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robinsno1lesbian · 2 years ago

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Beth beth beth imagine neighbor!robin (pre them getting together) finding readers diary like somewhere in their house (or maybe reader slept over at robins and left it there) and being like “oh😏😏” and she reads a very detailed fantasy of readers about her….-🍓

older!neighbor!robin x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1746

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content (MDNI), robin reading through your diary without your permission, explicit drawings, face riding, (mutual?) masturbation, not proofread as always

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this has been in my inbox for way too long, my apologies for that ml!! <3 i hope this makes up hehe

robin knows how wrong this is. but how could she ever stop herself? how could she, when the sweet little notebook is right there, forgotten beneath her desk? how could she, when the swirled letters of your name look all so inviting on the very first page? she runs her index over each curve of the shape of your name, exhaling softly. she can feel the places where you must've applied more pressure with the pen, leaving it imprinted on the paper. robin knows how wrong this is, and she still can't help herself. ever since she moved in, she had an eye on you. so it delighted her to figure out that you wanted her too.

now she wants to know more. robin has seen you with that notebook many times, always writing little somethings in it when you think no one is looking. yet she always is. part of her has waited for you to forget it so that she could get a glance inside, though she never actually expected that to happen. until the moment she saw it beneath the table. you must have dropped it on your way out the last time you had been at her house, robin concludes. at first, she put it on top of her notes and books on the table. "i'm gonna return it tomorrow" is what she told herself. "now it's too late for that anyway" but she didn't return it the next day. or the day after that. it has now been 5 days of you, desperately searching for your diary, while robin eyes it whenever she walks past her table. the night of the 5th day is when she can't keep her hands to herself anymore. it's a particularly hot night, the temperatures hardly dropping even after the sun has set. that must be why robin can't sleep, she reasons. definitely not because of the book that's still sitting on her table. she tosses and turns, already stripped out of everything but her boxers due to the heat. it still seems too hot somehow. robin moans in annoyance and wipes her bags away from her sweaty forehead. that's when her gaze falls upon the diary.

it seems even more tempting like this, in the pale moonlight. fuck it, she thinks, might as well...

she throws her legs over the edge of the bed and walks over to the desk, but reaches for the water bottle first. she takes a couple of gulps from the lukewarm water, her eyes never leaving the object of her desire. robin splashes some of the water against her face too, as if this would help her think this over again. but the decision is made. it has been made the moment she found it. with a grin, she grabs it and jumps back onto the bed. the whole diary seems to have the scent of your sweet perfume on it and she inhales deeply. the first couple of pages don't catch her attention. of course they're sweet, and reading through your description of your days makes her heart flutter, but it is not quite what she had hoped for. after some more flipping through it, something does tach her attention. the date gives way that you must've written it shortly after she moved in next door which makes it even more interesting. a smile creeps up robin's face as her eyes flicker over the words. the way you described your reaction to seeing her in that muscle shirt. "i have never felt this way before", you wrote in dark blue ink. "i didn't even...think it was possible to feel this way for another woman." those lines are followed by an in-depth description of robin's body, of her muscles, and the way they glistened under the sun. she can't help herself but chuckle at the little sexuality crisis she has given you before going to the next page, dated just a couple of days after the other one. her eyes widen when she spots drawings of her body all over the paper. you must have drawn her while she was doing work in her garden, without catching her attention. she tries to imagine your sweet face all scrunched up in concentration while watching her from your window, capturing each movement of hers in your little notebook. robin shifts on her sheets as she examines the pages, your drawing varying from little sketches up to detailed drawings. there are some of her upper body and some that just show her hands in a variety of different positions. robin lets her index wander over the precise lines and exhales shakily. you have captured her to a point that mesmerizes your unknowing muse. she wonders what had been on your mind while you watched her. she wonders if you already knew that you wanted her to fuck you at that time. she grins to herself as she continues flipping through it. as she goes on, she comes across more explicit, more vulgar phrases and even whole pages. it seems to her, that you figured out your sexuality throughout the pages of this very diary that she is holding now. the written words, as well as the drawings, become much more intimate than they are in their beginning. one particular page catches her attention. robin inhales sharply at the detailed fantasy that fills the entire two pages that follow. "holy shit" she breathes, while she reads about all the different ways you want her to fuck you. she wonders what happened that caused this 180-degree turn of your demeanor. but she doesn't really need to know. not when she has this. when she has the words on paper, a bit smeared every now and then and obviously written with a shaky hand, but proof of your want. it's rather harmless at first, a sweet description of lips on lips and tongues in each other's mouths. and suddenly it's so much more.

suddenly it's hands wandering and exploring, mostly on robin's end really. suddenly it's her head between your thighs and her tongue buried inside you. it's her hands on your thigh and it's the way you describe you want for her. and it doesn't end there. it's her fingers between your shaking legs, it's her palms grounding you down while you sit on her face, hips rolling eagerly. robin is taken aback entirely but she can't stop herself now. she also can't stop her own hand from sneaking into her boxers while she reads your dirty words. she exhales long and audibly when she feels her arousal on her fingers, wanting nothing more than for you to suffocate her by sitting on her face like you described in your diary. robin really can't stop herself anymore when her index moves down to her entrance, where the wetness is pooling, only waiting for her to do something about it. she takes another breath and her eyelids flutter shut as she lets her imagination wander. and all she can think about is you... ⋆

'fuck' your cry of pleasure sends a wave of heat straight down to her own center. 'fuck robin i need you' you try to hold your moans in but they come out anyway, louder and louder the more she's touching you. but, god, your moans are like fuel to the fire that's already burning within her. it makes her want you even more. she growls and spins you around so that she is no longer just eating you out. she is, of course, still lapping between your thighs, taking in each and every drop of arousal that you hold within you. but it's much more than just that now. your eyes are wide in surprise, which only spurs robin on to fuck her tongue deeper between your wet folds. you grab the headboard that is right in front of you now and shily grind your hips down into her mouth.

'oh- oh god-' the bed creaks underneath the weight of both of your bodies and the friction from your rocking hips. this, you quickly decide, is paradise. "just like that" robin mumbles and you wonder how she can even get the words out like that. but you don't care as long as she keeps praising you for what you're doing. and of course, she does so much more than that. her palms quickly find your ass and pull your whole weight down onto her mouth. your hand comes flying to cover up the obscene noise that this gesture draws from your lips and all of this while you can feel your orgasm fast approaching in your lower abdomen. 'fuck robin I'm gonna- I'm gonna-' your words are like heaven to her and she chuckles up into your cunt while mustering somewhat of a nod. 'cum for me pretty girl- fuck- cum for me' ⋆

you don't know what has interrupted your sleep. one second you're peacefully asleep, and the next your eyes fly open and consciousness creeps through you. the heat in your room is all-consuming and your sweat-soaked blanket feels heavy upon your body.

you groan audibly before you throw it aside and give the clock on your bedside table a quick glance: 03.30am. you move through your room and push the curtains aside to let some fresh air in. just when you're about to go back to bed, you notice the light that is on in the room across the street. robin's room. but not just that. the scene in front of your eyes seems like one straight out of a fantasy of yours and you actually pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. the woman is spread out on her bed, legs bent at the knees. she's in nothing but her boxers, the heat must've made her do it. but that's all irrelevant, nothing but white noise to what has actually gotten your attention: one of her hands is buried between her legs, her hips rolling against it at a rapid pace. her others, whatsoever, holds an object that you've been searching for desperately for the past 5 days. your jaw practically drops at the way she is fucking herself to the words you have written on the paper. you want to be embarrassed, you really do, but how could you when this is what they do to her. "oh my god" you whisper. hidden by the darkness of your surroundings, you move your own hand into your shorts to copy her movements, eyes rolling back almost immediately.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x y/n #older!robin buckley #older!neighbor!robin x reader #older!neighbor!robin buckley #neighbor!robin x reader #robin buckley smut #robinsno1lesbian drabbles

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giggly-squiggily · 5 months ago

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*slinks into your inbox like the Grinch to the fridge*

I waited a couple days to try and give other people a chance to request something from you, but since you still have some slots open, how can I not jump in? 🤩

I'm gonna circle back to an oldie for this one if I may! Platonic!KageHina has been on my mind a lot recently and I just LOVE your fics for them so much, friend! Perhaps something a bit more casual? Like just hanging out chatting turns into something? I don't have an exact scenario in mind; I just know you've done some volleyball-related ones for them in the past and thought it could be neat to shake it up a bit. But whatever you wanna do, I trust your writing judgement with my life! Thank you in advance and remember to drink water! 💖

Girl the way I CACKLED! kkarjkaerkjajrkeawjk That opening was amazing! And the prompt EEE! I haven't written for Platonic!Kagehina in awhile, so this was a delight! I've gotcha covered!

CW: swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @rachi-roo @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada

“Is it good?” Hinata asked, watching as Kageyama took a hesitant sip. A new boba shop opened up recently, something the tiny redhead insisted on going to. “We’ve never had it before! Come on!” Was all he said before practically dragging Kageyama with him.

The brunette sat back, letting the taste settle on his tongue. Then: “Yeah. It’s pretty good.”

“Not much of a reaction.” Hinata laughed, leaning away when the other offered a sip. “No thanks- I don’t like milk.”

“What- what do you think our drinks are made out of?” Kageyama blinked, watching the redhead suck on his bright orange beverage.

“Juice!” He cried with a grin, teeth pumpkins. “It’s way better! Want some?”

“Nah- I don’t like orange juice.”

“Huh.” Hinata hummed, the two sitting side by side sipping on their drinks. Then- “Why not?”

“Too sour. Makes my face hurt.”

“This isn’t sour at all. I got extra sugar in it.”

“You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls. Not that you haven’t been doing that already.”

“Oh please- like you’re so above that.” Hinata snorted, looking at the creamy boba tea Kageyama held. “Is that sweet?”

“Don’t know. Want a sip to find out?”

“No way. Milk’s gross.”

“That’s why you're short.”

“Oi!” Hinata puffed as Kageyama smirked. “I’m not short- you’re just too tall! You’re built like a stalk of celery.”

“Better than being built like a baked bean.” Those were fighting words, but Kageyama didn’t stop himself from saying them. He quickly moved their drinks aside before it could be knocked over, Hinata’s cries of war nearly muffled as he was knocked flat onto the bench they shared.

“Take it back right now!” Hinata demanded, fingers already in action. Kageyama didn’t even get a chance to reply before he was fighting down the giggles rising in his throat. “Take it back, you celery looking jerk! Take it back I say!”

“Ne-nehehever!” He cried out, halfheartedly shoving at the hands pawing at his stomach. “Bahahhaked beahhan b-bohohoke!”

Hinata gasped at the alliteration, clutching his pearls. “You-you-you son of a- that’s it! I’ll show you what this baked bean can do!” Motivated, Hinata put all his energy into tickling the other, grabbing Kageyama’s wrist and pulling it overhead. Once there, he took his other hand and slowly began walking it up his side, pressing in sharply with each step. “Coochie coochie coo! A tickle tickle tickle Tobi-Toe!”

“GAH!” The setter all but yelped at the touch, arching some before dissolving into giggles. “Yoohohohou ahahahahss! Dohohoohn’t- noohohoht the bahahhahaby tahahhaalk! Geahhahahahaha!”

“Yes baby talk! Babies love milk, so that makes you one! A coochie coochie coo!” Hinata made his voice extra sweet- talking like a mother to her newborn as he viciously dug into the center rib along Kageyama’s side. It was a terrible spot- one that nearly sent him flying with how hard the other writhed. “Who’s a ticklish whittle baby? You are! You are!”

