nothing he needs to compensate for. But you’re so dazed and selfishly, you love it when he talks to you like this. It makes goosebumps prickle over your skin. And Bucky laughs softly at the sight, teasingly trailing fingers up your damp inner thighs. You shudder at the touch.

He continues, “But tonight… Shit. You looked so beautiful. So tempting. I want to use all of my ways on you. I want to make you come and moan and scream until you are nothing but a puddle of sweat and tears and come.” You whine softly at his words and drape your hands over his neck, urging him closer. He breathes onto your lips, “I want it all from you. Forever. Give me everything, baby. I know you can–”

The surge of vibrations against you cunt is so much, you gasp for air and freeze all the same. You try to snap your legs shut, but Bucky’s body is keeping you from it. You open your mouth to say something, but everything has left you. Thoughts, words, willpower – it’s all gone. Your body tightens and loosens, pleasure unfurling throughout it like light in a glowstick.

Involuntarily, your hips buck and grind against his hand and the sounds that escape you are torturous. You feel Bucky’s smirk burning over your skin and you only barely manage to look down.

You’ve used toys before, but these vibrations… It feels like the toy is made for you, rolling over every single nerve of your clit so precisely it feels out of this world.

And as you look down, Bucky’s gaze follows, and you see three of his metal fingers rolling over your clit. You let out a moan at the sight – a sound Bucky answers with a deep groan of his own. Nothing will boost his confidence more than your responses to him. Especially when he knows there is no room left in your brain to overthink the responses. These are purely natural. Needy and appreciative.

The two of you look at his hand in trance, breaths and moans fanning over Bucky’s cheek. And then he slips two fingers into your soaked core, curling them up against your swollen walls and the both of you let out a carnal groan, your hands clutching him tighter.

Oh shit, oh shit…

“B-Bucky,” you gasp and he presses a kiss to your temple in answer. You sigh and close your eyes, sinking into the sheets as he pushes and pushes against the growing bubble in your belly. Rolling a vibrating thumb over your clit and pushing vibrating fingers against your deepest spot.

“Give it to me,” he murmurs, but he sounds rushed. Impatient. Like there is nothing in the world he wants more than to have you fall apart for him. Nothing more than feeling you squeeze around him again. He watches it build. Something big, something neither of you can come back from. He watches you nearly vibrate yourself with pleasure as the pleasure builds, and builds, and builds–

And when you burst, Bucky watches you lose yourself entirely to him. More importantly, only three fingers from him. And he wonders how you would look and sound if you lost yourself to him entirely. In love, in pleasure, in need, in life–

Aaaand he wonders if he could do this in public.

#answered #writing #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #drabble #drabbles #IM BACK #sorta #sorry it took so long #i hope to be writing more drabbles soon #This is the dream tho no?????#oh this has been a long time coming #OK GOTTA GO TO WORK BYEEEE

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towriteloveontheirarms · 5 months ago

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Dark felix Caton who sees beautiful girl (reader)at uni. He became obsessed with her right away. But then he finds out reader already has a bf. Then he plot an evil plan. He befriends readers bf and ask him to join him during summer vacations to saltburn. Felix also says he can bring reader along with him too.

Reader is hesitant but eventually accept the offer. Soo that's where felix would begin to corner reader whenever she's alone. Reader try to tell her bf about it but he turns her down too occupied by the lavish lifestyle. Finally felix get reader alone with him and r4pe her.

I´m sorry you had to wait this long dear anon. I really hope you enjoy this though. Your other requests will still be coming soon as possible though. I promise I have not forgotten and am not ignoring <3

To get you alone (dark!Felix Catton x reader)

synopsis: He always had his eyes on you, however you had thought naively that he wouldn´t go past that.

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non consensual sex, smut, semi public sex, p in v, unwanted attention generally, mentions of reader being in a relationship with Oliver, afab reader

word count: 1.6k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: I tried to not be too graphic with this one, I still advise anyone reading to proceed with causion. SA is a real and serious topic and if you don´t feel in the right spot for reading this that is completely fine. Remember to be kind to yourself and you are loved!

Dividers by @saradika

Felix Catton. If you were to be asked what you thought of Felix your answer would most often look something like “Yes, he's pretty handsome…” but beyond that there was very little you knew of the rich boy and that in and of itself made you wary of him. Especially because he seemed to go wherever you went. Mischievously sparkling eyes trained on your every move from the second you entered the grand hall for the welcome celebrations. Now, normally you probably wouldn't mind it that much, hadn't it been for someone else's sudden infatuation with whom your friends had jokingly begun to call your stalker.

You had met Oliver years prior, when your parents somehow for some reason befriended his parents. Well, not for some reason, they were lovely people, but nonetheless. Soon after that he had asked you out and with how nervous he looked you couldn't help but accept. It was really cute. Oliver was attentive and perfect and even if his friend Michael was a bit weird by most standards, it seemed like he was looking out for your boyfriend as well, as much as he could. But he was the first part of your life that Felix got his fangs into. Until you found yourself at the Catton’s estate over the summer instead of going home for the first time in forever. It was nice of him to extend the invite, his family was mostly nice in that dysfunctional, rich people way. Still, despite everything you felt like an intruder. No matter how often any of them insisted how great it was to have you there. Something felt off. Like a spell had been cast on Oliver so he couldn't see how weird his new so-called friend was. Ignorant to every slip off the hand underneath the table at meals or outside, every lingering glance at the pool, every oh so innocent seeming, hidden unwanted comment.

But especially to the frequency with which you found yourself trapped alone with the brunet rich kid. His hands resting on your hips as he leaned down to you, eyes sparkling with spoken and unspoken comments. Things he had dreamt doing to you, you did to him, things he wanted to try. It all fell upon deaf ears, no matter who you told. Venetia was the only one who even made the impression to believe you, but even her response was kept to a minimum. Keeping silent about it to the world, not doing anything to actively help when you told her how uncomfortable you felt alone with her brother.

No one ever expected the great Felix Catton to do something bad, he was just making jokes, you were told, but you knew better than them.

Walking through Saltburn, you are distracted by mentally chiding yourself for still getting lost after having spent so much time there already. The constant, silent barrage of curses blinds you to the person walking towards you.

“Whoa there.” The voice and steadying hands on your upper arms quickly give away that it isn't Farleigh or your boyfriend you ran into, like you had hoped so dearly. Or even James or Duncan or literally anyone else but the person standing in front of you. In an attempt to bring distance between the two of you as fast as possible, you stumble backwards however and almost fall into the little coffee table behind you, prompting Felix´ hands to go right back to your arms.

“Are you okay?” He asks over a huffed chuckle, eyes glowing lightly with mischief as always.

“Y-yeah, thanks.” You rasp a short answer, dusting yourself off to get away from solitude with him as quickly as possible.

“Not so fast.” He stops you by holding out his arm to block the way to freedom. “Did I do something to offend you?”

The question nearly shocks the air out of your chest, fists balling instinctively as there is only one question that crosses your mind in return. “Are you serious right now?”

“Uh, yes? Why wouldn´t I be?” The baffling response is accompanied by furrowed brows and a still slightly amused quirk of the corner of the lip.

“Felix, it´s nice that you invited us here, but I´m not blind. I see the way you eyed the girls back at uni. I see the way you look at Olli and I see the way you look at me, have been looking at me for months and by God I´ve felt your hands when you thought no one is watching.”

Listening to you intently, Felix’ facial expression shifts to one less light. A knowing smirk replaces the half smirk and his brows relax, the brown of his eyes darkening to almost black.

"Oh, did you now? You notice everything, don't you?" The brunet straightens his back to tower over you. One of his large hands coming up to grab you by the chin. His thumb languidly swipes over your lower lip. “Aren't you just the cleverest girl?”

“Felix…” you whisper hesitatingly, too tightly in his hold to make another attempt at fleeing. All that you can do to keep him at a small distance is to cross your arms over your chest. An obviously futile, but desperate move that, perhaps rightfully so, gets chuckled at, before they get pinned above your head.

"Tell me, do you ever think of me instead of Olli?" Felix huffs above you.

“What?” Outrage burns it´s way through your veins, but as quickly as it ignites it is shut down again.

“Do you ever think of me when you are with Ollie.” Felix repeats slower this time, stepping even closer, even though it had seemed impossible prior.

For a moment you don´t know how, or if, to respond, biting your lip and averting your eyes to put off answering as much as possible. However, failing when his fingers dig deeper into your chin to turn you back to him. You nod, ashamed.

"Say it." He demands. "I want to hear it from your beautiful lips."

"I think about you every time I am with him. I think about you when I touch myself at night, imagining it's your fingers making me come until I can only moan your name." The confession isn't entirely true.

If you were entirely honest, your mind has shifted once, but you knew he wouldn't be happy with that. His breath shudders and you know he bought the lie.

"Fuck you're such a naughty girl. Thinking about me when you have him. And to admit it so freely." He chuckles

"Oliver could never touch me like you do. He could never make me feel as good." You continue lying, hoping to any deity that would listen, it would make this whole torture be over faster.

Far from it was the case obviously. Felix lets out a low growl, swiftly leaning down to capture your lower lip between his teeth. Soothing the bite by pulling them into an unreciprocated kiss immediately after. It´s as if it happened solely to make one thing unmistakeably clear. He wanted you. To be desperate and beg him for more. He wanted you to need him just how much he needed you. And more.

His tongue presses against yours as he roughly moved the two of you away from the table, pinning you against the nearest wall. Even less time is wasted to push aside and open any clothes that potentially could be in the way of the one thing Felix had wanted to do to you ever since he had first laid his eyes on you. Letting go of your chin, his hand hooks underneath your thigh to ease himself into you painfully slow. His presence alone rendering you incapable of any clear thought of fight or flight. A realization at which he lets go of your wrists to grope at your breasts. Felix' own chest heaves with heavy breaths and quiet moans, held back as to not alert any of the staff nearby. Meanwhile you barely feel like you are in your own body anymore. It's like watching him from above as he did whatever he wanted to your limp body. The nausea, the tears pricking in your eyes as his lips latch onto your neck to suck his marks into it, they all feel so distant yet so overwhelming. You can see his lips moving, but the sounds are drowned out by a high-pitched ringing sound. Numb to the way his fingers dig into your skin or how every thrust of his hips pushes you back into the wall, head rolling from side to side as you try to drown all of it out even more. Again, futilely.

Still your inaction brings Felix enough enjoyment to keep on going for what feels like forever. His touch is so meticulous, so blushless, he is so focused on just violating every boundary you had tried to set up with him ever, he doesn't even see you anymore. How much he is hurting you. And if he does, he doesn't show much care for it.

You are lucky in a sense though as well or maybe it's just another cruel joke by the gods. As soon as Felix spills himself inside of you, he pulls out and away. Without so much as another word, but a look that very much promised more of what had just happened, he leaves you in the little corner of the hallway.

However, you don't come back to yourself yet. Taking care in mechanical motions to fix up your clothes and get to a bathroom to clean up and possibly empty your stomach's contents until you felt any better about yourself and the prospect of having to spend the rest of summer in these halls. Any better, no matter how little it would be at all. One thing you were sure of in your dissociated state. There was no escaping Felix Catton.

#felix catton #felix x reader #felix x you #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn fic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn x reader #saltburn x you

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excalibur-gone-missing · 8 months ago

Text

[TEASER]

Paring: seungcheol x you

Requested: no

Release date: 24-04-24

Genre: mafia au, reverse of getting kidnaped by the mafia boss, fluff, e2l, crack, assistant au

Warning(s): mention of abduction, guns?

summary: It was not supposed to be like this, it was a meticulous plan perfectly curated by you, Jun and Seokmin. You were supposed to go get the man who was the future heir of the Kim Corps named Mingyu, you ever had a pic of his. Most importantly it was definitely not supposed to be the man who now sits in your basement claiming that he is the leader of the mafia organisation you three work for.

words: 342

Other works

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: taglist is open, comment if you want to be tagged.

[permanent taglist][for those who want to join the permanent taglist]

“So, you are telling me these three, these newbies who literally didn’t have any good job for them to gain experience drugged your ass and took you to god knows where, and you couldn’t even put up a good fight?!”

Jeonghan exclaims looking at the seated, nervous and scared faces of the three of you from Seungcheol’s office’s glass.

“Apparently not”, the older man sighs.

“My friend are you sure you are a real mafia? Because in the light of the current happenings I am starting to question your integrity a lot.”

Jeonghan says as he barks out a laugh, taking pleasure at his friends’ humiliation.

The bitch continues to make fun of the older man.

“Or maybe you were too immersed in staring at the pretty lady to notice that you were getting kidnapped”.

“I just thought I was getting mugged, so I didn’t fight hard enough, who knew I would be kidnapped instead.”

Seungcheol grumbles pouting a bit.

“Which is even worse, because you are telling me you would have let people just mug you for no reason when you are one of the most influential people underground!” now Jeonghan did look pretty concerned about the statement his superior just spewed and he does indeed have a hard time accepting it.

“Ahh! Just get over with it and let me go and make sure the three of them face the appropriate consequences for not only abducting me, but also trying to abduct my friend”, Seungcheol barks out while walking out, thoroughly humiliated and annoyed that his junior was having fun at his expense.

So Jeonghan does what he is good at. Right after his superior leaves, he strides towards the group and says, “so because the boss has instructed me to do something with you three which will stop you guys from going off the hook, I’m going to assign you some jobs in the organisation because I can.”

Now, anyone even vaguely familiar with Jeonghan would recognize the expression he wore just before chaos ensued, but contrary to popular belief, Jeonghan is actually quite amiable—at least, that's what he believes, and that's what matters, right?

He continued, “Junhui, you’ll be overseeing the artillery division our deputy head Chan will ensure you are well informed about your job. You’ll meet him tomorrow. As for Seokmin,” he paused, a sly smile crossing his face, which made Seokmin visibly nervous, “you, my friend, will be our esteemed boss's driver. Lastly, y/n, you'll be his assistant. You'll meet Chan tomorrow too; he'll explain the workings of your new role.”

Normally, in any ordinary conversation, you wouldn't dare ask inappropriate questions, but the circumstances were far from normal, so you proceeded with the most audacious question you could muster: “Why did Chan leave his previous post?”

Jeonghan politely responded, “He left because the job didn’t suit him, so we shifted him to the artillery department as a deputy head.”

Unspoken was the fact that Chan had been worn down by the boss's relentless bullying, quietly requesting a transfer for at least three years before Jeonghan finally relented. Since then, the turnover of assistants had been alarmingly high. Jeonghan desperately hoped you would stick around. Moreover, if either you or Seungcheol objected to this arrangement, he had enough leverage to ensure you both compile.

Enough dirt to keep both of you in line.

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juyeonszn · 1 year ago

Text

BLAH BLAH

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.17k

GENRES fluff ﹒suggestive

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DNI yk all that jazz, mature language, younghoon being stupid, one bed trope 🙀, jacob is shirtless….. that deserves its own warning tbh, reader also is topless at one point but not for the same reason, reader is down bad for cobie, dry humping ig idk if it really counts but i’m including it anyway, this is kinda tame tbh but,,, the tension is there i swear!!

SUMMARY you swore you would never make any physical contact with jacob bae ever again to protect your heart. what the hell are you supposed to do now that you’re sharing a room?

MORE HELLO!!! she is finished 😼 finished her up in a day im impressed with myself ANNSNW ANYWAYS this is a request from my 100 followers event! thank u again moni (@zzoguri) bae i hope u enjoy this 🫶🫶 prompts used are: 10, 12, 13 <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs

You know, you weren’t entirely expecting yourself to fall for Jacob Bae.

To be fair, it was very hard not to. From his infectious smile, to his genuineness, he was honestly the complete package. Even before you became friends, it was difficult to not fawn over the guy. You would see him across campus every now and then, laughing along with his friends or something of that nature, and you always felt a tiny ping in your heart.

Then came Eric Sohn and Kim Sunwoo’s annual back to school pool party.

Naturally, parties were the bane of your existence. You could never fully enjoy yourself, what with the clusters of people in one house and the strong scents of both alcohol and weed. However, one of your gal pals managed to convince you to tag along just to say you’d been to one of the infamous parties.

That was your first mistake.

Two hours into your eventual demise, you found yourself swishing around the contents of your red solo cup on the backyard patio, your friends having long disappeared. You were bored out of your mind with no one to talk to and now a near empty drink. A creak of the wooden boards behind you had you spinning around so fast you almost got whiplash.

Jacob Bae gives you a smile, stifling a laugh when you almost spill the last couple sips of your beverage. He sits himself beside you, sighing in either content or relief— to this day you’re still not sure.

“Hi, I’m Jacob,” he extends a hand towards you. “I saw you sitting out here and thought I’d introduce myself.”

Just like they say in the movies, the moment your skin comes into contact with his, there’s sparks. It’s like a jolt of electricity is running along your arm through your nervous system, shocking your brain. From that moment on, you made it a personal mission to never touch him again, out of fear it would happen every single time and you might do something extremely stupid.

Now here you are, ten months later and still just as whipped as you were day one.

