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kaznejis · 1 year

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Public affair- Bucky Barnes x Reader

The Avengers PR department designs the perfect fake relationship for you- the key to instant fame and high ratings. Except, you’re already in a relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 8.2k / Read it on AO3! / Part 2!

Enjoy!

“You’re joking- tell me she’s joking right?” you laughed, turning in the padded desk chair you had been ushered into upon entering the meeting room to stare at Nick Fury- the man only stared back at you, nonchalant as ever.

“No, Miss L/N, we aren’t joking,” he rose, striding towards the refreshments table to pour himself a fresh coffee, “We find that this initiative will be … beneficial towards our engagement and how the public perceive the Avengers.”

The young, public representations co-ordinator that had informed you of the plan nodded then, shuffling a stack of folders and clicking her heels under the table; a mixture of excitement and optimism, “Miss, this project will see a significant rise in traction towards the Avengers, I mean, come on- you’re young and hot; everyone either wants to be you, be with you or see you in a beautiful, public relationship. Seeing as though the first two are impossible; this is the only option.”

“Okay,” you nodded, twirling a pen before aiming it at the woman, “Did you, may perhaps, forget the part where I’m in a relationship already?”

The woman sighed then, her lips thinning; the plump redness of her lipstick almost disappearing as stress lines creased her face. Trailing a finger down the edge of her folders, she spoke slowly- as if coaxing a rabid dog, “You see- Mr Barnes isn’t exactly, you know, the kind of person for a project like this–”

“Seriously? Isn’t a public display of affection what this is all about?”

“No, Y/N- this is about public ratings. The public will not bide well with you having any form of a relationship with someone like … Mr Barnes; it would be career suicide for me and everyone in the PR department.”

You nodded, humming and scrunching your eyebrows together as if about to say something inquisitive until your face dropped entirely, “Yeah, okay. I’m leaving.”

Nick stopped you before you could leave your seat, raising a hand and rendering you seated with the simple gesture, “Just hear her out, Miss L/N.”

“Fury- you’re telling me you approve of this? You recruited us to be superheroes; not influencers.”

Nick turned then, placing his mug of coffee down and retreating back towards the table before sitting directly across from you; a pensive look on his face, “I’m sorry Y/N, but our ratings have dropped significantly recently. If people don’t support us, they won’t want us to save them. Just hear Sophia out.”

Scoffing, you turned in your seat to glare at ‘Sophia’ who only continued to click her heels beneath the table, perhaps it had been nerves after all. “The plan is to have you appear in a few high profile locations with our high profile representative,” she reached for a remote and activated the projector before you, pictures of your ‘selection’ appeared, “So- don’t worry we have preliminarily selected your choice for you-”

“I don’t even get a choice?” you spat, leaning towards the woman in your chair; nothing but shock prevalent in your features, “So you’re shipping me off to just about anyone you can find?”

“He is not just anyone!” Sophia snapped, her curled blonde hair bobbing back and forth as she seemed genuinely offended, “We have specially selected the perfect man for you; he’s military and is the first to gain three medals of honour. He’s a similar age and he is extremely respected within the public right now as he recently donated a lot of money to a selection of charities. It’s perfect!” She sat back in her chair as if overlooking an art piece, hands clasped together.

Fury sighed, thumbing at his brow, “I’m sorry Y/N- but you’re arguably our most favoured female avenger- the public love you.” Raising his hands, he turned towards the projector where a recent video of you coaxing a herd of school children away from a fire began to play- your grip on their shoulders protective as you led each one away to safety. “You’re a positive influence towards our younger audiences and we all know that teen audiences love a good romance.”

“You know, Fury,” you spoke slowly, lifting your feet to rest them on top of the table- much to Sophia’s chagrin, “Prostitution is illegal in the United States Of America.”

“Y/N-”

“Oh my Goodness!”

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous,” Nick composed himself, straightening his blazer and huffing at you, “It’s just a few dinners, picnics- whatever you kids like to do. You don’t even have to meet with him behind closed doors. It is strictly professional.”

Shaking your head, you huffed- lowering your feet from the table and sitting back in your chair, “And what about Bucky? Hm? What will he think of this?”

Fury opened his mouth to speak, though before he could, Sophia butted in; her voice urgent but smug, “Actually, Mr Barnes did agree to it. He was completely happy for you to do so.”