“SHUHUHUT UUHUUHP! SHHIHIHIHT! YOHOOHOU AHAHAHASS!” Kageyama cackled, squeezing his eyes shut as he kicked his feet against the bench. Oh how he was gonna destroy this little turd! “MOHOOHOVE SOOHOHOEMWHEHEHERE EHEHEHLSE!”

“Huh? What?” Hinata paused his tickles briefly as he leaned in, a hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you- you’re far too quiet! Wanna try again, whitt-”

His teases were quickly ended when Kageyama flipped the tables- literally. How he managed to keep them on the bench in doing so amazed him, but there was no time to wonder. “Thehehere, you ahahahss! I’hihill show yoohou who’s the bahahaby here!” Kageyama was quick to repeat Hinata’s previous move, grabbing his wrist and going straight for a bad spot. The redhead didn’t stand a chance.

“AHHH!” Hinata shrieked like he was in a horror movie, quickly dissolving into laughter as Kageyama dug into his stomach. “Kahahhahahahhagehhehahahhhaha! Mehahahahhahahaha nooohohoht my behehehehlly! Geahahhahaha pleahhahahahhse!”

“Hmm, no. You get what you get.” The setter snickered, an idea coming to mind as he shoved up Hintatas shirt. “Don’t think I forgot your little comment earlier, Boke. Tobi-toe, huh?”

“Yeahhahahah cahahhsue youohohu lohoohohook like a tohoohohie-EHEHEHEHEH!” Hinata arched with a loud squeal as Kageyama dragged his finger against warm skin, drawing out a tic tac toe grid. “Wahahhait wahahhaait whahahhahat?”

“X’s or O’s?” Kageyama asked, tapping the center “square” rapidly as Hinata struggled to think. “Pick before I decide for you.”

“Eheheheheh! Fihihihine, fihihiihne Oohohohohs!” Hinata cried, giggling harder as Kageyama scratched out an “x” on the center square. “Nohohohoo fahahahir, I shoohoohuld get to gohohoho first!”

“Too bad. Where do you want your “O”?”

“Ehehahhahah! Gehahahhaha- uuhuhuuhper mihihihidle-EHEH!” Hinata kicked as an “O” was drawn. One after the other- x’s and o’s were “sketched” into his stomach, leaving him a squealing, shrieking mess. Eventually leading to…

“Damn, a drawl.” Kageyama hummed- drawing out a massive “C” across the entire graph. Hinata was near silent with mirth, wheezing against the crook of his trapped arm as he gasped for air. Seeing this, Kageyama stopped his tickles- waiting patiently for the tiny jumper to catch his breath. “Want me to stop?”

“Hehe..hehehe..” The ginger giggled. He whispered something- so quiet Kageyama couldn’t quite hear him. With his free hand, he gestured him closer.

“I said…” Hinata began, only to quickly grab at Kageyama’s side. “Take that!” The setter yelped and collapsed against him, cackling the entire time. Soon their controlled tickle fight turned into an all out brawl- their hands poking and grappling at each other's tickle spots as their laughter filled the area all around. Eventually, everything came to an end when they rolled off the bench.