Your friends dragged you on a little road-trip just to get away for a bit at the start of the summer. You were nervous thanks to the fact that a wheel spinner decided roommates and you got stuck with Jacob. If anyone asked, you’d say you were pretty good at pretending like you weren’t hopelessly in love with your friend. You looked at him normally, rather than with the want to rip his clothes off and go at it like bunnies.

“Jacob and Y/N sitting in a tree K-I-S-S— ow!” Younghoon rubs his arm where you’d just smacked him, pouting at you. “That hurt, what the fuck?”

“That was the point, bozo.” You roll your eyes, watching Jacob swimming around in the hotel pool. You hug your knees to your chest, resting your chin on top of them. How could someone make something so simple look so attractive?

Tonight would be a true test of faith, the ultimate challenge of whether or not you could truly resist Jacob Bae’s charms. Even if you’d stayed in the same house or same general vicinity, you always managed to dodge sharing a room. There were the few occasions you slept over at his and Sangyeon’s shared apartment, along with everyone else in your friend group. They’d both offered up their rooms for whoever wanted to bunk with them for the night since there wasn’t much room on the couches. You always picked the couch.

But there were no separate rooms keeping you apart this time. There was no couch. Just two beds and a couple feet between them. Oh God. You would be changing in the same room. Jacob Bae would be naked within your reach.

You blink away the thoughts creeping up from the back of your mind. You couldn’t have that mindset sharing a room with him. Couldn’t that be classified as immoral? Disrespectful? Your brain had to stay pure or you might not survive this trip at all.

“Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?” Younghoon asks with an amused lilt to his voice. You give him a nasty side eye in return.

“I might as well have. I hope I keel over and die right now so I can join them.” You huff, your head bobbing up and down as you talk thanks to your knees under your chin.

Younghoon snorts, standing to shake his hair like a dog would after a bath. “You’ll be fine, dude. It’s not that serious honestly. Just think of this as, um, a team bonding exercise.”

“You’re a fucking clown.”

After about another hour of swimming, playing chicken, and other pool activities of that sort, the boys decide to call it a night. Thankfully so, because you had a long day of sightseeing ahead of you tomorrow. You gather your things and part ways for your respective rooms. Some were on different floors than others; you and Jacob’s for example was on the top floor. You don’t know why, but the guys were insistent on swimming first, prior to checking out your rooms.

You waddle behind him like a lost puppy, following him to the elevator. The whole ride up is silent save for the soft lo-fi beat playing over the speakers. Jacob is still very shirtless, a towel tossed over his shoulder haphazardly. What was its purpose? Couldn’t tell you since there were still droplets of water decorating his back.

Good Lord, you needed to stop staring at him, lest you wanted to go into cardiac arrest.

Your feet padding against the carpeted flooring of the hallway is the only thing you can hear all the way to your room. You even watch sheepishly as he pulls out the keycard and holds it to the sensor. It quickly flashes green and he pushes open the door.

You’re too preoccupied gawking at his back muscles again to notice he’s stopped in his tracks, causing you to bump into him. He laughs that melodic laugh of his before turning around to steady you. You give him a weak smile in apology.

And then you see why he paused so abruptly.

“Oh no, there’s only one bed, what will we do now?”

You sputter at how nonchalant he is about the situation. You glance back and forth from him to the bed and repeat, sweat forming on your palms. It was already going to be hard enough just sleeping in the same room, now you had to sleep in the same bed? You wouldn’t be surprised if you were found dead tomorrow morning.

“W-We can talk to someone at the front desk? Maybe we can get things sorted out and get a room with two beds instead?” You avoid eye contact.

“It’s too late for that. Besides, we did book these at the last minute, so they probably gave us whatever they had available.” He shrugs. His attitude is kind of pissing you off. How could he be so calm right now?

“Well— uh— um— maybe—“ Your words falter as you struggle to come up with a solution. Jacob’s lips quirk up in amusement.

“Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.”

You make a sound similar to choking, your eyes widening as you process what the hell he just said. You keep blinking at him, mouth parted in astonishment? Shock? Surprise? Bewilderment? Did Jacob Bae really just say that to you?

When you don’t respond for a bit of time, he heads to the bathroom to presumably shower. You’re glued to your spot, unable to move or think. Your head felt like it was hollow, full of cotton. You had to be imagining that entire interaction. That was the only thing that made sense.

Even as the water in the bathroom floods your ears, you’re still dazed. You drag yourself to sit on the edge of the bed, holding the back of your hand to your forehead. You were going insane. That was the logical explanation. Your feelings for Jacob had been stuffed away for so long that you were starting to hallucinate.

Yeah, that’s what you were going with.

You were much too delusional to handle seeing him come out of the bathroom, so you decided to change while he was in there and get ready for bed. You wanted to face the other direction to curve any possible chance of driving yourself crazier. You pull off the oversized t-shirt you were wearing over your swimsuit and dig through your duffle bag for some fresh clothes. You were grateful that you didn’t let your friends peer pressure you into actually swimming, your desire to keep a healthy distance between you and Jacob overpowering wanting to join in on the fun.

As you go to untie your swim top, the squeaky hinges of the bathroom door have you tripping over your own two feet. You didn’t exactly have the best reflexes either, so you fail at catching the strings before they can fall completely. At this point, you’re frozen. You’re planted face first on the floor, topless, with the boy you’ve been thirsting over for months just feet away.

Okay, so perhaps you underestimated how long it took him to shower.

“Y/N, are you— woah—”

“No, don’t come any closer!”

Of course you’re too late and he does not heed your warning. Jacob squats next to you and you can just feel his presence. To everyone else, it’s calming. He’s the person most people go to when they have any qualms about life. He was the definition of the therapist friend. However, that was not the case right now.

His presence was intimidating and your heart was hammering in your rib cage. It was practically beating against the floor. It wouldn’t be beyond you if they heard it in the lobby. You refuse to glance over at him. This couldn’t be happening. It was seriously one unfortunate event after another.

There’s a ghost-like, feather light touch that trails the length of your bare back, sending a shiver down your spine. Just like the first time, it’s like you’d been statically charged. It was as if Jacob Bae himself created electricity. A sigh leaves Jacob’s lips. “Can you look at me, pretty?”

This was something torn straight from one of your wildest dreams. His words, his actions, even the situation you were in. A singular bed that you’re forced to share. This could very well just be the universe’s way of finally giving you a win. Divine intervention did exist, after all.

A peek at Jacob’s form shows you that he’s in nothing but a towel, and it leaves little to the imagination. You swallow thickly. Your lack of cooperation has his patience wearing thin, so he takes matters into his own hands, holding himself up with said hands on either side of your head and straddling your waist.

You can feel him through his towel and the flimsy material of your swim bottoms. He’s hard, pressing into your ass like he’s the one who’s needed to have you in such a visceral way the past ten months. His sculpted chest rests on your back as he leans down, his lips coming beside your ear.

“Tell me you want me, tell me you want me as bad as I want you.” He breathes.

It’s enough motivation to flip yourself over despite being nude from the waist up. You don’t even care anymore, caution thrown into the wind. Your infatuation with Jacob Bae was already concerning, but now it was dangerous. You were getting extremely close to crossing the line you told yourself you’d never cross. But he made it so easy.

Your eyes rake his figure, from his chiseled torso that was handcrafted by the Gods to the way he unabashedly keeps his lower half pinned to yours. You almost salivate at how good this feels. But it’s not enough. You need him in ways that could only be described as carnal. You release a shaky breath when he experimentally grinds his hips.

He leans into you one more time, lips hovering your own and noses brushing. Just a few more centimeters. That’s all that it would take for him to kiss you, but he doesn’t. He flickers his eyes to yours and then back down, wetting his lips as he does so.

“Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same.”

You could’ve just spoken the words out loud, but instead you close the gap between you. Your mouths fit together perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece finally reuniting with its set. They glide in synchrony, your fingers coming up to tangle in his hair and run along the expanse of his toned back. He groans when your nails graze his skin. You both part to gasp for air, lips swollen.

“That works too.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz suggestive #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz suggestive #the boyz jacob #tbz jacob #jacob bae x reader #jacob bae suggestive #jacob x reader #jacob suggestive #juyeonszn #juyeonszn.100🪩

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xmads-omensx · 3 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 1 - I SIT HERE AND SMILE DEAR

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 4,091

Content warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, violence f you squint (pushing and shoving in a malicious way), mentions of alcohol, Ronnie Radke, blood, descriptions of a small wound

Tag List: @concreteangel92 @lma1986 @dragonfly92 @thisis--mj @bloody-delusion-expert @girlagainstg0d

(Please message or comment if you would like to be added to the taglist, or if I forgot to add you <3)

WARPED TOUR 2011 BECCA

My knee bounced up and down as I sat on the leather sofa in the tour bus. We had never had a proper tour bus before. The closest thing we had was Theo’s Dad’s old van that kept breaking down. Nerves shot through my body as I tried to slow my heart-rate and regain my normal breathing.

Warped Tour was by far the biggest tour we had ever done. Sure, we were still supporting other bands, but we weren’t performing in a small, run-down dive bar. This was real. Bring Me The Horizon. Pierce The Veil. Sleeping With Sirens. All Time Low. Motionless In White. Our favourite bands were playing alongside us. We were one of them.

“Quit bouncing your leg Becca, I feel like I’m experiencing a fucking earthquake right now, jeez.” Johnny, our bass player, complained.

The rest of the guys erupted in laughter.

“Calm your tits, Johnny! Leave me alone.” I laughed in reply.

I had never been this nervous for a set before. We only had one album out, Arachnophobia, that had been doing reasonably well, but I was still so nervous. What if we get booed off stage? What if we fuck up the timings? What if I trip and fall flat on my fucking face? Worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind at lightning speed, corrupting whatever positive and confident thought that I still possessed.

“I need some air.” I said to the guys in a small voice.

“You good?” Kevin, our lead guitar player called out to me from his seat at the opposite end of the sofa.

“No. I just need a minute of fresh air.” I tried to reassure him, ultimately failing miserably.

“You sure?” Luke, our rhythm guitar player asked from his bunk.

“Yep. I won’t be long.” I mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear.

I walked around the festival site for a little while. The tents where bands were stood meeting fans and selling merch were absolutely packed. We had been selling merch and meting some fans as well, but nowhere near the scale of any of the bands situated near our tent.

This was our first ever festival. As I said, we were a small band. No one really knew who we were. That could also be said about some of the other bands on this tour as well to be fair. Warped Tour seemed like a brilliant opportunity for new fans to start listening to us when our manager, Nick, pitched it to us. But now it seemed like literal hell on earth. God, what if people left our set?

I tried to push those thoughts down, but nothing worked. As soon as I forced out one doubt, another just popped up in its place. It felt like my mind was the hydra from ancient Greek myth. Equally as venomous and persistent. It was going to be difficult to keep those negative feelings at bay for the rest of the tour. I had always struggled with not feeling good enough, and this tour was just amplifying those ideas. If nobody came to our set, everything would have been for nothing.

My phone started ringing in my pocket after about twenty minutes of my walk. It was Nick. I stared at the screen for a second. Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

“Hey.” I said straight after answering the call.

“Hey yourself! Your set is in five minutes Bex. Get your ass to the stage right fucking now before I either lose my shit or lose my job. Whichever comes first.” Nick yelled down the line over the band who were finishing up their set before ours was due to start. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yep I’ll be there in a sec. I lost track of time, sorry.” I replied hurriedly.

“Great. Thanks. See you in a sec then.” Nick finished.

I started running back towards the stage when I bumped into something. It felt like a lamppost or something tall and thin like that. Except there weren’t any lampposts here. I looked up to see a tall, heavily tattooed man with long, black hair looking down at me with a slightly pained smile on his beautiful face.

I didn’t have time for this. I called out a quick sorry as I kept running towards the stage.

By the time I got there, I was doubled over and panting trying to catch my breath. “She’s here!” Luke shouted as I rounded the corner to the side-stage area. I was handed a microphone by Nick

“Good luck you guys. You’ve got this.” Nick encouraged with his arms round mine and Johnny’s shoulders. I took a breath in through my nose and out through my mouth as the rest of the guys walked onto the stage to begin the intro to the first song on our album, Make me Wanna Die, “Give ‘em hell kid.” Nick whispered in my ear with a pat on my back. I closed my eyes for a second then stepped out onto the stage.

The world around me seemed to slow down as I lifted my mic up to my mouth to start the song. My lyrics flew out of my mouth with a natural ease. This wasn’t as hard as I thought. A large crowd had formed at the stage. Not too bad for our first show of the tour. Some people in the crowd were singing along to the song, which filled me with pure joy and unrivalled confidence. I started to move and jump across the stage which excited the crowd even more. By the time we were halfway through our set, the crowd had grown significantly and even began singing even louder to the words that they knew.

I had never experienced such a buzz from the crowd. It felt electric. Looking at the rest of the band, it looked like they felt the same. Wide, beaming smiles were plastered on their faces. I was sure I wore a similar one on my own face. In fact, my face hurt because of the smile that covered my face.

Up until this point, the largest show that we had ever played was to only about eighty people. But now, we were performing to a crowd of about two hundred and fifty. It wasn’t a massive crowd by any means, but it was huge to us. All of our favourite bands started out like this, playing for much smaller crowds. It gave me hope that one day we could be as big as those bands. Someday.

“How is everyone doing?” I shouted into my microphone.

The crowd cheered in response. Holy shit.

“You guys having fun?” I asked.

The crowd cheered in response again. This felt so surreal.

“That’s good. We are too. You guys have been a great crowd.” I began. “This is our first Warped Tour, so thanks for making our first show sop fun because we are having an absolute blast up here.”

The crowd cheered and applauded.

“As you have probably gathered, I’m not exactly brilliant at this whole crowd work thing, but I’m not really used to crowds as fantastic as you guys.” I said with a huge grin on my face.

The crowed roared with cheers and applause.

“So anyway, this song is our last song of the set, and if you don’t mind we would like to play r for you.” I began. “I mean, it’s not like you really have much of a choice, we pre-decided the setlist before we came on stage.”

Laughter erupted around me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall, skinny guy with long dark hair cascading over his shoulders with tattoos on his arms, at least I thought they were tattoos. I couldn’t tell if it was black paint or tattoos. Either way, they looked good. He was standing backstage with four other guys who were all fitted in similar outfits. They must be the band following us. The man who caught my eye was the tallest of the group. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place it.

“This song was written by one of my favourite bands and are one of the bands who inspired me to pursue music. We hope you have had a great time here watching our set. We have been The Magpies and this is ‘Call Me’ by Blondie.

The intro started and an immense sense of joy coursed through my veins. Since I was a kid, Debbie Harry had been one of my heroes and I was so proud that we got to play one of her songs to a crowd of people.

And that was the moment that I knew we were going to make it.

“Holy fucking shit guys, you crushed that.” Nick yelled out at us with an impossibly huge grin plastered on his face. He clapped us each one-by-one as we came off of the stage. “The crowd fucking loved you guys.”

“That was kickass.” Luke exclaimed with a look that I can only describe as pure joy.

“Dude what the fuck just happened.” Johnny exclaimed.

“Fuck that was sick!” Kevin yelled directly into my ear as he swung his arm over my shoulder.

“Damn I’m pumped!” Theo laughed.

“How the fuck did we pull that off?” I laughed along with the rest of the guys.

“Because we are hot shit Bex. Hot fucking shit.” Kevin shouted back at us as he followed Nick away from the stage and towards the bus.

I paused for a moment and watched the guys, my family, walk ahead of me. I never thought anything like this could happen to us. Let alone at such a young age. I was only 18 when we did our first Warped Tour.

“Come on slow coach we want to go hang before the barbeque.” Nick called back at me. I laughed and followed after them

Every year, there was a barbeque on the first day of tour. It was mainly so that everyone in all the bands and crew could meet eachother. Kind of like an icebreaker night I guess. This was going to be the most nervous I had been so far, including the show. Because now, I had no choice but to meet all of those bands who were practically the reason that I made music. Plus, I was pretty confident in saying that meeting Oli Sykes in person might literally kill me.

The fact that we would be meeting our heroes in such a short space of time was seriously starting to make me freak out. How were we worthy of all of this?

We made it to the bus and all sat down to play some Xbox together before the barbeque. Luke had flung himself onto the black, leather L-shaped sofa opposite the door.

“I don’t give a fuck what the rest of you want, I’m playing Call Of Duty.” He said whilst signing into the game and running a hand through his short blonde hair.

“What the fuck man! We play that all the fucking time.” Johnny complained.

“Let me be play too and you can do whatever you want.” Kevin laughed whilst grabbing the second controller and joining Luke in the game.

“Fuck you guys I’m going to have a nap before we have to go.” Theo sighed with a yawn, tying his shoulder length, curly brown hair into a low bun as he walked towards his bunk.

I sat next to Luke and laughed at their childish bickering as they played their game. Johnny sat shouting commands at the two other boys.

“If you want to sit there and yell at us then you should have joined the fucking game asshole.” Kevin laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they had begun to slip down.

“Fuck you, there’s only two controllers dipshit.” Johnny argued back.