“You’re lying.” You snapped, your voice stone-cold; disgusted at the woman before you who was willing to pamper with your relationship. You and Bucky had endured too much for the lower departments of Stark Tower to have any form of a say in your relationship- too much hardship, trauma and healing as you had fought both figurative and literal battles together. Despair swirled in your gut as you realised that others didn’t see Bucky the same way you did- seeing him only for the past that he had no say in and the contractual record that created a constant, trawling paper trail behind him. Every step he took was slowed by the consequential weight of his past. They didn’t see the same Bucky that made you breakfast in the morning or cuddled into your back at night. The same Bucky that woke up sweating, crying, screaming more nights than not, the same one that had fervently torn the hair from his head as the slightest change in position reminded him of the grease and decay that had once tainted his sight. They would never understand the complexity of Bucky Barnes and the beautiful flaws that etched beneath the tinge of his skin.

Sophia’s mouth twisted in visibly faked sympathy, her lipstick now dyeing the edges of her lips red with an abrasive smudge. “Luckily, I predicted you would act like this, so I ensured to get his signature as solid proof for you. I don’t see any reason as to why you couldn’t be involved in this so you just need to scroll down and sign the next box.” She turned the screen before you and low and behold- Bucky’s signature lay before you in his individual bold scrawl. Tony had recently introduced a new system in order to avoid fraud and increase confidentiality- everything in Stark tower is accessed through fingerprints. Nothing unwanted can get in and nothing important could get out without sufficient clearance. Bucky was the only person that could have input the specific signature- the system making it impossible to replicate. Unease tinged in your throat then, if Bucky had truly agreed to this, then surely it would be for the best? If anyone were to understand the feeling of rage and disapproval within the public eye, it was Bucky.

“Did he … say anything when he agreed?”

She smiled, the creases not quite reaching her eyes as they squinted, “He said that it was a great idea and he showed his full support for you. He said, and I quote, that he will willingly watch from the sidelines. What a great boyfriend, huh?”

You nodded, your attempts to hide the upset twist of your lips a failure as you scanned your fingerprint against the screen- Sophia’s face practically alive with glee as she confirmed its existence. As you shook hands with her, confirming a later meeting date- you failed to notice the lack of input from Nick.

For hours you stewed over Bucky’s easy acceptance of the project- how he had essentially signed you away to be with another man in public whilst he watched in private. You had only recently discussed the potentiality of going public with your relationship- the irony of the conversation involving the detail of it being as simple as a few high profile sightings, a bit of PDA here and there.

Maybe he hadn’t been as comfortable as he had seemed, you pondered as you leant against the kitchen counter that night- alone in the large, dark room as you had been unable to sleep. Slipping away from Bucky’s arms had been an easy task as he had collapsed into bed after a particularly exhausting day of sparring with Sam and Steve as according to his usual training program. Whilst he had enjoyed time with his friends; entirely unaffected by this plan surrounding your image- the bomb had been dropped straight into your lap.

“Doll, is that you?” A gruff voice sounded from the hallway, the sound of bare feet against tile sounded as Bucky entered the kitchen- dressed in only a white, threadbare shirt and chequered boxers. He frowned upon seeing you, lowering the hand that had been scrubbing his eye as he spotted something in your features, “Why are you out here so late?”

“Just thirsty,” you smiled shallowly, offering him your glass of water as he neared you; curling an arm around your waist and trailing figures of eight upon your back.

“Come back to bed with me? I gotta’ get my Doll time in before I leave for that mission in the morning.”

Nodding, you smiled- cuddling into the warmth of his chest. He had been assigned to the take down of a suspected hydra base out in Mexico, He’d be gone for a week at most. You suspected that was why he had so easily agreed to the contract- its duration was only for as long as popularity surrounding the matter prevailed; which would also be a week at the most.

Before you could respond, he pulled you away from his chest; his head tilted as he furrowed his eyebrows at you, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m-”

“Y/N, be honest with me.”

You crumpled, your teeth clinging to your lips as you stared up at his concerned features, “The project that PR made you sign for- do you … do you really approve?”

Bucky shrugged, nodding as he rubbed at your shoulders, “Of course. It would be great to be seen out like that. The people love you Y/N. I mean, it could arguably be the perfect test run for revealing our relationship to the public, you know, see how they react to this and then we can continue from there.”

You felt your stomach fall as he spoke- the remnants of betrayal shook you as the residual sense of understanding that was always directed towards Bucky attempted to outweigh it. Rational thought prevailed as you tried, begged, wished to understand exactly why he had approved of this. Bucky had previously leaned into the role of the stereotypical ‘protective boyfriend’- a constant hand on your back, ever-watchful eyes, stares across crowded rooms. This was entirely out of his character. “Really?” your voice was weak, almost betraying you to the reveal of your inner turmoil.

