#he keeps his whole hand on her head and drifts through with his fingers instead of just glancing over her hair

[pucksandpower]

Theories of Relativity

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you don’t need TikTok theories to prove that your relationship is a dream come to life, but it doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend passes all of them with flying colors

The Olive Theory

When you love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices and compromises for them (even if those sacrifices are something small like pretending to hate olives just so you can give them to your olive-loving partner instead)

You sit across from Charles at the long dinner table, smiling as he animatedly recounts the race from last weekend. His hands wave through the air, punctuating his story as he describes the final lap battle with Max down to the last corner. You’re only half listening though, too distracted by how handsome he looks in his dinner jacket, his tanned skin glowing in the low light of the restaurant.

As Charles pauses to take a sip of wine, you lean in and whisper, “I wasn’t really watching the race, I only had eyes for you.”

Charles chuckles, his nose crinkling adorably. “Oh really? So you missed all the action then?"

You shrug, trailing a finger down his arm. “What can I say, I find you far more interesting than the other cars going around in circles.”

Charles opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a mechanic sitting a little way down from you. “Oi Charles, why do you keep picking all the olives out of your salad?"

You look down, noticing the small pile of olives Charles has stacked onto the edge of his plate.

Charles glances at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh, um, I’m not a huge fan of olives.”

The mechanic frowns in confusion. “But I’ve seen you eat olives before. You always get them on your pizza.”

“I, uh ...” Charles stammers, clearly flustered.

Under the table, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Charles looks at you and you give him a small nod.

“Well, the truth is,” Charles says, turning back to the mechanic. “I actually love olives. But Y/N loves them even more than I do. So I pick them out of my food to give to her.”

You smile softly at Charles, warmed by his thoughtfulness. The mechanic chuckles and shakes his head. “You two are so cute it’s almost gross.”

Charles just grins and pops an olive into your mouth. “Anything for mon amour.”

You crunch the olive happily, then lean in to give Charles a quick kiss on the lips. “People who say chivalry is dead have simply never met you.”

The conversation moves on, flowing from racing to travel and everything in between. Under the table, your fingers stay intertwined with Charles’ the whole time.

After dinner, you all head outside into the cool night air. Charles’ team members head off towards their own cars, calling out goodbyes.

You snuggle into Charles’ side as you walk towards where his Ferrari is parked. “Thank you for the olives,” you say. “But you really don’t have to deprive yourself on my account.”

Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “I want to though. I like making you happy.”

You stop next to the car, turning to face him. Running a hand down his chest you say, “You know what would really make me happy right now?"

“Hmm?" Charles murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You grin mischievously. “A stop for gelato on the way home.”

Charles laughs and opens the car door for you. “Anything for you, mon cœur.”

The Bird Test

If you say something that could be deemed insignificant and your partner responds with genuine curiosity, that’s a really good sign that your relationship will last a long time

The Brazilian sun beats down as you wander hand-in-hand with Charles along the edges of the Interlagos circuit. It’s the day before qualifying, and Charles brought you out to the track in São Paulo to share the grid walk with you.

You stroll slowly, enjoying a rare private moment together during the hectic race weekend. Charles points out details along the track — the tricky off-camber Turn 3, the sharp left-right complex at Turns 5 and 6, the long full throttle blast down the back straight.

You love seeing him so in his element here, his passion for racing evident in his voice and gestures.

As you round Turn 12, heading down the home straight, a flash of bright blue in the trees catches your eye. Gasping in excitement, you grab Charles’ arm and point.

“Look, a hyacinth macaw!”

Charles follows your gaze to the large, vividly colored parrot perched in the branches. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo.”

You bounce on your toes, thrilled at the sighting. “Aren’t they gorgeous? That bright blue is unreal. Macaws are pretty rare around here, I can’t believe we spotted one!”

Charles smiles at your obvious delight, then turns back to observe the macaw with curiosity. “What do they eat?" He asks. “Fruit, like other parrots?"

“Yes exactly!” You reply eagerly. “Mostly palm nuts and acai berries. And they need a huge range of territory, something like 80 square kilometers.”

As you chat more facts about the brilliant bird, Charles listens attentively, asking more questions and commenting on its beauty. His genuine interest and engagement makes your heart flutter happily.

Eventually the macaw takes flight, its bright wings flashing blue against the trees as it disappears into the forest.

“Incredible,” Charles murmurs, watching it go. “What an amazing thing to see.”

He turns back to you, eyes shining. “Thank you for pointing it out, I never would have spotted it myself. I love seeing you so excited teaching me about something you’re passionate about.”

You step closer, looping your arms around his neck. “And I love that you always listen and want to know more, even if it’s not about racing.”

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, smiling tenderly. “Of course, your passions are my passions now too. I want to know everything that sparks that beautiful light in your eyes.”

The Orange Peel Theory

A partner’s willingness to perform small acts of service is indicative of a healthy relationship

Early morning sun filters into the kitchen as you sip your coffee, still wearing the oversized Ferrari shirt you slept in. Charles stands at the counter across from you, freshly showered and humming to himself as he browses his phone.

Setting your mug down, you grab an orange from the fruit bowl and start to peel it. Or at least you try. The tough rind puts up a stubborn fight, your nails scraping uselessly against it.

“Ugh, I hate peeling oranges,” you grumble after a minute. “Whose idea was it to make the peel so impossible?"

Charles glances up with a sympathetic smile. “Here, let me.”

He takes the orange from your hands and deftly digs his thumb into the top, effortlessly tearing the peel away in one long curl.

You watch in admiration as he strips the rest of the orange until it’s completely naked and ready to eat.

“Voila,” Charles presents it with a flourish. “One perfectly peeled orange for mon ange.”

“My hero,” you grin. You go to take it from him but Charles playfully keeps it out of reach.

“Ah ah, allow me,” he says. Holding your gaze, he gently pulls apart one glistening segment and brings it to your lips.

Happiness bubbles up in you at this sweet, unexpected gesture. You let Charles pop the orange slice into your mouth, savoring the bright citrus burst.

“Delicious,” you murmur. Charles smiles and leans in to kiss you softly, his thumb brushing a drop of juice from your lower lip.

One by one he continues to peel the segments and feed them to you, interspersing each with tender kisses that taste of orange and love.

You close your eyes blissfully, letting the sensual ritual relax you. Charles takes his time, not rushing. He knows this is your favorite part of the morning, stealing these private moments together before the busy day sweeps you both up.

When the last segment is gone, Charles kisses you again, deeper this time. You loop your arms around his neck, melting against him.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” you whisper when you finally separate.

Charles nuzzles your nose with his. “You may have said it once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it.”

You lean into him contentedly. As always, his thoughtfulness and care warms you from the inside out.

Peeling an orange is such a small act but the meaning behind it speaks volumes. Charles knows your quirks and preferences, and cherishes these little opportunities to make your day brighter.

The little things that mean everything.

You’re still musing dreamily about this when Charles tips your chin up. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks with a curious smile.

You shake your head, focusing back on him. “Just thinking about us. And how perfectly you peel my oranges.”

Charles laughs. “Well I’m glad to be of service. I know how you hate getting orange string stuck under your nails.”

He kisses your fingertips one by one. “Can’t have anything marring these beautiful hands.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “Oh yes, I need to keep my hands soft and dainty in case a prince comes along to propose.”

Charles squawks in protest and tackles you against the counter, fingers digging into your sides to tickle you mercilessly. You dissolve into helpless giggles, swatting him away.

“No no, stop! I take it back!” You gasp.

Charles relents, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. “Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.

You snuggle into him contentedly. No fantasy prince could ever compete with the reality of Charles.

The Invisible String Theory

An invisible string connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance (the string may stretch or tangle but it will never break)

The living room is filled with laughter and happy chatter as you and Charles sit surrounded by both your families. Your wedding is only two days away, and his mother suggested gathering everyone together one night for reminiscing and quality time.

Looking through old photo albums is proving to be hilarious and heartwarming. Baby pictures, school plays, family vacations — memories preserved to embroider the story of your lives before fate brought you together.

Charles smiles wistfully as Lorenzo shows an album from their childhood. “I wish my godfather and father could have met you,” he says softly. “They would have loved you so much.”

You take his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lost loved ones are always close to his heart.

Your mother passes an album to you with a smile. “Oh this one is from our trip to France when you were five! So many cute little Y/N photos.”

You roll your eyes but obligingly open the album, Charles peering over your shoulder. You flip through pictures of your younger self building sandcastles on the beach, wearing a hilariously large sun hat, beaming gappily with missing front teeth.

Charles grins down at you. “Adorable. I can’t wait for our kids to-”

He stops abruptly, staring down at the page. You follow his gaze to a photo of your family in Nice, taken in front of the Le Negresco hotel. And there in the background, almost out of frame — four familiar figures walking down the promenade.

A young Charles holds the hand of a teenage boy you immediately recognize as Jules. On Charles’ other side, his father Hervé carries a toddler Arthur.

Your breath catches sharply. The families fall silent around you. Charles’ fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the image.

“Of course we went to Nice often,” he whispers. “I had no idea ...” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.

Arthur cranes his head to see. “Is that us? With Papa and Jules?" He looks between you and Charles with wide eyes.

“Almost twenty years ago,” Lorenzo marvels. “And your paths were already crossing.”

Pascale wipes at her eyes, grasping Charles’ other hand tightly. “It was meant to be. Some invisible string tying you together even then.”

Charles’ fingers tremble as they trace over the image. For one brief, impossible moment, it feels like you’re all together — you, Charles, Jules, Hervé. Preserved in time, intersecting at the crossroads of past and future.

Though you never met in life, somehow you were all bound in that instant, tied by invisible strings of destiny. Strings that would one day guide you and Charles to each other.

It’s only a photo, yet looking at it you feel Jules and Hervé’s presence like a bittersweet embrace. As if across the years, they’re saying we know you. We love you. We’re so happy for you both.

You stare down at it, this captured moment of impossible synchronicity. A glimpse of the thread that wove itself silently through your lives until the day it finally drew you together.

Charles meets your eyes, his own shimmering with tears. Without words, you know he feels it too. The impossible link stretching back through time. Proof you were always meant to find each other.

He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I believe that with all my heart, we’ve always been connected somehow.”

“Soulmates,” you whisper.

You cling to him, overwhelmed with certainty. Through accidents of time and geography, missteps and milestones, your story was always guiding you here.

Meant for each other. Destined, even then.

[s0fter-sin]

the bathroom scene in the bourne identity is the most tension filled buildup i’ve ever seen?? the way it’s filmed, the silence, the gentle way bourne touches marie, how she moves first and he shies away from her kiss before kissing her back, the intimacy is palpable

[lanabuckybarnes]

Would you write a plus size reader w either bucky or steve(or both) where they are her first real relationship and she gets scared that she doesn't deserve to be with either of them and so she tries to push them away so she doesn't get hurt but instead they show her why she is their person.... like tooth rotting fluff and the filthiest smut..... if that's okay if not no worries

| All Yours, Only Yours |

18+ Minors DNI

✧Pairing✧ Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

✧Warnings✧ A lil angsty, Sharon being a big bully (like seriously you’re 50 and you’re bullying someone? ick), Name calling, Angry Buck, Crying, Bucky is a simp, Confessions, Marking, Dry humping, Oral (F), Fingering (F), Teeny bit of cum play, Dirty talk, Unprotected PinV, Praise, Petnames, My shitty writing — again very tame for me but i didnt want to go overboard. If there any more I’ve neglected to add please let me know.

✧Word Count✧ 4.3K

✧Author Note✧ I really hope you enjoy this and I've done your request justice, I honestly tried my best but idk…Anyways!!! Much love to everyone, please let me know what you think. Love ya xxx

“Still not answering?” Natasha asks from her spot in the cockpit, concern evident from the wrinkle between her brows.

“Nope” he spits his reply, reeling from the whole ordeal. He thrusts his phone into his jean pocket, sick to the back teeth of nothing but a black screen greeting him instead of your sweet little messages.

“Did you piss her off or something?” Sam tries to lighten the mood but is swiftly shut down, his hands rising in surrender at the killer glare the brunette shot his way.

“Calm down everyone, we’ll be home soon so we can figure this out” Steve, the voice of reason commands order within the small confines of the jet. He sits, a gloved hand rubbing over his friend's shoulder trying to reassure his muddled brain but to no avail.

Bucky is pissed. He’s pissed and he’s worried sick. A week he’s been gone for and he’s missing you like crazy. The only issue? You are ignoring him, straight up ghosting his brooding ass which is completely unlike you. Often on missions when Bucky clicks his phone on he’s greeted with a flurry of messages from you; photos of little birds you see on your walks, photos of alpine taken at odd angles and constant little messages that make his heart full and ready to continue his painstaking missions—none of it, just a notification from your favourite restaurant offering a discount to keep him happy.

As soon as this jet landed he was going to get to the bottom of what was going on and then he was going to cuddle you to death as punishment. Not that he’d let anyone else know that.

One Week Earlier…

Beep beep beep. Bucky’s alarm sounds at the ungodly hour of five am, his groan following. He didn't want to get out of this bed, he was too warm, his huge body wrapped around yours. Your movements spurred his own, your arm reaching over to switch off his alarm while he pushed himself into a sit, thoughts already on the mission afoot.

“Morning,” your raspy voice purrs, bringing his attention back to you. His eyes fall to your face; following the slope of your puffy cheeks up to your barely open eyes, your hues peeking through only enough to tease him. Putting his weight on his right arm he’s on top of you before you can blink, his head tucked into the crook of your neck, peppering tiny kisses along the warm skin.

“Morning princess,” he bites back his yawn, shifting so his hips slot in their spot between your plush thighs, loving the way they wrapped around his narrow waist just the way he loved. Practice truly did make perfect. His dark vibranium fingers drifted from your collarbone, over the swell of your breast until it found its favourite perch on your hips.

“So fucking pretty” he breathes, his pupils dilating to let more of you in — until you pushed him away.

“You gotta get ready Mr” you giggle, moving your foot so you could push him further away, ruining his plan B of pinning you down by your hips.

“Don’t remind me…”

His cold left hand hooks around your ankle, pushing at it until your knee hinged, bending up and out. A suspicious hardness presses against you, a wicked smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“I mean it Buck we can’t, Nat will be kicking that door down any minute” he groans at your words knowing that you are completely right. That lock had been replaced an embarrassing amount of times because of that exact situation. You hated rejecting him, knowing that he could easily put you back to sleep until midday if he wanted. After a small standoff between you both you warn him again, an arch in your brow and a growl behind his name.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that?”

You laugh, sitting up, watching him skulk around the room in nothing but his grey Calvin Kleins, “I haven’t done anything!”

“Sure you haven’t” he argues, moving over to you again, his metal fingers looping under your chin to tilt your head back to gaze up at him, “Looking so fucking sexy in the morning and I can’t fuck you stupid. That’s not teasing that’s damn near criminal.”

You groan, rolling your eyes at your pouty 106-year-old man. You inch closer to his mouth, a sickly sweet definitely not bratty smirk on your face. “Get your ass ready.”

“Fine…but only because you looked so fucking sexy ordering me around,”

“Bucky!” You shout after him, blush on your full cheeks. He only smirks over his shoulder, pushing his briefs to the floor at the entrance to the bathroom, giving you a full view of his posterior.

You get up too, knowing you had been awake too long to fall asleep again. You get ready with the shower as background noise, pulling on some workout clothes. Today you decided you’d try out the gym right here in the compound, you’d been to many different ones in the past; often polluted with the smell of days-old sweat and men reeking of testosterone, grunting and groaning at weights you could only dream of lifting.

An hour later, after waving Bucky off on his week-long mission you were in the gym.

“Hey” you smile as you pass Sharon, her blonde hair whipping as she ducks and weaves to dodger imaginary punches the bag throws out before throwing a couple of her own. She offers you a tight-lipped smile, her eyes straying from your face down your body. She takes note of your long top and shorts that settle around mid-thigh compared to her sports bra and tiny shorts — her flat stomach and sculpted legs on display.

God you wish you had just as much ventilation. Just as you go to place your earphones in your ears you hear a scoff coming from Sharon’s direction. You pay it no mind, setting the treadmill for a nice incline and pace, pressing the timer until it shone with the time you wanted.

The treadmill slowed for the cooldown. Your eyes moved from the display in front to glance over your shoulder, the gym was empty. You grab your bottle only to realise thanks to your distraction you'd finished off your water. You stop the treadmill and hop off, making a beeline for the kitchen. The walk to the kitchen from the gym wasn’t that long but with the feeling of your sweat culminating in places you didn’t want it to be it was almost torturous.

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw her,”

A gaggle of hushed laughs comes from the kitchen, stopping you. A familiar dread coils in your stomach, reminding you of when you were young, the children pointing and laughing — joking at your expense.

“she must been on that treadmill for about five minutes and she was all like huff huff” she laughs obnoxiously “Her face was like a big tomato, I almost died trying to keep myself from laughing” Sharon continues.

The group cackles again at your expense, almost doubling as Sharon makes the huffing noise again. You cling to your shirt, pulling it from sticking to your body. These women you thought were friends did just what everyone else did.

“She’s pathetic, I don’t know what Bucky sees in her” Your heart stops. That little devil on your jumps and cheers at the confirmation of what it has been telling you since the start of your relationship with Bucky. You were never enough.

“I can’t wait for him to dump her once he gets sick of her wide load.”

Tears fall on their own accord but you don't register them, too busy inside your head being suffocated by every doubt and self-conscious thought you ever had since you confessed your feelings for the super soldier. You didn't deserve Bucky and everyone thought that too.

Back at your room, freshly clean. You scrolled through your messages from Bucky. The little hearts next to his messages no longer felt genuine like he was only doing it merely to save your feelings from being hurt. You were nothing but a burden that he was forced to bear; it wouldn’t be long before like Sharon said, he got sick of the clinginess and the need for reassurance and broke up with you.

Well, you weren’t going to be a burden any longer. You wouldn’t let him break your heart first. You turned your phone off, tucking it into your bedside drawer.

—

“Bucky wait!” Sam calls from the quinjet but it goes ignored. Bucky’s face is twisted in annoyance as he takes wide, purposeful steps towards the tower doors. He was going to find you and you were going to tell him why the fuck you were ignoring him.

He ignores the shouts of his name as Nat, Steve and Sam follow him indoors, smashing the elevator button with his thumb and stepping inside. Once on your floor, he stormed like a charging bull to your room, slamming a gloved fist on your door in a poor excuse for a knock.

The loud knocking from the other end of the room had you jumping back in your seat, the slee overtaking you gone in an instant. Your heart lurched at the familiar face, worn from exhaustion and malice clear from the scrunching of his forehead and tick in his cheek muscle.