I started to block out their arguing as I picked up the book that I had been reading and snuggled further into the corner of the sofa. I had found comfort in books during the very short time that we had been touring. Sure, performing on stage was an escape from real life, for both us and the crowd, but that was still work at the end of the day. Reading, however, had the power to transport you to a different world entirely, a different dimension even if that’s what you wanted to find. It allowed my mind to escape the cage that it was trapped in and explore the endless possibilities that life held. It allowed me to hide from my problems. To escape reality. To run and never stop running, not until I was happy, not until I was free. And that freedom was the greatest feeling in the world.

Before I knew it, my eyes had started to droop and I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. The best that I would probably have on this tour. My dreams were surprisingly pleasant as I fell deeper into my slumber before a pair of hands grasped my shoulders and began to shake me awake.

“Rebecca…. Beccaa…. Bex…. Beckyyy…..” A deep sing-song voice chanted as he shook my shoulders. My eyes fluttered awake, and leaning over me stood Theo. “There she is.” He said once my eyes had fully opened.

“What?” I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes.

“We have to go in like forty minutes, and we thought you might want to get ready.” He went on.

I stood up and stretched my arms over my head before letting out a yawn and making my way to the bathroom so that I could re-do my makeup and brush the birds nest that had formed in my hair.

I decided not to do anything crazy and to just touch up the makeup that I already had on, which was a more natural look with dark brown eyeshadow lining my upper lash line just a little bit. I tied up the top half of my long, brunette hair into a bun at the back of my head, letting some face-framing pieces hang loosely around my face. I changed into a white tank top with spaghetti straps and some black wide-leg ripped jeans with fishnets underneath. I grabbed an old, red Flash hoodie, that previously belonged to my ex but I liked the hoodie too much to return it, and tied it around my waist just in case it got chillier later in the night.

“Okay I’m ready.” I announced to the guys who were all sat on the sofa arguing over what movie to watch later. Unsurprising as they usually had this argument, then would watch a movie that wasn’t even part of the equation to begin with.

“Great, let’s go.” Nick said as he stood up, rubbing his hands together.

We all nodded in agreement and followed him out of the bus and towards the barbeque. There was an opening in the middle of where the buses were parked in which a large fire pit, surrounded by mismatched deckchairs, had been set up. The barbeque itself was positioned next to a staff bus, that the Warped Tour management team were staying in. They were the ones who essentially ran the tour and wanted to ensure that it went as smoothly as possible.

Straight away, a British accent caught my attention as five guys started approaching us. “Hey! You guys must be the Magpies.” One of the men asked us with a huge grin on his face.

Holy fucking shit. Danny Worsnop from Asking Alexandria was talking to us. THE Danny Worsnop from THE Asking Alexandria was talking to us. Us? We were nobodies here. He fucking knew who we were. Holy fucking shit I must still be dreaming.

“Yep that’s us.” Johnny said with a smile on his face, sticking out his arm to shake Danny’s hand. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to introduce yourselves, we are big fans, Becca especially. But I’m Johnny and I’m the bass player, this dumbass is Theo our drummer, Luke and Kevin here are our guitar players, and this shy bitch is Becca, our singer.” Johnny introduced. We each raised our hands in a wave when Johnny said our names.

“It’s so nice to meet you all. It’s about time a new band joined the lineup.” Ben laughed.

“Well, the Black Veil Brides guys are new here.” Cam said.

“Yeah, obviously, but I mean a band we haven’t met before.” Ben laughed at his bandmate and rolled his eyes at Cam playfully.

“We toured with them last year for a while. They’re great guys.” James said to the rest of us.

“Hey, you should totally meet them later if you’re up for it.” Ben enthusiastically suggested.

“Yeah, totally.” Theo said with a smile. “But let’s eat first, I’m fucking starving.”

“Agreed.” Danny laughed. We all started walking towards the barbeque and Ben fell into step with me. We fell into easy conversation. I could tell immediately that we were going to be good friends.

“So how did your first show go?” Ben asked.

“It went fucking amazingly. We’ve never played to a crowd that big before, and they actually seemed to enjoy our set which was fucking brilliant.” I gushed.

“Yeah, I caught some songs towards the end of your set. You guys fucking crushed it. Andy said he saw the last few songs and thought you guys were pretty cool.” He said.

“Andy?” I asked.

“Yeah. Oh shit you haven’t met him yet. He’s the singer in Black Veil Brides. He’s super cool, I think you’d like him.” Ben explained.

“Cool. It’s weird having this many people on a tour together.” I continued. “It’s only ever really been us supporting another band. Never any more than that.”

“I remember when we started out like that. We thought we’d never make it, but look where we are now.” He laughed. “Once you get used to it, it gets less weird.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I replied.

Before I even realised it, we had reached the barbeque. People from various different bands and their crew mingled about as they all socialised with eachother. It seemed as though most of the people here already knew eachother from previous tours.

Ben introduced me to his friends on the tour, which was already a shock to be hanging out with Ben fucking Bruce. I tried to push my nerves down as he introduced me to the likes of Vic Fuentes, Kelin Quinn, Oli Sykes, Chris Motionless and Ricky Horror. I surprised myself with how ‘normal’ I managed to act around them. After all, it’s not every day that you meet your favourite musicians. I tried to remind myself that I would be touring with these people, so it wouldn’t be the best idea to fangirl and embarrass myself the first time I met them.

Ben and I grabbed a burger each and sat down on some of the spare deck chairs to eat them.

“Have you just put gherkins in your fucking burger?” I asked Ben in utter disbelief.

“Yep.” He grinned, popping the p. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Of course I do that’s disgusting! I don’t think we can be friends after this.” I gasped at him in mock offense.

“Wow. You’re one of those?” Ben chuckled.

“One of what?” I laughed at him.

“Someone who doesn’t have taste.” He laughed.

I threw my dirty napkin at him in response.

“EW!” He screamed dramatically, throwing his own napkin right back at me.

I laughed hysterically at him.

“Okay. I’m glad you two are having fun, but I was sitting there, so if you could just move that would be great.” A deep voice tore through the bliss that I was experiencing with Ben.

“Oh fuck off Ronnie, we both know you weren’t sat here.” Ben rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Bruce? You’re gonna start shit on the first day of tour?” The man, who I assumed was called Ronnie sighed back.

“Just fuck off Ronnie, the no one has to start shit.” Ben said through gritted teeth.

“Seriously man, why do you have to make everything so damn hard all the time!” Ronnie shouted at Ben.

“I’m not the problem here man.” Ben raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Take your pretty friend here, and go suck each other’s faces somewhere else jackass!” Ronnie yelled.

“Woah, woah.” Ben started, raising his voice at Ronnie, “We both know that’s not what was happening here okay. Let’s just move on.”

“Move.” Ronnie said through gritted teeth.

“No.” Ben said with a laugh, as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, relaxing further.

Before I could even register what was happening, Ronnie lunged forward and shoved Ben out of the chair backwards. I jumped up and pushed Ronnie backwards so that he couldn’t lunge towards Ben anymore. Instead, he only stumbled back a few steps before he shoved me backwards too, nocking my beer out of my hand, making it spill all over me. I put my hands below me to try and stop the fall, when I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I lifted my hand up to get a look at it, only to be greeted with a shard of glass poking out the palm of my hand and blood dripping from the wound.

I winced as I slowly tried to pull the broken glass out of my hand, completely oblivious to the fact that Johnny and Luke had ran over and dragged Ronnie away before punching him in the face, knocking him to the floor. The shard of glass wasn’t anything massive, but once it was out of my hand, more blood pooled in the palm of my hand.

From behind me, I felt a pair of arms snake underneath my armpits and begin to pull me up to my feet. Once I was standing again, I turned to see who had lifted me up. I was greeted by a chest clad in a black t-shirt with the Batman logo on. The shirt hung slightly loosely on the skinny frame of the person, who I assumed was a man, who now stood in front of me. I had to crane my neck to see his face, which was obscured by long black locks of hair. I could make out an array of tattoos on his arms that I hadn’t noticed before.

Holy shit. This was the guy that I had literally ran into before my set earlier.

“You okay? That looks deep.” He said, concern plastered all over his face as he took my hand in his much bigger one.

“Y-y-yeah.” I stuttered out, still in shock from what had just happened.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He led me gently away from where Johnny and Luke were being held back by Asking Alexandria and Ronnie was being dragged away by Jacky Vincent and Ryan Seaman.

The man led me to a tour bus where we met another man, who also had long black hair.

“Hey man, what the fuck?” The new man said with an incredulous look on his face as we got closer to the bus.

“Ronnie is back on his dumbass shit.” The first man, who was still holding my elbow, said in reply.

“Of course he is.” The second man scoffed while going into the tour bus, holding open the door for myself and the first man.

Their tour bus looked pretty much the same as ours did, except there was lots of makeup all over the place and various items that looked like they were made of leather. It was messier than ours too which I liked. It made me feel better about how I left things when I was getting ready.

“This is Jake.” The first man gestured to the second man. “I’m not too sure where the others are though? Probably still at the barbeque. It’s Becca right?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s me.” I said quietly with a weak laugh.

He stared at me for a beat as I looked at him expectantly. It felt like he was looking right into my soul with those blue eyes of his.

“Who are you?” I asked timidly.

“Me?” He pointed at his chest.

I nodded my head. I could tell he wasn’t very good at talking.

“I’m Andy.” He said with a beautiful smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Chapter 2

WE DON'T BELONG MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

#andy biersack #fanfic #black veil brides #andy black #andy sixx #we don’t belong #BVB #Andy biersack fanfic #black veil brides fic

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mirisss · 2 years ago

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Chapter 7

Wordcount ≈ 1.7k (sorry it’s so short)

Warnings: Some anxiety, but not more than that (for the first time ever we just have a feel-good chapter lol)

Taglist: @ayoo-bangtan, @lose-lose07, @kingcarrot-thecarrotking, @starjane312, @reighlee-greaves, @hi-39024, @queenmea604, @septicrebel, @justayoungandwisefangirl, let me know if you wanna be added!

Please reblog!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Maybe it won’t be as bad as I thought. I have them after all. Come at me world, I’m not alone anymore, I have a family that will protect me now. So give me your worst, I will be able to handle it as long as I have them.

Third person POV

After receiving encouragement from Han, and the other 7 members, (Y/n) found some courage to step into that meeting room. The hybrid still felt nervous and scared but she wanted to stop being afraid because she knew that with them, with Stray Kids, she was safe. Although, she was a bit confident, (Y/n) still held onto Han’s hand with no intention of letting go. Han gave her a comforting squeeze and smile as he walked in behind her, happy that he could help the bunny feel better. Whilst (Y/n) found the meeting quite boring, she didn’t let it show on her face as she didn’t want to seem disrespectful. 2 hours later and the meeting was over, time for breakfast.

(Y/n) happily skipped out of the meeting room once the other people had left and it was only her and her family left. “Happy that the meeting is over?” Seungmin had walked up to her and gave her a playful smile. “Maybe,” Seungmin put his hand on her head, in between her ears, and ruffled around her hair a little. “Don’t worry, I find those meetings super boring too. The only one who actually enjoys them is Chan-hyung, or, rather, he’s the only one who tolerates them. But, we all have to go or it would look bad.” “YA! Hyung, stop messing up her hair. It took me 5 minutes to get it perfect” Jeongin ran up and playfully swatted Seungmin’s hand away from (Y/n)’s head, seeing the two youngest acting like this, chasing each other around with big smiles made the hybrid feel incredibly safe, she was at peace, so much so that she even ended up running after the two boys. The other members who were walking a few steps behind all stopped in shock at seeing their beloved little (Y/n) with the largest smile yet, running after the maknaes, while laughing loudly. The scene seemed like something from a movie where a child is playing with their friends. “Hey, wait for me!” (Y/n) shouted as she ran after Seungmin and Jeongin. “Come and get us then,” Seeing Seungmin acting like this at the company was unusual, at home or on variety shows he could act even sillier but never at the company. Perhaps it wasn’t only the SKZ members who brought out a more carefree side of the hybrid but the hybrid also did the same for them.

Seungmin, Jeongin, and (Y/n) chased each other in a game of tag all the way to the cafeteria where they were to eat some breakfast. The rest of the group soon joined them outside the doors and then they walked in as one group. (Y/n) was surprised at how many people there were in the cafeteria, she thought they would be pretty much the only ones as it was early. “How come so many people are here right now?” Seungmin, who was the closest to her, turned his head and looked down at her. “Oh, right. Well, a lot of the idols do like us, go to the morning meeting and then eat breakfast here. Some of the other employees eat sort of a brunch now because they have meetings from 9 am to 2-3 pm if not even later, so by eating a larger meal now, they won’t have to eat during the normal lunch hour and then they can eat an afternoon snack after the meetings are over,” The hybrid nodded her head in understanding, it made sense. If SKZ had this schedule then many others did too. “Are you okay? If you feel overwhelmed by the number of people you don’t have to eat right now. We can work something out and find a time for you and one or two of us to go later,” Seungmin offered her his as he saw (Y/n) looking around at all the filled seats in the cafeteria with a somewhat worried look on her face. “No, it’s fine,” “Are you sure? You seem worried,” “Mm, I was just looking around trying to find a table that would all of us, but I can’t find any empty tables,” “Oh, yeah. As I said that’s common at this time. We rarely manage to sit together during these breakfasts here. But we’ll manage to find a table that will fit you and at least one of us, we won’t leave you alone,” “Can you sit with me, Seungmin?” Seungmin was shocked at the question. He rarely found himself to be the caring, comforting type, he was more the jokester, making things better by joking around but not really taking care of the problem. So he was a bit surprised that the hybrid wanted him to be the one to sit with her, Seungmin was prepared for (Y/n) to ask Minho, Hyunjin, Felix, or really anyone of the others except himself. “Of course, I will,” While he was shocked that the bunny chose him, he was also happy. Happy that he too was a safe space for her. “Come on, let’s go get some food and then find a table,”

Minutes later, (Y/n) was holding a tray in her hands with a plate of [insert food of choice] and a smoothie. “You really fell in love with smoothies, huh?” Chan said from behind them as he picked up his own tray. “Yeah, they’re so good,” Chan just smiled before waving a little goodbye and walking away with the rest of the group following after him. “Let’s go, we’ll try and find something over here,” And so, Seungmin and (Y/n) walked over to the other side of the cafeteria in search of a table where they could sit. Seungmin soon laid eyes on a table with two empty seats, and some familiar faces. “Hey, do you think you would be okay to sit over there?” Seungmin pointed over to the table where a group of 5 girls was sitting and chatting with each other. (Y/n) looked at the table carefully, a little worried that they would be annoyed and think that (Y/n) was just a bother. “Do you know them?” (Y/n) shyly asked. “Yeah, I do. We were trainees at the same time and have done a couple of training sessions together,” “Okay, then it’s fine,” “Don’t worry, they’re really nice,” And so the two walked up to the table, the five girls had noticed them after Seungmin waved to Ryujin who had seen them first. “Hey, would it be okay if we sat here?” “Of course! This must be your newest Stray Kid! Hi, we’re Itzy! I’m Yeji, this is Lia, Ryujin, Chaeryeong, and our youngest, Yuna,” (Y/n) was a little taken aback by how nice the girls seemed. As soon as Seungmin had asked if they could sit there, the five girls made sure to scootch in a little so there was plenty of space for the singer and the hybrid. (Y/n) shyly waved to the girls and whispered a ‘hi’ before she sat down her tray on the table and took a seat. “This is (Y/n), our cute bunny hybrid. She’s a little shy around new people, so don’t be sad if she doesn’t talk with you,” “That’s okay, it must be overwhelming for you, being here. Well, if you ever manage to lose the boys, you can always come to us and we’ll help you,” Chaeryeong said, her kind smile helping (Y/n) feel more at ease around the girls. After that, the Itzy girls returned to their own conversation, leaving (Y/n) and Seungmin to talk just them. “Mm, after eating we all have some unit practices or individual schedules and you can choose who you want to follow. I think Chan-hyung and Changbin-hyung have a meeting with some producers regarding some song they have written or something, Danceracha - so Minho-hyung, Hyunjin-hyung, and Lixie-hyung, are scheduled to look over the choreography for our upcoming comeback, while Han-hyung, Innie, and myself are scheduled for some vocal training. What sounds most interesting to you?” Seungmin said before taking a big bite out of his food. (Y/n) looked down at her food as she thought long and hard about the options Seungmin had presented. “Mm, I think I want to go with Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix. But I also want to go with you, Innie, and Han,” Seungmin smiled at (Y/n) as he reached out and took one of her hands into his. “There will be plenty of opportunities for you to go with all of us to these things and none of us is going to feel offended if you choose dance over vocals or whatever you choose. So if you want to go with Danceracha today, and you want to go with Vocalracha tomorrow that’s completely fine,” (Y/n)’s eyes were completely fixated on her hand inside Seungmin’s, it felt so soft, so safe. (Y/n) realized that day how much she liked holding hands with the people she likes. “Then, I’ll go with Danceracha now and then later maybe I’ll come with you,” “Great! Okay, let’s finish our breakfast. You’re gonna need the energy if you’re supposed to keep up with Minho-hyung leading a dance practice,” Just as Seungmin was about to let go of (Y/n)’s hand, the bunny squeezed it just so lightly that the singer would have missed it had he not seen her hand twitch. He understood that she wasn’t ready to let go just yet, and truthfully, neither was he. So even if it made eating his breakfast harder, Seungmin held on to the bunny’s small and soft hand. (Y/n) relaxed once again as she realized that Seungmin wouldn’t let go of her hand and so she too continued eating her breakfast, this time with a shy smile as her fingers sometimes tapped against Seungmin’s hand to remind her that he was still holding her.

