#had to layer him up for winter!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberrypoundtown · 7 months ago

Note

Alright, hear me out I am thinking... Werebear. I just can't get my mind off of the idea of a werebear with his little round ears and fuzzy tail who gets disturbed while trying to hibernate (Which he's admittedly not very good at)

That's it, take it and run girly~

(OH it's just a quick one shot- sike, this was a lot longer than I planned and I had to cut some of it for another time lol I should have made it two parts, but whatevs

Enjoy the show - Strawberry 🍓)

Dummies Guide To Hibernation

Clayton Briggs x Fem!Reader

You move into a new apartment complex and notice your next-door neighbor being a lot more secluded and withdrawn lately as the winter creeps in. One late night, as you're walking through the hall to your door, you notice the door to his apartment is wide open...

Contains: unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, light free use kink (?)

You had moved into this apartment complex just shy of 3 months ago. You were still getting your bearings, having not lived completely alone before. You always had roommates or family living with you, so finally being completely alone was strange. Your apartment complex wasn't very big. There were only two other apartments on your side of the hall, yours sandwiched between the two.

The older werewolf woman that lived on your right seemed to be pretty calm and quiet, albeit a bit paranoid. She looked to be about 40-50 years old, but could have been older. You hadn't seen her leave the complex property before, so you just chalked it up to her being a bit of a recluse. You occasionally grab her mail for her when she asks, and she's always grateful, giving you a handful of candy before sending you on your way.

The man that lived on your left was a very different story. You two had met late at night when he offered to help you move a very large chair that you had bought a few days after you moved in. You were struggling to get it into the elevator after regretting that you had ordered the orc size for the chair and not werewolf of something. Damn you and your enjoyment of large furniture.

A large, burly man with a bushy brown beard had appeared behind you during your struggle. His curly golden brown hair was short and messy. He seemed to be around a staggering 7'3" tall, easily towering over you. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, steel-toe workboots, and a reflective vest that people used on construction sites. Of course, you assumed that he just got off of work and was getting impatient with you hogging the only elevator. You were about to apologize for being in his way and try to get the chair out of the way when he put his massive hand on your forehead, gently moving you out of the way. With a faint grunt, he easily moves the chair into the elevator. He stands in the elevator with the chair next to him and enough space for you to stand next to him. He holds the elevator door open for you as he stares at you. He notices you hesitating and looks away from you, his dirt covered cheeks turning a bit red as he looked away from you. He was still waiting for you.

"O-oh. Thank you." You said softly with a smile as you looked up at him and stepped into the elevator. You clicked the button for your floor, and he nodded in response as he moved his arm, letting the door close. "You must be one of my neighbors. I just moved in about a week ago. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He let out another grunt as he nodded once again, only glancing at your occasionally as he avoided touching you in the cramped elevator. Saying he was a large man as an understatement. You had to strain your neck to look up at him, but looking at eye level or lower was even worse. He was built like a truck with a nice layer of chubbiness. He seemed so soft, so nice to hug. You just wanted him to pick you up and hold you. It was hard to focus on anything but him as his chest was only inches away from your face. You could tell that he had a very strong build, and you love a large dad bod. He was covered in dirt and sweat, but his scent was still a bit too nice for your comfort.

As the elevator doors opened, you found yourself trying to scramble out the door and out of the way as quickly as possible. You had let out a sigh of relief, trying to calm your racing heart as he lifted the chair out of the elevator with ease. He immediately started walking towards your door.

You quickly got out your keys and jogged down the hall to open your door. He moved quickly, so he was already at your door by the time you got there. Once your door was open, you led him inside your cozy apartment and towards your livingroom. As he stepped inside, he was surprised at the decore you already had up. Pictures and posters and a few fake plants with fairy lights pinned to the ceiling.

After he put down the chair where you told him to, he noticed the rest of your furniture. It was all fairly large, at least the size for most werewolves, but all covered in pillows and blankets to make it cozy. He felt like just looking at your apartment would make him fall asleep. He needed to leave. Your heart sank a bit, following him as he immediately turned to walk towards the front door.

"Thank you for your help! I don't know what I would have done if you didn't help me. I'm sorry I bothered you on your way home-" You say, but he cuts you off by holding out his hand to you to shake. You take it gently, and he begins to speak.

"Don't worry about it. If you ever need help with anything, I live next door on your left. Apartment 400. I'm pretty handy." He says softly as he looks down at you with a blank expression. His voice was deep and intimidating, but it made you feel safe and warm. His hand was big and rough, but he held your soft hand so gently, like he was worried about hurting you.

"Oh, thank you. I really appreciate that. Um... could I get your name? My name is (Y/n)." You say with a smile, staring up at him as your other hand comes up to rest on top of his. His cheeks turn a bit red once again as he stares at your hands for a moment before looking back into your eyes.

"I-I'm Clayton..." He says shyly before pulling his hand away and taking a step back. "It was nice to meet you (Y/n). I need to go." He said bluntly, his eyes avoiding yours as he rushed off to his apartment door. For such a large man, he sure was quick. You didn't even have a chance to say anything before you heard his door slam shut. You worried you angered him, but based on his pink cheeks, you assumed that he was just shy.

Over the next month, you would start conversations with him whenever you would see him. He would always stand and listen until you were done talking. Occasionally, you would mention that you were trying to do something in your apartment and would ask what kind of tools you would need. He would tell you, seemingly happy that he could give you advice. However, he never seemed to let you take his advice, because before you could even get the tools you needed, he would be over with his toolbox ready to go.

Need a shelf put up? He did it. Need your sink unclogged? No problem. He got it cleared. Need your lock replaced because your ex found out where you lived? He replaced your entire door and got you a doorbell camera.

He never accepted any money from you, always saying he just wanted to be a good neighbor and make sure you were safe. He did, however, accept food. You always made him a big plate of whatever you were eating that night. He always seemed to enjoy it after he got home, the plates returning to your front door completely clean the next morning.

However, as the fall passed and the winter started, you saw Clayton less and less. Whenever you would see him, he'd look absolutely exhausted, and you had noticed him getting thinner. He also started to occasionally walk around with his cute stubby tail and round ears out due to how little energy he had. You had found out from your other neighbor that Clayton was a werebear, so the winter season made him exhausted all the time. You felt bad for asking for so much of his time while he should have been preparing for hibernation, so you took it upon yourself to make sure he was eating enough.

Every day, you brought a container of food over to his door and left it in front of his door. You would leave a note on the container before knocking and running off so you didn't bother him further. The clean, empty containers would show up in front of your door the next day with a note that just said 'thank you'.

What you didn't know was how much it actually meant to him that you had been helping him in return. He had always struggled with his hibernation, having been raised by a pack of werewolves after his parents adopted him. They did their best, but he was never really taught how to hibernate properly. It didn't help that he had insomnia, which was very inconvenient for the big guy when it came to his hibernation time. Thankfully, during the winter, his construction jobs slowed down a bit, but it still took a lot out of him. Cooking himself dinner at the end of a long day was out of the question, so he usually got take out or nothing at all.

Imagine his surprise when he started getting food dropped off at his door every night. He loved your food. Everything you made was delicious, and he always licked his plate clean. You were so sweet with how you helped take care of him. The smell of the fantastic food you cooked flooding the hallway was amazing, but your scent had him even more entranced.

Ever since you had moved next door, just your scent from the hallway was enough to comfort him. He had already thought you were cute when you moved in, but as time went on, he fell for you even harder. Your more domestic side showing lately had been the killer for him, though. You would check in on him and give him food, a reassuring touch, like the angel you were. He wanted to help take care of you like you took care of him. He wanted you. He needed you. He always had such a hard time leaving your apartment because of how cozy it was. The moment he would walk in, he would feel like he could pass out on the floor and still be comfortable. He wished he could sleep in your orc sized bed with you and show you how much he cares about you.

He would listen unintentionally as you would take a shower or get ready for bed. The walls were so thin, and with his hearing as good as it was, it was impossible for him to ignore your whimpers from the other side of the wall whenever you'd be masturbating. Whenever he had gone in to help you put up a shelf in your bedroom, he could smell the arousal in the air from when you had given yourself an orgasm shortly before he arrived. He struggled to hide his erection the whole time. Just imagining what you did to yourself when you were alone made his dick throb in his jeans. Being able to smell that you were ovulating didn't help.

He knew what everything meant. You were his mate. He just had no idea how to tell you without sounding completely insane. You were just a human. A very soft, sweet human that surely only had the best intentions whenever they would interact. If only he knew how further he was from the truth. You had wanted him just as badly, if not more, but didn't want to make him uncomfortable. He just seemed shy to you, and you didn't want to scare him off. For such a big guy like him, you had hoped food would win him over. Every time you had him over to help fix something you didn't understand, you would fantasize about him driving his cock into you and letting out all his pent-up frustrations. And cum.

Once you found out he was a werebear, you did some serious research. You learned about how he needed a cozy environment he could use as a 'den' and how much he needed to eat. Werebears didn't sleep 24 hours a day, but they needed at least 10-14 hours of sleep every night to function somewhat normally during the day. They tend to need to eat a lot to keep up a healthy layer of fat. They can also get very, very backed up if they don't have a mate to hibernate with as they typically don't socialize during this time. You didn't know what his apartment looked like, as he had never invited you over, but you wanted to make your home as inviting to him as possible for when he came over. Especially your bedroom.

You were happy you rented in a monster-friendly apartment building due to the fact that you had an orc sized bed from the last place you lived in. It was at least 9' long, and you were always swimming in it, so you always had it loaded with pillows and stuffed animals and soft blankets. You figured that if you got some extra large blankets for him to use, he would be more inclined to come over.

But lately, he was so tired he had let his ears and tail show, his arms and chest extra hairy as it peaked out of his clothing. He was trying to conserve energy, and you noticed him not snoring much at night when he should have been sleeping, but still going to work in the morning with dark circles under his eyes. You also noticed that as the next full moon approached, he was struggling more and more to hold it together. He was nearly falling asleep standing up and more shuffled than walked to his apartment. You started making more and more food for him to leave by his door for when he got home.

Tonight was a full moon, so you knew you had to make him a lot of food because he was going to fully tranform tonight. The containers had started coming back broken with apology notes and money attached, so tonight you had gotten some disposable containers. You made him a huge spread of various roasted vegetables and fish and put all the containers in front of his door, saying that if he needed to, he could crash at your place.

That leads you to this moment, you standing outside Clayton's door. You heard him stumble home about 20 minutes ago and growling for about 15 minutes until a loud thud hit the floor. It shook your apartment, and you instantly rushed over to see if he was okay. You noticed the door was cracked open and hesitantly pushed the door open. Your jaw dropped as you saw his living conditions. It was clean, but barely had any furniture to keep clean in the first place. All he had was a large futon in the livingroom and a TV with a gaming set up.

You hear groaning coming from what you assume to be the bedroom as you carefully creep in. You peer down the hallway to see a large furry mass in the dark. A mess of ripped apart food containers were scattered down the hallway to in front of the bed. You gingerly made your way down the hallway as you tried to get a better look at him. You could tell he was already fully transformed, and it almost sounded like he was... whining? As you got closer, you noticed that he was so big half his giant furry body was hanging off the bed. He was facing away from you, but you could hear him panting and whining as his nubby tail wiggled. He was a giant ball of fur and you slowly walked up to his face. His head was huge when he was transformed. He looked like an adorable grizzlybear, minus the giant sharp claws.

"C-clayton?" His eyes snap open at the sound of your voice. Your sweet, beautiful voice. "Are you okay?... I heard a loud thud, and your door was open..." You were so kind. He couldn't believe you actually walked in here to check on him. He didn't know what to do. He was embarrassed at how his place looked. He had been so tired lately he hadn't wanted to do anything special for his hibernation, but he was regretting it now.

He bashfully looks away from you and scoots his head closer to you. You crouch down and gently run your fingers through his fur. His fur was so soft you gently rest you head on top of his as she scratched the fur around his neck. He lets out an odd growl that almost sounds like a purr as he nuzzles into your chest. He inhales your comforting scent deeply. You smell so sweet... He had to carefully pull his face away from your chest before he tried to rip your tank top off. He had noticed you weren't wearing a bra and wanted to know what your breast looked like so badly. He caught himself staring at your chest before looking up at you with his beautiful golden eyes.

"C-can I crash with you? Please?... this is bad..." His voice was hoarse as he groaned. He regret pushing his body so much and ignoring his need for a proper den. He knew your place would be perfect based on what he had seen so far. Not only that, but he would be able to convince you to share your large bed with him. It had been so long since he could cuddle anyone during hibernation...

"Of course you can. I just need you to follow me." You said softly, and you went to stand up. He stood up with you, and you couldn't help but freeze for a moment as you took in his large form. He was nearly 9' tall, staring down at you as he breathed heavily. All he had on were some boxers that were way too small once he was transformed. You could see the outline of his thick cock through the fabric. He put one of his giant hands on your shoulder and sleepily followed you next door to your apartment, being sure to at least close his door before he leaves.

Upon stepping into your apartment, he has to use his hands on your wall to stabilize himself. Walking through the threshold of your home and being hit with a wall of your scent was overwhelming. He stumbled through your apartment as carefully as possible, trying not to knock anything over. You had to guide him to your bedroom, him ducking a bit through the doorways. As he saw your bed, he let out a sigh of relief. The mass of pillows and giant blankets looked so welcoming.

"I-I hope it'll be okay. At least better than your place..." You let out a soft giggle as you opened up the bed more for him to crawl in. He didn't waste another moment before carefully crawling onto your bed. The bed dipped under his immense weight. You thanked yourself for getting a reinforced bedframe when you got your giant bed.

"Oh fuck." He groaned out as he fully laid down, his body going limp as he finally felt his body fully relax for the first time in ages. Fully stretched out, he's just as tall as the bed, but all the pillows and blankets with the softness of the mattress are perfect. He feels like he's in heaven as he turns onto his side and closes his eyes. His breathing began to get heavier, and you assume he's already starting to fall asleep. You grab the biggest blanket you have from your couch and as you lay it over him, his eyes slowly open. He stares at you for a moment as your body is illuminated in the moonlight peering in from your window. He hadn't really gotten a good look at you yet, and it was a good thing that he didn't. He wouldn't have been able to make it over to your apartment if he noticed you were only wearing a tanktop and tight boxer shorts. He could already feel himself getting hard under the covers, your scent overwhelming as he let out a soft groan.

"Clayton? Are you okay?" You ask with a worried tone. Your caring eyes are so beautiful in the moonlight. In a flash, you were pulled under him while letting out a loud yelp. He was proped up on his elbow on his side next to you, his other hand on your hip as he leaned over you. He held your body so close to his, trying his best not to rip your clothes off of you immediately. He leans down and nuzzles his face into your neck so all he can smell is you. He was annoyed at how your scent was so comforting but wouldn't let him sleep. He was pent-up, and you were his mate that made a den just for him... he needed to do something or he felt like he was gonna explode.

He moved one of his knees in between yours as he stared into your eyes, running his hand from your hip to your thigh to guide it to hook over his leg. Goosebumps appear all over your body as you feel his sharp claws drag across your skin. As you were held there on your back, you could feel his hard cock against your thigh. Fuck you were turned on. You didn't know what to do but stare back into his glowing eyes and follow his lead. He leaned in close to your face, bearing his sharp teeth as he struggles to find his words.

"I really need your help tonight (Y/n)..." He mumbles as he moves from smelling your hair to burying his nose in your collarbone.

"Look, I'm flattered... v-very flattered, but I'm not really a fan of one night stands." You say nervously, knowing that you'd want way more than just one night with him. His large, rough tongue rakes up the side of your neck, making you let out an involuntary moan.

"Who said I wanted a one night stand?" His hot breath brushes against your neck, causing goosebumps to go down your body. "I want you.. All of you... Always." His teeth ran across the skin in the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply. "If you want me, I'll stay... please..." He pleads with a deep growl. He sounds so desperate for you. You wouldn't have thought the stoic man next door would be reduced to a horny, cuddly mess, but here you are. "My mate..." He growls as he palms one of your breasts through your thin tank top, careful not to scratch you with his claws. The pressure of his body against yours is overwhelming in the best way, every touch lighting you on fire as you couldn't help but let out soft moans.

"P-please stay Clayton..." You begged as your self-control went out the window, grinding your hot mound against his leg. Your words and actions made him suck in a breath, pausing as he stared at you. He suddenly turned onto his back, pulling you on top of him to straddle his waist. He used his claws to rip a huge hole in your shorts, exposing your dripping wet pussy. You pulled your tanktop off quickly before he ripped that off while he ripped away his boxers. His massive cock sprang to life, smacking against your wet pussy lips softly. He pulled himself up to bring you in for a kiss, groaning as he

You bit your lip before grinding your cunt down along his dick. It was too dark for you to see properly, but his dick felt similar to a werewolf's dick, but much bigger. You hadn't taken someone that big before, so you were secretly happy that you were in the middle of masturbating when you heard him come home...

"Oh fuck." He strained his head back against the bed as he moaned. His hands reached up to hold your hips in place, rolling his hips back against you to get more friction against his sensitive cock. His hands were massive, both of them nearly completely encircling your waist as he held you in place. He fought against the urge to use you like a living fleshlight immediately. He felt like he was getting high off the scent of your arousal.

You brace your hands on his soft forearms as you find your footing by his sides. His waist is too big for you to straddle normally, but you don't care. You're gonna do your best. You were getting impatient, as he could feel from how his cock was completely drenched from your juices. He raises his head up to look at you, letting out soft whimpers as you pull your heat away from his needy dick. You earn a low growl from him as you decided to grab his cock and line his dripping tip up with your aching hole. His grip on your hips tightens, and you feel his claws threaten to break your soft skin. He applauded his self control in his crazed state, although every fiber of his being was telling him to just bury his cock deep inside you now. He needed you so badly.

You press yourself down on his dick, your arousal and his precum acting as lube. His cock slides into your pussy easier than he expected, but you're still struggling to take his size. His cock was so thick it stretched your pussy to the absolute limit and you were loving every second. You had only taken him about halfway, and yiu didn'tknow how much more you could take. You were trying to hold your moans as much as possible, but the attempt was futile. You groaned out in pleasure as the shape of his cock rubbed against your g-spot with every movement.

Clayton stared at you hungrily, growl in his throat that resonated through his whole body. You could swear you felt his dick vibrate, but then again, it might have been your walls fluttering to accommodate his size.

He suddenly snaps his hips up into yours, his hands on your hips keeping you in place as he buries his cock into you up to his knot. The drastic shock to your body made you scream out in pleasure. Your pussy stung as you felt the bulge at the base of his cock press against your pussy. You feel him shudder under you as you clenched your pussy around his length. You're given very little time to adjust before he starts moving your hips for you.

"F-fuck, I'm sorry... I can't control myself right now... you drive me fucking crazy... you're so fucking tight..." He growls as he watches your boobs bounce in front of him. He may have you on top, but he's the one in control. He holds your hips so firmly it may leave bruises, using your body as his personal sex toy. He is so desperate to cum, wanting nothing more than to fill you up and get you pregnant.

He wanted you to be the mom to his cubs. You were so sweet and kind. You could teach them how to make a den much better than he could. You felt so amazing stretched out on his dick. You were just so addicting.

Every movement he made you do made you feel just as crazy as him. His cock hit all the right places, your pussy quivering around him as you felt yourself getting close to cumming. Every slight curve and bend of his dick felt like heaven as he bounced you faster to chase his own release.

"I'm so close. I'm not pulling out. I want you to take my knot and have my cub..." He grunts, whimpering as you feel his dick twitch inside you. He's close, and so are you.

"Y-yes please! I want your cum in me, please! Make me cum!" You beg him, completely giving into the pleasure. You couldn't take it anymore. You were so close it almost hurt.

"Rub your clit for me, honey." He orders and you don't think twice before one of your hands finds your clit, your fingers working your sensitive clit while he works you. It only takes a few more seconds before you throw your head back, moaning like a bitch in heat as your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. As you begin to cum, he snaps his hips up to meet yours, thrusting his huge knot into your already strained pussy. The rough action causes you to scream, squirting all over his crotch as your quivering pussy milked his cock. His dick throbbed inside you as he let out a roar, his claws scratching your hips while he came deeper than anyone had before. He filled your plugged up pussy so much your belly bulged slightly. You both struggle to catch your breath as his grip on you slowly relaxed. He couldn't help but stare at you and your beautiful body, your sweat shining in the moonlight through the window.

"I hope you're okay... I didn't hurt you, did I?" He groans out, a bit worried that in his haze he went too far. Your exhausted giggle eases him slightly.

"I'm more than okay..." You admit with a grin. Clayton chuckles in response as he feels his knot start to go down, letting him slip his cock out of you. You whimper and whine as he pulls his cock out, suddenly feeling every empty as his cum pours out of your used hole. He lets out a relieved sigh as he turns onto his side and pulls you close to him.

"I'm glad you're okay..." He whispers to you as he stares into your eyes with adoration mixed with exhaustion. You can't help but smile as his large body and thick fur make you feel like you have a living weighted blanket. His presence was just so comforting to you.

"I hope you don't mind hibernating with me." You say. He pulls you in close as he arranges the pillows and blankets around the two of you, using his arm as a pillow for you. He finally pulls the blanket over the two of you and wraps his other arm around you.

"Honey, I don't think I could have hibernated without you..." He says softly, ending in a yawn as you both settled in to get some sleep. As you two embraced each other, sweaty and satisfied, you couldn't stop thinking about how Clayton would be a really good dad. You secretly hope his seed already got you pregnant as you fell asleep cuddled into his chest. He took another good look at your gorgeous face before drifting off to sleep himself. Both of you were soon dreaming of your belly swollen with his cub and little kids running around.

He could get used to this.

#monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster x reader #monster imagine #monster smut #werebear #werebear bf

4K notes · View notes

bunny-jpeg · 7 months ago

Text

bear den

bear!john price

cw: pwp/smut, hybrid!au, bunny!reader, bear!price, scenting, breeding, biting, headlock, doggy style, dirty talk, reverse cowgirl

bunny says and you'll never catch me alive!

edit: part two

to be with a bear was something interesting. especially one as much of a lover as price. oh price was just perfect all over. those blue eyes that made you feel protected and warm. that strong grip of his as he bullied his cock into you. he was a strong, with a bit of softness to him and hairy all over. he loved tugging on your little bunny ears while he slammed his cock into your sweet pussy.

the first time you met him. it was quite scary. the dead of winter deep within the woods you called home. you managed to get your way into the warmth of his cabin/den. but your mother told you to never enter the den of a bear. what you soon saw was the lumbering form of bear hybrid.

"what are you doin' here?" he grumbled. his voice heavy was sleep. he was in hibernation after all. but his cock was hard in his sweat pants. he yawned, "if you're gonna make yourself at home. it's gonna cost ya."

the curious bunny gave head to the hairy bear. a tale as old as time. but the notion of bunny cunt seemed to entice the bear and he grabbed you by the ears and dragged you back into his den. the smell of bear was a lot for you, the dominate scent even made you iron resolve crumble. the wetness in your worn panties.

'this'll do." he grumbled as he tossed you on the bed. he got you under the covers. tore off your meager clothes and fucked your bunny hole half asleep. you on the other hand were wide awake. the breath taken out of you. he got through two rounds before his sleepiness took over and he went back to sleep.

he kept you after that, he told you a little bunny like you needed to be protected. who knew what was out there, in the deep darkness of the forest. so you spent the following seasons with him.

you became his lover, he even planted a carrot garden for you when the snow melted. oh he loved his bunny. he loved to tug on your cotton tail or take you by the face to look at him while he had you pressed up against the side of the cabin and your back bent.

but when winter came, he made sure his bunny was taken care of while he was asleep. bunnies could hibernate if they felt safe enough, but you wouldn't be dead to the world if you did.

but in all fairness, the smell of bunny in his cabin didn't keep him asleep for long. you woke up in the morning, snow was pressed up against the window. but the sun shined in.

the smell of price in your bedroom was overwhelming. the room was small, but the big was large. but price's hairy body still made you feel small on the bed. so the smell of the bear hung heavy. the bed had every blanket, pillow, sweater, stuffed animals, anything else he could find to make his nest. the final piece was you. where he tucked you in and snuggled you until he eventually dozed off.

you had been asleep for over a day now, you looked over and saw him sound asleep. you reached for him and kissed him on the nose. his arm was heavy over you. you shifted in your spot and got out from under him.

but you couldn't get out of bed. as he grabbed you by the tail. "where ya goin', love.' he said with sleep heavy in his voice, "i didn't tell ya you could leave." then you were dragged back into bed with a 'hmfph'.

he snuggled you back into his arms, "you don't have my smell on ya." he grumbled as he rubbed his face up against your bare chest. there was no point in having clothes on while in the nest. you were under so many layers you were already warm enough.

"john!" you squeaked as his tongue came out and started to lick across your pulse, "it's only us in the entire area. plus it's only to the kitchen."

"no." he said, he ran his teeth across your pulse, "gotta smell like me." you made a noise as he, in tired trance, got you on your hands and knees. the weight of the blankets and his larger body kept you pinned to the soft mattress.

"john!" you whined, "c'mon!"

he grumbled something. his cock slid up and down your pussy as he tried to push it into you. you arched your back in anticipation. poor price, his head was full of sleepy cotton. he relied on instinct and right now it was directing him to breed his little nest mate.

you moaned, to have your face buried in the pillow. that reeked of your lover only made you wet between your legs. as if the leftover cum from your lover wasn't enough lube for his impressive size. he was big all over. so different from your tiny bunny self, no wondered he wanted to protect you.

and breed you.

your heart raced as he finally got his cock into you. he sank into your sweet cunt. he groaned as he leaned over you and put his arm around your neck and bent your back. his thrusts were sloppy, there was no rhyme or reason, only what felt good.

"you feel so good, love.' he grumbled, "always so perfect for me." his gaze was unfocused, his voice sleepy and slurred, "a good little bunny for me. with your cotton tail and those ears. my girl though, right? all mine? not gonna have ya run off with a coyote or somethin'. keep ya home, keep ya full." he gave you a lazy smile as our eyes met. he leaned in and licked across your cheek. his bear ears twitched at the taste of your soft skin against his rough tongue.

your core throbbed, the entire feeling. the coziness of your den that you shared with price left you feel soft and warm. you were comfortable and safe, so why not let price breed you? you were already so soft and warm, let your brain let it go and accept him.

he held you close to him, bent to his liking to have the best angle of your pussy. his broad paws were all over you, he held your throat and around your middle as he thrusted up into you.

"john." you whimpered, your focus was hazy and your thoughts dripped away like melted snow. the sun shined thought the window of your den, it bathed you in a bright glow.

"i know. i know." he purred, he blinked to get a little more awake, "so small. i could crush ya easily. poor little bunny got caught up with a big bad bear. now she sharin' a nest with him and letting him bully her sweet little cunny."

his words made your brain mushy.

the bed creaked under your love making, he still held you like a toy for his pleasure. he lazily made out with you as he moved you up and down his cock. he groaned, his lips close against yours, "my girl. my little bunny. i love the feeling of ya around me."

you made small noises and hearty pants as the movements continued. as he kept ramming against your sweet sex. you were a right fit for him. after all these months you still were so good for him.

he watched your focus come in and out. your tongue stuck a little out of your mouth. the little bunny had her brains fucked out, oh no! he let go of you. his hands on you as he maneuvered your once more and got you into a reverse cowgirl. the blankets were kicked to the bottom of the bed.

he was propped up against the headboard and kept you in his lap. his cock buried into your slick pussy. he held onto your hips and bounced you on his cock. he wished he could see your breasts bounce with every thrust, but to watch the sweat drip down your back.

your nest got heated, your scent bled a little bit into the air of the room. it was musky and comforting. to be fucked by a bear was something unlike anything you could describe. he just fit you so right.