To their amazement post the tickle fight- they somehow avoided their drinks. Small victories.

~~~

“Heh..hehehe..whhohooho one?” Hinata giggled out, haphazardly flopping into Kageyama’s side as he gasped for air. Kageyama wasn’t any better, leaning back into him as he wiped mirthful tears away from his eyes.

“Hell..I dooohohn’t know. Truhuuhce?” He asked, humming as Hinata nodded. Reaching out, he blindly reached out for his drink, bringing it to his lips.

“Mm!” He yelped when his tongue was assaulted by citrus. He grabbed the wrong one. “Oh….oh.” He took another sip, nodding. “You know…that’s not bad.”

Hinata blinked, then he reached across the other- grabbing the milk tea. After a few sips, he nodded. “You know….I still hate milk.”

Kageyama sputtered so hard it came out his nose. Hinata cackled, falling on his back as he laughed and laughed- Kageyama practically in tears once more against him as he did the same.

Thanks for reading!

#haikyuu!!#tickle #tickle fic #fluff #platonic #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #platonic!kagehina #boba #dorks #the boys being besties your honor

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lewdys-world-of-asks · 6 months ago

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Cum dump for Ms Isley, after a group of students have thier way

Put a message in my inbox saying cum dump and a location (pussy, mouth, ass, etc…) and my muse will react to being filled or sprayed in that spot!

TW: non-consensual themes ahead.

Ivy strutted about the biology catch-up session she held after school, her high heels clacking against the floor as the students read over the material, "now do note that information from pages fourteen through thirty will be on the test tomorrow so make sure you make notes to study at home too," her tone was one of boredom as she sighed softly afterwards, returning to her desk to attend her new project, an unblossomed orchid that she'd been cultivating in recent days, eagerly awaiting to see whether the time had payed off. As she sat on the edge of the desk, stroking it's delicate stem her students couldn't help but notice her slender legs crossed over one another, the stress on the buttons of her shirt and most noticeable of all, the two pretty bumps of her nipples that poked through the thin fabric of her blouse. Every student pined after Ms Isley, hell even some of the faculty too, though this little group would be graced by a very lewd miracle as Ivy's orchid blossomed, much to her surprise. A slim smile danced on her lips as she leant in to catch a whiff of it's beautiful aroma, though what Ivy failed to realise is that as soon as she had, her mind began to loosen up, her cheeks flushing red as desire flowed through her. Though she had near perfect immunity to the effects of various plants, clearly she'd overestimated this ability as the orchids pollen sent her desire into overdrive and her mind into a more malleable state.

A few moments had passed as Ivy simply remained still, trying to calm her lust quickly, squirming a little. Just within her earshot she heard one of her students, who had clearly not been able to focus on his work, whisper his wish for Ivy to spread her legs. Though a wish for him, Ivy couldn't control her body as the words became command, much to her students delight as they began to take more notice of their teacher's predicament. Most hesitated at first, unsure if this was even happening before one of them piped up, issuing the next command. "Kneel." And within a heart beat, Ivy slipped off the desk and sank to her knees, a compliant look in her eyes as the orchids pollen pushed her consciousness back and left her a mindless toy for her students. With the last fleeting moments of consciousness, all Ivy could make out was the sound of one last command followed by the jangle of belt buckles. The last words she heard were "Say 'ahhh' bitch."

Groggily Ivy came back around, head spinning a little as the effects of her orchids pollen dissipated. The first thing in her vision was the clock being hit by orange rays of the sunset. It took a moment for her to figure that she'd been out for a hours. She shakily got up and panted, physically exhausted for some reason before she pieced together what must have happened. A soft chuckle echoed past her lips as she looked at the orchid, "Mischievous one, aren't you~?" She asked it, noticing her glasses on the desk, coated in cum before she caught on that while under the orchids influence, her students clearly must have enjoyed themselves. "My oh my, I can't blame them though with how pent up they must be having to watch me wear such short skirts~" she mused before taking a moment to grab her compact, opening it up to see her own reflection. Her makeup ruined, mascara had ran from her eyes all the way to her jawline, lipstick smeared about and dried cum coating her face and hair before she looked down to see it also coated her blouse. Ivy couldn't help but bite her lip, spreading her legs a little only to feel thick globs ooze out of her and down her thighs. Clearly the students had gone a couple rounds with their fuckdoll teacher, painting her then stuffing her full. "Mm fuck... Such messy students...~"

#ask #poison ivy #dc #anon

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ejzah · 9 months ago

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Loved your fic We Swear it’s Not Real. Would you consider making it a multi-chapter? Would love to see an expansion from the beginning of their fake dating.

Hi anon! Sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for so long. As always, time escapes me very easily. I’m not sure if I can commit to an entire multi-chapter fic since I already have so many other long fics in progress. However, I’ll try write a few ficlets highlighting key moments. As with the original story, this is set in season 7 when Kat’s wedding was originally mentioned.

***

A Not So Indecent Proposal

Kensi rubbed her hands over her thighs. She could do this, it would be easy. All she had to do was ask Deeks to be her fake boyfriend. No big deal.

She took a hesitant step towards the bullpen, her eyes zeroing in on Deeks’ bent head. She studied his blonde mass of curls, her stomach squeezing sickeningly with nerves, and she nearly turned back around, stopping herself at the last second.

This exact process had gone on the past three days. Each morning, Kensi came in early, waited for Deeks to arrive, and then engineered a few moments when she could talk to him in private. And each day she’d chickened out before ever saying a word.

Squaring her shoulder, Kensi reminded herself that this was Deeks. She trusted him more than just about anyone, he owed her a favor, and more importantly, she was quickly running out of time.

“Morning Deeks,” she greeted him, making a show like she’d just come in.

“Morning Kensalina.” He stopped working long enough to flash her a short, yet genuine smile, then resumed writing what Kensi recognized as an LAPD form, even from a distance.

“You got a minute?”

“For my partner? Anytime,” Deeks replied, tucking his pen behind his ear, and turning to give Kensi his full attention as she took Sam’s chair.

Folding her hands together over her crossed knees, Kensi drew in a long, calming breath.

“Ok. So, you know my friend Kat is getting married—”

“You mean Kat of the much talked about show ponies and teal decor?”

“Yes. Anyway, um, so there’s been a couple questions about my plus one, or lack of one,” Kensi continued, chuckling nervously. “So, I was wondering if you would, um, consider taking on that role for me.”

Deeks’ face had slowly morphed from intrigued to confused as she spoke. Screwing up one side of his face, he slowly asked,

“Let me get this straight. You want me to be your date to a close friend’s wedding?”

“Shhh!” Waving her hands in a hushing motion, Kensi looked over her shoulder, anticipating one of the team standing within in hearing distance. No one was there, but she lowered her voice all the same.

“No, I’m asking you to pretend to be my plus one,” she corrected.

“Oh, my mistake, big difference,” Deeks teased. Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his chair, mouth spreading in a delighted grin. “So, what exactly made you pick me? My dazzling social skills, my expertise on the dance floor?” He snapped his fingers. “Ooh, I’ve got it. You know how amazing I look in a tux.”

“You know what, if you’re just going to make fun of this, forget it.” Kensi raised her hands, and pushed away from the desk. Before she could get up, Deeks tugged her back down.

“Woah, woah, woah, I’m just messing with you, Kens. I’m sorry.”

Considering him a for a moment, Kensi decided that he seemed genuinely contrite, and rolled her chair back in place.

“I guess I’m a little on edge,” she admitted. “All this wedding planning is more stressful than I anticipated. And as much as I love her, Kat is a total bridezilla.” Deeks chuckled sympathetically as Kensi groaned, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “The woman seems to think that her wedding is the event of the century and needs to outdo Katherine and William’s.”

“Good thing she comes from money and her fiancé is rich,” Deeks commented. He tapped her knee with the back of his hand. “What exactly would my duties be as your prospective plus-one?”

“Accompanying me to any major wedding events,” Kensi told him. “Kat’s calling it her wedding season, so there’s sure to be more than your typical number of events.” She tilted her head slyly. “And of course, you’d expertly play the part of the doting boyfriend so I don’t have to deal with annoying questions, pitying looks, or, most importantly, getting set up with any of Kat’s numerous cousins or single friends.”

“That sounds pretty easy.” Rubbing his bottom lip, Deeks considered her, any teasing absent from his expression. It made Kensi feel more uncomfortable than asking him to be her plus one. “Just one more question. Why me?”

Kensi dipped her head; that was a question she’d dreaded. Not because she thought Deeks would hold the information over her, but rather because it felt like it would be giving too much away. He deserved to know though, so she answered honestly.

“I trust you.” She focused on slightly uneven spot on her jeans. “I trust you to pull me out of laser filled room, have my back when my a bunch of goons with guns are firing at us, and,” she paused. “I trust you with this.”

What she left unsaid was that she trusted Deeks to guard her dignity and play his part without crossing any lines.

“Ok. I’ll do it,” Deeks agreed.

“What—you will?” Kensi blurted out in surprise.

“Yeah. Anything for my partner.”

***

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #fake dating #au #a not so indecent proposal #fluff #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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four-white-trees · 1 year ago

Text

Sunday six! Let's see if i can do this on mobile without the formatting going nuts

tagging @overdevelopedglasses @passthroughtime @mike----wazowski @skysquid22 @ohayouasagohan @fragilitease @woundedheartwithin

This week is the opening scene of a longfic i have planned that I'll write in December. It's gonna involve a serial killer haunting Ijincho. I don't know if we'll ever get Judgment 3 so this will be my take on it.

Yagami made a mistake.

He’d come to Genda’s office on a whim that day, having been passing through the area, and he thought he’d check in with Saori to see if there was any work. The Yagami Detective Agency was going through another dry period…again.

And when he’d walked through the glass doors of the office, he was surprised, but pleasantly so, to see Mafuyu there. Then he locked eyes with Izumida. And the pair were holding hands.

“Yagami-san!” Mafuyu said, surprise plain in her voice. Yagami nodded to her and Izumida, his eyes landing on the massive diamond on her ring finger. “We were, ah…” her voice trailed off, but Izumida took up where she couldn’t.

“We’re engaged,” he said proudly, beaming.

Genda and Saori were seated on the couch across from them, Hoshino standing beside them. Saori met Yagami’s eyes, a world of meaning in her expression which Yagami did not want to acknowledge.

“Congratulations,” Yagami said, and it was genuine even if the note of flatness in his tone had Mufuyu’s mouth twisting. “You guys pick a date?”

“We’re thinking spring,” Mafuyu said. “Maybe April.”

“Probably have the wedding up in Kyoto, when all the cherry blossoms are blooming,” Izumida added.

“Sounds delightful,” Genda said warmly. “You let us know when the date is firmed up. We’ll all be there.”

“Of course,” Mafuyu said. She met her fiance’s eyes, and they both stood. “We should get going. We’re meeting my father for dinner tonight.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” Saori said, walking them out. Yagami moved out of the way, leaning against the doorway to the kitchenette. Mafuyu met Yagami’s eyes on the way out, a look of tenderness in them, and Yagami could only offer a tight smile.

When the happy couple was gone, Yagami let out a long sigh. Saori brushed past him with a little extra force than necessary on her way back to her desk. “Really?” he asked her flatly.

“Well, you really did let that one get away,” Genda pointed out, getting to his feet.

“Mafuyu and I haven’t been a thing for years,” Yagami reminded them.

“Which is entirely your fault,” Saori said, her words clipped. “She was so into you, and you just ignored her for months until you needed something from her.”

Yagami walked over to one of the windows, peering out onto the street. He didn’t often get angry at Saori, so he needed a moment to get a handle on it. Not that she was saying anything untrue, either. Perhaps that’s why it stung so much.

He looked at his phone, checking his texts. Nothing. Once upon a time, he’d had an inbox full of messages from the girls he dated, casual relationships which were never meant to go anywhere, and they didn’t. The girls found more suitable partners, and Yagami…

Yagami was still there, doing his thing.

#sunday six #writing #fanfiction #judge eyes #takayuki yagami

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vethbrenatto · 2 years ago

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i've seen some people mention that something they're getting tired of with critrole is the self-referencing, especially the fact that they inevitably go back to vox machina, even if it's just for a couple episodes or smth, and i don't want to invite negativity onto you by asking this, but what do you think of that? cause them enjoying it and having fun is obv delightful, but maybe it's getting a bit redundant? i understand that it might also be part of the brand to refer back to past things tho

I feel like I’ve kind of touched on all of this before, even in my post this morning. The gist is that no, there is nothing wrong with CritRole being self-referencing, it has been that way since M9 and it is the conceit of Exandria that all of this is happening within the same world. Genuinely, if you want no overlappingness, a longform epic happening in the same world continually is not your bag.

But yes, C3 is obviously more interconnected than we’ve seen before and specifically in a way that doesn’t vibe with a good number of people (as I’ve been citing over and over, Utilitycaster’s meta about that really makes it make sense). And that’s not a bad thing! I know HUGE fans of the VM campaign who could not vibe with the M9 campaign at all- it’s about personal preference.