~ To be continued ~

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nekoannie-chan · 3 months ago

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Home

Title: Home.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 500 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve discovers where is home.

Major Tags: Fluff, Snap, happy ending.

Additional tags: This is my gift to @rodtsssss-blog. HAPPY BIRTHDAY RODRI!

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

From the first moment you saw Steve you realized that he was someone special. Steve was your refuge amid a chaotic world, a place where you felt safe and loved and he always had time for you.

That's why you didn't hesitate to follow him when he had to flee when he became a fugitive for not signing the Accords, even though you didn't sign either.

As the months passed, life began to resume a rhythm of normalcy or a new normal for you.

Early 2017

You lived in a house on the outskirts of the city, a quiet place, you needed that quiet. The news of your pregnancy was a mixture of surprise and joy. After all, you had been through, it felt like a miracle. Steve was thrilled, though also a little nervous.

And then Sarah arrived.

When Sarah was born, right away you noticed she had her father's blue eyes and your smile, you knew it was all worth it.

Sarah became the center of your world, and seeing Steve with her filled your heart with indescribable happiness.

2018

When Thanos' snap happened, you disappeared in the blink of an eye. The feeling was indescribable, but your greatest terror was the thought of what was going to happen to your daughter, even though you didn't get to see it.

As soon as he could, Steve returned home, he didn't know what scene he would encounter, he needed to know if it had affected them too.

The only thing he found was Sarah crying in her pen, but no trace of you.

For five long years, Steve lived without you, keeping the hope that someday you would come back and see Sarah grow up too, he always tried to record the most important things about his daughter, so you could see it too when you came back.

2023

You woke up in the same place where you disappeared, confused and disoriented. You looked for Sarah everywhere, but you couldn't find her, you felt like you were going crazy until you saw the pictures, and now you felt confused.

Finally, when you managed to get to the place where the Avengers had gathered, you saw it. Steve was there, more tired and scarred by time. When his eyes met yours, everything else disappeared. They ran to each other and hugged tightly as if trying to make up for lost time.

You heard rumors about the possibility of Steve going back in time to be with Peggy. The thought filled you with dread. You didn't want to lose him again.

One night, as you sat on the porch, you plucked up the courage to ask him.

“Steve, is it true that you plan to go back in time with Margaret Carter?”

Steve turned to you, took your hands in his and stared at you.

“There was a time when I thought my place was in the past, with Peggy,” he said. ”But those days are gone. I've lived and lost, and I've found something even more valuable. My home is not in the past,” he continued, leaning closer. My home is you. For five years I lived without you, it was very painful and now that you have returned, there is nothing and no one that will keep me away from you. I love you and I will not let you go.”

Steve Rogers had found his home, and that home was you.

Sarah, now six years old, adored her father and followed his every move.

One afternoon, while you were playing with Sarah in the yard, Steve sat on the porch, watching them with a smile on his face.

“Dad, look what I can do! “Sarah exclaimed, proudly showing off her new ability to pirouette on the lawn.

Steve clapped his hands and stood up to join you, wrapping you both in a tight hug.

“You're amazing, Sarah,” he said with a smile. ”I'm so proud of you.”

That night, after putting Sarah to bed, you lay down next to Steve in the living room.

“You know? “Steve said, breaking the silence. ”I never imagined life could be so perfect. Sometimes it still amazes me how lucky I am.”

You smiled and snuggled closer to him.

“We've been through a lot, Steve. But we'll always be together.”

Steve kissed you on the forehead.

“Yes, together. Always.”

One night, when Sarah was about ten years old, she approached Steve while he was working in the garage.

“Dad, have you ever had to make a really hard decision? “she asked.

Steve put aside the tools and knelt to be at her level.

“Yes, Sarah. I've had to make a lot of tough decisions throughout my life. But every one of them led me here, with you and your mom. And I wouldn't change any of it.”

“Even if it meant not being a superhero?”

Steve smiled and stroked her hair.

“Being your dad is the greatest superpower I've ever had. And it's the only one I need.”

Sarah hugged Steve tightly.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY RODRI!#Steve rogers x reader

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frostedfaves · 4 years ago

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Dark Paradise

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!WandaNat x fem!reader

Summary: You meet the infamous Avengers on spring break with your best friend Peter, and two of them seem to adore you more than expected. Requested here by my lovely 🐞anon.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! dark themes, manipulation, mind control, blackmailing, age gap (reader is 21), dubcon (saying this just to be safe because Wanda uses her powers for evil a lot here), smut: oral, fingering, penetration/sex toy use, voyeurism (kinda), edging, overstimulation (if I forgot something please let me know!)

A/N: hi this is 6k words, which is the longest single fic I’ve ever written/posted here haha. also the end is not technically the end, if you know what I mean. anyway this took forever to write so enjoy this super far from canon fic and please tell me what you thought!! (also if you’re on my taglist and you weren’t tagged it’s because your age wasn’t in your bio)

“Here, let me take that for you,” Peter offers when he notices you headed toward the car, and you hand your suitcase to him with a smile.

“Thanks, P.”

You close the car door behind you after getting in on the passenger side, instantly reaching for his phone resting on the dashboard once you were buckled in. The two of you had an unspoken rule that you controlled the music whenever you traveled together, so his library was filled with various playlists you’d created simply because you didn’t trust him not to listen to the same five songs for the rest of his life.

“This is different,” Peter comments as he gets in on the driver’s side and catches the opening notes to an upbeat song. “I thought you were going to go with something calmer to help you sleep, like you usually do.”

“Well, I’m not usually going to meet the Avengers, so I’m too nervous to sleep.” You turn to pout at him as he drives off. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“Don’t even think about it. If I show up without you, everyone will think you’re imaginary.”

“Do they think you can’t make any friends outside of Ned?” you question as you open a bottle of water. “Because they’re not wrong.”

“I can make friends!” Peter whines and a quiet snorting sound escapes you.

“You can’t use me as an example.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not actually friends.”

He picks up on your teasing nature and rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh as you lean back and settle into your seat more. You had well over three hours to stress about spending a week with the world’s most popular superheroes, and you’d rather be comfortable while you do so.

“Wake up, we’re here!”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of Peter’s voice, and any of the nerves that left long enough to let you sleep made a U-turn and hit you again, full force. Sitting up straight in the seat, you practice breathing properly while stretching and taking a look around as he pulls into the garage.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks once he parks, placing a hand over yours as he meets your gaze and you smile.

“I’ll be fine, P. I’m not gonna miss out on hanging out with you just because your super family is super intimidating.”

“Good. Besides, it won’t even be that bad! I’m willing to bet $1 million that they’ll love you.”

“I appreciate your optimism,” you tell him as the two of you get out of the car. “But you’re going to regret that bet when I use your money to retire early in some faraway rural town.”

Peter carried both suitcases as you made your way to an elevator, and you jumped when you suddenly heard a male voice.

“Welcome, Mr. Parker and Ms. L/N.”

“What is that?” you questioned as you faced Peter with wide eyes and he chuckled.

“You’re hearing Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s AI. Hey Jarvis, can you take us to the common room, please?”

“Right away, Mr. Parker.”

“This is so cool,” you comment as you look around the suddenly moving elevator. “How does it know my name?”

“Knowing everything is kind of its job, I guess.”

“Underoos!” a voice calls as soon as the doors open, quickly revealing itself to belong to Tony Stark as his gaze lands on you next. “So she is real.”

“I told you!” Peter defends as you step off the elevator together. “Mr. Stark, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, kid,” Tony greets you with a shake of your hand. “I’m glad he found you. I was starting to worry that he’d build a robot to spend the rest of his life with.”

“I’m just his best friend, so it’s still possible.”

“Is this your friend, Peter?” Steve cuts off Peter’s response as he enters the room, moving to shake your hand next. “I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“Okay, I’m going to show her to our rooms and then we’ll be back for dinner,” Peter tells everyone once you’d been introduced to Pepper, Bruce and Clint as well, and you’re about to head for the elevator again when someone interrupts.

“How about we take her down to her room instead?”

Your eyes widen as you watch none other than Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff enter the room hand in hand. Natasha’s hair seemed much longer than the last time she’d been in the public eye, but her all-knowing smirk was just the same and her green eyes were even more piercing in person. You noticed a bit of red glowing in Wanda’s eyes, which faded as she probably realized you’d seen, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that meant she hated you already.

“I know what you’re up to, Red.” Tony seemed accusatory as he pointed a finger at the pair. “You can’t bribe her into helping you cheat tonight.”

“Maybe I planned on giving her tips for surviving this testosterone filled tower.”

Natasha steps forward and grabs your hand with her free one, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda has your suitcase floating in front of you as they lead you into the elevator.

“Sorry to whisk you away like that,” Wanda apologizes as the doors close with her head tilted to see you past Natasha. “We’re just excited to meet a new woman here.”

“No, it’s okay!” you insist breathlessly, your nerves slowly returning as Natasha lightly squeezes your hand. “I’m actually really excited to meet the two of you.”

“You know who we are?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I know you personally, but I know that you’re one of the original team members.” You make eye contact briefly with Natasha before turning to Wanda. “And because the news stations somehow get ahold of everything, I know you joined after you helped everyone stop Ultron before he could create that indestructible body and destroy the world.”

“Yes, that’s true. Although I wish I could’ve saved my brother, too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost him...or that you even had a brother.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda assures you with a smile as she lets go of Natasha, shifting to the other side of the elevator to grab your free hand. “I asked Fury to keep Pietro a secret because I didn’t want to see or hear any negative opinions from people that never even met him.”

“And we have plenty of time to get to know each other,” Natasha chimes in as the doors open to reveal a new setting. “This is our floor. We set up a spare bedroom here so we can spend time together away from the boys...when you’re not with Peter, of course.”

“Yeah, that’d be great!”

They lead you past their living room and kitchen, and you shamelessly admire the simple decor with little personal touches spread about. Turning into a hallway, Natasha walks ahead of you and Wanda to open a door to a bedroom.

“What do you think?” she asks with a smile that widens upon seeing your expression. “I’m guessing it’s good, then.”

“It’s perfect!” you cry out as you walk past to enter the room, immediately noticing the eggshell colored walls trimmed with your favorite color along the borders. “Wow, this is four times the size of a normal bedroom. Wait a minute.”

“Do you like it?” Wanda asks when she sees you pick up the glass figurine on the nightstand. “Peter mentioned your love of this animal and I have a whole collection of them from different places.”

“Like it? I love it! I have the same one in my dorm room!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can get you a different one.” She steps forward as she brings your suitcase to the floor beside the bed and you hug the small object close to your chest.

“Like I said, it’s perfect,” you assure her with a grin, which brings one to her own face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy with the set up. When you’re ready to head up to dinner, we’ll be waiting by the elevator. Also, if you ever need anything, our room is right across the hall.”

Natasha points to the closed door a few feet away, and you acknowledge her statement with a nod before they leave the room, closing your door nearly all the way behind them. You flop down on the bed with a dreamy sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling with a night sky painted on it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave this place.”

On the elevator ride up to join everyone for dinner, Natasha and Wanda take turns asking you questions about your classes and any friends you’d made, what you liked to do when you weren’t studying. You had to admit that the level of interest they had with you was shocking but flattering, especially when they insisted you sit between them at the table to continue your conversation.

“You don’t seem to be nervous anymore,” Peter acknowledges as you sit down, and Wanda faces you immediately.

“Were you nervous about meeting us?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer timidly, avoiding catching anyone’s curious glances by directing a glare toward Peter. “You might be normal people in here, but to the rest of the world, you’re portrayed as powerful and untouchable beings.”

“Maybe when they’re not talking about how much damage we’ve caused,” Bruce mumbles under his breath as the elevator doors opened again.

“I’m here, I’m here!” a voice calls as footsteps hurry toward the dining area, and Sam Wilson is revealed as he rounds the corner. “Sorry, I’m late. I was--”

“On a date, we know. You only told us that 500 times.”

“Don’t be jealous, old man. You’re married.” Sam grins at Clint as he sits next to him before his attention turns to you. “Do we have a newbie?”

“No, Mr. Wilson. This is my best friend, Y/N.”

“Call me Sam, kid.” He smiles at you as he goes for his silverware, and you’re just about to acknowledge him when his expression suddenly turns serious. “I’m sorry. You’re not a kid. You’re an independent and capable adult, and I should address you as such.”

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Sam clears his throat and shakes his head as if he was clearing his mind. “I just suddenly felt the need to correct myself…You have any powers we should know about, Y/N?”

“No!” you quickly respond with widened eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, actually. I’m pretty used to older people calling me kid by now.”

From your left side, Natasha asks Clint to recall an embarrassing tale for you and the table livens up again, but you can’t seem to move past the unsettling way Sam shifted gears from calm and casual to uptight and disciplined. The image stayed with you through the rest of dinner even after he seemed to fully recover, until dishes were cleared away and replaced with games, and you suddenly had a lot more to focus on.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be on your team again when I haven’t had him once.”

“Is anything fair with the guy who could use his personalized AI to cheat for him?”

“Could I do that? Yes. But have I done that? Maybe.”

“Wanna grab some fresh air with us?” Natasha suddenly asks you, causing you to frown.

“Aren’t we about to play another game?”

“It’ll take them another half hour before they finally decide something,” Wanda assures you as her fingers thread through yours gently. “We have plenty of time, and they won’t even notice we’re gone.”

They lead you by the hand to the elevator once more, going up a few floors before leading you out onto a balcony. Because you were so much higher than most of the surrounding buildings, there was an incredible view of the sun that was probably minutes away from disappearing to the other side of the world. The air is chillier than when you’d arrived, but you had to admit that standing in the cool breeze is worth a few goosebumps on your skin. Your hands are released as you reach a bench near the ledge, and you climb over it to sit as the other two women settle on either side of you.

“Why did Peter decide to share his secret with you?”

“Technically he didn’t,” you recall with a laugh. “He’d gone out to deal with something that activated his spider sense or whatever and I came to his dorm room to sleep after an exam because I was too tired to walk all the way to my place. Anyway, I walk in at the same time he’s coming back in through the window, and I swear we both sat there for a full two minutes before either of us could think of anything to say.”

“It’s still very nice of you to keep such a big secret for him,” Natasha praises, and your laughter quiets down as you take in her words.

“I guess I just know what it feels like to not want your life to change drastically because of one thing.” Your gaze shifts between the women for a moment. “That reminds me, I wanted to ask--”

“Wait, look at this!” Wanda quickly cuts you off with an enthusiastic grin. “You’re about to witness one of my favorite things about living here.”

She directs you to lean over and look at the streets as the sun finally disappears over the horizon, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you. Street lights begin turning on at what seems to be the center of the city and quickly spreading, increasing the radius of well-lit neighborhoods by the second. It was a mesmerizing sight that--until every lamp was on--nearly made you forget the question you were building toward.

“That was so cool!” you express honestly before clearing your throat awkwardly. “So I wanted to ask if the two of you were dating...or in a relationship or whatever. I mean, I don’t want to assume anything of course, just wondering because you share a room and floor, and you seem to be really into holding hands.”

“Well, I’d never really been into holding hands or a lot of other forms of affection before I met Wanda, but she seemed to flip some switch inside of me.” Natasha admitted with a bashful chuckle as she glanced at Wanda before turning to study you. “And your hands are so perfect to hold.”

“To answer your question, we are together.” Wanda rests a hand on your thigh and casts a sweet smile in your direction when you face her again. “Natasha was the first to give me a chance after everything with Ultron, and initially I thought I was just feeling grateful to receive some type of positive attention from someone other than Pietro. It wasn’t until Tash called me out on staring at her lips that I realized I wanted more than friendship.”

“The only reason I did was to confirm she was feeling the same things I’d finally come to terms with myself.” Natasha chuckles as Wanda sends over a bit of red mist to squeeze her own thigh. “What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think you’re feeling more than friendship for Peter?”

“Oh no,” you quickly denied with a chuckle. “He’s the perfect example of a great boyfriend, but not my boyfriend. Plus I’d rather not have the same experience as MJ did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the ‘close friends to a relationship that ends with each person pretending the other doesn’t exist’ experience. I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, that does sound messy,” Natasha sighs as she subtly rests her hand on your other thigh. “So you’re not looking for a great boyfriend. What are you looking for then?”

“Nothing really, at least until I finish school, but having a girlfriend would be nice. I’d like to be with someone that respects me and can take care of themselves when I’m not around, because I tried the ‘caring for someone’ thing and it sucks when they don’t put in the same effort that you do.”

“Maybe you should try someone older, more mature,” Natasha suggests as she shifts to squeeze your knee lightly, and you start to feel a bit nervous about where she’s going with this. “Maybe two people that already have their shit together and would go to the ends of the earth to please you.”

“Okay, um…” You push both of their hands away with a bit of difficulty. “You both seem great and you’re incredibly attractive, but I’m not really interested.”