Bucky smiled, rubbing at your back and leaning forward to place a kiss behind your ear, his lips tracing the sensitive skin there, “Of course.” He stared down at you, curling a metal finger around a loose strand of hair and moving to tuck it behind your ear, “let’s go to bed Doll, it’s late.”

“Buck, can we talk about this again in the morning?”

“Sure.” Bucky shrugged, amusement combined with confusion graced his features as he led you back towards your shared bedroom- the dual shuffle of barefeet the only prevalent sound within the silent hallway. However, your mind spoke a different tune- insecurities and doubts swarming your mind like hawks to their prey. The usual warmth of Bucky felt cold, unfamiliar- everything felt wrong.

But if Bucky trusted the judgement of something, you would always follow it compliantly.

The conversation never managed to take place the following morning, the pillow beside you was vacant by the time you woke up. Only a note detailing the early set off for the mission left in Bucky’s wake. The note, written in his familiar scrawl, detailed his love for you- you could only think about the way in which that same writing had signed you off to be seen on the arm of another man. Your morning consisted of moping, ignoring your scheduled appointments and moping some more. It was only when Friday presented you with a particularly urgent announcement that you were able to leave your reprieve.

“Miss Y/N- Sophia has requested your presence in the meeting room to discuss your upcoming appearances.” You scoffed as you pulled on just about any pieces of somewhat matching clothing you could find- not too bothered about your look as you were staying only in the confines of Stark Tower.

“Perfect!” Sophia squealed as you walked in; a blonde, muscular man stood beside her at the head of the meeting room- wearing casual clothing suspiciously similar to yours, “Y/N, it’s perfect- I didn’t even give you a dress code and you already knew!”

Shaking your head, you entered the room; your features visibly failed to hide your confusion, “Sorry?”

“Sorry, how rude of me!” Sophia turned towards the man beside her, stepping behind him and presenting him to you by the shoulders. The man gave you a sideways smirk; his mouth slightly lopsided due to the extent of his sharp jaw, “Y/N meet John Walker- your new boyfriend!” Clapping as she completed the sentence, Sophia was practically jumping on the spot as she grinned at the two of you. Just to appease her, you shook John’s hand- smiling somewhat-warmly at him.

“Sophia- he’s not my ‘new boyfriend’ we have gone over this- strictly professional.”

“Of course, of course,” she rounded the table and lowered herself into a seat, opening a folder as the two of you sat at each seat beside her, “So, a couple of details for you both. You will begin with a simple coffee date, hence the casual clothing, stir up a little bit of talk and then a few dinners to follow. Now, to the best part, drumroll please!” Both you and John continued to stare at her, “Finally, to end the contract, you will attend the high profile Stark annual charity gala together.”

“Sorry, what?” You froze- the gala was held every year; an opportunity for Tony to flaunt his extravagant wealth under the guise of donating large sums of money to a number of causes. Most importantly, Bucky would be at this gala- the two were not supposed to cross. “Sophia, Bucky’s going to be at that gala, I can’t possibly-”

“Have you forgotten Y/N?” Her voice cold and sardonic, the sound of it grating and rendering you silent, “Mr Barnes approved of all of this.”

Nodding, you frowned, lowering your guard as the harsh reminder struck you, “Of course, but- he couldn’t have possibly agreed to this, I mean, it’s been agreed that we were going to go together- why would he go back on that?”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Sophia shrugged her shoulders in mock confusion, appearing to be pondering on your question, “Maybe he just saw the benefits of this. There’s always other charity galas that you can attend later.”

“Sure… of course.”

“Thank you,” you watched as Sophia flipped the page of her folder, “If you feel like continuing this agreement past the gala we can- but, I see it as a great end point. Once all is done, we will simply release a statement adding it all up to rumours or just fate. Outlets will be having the time of their lives over the next week. Me and my team will give a few strategically placed source reviews throughout the period- give the story at least a bit of credibility and all,” Sophia stood suddenly then, her curls shaking at the momentum, “I was thinking we could begin now?”

Defeated, you agreed without fight; finding yourself being escorted to the ground floor with John following simple instructions- get coffee and look like you’re having fun. It wasn’t the most difficult task- you enjoyed a cup of coffee and John was a fairly nice guy.

“Hey, don’t worry about this too much- I got a girl back home myself.”

“Really?” You smiled, pleased that your pain wasn’t entirely one-sided, “So- did she agree easily too or-”

John laughed then, a smirk forming as his teeth glinted in the New York sunlight; he carried an ever-present feeling of arrogance within himself, “God, no. She kicked up a fight- it was only when they offered us the money that we agreed to this.”

