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ninus9607 · 1 month ago

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Lights, Camera, Action! - Elizabeth Olsen

Pairing(s): Elizabeth Olsen x Female! reader

Word count: 12,3K

tags: l content: slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, actress x actress, wlw MCU, smut, dominant! Lizzie, sub! reader, praise kink, possessive! Lizzie, hickeys & marks, dirty talk, soft smut, fluff, and smutpost-sex cuddles

AN: GUYS, I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE IT, PLS FORGIVE ME FOR EVERY MISTAKE

San Diego Comic-Con – Hall H

The lights in Hall H were brilliant, and the atmosphere was electric with expectation. I sat in my seat on the Marvel panel stage, my heart racing faster than it ever had on filming. This wasn't my first visit, but it was the first time anybody noticed I was here.

Two years ago, I played a "blink-and-you 'miss" character in Age of Ultron. A few lines. A powerful scene. A shadow in the midst of chaos. However, fans remembered. Somehow, they remembered.

I suppose Black Raven left a mark.

Kevin Feige came in close to the microphone, smirking as if he were about to unleash a bombshell. "Some of you might remember a mysterious character who appeared briefly in Age of Ultron."

A renegade force, morally gray and extremely strong... "A vampire who left the fight before the dust had settled."

Whispers spread across the room. The phones were already out. My name was already trending before he said anything.

"Well," he added, "I believe it's time she returned. This time, she's not hiding in the shadows.

He turned to face me. "Please welcome back Y/N Salvatore- returning as Y/C/N, also known as Black Raven, in Captain America: Civil War."

The audience exploded. I blinked under the stage lights, giving a little shocked smile as the room took me completely.

"I'm still trying to believe this is real," I added as the ovation went down. "The last time I came here, I got maybe three minutes of screen time and one stunt scene. Now I am here and just Wow!"

Laughter.

I looked down the table, and there she was. Elizabeth Olsen. Sitting a few chairs away and giving me that familiar half-smile. Soft and illegible. There's something more behind it. Curiosity. Recognition.

We hadn't shot anything together yet, not really. There was only one brief interaction in Ultron that never reached the final edit. But fans have been shipping our characters ever since. Perhaps it was the tension.

Perhaps it was the way my character had watched hers walk away from Sokovia, her face empty as if they had exchanged something neither of them could understand.

The Marvel team went on to other announcements, but I could sense excitement rising around me. Questions from the press. Fan art is already overwhelming social media. Speculation.

Wanda Maximoff and Black Raven are two shattered, deadly women on opposing sides of a conflict.

And somehow, they were destined to clash.

I looked across at Lizzie again.

She was still watching me.

God, I had no clue what was going to happen.

By the end of the panel, I felt like I was floating. The shouting of the audience, the dazzling glare of cameras, and the way supporters sang my name as if I'd always been one of them. As if I hadn't just slipped through the gaps in Ultron and nearly vanished for good.

Outside the hall, the air was dense and bustling. Fans flocked behind barriers with posters, comics, and custom art, and I foolishly attempted to stroll past secretly.

Did not work.

"Y/N! Over here!"

"Oh my god, Black Raven!"

"Please sign this!"

I looked down at a poster of my character, dark and majestic in the shadows, fangs barely visible, red flames curling around her fingers. They even got the cloak correctly. And the eyes—burning with something wild.

"I didn't even know people still cared," I said, surprised as I signed the edge.

"They never forgot you," a devoted fan muttered.

I continued signing. Posters. A sketch of Black Raven and Wanda holding hands and staring at one another like lovers. A shirt with the phrase, "I Do Believe In Killing The Messenger. Know Why? Because It Sends A Message." One female gave me a little plush replica of my character. I laughed so hard I almost cried.

That night, when I returned to my hotel room, the adrenaline hadn't even worn off. I threw off my shoes, opened a soda, and cuddled up on the bed in my huge con sweater. Just as I was going to cruise lazily on Instagram, a fresh notification appeared.

"Robert Downey Jr. added you to the group 'Avengers Assemble 💥'"

I blinked. Then blinked again.

A flood of messages came:

(RDJ) well well well. look who's back from the dead

(Chris E.): about time

(Tom H.): I've literally been waiting since I was twelve

(Lizzie ��): welcome back, stranger

(ScarJo): don't read the fine print. you're already in too deep

(Hemsworth 🍺): A VAMPIRE! I KNEW I LIKED YOU

I laughed into my pillow. What the hell is my life right now?

My fingers hovered over the group chat. I typed, deleted, and then finally sent:

(You): wait... what exactly did I sign up for?

(RDJ): That's cute. She thinks she has a choice.

(Lizzie 🥀): don't worry. you're safe with us.

(Lizzie 🥀): ...mostly.

I bit my lip, rereading the last message. My heart did something strange. Probably just the Coke. Or the heat. On the other hand, Lizzie sent a winking emoji immediately after.

I hadn't even read the entire script yet. I wasn't sure where my character was headed. Whether Black Raven would fight with or against Wanda. Whether they were enemies or anything else.

The sun filtered through the hotel drapes, creating a golden and gentle glow. I lay there for a time, taking in the peaceful morning mood. My body hurt in that slow, wonderful manner after yesterday's rush of panels, autographs, and screaming fans. I should have felt tired. I should have grumbled, nestled further into the cushions, and requested for another five minutes.

But I did not.

Because this was the day.

This is my first official Marvel table read since Age of Ultron. My actual return. Not just a postscript. Not as a supporting character with two lines and a beautiful battle scene. But as a true player, Black Raven. People remember the vampire antiheroes.

I took a long shower, letting the water calm my worries, the steam wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. Once dry, I stood in front of the closet for a little moment, just long enough to feel a flutter in my chest.

I wanted to feel like myself. But I also wanted to appear like I belonged here.

I put on cut black pants that hugged my waist well and made me feel quietly strong. A fresh white shirt was tucked in with a relaxed grace, and I layered on a lightweight, long camel coat that murmured gentle luxury.

Small gold hoops, silver rings, and a pair of glossy black loafers that catch the light. No logos. There's no chaos. Simply classic lines and calm assurance.

I left my hair down, brushed and elegant, with a single clip on the side to keep it out of my face. Makeup was clean, smooth, and very effortless. A little brow gel, a pop of color, and tinted lip balm.

I gazed into the mirror.

European subtlety with a biting undertone. That was me!

The studio sent a vehicle. Standard black SUV with silent driver and darkened windows. Very Marvel. I sat in the back with my coffee, pretending I wasn't sweating.

When I got to the lot, someone from production greeted me with a badge and a big smile. "They're all inside already. "You are sitting between Anthony and Lizzie."

"Lizzie?"

"Elizabeth Olsen."

"Cool," I blurted far too hastily. "Cool, cool, cool."

The door to the reading room opened, and I walked into a strange little dream. Long table. Dozens of chairs. Familiar faces, some I'd only seen in films, others I'd met briefly years before.

Scarlett Johansson gave me a wink and a nod. Sebastian Stan lifted his coffee as a toast. Chris Evans grinned and patted me on the back. "About damn time."

Then Lizzie.

She was already sitting, thumbing through the script, her hair in a loose braid, and a comfortable, oversized sweater flowing down one shoulder. She glanced up the instant I walked in, and her face brightened.

Like, genuinely lights up.

"Hey, stranger," she whispered quietly, rising to hug me.

I froze for a half-second. Just a second. Then I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly. She smelled like honey, coffee, and something warm that I couldn't identify.

"You look like you belong here," she said softly against my ear. "You ready to break hearts?"

"Only if you help," I said back.

She drew away, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn't identify.

We sat down. Anthony Mackie leaned in and said, "Just so you know, there are already fan edits of you two spreading."

Lizzie smiled without looking up. "I've seen them."

The reading started.

Tony had lines. So did Steve. But as the image transitioned to Wanda and Black Raven, Wanda stopped outside a decaying structure, her hand lifted in midair as Y/N came from the shadows. I could feel a shift in the collective reaction.

I read my line carefully, eyes fixed on the page. "Did you miss me, little witch?" My European accent went on.

And Lizzie... God! Lizzie's voice dropped an octave. "You were supposed to be dead."

I gazed at her. She stared at me.

The table remained still. Someone let out a faint whistle. Someone another said, "Y'all need a moment?"

We laughed. Just enough to release the stress.

But that moment lasted.

After the reading, everyone went for notes, coffee, and chaos. I found myself near the studio lot, seated on a low wall behind a shade tree, phone in hand, but forgotten. Lizzie stepped up with two iced lattes and offered one to me.

"You were incredible," she stated. "Like you never left."

She raised her head. "Still haven't read the whole script?"

I shake my head. "Trying to savor it. I don't want to learn everything too quickly."

She grinned slowly. "Then I will not spoil it. "But...you and I have some scenes."

"Oh?" WHAT???????

"Some very close ones." ARE YOU KIDDING ME, MARVEL

My cheekbones warmed. "You say that like it's a problem."

"It's not." She stared me dead in the eyes, funny yet serious below. "Unless you make it one."

And before I could say anything else, before I could even think, she was walking away, sipping her drink, hips swaying like a goddess in worn jeans and an Avengers crew hoodie.

I stared after her, heart hammering like I'd just survived a stunt scene.

Welcome back to Marvel, I thought.

A few months later.

Most of the nervous butterflies had disappeared by this point. The set had become like a second home, filled with familiar voices and traditions. I wasn't simply a new girl anymore. Everyone made it simple.

Chris gave me the nicest bear hugs and always made sure I ate my lunch. Scarlett had the type of cool that made you want to better your game, yet she always welcomed me with a warm smile and a "Hey, superstar." Anthony Mackie was an utter menace - but in the most lovable manner possible. Paul Bettany kept asking me to read poems between takes, saying it was "very Black Raven of you."

And Robert? He was like my dad!

"And Lizzie..." Lizzie was something else completely.

She'd knock on my door, holding a coffee in one hand and a protein snack in the other, as if she knew just when I needed her. Her jokes were dry, her eyes mischievous, and I'd caught myself looking a bit too long on several occasions.

We had gotten close. She was close enough to connect her arm with mine as we headed to the set. My heart skipped a beat every time she leaned close to murmur something only I could hear.

I knew exactly what I was doing.

I simply didn't know whether she did.

That afternoon, I was sitting with one of the directors, Joe, just outside the soundstage. The sun was casting a wandering light on the edge of the asphalt lot as he ran through the following several days' sequences.

"So, for next week," Joe remarked, brushing through his tablet, "we have the rooftop scene. You and Wanda are alone. It's the first time your character truly opens up."

I tilted my head, wondering. "What kind of open up are we talking about?"

He grinned. "The slow-burning sort. The 'I might not trust the Avengers, but I trust you' type."

My face felt heated.

He caught it as he looked up. "You good with that?"

"Yeah. No, yes. I mean, it's a great scene," I said, flicking through my copy of the script. "So, it's just me and Lizzie on the rooftop. At night?"

Joe nodded. "Right after the dramatic battle sequence. You are both still startled. Then it's silent. That time when the city hums under you and there is no goal or strategy. Just—" He hesitated and grinned. "Just feelings."

I swallowed. "Right. Feelings."

I sat in my trailer, flipping over the script. The rooftop scene.

It wasn't romantic, officially. But it may be.

Wanda looks at Y/N with gentle eyes. Y/N does not flinch for the first time. They don't quite touch. But it is near. Too close.

CMON Y/N, U GOT THIS! YOU ARE A TALENTED ACTRESS, DON'T U?

Interior Set – Rooftop at Night – Scene 57

When I arrived at the rooftop set, the wind machines were already rumbling. Lights positioned to resemble a dark skyline threw long shadows across the faux-concrete, and I adjusted the black leather of my outfit as I proceeded to my destination.

Lizzie was already there, in her deep red coat, gaze faraway and focused, and falling into Wanda's sorrow.

Joe made a few parting remarks off camera, but I hardly heard him. My fingertips brushed over the hilt of the false dagger on my thigh. The character's familiar weight slipped into my chest like a second skin. I wasn't Y/N Salvatore anymore. I was Black Raven.

"Ready?" the assistant director called.

"Rolling!" came from the sound.

"Slate in!"

The clack of the slate snapped, and then -

"Action!"

I let my gaze fall to the city skyline in front of me, taking in the depth of the picture and the severity of what I was going to say. The director, Joe, was allowing us space to relax into the spirit of the moment. I needed it.

I took a breath and proceeded carefully toward Wanda, each step thoughtful and silent. Raven's boots reverberated softly on the rooftop floor. My expression was inscrutable, meticulously crafted, calm on the surface, chaos beneath.

"Why are you here?" Lizzie spoke, her voice as raspy as Wanda's. She avoided looking at me at first, as if it hurt too much.

Raven paused. Her gaze searched the devastation below. Blood had flowed. Soldiers had died.

"You still believe in me," I said — Raven said. Her tone was not desperate. It was not a plea. Just pure curiosity. "Even after everything."

Wanda finally met her eyes.

"Because you've never hurt me."

A pause.

"And because you care... even when you don't want anyone to see it."

My expression flared. Not too much. Just enough to show that anything impacted her insides. My jaw clenched. I came closer, slowly and cautiously, as if Wanda was something I might damage simply by being near her.

Raven's voice lowered to almost a whisper now. "Maybe I'm tired of hiding."

And then, unexpectedly, her breath caught. Her face crumbled in the simplest, most human manner. Her shoulders twisted inward, as if she were sinking beneath an unseen weight, and tears welled up in her eyes, quiet, genuine, quivering on her eyelids.

"They're still arguing about whether you're dangerous or just reckless."

I smirked. "They're not wrong."

"I saw what you did out there," she said. "To those soldiers."

"They were trying to blow up a refugee truck," I answered casually. "So I ripped their throats out. Problem solved."

"You could've taken them down without... that."

"I could have," I replied, finally turning to face her. "But where is the fun in that?"

"You're not heartless."

Lizzie's voice trembled just slightly, even as her magic buzzed through the air like a quiet hum between us. "You just don't waste your heart on the wrong people."

"I never asked for this," I whispered, voice strained. "I just wanted to protect something, for once."

Then tears began to fall.

Not in the script.

Not planned.

I could sense that everyone was watching.

"You don't have to do it alone," Lizzie said quietly, coming in closer and gently placing her forehead on Y/N's. "We will figure it out. Together."

"Cut!"

I blinked once and again. Straightened. I took a silent step back, shrugged my shoulders, and wiped the tear from beneath my eye with my knuckle as if it were just another spread of makeup.

The entire crew remained quiet.

And then

Applause.

Real, loud applause.

"Holy shit," I heard someone from the lights mutter.

Joe went forward with a shocked expression and raised his hands. "That, whatever it was, we're keeping it. There is no second take."

Lizzie continued to gaze at me, her eyes wide. "How do you do that?" she muttered. "Like—switch it on and off like that?"

I laughed softly, removing an unwanted strand of hair from my face. "I drink a lot of espresso and don't think about it too much."

She grinned slowly, a little confused. "You were amazing."

"You made it easy," I replied softly, my voice totally Y/N again. "Your Wanda breaks my heart."

Joe walked over, his expression surprised. "That... was beyond incredible. Y/N, Elizabeth—your chemistry, the way you two just... felt that scene. I can't even put it into words. That was... magic."

But I felt it.

The way everyone looked at me has changed a little differently now.

The way Lizzie did, especially.

And I couldn't help but wonder, was it still just acting?

My phone lights up...

"Don't judge me," Robert said via text. "But I'm very certain I ate something suspicious today. "

I giggled softly to myself before scrolling down to see what others had said- Chris had tweeted a photo of himself "prepping for battle" with a pile of weights stacked around him. Then I received a text from Lizzie.

(Lizzie 🥀)I'm curious, Y/N: do you ever simply... quit being Black Raven? Is she always on your mind?

The message she wrote took me off guard, sending a shudder down my spine. I quickly composed my reply.

(You)I wish I could claim I left her on set, but she stays. But when you work with people like you, Lizzie, it's difficult not to bring her out, you know?

I waited for a bit, my pulse pumping slightly quicker than normal as I expected her reaction. But before I could think about it, my phone rang again.

(Lizzie 🥀)Hmm, maybe I'll give Wanda a chance at her. 😉 The chemistry is obvious.

I smiled, though no one could see it. I wasn't sure if she was still talking about our characters or something more personal. Perhaps both.

(You): Is this a challenge? Because Black Raven will not back down from one.

I sat back, exhaled, and smiled slightly. Was it a flirtation? I couldn't tell, but I didn't mind being unclear. For once, I wanted to let the words hang in the air without overthinking them. After all, everything was in good humor.

(RDJ) (After Lizzie's message): That's all. Y/N and Lizzie are now a real thing. Someone bring the popcorn.

I blinked, thoroughly caught off guard. Wait, was he talking about the chat? About us?

(Chris E.): You know what? I think they'd make an excellent couple. Don't you think?

(You): Lol, okay, okay, maybe I've had too much espresso today.

The studio lights had been bright for hours, and my legs hurt from running through take after take. The strain that came from filming Captain America: Civil War was finally easing as we took a break and spread across the set, ready for the next scene. The entire team had gathered in the makeup room to cool down, get food, and do everything they could to rest for a few seconds before the chaos returned.

I found myself standing in the corner of the room, trying to recover my breath while checking my phone for emails, texts, and the usual disaster. Lizzie walked in, her hair still a little filthy from the previous takes but looking effortlessly gorgeous as always. She gave me a heart-stopping smile, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"How's the new Black Raven scene going?" Lizzie asked, leaning on the counter near me. Her voice was sweet and playful, as if she understood how hard the day had been.

I rolled my eyes theatrically. "Oh, you understand. Running, battling, and being hit by objects I'm supposed to avoid. A typical day in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, right?"

Lizzie chuckled, her eyes bright with delight. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to the battle we're about to have in the next scene."

I raised my eyebrow at her. "Are you telling me Wanda is going to fight Black Raven? I'm all in on that."

Lizzie shrugged lightly, but I saw how her gaze lingered on mine a little longer than needed. "Who knows? Perhaps we'll be on the same side. Or not. You never know with us. "We have history."

That final part caught my attention.. She said it casually, but there was something more beneath the words, making me question if she was hinting at something more. "So, what do you think about the future?" Will we be best friends or enemies?" I asked, hoping to keep the discussion light, but I could see the air between us shifting, charged with something more.

Lizzie paused, her lips twisting into a cheeky grin. "I believe we could have some interesting chemistry on screen. You and I."

"Alright, guys," Joe Russo's voice echoed through the room, "let's get ready for the next shot."

The Filming Break

After another long sequence, the team took a break, and I found myself seated next to Lizzie again. This time, we were joined by a few other cast members, but the space between Lizzie and me felt different, as if there was an invisible thread pulling us together, even though we were sitting around chatting. We chuckled about the most recent scenario, in which our characters were meant to face off in a dramatic battle.

"You looked incredible in that fight scene," Lizzie added, her eyes shining with real adoration. "I have to admit, I didn't expect to be that ruthless."

I chuckled and shook my head. "Hey, this is all part of the character. But it's difficult to keep a straight face when we're dressed in silly costumes."

There was a silent moment, and the sound of the team preparing the next shot resonated in the distance. But it was not my top priority. I was concentrated on Lizzie, her eyes meeting mine,

"Maybe we could do that," I replied gently, my pulse pounding slightly quicker. "After we finish filming, might we... have a drink? Talk about life beyond the MCU?"

Lizzie's expression softened, and I could see a change in her eyes. She was considering it. "I'd like that," she murmured, barely rising above a whisper.

The last take had just finished, and the entire set burst into cheers. Some of us cheered and accepted. I stood there, hands on my hips, gathering my breath, my heart rushing from adrenaline rather than actual effort.

Months of filming, endless takes, bruises, sweat, early mornings, and late nights resulted in this: the final fight sequence in Berlin.

We were still in costume, half-covered in fake dirt, sweat seeping down between layers of leather, yet no one cared. There was a thrill, the type you feel after doing something incredible.

One of the assistants rolled in a monitor, and the director called out, "Alright, gather around. Let's watch the last sequence. You've earned it."

The screen began to light up. The first few clips of the Berlin combat began to play, with all the uncut footage patched together by one of the editors, who worked like magic. We watched as Cap and Tony fought, Peter helped with his spider ability, and Scott transformed into an actual giant.

But then came the moment we all waited for.

Wanda, or Lizzie in full Scarlet Witch beauty, flew over the asphalt and landed hard. The camera switched to a wide shot. A burst of black feathers and red energy appeared on the screen.

There I was, racing full speed at her, my boots hitting the concrete with amazing elegance. I sank to my knees next to her, scared yet cool. The sound wasn't completely mixed yet, but we could still hear the speech perfectly.

"You shouldn't have stayed behind."

"And let you go alone?" Never."

"You betrayed Tony."

"I don't care."

Everyone else made some kind of noise—"Oof," "Damn," "Okay, chemistry!" but I hardly heard it. I was looking at the screen too much. Specifically, on me, who was almost straining not to gaze at Wanda's chest in that fitting corset. And failing.

Badly.

Lizzie's lips twitched into a grin, and I noticed this out of the corner of my eye. She leaned down and said, "You were definitely not looking at my chest all the time in that scene."

Let forth a faint, regretful chuckle. "I stayed in character."

"Oh, sure," she said, sipping her coffee like a smug witch. "Black Raven was just emotionally overwhelmed by the... depth of Wanda's neckline."

By the time the last fight scene appeared on the monitor, the audience had quieted.

Everything stopped, including the conversation, taunting, and rustling of the food. We all sat there, actors still clad in half-costumes, sweating, hanging to our foreheads, our gaze fixed on the screen. The Berlin conflict was chaotic, but this was something else.

Tony. Steve. Bucky.

It wasn't simply punches and shields anymore; betrayal, sorrow, and desperation were woven into every action. Every punch was personalized. Every breath was heaviest.

When the shield collided with the arc reactor, there was a collective inhalation.

Nobody spoke. Nobody had to.

I noticed Chris and Robert seated side by side, both appearing much more serious than normal. Sebastian had his arms folded and his eyes squinted. Lizzie's fingers remained motionless against the sleeve of her sweatshirt, her knuckles white.

Then the screen went dark.

And another scene started.

Steve stormed down the Raft's hallways, mouth clenched, eyes scouring each gloomy path. The emergency lights flashed to a low red. The doors burst open. Guards had died. Empty cells.

Everyone leaned forward.

We hadn't viewed the footage yet—it wasn't done. Despite knowing what was about to happen, my stomach fluttered. I recalled shooting it and the weight of it. The atmosphere on set had been strained that day.

The camera followed Steve through the prison until he came to a stop.

Right there, bodies sprawled over the floor. Wanda's cell broke open. Debris. Smoke. Chaos.

Then the Woman emerged from the darkness, boots clicking on damp concrete.

Black Raven.

Me.

Drenched in blood, with tangled hair, the black villain's outfit is ripped and wild, like shadows sewn to skin. My character was motionless—except for her arms, which clutched Wanda against her chest. Wanda's hand grabbed my shoulder weakly.

Steve's voice resonated and was raspy. "What did you do?"

"What you would not do. Do not try to stop me, no one will hurt her again. And be careful, Captain. You're only alive because she likes you. And everything on my body wants to murder you, so stand aside."

The place nearly burst.

"Holy shit," Anthony Mackie said, half-standing. "That was badass."

"That's gonna break the internet," Scarlett said, her eyes still wide.

I saw myself on film taking Wanda to the Helicopter before turning around and disappearing into the darkness.

Chris whistled softly. "That's when the audience knows she isn't just a villain. She's something else entirely."

"I've got chills," Lizzie muttered near me.

Paul blinked. "Did... did your character kill all of them by herself?"

I gave a little smile. "She did."

"I love her," Robert announced. "She is terrifying. I love her."

Sebastian nudged me. "You looked like a vampire version of Batman."

"Thanks, I think?"

"No, seriously," the director interrupted, arms folded as he inspected the monitor. "That moment, when she carries Wanda like that? That isn't simply dark; it's loyalty. You can feel it."

Lizzie did not say anything immediately. She simply leaned in again and murmured, "You looked like you'd set the world on fire for her."

I looked at her, my lips parted slightly.

"And you looked like you'd let me."

She blushing but did not look away.

"Okay," Chris broke the quiet. "But can we talk about how Steve literally shows up ready to break them out, and Y/N's already done it and left a dramatic calling card?"

"I like a little flair," I shrugged.

"You carried me like a bride," Lizzie teased.

"You looked like one," I shot back without thinking.

She blinked.

So did I.

Scarlett grinned, she knew. "Guys get a room please, your eye fucking is too much even for me."

Jimmy Fallon show - a few months later

The lights came on strong, and the applause was louder than I imagined, but honestly? I was too high on adrenaline to notice.

Walking onto the Tonight Show set with the rest of the Avengers cast was unreal. The audience exploded as if we were true superheroes - Sebastian grinned, Robert blew kisses, Chris and Anthony began arguing playfully, and Scarlett walked like she ruled the building (she kinda did).

I greeted, smiled, and hugged Jimmy Fallon before sliding into my seat between Lizzie and Paul. Not by accident.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Jimmy announced dramatically once we had all settled down, "we have the most powerful couch on Earth right now."

"So," Jimmy leaned forward, fingers steepled, "Captain America: Civil War. Huge feelings. Large fighting. There's a lot of confusion. And some new faces..."

He grinned as he turned to face me. "Y/N Salvatore, Black Raven herself, welcome to the madness."

The audience applauded again. I giggled gently and smoothed my dress.

"Thank you," I said. "I'm still not sure how I ended up here. One day I'm filming in a castle cellar in Romania, and the next I'm avoiding flying vehicles,"

"You're incredible in the movie," Jimmy replied. "The prison scene? You're carrying Wanda out like you're a goth vampire knight in shining armor?"

The crowd howled. Lizzie gave a little sigh beside me, covering her mouth to conceal a chuckle.

"I-I was doing my best, okay?" I shrugged. "Black Raven is a little dramatic. It's in her blood."

Chris said, "She also kills like... twenty guards in under a minute," his eyes wide. "I was like - did we just add a slasher villain to the team?"

"She's not a villain," Lizzie insisted, remarkably adamant. "She's complicated."

I gazed at her. She stared at me.

Jimmy blinked. "Oh, hello."

More laughs. Robert leaned into his microphone. "This has been going on through the press trip. I swear to God."

"Don't look at us like that!" Lizzie protested, her cheeks flushing just enough to be noticed.

"Okay, but," Jimmy said, pulling out a single shot from the tape of me kneeling by Wanda, cradling her protectively, blood streaming from my hands. "You can't blame us for shipping it."

Cue the crowd losing their heads.

Scarlett laughed. "They have unreal chemistry. Like, we all saw it."

"Yeah," Anthony nodded. "Even between takes, they were still looking at each other like—"

"Finish that sentence and I swear—" I warned, but I was laughing too hard to sound serious.

Jimmy grinned. "Okay, alright. We'll keep things cool for now. But truly, your performance was incredible. The emotional intensity, the silence, the uncertainty..."

He turned back to face the group. "Was anyone else on set just like... watching her and forgetting to act?"

Paul raised his hand. "I did. Twice. I got yelled at."

Sebastian nodded. "I tripped over my line."

I ducked my head and grinned. "Now you're all just being sweet."

"No," Lizzie responded quietly. "You were real. And it is unusual."

The room was silent for a little moment. Just enough for me to notice how near her knee was to mine again. And how warm her hand felt as it lightly touched mine as the talk progressed.

We laughed, mocked, and acted out our biggest blunders (Chris screwed up his shield flip and smacked a bulb. Classic). Jimmy showed a montage of us dancing behind the scenes—yes, there was an uncomfortable moment when Lizzie and I spun around in full costume as the stunt squad looked at us like puzzled pups.

But the moment that stuck?