It is something that I struggle with and have struggled with since Laudna died and they went to VM for help and I made many posts delving into that. In my post this morning I explained what specifically about 51 was off for me. I don’t really have much more to say than that, just that you’ve got to recognize that if you are feeling the same way that it isn’t on the story Matt is telling but rather that this just may not be a story you gel with as much. And to the same token, if you ARE enjoying this type of story, realize that’s also a personal opinion and that people who aren’t feeling identically to you are entitled to theirs (looking at the anons in my inbox- which btw on that, please people, curate your experience. If my opinions make you upset enough to message on anon, I’m probably not a great blog for you to be following!)

#cr spoilers #ask #anonymous #I don’t have much else to say without feeling like it’s rehashing

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featherchan · 4 months ago

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She just loves getting to enjoy the summer sports season. For Draculaura, there was something special about getting to spite her vampirism and enjoy the sun. Plus, the crowd tended to enjoy the pre-game performance more when everyone was nice and toasty. While some of the other members of the fear-leading squad might not have been keen on performing in the heat, watching the football team fight it out in the open field.

With her first performance of the game behind her, the petite vampire is quick to make her way over to the benches. There's an eager little bounce to every step she takes as she plunks herself down next to the kitsune. The pair had been growing closer over the past couple of months, and Draculaura is just delighted to be near Kanako.

"We totally just killed that entire performance!" She says in an eager tone of voice. Leaning closer to the other, she gives Kanako's cheek a quick little kiss, leaving a light lipstick mark. "Hey, did you maybe want to get ice-scream after this? It'd be my treat!"

[ Inbox Surprise / @strcngered ]

[ P.S : Do not turn this ask into a thread without asking first 😉 ] Sitting on a bench, Kanako worried about her crush's safety. She even brought a tote full of supplies, including sunscreen, an umbrella, and even a sewing kit, hoping to help Draculaura in any way she could. Unfortunately, the kitsune sadly wasn't able to join the cheer squad because her foxtails made her too clumsy. Even Frankenstein was more graceful compared to her. So instead, the raven assisted in any way she could, even designing a new cheerleading uniform for the girls.

Watching Draculaura make her way toward her. Kanako quickly checked herself in her ICoffin and even fixed her tail to make it look fluffy and huggable. "Hi, Draculaura!" She gave a casual wave, as her heart pounded hard against her chest. Soon, the Kitsune mentally shrieked in delight when the pink vampire sat close to her. Overwhelmed by the jitters from her close proximity to the other ghoul, Kanako felt as though her heart might leap out of her chest. Unable to resist the urge, she quickly slapped her tails when they tried to curl themselves around her.

"I know! You guys look great!" Upon receiving the kiss, her tails puffed up instantly, and her face flushed a vibrant red. Her expression radiated happiness and love, and she felt an overwhelming sense of pure bliss as she sighed. "Ye-yeah, scream-ice grateful sound..." She meant to say. 'Yes, ice-sream sounds delightful.' But flustered, her words jumbled up together. And with the kitsune's fluffy tail blocking the view, Kanako was abruptly pulled back to reality when someone in the crowd exclaimed. "Hey! We can't see!" "Oops! Sorry..." The kitsune swiftly apologized, as she diligently pulled down her tails and started brushing them, with their eyes still staring lovingly at their love.

#[ ask | theLioness ]#[ ic | theLioness ]#[ mutual | strcngered ]#[ verse | monster high ]#[ thank you for sending this 🤗 ]#[ sorry it took ages to answer it 🙇🏻‍♀️😅 ]

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riahollywood · 1 year ago

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friends with benefits | christian pulisic

notes: because the logical thing to do when you have an inbox full of requests is to write something that literally ✨ no one ✨ asked for.

fully in my christian era. enjoy x

—

you took in a deep breath, not intending it to come out as shakey as it did. you looked yourself up and down in the mirror, the pastel blue matching lace set complimenting your sun kissed skin.

you slipped a casual black t shirt dress over the top, knowing it didn’t matter too much as it wouldn’t be on for any length of time. you placed your hands at your hips, sucking your stomach in, angling yourself in different poses. you pondered to yourself, did you look good enough… good enough for him?

it had all stemmed from the day you moved in. christian hadn’t been looking where he was going and had walked straight into you in the lobby of the building.

you hadn’t seen him as you were carrying a box of your belongings as you moved your items in. mortified, christian had immediately apologised and helped you pick your belongings off the floor. he insisted he helped you with the rest of your stuff but you assured him that was the last box, not wanting to bother him.

truth be told, as soon as you laid eyes on him and his dark brown eyes glistening under the artificial light, you had developed a crush of him.

to your delight, he turned up the next evening with a bottle of wine to apologise again and welcome you into the building. one thing had led to another as you got to know eachother, his hand slipping a little too high up your thigh and when he saw your gaze flickering down to his lips, he couldn’t help himself from leaning in and kissing you. the next thing you knew he was helping you christen every room of your new apartment.

it had became a regular occurrence, late night trips to eachother’s apartments and blissful amounts of pleasure. but that was all it was. just sex.

it had been going on for a few months now and this evening was no different to any other, at least to him anyway. you hadn’t seen christian for a couple of weeks as you had been on holiday and whilst away, you found yourself missing him. not just the sex, but him. his caring personality, his funny jokes, the way he held you at night and insisted you stayed, even if more often than not he was gone in the morning when you awoke.

the prospect of him possibly seeing some other girl to get his fix whilst you were away left you feeling sick. to ensure he didn’t forget about you, you had sent an array of revealing bikini snaps over the past fortnight. they had done the trick with christian desperate to see you as soon as you got off the plane.

you were snapped out of your thoughts when your phone buzzed.

Christian: you still coming over? x

you gulped, knowing time was getting on and you needed to leave before you lost his interest.

you always took care of your appearance and you were often pleased with how you looked, but it was because of the butterflies in your tummy that you just couldn’t feel completely satisfied with your appearance tonight.

you tapped out a quick reply saying you were just leaving before spritzing your favourite perfume and being on your way.

- -

you had barely knocked once on the door when it flung open, christian standing there with a smile ear to ear, seemingly genuinely happy to see you.

he was wearing an old training top and a black pair of shorts which you always loved on him as they left little to the imagination.

you exchanged hellos and entered his apartment, taking a seat on a kitchen stool as he poured you both a glass of wine.

“so, how was Spain?” he asked, placing the glass of wine in front of you before taking a sip of his own.

“it was lovely, nice to get a real tan for a change.” you giggled and christian raised his eyebrows.

“i’m looking forward to seeing those tan lines.” he spoke and you let out a small chuckle, shivers running up your body as the thought of what was to come played in your mind.

“so how’s your week been? been training much?” you tried your best to make small talk but as christian replied, you were struggling to focus on what he was saying, instead staring into the deep brown pools of his eyes, down to the freckles on his face where he must’ve caught the sun himself, to his plump pink lips, his tongue darting out every so often to wetten them.

he must’ve asked a question as the noise stopped and he looked at you expectedly as though you were to say something.

you shook your head. “sorry, did you ask something?”

he smirked as you watched his tongue poke at his cheek through the inside of his mouth.

“fuck it, i can’t wait any longer and looks like you can’t either.”

your heart began racing as he scooped you off the stool and into his arms, carrying you bridal style across to his bedroom and placing you down on his bed.

he pulled his shirt off over his head and you took in his tanned abs, god, his body truly was divine.

he noticed you staring and that cheeky smirk was back on his face.

he brought his ink covered arm up to your face and gently used his hand to push your jaw to close your mouth.

“seen something you like, sweetheart?” he remarked, now hovering over you, his cross necklace dangling between your bodies.

“i’ve missed you.” you commented a little too seriously which left christian looking slightly taken aback. “i mean, i’ve missed this. i’ve missed having you on top of me.” you tried to cover your tracks and luckily it worked as christian’s hands toyed with the bottom of your dress, waiting for you to sit up so he could pull it over your head.

he slipped your dress off, leaving you in just the lacey set, tossing the material to the other side of the room to be found later. a groan escaped his lips as his hand made their way down your body, from your face to your hardened nipples through the thin lace, all the way down to rest at your hips.

“i missed you too, baby. do you have any idea what those pictures did to me?” he finally replied, eyes glazed over in lust.

you suddenly felt shy, a “mhm.” leaving your lips as you stared into christian’s eyes.

you turned your head slightly to the side as christian bought his face down to nuzzle into your neck, soft moans leaving your lips as he licked and gently sucked at the skin, inhaling your sweet scent, scattering small kisses in between as he spoke. “had me getting off to the thought of being there with you, sweetheart.”

christian’s hand finally traced over where you wanted him the most, grazing over your clit. a sigh left your lips at the thought of him laying on his bed, stroking his cock as he thought of you played out in your mind.

“did you think of me, baby? wish I was there with you?” christian spoke as his fingers continued their movements, smirking to himself when he felt just how wet he had made you.

“mhm, made myself come thinking of you a couple of times.” christian’s head snapped up at your words, smugness taking over his entire expression.

“fuck, really?”

you nodded, humming in response. “thought about what it would’ve been like if you were there with me, taking me back to the room to fill me up with your big cock, making me scream your name for everyone to hear.”

your words were too much for christian and he swiftly removed his shorts, grabbing himself into his hand as he climbed back onto the bed.

“well you’re lucky you don’t have to imagine anymore.” he made quick work at removing your underwear, a sharp breath leaving him as he took in your tan lines.

he teased his tip over your entrance, dragging it up and down, collecting your wetness onto him and chucking to himself at just how wet he had made you.

all of a sudden he threw his head back and mumbled an annoyed ‘fuck’ to himself.

“what’s up?” you questioned, propping yourself up onto your elbows.

“i… i don’t have any condoms.” he replied and you tutted in annoyance, secretly being happy. you had used the last one on your last trip to his flat the morning before you left so this was confirmation he hadn’t had anyone over since then.

“umm, i don’t mind… i mean, if you want to…” you trailed off, not being able to look him in the eyes. “i’m on the pill.”

“fuck, are you sure?” his gaze was fixated on your face, checking to make sure you really meant it.

you finally met his gaze again and nodded your head. “that’s okay with me.”

christian’s adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, and all of a sudden the dynamic of the room changed. he bought his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear, taking in every new freckle that was on your face from the sun.

“sun kissed is a great look on you.” he muttered out, eyes still fixated on you. “you look beautiful.”

this was the first time he had ever paid you a compliment like this. hot, sexy, sure. but never beautiful.

“thank you.” you replied quietly, feeling nerves at the situation you were in, despite nothing really being new.

“weren’t this quiet when you were sending me those pictures were you, sweetheart?” he teased. you didn’t reply, mouth slightly agape. “what’s the matter, baby?” he teased, running his cock across your entrance.

“please, christian.” you whined, mind too hazy to form a full sentence. luckily, christian was quick to indulge you.

“you want my cock?” christian teased, pushing just his tip into you. you nodded innocently and he growled, capturing your lips with his, his voice hot and heavy with need as he whispered against your mouth. “tell me what you want, baby.”

“christian, I need you to fuck me. fuck me so hard till you’re the only thing I can think of.” you pleaded, completely and utterly desperate at this point.

he smirked and gladly obliged, pushing all the way into you slowly so you felt every curve till he was bottoming out. the feeling of him being bare inside you for the first time, especially with your newfound feelings for the man, sent shivers up your spine and made the situation feel different to all the intimate moments you had shared before.

he built up a pace and steadily thrusted in and out of out of you, bringing one of your legs up to wrap around his body so he could get a better angle, only being satisfied when he was sure he was hitting your sweet spot each time he entered you as a moan of his name left your lips.

he momentarily halted his pace to attach his lips. to yours. you sighed into the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth, battling against yours.

you dug your nails into his back, indicating you needed more and christian pulled his hips back and thrust them forward in a slow, smooth stroke. you whimpered out in pleasure and christian moved to kiss your neck.

“christian,” you cried. “feels so good.”

he smirked as he bought his fingers up to his lips and licked two of them before sliding his hand between your bodies. his fingers found your clit right away and he started rubbing fast circles, hoping to bring you close to that edge as he continued to pound into you.

christian felt you flutter around his cock, muttering ‘fuck’ before looking down at the sight of his member moving in and out of you. “you’re close, baby girl.” he stated, as though he knew your body better than you did.

“mmm, fuck, christian, please- please don’t stop,” you managed to mutter out, eyes clenched shut as you tightened around him. this only caused him to fasten his pace, thrusts now hard and fast as the sound of his skin slapping yours filled the room.

when you fluttered around him once more, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

“taking my big cock so well, angel. you going to come all over it like a good girl?” he bent down to speak into your ear.

you moaned his name in response, your body shaking under him as he expertly moved between your legs.