“Oh hello, where have you been?” Bucky snaps, glaring down at you as you use the door as a shield from his scrutinising eyes. Here it comes, the moment you’d prepared for all week. You don’t think you’ll go back to dating apps, too many weird me—

“You know how worried I was when you didn't answer me all week?”

Huh. “Huh?”

“‘Huh?’ Are you joking? You ghosted me, left me scared to death on a mission halfway across the globe and all you can say to me is huh!” His blue eyes glisten and you look at them closer. There was no anger there, only concern and fear culminating in swirls across his blue orbs, rearing its head in rage across Bucky’s face.

“Bucky I—” you try but you can’t find the words, each syllable sticks in your throat, balling up until it feels like you can no longer breathe. The week of bottled-up emotions spills forth at the sight of him — at the revelation that he was utterly terrified. Tears fall from your eyes before you know it, your lip wobbling as you keep trying to speak.

Bucky’s shoulders tense at the sight of tiny tears falling over your full cheeks, guilt replacing his earlier pain,

“Fuck c’mere baby” he pulls you close, bending at an almost uncomfortable angle just to hold you as close as humanly possible.

“I'm so sorry for being so annoyed but you have to see why I was so scared something had happened to you. You left me on read for an entire week and blanked my calls. That isn’t you, you know how scary that was for me?” He whispers so softly, backing you up to sit on your bed.

In his arms, surrounded by his warmth and scent the week you had fell from your mouth like alphabet soup, from the gym to Sharon to how hard it was to ignore your phone knowing that Bucky would’ve been calling you every single day but you did it to protect your own heart. Nothing was kept a secret.

“I’ll kill her,” he growls when you finish, muscles tightening even more around you.

“Buck.”

“Right…sorry, I won't kill her” He lied between his teeth, well sort of. He wouldn’t actually kill Sharon but he knew you'd be upset if he did anything to her which he was indeed planning to do but to save you any more pain for the evening, to keep that teeny tiny smile on your face he lied.

“What makes her think she has any fucking right to speak on other people’s appearance anyway?”

“She wasn't lying…” it came out in the tiniest little voice, maybe your way of silently hoping he didn't hear it and he wouldn’t have if it weren't for his super soldier ears.

Gripping onto your wrists Bucky flipped your world in an instant, the breath leaving your lungs as your back makes contact with the bed, your wrists caught on either side of your head.

“Are you lying to me doll?” He says, raising a brow at you.

“No…”

“You are! You're lying right to my face,” he argues, pressing your wrists further into the mattress below. Your eyes fall shut as his face inches closer to yours.

“Look at me princess,” he waits until you open both eyes again, looking up at him as if he strung the stars in the sky “There is not a single thing that I'd change about you and I mean that. I fell in love with you the way you are now, you aren't some bitch that gets off on making fun of others. I fell head over damn heels for you because you are you.”

His eyes sparkle with adoration, his hands running up and down your body softly. The juxtaposition of metal on one side and warmth on the other sends shivers up your spine.

“I love you,” he breathes, leaning down again till your lips graze his. A teasing smile pulled on the pink corners of his mouth, a similar glint in his eyes, “you know that right?”

“Yes,” you nod, pushing up to close the distance between your mouths but he pulls away.

“I don't think you do,”

“I do Buck I promise.”

“Well…” he began, the glint in his eyes dulling as want engulfed the colour, “let me make sure.”

Bucky takes his time. He has to knowing that you're feeling small. Slowly his lips slot with yours, ushering out sweet little sounds to replace the broken ones that still thrum fresh in his mind.

“I love you,” he says again, capturing your hitched gasp with his tongue as he pushes it past the seam of your mouth, the tip flicking against your own to entice it to mingle. Slowly but surely the tension drips from your shoulders, your arms moving from his grip to trail up over his rigid stomach and chest. They sink below the shoulder pads of his jacket, pushing it off his broad frame and onto the floor beside the bed. Your hands paw at the exposed skin on his arm, fingers squeezing, nails scraping over the corded muscle.

“All of yours…all of it.”

Each time the seal of your mouths broke you chase them, planting kisses teeming with nothing but raw desire onto kiss-bitten lips. The words that Sharon said are long gone from your mind now, replaced by the man in front of you. Everything you smell, taste, touch and see — it's all him.

The brunette slips off his glove; his warm and cold, metal hand grips your hips, pulling you up into his lap with a squeak.

“You feel that?” He grunts, moving from your mouth down your face to your neck. His lips suck and his teeth nibble, marking you, proving to anyone around that dare dispute his love for you again. With undeniable strength he grinds you down into a sizeable bulge poking from his tight jeans, he hisses at the contact, letting a hand fall to your ass with a small spank.

Your arousal seeps through your thin panties making them stick to your dainty folds; your clit buzzes at the delicious scratch the metal of his zip brings you — a gasp catching in your throat every time your neglected nub catches the pull tab.

As much as he worshiped the way you dry-humped his cock, soaking the front of his jeans. Bucky is desperate. After a week of no contact, not even a tiny emoji heart never mind a raunchy photo, he needs something — anything. And he's going to get it.

“Get on the bed” he demands, pushing at you ever so slightly. “Panties off.”

You do as you are told, fingers frantically hooking into the waistband of your underwear, rolling the material over your thick thighs until they hook around a single ankle.

“Spread those legs for me baby, lemme see that sweet little cunt.”

You hesitate for a second, your legs twitching to open but knees knocking again as you close them. Blown pupils snap onto your face his jaw clenched hard and his nostrils flared. Before you can react his calloused hands settle gently, luring you into a false sense of security.

They soothe down your thighs as his blue eyes study you. Inch by inch his dull nails tap over your beautifully wide thighs until he's back at your kneecaps. With a soft unassuming smile, bucky pushes your legs wide, a rush of oxygen leaving you as your sopping folds are exposed to the cool air of the room. He doesn't give you a chance to breathe before a warm hand smacks over your wet folds, your body jerks, an unabashed moan flying from your parted lips.

“Don't fucking deny me this” he growls, fire roaring in his eyes. “You ghosted me for a week, now you're gonna lie there all pretty and let me eat this sweet fucking cunt.”

You nod, biting your lip. At the first presence of him between your legs, his hot breath billowing over your labia, your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Over each fold, ridge and crevice his breath fans, a shiver rolling over your spine each time; without warning he lays his tongue flat and wide, licking a strip from hole to clit. His tongue disappears and he does it again, guttural sounds falling from him at your taste mixing with the sharp trills you let out.

“Sing for me baby, let me know how good I'm making that pretty pussy feel” He delves in like a man starved, devouring your cunt as though it were his first and last ever meal on earth. He'd die happily if it were.

You were a mess, a mess of pleading cries. Your legs shake against his powerful hold, your hands grip his unruly brunette locks. Letting his hands drop from your thighs he stops his slurping to lay a soft, sweet peck on your raw clit. He smiles up at you, his face glistening with your juices visible thanks to the city lights peeking in through your open windows. Your mind wandered, wondering if the people in the building across could see the way Bucky fucked his tongue into you, curling the long muscle up to press against that ridged spot on your upper walls — he hit it with ease every time.

Using your distraction as an advantage bucky moves a hand to join his mouth, sliding his fingers in alongside his tongue for a second before he pulls his tongue from you. He moves, looming over you with a massive shit-eating grin at how much he unravelled you. you should've been embarrassed at how wet his face was; slick ran from his stubbled upper lip over and below his chin. You had done that to him and he wore it proudly. His fingers push deeper and curl out, coaxing the coils in your stomach to snap.

“Come on baby I know you feel it” he speeds up, the sound of your messy pussy almost as loud as your harsh breaths and whimpers.

“Buckyyy” you squeal, gripping at anything you can.

“That's it, baby…you're squeezing around my fingers, are you gonna cum?”

You nod but it's not enough for your man. He dips, nipping at a pebbled nipple and that's all it takes for those tightly coiled ropes to pull taut and snap. A sound you've never heard from yourself erupts from your lungs, your fingers clutching at bucky, the sheets, anything. Stars peppered your vision, blocking out the smug image of your boyfriend, blood rushing in your ears muffling his words of praise.

“Come back to me baby, that's it, good girl. such a good girl” Bucky coos, his fingers slipping out to rub lazily at your clit. He keeps going until you jerk harshly in his hold.

“You did so well, such a good fucking girl cumming like that for me” He praises, kissing your cheek and then your mouth, a smirk pulling at his lips when you moan at your taste.

You flash him a big dopey smile in return, your eyes hazy and your plump little cheeks flushed. You look gorgeous; Bucky had seen many things in his long drawn-out life but nothing could ever compare to how you looked fucked out beneath him.

He would stay like this forever…if his cock wasn't aching for release.

He stands, fiddling with his belt and fly until it comes loose. He wastes no time in pushing them both past his round ass and onto the floor, his cock springing free. His shirt goes next, thrown somewhere in your small room letting you get the full experience of what Bucky had to offer you. Layers of corded muscle ripple beneath his silky but scarred skin, his chest peppered in tiny curly hairs that sink below his sternum and over his abs where they begin to thicken until they finish, well trimmed at the base of his thick, heavy cock.

His eyes never stray from your body as he takes himself in his hand, pumping once, twice, his thumb catching the precum leaking from his tip. He kneels back between your welcoming legs, rubbing his slick thumb over your lips. A hushed chuckle vibrates in his chest as you suck the thumb into your mouth, eagerly licking his taste from the digit.

“Such a dirty girl,” you giggle, pulling back until his thumb slips out of your mouth with a pop. “Do you think you can handle one more hm? Can you let me fuck that little hole?”

“yes Buck” you smile, your eyes falling shut as he kisses you again.

“good girl” he growls, moving your legs over his own before grabbing a pillow to squish under your hips. With one hand he pushes the head of his length through your mess, dipping into your hole before running back up over your clit. He does it a few times, occasionally slapping his cock against you, praising each tiny sound you let out.

“Please Buck” You toss your head back, grinding your hips up to meet nothing. At this rate, you were going to come to nothing more than his teasing.

“Please what?” Oh he's a piece of shit. He knows what you want because he wants it too. He waits for a beat, enjoying your huffs of frustration. “Tell me and I'll do it.”

With the last of your sanity, you cry out, “fuck me buck ple—ah”

You slap a hand over your mouth as he spears into you, stretching you like he does time and time again. It never gets any easier with a size like Bucky’s; his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust and your walls sing at the almost painful stretch.

Bucky’s thrusts are delightfully slow, letting you feel each drag and push, each rigid vein on his pulsing cock. There is no fucking involved, he's making love, making sure you know that he would spend eternity wrapped up in your body no matter what size you are. The deep coloured marks along your neck and between your thighs would attest to that.

“Fuck” he moans, mouth gaping. “Don't think ill last long princess” His vibranium fingers fall to your soft belly, skating over the smooth skin to your full hip.

He squeezes hard enough to leave marks, “fucking mine.”

His thrusts speed up, his head snapping back and eyes rolling. His balls bounce rhythmically against your ass, the bulbous head of his cock smashing into the end of your cunt where a dull ache forms — a warning of future hurt when you wake tomorrow. You don't care, not when his free hand dips between you both, pulling back the hood of your sensitive nub and flicking it over and over.

He feels the way you tighten around him, holding him in a vice grip, “hold it princess, just a little longer come on”

“I can't Bucky please” you whimper in response.

“Yes, you can baby—oh fuck I'm close” his weight falls atop yours, smothering you in him. His hips stutter, his balls pulling up towards his body.

“Cum now, soak my big fucking dick.”

The slamming of the headboard ceases when his thrusts slow to shallow grinding, his mouth swallows any sounds you let out.

“Such a good fucking girl for me—shit” he sighs, slips from you with a hiss.

“Buck—”

“Shh pretty girl you're alright” he holds you close for a while, holding you tight to his broad body. Tears fall from your cheeks but he swipes them away. You don't know why you ever doubted Bucky, he's the only constant in your life.

“I love you” He whispers as the blood rushing in your ears settles, running through your veins in exhaustion.

“I love you too”

“Don't you ever listen to those idiots again, because I will show you over and over what you mean to me” Bucky promises with a kiss on the crown of your head.

You smile, laying your own lazy kiss over your thumping heart. You like the sound of that.

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated or reposted. If you see my work anywhere else except this page I have not given consent for it to be used.

Comments, Reblogs, Likes and Asks are always appreciated, however if you like this fic please consider reblogging to help it reach a wider audience. They let me know that you are enjoying what I read and give me motivation to write more.

Thanks for reading~

[foxcantswim]

i’ve just been thinking about this scenario…

maybe where instead of vanessa reader steps in and takes the stab?

you can put where they get into a coma or they die..

thank u !!

also i love ur work.

<3

FNAF Movie / / Vanessa x F!Reader [Not Your Fault]

(gif by me)

It was supposed to be Vanessa getting stabbed by Afton. Not you... (aka you stop Afton from hurting Vanessa, but it backfires on you in the process) Content: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-relationship, one-sided love confession(?) Warnings: Blood, Stabbing(Reader), Trauma ig??? WC: 1,038 (sorry it's so short! maybe a part 2? not sure yet!)

Thank you anon <3 Love you~ Hope this is okay! (Left it slightly open ended to keep you on your toes)

PART 2

Vanessa stepped forwards, reaching to grab her father's arm. Your heart raced as you watched the interaction between the two, you noticed how Afton's hand was shaking as it tightened around the handle of the knife. His arm reared back, ready to attack. That's when you quickly reached to grab his arm, pulling him away from the blonde.

Your breath caught in your throat as the sharp hot pain rushed through your entire body. You glanced down to see the knife firmly embedded into your stomach, Afton's hand firmly gripping the handle of the blade. His other hand harshly gripped your shoulder, his glare was cold as he stared into your eyes.

"Y/N..." Vanessa's voice was barely even a whisper, tears flooding her eyes as she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. Her father was about to hurt her, and you had taken the blow instead. Her whole body shook in fear and worry.

You expected to hit the cold hard floor, but a warmth soon surrounded you. Vanessa helped you to the floor, with you in her lap. She looked up briefly towards her father who had no emotion on his face, his eyes drifted towards the blood covered blade in his hand. He then turned to face towards Abby and the animatronics.

"H-Hey, hey," her voice was shaky as she looked over your whole body with panic, "Keep those eyes open for me, okay?"

She wasted no time in taking her sweater off, quickly pressing it down onto the wound. You tried to reach towards it as the pain increased, but your arm simply fell back weakly. You felt your breathing become shallow, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes open but they refused - flickering closed every so often.

"Y/N, please," Vanessa said, trying to hold back her sobs as she pressed harshly onto your wound to try and stop the bleeding the best she could. She did whatever she could to wrap the sweater around you and tighten it, "Why did you do that?!" she exclaimed, her hand coming up to hold your face. She didn't blame you, no. She blamed herself for getting you into this, "I'm so sorry, baby, I'm sorry," she choked on a sob as she leaned down to rest her forehead against yours.

You wanted to open your mouth to tell her it's not her fault, but of course your body refused. You felt your fingers go cold as you did your best to lean into Vanessa more, searching for any bit of warmth from her.

"I've got you," she promised, still shaking as she held you.

That's when William's voice pierced her ears, "Vanessa!" he exclaimed, "Get these stupid things away from me. NOW."

That's when Vanessa realised what was happening. Abby was glaring at her father as the animatronics walked towards him. They were finally seeing him for who he really was.

"Vanessa," his voice was strong, "You will listen to me."

Tears flowed down her cheeks as she looked at him, his gaze was cold. She gulped harshly before simply closing her eyes and turning her head away. Her name left his mouth once again, but she didn't react.

He had intended on her hurting Abby. He had intended on hurting his own daughter, too. And he had actually hurt you. There was no way she was listening to him anymore. She wouldn't let him hurt anyone ever again. He was a monster. But he was still her father, and she couldn't stop herself from loving him. She refused to look at the gruesome fate he was about to receive. She kept on telling herself that it was for the best.

Her eyes finally opened to look back down at you. That was when she realised that your eyes were finally closed, your body limp against hers.

She hugged your body close, tears staining your shirt as she buried her face into your neck, "Come on, Y/N. I love you. Come on. W-We haven't had enough time together," she couldn't stop herself from pressing a kiss to your forehead. Her heart hammered in her chest at the fear of losing you.

She had known you for quite a while now, when you had started to work the night shift almost a year ago. Truthfully, she didn't like you when she first met you. She thought you were just trouble. But after a few weeks she had fallen for you, hard. The two of you weren't really sure what you two were relationship wise. Sure you had kissed a couple times and been extremely intimate, but there were never any labels or confessions of love or anything like that.

Vanessa already started to have so many regrets as she held you as tightly as she could.

Eventually, the animatronics had dragged her father away. The room around her started to crumble and shatter, lights falling from the the ceiling. She was about to sit here with you until the very end, she couldn't leave you and her body refused to move on its own. That was when Mike appeared by her side, helping her up with you in the process. He quickly offered to carry you in his arms, Vanessa could hardly see through the tears in her eyes as she helped him walk. Abby was quickly on their heels.

Everyone made their way out of the pizzeria, moving as quickly as they could into the parking lot.

Mike and Vanessa put you into the back of Vanessa's patrol car. She climbed into the backseat, Abby sat in the passenger seat in silence. Mike quickly got into the driver's seat and started up the car.

"Mike-" Vanessa said, her voice getting cut off by her own sob. She continued to hold you close in the confined space of the back of the car.

"It will be okay," he reassured, his own voice slightly shaky, "She's breathing, Vanessa. She'll be fine."

He didn't trust his own words. But all they could do was be hopeful.

She had a shirt on under that sweater you freaks ;)

Taglist: @marvelwomen-simp ; @emiliaisdead

PART 2

[tightjeansjavi]

Can I just say…

I keep having feral thoughts of Pornstar!Joel maybe feeling tired after a long day and he tries to eat Babylove’s pussy with his usual enthusiasm but she can tell he’s too tired.

So, instead after lots of reassurance from her, he spends his time just kissing her clit and folds because he was foo fucking stubborn to get from between her legs. So he settles a little routine of kissing her clit, pulling away and settling his cheek against her thigh to simply watch her pussy twitch with a lovesick smile on his face before repeating it again.

Oh my god, nonnie!! You can’t do this to me right now 😩😩😩

No cause imagine they get back from the bar super late one night and Ellie is having a sleepover with Dina and some of their friends so Joel and baby love have the whole house to themselves and he’s super enthusiastic the moment they walk through the door he’s kissing all up on your neck, squeezing your ass and thighs through your dress. He’s probably even a little tipsy, curls a sweaty mess strewn across his forehead haphazardly. He tastes like salt, musk, and hint of whiskey when you guide his warm mouth to your own. It’s a messy kiss of tangled tongues and clashing teeth when he lifts the hem of your dress over your ass so he can feel your hot skin beneath his touch.