When Jimmy pulled out a fan-edited clip of Black Raven and Wanda with the title: "Born To Burn – A Love Between Fire and Shadow".

And we both blushed like idiots.

I was still laughing at Paul's impersonation of Vision trying yoga when Jimmy leaned in again, this time with that sparkle in his eye that suggested he was ready to stir things up.

"Alright, alright," he murmured, interrupting the laughter. "I know I can't expect too much, but come on... We need to discuss what comes next."

I felt my smile freeze slightly.

"What about the new Avengers lineup? Perhaps a secret antihero will make more appearances?" He raised an eyebrow wildly and fixed his eyes on me. "Y/N, will we be seeing more of Black Raven in the future?"

The audience reacted with a chorus of excited gasps and cheers, with some admirers in the first row already screaming my character's name.

I opened my lips, not knowing what to say.

Scarlett, thankfully, jumped in first. "If she tells you anything, Feige will literally teleport here and kill us all."

Everyone laughed, but Jimmy was not finished.

"Oh, come on," he responded, smirking. "No teases?" "Not even a hint?"

I attempted to maintain a neutral look, but my stomach was already in knots. I hadn't even read the final script for the following step. Rumors were flowing, and the pressure was building, but was it true? I wasn't sure what I was permitted or wanted to say.

I glanced down immediately, attempting to seem casual, but my fingers curled a bit harder around the edge of the couch seat.

Then I felt it.

A soft, comforting hand gently touched my thigh, right above my knee.

Lizzie.

She said nothing and didn't even look at me. Her gaze was still fixed on Jimmy, and her smile was as calm and dazzling as ever. But her thumb glided gently back and forth on the material of my dress.

It was a tiny gesture. Soft. Subtle. But stable.

I inhaled gently through my nose, urging my shoulders to remain calm. My heart, which had begun to stutter in my chest, resumed its normal rhythm.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," I eventually said, giving Jimmy a faint smirk. "But I do think the universe of Black Raven still has some shadows left to explore."

Jimmy lifted both brows and glanced around at the others. "That... felt like a yes."

Robert clapped his hands once. "That was a studio-trained 'I can't answer this' voice if I've ever heard one."

"Ten out of ten," Chris said. "Very smooth."

Lizzie's hand squeezed my thigh, barely noticeable, but she never took her hand off me.

I took a quick glimpse at her.

She didn't look at me. But the sweetest smile tugged on the corner of her lips.

Time passed...

The premier light finally faded. The press junkets slowed. The constant travel, fittings, early call times, and all-day shootings were finally over—or at least put on hold. But even after I returned to my own small corner of the earth, a peaceful house in New Jersey, the Marvel craziness continued.

Naturally, I kept in touch with the cast. That part was simple.

Group discussions were filled with inside jokes and memes. Chris still sent way too many selfies of himself and Dodger. Scarlett dropped voice messages that never made sense, and Robert constantly sent me culinary recommendations no matter where I was in the world.

And then there was Lizzie.

We chatted. Often.

Sometimes it was simply voice messages at 2 a.m. We sometimes had extended FaceTime chats while she was cooking. Sometimes, there was silence, yet it didn't feel far. Just...quiet comfort. Her name was constantly visible at the top of my texts. My thoughts were continuously drawn back to her.

I wasn't quite sure what we were. But I knew we weren't simply friends—that didn't seem right anymore.

It had been pouring outdoors when this happened.

I was tucked up in my favorite oversized sweatshirt, covered in a throw blanket, and sipping chamomile tea while reading through a stack of forgotten mail and half-read magazines that were gathering on the kitchen counter.

Then one headline attracted my attention.

"Scarlet Spell? Black Raven & Wanda Maximoff Actress Spotted Hand-in-Hand After Intimate NYC Dinner"

My stomach dropped, then fluttered.

I focused on the glossy photo printed over the bottom half of the tabloid. It was grainy, somewhat dark, but clearly us. Lizzie and I were going along a quiet street at night after supper last week. I had entirely forgotten that photographers were standing near that restaurant. She was giggling, her head slightly tilted back, and my hand was in hers.

Not for the camera. Not for public relations.

Just... her fingers curled around mine as if they belonged there.

I sat back on the barstool and looked at the paper.

Part of me panicked. What about the other part? I kind of didn't care.

I grabbed for my phone, my fingers hesitating over Lizzie's number.

Before I could start typing, a fresh message appeared on the screen.

Lizzie🩶: You saw it? 🙈 ...We look cute tho, not gonna lie.

Later that night...

My phone buzzed again, this time with an incoming FaceTime call from Lizzie.

I barely hesitated before responding.

Her face dominated the screen, lighted only by the warmth from her bedside lamp. Hair slightly messy, large sweatshirt, no makeup - it's simply her. She still managed to look like a dream.

"Hey," she responded, her voice mild and somewhat raspy. "You okay?"

I grinned and tucked my knees up to my chest. "You mean after our small-town scandal broke the internet?"

Lizzie laughed. "Right, I forgot, hand-holding, the most forbidden act."

"I know," I teased. "Next thing you know,w we'll be... smiling at each other in public."

"Oh, the horror."

We both laughed, slipping into that comfortable rhythm, the easy warmth that only comes from being with someone you trust.

There was a nice pause, although it lasted a little longer than normal.

"You looked good in that photo," she ultimately replied, her gaze shifting away from the camera for a moment. "Not that this is news. You always do."

I blinked, my lips parted slightly. "You, too. You looked happy."

She shrugged casually. "I was. I mean-I am. With you. It's always fun."

"Fun?" I teased, raising an eyebrow. "That's what I am to you?"

Lizzie leaned closer to the TV, smiling. "Maybe a little more than fun."

The butterflies in my stomach grew into something heavier.

And then—

DING!

A group chat notification slid across the top of the screen. "RDJ 🧃🥸: Alright nerds, suit up. We've got a new project to talk about 👀🦸‍♂️ #avengersassembleagain"

I blinked and then laughed out. "Did he seriously just—"

Lizzie was already rolling her eyes and grinning. "Of course he did."

"I didn't even get time to emotionally recover from the last one."

"We never do," she said. "That's the Marvel way."

I gazed back at her via the screen. A glimmer of passion. Her eyes sparkled.

"So," I asked gently, "Do you think we'll work together again?"

She smiled more slowly this time. "I really hope so."

I leaned my cheek against my hand. "Yeah. Me, too."

INT. CONVENTION HALL – MARVEL PRESS CONFERENCE

The stage was stylish. The backdrop said, "Marvel Studios: Phase 4 - Expanding the Universe." The rows of reporters, camera crews, and executives packed the room. The air was alive with curiosity.

I sat next to Lizzie, my posture excellent, and tried not to mess with the pen in my hand. Everyone had papers in front of them with secret Marvel material. Contracts. NDAs. Early outlines of the initiative, which we were here to publicly reveal.

I'd already read mine, attempting to keep my eyes from widening at the images I was in. And, more especially, who I was with throughout them.

Robert leaned down and said, "Have you read page 73 yet?" OH LORD, SEX SCENE...

I gave him a sideways glance. "Don't get me started."

He grinned and leaned back, as though he already knew everything.

Kevin Feige entered the stage. "The next film is something personal. We're sticking with a darker tone and more grounded emotion—but also something fans have been asking for."

The Russo Brothers then emerged, wearing their typical cool and cryptic expressions.

Anthony said that Y/N Hale and Wanda Maximoff would have a significant story in the next film.

The audience did not respond for a second.

And then, BOOM.

Gasps, whispers, and a few shouts. People began making notes and raising their hands. One reporter asked, "Romantic?"

Lizzie's gaze shifted toward me.

Joe nodded. "We can't say more."

My cheeks burned. I gulped water as if my life depended on it.

Chris Evans leaned forward and murmured, "You two are already trending. Check Twitter."

Scarlett gave me a slow smirk. "Better get used to the spotlight again, rookie."

I tried to hide my grin as I signed the last page of my contract. Black ink. Official.

Marvel had just made it canon.

And suddenly, we were the storyline.

INT. OUTDOOR MARVEL STUDIOS LOT – LUNCH TENT

The sun was warm overhead, creating a golden glow over the Marvel lot. A big picnic-style table was set up beneath an umbrella, and it was packed with known faces, including Chris Hemsworth with three protein bowls in front of him, Sebastian mocking Mackie, Tom Holland jumping in his seat, and RDJ at the head like some cheeky monarch.

I sat tucked between Scarlett and Lizzie, pecking at my salad and trying not to seem too excited.

Chris Evans sat down opposite us, sliding his tray as if he owned the table. "Okay, let us discuss Infinity War. No spoilers, but I read the script last night and"

"—You read the script?" Tom cut in quickly. "I've been given, like, three pages, and one of them was blacked out!"

Everyone came out laughing.

"Tom, you're literally the reason we have that many NDAs," Mackie said, pointing at him.

"I'm an innocent boy!" Tom gasped in his English accent.

"Sure you are," Sebastian murmured, his mouth full of fries.

Lizzie leaned over to me, lips close to my ear. "Have you read your scenes yet?"

"Not all," I said, clicking my nails on my water bottle. "But I saw one where I—uh—jump between two crumbling buildings and Wanda save me out mid-collapse?"

She grinned slowly.

"Maybe Marvel's trying to tell you something," Scarlett replied, without looking up from her dish.

Everyone turned.

"What?" She grinned and shrugged. "I see everything."

"Honestly, though," Hemsworth said, "the energy you two bring? Electric. I'm kind of jealous."

"Agreed," RDJ said. Seeing your connection on screen is like witnessing a solo film romance inserted into a superhero film. Very broody and intense."

Lizzie and I exchanged looks. I attempted to laugh it off, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"We're just... committed to the characters," I explained, attempting to maintain a cheerful tone.

"Right," Sebastian responded, exaggerating. "Very... method."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't you have a brooding scene to rehearse or something?"

Chris Evans smiled. "I ship it."

Tom blinked. "You mean in the movie?"

RDJ leaned back, his sunglasses glinting. "Sure, let's say that."

Lizzie's hand brushed mine under the table again, intentionally, softly. I looked down. She didn't move it. Neither did I.

"Okay, no spoilers," Feige called as he passed by with his own tray. "But can we all agree this cast is going to break hearts in Infinity War?"

"Oh, they're not ready," Scarlett said, gesturing between Lizzie and me with her fork. "Especially not for these two."

I hid my face in my cup. Lizzie just chuckled lowly beside me.

The sun was beginning to set behind the sound stages, coloring the sky in gold and pink. I was snuggled up on the little sofa in my trailer, script pages spread out on my lap, but I wasn't reading anymore.

Instead, I found myself looking at a specific scene, one in which my character and Wanda kiss and have sex. We're supposed to shoot it today. This is my first time on a Marvel movie with wlw intimate scenes, and I am quite nervous. There is also a sex scene with Lizzie, so ahhh.... This was not the first time our characters had kissed. Not by far. But... it was the one that lingered in my chest the most.

It wasn't difficult to pretend I was dating Wanda Maximoff. If anything, it was too simple. Sometimes I told myself that this was the most natural character I'd ever performed. The gentle stares, the lingering touches, the calm times between explosions when she'd grab my hand—it no longer seemed like acting. It felt like breathing.

The only thing that was not real was the kisses. And yet, every time Lizzie's lips touched mine on camera, I fell a bit deeper.

The first few times had been playful. Nervous laughs, gentle chuckles when the director yelled cut. But recently, Lizzie had changed. There was a change. There is a dominance to the way she touches me now- less hesitant, more confident. Her fingertips on my jaw, her thumb caressing my face, the gentle way she guided me through the scene.

And I let her. Gladly.

God, I probably looked like an idiot, leaning into her every action as if gravity drew me there.

I remembered the last scene we'd shot: her v me against the wreckage, and our characters finally having a raw moment of confession. Her forehead was pushed against mine, her breathing unsteady, and for a minute... I wasn't sure whether Wanda or Lizzie was whispering, "I can't lose you."

There was a knock on my trailer door just as I'd finished tying my robe. I was still mentally pacing, flipping through the revised script pages for today's shoot.

Not graphic, not that kind of sex scene, but still intimate. Slow, emotional, intense.

"Come in," I called, voice just a little higher than usual.

The door creaked open, and in stepped one of the Russo brothers, script rolled in hand, calm but serious. "Hey, just wanted to give you and Lizzie a quick rundown before we get on set."

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral even though my heart was already speeding up.

"We want it slow. Intimate. Like it's not just passion, but release- relief. You've both been holding it in for so long. There should be touches that feel almost hesitant. But once it starts... we want the audience to feel how much your characters want this."

I nodded again, biting the inside of my cheek. "Got it. Oh, and," he added, "when you're moaning, don't hold back. Say her name. Multiple times, people will love it.

He chuckled like it was nothing, but the casual direction sent a spark of heat up my spine. "Be raw with it."

Yeah. Sure. Totally fine. Definitely not freaking out.

I adjusted the collar of my shirt, which was soft and worn-looking. The costume designer had nailed the "undercover but still slightly dramatic" look. My character's hair was messily tied back, and there was no makeup save for the sort they used to make me appear like I had slept four hours in three days. Real method stuff.

Lizzie was already on set, barefoot, sitting on a pretend bed, and drinking from a paper coffee cup. She gave me that comfortable, lopsided smile. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," I said, taking a long breath.

Joe came in next to us and lowered his voice.

"This is morning-after energy," he explained. "You have been on the run for months. You've got used to the silence and your relationship. You are not superheroes here. You're simply two people trying to hang onto something positive. Something honest. We want to feel that."

I nodded, and Lizzie's expression had already changed. Wanda was there. Tired, gentle, and a little guarded.

And when they called action

Everything slid into place.

"I think I saw someone watching us near the market," I remarked, carefully folding a dish towel and placing it on the counter. "He wasn't following me, but... I'm not sure if I'm paranoid or right."

Wanda, Lizzie, glanced up from the table where she was cutting fruit. Her fingers hesitated slightly. "You're probably correct. You usually are."

I turned to face her. "Doesn't make me feel better."

She let out a giggle and walked to me.

"It's been peaceful here," she remarked. "I forgot what peace even felt like."

Lizzie stood close to me, dressed as Wanda, with delicate makeup and a dark red cloak thrown around her shoulders, her hand gently stretching across the table to mine. "We're safe here," she added, with Wanda's soft, quiet, but authoritative tone. It caused chills down my arms.

I nodded and gazed into her eyes, waiting for my cue. But I wasn't acting anymore. When she gripped my hand.

"We don't have to go back," Lizzie said. "We might disappear here. Just you and I."

I swallowed hard. "You really think they'd let us go?" I demanded, leaning forward as the script instructed me. The intensity of Lizzie's gaze on me felt too genuine.

Her fingers brushed under my chin as she tilted my face up. "Let them try," she whispered, right before her lips pressed to mine.

Her hand slid up my jaw, into my hair. I leaned into her touch, kissed her back like I meant it, because maybe... I did.

We locked eyes.

She leaned down and cupped my jaw with delicate fingertips. Her thumb stroked my face, then lowered to my lips.

"You're safe now," she murmured to Wanda, her voice filled with emotion. "With me."

My breath caught. "I always was," I said, just barely audible.

Then, she kissed me again.

As we explored our mouths with our tongues, she slowly moved us to our bed...

Slow at the beginning. Lingering. Her lips slid against mine as if she understood every curve, every pause that made me melt. Her hands moved beneath the blanket, tracing my waist and bringing me closer. Her leg was looped around mine, possessively.

Then, with one hand, she performed her caressing movement, and I held up my hands as if they were magically tied down, because that is the effect they will add later.

"Wanda"

"OH, Wanda"

But as her lips moved to my neck, Lizzie kissed me differently. Less scripted. Hungrier. Her tongue touched my skin, and her fingers curled behind my neck.

And that is when it slid.

"Lizzie..."

I said it like a breath, a prayer.

The camera did not catch it. Nobody said anything. But I felt it. I knew it.

When the director screamed, "Cut!"I jumped upright and tucked the sheet over my chest.

"I'll, um, I'll be in my trailer," I murmured, blushing.

I didn't glance back at Lizzie. Couldn't. My heart was pounding, and my thoughts were spinning out of control. I grumbled since that was not Wanda.

That was Lizzie.

And I meant it.

I'm fucked.

I had been ghosting everyone for a weeks.

Text messages remained unopened. Conversations in groups were muted. Missed calls from Robert, Chris, Scarlett, Paul, and Lizzie.

I just couldn't.

When I moaned her name on set, it seemed like something inside me split wide open. I hadn't only crossed a professional line; I had revealed something far too true. Then I ran like a coward. Classic. And now? I couldn't even look at her, much less pretend we were "just friends" or "just coworkers."

So I remained away. From the cast. From rehearsals. From everything.

I didn't want to admit it, but the only thing that hurt was Lizzie's lack of communication.

Maybe she overheard it. Perhaps she didn't. Regardless, she remained mute.

That made things worse.

I was cuddled up on my couch, hoodie pulled over my head, watching horrible reality TV and eating cold leftovers when the doorbell rang.

I ignored it.

Then came the second ring.

Then they knocked.

Then there was some banging.

And, through the awful door—

"Y/N Salvatore, if you don't open this door in the next ten seconds, I'm calling Feige and telling him you died in a tragic avocado toast incident."

...Goddammit.

I grumbled and trudged to the door, opening it just slightly. Robert Downey, Jr. was standing there. Designer sunglasses, a wide-brimmed hat, coffee in one hand, and what appeared to be a Gucci purse in the other.

"Oh, thank God," he said, shoving past me. "I thought you had vanished. This area smells of sadness and fried chips. Not cute."

"Nice to see you, too," I mumbled, closing the door behind him.

He turned and pointed at me. "Sit. We're talking."

"I'm fine."

"Nope," he said. "You're in love, ignoring your lover, and attempting to self-sabotage before the greatest Marvel premiere of your life. Also, you haven't showered today."

I narrowed my eyes. "Did Lizzie send you?"

He snorted. "Lizzie has no idea I am here. She's too busy pretending she isn't devastated. Which, by the way, she is doing poorly at. The girl has been poking at foods as if they insulted her mother."

I glanced aside, my arms crossed across my chest.

Robert groaned and sat near me on the couch. "Look. I got it. It's messy. You are afraid. You believe you have ruined something."

"I did ruin it."

He shakes his head. "No. You felt something. She did, too. Salvatore, don't play stupid; you both acted as if you forgot there were cameras. Do you believe that type of chemistry is normal? We were all watching playback and wondering if this was still acting."

I didn't respond.

"You're not alone in this," he said quietly. "You are not a monster for having emotions. She definitely did, too. You're both simply being foolish. Which is why I am hosting dinner tonight. One of our last before the press tour madness begins. Everyone is invited. And yes, you will be there."

"I'm not going."

He stood dramatically. "That's wonderful, but I had already planned to drive you there myself. So either you get ready and arrive dressed like a Greek goddess, or I sling you over my shoulder and drag your theatrical vampire ass out in a robe."

I looked at him, blinking. "...Fine. But I'm wearing black."

"Duh. It is your color."

LATER — Y/N's BEDROOM

I stood in front of the mirror, curling the last strand of my hair. Something elegant but soft. My dress was black, yes, but tasteful. Backless. Flowing. Simple, but still dramatic. I applied a final coat of deep red lipstick.

My heart was racing.

Not because of the dinner. But because I knew I'd see her again. Lizzie.

And I had no idea how to act normally anymore.

But I could fake it. That was the job, right?

I grabbed my heels. Took a breath.

Robert was waiting downstairs, blasting ABBA on his phone like a true icon.

Time to face the chaos.

And maybe... her.

Robert's house is like a Vogue spread transformed into a mansion. There are lights everywhere, jazz playing from concealed speakers, candles flickering around the pool, and so many people.

I squinted at the sight, my heels tapping on the marble as I followed Robert through the front door. "Wait," I said, lifting an eyebrow. "Didn't you say this was a dinner?"

He smirked as he stared at me over his spectacles. "I mentioned there will be food. You imagined it meant 'calm' and 'intimate.' That is on you."

"Robert, there are at least forty people here."

"Not a single boring one. "You are welcome."

Before I could strangle him with my hold, he vanished into the crowd, greeting everyone like a Hollywood Zeus descending from Olympus.

I groaned and looked around the room. There is no indication of Lizzie.

Okay. Take a deep breath. Keep it cool.

I approached the bar, anxious for something cold and boozy. That's where I noticed Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan leaning heavily against it, as if they were in some whiskey ad.

"Ayyy, look who rose from the dead!" Anthony grinned and pulled me in for a hug.

"You do look like a vampire queen tonight," Sebastian said, lifting his glass. "I really adore it. Brooding looks fantastic on you."

"Thanks," I mumbled, smiling. "That's what two weeks of existential dread and bad reality TV will do to you."

We clinked glasses. Whiskey scorched my throat.

They spoke, asked how I was, and teased me like elder brothers, which made me chuckle. Until Anthony's smile became hazardous.

"Alright. Dare time."

Sebastian lifted an eyebrow. "This isn't high school."

"Oh, shut up, you love this." Anthony turned to face me. "Y/N, I challenge you to dance with Bucky Barnes over here. But, really, dance. None of that nice swaying. I want hip action. Maintain eye contact. Full commitment."

Sebjust chuckled and reached for my hand. "Are you up for it?"

I arched my brow. "You wish."

But I had already placed my drink down.

The music changed, darker, slower, hotter. Low boom sends through the floor.

And yes, I agreed.

I strolled with Sebastian across Robert's marble living room, as if we were in a noir club scene. Smooth, sultry, and a touch playful. His hand rested softly on my waist as I turned, our feet perfectly coordinated. Everyone around us cheered.

It was enjoyable. Light. Silly.

And suddenly, I felt it.

That sting.

It felt like flames on the back of my neck.

I turned.

Lizzie.

Standing near the bar.

Watching me.

Her jaw tensed, and the wine glass froze in midair. Her eyes focused on me.

Shit.

I quickly stepped back from Sebastian, laughed it off, and grabbed my drink, only to be stopped.

A hand was tightly wrapped around my wrist.

Fingers are warm.

"Lizzie—"

"Outside. Now."

Her voice sounded low. Controlled. Too calm.

She almost dragged me past the crowd and into a quiet corridor beside the kitchen, far enough away from the music to hear only the pounding of my own heartbeat.

And then, boom, I was pinned.

Back against a wall.

Her hands are on either side of my waist.

I'm breathing quickly.

Eyes are black.

"Are you trying to drive me insane?" she growled, moving closer.

I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I wasn't sure what to say.

She drew a trembling breath and moved back half an inch, leaving just enough space to make the tension break like a rubber band. Her voice lowered, harsh with pain. "You avoided me for weeks, Y/N."

I swallowed, remorse setting in.

"And now?" She sneered and clenched her fists. "Now you're out there... dancing with Sebastian like it's a fucking date? Really?" Her voice broke just enough to devastate me. "So what am I, nothing to you now?"

"Lizzie, no-"

"No? Then look me in the eyes and say that."

I tried. God, I tried.

But the moment our eyes met, my heart skipped, my throat tightened, and everything inside me screamed her name.

She laughed sadly, tears threatening but not dropping. "You can't, can you?"

I didn't respond.

"I was there for you," she muttered. "Through all of it. When you shut down, left the stage early, or stopped responding to texts. I waited. I worried. And still, I believed myself you only needed time."

Her fingers stroked my arm, sensitive yet trembling. "But then I walk in tonight and you're smiling like nothing happened. With him. And I can't." She broke off, coming closer.

"I can't look at you with him," she whispered. "Every time I see you with someone else, my body just" Her breath caught. "Every part of me wants to take you away, Y/N. Take you out of this room, put you against a wall, and remind you who you belong to."

She was shaking, but not because she was weak.

Pain. Passion. Love entangled in an unbreakable knot.

"Don't you get it?" She breathed and looked at me as if I were the only thing keeping her alive. "I love you."

That shattered me.

"Liz-" I gasped out.

"I want you completely," she snapped. "I do not want a half-hearted version of you. I do not desire stray looks or hushed practice. I want the version who would whisper lines into my shoulder at midnight. The one who softened as I kissed her neck after a take. I want you. All of you."

And then, suddenly, her lips were inches from me.

Breathless. Burning.

"I can't pretend this is just acting anymore. And I won't."

I gazed at her, every muscle in my body begging to let go. To give in. To tell her I felt the same way, that she wasn't alone in this insane situation. The fear of losing her kept me up every night.

"Say something," she begged.

My chest lifted and sank as if I'd just finished a marathon. Her words were still reaching in my mind: I want you totally. My lips split, but it seemed like my heart had risen up my throat,

I didn't have to think anymore. I didn't need to second-guess or pretend that she hadn't already blasted through every wall I'd ever created.

"Then kiss me."

Her breath caught.

That is all it took.

Lizzie jumped forward in an instant, her lips crashing against mine, angry and hungry. One hand was knotted in my hair, and the other gripped my waist as if she wanted to ground herself before losing control. I slid toward her, holding to her jacket as my lips parted without hesitation.

There was nothing planned or practiced about it. It was not a scene; it was real. Every brush of her tongue, every moan against my mouth, was messy, urgent, and true. We'd waited too long for this. And suddenly everything was spilling out.

She pushed me back against the wall, her body pressed against mine, her thigh slipping between mine with a possessive ease that made my breath catch and my knees weak.

Her mouth left mine, only to trail down my jaw and down my throat, biting softly before returning to my lips as if she couldn't stay away. Her hands were everywhere—sliding beneath my dress, holding my hips, and squeezing as if she didn't care who saw.

And perhaps she didn't. Perhaps I didn't either.

But then

We heard laughter on the opposite side of the hallway. Someone is calling for Chris.

Lizzie remained still.

We were both panting, foreheads mashed together, and hearts pounding like thunder.

"I swear to God," she said, eyes still closed, "if someone ruins this again, I'll kill them."

I laughed out loud, my head tilted back against the wall. "We can't do this here."

She sighed and leaned in for one more kiss, slow this time, deep and devastating. Her hand caressed my cheek as she pulled away, her gaze softening.

"Come with me," she said, her voice lower now. "Let me take you home."

I didn't even hesitate.

When we went out of that hallway, it was like walking into a spotlight. The party's talk stopped for a short moment before resuming.

"Ohhh, look who finally came up for air!" Anthony shouted, raising his cup with a smile.

Sebastian simply let out a long whistle. "It took you long enough. I thought you two were going to fuck each other there."

Chris smiled and nudged Scarlett. "Called it. I said by the end of the night, someone would be pinned to a wall."

Scarlett just rolled her eyes and raised her glass. "Finally."

I felt blood rush to my cheeks. Lizzie and I were still holding hands, fingers interlaced, lips swollen, lipstick slightly blurred, and out of breath. The proof was written all over us.

I squeezed her hand, holding back a laugh as Tom raised his brow and murmured to Zendaya, "Do we cheer? Clap? Light fireworks?"

"Fireworks," Zendaya responded without skipping a beat. "Obviously."

Lizzie simply rolled her eyes at each of them. "Children," she mumbled under her breath, turning to me with a little smile. "Let's get out of here before they start placing bets."

And with that, we slipped out.

Initially, the car was quiet. The city lights reflected a lovely golden tint through the windows, flickering over Lizzie's face as she drove. One hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh.

Her thumb brushed gentle circles at first, innocent and even oblivious. But things did not stay that way.

Her hand began to move higher, slowly and carefully.

"You know," she continued casually, not looking at me, "you have the worst poker face."

I swallowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked. "Every time I touched you back there, your breathing changed."

I scoffed, my cheeks flushed. "It did not."

Her fingers climbed a bit higher. "Did so."

"Maybe you were just breathing harder, Olsen."

"Oh, baby." Her voice dipped, seductive and sexy. "I understand how you breathe when I touch you. I've been studying it for several months."

I turned to the window, trying not to burn, but she leaned in at a red light, whispering in my ear, "And when you moaned my name before... even if no one heard it, I did."