Pausing, you plastered a fake smile and laughed heartily as you sensed the presence of a phone camera flashing behind you- you had been spotted. “Sorry, John, what money?” You grabbed his arm as you spoke, framing the image of the average, romantic-fueled coffee date.

“You don’t-” he turned away from the camera, looking you sincerely in the eye, “You don’t know? You shook your head, “Oh- well, I wasn’t too convinced by the whole fame thing, no offence, so I only agreed to do this if they paid me.”

Continuing your pretence, you just smiled- stroking his arm in order to appease the cameras as well as ease the swirling in your gut- had Bucky really so easily agreed to have you pawned off, simply to appease the opinion of the public? Bucky had never cared for them- not once throughout your time together had he cared about the whispers and the glares and the threats- he had ignored them, steering you away from the bustle of New York and opted to take you into the quieter streets of Brooklyn where he had grown up. The rare diners and stores that had survived since his childhood long ago had become your second home- mid-morning breakfasts and late night, nightmare-fueled outings alike. Luckily, your PR outing had not taken place in those same spots; it would’ve tarnished your relationship with those memories. Laughter and love replaced by fabricated and stilted conversation with a man you had only met that morning. Those days with Bucky had been between the two of you, nothing would ever replicate that. As you stood in the streets of New York, your hand on the arm of an unfamiliar man and the flashes of cameras whirring around you- you realised that whatever reason Bucky had, whatever had convinced him to accept this, you would wholeheartedly understand.

The story was on the front page within a number of hours, a large picture of you plastering on that fake laugh as you stroked John’s arm was relayed across the paper’s online forum- the article as sensationalised and pretentious as it could be.

NEW COUPLE ALERT

Everyone’s favourite Avenger, Y/N L/N, was spotted on the cutest coffee date in New York today, with our favourite military hero John Walker, no less! For those who are unaware of this wonderful hunk of a man, he is the first to gain three medals of honour; everyone commend him for his bravery in defending our country! Sources close to the couple confirm that this relationship is new though it has been building up for a long time with the two deciding to go public this very morning. We congratulate the couple and wish them the best.

There was no going back from this, the documentation of your supposed ‘date’ was now public- part of you hoped that Bucky would see it, feel some twinge of jealousy, regret, whatever emotions came with signing you up so willingly for something like this. Though the other part of you, the part that loved him wholeheartedly; hoped that he wouldn’t see it, hoped that this was all some big misunderstanding that could be left behind; a stupid mistake of the past.

As you stared down at the article, thumbing the screen as you stared down at the photo of yourself in the streets of New York- smile wide, eyes bright, that hand clasped around his arm- a myriad of heels sounded down the hallway.

“Y/N? Are you here?” it was Wanda, you had no doubt that Vision would be following close behind; ready to give some annoyingly insightful advice pulled from some dark corner of a forum. Beckoning her inside, you watched as she entered the room; her face held a number of emotions: stricken, confused, angry. Her left hand held her phone- the article open on your very own could be seen in glimpses as she began to wave her arms frantically. “What- what is going on Y/N? Do you need us to get rid of this? Vision can wipe it from the internet in a matter of seconds- yep- I’ll get him to track down all traces of this photo and remove it. I mean, the audacity of the public to even post things like this; Nat had a similar thing with her assistant and we got rid of that one don’t you-”

“It’s real, Wanda.”

Screeches could practically be heard as Wanda halted in her tracks, behind her Vision too paused suddenly; seemingly phasing back to reality as he halted the tracking within his database. “What do you mean? ‘It’s real’?”

“It’s not a fake, that was this morning.” Your voice was defeated, eyes casted downwards as you refused to meet the eyes of your friend.

“Y/N is correct,” Vision spoke, refusing to meet your eyes as he turned to nod at Wanda, “The photo is real.”

“Y/N …” Wanda spoke slowly, her eyes swarming with confusion as she looked between the two of you, “What? I thought- what about Bucky?”

“It’s a scheme set up by the PR department to ‘improve our image’,” you acted out finger quotes sarcastically, “be seen with a nice guy on a few outings and the public opinion of the Avengers soars.”

“How-” Wanda was angry now, her hands clenching as she moved to sit beside you, a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Why would you agree to this, Y/N?”

“It sounded like it would be beneficial, you know, I love helping people and if this is what’s necessary then I’m willing- it’s all strictly professional and Bucky knows-”

“Bucky consented to this?!”

“Mr Barnes did,” Vision spoke, moving to console Wanda with a hand on her back as she began to seethe, “His signature was activated within the database in regards to this contract. It’s all real.”