“that’s it baby, going to come in your perfect little pussy, going to fill you up with my come.” you whined loudly at his words, throwing your head back as you came around him, a combination of the tightness and your moans bringing him to his high as he released into you.

after you had both came down, christian stayed collapsed on top of you and still inside you for a minute, catching his breath. his sweaty forehead was pressed against your shoulder and you wanted nothing more than to wipe the hair off his forehead and give him a kiss before cuddling up in a sweaty mess together.

unbeknown to you, christian was debating getting up and getting a damp cloth to clean you up. he imagined taking care of you, dressing you in his clothes and holding you in his arms all night. he thought about what it would feel like to wake up next to you, to be able to press soft kisses to your skin before pulling himself away from you to bring you breakfast in bed. to treat you like the princess you deserved to be treated like. but you both knew the deal, friend with benefits, no messy emotional shit. besides, he didn’t want to scare you off and lose what you did have.

the feel of his warm skin on yours as his body lay on top of yours was blissful, sending electricity up your body. you breathed in his scent, relishing in the moment before having to remind yourself he wasn’t yours, and this was just sex.

you felt your eyes begun to involuntary well up with tears and you sniffled to try and stop the tears from falling. bad move.

christian immediately looked up to you, worry spreading across his face when he saw the water pooling in your eyes.

“fuck, baby, are you okay? did i hurt you?” he asked as he pulled out of you; making you wince at the sudden loss, but making christian think he had hurt you. “oh fuck, was i too rough? shit, i didn’t realise, i’m so-“

“no.” you cut him off. “no, christian. you didn’t hurt me.”

he climbed off you so he was now next to you on the bed.

“are you sure?” he asked, bringing a hand to stroke at your cheek. you swatted it away and he looked sad.

“i just… i don’t think i can do this anymore.” you replied before getting yourself out of the bed and quickly putting your clothes back on as fast as you possibly could.

you just wanted to get home and sob to yourself, you didn’t want him to see.

“y/n, baby, have i done something? please don’t leave, we can talk, i ca-“

“i think i’m falling in love with you.” you replied, voice shakey as a tear slipped down your cheek.

christian looked like he was in a state of shock, his mouth slightly open as he tried to reply, but nothing came out, no matter how hard he tried. he just couldn’t find the words.

“can you say something? anything?” you spoke almost desperately as you watched him continue to look blank as he tried to process your admission, no words coming out.

“i-i…” christian struggled out, shaking his head in shock.

you let out a short laugh out of embarrassment. “forget it, I’m sorry.” you rushed out of his room and out of his flat as fast as you possibly could, feeling a mixture of relief and heartbreak when he didn’t follow.

- - -

send me a request here!

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic fanfiction #pulisic #football x y/n #football smut #footballer smut #football fanfic

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starlightrows · 3 years ago

Text

2 — Fresh Start

Hiding In Plain Sight

← Previous - Next →

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mention of vomiting

Summary: You accept an offer for a more permanent assignment and run into trouble pretty much the moment you get there

A few weeks after your unauthorized rescue mission, a transfer document appears in your inbox. You read through the document, finding it no different from the others you’ve filled out before, save for the note at the bottom.

I hope you were serious about joining the 104th, it seems we are in need of a new field medic

— CC 3636 Commander Wolffe

You’ve spent a couple months loosely with the 501st, the men are so close, and you’ve grown rather fond of Ashoka and General Skywalker. But it’s never felt like quite the right fit. Maybe the 104th will be a nice change of pace. They are basically having to build a new battalion from the ground up. General Plo is well respected and exceptionally kind. And there’s something about that Commander Wolffe that you just can’t seem to shake.

Another week later you’re on a transport ship to Kamino to meet up with your new battalion. The 501st took your leaving relatively well. Exchanged hugs and promises to see one another again. Ahsoka was delighted you were going to serve under General Plo, she studies with him often and considers the Wolf Pack as much her family as the 501st.

You’ve never been to Kamino before, though the men have told you about it countless times. Cold, stormy, the city lights are artificially bright, and everything feels calculated and sterile. And they aren’t wrong. From the moment you land there you can see that they weren’t exaggerating in any way.

“Good to see you again Captain” General Plo welcomes you

“And you General. Glad to be here as well” you answer with a smile, adjusting the large duffle that contains all of your belongings on your shoulder

“Come” he gestures for you to follow him “I’m sure you remember my commanding officer, Wolffe”

“You’re looking well Commander” you smile at him.

He looks… well he looks a bit stiff and awkward at the moment. Maybe he didn’t think you would accept his offer to join the team. Or maybe today is just an uncomfortable day for him given he’s now in command of a mismatched battalion that wasn’t raised together or even worked together before. You decided it’s the latter.

“You… erm… I’m glad you accepted the transfer. I was concerned I’d have to work with a medic I’m unfamiliar with” he manages to get out as the three of you walk the eerily bright halls of Tipoca City.

“Ah, yes. Take it from someone who’s been reassigned more times than I can count, it’s tough to break the ice” you chuckle

“Hm” he nods, leading you into the temporary barracks room the 104th has been using during reassignment training. When he opens the door, all heads in the room turn towards you.

“Attention!” Wolffe commands. The men fall into like standing at attention to greet you and the General. Wolffe introduces you with your full name and rank “She is our new field medic and as much a member of this team as any of you. At ease”

The men in the room relax and come up to shake your hand. You remember Sinker and Boost, who greet you and ask how you’ve been since the rescue mission. The new members all seem pretty welcoming.

First is their pilot, Slush whose hair has grown out past what you’d think it’s considered regulation. He’s got a charming smile and already has you laughing along with him.

Next is Mav, with a shaved head and a big welcoming smile. You estimate that he’s probably one of the older generations of clones, but can’t put your finger on why.

Cinder who has jarringly rough hands, “You’re probably gonna land up patching me up quite a bit” he chuckles sheepishly.

“Get into trouble often?” You ask with a laugh

“You could say that” he jokes

Comet, who you realize you’ve met before. “I thought you were with the 468th!”

“I put in for a transfer when I heard the Wolf Pack needed some fresh blood” it’s not much of an explanation, and you’re sure there’s more to it. But you leave it there for now.

Then there is Jag and Cricket. Both of them are young and ambitious. But in different ways. Cricket is polite and unassuming, but you can see the way he looks around at everyone when they talk and laugh. Like he doesn’t want to laugh at the wrong time or wrong thing.

Jag is more bold. Telling you quickly that he is excited to work with you and anxious to get out there and start being of real value to the war effort.

They are both obviously shinies given their pearly white plastoid armor. They haven’t earned their paint yet. You glance around at the men. None of them match yet. Wolffe, Sinker and Boost are still sporting crimson accents. Mav’s armor is scratched, scraped, and has a few blaster burns but it doesn’t look like it was ever painted. Cinders appears to have some black paint added here and there, but nothing that seems intentional or decided. Comet has sage green paint on his helmet and vambraces. Slush is still fully decorated in purple paint.

These men may seem mismatched and have vastly different levels of experience, but you’re feeling optimistic about it so far. It seems everyone in this battalion needs a fresh start.

“Given that we no longer have the flagship The Triumphant to oportate out of, our battalion is being relocated to a new Republic base until our fleet is ready. So collect your gear and meet on the shuttle” Wolffe informs them

Given that you already have your gear you just follow Commander Wolffe towards the hanger.

“This is quite the group commander” you observe

“They’ve been here a while already” he admits “They’re… still getting used to each other”

“You don’t sound impressed with them” you say quirking a brow, inviting him to further explain

“I’m concerned. Some of them have never even been in the field” he says “Others seem a little overzealous”

“They’ll learn Commander” you assure him

“Hm” he grumbles

Everyone loads up in the shuttle. Quickly packing in gear and getting on board. Slush climbs up into the cockpit to get the engines going.

“Hey Doc” he calls down “You know how to copilot at all?”

It catches you a little off guard, “Um, yeah I’ve flown before. Why, you need a co up there?”

You glance around at your new squad. No one else seems to be volunteering, except Jag looks mildly put off. Though, you’re sure he doesn’t have any piloting experience, so you’re not sure why he’d be upset.

“Come on up Doc, we’re mapped to travel through an asteroid belt and I could use an extra set of eyes up here” he calls down to you

You glance over to Wolffe and General Plo, asking permission with your eyes. Unsure if they’re the types to want to give clearance for such things. General Plo doesn’t seem to notice or mind, he’s engaged in conversation with Sinker at the moment. Wolffe nods his head up towards the cockpit “Off you go, Captain”

You shrug and climb up to the cockpit and slide into the copilot's seat. You’ve flown ships in the past, not this particular type of shuttle but the controls look the same. So you go through the full preflight check and get the bird in the air.

Kamino’s dense rainstorms make for a slightly tricky take off, but once you’re up and out of the atmosphere it’s smooth sailing. Slush flips on the auto navigation and glances over at you with a boyish smirk

“I gotta know” he says “How did we land up with a mail order medic?”

You laugh at the idea of it “Mail order? How long has this team been together waiting for a medic?”

“Like three weeks. Commander Wolffe turned down six perfectly good medics” Slush tells you “I figured he already had someone in mind, but you’re not what I expected. So I gotta know, how did you land up on the Commander Wolffe’s list?”

“Stars…. I’ve only met him once. I was on the rescue crew that went back for him and the rest of the 104th after the Battle of Abregado” you explain

“Mmm… you must have made quite the impression” he comments

“Can’t imagine why. He never even saw me in the field” you consider this fact, why did he request for you to transfer to his command?

“You must have done something to gain his trust. Commander Wolffe is a pretty particular guy” Slush shrugs

“Alright then, how did you land up being the pilot for the most particular commander in the GAR?” You ask

“I was actually originally a member of the 104th when the war first started, I got recruited to fly for the 187th” he tells you

“Really? You worked alongside General Windu?” You ask

“Oh yeah. The 187th are good guys, but to be honest purple isn’t my color and just wasn’t the right fit” he says

“We’ll have to get everyone some crimson paint then” you say. But even as the words come out of your mouth, they feel sad and empty.

“I think… I think Wolffe wants to pick a new color. Crimson was their color, if we’re gonna be a team and work well together, we need to have our own story our own colors ya know” Slush says, matching your somber tone

You nod “I suppose you’re right. I’m sure the team will come together well in time, we just need— agh!”

Suddenly the ship starts violently shaking. The ship drops out of hyperspace and is under fire.

“Slush! What’s going on up there?” Commander Wolffe growls

You pull up one of the scanners and see there are two gunships tailing you.

“We dropped out of hyperspace!” You call down to the squad “Someone’s shooting at us!”

“Who?” General Plo calls

“I don’t know sir” Slush yells down “We’re taking heavy fire!”

Down below, the men strap into their landing harnesses, and prepare for a bumpy ride. General Plo attempts to reach out into the Force and feel for any intentions of malevolence.

You pull up the navigation system, while Slush tries to evade the blasts. The star map indicates that you’re not in Separatist territory, obviously Slush wouldn’t have programmed a route that would take the team through Separatist controlled space as it is. But this system is unincorporated and considered neutral. Based on what you’re seeing, there might not even be sentient inhabitants in this system. This ship is not equipped to handle a major fire fight like this.

“Can we jump?” You ask him, frantically trying to determine if the in range planet has hospitable conditions for your squad

“No. I don’t know how, but they pulled us from hyperspace and disabled our core. We’re gonna need to get them off our tail and make repairs” he says

“Well good news then, the air down there is breathable and its star is far enough away we won’t freeze or burn the second we land” you tell him, putting away the scanner

“Good enough” He says, turning a switch to put the ship steering to manual and solely his console. His typically relaxed and easy going nature is replaced by a focused and determined expression. You haven’t known him more than a few hours but you can tell, this is a deviation from his usual demeanor.

“Everybody hand on!” He hollers with a slight turn of his head.

Everyone below grips their safety harnesses and tries not to let any of the others see how utterly terrified they all are.

Slush expertly changes course and begins a rapid descent towards the planet’s surface. The enemy ship is hot on your tail, blasting at you with everything they’ve got. This little shuttle ship has blasters to return fire. This is a game of evasion.

The planet seems to be some kind of massive jungle ribboned with twisting rivers and canals that remind you of Coruscant’s super highways. Under any other circumstances you would be fascinated and awed by the scenery, but right now you’re just trying not to scream by clenching your teeth.

Slush angles the ship down towards the surface and makes a nose dive. The enemy ship sprays a maelstrom of blaster fire down at you and pursues with full force. While you’re putting in all of your mental effort into not screaming or giving up your lunch, you can hear below that not all of the men are quite as successful as you.

The tops of the trees are becoming more and more clear through the front view shield. Briefly you wonder if Slush intends to crash the shuttle through the underbrush or maybe he has a death wish. But at literally the last second he pulls up and the ships under belly through rips the uppermost branches of the trees. Behind you the other ship does not pull up so fast. It crashes down through the foliage and you hear more than see the massive explosion that follows.