Her fingertips were no longer simply teasing my thigh. They explored slowly, confidently, and possessively. Moving up with purpose.

I shifted slightly in my seat, pretending I wasn't losing my mind, but my breath betrayed mesharp and sharp.

Lizzie's smirk deepened, her gaze fixated on the road as if she wasn't driving me insane. "I love how quiet you get when I touch you like this," she said.

Her fingertips dipped just beneath the bottom edge of my dress, brushing across the naked skin on my inner thigh. Higher. Slower. She wasn't hurrying anything. It was as if she wanted to memorize every inch, torturing me with excitement.

"You didn't want to talk to me for weeks," she said quietly and quietly, "but now look at you. "Falling apart in the front seat."

"Lizzie..." I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for just a moment.

She hummed. "You gonna beg me to stop?"

I shook my head, jaw gritted. "No."

She gave a quiet, satisfied laugh. Her hand reached just high enough to make me gasp, and then she drew away entirely.

"What the hell?" I looked at her, breathless, but she had already pulled into her driveway.

She slowly parked the car and then turned to face me. Her lips twisted into that arrogant, drop-dead gorgeous smile, which she knew had wrecked me.

"Get inside," she urged, her tone suddenly stern and forceful. "We're not done."

My heart pounded. "You, are you serious?"

She released her seatbelt with a gentle click. "You have been taunting me for months. Dancing with Sebastian, avoiding me, moaning my name when no one should hear..." Her glance swept over me. "You don't get to walk away again."

I swallowed hard, my knees wobbly, as I hopped out of the car and followed her to the door.

Lizzie turned around, jealousy in her eyes, as the door closed behind us. Before I could blink, she was raising me with ease, as if she had been waiting all night, and my legs reflexively wrapped around her waist.

"Bedroom," I whispered against her neck, my voice shaking.

She grinned. "Obviously."

Her lips claimed mine again, deep and eager, as she went down the hall as if nothing else mattered but putting me on her bed. I felt the heat coming from her skin, and mine felt similar—burning and throbbing.

As soon as we reached the door, she lowered me into the soft sheets—but didn't pull away. Her body hung over mine, her hands slipping under the sleeves of my dress, and her tongue trailing down the side of my neck. She picked a location just below my jaw and bit—not hard, but enough to make me gasp and leave a growing bruise that she had carefully planned.

"That's mine," she said, her voice low and full of yearning.

Her hands grew impatient, pushing the dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but lace. She sat back to view me, her chest rising and falling, mouth parted, and eyes wide.

"You're so beautiful, baby." She leaned back down and kissed my collarbone. "You've got no idea what you do to me."

I arched into her, moaning quietly as her hand moved between my thighs, her fingertips ghosting across the damp cloth. "Lizzie..."

"I know," she whispered. "I know, sweetheart."

She stripped me naked with slow, deliberate strokes, caressing every inch of exposed skin as if I were precious. Her lips traced a route down my ribs, stomach, and hips, leaving hickeys as evidence of possession.

She took her time, putting her fingers inside me just as her lips touched my breast, nibbling and teasing till I trembled beneath her. Her name escaped my lips in a breathy gasp again and over, and she enjoyed it. Her other hand held my wrist down softly but strongly.

"I want everyone to see what's mine," she muttered against my skin before leaving another mark right over my heart. "I want them to know."

I was lost in her, every touch, every breath, every piece of her weight on mine. She did not simply touch me; she held me. It seemed as if she was connecting me to the world. Even with all that dominance, there was a lot of love behind it.

When I came, it was with her name on my tongue, her hands grounding me, her lips murmuring praise I couldn't even process.

She didn't stop there.

Afterwards, she kissed me softly, her hands stroking my face, her voice gentler than ever. "You okay, baby?"

I nodded, still trying to catch my breath. "You ruined me."

She grinned. "I plan to do it again. And again."

Lizzie was still catching her breath as I rolled on top of her, straddling her hips with a playful grin.

She looked up at me, confused. "Oh, you're not done?"

I bent down and kissed her softly, tongue brushing against hers, one hand creeping into her hair and the other trailing down her warm chest.

"Not even close," I said softly against her lips. "My turn."

Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "Then take it, baby."

I kissed down her throat.

Her skin tasted like salt and passion, like all the fire she'd poured into me, and now I was ready to return it all. My tongue reached the top of her breast, and I sucked softly before biting down just enough to make her hiss.

"Fuck, Y/N," she muttered, leaning into me. "You're getting cocky."

"You made me this way," I said, brushing my lips over her skin, lowering myself until I was kneeling between her legs.

She stared down at me, hair tangled around her pillow, lips puffy, cheeks flushed, and her eyes?

God, she looked destroyed, yet she was still so powerful. Even in surrender, she remained untouchable.

I pulled her thighs over my shoulders, kissed the inside of her knee, then the dip of her leg, and grinned as she snapped beneath me.

"You gonna be good for me?" I asked quietly.

"I'll be whatever you want," she said, her voice broken.

Lizzie's hand quickly reached the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair, as I kissed a stripe across her pussy

"Shit, Y/N. Yes. Exactly like that, baby."

I continued on, slowly at first, teasing her with the tip of my tongue, and watched her tear. Her hips rotated in quest of more, and I gave it to her flicking, sucking, and devouring her as if I were hungry. "Baby, you're really good at this," she sighed. "Fuck, you were made for me."

Her thighs gripped around my head as I murmured against her, sending vibrations through her core, causing her to cry out. She was panting now, rubbing against my mouth, and I didn't stop, not even when her moans became louder, she tugged my hair, or her back arched.

"You want to make me come, pretty girl?" she growled.

I gazed up at her, lips wet, and nodded. "Beg for it."

Lizzie's eyes brightened up. "Oh, fuck. Are you really going to make me?"

I smirked. "Yeah."

She let out a breathless laugh. "You don't realize how hot you are like this. Please, Baby. Please make me come."

That was all I needed.

I put two fingers into her, curving them perfectly while my tongue worked on her clit and the cry that exploded from her chest was filthy. Her body bucked, her feet pressed into my back, and she let out a low groan that rang throughout the room.

"Y/N. I'm, fuck, I'm coming!"

She cracked, yelling my name and writhing under me, her thighs tightening around my head like a vice. I didn't stop until she was exhausted, jerking, and gasping for air.

When I eventually crept back up her body, she looked beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest heaved, her hair tangled, and her red lips parted in the softest, sweetest grin.

She threw her arms around me and drew me into her.

I kissed her shoulder, then her neck. "You're mine."

"And you're mine," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Every bit of you."

The first thing I noticed when I awoke was the silence.

The type of sweet, dreamy silence that only comes in the early morning. No cars, no texts, and no buzzing notifications. Just the warm weight of covers on my skin and the faint perfume of Lizzie on my pillow.

She was still sleeping next to me, her face buried in the blankets and one arm casually thrown across where I used to be. Her breathing was regular and quiet. Peaceful.

God, she was stunning like that.

I dropped a short kiss on her temple and slid out of bed as silently as possible, sliding one of her big t-shirts over my naked body. It covered my body, the sleeves almost reaching my elbows and touching the tops of my thighs like a dress. I grinned to myself, wondering why it felt so intimate to wear her clothing. I felt surrounded by her warmth even when she was sleeping.

Padding barefoot into the kitchen, I decided to be a nice girlfriend and prepare her breakfast. A small "thank you for last night" gesture. (And possibly: "I'm head over heels for you and can't stop thinking about how you kissed me like I was your whole world." )

When I added the eggs, the pan hissed, and I began looking around for coffee. It was busy but comfortable, me in her shirt, music playing gently from my phone on the counter, and dawn light streaming through the curtains.

Then I felt it: the familiar warmth.

Lizzie's chin settled on my shoulder as her arms wrapped around my waist from behind. She seemed warm and tired, her voice heavy and husky as she spoke.

"Mmm... Are you trying to kill me?"

I giggled and leaned back into her hug. "What?"

"You. In my shirt. Making breakfast. Looking like that." She nuzzled her cheek on my neck. "It is criminal. I should arrest you."

I grinned, putting down the spatula, and covered her hands with mine. "You're ridiculous."

"You love it."

"I do."

She hummed and gave me a delicate kiss just below my ear. "It smells nice. Are you attempting to tempt me into round two?"

I smirked as I glanced over my shoulder. "Would it work?"

Lizzie's eyes glittered, and sleep clung to her eyelids. "Baby, you are the reward."

We remained there for a bit, her arms wrapped around mine, our bodies swaying gently in time with the music. There is no haste, no world outside. It's just us.

"You know," she murmured softly, "this...this is everything."

I turned into her arms and wrapped mine around her neck. "What is?"

"This. Waking up with you. Seeing you in my kitchen. Wearing my clothes"

"Come back to bed," she whispered.

"But I'm cooking."

She nipped at my bottom lip. "Breakfast can wait."

And just like that, the eggs were forgotten...

#wlw #marvel #fluff #fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #smut

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spooky-bunnys · 9 days ago

Text

Title: Surprise Reveal

Fandom: Haikyuu

Pairing: Alpha!Kenma x Omega Hinata Sibling!M.Reader

Warnings: ABO, very slight angst, soft Kenma, FLUFF!

Kenma hummed softly as he stared into the camera. His favorite gaming headphones on as he watched the comments coming in. Hinata Shoyo who was excitedly talking beside him as the next game was loading up. They had decided to have a charity stream today since Shoyo was gonna be over this week regardless.

Kenma sighed as the comments started asking more personal questions. He huffed as Shoyo answered them anyways. Sipping from the coffee his amazing Omega made him during the last game they were playing. Shoyo's laughter seemed to brighten up the chats mood as Kenma ignored the comments asking about his personal life. It wasn't any of their business anyways.

"Yeah I've known Kodzuken since I started high school! We played Volleyball for two different schools that were rivals apparently."

Kenma silently groaned while looking away from the growing chat. He straightened up when the game, Legal Company, finally loaded. Letting Kenma know that they could start ignoring the chat and focus on more of the gaming part of the stream.

Shoyo whooped as his character made it back to the ship alive unlike the last area where he had accidentally got caught up in the quick sand area. Kenma fondly rolled his eyes as both of their characters were emptying out their storage space when the gaming room door was thrown open.

(Name) came running in with tears streaming down his face and distressing pheromones on almost full blast. Both men jumped up to try and soothe the sobbing Omega for two different reasons. Kenma because his Omega was in distress. Shoyo because his little brother was going into a panic attack.

"I-I didn't mean to! I-I had just gone for the mail! Then-Then Mochi ran out between my legs! And-And-"

(Name) choked on a sob. Kenma was releasing soothing pheromones trying to calm (Name) down enough to get the full story while Shoyo was starting to understand what was going on.

"(Name) it's okay! Mochi will be just fine. He'll come back."

(Name) sobbed more and shoved his face into Kenma's clothed chest making Kenma side glare the older Hinata. Shoyo shifted slightly trying to ignore his glaring brother in law.

"No! You-You don't get it! The neighbor let out his-his dog! It chased after Mochi! Alpha what do I do??!!"

Kenma's heart broke and he wrapped his arms tightly around (Name). He eased (Name)'s face towards his scent gland. Trying to calm (Name) down before he gets more upset and gets sick.

"It's okay baby. Shoyo and I will look for Mochi. While we do that why don't you call Kags and Kuroo? Maybe Mochi went to Kuroo's and Kageyama should be on his way back from the store by now. Do you want me to call Akashi and Bokuto too?"

(Name) nodded in Kenma's chest making his heart clench. Kenma went to grab his phone before noticing the camera light was still on. They were still streaming. Everyone now knows that Kodzuken was mated to THE Shoyo Hinata's younger brother. They now knew Kenma was a mated Alpha.

That could've gone better.

(Name) hugged the now purring white cat closer to himself. Kenma pulled (Name) more into his side while their friends were gathered around them.

"That's when Kenma realized that the charity stream had caught everything."

Kageyama snorted while nuzzling into Shoyo's red hair. Kuroo and Bokuto laughed loudly. Their loud Alpha personalities showing brightly. While Akashi's soft Omegan side silently making a bigger show as he checks on (Name) and Mochi.

"When I had gotten the call about Mochi getting out I didn't expect the rest of that. How did neither of you notice that you were still streaming?"

Kenma rolled his eyes annoyed.

"I'm sorry but when my Omega barges into the room sobbing and releasing distressed pheromones. The stream became the last thing on my mind."

Kenma kissed (Name)'s head and smiled softly when (Name) nuzzled more into the Alpha's warmth. Kenma knew that this reveal was going to be blowing all over the internet right now. But that wasn't important. What was important was making sure both (Name) and Mochi were okay.

#male reader #x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #kenma kozume x male reader #kodzuken #kodzuken x male reader #kozume kenma x male reader #kenma x male reader #kozume kenma #haikyuu kenma #kenma kozume #male omega reader #haikyuu

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jetii · 6 months ago

Text

By Your Name

Part One

Pairing: Wrecker x fem!Reader / Wrecker x Jedi!Reader

Words: 7,998/19,226

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, good-natured brotherly teasing, smut, this is mostly just smut actually, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), size kink, aftercare, dirty talk, Wrecker being a sweetheart that is a given

Summary: You and Wrecker are still figuring out exactly what your relationship means, and a month apart hasn't helped. Now that you're reunited again, nothing is going to stand in the way of the two of you getting what you want.

A/N: Greetings from horny jail! I didn't proofread this one that much so if you see any mistakes no you didn't.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Keeping your relationship with Wrecker a secret is easier said than done. There's no denying the spark between the two of you, and it only seemed to grow stronger in the days following your confession. To you, Wrecker is the sun, and you're a planet caught in his orbit, drawn in by his warmth and light.

It's become increasingly difficult to keep things professional when all you want to do is pull him into a kiss, or spend every waking moment touching him in some way. Every time his fingers brush yours, or his hand finds the small of your back, the desire to kiss him, to hold him, to simply be with him is nearly overwhelming. And it's a feeling that only grows stronger the longer you're away from him.

Saying goodbye to Wrecker at the end of your tour with the Batch had been almost unbearable, and the distance has been agonizing. The weeks apart had dragged on, and the only solace you had was in the late-night calls and the occasional text. The longing had been a constant companion, and it had left you irritable and on edge.

But now, finally, the two of you will be reunited, and the excitement building in your chest is impossible to ignore. Even though it's been weeks since the two of you were last together, it feels like a lifetime, and you can't wait to be near him again. To feel his arms around you, his hands on your skin, his lips on yours.

The two of you had barely had enough time to figure out what exactly you are to each other before you left, and with the others around, there was little else you could do beyond a few stolen moments. But now, after weeks of anticipation and separation, you're finally getting the chance to explore things further.

And you know Wrecker is intent on making the most of the opportunity.

It was no secret that the man is incredibly tactile, and the fact that he'd been unable to touch you the way he wanted to, the way you both needed him to, had clearly taken a toll. His texts had grown progressively bolder, and the calls had lasted well into the night, and you'd spent hours on the comm with him, trying to keep your voice down while he told you everything he planned on doing to you once you were alone.

And now, you're on the same planet, finally, and the thought is enough to drive you crazy. You're already waiting in the hangar bay when the Marauder arrives, and the sight of it, the sight of him, sends a thrill of anticipation through you. The moment the ship touches down, the ramp lowers, and Wrecker comes barreling down, his arms outstretched.

"Hey, General!" he shouts. "Get ready, 'cause I'm gonna—"

You don't wait for him to finish. Instead, you throw yourself into his arms, and he catches you with ease, his arms wrapping around you, lifting you up off the ground. He spins you around, the two of you laughing and grinning like fools, and you're so happy you can barely breathe.

"Miss me?" you ask, breathless, your arms around his neck.

"Kriff, yeah," he says. "Wasn't the same without you."

"It wasn't the same for me, either," you murmur. "I didn't realize how much I would miss having you around."

"Me, neither," he replies.

He sets you down, but his arms stay locked around your waist, holding you close. The urge to kiss him is a physical ache, and the closeness is almost unbearable. But you can't, not here, not now, and so you settle for the feel of his arms around you, his hands stroking your back.

"I'm glad to see you," he says, his voice soft.

"I missed you, too," you reply, smiling up at him.

"I can't wait to show you how much I missed you," he whispers. The look in his eyes, the heat in his voice, sends a rush of desire through you, and you shiver. "Been thinkin' about it every day."

"Have you?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "And I've got a few ideas."

"Oh?" you ask, unable to keep the smile off your face. He's practically radiating energy, the excitement rolling off him in waves, and it's infectious.

Before he can respond, the sound of someone clearing their throat snaps you back to reality. The two of you turn, and you spot the others standing a short distance away at the end of the ramp. Crosshair and Tech look mildly amused, while Hunter looks vaguely uncomfortable, and Echo's expression is one of long-suffering annoyance.

"Uh, Wrecker," Hunter says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You mind putting her down so we can go?"

"What?" Wrecker asks. "Oh. Yeah, yeah. Sorry."

He lets go of you, his hands trailing over your waist as he steps back. You brush your hands across your tunic, trying to quell the butterflies in your stomach, and Wrecker grins down at you.

"Sorry," you say, unable to keep the smile off your face. "It's been a while."

"Just save it for the ship,” Crosshair drawls as he passes by.

"Don’t worry, we will," Wrecker fires back, throwing an entirely unnecessary wink in his direction. Crosshair rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. Tech follows, shaking his head with a small smile.

"I am glad that the two of you have reconciled your differences," he says, his eyes flicking to yours. "But please keep such displays of affection to a minimum in our presence.”

"Sorry, Tech.”

"We'll behave," Wrecker adds, but his tone is teasing.

"I doubt that," Echo mutters, but his eyes are crinkled at the corners. You flush, but can't help but return the smile. He's not wrong, after all.

"We'll try," you amend, and the others chuckle as they follow Crosshair out of the hangar toward the barracks. You and Wrecker walk a short distance behind them, keeping pace, and the silence is comfortable, the two of you walking shoulder to shoulder. He leans over and nudges your arm, and you glance up at him, catching the grin on his face.

You smile back, unable to hide your excitement, and the look in his eyes is almost enough to make your knees give out. You have no idea how you're going to get through the rest of the day, knowing that he's within arm's reach. Knowing that tonight, when the others have gone to sleep, the two of you will have the ship to yourselves. And the thoughts running through your mind are enough to have you squirming in place, eager for the day to end.

"Welcome back, by the way," you say, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach.

"Glad to be back," Wrecker says. "And ready to start celebrating."

"Oh, is that what we're doing?" you tease.

"Mhm," he replies, his voice low and rough. "Gonna celebrate the kriff outta you."

You bite back a gasp, and your face heats up. You'd known Wrecker was forward, but the way he talks about wanting you, the way he openly stares at you, is still startling. No one has ever been so open with their feelings before, and while you're still getting used to the idea, it's nice. Reassuring. It's a reminder that this is real, that he wants you, and it's all you can do not to melt on the spot.

"Sounds like a good plan," you reply, your voice hoarse, and you resist the urge to fan yourself.

"Knew you'd see it my way," he says, and the look he gives you is enough to send a jolt of heat straight to your core.

The two of you continue on in comfortable silence, and you can't help but glance at him, taking in the sight of Wrecker finally back by your side. You can't deny that the past few weeks have been...frustrating. Being unable to be near him, or touch him, or even speak openly about how you feel has been agonizing. And the constant teasing and flirting via holo hasn't helped.

There are so many things you've wanted to say, to do, but haven't had the chance. Now, with the privacy and space, the temptation is nearly overwhelming. And the look on Wrecker's face tells you that he's thinking the same thing. You just need to get through the next couple hours without drawing too much attention, and then...

As expected, the celebration is a simple affair, a meal and a round or two of drinks at 79s. You've gotten used to the squad's traditions over the past year, and it's a relief to know that the evening won't drag on for hours. As it is, your patience is wearing thin, and you can tell that Wrecker feels the same.

"So," Hunter starts, his eyes fixed on the two of you. "Did you have a chance to talk about things while we were away?"

"Yeah, a bit," Wrecker says, shifting in his seat. His leg brushes against yours, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. "Still workin' things out."

"I see," Hunter says. He takes a sip of his drink, his gaze flicking between the two of you, and he raises an eyebrow. "Just try not to make it too obvious, okay?"

"I'm not making any promises," Wrecker smirks, and the words are directed at his brother, but the way his eyes burn into you is unmistakable. You bite your lip, the heat on your cheeks nearly unbearable. The fact that he's so brazen, so shameless, is doing nothing to help your growing desire, and it's all you can do to keep a straight face.

"Wrecker, please," Echo groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Sorry, sorry," Wrecker chuckles, and his hand finds your thigh beneath the table, his fingers squeezing gently. You resist the urge to jump, trying to ignore the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your pants. You can tell he's teasing, testing the boundaries, and the look on his face is almost smug. "I'll behave."

"No, you won't," Tech says, his eyes locked on his datapad. "But I suppose we will simply have to accept that this is your current reality."

"Guess so," Wrecker says, and the smile he gives you is blinding.

The rest of the meal is relatively uneventful, and the conversation is light, mostly centered around the mission, and what's to come. The Republic is preparing for another offensive, and you and the Batch have been assigned to gather intel on a possible Separatist stronghold in the Outer Rim. It's not an ideal mission, but it's better than sitting around doing nothing. And with Wrecker by your side, it will certainly be more bearable.

You listen as the others share stories, laughing and talking like they always do. Wrecker's hand stays on your thigh, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on your leg, and it's enough to keep you distracted, the anticipation growing with every passing minute. By the time the meal is finished, you're all but squirming in your seat, and you're desperate to get out of the crowded room.

"What about you?" Crosshair asks, and the sound of his voice pulls you back to the present. "Did you sit around doing nothing this whole time?"

"No," you reply. "I was training, mostly."

"Boring," Crosshair sneers, but his eyes are soft, and the look he gives you is teasing.

"I did manage to get a new scar, if that counts," you say, pointing to the healing cut above your eyebrow. "Had a run-in with a particularly unpleasant bounty hunter. She was faster than she looked."

"Ooh, lemme see," Wrecker says, and his hand finds your chin, tilting your face up. The gesture is casual, but the way his fingers stroke your cheek is not, and you shiver at the touch. He turns your face, his thumb brushing the healing skin, and the heat of his palm sears into your cheek. "Pretty nasty. You gonna live?"

"I think so," you manage, and his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Good," he says. "Don't want anything happenin' to that pretty face of yours."

Someone makes a noise of protest, but you're too busy trying not to melt under Wrecker's gaze to notice who it was. His eyes flick over your features, his expression intense, and his fingers trail down the line of your jaw, coming to rest on your shoulder.

"Alright," Hunter cuts in. He slaps his hands on the table and stands, giving the two of you a pointed look. "Let's call it a night."

"But—"

"No buts," he says. "I can't watch this any longer."

Wrecker grumbles something under his breath, but he pulls his hand away, and the absence is nearly enough to make you whine.

"Fine," he huffs, rising from his seat. "See you all tomorrow."

You stand as well, your legs shaking. You're not sure how you're going to make it back to the ship, and the smirk on Wrecker's face tells you that he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Later," Crosshair says, his tone bored.

"Have a good night," Echo calls after you, his voice tight with discomfort. You glance back at him and offer an apologetic shrug, but he just waves you off. Tech is still buried in his datapad, oblivious, and Hunter gives you a long-suffering sigh as the two of you leave.

The walk back to the ship is agony. The sun has long since set, and the streets are dark, but the lights of the city are bright enough that it's not difficult to navigate. Still, the journey feels like an eternity, and every step sends a thrill of anticipation through your veins. You can feel Wrecker's presence behind you, his hand occasionally brushing against your back, his body close enough to touch.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you ask as the two of you round the corner, putting some distance between yourselves and the others.

"Enjoying what?" he asks innocently.

"Teasing me," you reply, elbowing him in the side.

"Maybe a little," he grins, and the heat in his gaze makes you blush. "You know, it's hard not to be when you react like that."

"React like what?

"Like this," he murmurs, his hand sliding down your spine, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. His palm is hot and heavy, and the pressure is enough to make you gasp.

"I can't help it," you mutter, trying to ignore the desire that's pooling in your core.

"I know," he says, and his fingers squeeze, pulling you into his side. "And it's kriffing adorable."

"Shut up," you say, pushing against him. He laughs, the sound low and husky, and the way his eyes gleam in the dim light is more than a little distracting.

"Make me," he says, and his voice is teasing, but there's a note of challenge in it, and the implication sends a shiver down your spine.

You turn to face him, and before you can second guess yourself, you reach out, taking hold of his armor and pulling him towards you.

Wrecker's lips meet yours in a searing kiss, and the force of it knocks the wind out of you. He backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his body, and his hands find your hips, lifting you up onto the tips of your toes. You moan against his mouth, and his tongue slips past your lips, his fingers digging into your flesh. The kiss is bruising, full of heat and want, and the way he moves against you, his body hard and solid, leaves you gasping for air.

He breaks the kiss, and his teeth nip at your lower lip, his hands wandering down, squeezing the swell of your ass. His breath is hot on your skin, his chest heaving, and the desire in his eyes is all-consuming.

"That shut you up," you whisper as his lips move down the column of your throat.

"Mhm," he mumbles. His tongue drags over the delicate skin, and you tilt your head back, giving him better access. "Keep doin' that, and I'll be quiet the rest of the night."

You laugh, the sound turning into a groan as his teeth sink into your flesh, biting down. His hands slide around to your back, pulling you flush against him, and his knee slips between your legs. The pressure against your core is enough to make you moan, and he chuckles against your skin.

"That's a dangerous game you're playing," you whisper, trying to catch your breath.

"Not the only one," he murmurs, his eyes finding yours. The hunger in his gaze makes your blood sing, and you swallow, trying to steady your pulse.

"True," you say, reaching up to cup his cheek. "But I'm not sure we should keep playing it. At least not until we get back to the ship."

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, his tongue teasing the seam of your mouth. You open for him, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head, holding you steady.

"Good point," he whispers as he pulls away, his nose brushing against yours.

"Come on," you say, and you nudge him backwards. Wrecker goes willingly, stumbling back a step, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let's go."

The two of you pick up the pace, and it's not long before you're making your way through the hangar bay towards the Marauder. There are a few people milling about the hangar, and a group of technicians working on a nearby ship, but none of them pay the two of you any attention as you approach the ramp.

The moment the door closes behind you, Wrecker pounces, pinning you against the wall, his mouth finding yours in a hungry kiss. You pull him closer, and he wraps his arms around you, lifting you up with ease. Your legs lock around his waist, and his hands slide down to grip the underside of your thighs, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin.

You break the kiss, your lungs screaming, and he moves down, pressing hot, wet kisses to the line of your throat. His mouth is warm and slick, his tongue leaving a burning trail along your collarbone. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pushes the fabric up, exposing your stomach.

"You really gonna keep quiet the rest of the night?" you ask, your voice hoarse.

"Do you want me to?" he murmurs, his nose brushing against the skin beneath your ear.

"Not particularly," you reply.

"Didn't think so," he says, and his teeth scrape against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You wanna know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you like it," he growls. His hands slip beneath your shirt, his palms sliding up the curve of your waist. "I think you like it when I tell you how pretty you are, or how much I want you."

"Maybe," you whisper.

"It's okay," he murmurs, his fingers dancing across your skin. "I like it, too."

You moan, the sound soft and needy, and he laughs, the vibrations tickling the sensitive spot below your ear. Wrecker's mouth finds yours again, his tongue plunging past your lips. He tastes like the liquor the two of you were drinking earlier, and the heady mixture is enough to make your head spin.

He breaks the kiss, and the next thing you know, he's carrying you down the hall, his pace hurried. Within a few steps, the two of you are falling onto the bunk, a tangle of limbs.