They stumble up the stairs, giggling between kisses the whole way up to their bedroom. He doesn’t even bother with undressing and just focuses all his attention on you and all the skin he can reach.

He’s between your thighs, licking and kissing everywhere he can reach as he yanks your panties down swiftly and tosses them to the side. All that dancing and drinking has really started to make him feel sleepy, but he’s determined to make you come at least once before knocking out.

“Baby love…” he mumbles groggily against your pussy, tongue lazily lapping through your folds. His half lidded eyes slowly flit up to your face from between your thighs. You reach one hand down, threading your fingers through his messy, sweaty curls to gently brush them from his face.

“Daddy, it’s okay if you’re sleepy.” You reassure him but he shakes his head immediately.

“No, no, baby. M’fine. Wanna make you come, sweet girl. Been promisin’ you all goddamn night and I ain’t about to—”

“Joel.” You hush him, soft yet stern. “It’s okay. We can just cuddle and sleep, okay?”

But your man is relentless, pushing through his drowsiness when he begins to slowly circle his tongue around your clit before kissing it sweetly. He does this a few times before dragging his tongue through your slick folds and back up again. He’s always been so generous and giving, and you could never deny him his favorite meal, after all…

When he grows tired he rests his scruffy cheek against your bare thigh, eyes drooping and growing heavy as he watches your bare pussy twitch, glistening with his salivia and arousal beneath his heady gaze. His smile is a lovesick grin, dripping with sweetness like nectar from a flower, or juice from a ripened peach.

He kisses your clit once more, a goodnight kiss while his strong arms encircle your waist, using your thigh as his personal pillow. He falls asleep shortly after, soft snores tickling the sensitive hair on your skin, but you don’t have the heart to move him, not when he’s looking so peaceful. His lips are so plush, kissable like two cherries.

You continue to gently play with his hair, whispering sweet nothings before you too drift off into a relaxed slumber.

[courtingchaos]

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

I didn’t edit this, barely read it over, and it has no title. Just trying something new with spitting some stuff out to get the ideas moving again. These cogs are frozen.

Professor Munson Masterlist

“You’re home early!” You shout from upstairs.

Ed shrugs out of his coat and throws his bag on the bench by the door. “Yeah. I was trying to beat the traffic before it started snowing.” He’d gotten out of the parking garage and directly into said traffic, cursing and yelling the whole time. Two hours later he’s finally home albeit in a sour mood.

“It’s snowing?” You’re moving between rooms, he can hear your voice shifting and he has to stop himself from telling you to look out a window. Instead he just nods into the empty foyer while he empties his pockets onto the table there and he wonders when he got so much furniture that he has dedicated entryway pieces.

“Are you in a good mood or should I leave you alone for a bit?” Your head pops over the railing with a smile.

“Why?”

“I have a surprise but I don’t want a bad mood to ruin it.”

“I’m not gonna-”

“I didn’t say you I said your mood.”

Ed sighs and rubs his eyes till his vision color bursts. “Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” Gracious as always to his old man moods you move into his office and he can hear you futzing with his set up in there. The static of speakers coming to life and the shuffling of his records follows him into the kitchen where he stares into an open fridge with no purpose.

It’s November and that means it’s time for his brain to betray him and remind him of his mother. He always does better on the anniversary of her death but something about her birthday gets him. 51 missed celebrations and if he lets his thoughts linger he’ll have another breakdown in the kitchen. This morning had been an accident, his shuffle throwing on ‘Stand By Me’ and Ed had the pleasure of crying into his English muffin before he realized he was running late. He’d deftly avoided music for the rest of the day and driven the whole two hours in silence out of fear of getting stuck in gridlock and getting sucked into another crying jag.

You’ve given him space the past few days with his distant behavior. Noncommittal grunts answering your questions and quiet stares that follow you around the house. He knows he’s being difficult but he can’t seem to pull himself out of it. However you seem to be his saving grace, taking his silence and doing what you can with it. Gentle touches to let him know you’re there, fingers combing through his hair in the middle of the night when he should be asleep. Instead of him bringing you coffee on Sunday you’d gotten up a full hour before him to complete the ritual. Crouched beside the bed to wake him up quietly, a light finger along the shell of his ear.

“Good morning.”

“Mm.”

“It’s cold out today.”

“Then get back in bed.” He grapples at your hand lazily to try and pull you over him and you let him. Flopped over his chest awkwardly he wraps warm arms around you and for a moment you think he’s already drifting off again.

“Ed?”

A beat before he takes a deep breath and you feel the catch under you. “I miss my mom.”

“Oh hun.” It’s the last thing you say for a while. Fingers card through soft curls and hold his head to your chest and he gets to be vulnerable for a while. Head buried in you, he lets his coffee go cold.

He thumps up the stairs slowly and you come out to greet him on the top step.

“You feeling better?” You’re hiding something behind you, hands tucked tight behind your back to keep his prying eyes away.

“Moderately. What’s the surprise?”

“I’m not telling you out here, come on.” You hold an empty hand out to him to guide him into his office and into his chair.

“So. I spent some money today.”

“Is that the surprise?”

“Kind of. There was an estate sale down the block, you remember Mr. Donaghue?”

“Yeah, the old man who yelled at me for having pumpkins on my stoop after Halloween?”

“Exactly.” You giggle at his outburst. “Well as you know, he passed away.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t be like that.” You circle around the desk to his record player and point a finger at him. “He wasn’t all bad, he just didn’t like pumpkins.”

Ed hums again but you continue, grabbing a square package wrapped in newspaper to drop in his lap. It’s heavy when it hits and he gives you a confused look.

“It turns out he was quite the music collector. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many 8-tracks in my life.”

“Did you buy me a stack of 8-tracks?”

You swat at his knee and lean on the corner of his desk. “Just open it.”

The top record sleeve in the stack is red and blue and worn around the edges. Otis Redding smiles up at him and he can feel his throat get tight.

“I heard you listening to it this morning. Sorry.” Your smile is a little sad. “I know these aren’t her’s, but these are all original pressings.”

Under Otis is a sleeve in plastic, Muddy Waters’ face turned to the ceiling. He can hear the the mournful picking of ‘Louisiana Blues’ coming from a distant memory that he’s been pushing back for a few days.

“They cut me a nice deal, his kids. I told them about you loosing your collection and his son was moved.” You laugh and run your foot up his leg, a soothing motion without smothering him in a hug. Eddie is speechless. A stack of records that rivaled his moms collection. Etta and Eartha, John Lee and T-Bone. There’s a few early Bill Withers and Marvin Gaye.

“This is, uh.” His voice catches and he can’t look up from his new stack of treasures.

“I know you’ve got a lot of these already. Records and digital, but I saw the dates on them and couldn’t help myself.”

“No I’m…this is very-” Eddie clears his throat. He brings a record up to his face to sniff inside the sleeve and a tear escapes finally. “Oh fuck me, they smell the same.”

You’re behind his chair to wrap your arms around his shoulders, cheek resting on his head while he quietly disintegrates. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset.” He pats your hands resting on his chest before he stands to put the Muddy Waters record on. It skips and statics for a moment before catching on piano keys. He stares down at the record spinning and listens to a pressing just a few years older than him.

“This might be the most old man thing I’ve ever done.” He tries to crack a joke and thankfully it lands with you. A soft giggle behind him before you slide your arms around again to hook in front of him. You’re warm against his back, grounding. Solid and present while he gets lost in his memories.

“Did I ever tell you about the blues bar my mom worked at?”

“No, that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah,” He wraps his arms around his middle to hold over your own arms. “That’s where my dad met her.”

You make a sound of approval between his shoulder blades and nuzzle into him. “So he had good taste in music at least.”

Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Eh, sometimes.”

“So what was she doing?”

He knows you’re goading him into a better mood, something you’re very good at. You have a remarkable gift to plant new memories next to the old. Roots not full of rot, uncrowded by the same trauma, grow around the old and bring green sprouts back into old hurt. He’s sure you’d say something similar about him but right now he’s misty eyed and finding old memories new again. Rose tinted for sure, but with new color in the margins.

“Well, bartending. She knew the night manager, family friend or something, but she wanted to get into shows free so…”

[bullet-prooflove]

Remedial: Bode Leone x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @muligatorrr @jeysbae @cloveroctobers @dizzybee03 @a-porcelain-gir1 @@missy203 @floydsglasses @@alixw22x @@shelbygeek  @yousigned-upforthis @zippeylay @@chickenshit03 @vaneyvfs @drunkangels @timmybradford @freecreationpost @words-and-seeds

Companion piece to Luke's 'Solitary Man' and Vince's 'One Night' - All pieces featuring the boys dealing with Sharon's death.

It starts with a remedial lesson because Bode is so fucking bad at actually taking care of people that Cap decides he needs extra help. At least that’s how he sees it at the time.

He’s fourth generation Cal Fire, he should be able to handle the Emergency Triaging Course but he doesn’t. Instead he fumbles the whole thing, he can’t remember the steps, the terminology slips right out of his head, he grows upset and frustrated because everyone else is keeping up but him...

He’s struggling.

There’s a lot riding on being here at Fire Camp, he feels the weight bearing down on his shoulders every damn day and sometimes it stifles him, it becomes so much that he feels like he can barely breathe.

“You must think I’m stupid.” He says as the two of you sit in a secluded space near the lake. Your leg stretched out in front of you as he tries to secure a bandage around it. You wince and he pulls away immediately, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. “Too tight?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.” You tell him as you lean forward to untie the knot just under your knee. “But I do think you put yourself under a lot of pressure.”

“I need this program.” He tells you as he begins to unwind the bandage. “My dad hasn’t been doing well since my mom died, the thought of him being alone up here…”

He trails off, focusing on the task at hand.

“My mom she made me promise that I’d keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t become the grumpy old widower who lives up on that hill.” He finds himself telling you before he gently picks up your leg and resets the position. “She didn’t want us to drift apart the way we had before.”

“You carry a lot on your shoulders.” You say quietly as his warm palms navigate your calf. “I can’t imagine what it’s like trying to jump through all these hoops, while you carry that on your back.”

“It’s tough.” He says as he begins to wrap the bandage again. “Sometimes it feels like I’m sinking you know? And every time my head breaks the surface, something yanks me back down and I’m drowning all over again.”

“Is that what happened today?” You ask him softly.

“My hands were shaking.” He says, his voice a little rough. “I couldn’t grab hold of the bandage, I kept thinking of my mom, the night she collapsed…”

She’d been up here helping with the cookout when the seizure had hit her. She’d smashed her head on the picnic table on the way down, there had been so much blood. He’d tried to wake her up, stifle the bleeding, but rivets of crimson just kept running through his fingers.

“Bode,” You say gently, your palm coming to rest upon his shoulder.

It brings him back to the present, to the lake. He looks up at you and there’s such anguish in those vibrant blue eyes of his, such grief, such despair. Your palm comes to rest upon his cheek, your thumb chasing away the tears that stain his grizzled features.

For the first time in forever Bode finds himself taking a breath.

Love Bode? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sunstone-smiles]

Measuring Mishap

(I’m sorry that the picture is so blurry-)

Author’s note: Another fic with Miguel after I said I would only make one? I couldn’t help myself. Can you blame me? Lol! I hope you enjoy!

Series: Across the Spider-Verse

Characters: Miguel O’Hara and Lyla

Word count: 2,242

Summary: Lyla is assisting Miguel by measuring him for a new spider suit, but a small mishap occurs in the process that leads the AI to instead discover a playful piece of information about him that can make him laugh.

—

It’s hard enough tearing Miguel away from his work, let alone asking the man to stand still. He always has to be active with something, whether it’s skimming through files, capturing anomalies, or making sure that everything in the Spider-Society is in working order, so taking a break is not one of his strong points.

Miguel huffs as he stands in his spider suit on a short, cylindrical platform, his arms crossed. Above him, two robotic limbs hang from a steel frame like the strings of a marionette. A yellow strip of measuring tape is held in the metal fingers of the robotic hands as the contraption measures Miguel from shoulder to shoulder.

Miguel taps his foot on the ground and exhales an impatient sigh. “Lyla, how much longer is this going to take?” he turns to the AI in question, who’s floating beside his head.

“Just a few more measurements and you’ll be good to go,” Lyla taps away on a digital screen in front of her. Matching her own hand movements in sync, a robotic hand taps at the air alongside her while Lyla makes her note. “What’s the rush anyway? You don’t have any meetings scheduled for later.”

“I just want to get back to business, that’s all.”

“Business?” Lyla hovers backwards, almost offended. “I’m measuring you for a new suit to enhance your abilities so you can catch anomalies with more ease,” she demonstrates by controlling the robotic limbs to take Miguel’s arm away from its crossed state, then measuring it from shoulder to wrist, “It doesn’t get more business-y than that.”

“You know what I mean, Lyla,” Miguel shakes his head. “Work, reports, surveillance, making sure the anomalies are properly contained—instead of standing still like this. That kind of business.”

Lyla pulls the measuring tape and the mechanical arms away to type another note. “Yeah, I get it. But doesn’t it feel nice to take a break every once and a while? It definitely gets you away from those screens you always slouch over.” She throws a teasing grin at him and tries to straighten out his back with the robotic hands, like she’s posing an action figure. “I mean, just look at what it’s doing to your posture!”

“My posture is fine,” Miguel grumbles. He shifts his shoulders. “I only feel like every single second that I’m away from my hands-on work, another multiverse is potentially being swallowed whole.”

“Ugg, you’re being dramatic again. And also mathematically incorrect. On average we have three anomalies each day, meaning that every twenty-eight thousand eight hundred seconds another multiverse is in danger, not every single second.” She smirks down at him, pleased with her correction.

Miguel rolls his eyes. “Can we just get back to the task at hand, please?” He starts to fidget in his spot, like stretching out his arms to keep himself occupied, yet he’s moving around too much for Lyla to continue measuring him. The AI temporarily hangs the strip of measuring tape on the metal frame above them.

“I’m just saying that you can benefit from loosening up for a bit,” Lyla’s ramblings begin to wander as she tries to position Miguel with the mechanical arms to stand still on the platform, but she’s not paying complete attention to where the robot hands are drifting, “You know, like taking a moment to de-stress. It wouldn’t hurt to try—”

Lyla is suddenly cut off by an uncharacteristic yelp emanating from Miguel. Miguel snatches the robotic wrists away from his sides and fires a glare at Lyla, “Watch where you’re putting these things!” 

Processing the aftermath of the yelp, the AI quickly deduces that while she wasn’t paying attention, she must have accidentally squeezed his sides. 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” Lyla regains control of the robotic limbs. She properly guides them back towards his torso, but Miguel flinches away, as if on reflex. Lyla tilts her head in curiosity. She shrugs it off and maneuvers the arms close to his sides to hold him straight, but again, Miguel jumps away without her touching him, as if he was suddenly anxious of the mechanical hands.

She tries once more, but every time the robotic hands get close, he recoils and restarts her progress. Lyla narrows her eyes at him and pouts. “Miguel, hold still,” she tries to catch him without him flinching away, almost like corralling a startled horse into a stable. She attempts to grab at his arm, “I can’t get accurate measurements if you keep—”

“Hey!” Miguel tenses up with a squeak when she mistakenly pinches at his ribs. 

Lyla pulls the robot hands away, smiling with intrigue at the sound Miguel just made. “What was that?” she giggles.

Miguel tightens his arms closer to his chest, almost like he wanted to sink into himself. Miguel clears his throat. He adverts his eyes from Lyla's gaze. “It was—”

“Nothing?” she cuts him off with a sly smile, “I thought you would say that. Analyzing what just occurred now.”

“Lyla wait, don’t-

The pixels of Lyla’s heart-shaped glasses flash twice. “Analyzing complete. I detected a hint of laughter in your voice. And came to the conclusion that…” Lyla pauses as her data is pieced together. “No…” her mouth widens along with her eyes. “No way!”  her voice heightens with excitement. “You’re—!”

Miguel barks, “Don’t say it!”

“You’re ticklish!”

Miguel face palms with a growling sigh, flinching just hearing that word. “You said it…”

Lyla giggles excitedly, almost squealing like a fangirl. “How am I just learning about this now?! I need to know all the juicy details! Like, where are you the most ticklish?” She teasingly moves the robot arm with wiggling fingers towards his stomach. Miguel quickly grabs the wrist of the contraption before it can make contact.

“L-Lyla! This is not the time for these unnecessary activities!” he shoves the metal limb away from him.

“Nah, I think this is a perfect time! What you need is a good laugh!” She commands a robot limb to grab Miguel’s left wrist above his head, like she was innocently going to measure his arm for his new suit. “So, are you ticklish here?” Lyla quickly says and flutters her fingers to control the robot’s fingers to do the same into his underarm. Miguel sucks in a gasp and swiftly yanks his arm down, bringing it close to his body and clinging tightly to his own wrist.

“Hey!” Miguel snarls towards the AI, but Lyla had already zoomed behind him and switched to his other shoulder.

“Or here?” Lyla wiggles the chilled robotic fingers into the side of his neck. Miguel instantly scrunches up his shoulders and growls to hold back any further reaction to the tingly scratches. Trying to fight back, he attempts to nab the robot hand out of the air, but Lyla promptly dodges herself and the hands out of the way and behind him.

“Or how about here!” Lyla slips both robot hands into Miguel’s underarms from behind, striking like a snake. Miguel yelps and arches his back from the surprise, immediately clamping both of his arms to his sides and snarling to cover up any giggles that need to be stifled. 

“L-Lyla!” Miguel barely chokes back an audible giggle from slipping through while trying to squirm from her grasp. His mouth twitches on and off with a smile that shows off his fangs and his frame begins to lurch forward, like he wants to curl up into a ball, the longer he holds his laughter. 

“Come on!” Lyla exclaims from behind, “Stop hiding your laughter! Let me hear it!”

Miguel has to hold strong. Who knows what data-collecting Lyla can do with one of his giggly reactions if she gets her hands on it. She of course wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him, but the flustering earful of teases that he’ll hear afterwards is enough to keep himself from giving in to the easy route. Miguel faces this like a challenge.

He growls through his fangs like a big cat fending off a stronger force. “Absolutely n-not! Aye!” he squeaks when Lyla moves the mechanical hands down to both of his sides, clawing into the vulnerable area. Miguel throws his arms around himself in defense, his smile turning more wobbly by the second as he tries to hold back the giddy bouncing of giggles jumping on pogo sticks in his belly.