You turn and look across the cockpit at Slush, whose death grip on the controls seems to have loosened considerably.

“Alright, I say we take a little jungle cruise and try to figure out whose starship insurance just skyrocketed!” He says brightly, as if the last fifteen minutes of pure terror was nothing more than a breezey shuttle jump.

“Uhhh… I’d better go confer with General Plo and Commander Wolffe” you say, a little dazed

You make your way down to the hold and find some men in better conditions than others. Mav is patting Cricket’s back while he vomits into what appears to be an unused gear bag. Sinker and Boost both seem to be okay, Cinder and Comet both look a little green around the gills, but doing their best to keep it together. Jag hovers anxiously by the ladder up to the cockpit. General Plo and Wolffe both seem alright, and are speaking to each other hurriedly, they both look up at you as if they’d been waiting when you step down into the hold.

“Captain, what does it look like out there?” General Plo asks

“Appears to be a jungle planet sir” you answer “Slush was saying he thinks it would be a good idea to check out the crash site to see if we can determine who was trying to shoot us”

Wolffe grumbles, the squad is already late as it is to report in at their new base. But, it would be worse to show up late and not have any intel from this unfortunate occurrence.

“Alright” he relents “But let’s be quick about it”

You nod and head back up into the cockpit to relay the information to Slush “And, try to make it a smooth landing will ya?”

“Is Cricket throwing up?” He asks, feeling a little guilty

“Yeah, Cinder and Comet aren’t far behind him. I’m gonna go back down there and get them some ginger tabs” you tell him

“I’ll give us a smooth landing” he says a little sheepishly “Tell the boys I’m sorry”

You give his shoulder a pat and head back down to go take care of your sick squadmates. But before you can get to your medical bags Jag stops you

“Uh, hey Doctor… mind if I take your spot up there?”

“Oh? Uh, yeah sure. I’m sure Slush won’t mind” you shrug. That is all the permission he needs, Jag disappears up the ladder and into the cockpit. Well that is one less flight sick crew member you have to worry about.

You get to work making sure everyone looking even a little pukey to take ginger tabs and drink water, and inform them that Slush isn’t anticipating any sort of rough landing.

True to his word the flight back to the shipwreck is quick and smooth. By the time he has the ship touched down on the bank of one of the many winding rivers Cricket is looking a little better and everyone is ready to walk around a bit and stretch their legs.

When you step off the shuttle you find that your battalion is not alone. It seems the locals on this planet not only saw and heard your firefight, but had come out in the masses to examine the wreckage. General Plo goes to make first contact.

He introduces himself and the squadron and does his best to explain the situation to the locals. Wolffe orders the men to start going through the wreckage and look for evidence that would explain who or what was chasing you. You stand behind General Plo, prepared to help answer questions.

The local people that live in this region express that they have not met many beings from other planets. Not many of their people leave their planet, and even fewer outsiders arrive on this planet. Intentional or otherwise.

Wolffe comes up to you and taps your shoulder, you turn to him and face away from the General and his conversation with the locals. He leans over and puts his lips by your ear.

“The ship is full of Separatist droids” he whispers “Find out if they know anything about it”

You lean away from him and nod, but you can’t help the warmth that creeps into your cheeks from his unexpected proximity.

“Forgive me General” you speak up “What do you call your planet?”

“Eris” one of the locals replies

“Is Eris affiliated with the republic?” You ask

“No. We were extended an offer many years ago. But we declined. We have nothing to offer your republic and you have nothing we want in return. Neutrality seemed the right choice for us” an older woman explains

“And you remain neutral in the war?” You ask, a little surprised

“Indeed. There is no war here. The people in our nine regions coexist in harmony. And it has been to our advantage that we are largely ignored by the larger, more incorporated systems in our galaxy” another chimes in.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I do not believe your world is being entirely ignored in this war. That ship that crashed was not one of ours. It pulled us out of hyperspace when we came into range of your planet and attempted to shoot us down” you gesture to the wreckage “It is a Seperatist ship. I have a bad feeling they may either have plans to incorporate your planet or already be secretly occupying it on one of the other regions”

“The people of Eris would never consent to join an outside government” someone cries out

“And I believe you, my friend. But the Separatists do not take no for an answer. They will take your planet by force if they are denied access to your allegiance and natural resources”

A murmur rises up in the crowd. Whispers about the Separatists and the republic.

“Please. I understand your desire for independence and sovereignty. But the Separatists are merciless and will take from you what they want with no regard for who they hurt”

The crowd continues to murmur amongst themselves until another speaks up to be a voice for the group “We will need to convene a meeting of the regions”

“We would be happy to provide you with any resources, medicine, supplies that you or any of the other regions may need” you offer “We must return to our base, but would it be alright if we send republic diplomats to speak with you about a potential alliance?”

“That would be acceptable”

You and the men bid the locals goodbye, and leave them with a com device the diplomatic can use to contact them when they come to negotiate at a later time.

“You did well” General Plo comments as you walk between him and Commander Wolffe back to your shuttle.

“Thank you General. I hope I didn’t overstep by extending that offer” you rub the back of your neck a bit sheepishly

“Not at all my dear. Your approach was kind and welcoming. I believe they will join the republic in time” General Plo says “Now then. Commander I believe we have a schedule to keep”

“Yes sir” Wolffe says before looking over his shoulder to holler back to the men “On the double boys! Let’s go!”

They hurry after you to the ship and get loaded up. Mav had stayed behind to make repairs to the ship and it was purring like a kitten, ready to go.

The trip back to the base is smooth and uneventful, but you also had no desire to be copilot again. So you let a very eager Jag take your place. Instead you sat down in the hold next to Commander Wolffe.

“So, a brand new wolf pack” you say with a bit of a smile “They’re not so bad eh”

“No. They did well during our emergency landing. And seem to be taking orders well now that we’re not all cooped up on Kamino” he admits

“Can I ask you something Commander?” You venture

“Shoot”

“Slush told me that you turned down more than a few perfectly qualified medics, and instead made me offer to transfer. Any particular reason why?” You hope to get an actual answer from him, and not a militaristic ‘your qualifications matched’ sort of line.

“Rex speaks very highly of you” he says honestly “But, after what happened on the Triumphant. Losing our entire squad. I’ve been craving some… familiarity. Slush came back without me even asking. And you… you’re a good medic” He says “At the end of the day, you took care of me and the boys after the Triumphant. I hoped you’d be able to keep looking after us and patching us up”

“Hmm… is that why you’re feeling a bit on edge about Jag and Cricket?” You nod your head towards Cricket and Cinder where they sit on the opposite side of the shuttle. “They’re unfamiliar?”

“All of them really. They’re all my brothers. But… you know what it’s like… you get attached to your squad” he sighs

“I know exactly what you mean” you agree

Inwardly, Wolffe had hoped you would not ask him that question. He did tell you the truth. But selfishly, he wanted you to be the medic for his squad because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were the first person he saw after he woke up. He can hear you call out his name when he thinks back to waking up in that overly bright recovery room. He felt comforted by your voice.

General Plo had advised him not to agonize over choosing new servicemen to form the new battalion, but follow his intuition if he had gut feelings on anyone. And he had a gut feeling about you.

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babygirl-diaz · 3 years ago

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Samsteve prompt. Established Sam/Steve and Sam is splashed with a love potion so for the next 24 hours, everyone is in love with him. Would love to see this from Steve's POV

((Wow this ask has been sitting in my inbox for over a month. I finally got around to write! I apologize for being so late, anon. I hope this fic finds its way to you!))

***

Steve blamed Thor for Sam’s current predicament. He’s the one who brought the love potion to the party after his latest visit to some planet with the Guardians and accidentally splashed it all over Sam. Now Sam smelled of citrus and lavender (It was a delightful smell), and oh yeah, everyone around them was in love with him.

“What do you mean everyone is going to be in love with me for the next 24 hours?!” Sam screeched and grabbed Thor by the collar of his suit jacket when he told them what the effects of the love potion were.

“Sam, let him go,” Steve tried to pull Sam away from the God of Thunder. “He has already done the damage.”

Thor moved his hands to Sam’s waist and pulled him closer. “Son of Wil, you are more than welcome to touch me however you like,” he flirted.

Sam visibly cringed and immediately let go of him. “Get away from me!" He removed Thor’s hands from his waist and moved away from him.

“Don’t you dare touch him again,” Steve warned Thor and glared at him.

“I apologize, Son of Wil and Steve. But that’s the effect of the love potion," he told them. "But if you’d let me, Son of Wil, you can come with me and I will show you planets you cannot even imagine.”

“No, thank you, I am fine with the planet I am already on.” With that, he took Steve’s arm and dragged him away from Thor and others around him that were leering at Sam like he was the buffet.

“What are we going to do now?” Sam asked, worried.

Steve stopped and turned to cup Sam’s face. “We’ve been through worse, baby, we’ll get through this too. It’s just for the next 24 hours, anyway.”

Sam kissed Steve’s palm and smiled at him. “So long as I have you with me--”

“Always,” Steve assured him.

“Hot damn, Sam.” It was Tony. He looked at Sam from top to bottom from his position on the couch. “You look great in that suit.” Before either of them could say anything, Tony pulled Sam on top of himself, making Sam ungracefully land on his legs.

“Tony!” Sam chastised and tried to get up, but Tony held him in place.

“Tony, he’s my boyfriend,” Steve reminded his friend.

“Oh, learn to share, Rogers,” Tony said, licking his lips and didn’t take his eyes off Sam.

“You’re a married man.” Sam pulled back when Tony tried kissing him

“I don’t mind,” Pepper said, coming up behind Tony. “There is something different about you today, Sam. Even I think I’m in love with you.” She reached out to touch his cheek, but Sam slapped her hand away.

Sam pushed Tony’s hands away and hauled himself off the man. “What the hell was that?” He asked as he and Steve walked away from the couple. “Both of them wanted me.”

“Well, I don’t really blame them,” Steve commented, gaining a punch to the arm from Sam.

Someone pulled Sam away from Steve as they tried to get away and Steve turned around to find Sam plastered against the wall with Jessica Jones looming over him and Luke Cage right next to her.

“Hey, Sam,” Steve could hear her say. “Damn, you look so good tonight. I could just eat you up.” She leered at him. “I would leave Luke’s ass for you.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Jess,” said Luke, “I will leave your ass for Wilson any day too.”

“Guys, come on, not you two, too! We work together!” Sam said, looking between the two of them. “Besides, I’m with Steve.”

“The more the merrier.” Jessica winked at him. “As long as we get to have you.”

“Guys, leave him alone!” Steve stepped forward and went toe to toe with them. Neither of the superpowered heroes looked intimidated.

Steve felt a hand on his arm.. “Come on, let’s just get out of here,” Sam said in Steve’s ear.

They started heading towards the door when Bucky walked in. “Hey, guys,” he said.

“Hey Buck,” Sam replied, and tightened his grip on Steve’s hand while Steve glared at his best friend, ready for him to make some sort of move on Sam, but he didn’t.

“You guys leaving already?” Bucky asked, disappointed.

“Yeah, we have a problem,” Steve replied, and Bucky took his eyes off Sam to look at him. “Thor splashed some kinda love potion on Sam and now everyone is in love with him.”

“Seriously?” Bucky laughed.

“Anyway,” Sam said awkwardly. “We gotta go. See you later, Buck.”

“See you guys,” said Bucky and walked past them.

“He seemed normal,” Sam commented when Bucky was out of earshot.

“Maybe the effects of the potion are wearing off.” Maybe Steve should have kept his mouth shut because the second they were outside, they were surrounded by a small group of people, who all were confessing their love for Sam like they were a bunch of zombies.

“Shit, run!” Steve yelled, and they ran back inside Tony’s mansion.

More people at the party started coming after them. They found the nearest room and locked themselves inside. Both of them slid down the door and let out a sigh of relief.

“What the hell? They’re like zombies,” Sam sounded horrified. “Why is this happening to me?” He asked, leaning his head against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve felt bad for his boyfriend. He also wanted to murder Thor for being so careless. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, kissing the top of Sam’s head.

“It should feel good to be loved, but I am scared.” Sam looked up at him and the vulnerable look on his face broke Steve’s heart even more.

“We just have to brave out the next 20 hours and then you should be good,” Steve reminded him.

“What are we supposed to do for the next 20 hours? Hide in here?” The room was a suite, so at least they wouldn’t have to go out to the bathroom.

“They’ll leave in a couple hours and then it will just be Tony and Pepper and we can deal with them.”

Sam buried his face in Steve’s shoulder and let out another sigh. They stayed quiet for a few minutes.

“Wait, a second!” Sam drew away from Steve. “Why aren’t you affected? You’re absolutely normal.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know… maybe because I am already in love with you?” He suggested.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly. “Really?” He asked

“Yes, I love you so, so much.” They have been together for 3 months and this was the first time he admitted his feelings out loud.

“I love you too,” Sam replied. He cupped Steve’s cheeks and kissed him.

#SamSteve #Sam Wilson #Steve Rogers #Fanfiction #aashnas drabble

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mokutone · 4 years ago

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yo i would love to hear some of ur trans yam headcanons :) (also ps ur art is breathtaking and whenever i see it reblogged on my dash i always come here anyway to read ur tags bc they r so! good!)