You land on top of him, straddling his waist, and Wrecker groans, his hands coming to rest on your hips. You grind down against him, the movement sending a rush of heat through your body. The contact is dizzying, and you do it again, relishing the way his eyes flutter closed.

"Kriff, cyare," he breathes.

"I thought I was cyar'ika," you murmur.

"Both. Either. Doesn't matter," he says, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

"I think it matters" you say, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"You really wanna talk about Mando'a right now?" he asks, and the amusement in his voice makes you laugh. You pull back enough to let him pull the shirt up and over your head, leaving you bare save for your breast band.

"I guess not. I'd rather do something else," you whisper, and Wrecker's eyes darken, his pupils dilating. His gaze trails over your chest, and his hands follow suit, tracing the line of your ribs.

"Me too," he murmurs. His fingers ghost across the band of fabric covering your breasts, teasing the edges. You give a slight nod, and he hooks a finger underneath the material, pulling it up and over your head.

Your breasts bounce free, and his eyes lock on them, his gaze burning. His hands slide up your sides, cupping the swell of flesh, his palms hot and rough.

"Mesh'la," he murmurs. He leans forward, his lips finding the slope of your shoulder. "So kriffing beautiful."

The praise makes you blush, and he kisses his way down the length of your chest, his lips trailing over the curve of your breast. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes as he licks a circle around your nipple, his tongue leaving a hot, wet trail.

"Wrecker," you whimper, and the sound seems to spur him on. His mouth finds your breast, his lips closing around the tight bud, his tongue swirling. You moan, the feeling electric, and he hums in response, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.

He sucks and bites at the stiff peak, his fingers rolling the other, and the twin sensations send a rush of heat through your body. It's almost too much, and you can't help but squirm, the desire pooling in your core. Wrecker’s armor presses against your thighs, the pressure almost painful, and the need to feel his skin on yours is overwhelming.

"Take it off," you pant, tugging at the shoulder plates.

"Bossy," he chuckles, and the sound sends a jolt of excitement through you.

"I think you like it," you say, throwing his own words back at him, and the wicked grin he gives you is all the answer you need.

"You're right," he replies. He reaches behind him, unclipping the pieces of his armor and setting them aside. The process is painstakingly slow, and you can't help but pout. But when you try to move his hands out of the way, he lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the mattress.

"Hey!"

"I'm going," he says, a grin on his face. "Don't worry."

Wrecker stands, and the sight of him towering above you, his broad frame blocking out the light, is enough to make you tremble. He strips off the pieces of armor with practiced efficiency, revealing the black undersuit beneath. You stare at him, your eyes roaming over the thickly corded muscles of his arms and chest, the taut fabric stretched across his abdomen.

"See somethin' you like?" he teases, and the sound of his voice draws you back to reality.

"Yes," you say, clearing your throat.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you repeat with a smile.

"Good," he says. He kneels before you, his fingers finding the hem of your pants. He undoes the button, and you lift your hips, letting him slide the fabric down.

He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes trailing over the curves of your body. He hums in approval, his hand sliding up your leg, his fingers stroking the inside of your thigh.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

You watch as his hand slips lower, and his thumb finds the edge of your underwear, the touch light and teasing. The sensation is enough to make you gasp, and he does it again, tracing a line along the seam. Your legs part instinctively, and his hand cups the apex of your thighs, his palm pressing against the damp fabric.

"You want more?" he asks, and the huskiness of his voice is enough to make you ache.

"Yes," you breathe.

He pulls the underwear off, and you lie back, spreading your legs, giving him a clear view of the most intimate parts of you. He groans at the sight, his eyes raking over the soft flesh, and his hands grip your knees, pushing them further apart. You feel exposed, but the look on his face is nothing short of reverent, and the desire in his eyes is enough to take your breath away.

"Mesh'la," he whispers, and then his head is between your legs, his tongue finding the sensitive flesh. The contact is electric, and you moan, the sound muffled by your fist. Wrecker chuckles, his eyes locking on yours as his mouth continues its work. His lips and tongue are soft and warm, and his fingers grip your hips, pulling you closer.

"Stars, Wrecker," you whimper, and he hums in response, the vibrations sending a jolt through your body. You gasp, and he smiles, his mouth never leaving the apex of your thighs. His tongue traces circles around the stiff bud, his fingers stroking the delicate skin.

You squirm under his ministrations, the sensation nearly overwhelming, and he holds you steady, his hands like steel. You grip the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but it's a futile effort. Wrecker is relentless, his mouth devouring every inch of flesh, his tongue probing, his teeth scraping, and the heat pooling in your belly threatens to consume you.

"Wrecker, I can't—"

He stops, pulling away with a wet smack. His face is glistening, his eyes burning, and the sight of him is enough to steal the words from your lips.

"Tell me," he growls, his hands tightening on your thighs.

"I can't—"

"Can't what, cyar’ika?" he murmurs, leaning in, his breath warm on the skin of your neck.

"Can't wait," you manage. "Please."

He laughs, his fingers stroking the sensitive flesh of your thighs. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, and his hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding the apex of your folds. You groan, the contact almost too much to bear, and his fingers tease the edge, sliding along the slick skin.

"I'm gonna take my time with you," he says, his voice rough. "Gonna learn every inch of your body, every place that makes you feel good. And I'm gonna do it until you're a kriffing mess."

The words send a rush of heat through your body, and you can't help but arch into his touch, your hips rising off the bed. He grins, his fingers parting the slick folds, and you bite back a moan as he slides the digits along the length of the slit.

"So wet," he says, and the pride in his voice is obvious. "Mesh'la."

He leans down, his tongue darting out, tracing the same path his fingers had just followed. Wrecker takes his time, his mouth exploring every inch of the exposed flesh. By the time his tongue reaches the sensitive bud, you're trembling, the pleasure almost unbearable. His fingers press against your entrance, and you nod, giving him the go-ahead.

He slips a finger inside, and you clench around him, the feeling almost foreign. It’s been so long since you've done anything like this, and the stretch is unfamiliar, the sensation a strange combination of pleasure and discomfort. He moves slowly, his lips and tongue distracting you from the intrusion, and the discomfort fades, the pressure turning into a delicious fullness.

"You okay?" he asks, looking up at you, his lips still pressed against the apex of your thighs.

"Mhm," you reply, and you roll your hips, letting him know you're ready for more. He grins, and he presses another finger in, his tongue swirling around the stiff bud. The stretch is almost too much, and you gasp, the pleasure making your head spin.

Wrecker moves slowly, his fingers curling, probing, searching for that spot inside you. When he finds it, he rubs the tips against it, and the jolt of pleasure is enough to take your breath away.

"Fuck," you gasp.

"Yeah?" he asks, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"Yes," you whimper.

"More?"

"Yes, please," you beg. "Please."

He complies, his fingers pressing deeper, and you groan, the pleasure almost too much to bear. Your thighs shake, and he hooks his free arm around one of them, pulling you closer, his lips closing around the bud.

It doesn't take long before the heat coiling in your belly becomes too much to bear, and you can't hold back the moans spilling from your lips. Wrecker keeps up the pace, his fingers pumping, his mouth devouring, and it's only a few moments before the tension snaps.

You cry out, the sound swallowed by the bulkhead, and your thighs clamp around his head, trapping him. The air seems to ripple around you, the Force flowing through you, and the room fades, replaced by blinding white light. You're weightless, drifting in the current, the pleasure rippling through your body.

When you finally come down, the room has returned to normal, and the pressure of Wrecker's mouth is nearly too much. You push him away, and he looks up at you, a smirk on his face. His lips are wet and swollen, and his eyes are bright with lust.

"That was somethin' else," he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

"What did I do?" you ask, your voice shaking.

"Not sure," he replies. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting out, licking away the remnants of your climax. "But I liked it."

"Oh," you manage.

"You good?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "Really good. Stars, Wrecker, that was...”

"Just the beginning," he says, his hands finding your waist and flipping you onto your stomach. He pulls you up onto your knees, and the next thing you know, his tongue is on your folds again, the sensation making your legs tremble.

"Wrecker, what—"

"Told you I'd take my time," he murmurs, and his fingers slip inside you again, the pace agonizing. You groan, burying your face in the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds spilling from your lips. His hand slides up your spine, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back. "I wanna hear you."

"I can't," you whimper.

"I'll stop if you don't," he threatens. "Wanna hear how good I'm makin' you feel."

"Fine," you groan. "Don't stop. Please."

"Good girl," he says, and the words send a rush of heat straight to your core. You feel yourself clamp down around his fingers, and his other hand grips the curve of your ass, squeezing hard. "Fuck, that's hot."

You moan, the sound loud and needy, and he rewards you by sliding another finger inside. The stretch is almost painful, but the pleasure is worth it, and the thought of him inside you, filling you, sends a thrill of excitement through your body. You can't help but push back against him, grinding your hips against his face.

"Look at you," he says, and the awe in his voice is enough to bring tears to your eyes. "Fuck, you're perfect. So fuckin' perfect."

His mouth returns to its work, his tongue licking and sucking and teasing. Your legs tremble, and his arm wraps around your waist, holding you up as his fingers plunge deeper. The pleasure is overwhelming, and the room seems to fade around you, the only thing remaining the feeling of his mouth on your sex.

You can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything except take whatever he gives you. And the thought, the knowledge that you're completely at his mercy, is intoxicating. You surrender to the feeling, allowing yourself to let go, and the release is almost instantaneous.

You cry out, the sound torn from your throat, and the force of it threatens to knock you over. But Wrecker is there, his arms steadying you, his mouth coaxing every last ounce of pleasure from you. When the waves of bliss finally subside, you slump forward, the mattress soft against your cheek.

"Holy shit," you mutter, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Yeah," Wrecker says, his hand stroking the length of your spine. He leans over you, his mouth finding the soft skin behind your ear. His tongue darts out, licking the shell, and his breath is hot on your neck. "Still with me?"

"Barely," you whisper, and the sound of his laugh sends a shiver through you. You roll over slowly to find his face inches from yours, his smile wide and wicked. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and the softness in his eyes is enough to melt your heart.

"Hi," he murmurs.

"Hey."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The tenderness is unexpected, and the taste of yourself on his mouth is more arousing than it has any right to be.

"I'm glad we're finally alone," he whispers, his nose brushing against yours. "Was about to explode."

"Mm," you reply. "Well, let's fix that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you say, pushing him back. He sits up, and you move with him, swinging your leg over his waist. He watches you with hungry eyes, and the desire in his expression is enough to stoke the embers of your own. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his suit, the thickness hard and insistent, and the realization of just how badly he wants you is almost too much to bear.

You lean in, your mouth finding the side of his neck, and he groans, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. You nip and bite at the exposed flesh as your hands slip underneath the hem of his shirt, and you peel the fabric up, revealing his chest. He lifts his arms, and the two of you work together to pull the garment over his head, tossing it aside.

You run your hands over his broad chest, your fingers tracing the line of his muscles, his scars, his tattoos. The expanse of his skin is a map, a landscape, and you want to explore every inch. He sighs, his eyes closing, and the contentment in his expression is beautiful. You kiss him again, and he groans, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your head.

"I could kiss you forever," he murmurs.

"That would be nice," you reply, your lips moving down his throat.

"Mhm," he hums. "But right now, I really, really wanna fuck you."

The words send a shiver of desire through you, and you pull back, giving him a smirk. You slide back, and his hands move to the closure of his suit, undoing the catches with ease. The fabric parts, revealing the thick shaft beneath. The head is dark and swollen, and a drop of precome glistens at the tip.

"Kriff," you breathe. "You're—"

"Big?" he says, grinning.

You swallow, nodding. You've felt him through his clothes, the evidence of his desire more than clear, but the reality is something else entirely. He's larger than any partner you've ever had, and the thought of taking him, of feeling him inside you, is both terrifying and exhilarating.

"That's putting it mildly."

"We can wait," he offers, his hands finding your hips, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin. "Or take things slow. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"I appreciate that," you say. "But I really, really want this."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

He smiles, and his hand slips between your thighs, his fingers finding the slick skin. You gasp at the touch, rising up on your knees to pull his blacks down further. His cock springs free, the length curving up against his belly. He helps you pull the rest of the suit off, leaving the two of you bare before each other.

He sits up, his eyes raking over the planes of your body, his gaze hungry and possessive. He pulls you towards him, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, his mouth finding yours. His hands slide down your spine, cupping the swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"You sure about this?" he asks, his lips moving against yours.

"Very," you reply. You reach between the two of you, your fingers wrapping around his length. He groans, his head falling back, and his hips twitch, pushing into your grasp. Your fingers don't quite meet, the thickness impossible to fully encircle, and the size of him is daunting.

"You can change your mind," he says, and the words are choked, strained. "Just say the word."

"I won't," you say. "Trust me."

"Okay," he breathes, and the faith in his voice is enough to take your breath away. He leans back, and you raise yourself up on your knees, positioning him at your entrance. You take a deep breath, and then begin to lower yourself onto him. The head presses against the tight ring of muscle the sensation almost foreign. You press down, and the tip slips inside, the thickness stretching you.

"Shit," he mutters, his fingers gripping your hips. "Fuck, cyar'ika, you're so—"

The words turn into a loud, unrestrained groan as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. It takes time, the fullness overwhelming, but you persevere, the feeling of him inside you more intense than anything you've ever felt. The way his length fills you, stretching and stretching, the slight pain, the ache, the feeling of being whole, it's enough to drive all thoughts from your mind.

By the time Wrecker is nearly fully seated inside you, the both of you are trembling. He's panting, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. You watch him, the sight of his reaction sending a rush of excitement through your body. It's the first time you've seen him lose control, and the knowledge that it's you, that you're the cause, is exhilarating.

You shift in his lap, grinding down on his cock, and he hisses, his teeth clenched. The pressure against the walls of your cunt is almost too much to bear, and it takes everything you have not to collapse. You lift yourself up slightly, testing the limits, and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Stay still,” he growls, and the command in his voice sends a thrill through you. “Don’t move.”

"Or what?" you ask.

Wrecker opens his eyes, his gaze burning into you. There's a dangerous glint there, and the promise in his expression is almost too much to take. You swallow, unable to look away. He smirks, and his hand comes up, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck, holding you steady.

"Or I'm gonna have to fuck you into the kriffing mattress," he says, his voice rough. "You think you can handle that?"

"Maybe," you reply, and the confidence in your voice is surprising.

"Really?" he says. He shifts, his hips lifting off the mattress, and the movement pushes him deeper. The stretch is almost too much, but the sensation is exquisite, and the moan that escapes your lips is unabashedly desperate. "Sounds like you can't."

"I'm not convinced," you say, and the words come out more as a whine than a statement. Wrecker laughs, his lips curling into a smug smile. The expression should annoy you, but instead, it only adds to the heat pooling in your core. You like seeing him like this, confident and commanding, and the thought of letting him have his way with you is more than a little arousing.

"You're adorable," he says, and he tilts his head forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. You wrap your arms around him, and he pulls you closer, his other hand sliding down to the small of your back. The pressure is intoxicating, and you can't help but squirm, trying to find purchase. But he holds you steady, his mouth devouring yours.

He lifts you up, his hands gripping the curve of your ass, and his cock nearly slips out, the sudden emptiness jarring. But before you can complain, he's lowering you back down, sheathing himself inside you again.

"Oh," you whimper.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "You feel so good."

He lifts you again, and his pace is achingly slow, the movement careful, controlled. He's clearly holding back, and the knowledge that he's doing it for your benefit sends a rush of affection through you. You cup his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Wrecker," you say. "Please."

"You sure?"

"Yes," you hiss, your head tilting back as he slides home. "Please, I want—"

"Tell me what you want," he growls.

"You," you say, and the confession is more difficult than it should be. "All of you. Hard and fast and— Fuck!"

The breath leaves your lungs as he flips the two of you, his weight pinning you against the mattress. He slides a hand beneath your hips, tilting them up, and his lips find the curve of your neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya," he growls, and then his hips snap, driving him into you. The movement is quick and powerful, and the impact reverberates through your entire body. The thrust is accompanied by a wave of pleasure, the feeling intense and all-consuming, and it takes everything you have to hold on.

"Holy shit," you mutter, your eyes squeezing shut.

"You good?" he murmurs, his hands finding yours, his fingers intertwining with your own.

"So good," you whimper. You wrap your legs around his waist, trying to anchor yourself, but the motion seems to have the opposite effect. The slight shift in position is all the invitation he needs, and he drives into you again, the force enough to push you up the bed. The pleasure is almost blinding, and the room blurs, the edges of your vision darkening.

"More," you beg, the word torn from your throat.

"Anything," he breathes, and then his mouth finds yours, swallowing the moan that spills from your lips. His hips set a relentless rhythm, his cock pounding into you, the friction delicious. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, and his mouth never leaves yours, his tongue plunging past your teeth. The taste of him, the smell of him, it's enough to send you reeling, and the world around you fades, replaced by a single, searing point of pleasure.

You lose yourself in the moment, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the warmth and strength and power of him. He surrounds you, engulfs you, consumes you, and the intimacy of the act, the connection between the two of you, it's unlike anything you've ever felt. The sensation is overwhelming, and you're powerless to do anything except take whatever he gives you. You let go, surrendering yourself completely, and the feeling is almost euphoric.

"You feel so fuckin' good," Wrecker pants, and the words seem to echo, his voice distant. "Can't believe you're—fuck, cyar'ika, you're perfect."

The praise spurs you on, and the next thing you know, Wrecker is kneeling before you, pulling you towards him. His hands grip your waist, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh, and his cock plunges deeper. You cry out, the sound echoing around the room, and he groans in response, his movements becoming erratic.

"Fuck," he grunts. His hands slide down, cupping the curve of your ass, and he lifts you off the mattress, impaling you on his cock. The angle is intense, and you can feel the tension coiling in your belly, the pressure threatening to burst.

"I'm close," you gasp, and he nods, his face twisted with pleasure. He's lost control, the steady rhythm giving way to desperate, frantic thrusts, and the knowledge that he's close to coming undone is intoxicating.

"Touch yourself," he manages. "Come on, cyar'ika, wanna feel you come on my cock."

You do as he says, reaching down and sliding your fingers through the wetness between your legs. The contact is enough to push you over the edge, and you come hard, the orgasm tearing through you. The room goes dark, the pleasure nearly blinding, and the air seems to vibrate, the Force surging through you. You can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except let it wash over you.

You feel yourself clamp down around Wrecker's cock, the walls of your cunt spasming, and he gasps, the sound raw and primal. He thrusts once, twice, and then his hips stutter, and he drives himself deep, the force of his climax making the bed shake. You feel his cock pulse inside you, filling you, and the warmth of his seed sends another wave of pleasure rippling through your body.

It seems to go on forever, the two of you riding out the aftershocks. You're trembling, and tears are spilling down your cheeks, but you can't bring yourself to care. You pull him close, your mouth finding his, and the kiss is sloppy, needy, the two of you too far gone to do anything except cling to each other.

When it's over, Wrecker rolls the two of you over, pulling you into his arms. His chest is rising and falling in rapid breaths, and his heart is pounding, the beat so loud you can hear it. You rest your head on his shoulder, your arm draped across his chest, and he pulls you closer, his nose buried in the top of your head.

"Holy shit," he breathes.

"That good, huh?"

"Good doesn't even cover it," he says. "Stars, that was...fuck, cyar'ika, that was somethin' else."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," he murmurs. "Fuck."

You laugh, the sound muffled by his skin. He chuckles in response, and his hand strokes your back, his fingers tracing circles on your spine. You sigh, the touch soothing, and you close your eyes, letting the tension leave your body. You're exhausted, and the thought of moving is nearly unbearable. You’re more content than you can remember being in a long, long time.

"Don't fall asleep," he says. "Not yet."

"Too late," you murmur, the words slurred.

"Hey," he says, and his tone is gentle, teasing. "At least let me get a towel or something."

"Fine," you grumble.

He laughs, and the bed shifts as he gets up, the loss of his body heat jarring. You shiver, curling into yourself, and the next thing you know, he's pressing a damp cloth between your legs. The contact is enough to wake you up, and the realization of what's happening is both embarrassing and endearing.

"Wrecker," you say, pushing his hand away. "I can do that."

"Sorry," he mutters. "Should've asked."

"It's okay," you say, and the sincerity in your voice seems to reassure him. "I just don't want you doing all the work."

"I don't mind," he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I like takin' care of you."

"And I like taking care of you," you reply. "Which is why I want you to come back to bed."

"Okay, okay," he says, smiling. He tosses the towel aside, and the bed dips as he climbs in next to you, his body pressed flush against yours. The feel of his skin on yours is soothing, and you can't help but melt into his touch. He's solid and warm and real, and the knowledge that he's here, that he wants you, is more comforting than anything else.

"Mesh'la," he whispers.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

You turn, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, his body enveloping yours, and the words come easily.

"I love you, too."

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#wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker wednesday #the bad batch #clone x reader #the bad batch x reader #the clone wars #roy writes #another one i feel meh about but i do love me some wrecker #particularly of the cocky and feral persuasion

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woradat · 27 days ago

Text

LOVE TRIANGLE ❤️‍🔥

SUMMARY - an old battle-hardened doctor, now stuck in a messy love triangle straight out of a bad soap opera. Who knew heartache could be tougher than war? What on earth should he do?

THEME - angst, ofc

PAIRING - ratchet x reader (mainly), drift x ratchet, drift&reader (maybe DratChet x reader in the end. Idk)

Ratchet was nearly in shock—stunned and overwhelmed by a flood of emotions he couldn’t even begin to name. And all of it… was because of you

“Ratchet! Primus, I missed you so much!”

There you were, rushing toward him with uncontainable joy, wrapping your arms around him with all the longing and love that had built up over the years. That was the moment it truly hit him—this wasn’t a hallucination. He wasn’t losing his mind. This was real. You were real. Standing here, in front of him, in his arms, at long last

Mere seconds after regaining his senses, the old medic embraced you back without a second thought, paying no mind to the others aboard the ship who were now staring at the two of you. He didn’t care. Not when you were here, finally back in his arms after hundreds—millions—of years of waiting

“you look old… Oh—sorry, is that your friend? I—”

“Where have you been all this time? Why did it take so long—” Why now? Ratchet asked, pulling away from the embrace, gripping your shoulders tightly, eyes full of worry, frustration, longing… and something even deeper

“It’s complicated… but I’ll explain everything later. Still, welcome back aboard—to both of you. Drift, right? Rodimus mentioned you quite often”

Oh. Oh. Ratchet had almost forgotten—Drift was there with him. Drift, who had volunteered to come back with him, lured by persuasion, shared memories, and a past neither of them could quite bury

Ratchet admitted, he had let Drift in more than he ever expected. After you disappeared, he was convinced that his spark had gone cold. He didn’t want to admit it—not now, not in front of anyone—but it was Drift who had made him feel something again. Something warm. Something he hadn’t felt in eons. But now… now you were here, and everything was spiraling

He loved you—of that, he was certain. But what he felt for Drift… it wasn’t nothing. No, he couldn’t pretend there wasn’t something between them. Not when he was the one who insisted on going out to find Drift

Something he never did for you

Even if it wasn’t entirely his fault, the old medic couldn’t help but feel guilty. You disappeared into the chaos of war—not confirmed dead, not confirmed alive, just… gone. He had wanted—needed—to go looking for you. No matter the danger, even if it meant going alone, even if you were on the far edge of the galaxy, he should have tried

But duty held him back. Limited resources. The state of war. Responsibilities he couldn’t abandon. Ratchet, as the Autobots’ chief medic, had to stay. Logic told him it would have been futile anyway. The Decepticons probably had already taken your life, perhaps in a place so remote your body would never be found. Or maybe it was an accident—some cruel twist of fate. That reasoning made it easier to just… sit still. To lie to himself. To tell himself you were dead

That it was easier to let go

And in the end, he did

Now, he regretted it with every ounce of his spark

“So I guess that makes you a friend of Ratchet’s? Well then—welcome aboard the Lost Light! Uh”

“Absolutely, thank you so much! Y/N’s the name. I’m just glad you’re both alright”

Drift, ever the kind soul he was, remained unaware of the emotional storm brewing just beneath the surface. Ratchet hadn’t told him about you. He didn’t know. And that, perhaps, was for the best

The old medic didn’t want to make things more complicated than they already were. He needed time—needed to figure himself out, to sort through the tangle of emotions in a way that wouldn’t leave any of the three of you broken. He had to make a choice, didn’t he? It certainly felt that way

But no—this wouldn’t be easy. Emotional responsibility never was. Relationships were never simple. Not like this

For now, he just wanted to be glad. Glad that you were here, that you were alive. That much, at least, shouldn’t be too much to ask

The rest of it… that could wait for tomorrow

#transformers idw publishing #transformers x reader #ratchet x reader #reader insert #ratchet x drift #drift&reader #angst #Cybertronian reader #transformers

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onyxmilk · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! Can you write about spy x family? (I'm obsessed with Loid) where OC is engaged to Loid/Twilight and becomes jealous of Yor.

Sorry, English is not my first language.

Twilight x gn!Reader; "Jealous"

notes; i love some twilight fanfiction, esp because everything is freaking SMUT (last time i checked)!!! we need some sfw ish in here!!! tw; Reader uses They/Them pronouns!, jealousy wc; 1.2k

Twilight and [CodeName] both got married on a whim for the benefits inside their spy company, neither did they expect to actually fall in love and want a proper marriage with each other, but they did! They were one of the cutest couples around, and when they worked together they were the absolute dream team. They would get the mission done and thensome, do some afterwork, clear the paperwork out, the two would go the extra mile to make sure no one had to clean up after them.

When [CodeName] and Twilight renewed their vows because they ended up falling in love for more than mutual benefits, the two decided to go a little big. [CodeName] wore the most extravagant clothing, and Twilight wore a tailored suit to his liking. The couple held a huge after ceremony, inviting most of the company to join and celebrate their marriage. It may sound uncharacteristic for Twilight, but it was most definitely in character for [CodeName].

During the couple’s dance, as they were following tradition, [CodeName] leaned into Twilight and whispered “[YourName],” No explanation aside from a single name that left their lips. Twilight looked confused at first, but then it clicked- [CodeName] was dropping their real name. Twilight smiled warmly, bringing his partner in for a kiss. Twilight had long forgotten his name, but to know that [CodeName] entrusted him with such personal information brought warmth and joy to his heart. Especially on such a special night like this.

[YourName] didn’t need to know Twilight’s real name, all they needed to know was that the man loved them and that he was accepting no matter what, which Twilight was. They just thought it would be a cute detail to drop on Twilight in the middle of, what the couple considers, their first real dance together as a ‘properly’ married couple. That night, [YourName] and Twilight got home, took off the over-the-top clothing, changed into pajamas, and shared a nice glass of red wine on the couch while watching some old TV shows that [YourName] enjoyed.

It would be about three years later that [YourName] had to be put on a mission that placed them across the country. With a sadden face, [YourName] said their goodbyes to their husband and kissed Twilight one last time before them and a few other agents were shipped off. Twilight would be out of commission for about a day before he recovered, maybe he and [YourName] needed this split because the two of them were so dependent on each other.

The two would always reference each other as partners for each other, and because the couple did work so well together and cleaned up after one another without needing a second thought, they did get paired up together what could be considered all the time. Now, sometimes [YourName] would be paired up with another person and other times Twilight would be paired up with a different person, and it never shattered each other. But being away from each other for months really took Twilight aback and he just needed a day to recuperate.

During the few months that [YourName] was gone, Twilight was placed in charge of Operation Strix, which forced Twilight to find a wife and child. It had been quite some time since Twilight had to fake such an in depth relationship, and without [YourName] here to confirm that it was okay, or better yet have them play the role of his partner, he felt a little sick to his stomach. But a mission was a mission and it needed to be done.