“Ah ha! Getting closer! I just have to get past your stubbornness!” Lyla smiles and moves one of the robot hands towards his ribs, teasingly scratching at a spot between the curved bones through the material of his suit. Miguel jolts and snickers start to spill out through hisses bypassing his fangs. He squeezes one arm to his side while the other tries to pry the robotic wrist away from wiggling into his ribs. She’s getting closer to breaking through the dam of his laughter and she knows it.

“Knock it ohohoff!” a giggle slips through Miguel’s defenses. He’s doomed. Lyla grins. Now is the moment she’s been waiting for.

Lyla’s glasses flash when she sees the opening she was planning in her sight. The other robotic hand by Miguel’s side whirs with Lyla’s control, then strikes directly at his tummy, swiping its clawed fingers back and forth like a sponge. “Gotcha now, Miguel!”

“GAH! Lylahahahaha!” Miguel finally bursts into robust laughter. He stumbles backwards, nearly falling, but Lyla places the palm of the second robot hand on the center of his back to stabilize him. However, although he’s still standing, his wriggling torso is caught in between the clawed hand vibrating at his tummy and the one stabilizing him. He throws his giggling head forward with a huge, fanged smile on his face, then grabs at the robotic wrist in an attempt to tug away the mischievous machine hand at his stomach. “Dahahamn it!” Miguel shouts through his laughter, knowing that Lyla has come out victorious. One of the strongest spider-men has been defeated by his own AI with a little bit of tickling.

“There’s that laugh I was looking for!” Lyla smiles along with Miguel. “Why did you have to go and hide it? Now I have to make up for all the laughter I missed!” Seeing another advantage to tease him, Lyla scoops up both of Miguel’s wrists in one robotic hand and pulls his arms out in front of him. 

“I’ll take those, thank you,” she beams above him. She then uses the unoccupied robotic hand to reach the ticklish places she tried before, now that the gates that were holding back his laughter have erupted.

Miguel squeals and jolts with laughter as the free mechanical hand scritches and scribbles at the rest of his torso. Lyla swiftly switches from spot to spot, like a scratch to his ribs, a squeeze to his sides, a scribble or two to his belly and underarms. She pokes around his whole torso, sending Miguel into a squirming, giggling frenzy. 

“Lylahahahaha!!! Quihihihit it!” Miguel attempts to tug back his arms as his joyful laughter fills the room. He releases a snort, then buries his face in his shoulder, trying to hold on to any dignity he has left. 

“No wonder you couldn’t hold still! You’re just that ticklish!” Lyla giggles at Miguel’s reaction. “Ironically though, I’m still able to get some measurements from you. Of where you’re the most ticklish, that is, which I determine to be your belly! Your laughter is zero point five decibels higher in that spot than the rest of your tickle spots! Watch!” Lyla then takes the opportunity to return to scribbling at his stomach, causing Miguel to squeak and increase the volume of his laughter, just as expected.

“LYLA!” Miguel calls out her name again in an attempt to scold her, even though his voice is currently laced with silly sounding laughter, “Thahahahat’s enohohohough!!!”

“Aww, so soon? But alright, I gotcha,” Lyla smiles and releases his wrists. Miguel instantly wraps his arms around himself, panting as he catches his breath from the tickle attack.

Lyla floats over to his shoulder. “See? Now wasn’t that fun?”

Miguel huffs out a growl. He glares at Lyla out of the corner of his eye. “That was NOT fun!”

“Say what you want Miguel,” Lyla shrugs with a lingering, all-knowing smile on her face, “but I can read that your body language is much more relaxed than it was before.”

Miguel opens his mouth to counter her, but he stops himself. He looks away from her with a defeated scowl. A small blush heats in his cheeks. He, unfortunately, can’t argue with her data about him feeling more relaxed.

Lyla hovers back to his other side to grab the measuring tape that she had previously hung on the contraption's metal frame. “Now, let’s get back to business. I still need to finish measuring you for real.”

Miguel flinches away from her, reflexively bringing his arms close to his body for split second defense. “There’s more?!” he frantically questions.

The AI chuckles at his flustered reaction. “Hehe, relax Miguel. I promise I won't tickle you on purpose,” she holds out a reassuring, open palm. “But you better hold still this time,” she ends her sentence with a lighthearted smirk. 

Needless to say, Miguel fully understands that he should listen to her advice, but at least the short break in the middle of their work wasn’t a total waste of time.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU

Had some ideas about the boys as modern day NASA astronauts (and Air Force pilots). Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is back-up commander and CAPCOM on the ground at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Here is a part 1. See end notes for some term definitions.

---

September 8, 2025 Johnson Space Center, Houston, TX

Despite the crew’s best efforts, the alarm sounds. In another universe, the spacecraft is most likely meeting a violent but silent death as they fail to dock with the Starship lunar lander. Much of the outer hull may be destroyed, maybe a fuel tank or two, making the crew sitting ducks at the mercy of the vacuum of space with nothing but their OCS suits to keep them alive. They’d have 6 days of life support to somehow find a way home.

In this universe, Bucky mutters an angry “dammit” as he smacks the console in front of his face with the palm of his hand. No need to don the survival suit today. All four crew members are instead in everyday blue NASA flight suits, oxygen and pressure down here on Earth perfectly nominal. They’ve been working through this mission simulation for far too long.

Artemis 3 is going to leave human footprints on the moon for the first time in decades, and launch is in just over two months. This crew needs to be perfect, and they only have a handful of weeks to get themselves there. Major John Egan will not accept sub-par performance in this simulator from any member of his crew, including himself. The stakes may be low down here where they can breathe easy and try again, but up there, if this kind of thing happens, the stakes will be higher than ever. No second tries. No mercy.

“Hey, ya gotta be kind to her,” Curt admonishes from the next seat over. “Ya own bloody fault anyway. Tryin’ to dock with a busted thruster.”

Bucky looks over at him, though it’s not a particularly easy feat, laying flat on their backs in the Orion crew capsule mock-up. Bucky and Curt are next to each other, staring up at the consoles, the crew capsule’s control center. Alex and Rosie are in the seats in front of them, or rather, in their reclined orientation, more like below them. “Rather I just let us drift into space for all eternity?” Bucky asks.

Curt puts up his hands defensively. “Just sayin’. If we gotta die this ain’t a bad way to go.”

“Starvation or suffocation, you pick, Curt.” Bucky says crossly. “Or why don’t I just open the hatch door and see what happens.”

“It ain’t Egan’s fault,” Rosie chips in. “Blame the guys runnin’ the sim for givin’ us an impossible situation.”

“Not impossible,” Gale pipes in over coms from the control center outside the Orion mock-up, where he, as back-up commander and CAPCOM, had been observing their training simulation. “And you wouldn’t be saying that if this were a real mission.”

“If this were a real mission we’d be dead,” Curt responds unhelpfully. Bucky can’t say he disagrees. But he’s not willing to accept that right now. Failure Is Not An Option – that was the poster he’d hung over his bed in college. It may not be the healthiest motto if you truly value your mental health and sense of self worth, but when had Bucky ever? He’d worked damn hard to get to NASA, to fly on the ISS, to be assigned this groundbreaking mission. Those words from Gene Kranz had guided him his whole life and he is not about to let go of them now.

He is not about to let Artemis 3 become the new Apollo 13, not if he can help it.

“Let’s run it again boys,” Bucky says. He doesn’t, in truth, know what time it is or how long they’ve been strapped into this thing. He also doesn’t care.

“Bucky,” Alex groans. “We’ve been at it for hours. Maybe we should call it a day.”

Bucky scoffs. “Oh yeah? Well we’ll stay at it for hours until we stop lookin’ like a bunch of little boys playin’ astronauts.” He lifts a hand and spins a finger around in the air. “Let’s go, set it up.” The flight controllers outside collectively groan but ready the sim to go again. This close to a mission, they know not to fight with the astronauts about when it’s time to stop. If the mission commander says go again, they go again.

The next attempt doesn’t end any better. No matter how hard Bucky and Curt try, they can’t beat out this scenario. They’re Air Force test pilots and experienced astronauts; they should be able to handle this with little issue. Two of the best pilots NASA has ever seen, my ass, Bucky thinks. And usually he’s quite a cocky son of a bitch, so he knows it’s been a long day. He groans, banging his head back on his seat over and over.

“Bucky,” Rosie tries. “We’ve managed every other curve ball they’ve thrown at us. We’ve logged hundreds of hours in this thing. We can revisit tomorrow if you want but we’re not gettin’ anywhere tonight.” Crew physician, always trying to keep the peace.

Gale’s voice pipes in from the outside. “It’s your birthday, John. Don’t you wanna get out of here?”

Bucky grins as he stares up at his console. “You gonna drink with me tonight, Buck?”

“Not a chance.”

“Come on, baby. Just one to celebrate the fact that I’m not dead yet.” He can practically hear Gale rolling his eyes.

“No wonder you’re crashing your ship, you don’t have your head on straight.”

“I’ll drink with ya Bucky,” Curt butts in.

Bucky raises his fist for Curt to fist bump. “Curt loves me more than you,” he tells Gale. “Maybe I oughta marry him instead.”

Curt shakes his head, making a face. “You ain’t my type, Egan.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him and presses a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded. You’re uninvited to my birthday.”

“You’ll be down a drinking buddy.”

Suddenly, just about every alarm inside the Orion simulator – pressure low, oxygen low, carbon dioxide high, hull breach, smoke detected, and the list goes on – is flashing bright red and blaring at the astronauts inside, making them all look around in confusion. Good thing they aren’t actually in space; that kind of half-assed reaction to a catastrophic emergency would likely get them killed faster than their inability to work through this sim.

“Oh noooo,” Gale says mockingly from where he’s taken over control of the simulator. The other present flight controllers can be heard laughing in the background, all too happy to let Major Cleven fuck around with the console if it means getting these astronauts out of their hair for the night. It’s nearly 7:30. Personal life is, naturally, often sacrificed in the space program, but people do still have families to get home to. “All your alarms are going off,” Gale states with a mixture of sass and monotone that only he can manage – the voice of someone who is unequivocally done with this. “You’re all gonna die. Again. Cause you can’t get your fucking shit together.”

“Uh oh, Saint Cleven’s losing it.” Bucky smirks, working to turn off the various alarms flashing in his face. “Good job boys, we’ve pushed Gale over the edge. He’s finally up and killed us.”

“You’ve got a big mouth, John,” Gale says.

“You gonna come in here and shut me up?”

Alex gags from his seat in front of him. “Gross guys, get a room.”

“Just be glad they’re not on the same mission,” Rosie teases. Yes, everyone is glad of that, even the men in question. Well, Gale is at least.

A year ago, when Buck and Bucky first got engaged, Marge – the Artemis program’s public affairs officer and Gale’s long time best friend – informed them of some jokes going around the NASA offices that the two astronauts should be put on the same Artemis mission so they could be married on the moon. Make a big media affair out of it. None of the higher ups took it seriously, of course, but Marge thought the boys would get a kick out of it.

Bucky had enthusiastically yelled “YES!” at the same time Gale, mortified, cried “NO!” Marge hadn’t been able to stop laughing, having to sit down for a minute and catch her breath while Bucky tried to convince Gale why this was a fantastic idea. Gale wasn’t having it, wouldn’t even look at his fiancé for entertaining such absurdity. When Bucky wouldn’t relent, Gale finally spun around and declared, “John I DO NOT want to be worried about using up too much fucking oxygen on my wedding day!” And Bucky dropped it.

Instead, they’ll be getting married in just about four weeks, a nice, classy October wedding – on Earth – a month before Bucky flies to the moon, with about a few hundred of their closest friends in attendance. Gale was worried it would be too big, too much, but he’d been outvoted. A bit of a media spectacle after all. Astronauts are not subtle, and they do not miss a chance to have a good party.

Speaking of parties. They’ve really gotta get going.

The hatch of the Orion simulator swings open and Gale pokes his head in. This late in the day, he’d loosened his black tie and popped open the top button of his neat white dress shirt. His hair gel has started to give up due to running his hands through it too many times — this crew has always been and always will be the death of him — leaving his hair messier than is generally befitting of a NASA employee, indispensable astronaut or no. Bucky fans himself dramatically with one hand as he ogles Gale. “Goddamn boys, there’s life on the moon and it’s hot.”

Gale rolls his eyes, as does the whole crew. “Alright fellas. Let’s get this show on the road.” He nods to them, but before stepping out of the way, he adds, “Marge asked me to keep y’all from getting too out of hand for the public image and all, but just don’t burn any buildings down and we’ll call it good.”

The crew makes various noises of assent as they maneuver themselves out of their seats. With a groan, working out the stiffness in his lower body, Rosie pulls himself towards and through the hatch, giving Gale a fist bump on the way out. He’s followed by Alex, who pats the outside of the simulator and claps Gale on the shoulder. When Bucky pops his head through, he beams at Gale. Exiting the capsule and straightening himself to his full towering height, he swiftly grabs Gale by the tie and pulls him close, planting a kiss right on his mouth in front of the hatch. Behind him, Curt gags as he exits the capsule.

“You taste like coffee,” Bucky tells Gale as they stand in front of each other, faces just inches apart.

“Well, I had to stay functional somehow.” Gale tilts his head and looks pointedly at Bucky. “Some stubborn commander kept us working for hours after we were scheduled to be done for the day.”

“Well who could that be?” Bucky asks sweetly.

“You, you ass,” Curt says. He shoves in between them, pushing them apart with his arms like some kind of divine ruler. “Now save room for Jesus and let’s get outta here. I wanna get DRUNK!”

Gale laughs as Curt walks away, joining Alex and Rosie as they head off to change out of their flight suits and get ready for the night’s festivities. “You better go shower and change,” he tells Bucky. “I’ll meet you at the bar.”

As Bucky jogs away to catch up with the others, he glances back at Gale, who is still standing by the capsule going over some of the notes from their training exercise with one of the other flight controllers. “Buck!” He calls. Gale looks up, the end of his pencil resting thoughtfully on his lower lip and damn Bucky loves that. “Wear something cute, will ya?”

Gale blushes and shakes his head, looking back down at his clipboard.

---

---

Part 2

Terms: Orion = the crew capsule for Artemis missions

OCS = Orion Crew Survival suits; worn in the Orion spacecraft in emergency situations and during critical mission phases such as launch and reentry; connects to Orion to provide life support for up to 6 days

CAPCOM = Capsule Communicator; the person in Mission Control, typically another astronaut, who handles all direct communication with the crew during a mission

ISS = International Space Station

Gene Kranz = NASA chief flight director during the Apollo missions

[captainsophiestark]

Office Most-Eligible

Daniel Sousa x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 20 Prompt: "This better be good."

Summary: When Jack ropes Daniel into eavesdropping on the telephone ladies' breakroom, they both might hear a lot more than they'd bargained for.

Word Count: 2,387

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Daniel's POV

I sighed as I shuffled the papers in my hands, mentally running through the million things I had to do today. Peggy, Jack, and I had managed to stop Leviathan from leveling New York City and destroying Howard Stark, but that didn't mean the last six months since then had been any more relaxed. If anything, it had gotten busier than ever before.

There had even been talk of opening another branch of the agency in LA, which was a whole other insane possibility fluttering around in my mind. It was enough to distract me to the point that I didn't notice Thompson, half-hidden by the entryway to the agency, until I ran into him.

"Thompson? What the hell are you-?"

"Sh!"

He raised his finger to his lips and glared at me. I glared back.

"Why are you-"

"Sousa! Shut up and listen," he hissed, jerking his head towards a grate in the wall. I frowned and made a demanding "what?" gesture, but he just nodded towards the grate again. I sighed, so long-suffering it wasn't even funny, but shuffled closer.

"This better be good," I grumbled. Jack just waved his hand at me.

Through the grate, I could hear voices talking and giggling loudly. It sounded like all the ladies who sat outside the entrance to the agency, guarding the door and keeping up the front that this was a phone company, talking together like they were in the break room. I paused, curious enough to entertain Thompson's nonsense for another ten seconds.

"-saying is, there's a definite ranking of all the guys in this office. And yours ain't it."

The girls dissolved into another fit of giggles, and I scowled. I grabbed Thompson's arm and yanked him away from the grate, out of earshot.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded, keeping my voice low just in case. "You're eavesdropping on coworkers in their breakroom? Instead of working? You're the Chief!"

"I don't know if you caught it, Sousa, but they're talking about us. Specifically which one of us they'd most want to date. I'd call that research and intelligence work for future opportunities."

Jack gave me a smirk as he drifted back towards the vent. I scowled and followed to drag him away and make him do his damned job, but froze when I heard the ladies welcoming our newest addition to the agency, the second female agent in SSR history. She'd been here a little over five months, had become instant best friends with Peggy Carter, and had me head over heels within a week of knowing her.

And apparently she'd just walked into the breakroom.

Jack gave me a knowing smirk and raised an eyebrow, and I glared right back. But I couldn't quite manage to drag myself away either, no matter how much my brain told me I should.

****************

Y/N's POV

"You came at the perfect time!"

I pulled a snack out of the fridge and looked suspiciously at Mary, one of the switch operators who worked outside the SSR. In the short time I'd been here, I'd gotten to know her and Rose pretty well, since they mostly alternated shifts for our main door guard. Rose and I had quickly bonded over our mutual feminism and desire for independence; Mary and I had bonded through being troublemakers, and I had a feeling I was about to see some more of that.

"Why?" I asked, drifting halfway to the door now that I had secured my snack. Mary smiled.

"We were just talking about the boys in the office. We have a few different opinions about who would make the best boyfriends and husbands, and since you know them all so well... I mean, I can't think of anyone else with a better reason to chime in."

I scoffed. "Nice try Mary, but no way am I engaging in this conversation. See you all later!"

The rest of the women in the room booed playfully, but I didn't turn around as I reached the door. Mary, however, knew me well enough to figure out how to stop me in my tracks.

"Well, I guess that means Jack Thompson is the definitive winner!"

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the door in front of me, hand on the half-turned doorknob. I'd come so close to avoiding this nonsense, and it still wasn't too late for me to take the exit. I scowled and scrunched my nose, then turned around to squint at all my coworkers looking back at me.

"Be completely honest, I'll be able to tell if you're lying," I started, still only half-turned away from the door. "How many of you would put Jack Thompson at the top of your 'SSR's Most Eligible Bachelor' list?"

A few hands shot into the air, followed by a few more tentative hands that must've heard the disgust in my tone. All in all, about half the room had their hands up for him. I sighed, long and heavy.

"And the other runners up were...?"

A few people called out names of other men in the office, most of whom were barely better (or definitely worse) than Jack. I looked up at the ceiling and shook my head.