“Don’t worry about it, detka.” Natasha pushes your shoulder down as you try to get up, and Wanda cups your cheek with her hand.

“You may not be interested now…” She stands with Natasha and leans in to kiss your forehead, letting her lips linger on your skin as she continues. “But you will be.”

She pulls away and winks before lacing her fingers through Natasha’s as they leave the balcony, and you gasp in air as the tension they’d built seems to exit behind them. You finally decide to head back once you’ve taken a few minutes to catch your breath and calm your shaking limbs, but you wonder how long the calm will truly last.

You found yourself waking up suddenly and practically flying into a sitting position as if someone had pulled you up, but luckily the room is empty. You sit for a moment to catch your breath and survey your surroundings to assure you’re truly alone, and you notice your door is cracked right before you hear an unidentifiable sound.

“Fuck.”

Despite every fiber of your being screaming at you as one would do to a character in a horror film, you decide to climb out of bed to investigate what you were hearing, justifying your actions with the excuse of seeing if your floor-mates were in danger, as if you could save them. A few seconds after opening your door fully and peeking out made you realize that they were more than okay.

“Fuck! Right there, please don’t stop.”

“Such a dirty mouth, malyshka.”

You’re quick to return the door to its cracked position, leaning against the nearby wall with wide eyes as you attempt to process the image across the hall. The bedroom door sits wide open, giving you the chance to examine every inch of bare skin of the two women spread across the bed, Wanda resting on her arched back with her hands in Natasha’s red hair buried between her legs. Her moans seem to raise in volume, pitch and frequency as she’s brought closer and closer to the edge, and you ignore the warm feeling in your lower abdomen as you hurry back to bed and throw a pillow over your exposed ear.

“Good morning.”

Your free hand quickly shoots upward to catch your water glass as it slipped through your fingers in your moment of shock, and you try not to make a deal of hearing two sets of footsteps headed toward the kitchen.

“How’d you sleep last night? I know how scary it can be to rest your eyes in a new place.”

“I think I did pretty well,” you answer quietly as you step away from the fridge and lean against a section of the counter that faces out into the rest of the room. “The bed’s really nice.”

“You’re lying,” Wanda accuses as she crosses the room, eyes turning red and hands lifting toward your face.

“What are you--”

“Couldn’t sleep because of us, right?” She chuckles when you go limp under her touch, and Natasha ducks between the two of you to save your glass for the second time. “Did you enjoy hearing us that much?”

“You did sound really good,” you tell her with a drowsy smile as she pins you against the counter to keep you from falling.

“I bet you wish you were in my place, don’t you?” Her tone is light and teasing at first, becoming a bit stern as she shifts to push her thigh between your legs and you instantly roll your hips against the pressure. “Or maybe you want to taste me while Natasha fucks you?”

“No.”

“No?!” she fires back immediately, leaving a red mist around your temples as she grabs your waist with both hands to keep you grinding against her. “You mean you don’t want to cum right now?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

A breathy moan escapes you as your eyes flutter closed, and if your head wasn’t being forcefully held in place, it would’ve tipped backward. You feel what must be Natasha’s fingertips grazing along your jaw and tracing a line down the side of your neck and toward your shoulder, repeating the gentle motion as goosebumps appeared all over the exposed skin.

“Is everyone decent?”

The fog behind your eyes seems to clear in seconds, and you blink in confusion when you open your eyes to see Natasha and Wanda making coffee nearby. You try to recall even coming into the kitchen, but everything from the moment you stepped into the bathroom to get ready is a blur, so you shake your head and reach for your glass of water on the counter as Natasha responds.

“Come in, Peter.”

“Morning, everyone,” Peter greets cheerfully as he enters the kitchen, his grin falling when his eyes land on you. “Are you okay?”

You open your mouth with the full intention of telling him that you are not okay, not when you were missing at least an hour of memory, and bits of last night were slipping away from you too. But before you could speak, a cold feeling seems to pass through the back of your skull to slip into your brain, and a switch flips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you respond with a chuckle. “You worry too much, spiderling.”

“The world’s a stressful place,” he grumbles when you playfully ruffle his hair. “Anyway, are you ready to go soon?”

“Where are you headed?” Natasha quickly asks with a frown. “Y/N hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

“We’re meeting Aunt May, so we’ll eat with her.”

“I just have to grab my bag,” you explain before heading down the hall to your temporary room, feeling the chilly sensation leaving you as you get further away from the kitchen, and it thankfully doesn’t return when you head back. “Ready.”

“Have fun!” Natasha calls as Peter heads for the elevator again, quickly grabbing your wrist once he’s out of sight. “See you tonight, printsessa.”

Her hand quickly shifts to grip the back of your neck as she leans in to kiss your cheek, and the two women are wearing sweet smiles as you turn away from them to catch up with Peter, attempting to shake the shell-shocked expression from your features.

“You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” you insist as the doors close, in hopes that you really would be fine.

Meeting Peter’s aunt was much more of a pleasant experience than you expected, and it was obvious she adored you by the way she spoke to you, although part of you felt she was just happy Peter had more people around to love him. Your day was cut a bit short when MJ unexpectedly approached Peter, requesting to talk to him, and Aunt May offered to drive you back to the tower so you both could escape that awkward mess of a conversation.

“It was so great to meet you today,” you tell her with a grin as you take off your seatbelt.

“Likewise, honey. You have my number so just call me if you ever need anything, okay?”

She pulls you into a hug over the middle console and you thank her again for the ride as you get out of the car, trying not to seem too nervous when you notice Natasha and Wanda standing in the lobby. Your plan was to walk past them without speaking, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t work.

“Why was she hugging you?” Natasha asks coldly as you enter the building and you sigh.

“She was just saying goodbye--wait. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

You keep walking until they’re no longer in your peripheral, stopping abruptly as a red mist surrounds your legs, and your eye-rolling is cut short when Wanda appears in front of you and grabs your chin harshly.

“If Tash asks you a question, you answer.”

“Without attitude,” Natasha adds, which makes you want to roll your eyes again.

“Sorry, I didn’t get the rules handbook when I arrived. Can I go now?”

“You know what?” Wanda cuts off Natasha’s angry response with a smirk. “You can go.”

The red mist surrounding you disappeared, and despite the suspicious feeling that washed over you, you continued on toward the elevator with your head held high. You refused to let them get to you.

It was subtle at first. A slight tingling between your legs that you couldn’t seem to get rid of. In the very beginning, you were worried that something was wrong until you realized where the feeling was coming from when it turned into slow circles around your clit as you caught up with Peter in his room. By dinner, there was the added sensation of fingers curling inside you at a steady pace, and you hoped no one would notice your hips slightly bucking under the table as you attempted to repeatedly chase a release that never came.

A movie follows dinner today, and you make sure to cover yourself with a large blanket because you were still being edged and you couldn’t stop moving at this point. You even try to slide your hand into your sweatpants to finish the job yourself, and your jaw clenches in anger every time your fingers lock up because you know who’s responsible.

“Okay, you win!” you announce as you walk into the kitchen on Natasha and Wanda’s private floor, not missing the look shared between the two women. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. Can you please just stop teasing me?”

“How about we help you finish instead?”

You should decline. You should just say ‘no’ because letting them finish you off tonight will turn into an attachment that you know you don’t want, nor are you ready for. Inviting them in will be equivalent to selling your soul, and you’re not sure you want to put a price on it. But the ache below your stomach is persistent, and if they won’t let you touch yourself, someone has to do it.

“Fine.”

“Don’t be so grumpy about it,” Wanda teases as she grabs your hand and starts leading you toward their bedroom. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

She pushes you back onto the surprisingly large bed as soon as you’re close enough, instructing you to take off your shirt and bra while she watches. Once your top half is completely exposed, she leans forward to run her hands from your shoulders down toward your nipples, circling them with her thumbs until they harden.

“I don’t like being teased.”

“Oh, you don’t?” she asks in a mocking tone as she reaches for the band of your sweatpants and pulls them down, placing her palm over the wet spot in your panties. “Then what’s this?”

“Please,” you beg through a quiet moan, bucking your hips again when she presses her thumb against your clit through the fabric. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Patience, detka.”

You watch with wide eyes as Natasha and Wanda both strip away their own sweatpants, revealing the toys tied to their legs. Natasha goes to untie hers while Wanda uses her powers to rip away your ruined panties in one fluid motion.

“There she is.”

Natasha puts her hand on Wanda’s back and forces her to bend over, and you bite your lip as her eyes flutter closed and mouth falls open while Natasha thrusts into her. You’re just about to grab Wanda’s hand to lead her where you want, when her eyes open suddenly with a glowing red surrounding her pupils, and your wrists are bound together over your head by an invisible force.

“Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“Don’t get too cocky, malyshka,” Natasha reminds her as she grabs a fistful of her hair and slams into her, causing Wanda to moan and giggle at the same time.

“My apologies, Tash.”

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief as Wanda finally slid two fingers inside of you, her thrusts deepening each time as Natasha fucked her toward you with her hands on her hips. The sounds coming from your mouth and between your legs were embarrassingly loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as she brought you closer and closer to the edge, until a loud whine escaped you as she removed her fingers and delivered a slap to your glistening folds.

“Tell me who this belongs to,” she orders through her own moans, holding you down when you begin grinding into her hand. “I’m gonna cum regardless of what you do, so you’d better answer. Be a good girl like I know you can.”

“Yours!” you cry out finally, sighing when Natasha leans into your line of sight with a brow raised. “It’s yours and Natasha’s.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She slips back into you without warning, and your back arches off the bed as she finally brings you to orgasm. She continues to thrust into you as you whine and squirm away, luckily slowing down and finally stopping as Natasha makes her cum a minute later, leaving the strap inside of her as they both catch their breath. Wanda pulls out of you and sits up to lean against her, holding her hand up between them as they both clean your cum off her fingers with their tongues, and you sit there clenching around nothing as you watch.

“You seem tired,” Natasha comments as her eyes land on you again.

“Too bad we’re not done.”

Wanda flips you onto your stomach with a quick motion of her fingers, using her hands to pull you by the waist until you’re on your knees at the edge of the bed, and she holds one side of your waist as she delivers a slap to your ass this time. Her touch lingers as she pulls away to free her own strap, and you nearly fall over when you feel the tip of the toy rub against your clit.

“Wait, let me fuck her this time.”

You hear their soft laughter as they switch places, sharing a kiss in the process, and you gasp when a hand wraps around your neck and pulls you up against Natasha’s chest.

“I like having you this close to me, printsessa,” she whispers in your ear, chuckling when you melt against her as she pushes the tip of her strap into you. “How many times do you think I can get you to cum?”

Her grip on your throat is loose as she allows you to adjust to the size, tightening suddenly when she slams into you once, twice, until every thrust is at a rough pace that you wouldn’t be able to handle if she wasn’t holding you against her by the waist. You feel that same tingling circling your clit again, occasionally traveling upward to tease your nipples as well, and it wasn’t long before you were releasing a strangled scream as you climaxed.

Natasha eventually stops thrusting into you as your legs shake, and you breathe out another sigh of relief when she allows you to fall onto the mattress. However, the relief is short-lived when you realize that she only paused to let Wanda push into her from behind, and it wasn’t long before the two of them found a rhythm that was pleasing them and ruining you.

Your wrists are freed as Natasha pulls out of you some minutes later, and you collapse onto one side of the bed with your body aching a bit from a third orgasm, your eyes only halfway open as you watch the pair. They remove the straps from their waists and set them aside, and you become a bit more alert when you notice Natasha grab what seems to be a double-ended dildo.

“No more. I can’t,” you mumble tiredly as your wrists are bound by Wanda’s power again.

“One more, and you can,” she tells you as she flops onto the bed beside you, and that red mist surrounds her fingers again as she guides you onto your knees to hover above her face. “You wanted to cum, so you don’t get to run from this.”

Her hands grab your waist and pull you closer, and you release a shuddering moan as her tongue runs past your hole and over your clit, teasing it a few times with the tip of her tongue before diving in to wrap her lips around it. She alternates between sucking your clit and slipping inside you as Natasha climbs on the bed behind you to position herself with the new toy.

“Fuck,” Wanda attempts to say once Natasha begins thrusting, and you fall forward as the vibration of her moans become too much, whining when Natasha slides her hands over your breasts and pulls you back up again.

“Take it all like a good girl.”

She keeps pulling until your head drops against her, and she moans against your neck while she kisses and sucks on your skin, bouncing faster on Wanda who groans loudly in response as she attempts to match each thrust. The hums of her voice has you grinding against her tongue, and you yelp when Natasha bites down just as Wanda brings you over the edge. She keeps going despite your protests, managing to get you to cum once more before they finally do.

You lie there with your bones feeling like jelly as you’re covered with a blanket minutes after everyone’s bathroom trip, too tired to even fight for sleeping in your own bed as Natasha and Wanda slide in on either side of you.

“You did so well tonight, detka,” Wanda praises as she strokes your cheek with a loving stare. “I can tell you’ll be a great addition to our relationship. I knew it from the moment I saw you.”

“I’m not doing this again,” you insist as the smile fades from her expression. “I’m not getting in a relationship with two women that don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and I’d prefer sleeping in my own bed.”

“You’re already in a relationship with us, printsessa,” Natasha growls as she shoves you back down when you try to get up, and you push her hand away.

“There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me want to be with you.”

“It’s not about what you want to do. It’s about what you have to do.” She grabs your phone from the nightstand, and you’re somehow not even surprised when she unlocks it on the first try. “Because it’d be a shame if someone was to tell Peter about all the nudes you have of him.”

You snatch the phone from her grip, eyes widening as you scroll through your camera roll, finding naked pictures of Peter scattered throughout it. You check the date on the oldest one and began to feel nauseous when you saw it was taken not even a month after the two of you met.

“Don’t think you’ll be deleting those either, because we can replace them and make things worse.” Her smile was falsely sweet and troubling as she grabbed your chin to force you to make eye contact. “We’ve gone this long without having you, and we’ll do whatever it takes not to lose you.”

Tags: @cordeliaswhore @egotisticalstoner @muralskins @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @teenwonder @honeyvenable @slut-for-nat

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wincestisasincest · 3 years ago

Text

Waves on the Shore - Chapter 6: The Leftover Kids

Viktor x Fem!Reader slow burn enemies to lovers

x posted on ao3 // WOTS masterlist

Summary: Jayce and Viktor questioning you about your weapon (made with farm-fresh Hextech) is the only thing keeping you from going to jail for science crimes. You and Viktor are literally at each others throats lmao. Also you’re from Bilgewater because pirates are fucking rad

Notes: Not gonna lie babes I actually really struggled writing this one, especially the second to last scene it went through sooooooo many drafts and for what? Originally it was a lot tamer but let's be real it was coming so... anyway sorry if it's kind of bad I did my best. Also! I am literally so overjoyed with how much you all liked the last chapter like ejtlehtehatelthe this week was very busy for me but seeing everyone enjoy it made me grin like an idiot every time. Next week is break so I'll have more time to write and interact with y'all and stuff. Anyway, enjoy this episode of "the only way that these two know how to tell each other to do better is by being really mean about it."

BIG TRIGGER WARNING! This chapter deals with themes of sexual assault. Nothing happens, but characters do talk about it occasionally and there are some implications. It's not near as bad as it was in Chapter 2, but just a heads up because people on Iron Leg's ship are not good people and we have to talk about it! Now!

Word Count: 7.7k

Tags: @edenstarkk, @modernamilf, @dedicated2viktor, @doctorho, @yeehawbvby (hi sorry i could not answer your comment directly because this is a sideblog but akejrhkejhte i'm so glad you like it and welcome to the taglist!)

Mentions of: Alcohol, explosions, guns, sexual assault

Triggers: Blood, death, prison, sexual harassment, poison, hospitals, babies (dunno if this counts but babies and birth kinda freak me out so), language

“Okay,” you exhaled, “the key here is to not clue him in on what you do and don’t already know. Once you actually get the interrogation rolling, it should be easy enough, but make sure that you start by telling him that you’re just confirming information. Make sure he believes it, too. That way, he won’t know what he can leverage against you. I don’t think he’ll even try lying, it’s never been his thing. He’ll probably just tell you to piss off if he doesn’t want to answer something. But, if you do think he’s lying, call him out on it.”

You paused, giving them time to process before you continued.

“Present the stuff early and keep it in sight – he’s a businessman. Make it feel like a transaction. If he tries to scare you, that means he’s getting desperate. He’s not bright but he’s not stupid either, so he knows that he can’t really do anything to you, and normally, he doesn’t threaten unless he means it, so if he tries to threaten you, that means he’s panicking. Don’t,” you directed a look at Jayce, “promise anything that you can’t do. If you want to question him later, you’ll need to keep his trust. Don’t,” you moved your judgement to Viktor, “insult him or his pride. He doesn’t respond well to that and will probably just shut down.”

Jayce bit his lip shamefully, but Viktor’s face didn’t move. He was as unyielding as he was attentive.

“Don’t hold what you’re offering him over his head. If he wants it, he’s not gonna want to admit it, so let him pretend. And don’t,” you emphasized your final point with your hands, “call him anything other than Iron Leg. It’s a sign of respect. If you pull up with that Mr. Byrne shit that the Enforcers use, I guarantee you’ll lose him instantly.”