He wouldn’t get comfortable in his position, but he would get a better understanding of becoming a father in case he and [YourName] wanted children. Every day, when [YourName] was still out on their mission across the country and wasn’t here to call or see him in person at the hospital, Twilight thought about how different the mission would have been going if only [YourName] was around to assist as per usual. For some reason, he felt he’d be further in his investigation. Perhaps because they were truly married and didn’t have to put on some act for the world to see, or because perhaps the two of them have talked about a family before and this would just fill that hole temporarily.

One day while at the hospital, looking over some papers, Twilight got a call that he was needed in the lobby. He had assumed that perhaps a patient was having a breakdown and needed some comfort from their doctor. Instead, nurses were welcoming a new nurse. “Loid!” His co-worker greeted as they walked over to him, “Have you seen the new nurse? Not to be unprofessional, but smoking hot,” The co-worker laughed but Twilight rolled his eyes while pretending to humor the thought, looking around for this new person. He didn’t expect to see [YourName], dressed in scrubs, holding a cup of juice, and laughing with a few of the other nurses.

Twilight blinked a few times, a huge smile on his face when he made his way over. A few of the girl nurses giggled before shying away, while the guy nurses simply roamed off to allow Loid and [Name] to talk. “You’re back,” Twilight whispered, half shock and half relief flooding his face. “Mhm, and I’m assisting you on Strix. I’m a nanny on the side.” [YourName] replied in the same whispered tone. Twilight’s heart broke a little at the news, that was the last thing he wanted [YourName] to see; him acting as if he had a wife in front of other people. “I understand, are you caught up?” Twilight asks and with hesitation [YourName] nods their head.

It would be a few days later that Loid brings up the idea of hiring a nanny to assist with Anya during the week. The nanny would come in the afternoon, help out with homework and study time, then head home around dinner. Yor of course thought the idea was wonderful and let Loid make a list of people, which most were fake just so they had no choice but to hire [YourName].

A few days later, it was a Saturday, Loid and Yor sat together on the couch while [YourName] sat on the chair across from them. Yor, to make their relationship look believable to the naked eye, wrapped her arm around Loid’s arm. It took everything in [YourName] not to break right then and there and claim Twilight as their own. They knew that this was for the mission, but unfortunately, jealousy doesn’t understand that.

The interview went great and Yor agreed with Loid that [Name] should be hired, “Let me walk you to your car.” Loid offered. This was mostly so they could get alone time together before the night ended. “Do you enjoy a clingy wife?” [YourName] asked as they walked out the apartment complex, Twilight was taken aback before shaking his head with a small chuckle- he had never seen [YourName] jealous before and it was quite cute to witness. “No, darling, she simply wanted to sell what people think her and I have. I love you no matter what.” Twilight promised, opening the door for [YourName].

[YourName] nodded slowly, smiling eventually. “I want to kiss you so bad..” [YourName] says, “I know, one day soon, dear.” Twilight replied, allowing [YourName] to get into their car and he shut the door before stepping aside and watching [YourName] drive off to wherever they stayed for the night. Twilight hoped that they would stay at their home, so they could be around a familiar setting and smell familiar smells.

He wanted them to be comfortable, for [YourName] is his partner, and they are his.

#spyxfamily x reader #spy x family x reader #s x f x reader #sxf x reader #twilight x reader #loid x reader #loid forger x reader #anime x reader #x reader

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Text

leveling the playing field XI

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: nothing much to say other than thank you guys and i hope you like it :)

next part

"You can't call me that here!" You hiss, taking the final steps out into the summer nights breeze.

"Never mind that, what are you doing here?" Coriolanus asks as soon as the door to the back of the building shuts behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet alley behind the Hob.

You groan, dragging your hands over your face. "I had nowhere to go."

"Well, I... what happened?"

"Does it really matter?" You just shake your head looking up at him now, face red with anger. "If we're gonna talk, how about we talk about how you tried to drag me down to hell with you, huh? How about we talk about you showing up after trying to ruin my life and kissing me like I'm some kind of object to you! After all this time! Let's talk about that!"

Coryo takes a sharp breath in, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "You're not an object." He says, a hint of disgust in his voice, upset that you would even imply that he felt that way.

"Funnily enough, that is the bottom of my list of concerns right now!" You laugh dryly. "I thought we were friends! I thought you cared! And maybe that was stupid of me but don't come back now saying that you do." Your narrowed eyes are rimmed with tears now, and he can see that you're hurt despite you trying to shield it in anger.

"We are friends, I-"

"No, Coriolanus, we aren't, because friends don't do that!"

"Will you stop fucking interrupting me!" He shouts, making you jump. He's fed up with you always having to have the last word. "For once, just one time, will you let me explain?"

You just stare at him, jaw grit as you look up at him. You've never looked softer, your clothes and your hair are so loose and freeing and unlike you and you've somehow never looked more like yourself.

"I'm sorry. Okay?" He says, taking a hesitant step closer to you.

"Is that all you've got?" You scoff, nodding to yourself and pushing past him to walk back inside.

He can't let you go again, he just can't. He grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

"Y/N, listen, I'm sorry. I regretted it the moment I said it, I shouldn't have pulled you into that but they already knew and I just wanted to be able to help you." Internally you roll your eyes, relaxing your arm so he knows you won't run. You'll hear him out. "All I wanted was for you to come with me, I thought they would ship us off together."

"Me? As a peacekeeper? Un-fucking-likely." You reply bitterly. "Did you think that through for even a second before you decided that I would be better off with you? Or were you just scared of being alone?"

The question makes him pause, which was enough hesitation for you to pull your arm away and start walking off toward the street. "Tigris wanted me to tell you they love you, by the way!" You call back over your shoulder, turning the corner and disappearing out of his view.

You walk around the building and back to the front entrance, hoping you could lose him in the crowd if he decides to follow you. You were no longer in any mood to dance, that's for sure, so you would just wait for the show to end in the back where you first talked to Lucy Gray again. You push through the abundance of people dancing, the music blaring in your ears. You make it to the desolate hallway, attempting to gather yourself before you really start to cry.

"Y/N?" You hear someone call from behind you, and you turn at the use of your real name. It didn't sound like Coryo, or any of the Covey band.

"Sejanus!" You squeal, running back toward him and tackling him in a hug. "God, I have never been happier to see your face in my life." You sigh, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"Likewise." He chuckles, rubbing your back. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm great." You grin, taking a step back to talk to him face-to-face instead.

"We have to find Coriolanus, he'll be thrilled to see you." He says, looking over his shoulder to see if he could spot the blonde anywhere in the crowd.

"Ugh." You groan, rolling your eyes. "No, I saw him."

He snaps his head back, looking at you confused. "You don't seem happy." He observes, stating the obvious.

"Tell me, Sejanus," You muse, resting a hand on your hip as you shift your weight. "If you had someone you perceived as more than a friend take the liberty of framing you for something that could cost you your whole life when they knew you were innocent, would you forgive them if their only apology was a kiss?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. You knew you were stretching the truth, but Coriolanus had done the same thing, clearly, so what was the harm in wanting Sejanus on your side?

"I... what? No, he didn't- he didn't tell me that." He looks shocked, looking back again to see if he could see him.

"Well. That's what just happened, weirdly enough." You laugh, shrugging to try and portray that you don't really care much more than that.

"I- um... We were told you were sick." He changes the subject now, something you're happy about because one more thought about Coryo and you might be in tears; or you might start throwing things.

"Sick? No." You shake your head. "I ran because if I hadn't, I'd be six feet under in the Capitol cemetery by now, no doubt. That or I'd be lacking a tongue."

"Oh, wow." He doesn't know what to say, so you just hum in agreement. "Coriolanus almost convinced me you were dead, but I knew better. They couldn't kill you if they tried, I don't think."

You chuckle, shrugging slightly. "Well, yeah. So that's been my life recently. Now I'm staying with Lucy Gray." You explain. "But what about you? You follow out here Coryo too?"

"More or less." He nods, a slight smile on his face. "Hey, uh, I've got to go, got some business to take care of but we'll get together again soon, okay? I'm really glad you're alive."

You nod, hugging him again. "Yeah, of course. I'm staying at this ugly, old grey house at the edge of the seam, past the end of the road. There's goats out back, you can't miss it. You'd think there's nothing out there, but trust me, we'll be there. Come by sometime when you're free, okay?"

"Will do." He agrees, hugging you back for just a moment. "I'll see you soon, Miss Sage." He teases, giving you a polite bow before turning to return to the party. You furrow your brow a bit as he almost directly approaches Billy Taupe, Lucy Gray's ex alongside one of his scummy friends, but you decide to mind your business. Sejanus was always too nice to everyone for his own good, anyway.

"Y/N's here." Coriolanus states, both him and Sejanus helping to carry their intoxicated bunkmates back to the barracks. "You see her?"

"I did, yeah, I talked to her." He nods, eyes straight ahead as their shoes crunch over the gravel.

"You talked to her? When?"

"A little after her performance, she was heading to this back room. Seemed awfully upset."

Coryo sighs. "What did she tell you?"

"That you betrayed her." Sejanus answers simply, adjusting his friend's arm over his shoulder. "That she was going to be killed or worse if she stayed."

"That's not-" Coryo thinks it over. "I didn't betray her, Sejanus. We know one baseline thing about Y/N Y/L/N and it's that she is, if nothing else, dramatic."

"Really? I wouldn't describe her that way." Sejanus argues subtly. "She's outspoken, maybe slightly obnoxious at times, but I feel like I am too. The one thing I know for sure about her is that she's not a liar, Coriolanus."

Coryo doesn't know if he's more angry about Sejanus calling you 'obnoxious' or framing it so nicely that you don't keep your mouth shut when you probably should. You were his girl, his. No one should talk about you like that but him- praise you or critique you all the same. You didn't know it yet, necessarily, but you were his to protect and to fix, if need be. You were rough around the edges, that's for certain, but you would mellow out eventually if you ever forgave him. "She wouldn't let me explain."

"Oh, was this before or after you kissed her as an apology?" Sejanus matches the heavy statement with a laugh and Coryo rolls his eyes at his response.

"I just, I needed her to know I did it because I care. I thought she was dead."

"Okay, well, she told me where she's staying. Told me to stop by on a day off." Sejanus admits. "Maybe you should come with me."

"Maybe." He agrees.

It was another week of torturous loneliness before Coriolanus was graced with a day off, and not even so much graced as he had to trade with one of his bunkmates to have the same day off as Sejanus. As soon as they ate they grabbed a couple bags of ice to bring with them to help you and your new friends beat the heat- a peace offering, of sorts.

The early August sun beat down on their backs as they walked through the Seam, a decrepit and rundown residential area that Coryo had no doubt had never seen a single air conditioner in all its days. There's no way you were happy here. Even with the lightness of his t-shirt and the early hour, he still had to fight the urge to remove it and instead drape it over his head to shade his skin from the sun.

"There's nothing down here. She lied to you." Coryo mutters as the already crumbled road falls into nothing more than a trail.

"Y/N said we had to keep going past the road." Sejanus says, looking back at him over his shoulder. "You want to hate her so bad, but you can't."

"I certainly can." Coryo grumbles in denial. "She's giving me the runaround. Obviously, she gave you fake directions-"

"Are you sure about that?" His friend replies smugly, looking through the overgrown trees ahead at a small grey house circled in by a white fence that hadn't seen a wash in years.

Coriolanus doesn't say anything, mentally rolling his eyes at being proven wrong. "Alright, go knock, then." He gestures for his friend to go ahead.

"This is your big plan to win her over? Hide in the bushes while I go in?"

"No. I'm just sure she lied and a local drunk is about to open the door with a gun pointed at your head."

"Suit yourself." Sejanus replies lightheartedly, practically skipping up to the door and giving it a few gentle knocks before taking a step back.

It's only a few moments and lots of chatter from inside before the door is swung open. "Hello there, what can we do ya' for?" Lucy Gray grins, and Sejanus looks pointedly over his shoulder at Coryo.

"Hi, I'm Sejanus, I'm a friend of Y/N's from back home." He explains and she smiles.

"Of course! I thought I recognized you, come on in, she's out in the back but you can just pass right through." She lets him in, looking at Coryo standing just outside of the fence line.

"You coming, Coriolanus?" She asks, raising an eyebrow as she holds the door, leaning against the frame.

He plasters on a smile, nodding and walking up to her on the porch that he's shocked doesn't collapse under his feet. "How are you?" She grins at him. "It's good to see you."

"You too." He nods. "I'm glad to see you made it home safe."

"Hey, well, welcome to the club." She chuckles, closing the door behind him. "Y/N's just out back." She points toward the back door. "But she's not too keen about seeing you, you know."

"So I've heard." Coryo sighs. "The feeling is mutual."

"Then why are you here?" She asks her previous mentor calmly. He's stumped by this, unsure how to respond. "Well, if it helps, I'm real glad you're here. I missed you." Lucy Gray promises, leading him to the back door and swinging it open.

Your head turns at the appearance of Coryo's silhouette on the back stairs. You internally groan, of course Sejanus would bring him. "And you brought Coriolanus." You smile bitterly at your friend, sliding an ice cube from the bag across your bare collarbones over the shirt you had now cut the sleeves off completely to turn into a tube top.

"Yeah, well, I figured you might want to actually talk." Sejanus offers, raising an eyebrow at you.

"We wanted to make sure you were doing okay here. Living up to your high standards." Coryo replies for you.

"Do I look uncomfortable to you?" You ask, placing a hand on your hip. "Well, now you've seen it all. Thanks for coming, Coriolanus, but I'm clearly happy here, so you can be on your way. Don't you have a rebel to shoot at?"

"Hey, woah-" Sejanus chuckles, holding his hands out to you in mock surrender. "Y/N, we just wanted to visit. I know I speak for both of us when I say that we've missed you."

You sigh, rolling your eyes slightly. You were nothing if not polite, raised to be a flawless hostess in your own home. "Alright. Sit." You gesture to the patch of grass next to you, by the little garden you're digging into to start some fall flowers. You've always wanted to try a garden, but your family paid people to do that and you didn't have the time, so why would you?

Lucy Gray and Sejanus do most of the talking, and you try to avoid looking up much from the dirt you're digging up and the small seeds you're planting. Coriolanus is sitting too close to Lucy Gray for your comfort, but you've been working on your temper, and until he showed back up it was going really well.

"Lucy Gray!" Billy Taupe calls from the front of the house, drawing all of your attention. You'd seen more of him than you have cared to since you've been here, he just won't leave her alone.

"Oh lord, here we go." She huffs, standing up and brushing off her skirt.

"I'll come with you." Sejanus offers quickly, standing as well. You're reminded of how, apparently, he and Billy Taupe know each other but you still can't understand why. The two of them disappear around the side of the house, and you're left alone with Coriolanus.

You keep a straight face, continuing with your cycle. Dig a hole, move the dirt, bury the seed, water it, repeat.

"What are you planting?" He decides to break the silence, moving a little closer to you and leaning back on his palms.

"Flowers, some fruit." You mumble back, keeping your focus on your hands.

"Isn't it a bit late in the season?" He asks, head tilted as he watches you.

"Raspberries are perennials." You reply plainly. "And roses bloom until late fall, do they not?"

"They do." He nods in confirmation, smiling a little to himself. Raspberries and roses together. He wonders if you even know what you're doing, or if this was a subconscious yearning you didn't know you had; to be with him in every form.

"Then there's no harm in planting them now." You say, stopping to take a quick break. You lean back on your calves where you were kneeling, grabbing the ice bag that is now mostly melted to drink out of. You hold it out to Coryo when you're done, shaking it when he hesitates to take it from your hand. "Drink. It's hot, you'll get dehydrated quickly even just sitting out here."

Coryo takes it at that, looking away quickly when he catches that glimpse of pity in your eyes, the same look that plagued him in the weeks leading up the the games and after he thought you died. He hated it until then, but now, maybe it wasn't so bad. At least you were looking at him, and it seemed like it was some kind of inherent need you had to take care of him. The thought of that made his stomach flip.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you." You say suddenly, catching him so off guard he almost spits out his water. District life really must have been changing you, and it was worse than he imagined. It wasn't just the loose-fitting clothes that were one stitch away from falling off of your frame, however breathtaking they may somehow look. Now, Y/N Y/L/N was in the business of issuing apologies? Someone call a doctor. "I shouldn't have said... that. It was cruel."

Coryo nods slightly, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I figured you didn't mean it."

"You were lucky they had already decided my guilt. I would have torn your head off by now, otherwise." That's the Y/N I know.

"Sejanus told me they were going to execute you."

"Well, not necessarily." You sigh, pulling your skirt back out of the way before digging your hands back into the dirt. "It wasn't stated, but it was service that was suggested. Possibly nursing, probably under my father back home. When I climbed out my window, they were discussing the possibility of having me turned into an Avox. Highbottom said I knew too much, but I know my father would rather shamelessly bury me than have his oldest turned into a symbol of rebellion." You explain, now seeing no harm in telling him the full story.

"What do you know, anyway?" Coriolanus asks. It had been bothering him for a long time, and up until a week ago, he thought you took those secrets to the grave.

"That he and my father are proprietors of the largest drug ring Panem has ever seen." You answer simply, a smug smile taking over your features as you press some dirt carefully over a planted seed. "The main storage is in a secret room in our wine cellar, an old bunker from the war. I stumbled into it when I was thirteen-ish. I mean, you wouldn't believe everything they had down there. I haven't seen anything like it. Actual gallons upon gallons of morphling, other addictive crap that'll ruin your life, even weed." You giggle, sitting back again to gesture with your hand how big everything is.

Coriolanus can feel his eyes going wide at your confession, and he stammers. "I- wow, uh..."

"Come on," You chuckle, tilting your head at him like it was obvious. "Doctors don't have that much power unless they're a game maker Like Gaul, or have that money to start. They make money, sure, but not like that."

"Well," He swallows, nodding slightly at the intake of information. "That explains you being able to walk all over Highbottom for so long." He chuckles. It all makes so much sense now, how both you and Highbottom have a seemingly endless supply of morphling on you, and your father had a decently sized sought-after medical practice, but nothing that could add up to the amount of power and influence he possessed back home. "And the weed you brought to Livia's seventeenth birthday party."

You laugh. "No one even knew what to do with it- we were all so damn sheltered." You hum, matching his smile. "Still, don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He shakes his head.

"You sure? Because last I recall, you did snitch on me, Snow. And frame me, if I’m remembering correctly…"

Coryo sighs. "I know, I know... But I did mean what I said. I just- it was stupid, but I thought I could protect you. Genuinely."

You don't seem mad anymore, just smiling at him. "I know." You say, voice so sickly sweet and soft in a way he had only ever heard from you once before; when he was on the verge of a panic attack in the arena. You had told him that soon it would all be over, simultaneously you were right but you also couldn't have been more wrong.

You needed him to believe all was forgiven, and the small look of satisfaction on his face proves to you that it has worked. From here, the games were back on.

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garbagegarbagefruit · 5 months ago

Text

eye for an eye

Zoro x Sanji

✦ Summary: Sanji finds Zoro on Sabaody. Zoro realizes that something about the cook has changed, but he can't put his finger on it. His determination to find out exactly what it is pushes them to share a few moments that neither of them would have anticipated two years ago. But a lot has changed since the last time they were here, hasn't it?

✦ Word Count: 3.7k

✦ Warnings: light spoilers for the time skip and fishman island, light angst, references to past fights (Thriller Bark, Sabaody)

✦ Notes: I saw this beautiful art of Sanji with heterochromia and I wanted to write the moment that Zoro realizes this about him. I'm not up to date yet (just finished dressrosa) but if you like it pls let me know and I'll think about writing a part two once I've got all the lore from Sanji's backstory!

this is my first piece of writing for one piece - critiques welcome but pls be nice:)

✦ AO3 Link

divider by @drinkthesky

Zoro caught a glimpse of something golden, glittering in the sun above the surface. The pirate ship he had so unceremoniously slashed in half parted the water around them and released a flurry of bubbles as it pushed its way up. The two halves of the ship emerged, sending furious waves and a shower of salty droplets in every direction.

The source of that opulent shimmer stood on the cliff side, staring down at him with an insufferable smirk. The crew of the ruined ship were trying to give Zoro an earful but he ignored them. He was busy studying his crewmate, cataloging every change, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer relief of seeing one of his family again.

The cook had gotten taller, bulkier - rigorous training evident in the fit of his clothes. He had the same nonsensical, curling eyebrows and signature cloud of cigarette smoke circling his head like a misshapen halo. The sun gilded his shaggy blonde hair and illuminated his one visible eye. It was Sanji, unmistakably.

However, amidst the familiarity, there was some change that Zoro couldn't put his finger on. Something striking, and yet he couldn't name it. He wondered, briefly, if his scar had struck the cook in the same way. But Sanji didn't mention it. Flicking his gaze over the cook's form, he checked for new scars and found none.

There was no time to dwell on it. A barrage of classic insults and scolding greeted him from the blonde’s mouth and he found himself falling into old patterns like they had never been separated. Whatever the change was, though, it lodged itself in the back of his mind and insisted on resurfacing periodically even as the pair found themselves running toward an explosion that almost certainly meant Luffy was close.

Now that they were reunited, he had all the time in the world to spend with his crew, because he was never going to let them be separated like that again. The problem was the desperation crawling under his skin. The need to know every change that occurred, even though each one would settle heavy in his belly like a stone. Weighing him down with the knowledge that the time they had spent apart was simply gone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was still bothering him, hours later. After the crew had reunited, escaped attacks from seemingly all sides, and begun their descent into the sea.

Beneath the ocean, the world was surreal and beautiful. It was like they were being rewarded for all their hard work, all that time apart. They had hours to bask in the scenery and simply be together. So many days out of the last seven-hundred-something were spent wondering what the crew was up to, and now those empty spaces could be filled in.

Sitting on the grass of the Sunny, Zoro watched the filtered sunlight shift and change with the moving water as they continued to sink deeper into the ocean. Shadows of fish and seaweed danced in a rhythm with the wavering light, the resin coating casting its iridescent glow across every inch of the ship. He was filled with nothing but quiet contentment, as the thing that had been driving him for the last two years had finally been satisfied. He was with his family again.

That should be the only thought in his mind, and yet every time he looked in Sanji's direction, he was reminded of that thing he could not figure out. He didn't particularly want to give Sanji any extra attention at the moment. He lay pathetically sprawled on his back with blood pouring out of his face from his stupid perverted tendencies. But then the blonde opened his eyes, gaze following Chopper’s pointed hoof to a school of fish as it crossed above their bubble. A beam of light kissed his features, catching his uncovered eye and illuminating the iris like a gemstone.

Zoro's breath caught in his throat, his lungs filling with something angry and burning. So, he did the only thing he knew to do when he was feeling bothered - he picked a fight.

Some senseless, muttered remark thrown the cook's way escalated seamlessly into a shouting match and from there into sparring. Zoro was immediately scolded by the little doctor for going after Sanji in his injured state. But that only spurred Sanji's ego, and Chopper left them to it with a sigh.

From the start, it was obvious that Sanji was not at his usual strength due to the blood loss. He was not weaker by much, just enough for Zoro to get what he wanted. Later, they'd fight for real and find out just what kind of training had occurred during their time apart. But right now, Zoro had a single goal.

However, the cook had started to suspect that something was up from the oddly determined look in the swordsman's steely eyes. He fought to keep distance between them as Zoro's advances invaded his space and pushed him further and further back.

Zoro regrouped and attacked with more fervor, leaving no room for retaliation. He kept his focus on Sanji's face, determined to catch another glimpse of crystalline eyes. Sanji only grew more defensive under the extra attention, desperate to get out from under the swordsman's stare.

"Just let me see," Zoro grumbled, growing sweaty and frustrated as the cook evaded him again. He had not intended to say the words out loud.

"See what? " Sanji demanded.

He faltered for a split second and his fate was sealed. Zoro gained the upper hand and Sanji went flying backwards, landing at the edge of the grass with a dull thump. Zoro wasted no time, throwing himself down to sit on his legs and hooking his own knees and ankles under and around to keep the cook from escaping. Both wrists were caught and held tightly in Zoro's grasp, and he let out a triumphant huff as Sanji cursed.

"Why are you being so weird?" Sanji barked, wriggling in Zoro's grasp.

His legs may be strong, but Zoro had placed his full weight on them and he had certainly gained more muscle in the last two years. Sanji noted this with irritation, resolving to find out exactly how much Zoro weighed these days so he could make that his new training goal.

Zoro didn't answer the question. The intensity in his gaze did not waver as he leaned forward and pushed Sanji's bangs to the side with his free hand. It was a little rougher than he meant, though he upheld the belief that his hands were not made to be gentle.

"What the fuck?" Zoro scowled, eyebrows drawn tightly together.

The answer to his own burning question lay beneath him, flushed and swearing under his breath as Zoro studied his features. It was strange and almost startling to see his whole face at once. Framed by those ridiculous curling brows, one eye glittered a beautiful green-blue, a perfect match to the ocean surrounding them. One was brown, lit up in tones of molten honey by the meager sunlight. The swordsman's eye widened, his grip on Sanji's loosening.

He was more surprised that he was right than anything - he had been certain he'd never seen that shade of amber before. When he closed his eyes and pictured Sanji, it was always with that teal-blue.

Not that he was picturing Sanji with his eyes closed, ever.

" What? " Sanji spat. He used Zoro's momentary shock to wriggle out from under his grasp and scramble out of reach, hair falling back into place. He panted, catching his breath as he matched Zoro's scowl and waited for an explanation.

"Why are they different?" Zoro's frown did not ease.

"They've always been different," Sanji rolled his visible eye, voice dripping with disdain and something that sounded a little like surprise. "You seriously never noticed?"

"How was I supposed to? You always have your hair in the way!” Zoro retorted, standing to his feet and crossing his arms over his chest. He refused to accept the embarrassment that was attempting to sink its way under his skin. There was no way Sanji had two different colored eyes and he had never noticed.

Then again. When he thought back to any time before Thriller Bark, there was a film over his memories. As if, before he'd thrust his hands into that bubble, he'd only ever been half awake. Indeed, there was something about Sanji now, whether it be the surreal lighting of the deep sea, or the new information, that made him seem so much more vivid than before.

"Figures, idiot marimo," Sanji sat back against the deck railing, procuring cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Zoro's eyes followed his movements, a little dazzled by his vibrancy. "The only things you notice are booze and swords."

Zoro scoffed, but didn't try to refute it. It was true. At least, before . Not now, though. He had spent the last two years painfully conscious and he would not be going back to sleep now.

"Why'd you switch your hair like that anyways?" Zoro heard himself ask.

He leaned his hip against the railing, staring down at the cook through a haze of smoke. It was quiet for a minute, that honey eye focused on something far away. Zoro had started to wonder if he'd really spoken his question out loud when he heard a quiet, resigned sigh.

"Never liked my brown eye," Sanji shrugged one shoulder, a delicate pink creeping over his cheeks and ears as he continued, "But while I was gone, someone told me they liked it. I just thought I would try something new. It's not a big deal."

The averted gaze and slight waver in his voice gave the cook away. Zoro would have known anyway, without those clues. It was a big deal. When had he ever seen Sanji change his routine? His mannerisms, turns of phrase? Even his suit was the same style that he had always worn. It may have even been one of the same ones from two years ago.

There was something there to be pieced together, taking shape in between all of the things that hadn't been said. Sanji was saying the same thing Zoro had been thinking for two years. This small change had been made like a vow. That nothing would ever be the same.

Zoro opened his mouth, words hanging off the tip of his tongue. A compliment. A thank you. Something to acknowledge the weight of this exchange. An offering of his own vulnerability - anything he could give to even things out. Sanji did not give him the chance. Whether he had someone read his expression or not, Zoro didn’t know. But he cut him off, the words coming out in a rush.

“You owe me for this.”

“For what?!” Zoro sputtered, indignant, certain that he had not done anything wrong.

“For getting in my personal space,” He said, matter of fact, “And being a freak.”