“Y/N, something isn’t right here,” Wanda’s fists were clenching, her chest stuttering as she stared at you- worry ever-prevalent within her eyes as she watched you, “Bucky would never agree to something like that, I mean- do you remember when you were taken on that mission in monaco? You were gone for three days and the entire time he was inconsolable; stopping at nothing to get you back. There’s no way that same man would agree to something like this for you.”

You could only stare back at her, your lips twisting and stomach clenching as you smiled uneasily, “Well, it’s all been agreed to now. No going back.”

“Okay, well promise me you’ll be careful? God knows the type of people Tony hired for this place.”

You laughed, smiling and nodding at Wanda as you vowed to take care, “Wait- one last thing,” Wanda stopped at the door, the ends of her cardigan twirling as she turned to face you, “I have a dinner set tomorrow night- help me pick an outfit?”

The following day passed all too quickly- the picture had taken the internet by storm; thousands of trending posts, tags and conversations were now revolving around you. People were obsessed at the slightest semblance of a stereotypical romance; the slightest touch, the loving glances, the feeling of believing like you’re the only people to exist in a room. It was funny, really, the fact that what these people wished to be true was just present within the form of a different man. You hadn’t heard from Bucky since his departure, since the release of the picture- it was no different to a usual mission, he would be occupied and undercover, unable to respond to anyone’s messages let alone your own. Though, the feeling still stung- you craved for something- anger, resentment even the slightest show of concern. It almost seemed like he didn’t care.

You thought over this as you sat perched on your bed, watching as Wanda practically tore through your bedroom, waiting to be bustled into the bathroom once again with a handful of clothes.

“I know it’s not real- but if you have hundreds of cameras on you, you need to at least look your best. We can’t have you prancing around anyone’s feed not looking your best.” She threw yet another dress onto the floor behind her, “You never know, Bucky might even see a picture and realise what he’s missing out on.”

You snorted, “Sure, Mhm- he’ll definitely be taking time out of his highly confidential mission to send me a message about a picture of me on social media- something that happens every single day.”

You were wrong, so wrong.

You had been sitting, legs poised and a smile prominent on your face- the ideal image of a romantic dinner date present to the cameras flashing outside. Your chin had been placed on your palm- the image of a doting date listening intently to the fascinating words of the man before them; when your phone began to buzz incessantly.

“I’m so sorry John,” he waved you off, giving you permission to escape to the bathroom to check your phone. Your departure had been strategic: an innocent smile, a flick of the hair and a beeline straight to the bathroom. You had no doubt that the cameras had captured each moment perfectly- ready to coin the escape up to a different, highly-dramatic story. Your heart stuttered as you looked down at the phone screen upon entering the safety of the bathroom stall, “Buck” glared back at you- the ringing continued almost as soon as it had stopped. As if he was clicking the button over and over again, waiting for you to answer. Swearing, you moved to click the accept button- fear causing your legs to shake and teeth to chatter as you wondered why he was calling so obsessively- had something gone wrong on the mission? However, just as you were about to hit accept, a bustle of girls entered the bathroom- each one talking excitedly about how they had seen your date, witnessed the new budding relationship for themselves.

Your finger instead took a different route, moving to decline the call. Bucky’s calls stopped, obviously halted by the confirmation that you were unable to speak through the tune of the calls rejection. The silence allowed you to turn to your voicemails- selecting one of many that Bucky had sent you since his tirade of calls began.

“Please Doll, I am begging you, please pick up. I’m sitting here in some dead-end bar and suddenly I’m seeing your face on the TV with some… military hunk, what is going on? Darling, seriously, are you okay? I can come home immediately and we can talk this over please just pick up and tell me-”

“It’s me again, Doll, what did I do? Did I do something to upset you? I’m so so sorry that I left so abruptly I just didn’t want to wake you- I’ll be back within the next two days, please just tell me what’s going on. The last time I saw you, you were completely fine. Please just answer me.”

Lowering the phone, you stared blankly at the door of the cubicle before you; the endless chatter of the girls beginning to die down as they exited the bathroom. Why did Bucky sound so confused? Rubbing at your forehead, you scrunched your hands over your face- entirely confused as to what was going on. Bucky had willingly signed you away to hang off of the arm of John- he did not get to fuss and act confused now that it was actually happening. He had scanned that fingerprint and signed off your fate.

With a wave of rage rushing your way, tongue in cheek, you tapped over to the messenger app before selecting Bucky’s contact.

You: This is entirely your own doing. You turned off the phone before a reply could be received, shoving it to the bottom of your handbag and straightening out your clothes, before returning to your date and the ever watchful eyes of the public. John grinned at you as you returned, raising his drink as you sat back in your seat.