"You all have terrible taste in men."

Half the room, Mary included, started laughing, and the other half looked offended. I shook my head and turned to leave again, but Mary stopped me again before I could go.

"Who would you choose then, if not Thompson? You can't criticize our taste without giving us some insight into your process."

Her grin stretched across her entire face as she stared at me, waiting for me to take the bait. Her hand had been the first in the air for Thompson, but I could tell she genuinely wanted to debate me more than she wanted to defend him.

I sighed.

"Fine. But I'm going to make this quick and then I'm gonna go do my job, because I have a ton of stuff to do today," I said, finally stepping away from the door to stand in the middle of the room. Everyone stared at me, leaning forward in their seats a little, Mary most of all. "...I can't believe I'm about to engage in this."

Mary scoffed and I rolled my eyes, but then took a deep breath and dove in. What the hell, right?

"Okay, first of all, let me clarify: I can understand, from a surface level, why you might pick Thompson. He's handsome, and if you didn't spend much time with him, I can see why you'd think he might make a good partner. Honestly, in the five months I've known him, I've even seen a few glimmers of hope that there might be a heart of gold underneath all that arrogance, posturing, and chauvinism. However. In terms of best guy in the office to have as a partner? He does not even come close to touching Daniel Sousa."

A few people raised their eyebrows, half leaning forward and half leaning back and crossing their arms. I ignored them all (especially Mary, who beamed at me), and continued.

"Listen. Sousa is... kind of ridiculously attractive. He's handsome, with the warmest brown eyes you've ever seen in your entire life... and he's super strong. I've seen him one-handed lift a bunch of different things the other agents struggled with using their whole bodies. He looks incredible in a sweater vest, to say nothing of suits and non-sweater vest clothes."

I saw considering nods around the room as people took in my words. I paused and took a deep breath, then continued.

"More than all of that, though... Daniel is kind. He's strong in his morals and his character, not just physically. He's got a great sense of humor, and his jokes don't rest on being a mean, close-minded jackass. And, above anything else, he respects me. He respects Peggy. He treats us as equals. I don't know about you guys, but... that means everything to me. And finding a man who's kind, smart, strong, handsome, and will treat me as an equal partner? Come on. Daniel's got it all."

I hadn't been paying a lot of attention to the expressions of everyone else around the room while I was talking, but now I focused back in to see the majority looking thoughtful. I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious, and started backing towards the door.

"Uh, anyway... long way of saying I'd put Daniel at the top of my list."

Mary grinned at me as I continued heading for the door, then pushed out of her chair and called out to the whole room.

"Hear that? Sousa's off limits, these two are going to be dating in the next month if we have anything to say about it."

"MARY!"

****************

Daniel's POV

Jack and I stood in the hallway, stunned into silence as we stared into space. My brain had been telling me to stop listening a while ago, but I'd been shocked enough that my body had refused to listen. Now, my heart was telling me I was on the verge of a cardiac arrest.

"You go get him, girl!" Mary's voice continued through the vents. Then, with determination and glee dripping from her words, "I'm staying after Thompson. I'm gonna fix him."

I heard some light-hearted laughter, and then a door shutting. In a few seconds, the girl who'd just poured her heart out to me without realizing it would be coming into the office, a few feet from Jack and I's stupid hiding place.

"You look like you're about to puke," said Jack, a beaming grin on his face. I scowled.

"Why don't you? You just got called a couple pretty bad things."

"What? Like 'attractive'? All I was hearing were positives." He grinned at me, then sobered slightly before slapping me on the shoulder and taking a few steps away. "Don't psych yourself out on this one though, Sousa. She's a catch, and she's clearly in love with you. If you don't take a shot, I might have to."

I scoffed and shook my head. I knew Jack didn't really mean that; it was his own, terrible way of trying to be supportive.

I sighed and tried to brace myself as I walked over to the entrance to the SSR. Thompson was wrong about many, many, many things, but he was right about this: I needed to take my shot.

****************

Y/N's POV

"Holy- Daniel!" I nearly dropped the snack I'd taken a detour to retrieve as I cleared the SSR doors and came face to face with Daniel, especially since I'd just poured my heart out about him to a bunch of our coworkers. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"Uh... sorry," he said, shifting his weight around a little and running a hand through his hair. He looked almost as comfortable as I felt.

"Is, uh, is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Well, sort of. I just..." He cleared his throat, then jerked his eyes away from the floor and the wall to meet mine. "I need to tell you something, and then I need to ask you something."

"...Okay?"

"First, I... I heard what you said in the breakroom. About me. And about Jack, which was fun too, but... It feels important that you know I heard the stuff you said about me."

My heart stopped in my chest, and I blinked a few times as black spots danced at the very edges of my vision. I was going to kill Mary.

"Uh..."

"Before you say anything, I'm sorry," he said, holding up a hand. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just... I let Thompson suck me into something I should've known better about. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Daniel," I said, a little breathless as my legs finally started working to move me past him. I could not deal with this a second longer. "Don't worry about it, I'll... I have to go-"

"Wait!" he cried. He put one hand on my arm to stop me, then quickly dropped it when I turned back to look at him. I watched him take a deep breath, my heart hammering a thousand times even though it only took a few seconds, then he continued. "Look, I know I might've lost a few points in your book for the eavesdropping, which is fair, but... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't head over heels for you too. Have been since the first few days you got to the agency. You're smart and strong and funny and... God, listen to me."

He looked down and shook his head, and I noticed a slight blush rising up his neck and cheeks. Slowly, my heart dropped back to a normal rhythm, and I started to smile.

"Okay, what I'm trying to say is... I feel the same way about you that you do about me," he said, finally looking up at me again. "And if you'd still be interested... I'd love to take you out to dinner sometime."

I beamed at him, unable to stop the smile completely overtaking my face. I looked down, and when I looked up again, Daniel's stare was still on me, a smile hopefully flickering in and out of place.

"Daniel, I'd love that," I finally said.

"You would?"

"Yeah. I really, really like you, eavesdropping and all."

He huffed a laugh, the shaky smile turning into full-on beaming.

"Great! How's tomorrow night sound?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Good. I'll pick you up at eight." He started to back away, so both of us could get to the mountain of work we had to tackle at some point today, then stopped. "If that works for you, that is?"

I smiled. "That absolutely works for me."

"Alright, great! I'll see you then. And, uh, around the office, I guess."

"I'll see you around the office."

We shared another set of dorky, ridiculous smiles as we backed away from each other, going to do our separate tasks for at least part of the day. Thank God Thompson wasn't around to see either of us.

At some point, he and the rest of our coworkers would probably catch on to the two of us dating, unless the first date somehow went so horribly there wasn't a second. But I'd meant every word I'd said to the rest of our coworkers about Daniel. And if a little eavesdropping had led to him asking me out, I couldn't bring myself to be too upset about any of it.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie @songbirdcannabe

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕣

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴄᴏʟᴅ. ʜɪꜱ ɢɪʀʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴏʟᴜᴛɪᴏɴ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ ꜱᴇx, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴏᴛ? ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴘʟᴏᴛ? ʜᴇʜᴇʜᴇʜᴇʜᴇʜᴇʜ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 2.9ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴘᴀɪʀ - ʙᴇᴀʙᴀᴅᴏᴏʙᴇᴇ

⋆ ★ ᴏᴋ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰʏ ꜱᴍᴜᴛᴛʏ ᴛʀᴀꜱʜʏ ᴇxᴄᴜꜱᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ʟᴇᴛꜱ ʙꜰꜰʀ. ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴘᴡᴘ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ʜᴏʀɴʏ ʜᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇʀᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ !

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

The inner workings and pipes in the Marauder are freezing.

Tech had been working on fixing the heater the whole day and night before they were supposed to leave Ord Mantell; he insisted by then it would be fixed (I have estimated the approximate time it should take, and my calculations are seldom wrong, he said), but they still ended up taking off with it still broken and creaking unsettlingly in the walls.

Wrecker shakes from the freezing temperatures, even in his blacks and the blanket that covers barely half of his body. Perhaps that explains it. He stirs, shifting and turning with unease, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed. But then he remembers that she is beside him. Perhaps if he went and run his fingers across her skin, it would warm him up just perfectly…

But when he reaches for her with an arm, eyes still closed, he meets the cool air instead. One of his eyes peels open and he frowns, slightly blinded by the light peaking through the fresher door just across the way. He groans, adjusting so his back lies on the cot, and rubs his eyes, resting his hands above his head once he’s done. The lack of her presence must’ve woken him up, and now a shiver rushes down his spine and he hisses. Kriff, why does space have to be so cold? 

Slightly wavering in his movements, he adjusts and pushes himself up, his head hanging low as he sits up and lets his legs hang over the mattress and his sock-clad feet thump on the floor roughly. His legs still feel weak, incredibly and strangely weaker than normal as he stands up.

Wrecker can hear her soft humming from the fresher, her little lullaby-like voice chiming into the sound of empty hyperspace so blissfully. He smiles, his eyes almost fluttering close as he stops for just a moment to listen. When they open, he takes a quick look around him; Omega is still asleep, softly breathing into herself with Lula cuddled close to her chest, and he can hear Hunter and Echo's matching, melodic snoring in the cots. There were no discernible sounds of a datapad clicking either, so Tech must be sleeping as well, for once. Meaning Wrecker and her are the only two up. 

He aimlessly drifts through the ship, like the wind on a beach landscape, keeping a listening ear on the sound of her sleepy hum until he takes a seat on the pilot's chair in the cockpit. He sighs, finally closing his eyes fully and letting the light of the hyperspace trails dance over his skin. He takes in a long breath through his nose and lets out a warm breath of air, so focused on his own breathing he doesn’t hear her light steps toward him. 

Two small, nimble hands come to his shoulders and he startles. His eyes snap open and he turns his chin, meeting her tired eyes as she quickly moves from where she stood before to in front of him. She grins.

“You’re up?”

He nods with a pout. 

“Woke up when you left the bed,” He explains, and she mumbles a quiet 'mhm.' She leans into his voice, hands slowly pressing into him harder as her arm lies on his chest. Her knees come to rest between his two legs and she sighs when he finally relaxes. His arms come up as well, and his hands embosom her hips fondly. “You’re my heater.”

She scoffs softly and rolls her eyes. When she shifts closer again, he grins softly and sighs blissfully with her warmth. She tilts her head curiously and lifts her eyebrows. 

“I am?” She mumbles, one hand reaching up and holding his jaw. She tries to get more comfortable, spreading her legs and slowly inching until she’s completely on top of him, straddling his lap and her head leans in, lips hovering over his. He stammers, gazing away for a brief moment to try and catch his bearings.

"...Yep, yep you are," He says. She nods, taking her hands and reaching down the neck of his blacks, the warm and soft skin of her palms making contact with his freezing skin. She stifles a little squeal of surprise, but only sinks her hands in deeper. He lets out a groan, louder than he expected, and she quickly rushes to cover the sound with her mouth.

“You really are cold,” She comments when she pulls away and her hands slip out. He smiles bashfully, hands softly trailing up and down the sides of her body, reveling in the heat that radiates off of her even through the clothes of her thin sleepwear. When she leans in more and lets her warm breath fan out over the expanse right where his jawline and neck met, he groans and his head falls onto the headboard. 

“How are you so warm?” He rasps. She chuckles and shrugs obliviously. 

“Aren’t clones supposed to run hot?”

He bargains with a whine, gripping her harder and she giggles.

“Normally,” He says. “But not today, I guess.”

“Hm, I’m sorry, Wreck,” She responds kindly, yet also cheekily as she pulls away. He doesn't appreciate it. But she makes it up when her hand on his chest begins to trail downward and the other holding his face arches it up so he can look into her eyes. “Would you like me to warm you up?”

He looks up and gawks, eyes wide. She looks back feigning confusion and grins.

“What?” She says.

“Kriff, cyare…” He pulls a hand away to knead at a worried wrinkle on his forehead. It wasn’t like the two hadn’t had sex before, not at all, but in this condition… with everyone else on the ship… Hunter is quite a light sleeper… 

He panics ever so slightly. 

“I-I dunno if we can keep quiet…” He mutters, avoiding her gaze even as she laughs sweetly in the back of her throat. 

“It’s okay,” She reassures him,  moving her hand up and down over his jaw until it finally comes to rest under his chin. “I don’t have to move.”

He frowns, bemused. She giggles again and squirms in his lap, readjusting so her core rested on his crotch, making his body (and one part in particular) stiffen quickly under her touch.

“You’re just… gonna sit?” He confirms, eyes wide and eyebrows scrunched together. Unsure now seeing the expression he wears, she whines squeamishly and shrugs. 

“It’ll keep us both warm,” she explains, eyes softening the longer his eyes stay on hers. She rolls her hips softly, the hand drifting downward finally reaching underneath his blacks; the expanse of her sweet, warm palm spread over his abdomen. Wrecker sighs blissfully at the touch; his eyes close and he gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing aggressively.

“Does that feel good?” She asks, softly moving it up and down the expanse of his skin. He nods again, the other hand that went up returning back to her hips and guiding her again to rock her hips a little. “Is it ok if I do that?”

Wrecker groans.

“Yes,” He rasps out almost immediately, clutching at her harder. "Please... just do anything. I’m freezing over here.”

She smiles, but he barely notices; he does, however, notice how quickly she goes to fumble with the bottom part of his blacks, pulling it down to his thighs before he stops her swiftly. She tilts her head and he stammers out the next word.

“It’s unfair, don’t you think?” He says, gesturing down to her body, still shielded by her sleepwear. “That I should be the only one without pants.”

She huffs.

"Right," She says, and before he can blink she’s pulled down her shorts and her panties and climbs back on top of him, arms loosely wrapped around his neck as she pulls him in for a kiss. 

He meets her halfway and takes advantage of her open mouth as much as possible. His head cranes closer and his hands clutch at the skin of her bare thighs, slowly kneading them under his touch and she sighs blissfully into his mouth. A hand trails away; methodically through the kiss, he pulls her down closer to him, and his hand slowly inches closer and closer to the sensitive skin of her folds. 

Two large fingers trace the area around her entrance, the pad of his thumb pressing against her clit and she bucks into it, pulling her mouth away from his with a whine.

“C’mon…” She complains, already impatient. Even with her begging, puppy-dog eyes, Wrecker stays persistent. He shakes his head.

“No exceptions,” He tells her, thoughtfully rubbing again to relieve the tension and she sighs. Despite them both being desperate, he is always going to make sure that he won’t hurt her by pushing in too quickly or without prep. 

When he pushes one finger through her entrance and slowly seats it inside of her, she gasps and nuzzles into his neck with a squeak. He grins sweetly; the other hand still cradling her waist drift upwards, trailing down her arm until their fingers interlock gently, all while he slowly moves his digit back and forth, trying to loosen up the tension.

“You’re so warm…” He mumbles, slowly circling in a second finger and slipping it in. She squeezes the hand she holds, flattered. 

“And you’re cold,” she remarks, slowly rocking herself down onto him to reach further depths. He curls his fingers, softly searching for the right spot inside of her, careful and sweet but devastating due to the sheer mass of him, and when she writhes and gasps after he brushes over a particular spot, he smiles.

“Is that it?” He asks. She nods weakly. 

“Yeah," She squeaks but stops herself by surging forward and slotting their lips together, rocking herself on his fingers to encourage him to please, please keep going. She pulls away for a moment, a moan escaping her lips a little too loud; he clamps his palm over her mouth. Her eyes widen and she squirms away from the clasp, looking at him skeptically. “I’m sorry,” She says, slowly beginning to pick up the pace again. “I’ll be quiet. Just, please…”

He smiles sympathetically. 

“F’course, gorgeous,” He tells her. He moves his fingers, curling them against her g-spot again, but frowns when she just sits there. He raises an eyebrow and she gapes. “Well, c’mon. I can’t do all the work here.”

And with a cute whimper, she helps him slowly. Keeping herself steady on top of his lap with a hand on his shoulder, he slowly stretches her open with his fingers, spreading and scissoring themselves inside of her gently.

“Think you can take three?” He whispers against her lips. Her mouth drops and a weak quivering breath comes out, but it only makes him laugh. 

“C’mon, it’ll make the main act better… for the both of us,” He accompanies the words with his index finger slowly trailing around her entrance, rubbing at her folds as the pad of his thumb trails over the top of her clit. She moans, but he muffles her with his lips before it erupts into something louder. 

“Please, Wreck,” She begs once he pulls away roughly, kissing the corner of his mouth tenderly as he slowly begins to slip in a third finger. Once it’s fully seated with the other two he lets out a deep groan from his chest and rocks it in rather aggressively, more than he’s been so far. 

“Kriff, you’re squeezing me this hard just on my fingers,” He mutters. She laughs against his cheek and wiggles her ass a little, sighing when she manages to adjust so his entire thumb rests gently on her clit. 

“Can’t imagine how you’ll feel on my cock,” He says additionally. She wiggles again teasingly and feigns doe eyes, moving away just a little to maintain better eye contact. 

“Why not see right now?” She questions. Wrecker, ever insistent on her comfort, shakes his head. 

“Not yet, beautiful,” He says. “Let me make you come first.” 

She sulks; Wrecker has never understood why she is so impatient. He is just looking out for her general enjoyment. If he were to have let her sit on his cock so quickly she would’ve hurt herself.

“Fine,” She says, adjusting again and flipping her hair to one shoulder, looking at him firmly. “Hurry up then.”

He smiles crookedly, before starting to slowly rock his fingers in and out firmly, hitting her g-spot melodically in intervals and rubbing her clit over and over again. She gasps against him, rocking herself with every single thrust of his digits, milking him for any fragment of pleasure possible. Wrecker curses when her pussy clenches tightly around them, pulling them out an inch or so before plunging back in roughly. 

“Please, oh my god…” She moans quietly, hands scrambling from his shoulders to his neck, looking for any surface he can easily grasp onto. “`M so close.”

“I know,” He remarks, rather cheekily, but continues his steadfast pace, trying to keep his fingers as firmly seated in her even as her cunt tries to push him out. He’s persistent, and it pays off when she finally begins to tremble, blissfully sighing into his mouth as his fingers are drenched in her come. 

“Dank farik, ” He swears, slowly pulling his fingers out. She whines at the loss, but quickly wraps her hand around his wrist, pulling his hand up and taking his fingers into her mouth. He stifles a loud groan as best as possible, despite so far, it didn’t seem that they had woken up anyone else on the ship. She keeps steady eye contact on him as she cleans off her own finish from his digits, tongue swirling over his thick fingers. 

"God, you're perfect," He lets out through gritted teeth. She blinks meekly and leans in closer, eyes blown hide as she keeps sucking, before pulling away with a loud pop. 