You relaxed your shoulders, watching absolutely nothing happen behind their eyes.

“Okay?” you asked when they didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” Jayce swallowed.

“I didn’t make you nervous, did I?” you put your hands on your hips.

“Course not,” Jayce lied, “we dealt with you just fine.”

You groaned and tilted your head back, as if asking the ceiling to crush you right now.

“The point of all that,” you brought your head back down so you were facing them again, “was that he is not like me. That guy in there has got a hell of a lot of things he wants to protect; his ego, his reputation, his crew’s loyalty. He won’t offer you information, no matter how much it benefits him in the long run, if it means losing any of those. Just ask the people who tried to interrogate him before you. He won’t listen to logic. That’s why you have to speak his language.”

“Understood,” Viktor said before Jayce could ask another question. As much as it pained you to admit, you trusted Viktor with this operation more than his partner. Ever the idealist, Jayce had to appeal to people’s better nature even when it wasn’t there to begin with. Viktor, well, that was not a problem he had.

“Good,” you said, opening your palm to reveal the rusty wedding ring and the sketch that you had taken from the ship. They hadn’t left your pocket since before the cannon incident. Your pants felt weirdly light as you relinquished them.

Viktor grabbed the trinkets, performing the usual ritual of trying to minimize skin to skin contact. Jayce noticed his deftness.

“I don’t think you’re gonna break ‘em, Vik. That ring looks older than Heimerdinger,” he rolled his eyes.

Viktor just grunted and closed his hand, letting his arm fall to the side.

“Oh, and one more thing,” you said hastily as they turned to leave, “please don’t mention that I’m, like… helping with this. Please.”

“You got it,” Jayce gave you a thumbs up.

“Thank you.”

They were gone through the swinging doors and you were already suffocating in the sudden quiet they left in their wake.

Just visiting this concrete box was soul-crushing. You’d seen prisons before, but this was your first time being inside one, and you couldn’t fathom living here. If one could call it living. You supposed that you would have to, sooner or later.

Even the name was eerie. Stillwater. The very thing you hated about Piltover’s ocean.

You were protected when you were still with Jayce and Viktor – they were reminders that you belonged to the outside world. But now, all alone, everything was closing in. The buzz of the receptionist copying cell numbers into her documents, the metal chairs bolted to the ground in militaristic rows, the air that was too cold and made your hairs stand at alert.

You blinked in the sterile light.

“Is there a bathroom I could use?” you winced at the hoarseness in your voice as you addressed the receptionist.

“Down the hall to left,” she stopped writing for less than a second to point her pen, not checking to see if you got the message.

All you needed was a splash of water in your face and your shit would be back together, you told yourself as you approached the stretch of darkness. Noises pattered against the heavyset walls, but you tuned them out to focus on the door at the very end. Four inches thick with a cold handle.

You shoved your hands in your pockets and squeezed the fabric on the inside. The clamor from behind the walls was getting louder the farther you got from the lobby’s crushing fluorescence, trapping you between two sensory hells.

A door opened somewhere, wailing with age. The chatter from the inside of the room roared down the hallway before the bang of the door severed it off again. Meticulous steps in time with passive shuffling walked down towards you as two shadows unfolded.

You didn’t speed up. The guard wasn’t here for you. You were just going to the bathroom. No need to make a scene.

Your fingers numbed with strain as you gripped the fabric even tighter. Was your breathing too loud?

Finally, you passed each other in the middle of the hallway. The guard was wearing a blue uniform and escorting a burly person in a striped tank top. The prisoner had a sluggish river of blood coming from his nose. Your eyes instinctively flicked to the floor, where you noticed the his ankles. They were worn and skinny, and you had looked straight into their sharp bones not long ago.

You refused to cower, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. Stringent red veins coursed through them, unforgiving and violent. Your knew this man.

A phantom sensation of his grimy hand on your upper arm, sidling closer to your chest but never touching it, lest Iron Leg give him a painful reminder to not bother you while you were working. The way that those stupid fucking legs would kick you “on accident” and compel you to look up into his hungry expression, like he was appraising a hooker about to suck his dick.

He recognized you too. The edges of his mouth crinkled into a pleased grin, breaking apart the half-dried blood. He tossed a wink in your direction as he was dragged further down the hall.

You flipped him off without slowing down, ignoring how your heart leapt straight into your throat. He just chuckled, and the sound stayed with you long after you vacated each other’s line of sight.

You reached the end of the hall and stood dumbly, forgetting why you were here. You turned to your left – ah, yes. The bathroom. You rushed to lock yourself into the first stall you could find, falling to your knees in front of the toilet and grabbing its sides as you waited for vomit.

None came. You just saw your reflection in the tainted water, marred by a shit stain.

Gods, this place was going to kill you.

*****

The name was accurate, Viktor thought.

The design of Iron Leg’s iron leg was not economical, nor medically approved, but it was at least shaped like the appendage that it was meant to replace. In the prison-issued pants, it looked so similar to the unaffected leg that Viktor couldn’t tell where the prosthetic ended.

The metal gurgled in the shadows when the pirate lifted his head to spare Viktor a glance. He must’ve been unimpressed, as he went back to hunching over his journal immediately. He held his pencil at the very end, like an artist.

“Iron Leg?” Jayce asked, inviting some snide comment that anyone could see coming from a mile away.

“No, lad, I’m fuckin’ Flesh Leg.”

Though buried beneath a hardy sea-farer’s accent, his voice was clear and self-assured. One made to give orders and lacking the rawness of a boozehound.

“We have some things that we think you’d be interested in,” Viktor uncurled his hand and revealed the treasures in the dim light, “we would like to exchange them for information.”

Iron Leg shut the journal with one hand and set it on the floor. The cell was small and sparse, almost like his Captain’s Quarters after they were searched. And yet, even though this cell must’ve cycled through thousands of prisoners in its lifetime, it didn’t feel as lived in as the ship had. The walls were regularly refurbished to remove any cell graffiti, the bedsheets were made every morning as part of the prisoner’s routine, and decoration of any kind was not permitted, especially in the high security wing.

The pirate’s legs screeched as his stiff joints propelled him forward two languid steps.

His hair was brown and knotted. The locks were down to his armpits and highlighted the burnt, fizzled texture of his uneven beard. His tank top exposed damaged arms, with gangly muscles covered in scrapes and bruises – some fresh, some old, none on their way to a full recovery. Veins pulsed against his pale, corpse-like skin, though his cheeks were ruddy and his crow’s feet moved with the rest of his face. A circular black wound festered in the middle of his clavicle.

He struggled to the floor and stretched his leg out, exposing the janky bolts that were supposed to be an ankle. Viktor figured that he should sit down as well, to not seem intimidating, and pulled a distracted Jayce to the floor with him when he didn’t follow. He set the ring and the sketch just out of Iron Leg’s reach at the edge of the cell bars.

“Went lookin’ in my safe, did ye?”

His eyes were open and wily, burning like dynamite about to explode. He was not the classic picture of intimidating, but that only made him worse in Viktor’s mind. This man was a complete wild card.

“The ship was searched,” Viktor said.

“Aye, it was, but they would not have found this safe unless they knew that one was there. So, tell me – which one of my crew squealed?”

“None of them,” Viktor employed his poker face with more struggle than he was used to, “the search procedure was actually quite, eh, destructive, given how closed off your crew was. But that is not important. We have questions for you.”

“And in return,” Jayce gestured to the ring and the sketch, as though Iron Leg was not already staring straight at them, “these’ll be yours. Most of your other stuff was confiscated, but we talked the Enforcers out of ‘em. We just need you to confirm some information for us.”

Yes, Jayce was the better liar of the two. A consequence of that damn earnest face of his.

“Then you best start talking.”

Iron Leg was cooperative, almost genial, and Viktor felt uneasy.

On the boat ride to Stillwater you had regaled them with stories of his brutality, from both drunk and legitimate sources. Perhaps not your most tactful move before an interrogation, but you were fond of lying, Viktor had noticed. Omitting information you were more than happy to do, but if someone asked you a question, you gave them nothing but blunt candor.

It was refreshing compared to the snake-like insinuation of Piltover’s social scene. However, it meant that when Jayce challenged you with a “how bad can he be?” you gave him a thoroughly terrifying answer.

Viktor had known about his atrocities for no more than the past hour, and he was already more haunted by them than Iron Leg ever was. The pirate spoke with a conscience as clear as a sunny day.

“Right. Describe the process of building the cannon.”

The first half of the questions that they planned were tests to see how cooperative he would be, per your recommendation. Though he tended to draw out his answers, he was truthful and stayed in line with your characterization. When he hesitated between sentences, tossing around his options in his head, he would look back at the ring and the sketch on the floor.

He betrayed no other signs of inner turmoil, but Viktor suspected that they had him right where they wanted him.

“…and that was when the crew decided that it was time to raise the white flag. Damn mutiny if you ask me,” he grumbled.

“You would’ve kept attacking?” Jayce raised an eyebrow.

“Aye, lad.”

“What compelled you to attack?”

“I wanted to see Piltover burn,” he said grimly. Viktor did not place him as the mastermind behind the conspiracy, but he was no puppet on strings either. He had an axe to grind, and he was ready to die for it.

“Why?” Viktor asked before he could stop himself.

“You think that the whole world was made for Piltover, don’t you? That just because you have money and progress, that means that everything is yours for the taking? I’m just the first of many people who are trying to take it back,” he was teetering on the edge of a full outburst.

He sounded a bit like you when you first spoke to the Council, scolding them for their complicit acceptance of trafficked humans from Bilgewater.

“You resorted to engineering to attack Piltover,” Viktor backed away from that line of questioning as to not anger the pirate.

“It wasn’t engineering until we got the wench on board,” he said, making Jayce grimace, “I just knew that the crystals had the firepower I needed. Only after I got ‘em did I think to get someone with half a brain on board to make ‘em usable.”

“And the… wench,” Viktor forbade himself from using your name, lest he hint of your involvement, “why did you select her?”

“Because she was there for the taking, lad. Mighty good with tools according to the locals, and no gang to get mad if we plucked her off the island and never brought her back.”

“Were you going to bring her back?”

“I was. After the boys had their fun of course,” he chuckled, noticing Jayce’s blanched face.

“Why not just kill her at that point?” Viktor asked, smoothly keeping his own disgust in check.

“It’s not how we do it out there. It’s a respect thing for other pirates, see; can’t go around killing public property, right lad?” he wheezed with laughter and slapped his knee, directing the question at Jayce so he could relish in his discomfort.

Viktor recalled that time that you had compared him to pirates for describing your “utility.” It was almost impressive, how you both managed to uncover the exact parts of each other’s memories that would sting the most without even knowing. Viktor felt a little sick – was this even long enough ago to be a memory for you?

Iron Leg was still laughing, and Viktor rattled the bars with his cane.

“Stay focused,” he said.

The pirate heaved, planting both of his hands on the floor. He had stopped looking at them, allowing Jayce to overcome his repulsion and help with getting the conversation back on track.

“Hey, stay-“

Jayce was cut off by a ghastly cough and a splatter. A dark, oxidized swirl marked the floor. Blood.

“Shit. I’ll get a doctor,” Jayce stumbled up and sprinted out of the room, shouting that someone needed medical attention.

Iron Leg collapsed to the floor, writhing against his lungs. His hands were covered in bloody viscera as he clawed at the bars and his face was completely white. The tip of his finger was reaching for the sketch. Viktor pushed it closer, watching him curiously.

“She…” he panted, tracing red over the portrait of the girl, “she…”

“Yes?” Viktor pressed, gentle but urgent.

“My daughter,” he wheezed again, “Myrna.”

His hand went limp and blocked out the drawing’s eyes. Viktor hastily clutched his wrist and dug into its side with his fingers, holding his breath and waiting for a pulse.

None came.

*****

Someone called to you from below deck. Not for Penny, but you. The depths were bellowing your real name, vibrating the rotten wood beneath your feet.

You couldn’t feel the wind, but somehow it filled the sails and kept the ship functional, cutting forward through the vast blue mirror. It lurched when it was steered, but the deck was entirely empty, and there was no land in sight. It was calm.

You went down the stairs, following the syllables that should’ve only been familiar to you flitting through the congested air. It didn’t sound like they were trying to summon you, just testing your name out, like a child that had learned a new word.

You brushed past the neatly hung hammocks with no one in them. Your name had a slight bastardization from how it was normally pronounced. This person wasn’t from Bilgewater.

And there he was, in the center of the room, lit up by choppy rays of sunlight from the rafters and pacing around, the part of you that he had no right to know spilling from his lips. His cane wasn’t making any noise, so your loud, clunky steps were even more disturbing.

He saw you and cocked his head to the side with surprise, stopping his rambling, like you had intruded on something.

“Penny?” Viktor asked.

You startled, opening your eyes and accidentally biting your tongue. You straightened your neck and swallowed the taste of copper as all the joints that you’d buried into the chair eased into waking discomfort.

It was white. You were at the hospital. You must’ve dozed off after they drew blood. You unfolded your hands from your lap and yawned, cracking your back. Viktor and Jayce were gone.

Iron Leg had died from slow acting poison while the boys were interrogating him. You three were immediately transported to the nearest medical center to check for any toxins in your bloodstream. You had yet to learn if Iron Leg had yielded any good information.

They were a tad strange on the boat ride back, refusing to look you in the eye or give your questions any real answers. Jayce, you could maybe understand, as this might have been his first corpse. Viktor, however, had definitely seen death – not that that made processing it any easier, but you expected him to take it differently from Jayce. Yet they were both entrenched in denial, as though you were the one that had died and not Iron Leg.

You stood up and touched your toes. Perhaps some movement would keep you from falling asleep again, you thought as your interest was captured by the vibrant swaths of fabric on the large window of the hallway.

Getting closer, you recognized the squirming and crying coming from the colors. Those were babies. You had stumbled into the maternity ward.

Leaning your head against the glass, you observed them like wild animals.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Jayce asked, appearing out of nowhere. You didn’t turn around.

“There are so… few of them,” you said, “this is the only hospital in Piltover?”

There were exactly 15 babies there, all healthy, with their scrunched together, barely awake faces. They reminded you of drunk adults.

“What do you mean?” Jayce was at your side, watching them with less interest.

“What I said. There are not a lot of babies.”

“Oh? Well, I know that Piltover does a pretty good job with controlled pregnancy. They want all of these kids to go to good homes.”

“What happens if a birth is unplanned?”

“Then the parents either get help from the state or the kid gets adopted.”

“There’s always someone looking to adopt?”

“Or foster. But yeah.”

“What about the leftover kids?”

“There aren’t any leftover kids.”

“So every kid has somewhere to live? No orphanages, no factories, no nothing?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. That doesn’t happen in Bilgewater,” you dropped your hands to your side, “unwanted pregnancy is a whole industry there.”

Jayce went quiet, and you stopped caring about the babies.

“Did I say something?” you turned to the side, spotting the distant bearing in his expression.

“No,” he shook his head suddenly, “I was just thinking. By the way, we’re all poison free.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess,” you rested your shoulder against the window, “so, did you get anything before the ol’ dog kicked the bucket?”

“Viktor said something happened after I left. I’ll have to ask him about it. But other than that, no.”

“Damn,” you sighed.

Everywhere you turned you just got more evidence that there was some greater conspiracy going on, but the specifics were swiped away from you before you could look any closer. You were grasping at straws, confused, with no sign of an end in sight, and having to drag every breakthrough kicking and screaming into the open.

“But hey, we’ll keep trying,” Jayce smiled softly.

“Do you think it’s worth it? To keep trying?” you said, playing with your fingers, “I mean, whoever is doing this, they don’t wanna be found. And they’ll kill people for it. Maybe… maybe we should stop before more people get hurt.”

“I thought you wanted to solve this?” Jayce asked doubtfully.

“I did, but I’m kinda over it. Fuck my closer, Iron Leg might not be the only one dead if we don’t let up,” you let yourself sound a little harsher to mask any vulnerability.

“This is why we must look into it, yes?” Viktor said from behind you, the clack of his cane not even registering since you had gotten so used to it, “this person is dangerous.”

“But they don’t have to be if we just stop looking.”

“That is what they want us to do.”

“Okay? That’s better than them wanting us dead, isn’t it?”

“I believe that this is worth the risk,” Viktor stood beside Jayce, who was nodding along enthusiastically.

“Alright, well,” you conceded, raising your hands, “if you wanna keep digging, I can’t stop you, but it seems unnecessary to me.”

You refused to acknowledge the awkward silence and turned back to the babies.

No kid goes unwanted in Piltover. Maybe it was because this city needed a consistent supply of people willing to risk themselves for some greater good. Viktor, though, he wasn’t from Piltover. He should know that when you had no state or family to look out for you, you were the only thing keeping yourself from an early grave.

*****

“Do you… think we should say something?”

“What is there to say? We already knew that she was not voluntarily on the ship. It is unfortunate, but…” Viktor trailed off, not wanting to sound like a broken record, “we are not going to take away her agency. It is infantilizing. She will tell us if she wishes too.”