“I say we keep this going for another twenty minutes or so,” He spoke in a low tone, his finger trailing a drop of condensation running the length of his glass, “I’m assuming that was your man blowing up the phone, my girl is doing the same to me.” Smiling shallowly, you nodded- the fact that the only relative similarity between the two of you was the fact that neither of you wanted to be there was laughable- the background behind Sophia’s opinion that the two of you would be the perfect match was entirely a mystery.

“Well, we at least need to give them something to obsess over as we leave.” You smirked, masking it with a sip from your own glass- the volume of flashes had increased significantly since your return from the bathroom.

“Like?”

“Just follow my lead.”

Upon your joint departure, you took John’s hand in your own; your grip loose in respect for him but clasped enough to seem genuine. You plastered on a grin, seemingly mid-laugh as you were escorted from the restaurant and into the barrage of cameras- the flashing immediately increased in your appearance; a cacophony of shouts and questions immediately sounding behind them. The signature camera for a popular news network sat only a few paces from you; you wondered if this moment would be aired directly to the television Bucky had been watching only minutes ago. Just as you were about to climb into your respective car, you turned and planted a chaste but firm kiss to John’s cheek; causing the crowd to practically go wild- frantic and erratic with the physical confirmation of the public relationship of an Avenger.

As the car door closed, your smile dropped instantly; the facade wearing away instantly in the solitude of blackout windows. Sighing, you turned to Sophia who sat waiting in the seat ahead of you; practically grinning from ear-to-ear.

“I mean, I knew this was going to be a success- but this is insane.” Her phone lay active in her hand, as if she’d been dealing with a constant influx of phone calls, just as you had. “You should congratulate yourself, Y/N, you are amazing.”

“I guess being in an actual relationship helps, knowing what to do and all,” you glared at her in the central mirror, kicking off your heels and rubbing at the ridiculous lipstick you wore, “Which has been pretty much tarnished due to this little project of yours, thanks a lot.”

Sophia shrugged, continuing to smile owlishly at you; frenzied excitement in her eyes, “Well- I was actually thinking that we could continue-”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“Why- are you serious? Let alone my own relationship, John is in one too. This needs to end, you’ve got your ratings and you’ve got your money, that was the whole purpose of this.”

Sophia could only grit her teeth, opting to stew in silence at your rejection; her greed prevalent in her lack of response. Just as the car drew close to the entrance of the compound, Sophia gasped; the sound sudden and jolting.

“What?” You snapped upon composing yourself, watching as she turned her phone screen towards you. A newly posted news article was displayed before you.

A Love Triangle Arises?

Onlookers from Mexico report the LIVE reaction of James Barnes, formally the infamous Winter Soldier, regarding the situation with Y/N L/N’s new relationship. Attached is Barnes’ live reaction as he is seen to destroy a television, stated to have displayed our latest obsession- the kiss shared between Y/N and her new love, John Walker. Insiders to the Avengers have previously corroborated rumours detailing a supposed relationship between Barnes and L/N- though with recent news, we thought that it was entirely untrue. Is there some unspoken tension left behind between Y/N and James? Which couple do you prefer?

“Show me the video of me and John.” You ordered, watching as Sophia frantically switched tabs and pulled up the video. Despite only kissing John on the cheek, the video had been tailored to be from an angle that suggested otherwise; the car door disguising the two of you as your movement suggested that a kiss had been shared. “No, no, no.” You chanted, clicking back over to the article regarding Bucky and selecting the attached video. The video was blurry, possibly filmed by the bartender as they cowered behind the bar, watching as Bucky tore the screen from its hinges and tore it apart with his metal arm- his face red with anguish and eyes watery with distress.

“What is going on Sophia?” You turned to her as she began to exit the car, pausing in place, “You said that he agreed to all of this- why- why is he blowing up my phone and seeming so distressed about it all? I don’t understand.” Sophia gave no reply, instead disappearing into the late night darkness of the tower despite your calls. Before you could make chase, Steve entered the garage- a concerned crease to his brow, a hand instantly met your shoulder as he reached you.

“Y/N are you okay?” He stared down at you, his gaze urgent but sincere, “I’ve had Buck blowing up my phone all night and then I’ve seen all of these news articles- What is going on?”

The comforting timbre to his voice made you crack, collapsing into his arms instantly as you sobbed- the tirade of emotions you had felt over the previous days finally reaching a head as you were faced with the sincerity of Captain America. His arms wrapped around you protectively as you shook into his arms, blubbering and sobbing about the whole situation. How it had gone too far, how you didn’t know what to do, how you wanted to make it stop.