thank u 🥺🥺🥺 god im sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for a couple days ksdjghsdkjgh not only have i got a LOT of thoughts to put here (this is only a selection of the bigger thoughts skdjghsdkjhg) i was also super busy the past few days!!!! ty for ur patience, ur compliments, and for inviting me to ramble abt my favorite guy!

maybe the one constant in all trans people is just like. our decision to intentionally and purposefully create ourselves, to forced into an identity by outside forces and to turn away from it in search of something else, and that’s ultimately what makes captain yamato read as a trans character to me! He goes through so many identities, and they are meaningful to him, but you can also clearly tell that he’s searching for something that really fits him.

I don’t really have a lot of firm thoughts on what his specific identity would be, I’ve seen some great nonbinary yams, some lovely genderfluid yams, trans guy yams, there’s a great variety and i delight in them all!

I tend to imagine him as transmasculine and nonbinary but male aligned (which means he’d feel at least a partial connection to or comfort with masculinity) and while there are a bunch of labels for this experience of gender (demiboy, bigender, etc etc) i don’t see him as somebody who would use any specific labels, I feel like he’d keep his own experience of his gender fairly private! He’d prefer and be fine with masculine-coded terms of address, and happy enough passing as a guy.

AHH and on names...

I think Kinoe is the only name that I really see as like. a genuine deadname. It’s a name that means “The First” to my understanding, and so like, probably refers to him having the genetics of the first. Therefore, it’s kind of. literally a name referring to him as his biology...boy thats as deadname as it gets, huh? kill that shit and also danzō

Tenzō is also a name thats given to him, but to my understanding (all I know about the anbu arc is picked up thru osmosis lol) it’s a name that’s given to him twice, with affection. Once from Yukimi, who sees him as her brother (not a vessel for the first hokage’s powers, probably for the first time ever—even if it’s still another person’s name) He takes the name, gladly! Unfortunately danzō. anyway,

Later, when he starts to introduce himself to the non-root Anbu as Kinoe, Kakashi cuts him off and names him to the anbu as Tenzō. To my understanding: it’s a name at rest, not a name for one singular mission, but a name for his entire time in Anbu. It’s the name he keeps the longest. Again, it’s a name that’s given to him to him by somebody else, but it’s one that is given with the intention to free him of Kinoe, and all that Kinoe had to be.

(A note on him getting annoyed with Kakashi for calling him Tenzō in main-plot:

Most of this is of course based off of personal experience, but I find it hard to believe that he would actively dislike Tenzō as a name since it was given with such sweet intentions—most of my names have been gifts, and the only one I’ve actively taken out of rotation has been bc i cannot stand the person who used it, and the way it was used, and while Anbu was certainly bad for Yamato...I don’t think it was quite that bad. I think him telling Kakashi to stop calling him Tenzō has more to do with the use of it where it doesn’t belong—for example, while it’s not exactly a name, I am happy to be called “mokutone” here, and you may notice my friends calling me by another name, but if any of those friends called me mokutone in DMs, I would be bothered by that.)

Yamato starts off as an empty codename, given to him for the purposes of his team 7 mission by the Hokage, but I think it gets such a loving and warm association from just...using out in the sunlight, with these kids that he comes to think so fondly of (he’s such a dad. god. he’s such a fucking dad) and with the friends he makes going out drinking and actually having time to socialize—and that means a lot! I think Yamato is probably the name which becomes most meaningful and like a home to him by the end of the series. This is the active name, the name where he is most himself. It’s vital for him to have that space to grow into!

But that said, I personally feel like, if he were to continue beyond the edges of the story, this would not be the final name he bears. He’s probably well aware that a single name cannot contain who he is, or who he wants to be, and while being Given a name can be a beautiful thing (like i said, most of my names are gifts! i treasure them.) I think that, for his character arc, I would like him to name himself at some point. Even if it’s a name that only exists for private spaces, I want him to complete that self determination, to at least try it out, even if ultimately Yamato is the name everyone else will know him by.

Physical Transition Stuff

i will confess i hurt to imagine these shinobi binding 😭😭 even if an individual is binding safely (well made binder, no more than 8 hours, AND No Physically Intense Activity) they stand to risk hurting themself! In real life we gotta balance out the physical pain and the pain of dysphoria, but this is naruto and I’m Gonna Play Some Headcanon Games!

If chakra is both a kind of spiritual energy as well as directly connected to the body (as we learned in the hyūga fight) then it stands to reason that by manipulating ones own chakra, they can manipulate the body, or at least the way the body changes (such as naruto’s healing factor)

This probably is not the safest thing to do unless you’re a mednin or following the directions of one, LMAO

The second the hell of puberty started up for Tenzō he tried to hold it back by sheer force of willpower + chakra manipulation alone

but, manually controlling one’s chakra is like trying to prevent a stream from flowing with your hands alone, which is to say: an exhausting uphill battle.

He’d probably only be doing it on his down time and not on a mission, but even still the most I bet he could make it doing that without getting figured out is two months.

Luckily blockers are readily available, Tenzō just had no idea and, gender being a private experience for him, was trying to handle the whole thing entirely on his own. Soon after attempting to self-regulate hormones him-fucking-self like a very valid but desperate fool, he gets an appointment, gets a prescription, and can chill out and not have to be as hellishly aware of his body constantly.

Konoha mednin will say trans rights even if the village itself is garbage, this series is so god damn weird already, nobody can tell me a ninja taking hormones is somehow weirder than a ninja taking his dead best friends genetic superpower eye.

TWO WEEKS, THREE SPARS, AND ONE VERY EMOTIONALLY DRAINING CONVERSATION LATER:

u might think kakashi is passing him a water bottle and they both look so exhausted bc its post spar but no. physically theyre fine, but the emotional toll of having to talk about something either of them care at all about? miracle they survived.

#lesbians4tenten #Tenzō #yamato #headcanons #kakashi says that so heavily bc both of them hate going to the hospital but blood tests are necessary for HRT usually #also kakashi is definitely trans as well. i have less headcanons about that bc i see him as like. Even More Private than yamato #(he hides 3/4 of his face. trans icon. also personal privacy icon.)#so like skdjghdskjhg him getting involved is not a moment of Concerned Cis Meddling but like. 'ghghhg this is bad. i gotta step in'#i hc that like he was one of those kids that by the time he was four he was like hey dad im a boy and sakumo was like. fuck ok!#i guess i got a son now!#yamato just did not think about it much #also while i see him having long hair as inherently him repressing his identity it has nothing to do with long hair being 'feminine'#esp bc most of the older men in naruto have long hair. sakumo j*raiya orochimaru madara the whole hyūga clan of men #but instead much more to do with. him repressing being tenzō in order to be kinoe for danzō #and if hashirama had long hair. and all he is is a weapon for hashiramas power to be used through. he too will have long hair.#its also why i wont draw yamato with long hair. while he is handsome with long hair...and an argument COULD be made for him reclaiming it #i feel like aesthetically it represents a return to a relationship he had with his body and with the idea of hashirama #that i am not interested in exploring #perhaps in sage mode it goes very long. and then he has a friend cut it off for him every time #that i could draw #ANYWAY I think everyone should have as many names as they want. you want to be called something? that's your name now congratulations #trans? cis? not sure? doesn't matter the world is your oyster and you can be called anything you want #if people dont respect that theyre jealous and being rude af lmao #image desc in alt text #for all thats worth

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world-of-aus · 4 years ago

Text

Life Before You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count:3,978

Warnings:fluff, pinch of angst.

Author’s Note: My fourth request sent in by the lovely @thegreatfatnerd, thank you for sending this in, loved writing this for you, and i hope you’ll enjoy what i put together for your request! There is one more request sitting in my inbox, ALMOST THERE!

Okay, so if you don't want to write this, that fine and i'm sorry i have wasted your time.  The reader has some form of abandonment issues and thinks Bucky will leave her or something and he comforts her and there is a kinda fluffy-ness.  Or the reader always says thank you and sorry for everything even things that aren't her fault and it's because she had a rough past or dodgy ex or cause she thinks she's a burden X Basically I crave fluff X Thanks in advance x Lots of love Xxxxx XXX X

Find My Other Works Here: Main Masterlist

Before Bucky, you had only ever loved two men before him, both different from the other. Meeting Bucky had been a blend of both, a blend of the things you had loved about the men before him, and not a single trace of the things you had come to hate. Falling in love with him was like entering a house and finally realizing you were home. Having him in your life makes you feel like you can conquer anything, like anything for you is possible when he’s around. For so long you had had your defenses up, not even realizing what you were doing, but Bucky had been there to remind you, to bring you back down, to bring you back to him.

You had always been an affectionate person, there was something about bringing a person happiness, and them giving it back to you, that had you reeling in the best way. The men before him didn’t quite see it like that, and they made you question if you were coming on to strong, if you were too clingy, if you were doing too much, and to them you usually were.

Stephen groaned low in his throat at the feel of your arms encircling his waist, your body trying to mold itself into his side, he tsked pushing your hands away, “could you not y/n,” he grunted sliding away from you, “I get it you want to be around me but I'm watching the game babe, I don’t need you hovering around me, it's annoying, why don’t you go to the room and watch one of your chick flicks,”

“but ba-” you tried voice low, broken, you hadn’t seen Stephen all day.

Stephen turned to you a rage in his eyes, “seriously y/n, you’re too fucking clingy, I need my space, this,” he gestured around him, “is me time, now please, go to the room go do whatever you usually do, I'll join you later I want to watch the game.”

Your lips parted to argue, but the volume of the T.V. growing louder was your que to go

With Bucky things were different, and it was hard for you to accept that not everyone was going to be like Stephen, that not everyone thought you were a burden. Bucky, like you, loved touch, and it wasn’t necessarily in a sexual way, it was his face, his hands, his long chocolate brown locks, he craved it. Craved to have your fingers running down his face, your fingers intertwining with his, to feel the soft tug of your hands on his hair after a long day.

You still remember the first time you were introduced to him, you had known him before, but you had since lost touch. Maybe it had been the fact that you had been with Stephen too long, but you couldn’t remember a time in the past two years that a man actually enjoyed your company.

Sam had been begging you to go out with him, insisting that he missed his best friend, and the two of you needed to catch up over drinks.

“y/n, you need to get out, you’re finally free of that asshole, let me take you out for celebratory drinks, you deserve to have some fun, to unwind, I miss you, it's been too long, come on one drink at least!” he had pleaded over the line.

It was hard to say no to Sam, and it had been sometime since you had seen him, as much as Stephen had fought with you on how clingy you had been, it had also been Stephen who had kept you from seeing much of your friends. So you agreed, promised to meet him at your favorite bar and grill.

You had been the last to arrive, Sam had arrived before you to grab a table, and he had brought two of his closest friends, something he had mentioned before ending the call.

“Y/n,” he had greeted as you approached the table, he was immediately on his feet pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“it's good to see you too Wilson,” you laughed patting his back.

“oh no, none of that,” he voices noticing your weary way, Stephen really had messed you up, “you give me a hug, he’s not here to tell you anything anymore, you be as affectionate as you want sugar,”

Your laughing, though tears are threatening to spill out as you wrap your arms around him this time, fingers curling into the back of his shirt, “is that better?” you questioned into the sleeves of his shirt hoping to mask your cracking voice.

“I missed you more than you know, I’m so glad you finally left his ass” he’s murmurs pulling away from you his arms squeezing your shoulders as he looks at you, “you really are a sight for sore eyes, its like you’re glowing” you offer him a warm smile and a pinch to his side.

“you going to introduce us to your friend Wilson or are you going to keep her to yourself all night?”

Sam is turning his head a tsk falling from his lips, you follow his eyes, “y/n this is-”

“Steve and Bucky,” you smile offering both men a small wave from where your still in Sam’s embrace.

Sams turning back to face you confusion on his face, “you know these two?”

“Yeah actually,” you answer turning back to Sam, “they were friends of one of Stephens friends, I met them a couple of times when Stephen would have his get togethers.”

“Thought you looked familiar, you still with that guy?” comes Bucky’s voice.

“No, and that’s why she’s here,” Sam answers for you. Sams then pushing you into the seat across from him right next to Bucky.

“That man was a real grade A douche” Sam grunted, “asshole didn’t know how to treat his woman.”

“Sam.” you warned as you picked up the menu, “it’s not important anymore, he’s not important anymore.”

“Sam has a point though,” Bucky spoke up, you turned your head brow raised waiting for him to continue, “he really didn’t know how to treat a woman so in love with him, it might have only been a couple of time that we saw you, but he wasn’t the kindest to you, and I'm sure Steve can agree that it took a lot for us not to speak up,”