“You know that’s not gonna happen,” Jayce put his head in his hands, sighing, “I feel dirty, Vik. I mean, come on, ‘public property?’ That’s… we can’t just leave it at that.”

“Things like this happen in Bilgewater all the time. It just feels worse now because we know her.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“I’m aware,” Viktor said, tapping his fingers on his desk.

Jayce had been thinking about it since they left Stillwater. Viktor couldn’t blame him, as he was similarly frustrated with the lack of insight that the two had on you. All of this time, and they had never considered what circumstances brought you to being on a ship full of lecherous pirates doing war crimes. You clearly weren’t as blood thirsty as they were, so what kind of life had you lead where you were the go-to resource for gangs who needed engineering and didn’t like consequences? You certainly weren’t in any rush to explain it either, even though it might’ve been helpful in your appeal to the Council, which was only more suspicious

Viktor refused to coddle you, and he knew that Jayce would to, even if his partner was a bit nicer about it. Everyone has problems, and at the end of the day, you were still an adult who made her own choices and had to take responsibility for her actions. He believed that you would like this interpretation as well.

Yet, the more he learned about you, the harder it was to fight the rogue, almost scientific, impulse to understand what made you tick.

“Not interrupting anything, am I?” you said from the doorway in the office, your most recent invention glowing in your hands.

“No, no, not at all,” Jayce answered too quickly, “what’s up?”

Your eyes darted back and forth between them, unconvinced, but knowing that it wasn’t worth your time.

“That professor in charge of the Council is here for you. Both of you,” you nodded towards the room with your head, “surprised you didn’t hear him come in.”

Sure enough, Heimerdinger was here unannounced, looking abnormally stressed. The roll of paper tucked under his arm jittered as he tapped his feet impatiently. He bristled when you walked past him towards the other room.

“Ah, if you could stay here, Miss Penny. I’d like your input.”

You paused, turning around and squinting at him, though you quickly relented and joined Viktor and Jayce in the center of the lab.

The Professor scurried onto one of the chairs and stood up, spreading the scroll onto the table. Viktor stood over his shoulder, recognizing a nautical map of the routes between Bilgewater and the Piltover bridge.

“We have received word that there is a fleet en route to Piltover with artillery similar in design to yours, Miss Penny. One can only guess how it spread so quickly, but regardless, our estimate gives us two days until they arrive.”

“Where are they now?” you asked, studying the map beside Viktor.

“We’re not sure, but we know that they left 18 days ago, and the standard route for vessels this size indicates a travel time of 20 days.”

“For trading ships maybe, but any pirate fleet wouldn’t risk being that close to Noxus outposts,” you ran your finger along the stretch of desert continent at the top of the map, “they would take the South passage instead. So, you’ve probably got four days.”

Viktor was amazed at how you could say something genuinely reassuring but still make it sound like a warning.

“Well, either way, I’ve come to discuss the, uh… what did you call it, Jayce?”

“She’s calling it the wave inverter,” Jayce said, pointing to you from across the table, “you’re gonna have to ask her.”

Heimerdinger turned to you expectantly.

“Oh, um, sure. What did you want to know?”

“I’d like you to show me how it works,” Heimerdinger said, his characteristic sincerity shining through his reluctance to talk to you, “it is defensive, is it not?”

“Yeah,” you said, “hold on.”

You set your prototype down on the table and rifled through the desks behind you. Heimerdinger eyed it cautiously. No bigger than your hand, it was haphazardly assembled out of wires, scrap metal, bolts, and some precarious but sturdy clear casing with a foreboding crystal in the center.

“Why is it red?” he asked, the prototype flickering in his blue eyes like an alarm.

“I like red,” you said, back still facing him, “just used a rune. But I wanted to have it be a different color so that, even if the magic waves canceled out, the light wouldn’t. So, y’know, you could still see what was going on.”

Heimerdinger looked at Viktor, who could only shrug.

“Okay,” you turned around and set two empty drinking glasses on the table, along with a standard, blue, Hextech crystal, “so, the wave inverter is a constant stream of magical energy coming from one crystal. Because of the way that the energy is transferred into the system that you want to protect,” you continued as you began to wire your prototype into one of the glasses, “the magic can only use objects with really close molecules as conduits, meaning that the waves are seismic, so it won’t mess with air and water and stuff, but will reach every surface. Uh-“ you pursed your lips, “how technical do you want me to be?”

“Do keep it brief. I trust Viktor and Jayce will take care of any technicalities.”

“Okay. Well, basically, the waves are weak to begin with – you can’t even feel them – and they travel through solid objects, which makes them weaker. Because of this, they only react to magic stimuli. So, when another wave of magic interacts with an object hooked up to the wave inverter, say, a blue wave,” you grunted as you attached a soldered receptacle to the glass and threaded some conductive copper through it, “it creates a vacuum that the wave already going through the object, the red wave, will instantly react with. The necessary magic is harnessed from the crystal to produce a red wave to occupy the vacuum, which makes it perfectly inverted to the blue wave and cancels out any effect it would have on the object.”

You clicked your tongue and checked over your work – at least, that’s what Viktor hoped you were doing.

“Like so,” you said, tapping the blue crystal without any warning. A small wave of magic shuddered through the table. Jayce and Heimerdinger shielded their eyes out of habit, but Viktor kept still. This was his first time seeing it in action, and he would not spare any attention to detail.

A crack ruptured the empty glass, rendering the side facing the crystal a glossy spiderweb of broken pieces loosely held together by the still-intact base. However, the glass with your prototype meticulously wired inside of it, blinking like a beady red eye, was perfectly unharmed as a brief blue and red flash glinted across it.

“My word,” Heimerdinger said, slowly lowering his hand. The Professor was not easily impressed, and though Viktor had the privilege of seeing it a few times, it was becoming an even rarer occurrence as the years went on.

“So, yeah, it’s just a prototype, but that’s the idea,” you finished, starting to clear the table as if you had just explained how to make a friendship bracelet.

“I- well, this could certainly be the solution that we need to deal with this fleet,” Heimerdinger stammered, trying to process both what just happened and your unphased reaction to it.

“Um… I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’ve only gotten it to work on small things.”

“I see,” Heimerdinger paused, “well, I’m normally not one to encourage hasty progress, but I must say that we are in dire need of some defensive measures here. You have proof of concept, Miss Penny. If you could configure it to a larger structure, say, a Piltover ship, safely,” he paused for emphasis, “we would be indebted to you, willing to grant a request of your choosing.”

“Extradition,” you said immediately, spinning back around with intent.

“I- well perhaps something a little more reasonable-“

“You said I get to choose and I choose extradition,” you wiped your hands on your pants, “what, am I gonna make more magic weapons now that I’ve literally just told you how to stop them?”

“Wait, you can’t just-“ Jayce started.

“Very well,” Heimerdinger said curtly, rising to his feet, “the Council will consider extradition if you can pull this off. Safely. We do not need another cannon incident.”

“Wait, Professor, she can’t just leave,” Jayce was following him to the door.

“Ouch,” you said dryly.

“If you have a moral objection, Mr. Talis, then you’d better go ahead and say it. But, if what you’ve told me is true, then the work is entirely her own, so the choice lies with her,” Heimerdinger explained it kindly to Jayce, though his sternness was being tempted.

“Right. Of course,” Jayce quickly recovered and straightened himself, “always enjoy your visits, Professor.”

“Likewise, my boys,” Heimerdinger said, nodding a silent goodbye at Jayce and Viktor before leaving without another word.

The minute that the Professor’s light steps disappeared down the hallway, Jayce shifted to you.

“Extradition?” he crossed his arms, trying to keep his voice down.

“I don’t see the problem,” you said, “I wasn’t going to be here for long anyway. Now, I just get to not go to prison.”

“I thought you were going to stay for longer.”

“And do what? Keep turning out new crap forever? I mean, yeah, when the alternative was dying in a prison fight that was nice, but now…” you stopped, looking at your feet, and your face softened, “I want to go home.”

It was the meekest Viktor had ever seen you, which was ironic, since your brows were furrowed insistently and your chest was puffed out. No, it was the words, Viktor thought – personal words like “want” and “home.” You used them rarely, and now, your voice weakened at their very mention.

“But we’ve done some really great stuff here! How could you want to go back to, well, whatever you were doing in Bilgewater,” he fumbled over his words, “with all of this?!

“I wasn’t doing whatever,” you said bitterly, “I’ve lived there my whole life.”

“Okay, let’s uh, let’s start this over,” Jayce scratched the back of his neck, “we’ve talked to some people about what you used to do there, and-“

“One of them didn’t happen to be a dead pirate, did they?” you raised an eyebrow, backing away from him slightly.

“I know what you’re thinking, but it came up naturally, we-“

“Iron Leg said that his crew members would sexually assault you and referred to you as public property. The implication was that this was a common occurrence,” Viktor cut in for Jayce, knowing that politeness would simply not reach you.

You regarded Viktor, then Jayce, then Viktor again, not with surprise, but distaste. Something was stirring in your chest, but Viktor couldn’t place it.

“I’m no one’s whore,” you said darkly, “Iron Leg knew who I was because I would fix shit for other gangs when I needed cash, not because I was some helpless fucktoy.”

“We didn’t say that you were,” Jayce tried to explain, “but… fixing shit for gangs doesn’t sound much better?”

“I’m here because I don’t- can’t go to jail. You’re just a richer gang with nicer clothes,” you swallowed like your saliva was broken glass, “It doesn’t matter where I am. People like me have always got to be working for someone bigger than us to stay alive. Why would I do it here instead of the place I grew up?”

That was where you fucked up and Viktor caught on. You were lashing out in panic, like Jayce had observed when you first jumped off the building. You were trying to offend them, a little too obviously, to get them off your back. But why?

“No, I don’t think so,” Viktor said, looking down at you, “unless you’re trying to say that you would’ve just as easily sacrificed yourself for that former captain of yours?”

“That was a debt to repay and nothing else. If I owed Iron Leg shit, then I would’ve.”

“I don’t believe you,” he narrowed his eyes, “What is it that you’re protecting right now?”

“Myself, motherfucker!”

The whirring gears in Viktor’s head stopped as he developed a new hypothesis.

“All the people who took chances on you, all the things that you know you can do, all the things that you might want to do, this new person that you could become compared to the public menace that you are now – you would leave all of that behind to return to Bilgewater’s, eh, not safety, but… predictability?” he put both of his hands on his cane, watching you perceptively, satisfied as he began to stitch the pieces together, “I didn’t take you for a coward.”

“Excuse you, I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“You didn’t? What were you asking for, then, when you said that would lengthen your sentence for our sakes? Or when you inquired about the Undercity development projects? You know, most people would consider that noble.”

“I’m not most people.”

“No, you’re not. Most people would also seize the chance to be something greater the minute it was offered but you… you tasted what it was like to be a better person and it terrified you, didn’t it?” he found more courage and ignored Jayce’s apprehension.

“What the hell are you playing at?” you growled.

“This is the same reason you were afraid to investigate further, too,” he was looking at you, but this mind was somewhere else entirely, “because you know that you’re going to keep finding yourself in situations where you can choose to do the right thing. It’s safety, but there’s something else.”

“Vik, maybe you should-“

“You’re not stupid, you know that you could do something here. You know that even people who aren’t from Piltover, people like me, can do something here if they so wish. And you know it won’t be easy, but you’re used to that.”

“Okay, I get it, you can stop with the fuckin’ lecture now.”

“And yet, the minute that the chance to return to the status quo was dangled in front of you, you went for it. You would return to your life of desperation just to avoid being here any longer, but that makes no sense. The risk-reward of it is in you favor, but you refuse to take any risk.”

“Alright, let’s-“

“Does this place threaten you, I wonder? Does it hurt to be surrounded by people who are doing what you can’t, not because they are more intelligent than you, but purely due to the content of their-“

“SHUT UP!”

You were shaking with rage. Viktor thought you were going to spit on him again as you glared, eyes pointed like the barrel of a gun. Some would’ve considered it cruel, taking advantage of the very small cracks in your shell that you didn’t even give him permission to look through, but a part of him hoped that it would be the slap in the face you needed to finally do something productive with yourself. And he kept that hope until he saw the corners of your eyes brimming with wetness.

“Gods, what the FUCK is your problem?! Do you get your FUCKING ROCKS OFF by sitting around all day knowing that you’ve given so much of yourself for a city that DOES NOT GIVE A SHIT about it? You have NO idea how lucky you are to have every shitty little gamble you make pay off, do you? You know it’s not all you, right? You know that there are people who are just like you and never get to do ANYTHING no matter how hard they try? You know that it’s not ALL because you’re just that FUCKING great of a person? Because let me tell you, I’ve known your less than a month, and I’d prefer talking to IRON LEG’S FUCKING CORPSE, because at least HE won’t psychoanalyze me into next fucking Thursday to prove to HIMSELF that he’s a doing a good job” you took a heavy breath, “I hope that the next sacrifice you make fucking kills you.”

You returned to the workshop, roughly wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

The confidence had long since left Viktor’s face as the cold reality of what he had done settled in. Your wish had come true, he supposed – he thought it would be a worthwhile, for himself more than you, to push you past your breaking point and strike your soft center, but it hurt a little too much, and you had retaliated by ripping out his gut like a vulture. He wanted to hate you, and in a lot of ways he still did, but he knew that for this, he only had himself to blame.

“Vik, it’s not-“ Jayce tried to put a hand on his shoulder.

“There. We have said something,” Viktor said ruefully as he swatted the hand away.

*****

Damn it all, it was going great until you got teary-eyed.

Was he even trying to upset you? He obviously wasn’t trying to make you happy, but it lacked the malice that you thought was disappearing over the last few days. Youthought that you had finally learned to coexist without ripping each other’s heads off, and now, the minute that you could finally do something for yourself, he had backtracked in a heartbeat.

At least now you knew that it wasn’t because he didn’t understand. No, that had been wrong for a while. He understood you perfectly, and he was collecting more data on you like a lion stalking its prey. But apparently understanding didn’t change anything for him. Two could play at that game.

Soon, it wouldn’t be your problem. Soon, you would be on the docks of Bilgewater. Soon, you could settle into a deep depression as you contemplated just how right he was, and how knowing all of that couldn’t change anything.

You adjusted your blueprints with angry pencil lines, wondering how the hell you were going to fit this to a whole ship in four days. You worked well under pressure – if there wasn’t pressure, then you didn’t work – but now you were fueled by sheer need to prove your point and get out of this place.

Amidst your stewing, a piece of paper shivered at the edge of your vision.

Another blueprint was on the far edge of the already huge table that you were working on, splaying over the other side. You hadn’t left it there.

Your chest tingled. Something was wrong here.

Slowly, ready to bolt or attack, you steadied yourself on the table and bent down to check underneath.

A pair of racing legs into the main area of the lab was all that you got to see. You popped back up to the surface. The blueprint was gone. Their footsteps pounded out the door.

“Penny?” Jayce called, thinking that you had left. You launched from your seat like a firecracker and sped towards the door.

“Someonestolesomething!” you shouted as you passed the bewildered blur, skidding in your turn and dashing down the cool hallway.

They had just rounded the corner. The tip of their shoe poked out from behind the wall.

Adrenaline pumped through your legs and you ran like there was fire at your heels. Normally, you were running from something, so this was a welcome, ahem, change of pace.

Into the stairwell. The rushed silence followed by metallic rustling told you that they jumped over the railing. Great, so you could you. You strongarmed yourself over the side and rolled into the fall just like you remembered, spreading the impact of the pain across your shoulder and through your back.

You were a bit rusty, but it seemed your prey was as well. You were close enough to see the finer details of the black coat clinging to them.

Through the glass doors. They left them slightly shattered at the edge. So did you when you pressed through them with your side, but you could blame it all on them.

The rush of chilly air and the dew nipping at your ankles as you chased them through the grass on the quad was exhilarating. You pushed yourself even harder now that you were uninhibited by the Academy’s stuffy, obstacle-ridden interior. Gods, you had missed just running around like a maniac.

They were trying to disappear into the streets. Good luck, you thought, knowing that you were gaining on them. You saw the upper half of their coat twist before they ran even faster. They knew it too.

You darted through the streets, able to pin down their form. They were smallish, someone that you could easily subdue if you tackled them with enough inertia. Given that you weren’t even sure if you could slow down without hurting yourself now, you could definitely manage it.

How long had they been hiding there? Surely before Heimerdinger came in. And why couldn’t they just ask you for the blueprint? Anyone who knew about it in the first place already had enough power to just ask for it.

Through the alleyway, dark like a tunnel. You were so close, almost touching, and you realized that they were shorter than you as well. By a lot.

You rammed your weight into them, sending you both tumbling into the steadfast pavement as you struggled to come out on top.

Finally, slamming both of your arms on the ground by either side of their head, you saw the scrap of blue paper clutched by small, shaking fingers. You looked into the eyes of the enemy: a 10 year old sniffling like he was about to cry.

You caught your breath, and the sharp twinge of brine wafting up from the fabric of his coat burned through your memories like a heatwave. And for a moment, you were just two lost kids from Bilgewater against the world.