"good girl."

"john."

"i know, i know." he groaned. the rush of pleasure raced through his body as it did yours. he felt the same euphoric of having his cock buried into his sweet mate. he made sure that his scent was all over you, he was certain it would stick this time.

you leaned forward and held onto the covers that were between his legs. he watched how your pussy swallowed up his cock with each movements of your hips. he licked his lips as he moved your faster.

he watched your cotton-tail twitch, it almost made him cum at that moment. he continued to move your hips, the rush of climax almost washed over him.

the two of you made love like animals in your nest that he had built for you. to protect you. his cock throbbed in your cunt and with a few more thrusts he finished inside of you.

"ah!" you whined as you arched your back. you came as well and clutched onto the sheets. your toes curled and you felt your heart racing.

price felt content as he smothered you in his pecs. they were softer and hairy. he had gotten a little thicker for the winter. you made a soft noise as you were buried in them.

"john."

"i know bunny, i got ya. now sh, time to go back to sleep." he purred as he grabbed the blankets with one hand but kept you to him with the other. he buried you back under the nest of blankets.

yeah, that sounded like a great idea. you weren't even too sure if you could walk if you got up. so with the glow of the morning sun peeking through your window, you fell back asleep with your face in your mate's chest.

it was spring now. but you and your bear mate have been slow to wake up for it. price still was in a tired mindset, constantly cuddled up to your partially swollen belly. you were only four months, but price still adored how you carried his cub.

he made a gruff noise and cuddled up with your middle further. his facial hair which had grown over hibernation brushed up against your exposed middle. such a cute little bunny and her adoring mate.

you ran your fingers through your hair as you heard the birds chirp outside and the sound of melting snow. next winter it would be you, price and your little cub all sharing a nest to sleep soundly through the winter <3

xoxo,

bunny

part two <3

3K notes · View notes

fangel · 11 days ago

Text

attic angel — jake [ 심재윤 ]

synopsis : au where seemingly innocent jake has his favorite hidden secret tucked away for his eyes only; a story in which jake has his very own angel to confide all his sins in.

pairing : jake x fem. reader

genre : smut/pwp, a lil too much plot, established relationship?

word count : 9.9k

note : this is a work of fiction and has no relation to the real people mentioned! i do not see enha this way! in case of confusion, the story switches from present day to past; italicized text is the past -> playlist

content advisory : sexually explicit content, obsessive!jake, stalker!jake, needy!jake, praise!kink, oral (f.), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding!kink, biting, blood, corrupt!reader, religious themes and concepts, implied non-con if you squint, psychological horror elements, chained ankle / stockholm syndrome type shi

there you sit, wrapped in your thickest blanket and watching outside the window. the faint hum of the heater running blends into the silence of the home you’ve come to accept as your own. you can hardly remember what day it is anymore, or how long it’s been since you’ve last been outside the confines of this hidden property. if you had to guess, it’s been nearly a year. the fact that the winter season has come around again is your only clue as to the length of passing time.

on days where you’re left to your own devices you can’t help but think, and think, and think. there’s only so many books you can read, or shows and movies you can watch before it all blends together, leaving you with the same emptiness as before. a little worse each time. maladaptive daydreaming is a habit you’ve had since childhood. you like to create your own stories and scenarios in your head. before it was a fun, silly escape from work or school. now it’s the only escape you actually have. but even dreaming becomes exhausting. especially when you come to realize how out of reach it is.

as you wait for the return of your only source of human connection, you begin to recall the last days that you felt human.

it was new years eve on your last day of normalcy, but there’s more to look back on before that fateful night.

you glance at the grandfather clock, hanging on the wall. the time read 9:30. jake wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half. you sigh and the beautiful golden and white dog who laid beside you sits up. layla. she tilts her head as she looks as if to ask, ‘what’s wrong?’. you shake your head and give the dog a soft smile. your hand escapes the warmth of the blanket to reach out and pet her head.

“it’s nothing, layla…” your eyes look back out to the window. the ground and trees covered in a thin layer of powdery white snow. “but i do think i miss having something to believe in.” your voice trails off into quiet as you continue to take in the cold, morning atmosphere. It was prepossessing, like a painting. but one in which you lived as a meer shadow.

you often think to yourself, does your family still wonder where you disappeared to? did they think you ran away? how are they doing? do your friends still think of you as much as you do them? did they search for you? how long? are you dead to everyone you loved? there were too many questions that would more than likely go unanswered. you tried to ask. you tried a lot. but it never ended well, so eventually you learned to stop. it’s at times like this, where you’re left alone with nothing but your thoughts, that it all swallows you whole.

you allowed so much to happen. the biggest fault to your personality was how trusting you were in the world, in people. yet another fault was you couldn’t bring yourself to truly hate anyone. especially not jake. you could hate yourself, however. and you did hate that you loved him. despite all that he’s done, you always kiss him back with compassion.

it all played out as if it were your destined fate to be his, or the judgement to an early punishment.

you were still relatively new to town at the time. having that your family only moved there at the end of summer. and it took your parents no time to find a new church to drag you along to. it’s not that you hated going, but as you got older you certainly began to question the faith that was forced upon you since childhood.

“mommm,” you complained, using your best whiny voice to annoy her, “i’ve grown up, ya know? i’m old enough to make my own decisions, my own opinions. why do i have to go too?” perhaps this behavior was contradictory to your statement, but playing it safe was your best option. if you were too serious she would begin to lecture you. the last thing you wanted this early in the morning was her bible down your throat.

she sent you a glare and said your name sternly, “are you trying to rebel against your own beliefs because you’re mad about the move? i thought you were growing up?” ah yes, there she goes completely missing your point.

“oh my gosh, mom, i am not rebelling. i just think by now—” you wanted to continue on, but your mother was eager to cut you off. maybe it was better to withhold this argument with her anyways. your father was no help either, his eyes bouncing between his wife and daughter with uncertainty. he too played it safe and just nodded along with whatever your mother said. you doubted he was even listening.

“it’ll be a good way to get to know the community. you ought to find yourself a good catholic boy, too.” she placed her hands on her hips, side-eyeing your exaggerated and exhausted expression. “come with us for 1 month. that’s all i ask, okay?” her words didn’t match her tone. through her frustration, she at least gave an easy compromise.

“yeah… because those guys are so pure.” you mumbled under your breath. “fine, but only for a month.” you couldn’t turn it down. internally you were excited to break free from the custom sunday routine.

despite not wanting to go, you found yourself not disliking it as much as you initially thought. you made friends your age rather quickly, one even helped you get your first job at the library in town. you found a quiet solace in covering and putting books away. zoning out while filing books? love it. daydreaming when you didn’t have to help people with minimal questions? perfect. you got to do easy tasks, read, and organize; it was simple and you could shut your brain off for a while. it was so nice that you quickly forgot how life was like before you came to town.

the friends you made were fun too. they were kind, funny, and kept you busy. you all went out often whether it being grabbing food, watching a movie, getting your nails done, or just gossiping in the parking lot late at night. you always enjoyed your time with them. even if it was at church, where all of your parents expected you to be at.

but even better than that, there was a really cute guy in the church choir who couldn’t take his eyes off you. sitting in the pews, you would often find yourself meeting his eyes only to shyly look away with a warm blush on your cheeks. in your peripherals, he would bite at his lip to conceal his smiles, eyes still eye on you through prayer and hymn. he was so pretty with his long brown hair cascaded and framing his face. you swear the dark coffee color of his eyes sparkled, even without the blinding fluorescent lights. his smile though, his smile was enough for you to thank god that you could be in his presence. he was truly like a fairytale prince come to life. it’s safe to say he, jake, alone made every sunday worth looking forward to. you didn’t have to fight with your parents about going because you found your own reason to go. and of course your friends.

“geez, jake just can’t ever seem to stop staring at you, huh?” karina giggled through a quiet voice as she elbowed your arm. you couldn’t help but smile, elbowing her back. when did mass end? had you been so lost in thought that you didn’t realize you both were walking to her car? ‘you gotta daydream a little less’, you internally remind yourself.

“so i’m not crazy for thinking he’s always looking in my direction?” you breathed out a laugh, waving a goodbye to your parents that were headed towards their car and back home.

“oh, come on! just in your direction? he’s practically undressing you whenever you’re in the same room as him. and this is a chapel for christ’s sake! god knows what he could possibly be thinking of in a place like this--” you quickly cover karina’s mouth to quiet the growing volume of her voice. your eyes frantically glancing around to make sure no one overheard, and for hopefully no sign of jake or his friends around.

“shh! what if someone overheard you say that!” your was voice hushed and tone so serious but all your friend could do was laugh into your hands. you drop your hands from her face and cross your arms. a sheepish look takes over your appearance. “at least get into your car before speaking about him or saying stuff like that…” you turn and open the car door to slip into the passenger's seat.

“you’re so cute but,” she exhaled dramatically and said your name with a smile, “when are you going to stop pretending to be so innocent? it’s about time, don’t you think?” karina winks at you before closing your door and walking around to the driver’s side of the car to get in. you blush at that. thankfully it’s been cold these days so your flushed cheeks can be passed off as a chill to the weather.

you look around the church parking lot and back to the chapel building. the front doors swing open and out walks jake himself, along with his friends you only know the names of because of giselle, your other friend. they were all in the choir together. jake, jay, and sunghoon walk down the front door steps as they’re talking. before you can look away, jake’s eyes found yours. he gave you a smile to which you returned bashfully, turning your attention to karina who was flipping through songs on her phone. “giselle, isn’t coming today so we don’t have to wait for her. she’s staying back to practice a song for next weekend.” karina informed you while starting the car. the heater builds up slowly, warming both of your shivering bodies.

“so we’re going to the library--” you begin to speak but karina makes a shrill noise of excitement.

“oh my gosh! i almost forgot to tell you! giselle is having a new years eve party this friday. our friend minjeong is coming from busan too, i’m sure you’ll love her…” unintentionally you zone out as she rambles. you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you. you would say it’s jake but this is similar to something in which you’ve been feeling more often than not lately. in places where he wouldn’t be, or shouldn’t be. like at the library, at restaurants, at home, or walking through town. with quick glances you search for the eyes that you certainly feel. the group of boys aren’t standing in front of the chapel anymore. it’s just families standing around and chatting amongst each other or people saying their goodbyes and thank yous to the priest. huh? habitually, you can't seem to find anyone. how strange.

“jake will be there too.” karina catches your attention again, “were you even listening to me? geez, you can be such a weirdo sometimes, ya know?” she laughed lightly, her tone teasing. she playfully hit your arm. “i’m just messing. you are always in your own world though. you’ll end up missing all the important details if you live in your head like that.”

unsure of what to say, you just apologize quietly. you look back to karina, fingers picking at the dried skin of your chapped lips. a nervous habit.

“anyways, i’m sure he’ll make his move there after months of yearning from afar.” she makes a fake gag sound, finger pointed to her mouth. you giggle. “kidding, he’s a cutie, i guess. he’s sweet and reminds me of a puppy. all the aunties here love him, too, so that’s a good sign.”

“you think so?” you don’t sound so confident, “i feel like he should’ve approached me by now. i don’t know how much flirtatious eye contact and occasional brush of skinship at church i can take…” your laugh was meek, doubtful. jake does always look so cute dressed in his sunday best.

“trust. i know this friday is the day he makes you his.” she said with a playful smirk as she pulled out of the parking lot and into the road. you leaned back into the seat, looking out at the window to watch the town pass by. all naked trees, dormant from growth, and gentle shaking of branches in the wind. it’s like they’re waving goodbye. with a small smile you didn’t care to hide on your face, you think of what could happen at the party coming friday.

neither you nor karina understood the weight and reality of her words.

“i’m surprised you came this weekend,” jay speaks up, taking strides to catch up with jake who was making his way to his car. “you barely come anymore.”

jake turns around with a forced smile and a shaky laugh, “well you know… i got other stuff going on. the job i got at the beginning of the year keeps me real busy. i’m exhausted most weekends.” he wasn’t exactly lying. he did get a promotion at his software engineering company, and it was tiring. he’s making slow steps backwards but jay and sunghoon press harder, walking with him.

“how about you come over to watch the football match?” sunghoon asked jake, who seemed eager to leave as soon as possible. he knew what jake would say, but he always asks nonetheless. this had become typical behavior of jake for a while now. he doesn’t hangout as often. whenever he does come out, he’s antsy, not fully there. it saddens him to see that his best friend is happiest when he’s about to leave.

“hoon, you know i got my girls at home…” jake laughs lightly. his hands stuffed into his coat pockets and gripping his keys. all he could think about was getting home layla, to you. he shifts his weight from foot to foot, eyeing his car, worried of looking too ready to walk away from his friends. he should be worried, because the two guys picked up on this routine a while ago.

“girls?” jay questions with a raised eyebrow, “like plural? you have something you’re not telling us?” his chuckle was short. his arms crossed while inquisitively awaiting jake’s response. “cuz if you got a girl now and haven’t told us, it would make us feel like shit. although it would help make sense of you being around less and less.”

“girl!” jake’s hands shot up, waving around as if to wave the thought from the air, “my girl, layla, you know…” jake didn’t want to come off as nervous as he felt inside. he couldn’t panic or they’d know something was up, “she’s been home alone all morning. she’ll need a walk outside or her water refilled… it could snow again soon and i live further out than you guys so the drive--”

“it’s fine.” sunghoon forced a tight lip smile, “next time, right?” he begins to turn away but then jay speaks up again.

“or we could both go to your place.” jay suggests, “we haven’t been over in months. not that you let us stay very long anyways.” jay’s eyes don’t laugh with him, he looks down to kick a rock awkwardly. he didn’t want to be rude with jake, but sunghoon won’t speak up so jay always has to do it for them both. jake picks up on the sliver of tension that is there between them.

fuck, fuck, fuck. think quick. say something!

“ah, uh.. next weekend!” jake knew his friends were onto him. what if they show up unannounced one day because they haven’t been over in so long? his flakey behavior is too frequent. (he can’t help it though, especially not after the time he left for too long and you tried to run off. although you did learn your lesson after that, so jake doubts you would try something like that again.) he had to do something different and panic was settling in more than he’d like to admit. he did feel bad about neglecting them; he missed hanging out with the guys. “you guys can come over next weekend! we can invite the other guys, cook, watch some football, and play games or whatever!” jake breathes out a heavy breath after his rush of words. he smiles a genuine soft smile to the two in front of him, “promise.” his voice ends timid.

with that, sunghoon said a quick, ‘i’ll hold you to it!.’ his face was brighter than jake had seen in a while, so it must’ve been enough. the boys said their ‘see you laters’ and went off on their separate ways.

despite sunghoon’s change of demeanor, he couldn’t lie to himself. yeah, he was happy that his friends could finally have plans together again. but sunghoon was attentive. he was quiet but always watching, picking up on the details that others might not pay attention to. he saw jake’s weary eyes. how they were unfocused. the way his smile didn’t spread across his face as if there were a deeper emotion he was feeling and it was eating away at him. the fact that he couldn’t sit or stand still, always so ready to run away. and the harsh indents in the palm of his hand from how hard he was clutching his keys; how did it not break the skin? all sunghoon could wonder is, what is jake going through to make him lose all sense of groundedness?

when the two boys make enough distance from jake, sunghoon leans over to jay to say quietly, “he’s always been a bad liar.” to which jay silently agrees.

jake notices them walking closer together, whispering something to one another, as they walk away. it made his skin crawl. he wants, no he needs, to deny the fact that they were suspicious of him. but how could he?

what should he do? leave? move you, him, and layla back to his home in australia? yeah, that doesn’t sound so bad. but what about his friends though? the job he studied so hard for? the promotion he worked tirelessly for that allowed him less hours in the office and more with you? how could he say goodbye to it all? it’s all going so well so why does he feel like he’s about to crack?

the whole car ride back home had jake’s hands trembling as he gripped his steering wheel. his mind is racing with too many possibilities of all the wrong outcomes. he couldn’t have a single mistake happen. there was too much to lose and the main thing being you. he knows he would go crazy if he had to lose you, the most precious thing in his whole world. his sweet, little angel. he worked so hard just to get you, too.

and after all he’s done, he wouldn’t dare take the chance of letting you go. just the thought alone of not having you makes jake feel like all hell would break loose.

the day he first saw you, he thought every prayer of his had been answered. he had truly been graced with a gift from the heavens that he would stop at nothing to hold all to himself. you consumed his every thought, permeated his brain. and inside him, something quickly began to seethe. something in nature to a feral animal, starved and desperate to claw to freedom. constantly licking the backs of his teeth, ready to sink into you.

what started as a crush quickly turned into obsession. he knew so when he found himself following you home, to work, or wherever karina and giselle were bringing you. you had no idea, on top of that. oh, his naive angel, glancing over your shoulders with hurried steps only to trip over your own feet. you were so endearing to watch. a lost little pup with no clue in the world to the watchful, hungry eyes that followed you.

he learned all he could about you before that fateful new years eve. albeit, from a distance. he knew when you went to work, when you went out for groceries, what foods you dislike and prefer. how you wear your favorite color on the days you’re feeling good. how you enjoyed naughty books and pretty covers. the way your face is always wearing exactly how you feel, or what you’re thinking.

he would go to the library, watch from afar. when you walked away, pick up the exact books you did and run his hands across the covers to feel what you felt. he did the same at stores, and bought what you bought. when you left restaurants he would go inside just to sit where you did. anything you touched and left behind quickly became his. it all brought a sense of closeness to him.

he learned your routine in no time. more often than not, he found himself telling the deep rooted feeling within him that he’s just making sure you’re safe. he’s merely keeping a watchful eye. and the festering ache of his visceral grew to the point where he began to think, ‘wouldn’t she just be safest with me?’. yeah, yeah you would be. he believed he could provide everything for you. anything you could ever need to be kept protected, kept satisfied. a delicate angel like yourself needed jake. he was sure of it.

he is still sure of it.

he exhales a deep sigh, his breath still shaky. his lungs not easing the way his mind tried to convince his body.

“it’ll all be okay…everything will go smoothly. my angel, she wouldn’t misbehave.” jake tells himself, “next weekend will be fine.” his eyes staring openly at the road. his bottom lip bit raw from all his nervous thoughts.

“my obedient pup is at home. she is waiting for me at home. she always is. i am almost home.” he speaks in a mantra until it’s convincing enough to calm his nerves. he thinks of how lonely your morning must’ve been without him. how you must be cold. how your ankle is chilled and bruised from the frigid metal cuff around it.

oh, yes, his favorite sight to see.

the thought of you, ankle chained to the attic room bed, patiently waiting for him makes his cock ache. the fact always does. he hates to leave you, yet loves coming home to you just as much. his girl, waiting in her room, bathed in the sunlight that glows from the window to cast a halo above your head. the softest picture he wished to have burned into his mind forever.

he groans softly with an unsteady right hand palming at his growing bulge. he sucked in a breath, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth. his palm presses down on his cock that is desperate to escape his clad pants. he whimpers quietly. his foot presses the gas a little harder, speeding up a little faster knowing you wait for him in that perfect image, just as he imagines. “almost home,” he exhales a breath that holds more stability than the rest. his tongue follows to swipe over his lips. he can’t wait to taste you.

he’ll feel better once he has you. he always does.

just like the first day.

it was a cold friday evening and the fateful day of giselle’s new years party. jake had been anticipating this day the second he realized you became friends with giselle and karin. giselle had always thrown her annual new years eve parties, and of course you’d be invited. it was the perfect day for him to claim you, his angel.

he gave his plan much thought. approach you casually, kindly. talk to you for a while. let loose with some drinks. compliment, flirt, but don’t come on too strong. build a sense of respect and show you that he’s not just into you for a fling. he needed you to know he was serious about pursuing you, and in for the long haul. hold hand as the countdown into the new year in cheered amongst friends. share a new years kiss under the fireworks. make plans for a date to get to know each other more the following week.

ideally, that’s what he wanted, at least.

in his heart, he really did want something normal with you. a cliche romance where you meet unexpectedly, become friends, and slowly fall in love.

not everything goes according to plan though.

jake, showed up earlier than jay, sunghoon, and heeseung. the three of them apparently had too much to pre-game and had to wait for one of them to sober up more before driving over. they asked jake to come pick them up, but he lied, saying he had already had something to drink and couldn’t.

he sat in his car, outside of the large three story home. there were subtle decorations around the property. new years signs stuck into the ground, balloons tied to the mailbox and banisters of the wrap around porch. the christmas lights were still up and flashing colors of white, gold, and blue. he could hear the music blaring from inside. judging by the amount of cars outside, and the horrible parking situation, giselle really out did herself this year. it was packed.

as he was getting out of his car, he didn’t even realize his hands were shaking. he felt like he was struggling to breathe. his heart pounded in his chest, reverberating throughout his whole being. it raged through him so heavily he started to think his lungs had no room in his own body.

he failed to realize what he was doing when he made it up the front steps and into the house. he was swimming through the crowd of people inside who were dancing and singing, a red solo cup or shot glass in hand. almost as if his body knew where you were, he made his way to you. and there you were. the descry of you lifted all the weight he felt. sitting on the stairs, leaning against the wall, drink in hand, eyes half lidded as you hummed to whatever song playing loudly. your existence was so beautiful to jake.

jake smiled at you. his body on autopilot slowly approached, but came to a stop when a guy sat down next to you. his smile dropped. he had never seen him before, so he must not have been from around here.

it was when the stranger wrapped their arm around you and pulled you in that he snapped. that feeling that had been festering within jake was finally boiling over. a bubbling, fiery rage that scorched him down to the bone marrow. he hated the sight, the knowing that other people could touch you, see you, talk to you, make you laugh and smile. he was sober and yet his stomach threatened to spill. he pain he felt only left him with disgust. how could you let a stranger in so close? jake never once had the thought of hurting you. no, the idea of doing such kills him. so why did he want to?

luckily, if jake was good at anything, it was staying in control. despite all the ugly things he feels inside, he never lets it show. in public, that is.

“she’s really drunk,” jake reached out and pulled you up from the stranger, “i’ll help her form here.” you giggled quietly, leaning your weight onto jake, arms wrapped around his neck.

luckily, the guy didn’t seem to care and got up to leave and move onto another drunk girl in the sea of people. jake didn’t allow himself the thought of what might’ve happened if he didn’t intervene. it would make him ill with violence. he wasn’t a violent guy, though, at least he hasn’t been.

“jake.” you breathed his name, eyes closed as you hugged onto him. he bit down at the sound of your voice saying his name. he could feel his blood rush south, his body lighting on fire. “hm.. i’m really tired.” your mumbles were incoherent, but enough for him to pick up.

he didn’t even know what to do with himself. he opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. if you weren’t so gone you’d easily be able to feel his raging heart. his sweaty palms holding your back close to him. he just looked down at you in his embrace.

yeah, he thought, this is much better. where you belonged.

it took damn near everything in him to not bend you over and take you right there, but he knew his time window was short.

your friends were nowhere in sight nor his own.

“let’s get you home, angel.” he smiled. you smiled.

you don’t recall much from that night, honestly. at least not clearly. you remember decorating for the party and drinking with you friends. meeting new people. dancing, singing, drinking more. and jake. you spoke to jake for the first time. he was kind. at least you think so because he offered to take you home. then it all blurred.

and everything you don’t remember, jake does. jake would rather take that to the grave though.

you perk up as you see jake’s vehicle rush down the long driveway. his car flew over the gravel path, a divide between the towering and snow wearing trees. layla hears the sound of his vehicle and rushes out of the room through the cracked door that leads downstairs. you wish to do the same, eyeing the cold metal cuff that confines you to the room.

you watch him park then fumble out. he looks cute, tripping up and making a clumsy speed for the house. you can hear layla’s barks and the sound of jake’s many keys. there’s several locks on all the doors and windows. jake takes many precautions in his need to keep you safe.

overfamiliar with his routine, you wait as he takes care of layla’s needs before coming up to see you. he seems faster today than usual, because his quick footsteps can be heard sooner than you expect.

jake pushes open the door with a wide grin. his eyes sparkle as takes in the glow of your being. almost as if he was never wavering, he shuts the door behind himself and makes his way over to sit next to you on the bed.

he says your name quietly and you speak his, with arms wide open. you pull him into a warm embrace, wrapping your body around him in a koala-like hug. the metal of the chain rustles and clanks, dragging against the wooden floorboards and bed frame.

you stay like that for a full minute, basking in each other's clutch. he pulls away only ot take the key from his pants pocket to unlock the cuff.

“i missed you so much today, pup.” he’s honest. the open cuffed chain falls to the floor with a thud.

“i miss you every moment you cannot be with me,” you stare at his unreadable face. he’s peaceful, smiling back at you, but you know him well enough that there’s always more. something got to him today. he’s trying not to tremble and you know it.

he laughs, it's soft and melodic. “are you trying to one up me?” he grabs a hold of your waist and pushes you onto your back. his body now atop of yours, arms caging in your face. a hand brushes the stray strands of hair from your face as he leans in to press butterfly kisses over your face. a warm flush heats your cheeks. the fiery feeling takes over your body.

he kisses the top of your head, forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, nose, cheeks and lips. it elicits a giggle past your lips. eyes fluttering shut, you capture his lips in yours the second they touch. intimacy with jake is always when you feel the warmest, the fullest. you try not to accept that it's also when you feel the most alive.

the kiss starts off sweet. your lips molding into one with a smooth rhythm. jake’s lips were always plump and soft. you like to bite down on the bottom one. you know he likes it too because he whimpers into your kisses every time.

“ah, baby, just a moment.” he begins, but you keep chasing after his lips. as much as he loves the shared intimacy, in the back of his mind he knows what he needs to say. “next weekend, the guys are going to-”

you pull away from his face and relax against the bed, your hands holding his face as you look up at him. with red cheeks, swollen lips, and hair falling into his eyes, he’s so pretty. you don’t want to think about anything but being with him.

“jake, jakey, tell me later. please.” it’s a soft plea. you just want this moment. your hands slid down to his shoulders to wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to you.

jake complies silently, his hands now roaming your body while his mouth latches to your neck. his hands squeeze your shoulders, down your arms, waist, and up to your breasts. you don’t realize what made him change, but his grip gets rougher and the kisses he leaves along your jaw and neck are nothing like the ones he was pressing on your face. the sopping, open mouthed kisses against your skin turn to deep sucking of flesh with bites intermixed. you moan quietly; the pace of your breath picking up with heaves.

the warm, wet, heat in between your legs starts to pulse with need. yet you ignore it and take a hand to tug at the waist of jake’s pants. you fumble with his belt but manage to free his leaking, heavy cock. if you were feeling aroused, jake felt it ten-fold.

you thumb over his tip, smearing his precum around in gentle circles. he whines into your neck, “shit, touch me more, baby, please.” his teeth trace a line over the skin from your jaw, neck to shoulder. he wants to sink his mark into you.

you wrap your hand around the base of his pulsating flesh, still stimulating his tip with teasing, small, gentle touches. he bucks his hips forward into your hand with another strained sound. before you really start to jerk him off, he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“jake!”, you don’t know if it's a cry or a moan. it hurts so good and a single tear escapes your eye.