He stood with a huff before the swordsman could respond, shoving his hands into his pockets and angling his body away. He threw over his shoulder in a tone of pure ice,

"If you tell anyone else or try to tease me for this, I'll break your fucking swords over my knee.”

With that, the blonde returned to the others, clothes smoothed and posture straightened like nothing of importance had just passed between them. Nobody questioned him, chalking up the fight to their typical bickering. It was so convincing that Zoro started to second guess himself. Maybe Sanji really didn't care.

But either way, Zoro himself was stunned, scrambling to figure out how to move forward while balancing the delicate thing that Sanji had placed in his hands. The cook may have tried to veil its importance but his hollow threat betrayed him. If there was no trust between them, there would have been no confession at all.

That small secret had already burrowed itself deep into Zoro's chest, close to Kuina's dream.

Kuina's dream, in contrast, was heavy like a boulder. A boulder that had been thrust upon his shoulders and that he carried with him each day, pursuing with ferocity and equal measures of blood and sweat and tears.

This was something else. Smaller, softer. Something that wouldn't be heavy so carry. Like a pearl, made of glass and fished from the mysterious depths of the ocean.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Zoro closed his good eye and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Behind him, the bacchanal carried on. He breathed deep, grateful for the respite offered by this alcove. The tall windows of the palace painted the balcony with patches of warm light, glittering against the empty glass bottles strewn over the stairs.

The crew, in various combinations of duos and trios, made their way out here throughout the night for a breath of fresh air. Nami and Usopp had gone back to the party a while ago, but Zoro had remained on his own, appreciative of the cool quiet. If he listened, he could pick out their drunken laughter from among the other raucous partygoers. And with his eye closed, he could find the shape of their auras, shining brighter than all the others.

He smiled as those glowing auras danced, safe and carefree. There was a lot to think about, a lot waiting for them back on the surface. But they had done good work for fishman island. And most importantly, they were all here . Together again and celebrating after a job well done. Just like before, like no time had passed at all. Or at least, it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed.

Approaching footsteps interrupted his focus, his spine tensed out of instinct. Then he registered the familiar click of the cook’s dress shoes, and his shoulders dropped. He did not need haki to recognize that sound. But he kept his eye closed anyways, watching the marbled shape draw closer. It had such vivid colors, like shades of amber and honey against a cloudless sky.

His eyelid fluttered open, and there was Sanji, standing above him. Glassy-eyed, rosy-cheeked, with his hands in his pockets and a lit cigarette dangling precariously from his crooked smile.

"I know what I want," Sanji announced by way of greeting, pointing a finger too close to Zoro's face. He was tipsy, enough for every sentence to string together into a lilting accent, a few words that Zoro didn't know sometimes making their way in.

"What?" Zoro asked, gaze falling to Sanji's mouth to watch how he formed the words. The swordsman wasn't exactly sober, either.

"For my IOU, mosshead. I know what I want," Sanji said, oblivious to Zoro's inner monologue. He smelled like wine, his lips tinted a plummy color.

"And?"

Zoro was not exactly sure what he was expecting, but it was not for Sanji to plop down next to him and lean in close. One pale hand reached for his face, clumsily clinking his golden earrings together before landing a little roughly against a sharp, bronze cheekbone. Curling eyebrows drew together as a thumb swept over the deep scar interrupting Zoro's skin. From his forehead, carving a jagged line through his eyebrow, over the delicate skin of his eyelid, and halfway down to his jaw.

"I want to know what happened to your eye. Because you won’t tell anybody," Sanji informed him. Then he snorted to himself and giggled, "An eye for an eye."

Zoro's heartbeat quickened. Of course it would, if someone who only reached for him in order to start a fight suddenly invaded his personal space. His body was reacting to a threat. And that accent was driving him crazy. He didn't know where it was from. It made him want to pry the cook open and hunt for every secret that he kept hidden between his ribs.

Sanji fed the crew every day. He kept them all alive. He was their lifeline, and yet Zoro barely knew anything about him. Did the others know any more than him? It was a thought that had been rattling around in his mind since he had learned of the cook's heterochromia. (A word that Robin had taught him, and that he had horribly misunderstood at first.)

"Well?" Sanji's voice startled Zoro from his contemplation.

Nothing happened.

It was his first instinct, but the words stopped halfway up his throat. He couldn't do that to the cook again, watch his face contort like Zoro had pierced his chest with an arrow. He cleared his throat and conjured up a different answer. One that would move him out from under the intensity of Sanji's gaze, but buy him a little time to gather himself before he had to pry open that part of his memory. With care, he wrapped his fingers around the cook's wrist and lifted that curious hand away.

"I'll tell you someday," Zoro said quietly, his voice gravelly with some emotion he didn't know the name of. "When I'm ready."

Sanji stared at him for a moment, seemingly considering. Then he shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette.

"That's fair," He said, smoke pouring out between his teeth as his eyes flicked over the swordsman's face, openly studying the scar. "But I'm going to hold you to it. Don't think I won't remember just because I'm a tiiiiiny bit tipsy."

Zoro snorted at that, earning him a half-hearted kick that smarted more than he'd ever admit. Sanji had gotten much, much stronger. He didn't bother hitting back.

"You don't usually drink so much," He said instead, shifting his focus to something far away, starting to grow uncomfortable under Sanji's relentless stare. He failed to see the parallel between this moment and his own scrutinizing glare pinning the blonde to the lawn of the Sunny.

"Happy," Sanji said in response, his cheeks rosy as he offered a lopsided grin. Placing his cigarette between his lips, he breathed deep and let his head fall back. Three defined rings of smoke rose from his pursed lips, floating for a second before dissipating into the night air.

"Show off," Zoro muttered, averting his gaze as he tried and failed to keep his own lips from turning upwards, affected by the cook's contagious mood.

"Only for you," Sanji laughed, the sound closer to a bubbling giggle. He looked at Zoro again, and all of that mirth slipped away into a seriousness. Like he couldn't stop thinking about Zoro's scar for long. "Is your eye still...."

He trailed off, wincing like he could feel the injury himself.

"Open it," Zoro said.

Sanji grimaced, but he took the offer. His touch was impossibly gentle, the skin of his hands smooth and warm, contrasting with the cool metal of his rings. He rested his hand on Zoro's cheek with much more care than the first time, fingertips brushing his hairline as he gingerly pushed up the scarred eyelid with his thumb.

That softness filled Zoro's chest with a wave of something strong and urgent. He was watching the cook’s face as he carried out his investigation, and damn those eyes really were something. He was less careful in his wine-induced stupor, letting his bangs show more of his face than usual. And the swordsman was reminded that his eyes were like nothing he’d seen before. It was not just their striking contrast, but the unreal saturation of each hue. Like gemstones, he’d thought before. Like aquamarine and tiger’s eye.

His thoughts about gemstones were cut short as he watched Sanji frown at what he saw, drawing his touch away as softly as he'd placed it. Sanji had always been Zoro's antithesis. If Zoro's hands were made to be rough, stained with blood and cruelty, then Sanji's must be meant to be just like this . Zoro silently vowed to keep them that way.

"It's-"

"Glass," Zoro finished for him, "They said it'd help the tissue heal better. Doesn't seem like my eyelid wants to work any more, though. I don't really care either way."

"Does it make it harder? To fight?"

"No," Zoro said, a little too quickly, "It won't."

He paused, and then swallowed hard, waiting to see if Sanji would acknowledge what he had just confessed. Praying that Sanji might understand what Zoro had given him. The same thing the cook had gifted him, only a few days ago.

He dared one last glance into that honey brown eye, and was met with a solemnity that rattled him. It was gone in a flash as Sanji looked away, taking a deep breath and leaning back on his elbows, head tilting once more toward the sky.

Zoro followed suit, laying flat on his back. The marble offered a welcome coolness against his heated skin. His heart was racing so wildly he worried Sanji could somehow feel it through the stone.

Something was beginning to grow in the warm biome of his chest, growing roots around his heart. A beginning, so tangible and overwhelming he could only brace himself and let it wash over him.

He remembered the last time he felt like this. The sound of his swords clattering to the ground as he swallowed Luffy's dream and exhaled his own. When he traded his life to Kuma in exchange for his captain's freedom. He had realized in that moment that Luffy had started something bigger than any of them. Bigger than any of them could even comprehend. The scale of Luffy's influence on the world had crashed into him as harshly as the pain had. And he had known that this was only the start of everything to come - the good and the bad.

He felt it again, now, as his pulse raced under his skin, Sanji's warmth bleeding into his side where they weren't even touching. Something was beginning, here. Something that made him feel wide awake, twice as alive. His hands twitched with the desire to protect it, whatever it was. To hold it tight within his grasp.

He thought back to the moment he had seen Sanji's other eye for the first time. And as the cook closed the gap between them and leaned his knee against Zoro's, the same words he had thought then became etched into his being.

Nothing would ever be the same.

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crystalskiesandcherrywine · 1 year ago

Text

The sound of the waves collide // Part Four

So it is time for the last part.... I still cannot believe that I managed to write something and look forward to post more

This chapter is very explicit - for my taste at least.

Song for the chapter - Alkaline by Sleeptoken

English is not my first language

_____________

Na Baron Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader

shameless smut

FxM

All feedback is welcome <3

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

1.695 words

____________

The encounter with Feyd leaves you so shaken that, come morning, you avoid seeing anyone. It feels childish and less dignified, your mind circling around the memories of the evening like vultures. It's as if he doesn't even need to touch you to make you forget years of training and let your emotions get the best of you. And he visibly enjoys it, your pain and humiliation making it even more luxurious for him. Frustrated and unable to concentrate, you put Irulan's gift away and lie down in a lounge chair on the balcony overlooking the small garden. The sun's rays are softened by the huge trees and reflected in the pond below. Its crystal clear waters appear like a mirror - calm and serene, a painful contrast to your mental state. You close your eyes and try to ground yourself in the moment, repeating the mantra „I am alive in stillness“, but to no avail. The fever that has been ignited within you consumes your mind and body. Your hands seem to develop a life of their own and, as if guided by a puppet master, they find their way to the small band of your tunic. The warm air touches your skin and you close your eyes, letting your fingers slide over your breasts, caressing the nipples that instantly stiffen under your touch. Your hand continues to slide down as your eyes flutter shut. It is almost as if you are picking up where he left off. The heat concentrates under your fingers, and letting your intuition guide you, you move your fingers in circles, dipping in and out of your cunt. The orgasm is so intense that for a second you forget where you are. You can't stop yourself from moaning his name and you feel like coming up for air.

Two days later it is time to say goodbye. Your father kisses you on the forehead and your mother seems to think the same as you - "I will not fear". Letting go of Paul's embrace seems almost impossible, but when all is said and done, you make your way to the Baron's ship. His gigantic form floats in front of you, while your betrothed follows at the same level as you.

Even if he doesn't look at you, you can't help but feel his presence. Each step seems to be part of a well-orchestrated choreography and reminds you of a wild animal, ready to reveal its murderous nature at any moment. At the last glance, you turn your head to see your mothers signing "Good luck" to you with a small flick of her wrist. The connection to what was familiar is tethered and you are not sure of the tumultuous feeling your gut that the now empty space in your soul is son tobe filled with a new home. The change is almost tangible, as if when you pay close enough attention, it glow like a dark halo around you.

Once on the ship, you are left to your own devices. You can call upon servants at any time, but they seem to anticipate your wishes before you know them. Food and drink are brought to you, as well as an army of new clothes. Your favourite is the black dress with heavy beading around the bodice, covering your torso like a shield. Paired with a translucent black veil and a small gold chain around your neck, connected to your torso, it feels appropriate to take your first steps on the planet you will call home.

Your unease is heightened when, upon your arrival, neither Feyd nor the Baron are to be seen. A tall, slender man who introduces himself as Piter de Vries escorts you to the Feeds chambers. You immediately recognise the characteristic traces of spice in his eyes, the only thing that seems to have any colour in this world. Shielded from the harsh black sun, you reach Na Baron's quarters, only to find an army of monochrome grey, white and black surroundings. The palace seems to be the essence of the Harkonnens, with hard, clear lines, yet graceful and spacious.

"If you need anything, there are always two servants at the door," says Piter. The servants resemble guards, but you decide not to share this observation. Piter's eyes linger on the glass box with the fir tree. "Do you want to have a closer look?" You ask. "Only if you don't mind. I have never seen anything like it". "It was a parting gift from my father. On Caladan, fir trees grow as tall as these walls, more of them than you can count. You may take it with you if you promise to return it in one piece tomorrow." Pieter seems to understand your bid for connection and bows his head „I am indebted to you, Na Baroness“ Its the first time some one dresses you with your new title and you barely suppress a shiver. And as if the title was a spell, Feyd Rautha appears in the doorway. Piter bows and leaves at once, holding the precious piece of your home in his hands. He moves so siletly, that you begin to wonder if the planet is not only devoid of color but also of sound. Blood seems to rush to your cheeks as you meet Feyd's gaze. "Is everything to your satisfaction?" His voice echoes. "Yes, thank you, Baron." His arms are behind his back and before you realise why, you see droplets of thick, almost black liquid collecting on the floor behind him. Slowly he unclasps his hands, drops to one knee and holds out a slim silver knife to you, covered in more of the same substance. "Is… is it blood?" You don't know why you question it. "Yes, it is. Please accept this as a token of my devotion to you. It is…" his blue eyes find yours, "the proof that my body will be yours alone. No other being shall touch it."

"Your pets…" you feel almost dizzy as the understanding dawns on you.

"No more pets," he says, still on his knee.

You slowly take the knife and place it on the white table beside you. Some of the blood gets on your wrist. He grabs it and licks it off. While a part of your brain screams that you should be afraid, your body seems to find the spark he struck on Kaitain again. His tongue flicks across the sensitive skin as he rises and begins to undo the buttons on your shoulders, the need to touch him overwhelming you and you reach out with your palm to his cheek. He leans into your touch with more tenderness than you ever expected. But as soon as your dress falls to the floor, pure hunger returns to his eyes. He presses into you and you feel as if your insides have melted on the spot. You try to feel his length through the fabric of his tunic. „So needy, Na Baroness?“ He purrs, enjoying the dominance he has over you. With a swimming motion, he pushes you onto the bed, holding your arms above your head. His tongue descends to your collarbone, moving deeper as he takes one breast in his mouth, sucking the tender flesh. You moan under him, already feeling washed away from any security of a shore into a whirl of need. His tongue continues to drive you mad as he bites you, the pain searing and glorious at the same time. Your hand reaches for him again, but he holds your wrists down as his tongue continues to run between your legs. He looks up at you, and it is the last thing to break the tiny shreds of your resolve. But he doesn't let you go, his tongue still swirling between your folds, drinking in your sweetness. Suddenly your hands are connected and a split second later you realise why: he uses his left hand, with slender, graceful fingers, to push your thighs further apart. You feel wanton and still needy, and as one of his finders curls inside you, you moan his name. "Feyd, Feyd, Feyd." Your own voice seems alien to you, high-pitched and desperate.

"My Na Baroness seems to want more," he smiles devilishly and inserts two more fingers at once. You whimper and throw your head back into the pillows. It feels like the stars are exploding behind you and feel the second orgasm coming as he stops and pulls away from you. You can barely hold back a frustrated squeal. Your body feels hot, the only antidote to this madness his skin on yours. You try to concentrate on his form, seeing him remove his tonic first, then his trousers, leaving nothing to the imagination. His body is pure perfection, not a mark on his porcelain skin, he kneels on the bed again and moves towards you. The tip of his shaft is already pink and covered with pearls of pre-cum. It touches your clit lightly as it settles between your legs. "You'll have to learn to control yourself. So responsive to my touch, so desperate…" he hisses as the black of his pupils replaces the blue, making them almost invisible. His tip touches your entrance and then disappears completely inside you. You feel torn apart and put together at the same time, pain and pleasure mixed into something new, a delicious cocktail of discovery that leaves you drunk and breathless. You want to close your eyes, but he says "Look at me" you hear him murmur and you are lost again. With every movement of his hips, your whole being seems to refragment and reassemble like a kaleidoscope. Your walls convulse around him, his name like a sacred chant. Your nails dig into his back and he lets himself fall, speeding up and thrusting into you with even more abandon. You feel his use of you, your name on his lips. For a few seconds you are speechless, your shallow breaths filling the room. He holds your hips as he lies down behind you, still inside you to the hilt. „Welcome to being my wife, dear Na Baroness“

#dune part ii #feyd rautha #feyd rautha imagine #feyd smut #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune movie #paul atreides #dune part two #harkonnen #austin butler #cannon divergence #arranged marriage #shameless smut #smut

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thestarstoasun · 1 year ago

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Some of my PJO ships & why

Percabeth (Percy/Annabeth - They invented love)

Ruegard (Clarisse/Silena - THE LAST OLYMPIAN, THE PARALLELS, PLS)

Clarisse/Chris (*I do not know their ship name, my bad - The Labyrinth, need I say more?)

Silena/Beckendorf (*Idk if they ever had an official ship name - They were so tragic)

Clarisse/Beckendorf/Silena/Chris (Polycule, bc multishipper really)

Jake Mason/Michael Yew (I have a thousand reasons and I don't think any are canon)

Conchell (Connor/Mitchell - THE FANFICS PLS, but some of them need to remember these are minors pls)

Connor x Malcolm Pace (I saw really cute ship art 1 time and I was sold)

Connor/Mitchell/Malcolm (I think they'd be really cute together and I don't care if it's impractical)

Luke/Lee Fletcher (Lukelee - Honestly, its more of a crack ship for me, but some people on Tumblr have me considering how much)

Luke/Ethan Nakamura (Lukethan - I can't be alone in this, pls)

Theyna (Thalia/Reyna - They would make an awesome QPR, and I thought this even before Reyna was revealed to be aroace. They flirt endlessly if only to enjoy the confused looks on their friends faces)

Tratie (Travis/Katie Gardner - Is there anyone who read the books in the 2010s when the fandom was like super big that doesn't ship them? It's big now, but like, still.)

Tyson/Ella (They deserve the world)

Solangelo (Nico/Will - Tbf, I shipped them since The Last Olympian AS A CRACK SHIP, but A WIN IS A WIN)

Grover/Juniper (Just yes)

Sally/Paul (The King that our Queen Sally Jackson deserves)

Shelper (Shel/Piper - The plot twist I didn't know I needed)

Valgrace (Leo/Jason - When I read The Lost Hero, I just thought "these two idiots could definitely work well together.")

Jasper (Jason/Piper - It isn't my favorite, but I think they're cute together. I hate that their relationship was built on the Gods interference, because neither of them deserved that. I would probably like it more if it didn't start because of Hera.)

Ethabaster (Ethan Nakamura/Alabaster Torrington - The fandom is the reason I ship them mainly tbh. I ship Ethan with Luke more, but Ethan honestly deserves better)

Jercy (Jason/Percy - I have read a single Jercy fanfiction and its kind of growing on me)

Cecil/Lou Ellen (They are literally the idiots in love that annoy Will until he gets with Nico {personal hc}, Love them)

Sherman/Miranda (I didn't think I would like this as much as I do, but its in so many fics I've read I'm low-key a little attached. Like, yeah Sherman show off, get your girl)

Damien/Chiara (I couldn't see them with anyone else tbh, but honestly could possibly change that one day, they will always hold my heart as #1 together though)

Frazel (Frank/Hazel - They are one of the sweetest pairings in the series)

Jason/Percy/Annabeth/Piper (Yes, another poly ship. I've seen this in a few fics and honestly, I think the way its written has grown on me.)

Castor/Will (Literally, because of a single fanfic. They were probably each other's first crushes and didn't even know it)

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thisisa-stateofgrace · 28 days ago

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[fic] Two is (Uneconomically) Better Than One

Rating: G Fandom: The Pitt (duh) Pairing: KingDon (duh) Chapter/s: 1/3 Notes: Yup, I'm down bad for this ship. This is a MED STUDENTS!AU fic where KingDon are med students looking for a side gig. AO3

Summary:

Frank just wanted the gig. Mel just wanted the extra cash. Neither expected to show up for the same dog.

Thanks to a well-meaning-but-deeply-disorganized married couple, two med students end up co-sitting a very particular spaniel named Crosby. He's got a schedule, a lot of opinions, and apparently, a matchmaking agenda.

Now there are leash handoffs, co-walks, shared fridge space—and possibly, feelings? Unclear. But Crosby’s thriving, so that’s something.

Chapter 1

Frank rushes into the living room, sweat trickling down from his forehead, panting and wheezing. He shouldn’t have done that - run from the ground floor up to the fifth of Dr. Robby’s building. But he doesn’t really have a choice. He prides himself as a punctual guy and with the building elevator broken in the most inopportune time, he had no choice but to take the sprint of faith. Frank wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead and settles down on the couch.

Something squeaks.

Frank jolts up and sees a girl sitting down on the couch. He apologizes - well, he tries to but again, he is catching his breath for dear life here. She tells him not to worry and scoots over on the three-person couch. She fixes her glasses and taps her fingers on her lap.

They sit in silence which Frank appreciates as tries to gulp in as much air as he could to regain a sense of normalcy. He notices an ID badge clipped onto the strap of the girl’s bag: University of Pittsburgh - School of Medicine. Apparently, they’re both med students.

“So, here’s the catch!” Dr. Robby bursts into the room, shattering Frank’s train of thought. His wife, Dr. Heather, trails behind him.

“Heather, here, apparently booked a dog-sitter without telling me…” Dr. Robby chuckles. Heather waves him off playfully.

“And Robby… also booked a dog-sitter without my knowledge.”

Oh, so she is another dog-sitter.

Crosby, a small spaniel, jumps onto the girl’s lap. She runs her hands through its fur. He looks extremely pleased with himself.

“But we’ve got a flight to catch,” Heather says, hooking her arm through Robby’s, “and this guy here misread the schedule, so we really have to go.”

“Doc—” Frank tries to interject, hoping to clarify who gets the dog-sitting gig (and the money). Crosby cannot have two dog-sitters. In this economy?

“I trust you guys can figure it out amongst yourselves. Only one of you, or both—up to you. Frank, Mel, we really need to go.” And with that, Robby and Heather disappear, leaving behind two med students and one smug-looking spaniel.

Frank assumes he’s the more senior one, so he stands and takes the lead. Best case: he gets the gig solo. Base case: he and Mel split it. Worst case: she gets it. And Frank really needs the cash.

“Hi, Mel. I’m Frank. Noticed we’re from the same med school. I’m in my last year. You?”

“I’m in my second,” she replies, still petting Crosby. The dog is now melting into her lap, fully committed to the belly rub.

“So... who’s staying? I, for one, should. I need the cash,” Frank says plainly.

“I actually need the money too,” Mel replies. At least it’s the base case scenario. Plus, it’s not like Frank’s the one being uneconomical by hiring two dog-sitters for one small dog.

Frank starts pacing, trying to work out a schedule that’ll work for both them—and for Crosby.

“So we should take him out for a walk or two, right? Then a meal? Then a bath? Then... maybe another walk?” He’s clearly spinning his wheels.

“Dr. Collins gave me a list and timetable,” Mel chirps, pulling a paper from her bag. Crosby hops off her lap. She hands the list to Frank.

He squints at it. Mel tries to sneak a look, but the height difference makes it awkward. She tiptoes. Frank notices, scoots down slightly to level with her. She points to some of the tasks on the page. “I can do this,” she says, then turns to look at him. Their faces are close. Frank’s eyes widen at the small distance and he pulls back.

“Yeah, sure!” he coughs, completely fake, then magnets himself toward the fridge and sticks the schedule there.

Frank stares off as Mel returns her attention to Crosby. That moment earlier felt... weird. He touches his cheek. He’s not warm. He’s just not used to people getting that close. Probably. Maybe.

The clock strikes two. Frank grabs Crosby’s leash and latches it onto his collar. “I’ll take him for a walk,” he tells Mel. He silently prays the elevator has been resurrected from the dead, because he’s not ready for round two of Mount Robby. As he steps out, he hears a loud howl. He peeks back. Crosby is sprawled on the floor, ears drooping dramatically.

“Crosby, boy. We need to go,” Frank says gently. Crosby sighs. Frank sighs. Crosby sighs harder. They go back and forth like this until Frank raises the white flag.

“Maybe he wants you to take him?” he says. Mel sets down a few of Crosby’s toys and walks over. Frank hands her the leash. Their fingers touch. He flinches. There’s a sharp little buzz, but Mel doesn’t react. Odd.

Crosby perks up immediately when Mel grabs the leash. He has a favorite. Frank walks them to the door and shuts it behind them. A second later: howling. Again.

Frank opens the door fast. Not ideal to rack up noise complaints under someone else’s name. “Crosby started crying when you closed the door. He won’t get on the elevator,” Mel explains. Crosby looks up at both of them, tail still, sighing like a moody teenager.

“We can’t both walk him,” Frank argues. Crosby howls louder.

Frank shushes him. Crosby doubles down.

Frank panics, gives up, closes the door behind him, and jogs after them.

The elevator dings open. They step inside.

“Guess we’re co-sitters now,” Mel says with a smile, pressing the Ground button. Her nose scrunches as she tries to keep her glasses from sliding. Frank takes an invisible gulp.

Crosby stares up at his two humans with big, doe-like eyes, tongue flopped out, tail wagging full-speed like a metronome.

Crosby probably planned this.

#mel king #melissa king #kingdon #patrick ball #taylor dearden #langdonmel #langdon x mel #mel x langdon #melfrank #thepitt #fic #medstudents AU #FRANK AND MEL ARE MED STUDENTS #I JUST WANT SOMETHING HAPPY AND GIDDY #2 is better than 1 fic #fanfic #pitt fic #sog the pitt fic

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minus-plus-zer0 · 8 months ago

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The Bakusquad Gaming Group - Ch. 3 - Shipping O-o

| Masterlist | The Bakusquad Gaming Group Masterlist | | Previous | Next (TBD) | ♡ Genre: Fluff, suggestive ♡ Pairing: Gamer!Bakugou x Gamer!Reader ♡ Tags: Crossover (MHA x multiple franchises), gaming AU, Quirkless AU, aged up

Ever since your gaming channel started collaborating with Dynamight's, both of your fanbases have noticed your shared chemistry together.

And as your onscreen interactions increased, so did the shipping.

Shipping was never a big thing within the Bakusquad, especially considering Bakugou's near violent reaction towards anything sweet or romantic. But you were both sweet AND romantic, and yet Bakugou didn't have a problem with you. Everybody collectively raised their eyebrow at that.

Ever since your fans noticed, they ran wild with the ship. Fan accounts tagged your social media with new fanart of Bakugou and you, mashing your names together to form a title for the ship as it sailed beyond a point where you could even dare to stop it.

Your previous streams together didn't help matters as you flirted(?) on-camera. Given your growing feelings for Bakugou, obviously you didn't mind the prospect of actually dating him later on. You also flirted just because it was fun for you, for him, and for the chat.

But the shipping grew intense, and maybe you should've seen that coming.

Needless to say, you worried about how this would affect your actual relationship. At least the fanart was tame. The fanfics were NOT. You didn't know who wrote those wretched things, but you made the biggest mistake of your life by opening one of them. You could never unread what was once read.

You recalled the words from that single fanfic excursion, the ones that made you cringe.

"Bakugou nuzzled his girlfriend on stream, declaring her to be his one and only super duper true love. It was then that he asked her to marry him. But neither of them noticed that the camera kept rolling as they made out, and the chat went wild when they--"

You threw your phone across your room. You didn't check it for hours out of pure shame.

Most of the analyses regarding your relationship included any number of misinterpretations. You couldn't get their fan theories out of your head. Was Bakugou too close to you while you played games together in his apartment? Did Bakugou try to hold your hand during your last playthrough, like the fans suspected? Did Bakugou like all of your social media posts because he liked you in particular? You just didn't know anymore.