After a moment, he pulls them away and wipes off the remaining wetness on the cushion of the seat (gross, he's aware, but that will be Tech’s problem tomorrow), grabs her hips and pushes her onto his thick thighs, encouraging her to feel his throbbing length. She raises a suspicious eyebrow.

“So... can I finally sit on your lap?” She asks.

He rolls his eyes.

“Yes, you can finally.” She sighs, coming more like a weak giggle, but it's interrupted by a yawn. She frowns. “See, you took so long, now I'm getting tired.”

Wrecker scoffs with a gawking expression. 

"Stop exaggerating," He says, all bark but no bite as he begins to peel his boxers off. His cock springs up, slapping against his lower abdomen and she gasps softly at the sight, crawling back onto him. Her hand immediately goes to stroke the length up and down, keeping his eyes on him as she slowly adjusts the two so the tip is lined up with her entrance. Wrecker holds back the urge to tilt his head back.

"You ready?" He asks, hands fumbling at her bare hips. She looks at him dumbfounded. 

"...You know, baby," She says as she slowly breaches her entrance with the tip of his cock, wiggling her hips slightly for adjustment before pushing in another inch. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out; she bites back a grin. "Sometimes you edge me without even realizing it."

He raises an eyebrow through the foggy haze of his pleasure. She doesn't respond for a moment, sinking down another inch with a heavy breath before she explains.

"I always want your cock so bad-"

They both feel the way his dick twitches inside of her after she says that. They moan silently into each other.

"-And you always make me wait so long."

She pushes in another few inches, almost seated to the root when Wrecker finally chokes out a response. 

"...I just never wanna hurt you, cyare," He says, tripping over his own thoughts. She shakes her head and her brows knit. 

"And you'll never realize that you could never hurt me," She finishes, finally seating herself completely on his cock. They both sigh blissfully at the feeling and her pussy flutters delicately over him. Wrecker clicks his tongue, letting himself close his eyes for once, and just appreciate the feeling of her squeezing him so well.

"If you say so, mesh'la," he says. She nods, mutters something along the lines of 'you better believe it,' and gets comfortable on his lap, yawning again. Her head rests on his chest, softly tracing a pattern with her thumb on the hand they've kept interlocked.

They sit like that for a long moment; though Wrecker's still hard, he's perfectly content resting like this. It's another level of trust and complete bliss he didn't know he could reach until he'd given it to her. He can feel everything about her; from the way her pussy clenches to the rhythm of her heartbeat; all of it is ingrained into his head permanently. He never wants to forget it.

After what felt like an eternity in heaven, she finally speaks again.

"Are you still cold?"

He answers immediately.

"Nope. I'm very warm now."

She giggles.

"We should do this more often then."

Wrecker scoffs in sarcasm at her statement of the obvious, dipping down and kissing the top of her head thoughtfully.

"Definitely."

[introverted-imagineer]

The Light Amongst Obscurity (Part 20)

Warnings: Themes of slavery, death, sex, violence and language. Take care to leave this story alone if it doesn't serve your well-being.

Before we begin, I'd like to thank everyone for being so patient since I wrote and put out the last chapter. My full-time commitments have meant that there has been less time for writing, and I'm sorry for the long wait. Recently I received the most lovely message from someone that read as follows:

'Hey! I really love your Collateral series! I was just wondering when you would ever make the next chapter! I really hope that you're doing okay, you're a REALLY good writer.'

It was the most lovely thing to be told. To all my fellow Imagineers of course, but particularly to the sender of this lovely message, this one for you 💝.

My fellow imagineers, I didn't think I'd even get a single reader, and now I'm posting chapter 20. Thank you so much for the confidence, kindness and love you have given me through following along with this. I'm glad the silly little stories in my head have brought some joy to others.

BTW, as I try to write along with the storyline, instead of making my own, I do intend to continue the story as the series continues. Yours truly and gratefully

--The Introverted Imagineer.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

I remember the first time I ever travelled by boat. It was dark, the breeze wafting a bitterly strong taste of salt in the air. My mother's arms wrapped around me, her chin shivering up and down as her fingers clutched tightly to me. Her scruffy and itchy poncho wrapped around my small frame as we drifted into the night. A brute man sat at the front of the small boat, rowing us forward around the moat beneath the castle. Another man sat behind, at the stern, his head inquisitively shifting as he startled at the sounds the world around us made. His tenseness was clear, his thighs spread wide as he pulled us into his clutch, my mother desperately trying to be the barrier between us. In the distance, amongst the tall grass on the southern side of the castle, a servant stood silently with a single lantern, pulling the boat as closely to the bank with the line the man rowing had thrown so begrudgingly at him. It was clear that nobody wanted to be here. 

‘He is waiting for you in the watchers keep just a mile down the bank’ the servant said, as he carelessly threw a small bag of coin into my mother's hands. The clinking sound was lighter than usual as she disappointedly weighed the contents with her hand. ‘What of my child?’ She asked ‘I’m sure his majesty’s counsellor would…welcome the extra company’ he snidely retorted. 

Instantly the clinking sound returned amongst the silence, startling the man on the boat as my mother threw the coin back at the servant's feet. ‘You can tell Godwin to seek his services elsewhere’ she spat as she carefully looped her arms around my shoulders, pushing me behind her, shielding the wandering eyes of the servant as he looked us up and down. The servant bent down slowly, his gaze locked on mine as he did, a chuckle emitting from his pudgy gut. ‘I could…but his majesty’s councillor may not be so forgiving…nor to your child’ he smugly retorted as he took a step threateningly forward. ‘Aren’t you ashamed? That your child must see you in such a…vulnerable position…’ he whispered, his hand coming up and cradling my mother's bosom. ‘I do this so my child will never have to’ she spoke, taking a step forward, her eyes ferociously locked upon his, matching his viciousness. 

Without fear she grasped the small bag from his clutches once again, taking a step back as her gaze fell to the ground, retreating from his clutches in defeat. His chuckle emitted again. She turned to the man in the boat, as he sat silently, his oars still in hand as he sat irritated, waiting for the whole debacle to end so that he may return to his slumber. ‘Please’ she said, looking him in the eyes, holding the bag out to him. ‘Just keep her safe until I return, and it is all yours I swear it’ she pleaded defeatedly. He sat there for a moment, looking at her, before reaching out and placing the bag in his pockets. My mother turned to me, kneeling to look at my small frame, placing a gentle kiss on my head and whispering in my ear ‘Go to sleep my darling, and when you awake we shall be home, sleeping amongst the hay’. I could tell by the gentle glimmer in her eye that this was not something she was pleased with in the slightest. ‘Come Twyla’ the servant demanded silently. She stood, looking at the man in the boat giving him a gentle nod, to which he returned. He stood, the boat rocking beneath him as he effortlessly picked me up and placed me onto the floor of the small wooden dingy. ‘Go to sleep child’ he said, wrapping the itchy fabric around me tighter. ‘You. Go get some food from the keep’ he demanded to his other companion on the boat. 

As the man had gone, and I lay with my head pressed against the creaky wooden floor, the sound of rustling water beneath me, the sound of clanking metal gently sounded. ‘Make sure you give this to your mother when you awake child’ he gently whispered, tucking a coin into my tightly wrapped blanket. I silently nodded, appeasing the man as he returned to his seat, waiting for the night's events to be over. 

I could smell that same smell, penetrating my senses. The silence was the same, the tenseness the same, but this time a new sensation of the vivid memory of the past overwhelmed my senses. The extraordinary sense of loss. Kurya was gone. My dearest friend gone, my closest companion since I had lost my mother…gone. The air was tense, adrenaline still pumping since our escape from the Pechenegs. I had no tears left, empty in the constant companion that death had been in my life. 

Nobody had dared come near me for two days. Whether it was from pity, fear, or anger. I didn’t believe I’d see them again, I didn’t want to see them either…but there was a pull. A pull to Twyla, to Kurya…even to Harald Siggurdson. My eyes were so dry a misty fog smeared my vision, everything was grey and dull. All I could feel was the boat swishing as it rocked down the water, in a direction I could not tell. Elena sat close to Harald on the journey, tending to his wounds, pressing her small delicate hands against the Viking's firm chest adorned with new scars that tattooed his chest. Harald sat there, whether he was enjoying the affection I could barely tell…but I couldn’t say I didn’t care entirely. I could feel his gaze shift to me as Elena’s face came close to his, her eyes shifting seductively between his body and his chest. I didn’t want to care. 

Mariam sat shivering, like my mother that night, her teeth chattering in the cold as the colour drained from her face, fading to white as time shifted throughout the days. Leif distressed, watching closely, impossibly trying to pull Mariam back…but Mariam was already half gone. 

I could feel the tenseness of everyone else…the anger that radiated from them impossible to miss. Logically, I could understand. I had deserted them, told them all to go to hell, cursed their names, shut them out. It was no secret I hadn’t been the best companion on this trip. But this was this journey was the only chance…the only thing that gave me a sense of hope so that I may be reunited with Twyla once more. All I could do was sit and wait…

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

‘We will make camp for the night’ Leif announced, Mariam curled into his side as her shakes became stronger, her face more pale, her breaths more desperate. As everyone had spent the day wearily watching Mariam decline, there was no protest from anyone. Without hesitation, Kaysan immediately swerved the rudder, heading towards the abandoned hills that surrounded us. Another reminder of how far away any civilisation was. 

We silently climbed the hill as Mariam had insisted. ‘We are less vulnerable if we go higher…I cannot spend another moment on the boat’ she said, almost pleading as she looked toward the orange-tinted sky. A gentle curve of her lips almost escaped as she looked at the sky in utter contempt, admiring its beauty. Leif and Harald walked up the hill, their arms underneath her carrying her to the top of the hill, leaving the boat unmanned at the bottom of the bank. 

A gasp emitted from Mariam, making us all freeze, my own heart slightly dropping at the sharpness of breath that escaped her lungs. Was this it? Was this her final moment? ‘…Look…’ she breathed out, making everyone quicken their pace to catch up to the trio as they stood at the summit. I lifted my hand, ready to block the rays of sunlight that would pierce my eyes…but it did not. Instead of more fields, stone columns, some sturdy, some broken, adorned surrounding a stone circle upon the ground. The closest evidence to finding civilisation we had seen since the Pechnegs camp. A structure that was peaceful, and seemingly entirely our own as the orange sky turned to violet. 

Harald and Leif gently placed Mariam on the ground, leaning her frail body against a pillar as her strong shaking continued. The sun's glow highlighted the sweat that covered her forehead, and yet she shook as if she had plunged through the ice. ‘We will make camp here for the night, everyone go find anything to burn, you girls find something we can eat. Y/N you stay here with Mariam…you can’t be trusted anywhere else’ Leif snidely remarked as he stalked off towards the primitive woodland area. Harald took in a deep sigh, contemplating his stay as his eyes darted between myself and Mairam. 

‘We are okay Harald…please’ she whispered. But Harald stood in place, this time his eyes boring into my soul as his expression looked cautious. ‘Come Harald’ Elena said, slipping her hand into Haralds, grasping tighter onto his hand than he returned, dragging him into the woodland. 

‘C..come s..s..sit wi..th me Y/N’ Mariam stuttered, reaching her tremoring hand out to my own. I slowly walked over, slipping my hand into her sweaty cold palm, shocked at the icy feel. I sat in front of her, resting her hand in the lap of my dress, giving her a gentle squeeze in a lost attempt to provide some warmth and comfort. ‘I’m sorry about Kurya…I know you two were close’ she whispered, her eyes glazing over and she reminisced about him. I flashed a weak smile, but even the kindness of her words could not undo what had been done. ‘He loved you very much’ she said, a single tear escaping. I could feel my lips begin to quiver as I pictured Kurya standing there, the army and family he once would have died for, slaying him like cattle. The image was clear as anything, and the tears began to flow again. 

Mariam’s weight collapsed into me, as she weakly flung her arms around my body, letting my tears soak into her dress. She held me, not letting go. ‘Family has never been a constant in my life…Kurya was an extraordinary presence’ I sobbed, my voice cracking at the first words I’d spoken in days. Her lips gingerly pressed against my head as she rested against my body. ‘I don’t have anyone anymore’ I whispered into her ear. Her hand lifted, as she lightly stroked my hair. ‘Kurya will always be with you…your daughter will be with you once more…’ she muttered. I pulled back, looking deeply into her sickly yellow eyes, her look one of compassion, her hand falling from my head, trailing to cup my cheek. ‘Kurya spoke of a beloved baby girl’ she spoke softly, her lips curling into a smile. ‘It wasn’t hard to piece together’ she remarked. ‘But you never spoke of her, so nor have I my dear one…that is your heart whether you choose to share it or not’ she pronounced. It felt a relief…to know that she had kept it to herself for all this time…never uttering a word. ‘Thank you’ I whispered, but no words came out. Mariam gave a nod, pulling me back into her weak embrace. 

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Mariam’s gasps for breath became more strained as the stars arose in the sky. She silently tried to hide the pain she felt, Leif comfortably sitting behind her, his heartbreaking before him. I still hadn’t said a word to anyone but her, silently sitting there watching as Mariam sat dying before me. Death was a constant companion. Elena sat by Harald, curled into his side as she watched with weepy eyes, like everyone else's, as they watched Mariam suffer. 

‘I’m sorry, it is finally my time.’ Mariam announced weakly. It was almost as if you could hear everyone's heart cracking in two. One by one, everyone resentfully got up to say goodbye, cursing time for the thief that it was, taking away another person. I looked at Lief to find him staring back at me, his face one of despair and sorrow as Mariam kissed and hugged her friends goodbye. 

I could sense Harald in my peripheral vision, waiting for me to approach expectantly. But I sat frozen in place, looking back at Lief, trying to ground him as he held onto Mariam. Little did everyone know, we had said our goodbyes already, but I could not do it again. I had said goodbye too much, too many times, and our goodbye was as perfect as it could be, and we were both content with that. 

When Leif had finally carried Mariam off into the privacy of a warmer place, we sat around the fire listening to the crackling. Nobody dared to speak…or so I thought.

‘Do you think you’re the only person who’s lost anyone Y/N?’ Elena announced spitefully from across the flame. I looked up to meet her, my blank face adding fuel to the fire that had woken inside Elena. ‘You couldn’t even bring yourself to go and so much as kiss Mariam as she died before us’ she said, standing up, sauntering around the fire (closely dragging her hand across Harald’s shoulders as she did) and taking a seat so close to me that her body rubbed against mine. ‘What have you really lost Y/N…I’ve lost my father, I lost Kurya too, and now Mariam…people who actually cared for me. After all this…what have you really lost if nobody really cared for you’ she spat, her face inching closer as she spoke each word. ‘Elena’ Harald howled, making everyone else jump. ‘She’s right’ Brigtoc joined. ‘No goodbye is just heartless’. Elena’s chin rose, a confidence building within her as her feelings appeared to be mutual between some of the group. ‘We should have left you to the Pechenegs…maybe Kurya would have still been here if we did’. 

I stood forcefully, grabbing Elena’s arm and pulling her up with me. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, my body temperature matching. ‘You don’t know shit.’ I retorted, getting just as much in her face as she had mine. Dorn let out a pathetic chuckle… everyone's eyes trained on us…but I could sense loyalties didn’t lay in my favour. ‘You have no one’ she whispered, her nose almost touching mine as she dared to get closer. Without thought, my hand reached up, clasping her jaw, pushing her away as sharply as I could. Her jaw dropped, a sinister smile appearing on her lips as she readied herself for a fight. 

‘THAT’S ENOUGH’ Harald roared, standing up himself as he walked over to the fire pulling Elena away by her arm at least a foot away. Voluntarily she curled into his chest, grasping onto his shoulders, but Harald did not return her touch, his eyes piercing as he looked at me shockingly. A tense silence washed over us as everyone's eyes darted to me. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes in deep thought.��

‘I’m done. FOR GOOD’ I spat, turning without question, stalking back down the hill we had spent the afternoon climbing. ‘Y/N’ Harald yelled, ‘I ORDER YOU TO COME BACK’. I stopped in my tracks to see him at the top of the hill, a few steps away. However, instead of the fierce look of the angry Viking, I was expecting, his face had dropped, realising the words that escaped his mouth. 

An order. As if once again I were the thrall, and he were my master. 

‘Y/N…I didn’t…’ he began stuttering, lifting his arms and smacking them against his head in desperation, his eyes begging to take back the words he had just said. 

‘Curse you Harald Siggurdson’ I whispered, my eyes glazing over once more. I turned around, refusing to let him see what he had done. I stalked down the hill, into the darkness. Out of view from Harald Siggurdson. 

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

When the sun had risen, the voices trailed as the wind swiftly danced down the mountain, carrying the prayers and words of everyone. There was no mistaking what was being said. Mariam was clearly no longer with us. I sat in silence, listening to their words…their words of praise, of sorrow…of love. 

It was best to leave them in peace, to grieve their friend. Little did they know, as I sat on the sandy shore, my heart wept for Mariam too. 

Only hours later, after hours of silence did I hear any movement or talk from the group at the summit. This one however was not the piercing threats of Elena, Brigtoc or Dorn; nor the pleading apologies of Harald Siggurdson, but the sound of Leif Erikson as he sat beside me. 

‘I know why you didn’t say goodbye Y/N…Mariam told me everything. I know I was angry at the time…but I understand’ he said, sighing as he scooped a handful of sand, rustling it within his palm, before angrily throwing it over his shoulder. ‘I’m tired of death’ he sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead, and swiping it across his head in defeat. I simply nodded, knowing exactly what he was feeling. ‘I know you don’t want to come back to us, and I can’t say they want you back either’ he sighed looking into the distance as I was. ‘I promised Kurya I would protect his family, but he did not say any specifics…I will not force you back on the boat, but I will tell you that Constantinople is closer than you think. It is your choice whether you choose to come with us or not. I sighed deeply at the thought of being so close…but it too all seemed out of reach. My thoughts were interrupted as Leif stood. ‘But I do ask one thing of you Y/N…if you choose to leave, talk to Harald.’ My shoulders jumped as Leif put his hand on my shoulder, but I relaxed at the feeling of comfort as he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘Please. You owe me that much…’ 

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

I could hear whispers down the shore. I had not moved from my spot since Leif had spoken to me. But he was right…if I choose to leave, I need to speak to Harald. That much, I owed him. 

I slid my tired legs underneath me, standing to walk down the beachfront, towards to voices that carried down the shoreline. As I rounded the corner, a loud gasp escaped my lips. Harald pushed Elena away gently, wiping his lips as Elena’s face dropped, clearly disappointed by the sudden break in their moment of passion. ‘Y/N’ she began distastefully, but Harald’s words stopped her before she could continue with her tirade. ‘Elena. Please, a moment of privacy’ he silently pleaded, as mine and Harald's eyes locked on each other. When she didn’t move, his eyes broke contact as he slowly turned his head to face hers ‘Please’. 