“i-i had to,” he lifts his head up to look at you quickly with a loss of words for his action. he looks like he’s beginning to tremble. your face pales seeing him with your blood on his mouth. how is he still so pretty? you kiss him again and he continues with shallow thrusts into your hand. you squeeze him and think to yourself, ‘i’ll keep him grounded; he can break later.’ he continues to kiss you with hunger.

all jake can think at the moment is how your blood on his tongue and teeth tastes like a cleanse, or like religion, or like the way you looked at him when you first woke up in this attic bedroom.

his hands find the bottom of your white, slip dress to pull it up over your head. he breaks the heated kiss to remove it only to toss it aside. he’s sitting up on his knees now. when he looks down at you half-lidded, panting with lips red from your own blood he doesn’t know if he should pray or devour you.

he reaches down to his cock, taking it from you to pump himself a few times. he licks over his lips, tasking your metallic ichor. he groans and rolls his head back slightly, “hng, i want to taste more of you. can i eat you, angel?” he bites his lip, staring at you as he lazily tugs on himself.

you nod slowly as your fingers wrap around the waist side of your panties before sliding them off. you glance away from jake as you open your legs to him. still as shy as ever despite being wolfed down by him many times before.

jake hums over the small moan he swallows down. you, his beautiful girl presented before him, he is eager to ravish.

he throws off his shirt then his boxers and pants follow suit. he situates himself between your legs, arms wrapped under your thighs. he starts by kissing up your thighs, biting, and littering them with marks of claim.

he says your name between two kisses, “angel, my forever angel, it disgusts me how much i desire you.” his mouth hovers over your core. his fingers trace over your folds, clit, and entrance. he smears your wetness over like he’s painting a flower in gloss.

“why?” you breath out. normally, your mind would race over the statement, but the overwhelming taunt of pleasure clouds your head.

his thumb circles your clit with the leaking want, “i don’t know what to do with it all.”

he’s vague, but you’ve been around him long enough to have an idea. jake is all consuming; a black hole, an endless void. you’re just spinning in it.

his tongue licks a thick strip up your pussy. he moans at the taste and you moan at the feeling. the warm, wet muscle dances over your soaked opening. he’s basking in the taste, for a moment at least. because when it comes to you, he’s always starving.

he goes at you like you’re his last supper. eagerly licking between open mouthed, sloppy kisses. face pressing further into you like he’s never close enough. his nose pressing against your clit, only teasing the nerves that begging for more and more stimulation. his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, nails sure to leave crescent moons as a remembrance.

you’re whining out his name along with drawn out moans. your hands found purchase in his thick, long locks of hair. you tug on it, back arching off the bed, with thighs desperate to close but jake holds them steady. his tongue prods the opening of your pussy, dipping in and out with cursory. your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation of his tongue fucking you open. it feels like heaven.

“ja..jake, gimme more. i need more.” your fingers scratch along his scalp as you adjust your grasp in his hair. you can feel his moan ripple throughout you.

he’s so lost in the taste of you. he wishes himself able to eat his way through you.

he withdraws his mouth only to replace his tongue with a finger. with his head leaning against your thigh, he smiles and watches you wither around in fits of moans. “my pup needs more? your hole is so hungry, huh? you’re sucking in my finger so well that i can feel how greedy you are for more.” you can only mewl in response, head far in the clouds and stars of sinful bliss.

he’s teasing you, a single digit fucking into you languidly. the tip of his finger dragging along your rippled, creamy walls. your hips wiggle down onto his finger, wishing for more, wishing for him to reach as far as he can inside of you to rip out all that’s buried.

watching your sweet desperation, he adds another finger. the pace of his fingers picks up and the unholy sounds your soaked heat makes urges him to dive back in. his mouth latches to your sensitive pearl, sucking heartily and licking like an animal. the sounds you both make are so obscene, so dirty.

“ah- jake, it’s so good, jake.” you thighs begin to quiver and the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach builds up quickly, “you’re doing so well for me, jakey. i’m so close,” you whine, watching him devour and scissor you open, “i’m gonna cum.”

your moans of encouragement only drive him to do more. he lives for your praise. it's like a match to flame. his hips push his cock further to the mattress. he makes needful humps like he’s a dog in heat as he eats away at you. he speaks into your pussy, it’s muffled, but along the lines of, ‘you taste so good, so sweet.’

his tongue never lets up and neither do his fingers, “come on, baby. give it to me. cum all over my tongue and fingers.” he voice almost anguished, wanting to whimper for more. “if you cum for me, i’ll feed you my cock. i’ll fuck you till you’re full of my cum, greedy angel.”

his words make your head spin and the heat from your stomach washes over you like a broken dam. with shaking legs you orgasm. your mouth falls open in a silent cry but he doesn’t let up. his fingers are rough and fast, making a dripping mess of your hole. his mouth, so thirsty for you, laps everything that spills. he groans at the warm release on his tongue.

your breaths are heavy, body still convulsing from the strong climax. “ah- i’m.. enough.” you make attempts to push his head away from your overly sensitive pussy, but jake is drunk off you. he pulls his fingers out of you only to put them into his mouth, sucking them clean.

you sit up slightly, propped up by your elbows. you wince at the pain near your shoulder, remembering jake’s deep bite. “what did you need to say earlier?” your voice soft, quiet, but breaths still labored.

jake finally pulls back and sits up, his face drops. his hair a wild mess from your hands and half his face glistening in wet release. he tilts his head slightly, “will you promise to behave?” his voice, too, soft and quiet. he looks apprehensive.

you nod, watching as he climbs back up your body with kisses. his hands gripping your hips, waist, and breasts. a thumb swipes over your nipple, you shiver. he pinches the other, you bite your lip. your eyes watching him with anticipation.

i can behave, you think. will i get to go out? can i see my friends? anything, anyone! your mind quick to daydream different possibilities.

“the boys are coming over this weekend. maybe friday.” he says it with disappointment, “i haven’t been hanging out as much and they’re onto- they miss me.” he corrects himself.

your heart pauses for a second before it falls. your hopes were so ready to rise but it’s all just silly ideas. of course it’s not a reward for you. when is it ever? people miss you too and where is your opportunity?

“can i—?” you try to speak. it’s a small, brave attempt.

“no!” he voice louder than he anticipated, “no… i- you’ll have to be quiet for me, please? they can’t know or else i could lose you.” he kisses along your collar bones, a handful of your breast in his palm receives a squeeze. “it’s only a couple hours.”

“but, but i’ll behave. i won’t do anything bad. and i’ll tell them i’m fine! i-i like being with you. i just want to talk to people, see friends…” you do your best to blink away the sting in your eyes as you plead.

jake can only sigh, his cock still angry from the lack of attention. he presses his tip against your core, sliding it around the wetness that was left undrank with a hiss. “you have me to talk to and see. isn’t that all you need?”

you’ve had this conversation many times before, so what did you expect?

you remain silent with that, eyes staring at the ceiling with tears threatening to cry.

jake kisses your cheek and impales himself into you without warning. your hands quickly wrap around his back and grip his shoulders while your body betrays you with a moan. the sudden intrusion makes you cry. your nails scratch his back.

“are you punishing me?” you can’t look at him, so you close your eyes. the tears fall regardless and your bottom lip quivers. the question is directed to god, if there really is one watching over you.

you open your eyes to blink away the salty pain.

jake, looking down at you with a sorrowful endearment, answers. “no, i am loving you.”

he grabs the backs of your thighs and presses them to your chest, your legs find place on his shoulders. he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. you return the gesture with broken sobs.

“you know i love you,” he stares at your face that’s wet with sadness, eyelashes and lips too.

“i know.” you try to smile but your lips are trying to shake, to show your inner turmoil, so you bite down until you’re tasting crimson metal.

he smiles but it’s one of dolor.

his hips pull back to snap back into you causing your body to jolt. he groans at the feeling of the warm tunnel wrapped around him. you squeeze him just right. he rolls his hips around, pushing his cock as far as he can into you. it feels like his tip is kissing your cervix. you whimper a moan, it’s a defeat by pleasurable pain.

“you’re so tight,” he whines, his thrusts pick up. loud smacks of skin and wet sex fill the room. “no matter how much i give it to you.”

you’re in a mating press, made so small beneath jake as he pounds him cock into you. your core still sensitive from his fingers and mouth makes you whine and claw at him. you make small gasps of his name through your pitiful noises.

jake stares down at your twisted face while his cock bullies into you with no abandon. your sobs and moans ring through his ears to throttle his brain. he never liked to make you cry. it makes all the ugly feelings he tries to keep buried resurface.

“angel,” he moves your legs from his shoulders and you instinctively wrap them around his waist, “tell me i did the right thing. tell me i’m good.” he pecks your lips, picking up the little blood from your bite to lick. you copy him, licking over your lips. wet eyes only blinking slowly up at him.

in your silence, he makes a particular rough movement, deeper than you’ve felt him reach. you make a high pitched moan, mouth falling open.

“please,” he begins to beg, his own eyes rimming with red as they gloss over, “i want to be good. tell me you think i’m good.” his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy over and over. his thrusts growing more erratic and desperate.

a flash of memories, like a film reel, plays in your mind. you think back to all you’ve gone through in the past year. the first realization of what happened, the shocking betrayal, the pain of loneliness in isolation, the suffering in silence. but you’re always quiet. always far away from reality. how is he supposed to know you’re suffering? do you even know you are? maybe you really are an angel. one of god’s many ghosts. intangible to all you ever knew, yet hiding in plain sight.

jake notices you in thought, elsewhere. his eyes are brimming with tears now as he continuously fucks you harder, deeper, faster. he takes a hand, adding more weight to the one that holds himself above you, and starts to play with your abused clit. your body shakes beneath him with the overstimulation. you only cry more, unsure of specifically what is breaking you.

“i’m sorry,” it’s a choked up cry, his voice so quiet you nearly didn’t catch it. “i-i know what i did isn’t right, but i love you that much.” you’ve never seen jake cry. and it breaks your heart. you didn’t think it still could.

your hands are shaky, cupping his face to look into his sad eyes. “it’s okay,” you lie.

jake exhales deeply, breath wavering. his fingers working circles over your wet beed. your hips jerk up, chasing his cock and fingers.

“you did good,” and your eyes begin to cry again, “you’re always good, jake. my best boy.” you press your lips to his again. and again. then again. you think you feel him smile against your mouth. yours and jakes mess of spit and tears mangle together.

the overstimulation catches up to you, a hellfire in your being wanting to burst. you lean back to the mattress, breathing heavily, “i’m gonna cum again. i can’t take much more.”

“no, no, you can take it a little more. please,” he speaks with broken groans and whimpers, “i’m so close. i’m gonna fill you to the brim with my cum, angel. i’m gonna fuck a baby into you.” you moan out, your hands in his hair once again and tugging. ‘yeah, please’, you think, ‘a baby can keep me company. i’ll have purpose; i won’t be lonely’.

“yes, you’re so good, jake. give it to me, give me a baby.” your words are mumbled, a string of obscenities. your core tightens around jake’s raging cock as the second orgasm washes over you. your body making subtle jerks in the aftershock.

“gonna make a pup out of you, we’re gonna be a family.” the thought alone makes jake’s entire body shudder. “oh shit,” he whines, his thrusts are sloppy, simply chasing the feeling of being in climax. “ah, fuck, baby.. i’m gonna--” he moans loudly, his body collapsing on top of yours. you feel the warm, sticky liquid fill you in the innermost parts. the fullness of it all makes you hum in sick satisfaction.

he gives himself a few more shallow shoves, pushing his seed further into you, not wishing for a drop to escape.

after a minute, he rolls off of you and pulls you into his embrace. his body curls up into yours. he doesn’t say anything and neither do you. both of your minds wishing to be empty but overwhelmed with more than you’d dare to share.

he watches your blank face from the side. his eyes follow your profile. damp from tears and spit covered kisses. your lips bitten and red. down to your neck that’s already blooming with red and purple deep bruises. and then to his already bruising bite. he broke the skin, teeth punctured further than he imagined. he smiles knowing it will leave a scar.

he leans up, beginning with a gentle peck over the pained surface. he follows with little licks, picking up the dried blood.

unnoticed by jake, even you smile a little.

in one of the stories you conjured up in your loneliness, jake was the wolf and you a lamb. he drags you deep into the woods with his mouth around your throat. you’re bleeding, and maybe you’re dying, but he licks it all clean with pure affection. with unconditional love.

[ five days later ]

you watch from the window as different cars park in the driveway. one looks familiar, either jay or heeseung’s. you can’t really remember. you haven’t met heeseung formally, but jake’s told you about him and you’ve heard his voice a couple times before when he had come over. you’re sat with your legs criss crossed, elbow to knee, and face leaning in your hand. you notice new faces you’ve never seen before. three new faces at least.

you sigh and wish you could greet them yourself. but jake, who was stressed all week and morning, made it clear how he wanted you to behave. live quietly, read a book, draw, listen to music or watch a downloaded movie on the ipad. it made you feel like a pathetic child but in the past year, if you’ve become anything, it’s obedient.

as you watch the group of six men funnel into the house, you think you catch one of them glance up to your window. you quickly shoot down to lay back on the bed, hands covering your mouth as if anything would leave it. your heart pounds erratically in your chest.

“did someone see me?” you whisper. it lights a spark within you to think that you weren’t invisible to the world. and that made you feel really good.

never in your life had you imagined so desperately wanting to be seen. you can’t help but grin to yourself as if that simple glimpse solidifies your existence outside of the one jake created.

meanwhile, downstairs jake is smiling widely and greeting his friends. they’re all happy to see jake and be at his house for the first time in what seems like forever. they all greet layla with pets and coos of affection too before kicking their shoes off and making themselves home.

“your place looks nicer than i expected. i thought you’d be messy as shit.” riki laughs, walking through the foyer. his eyes take in the open layout where the kitchen and living room are. he finds himself a spot on the corner of the couch. sunghoon does the same.

“yeah, you have a maid or something?” jay teases, making way to the kitchen with his grocery bags in hand. sunoo follows behind jay with a tray of brownies.

“I learned how to be tidy with age.” jake breaths a laugh, eyes glancing around like he didn’t already double check every corner of the house for a possible trace of you.

“where’s your bathroom? i gotta pee sooo bad, the ride was longer than i expected.” jungwon has a big grin on his face while he makes a childish pose like one who’s close to soiling their pants. jake laughs and points down the foyer hall, saying it's the first door to the left.

heeseung just seems to be standing there in the hall. his eyes looking all over jake’s home like he��s never been there before. he finds several things strange. he notices the amount of locks on the front door first. then his gaze stops at the staircase before he walks to the living room where the others are.

jake notices heeseung’s silent demeanor and analytical eyes. he doesn’t say anything though. instead jake stuffs his hands into his hoodie to scratch at his cuticles. his nails already bit raw from the days of anxiety leading up to today.

“dude, why don’t you have fucking wifi here?” riki sinks into the couch, trying to flip through the tv settings.

“i have to use my phone's hotspot data if i want to watch stuff.” jake bites at the skin peeling from his bottom lip as he leans back against the kitchen island counter. jay and sunoo prepping dinner for the evening behind him.

“that’s so lame.” sunghoon adds in and riki agrees with a nod of dramatics. “we can use mine though, riki, opening the wifi settings again and find my bluetooth.” the two manage to set that up and find the football match they’ve been anticipating.

“you said last time we were here you’d have it set up by now.” heeseung finally chimes in, his tone seems challenging. he sits on the other empty couch, his back to the tv so he can watch the room.

“yeah.. well.. i just didn’t have any problems doing what i usually do…” jake’s words fumble. jay, behind jake, shoots heeseung a shrug and look of ‘i don't know!’.

to break the scene, jungwon comes bouncing down the hallway, all smiles, and into the kitchen. “jay hyung! what are we making?” jay rolls his eyes playfully and tells jungwon to help sunoo cut vegetables.

time seems to flow smoothly after that. the three who were in the kitchen begin setting up the table for dinner. side dishes, main dishes, drinks, and so on.

the other four have gone through all sorts of emotions as they watch the intense match. cheers and yells of passionate, ‘lets go-es!’ and so on, or groans of annoyance when their favored team gets a yellow/red card or misses a goal. it was all jokes, laughs, and smiles between them all.

it’s such a good atmosphere that even jake, for some short moments, is able to forget being so anxious.

now they all sit around the table in the living room, some on the couch and some sitting on a cushion on the floor, eating happily at the hearty meal prepared. jay even brought some drinks, but only half of them indulged. jake eyed the beer, but didn’t want a possibility of mistake.

and then sunghoon, two beers in, says something that takes the air from jake’s lungs.

“hey, jake, remember that girl you were hard crushing on last year?” he takes a bite steak, not really focused on anything but his plate of food.

“uhm, yeah.” jake nearly chokes, coughing loudly into his elbow, “w-what about her?”

“isn’t it just weird how she up and disappeared at the new years eve party?” jay questions before gulping down his second beer, crushing the can in his hand once empty.

“you guys- we didn’t really know her, s-so like how are we to know?” the emphasis on his word adjustment is noticed by heeseung and riki. riki gives jake a weird look, his eyebrow raised.

riki opens his mouth to speak but a loud thud is heard from upstairs that stops him. the group of boys pause and look around at each other and then back to jake.

“what was that?” sunoo gasps, looking scared, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing his body into riki’s side who sat next to him. “is this place haunted?”

“layla must be--!” jake frantically says while his body shoots up to stand, but layla trots in from the kitchen at the sound of her name. she tilts her head at jake who feels his heart drop to his stomach.

heeseung stands slowly and starts to walk down the foyer when the stairway begins. jake is right on his tail, rushing behind him. the other boys sit in silent confusion, looking amongst each other before whispering different theories.

jake grabs heeseung’s arm to spin him around. his grip is so tight that heeseung can feel jake’s racing pulse and trembling body through it. jake’s mouth falls open but no words come out. his eyes are telling enough. they’re crazed, wide and fearful.

“jake,” heeseung’s voice is quiet, “what’s upstairs? and don’t lie because i swear i saw someone.” his hands place to jake’s shoulders, trying to hold his shaking body still. he stares at jake and the pressure that jake feels makes him crumble. he knows he’s caught.

he looks down to his feet, his grip on heeseung’s arm bruisingly hard, “can you keep a secret?” is all he can whisper.

first writing for this account >.< it’s been a longgg time since i wrote ff and it’s my first time writing smut so im sorry if it’s lacking :’) feedback & reblogs are appreciated🪽!!

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loonylupinblack3 · 8 months ago

Text

Cold

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

Warnings: slightly suggestive content

Summary: it's cold and you decide to go exploring for a heated blanket. you find logan instead.

Word Count: 1.5k

It was cold.

You were fucking freezing, shivering even under your piles of blankets. It was this stupid house, giant though it was, with shit heating. So when one of the kids fucked up and damaged the already extremely fragile heating, it broke. In the middle of winter.

You groaned, curling even further in on yourself, trying to keep any heat you’d formulated from escaping. Stupid house. Stupid cold. Stupid useless blankets. You wracked your brain for anything else you could get to find you some more warmth because you could not go on like this. You were jealous of all the mutants in the house with fire or heat mutations, or those with partners to sleep with, comfortable in each other's warmth.

You sat up when you remembered it. The electric blanket Storm had gotten as a gift a few years back lay discarded in one of the shelves in the kitchen, hidden in a box unopened. If you could get that, connect it to the outlet next to your bed, well…. You’d actually be able to sleep tonight.

It took you a while to actually build up the courage to leave your bed and your warmth, however slim it may be. When you did you were assaulted with the cold, more than twice as bad without your blankets. Not to say you weren’t already layered, with your winter pyjamas and hoodie, but still. It was cold.

You travelled down the long hallways and through the massive house, trying to get to the kitchen as quickly as possible. The torch in your hand shook slightly from your shivers, but you promised yourself it would all be worth it when you went back to your room with the toasty heated blanket.

You’d told yourself you’d be in and out, with the electric blanket in your room in no time, yet you stopped short when you saw the light on in the kitchen, and Logan leaning against the counter with a beer in his hand.

Your heart gave a lurch, which immediately gave you away, Logan’s eyes darting to you. You gave a nervous smile, sort of just… standing there. You’d had a minor crush on Logan for a while now, very low key. No one even knew about it; it was so minor. Just…. The playful banter you two had, and his looks, they appealed to you. Still, it was minor, and usually you were much more composed around him, but you were tired and cold and your defences were down.

“Logan,” you said, stepping forwards. “What are you doing here?”

Logan watched you intently, eyes roving your body as he sipped his beer. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you Darl?”

You tried not to smile at the nickname, rubbing your arms in an attempt to create more warmth. “I was cold.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “So you came looking for company?”

Heat rushed to your face at the suggestion, as did Logan’s intent gaze as if he was eager to fill the role. You cleared your throat. “No, um, there’s a heated blanket in one of the cupboards.”

Again Logan raised his eyebrows with an amused expression. “Is there now?”

You felt a smile stretch on your face, even though you fought it. You rolled your eyes at him. “Yes, there is.”

He placed his beer on the counter and moved forwards. “Well now you’ve got to show me this blanket, because otherwise I’ll be believing you came here for me.”

The flirty tone in his voice made you flush even more, but you kept your cool, observing him with a calm expression, only a hint of a smile on your face now. “Alright then.”

You walked to the cupboard on the left, rummaging through it. Your memory was a little fuzzy but you were sure Storm had put it in here. Logan watched you with a smirk, beer forgotten as he leant against the counter.

You shot him a glare. “Aren’t you cold?”

In nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, you’d be shivering uncontrollably at that point, barely able to form a coherent thought let alone a sentence. Logan seemed fine though, not a single goosebump on his skin. More than fine actually, if his entertained smirk was anything to go by.

“Helpful side of the regeneration,” Logan said, “keeps my body temp normal no matter what.”

He stepped forward till he was standing over you, watching you intently. “Now, where’s that blanket bub?”

You cleared your throat, standing up. “Must be in one of the other cupboards.”

He made an ‘ah’ sound as you quickly moved onto a different cupboard, all the while feeling yourself get colder and colder. Yet as you continued to search, you came up empty handed, the blanket having disappeared all together.

You were relentless though, because the thought of Logan thinking you came down there for him… well, you weren’t sure you’d be able to look him in the eye again if that happened. So you continued looking fruitlessly, all the while feeling the cold wrap its icy claws around you.

“Alright, you’re getting cold, admit defeat yeah?” Logan asked after watching you nearly drop an item because of how bad your hands were shaking.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

He let out a scoff. “You’re certainly not fine. Come on now.”

His hand gently grabbed your shoulder, pulling you back from the cupboards. You turned around to stare at him, slightly panicked. “I didn’t come down here to take you to bed. I promise.”

Logan let out a laugh, his arms draped loosely around your waist. “I know that bub, I was just playing.”

You looked up at him, slightly embarrassed, though the cold ensured you didn’t focus on it too much. “Well…. As long as you know.”

Logan gave a rueful nod. “I know, but I’d have liked it if you did take me there.”

You nearly let out a baffled gasp, looking up at him with wide eyes. You two had your fun, but you’d never been this forward with each other before. “What?”

“Well, you’re cold,” he said, “and there’s no heated blanket. I’d hate for you to go back to your room just to be cold again.”

You couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Oh so you're doing me a favour are you?”

Logan shrugged, a smirk on his face. “You could say that. Or you could say I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time and I’m finally doing something about it.”

“Oh?”

Logan’s arms around your waist tightened, pulling you to his chest. You revelled in the warmth of having a human’s body against yours, the heat radiating from him a welcome comfort.

“Yes, oh,” Logan replied, grinning at you like he knew how much you enjoyed being in his arms. “So what do ya say bub?”

You couldn’t think too much about it, the cold making it hard for any rational thought to make it through, but you knew you wanted this. Him.

“Hmm… I say we better hurry up and get to my room because I’m freezing.”

Logan smirked. “One thing first.”

He leant down and kissed you, one hand staying on your waist while the other came up to your face, gripping your chin slightly and tilting it forwards to give him better access to your mouth. His lips were feverish against yours, like a starved man, dragging against your mouth like it was all he’d been able to think about for who knew how long.

You kissed him back, something he obviously revelled in if his audible groan was anything to go by. Both his hands were now on your face cupping it as he kissed you harder, devouring your mouth.

He pulled back when he noticed your shaking though, shaking his head at you with an amused smile. “Now let’s get you in bed yeah?”

You nodded your head, almost salivating at the thought of some warmth, and let Logan lead you to your room, a hand placed firmly on your waist. When you saw your bed, looking so inviting, you left Logan’s side to crawl into it, letting out a sigh of content when you covered yourself under the piles of blankets.

Logan smirked at you before tugging his shirt up and taking it off. Your eyes widened as you stared at his chest, his abs flexing as he raised his arms, the small trail of hair going from his belly button to hidden behind the waistband of his sweatpants, hanging low in his hips and giving you the perfect view of his V-line.

“What are you doing?” you managed to ask, even though you still hadn’t torn your gaze away from his body.

Logan’s smirk, noticing your stare, turned smug. “The less layers the better body heat bub.”

You swallowed, feeling your cheeks heat. “Well I’m too cold to take any of my clothes off.”

Logan moved forward, gently nudging you aside so he could get under the covers, immediately wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back to his chest. You shivered delightfully. He was right; the less layers the better body heat.

He moved forward to whisper in your ear, “that’s alright bub. We’ll leave that for another night.”

You smiled again, feeling flustered, and Logan chuckled against your head, giving you a chaste kiss on your hair.

“Goodnight,” you whispered to Logan, snuggling closer to him.

Logan’s hands tightened around your waist, pressing his head into the crook of your neck and peppering some kisses there. “Goodnight bub.”

#logan howlett #wolverine #x men #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #x men movies #x men fic #x men x reader #james howlett #james logan howlett #xmen

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jjunieworld · 16 days ago

Text

FERVOR ˒˒ 박성훈

while around the world your boyfriend is known as the mysterious jack frost, you just know him as sunghoon—and it’s not everyday the jack frost says he knows just the way he can warm you up.

pairing ⸝⸝ park sunghoon 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦!

genre ⋆ 📓 ⸝⸝ established relationship, smut with a little bit of plot, a bit of fluff, jack frost!sunghoon, magic (not focused)

warnings ⸝⸝ unprotected sex, soft dom!sunghoon, temperature play (he’s very cold), teasing, ice play, clit stimulation, fingering, overstimulation, creampie, petnames (baby, good girl), brief nipple play, cumshots, slight bondage, hoon gets really desperate and a little impatient

kipo’s note ⸝⸝ happy happy birthday to the loml hehe!! (∩╹□╹∩)♡♡ i love you so much and you make me so feral lmao ^^ but guys this is the first fic i’ve written since pre-election!!! everyone say thank you hp and ashlynn for making this slightly more freaky hehehe!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ❨ 2.8k ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝓶.list ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

“i’m so bad at this,” you giggled as you desperately gripped onto sunghoon’s forearms. you were shaky on the ice skates and the harsh cold of winter bit at your flushed cheeks. soft snowflakes slowly fell around the two of you, landing in sunghoon’s hair as he laughed at you.

“it’s easy,” he replied, gently guiding you around the ice in a small circle. his chest was pressed to your back, yet you didn’t garner any warmth. sunghoon was ice cold, as always. but, you didn’t mind.

you looked at him incredulously. “easy for you to say, you’re a natural! the illustrious jack frost!” you exclaimed. you heard sunghoon’s laugh in your ear. “and all of this cold is making me underperform,” you continued.