The real life shipping put a lot of pressure on your relationship. Your chat moderators (the other Bakusquad members) always had to deal with the shipping discussions that inevitably ensued afterwards. You felt like a bug underneath a microscope sometimes. Bakugou recently texted you about a restaurant he wanted to show you, but you declined. You didn't know how you could show your face to him after all this.

Unlike other content creators, you two previously helped fueled the fire of the shippers before realizing how bad it would get. Originally, you thought it would just be good fun, that it wouldn't get out of hand if you leaned into it as a joke rather than trying to dissuade people from it. And having people supportive of your budding relationship with Bakugou felt nice. But clearly that was the wrong move, and both of your fanbases had transformed greatly as a result. You never expected the shipping to reach this extent so soon.

Days later you denied a few more hangouts, just to give yourself some time to think. You didn't ghost Bakugou, you just put your friendship on hold temporarily.

But Bakugou wouldn’t let you avoid him for long. One day, he texted you something serious.

“We gotta talk about this.”

He posted a link to a social media account detailing the "Bakugou x You" ship. It was filled to the brim with "hints" of your relationship, fanart, wedding theories, romantic video compilations, and more. You cringed at the sight of it, but you couldn't leave Bakugou hanging.

You texted back. "Okay ;-;. I'm at my apartment, wanna meet me there?"

He agreed. Half an hour later, Bakugou showed up at your door. You opened it, meekly.

Bakugou stood there, expression impassive but unusually silent. Then, he spoke.

“You wanna let me in?”

You sighed and sidestepped, gesturing for him to enter. He followed you over to your living room couch, where you both sat. Your cute, pink home was much smaller than his apartment, and so was your couch. Thus, there wasn't much space between you two and there was little else in the room to distract you.

Bakugou stuck out like a sore thumb against the prettiness of your house. It made you uncomfortable to look him in the eye, but reluctantly, you did. He was already staring at you, looking quite serious.

"Those fans are a little embarrassing, haha..." you said.

"They're really fucking stupid."

It kinda hurt to hear him say that. You couldn't help but take a liking to the boy as your friendship progressed, so you almost hoped he would have a different reaction. But him egging the fans on would've been more strange...

"Um, I can tell them we're not dating, I guess?" You twiddled your thumbs. "Maybe that will help, if only a little."

Bakugou exhaled through his nose. "You don't have to tell them anything, at least not for my sake. The rumors stop my old hag of a mother from asking when I'm gonna get a girlfriend, so that's actually a benefit. I always tell her to fuck off, that I'm never dating anyone, and I've stuck to that my entire life. Now I don't gotta do that. But I know you, and I know you're probably not always comfortable with how people see ya."

"Well have you seen the fanfiction?" You shook your head. "Are you proud of your mother seeing that too?"

"Wha--she hasn't seen that shit yet!"

"So you have read it!"

"You have too!"

You both glared at each other, now flustered. His glare was much more ferocious, but yours was equally unwavering. You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"So we both read it..." you said. "...What tags did you choose?"

Bakugou squinted at you. "You first."

"No, I asked before you did."

Bakugou groaned loudly. He rested his head in his hands. "...Rivals to friends to lovers, fake dating, mafia--"

"Mafia?! Why--"

"--Soulmates, and domestic fluff. There. Happy? What about you?"

"Why would you read about us in the mafia?!"

"Hey! I asked you a damn question!" He poked you in the stomach. "Now you gotta answer! What were your tags?!"

Now it was your turn to look ashamed.

"...It was smut."

"Wha--How can you look me in the eyes and say that?"

"I couldn't!" You covered your face with your hands. "That's why I was avoiding you..."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow at you.

"...What did you read, exactly?" Bakugou asked, quietly.

"I don't know! I didn't even finish it, I threw my phone away before I could even reach the end. You know, the 'smut' tag was recommended everywhere. Don't tell me you didn't check it out too!"

Bakugou remained silent, and that spoke volumes.

"So we're both guilty," you said.

"...Does it bother ya?" Bakugou asked. "I can get the rest of the Bakusquad lackeys to moderate the chats better so they quit talking about us."

"That'd never work, and you know it." You slumped against your small couch. "Since our shipping fanbase isn't as rabid as others, maybe it'd be better not to poke the bear and try to fight them off. My main concern was originally how this would affect us..." You both looked away from each other. "But... now that I know we're in the same boat, I guess I don't feel as uncomfortable as I did before. Like it's easier to deal with this if we're both on the same page. Does that make sense?"

Bakugou looked at you. "No. Not at all. But if you don't give a shit, then I don't either. I only needed to know this shit wouldn't come between us, and that it wasn't creeping you out. So long as they don't progress to stalking we can just keep the finer details of our relationship a secret. Just don't go telling them everything we do."

"But you already had that rule in place, didn't you?"

"I fucking did. And clearly it was for a good damn reason." He wagged his finger at you. "It'd be easier to hide stuff if we got all my lackeys in on this. I'll get the Bakusquad to at least try and moderate more shit and suppress how much these extras invade into our lives, even if we can't stop 'em completely. In fact, we've got a convention coming up and you can go there to see the squad."

"I heard about that!" you said, sitting upright. "I actually wanted to surprise you guys by popping up at your panel at the convention, but since the shipping got stronger I thought it'd be better to lay low..."

Bakugou shook his head. "Hell no. If you already thought of going, then it only makes sense to have you come directly with us. We're not gonna let that shipping stuff mess with ya or creep ya out. I'll protect both of us. Besides, me and the guys already talked it over and they'd love to meet ya in-person after moderating our streams for so long. Just put on a disguise if you're still worried."

"A disguise, hm?" You playfully stroked your chin. "You're about to see a whole new side of me! Oh... but there is one last thing I wanted to discuss..."

Bakugou looked at you, concerned. "What is it?"

"...Can I read the mafia fic you read?"

"You're still fucking on that?!"

You shrugged. "I just wanna see what they wrote! Like, who would even think to write that about us? Isn't that interesting? Isn't that why you checked that fic out?"

Bakugou glared at you, but didn't say anything. You knew you were right.

"Hold on." Bakugou pulled up his phone and scrolled through his search history.

You tapped your feet happily, clapping your hands. "Oh this will be so much fun!"

"Don't go fucking judging me for this," Bakugou said.

"What did you think of the fic? Did you think it was your favorite? Did you leave a comment talking about how much it changed your life for the better? Did--"

"I did exactly none of those things!" Bakugou snarled at you. "Now quiet down and look."

Bakugou roughly scooted over on the couch to you, bumping against your hip. His phone displayed the mafia fic, clear as day. There were multiple other tags such as "Fluff", "Love at First Sight", "Soulmates", and more...

You looked at up, with one question clear on your silent face. "Why?"

"You wanted to read it so freaking read it already!" He shoved the phone in your face.

"No." You folded your arms. "We're reading it together. I wanna see your reactions."

Bakugou looked like he could die.

But he did as you asked.

(This isn't meant to offend any shippers of the fictional Bakugou x You ship, for I am one OuO. I bet Bakugou would love tooth-rotting fluff Bakugou x You fics as his guilty pleasure. Btw the next chapter will be longer than this one and is already in the works!)

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killerpancakeburger · 1 year ago

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The wizard is dead

Pairing: Rolan x f!Reader/Tav ("She" is used to refer to the Reader twice)

Summary: You didn’t expect to end the party celebrating Ketheric's final death at the Last Light Inn making out with a certain wizard. And least of all you certainly weren't expecting to meet him again in Baldur's Gate...

Tags: Enemies to lovers speedrun, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, protective! Tav, insecure! Tav, Astarion ships it and never stfu.

Warnings: swearing, alcohol mention, canon violence and death, spoilers for Acts 2 and 3 obvsly.

A/N: Making Rolan blush as much as possible. If you too felt murderous upon seeing his bruises, this is the fic for you!

“...up. Get up. Urgh. Get the fuck up.”

An exasperated, familiar voice pierced progressively the depths of your sleep. Didn’t mean you wanted to wake up, though. You felt deliciously drowsy and ready to plunge right back into the pit of slumber.

You grumbled in protest in response to the voice and submerged your head with your pillow.

The voice emitted a grunt of aggravation following your shenanigans.

“I can’t believe Karlack put up with this every morning…”

Something suddenly started to shove you repeatedly at waist level, and you identified the something as a foot.

You rolled over to escape, in vain.

“Go away, Astarion”, you whined, muffled by your pillow.

“Oh! She talks!” commented the vampire sarcastically. “Maybe now she will deign to join us for breakfast!”

“Why are you even here?”, you lamented. “Where’s Karlach? I want Karlach.”

It was your morning ritual since your hellish friend recovered her ability to touch without burning. She’d wake you up with a bones-crushing hug, some physical affection welcomed by both of you. In comparison to her, Astarion was cold and sharp, bodily and verbally.

“I wanted to be the first to congratulate you, darling.”

He wasn’t making any effort to conceal the enjoyment in his voice, and a bad feeling arose within you, wondering what could amuse him so early in the morning. Suffice to say, Astarion was not a morning person.

Thankfully, he kept talking without needing to ask him to.

“So congratulations for shagging the wizard last night! It was the most entertaining spectacle of the party, no doubt.”

“Gale…?” You asked, filled with confusion. You enjoyed his company but neither of you ever showed interest of the romantic… or sexual… sort in the other.

“Ugh”, sighed exaggeratedly Astarion, like it was the dumbest thing he’s ever heard in two hundred years, “no, not Gale.” The name sounded like an insult. You could hear the spawn roll his eyes.

“The stuck-up tiefling! The wannabe apprentice! What was his name again…?”

All torpor is abruptly ejected from your body with the power of a cannonball. You sit up brutally, wound up like a bowstring.

“Rolan!?” The name erupted from your mouth way louder than you intended. Luckily, Astarion didn’t pay attention as he slammed his fist against his palm in satisfaction.

“Yes! That haughty little… Anyway! You two gave the Inn one hell of a show, making out in front of everybody. I have to thank you for that, really, it was getting sooo boring.”

He was looking at you with the content smile of a cat who caught the mouse. You stared back with incredulity, dumbfounded.

“You’re lying.”

“Why, darling, I would never”, he retorted smugly, putting a hand on his chest with pretended affliction, like he was wounded by your accusation.

You wanted to stand your ground and believe that he was lying, but something in his smugness, more assured than when he was deceiving people, told you that he wasn’t.

“The whole Inn saw you, so you could ask anyone for confirmation, really. They all cheered by the way. Obviously his siblings were the loudest of the bunch…”

You covered your ears in denial. Never again you would drink that much.

“You even managed to make him dance. Well, dragged him there, really. Details. He had two left feet, so that was… endearing.”

He pronounced “endearing” the same way he called you naive that one time, and you knew that he held himself back from using a more… colorful adjective.

“Shut up”, you pleaded with Astarion. “I don’t want to hear anything more.”

He chuckled with derision.

“Me shutting up won’t change reality, dear.”

“What are you guys doing?”

Karlach’s booming voice startled you. Astarion, on the contrary, greeted her appearance with a mischievous smile, seeing another occasion to poke fun at you.

“We were just remembering yesterday night and the boldness of our heartbreaker of a leader. It was fun, wasn’t it Karlach?”

“Oh yeah!” immediately agreed the tiefling, completely missing the horror on your face and your silent plea to not add to Astarion’s pestering. “You guys were really going at it. Didn’t see it coming but what matters is that you’re happy.”

A radiant and sincere smile was adorning her lips. You covered your blushing face in embarrassment, grunting in shame and frustration with yourself.

“Karlach, if I ever drink this much again, just knock me out.”

“I mean, if you’re sure… but there’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Everyone is very supportive of you both.” she added, unsure of why you looked so down.

“You don’t understand”, you whined.

As she was about to ask for explanations, the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted your conversation. All three of you turned your gaze to Wyll, who had a tense smile - or grimace, you weren’t sure - on his face, and seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Ahrem. Lae’zel wanted me to let you know that if you don’t show up in the next three seconds, she would add you to the menu.”

Suddenly all thoughts of yesterday evening were forgotten as you three scrambled towards the campfire.

⚡⚡⚡

As your little band resumed their journey towards Baldur’s Gate, you resolved to use that time to put order in your memories from last evening and in your relationship with Rolan.

Your memories were gradually resurfacing, hand in hand with a pounding headache.

Despite Astarion and Karlach’s statements, you still couldn’t believe that you kissed Rolan. Not that the idea repulsed you - far from it, actually. The man was pretty, and he was even prettier when he wasn’t busy yelling at you. However, the idea that he let you put your lips anywhere on him was laughable.

You proceeded to rewind all your memories with the self-assured wizard, trying to find the key to decipher what was an enigma to you.

Truth be told, you didn’t remember much from your first meeting in the Grove. Except for his shooting match with Lia, which was impossible to miss once inside the shelter, you remembered him vaguely as a pompous character whose every statement dripped with snobbishness and bravado, so much that it felt like he was trying to convince himself rather than his audience. Despite the airs he was giving himself, you caught him later during the tiefling party putting on a magic show simply to please his siblings, and the heartwarming display disconcerted you as much as it amused you.

The moment when you met him again in the Last Light Inn, on the other hand, was burned into your memory. He had once again caught your attention by his yelling. However, as you approached out of concern for the kids tending to the bar, the yelling quickly turned on you. You were ready to let it go - after all, if you weren’t in such a hurry to get rid of the parasite inside your head, you too would have drowned your sorrows in alcohol and lashed out at well-meaning strangers - until he accused you of being responsible for his siblings’ kidnapping by the cultists.

All your restraint snapped at those words, like a rubber band too stretched.

How did he dare? After everything you’ve done, after all the shit you’ve been through - and were still going through. You weren’t even expecting any thanks, you just wanted to be left alone. As if you malevolently sneaked inside Cal and Lia’s mind to trick them into doing your bidding. As if they weren’t both adults capable of making their own decisions.

A little voice in the back of your head whispered that he was blaming you because he was blaming himself, that rejecting the fault on someone else was the only way he found to contain the pain and guilt that were threatening to engulf him, but you ignored it. Understanding his reasons didn’t make you a doormat.

Karlach had to bodily restrain you as you were about to punch him in the face.

“Then stop whining and do something about it yourself, since I only make things worse.” you spat with as much venom you muster, leaving the Inn to find a training dummy to take out your vexation on. His shouts still reached you though.

“Oh, I will! I don’t need your help, and I don’t need your pity!”

You had almost forgotten the incident until you stumbled upon Rolan on your way to Moonrise, in the middle of the shadows. He was largely outnumbered and doomed to a certain death if your group didn’t happen to pass this way completely randomly.

Once the shadows were taken care of, you pinched the bridge of your nose in bewilderment. Did he have a deathwish or something?

“Gods damn it all. I can do nothing right - not a damn thing.”

His shoulders were shaking in frustration and anger. However, something in the tone of his voice made you feel quite different from the last time you met him. You weren’t irritated, no. You felt… sorrow. For him. Thankfully, he wasn’t aware of your emotions, keeping his eyes on the ground, stubbornly refusing to meet your gaze.

He was more furious at himself than at you this time. There was also a dose of embarrassment in the mix, after failing to rescue his siblings on his own. This display of vulnerability was the antipodes of his usual self-assured behavior, to such an extent that you wondered if the shadows were making you hear things.

“Please tell me you weren’t looking for Moonrise”, escaped your mouth before you could stop it, realizing that he very probably wouldn’t be any happier to see you now than last time.

He snapped back immediately - of course he did.

“So what if I was? Cal and Lia could be there!”

You were about to retort that getting himself killed on the way there would help no one, Cal and Lia least of all, before the last thing you told him suddenly came back to you. A cold shiver ran down your back, as you wondered with horror if he was here because of your words. You never expected him to take your remark seriously. In the heat of the moment, you had wanted to hurt him, but you had never intended to send him to die alone in those cursed lands. Unease pooled in your stomach and a sharp pang of guilt twisted your heart. You gritted your teeth in frustration. Rolan kept ranting, oblivious to your inner turmoil, which was probably for the best.

“Instead I found myself cornered by shadow-fiends and in need of rescue. From you, of all bloody people.”

That last remark was meant as a jab at you, however it failed at riling you up. How could it have, when his voice trembled like he was about to shed tears? He was finally looking at you, and the heartfelt dejection painted on his features made you want to hold him in your arms more than anything else. You quickly pushed that urge aside, though - there was no doubt in your mind that your attempt at comfort would be unwelcome, to say the least. You probably wouldn’t like it either if the roles were reversed. You two weren’t close enough for this.

Nonetheless, you tried to bring him solace through your words, keeping your tone as neutral as possible:

“You were trying to help your family - you’re too hard on yourself.”

But your efforts seemed to have the opposite effect, as he retorted in an uncharastically acerbic tone:

“Or not hard enough.”

Both his words and his timber made a shiver of dread run through you. There was something terribly final in them, that made you reconsider your thoughts about him having a death wish.

But you were nothing to him, except an hindrance, and as he bid you farewell and walked away, you simply watched him, feeling bitterly powerless, wishing that he at least made it back safely to the Last Light Inn.

Following the defeat of Ketheric Thorm and the eradication of the shadow curse, Jaheira and the Harpers had organized a celebration at the Last Light Inn the night before your departure for Baldur’s Gate. The respite was welcome for your whole party. You really needed a break before taking up the arms against two more gods. Alcohol flew freely. Former prisoners were reuniting with their loved ones. Fighters numbed their wounds and the deceased’s sacrifice was honored.

As part of the acclaimed saviors, you were making your mandatory runs around the inn before you could slip away to a quiet and peaceful corner. It was during that errand that, once again, you walked in on Rolan and his siblings screaming at each other. You sighed, passing a hand over your tired face, somehow knowing that it would be up to you, once again, to play mediator.

You downed your drink and approached, waiting for your opportunity to interfere into the conversation. Noticing an opening, you slipped innocently, nose in your tankard:

“Rolan was in a bad state without the two of you.”

The swiftness at which the situation defused itself would have almost made you chuckle if it hadn’t been that serious. Hearing Rolan state that his struggle didn’t matter made you frown but you bit your tongue. Truly that man had serious insecurity issues under all that boasting. But just like in the shadows, it was none of your business.

Having played your role, you mumbled a “don’t mention it” to Cal who was thanking you, and took your leave. Or at least you had started to, until Rolan’s voice interrupted you.

“Wait.”

You turned around out of curiosity, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, not sure if you were the one being addressed. Rolan was staring at you right into your eyes, erasing your previous doubt. Gods, had his yellow gaze always been that hard to hold?

As soon as he saw he had your attention, he started talking. And what he had to say took you completely aback.

“I’ve lashed out at you, drunkenly and otherwise, and you helped anyway.”

You held back from clarifying that you saved him from the shadows because he happened to be in the way. And that you saved Cal and Lia because… they were in the way too. You were gonna release the Moontower’s prisoners anyway, that Rolan’s siblings had been part of them was just a coincidence. However this little speech seemed to cost Rolan, which was understandable, so you kept your mouth shut.

“You didn’t deserve that - I’m sorry. And thank you.”

You opened your eyes wide - receiving an apology wasn’t on your todo list today. Least of all from someone as proud as Rolan. Even more mind-bending, he gave you a genuine smile. You were so focused on his face that it didn’t occur to you to refuse the money he offered.

Later in the night, as you were still processing his unhoped for change of demeanor, and were a fair bit tipsy, you ended up passing him a new bottle of Arabellan Dry - who gave it to you? Who told you it was Rolan’s favorite’s wine? And that you should give it to him? You had no idea. Not noticing the wine at first, he teased you:

“I’ve thanked you once already. Don’t be greedy.”

Between his taunting words, his open smile, his beautiful eyes sparkling with mirth, and the realization that he was laughing with you, something inside you snapped. Suddenly you had butterflies in your stomach, weakness in your knees, and he looked like the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. You laughed heartily, before smiling frankly, noting that he looked - pleasantly? - surprised at your reaction, not expecting an audience that easy to entertain.

You remembered talking back to him, settling yourself in a spot nearby, sharing that bottle… But for the life of you, you couldn’t remember that pretended kiss. Did you actually manage to make him blush during the night or was it just the wine?

After reflecting over everything, you still felt as much - if not more - mortified. There was no way Rolan felt happy about making a spectacle of himself in front of so many people - and in front of his siblings, least of all. Those two must have had a field day deriding their eldest. As for the kiss, it must have been a result of the alcohol and the proximity. You didn’t get a lot of opportunities for… physical affection since the beginning of your tadpole adventure, and you could easily imagine that Rolan must not have been getting a lot of action either, between fleeing the Grove, dealing with the cultists, losing his siblings and enduring the shadow curse.

You could only imagine that after such a disaster, Rolan must be back to hating you.

You sighed deeply, to the point of attracting the questioning looks of some of your companions walking by your side, before shaking your head in resolve. It was just one, regrettable evening. As long as you didn’t run into Rolan again, you could put it behind you. And what were the chances of coming across him in Baldur’s Gate anyway?

⚡⚡⚡

High, apparently. Or at least high enough to make you eat your words.

Your merry band had just crossed the doors of some fancy magic shop that took up residence in a lavish tower. You were originally there to confront the man who had put a price on Aylin’s head. Whatever his intentions were with her, they couldn’t be good. Adding wizards’ characteristic hubris and what Ketheric Thorn previously inflicted to the Aasimar together, you quickly came to the conclusion that he sought to cage her and thereby attain immortality. Your purpose was therefore simple: explain in no uncertain terms to Ramazith’s tower’s new owner that he could - should - kiss goodbye his delusions of eternal life, and, if he proved to be too stubborn to be reasoned with, deal with him in such a way that he wouldn’t be an issue anymore for your winged friend.

However all Selune’s daughter-related considerations went out the window when you laid eyes upon the shopkeeper at the counter. Somehow the tiefling who had haunted your thoughts for weeks and made you recoil in embarrassment at night, when you were left alone with yourself, forced to cope with the memories of your last meeting, was standing right in front of you. Worse, he noticed you, and the natural blush of his infernal skin miserably failed to hide the vivid flush of his cheeks. Like his reflection in a mirror, you could distinctly feel your own face blaze fiercely.

It lasted a minute or an eternity, you had no idea, until you were brutally ejected from your trance at the view of the bruises covering his face. Rolan had been so severely pummeled that purple had become the prevailing color on his visage. Ice-cold, overpowering fury spread across your veins and possessed you to swiftly close the gap between the two of you.

Consumed by anger, you raised a hand to graze his tumefied skin.

“Who did this to you? I’ll fucking kill them.”

You felt a slight pang of remorse upon seeing him struggle to not back away from you after you charged at him like a ram. His tail had started to sway wildly at your approach.

However Rolan rapidly proceeded to regain his composure, as he always did. Coughing in his fist - maybe a desperate attempt to hide his still glowingly red cheeks, or simply a way to offer himself a moment to get a grip -, he answered you, way too nonchalantly for your taste.

“Nothing- ahrem… nothing for you to worry about.”

His reply stinged. Bitterly. After all that you’ve been through together, he still didn’t trust you. Or he was still resolutely convinced that he had to endure every tribulation alone - you sincerely doubted that Lia and Cal wouldn’t have thrown a fit upon his appearance.

You didn’t know which of those two possibilities hurt more.

The righteous wrath inside you disappeared, like extinguished by a bucket of icy water, replaced by a chilling insight - it was utterly useless to fight for him when he wouldn’t stand up for himself. And, more importantly, if he didn’t consider you close enough to him to ask your help, then it was time for you to move on.

“You suck at lying, you know that?” You felt obligated to point out.

As he was about to object, you continued.

“But you’re right. If you still don’t need my sanctimonious help, I’ll just go about my day. Sorry for the trouble.”

Immediately after spatting those words, you found your outburst childish, but you couldn’t take it back. You began to storm off, determined to fully focus on the wannabe-immortal wizard problem, but a clawed hand grabbing your forearm ended your departure.

“Wait-”

You whirled around, losing more and more patience.

“What.”

Rolan sighed, but not in a way that sounded like this was a chore to him. He sighed like one does to give themselves courage before overcoming adversity. The words had left his lips before he could even think them; before he could contemplate their effect on you. Being self-reliant and showing no weaknesses had become an automatic reflex forged by a life of survival. He couldn’t shrug it off overnight - but you were the first person who made him want to try.

He then compelled himself to look you straight in the eye.

“Don’t lea- I mean, I didn’t mean to…Urgh… Gods damn it… it’s Lorroakan.”

You stared back at him, split between the newfound joy of him confiding in you, and the confusion of hearing his confession.

“Lorrowho?” You asked, slightly tilting your head in puzzlement.

The name didn’t ring a bell for you, but according to your companions’ exasperated grunts in your back, it certainly did for them.

“The tower’s newest owner”, helpfully prompted Gale behind you. “So-called greatest wizard of the Sword Coast, aspiring to subjugate Dame Aylin, took our friend here as his apprentice?”

“Oooh! That guy!”, you exclaimed. “Well that’s perfect! We were going to kick his ass anyway!”

You could have announced to Rolan that you were planning to fight a dragon with your bare hands, he probably would have gazed at you the same way.

“By the way, Rolan, you can let go now”, you added with a pointed look towards his hand still squeezing your arm.

He let go like he got burned, cheeks reddening again, swore in hellish and apologized. You assured him it was fine.

“Can you share anything that would help us take down Lorra… Larro… whatever-his-name-his?”

The tiefling straightened up, clearly in his element.

“Mast- Lorroakan has four Myrmidons.”

He seemed about to carry on on the subject, but stopped in front of your confounded expression.

“Myrmiwhat?”

The apprentice wizard opened his mouth to start an informed lecture about the properties of Myrmidons, before closing it and pinching the bridge of his nose, frustrated by your ignorance.

“Nevermind, I can make this simple for you.”

Feeling insulted, you proceeded to join your hands and excessively flutter your eyelashes to mimic a swooning admirer.

“Why, thank you Master Rolan! You are ever so generous to us simpletons!”

The aforenamed choked a bit at that, but you were not sure if it was in reaction to your ridiculous antics or to being called “master”.

“As I was saying, Myrmidons are very powerful elementals. You shouldn’t underestimate them.”

You acquiesced with a nod of your head before turning to your Party.

“Let’s get going then.”

“Should we not fetch the Asimaar?” inquired Astarion, observing his nails with detachment. “Not that I particularly care, but with how strongly this concerns her, she may come after us if we keep her out of this.”

You replied without missing a beat, having already pondered the question.

“No, I want to spare her that.”

The Vampire Spawn let out one of those unhinged little laughs he had a knack for, blending contempt and incredulity.

“I must have misheard you - spare her? The cutthroat demigod who mercilessly crushes her enemies under her boot? That’s who you want to spare?”

You had expected that kind of reaction, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

“That’s not what I meant” you grunted, aggravated by the elf’s taunting. “Of course she can take care of herself. But just because she can, doesn’t mean she has to. Dealing with relentless creeps who get off on the idea of breaking you, body and spirit, it’s exhausting, speaking from experience. I couldn’t imagine doing it for centuries. We can provide her a brief respite. If she takes it the wrong way, I’ll deal with the fallout.”

Astarion shrugged, satisfied with your answer since it sheltered him from consequences. The others agreed with nods of the head.

Rolan gave you the directions to reach Lorroakan before adding, frowning:

“Be careful. He has a beastly temper.”

The recommendation made you snicker. Before the tiefling could take offense, you brought your face closer to his, lifting his chin with your index, a wolfish smile stretching your lips.

“I highly doubt that sorry excuse for a wizard is in any way a beast. But fear not, pretty boy, I’ll show you what beastly really means.”

Whistles and sniggers could be heard from behind you, demonstrating the maturity of your traveling companions. Meanwhile Rolan’s face somehow managed to turn even redder than when you both met again moments ago, and his attempts to come up with a rebuttal resulted only in stuttering.

Benevolently, you did not comment, careful to not overstep his boundaries too much, and changed the subject, rising an inquisitive eyebrow:

“Are you not coming with us?”