~ End Notes ~

End credits song: "Hey Bulldog" by the Beatles

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor #viktor x you #enemies to lovers #slow burn #viktor x y/n #arcane x reader #jayce talis #mel medarda #mel #caitlyn #jayce #waves on the shore #caitlyn kiramann #Spotify

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darthkruge · 4 years ago

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omgbubs the shy reader premise is so cute !! could you possibly go into detail on how anakin would act with someone who is on the shy side because those types of ideas are always so sweet and i love your soft thoughts 🥺

ahhh lish i love you for asking me to elaborate!!

main masterlist || anakin masterlist

anakin skywalker x shy!reader headcanons

first and foremost, anakin would want you to be as comfortable as possible, especially around him.

he’d be so good at finding that balance between helping you get out of your comfort zone and try new stuff while also understanding that you sometimes just simply couldn’t.

very respectful of your boundaries. if you can’t do something or even if you just don’t want to, that’s fine. if you say “no,” that’s the end of discussion, always.

that being said, he knows that sometimes you want to do stuff, you’re just shy and it makes you nervous. anakin is super good at coaxing you into new situations. “i’ll be right with you the whole time, my love. i promise,” he’ll say, as he rubs your back.

he means that, too. he won’t ever leave you and he is extra conscious about making sure you can see him at all times when y’all go out. especially if it’s a party or big gathering or something where you don’t know many people. to be honest, he’s not a big fan of them either, much prefering to just hang out with you, obi wan, the clones, and ahsoka. but sometimes it’s unavoidable.

in those scenarios, if possible, he likes to be touching you. an arm around your waist, a hand on the small of your back, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. anything to allow you to feel his presence.

and he makes sure you don’t feel left out. he knows it’s sometimes hard for you to initiate conversations, so he does it for you! and he always brings you into group discussions, as he’s so well known and he’s an easy person to talk to. and if you’re not vibing with the conversations, that’s okay! he’ll have little side talks with you <3

he tries to make sure you don’t feel super awkward or anxious. he tries to keep himself calm so that you can feed off his energy. anakin has a special knack for making you feel at ease, no matter what!

also he gets it if your social battery just like runs out out of nowhere. if you start getting that blank look on your face and become super quiet all of a sudden, he picks up on it.

anakin will just look at you all soft and say “you alright, my love?”

normally you try and nod, and you might go all in your head, feeling bad and not wanting to derail the evening. but he sees right through you and he’ll just “let’s go home, alright? i’m feeling a little tired.”

he is completely fine putting it on him so you feel more comfortable agreeing to leave. and you appreciate it, too drained to argue. you catch on to what he’s doing but you agree nonetheless. it’s small gestures like that where anakin’s love really hits you.

other small gestures include ordering food for you and answering holo calls when the two of you are together. he doesn’t mind, especially because he knows stuff like that can make you super stressed.

anakin is also super chill with having nights in with you. honestly, he adores them, probably more than going out. because when you’re at home, he can shower you with all the love and affection he has to hide everywhere else.

he also likes it because he knows you feel more comfortable with him when it’s just the two of you alone. hearing your laugh, seeing you smile, listening to you talk when he knows your walls are down, it makes him so happy!! he knows he’s getting to see the real you and he thinks that’s absolutely amazing. he’d never take it for granted

something he especially loves is when you get flustered around him. he loves to tease you and whisper stuff in your ear that makes you go all squirmy because knowing he has that effect on you is just >>

but when you get shy and hide your face in his chest or neck?? omg mans loves it! he’ll pull his arms around you and let you burrow into him with a slight chuckle and a big, goofy smile on his face <3

he would probably like to be with someone a little more shy sometimes because you help ground him. the war, his responsibilities, basically everything else in his life is so chaotic and stressful. and then there’s you, a balance to the rest of it. he cherishes that so damn much

the link to join my taglist is in my bio and my masterlist!

permanent tags:

@saltybreaddream @buckysbeloved @lolquarth @sodaoverstars @artiza-n @poestardust @beskar-tano @starwarsflowers @sunsetkenobi @90steaology

anakin tags:

@anakinswhore @kennedywxlsh @coldlilheart @adamgetawaydriver @chokemeanakin @gayidioot @katelynnwrites @haydens-moles @serpntines @anakinlove @rowley-with-ackerman @dexthtoyounglings @babykinskywalker @cluelessgurl @april-showers-and-flowers @savingpluto @beiroviski @captainshazamerica @alyssa-skywalker @mystic-writings @thejediuniverse @anakinravageme @cafeoiogy @dracowars @idkyouu1800c3 @luminara123 @jedi-general @collywobbl @soveryhowvery @asthefirerisesblog

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the-witty-pen-name · 4 years ago

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 7

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), fluff, angst, cursing, abandonment, toxic parent, violence, toxic siblings, infatuation, cheating/divorce, insecurity, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official, fake relationship, jealousy

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N:

IMPORTANT UPDATE

I made a Google form to be added to my taglists, so if you want to be added, the link is in my bio. I’ll only be adding people to the list if they requested to be added by filling out the form! This way all of the requests are just in one place so I don’t miss requests! Thank you!!!

I’m sorry for this chapter being shorter than normal, but it is more of a transitional chapter to set up some new stuff! I’m trying a new writing style in this chapter and this is why the word count is shorter. I’m nervous about posting this chapter honestly, since I tried something different. The following chapters will be back up to 3.5-4k as usual! This story is not over!

Thank you all so much for reading and sharing my work. Everyone whose reached out and told me how much they love the story really makes my day, oh my gosh!! I love you all so much, I’m so thankful.

Address mentioned is completely made up.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six

Lee never stopped telling you how much he loved you. At first, you had thought it was a spur of the moment exclamation but you were mistaken. When you realized he meant it, you reciprocated telling him you loved him too, making him the happiest man in the world. It all happened so fast, and your relationship was evolving quickly.

Maybe living together played a factor in how quickly the relationship progressed. It’s hard to just be dating someone you already live with and can’t take out on proper dates. It made everything else happen faster. He wished he could spoil you and take you to restaurants and walk into a room with you on his arm, but he couldn’t yet.

But from that moment on, he never stopped telling you. He said the phrase probably every moment he could manage. Every time he called from his office; he wouldn’t hang up without muttering the phrase. He’d tell you that he loved you before he left the house, or he’d just announce it unprompted when you both were home together, like it was some epiphany or declaration. He’d love to whisper it to you, especially at night with you pulled tightly to his chest.

He made sure he’d tell you in nonverbal ways as well, always letting you know he was thinking about you. Somehow, you’d end up with flowers on your desk at work at least once a week as well, never with a card. He’d cook, and on his days off, he’d spend them with you or he would surprise you by fixing things on the house. Never in a million years had you ever expected Lee Bodecker to be such a romantic, and when you’d joke about it, he’d say,

“You give me a reason to be, doll.”

It was thrilling, having someone to love and to have those feelings reciprocated. The ability to just be able to give and receive love was something he was never able to manage, perhaps it was just never the right person, or perhaps he had always been too selfish.

Now for the first time in a very long time, he wasn’t thinking about himself.

You gave him purpose and something worth fighting for.

“When this whole thing is over and we’re out of this town, I’m gonna marry you,” he said rubbing your arm as you lay in bed cuddled up to his side. You lay your arm across his tummy and rest your head on his chest. You hum in agreement, resting your eyes, both of you waking up earlier than you needed and you were enjoying the peaceful moment of the morning together.

“I hate seeing you with that Russel kid,” he’ll mutter, possessively pulling you closer, you could feel the vulnerability in his voice.

The past weeks have been really hard on Lee. It bothered him more and more each day, knowing Arvin was the one who got to drive you home from work and just being out and about with you. He knew you were his, and he never didn’t trust you. But you were so blind to the boy’s obvious feelings for you. It was something that would eat at him at night.

He couldn’t even blame you, if Arvin was able to sweep you away from him. Arvin was a good kid- took care of his family, worked a decent job, went to Church, and he was your age. He was much better looking in the traditional sense than Lee as well. Plus, you had a history. The boy was your first love and no one forgets their first love.

He knew you didn’t look at Arvin the same way Arvin looked at you, but he was always worried that a shift could come. If that damned reporter wouldn’t leave town and the more time you spent with Arvin, the more you’d see how much you’d actually want to be with him instead. You always told Lee he was the one you wanted and he believed you, but he worried that you would change your mind. He was so insecure, and he felt guilt, and he knew that he didn’t deserve to be happy, that he didn’t deserve your affection.

Sometimes he couldn’t let himself relax. Scenarios of all the different reasons you could leave him for polluted his mind and he hated how it took him out of being in the moments he just wanted to enjoy. He’d see you in his mind, happy with Arvin, marrying him instead and creating all those experiences with Arvin instead of him.

“He’s just my friend,” you reiterate, probably now for the millionth time. You were patient, and it never seemed to bother you, that the two of you ending up having this same conversation over and over. He needed the constant reassurance, and he hated the fact that he did.

“I want you, Lee,” you’ll mumble affectionately, trying to shower him with compliments and praise, to lift him up when he got down like this. “I don’t want any other man,” you’d affirm.

“This town is poison,” Lee mutters, looking out the window, the blinds pulled back as the sun is steadily rising. “Everything feels like it’s tainted,” he observes.

“Except us,” you correct him. He nods, but he knows his statement especially applies to him.

“Except you,” he sighs, his fingertips tracing circles on your bare shoulder.

“You don’t think you’ve ruined me, Sheriff?” you tease, making him smile, gradually pulling him out of his state. You’d lean up and kiss him, and the sensation would help his thoughts fade away for a few minutes. The feeling of your lips and soft skin against his own just putting his mind at ease, using his other senses to just keep his mind at bay.

He’s not sure if you realize how much he means it when he talks about escaping away from the town and marrying you. He thought about it all the time and it was what he was working toward. He knew even if he managed to go straight, if when Curtis left town, if the case around your mom was resolved, the town would still eat you up. The image of you both would be sullied. Reputation was crucial for survival in a town like this. You’d already been subjected to it before your relationship started.

He knew the solution was simple. He needed to take you away from Ross County, move to a new town where no one knew you both. It would just be a Sheriff and his new bride looking for a place to settle down. No rumors, or peeping eyes, or reporters, or exes, no corruption- just the two of you. Get a house, maybe start a family if you wanted that too.

He hoped you did. He’d be content either way, but he wanted a big family. His growing up was much less than ideal and it was just him and his sister. He loved the idea of a bigger family. He loved the image of having a house that was loud in a different way than what he grew up in. He often worried if he’d be a good father, but he never once doubted how excellent of a mother you would be if you wanted.

The only thing he wanted in his future was you, and everything else would be a blissful bonus of things he also doesn’t deserve. But to him you deserved the world and he simultaneously wanted to give you everything but then at the same time he felt like he would hold you back. You were young and had so many good years ahead of you. He couldn’t imagine you’d want to waste the rest of your life or even the rest of your twenties with him.

You could get a job doing anything you wanted and he could run for Sheriff in the new town maybe, or he could do something else. It didn’t matter to him anymore really. The time he’s been with you has really helped him see what is actually important. It was the only thing he wanted. He wanted to be able to give you that because he knew that you deserved it and more than he’d ever be able to give you.

Laying in bed with you on this lazy morning, reminded him of the last time he was there when you were still bartending. It was the first time that pesky day dream of his started. It was something a lot bigger now than it was then. He loved you, and he was relieved he could say it to you now, and he wanted to settle down. This backwards way the two of you got together was a mess but it was yours. He wouldn’t trade it for anything, but he knew he needed to make things right.

He had been so blind, for so long, and he finally started to feel like he could be someone he actually wanted to be.

All he needed was time and he could set it all straight.

***

Arrest of Pimp in Knockemstiff, Ohio Reveals Corruption of Town Sheriff

By: Henry Curtis

Sheriff of Ross County, Lee Bodecker, has been allegedly involved in the coverup of a local brothel, run by Leroy Brown. Brown and several of his associates were arrested on Wednesday night by local police for drug possession and possession of illegal firearms. As the group resisted arrest, there was a shoot out at a small bar in Meade, which was revealed to serve as a front for their operation. Seven men, including Brown, were arrested Wednesday night for questioning by the local police.

While giving his statement, Brown confessed to the charges and in hopes of a lesser sentence, cooperated with police and provided names of all involved in the underground prostitution ring. He provided the police with twelve names, including that of the local Sheriff Lee Bodecker and his sister Sandy Henderson, who has since also been apprehended by the local authorities.

Sandy Henderson was apprehended on Thursday morning, and made bail for $500 that Saturday. Henderson and her husband, both denied an opportunity to provide a statement. The pair only stated they will be promptly returning home and want to put this behind them.

Although there has been no release of his official statement as of yet regarding this alleged involvement, Bodecker was taken into custody the next morning, apprehended by his deputies from his home. Deputy Bill Thomas has since announced that the Sheriff will be subject to a trial in the near future, and for now faces an indefinite suspension from his post until his innocence has been proven. Deputy Thomas has also said that regardless of the outcome of the trial, Bodecker will be unable to run for reelection next term.

With this new development, it is also worth noting that the Sheriff is a tenant of (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the daughter of Estelle (Y/L/N)-Tucker who is currently wanted by law enforcement for embezzling thousands from her husband Harvey Tucker’s company, Tucker Brokerage, and then fleeing with her sixteen-year-old son. When police arrived at her home Thursday morning to apprehend the Sheriff, deputies on scene took an official statement from (Y/L/N), where she denied knowledge of the Sheriff’s involvement in any of the alleged criminal activities nor any knowledge regarding her mother or brother’s whereabouts.

Woman Wanted for Embezzling Funds from Tucker Brokerage Arrested in Indiana

By: Henry Curtis

Former resident of Knockemstiff, Ohio, Estelle (Y/L/N)-Tucker was arrested in South Bend, Indiana yesterday morning before dawn. Being able to identify her as a wanted person, Este and Harold Turner, owners of the Sunnyside Motel where (Y/L/N)-Tucker had been staying for about three days prior to the arrest, notified the local authorities she was staying in one of their rooms. She also was accompanied by her sixteen-year-old son.

The boy’s older sister has now become the boy’s sole guardian and he has since returned to his hometown. According to the police, the boy was completely cooperative and they believe he had no knowledge of his mother’s crimes. In a statement given the night of the arrest, the boy told police he believed they were running from his step-father, as his mother insinuated, she had been a victim of domestic abuse. There is no evidence yet as to whether her statement is true, but there will be an investigation of husband, Harvey Tucker, to discover if this claim is true.

Both children of Estelle (Y/L/N)-Tucker have not agreed to speak about their mother or the situation to anyone except police. Daughter, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), said when she arrived in Indiana to pick up her brother, seemed to only care about getting her brother home safely. Locals report she never asked to see her mother, and only focused on her brother.

As of now, (Y/L/N)-Tucker will remain in the custody of the South Bend Police until they are ready to transport her to Columbus, Ohio where she will face jail time and then eventually a trial.

Corruption in Knockemstiff High School Staff, Principal Arrested for Illegal Distilling- Sheriff Involved in Cover Up

By: Henry Curtis

Principal of local high school, Mark Cunningham, was arrested today after local police discover an illegal distillery on his residence. Police had retrieved a warrant to search Cunningham’s land after receiving an anonymous tip from a source close to the Principal.

Following his arrest, Cunningham admitted to the felony, but also claimed Ross County’s previous Sherriff, Lee Bodecker, had prior knowledge of the still, and in exchange for his silence, he demanded Cunningham offer a secretarial job at the high school to his landlord, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), who is the daughter of Estelle (Y/L/N)-Tucker, who recently was tried for embezzlement.

The vice-principal of the high school, Meredith Lively, has stepped forth as interim principal until the position can be filled, and ensured the press (Y/L/N) had been fired effective immediately, despite her claims of being unaware any such deal had conspired. Police have found no evidence to contradict (Y/L/N)’s statement, and in an official statement taken from Bodecker, he confirmed that it was part of the deal she not be made aware of the circumstances.

New Sheriff Elected to Ross County

By: Henry Curtis

Former Deputy Bill Thomas has been elected Sheriff of Ross County. Following the trial of former Sheriff Lee Bodecker, who had been found guilty of all charges, Bodecker was barred from office, and given a five-year sentence.

Deputy Thomas in an acceptance speech during a recent town hall meeting, ensured residents of Knockemstiff that “one bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole bunch” and the Sheriff’s department under new control will keep the town safe, and clean of crime and corruption. When asked by reporters how he felt about Bodecker, Thomas only described his situation as “unfortunate.”

There has been no other evidence of corruption within Ross County Sheriff’s Department although the investigation is still ongoing. When asked during his trial if he received any corroboration from any other law officials, Bodecker stated he never involved other members of the force with his wrongdoings.

REAL ESTATE

Room Available for Rent in Knockemstiff, Ohio

$50 monthly rent (utilities included)

1 Bedroom (250 sq. ft.), furnished

Private bathroom with shower

4 Birch Street

Knockemstiff, Ohio

Please call the following number with serious offers. Price negotiable.

PART EIGHT

Taglist

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01 @rosalynshields @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3 @hersilencedscreams @malar-region @purplerain85 @vesper852 @smilewolfdolan @softshell-taco @champagnebucky @lilacmeadows @mollygetssherlockcoffee

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