“let’s get you inside then,” sunghoon smiled. he led you to the cabin the two of you were staying in and you almost stumbled had it not been for his hand on your waist. “i have a way that i can warm you,” he said as the two of you went inside.

walking over to the hearth, you stoked the fire to keep the flames going before looking over your shoulder at him. you sighed softly at the warmth, hands rubbing together to warm them quicker. “do you?” you asked, voice dipping flirtatiously.

sunghoon was leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed against his chest and a decent length away from the fire. the corners of his mouth lifted. “i was going to say hot chocolate, but i feel as if you’re thinking of something else. either way…” sunghoon pushed away from the counter and towards where you still stood by the fire. he gently cupped your face with his cold hands, smirk widening, before he trailed them down your neck and under the wool of your coat. sunghoon lifted the fabric and let it slip completely off your shoulders and to the hardwood floor below. “…works for me,” he continued.

a shiver went down your spine and sunghoon chuckled. you looked at him with wide eyes, suddenly shy at his offer. he played with the strings of your dress, quirking a thick eyebrow. “hm?” he hummed in question. “what do you prefer?”

you took his cold hands in yours and pulled at the strings of your dress, loosening the fabric from your body. your heart thumped rapidly in your chest and already you felt warmer than before from the anticipation. “i think you know which one,” you said softly, your eyes never leaving his as your dress dropped to the floor.

sunghoon’s adam’s apple bobbed at his throat as his eyes trailed over you. you took a step back to shed off the rest of the layers you wore. sunghoon dropped to his knees, taking great care to look you in the eyes as he slowly peeled off your warm tights. now you stood completely naked in front of him, the only warmth being from the fire and the way sunghoon looked at you. your leg was lifted in the air and his freezing breath fanned right against your arousal. he reached a hand out to softly trail your hip, his cold fingertips making you shiver even more as they moved up the side of your body. he raised to his feet, his fingertips stopping right below your bare breasts.

in a sudden rush at your back, you were flush against his body. you gasped softly, hands fumbling to catch yourself as they pressed against his chest. “i got you, baby,” sunghoon whispered next to your ear, turning you around so you were basked in the fire’s warmth.

sunghoon pressed against your hips so you felt how hard he was through his thick pants. his hands remained right above where you needed him the most, fingers rubbing circles into your skin teasingly and making you squirm. sunghoon pressed snowflake kisses to your neck, the vibration of his chuckle traveling throughout your whole body like a shockwave. you shakily inhaled as you tilted your head to grant him more access to your neck. “well…” sunghoon trailed, “i might’ve lied about warming you up.” one of his hands trailed further down from your hips and you bit your bottom lip to keep in your moan. “but, i know that doesn’t bother you… not when i’m doing this.”

his cold hand pressed right against your core. a moan escaped through your teeth and your mouth parted. sunghoon’s fingers spread your slick throughout your folds and made you squirm even more. he was teasing you and you almost wanted to scream at his cold skin against your warm skin. every touch of his felt heavenly and made your head dizzy with desire and your gaze foggy. sunghoon left more kisses down the crook of your neck and over to the top of your shoulder, his fingers grazing across your clit and teasingly prodding at your entrance—never quite giving you what you want. “please, sunghoon,” you whined, turning your head to look at him.

sunghoon was wrong—your body felt like it was on fire. you felt tingly all over and your knees were seconds away from buckling under you. the sharp contrast of his coldness against your warmth was tantalizing. sunghoon pressed another frosty kiss against your jaw and you felt his smile against your blistering skin. you rocked your hips against his hand, his icy fingers causing you to emit a moan.

you didn’t care how desperate you must’ve looked in his arms, all you wanted was him inside you in any way you could get. you placed your hand over his as his eyes met yours. you gave him a pleading look as you grinded against his hand harder, your head falling back against his chest completely dazed. his hand was drenched already and he barely even did anything to you.

you gasped as two of his cold fingers finally slipped inside you, your brows furrowing from the chilly pleasure it gave you. slowly, sunghoon pumped his fingers in and out of you. he knew just when to curl them and when to spread them apart. sunghoon wrapped his other arm around your hips to stop them from rocking and to keep you in place.

“fuck,” you dragged out when he sped up his pace. your body felt weak as your eyes fluttered shut. the only thing you could think about what the sounds your cunt made as his fingers pushed into it. your legs started to shake and you pressed your thighs together, but sunghoon kept going.

distantly, you could hear this laugh in your ear, but your mind was too cloudy to register it. nor did you register him opening your legs back up. you bit down on your lower lip hard as you started to involuntarily rock your hips towards his hand to chase his icy fingers. “please,” you begged sunghoon breathlessly. you weren’t quite sure what you were begging him for, but he responded anyway.

sunghoon pushed your legs further apart and angled his hand more, the action letting his fingers push deeper into you and had you melting. you let out a half gasp, half moan, as you grabbed tightly onto his flexing forearm. “there,” you said through wispy moans as his fingers kissed the spot you needed him at the most. “right there, please don’t stop, please.”

your face twisted as a wave of intense pleasure hit you full force. you cried out, nearly toppling over had it not been for sunghoon’s arm keeping your hips firmly pressed to his. “there?” sunghoon asked lowly, his frosty breath tickling your neck and making you shiver. his fingers kept going and all you could do was nod pathetically. “are you gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?” he asked.

tears pricked in your eyes and you squeezed them shut, nodding once again before leaning back against his chest. you breathed heavily, the oxygen barely able to reach your lungs before it was knocked right out of you again. “do you want me to keep going? let me hear your pretty voice,” sunghoon asked you.

“yes,” you cried out desperately. you suddenly gasped as pure bliss overtook your body and your cum completely covered sunghoon’s hand. he pressed his hard-on further into your ass, “that’s my good girl. do you think you have another one in you for me? i can’t just have you cum only on my fingers, baby.”

you think you nodded, but you honestly weren’t sure. one moment you felt sunghoon pull his cum covered fingers out of you, watching as he spread them apart in front of you, and the next you were on your back on the bed and he was hovering over you. his cold lips were spreading kisses across your breasts and down your stomach. your back arched from the sharp bite and he hummed against your skin, stopping right about your still sensitive pussy.

sunghoon stripped off his thin shirt and you heard fabric falling onto floor before cold hands were on you again. he trailed them down your spread thighs as he settled between you. sunghoon gently caressed your face, a hint of a chuckle coming from his parted lips, “you still with me? hm?” his hands splayed across the back of your thighs, pushing them towards your chest.

“y-yes,” you stuttered, wide eyes blinking rapidly. sunghoon’s fingers continued to trail along your inner thigh. “i need you,” you stated, back arching off the bed sheets. your hips rolled towards his hard length and you gasped softly at the iciness against your messy cunt. sunghoon’s hand was still covered with your release as his thumb rubbed circles into your thigh. it only made your skin grow hotter.

sunghoon leaned down to you and pressed his lips onto yours. you hummed dreamily into the kiss, weak arms reaching up to wrap themselves around his neck. sunghoon dragged his cock between your folds agonizingly slow, teasing you once more. you whined against his lips before another sharp gasp ripped you away from them.

he had a piece of ice that he was dragging down your stomach. it left a trail of goosebumps and melted water that had you pulling at the ends of sunghoon’s hair. “you’re such a tease,” you complained, squirming as he dragged the ice up your thigh. sunghoon chuckled, “i like how warm you get from it. no matter how cold i am, you’re still so hot. besides…”

the ice trailed from down your thigh to where sunghoon then dragged it along your folds. you instinctively tried to press your thighs together but sunghoon kept them apart with his other hand. “i can tease you a lot more, if that’s what you want,” he continued. he circled the ice on your puffy clit and you moaned out, your body jolting. you shook your head rapidly, head digging into the pillow beneath you.

“that’s what i thought,” sunghoon said.

in one swift thrust, sunghoon pushed his cock inside you. he kept the ice pressed right above your clit, letting it melt into cold water. “fuck!” you cried out and your fingernails dug into his toned shoulders.

he was so cold that it felt like ice was inside of you, but it felt so good. paired with the actual ice at your clit, your body went into a frenzy. sunghoon dragged his length across your walls, slowly pulling out of you. “so warm,” he moaned, pushing your knees closer to your chest so he could fuck into you deeper. the tip of his cock barely left your entrance before he was pushing into you again. sunghoon completely disregarded the teasing and instead pistoned into you, his eyes fluttering to the back of his skull and his grip on the back of your thighs growing tighter. you were sure they were going to leave cold fingerprint bruises.

you weren’t fairing any better. poor spent cunt already sensitive from his fingers—his cock inside you had loud mewls dripping from your lips. fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you tried hopelessly to push your thighs together and push him away, body too overwhelmed with everything you were feeling and sunghoon’s coldness. “i’m sorry, baby… it’s—please,” sunghoon stammered. he took your wrists in his hands and held them above your head, lips puckered as chilly air pushed past them.

the sudden cold feeling caught you off guard and you tilted your head back. sunghoon had frozen your wrists to the headboard. he held onto your thighs tighter, spreading them further apart. sunghoon’s hand reached between your moving bodies and his thumb rubbed deliberate circles onto your clit. you lurched forward, unintentionally pulling at your icy restraints. sunghoon slowly thrusted inside you. he threw his head back with another loud moan as he dragged his cock back out just as slow, trying desperately to leisure himself before his desire for you took over and he neglected his attempt. his fingers are nothing compared to this—and you almost couldn’t take it all.

your breathing heaved and the rapid rising and falling of your chest was the one solace you could focus on. hips rolling up to meet his, you bit down hard on your bottom lip to try and muffle the shriek that ripped through you. warm cum leaked out of your overstimulated pussy and painted sunghoon’s cock white. “shit,” he hissed, hips snapping against yours. lewd sounds bounced off the walls of the small cabin bedroom and filled your ears.

sunghoon’s thrusts staggered, loud, breathy moans leaving his parted lips. he pushed himself fully inside you and stilled. your back arched as he came inside you, causing more cum to push out of you from around his still-hard cock. sunghoon leaned down to sloppily press his cold lips to yours, moaning against them. he dragged his wet kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“sunghoon,” you whimpered, eyes darting up to the ice keeping your wrists to the headboard. the ice wasn’t as cold to cause you discomfort, thankfully, but you’d rather have your hands on him than have them tied up. his paused his descent of kisses, his tongue darting back in his mouth and lips unlatching from your nipple. sunghoon peeked through the strands of his hair hazily, eyes focusing on your face before they followed your gaze up to your wrists. you looked back down at him with furrowed brows, squirming a little from his cold length still inside you and his frosty lips on your skin.

he slowly pulled himself out of you and you buried your head into the pillow from the pleasure and pain of it all. you felt sunghoon’s cold hands prodding at your folds, spreading them apart and watching how cum poured out of you and down the curve of your ass. one of his hands spread more cum through your already messy pussy, a soft moan emitting from him as he held his cock in his other hand. “shit,” his hissed again, dragging out the vowel, while stroking himself.

you whimpered his name again, more pleading, and that seemed to throw him right over the edge. cum squirted from his cock and all over your stomach, thick and warm. it was a stark contrast to how cold he was and it always shocked you. “fuck,” he panted, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. sunghoon stared at you with glazed over eyes that were only focused on you.

leaning down, sunghoon pressed a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth before kissing you again fully on the lips. a low, satisfied hum tickled you as leaned his forehead against yours. sunghoon stayed like that for a moment before you felt him perk up. “oh, right, sorry…” he mumbled, and you weakly chuckled.

sunghoon touched the ice restraining your wrists and it melted away completely, the only sign of it ever being there being the cold drops of water on your skin. immediately, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back down to your lips. sunghoon smiled against your lips, kissing you back just as eagerly.

he pulled away slightly, a dopey smile on his face. his eyes were half shut, but you could still see the love in them. “warmer?” he asked you, his thumb coming to graze your bottom lip and no doubt the dried blood that covered it. you nodded, “blazing, actually.”

sunghoon chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. you could already tell the gears in his brain were turning again and he was thinking of a way to heal your swollen bottom lip. “i told you i had a way,” he said. “now, let me fix this and clean you up.”

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

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seumyo · 22 days ago

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BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ THE FIRST FALL OF SNOW

Pro Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight in the public’s eye, is finally on his way home. The moment he clocked out, he was Bakugou Katsuki.

The apartment door swung open, and Bakugou trudged inside, every step weighed down by the exhaustion of the day. His back ached from the relentless action-packed hours at work (somehow, during the holidays, villains were at their peak action), and the chill of winter clung to his skin, even through the layers of his winter gear earlier. He’d been looking forward to collapsing onto the bed and shutting the world out for the rest of the night.

He let out a grunt of frustration, yanking his scarf off as he called out, “I’m home.”

Bakugou was greeted by your voice. Too chipper, as if you had something planned.

“Perfect timing! Go change into something warm; we’re going out!” you said, a spark of excitement lighting up your tired features. You had on your favorite scarf and coat, your cheeks flushed from the cold air that must’ve blown in while you’d been waiting for him.

Bakugou frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re kidding, right? It’s freezing, and I just got home.”

“I’m not kidding.” Your smile widened, undeterred by your husband’s gruffness. “You need to relax, and I need to check out the sale on the market. We’re going downtown, just for a little bit. Please?”

“No,” he scoffs.

“Come on, Katsuki,” you pleaded. “You’re always working, and I’ve been stuck inside all day. Just a quick trip downtown to relax. Please?” You pouted slightly as you repeated the request, though your tone remained playful, knowing it would chip away at his defenses.

“Can’t we relax here? You know, like normal people?”

“Normal is boring. We can relax after we go out and see the town. Please? I’ll make dinner when we get back!”

Dammit, you knew how to pull at his strings.

Bakugou groaned, tugging at the tight fabric of his jacket. He hated the cold, hated the thought of walking around aimlessly in weather that bit at his skin. But as he looked at you—your hopeful expression, the way your eyes sparkled with the promise of something simple yet special—he sighed, already knowing he couldn’t refuse.

Knowing he’d already lost, he crossed his arms. He’d always had a soft spot for you (you must’ve put a curse on him once he gave you his valid “I do” at the altar, he thinks), and no amount of exhaustion could override the tug in his chest when you looked at him like that.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you’re carrying the hot chocolate if we get any.”

Your grin was instant, and you tugged at his arm. “Deal. Now hurry up and get dressed into something warmer before I change my mind.”

---

The streets of Musutafu were already in the holiday spirit, and it was only the first of December. The glow of streetlights reflected off frosted windows, and the faint scent of roasted chestnuts wafted through the air—it was a scent to appreciate. Bakugou’s hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, his scarf pulled high over his face, as he grumbled every so often about the cold or his aching shoulders.

“This better be worth it,” he grumbled, kicking a stray piece of ice off the sidewalk.

“It is worth it,” you countered, practically skipping beside him. “You’ve been so stressed lately, and this is exactly what you need—some fresh air and a change of scenery.”

“I’d rather have fresh air from our bedroom.”

You shot him a playful glare. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, and you’re a pain,” he shot back, though his lips twitched upward just slightly.

It’s also a good thing that not many were wanting his autograph or a picture because Bakugou was not in the mood to entertain anyone aside from you.

You led him to a small square near the center of town, where festive decorations were strung across trees and lampposts. Children bundled up in cute, thick winter clothes ran around as their fits of giggles filled the air, and vendors sold warm snacks and drinks from cozy stalls. You tugged him toward one of the benches, your excitement bubbling over.

“Look at this place! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Bakugou looked around, taking in the bustling scene. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that it wasn’t half bad—but he’d never say it out loud. Instead, he just shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible to impress.”

“Not true,” he said, smirking slightly. “You impressed me.”

“Ok, sap,” you snorted, though you were quick to hide how it made you feel all giddy. “And did you know that—”

And Bakugou could only listen to you with his brows slightly knitted to an unamused expression, though he didn’t want to burst your bubble even if he was exhausted.

Without even noticing at first, the first snowflake fell, soft and delicate, landing on your scarf. You stopped mid-sentence, glancing up as more began to drift down, tiny, icy kisses from the sky. Bakugou paused too, his eyes narrowing as a flake landed on his nose.

“It’s snowing,” you murmured, a note of wonder in your voice.

Bakugou squinted up at the sky, unimpressed. “Great. Now it’s even colder.”

You ignored him, stepping slightly into the open square, your head tilted back as you let the snowflakes land on your hair and cheeks. Your face lit up with childlike wonder, and for a moment, Bakugou was suddenly reminded how lucky he was to be married to you.

Bakugou watched you silently, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. You looked radiant, the soft glow of the snow reflecting off your skin, your cheeks flushed from the cold. Your lips parted slightly as you caught a snowflake on your tongue, and you laughed softly at the sensation.

His chest tightened, his earlier complaints fading into nothing. The aches, the cold, his uncomfortable winter clothes—none of it mattered. All he saw was you.

You turned back to him, your smile warm and teasing. “You’re just going to stand there and sulk, or are you going to enjoy this with me?”

He huffed, walking toward you. “I’m not sulking,” he muttered.

“Sure, sure.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “Come on, Katsuki. Isn’t this beautiful?”

He looked at you, at the way your eyes shimmered with glee, the way you smiled despite the cold nipping at their noses. “Yeah,” he said softly, surprising even himself. He’s most likely referring to you rather than the scene before him, more likely. “It is.”

“Wait, are you actually admitting you like something?”

“So? I like you, and we’re married. It’s not that shameful to admit the obvious, dummy.” He grumbled, though his hand tightened around yours.

“Not that! I meant it’s snowing; isn’t it beautiful?”

“Could care less about shaved ice falling from the sky.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and Bakugou did the same, which made you laugh.

You two stood there for a while, watching the snow fall around you, the rest of the world fading into the background. For once, Bakugou wasn’t thinking about work, stress, or anything else. All he could focus on was the woman beside him and how, for the first time in a long time, everything felt just right.

And even though Bakugou still hated the cold, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, winter wasn’t so bad after all—because it meant moments like this. Moments with you.

It must’ve been Christmas magic to see you during the first fall of snow, taking his breath away with how you looked, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything this damned world had to offer.

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peachessndreamss · 4 months ago

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Wolfswood

Summery : Cregan receives an injury while out hunting, his wife cares for him

Characters : Cregan Stark x f!wife reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings : Cannon typical injury and first aid/wound care, cannon typical hunting

Word count : 4k

A/N : Cregan Stark I love yooou. Also, apologies in advance if this is the most boring thing you've ever read.

Winter had arrived with devastating speed and brutality in the North. The first heavy snowfall had destroyed the last remaining crops left out in the fields and the woodpiles stacked as high as two men and just as wide had looked like enough to see them through two winters but soon began to deplete at an alarming rate.

And when a great boar had been sighted at the edge of the Wolfswood, Lord Cregan Stark quickly called the men of his house to a hunt, knowing it was better to find the creature now and make use of it rather than let it be starved by the winter.

They had set out in the pre-dawn, 10 men of House Stark, wrapped in layers of leather, wool and fur, mounted on the most surefooted horses the Winterfell stables had to offer. Lord Stark rode at the front of the group, his steward and close friend Martyn Snow riding beside him, the two of them talking as they disappeared from sight.

Once in the Wolfswood Lord Stark had led the hunt, first on horseback as they tracked the creature deeper into the cover of the dense wood and then on foot, when the terrain had become too dangerous for the horses and the boar needed to be harried out of its hiding place.

Cregan had been moving slowly north, stepping over tangles of brambles and avoiding tree roots thicker than his thighs, the men of the group formed a large crescent shape as they moved slowly, hopefully driving the animal toward a clearing. One of the men at the end of the line gave a sharp whistle to indicate the group should stop, instinctively his head moved toward the sound and in that split second of distraction Cregan missed the rustling of dead leaves and the heavy breathing of an animal charging.

The great tusk of the boar gored his left thigh. Cutting deeply through the skin to the muscle beneath, bright red blood immediately falling to the leaves at his feet. The power of the blow from the animal knocked him off his feet and sent him slamming into the cold ground, the back of his head knocking hard against a tree root. The metallic stink of blood filled his nose as shouts went up from the men of the household, they abandoned the hunt and gathered around their injured lord.

“Get the beast,” was all he managed to say before the wintery sunlight faded from his view and he wasn't aware of pain or cold anymore.

Lady Stark watched the hunting party return from the covered walkway between the Great Keep and the Armory. She expected to see Cregan leading the party, a triumphant smile on his cold reddened face with the great beast slung over the back of his stallion.

Instead it was Cregan's steward, Martyn, who galloped in at the front of the procession, his horse wet with sweat, its nostrils flaring as it snorted. The animals rider didn’t look much better, the steward’s face was fearful and the same colour as the bark of the weirwood tree, his pale brown leather jerkin was darkened with blood.

“My lady,” he called when he saw her watching, “Lord Stark’s been hur’, cut by the boar. Please send for the maester,”

His words caused a lump of ice to form in her stomach, chilling her from her heart outward. There was always a risk when the men went hunting, and more often than not her husband returned home with some small injury or another but this had to have been serious. As she dashed into the Great Keep she caught sight of a wagon being drawn by two great horses, on the bed of the wagon a tangle of fur and blood, she fought a wave of nausea at the sight and ducked inside the keep.

Her feet were light and silent as she reached the maester’s chambers, not bothering to knock on the old man’s door she threw it open with a crash.

The maester was startled by her sudden interruption, jumping up from his stool at the desk with surprising speed and agility for a man who was nearing 70. He opened his mouth, ready to scold whoever had so rudely burst into his rooms, but his words died on his lips.

“Lord Stark’s been injured in the hunt,” she said, praying her voice didn't waver and give away the fear that was gripping her throat like a claw.

“Injured how?” The maester replied, moving toward the large wooden sideboard that dominated the room. On the shelves were jars, bottles and boxes containing every substance needed by a maester, and probably a few they didn’t need as well.

“Gored, I don't know where, they've just arrived back, please come now,” she said firmly, not willing to keep Cregan waiting.

The maester nodded and gathered his heavy leather case from the side, the bag was filled with sharp tools and simple herbs and mixtures for most every day healing. He followed behind Lady Stark as she led them to the undercroft of the Great Keep, where there was a great deal of noise and disruption.

The undercroft was a dark, cool, enclosed space usually used for storage, most days it would only see one or two visitors but now it was alive as men lit torches around the walls while others heaved Cregan’s limp form onto the huge oak table that sat in the centre of the space. They stripped him out of his blood soaked outer clothes and left him lying in his linen shirt and woollen trousers.

The left leg of his trousers was ripped open at the mid thigh, revealing a 5 inch gash, skin and muscle had been torn apart and glistened dark red. A tourniquet above the wound had stopped most of the bleeding but his face was ghostly pale and his lips an unhealthy shade of blue.

Lady Stark moved slowly toward the head of the table where Cregan’s closed eyes made him look almost peaceful, the maester went straight to the wound and began cutting away at his trousers.

“Has he been talking?” he asked as he began to inspect the wound more closely.

“A little, but he was unconscious for a minute or so after it happened,” the steward replied, standing by Cregran’s right hip, wringing his hands together.

“Hello my love,” Lady Stark said softly, brushing her hand over his forehead, willing herself not to fall to her knees and weep when she felt how cold his skin was.

His grey eyes fluttered open and blinked slowly, trying to bring his wife’s face into focus, the world around him seemed to shift violently, left and right, up and down but her warm hand on top of his head held him steady.

“Now, what have you been up to?” she asked softly, as if addressing one of their children.

Cregan’s whole left leg throbbed painfully and his stomach roiled with nausea, he swallowed once, finding his mouth and throat dry.

“It's barely a scratch,” he croaked. Lady Stark gave a small huff that might have been out of amusement and stroked her fingers over the crown of his head.

“‘Tis a dreadful looking scratch,” she replied, “still, the maester’s here now,”.

Cregan hissed with the pain as the maester applied a green tinged ointment to the wound. Sweat broke out all over his body and he felt his hands start to tremble.

“Did they get the beast?” Cregan asked, once the initial wave of pain had passed and faded back into a constant throb.

Lady Stark glanced at Martyn who gave a small nod of his head.

“Of course, and you shall have the beast's head for your chambers if you want”.

He gave what appeared to be a weak nod before closing his eyes again and taking a deep breath. Cregan had known pain before but dislocated shoulders, broken bones and the sharp bite of Valyrian steel were nothing compared to this.

At his thigh the maester had soaked a small piece of linen in a clear, strong smelling substance that he placed over the wound before tightly wrapping a clean bandage before removing the tourniquet tied high up his thigh. As the blood was allowed to flow back into the lower leg the colour returned to the skin but there were no signs of excessive bleeding at the wound. The maeester turned his attention to Lady Stark.

“It’s as clean a cut as we can expect from a tusk, most importantly there’s no sign of dirt within, I have great faith that it will heal well,” the maester explained, wiping his hands on a clean piece of linen that was tucked into the belt at his waist.

“I'll go to my rooms now and make a poultice to fight infection and in the meantime he can be moved to his rooms to ensure he's comfortable,” he added.

With a small nod from Lady Stark the men still standing around the room went into action, they brought a stretcher and carefully moved Cregan from the table to the stretcher. He was then carried slowly through the Keep and up to his rooms. The masters chambers were the largest but the least used within the Great Keep, Cregan and his wife favoured the smaller but warmer Lady’s chambers, especially as they were the closest rooms to the children’s rooms.

Once he was settled on the bed she sent for two bowls of water and a cloth before stripping him of the last remaining pieces of clothing. Unable to lift him from the bed to get his shirt over his head she cut the fabric straight up the middle with a small knife, pushing the two halves over his chest and cutting the sleeves apart to expose his arms. She also had to cut away what was left of his trousers, finding some of the material stuck to his skin with blood.

Once he was as bare as the day he’d been born she soaked the cloth in warm water and set about washing him. Somehow the blood had managed to get up to his neck and down to the bottom of his left foot. She started at his neck, watching as droplets of reddened water ran down onto his chest and collected in the dark mess of curls that started at his collar bone, completely covered his chest and then funnelled into a thick strip that ran all the way down his stomach to the apex of his thighs.

“I swear you're more beast than man sometimes,” she said softly as she dabbed at his chest, lifting the blood from his skin and hair.

“It's the wolf in me,” he replied softly.

Her head snapped towards his face, she’d had no idea he was awake and seeing his soft gaze on her face brought a wave of emotion flooding through her body. The usual surge of love she felt whenever she looked at him, intense relief at seeing his cheeks a healthy flushed colour after how deathly pale he’d looked before and bubbling anger brought on by the extreme fear that still sat in her stomach like a block of ice.

“The wolf couldn't smell the boar sneaking up on you?” She asked as she felt tears burn her eyes. Cregan offered her a small, reassuring smile.

“The wolf is more,” he paused a second while he thought, “passive...”.

Unable to resist him, Lady Stark felt herself smiling and the two of them shared a laugh before she continued to wash him, revealing the pale skin under the dark curls and dried blood.

“You're lucky it wasn’t more serious,” she said softly as she wrung the red water out of the cloth into a mostly empty bowl before dipping the cloth back into clean water, “if it’d caught on the inside of your leg you'd have been dead before they got you home,” she added, an icy edge to her voice as the fear that had gripped her throat now throbbed behind her eyes.

“But I wasn't,” he placated gently, reaching out and taking hold of her wrist as she dabbed at his stomach.

“I'm fine,” he added when he noticed the tears gathering in her eyes and the angry wobble of her bottom lip.

She snatched the hand from his, throwing the cloth into the bowl of clean water at her feet. The water splashed up, catching the skirt of her dress.

“And what if you weren't? What if you weren’t fine? Your son is barely 9 months old Cregan, do you expect me to hold the entire North until he comes of age? Fighting off every grasping lord from The Wall to Dorne trying to get to him and steal his birthright?” An angry tear tracked down her cheek.