“Y/N, I think Wanda was right,” Steve nodded, rubbing your back and turning to lead you into a more comfortable space, “Something about this doesn’t seem right, I mean, I can’t even exaggerate when I say that Bucky’s been blowing up my phone all night- he was crying his heart out Y/N, begging me to find out what is going on with you. I’ve not heard him like that since Monaco.”

“Then … why was his signature in the contract- he allowed all of this.”

“I can’t say exactly what’s happened but, I don’t think he was as willing as it seems.”

“His signature was there, Steve. Bold and Real.”

“I know, I know.” Steve sighed, stroking his chin with his hand as he stood before you, “This just isn’t Buck, Y/N. I know you’re feeling betrayed right now but I know you know this- something isn’t right.”

Nodding, you considered the doubts that had lingered since the beginning- the questions, the worries. You trusted Bucky wholeheartedly- that aforementioned part of you that loved Bucky wholeheartedly had known that something, somewhere was amiss. “I just have to get through this charity gala,” you nodded, fidgeting with the hem of your dress; a skimpy thing Wanda had picked out for you, “I signed a contract- I have to do it. Then I will speak to Bucky.”

“He’ll be back by then. Get through that and then talk to him, as soon as you can.”

The following days leading up to the gala were spent back in your previous reprieve- waiting, waiting, waiting for the gala; waiting for Bucky to return. Every fibre of your soul yearned for him, missed him. Craved the touch of his calloused hands and the scent that could apply only to him found at the base of his neck. You missed his private smiles and his soft eyes- the way he makes you feel when his thumb draws constellations onto the blush of your cheeks or the nape of your neck. You missed his anger, his sadness, his happiness and his love. You missed his everything.

No fake relationship could ever replicate that feeling.

“Y/N, please stand still.” Sophia snapped on the night of the gala, stylists bustled around you as they fidgeted with your hair and tightened the ties of your dress. Steve had surveyed at the side of the room, his dressing being immediately before yours, smirking as his own had only taken mere minutes.

“I wish you ladies would fuss this much over me,” Steve smirked from the side of the room, very obviously bored out of his mind and ready for the night to end already.

“You don’t need it Captain,” one of the stylists giggled, to which you scoffed- much to Steve’s amusement. Once you were ready, and finally left to stand upright on your own, Steve led you towards the entrance of the gala- where you were due to meet John.

“Please just talk to him, Y/N,” Steve smiled sadly as you fixed his tie, waiting for John’s arrival, “He’s going crazy- calling and texting me constantly. An old man like me can’t deal with all this.”

You laughed at that, slapping Steve on the chest as he was ever-endearing, “I will, don’t worry,” your expression turned sombre as you turned to survey the growing crowd, wondering if Bucky had arrived yet. As you scanned the crowd, John entered your eye line; the usual smirk plastered on his face complimented by a deep blue suit; matching your gown perfectly. But, he wasn’t Bucky. He would never be Bucky. You had to keep this facade up for just a few more hours before you could collapse into Bucky’s arms, resolve everything, go back to how things had been before his departure. Before pen graced paper and your signatures came into existence on that ridiculous contract.

Offering you an arm, John led you towards the main hall; it felt like all eyes turned to you when you entered- the fresh, new, heartthrob ‘couple’. Mere acquaintances of the Avengers attempted to snidely snap a photo of the two of you and others, with a tad more respect to their name, simply eyed the two of you; humming to each other about how the tabloids had been correct. You spotted Wanda and Vision through the swarms of onlookers before you, dragging John by the arm towards them.

Wanda squealed at the sight of you, her face scrunching and copper curls bobbing in excitement, “You look beautiful, oh Vision doesn’t she look beautiful!”

“Thank you, you look beautiful too Wanda,” You beckoned her into a hug, squeezing your closest friend tight as the two of you rocked together, “Last night of this mess.” You whispered, snickering gleefully.

Wanda pulled back, looking left and right before speaking, “Have you seen him?”

Shaking your head no, you gave her a sad smile, “Have you?”

“No. But … I have seen Sam, who was on the mission with him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s sulking in a corner somewhere around here.”

Vision piped up from beside Wanda, “That is correct, Mr Barnes was spotted on security cameras just seconds ago. I can direct you to his whereabouts?”

“No, no,” You waved your hands in the air frantically, shaking your head to the same tune, “I need to finish this off first,” You gestured to John, who had been lingering on the sidelines throughout the conversation, “Put this whole thing out of its misery.”

John stepped forward then, curling a hand around your shoulder- as careless and loose as ever, “I was hoping we could finish this off soon actually, promised the Mrs I’d be home within the hour,” He stepped back and offered you a hand, “Care for a quick dance?”