Elena unwittingly began her descent back up the hill, stomping on the thick mossy plants as she did, making it very apparent she was displeased. Harald’s eyes had locked back on mine, his breathing increased as his chest rose and fell. ‘Y/N…I’ he begged, taking a step forward gingerly. ‘I need you to free me’. I said, not demanding, not asking…but informing. ‘I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me. Tell me that I am a free person and that any ties I had, and any I have with you are done. I need you to know that I don’t owe you anything, and I will bestow the same upon you. I could feel a hot tear escape my eye as I was adamant, that this would be the last encounter I would ever have with Harald Siggurdson. ‘I didn’t mean’ he pleaded. ‘It doesn’t matter if you meant it…but deep down something in you believed it. So tell me now. Free me and we can be done with this all…I can be done with this all’ I begged my voice crackling as I said it. 

His chest rose and fell again, his own eyes glazing over. ‘Of course’ he breathed out, the tears finally falling down his cheek. But his words didn’t give me the relief I so desperately craved..but it was enough for me to turn around and walk away forever from Harald Sigurdsson. 

‘Y/N!’ He spoke, making me stop in my tracks immediately. Even feet away, I could still sense the way his body shook, I could picture the tears that ran down his face. ‘I need you to know…that I am totally, utterly, divinely in love with yo’ 

‘THERE’S TWO MORE DOWN THERE YOUR EXCELLENCY’ A foreign voice interrupted. Our heads both cocked towards the top of the summit. A man with a blue cape stood with his hand resting at the hilt of his sword, his finger pointed down to us as more uniformed men came into view. ‘COME!’ He demanded. I looked at Harald, his equally confused and cautious look matching my own as our eyes met. Harald stood firmly, gazing back at the men at the top of the hill, weary of meeting their demands. 

A bird circled the men, squeaking and singing as he rounded them again and again, refusing to leave what would normally scare such creatures away. Its wings flapped, casting a shadow as it drifted in the wind down the hill, only to land feet away from me, blocking the path at which I had been so determined to walk. Away from everyone and everything. I looked back toward the men, my insides calm and steady as I felt a strong sense that there was something with these men. I glanced back at the bird, its eyes meeting mine as it sat in its place. I gazed back toward the men and began to walk up the hilltop. Moments later, Harald's footsteps followed my own. 

‘Which one of you is Harald Sigurdsson of Norway?’ The man asked as we walked towards the stone ruins, only now to find it decorated with a violet tent, men in blue matching the equal grandness of our surroundings that had magically transformed. ‘I’m Harald’ Harald said, walking gingerly toward the man. ‘The Emporer Romanos has travelled from Constantinople to greet you’ he said, moving to reveal a heavily bejewelled man sitting upon an even grander chair. I could feel my heart pumping, adrenaline begging to race throughout my body, my veins pumping blood as I cast my eyes upon him. The Emporer looked between us, offering a gentle nod in my direction, before casting his entire focus upon Harald. 

Harald bowed, I followed suit, curtsying deeply to my knees at the foreign man before us. He arose from his chair, walking towards Harald ‘We heard rumours that a mighty band of Vikings had made it past the Pechengs with a group of women’. Harald’s breathing slowed into a more normal pattern, realising that the men before him were friends rather than foes. The Emporer was clearly pleased and even more impressed with the news of the Khans’ death. 

‘Did your Highness come all this way just to thank us?’ Harald asked. ‘No, I came to see if you brought the treasure from Vitmor of Chude’ he said, a smile on his face. Harald conveyed the news that Vitmor had died on the journey, but that his daughter Elena had the object he desired. The Emporer smiled at Harald ‘We have already confirmed its authenticity’. 

The Emporer suddenly turned towards one of the many tents that had been erected in our absence. The curtains flicked open, and there stood Elena, bedazzled in jewels and exquisite fabrics. Her eyes locked on the Emporers only, the rest of ours locked on her. She sauntered grandly toward the Emporer…as if they were old friends. He took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. ‘My bride’ he announced proudly, his gaze locked upon Elena’s. ‘The new empress of Constantinople’ he announced, shocking us all as our hearts pounded. 

Disbelief washed over me…this whole time…Elena was more than the simple girl we believed her to be. Her eyes cast over us all, as we all dutifully dipped into bows and curtseys…myself included.   The Emporer’s attention then cast upon me, as he let go of Elena’s hand, walking toward me. I looked toward Harald, his look equally as confused as my own. 

The Emporer lifted his hand, gently placing his fingers under my chin, inspecting my face. A gentle smile appeared on his lips. I could sense Harald’s chest beginning to rise and fall again as he watched the Emporer as he closely inspected me. Elena’s eyes cast longingly upon Harald. ‘Tell me my dear…what is your name?’ His fingers still resting underneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. ‘Y/N’ I whispered cautiously. His pearly white teeth appeared as his smile erupted, a pink tinge appearing across his cheeks. The Emporer turned toward one of the tents, holding his hand out expectantly. I gently slipped my hand into his, following closely as he walked toward one of the heavily guarded tents. ‘I believe, my dear, that we have found whom you seek’ he spoke to the tent. 

A man opened the flap, the tent too dark to reveal what was inside. A shadow cast out before the girl exited the tent. She was dressed in an exquisitely made burgundy dress, matching the colours of the flags that flew in the breeze around us, her hair pulled tightly into braids, wildflowers adorning her hair. As she stepped into the light, that familiar smile I had only seen in my dreams for months. On her hip, a baby sat in bewilderment inspecting her surroundings curiously. 

I gripped onto the Emporer, my hand flying to my mouth as I fell to his feet. A cry escaping from my gut…a cry I had longed to release. The Emporer chuckled, shooing the men away who instinctively darted to his side. But the Emporer only graciously wrapped his arm around my waist, bringing me forward to Mathilda as tears escaped her own eyes. ‘Twyla, a very beautiful name for a beautiful child’ the Emporer spoke his hand cupping Twyla’s face gently. 

Locked in an embrace, Mathilda pulled to the ground with me as my arms wrapped around her and Twyla, our faces smooshed into one another's shoulders and we cried and cried. I could feel Twyla’s tiny hand grasping at the strands of my greasy hair as she tugged. But I didn’t mind at all. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you’ I cried aloud. Mathilda’s embrace only tightened. She pulled back, a teary laugh escaping as we looked at the state of one another's faces. I looked at Mathilda, a pleading look on my face. ‘You don’t need my permission’ she whispered cupping my face. She carefully handed Twyla to me, as I held her close, letting her little hands grip onto my grimy dress as she curiously looked at the world around her. Mathilda looked up, looking to see the man I also longed for, her face falling at the realisation that he was missing. Our eyes locked, and the sorrowful look on my face said it all, Kurya was not here. I wrapped my other arm around Mathilda, bringing her back into my embrace, crying in both mourning and relief that our family had been reunited once more. 

The commotion behind me faded away completely, my whole being focused on the three of us as we hugged and cried. The only thing I could hear from the commotion behind us ‘I’m in your debt’. 

I couldn’t guess how much time had passed, but my arms were sore, my eyes completely dry, and my beautiful daughter soundly asleep in my arms. As I finally pulled away, I looked up to find Leif’s eyes upon us, a gentle smile appearing to his lips as his eyes cast between Twyla and myself. Dorn and Brigtoc’s eyes both flickered over us, guilty looking to the floor when my gaze met theirs. 

‘Y/N’ that familiar deep voice sighed. I stood up, my legs numb, and turned towards him. Harald Sigurdsson, for the first time ever, looking entirely lost. 

‘How…?’ He whispered, his eyes darting in disbelief between the sleeping baby and myself. ‘Who…’ he asked, a desperate plea in his tone. I took in a deep breath, my voice clear as I spoke. ‘There's no other possible way’. Harald took a step back, his eyes glazing over. He brought his hand up to his face, hiding the quivering of his jaw as he looked on in disbelief. Elena watched carefully, her eyes focused solely on Harald, trying to unravel the emotions he was feeling. 

Harald took a step forward. Instinctually I cradled Twyla closer, making him freeze in his steps. Mathilda stood closely by. Harald’s face dropped, sorrow cast over him as more tears fell down his face ‘I…I would never hurt her.’ He pleaded. I looked at him, simply giving a nod, permitting him to approach. He delicately walked forward, cautiously stepping over the stones, as if terrified of waking the sleeping bundle in my arms. He stared for a while, not daring to touch her. Her restful breathing loud in its own small way as we both looked down upon her. I raised his hand, like a dandelion drifting in the wind, he delicately placed his finger on her cheek, placing his touch upon his child for the first time. Twyla gently stirred in my arms, but her sombre remained silent as she reached up, grasping her tiny hand around his finger gripping tightly. His heart melted before him.

‘Now my dear friends, a hero’s welcome awaits you in Constantinople’ the Emperor announced, a satisfied smile spread across his face, ready to take us onto the next part of our journey. 

[wastheheart]

@alyafae (carlisle) asked: [ 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 ] : receiver notices sender looking at them longingly. (thank you!)

The fire has been burning for a few hours now. Esme has felt entirely out of her body the whole night, her eyes seeing, but not truly looking; her ears have been hearing, but not listening.

It's not often they have guests over, not this many at least and definitely not in these circumstances. Esme almost wants to smile at the sight; it's been years since she's seen some of the individuals here, but the thought turns sour as soon as she remembers what they are facing. How many of these faces would survive tomorrow?

Her hands come to wipe over her face. She is exhausted, but there is no relief to be found. Instead, she lifts her head up to gaze through flickering flames.

In lieu of a halo, the soft orange of their burning fire illuminates Carlisle's face; his dark eyes are watching her in return, the smallest of smiles upturning his lips once she realises he's been silently observing her all this time.

She hasn't meant to drift apart from him. Company has meant meeting people's needs and, especially tonight, apologising for the reason they find themselves here to begin with.

Esme is standing and walking towards him before she can even process what she's doing. It doesn't matter, his arms open to welcome her. Whoever was lingering next to him swiftly took their leave. For a moment, Carlisle keeps his arms tightly around her as her own arms hook underneath his and around his back her fingers interlinking so to hold him tighter.

She feels lips press against her hair and finally, after a deep inhale to savour the scent of her mate, she pulls back to examine his face. He's just as beautiful as he was when they first met— even more so. She no longer has human sight obstructing his full beauty. Now, she can enjoy every single aspect of his face; the contours of his cheeks, the way the light dances across his skin, the blonde of his eyebrows.

"Come, let's spend some time alone," she murmurs, her hand coming to take his, fingers interlinking with each other as she coaxes him away from the crowd. The crackling of fire fades alongside the various chatter of their guests. It is replaced by the crunching of leaves and the snapping of branches until the forest opens into a clearing, and they're bathed by the moon in lieu of clouds— a rarity in Forks.

Esme leads them to the centre of the meadow, flowers offering a pleasant but unobtrusive scent. She playfully pushes her husband to the floor, hovering above him as foreheads touch, one hand against his chest and the other buried amongst grass.

"Let's just have this moment, please." She places a kiss against the corner of his mouth, desperate for intimacy, scared it will be their last chance. "Just a moment to forget everything else."

[dewedup]

shallows beneath me (raindrop!reader)

The ripples that surround her feel like they are brushing her skin purposefully, rubbing and lingering instead of hitting and breaking away. Little rivulets dance across her stomach, gliding effortlessly from one side of her body to the other. She watches, mesmerized, as the water curls along her skin in a way that shouldn’t be physically possible.

Or

A beach day with the ghouls goes exactly how you think it would, thank Satan the band's assistant was gifted multiple holes.

Lightly inspired by the sunbathing sweaty ghouls origin story Hot Ghoul Summer by @high-imperatrix

18+ ONLY

Pairing: Raindrop x reader / Rain x reader / Dewdrop x reader

Fandom: The Band Ghost

Words: 4,033 (can we just take a second to commemorate this as my longest fic to date, i broke 4k words!)

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Oral Sex, Water Sex, Double Penetration, Gillplay, Threesome F/M/M, Nipple Play, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, no beta we die like Nihil, Dewdrop Is A Little Shit (Ghost Sweden Band)

Read below the cut or AO3 link

She was a little surprised by the invite from the ghouls. It was unbearably hot out, this whole week being a heatwave from Hell itself, and they’d asked her to join them for an afternoon out by the lake. The entire band was currently enjoying a well-deserved two-week break from tour, and sure she’s seen the ghouls around but it’s not the same as being forced into close proximity during the touring process. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss their company. 

Apparently, the feeling was mutual, considering Swiss almost beat down the door to her room to extend an invitation to join them. 

She took another glance at the mirror, observing the risqué bathing suit she had ordered online at the start of the summer, not having a reason to wear it since purchasing it. It exposed a little more than she was comfortable with, but she’d wanted to venture outside of her comfort zone with the yellow polka-dot bikini that had screamed her name on the website. She knew the ghouls wouldn’t judge her or poke fun, but her self-confidence was ebbing away with every second she spent in the mirror. With a sigh of distaste, she reached to the back of her closet door, grabbing the black sarong, and covering herself up as best she could. 

She made her way down the path to the lake, towel in one hand and a wide-brimmed sun hat protecting her face from UV rays. She perked up as the sound of music and laughter drifted to her ears, rounding the shrubbery to see the ghouls sprawled along the beach. Phantom had a speaker set up beside him, pop music blasting at an unholy level as the ghouls tried to shout over the 80’s pop song. Phantom waved as he saw her make her way to the group, reaching over to turn the music down slightly. 

“Look who decided to show up!” Dew yells, the beer bottle in his hand glistening with condensation. She squints through her sunglasses as she notices all the ghouls in their silver, day-to-day masks, instantly regretting agreeing to join them. 

“Guys, I forgot you’d have to keep your masks on with me around. It’s way too hot for that, I’m going to head back in-” she was cut off as Dew sprints to her, tackling her into the soft sand and wrapping a clawed hand over her mouth, hissing playfully. 

“We knew what we were getting into when we invited you, sugar.” Cirrus calls from her position underneath an umbrella, Cumulus’ head resting in her lap as she runs her fingers through the blonde curls. The rest of the ghouls all made sounds of agreement. Dew uses his grip on her to lift them both back to their feet, dusting some sand off her back. 

“Beer?” Swiss asks, already reaching into the cooler beside him. She barely finishes nodding her head before he’s tossing a bottle at her. Luckily Dew’s reflexes are lightening quick, snatching the bottle out of mid-air, raising it to his face and using his fangs to pop the top. He offers the beverage with a little bow, some of the ghouls cheering at the display. 

“Why thank you!” She replies with an overdramatic curtsey, accepting the drink, and taking a seat in an unoccupied lounge chair that Dew brings her over to. He sits in the one beside her, leaning back and stretching his long body. She’s never seen the ghouls lacking so much clothing. Their on-stage costumes or Abbey-regulated outfits are a staple. Sometimes catching them in loungewear during tours, but never in bathing suits.

Dew sits beside her, shirtless skin catching the sun’s rays with the glistening sweat on his body. His hair is piled into a lazy knot atop his head. He tosses a wink at her as she runs her eyes over his body, a flush staining her cheeks watching his lips pull into a smirk. 

The same lips that opened and serviced her in the sky a week ago. 

Her body temperature rises slightly, and it’s not due to the sun beating down on her. 

“Where’s Rain?” She questions, seeing every other ghoul present and accounted for on the beach. She assumes she’s taken his chair, noticing a discarded t-shirt and mask on the ground beside her. The thought of his bare face being somewhere within her vicinity starts a yearning in the pit of her stomach. It tastes slightly of desperation. 

“Somewhere out there,” Mountain gestures vaguely to the water with his head, not bothering to elaborate. Her eyes graze the surface of the water, seeing no sign of the ghoul in the blue abyss. 

Water ghouls, she thinks fondly as she smiles and returns to look at the group. 

The music beats comfortably around them as everyone relaxes. At one point Phantom and Aurora challenge each other to see who can go lower in the splits and she watches intently as they both show impressive feats of flexibility, the ghoulette taking the win as she starts bouncing lightly using her toes and heels. 

The sun is showing no signs of stopping. She’s almost uncomfortably hot at this point, wondering how the ghouls are still standing having come outside before her. She lifts a hand and fans at herself to no avail. Aether’s eyes catch the movement of her hand, and she grins back in acknowledgement.

“We’re from Hell.” He stresses the answer to her unasked question. She supposes it makes sense, this is probably just unseasonably hot for them and not boiling their blood from the inside like for her. “Why don’t you go take a dip in the water and cool off a little? I’m not going to break it to Papa if you turn into a puddle and can’t make it to the next leg of the tour.” 

She sticks her tongue out playfully at him but concedes that the water would do her some good. 

She raises up, undoing the cover she’d hastily put on last minute, instantly hearing catcalls come from Swiss and Dew who are shamelessly watching her make her way to the edge of the water. She can’t turn around, the blush covering her entire face, chest, and body burns. If she puts a little extra swing in her step, it’s solely for the eyes she can feel tracing her every move. 

The water splashes against her feet as she steps up to the shore, taking a few slow steps to acclimate to the chill of the liquid in contrast to the sun rays still beating down on her. When she gets up to her thighs, she raises her hands above her head and jumps forward, breaking the surface as she dives into the cool depths. The water surrounds her like a cool hug, brushing against her skin in a way not many other things can. 

She takes her time, swimming further out to a depth where she can no longer graze the floor of the lake with the tips of her toes. The sound of the music still reaches her ears, but she feels worlds away as she lifts her body to float weightlessly, the sun warming her front while the water cushions her like a soft bed. 

Something about the water changes around her. The ripples that surround her feel like they are brushing her skin purposefully, rubbing and lingering instead of hitting and breaking away. Little rivulets dance across her stomach, gliding effortlessly from one side of her body to the other. She watches, mesmerized, as the water curls along her skin in a way that shouldn’t be physically possible. 

“Look what Leviathan has brought me.” The whisper touches the shell of her ear, taunting lightly as she shivers under his attention. The statement, and their current positioning, with Rain’s head floating beside her shoulder, is reminiscent of their first encounter. She feels heat stirring between her legs as he nudges his way along her neck, lips brushing across the skin, chilled from the water he’s been scouring the whole time she’s been at the lake. 

“I was wondering what you had gotten up to.” She offers back, acutely aware of the fact that he is maskless and right there. In any other circumstance she wouldn’t hesitate to turn her head, to catch a glimpse of the unknown face that haunts her dreams. But he’s here, trusting her to play by the rules, showing his cards so plainly she can’t help but adhere to expectations. 