“I cannot be regent, Cregan, I cannot be here without you,”.

He reached out again and took hold of her balled first at the wrist, bringing her hand towards his face, pressing a soft kiss to her curled fingers.

“And nor will you be,” he said softly, his lips still touching her fingers, “you and I are going to grow very old together, so old they write songs about us when we're all but turned to dust,”.

She gave a small, watery laugh through her tears and pulled her hand out of his again.

“Now you're just placating me,” she said, reaching into the bowl for the cloth and ringing it out.

“Of course I am,” he replied with a smile, stretching his right arm up and settling it behind his head, the bend in his arm causing his muscle to flex and bulge under his skin. Were it not for the bandage around his leg he would have looked as if he was just relaxing for the evening.

“I understand well that my most important duty is keeping you happy,”.

Lady Stark scoffed at him and returned to the gentle washing of his stomach. A small smile tugging up the corners of his lips as he watched her tending to him so carefully. He'd been in a fair few scrapes before this one and was always happy to be tended to by his wife, the mixture of her gentle hand and sharp words always made him feel better.

“Am I permitted to say how I'm enjoying your undivided attention?” He asked.

“You may not say it” she replied, flicking her eyes to his face and catching him grinning at her.

“I shall just think it then,”.

They both fell into a tense silence as her cloth inched closer to the bandaged wound. The maester had said he would come by later that day to stitch the wound closed once it had time to dry and he could be certain there was no rot. Sweat broke out across his body as her gentle touch began to feel like needles piercing his skin, he kept his jaw firmly shut, unwilling to let a single sound of pain pass his lips.

“Would you take something for the pain?” She asked, not needing to hear him cry out to know he was in great discomfort, she wrang the cloth out again wetted it with clean water again.

“I would rather keep my wits,” he replied, his voice strained.

“Then perhaps a little when we’re finished and you can rest?” She pressed. She knew he disliked the effects of milk of the poppy but seeing him in such pain made her heart ache.

“Perhaps,” he nodded before pressing his lips tightly closed, redoubling his efforts to stay silent.

She finished his bed bath at his left foot, cleaning the dried blood from the bottom of his toes and the ball of his foot. And all the pain that had passed before paled in comparison to the agony he felt as her hands gently tended the most ticklish part of his body. He fought with every ounce of willpower to stay still and not curl his toes and kick his foot out of her hands.

Once finished she rung the cloth out one final time before standing and carrying the two bowls of water across the room and setting them aside to be cleared away later.

“Will you sleep for a while? She asked him, moving back toward him and running her hand over his forehead before drawing a soft woollen blanket over his nakedness.

Cregan nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep until the dawn of the summer.

“Alright, will you take a little milk of the poppy?” she asked.

He nodded again, opening one of his eyes to peek at her face.

“And a kiss to sweeten it?” He asked, letting the corners of his lips quirk up just a touch.

She laughed softly, taking the small bottle of white milky liquid from the table beside their bed. She unstopped it and helped him lift his head off the pillow, she held the bottle to his lips while he took a small swallow before dropping his head back onto the pillow with his eyes closed.

“And to make it sweet,” she said, bending and pressing her lips to his.

As she stood he opened his eyes again although she could already see he was fighting the effects of the milk of the poppy.

“Kiss the babies for me as well?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied, stroking his forehead again and watching his eyes close as he finally gave in and allowed himself to be dragged into a dreamless sleep.

She watched him for a few minutes, keeping an eye on the steady ride and fall of his broad chest. In sleep he always appeared to be younger, his features softened as sleep took away the worries and the duties he carried on his shoulders every day.

Once she was happy he would sleep for a while and there was nothing else she could do for him, Lady Stark went in search of Martyn the steward, she knew he would be worried and was waiting for news of his lord and friend.

She found him outside the stables, running a brush over Cregan’s stallion.

“Is he alright?” Martyn asked as she approached him. There was a panicked edge to his voice and his face betrayed his worries.

“He'll be fine,” she soothed with a nod, “he's made of strong stuff,” she added as she placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

“I'm sorry he was hurt, my lady,” he said, already looking lighter knowing Cregan was alright.

“You've nothing to be sorry for, he's a man grown and it's his own fault if he doesn't hear a boar sneaking up on him,” she said, making her voice playful and teasing.

“I'll pray for him,” the steward said, returning to brushing the huge grey horse that stood patiently in front of him.

“Thank you, I know he'll appreciate that,”.

She stayed talking to the steward a little longer, the two of them discussing how to make the best of the creature that’d been killed that morning. The sky was quickly darkening and the air turning colder by the minute, although no new snow had fallen that day there was a crisp smell of it on the air and dark, heavy clouds covered the sky, threatening a heavy snowfall that night.

She left Martyn to his final tasks for the day and returned to The Great Keep, she went first to the nursery to look in on their children. The eldest, Aly, was playing on the floor with her nurse, the two of them racing carved wooden animals across the floor. She paid no attention to her mother when she entered the room, too caught up in her game, while their son slept in his cradle.

She lifted the boy from his crib and carried him to a chair beside the fire where she sat, focusing on nothing other than the small sound of his breathing and the tiny movements as his chest expanded and contracted with every breath.

After a few minutes Aly got up from her spot on the carpet, her wooden horse still clutched tightly in her small hand as she walked toward her mother.

“Where's papa?” She asked, coming to stand beside the chair, reaching out her own empty hand to take her mothers.

“Resting, the men went hunting this morning, do you remember?”.

“Will he put me to bed?” Aly asked, letting the toy horse drop from her hand with a small thud.

“Not tonight, I can do it tonight,” Lady Stark replied.

The girl sighed heavily, like she'd received some truly dreadful news, her small shoulders slumping.

“But Papa tells the best bedtime stories,”.

“I know he does, and I’m sure he’ll have a very special one for you tomorrow night,”.

After another heavy sigh Aly climbed up into the chair with her mother and younger brother, curling into Lady Starks chest and closing her eyes. The girl found a loose thread on the bodice of her mothers dress and begin to twist it around her finger, in a few minutes she too has slipped off to sleep.

The warm weight of her children soothed the Lady’s fractured nerves, this wasn't the first time her husband had returned home injured, his body was a tapestry of scars, each one she'd lovingly touched and kissed in turn, learning his scars as closely as a traveller learns a map.

When she heard the first spatterings of wet snow from the nursery window Lady Stark decided it was time for her to look in on her patient. Calling the nurse over and letting the young woman take the sleeping girl from her lap.

“Let her sleep a few more minutes, then wake her or she’ll never sleep tonight,” Lady Stark instructed as she stood and carried her small son back to his crib.

“And I'll be back to feed this one once I've looked in on Lord Stark,” she added, lowering him into the cradle and watching as he settled.

The nurse nodded and smiled softly as she lowered Aly onto her day bed, covering the girl with a soft embroidered blanket.

Cregan didn’t stir when the heavy oak doors of his chambers were opened and his lady wife stepped inside, she paused, watching him for a few moments to see that his condition was unchanged, the only difference was that he’d thrown the blanket off his body and was now lying naked, his whole body exposed to the cool air. Moving toward him she noticed his breathing was still easy and his cheeks were a healthy colour. She touched the back of her hand to his cheek and then his forehead.

At her touch his eyes flicked open and he blinked slowly as the world around him came into focus. He made a small sound of approval that rumbled up deep from his chest as his eyes focused on his wife.

“How are you feeling?” She asked softly.

“Better for seeing you,” he replied, his voice gravelly.

“You're a dreadful flirt Cregen,” she replied with a smile, knowing his ability to flirt was a far better indication he was on the mend than anything else would be.

“Come lie with me,” he said, choosing to ignore his wife's chastisement.

“Only for a few minutes,” she replied, moving to the other side of the bed and climbing on it, settling herself beside him and placing her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and encouraged her to roll onto her side, tightening her body to his in a familiar and comfortable way and she sighed contentedly. Her hand rested on his chest, her fingers pushing and playing with the dark curls of hair. Cregan turned his head and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, feeling the warmth of her body sink into his own flesh and bones.

“I should ban you from future hunts,” she said, her voice muffled by having her face squashed on his shoulder, “make you take an oath never to put yourself in such danger again,”

“Even for you, I could not swear such an oath,” he replied, kissing her forehead again and keeping his lips pressed to her skin, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent from her hair.

The two lay in silence for several minutes, Lady Stark listening to the steady and deep drum beat of his heart, the thumping sound reminding her that he was still alive, injured but alive and home with her and in their private moment it was easy for her to believe that was the only thing that mattered in all the known world.

“But I can swear, it will only be death that keeps me from you,”.

#cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x female reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfiction #tom taylor #fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #house stark #cregan #cregan fanfic #cregan x oc #cregan x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark headcanons

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wheres-mylove · 3 months ago

Text

ice-cold revelations - modern!cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

Summary: You are in a risky secret relationship with your brother's best friend. What happens when Cregan's unexpected injury exposes your feelings? Well, isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.8k

The wind tore through the streets with a biting ferocity, tugging at (Y/N)’s skirt and making her instantly regret both her outfit choice and this entire trip to the bus stop.

“Stupid winter has to be coming,” she muttered, yanking a colorful scarf up to cover her nose. Her phone chimed in her pocket, vibrating with the familiar sound of a new message. She fumbled with one hand to pull it out, her fingers stiff from the cold.

🐺: jace wouldn’t stop bugging me about that earring under my bed

🐺: i convinced him sara must’ve left it when she crashed at our place lmao

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her breath fogging the air as she sighed. The last thing she needed was her brother playing the part of a suspicious rom-com wife, finding random jewelry in odd places and jumping to conclusions. At least he hadn’t figured out where he’d seen that earring before.

Jacaerys Velaryon, as much as she adored him, had a habit of being a little too protective. He was always there when she needed him. But he was also the kind of brother who, despite being only a few minutes older, seemed to think that fact gave him full control over her dating life. Any guy who so much as glanced her way was either a potential threat or one of his friends. And friends were off-limits. Too much drama, he’d say. Too awkward if things went south. Even more awkward if things somehow worked out. Conflict of interest. Absolutely not.

Which was precisely why, in the grand scheme of things, the most logical solution was for her to start dating his best friend and his hockey team captain, Cregan Stark.

Cregan was wonderful. The kind of guy who would do anything for her, no questions asked. That's what had brought them to where they were now. Hiding their relationship from her dramatic brother and quite literally gaslighting him.

Did she feel guilty? Absolutely. Did she know it would be a hundred times worse if Jace found out? Also yes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a bus speeding past the stop, tires screeching as it flew by. Her bus. Of course.

With impressive force, she pressed the green phone icon.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Cregan answered in three seconds. Her irritation melted a little at the sound of his deep voice. Down bad.

“Hey, did you guys finish practice?”

“Yeah, just now, I couldn’t cut the boys any slack before tomorrow.”

“Any chance the strict captain could give me a ride home? I missed the bus. Or more like the bus missed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Cregan said, sympathy already thick in his voice. “Of course I’ll come get you.” He paused for a beat, then cleared his throat. “Only thing is… Jace wanted a ride too.”

“The gods are punishing me today,” she groaned.

“Call him. It'll be the same ride. Just, you know, he'll think it was his idea,” Cregan suggested.

“Are we bad people, Cregan?” she asked, half-serious now.

“Nah. He’ll find out eventually, just better if I’m in full hockey gear when it happens.”

“Fair enough,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up and immediately dialed her brother, requesting the same exact thing.

“Sure, you owe me one though,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t have my car today, so we’ll have to go with Stark. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” No, her boyfriend wouldn’t be a problem.

(Y/N) Velaryon paced back and forth under the shelter of the bus stop, her boots crunching against the thin layer of frost that had already formed on the pavement. She rubbed her arms, trying to keep the cold at bay, when the familiar growl of a black Jeep Wrangler cut through the quiet. It rolled to a stop near the curb.

She jogged toward the car, her breath puffing out in small clouds, as the driver’s window slid down.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Cregan announced with a mock flourish.

“More like a toad,” Jace quipped from the passenger seat, his grin unmistakable.

“One more word and you’ll get my bag to the head. I’ve got half my textbooks in there,” she threatened playfully as she slid into the backseat.

The backseat of this car had witnessed many events, and that was the first thought that crossed her mind. One look at Cregan in the side mirror, and she knew he was thinking the same.

She pretended to be very engrossed in buckling her seatbelt.

“How was practice?” she asked out of politeness.

“Not bad. Stark was all business today, but it was necessary. Big day tomorrow,” Jace replied, fiddling with the radio. Cregan slapped his hand away as he slowed down for a red light.

“Great,” the girl muttered, not trusting her tongue around the two of them together.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by some random song. How long can a red light last?

“So, (Y/N),” Cregan began, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice wavered, but Jace was in his own world, watching pedestrians crossing the street. “How’s it going? How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, playing with the hem of her skirt. “Though the classes dragged on.”

The devil on her shoulder won an uneven fight with the weak angel. She smirked.

“‘M absolutely knackered.”

Cregan inhaled slowly through his nose.

“Dude, it’s green,” Jace informed him, just before the car behind them honked.

“I can see,” Cregan reassured him, finally moving forward. “I’ll need your sister’s address since I’ve never been there before.”

If Jace had one more brain cell, he wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Sure thing,” her brother agreed, typing the info into the GPS on his phone. “Hey, kid, are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” (Y/N) asked angrily, kicking his seat. “Baela’s taking me.”

“You know what I think?” Jace started, spreading his arms dramatically. “A girlfriend in the stands is such a power boost. Such a boost… I never play as well as when Baela supports me from the bleachers.”

“You never play well,” His sister muttered under her breath, but Jacaerys was currently listening only to himself.

“Cregan wouldn’t get it,” He patted Cregan on the shoulder in the meantime. “If you combined your skills with that support, if you brought a girl, trust me, your performance would be a hundred times better.”

“Talented people don’t need superstitions to play well, Jace,” (Y/N) chimed in, leaning forward. “Besides, Cregan is single.”

“Because he’s too serious and broody, girls don’t like that,” her brother declared in a know-it-all voice. She gave him a side-eye. “He is afraid of women.”

“Are you afraid of women, Stark?” she asked seriously, barely holding back laughter.

Cregan shot her a look in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Terrified,” he deadpanned. “That’s why I’m thinking maybe your sister should be my good luck charm tomorrow. Just as a friend, of course.”

“Eh, it’s not the same,” Jace protested, scrunching his face.

“Don’t you believe in the power of friendship?” the driver asked with full seriousness.

“Can I get a jersey with your number?” (Y/N) batted her lashes playfully at her boyfriend.

A jersey with his number was already hanging in her closet.

“Alright, you’ll see, you need deeper feelings for it to work, otherwise it just won’t…”

Jacaerys continued his monologue all the way to her apartment. The girl sighed with relief once she was back in her room, the familiarity of it a welcome escape from the tension.

Two new messages.

🐺: you looked so pretty today

🐺: but next time wear a damn coat, or you’ll catch a cold!!!

The fluorescent light above (Y/N)’s head flickered ominously, casting creepy shadows across the cramped janitor’s closet. She swore that if the bulb died completely, she'd either pee her pants or spiral into a full-blown claustrophobic meltdown. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to focus on the neatly arranged rows of brooms and mops. Soon, the door creaked open, revealing Cregan in all his glory.

Full hockey gear? Check. Helmet? Tucked under his arm. That goofy, ridiculous smile? Definitely check.

“You look so good,” she admitted, grabby hands already in the air. “Come here.”

Cregan shut the door behind him with a soft click, casting a glance at the flickering light overhead. He sighed, took one of her hands, and kissed her wrist softly.

“We have to tell your brother,” Stark said, his voice serious as he placed his helmet on the wooden shelf beside them. “It’s not right that my girl has to sneak me a good-luck kiss in a smelly closet. You should be able to strut right into the locker room.”

His girl grinned. “You’ve got your gear on,” she pointed out. “We can tell him after the game. Besides, Baela’s softening him up for us. I asked her to.”

Baela Targaryen was known for sniffing out secrets, and the second she spotted (Y/N) wearing Cregan’s jersey before the game, she didn’t even need to ask. Her knowing look said it all, and within minutes, Velaryon girl spilled the truth, enduring Baela’s delighted squeal that had probably echoed for miles.

“I knew you had high standards, girl. Going straight for the captain!” Baela teased, laughing. “Jace obviously doesn’t know? He hasn’t said anything... and Stark’s still breathing.”

Thankfully, Baela had been more than willing to help, distracting Jace so Cregan could sneak away after the pre-game pep talk. Now, Cregan was looking at (Y/N) with pride, his eyes lingering on the jersey she wore.

“She’s a real one for that,” he mused. “But seriously, we have to tell him. I want a picture of us on my lock screen, and that asshole keeps looking over my shoulder.”

She laughed, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, savoring the way his rough stubble tickled her skin.

“For now,” she murmured against his lips, “just focus on the game. You’re incredible. An amazing captain. And it’s going to go great. I believe in you.”

Cregan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe one more kiss. Just to make sure we win.”

“The power of having a girl in the stands,” she teased, poking his chest playfully.

“Jace definitely exaggerated that theory,” Cregan confessed with a chuckle. “But honestly... I’m just glad you’re here.”

With butterflies in her stomach and a grin she couldn’t wipe off her face, (Y/N) found herself in the stands minutes later, sitting next to Baela. Her friend was watching the silent exchange of glances between her and Cregan with thinly veiled amusement.

“I always knew Jace was blind, but this is just tragic,” Baela remarked, elbowing her in the ribs. Jace, oblivious as ever, waved enthusiastically from the rink. Both girls waved back, cheering with the crowd.

“You’ll boo with me when the Dornish Spears come out, right?” (Y/N) asked.

Baela gave her a mock-serious look. “Technically, we shouldn’t. Obviously, I will,” she promised.

The game was fast, brutal, and nearly deadlocked until the very end. (Y/N) had never yelled so much in her life, though her shouts were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Cregan played like a man possessed, commanding the ice with his usual grace. At least twenty times during the match, she found herself holding her breath, her heart leaping into her throat with every risky play. But she knew he had it under control. He always did.

Of course they won.

The victory rippled through the stands like a wave, and (Y/N) screamed herself hoarse as the crowd erupted around her. Cregan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the stands until he found her. His smile—tired and breathtaking—was for her, and her alone. She didn’t regret the ringing in her ears or the scratch in her throat for a second. Moments later, he was swept up in a sea of celebrating teammates.

“Girl, are you crying?” Baela asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I’m just emotional. I just like that boy so fucking much, Bae.”

“I know, honey. Come on, they’re heading off the ice. Let’s congratulate them, and then have a crazy party or something. No time for tears.”

Cregan was one of the last players to leave the ice, trailing just behind Jace. But before he could step off, the captain of the opposing team, his face twisted with anger, skated up to him. For a moment, it looked like they might talk it out. But then, it all happened too fast.

The player from Dorne shoved Cregan hard against the wall. Stark, ever the calm one, simply raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

And then he took a fist to the face. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed across the rink.

“What the hell is going on? Jace!” Baela shouted, holding her friend back as she tried to rush forward.

Jace jumped back onto the ice, but by the time he got there, the other team had pulled their enraged captain away. Cregan stumbled off the ice just as (Y/N) reached him.

“Are you okay? Oh gods, let me see,” she fretted, her hands hovering near his face.

“What a fucking jerk!” Jace nearly screamed, skidding to a stop by the exit. “I called for help, they’ll be here in a second.”

(Y/N) carefully moved Cregan’s hand away, revealing the damage. His face was a swollen mess, his nose clearly broken.

“Do you think they’ll make me lie face-down on the ice?” Cregan joked weakly, leaning on her for support.

“Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should sit down. Oh shit, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, sweetheart. Calm down,” Cregan murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Just then, the medic arrived, momentarily distracting Jace. But despite the chaos, he had clearly heard what Cregan just said. For a moment, Jace stood there, his face pale as the words and the image before him sank in.

“Sweetheart?” he echoed softly, but no one paid him any attention.

“Jace, maybe now’s not the time,” Baela said gently, stepping up beside him.

“I feel physically sick,” Jace muttered, staggering to the railing for support.

The medic handed Cregan an ice pack. “Hold this to your face for a bit. I’ll get you something for the pain right away, but a doctor’s gonna have to set that nose.”

Cregan winced but smiled through it. “You might wanna check on my friend first,” he said, gesturing toward Jace. “I can wait. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jace did, in fact, end up passing out.

Cregan had to take a break from sports after that little adventure. He’d recovered, but now sported a slightly crooked nose—something his girlfriend found oddly hot.

(Y/N) saw his temporary recovery as the perfect chance to manipulate him into watching Teen Wolf with her every evening. After all, the title worked in her favor.

They were nestled on the couch, wrapped together in a soft gray blanket. It was their first time lounging in the living room of the apartment Cregan shared with her brother, rather than hiding behind the securely locked door of his bedroom.

It would be perfect, really. If it weren’t for Jace’s constant, deliberate trips to the kitchen and bathroom, each one an obvious reminder that he was keeping an eye on them.

“Dear Jacaerys,” (Y/N) said, her patience wearing thin, “you do know we don’t need a chaperone, right?”

Jace barely paused, shooting her a sidelong glance before muttering, “You need someone to knock the stupid ideas out of your heads,” as he slammed the bathroom door.

Cregan chuckled softly, pulling her closer. “Give him some time,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “To be honest, I thought it would be worse. He’ll come around eventually.”

They’d already gone through several long, tension-filled conversations, with Baela stepping in as the voice of reason when things got too heated. They were careful now, avoiding anything that might provoke Jace further.

But Cregan was right—Jace was slowly coming around, even if he was still stubborn. The days of silent treatment had finally passed.

“This is on us for hiding things from him,” (Y/N) sighed, watching her brother embark on yet another purposeful long journey to the kitchen. “No more secrets now.”

“Your brother’s just looking out for you,” Cregan called out, raising his voice slightly so Jace could hear. “He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I respect that. I don’t know anyone else who cares like he does.”

Jace stopped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a sweet, mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” he began, drawing out the word. “So tell me sister, when are you introducing him to Mom?”

#cregan stark #modern cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #hotd #modern hotd #modern jacaerys velaryon #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan imagine

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malfoys-demigod · 5 months ago

Text

“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside”

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: Just a quick fluff drabble where the reader’s out admiring the morning snow, but also at the same time not wanting to admit she’s cold and of need of a jacket

A/N: Hi all!! It has been a while since I wrote. Life has been so hectic for me, but ever since I watched Deadpool and Wolverine recently, the love I have for X-men came back and I really loved seeing tons of Wolverine fics pop up!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

There was always something magical about the first morning snow at the X Mansion that made Y/N feel like the happiest girl in the world.

There was that feeling of serenity and calm that comes from snowy environments which she loved feeling every winter. It would prompt nostalgic memories: childhood fun, holidays spent yearning for a white Christmas - it just made her happy.

So when the first snow arrived early in the morning, Y/N got up as fast as she could, slipping on her favorite winter boots as she made a dash out to the entrance of the X Mansion, only wearing her long-sleeved pajama top and jogging pants.

There it was.

A fresh blanket of snow, covering the whole landscape of the area, as more snow fell down gracefully from the sky. Y/N was enjoying the sound of silence - watching the snow flutter down like magical confetti, which felt so healing to her.

She watched as the trees were heavy with snow on its tips, smelling damp pine cones from a distance. She never felt so happy.

That was until she took a few steps outward from the driveway with her last step causing her to take a small slip into a soft blanket of snow. She was now laying on wet snow, laughing her ass off from being so reckless out of nowhere all alone. The gleaming snow around her was what made her choose to stay grounded on the floor, expanding her arms and legs as they made snow angel movements.

It was only a matter of time for Y/N to start experiencing the frost bitten feeling around her body, numbing her as she continued staying out in the snow without proper protecting from being frozen. Yet.. she didn’t exactly have plans on going back in to wear protective gear just yet.

Meanwhile back inside the X Mansion, Logan had just woken up from a surprisingly good sleep. He didn’t have any nightmares to fight off this time. He actually woke up peacefully.

He got up, wore his regular leather jacket, fixed himself up quickly, and took a look at his window, seeing white, as he discovered the first snow of the season.

What he then noticed after was Y/N, lying down on the carpet of snow, with a smile on her face. Logan swore he almost felt a smile on himself growing too fast for his liking. He always kept his relationship with Y/N to a friendly-teasing kind of thing going on, but deep down, he always wanted to see if he could have more than that with his colleague.

His face definitely returned to his typical serious form, as he took a closer look at Y/N… with tingling cold finger tips, shivering slightly. He wondered why she wasn’t returning yet inside to warm up, and a level of concern grew in him, picturing her as a poor, frost bitten kitten, who needed help.

He turned around and made his way outside at full speed.

The heavy crunches of the snow under Logan’s feet as he stomped towards her caused Y/N to sit up and turn around.

Logan huffed at the sight of his kitten, looking bitterly cold now as her arms were crossed tightly. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?”

She smiled childishly with pink spots on her cheeks, which Logan discretely found lovable. “Um, enjoying the first snow?”

Logan had a displeased look on his face, definitely due to her reply. “No shit, but ever thought of doing it with extra layers on? You’re gonna freeze yourself to death, bub. You don’t want the kids to wake up on the first day of snow and see their teacher frozen over, do ya?”

Y/N was too amused with the silly, impossible idea of turning into an iced sculpture to even notice the worried look Logan had on his face. “Oh come on, Lo,” she brushed it off, “I’m fine. A little cold won’t hurt me.”

Logan was about to protest until Y/N brought out a small sneeze. She pointed at him her best straight-face, wanting to speak up first after her ‘A little cold won’t hurt me’ statement.

“Shut up, Logan,” she commanded, “That was nothing. I’m fine.”

The secretly smitten man, rolled his eyes, not buying a single thing she said. “Alright, here we go” he said, pulling her up for her to stand on her feet as she whined, “Hey!”

“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside.” He pleaded after she complained with her frowns.

“But I really just wanted to stay a few minutes longer then I’ll go back in,” she admitted, giving her best ‘Puss-in-Boots adorable eyes’ that made Logan want to fold so damn easily. But he shook his head, removing his favorite leather jacket, that he would never just give to anyone. Her few minutes were definitely not few minutes and he knew that.

“Take it and wear it,” he surrendered.

Y/N lightly gasped, knowing very well that Logan and his leather jacket were famously inseparable. She was too flustered to say anything at the moment, so she took the jacket from him, mumbled a thank you, and started wearing it.

Logan had definitely taken a liking to what he was seeing. She looked so good in his jacket and he was captivated by how adorable she looked, with the jacket looking slightly oversized on her.

Y/N felt her heartbeat move faster when she taken a notice at Logan’s fitted black shirt, outlining the muscles that attracted her since the first day they met. She looked away, looking down at her shoes, hoping her cheeks weren’t pinker than they were earlier.

“You wanna join me for those last few minutes?” She asked teasingly with a small smile on her face. How could he say no to her?

He ‘nonchalantly’ huffed a ‘kay and sat down with her on the ground. She shifted a little closer to him, her head leaning on his shoulder. While her eyes were focused on the snow in front of her falling from a distance, his eyes were on her, wanting to make sure he saw her reaction to when the shoulder she was leaning on moved up, as Logan started wrapping his arm on her, getting them closer than how they were just a second ago.

Logan smirked to himself, seeing how red-faced Y/N was now, still focusing her attention on the snow, as she was avoiding eye contact with Logan, who was now hoping they spend more than a few minutes cozying up together before heading back in.