“I don’t know pal, that last time we hung out with them you really had a lot to say to him about how he should be treating his girl.” Steve spoke up eyes looking over his menu at Bucky. You want to question it, want to ask him about what he had to say, but Sam is speaking up, “enough about that douche, I called you all out here because we need to have a good time, let's get food and drinks rolling!”

What Sam had promised would only be one drink quickly turned to three, and while you could hold your liquor better than Sam and apparently Steve, it was quickly hitting you, to say the least you were thoroughly buzzed, and buzzed you was extra affectionate. You were watching in delight as Sam and Steve argued across the table, and honestly you weren’t even sure what it was they were on about.

“would you be surprised if I told you, they’re always like this?” you turn your head finding Bucky’s close to yours. When had you moved closer to him?

“are they usually like this?” you questioned heart thrumming in your chest, you’d blame the feeling on the alcohol.

“all the time.” he grinned. His expression changes then his arm finding its way over the booth, “how have you been, I feel the last time I saw you; you weren’t as happy as you look now.”

You relaxed further into the booth, “you can blame that on the alcohol,” you laughed, “but in all seriousness, I'd say I'm definitely happier now that I don’t have Stephen to be giving me shit 24/7 it's like I can finally breathe.”

“you know that’s the one thing I never understood about Stephen and I think that’s why I gave him shit the last time I saw him,” he sighed his eyes drifting to the two men in front of you still arguing before they were back on yours, “I couldn’t understand how he had someone like you, who just wanted to be around him, to love him, and for him to push you away, call you clingy, like hell any man would kill for that,”

Your head falls slightly as you remember all the time Stephen had called you out on being too much, a scoff leaves your lips, “apparently not Stephen.”

His hand falls to your shoulder then, a shiver rolls through you, goosebumps arising in your arm, “Stephen wasn’t only a douchebag doll, he was dumb as hell, if I had you the way he had you, hell I'd be the luckiest man alive if you ask me,”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest, breath catching in your throat, it takes you a second before you can find your words, “you’d get annoyed,” comes your small voice, “Stephen wasn’t the first to get annoyed by my “clinginess, there was another before him.”

Bucky's shaking his head slightly, his long locks framing his face, your fingers itched to reach out and tuck them behind his ear, “well then it’s a damn shame they were so blind to what they had right in front of them.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, “another man's trash is another man's treasure.”

Bucky is grinning then his body slightly leaning in towards yours, and whether he catches the hitch in your throat he doesn’t bring it to light, “trash you definitely aren’t a treasure though, a treasure you definitely are.”

Soft laughter falls from your lips, you lean into him in attempt to nudge him, but he ends up bringing you in closer the warmth of his body pressed into your side, “anyone ever tell you you’re a charmer Barnes?”

“Only one that ever mattered,” he replied.

You raise your brow, “oh?” you questioned waiting for him to elaborate.

A smirk pulls at his lips as he leans in close again, this time lips by your ear, “you.”

A pink hue covers your cheeks laughter spilling from your lips, “oh my goodness, you really are a charmer aren’t you.”

“only for the right girl.” he grinned throwing in a wink.

Your cheeks are growing warmer, butterflies fluttering in the depths of your stomach, “spare me, please, it's been awhile,” you laugh.

“Well look at you two,” comes Sams slurred voice, you and Bucky look away from each other to the other side of the booth where Steve and Sam lean against the table drunken grins on their lips.

“You look awfully comfy there Barnes,” Steve waggles his eyebrows and your stifling a laugh.

“Can you blame me Wilson, I had good food, great drinks, and now I got a beautiful dame in my arms, I’d say I’m more than comfortable.” He replies fingers squeezing your side from where his arm had found its way down your side.

Sams turning to you then, “don’t fall for him too hard, his charm is top notch.”

Your cheeks are flaming, “Sam,” you whine, “I’m not falling for anyone,”

“Not yet anyway.” Bucky replies, breath ghosting over your ear.

Falling in love with him had been the easy part; admitting to yourself that it happened was hard. Bucky really was a charmer, and it hadn’t been hard to fall for him. Since that first night Sam had insisted on spending time with you every chance he had “you need to get back out there y/n, Stephen already moved on, you need to get yourself back out there too work that charm.”

Little had he known you had already fallen for someone’s charm. Who could blame you though, Bucky was giving you everything you wish Stephen would have given you in those two years you had ultimately wasted with him. You knew you were falling hard and fast for the Bucky Barnes charm Sam had warned you about, but you were also fighting it. The emotional turmoil Stephen had left you with had ultimately left you weary of any of Bucky’s advances. You always told yourself he was just being a good friend, a friend that you hadn’t had in two years. But as much as you fought those advances, he was there to push right back, each week he was upping his advances and he was trying his hardest for you to see him. He wasn’t the only one trying to get you to see him, Sam was there as well and he had been just as persistent;

“y/n baby, that man is crazy about you, what has you so worried, why are you keeping yourself from something that could bring you happiness, this isn't about Stephen is it?”

While you could lie to yourself and your friends that it wasn’t because of him, you knew deep down that it was because of Stephen.

“y/n Bucky is persistent, but he isn’t going to pursue you forever babe, I know you see that man, and I assure you there’s girls waiting to scoop him up.”

You had shrugged off Sam’s warnings, because you let yourself believe that he was just being a friend. It wasn’t till that night, that you realized that your effective defenses had blinded you to the real feelings that had laid there. Sam had been right, he wasn’t going to pursue you forever or so you had thought.

Sam had dragged you, quite literally for a weekend out on the beach, per usual he had also invited Bucky and Steve. You were looking forward to the weekend away, and deep down you were looking forward to spending some time with Bucky, it had been a few days since you had heard from him, and even it was strange to you to not hear from him for so long.

Sam's words had come rearing there ugly head when Steve and Bucky had arrived hours later extra quests in tow. It shouldn’t have shocked you, Sam had told you that he wouldn’t pursue you forever, so you should have been expecting this to happen sooner rather than later, he had been at it for months with you, he had likely grown tired of this game of cat and mouse. You still couldn’t help the feeling that had coursed through you to see him with the red head, Natasha Romanoff. Everything that he had once done with you, he was now doing with her, or at least that’s what you let yourself see.

You were too caught up in your head, too caught up in yourself and you just needed to get away from the group. You had leaned in a little closer to Sam to let him know that you were going to go down to the beach, he had nodded his head, told you to be careful, but he had also gave your hand a squeeze an, “I’m sorry,” falling from his lips before he let you go. You had shook your head slightly your hair falling around your face, “it’s okay Sam, I’m a big girl, you forget I’ve been through worse, I just need to get some air, I’ll be right back.”

He was hesitant to let you go, but he knew you needed to just get away, to take a minute for yourself while you took reign of the feelings coursing through you. The walk down was calming, the feelings raging through you forgotten the moment your feet touched the cooling sand. There was something so peaceful so breath taking about a sunset on the beach. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the ocean as you drew closer to the water, arms wrapped around yourself as you breathed in the misty ocean air.

All was silent around you except for the crashing of the ocean water against the sandy shores.

“Sam told me I might find you down here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, body tensing momentarily at the sound of his voice, you turned your head to look at him over you shoulder offering him a small smile before your eyes were going back to the sea.

You were breathing in a breath of air when he appeared at your side, his arm just barely touching yours. You turned to look at him his eyes already on yours. You wouldn’t make this weird, you wouldn’t make this weird, “it’s beautiful isn’t it,” you questioned eyes looking back out to the view before you.

“It is, but there’s something else I’d rather be looking at that’s had my eye for awhile now.”

“Bucky,” it’s a plea and a warning all at once, you don’t want to play this game anymore.

He’s chuckling low the sound sending a shiver running through you, “awe c’mon doll, I thought it was charming.”

Your arms wrap around yourself tighter, your fighting back those feelings coursing through you, “it was but-”

“But?” He questions drawing out the word.

Your head is turning to him, eyes meeting his, he wasn’t being serious right now was he?

“Bucky your charming yes, but your charming the wrong girl.”

“I think that’s where your wrong sweetheart,”

“Wrong?” You questioned brows furrowed, “Bucky,” a sigh, “why are you down here shouldn’t you be with Natasha?”

A look of confusion is washing over his features, but it’s only there for a second before it’s disappearing amusement replacing it, “sweetheart do you think that Natasha and I,”

You look away then, the feelings rearing their ugly head, “oh sweetheart,” he coos moving towards you, and he’s trying to get a hold of your hand to get you to look at him, to pull you close, but your already to far gone in your head. “Y/n, doll, look at me,” he tries and he’s not getting far in his advances as you try to move away. You’re embarrassed, hurt, and your emotions are one word away from letting the tears slip from your eyes. He moves in front of you when his efforts to get you to hear him fail. Strong hands reach out to your face gently, “y/n, whatever it is your thinking about me and Natasha I promise it’s not what you think, doll me and her aren’t a thing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you murmur, “I’m fine, it’s fine, you don’t have to explain yourself.” You try to pull away, but he holds you a little tighter not letting you get away.

“It matters y/n, doll your feelings matter, and you might think I might not need to explain myself but if you’re having doubts about my feelings for you because you misconstrued my closeness to Natasha for something more, then sweetheart I’m going to explain to you because the only person I have feelings for is you.” Your words catch in your throat, and it still surprises you though you already knew.

“Bucky you don’t-”

“Sweetheart you need to stop fighting me so hard,” he sighs thumb running over your cheeks, “I think the only person fighting their feelings is you, y/n I’m absolutely smitten with you, I think I have been since the first time I met you through Stephen, meeting you again at the bar with Sam and Steve just seemed like fate to me and I just had to hold on.”

“But why?”

Another sigh is leaving his lips, “y/n when I saw the love you had for Stephen I thought man, this guy really has it all, he has a girl that is all about him, all for him, there’s no better feeling than that. Then I saw how he treated you, how he tore you down, tore who you were down, and I thought what an ass, how could he not see what he had in front of him, how could he not see how lucky he was, did he not realize how many men would kill to have something like he did, and it seems he never realized it because he let you go, he let the one girl that would probably give him the world go, and to me you just don’t do that, when you have someone as special and loving as you, you hold onto them, and you never let go.”

“But Stephen was right Bucky, I’ve always been a little overly affectionate, and a little too clingy, that’s just who I am, who I was,” your voice dropped at the last part.

“Stephen was anything but right doll, he blew your flame out, he diminished your light so what if your overly affectionate, or you love a little harder than some, there’s going to be someone out there who’s going to appreciate and love that about you,”

“But Bucky you didn’t even know me that well before Stephen, you only caught the small glimpses when he allowed me to be around, how could, how can you-”

“Y/n you were beautiful inside and out, and you might not have know this about me but I get smitten pretty quick. Sure I might have only caught glimpses of you at the get togethers but when I saw you again at the bar, and the other times we hung out these last months I caught sight of the girl Stephen put down one too many times, I wanted to bring that light back to you, I wanted to show you that while one man might not be grateful for what he has right in front of him another man will treasure it.”

A soft laugh falls from your lips, “another mans trash is another mans treasure,” Bucky laughs with you his head falling to yours, “I believe I’ve told you this before trash you definitely aren’t, but a treasure, a treasure you definitely are.” The first tear falls, one that Bucky is quick to wipe away, “you’ve been pushing me away, putting up those walls but y/n I’m not going anywhere, it’s time you’ve been shown the love you deserve and I want to be the one to show it to you.” Your leaning into his touch, your walls are cracking, “what if I get too clingy what if-”

He’s shushing you, “I’m not going anywhere, you deserve to love and be loved in return y/n, and I’ve been trying to show you, I just need you to let me in,” Your unwrapping your arms from where they’re wrapped around you, shaky fingers reaching out to rest on his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath your fingers.

“If I get to be too much, you need to tell me,” you murmur eyes meeting his. He’s grinning as he leans in closer arms falling from your face to wrap around your waist, “if anything it’s not going to be enough.” He whispers and a shiver rolls through you from his touch alone. A touch you would grow to love.

“I can hear your thoughts,” Bucky murmured sleepily his face pressing into your chest.

A low chuckle fell from your lips, “sorry was just thinking,” you murmured fingers running through his hair, a pleased groan falling from his lips.

“What were you thinking about?” He questioned his lips pressing to the tops of your breast.

“Just thinking about how I finally got the love I deserved,”

Bucky’s arms are tightening around you as he lifts his head from the comfort of your chest. He grins sleepily up at you as he inches himself up slightly to be eye level with you. “And there’s no person more deserving than you.” He murmured lips pressing softly to yours.

Bucky Barnes Forever Tag-list: @cap-n-stuff-main @bucky-cinnamonroll-barnes

#bucky x reader #bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky Barnes x you #bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky Barnes fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

#westallen #westallen fanfiction #iris west #barry x iris #barry allen #strangers to lovers

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