So even though she’d give anything to look at him, she remains painfully still, staring up at the sky. 

Rain’s presence clouds her mind. She forgets how to hold her body up and her legs slowly drop, treading water as the ghoul of its kind pushes up against her back, pressing his skin against hers. 

“I’ve got you,” he says so casually. She instantly follows his lead, letting her body relax even though she’s almost positive she’s about to sink below the surface. But Rain’s there, leaving little room between their bodies as something thin, yet strong, wraps around her waist. Her fingers travel below into the water, finding the place where she’s being anchored. Is that his tail?

Rain lets out a soft gasp as her fingers come in contact with the extremity, and she smiles wickedly as she clocks the reaction, moving her fingers along his tail to see if she can hit that spot again. Bingo, she thinks as Rain shudders behind her. No verbal cues this time, but she can feel the way his body reacts to her touch. 

“Close your eyes,” Rain commands, already moving her body around to face him as she slips them shut instantly at his words. She can’t see it coming, but his lips are on hers, pressing in with an urgency she gladly returns. She lets him devour her whole, trying her damndest to keep up with the way his tongue battles hers for dominance. They kiss for so long she starts to feel lightheaded; her brain being deprived of the oxygen it needs causing black spots to form beneath her closed eyes. She pulls back, gasping for air as she throws her arms around Rain’s neck, holding him while still keeping her distance to breathe in. Something flutters along her inner forearm, and she squirms at the feeling, eyes squinting hard with how much effort she exerts to fight the need to open them and see what’s brushing against her. 

Curiosity burns deep within her as she pushes closer again, finding Rain’s lips and kissing them fiercely while her hands come closer, moving to rest on the water ghoul’s neck. Her fingers graze the skin there, feeling the strong muscle underneath, until they run over something that doesn’t belong in her mental image. A gasp leaves her lips as she feels the soft tissue flutter beneath her fingers, air pushing out of the space she’s exploring. 

“Gills,” Rain interrupts her train of thought, pulling back so that he can assess the look on her face. She tries hard to school her surprise, knowing that while she can’t see it, she’s very much under scrutiny right now. It’s eerily quiet for a minute. She can feel Rain’s eyes burning into her, but she can’t look back, can’t do anything but wait to see what he does next. She starts to wonder if maybe he’s waiting on her to say something, and she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Cool.”

The cringe is instant. She can feel her face scrunch up as she wishes Rain would loosen his grip on her with his tail and let her float to the bottom of the lake. She hears a chuckle from behind her and she whips her head around, cursing the fact that she doesn’t know if it’s safe to open her eyes. She wouldn’t betray Rain’s trust like that. 

“He told you he has gills and all you say is cool?” She’d recognize that voice anywhere, can picture the smirk on his lips as his hands come to rest on her hips from behind. 

“Dew,” Rain drawls. The warning is clear, but she can also detect the smile he’s wearing in his tone. “They are… cool.” Rain forces out. She’d like to think he’s trying to smile around the words, instead of scrunching his face, which is more likely. The chuckling fire ghoul behind her blows hot puffs of air on her neck as he tries to reign in his laughter. 

“How cool are they?” Dew fires back, his tongue meeting the back of her neck and running a trail up it. Rain’s tail flicks at her stomach, the sensations doubled by the fact that she can’t see anything. The word cool is starting to lose all meaning. She feels equal parts shame and turned on, the wandering hands trailing along her body helping push her to be a little bolder.

Her hands brush against the silky membrane of the gills, enjoying the feeling of it underneath her fingertips. She runs along the seams, feeling the water ghoul stiffen beneath her hands. The reaction gives her all the permission she needs to venture further, pushing in so very slightly, letting the gills encompass the tips of her fingers.

“Enough,” Rain commands, his hands suddenly wrapping around her wrists, gripping firmly but not too tightly, a warning. “They’re sensitive, I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun I have planned.” He elaborates, leaving her hands to rest on his shoulders as he plunges forward, lips meeting her neck in small nips and licks. 

“You wanna see a trick, doll?” Dew’s voice is in her ear, both ghouls worshipping her body as she floats, gripping onto Rain for dear life. She’s humming confirmation and nodding, not trusting her voice as fangs scrape the delicate skin of her throat, dragging lightly along it. She doesn’t even know who the fangs belong to anymore, Rain and Dew working her skin like it’s a choreographed dance, picking up where the other left off and never leaving her wanting more. 

Claws ghost down her sides as she feels lips pressing against her skin under the cover of the water. Her hands follow the movement from where she still has them on Rain’s shoulders, feeling him sink deeper until he’s at her waist. The claws come up and carefully tug at the strings on either side of her bathing suit bottoms, soon leaving her bare to the chilly water of the lake. 

Dew must feel the shiver down her spine at the cold, for suddenly a warmth is spreading around the surrounding water. At least, she hopes it’s his fire ghoul magick and not the other thing she can think of. A gasp leaves her lips as the claws underwater grip her thighs, spreading them wide and letting them rest on his shoulders, her hands traveling higher and digging into Rain’s hair. There’s a pause, a second where she feels like he’s waiting for some kind of green light, unable to voice his question under the water as he is. She makes her needs loud and clear, using the grip on his hair to pull him flush against her, moaning as he doesn’t hesitate to start licking into her folds with a barely concealed hunger. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d like that one.” Dew remarks cockily, his own hands slipping underneath her top and fondling her breasts as he bites down hard where her neck meets her shoulder. Another strangled moan pushes its way past her lips, her hips bucking into Rain’s mouth as Dew continues to tease her. Fuck, she thinks. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever been a part of. Even if she could see, it would simply be too much all at once. Maybe keeping her eyes closed is the only thing tethering her to the last shred of sanity in her mind. 

“Fuck!” She shouts, Dew’s hand shooting up to cover her mouth as more unintelligible garble comes out as Rain bites down lightly on her clit. Her grip on his hair tightens to what must be a painful level, pushing him further into her as she rubs her hips up and down along his tongue, fucking his face like it’s the only thing she was put on this earth to do. 

“Yes, take what you need baby.” Dew hisses encouragingly, using the hand not covering her mouth to flick viciously at her hard nipple. The scream she lets out dies on Dew’s hand as she clenches around nothing, the slick of her release disappearing into the water surrounding her as Rain continues to coax her through her orgasm with his tongue. 

Her thoughts are in shambles, the exhilaration of coming so hard in such close vicinity to the other ghouls, the idea of them hearing her cries of pleasure… She clenches again, overstimulation causing her entire body to shake with how insanely turned on she is. The sound of Rain breaking the water in front of her grounds her slightly, pulling her head from the clouds she had floated to upon her release. 

“You taste even better straight from the source,” Rain growls, his lips encompassing hers again as she tastes herself on his tongue. The flashback of Rain licking her juices from Dew’s fingers on their most recent flight hits like a train, her eyes rolling into the back of her head beneath her closed lids. 

“Need you.” She breaks apart from Rain to breathe out in a whiney tone, one hand reaching back to cradle Dew’s head while the other stays firmly tangled in Rain’s hair. “Both. Need you both.” She adds, in case her words were interpreted in any other, incorrect way. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Dew groans, pushing his erection into the plump skin of her ass as he rubs himself against her. She doesn’t know how to voice what she wants, knows exactly what she’s after but is unsure how to ask for it. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, worrying it as she reaches for the right words. 

“At the same time?” It comes out more as a question, unlike the demand she was hoping to make. The second of silence, and the fact that she can’t see their expressions, lingers too long to be comfortable. Her cheeks flush in shame, the need to escape for her own self-preservation. 

“Unholy shit,” Rain breathes. The growl in his words strikes a chord deep within her, pulling the strings in her stomach taunt. She has to swallow back a groan at the sound. 

“Are you sure, doll?” Dew asks from behind, but she can tell he likes the idea from the way his hips stutter in their attempt to rub a home into her ass cheek. Both ghouls shuffle slightly, pulling her back toward the shore, where her toes can brush the floor of the lake. “We can go slow, but it might be a lot to handle.” 

“I’m sure.” She confirms sternly, already knowing she won’t know peace until she has them both where she wants them, pushing her to the limit and then spilling over the edge. 

“Fuck, Rain you’ve got to go- shit you’ve gotta go first, I’m not going to last long in there.” Dew acknowledges, his cock running up the cleft of her ass, rubbing without applying any pressure. It’s been ages since she’s had someone visit through the backdoor, but there isn’t a single bone in her body that isn’t down for what’s about to happen. 

“Yeah, fuck-alright.” Rain bites out, wrapping his hands around her thighs once again and lifting her so that she can settle comfortably wrapped around his hips. She feels his cock pressing against her and angles her hips, trying to trap him in her soft, warm heat. She hits the mark, and he sinks deep into her cunt, filling her so completely she can’t help the sigh that tumbles from her lips. He rocks gently, giving her time to adjust to his size as he starts to build a pace, the water rippling from the bouncing movements as Rain guides her up and down on his stiff cock. 

“Last chance to back out,” Dew taunts behind her, the head of his dick pushing experimentally at her tight hole. She clenches unintentionally, a strangled moan coming from the water ghoul in front of her. 

“If it’s too much for you, you can still crawl back to shore with your tail between your legs.” She doesn’t know what comes over her, probably the adrenaline from their current predicament. The fire ghoul snarls lightly, rising to the challenge as he pushes in slowly, but surely. Rain pauses his own movements as he waits for the other ghoul to find his place. She doesn’t know what to do, impaled on the two of them, her body locking as she feels Dew break into a long-forgotten entrance. 

“Relax,” Dew hisses, his breathing heavy as he fights the urge to fuck her into the next year, simultaneously being squeezed within an inch of his life. She keens forward, clenching Rain’s shoulders as she tries desperately to loosen her muscles and allow the intrusion. Dew lets out a hollowed-out groan as he finally slams home, his body vibrating with the need to move but allowing her a chance to ground herself. 

Everyone’s frozen, no one moving as they wait with bated breath to see who dives in first. She’s fucked out and filled the most she’s ever been, but she needs more, craves more.

“I swear to Satan, if one of you doesn’t start moving right fucking now.” She spits, her hips moving just the slightest bit, and it seems to spark them both into action. They alternate pumps, her eyes crossing at the foreign sensation. She feels helpless, letting the ghouls take over the work as she becomes boneless, flopping her head down onto Rain’s shoulders as her body slumps. 

Dew picks up the pace, fucking into her like it’s the last thing he’ll do. His own thrusts bounce her up and down Rain’s cock, though the water ghoul doesn’t sit idle by, rotating his hips and trying to bury himself as deep inside her pussy as he can get. 

She knows it’d be impossible to take both their knots like this, that it would quite literally split her in two, but she can’t help but fantasize about it. Think about the way they’d be locked together for quite some time, stuck between the two ghouls who followed her into this murky water with the sole purpose of fucking her. 

Another thought of their knots has her bearing down, pulling moans from both ghouls as their hips stutter through her muscles tightening. 

“Tell me you’re close,” Rain begs, his hips moving erratically as he tries to move back into a rhythm. She’s unsure if he’s talking to her or Dew, but she groans in agreement either way. 

“C’mere,” Dew’s voice is in her ear. She tries hard to focus on the sound, the way it trembles slightly along the word. She feels Rain lean forward and listens to the sound of the ghouls kissing sloppily beside her. She lets out a high-pitched whine, wishing desperately she could crack an eye, just to catch a glimpse of what she’s sure would be a frequent thought during her highlight reel. 

A hand touches her chin, pushing her face to the side and suddenly she’s in the middle of the kiss, both ghouls pressing against her lips enticingly until she lets out her tongue. It’s unbearably hot, the way all three of them caress each other. 

And that’s how they come, groaning into each other’s mouths as they both fill her with their seed. Stars sparkle beneath her eyelids as she comes so hard. She can feel a tingle from her head down to her toes. The moan she lets out is filthy, sinful, and loud. If there was any doubt about what they were getting up to prior to this, she’s sure the other ghouls are now painfully aware of how depraved she is. 

[divinemissem13]

Gone But Never Forgotten

2024 Eight Character No True Pair Challenge Fandom: Battlestar Galactica, The Closer Pair: Bill Adama/ Brenda Leigh Johnson Bonus pairings: Bill Adama/ Laura Roslin; Brenda Leigh Johnson/ Sharon Raydor Content Warning: Canon character deaths Word count: 684 Prompt: distant memory

They both dream of someone else, someone long gone. Neither one likes to talk about her, that one true love that they'll never see again. Instead, Brenda and Bill hold each other closer in a bed that still feels empty sometimes, even though they share it.

Brenda dreams of a woman with lush auburn hair and piercing green eyes. A woman who commands any room she walks into, with her Armani suits and click-clacking high heels. A woman who uses her glasses as a shield to keep others from getting too close. But Brenda knows what she looks like without them. She knows how compassionate and loving those emerald eyes can be … could be … were.

She dreams of the first time they met, as adversaries in the middle of the night in a hospital break room; she in a dark navy trench coat, Brenda in a bright pink one. Brunette and blonde, green eyes and brown, stilettos and kitten heels; on the surface they couldn't have been more different. In her dreams, the night does not end with them going to their separate corners though. In her dreams, they arrive much more quickly at the destination that took them years to reach in life: Brenda's lips on hers, Brenda's hands inside the neatly pressed button down shirt, her fingers clawing at Brenda's hips and pulling them closer, whispered confessions of love…

Sometimes, Brenda wakes up from the dreams with her cheeks soaked with tears. Sometimes, it's other parts of her that are soaked. Sometimes it's both. Either way, she finds Bill in the dark and holds on for dear life, because she doesn't think she could handle losing anyone else she loves.

Bill dreams of a thin woman wearing a stiff dark brown wig, her green eyes pale and tired. He doesn't know why, whenever he dreams of her, it's near the end, but it always is. A woman with quiet inner strength and boundless optimism, even though she had been dying the whole time he had known her.

He wishes he would dream about her from before the cancer really took hold… but she wasn't his then, not until her beautiful auburn hair had all fallen out, not until she stopped hiding behind her presidential facade and admitted that even dying leaders deserve a little happiness.

Sometimes, he dreams of the very end, when they sat in green grass, basking in the sun while he read to her. He dreams of his own ring — too big for her even before she began to waste away — hanging loosely from her finger. He buried that ring with her. He doesn't have another to give to Brenda, not that she would ever ask. Not that he would ever offer.

But they are happy, mostly. They make each other smile.

Brenda laughs when Bill's mustache tickles her skin. She insists she likes it though and won't let him shave it off. She's never been with anyone with a mustache before and it helps her to stay in the present, away from painful memories and loss.

Bill smiles lovingly and strokes his hand through her thick blonde curls when she falls asleep with her head in his lap, which she does every time he reads to her. He finds it endearing that she tries to listen, and enjoys the fact that his voice can lull her into an easy, dreamless sleep. She doesn't get nearly enough sleep and that worries him. Sleep is important, and he doesn't think he can bear to watch someone else he loves waste away in front of his eyes.

Sometimes, in bed, when neither of them is sleeping, Bill calls out for Laura. Brenda doesn't hold it against him because, as strange as it may seem, sometimes she cries out Sharon's name too. To anyone else, this might feel like a betrayal. But for two people who truly understand loss, they can recognize it for what it is: a declaration of love. And on these nights, when they drift off to sleep in each other's arms, their bed feels a little less empty.

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 22

Y'all don't know Condor yet but know that she's been simmering in my brain crock pot for a decade

TWs: magical exhaustion

Bleeding Through Bandages | Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | “Oh that’s not good.”

Mariano wheezed as the coughing fit passed, one hand gripping his chest. He carefully peeled himself away from the cool stone wall, sour blood dripping from between his fingers. "Oh...that's not good." He muttered.

The attack that morning had taken more out of him than he'd thought.

"You really haven't changed a bit, have you?" A low, smooth voice made him whip around, and then immediately regret moving so quickly. Condor.

She sauntered into the room, rolling gait as steady on the stone floor of the hideout as she was out in the dunes. Dark eyes looked over him, teasing and worried all at once. Her prosthetic hand drifted through the air, unattached to her arm and supporting him as easily as if she were at his side.

"You should sit before you fall over." Condor continued, guiding him to a chair by his bicep. "When were you going to tell me you were burned out?"

"It was a minor nose bleed. I think I just had my head tilted back for too long." Mariano said, sighing despite himself as the wood took his weight.

"Hey." Condor walked over, sitting across from him. "Listen to me, Bug."

The old nickname made something tear in his chest, and his eyes met Condor's more solidly. The lines on her face rivaled his. The burn scar that crept up from her shoulder was far, far too familiar.

"No one here wants you to work yourself to dust." She said, holding up a hand when he started to speak. "No, not even Cal. Your dragon know how you're feeling?"

"Bastian...is aware." Mariano felt like he was eight again, caught trying to sneak out into a rare snow despite a nasty cold. Condor had been just as disapproving then, when she'd realized.

"And your stubborn ass was going to go out for gathering duty anyway." She cracked a grin, leaning forward with one elbow braced on her knee. Her hand still hadn't let go of him, the solid stone as unyielding as her grip had always been. It would've felt like a threat, if he didn't know her so well. "You didn't think I'd remember how you get, did you?"

"You can't blame me for hoping you'd be too busy--" Mariano said with a laugh that dissolved into another bout of coughing.

Condor offered him a handkerchief. It was torn, stained from old blood long washed away, and impossibly soft. He pressed it to his face and breathed slowly as it all ebbed.

"Unfortunately for you, I keep tabs on my people. All my people." Mariano blinked up at her. She laughed. "Yeah, Bug, you're one of my people. The others are skittish, but...I mean you did take out a whole army for us. All by yourself. That means something."

Condor's hand let go of him and ruffled his hair, forcing his long, messy hair into an even worse state. He grinned, bloody and crackling as he laughed. It felt like the tear in his chest only got worse, aching over something he thought was long lost.

"Stars above though," She continued, fondness settling in her eyes as her stone hand came down to cup his face. "Melting over three hundred guys on your own? After working yourself to exhaustion this last week?"

"You're my people." He responded. "What else was I going to do?"

"You're going to tell me when you're not feeling well, duh." Condor said. "And you'll ask for backup. And you'll rest after a battle instead of acting like you're fine."

She stood, hand still lingering even as she started to cross the room to the door. "I'll send Bastian up to y'all's room with some food and water. No more chores. Go rest when you can walk again.

"And if I find you collapsed in the hallway or something--" Condor added, her hand drifting through the air to join her. "I'll tell Caldera why I call you Bug."

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper

@bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @whumpbees @painful-pooch