Maybe after that, he could treat her to hot chocolate, because of course, it was cold and he without a doubt thinks it’s the only nice thing to do afterwards…! *wink*

@snackthatsmilesbackchlldren @iluvloganhowlett (shoutout to you and your amazing fic so far! love seeing your works!)

#wolverine x reader #Logan howlett x reader #wolverine #x men #x-men #Logan howlett #wolverine fluff #Logan howlett fluff #Wolverine x reader fluff #Logan howlett x reader fluff #Hugh jackman #marvel #wolverine fic #Logan howlett oneshot #Logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #Deadpool and wolverine #Deadpool 3 #Deadpool

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hereforthehitsbaby · 1 month ago

Note

Heyoooo, i just read your say it louder and im in love with that so much like holy, so i was wondering if you could make something kinda similar or something? like maybe logans chasing reader because she stole his cigars and they have a cute moment or something along those lines, maybe end a bit with or with smut? thanks so much babes!

Mine Now | DOFP!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Primal!Logan, Scent Tracking, Shotgunning His Cigar, Marking, Implied Smut, Reader is a Mutant who has invisibility, Enemies to Lovers because I’m a sucker for pain, Takes place at the very end of DOPF when Logan comes back to the future, Pain Kink, Breathing Play, Choking, Claws come out – I repeat the claws come out,

Rating: R – No Minors

Word Count: 4.5K

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for your request! This was a blast to write and honestly? It gave me a good excuse to write for DOFP!Logan! I adore you! 😊 Also completely unrelated side note….you did say you wanted smut, right??? Because I may, or may not, have spaced you said cutesy and went right to horny.

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Hank, have you seen her?” Logan asks, his voice layered with annoyance. You couldn’t help but silently snicker as you watched his brow crease, his nose twitch with frustration, his finger rapping at his side impatiently. The way his jaw ticked as Hank narrowed his own eyes at him made it impossible to hold your laughter, even when you were currently pressed up against the wall – a clear view of the situation going down. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you homed in on Logan’s features, eyes glimmering with rage. It was such a beautiful sight to see, one you have been dreaming of for months. Though you’d never openly admit it, everyone knew, all except him. You had to make the chase worth his while.

Logan Howlett is a force to be reckoned with, everyone told you that. When Charles and Eric first recruited you to teach with them in New York – you thought it was a joke, a cruel one at that. Living paycheck to paycheck in a hole in the wall Hell’s Kitchen apartment, dealing with constantly screaming and fighting from your neighbors, it wasn’t where you wanted to be. You were a survivor, you could adapt to anything, but after what you had experienced, you needed a fresh start. Working at a local diner, making shit for tips wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to help you save to leave. Where would you go prior to this? You had no idea, but someplace that experiences winter – you always loved the snow. But alas, that dreary November day a few years ago changed everything; It changed you. Meeting Logan on your first day told you everything you needed to know about him – he refuses to get close to anyone, you wanted to break that.

It's been three years since you first met Logan, two since you found yourself thinking he was cute, a year since you felt yourself falling for him, and six months since you started the cat and mouse chase. At first with how standoffish Logan was to you, you started to resent him. A year it took before that all fell to the wayside; Your feelings had shifted when you found him outside one night, crying as he smoked his cigar. Of course, your mutation left you able to turn invisible, able to watch him, without him knowing you were there. Through the heavy rain your smell was masked, he couldn’t tell you were there. But it made you feel closer to him; He wasn’t some robot who didn’t have emotions. He felt them too strong, which is why when he started to slip back into his mind, he pulled away. Being over 200 years old meant he saw some shit, lost people he loved, it took a toll on him after a while. That day forward you stopped keeping your distance, but instead made the effort to be near him, to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly you noticed how Logan started to open up to you, telling you stories of when he was young, his first mission with the X-Men. You got to learn a lot about The Wolverine, and come to find out he wasn’t a hard ass – he was sincere, doting, downright admirable. What he dealt with in his years fucked him up horribly to where he didn’t trust people easily – but it didn’t make him less. He always pushed forward and strove for success, to survive. He wouldn’t classify himself as a hero, but he was to you, and he deserved to know. Logan found himself trusting you easily after a year, his lonely nights stuck in his own head turned into game nights with you, strolls through the garden, getting a drink at the bar downtown. He could still be himself, but not have to carry the baggage by himself all the time. Falling hopelessly in love with him was inevitable, but also impossible. Nothing more could happen between the two of you and you knew that – but there was still a flicker of hope in your mind that wouldn’t quiet down. Especially with how flirty Logan had become with you.

Usually, he was like this with Jean and Storm, taking it up a notch with them so he could have the last retort. To say he wasn’t a ladies’ man was a lie, he could pull anyone he wanted to. To Logan it was a game, seeing how flustered he could make him teammates – and he loved to win. With you it was different – it wasn’t low growls and light touching on your arms, no, it was more. At first to started off to be resting his chin on your shoulder, letting his breath stroke the column of your neck. Slowly it moved out to touches; Holding your waist from behind, rubbing his large hands over your lower stomach, slipping his hands under your shirt to caress your hip. Over the last few weeks though, he upgraded to holding your face, running his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, stealing forehead and cheek kisses before heading out. Rogue and Kitty that you two were dating, even Bobby got in on it – but when you stated you weren’t everyone looked at you like you had six heads.

“No Logan, I have not.” Hank let his eyes pan to where you were hiding as Logan turned away for a moment, giving you a small wink as he played along. After all, this was his idea – well, his and Xavier’s. You had overheard a conversation about how Logan’s cigar smell had been wafting into their classroom’s lately – distracting everyone as Logan taught. Charles had the bright idea for you to nab them and hold them hostage, until Logan learned his lesson. You on the other hand, were far too gone to do that. Instead you decided to take the cigars, but make a game out of it. Little post it notes with clues on where you were hiding, you stored them all over his bedroom and classroom, thanks to Scott. Ever since Jean told you just how primal Logan could get, how good of a tracker he was, you wanted to test it out for yourself. What better way than take the one thing he cannot live without? “What happened this time?”

Logan huffed as he ran both of his hands down his face, coming dangerously close to propping his hip against your body. You had to shuffle slightly as he leaned into the wall, letting his head bounce off the wood a few good times. “Little shit stole my box of cigars.” He looked exhausted, frustrated, and downright sexy. Seeing how lost and irritable he was without them made you smirk, causing you to bite your lip harder to suppress a whimper. You noticed how Logan’s ear perked up as you gulped, his head turning softly. Hank noticed this almost immediately and replied with a whooping laugh. “Ha!” You sighed inaudibly as you silently thanked Hank, knowing he used his booming voice to mask your sounds. Holding one of his hands up to Logan, he snickered as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that was cruel of me. What I meant to say is, that’s funny.” Hank let out a small chortle at Logan’s distain, being met with a flash of a middle finger, and claw too. “Thanks, asshole,” Logan huffed as he pushed himself off of the wall, running his hand through his hair.

You watched him intently, thanking whoever was listening for making you have the power of invisibility. Being able to listen to everything going down, while Logan has no idea you’re here, made you feel powerful. You heard talks about how your power could be useful, but ultimately not threatening; Now, you’d beg to differ. Though you grew tiresome of the chase, being a fly on the wall versus a real player. It was fun the first two hours this started, but encroaching on hour six – the school clearing out and the sun almost set on the horizon, you grew slightly bored. “Have you tried the library? She likes to hide there.” Hank let out without hesitancy, making your eyes grow wide. It was like an aha moment for you, choosing the most likely place for last. Earlier it was too crowded, people would know you were there the second Logan came looking for you. But now with the young mutants either outside or in the city due to the upcoming weekend, you knew it would be vacant.

“I know her all too well, Hank. That’s the first place I looked.” Hearing Logan say that made your heart flutter, made you feel special that he knew you so well. A strong sigh left your lips as Hank coughed, dreamily staring at Logan as you started to walk backwards. Losing your invisibility for a moment, you stood a few feet behind Logan, walking towards the grand staircase that took you to the library. Waving at Hank, you motioned for it as you smirked, causing Hank to laugh. “You sure?” He asked, nodding behind Logan. As you stood closer to the staircase, you noticed how Logan was sniffing the air – his body growing tense as he spun around. It’s when he laid his eyes upon you that you knew he was fed up. It wasn’t the primal growl and heavy breathing that got to you, but the way his hazel eyes went from green to black in a split section, his chest heaving as he stared at you. “Oh shit,” was all you managed to let out as you turned invisible again, running up the stairs.

Everything was a blur to you, running as fast as your body could take you. Three flights to get where you needed to go seemed like forever, when you were being chased by The Wolverine. He had super human speed, a great nose for sniffing things out, he was at the advantage whilst you were at a disadvantage. Even with scent masking, now that you started to sweat it would make you more obvious, especially when the library was empty. Huffing and puffing as you managed two steps at a time, you refused to look back. But you could hear the stomps of Logan’s boots, clearly taking three steps to match you. Silently you prayed to whoever was listening, to get you to the library safe and sound before Logan got you. The last thing you wanted was for him to pin you to the stairs so everyone could see, that was too on the nose.

Reaching the top step of the library, you managed to sway your way through the wooden chairs and tables, giggling to yourself as you were halfway across the room. Due to the grand nature of the library, especially being two floors, it gave you so many good hiding spots. A circular room to see everything, yet hide in plain sight. As you made it over to the spiral staircase for the second level, you had noticed Logan standing at the entrance of the library, huffing and puffing. It made you snort, seeing how riled up he was. You had to admit, it was sexy to see how pissed off he was, causing a fresh wave of your arousal to coat your panties. Logan seemed to have taken note as he sniffed the air, his eyes cutting across the room straight to yours. “Come on out princess,” he growled, flexing his hands at his side. Slowly you crept up the metal staircase for the second level, taking one step at a time to not elicit any sounds. You let your breathing relax, slowing your heart rate as you kept calm, not needing to give yourself away. But Logan could sense you, eyeing the staircase with every move you made. “I got you now.”

A devilish grin fought to claim his mouth as he pounced over the tables, running on all fours as he landed right at the bottom of the staircase. You managed to get all the way up and around, leaving to the right. Multiple aisles of books covered upstairs, as well as the walls, each window let in the dusk light – showing dust particles roaming the air. Your tell-tale shimmer of invisibility was caught in the light a few times, but Logan was too lost to notice. Finding your perfect hiding spot away from prying eyes, you slotted yourself against the endcap of Psychology of Mutants, knowing no one reads these. You could feel the stagnant beating of your heart at times, wondering if it was due to fear or the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was the aspect of it being bittersweet as well; A years long chase with Logan finally reaching its peak. You knew there would never be going back from this, and that was okay. Stealing his cigars wasn’t the endgame, it was only the beginning.

“You can’t hide forever you know,” Logan snarled as he reached the top of the landing, huffing as he eyed every shelf. You could see him, nor did you want to, hoping to God he chose to head left instead of right. Alas you were sorely mistaken as his heavy steps started to echo right, causing you to curse under your breath. SNIKT, you heard the metallic sound echoing through the room, but also your mind, causing you to whimper. Logan had unsheathed his claws, holding them out. The idea of him using the claws on you, pinning you down with them, holding them against your neck made your body run hot, your arousal heightening as the thoughts ran rampant through your mind. “I will catch you.” It was not a threat but a fact, Logan was not kidding anymore. The animal inside of him was taking over, leaving the Logan you knew behind. This was all caused because you pushed him to the point of no return, and you fucking loved it. The reverberation of his claws against the wooden shelves made you shudder, knowing how close he was getting now.

Biting down hard on your lip, you placed your hand over your mouth, trying to regain control of your breathing. Being right across from the last window on the right didn’t do you any good, especially with the beam of light falling through. If you moved even a millimeter, you were going to be made. It’s then when you opened your eyes to pan to your left that you saw his shadow encroaching on you, his stance wide as his claws were pointed at the ground. Each gruff huff he let out made your eyes roll back, finding it harder and harder to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t look away from him either, you needed to watch him; How the sweat beaded at his hairline, how his little tufts of hair were wild from pulling at them, how his snarl got more animalistic the longer he tried to look for you. “Where did you go?” You couldn’t describe how Logan sounded in that moment; Primal and animalistic do not even begin to crest.

You focused too much on his tone, completely forgetting your watchful eye on him. When you glanced back after trying to calm yourself, you noticed the 6’2 Wolverine was no longer walking his way towards the aisles but vanished into thin air. Not knowing where he was, made your heart rate skyrocket – panic ensuing all over your body. Goosebumps arose across your skin as you pondered where he could be, afraid to move in case he was lurking close to you. Maybe he went off to the left instead, leaving you by yourself to escape. It would make sense, considering how you heard the creaking of the floorboards on the opposite side now. Letting out a concealed breath, you slowly moved away from the end cap of the shelf, leaving your back exposed. You knew it was a mistake when the hot, stifling air of the closed space became ice cold, a shiver falling down your spine. The sun shifted away in that moment, blanketing the area in darkness, complete with only a sliver of light, not even to cast shadows. The second your back was exposed; All hell broke loose.

Two strong hands grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you back into a solid form. The yelp you let out was loud enough to echo, but not loud enough to raise suspicion. The strain on your powers had gotten to be too much, slowly slipping back into being visible. You huffed out as your back connected with his chest, your hands finding purchase on his muscular forearms. “There you are little mouse.” He snickered in your ear, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck. Logan deeply inhaled at the vein, his teeth barring to nip at your exposed shoulder. It felt good to have his mouth on you, to have him seemingly obsessed with your scent. After all, it is what gave you away. Whimpering out, you dug your nails into Logan’s arm, feeling the reverberation of his snarl through your body. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move – you were a lost cause. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Logan was mocking you at this point, purposely being a little shit to mimic how you have been with him. When it came to his cigars, he wasn’t fucking around. But when he knew it was you who took them, well he wasn’t going to let you live this down. Logan moved from behind you, but kept his hands grasping your flesh. Moving to the side, he pressed your back against the end cap again, bringing you back to your original position. His right hand remained on your hip as his left grasped your neck, pressing against your pulse point, feeling the thrum of blood on your veins. The edges of your vision began to go fuzzy due to the restricted blood flow, but you didn’t care. Logan was putting you right in your place, and you were obeying so well for him. “I believe you have something of mine,” he murmured; His prominent nose pressing harshly against your cheek. The warmth of his breath on your skin, mixed with the cold drag of his claws against your skin made you shiver, loving how it felt too much. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed out, clearly laced with thrill.

Logan didn’t take too kindly to you playing dumb, the tick in his jaw spoke measures. His grip on your neck was heavier than before, using his full weight to restrict your blood flow quicker, your vision developing black dots. “Oh, you don’t?” The challenged in his voice said all you needed to know – he was fucking desperate. There was no hiding it now, he needed you – not his cigars, but you. Gulping down against his large hand, you felt the press of his claws against the back of your neck, pushing through the wood of the bookshelf to lock you in place. He would never intentionally draw blood, or hurt you, but he knew this was your deepest fantasy, all thanks to Jean relaying it. His lips were inches from your ear as he chuckled darkly, groaning out against the flesh. “Do I need to jog your memory?” You shouldn’t have been as turned on by that as you were. Your knees buckled slightly as you almost fell, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Logan took advantage of your eyes being closed to pull his hand away from your hip. The loss of touch made you whine, but quickly you were quieted by his roughened tugs. Grabbing at the edge of your tank top, Logan ran his claws through the fabric to create slits, ripping them open just as easily. Looking down at your jeans, he could see the bulge in your pocket – where you had hidden a few of his cigars. A huff of relief fell from his parted lips as she cut your pocket open, letting them fall right into his hand. He mimicked your hiding and shoved them into his own pocket, moving on to the next. The cool breeze against your exposed skin made you quickly heat up; Logan using his claws on you made you lose your fucking mind. He repeated his efforts with your other side, making matching holes in his jeans and shirt, not caring anymore.

It was as the last few cigars rolled out of your pocket that Logan pulled back, his heavy body heat no longer suffocating you. The contact was missed, causing you to pout slightly. “Boo hoo hoo,” Logan mocked as he watched you, walking backwards to push his back against the window. The sill right below it was begging him to sit, so he took advantage of it. Reaching into his left pocket, Logan pulled out his Zippo lighter – flicking it against his pants to ignite the flame. It was intoxicating watching him, how effortlessly fluid his motions were. Biting your cheek, you watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled out the precut cigar from his pocket and pushed it between his lips, favoring his left side for it to rest between his teeth. Lighting the end until the cherry burned bright, he took a few quick puffs, blowing the smoke out in a cloud around him.

Your eyes could not pull away from him even if you tried, it was nearly impossible. The way he moved was like silk through the wind, so effortless and elegant; He knew he was hot like this. Taking another quick drag, Logan let the smoke fall from his lips as he tucked the cigar back in between his teeth, putting away his lighter. Reaching forward with his claws still extended, he hooked two of the blades into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you forward. There was about a person’s space between the bookshelf and the window, making it easy for him to grab at you. Of course, your body obeyed his silent command, tripping slightly as you tried to regain your footing. Placing both of your hands on his thick, warm thighs, you licked your lips. The smoke being released from both the cigar and his mouth captured your attention, making it difficult to focus on what he was saying. The way his motions flowed were so smooth, it was impossible to say anything else to him.

Taking a rather large drag of his cigar, he puffed his cheeks out a bit to hold it all in. It took you by surprise, why he was holding it all in his mouth. Retracting his claws on his right hand, Logan grabbed at your jaw like a man possessed, pushing his meaty fingertips into your flesh. The slight ache of his possessiveness made your mouth part, a pained look on your face that you were lost in. Logan got close to you, his lips only mere inches away from your mouth as you whimpered. With your lips parted, Logan mimicked your motions as he breathed out. The soft, heady tendrils of smoke wafted from his mouth into yours, causing you to let them stir. Tobacco mixed with the sweetness of the wrap caused your eyes to dilate, boring into Logan with pure unadulterated lust. There was no mistaking it as he shotgunned his cigar with you, his smirk prevalent. “That’s my good girl.” He crooned, taking in your big eyes, the heat of your skin – basking in your glory.

You blew the smoke right back at Logan while he chuckled, licking his lips to wet them as he took another puff. There was something so intoxicating about how you reacted, it was like watching a painting come to life. From the first day he met you, he knew you were something else – he had to challenge you. Almost four years later and you’re still trying to get with him, he admired it. Finally, the silent love he had for you could be shown, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for you. You made him work to catch you, now you had to work to get what you wanted. “Get on your knees.” The command fell off of Logan’s lips so naturally you almost didn’t catch it at first. Your eyes glossy as you watched him, your brain not keeping up. Narrowing his eyes at you, he cocked his brow as he laid the cigar to the side, watching to see your reaction. “I’m sorry?” You questioned without realizing, your face slack with lust.

Reaching forward towards you, Logan grabbed your neck once more, this time yanking you so close to his face that you felt his breath waft over your features. “Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.” There was no hesitation in Logan’s voice as he stated his command, letting his face go rigid to show he was getting pissed off. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You wanted to, every fiber of your being wanted to disobey him, make him angry so he was rough with you – at the same time you didn’t want to make him mad, not yet anyway. Nodding to him against his hand, you slipped down to your knees easily with a moan, pressing out your wet bottom lip as you gazed up at him.

Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cigar again, pressing it against your lips. It’s when you take a drag of it that he pulls out, putting it in his own mouth once more. With his hand now free from holding his cigar, he quickly flicked open his belt buckle, undoing the top button on his jeans as you took the silent command to pull his zipper down. His erection was stiff against his jeans and left nothing to the imagination. He was big, he was hot, and he was fucking turned on. Watching you with a lustful glow in his eyes, Logan groaned as he watched you, never letting you have the last word: “You may have started the game princess, but I am going to finish it.”

----

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kasagia · 1 year ago

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Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

5K notes · View notes

vunblr · 1 month ago

Text

The Memory Remains

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.

Word Count: About 13k.

note: Let’s pretend the incident with Renata never happened. Bucky's presence at Pierce’s house is a bit more lenient for the sake of this story.

The Winter Soldier moved through his assignments like a shadow. So, when he was stationed at Pierce's home for a week, he was given explicit instructions: remain masked, both arms concealed under a layer of clothing and stay out of sight as much as possible, but if seen, remain silent, a faceless piece of security.

On his first day, he heard voices down the hall before he saw them, a child’s laughter, paired with a softer, patient tone. The child -a boy around five or six- bounded into view, dragging a toy truck and blissfully oblivious to the stranger cloaked in shadows. But the woman with him was different; she immediately caught sight of him. She looked surprised but quickly cast her eyes down as she guided the boy past.

Pierce’s strict warning echoed in her mind. He explained that his guest was part of a high-security detail, trained to avoid all unnecessary contact, just another eccentric demand of his government work.

New to America, Y/n had recently left her home country after a severe burnout as a lawyer and the lingering shadow of an abusive relationship. She managed to pay a year’s rent in advance with her savings, but reality quickly slapped her in the face when she began looking for a job. Now in her late twenties, she had no experience outside a desk or courtroom with foreign laws.

This job as a nanny was the first real opportunity she’d found, and she took it. The pay was excellent, and the boy’s parents were kind. With an arrangement between Pierce and his son, she spent part of each day with the child at Pierce’s apartment after kindergarten until his parents picked him up after work, which was conveniently close by. In the two months she’d worked for the Pierces, she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary in the house, so the appearance of a security guard was an unexpected twist.

She understood the "no interaction" rule well enough; her brother had worked in federal law enforcement before he passed, so she knew about the necessity of concealing the asset's identity and the formality of the job. Yet, habit got the best of her. She’d nod or offer a polite “good afternoon” when she arrived and a quiet “see you” when she left. Sometimes she’d even throw out a casual comment about the weather or crack a joke, knowing she wouldn’t get a response. His silence was a norm, his blue gaze drilled into an inexistent point in the horizon. By the third day, she found herself relaxing into the new routine, no longer unnerved by the silent figure lurking in the house. She resumed her usual activities while the child napped: baking small snacks for when he woke up, or sitting at the kitchen table with her crochet project in hand. She even started putting on a playlist mostly with songs from her home country, the soft, lively tunes filling the quiet rooms.

Sometimes, when she baked treats for the boy, she’d make a few extras, placing them on a surface near the man in the shadows. Her brother had told her enough stories about hours on guard, the hunger and thirst that crept in with the silence. This was her small way of saying I know the circumstances -Though she didn’t. Oh, she didn’t even scratch the surface of his circumstances.- “You can take it later when you are alone.” She had offered quietly.

The first time, the food sat untouched for hours, and she thought he’d rejected the gesture entirely. But eventually, the plate was empty, and she could swear the right pocket of his tactical pants looked slightly stuffed. Taking it as a sign, she continued doing it, sometimes offering a simple piece of fruit, or a chocolate if she hadn’t bake. Each time, the plate ended up empty, and his pocket looked just a little bulkier.

Unbeknownst to her, one song in her playlist seemed to provoke a reaction in the stoic custody. Its melody -a blend of mid-1900s music with a modern twist- stirred something faint and unreachable within him, persistent enough to catch his attention. Each time the tune played on shuffle, his gaze would flicker in her direction, his brows knitting slightly as if he were straining to recall a memory just out of reach. And yet, she remained blissfully unaware, humming along.

After a week, he was gone. The masked figure had simply vanished from Pierce’s house as if he’d never been there at all.

-----

Nearly nine years had passed since that afternoon when Bucky threw himself from the helicarrier into the water to rescue Steve, somehow re-emerging as a fugitive from Hydra’s grasp. Since then, there had been one chaotic chapter after another, ending in a shaky kind of freedom and a conditional pardon. He’d been granted the basics of a civilian life -even if he wasn’t sure what to do with it-, a place to live, and the requirement to attend therapy sessions.

One night, after a familiar nightmare left him panting, staring hollow-eyed into the bathroom mirror, his gaze settled on his hair. It hung long and unkempt, framing his face with shadows from another life, a reminder of missions in the dead of night, of orders he’d had no choice but to follow. His reflection stared back, haunted, tethered to the past.

Cut it, a voice urged inside him, low and insistent. Shedding the hair felt like severing the ties still binding him to memories and missions he wanted gone. His hand moved instinctively, reaching for the familiar weight of his knife, the same one he’d carried for years, an extension of who he’d once been. But he hesitated, his fingers hovering over the blade. If he was serious about moving forward, this had to be more than just an impulsive cut in the dead of night. It had to be his choice, deliberate and clear, reclaiming himself one small step at a time. He’d find a hairdresser, endure the closeness, the touching, the vulnerability of someone holding sharp scissors near him, and let it be a test. A small, tangible proof that he could start anew, piece by piece.

The next morning, he stood outside a shop, the nearest to his apartment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, wrestling with the urge to turn and walk away.

He lingered on the sidewalk, eyeing the parlor's weathered sign and chipped paint. Its old, familiar look was oddly reassuring as if the place had been untouched by time. That decided it for him. He scratched his beard and stepped forward, and as the door chimed overhead, he knew there was no going back now. Behind the chair, an old man was trimming the hair of a customer nearly as old, both with the unmistakable air of a veteran. The barber gave him a polite nod, but Bucky didn’t miss the shared look between the two: a quick, appraising glance that seemed to mutter, hippie motherfucker.

“Y/n!” the old barber called, his voice rising as he looked toward the back room. “You have a customer.”

The moment Bucky heard a woman’s name, he froze. An image of an elderly lady popped into his mind: chatty, distracted, and maybe with a knack for giving creative haircuts. He could already hear Sam’s laughter echoing in his head if he came out of this with some uneven cut or something worse.

“Well, actually…” he began, trying to backpedal, but his retreat stalled when she appeared in the doorway. She wasn’t old, far from it. And attractive. Very attractive. His mind blanked as he stood there, frozen, just staring.

The old man caught his hesitation and cast a pointed look his way, a touch more disapproving than before. The customer in the chair joined in, nodding in silent agreement.

“Well, young man?” the barber asked, his voice gruffer now. “You gonna stand there or sit?”

Bucky cleared his throat, murmuring, “I… thought you were the barber.” His voice was low, almost defensive, as he looked between the old man and the woman.

Her eyebrow quirked high, clearly amused, while the old barber scoffed. “What? because she’s a woman?” he huffed, crossing his arms. “Kid, I’m pretty sure she can handle that hippie mane of yours better than I ever could.”

The man in the chair gave a quiet chuckle, nodding in agreement, and Bucky’s mouth went dry. This was not the quick, anonymous cut he’d imagined. But there was no turning back now; he could feel three sets of eyes on him, each waiting for his move.

So, with a quick breath, he took off his jacket, walked over, and sank into the chair, stealing a glance at her reflection in the mirror.

She got closer from behind, amused by the fact that he already sat on the chair. “So, what are we doing today?” her tone was professional, though her eyes sparkled with a hint of curiosity.

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the seat. “Just… cut it short. Something easy to manage.” He answered gruffly.

She nodded, assessing the length of his hair. “Alright, but I must wash it first since it's this long. Sprinkling it with water won’t be enough.”

He blinked, a hint of tension flashing across his face. The thought of sitting there, head tilted back, felt almost unbearably vulnerable, especially with her so close, and her hands threading through his hair. He nearly reconsidered, but the not-so-subtly narrowed gazes of the two older men lingering on him kept him in place.

With a quiet sigh, he managed to make a nod. “Fine.” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She gestured for him to follow, and he found himself standing and trailing behind her to the hair-washing station in the back. Every instinct screamed to keep his guard up, but his need to change this physical marker of his past kept him moving.