He cleared his throat to give himself a semblance of composure.

“I guess I should, if only to make sure you lot do not ravage the tower on your rampage.”

You smirked a little at his efforts to appear indifferent, but refrained from making any remark, content with his participation.

As you made your way towards your target, Astarion sneaked by your side, a mocking smile adorning his lips. You mentally braced yourself for the jibe that wouldn’t fail to come.

“I figured out why you didn’t want to bring Aylin on our little excursion, darling.”

“Oh really.” you replied with the most blasé tone you could muster.

Unfortunately, your lack of concern didn’t seem to deter your vampiric ally at all.

“You want to keep your prey for yourself. To be the one to slaughter the Master Wizard. You should have seen your face earlier when you threw a fit over Rolan’s bruises, I thought you were going to bite.”

“So what? Is that a problem?”

“Quite the opposite, really. I’m planning to revel in the show. Let’s hope for you that the little wizard is of the same mind, uh?”

You told him to mind his own business and he just laughed.

Your group crossed the magic portal, entering Lorroakan’s lavish office only to stumble upon the deplorable spectacle that was the supposed great wizard sadistically torturing his servant for his questionable experimentations. Thankfully, your noteworthy arrival put an end to the loathsome display as the red-haired wizard dismissed his domestic and his mechanical construction.

“I see no Nightsong. Surely you wouldn’t have entered my tower without the Nightsong in hand. Surely my worthless apprentice wouldn’t have allowed you to waste my time.”

That last remark made your blood boil as surely as it did earlier when you laid eyes upon Rolan’s contused face. You gritted your teeth, plastering on a fake smile, before giving the man a taste of his own scorn by ignoring him completely and ostensibly turning towards Rolan.

“Is that the pathetic excuse that serves as your mentor?”

The apprentice wizard spared a glance at Lorroakan who was suffocating with indignation before focusing on you.

“... Yes, he is.”

“Great! Would have been so awkward to kill the wrong guy!”

Bestowing your most bloodthirsty smile on your foe, you made a point to talk over his outraged diatribe.

“There’s only two things you should know, really. First : you will never get your hands on the Nightsong. Second : I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

Having said your piece, you unsheathed your weapon as the wizard invoked his Myrmidons, and the battle began.

⚡⚡⚡

Standing over Lorroakan’s battered body, you made sure that he was in too much pain to ramble again. Rolan came to stand beside you, the shock on his face telling you that he had a hard time believing what he was seeing.

You looked at him inquisitively.

“Wanna do the honors?”, you suggested, referring to the final blow.

As he remained motionless and speechless, you started to worry you had said the wrong thing, but suddenly his expression turned resolute and he nodded.

You distanced yourself from the two wizards, not fancying getting caught in a spell’s blast. Rolan uttered his incantation with force - detono.

With a mixture of astonishment and awe, you watched Lorroakan’s body get hurled across the room and through the nearest window in a cacophony of shattering glass. You leaned through the destroyed window to glimpse at the mangled corpse before turning to Rolan with a low whistle.

“So much for not ravaging the tower, uh-”

You found yourself unable to finish your clever quip as your favorite tiefling grabbed you by the collar and crushed his lips against yours. The motion was brutal and clumsy, to the point that you briefly wondered if he was trying to kiss you or punch you in the lips… with his lips.

Barely leaving you enough time to reciprocate the gesture, Rolan withdrew, a wild look in eyes, panting slightly. Did he forget to breathe during…?

“You-”

“This is all your fault!”

You gaped at him in uncomfortable silence, immobile, truly at a loss for words. What in the nine hells did you do this time, again?

One hand released your clothing as Rolan covered half his face with it in consternation.

“And to think I promised myself I wouldn’t lash out at you again… Do you see how I lose my composure in your presence? Every. Bloody. Time. It’s infuriating.” He sighed.

You crossed your arms, staring at his piercing yellow eyes.

“Riiight.”

He had at least the tact to appear marginally embarrassed under your scrutinizing gaze.

“Not a day has passed since Last Light Inn where you weren’t on my mind.” he admitted, albeit begrudgingly, rubbing his neck in bashfulness, and unable to meet your eyes.

Your eyes widened at the confession. This was a surprise, although a pleasant one.

“You… you don’t hate me for it?”

It was his turn to stare in astonishment.

“For what…?”

“You made a spectacle of yourself in front of the whole Inn because of me…”

“Please, I’m not tone-deaf enough to not acknowledge my own responsibility in this. We both had… a lot… to drink.”

“Oh… Well, in that case… I’ve been thinking about you too. Since the Inn.”

It was only fair to come clean too after he made the first move, which must have definitely cost him and his pride.

“Oh.”

There you were, two blushing idiots staring at their own feet in embarrassment, not knowing what to do with yourselves. That is, until you remembered what started all of this, and you raised your head so suddenly Rolan got startled.

“We need to heal your face.”

He chuckled openly at that, but instead of taking offense, seeing him happy spread warmth in your chest.

“You should heal yourself first, ô mighty hero. You’re in way worse shape than I am.”

You frowned and grabbed his face to inspect his bruises closer.

“Being injured is second-nature for me. I don’t think you can say the same. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

He took hold of your hips in response. A derisive smile stretched his lips.

“What a poorly concealed way to get me to undress.”

“How dare you”, you protested, scandalized. “imply that my benevolence is anything but proper?”

“Maybe I wish it wasn’t.”

Before you could ask for clarification, he kissed you.

“Rolan…”

“Mmh…”

Again.

“I was serious about healing you…”

“Mh.”

And again.

You grabbed his robes and shoved him against the closest bookshelf in a drastic attempt to put some space between your bodies. The action didn’t seem to deter him at all, if anything it added fuel to the fire, as you could feel his claws even through your clothes. To make matters worse, you quickly realized that getting away was impossible with how tight his tail was coiled around your thigh.

All your worries disappeared however as a very familiar voice could be heard from somewhere on the floor underneath. Rolan definitely heard it too as he looked in its direction with a mixture of dread and annoyance.

You couldn’t discern entirely what Lia was saying, but the words “Rolan” and “Lorroakan” were definitely part of it.

You looked at Rolan with an unequivocal expression.

“We should go to them… and reassure them that you’re not dead or something.”

The new master of the tower threw his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, fine!”

“Also, we’re going to fall to our deaths in the stairs if you don’t keep your tail to yourself, Mister…”

Rolan dashed off in the direction of the stairs, grumbling about siblings and lack of privacy, not without grabbing your hand in passing.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #rolan x you #rolan x reader #rolan x tav #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #mine #rolan #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #x reader #rolan nation #holy rolan empire

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bradshawssugarbaby · 1 year ago

Text

She’s So High - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: Inspired by the song She's So High - Tal Bachman.

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

warnings: pining, mentions of death/combat, swearing

word count: 1.7k

“First class and fancy-free, she's high society. She's got the best of everything, what could a guy like me ever really offer? She's perfect as she can be, why should I even bother?”

“Oh, Bagman’s got it bad,” Javy teased, smirking as he took a sip from his beer glass, the draught’s foam catching on the top of his lip as he took a drink.

“Aw, leave Loverboy alone, she’s too good for him, he’s trying to numb the pain,” Bradley quipped as he gave Jake a slap on the back, grinning ear to ear as he saw his friend and usual rival squirm in his seat at the mention of the girl he’d been pining after for a couple of weeks now.

“Ha. Ha. You guys are killing me with your humour,” Jake retorted, shaking his head.

Jake wasn’t the crushing type. He hadn’t had a crush since he was 16 - crushes were juvenile and cowardly in Jake’s mind - he was a man who knew what he wanted and went for it when he saw it. He couldn’t remember the last time he fell this hard for someone who barely even knew his name, he was always found no-strings-attached relationships easier, no one had unrealistic expectations, there was little to argue about, and no one ended up heartbroken when things fizzled out and inevitably ended a month or two later. He knew he was getting too old for it, and eventually women would start to become disenchanted by a man in his mid 30s with a fear of commitment, but, he’d cross that bridge when he got there. He was happy with how things were in his life - he never got hurt, and neither did anyone else when he got shipped out halfway around the world or relocated.

That was, until he saw you. Jake played in a beer league baseball tournament on weekends, and she had joined his team a couple of weeks ago as an alternate player. You were the sister of one of his teammates girlfriends, and just happened to have played ball in high school, so you volunteered yourself to play when their second baseman broke his ankle earlier that week.

You'd become a regular replacement for second base, and the entire team was in awe of your talent on the diamond. Jake had noticed right away, your long, sporty high ponytail, piercing eyes and the way you looked in a pair of athletic shorts was enough to get his heartbeat to race, taking away any and all focus he had during the game.

Instantly, he was captivated by you. He caught himself feeling things he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he didn’t know what to do about it. In retrospect, he should have just let it go, or sucked it up and said something to you on his own accord like he did with every other girl he’d liked, but, instead, he confided in Bob, a member of his flight squadron, who apparently, can’t keep a secret to save his life.

Bob had accidentally let it slip to Natasha during a flight exercise, and Natasha couldn’t resist the juicy little tidbit she could now hold over Jake’s head. She kept it to herself for about a week, until the new object of Jake’s affection had entered the Hard Deck one night with another of the baseball teammates and his wife.

Jake was caught off guard, for once in his life, rendered speechless and vulnerable, unsure of how to proceed. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole right there, not wanting to say a word to her, especially not with his friends around. His friends were great towards him, and he had no doubt that if he did ever bring an established girlfriend around them, they’d welcome her with open arms, however, a girl Jake had a crush on? He wasn’t ready to admit to it, and he knew he’d have to if they caught his reaction.

Natasha, however, was able to put two and two together when she noticed Jake slinking down in his seat in an effort to hide himself behind Bradley’s shoulder. Bob gave a bewildered stare at Jake’s odd behaviour, until his gaze drifted towards the door and landed on the girl Jake had been describing to him. Bradley, not wanting to be left out of the secret, but also having the loudest mouth of the group found out, and once that happened, just about everyone in North Island had learned of Jake Seresin and his not-so-secret crush.

“You’re telling me you can fly into enemy lines and shoot down planes, staring death in the face and laughing at it as a pilot, but you can’t…ask a girl on a date?” Javy taunted, trying his best to keep a straight face as he quizzed Jake about his nerves and reservations about asking her out.

“It’s not that I’m nervous. I don’t get nervous,” Jake replied with a cool tone.

“Come on, Bagman, everyone gets nervous.”

“For the last time, it’s Hangman, and not me.”

Jake sighed as he sipped his beer, running a hand through his perfect, sunkissed hair, golden honey coloured strands becoming tousled free from the hair gel he’d used to comb it into place. He frowned as he set the glass down on the table. He knew his friends would never let him live it down if he didn’t go over and at least talk to this girl, and the longer he waited, the more his friends would egg him on. He stood up from his seat silently, taking a deep breath before shooting the group one of his infamous cocksure grins - trying to force a look of natural confidence without coming across as being mistaken for arrogance.

“Alright, I’ll go talk to her, watch and learn boys, and lady. Watch and learn.” He said, thickening his accent to mask his nerves as best as he could.

With a cheer of encouragement from the table, and a hopeful thumbs up from Bob, as well as a wisecrack from Natasha about how there had to be another woman out there who was able to resist his southern charms and graces, Jake walked over towards the girl he’d been pining over for the last few weeks. He’d never pined for someone like this before, and the thought of feeling this way over a girl he barely knew was completely foreign territory to him. He’d never admit it to anyone, but fuck, he was nervous.

He’d never been good at addressing his feelings, having grown up in a military family in Texas - emotions weren’t something you shared or acted on typically. At least, not the positive ones. Love itself was almost a foreign concept - sure, he’d had girlfriends. He thought he’d been in love with a few of them, but these newfound feelings towards her? They had him questioning everything he had ever known about love. Maybe the feelings for his exes leading up to this point were something less intense than love, or, maybe this was something more intense. He couldn’t quite tell. All he knew was that for the first time in his life, he was lacking all confidence.

You were tall, almost taller than Jake was at just under six feet tall (though if anyone asked him, he stood at six-foot and half an inch), and you looked like something straight out of a magazine, with long flowing hair, piercing eyes, and a radiant smile. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Stunning, and nothing short of perfect.

And he was…he was Jake. He knew he wasn’t bad looking, in fact, he usually figured he was one of the better looking guys in his squadron, save for maybe Javy and Bradley - Javy was smoother than he was when it came to flirting, it was so effortless for him, whereas Jake always felt like he was trying too hard, and Bradley had the one thing he didn’t and couldn’t - a mustache that actually suited his face. He couldn’t help but feel like she might be more suited with one of them, they were certainly better matches for her in his mind. He just hoped and prayed that she’d give him at least a drink shared between the two of them before she’d meet Bradley and be swept off her feet by him.

“Hi darlin’, what brings you here?” Jake said with a smile, immediately regretting his decision to go with the pet name.

“Hi! Jake, right? I’m just here with Derek and Alexis, you know, third-wheeling their date,” You laughed as she sipped her cocktail, and for a moment, Jake thought he was in heaven.

“How about coming to sit with me for a drink? I’m sure Derek and Alexis won’t mind if I steal ya for a few minutes, right?”

Jake held his breath for a moment as he waited for you to respond. Was he taking it too far? Was he coming on too strong? Should he backpedal and clarify it as friends? Should he leave it and let it go? Should he just turn around and walk away, spare himself the heartache that he was sure would inevitably follow if he waited for you to reply.

“I’d like that. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Do you play darts?”

“Do I?” He laughed softly, breathing a sigh of relief as he nodded his head, his lips now curling up into a grin at you, “You’re looking at the darts champion of the entire bar. Hasn’t been a single serviceman or woman who’s been able to beat me. I’m somewhat of an undefeated legend around here.”

“Oh, is that so?” You challenged, a wicked grin forming on her lips as you laughed, “You’re on, Jake.”

As you walked towards the dartboards, Jake followed behind, completely on cloud nine. He passed by the table where his friends were seated, and at their thumbs up and silent applause for him, he simply mock-saluted before keeping his eyes on the girl of his dreams. You may end up leaving him tomorrow, finding someone better for her before you even leave the bar, but for now, you were all his, and he wasn’t going to fuck this one up.

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femslashbigbang · 1 month ago

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[MASTERPOST] March Challenge

And look at that, challenge 2 completed. Another super exciting collection of creations, including art! Thanks again to everyone who participated, and please check out our April Challenge which is currently live!

Writing

Don’t talk to strangers or you might fall in love. by partially_planet

Fandom: Original Works Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: OC / OC Summary: Michelle wakes up to find that the person she was road tripping with took an unexpected detour. Said person is also calling her pet names. For the Femslash Big Bang's Monthly Challenge prompt for March: the places on our maps

How Fran and Michaela survived the last 3 major family events by KapandherScratchpad

Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Francesca Bridgerton/Michaela Stirling Summary: Edinburgh 2028, Brighton 2029, and Disneyland Paris 2031 as told by Fran and Michaela’s private chat. Femslash Big Bang Monthly Prompt for March: The Places on Our Maps

Brilliance by kopycat_101

Fandom: Vinland Saga (Manga) Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Gudrid/Hild (Vinland Saga) Summary: After weeks of keeping watch over an injured Thorfinn in Bergen, Hild's become bored and restless. She decides to take a break and walk around the village to clear her head. When she's by the docks, Hild recognizes Leif and Gudrid on their ship and decides to satiate her curiosity. She doesn't account for the sailor woman's warm personality to reel her in so quickly. (Canon compliant, set between Chapter 123 and 124 of the manga.)

a collection of printed memories by frankenjoly

Fandom: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game) Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: March 7th/Stelle (Honkai: Star Rail) Summary: Also, March not hiding said reasons didn’t mean she couldn’t have surprises in store, something evidenced one night when Stelle entered her room (after knocking, though, but getting no response despite knowing she would be there), and finding the other girl kneeling on the floor, surrounded by countless printed photographs. “Hi, March, do you--” for femslash big bang's march monthly challenge: the places on our maps march goes for a decoration project, stelle tags along, they get in kahoots to surprise the rest of the express.

home is wherever you are by GallifreyanFairytale

Fandom: Avatar: Legend of Korra Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Lin Beifong/Kya II Summary: “Spirits,” Lin mumbles under her breath. Hanging on the wall, above her couch, is a large map of the world. There are stickers over several places in the Earth Kingdom, and Kya skips over to pick up the sticker pack from Lin’s coffee table so she can push it into Lin’s hands. “I put stickers on all the places I’ve visited so far, since you didn’t get any postcards. Isn’t it great!?” “Um.” Lin looks down at the stickers, then back up at the map, and then to Kya. “Sure.” Kya beams. lin, kya, and a world map: a story told in three parts

Paper Maps or GPS? by Butimachrldr2

Fandom: Once Upon A Time (TV) Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan Summary: Series: Maps Femslash BigBang Monthly challenge - March Prompt Entry. Emma and Regina take the bug on a trip to visit Henry. The former mayor goes old school with printed directions and a paper map. The Sheriff prefers to rely on her GPS. Naturally this leads our two favorite ladies into an argument about which is better. What neither expect is what they learn about each other in the process…

Lunella and Casey's Map of the LES by skylarkblue

Fandom: Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur (Cartoon 2023) Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Casey Calderon/Lunella Lafayette Summary: The ten places in New York that make up Lunella and Casey's relationship.

The places (and so many bodies) on our maps by Ennn (Enb0t)

Fandom: Agatha All Along (TV) Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal Summary: “Honestly, this isn’t much different from when you tracked mud through the house after that fishing trip,” she muses, tone almost playful. “Blood, mud—you never could keep things clean.” Rio snorts, the familiarity of the argument almost startling. “Says the woman who let a casserole burn in the oven for three days while she was ‘at her mother’s.’” “I reimbursed you for that.” “With my own credit card.” — Mrs. and Mrs. Harkness-Vidal have just learned that their wife of five years has been lying about what she does for a living—and that someone wants them both dead. So they're talking. Inspired by the Mr. and Mrs. Smith movie. For the Femslash Big Bang's Monthly Challenge March prompt: the places on our maps

Maps by wolfraven80

Fandom: Fire Emblem Musou: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth Summary: Shez sighed. "You're missing the point here." "The point?" Byleth repeated, her eyes darting to the map and wondering if there was something marked on it that she was unaware of. "Edelgard," Shez said under her breath. "The point is for you—" she paused to point directly at Byleth, "to spend time with her outside of a war meeting or a tactical planning session." --- Or: Shez decides to give Byleth and Edelgard a little push.

The Roads Taken by ErazonPO3

Fandom: Pokemon Legends: Arceus (Video Game) Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Shirona | Cynthia/Luculia Hiver (Original Character) Summary: A brief look at the journey through Hisui from Cynthia's eyes, of the shifting terrain and a shifting relationship with her temporal stowaway. For the March challenge prompt: the places on our maps

My Sister the Villainess Queen Made My Body Into a Seductive Sorceress! (E) by stuckinsanguinus

Fandom: Original Work Rating: E // Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Pairing: OC / OC Summary: Princess Lili would use her magic and do just about anything for her older sister, the cruel and sexual Queen Maria—but when an arcane ritual goes awry, Lili realizes her sister wanted something even more from her—her body itself! There was a groan from across the room and she looked up. There, against the wall. A tall, slender body sat up, wizard robes hanging off their arms. A hand brought to their face, feeling the glasses on them, and lifting violet eyes to stare at Lili. "Lili?" The voice wasn't quite recognizable to her. "I—" Lili gulp. "—your—" "—me?" The sisters stared at each for a long moment in silence, each from the body of the other.

Liking. by JediAnnieScrambler

Fandom: Company - Sondheim/Furth Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Joanne/Robert (Company) Joanne/Bobbie (Company) Summary: “If you ever get married,” Joanne said, not looking at Bobbie, “Find someone you like. Someone you’re always gonna like.” Bobbie watched the smoke Joanne exhaled, turning the words over in her mind. “I like you,” Bobbie said finally, then added quickly, “And I like Larry.” “Yeah?” Joanne glanced down at her, eyebrow crooked, “I like you too kid.”

Cross-Reality Check by 429_CarCrash

Fandom: Marvel, DCU Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Kate Bishop/America Chavez, Koriand'r/Donna Troy Summary: Kate was expecting to learn new things on this multiverse trip with America. She just wasn't expecting to learn new things about herself.

messages from around the world by theriveroflight

Fandom: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Emmy Altava/Janice Quatlane Summary: Both Janice and Emmy have jobs that take them around the world. As a result, it's difficult to keep in touch -- but they have their ways.

stardust spread out in your eyes by littencloud9

Fandom: Alien Stage (Web Series) Rating: G // Major Character Death Pairing: Mizi/Sua (Alien Stage) Summary: Mizi, she hears, the voice sinking into her like a heavy, agonising weight, I'm waiting for you. Will you come visit me? “No,” Mizi whispers, and it’s an act of defiance as much as it is an act of grief. “I refuse.” She swears the stars get a little dimmer after that. or, when your lover's grave is among the stars, do you grow to resent them?

my place in your heart by Grollow

Fandom: RWBY Rating: T // Graphic Depictions Of Violence Pairing: Coco Adel/Velvet Scarlatina Summary: Velvet and Coco have only grown closer throughout the years — much to Velvet's surprise.

unlike anyone I've met (I'm not biased she's just perfect) by lyricalark

Fandom: The Naturals - Jennifer Lynn Barnes Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Celine Delacroix/Sloane Tavish Summary: Celine and Sloane video call and Celine tries once again to put her girlfriend's face to paper.

sand and sea by yuribalisms

Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game) Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Beidou/Dehya (Genshin Impact) Summary: The crew of the Crux finds themselves in Sumeru for a job and could use a local to help them out. Lumine suggests Dehya.

The Places on our Maps (M) by LizLimone998

Fandom: Trainspotting Series - Irvine Welsh Rating: M // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Nikki Fuller-Smith/Diane Coulston Summary: "Are you asking me to run away with you? Where would we go?" Nikki left Leith for California and never looked back. She thought she'd made a clean break but unfortunately, wherever you go you take yourself with you. And she knows how she feels about Diane. But that's not to say it fixes anything.

the one less traveled by kopycat_101

Fandom: ダンジョン飯 | Dungeon Meshi | Delicious in Dungeon Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Kiki Floke/Namari Summary: Namari had a bad habit of falling for taller women. But getting a crush on her new boss's daughter-slash-granddaughter was small potatoes compared to the unraveling of the dungeon. Maybe dating Kiki wouldn't be as bad or complicated as whatever they ended up facing in the depths of the Mad Mage’s place, in order to help Laios save Falin. (A canon compliant fic retelling the manga from the eyes of Namari.)

I really liked you by siluredore

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005) Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Heather (Doctor Who: The Pilot)/Bill Potts Summary: After the Pilot, Bill revisits some places she shared with Heather. Written for the March challenge prompt the places on our maps

mapping out your skin: the first destination by SlantedKnitting

Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin) Summary: Gwen books Morgana as the artist for her first tattoo.

I'm careless, I believe by hprse

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender (Cartoon 2005) Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Azula/Yue (Avatar) Summary: Yue and Azula make their way through an Earth Kingdom forest after being sold a poorly-made map. The two of them think about their past amidst their irritation. Written for the March prompt of the Femslash Big Bang Monthly Challenge, maps.

Moments on a Map by anxiouspotatoinblue

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan Summary: Regina thinks she is going to have a simple dinner date with her girlfriend, and is sent on a trip down memory lane instead. Femslash BigBang Monthly challenge - March Prompt Entry.

Five Places Kate Took Harper After Therapy by Hollie47

Fandom: Batwoman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Kate Kane/Harper Row Summary: Harper's usually pretty volatile after therapy, so Kate has started taking her out afterwards.

it will come back by dryadfiona

Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Jaheira/Isobel Thorm Summary: Isobel is a light in the darkness. Jaheira wants to trust it. Despite herself, she does trust it. Still, a High Harper should be more discerning. Given a lack of Selûne's tears to know for certain, she pays attention. -- Or: Jaheira reflects on Isobel, who doesn't quite make sense, before the tadpoled arrive at Last Light.

I could be the shadow at your feet by sithfox (krazykikivii)

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: T // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Arla Fett/Bo-Katan Kryze Summary: Bo-Katan needs to prove her worth to Pre Vizsla if she wants to continue climbing the ranks of Kyr'tsad. But when Pre assigns Arla to assess her readiness for promotion, she's going to cherish every look and touch she gets.

Prove It (E) by strangersea

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) Rating: E // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Jinx (League of Legends)/Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends) Summary: Jinx proves to be more useful than Sevika had anticipated.

what our skin says (M) by drowsyfeline

Fandom: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: M // Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairing: Ieiri Shoko/Iori Utahime Summary: Shoko holds Utahime by the jaw. Her fingers are firm and warm, pressing into her flesh. Brown eyes stare intensely at her. She uses the other hand to spread the cream gently. It’s careful. Delicate. Precise. Uthaime wonders if this is what it's like to be held by someone. To be malleable and transformed into something that wants.

ghostly figures can get so bitter by AquamarineMemeBender

Fandom: Alien Stage (Web Series) Rating: T // Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairing: Hyuna/Mizi (Alien Stage), Luka & Mizi (Alien Stage), Luka/Mizi (Alien Stage) Summary: "Hyuna’s map isn’t just places on Earth, but that’s most of it. She had written little notes in squiggly handwriting, colored ink, by her landmarks, discussing research and treasures and stories and what she’d been told about them all. “We’re finishing it,” says Mizi. “The map. You’re coming with me.” Luka snorts. Just slightly. It makes Mizi’s lips thin and her blood race. “Sure,” says Luka, finally. His eyes sweep around the room. As far as Mizi knows, no one goes into this room but him. No one goes out, either, usually. “Sure. When are we leaving?”" Or: In the aftermath of Hyuna's death, Luka and Mizi follow her map to visit the places on Earth she never got to go to.

Of Voyagers Past, Present, and Future (E) by Shane_For_Wax

Fandom: Star Trek Rating: E // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine/B'Elanna Torres Summary: Ex-Wives, but now current lovers B'Elanna and Seven receive an invitation to see the new USS Voyager-B in a ceremony where its predecessor is also shown at the Starfleet museum. Which causes them to remember their time on the original Voyager (no bloody A, B, C, or D) and share their experiences with Raffi. (Will NOT be a clip show in fanfic form of canon stories. Reading the rest of the B7 and Along Came Raffi series not required for this but it helps because OCs from the series are brought in such as B7's son from when they were married and to also explain the 'ex-wives but current lovers' part. Because sometimes people who divorce get back together and it sticks that time.) Rated Explicit for Chapter 4 only. Also: As with the rest of the B7 and Along Came Raffi series, there is some… character bashing on Tom in character. If that isn't your thing, this won't be your kind of fic. Harry/Chakotay is one step above just being mentioned, appearing in Chapter 2 for the Voyager reunion then it's the BSaffi show again. Part of the Femslash Big Bang March Monthly Challenge: The places on our maps.

Podfic

[podfic] Of All the Coffee Shops in All the World... by CarCrash_Pods (429_CarCrash)

Fandom: The Magicians (TV) Rating: G // No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing: Jesamin "Sam" Cunningham/Janet Pluchinsky, Margo Hanson/Kady Orloff-Diaz Summary: [Audio length: 17:05] Eventually they both need to look away, and then Janet is standing up and saying something about getting them a pastry to share and walking away and Sam is left to sink into the booth, blushing, and thinking about how much of a disaster she is. How much of a nervous mess Janet makes her.

Art

Lady Dimitrescu / Ada Wong art by @odyooles

Fandom: Resident Evil Pairing: Lady Dimitrescu/Ada Wong

mapping your constellations by @rhywhitefang

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Sigrun/Vellana

#ffbb2025 #femslash big bang #femslash art #femslash fanfiction #femslash #monthly challenges #masterpost (monthly)#wew so many pieces!!

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