As they reached the back, Bucky’s eyes landed on her phone, resting near a small speaker that hummed with soft, melodic tunes. At first, he barely noticed the music since he was too focused on the discomfort of the situation and strengthening his resolve to not get up and leave. His shoulders stayed tense as he sat, hovering on the edge of the chair, every part of him coiled with instinctive caution.

Then, the warmth of the water broke over his scalp, and against his will, he felt the tension start to dissolve, just a little. Her touch was gentle, no sudden movements, just a calm, practiced rhythm as she applied the shampoo, working it through his hair. She didn’t say a word, either; it was as though she understood something of the guarded edge to him, or maybe she sensed that he wouldn’t welcome small talk.

A few beats into the quiet, the song changed. It was still low and unassuming, just background noise. But then the melody drifted in, a tune with an old rhythm and a foreign lyric, hauntingly familiar, and his attention flickered, drawn in by the music without him fully understanding why. His eyes closed briefly, and fragments of memory teased at the edges of his mind: a dim hallway, shadows, the scent of baking, and the quiet hum of a woman’s voice.

Before he could grasp it, the memory slipped away, leaving only the echo of familiarity, a ghost of something he almost remembered.

As she massaged his scalp, the tension that had gripped Bucky’s shoulders melted away. The steady, gentle pressure lulled him into a rare calm, his body betraying him with a warmth that crept over him like a slow wave. For the first time in a long time, he felt close to letting his guard down entirely, the comfort of her touch drawing him into an almost sleepy haze.

Then she reached for the conditioner, her hands moving with the same unhurried ease, but this time, she couldn’t quite keep from humming along to the song that played softly from the speaker nearby. Her voice was low, almost shy, as though she hadn’t meant for anyone to hear. But as she sang, each note seemed to tighten a thread in his chest, snapping him out of the drowsy trance.

Then it hit him like a punch to the gut.

The music, her voice, the way her fingers worked through his hair, it all brought him back to Pierce’s household, to those days he spent stationed in the shadows, monitoring everything in silence before the events of his escape. The faint aroma of something sweet drifting through the house, of cookies, or bread, something good, something he hadn’t expected to find. He could still feel the strange weight of those illicit traits in his pocket, things she’d left out in silent offering, her small, unspoken kindness filling a gap he hadn’t known was there.

This woman... could it be?

His breathing grew shallow, each breath catching in his chest as a faint tremor ran through him. His gloved hands twitched against the armrests, fingers curling and uncurling as he fought the urge to reach up, to pull himself upright and turn, to really look at her. He needed to see her face, to study her features and search for that glimpse of familiarity, to confirm that this wasn’t just some blurred, mismatched memory dredged up by the lull of her voice and the warmth of her hands. Worse yet, he needed to know this wasn’t some fragment of imagination, a scene conjured by his mind to taunt him with memories he couldn’t piece together. But before he could move, she stopped singing, her hands paused in his hair and he felt her hesitate, as if sensing his restlessness even though he hadn’t said a word.

“The wash is almost done,” she murmured, her voice quiet but steady, as if offering reassurance.

She inwardly groaned, mortified. Why on earth did she start singing? Way to scare off a customer, she scolded herself when she sensed his body tense beneath her hands. And of course, it happened with a handsome customer. She could feel the rush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, flooding her cheeks. Taking a steady breath, she forced herself to refocus, working to rinse the last of the conditioner as quickly as she could, her hands moving just a bit more briskly than before. Okay, finish up and keep it professional, she coached herself, feeling the sting of humiliation all over again.

As she finished rinsing the conditioner from his hair, she reached for a nearby towel. Without a second thought, still reliving the horror of exposing herself like that, she wrapped it around his head, gently pressing to soak up the excess water. Bucky barely registered the texture, just the warmth that enveloped him, and the unspoken relief of having her hands finally out of his hair.

“Alright,” she said softly, stepping back. “We’re done here. Just head back to the front, and I’ll set you up for the cut.”

He rose from the chair a bit unsteadily, as though waking from a daze, and started toward the front of the shop, acutely aware of every step. He glanced sideways at her once, catching a hint of embarrassment lingering on her face, her gaze darting away when she noticed him looking. Something about her bashful expression twisted a new thread of familiarity through his mind, but he shook it off, trying to steady himself.

As he reached the main area, he caught his reflection in the mirror opposite the chair and froze. Wrapped around his head, neatly turbaned and unmistakably bright, was a fluffy pink towel.

The old barber glanced up from the new customer he was tending to, his gaze settling on Bucky’s reflection with poorly concealed bemusement. "Good lord, Cecil, look how things have changed," he muttered dryly only for the other old man to hear, unaware of Bucky’s enhanced hearing.

The other old man, Cecil, leaned back, shaking his head with a smirk. “Used to be, folks would at least keep that kind of thing under wraps,” he muttered, his voice low but pointed. “Remember Karen’s brother? Now there was a guy who kept things to himself, blended right in,” he muttered with a knowing glance at Bucky.

Bucky gritted his teeth, faintly aware of heat climbing up his neck, but he forced himself to keep a straight face. He was determined to get through this without snapping. His reflection caught his attention again, and he let out an almost inaudible sigh.

Behind him, Y/n approached, unaware of the old men ranting. She held a bunch of hairpins in one hand and a comb in the other, gesturing toward the chair in front of the mirror. “Whenever you’re ready”.

As Bucky settled into the chair, his gaze drifted to the handful of hairpins she was holding, and cleared his throat, struggling to keep his tone steady. “Uh, I thought I asked for it short,” he murmured, nodding toward the pins and comb with a faint frown.

She didn’t miss a beat, propping a hand on her hip with a half-smile. “And I thought you might like it to look decent,” she quipped, raising a brow in the mirror. “To get it even, I’ve got to section it out first, or you’ll end up with a patchy disaster.”

She worked with quiet focus, her fingers weaving through his hair, clipping sections with colorful pins until his head was dotted with bright little half-buns. Bucky’s jaw clenched as his gaze drifted somewhere distant, the rhythmic tug of the comb stirring faint, elusive memories. He barely registered the chime of the door until the soft shuffle of footsteps and murmured greetings filled the air.

Two more elderly men ambled in, one clutching a checkers game under his arm. They greeted Frank the old barber, then his client casually, and lastly waved affectionately toward Y/n, who acknowledged them with a smile. As their eyes landed on Bucky, they paused, taking in his partially pinned-up hair, the bright clips dotting his head. They shared a wordless look of faint, unspoken disapproval, the kind only those with a few extra decades under their belts could master.

Bucky tightened his jaw again, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek, as he caught the old men’s exchanged looks. What, was this some kind of veteran association headquarters or something? He’d endured enough stares over the years, but the situation's absurdity hit a new level. If only they knew he was older than all of them. The irony almost made him laugh -or maybe just get up and walk out.- But he forced himself to stay put, keeping his gaze fixed on his reflection as if nothing at all were out of the ordinary, while she worked steadily, oblivious to the silent standoff between him and the retirement brigade.

As she started to cut with the scissors, couldn't resist trying to break the tension that clung to him like a second skin. “So, how long did it take you to grow this out?” she ventured, her tone light, eyes focused on his hair.

Bucky made a vague grunt, somewhere between polite acknowledgment and indifference. “Couple years,” he muttered, the words barely escaping his mouth as his gaze flicked to her face again.

Trying not to stare, he let his eyes drift down, but they always found their way back to her. As she moved around him, carefully and practiced, the cadence of her movements, and the subtle kindness in her tone, all painted a picture in his mind. The woman from Pierce’s household, he was certain of it now.

She tilted her head thoughtfully as she continued cutting, her eyes briefly meeting his in the mirror. “Going short can feel like a fresh start,” she remarked, her voice casual yet reassuring. “Sometimes, it’s about more than just hair, it’s like letting go of whatever it held onto. It happens a lot.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked up, catching her gaze in the mirror before he could stop himself. There was a beat of silence as her words seemed to settle over him, hitting a little closer than he’d expected.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low, almost as if speaking to himself. “That’s… kind of the point.”

She met his gaze again, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes, but she didn’t press him. She just nodded, the corners of her mouth lifting into a gentle smile. “Well,” she said softly, her hands resuming their steady rhythm with the scissors, “then let’s make sure we do it right.”

Eventually, she paused the trimming, assessing the hair’s new length with a critical eye. “Alright,” she said, lifting the electric clipper with a raised brow. “Any specific style you want, or…?”

Bucky met her gaze in the mirror, hesitating just for a moment. If he knew anything about styles, he might’ve had an opinion, but all he cared about was the fresh start he’d come here for. “Just… short,” he replied, his tone firm but with a hint of uncertainty.

She nodded, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Got it,” she said, setting to work. The clippers buzzed to life, and as she deftly worked them through the remaining length, Bucky let himself drift, trusting her to handle the rest. By the time she stepped back to survey her work, he barely recognized his own reflection; shorter, cleaner, a stark shift from the man he’d tried so hard to leave behind.

As she brushed his shoulders for stray hairs, the old men ambled back to the front, their voices rising in a familiar, lively argument about the weapons used in the Vietnam War.

“I’m telling you, the M16 was practically useless in those conditions,” one of them grumbled, shaking his head as if reliving the frustration.

“Oh, don’t start with that again,” the other scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “The M14 was a good rifle but couldn’t match the firepower.”

Bucky couldn’t help himself. “There were issues with both models,” he interjected, his voice steady and sure. The men turned, eyebrows raised as he continued, “M16’s jamming problems, and the M14’s recoil, that didn’t make it any easier in the jungle.”

One of them raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a slight smirk. “So, you a collector or something, son? Not many people remember those details.”

Bucky paused, weighing his words. He shot them a sideways glance, a hint of something unreadable in his expression.

“Nah,” he replied, his voice low. “Just... good memory.”

It was all he said, but the weight behind it was enough to hold their gaze for a moment longer than either man expected.

She watched them leave, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips before she turned back to Bucky, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well, would you look at that,” she said, amused yet curious. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you join in the shop banters so soon. Well, there you go,” she said, stepping back. “Sharp as ever.” She reached over to grab his jacket from the hook, handing it to him with a small, encouraging smile that held a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages.

Bucky gave her a faint nod and took his jacket, slipping it on. “Thanks,” he muttered, feeling her eyes on him as he reached for the door.

As Bucky left the parlor after his haircut, the chill in the evening air prickled against his skin, grounding him in the present but doing little to quiet the memories that kept surfacing. Each step felt like shaking off a shadow of something long gone, something buried. He told himself, firmly, that she was just another person from his past, a woman who once showed him kindness in a place that had none. It shouldn’t mean anything.

But over the next few days, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d left something unresolved. Her presence haunted him in a way, not in the sharp, painful fragments of his past but in small, lingering echoes. He remembered the sound of her quiet humming when she thought no one was listening, the soft click of plates, and the surprising warmth of the treats she’d left for him, knowing he might never touch them. She had looked at him, masked and silent, like he was a person, not just a thing covered in shadows.

A few days later, in session, his therapist caught on to his distracted state. She didn’t exactly push, but she revisited the topic they’d been circling for weeks: reconnecting with people, finding his place outside the shadows of his past. Her advice was calm, grounded, and compassionate, but it nagged at him as much as it reassured him. Connection. Yeah, right.

Then, one afternoon, his phone buzzed. It was Sam. He was doing outreach work in the neighborhood, trying to connect local veterans with PTSD resources. “Look, I could use a hand with some pamphlets,” Sam said, in a way that didn’t leave much room for negotiation. “Some old-timers hang around that parlor you mentioned. I think they’d be more open to it if you dropped these off.”

Despite his reluctance, Bucky ended up agreeing. Maybe he needed to see her again to put the memories finally to rest.

When Bucky stepped back into the parlor, pamphlets clutched in his hand, the faint scent of aftershave and coffee grounded hit him. Frank was busy with a client, and Y/n was at the counter, writing something down in a small notebook. She looked up when the door chimed, her gaze settling on him with a flicker of recognition, the kind that carries just a hint of surprise.

Bucky cleared his throat and handed some pamphlets to Frank, who glanced at them with a barely concealed frown. “What is this, some new-age help group thing?” Frank muttered though he took them anyway.

Before Bucky could respond, Sam walked in behind him, a wide grin plastered on his face. He slapped Bucky on the shoulder with an ease that Bucky envied. “Hey, pal, didn’t know you’d actually do it,” Sam said, casting a friendly nod to the old-timers who regarded him with wary interest.

The veterans, having heard the conversation, perk up. “What’s this?” one of them asked, and Sam jumped in, explaining with his usual charm about the outreach work for veterans, PTSD resources, and community support. Bucky stood back, feeling the walls around him starting to rise, the familiar urge to retreat coming over him. But then he caught her watching him. He returned her gaze, and suddenly it was as if no time had passed. She was the same woman who used to hum softly in a house that held no warmth.

Before he knew it, Frank was muttering about “newfangled therapy and pamphlets” while the veterans grumbled, though one of them eventually accepted a flyer with a shrug. The moment felt absurd, but then, with a quiet laugh, she came to Bucky’s side. “Welcome back,” she says, with a soft voice and a suspicious pink tone on her cheeks.

Bucky cleared his throat, barely meeting her gaze. "Hi. Just, uh, helping Sam here with these pamphlets." He gestured awkwardly at the handful still clutched in his grip as if that alone explained his return. But before he could slide into silence, she tilted her head, her brow creasing in curiosity.

"So… were you in the service, too?"

The question caught him off guard. His body stiffened, and for a moment, he considered deflecting. But then he took a short breath, steadying himself before speaking.

"Yeah. Sergeant… a long time ago.” The words came out almost hollow like he was not even talking about himself. “Feels like it, anyway.”

Her eyes roamed his face as if she was noticing the wear and ache behind his expression for the first time, but she didn’t press him for more.

Behind them, Frank’s sharp gaze flicked over Bucky, his usual squint softening just a touch. He straightened, nodding with something closer to respect, his gruffness replaced by a rare moment of understanding. Bucky felt it, too, the unspoken acknowledgment from one who’s seen their kind wear the years like scars. “Well,” Frank said, his voice a little less brusque, “good on you for helpin’ out.” He didn’t look directly at Bucky as he said it, but the words were meant for him all the same.

He nodded, unsure of what to say. The discomfort sat heavy, but there was a strange ease to it too, this small, unanticipated connection in a place that felt both foreign and familiar.

Her smile grew softer as she met his gaze again “Guess we’ll be seeing you around, then, visiting the boys?”

Bucky shifted, glancing down with a faint nod. “Yeah. Maybe,” he muttered. Then he glanced back at Sam, who was deep in conversation with the veterans, seemingly in no rush to leave. He noticed the way Sam’s gaze occasionally flickered their way and caught the subtle grin playing at the corner of his mouth. To anyone else, it’d seem so, so casual, but he knew better, Sam was doing it on purpose.

Bucky shot him a glare, but Sam kept his focus on the other vets, though his eyes flickered with barely concealed amusement when he glanced back.

The silence stretched a little too long, and she cleared her throat, slipping behind the counter with practiced ease. “You know,” she said lightly, “if you’re waiting on your friend, might as well have a coffee. It’s on the house.”

Bucky’s eyes fell to the floor, and he hesitated just a second before nodding. “Sure. Thanks.”

As she moved to make the coffee, he leaned on the counter, his gloved hands resting awkwardly on its surface as she prepared a mug for him. Then, without warning, she reached under the counter and pulled out a green tupperware, popping the lid to reveal neatly cut slices of pasta frola. The sight caught him off guard, his brows furrowing as a faint but vivid memory flickered to life, the faint smell of jam in the kitchen, the delicate pastry offered to him wrapped in a paper napkin, so his pocket wouldn’t get stained.

She noticed his look and chuckled lightly, misreading his reaction. “Don’t worry, it’s just a family recipe. I swear it’s not poisoned.” She gave him a half-smile, nudging the container closer. “It’s filled with quince jam, it’s tangy but sweet. Hard to come by here in the States, I know. But... it’s worth a try.”

Bucky blinked, the memory lingering in his mind as he glanced from her to the slice of tart. Her familiar, easy demeanor was almost too much to brush off. “I’ve had it before,” he said quietly, more to himself than her, before reaching over and picking up a slice. The taste was startlingly similar, he didn’t realize how vividly he remembered it. “Pretty good,” he murmured, almost begrudgingly. But before he could stop himself, a flicker of raw emotion tightened in his chest, and he felt the familiar sting of tears prickling at his eyes.

He turned away quickly, bracing himself against the counter, willing for the feeling to pass. He couldn’t explain it if he tried, not to her, not even to himself. A stray laugh reached him from across the room, and he forced himself to breathe, grounding his focus back on the sound of Sam’s voice, on the distant grunting of the men, anything to steady him.

Her voice broke through the moment, her tone warm and light as she cleaned up the counter beside him. “Well, if you like it, there’s plenty more where that came from,” she said with a playful smile. “The ‘boys’ practically fight over the last slice every time. You should see them, it’s like watching kids in a schoolyard,” she laughed softly, wiping down the counter. “I swear, I’ve had to start hiding an extra plate in the back just to keep up the peace.”

She glanced over at him, still unaware of his reaction, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “So, no pressure, but if you plan on sticking around here, you’ll have to stake your claim early.” Her voice was so light and easy, almost teasing as if sharing a small, harmless secret. It was as if she’d drawn him into some familiar, warm rhythm without even realizing it.

Bucky managed to make a nod, keeping his face averted until he was sure he was composed. Only then did he turn back, giving her a quick, curt nod. “Thanks. It… brings back memories,” he said, his voice steadier now, though the weight of those memories lingered in the quiet pause that followed.

“Oh?” She tilted her head, her eyes bright with curiosity. “I hope good memories?” Her smile was warm, perhaps imagining a grandmother’s kitchen or a friendly neighbor’s table, after all, it was rare for an American to have tried this kind of tart.

Bucky’s mouth curved into a faint, thin smile as he met her gaze for a fleeting moment before looking away again. “Something like that,” he replied, with a carefully neutral tone, edged with something unreadable. He lifted the coffee mug, taking a slow sip, hoping the gesture would gently close the conversation.

Before she could respond, the door chime sounded, and a man in his late thirties strolled into the shop with an air of easy familiarity. His gaze landed on her, his expression shifting into something smug and self-assured as he greeted her by name. His eyes lingered a little too long, sliding over her outfit in a way that barely bothered to conceal his interest.

Her posture stiffened, but she managed to smile, nodding his way. “Hey, Brian. Frank will be back in a few if you’d rather wait.”

Brian chuckled dismissively as he made his way to the chair. “Nah, it’s just a maintenance cut. I don’t need Frank for that.” He settled in, leaning back with a casual grin. “Besides, I’d much rather have you take care of me. Your hands are way more skilled.”

“Right…” She gave him a thin smile. Glancing at Bucky, she excuses herself from his side and heads over to tend to Brian.

As she set up her tools, Brian leaned back in the chair, angling himself to keep her in his line of sight. “Looking good today,” he said, his tone dropping slightly as he studied her reflection in the mirror. “Gotta say, it makes my day to come in and see you here.”

She responded with a brief, neutral laugh, brushing off his comment as she began trimming his hair. “Just here to make sure you’re looking sharp.”

Bucky stayed a little longer by the counter, pretending to be absorbed in his coffee. But his eyes flicked up occasionally, catching the exchange in the mirror’s reflection.

Watching him quietly eating the last bite of tart at the counter, Brian smirked, leaning back in the chair with a lazy grin. “You know,” he drawled, gazing at her intently, “One of these days, I’ll have to get my mouth on that pie of yours.” The words were laced with an unmistakable undertone, his gaze lingering on her as if testing the waters.

Her hand stopped just for a fraction of a second before she responded, a quick, professional smile in place. “Well, I’ll let you know if I ever start taking special orders.” Her words were smooth and dismissive, sidestepping his implication with practiced ease.

Bucky’s fingers tightened around his mug. Was this modern flirting? He found himself suppressing the urge to remind Brian of a little respect. But with what right exactly? Some possessive urge rooted over a long-ago act of kindness? They’d barely exchanged a handful of words, words that, by the way, he could hardly string. Still, he couldn’t shake a barely contained irritation that crept inside him, a feeling both unfamiliar and too familiar all at once.

Brian’s flirting continued, his tone growing bolder as he lounged in the chair, eyes fixed on her as she tried to maintain her professional composure. Eventually, Bucky’s patience snapped.

He placed his mug down with a soft clink, rising to his full height and striding over, casting a long shadow across the two of them.

With a calm, steely edge to his voice, he focused his gaze on her. “Well, sweetheart, I’ve got some things to take care of with Sam. But I can’t wait to see you in that dress later.”

She blinked, her scissors pausing mid-snip as she processed what he’d just said. Then, catching on to the improvisation, she broke into a warm smile, tilting her head with a look of mock apology toward Brian before turning fully to Bucky.

“Oh, of course! Can’t wait to see you too, handsome.” she replied, adding a playful lilt to her voice. And without missing a beat, she tiptoed up, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, her hand resting on his shoulder for a bit of extra effect.

Brian’s smile faltered, his expression shifting to one of discomfort as he glanced away, the bravado vanishing from his eyes.

Bucky turned smoothly, not sparing Brian a single glance as he made his way over to Sam, his steps calm and unhurried. The entire shop seemed to hold its breath, caught in the aftermath of the exchange. Sam looked at him with a quirked brow, and Frank… just narrowed his gaze. Has something been going on under his nose with this redeemed hippie and he didn’t know about it?

Meanwhile, she could barely keep her thoughts straight. Her heart pounded wildly, a thousand questions firing off in her mind as she mentally replayed what had just happened. First, the shock that Bucky had stepped in at all, with that calm authority that had left Brian squirming. Then, there was how effortlessly he’d delivered his line, so convincingly she almost believed it herself. And finally... God, the way he smelled when she leaned up to kiss him. Cedar, leather, and masculinity. She could still feel the trace warmth of his lean, muscular shoulder beneath her hand.

Had she overdone it? The kissing, the touching… she wasn’t sure, though part of her almost wished it had been real. She bit her lip, determined to focus on the task at hand as Brian shifted uncomfortably in the chair, his earlier smugness replaced by an awkward silence.

Bucky reached Sam, who glanced up with a grin as he passed over the stack of pamphlets. “So… all this time you had a girlfriend and didn’t say a word, Tinman? That is low, even for you” Sam teased under his breath, low enough that only Bucky could hear.

“No, I didn’t.” Bucky muttered; his jaw tight but the faintest hint of a smirk breaking through. He didn’t meet Sam’s gaze, he kept his eyes on the pamphlets, straightening them a bit too intently.

-----

A month had passed since that unusual afternoon in the shop. Today, with the sun warm and inviting, she had settled on a park bench, her fingers skillfully crocheting yarn into neat, colorful granny squares. The sunlight caught the vivid hues, making them seem to glow against her lap, and she was fully absorbed in her work.

Bucky was passing through the park on his way home, hands stuffed in his pockets, mind preoccupied with thoughts stirred up from a grueling therapy session. But then he saw her, sitting just across the path. The sight brought him to a sudden halt. There she was, peaceful and intent on her project, just as she’d been all those years ago. Back then, he’d only dared to steal quick, curious glances, a silent observer bound by his handler’s whims. But today, seeing her absorbed in those same small stitches, he felt an undeniable urge to bridge the distance between them. It took him a moment to remind himself that he was free to walk over, to break the silence himself. He took a breath, then walked toward her.

When his shadow fell over her work, she looked up, eyes widening with recognition. “Oh!” she said, surprised, but quickly smiled, recovering from the initial shock. “Hey, stranger.”

He felt a small, tentative smile come through despite himself. “Hey,” he murmured. His gaze flickered down to the granny squares arranged on her lap. “I’m interrupting? You just looked focused.”

She chuckled, lifting the half-formed square to show him. “Not at all; it’s my therapy, I guess. Helps me unwind.” Then, after a beat, she patted the space beside her. “Want to join me for a bit?”

He hesitated briefly before nodding. “Yeah… yeah, I’d like that.” He sat down, the air between them comfortable but charged, a quiet warmth settling over them.

For a moment, neither spoke, just content to share the quiet. Then, she glanced over at him. “You know, I never got the chance to thank you properly… for that day at the parlor, it meant a lot.”

He looked up, a hint of surprise in his expression, then shrugged slightly, a modest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t need thanking. But… you’re welcome.”

She smiled back, and that gesture eased something tense in his chest. He swallowed, gathering his thoughts, his fingers tracing the line of his glove. The moment felt right, and finally, he broke the silence, his voice a little hoarse. “There’s, uh… something I’ve been wanting to tell you.” He glanced down at his hands, his thumb stilling over his gloved palm. “If… if you’ve got some time.”

She paused, looking at him with a hint of curiosity, her hands resting on her project. “Of course.”

He sighed, the sound heavy as if exhaling years of hesitation. Slowly, deliberately, he began tugging at the glove on his left hand, peeling it off to reveal the metallic gleam beneath. The sun's soft light caught on the intricate panels and joints, giving the hand an almost otherworldly sheen.

Her hands stilled, the yarn forgotten in her lap. Her eyes widened briefly as she took it in. At first, she assumed it was just a particularly advanced prosthesis. But then he flexed his fingers, the subtle, fluid movement far too precise, too seamless for any ordinary piece of tech. And then everything clicked. She’d seen that hand -arm- before, on news reports and grainy footage, the infamous name whispered in fear, The Winter Soldier. But alongside that news had been another truth: the revelation that he’d been a victim, conditioned to act against his will. A mere puppet of Hydra’s schemes. A human pet trained to secure their darkest ambitions.

Her gaze softened, a mix of understanding and quiet sorrow replacing her initial shock. She didn’t flinch or retreat. Instead, she studied his face, the way his jaw tensed, his shoulders bracing as if he expected her to pull away. She hesitated, her hand hovering over his for a moment before gently resting on his vibranium fingers. “Why are you showing me this?”

He stared at her hand, where it lay against his as if the touch was foreign to him, something he didn’t know how to accept. Finally, he sighed, the weight of the confession evident in the way his shoulders slumped. “Because,” he began, his voice low, “almost nine years ago, you worked as a nanny for a family that went by Pierce.”

Her brow furrowed, surprised that he’d brought up something from so long ago, and puzzled by how he could possibly know. Only a handful of people had ever been in that apartment, and none of them had been a man with a metal arm.

“How… how do you know that?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, though a thousand questions began swirling in her mind.

“They told you I was security detail,” he said, watching her closely. “Some faceless bodyguard lurking in the shadows. Except it wasn’t exactly… just that.” His voice softened, a hint of remorse lacing each word.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to connect the dots. She then remembered the quiet figure who’d kept to the periphery, masked, his posture rigid and controlled, his entire presence veiled in secrecy. His silence had unnerved her at first, but soon, it had become as much a part of the background as the furniture in the apartment. “You’re… that was… you were…” The realization dawned slowly, her hand involuntarily covering her mouth as the pieces slid into place.

He nodded, not breaking eye contact. “I couldn’t say anything back then. Couldn’t even… react on my own accord. But I remember you. I remember the little things you did. The treats you left, the music… your hobby.” His gaze fell briefly to her hands, where her current project lay forgotten. “It was… one of the only kindnesses I knew, back then.”

She stared, absorbing the weight of his confession, piecing together the faint memories of that silent figure in the shadows, the one she’d tried to reach in small, gentle ways. The realization that the man in front of her, the Winter Soldier, was him left her feeling as though a veil had lifted, revealing a hidden, tragic depth.

“So… you were there, but you weren’t allowed to… be you,” she said softly, the words tumbling out as she tried to grasp it all.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost a sigh. “There’s a lot of shit I’m still sorting through, but… I couldn’t shake the thought of telling you. What you did back then,” he paused, his voice dipping to a whisper, “it meant more to me than you know.”

She looked down, her heart catching at the sincerity in his words. Before she could respond, he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with a bit of hesitation.

“Look,” he started, and she noticed his ears had turned a faint shade of red. “I, uh… don’t want to scare you off here. I get it if you think I’m coming on too strong, or if this seems… creepy.” He shifted, his gaze uncertain but still holding hers. “But I wanted to ask if maybe you’d like to… if you’d want to get a coffee sometime… or, I don’t know, maybe dinner?” A hint of nervousness flickered in his blue eyes, and he broke into a self-conscious grin. “Unless that sounds like a terrible idea, in which case, we could also just… feed some ducks in the park or something,” he said, a soft chuckle escaping him. ‘Feeding ducks? Do people still even do that?’

Seeing him tripping over his words made her heart skip. Smiling, she let the silence linger for just a moment before nodding. “I’d like that, whatever you’d prefer, coffee, dinner… or even feeding the ducks.”

Relief flooded his face, his shoulders relaxing. He chuckled, and for the first time, she saw a glimpse of someone who had spent far too long hidden behind walls, someone who was finally allowing himself a chance to live.

----------

Saturday’s sunset hadn’t even fully settled in when Bucky found himself pacing toward the parlor, nerves buzzing under his skin. This was his first proper date since 1943, and he felt like a high school boy. An awkward, brooding, traumatized, and scarred high school boy. Great, he thought, glancing up at the swirling clouds that promised rain, thunder echoing faintly from afar. He checked his reflection in a nearby window, adjusting his collar, brushing a hand through his hair. The frown he caught staring back only made him feel more ridiculous.

He stepped into the shop and spotted her immediately, busying herself around the place, her brow knit in concentration. She didn’t notice him at first, but when she finally looked up, her eyes lit up in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” she said, smiling wide as she took him in.

“Hey,” he replied, a little awkwardly, realizing he’d arrived early. Clearing his throat, he lifted the small bouquet he’d brought, feeling hopeful and self-conscious as he handed them over. “Uh… these are for you.”

She blinked, clearly touched. “Bucky… thank you. They’re beautiful.” She inhaled the scent, and he could have sworn he saw a soft glow in her cheeks. The simple gesture seemed to have landed, warming him from the inside out.

Frank, from behind the counter, watched the whole exchange, his usual skeptical gaze softening just a little at the sight of the flowers. For a moment, Bucky felt like he’d earned a point of approval from the old man.

Just then, another roll of thunder echoed in the distance, making her glance up at him with a teasing smile. “You think we’ll beat the storm?”

He held out his arm, “Guess we’ll find out,” he said with a lopsided grin, trying to keep his cool despite the nerves.

And with that, they headed out, stepping into the evening together, the storm chasing them as they walked to the nearby bistro.

The rain came down fast and thick, a relentless curtain that left them drenched within seconds. They huddled together under a small awning, Bucky grimacing as he realized he hadn’t even thought of bringing an umbrella -not that he owned one, anyway-. He glanced over at her, taking in the way her dress clung to her, soaked through, her hair starting to curl from the dampness. He raked a hand through his dripping hair, sighing.

“Didn’t see this coming,” he muttered, half to himself, half to her. “I’m… sorry.”

She blinked up at him, eyes wide and surprised. “Why are you apologizing for the weather?”

He shrugged, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Guess I feel like I should’ve been prepared.” He shifted uncomfortably, feeling a little foolish for not planning better. “I could… call you a cab? We can try for another night.”

She gave him a tentative smile, her cheeks a little pink. “Or… if you want, my place is just upstairs from the parlor. You’re already here, and it’s warm. We could dry off and… watch a movie? Order some dinner?”

Bucky blinked, a bit taken aback. The invitation tugged at something deep and old-fashioned inside him. A woman who lived alone, inviting her date to her house at night. But then again, times had changed, and so had he. He could feel the pull, that quiet, magnetic urge to spend a little more time in her company, and really, wasn’t that the whole point of tonight?

With a flicker of a smile, he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds nice,” he said, relaxing just a bit. He followed her through the rain-drenched streets, his boots splashing lightly in the shallow puddles until they reached the stairwell beside the parlor that led up to her apartment. She fumbled with her keys, glancing over her shoulder to flash him a quick, almost conspiratorial grin.

As they stepped inside, she chuckled, eyeing his soaked clothes. “I can get you some of Frank’s stuff to change into,” she offered, giving his drenched jacket a sympathetic look. “I do his laundry, so I’m sure we’ll find something that fits you. Just… don’t tell him.” She winked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Despite the cold clothes sticking to his skin, Bucky felt a warm chuckle bubble up. “I think I can keep a secret,” he said, playing along, his gaze lingering on her smile a second longer than he meant to. There, surrounded by warm, mismatched furniture and soft, inviting blankets, he felt something uncoil, like he was being welcomed into a place that felt… real, lived on.

"Sorry about the mess," she murmured, disappearing toward a small laundry room tucked around the corner.

Bucky gave a noncommittal grunt, his gaze following her despite himself. He tried to focus on anything else, but the soaked dress clung to every inch of her, tracing her silhouette in a way that made it impossible to look away. He found himself rooted to the spot, too aware of his heartbeat drumming harder than it should. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. Get a grip, he told himself. Standing there in a small puddle, he felt more out of place than ever, and yet, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be anywhere else.

She returned a moment later with a bundle of clothes in her hands, a pair of worn pants that looked like they’d sit loose and just shy of his ankles, along with a white tank top and a blue flannel. “It’ll do for now, though, fair warning, he’s got about half your shoulders, so don’t blame me if the fit’s a bit... weird.”

Bucky accepted the clothes, glancing at the pants with a wry smile. “Weird’s fine,” he mumbled, grateful for anything dry but wondering if he’d end up looking like he’d raided a teenager’s closet.

Her laughter was light as she stepped back. “I’ll give you a minute to get changed,” she said, nodding toward a corner of the room. Then, she grabbed a set of fresh clothes for herself, giving him a quick nod before slipping off to the bathroom.

Once alone, Bucky looked down at the makeshift outfit, a mixture of humor and nerves settling in. It was strange how easy she made things feel, and stranger still how much he found himself wanting to fit, if only for this evening.

Eventually, she emerged from the bathroom with a casual skirt and a matching blouse, feeling more at ease, until her gaze landed on Bucky. He was leaning against the window, looking out at the rain-soaked street, lost in thought. The borrowed pants hung low on his hips, but it was the white tank top that made her brain stutter. It clung to him in a way that left little to the imagination, stretched taut across his broad chest, outlining every defined line of muscle. She could even make out the slight press of his nipples through the fabric, a testament to the strain his frame put on the shirt that was clearly never made for him. She noticed the blue shirt he’d left folded on the table, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Couldn’t make the flannel work?”

Bucky glanced over, the corner of his mouth lifting in a self-conscious smirk. “Yeah… tried it,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t quite fit.”

She quickly averted her gaze, trying to mask the impure thoughts racing through her mind as she gestured toward the bulky cabinet under the TV. “So… movie or board game?”

Bucky’s gaze lingered on her for a beat, soaking in the warmth of her place, the easy coziness of being alone here with her. He felt a soft pull again, something that made him want to take another step closer, to reach out and… “Let’s play,” he murmured, his voice a bit rough. He gave her a slight smile. “Show me what you’ve got.”

They fell into the games as if nothing else existed. The hours slipped by unnoticed, each turn they took erasing a little more of the self-consciousness they’d started with. Laughter broke through the usual stillness of her living room, punctuated by playful jabs and shameless victory dances as they bickered over the rules and accused each other of cheating with an ease that felt familiar and comfortable.

At some point, she stopped worrying about how much she was watching him. It didn’t matter if her gaze lingered on the way his shoulders hunched with focus, or if she found herself distracted by the rare, soft chuckle he let slip when she pulled a fast one on him. And Bucky, for his part, began to let go of his usual reservations. Here, in her warm, cluttered living room with mismatched furniture and board game boxes stacked by the couch, he felt no need to carry the weight of conversation or second-guess every gesture. He didn’t need to measure himself against the usual question of what was “normal” or “appropriate.” He just… existed, slipping into her rhythm like it was second nature.

As the night wore on, they were sitting on the floor, engrossed in another game, the coffee table cluttered with pieces and cards. The mood had shifted from playful to fiercely competitive. Both of them were leaning forward, so focused on the game that they barely noticed how close they’d become.

Amid a particularly tense round, she reached forward quickly to snatch one of his pieces. Bucky, acting on pure instinct, grabbed her wrist to stop her. But when doing so, his grip was a little too forceful, and before either of them could react, she lost her balance. She lurched forward, crashing into the coffee table, her hands scrambling for purchase as she toppled over, knocking the game pieces everywhere.

Bucky froze, his eyes wide with shock as he realized what had happened. His heart raced as guilt and embarrassment washed over him.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted, his voice rough with panic. His hand hovered near her, unsure whether to touch her or give her space. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t think… are you okay?”

She sat up, a little dazed but unharmed. Her face flushed with the surprise of the fall, but she managed to smile softly, trying to ease the tension. “I’m fine. Really. Just… caught off guard.”

Bucky didn’t move from his spot, his entire body taut with self-reproach. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze as he muttered more apologies. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to grab you like that.” His words tumbled over each other in a hurried mess.

Her eyes softened, and she quickly tried to reassure him, though she could see the genuine discomfort in his posture. “It’s fine,” she said calmly. “I’m alright, seriously. You didn’t hurt me.”

But Bucky wasn’t listening. The self-reproach was already spiraling in his mind, the usual inner monologue of guilt and doubt taking over. “I’m a fucking mess,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “I can’t even…”

She reached out slowly, touching his arm lightly to ground him. “It’s okay,” she said again, but she saw it happening, his retreat, and it made her heart sink. He was going to pull away. She could see it in his posture, the way his gaze avoided hers, the tension in his shoulders as if he was already preparing to leave.

Without thinking, without any plan, she blurted out the only thing that had been swirling around in her head since the moment they started this strange, unpredictable connection. "I really like you."

The words hung in the air, louder than anything she’d ever said before, a sudden bomb dropped in the middle of their awkward standoff. Her breath caught in her throat as soon as they left her mouth, and her heart skipped a beat, the rush of adrenaline almost as strong as the surge of fear. She could already feel her cheeks flushing, the vulnerability creeping in, but she couldn’t take it back now.

Bucky’s head snapped up at her words, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he looked at her, stunned. For a moment, all he could do was stare, as if he were trying to make sense of what she’d just said. His mind had been racing, ready to bolt, but her confession grounded him, holding him in place.

“You… like me.” he finally managed, his voice barely more than a whisper, still slightly skeptical.

She smiled in a way that was both reassuring and a bit teasing. “Well, that was the whole point of going on a date, right?” His gaze flickered up, surprised, as she continued, “Why do you think I’d say yes to your invitation in the first place? I was even down to feed ducks with you.” Her smile widened, trying to lighten the mood, and a bit of that earlier sparkle returned to his eyes.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he shook his head, a mix of relief and amusement in his expression. “I thought maybe… I don’t know. Maybe you’d just be nice, humor me a little.”

She straightened up, putting on her best impression of an old-fashioned debutante. “Excuse you, but I don’t feed ducks with just anyone, what kind of woman do you think I am?” The statement had him laughing, a deep, hearty laugh that made his eyes crinkle and his nose wrinkle in an adorably unguarded way, making her knees feel like jelly.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t realize I was asking for such an honor. Guess I’ll have to work my way up to that level of duck-feeding trust.”

Her heart pounded as she met his steady, unflinching gaze, and managed to find her voice. “So… if you’re serious about making up for that offense,” she teased, “I might be open to… one little act of apology.”

He paused, his eyes widening just a fraction as he took in her words, understanding dawning across his features. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze softened as he reached up, almost on instinct, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear with a featherlight touch.

“I… think I can manage that,” he murmured, his voice warm and low. His thumb skimmed her cheek, his fingers brushing along her jaw as he leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to stop him. Then, finally, his lips touched hers, gentle and chaste. When they broke apart, they stayed close, foreheads nearly touching, neither quite ready to pull away. Bucky’s hand lingered on her face, his thumb still grazing her cheek as he whispered, “Is that enough to earn back your trust, or do I still have some work to do?”

She laughed softly, the sound carrying the last traces of nervousness and turning into pure warmth. “I think… that was a pretty good start.” Then she bit her lip, leaning further into his touch, “Though, maybe…” she whispered, her voice dropping to a daring, playful note, “you might have to put in a bit more effort to repair the affront on my reputation.”

He didn’t need any further invitation. His hand slipped around the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her close, capturing her mouth with an intensity that made her knees feel weak. This wasn’t the gentle, tentative kiss from before; this was raw, heated, as though he was pouring all the things he couldn’t say into the way his lips moved against hers.

His mouth parted, his tongue sliding against hers, drawing a soft, involuntary gasp from her. She melted against him, her hands finding his shoulders and gripping tight, grounding herself against the overwhelming rush of sensation. He angled his head, deepening the kiss, his thumb brushing the back of her neck as he sensually assaulted her mouth.

When he finally broke away, his breathing ragged, he kept his hand on the back of her head. His burning gaze met hers, and he managed a rough, breathless murmur, “Was that… enough effort?”

Her cheeks flushed, her voice barely a whisper. “That’ll… do.” But the playful smile on her lips told him she wasn’t entirely ready to let go either.

Bucky’s hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer, whispering her name, low and reverent, as he trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, each warm breath sending shivers over her skin. Her fingers wove into his hair, her other hand tracing the rough line of stubble along his jaw. Slowly, she tugged him up, their lips meeting again in a heated kiss.

The world around them seemed to fade entirely, the patter of rain on the window the only sound other than their breathless murmurs. His lips were hot and demanding against hers, his hand firm on her waist as he eased them both down to the plush carpet. The scattered board game pieces were forgotten, pressing into their knees and elbows as they moved together, desperate and unrestrained.

Bucky’s vibranium fingers brushed up her side, cool and deliberate, his other hand still cupping the back of her head to angle her closer. His lips left hers, trailing down her throat, nipping at the sensitive skin just above her collarbone as his hand slid beneath her blouse, fingertips tracing patterns along her skin.

Her hands roamed over his shoulders, and his back, as she tugged him closer, her nails grazing just enough to make him hiss. His breathing was uneven, as he murmured her name against her skin, reverent and raw. “Tell me,” He rasped, his voice thick with need, “Tell me you want this.”

She reached for his face, her fingers tracing the rough line of stubble along his jaw. “I do.”

Bucky’s lips crashed onto hers, urgent yet unhurried, drinking in every soft gasp she gave him. His weight pressed her down against the plush carpet as his hand slid up the curve of her thigh beneath her skirt. The soft fabric bunched under his touch, his fingers brushing higher until the cool air met her exposed skin. She shivered, but not from the chill.

His other hand, the vibranium one, moved to the delicate buttons of her blouse.

Carefully, almost reverently, he slipped each button free, his knuckles brushing against her bare skin. When the blouse finally fell open, he pulled back just enough to drink her in, his chest rising and falling heavily.

The vibranium hand moved to the buttons of her blouse, steady but reverent. One by one, the delicate closures came undone, and as the fabric fell away, his knuckles brushed against the warm skin of her chest, drawing a quiet moan from her lips. When the blouse finally opened, he pulled back just enough to look at her, his heavy-lidded eyes dark with desire as his chest heaved with ragged breaths.

“God,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of want. The hand on her thigh squeezed gently, as if grounding himself in her, while his other hand grazed her exposed collarbone, slipping beneath the straps of her bra.

Her breath hitched as his fingers teased along the edge of the fabric before slipping it down her shoulder. His lips followed, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that made her arch beneath him. The scrape of his stubble against her sensitive skin only heightened the sensation. His mouth moved lower, dragging over the curve of her breast until his lips hovered above the thin lace of her bra.

She gasped as he nipped lightly through the fabric, his tongue following to soothe the sting. “Bucky,” she whispered, her voice trembling but filled with need.

His gaze flicked up to hers as his hand came up to cup her other breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple through the lace, drawing a soft, breathy moan from her and then repeating the motion, this time circling the stiffened peak with a deliberate slowness that had her squirming beneath him.

Her hips shifted instinctively, brushing against his, and that’s when she felt his hardness, pressing insistently against her thigh through the loose fabric of his borrowed pants, and she arched into him, her hands slipping beneath his tank top to trace the hard planes of his chest.

“Feel what you do to me?” he rasped, his voice breaking as her fingers trailed lower, tracing the edge of his waistband.

Her answer was a breathless kiss, open and hungry, her teeth tugging lightly at his lower lip before her tongue swept into his mouth. He groaned against her, his hips pressing down against hers in a slow, deliberate grind that made them both gasp.

The friction between them built as his hand moved from her breast, sliding down her side to grip her hip. He tugged her leg higher around his waist, pressing himself more firmly against her, the thin layers of fabric between them doing little to muffle the heat of their bodies. Her nails scraped lightly down his back as he thrust his hips again, the pressure of his cock against her clothed clit sending sparks of pleasure through her.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling, needy.

He stilled for a heartbeat, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, his lips curling into a sly smirk. “I need you to use your words, doll,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and thick with desire.

Her cheeks flushed, the weight of his gaze making her shy for a moment. But the throbbing between her thighs burned hotter than her embarrassment. She licked her lips, her voice a little bolder now. “I… want you inside me.”

His smirk vanished, replaced by something darker, hungrier. He reached behind his neck to pull off his tank top in one swift motion.

The scars on his shoulder and chest caught the dim light, jagged reminders of everything he’d endured. Her fingers stilled against his chest, her breath catching as she took him in. But there wasn’t fear or pity in her gaze, only awe, tenderness, and something that made his throat tighten.

“You’re so handsome,” she murmured, leaning forward to press her lips to his collarbone. Her kisses trailed across his skin, soft and reverent, lingering on the edge of a scar.

The last of his self-consciousness melted away at her touch, and he growled softly, pushing her back down onto the carpet. His vibranium hand wrapped around her wrists, pinning them above her head with just enough pressure to make her breath hitch.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his lips brushing her ear as his free hand slid down her body. He traced the curve of her waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties. Her breath hitched as his hand dipped beneath the fabric teasing her, tracing slow circles over her clit with controlled and deliberate movements, as if savoring every little sound she made.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over her jaw before pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “All for me, huh?”

“Bucky,” she gasped, her hips bucking against his hand.

“Patience, doll, I’m a little… rusty.” he whispered, as his fingers slid lower, parting her folds and slipping inside her. Her moan was like music to his ears, her body arching beneath him as he set a slow, maddening rhythm.

She writhed against him, her breathless gasps and whispered pleas spurring him on. He watched her intently, his gaze dark and focused, each stroke and curl inside her seeking out what made her moan, what made her gasp his name like a prayer.

Her hands twisted above her head where his metal hand kept them pinned, her thighs trembling as her body moved instinctively against his. "That's it," he murmured, his lips brushing over her neck. "Let me hear you. Tell me what feels good."

A strangled cry escaped her lips as his fingers found just the right spot, his thumb brushing over her clit in perfect tandem. Her hips bucked against his hand, chasing the pleasure he gave her. Her voice was breathless, broken as she moaned, "Bucky, right there… oh, God, right there."

His tongue traced the shell of her ear, and when he spoke, his voice was gravelly and thick. “Got you, sweetheart. Just let go for me.”

She shattered beneath him moments later, her head tipping back as the waves of her release washed over her. Her cries filled the room, mingling with the rhythm of the rain outside. Bucky felt the tight coil of his own restraint loosen at the sight of her coming undone. Any lingering self-doubt evaporated, replaced by the raw satisfaction of knowing he’d done that, he’d learned her, he’d given her this.

He slowed his movements, easing her down gently, his fingers still stroking her as she trembled beneath him. When her breathing steadied, he brought his hand to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers as he licked his fingers clean, savoring her taste with a low groan.

Her cheeks flushed, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Rusty, huh?” she murmured with a shaky laugh, her voice tinged with both awe and affection.

With a wicked grin, Bucky shifted, his hands fumbling to rid himself of his pants as the heat between them threatened to consume him whole. But as he pushed up onto his knees, something sharp jabbed into him, and he froze.

“Son of a…” He hissed, lifting his knee and finding a pointy plastic game piece stuck underneath it. He held it up between two fingers, glaring at the offending object like it had personally insulted him. “Seriously?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, but the sparkle in her eyes gave her away. “That’s what happens when you’re too eager and don’t clear the battlefield first.”

“Oh, it’s a battlefield now, huh?” he grumbled, tossing the offending piece aside with a flick of his wrist. Despite his frustration, the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying a suppressed grin.

He stood quickly, tugging his pants down with a low, irritated huff, but the urgency in his movements never wavered.

Her gaze lingered on him, her breath catching as her eyes traced every line of his body, every mark that told a story he didn’t always want to remember.

The heat in his expression faltered for just a second, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and his lips twitched in a self-conscious smirk. Climbing back on top of her, he didn’t hesitate as her hands slid up his arms, guiding him closer. Her lips found his pulse point, trailing lower to the curve of his collarbone. When her lips brushed over a jagged scar, he exhaled sharply, his hand catching her chin, tilting her face toward his.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he rasped, his voice a mix of awe and hunger.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief as her lips curled into a teasing smile. “I thought we’d already established this was a battlefield,” she whispered.

“Well… I’m not exactly known for doing sloppy jobs while battling sweetheart” With one swift movement he ripped the seams of her panties, then guided himself with one hand, the thick tip of his cock pressing lightly against her slick entrance. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged it up and down her folds, catching on her clit with every pass. Her hips jerked against him, a breathless moan escaping her lips. “You’re so ready for me,” he murmured, his voice thick as he pressed himself harder against her, the friction almost too much. “Think you can take all of me, doll?”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know if you don’t-”

A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips before he eased into her slowly, inch by thick inch, her teasing interrupted with a gasp that turned into a long, broken moan as he filled her completely. He groaned, his forehead pressing to hers as he stilled for a moment, letting her adjust to his size.

He started slow, rolling his hips into hers with a deliberate rhythm, his breath hot against her neck as he groaned softly with each thrust. Her body arched beneath him, meeting him as best she could, though the stretch of him left her gasping.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured with roughed voice, as his lips brushed her temple.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and beneath her, the scattered cards and pieces dug into her back, but the discomfort was barely registered through the haze of pleasure coursing through her.

“Bucky…” she whimpered, her voice shaky, her nails scraping lightly against his skin as she clenched around him.

“Hold on, doll,” he rasped, his hand sliding behind her thigh, lifting her leg higher to hook it around his waist. The new angle sent a lightning bolt of pleasure through her, and she cried out, her head falling back as he thrust deeper, harder.

“God, look at you,” he groaned, his dog tags swaying with each movement. The faint metallic clink added to the symphony of their labored breaths and the rain tapping against the window.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t ground herself as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and the sharp tug sent a low, primal growl rumbling through his chest. He shifted, sliding his arm beneath her other thigh, resting the back of her knee on his inner elbow, thrusting deeper, harder, making her cry out, her back arching as he drove her closer to the edge. “That’s it,” he rasped, his voice rough and commanding, his rhythm relentless now. Her nails scraped against the rug beneath her, trying desperately to find some kind of anchor as her body writhed beneath him. “You feel so damn good,” he muttered, his tone reverent yet hungry, his mouth finding hers in a searing kiss as he continued to take her apart.

Sensing he wouldn’t last much longer, Bucky shifted slightly, his metal hand sneaking between their bodies. The coolness of vibranium against her overheated skin sent a jolt through her, and then his fingers found her clit. He circled it with slow, deliberate strokes, pulling a sharp gasp from her lips.

But he wasn’t done. He pressed his index finger at her entrance, sliding it inside alongside his cock. The new stretch made her gasp again, her back arching against him.

“Bucky!” she cried, her voice breaking on his name.

He froze for a fraction of a second, giving her time to adjust, before driving his finger in knuckle-deep. The motion coaxed a pleasured cry from her as he curled the digit, pressing into that spot deep inside that made her see stars.

His thumb resumed its work on her clit, circling in time with the thrust of his hips and the curling of his finger.

Her cries grew louder, each sound spurring him on. The dual sensation of his cock and his finger drove her higher, her body trembling beneath him as pleasure spiraled through her in an unrelenting wave.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he muttered, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath hot and uneven as he continued to work her over. “Falling apart for me.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, the only thing grounding her as she spiraled closer to the edge. The combination of his relentless thrusts, the pressure on her clit, and the maddening stretch inside her finally shattered her. She cried out, her entire body trembling as the climax ripped through her, pleasure blinding and all-consuming.

Bucky groaned deeply as he felt her tighten around him, her release dragging him over the edge. He withdrew his finger, his hand gripping her hip as he buried himself fully inside her with one final thrust, spilling his hot seed deep inside her. His breath came in heavy pants against her skin, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were their ragged breathing and the faint patter of rain against the window. He shifted slightly, resting his forehead against hers while their bodies were still entwined.

She let out a soft, contented hum, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his shoulder. “Again, you call this being rusty?” she murmured, her lips curling into a smile, but before she could tease him further, his expression shifted, a flicker of self-doubt breaking through the earlier confidence.

He ran a hand through his hair, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “That thing I did,” he started, his voice low, almost hesitant, “with… y’know, my finger…” He trailed off, his hand gesturing vaguely, the tension in his shoulders betraying his uncertainty. “Was that too much? Too… weird?”

Her lips parted in surprise, but then a small, warm smile curved them. “Weird? Bucky…” She leaned in, resting her hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. “It wasn’t too much. It was… creative.” She chuckled softly, her cheeks flushing at the memory. “Unexpected, yeah. But in the best way.”

His brow furrowed, still caught in his head. “I just didn’t know if I… I mean, it felt right at the moment, but-”

She interrupted him with a light kiss, her hand sliding to cup his jaw. “It was right,” she said firmly, her eyes locking onto his. “Don’t overthink it. Just… trust me when I say you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Her lips quirked into a teasing smile, the light tone of her voice breaking the intensity. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have pointy things prickling at my ass.”

Bucky blinked, and then his eyes darted to the floor around them, suddenly remembering the scattered game pieces and cards beneath her. “Shit,” he muttered, immediately shifting off her. “Sorry, doll, hold on.”

He backed off her quickly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted between the scattered cards and her flushed disheveled state.

“Relax. I was a little… preoccupied before to notice.” She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow.

Still, he bent to pick up every piece around her, muttering about “pointy plastic landmines.” When he finished, he straightened and extended a hand to her, pulling her gently to her feet.

“I’ll make sure next time is on a battlefield that’s… less hazardous,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, self-conscious smile.

“Next time, huh?” she teased, brushing her fingers lightly over his chest. “Confident now, are we?”

Bucky’s grin grew, a flicker of his earlier confidence returning. “I might be. If you’re not scared off by my… tactics.”

Her fingers continued to trail lightly along his chest, stopping just above his heart. “Not scared. Intrigued.”

Bucky bit his lip, his eyes darkening with a renewed spark as he slipped his hand around the back of her head. With a gentle yet insistent pull, he drew her closer, his lips capturing hers in a sensual kiss. Outside, the rain continued with its steady rhythm, soft and unrelenting, a distant soundtrack to the quiet intimacy they shared, where nothing else mattered but the heat of their kiss.

Just in case someone is interested, this is the song that inspired the story.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

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