Shrugging, you accepted his hand; for once grinning at him sincerely. This dance would finally mark the end of your wretched assignment, “One dance won’t hurt anyone.”

The two of you laughed as he twirled you around the dance floor- so overjoyed at the semblance of freedom from each other; soon to no longer be tied down by the ropes and binds of your arrangement. A particular spin left you winded; clutching your chest and snorting out a laugh as you recovered.

And that’s when your eyes landed on him.

Bucky stood leaning against the bar, nursing a glass of something dark, something heavy. A drink that could infiltrate even the speed of his super soldier blood. His stubble was prominent and the dark bruises marring his eyes only accentuated that. Clenched fists could be seen exiting the sleeves of his black suit- simple, sleek, neat. Obscenely attractive. Steve stood beside him, probably attempting to keep up a somewhat coherent conversation, distracting him from what he was looking at.

You realised that his gaze had not once left you. His eyes were dark, heady, angry- his irises almost black with the obvious rage that existed within him at the sight of you with John. Grip harsh, jaw tight, breaths leaving his chest shuffled and hitched. He was furious.

The second realisation that you came to, was that something was seriously wrong.

“Y/N, Y/N? Are you okay?” John questioned beside you, stealing your gaze away from Bucky’s- his gaze seeming genuinely concerned at your sudden shift in demeanour.

“I- Um-” You stuttered, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you gripped his shoulders urgently, the pulse hammering in your throat like a sounding siren, “We need to end this now John, you can go. Please go.” The urgency in your eyes seemingly sent the message well enough; the threat of the former Winter Soldier all too present within his mind. Watching John’s hasty retreat, you prepared yourself to turn- to make eye contact with Bucky again. To see those dark, hooded eyes. To force yourself not to run straight into his arms.

Not appropriate right now.

Slowly, you turned your head- making direct eye contact with Bucky once again. His eyes were downturned- insistent, obsessive, begging you to provide him with some clarity. He stood stoically in place as you advanced towards him, staring determinedly at your figure and only offering Steve a grunt as he granted him a goodbye, giving up on the one-sided conversation and nodding to you as he departed, his eyes saying ‘good luck’. Keeping your chin high, you stopped beside Bucky- ordering yourself a drink at the bar and simply turning to stare at him once you were done. He stared forward resolutely, though the constant flare of his nostrils gave him away entirely.

Upon the arrival of your drink, you drank a considerable amount before turning to him, liquid courage and all, “What the hell is goin’ on Buck?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Doll,” Bucky ground his teeth, the ministrations dancing within his jaw as he still refused to meet your gaze, “I go away on a mission and the next thing I know I’m seeing you gallivanting around New York on the arm of another man.” He took a long drought from his glass, finishing the drink and slamming it down onto the counter behind him, “Nobody will tell me what is happening and now one moment I’m watching you have the time of your life on the dancefloor and the next you come to me once your little boy-toy has scurried away.”

“Bucky. Seriously? You signed the contract to allow-”

“See, this is what everyone is telling me,” Bucky turned to face you then, his mouth curling downwards and his eyes filled with anguish, “But no one is able to tell me what it is exactly that I signed- when did I sign on to this Y/N?”

“Are you kidding me?” Your tone heavy with the weight of anger and betrayal as you spat the words, Bucky’s mask of anger faltering slightly as he heard your voice, “Your signature was there- bold and animated- on that contract, Bucky.” You shook your head, mouth drooping as you spoke, sadness now present within your features, “You signed me away Bucky, you did this to me.”

“Please, Doll.” Bucky was begging now, his eyes curved and teary as he clasped your shoulders, “Please tell me what you are talking because I seriously have no idea.”

“How-” You suddenly realised that a number of inquisitive eyes had turned towards the two of you, Bucky’s hands on your shoulders- your own in mid-air reaching towards his. “We can’t do this here Buck.” At that, you dragged him from the room; the two of you entered the hallway in silence before making a number of twists and turns- ensuring shelter from the public’s ever watchful eyes. “How do you not know Buck- like I said your signature was there.” Your voice was quieter, calmer, more meagre now as you practically pleaded with the man before you.

He was pleading right back, his metal hand moving to cup your cheek- the warmth of its plates familiar and a comforting presence. “Okay, Doll- let’s start from the beginning, untangle all of this mess. I signed a contact last week which would agree that we’d be seen together at the gala. You know, I- I’ve been feeling like I’m ready to go public with you and I was told that it wouldn’t be much, just a dance and a few photo opportunities. I don’t- I understand if that upset you, I’m sorry if I was too eager and I … completely understand why you’ve decided to do this I just, I wish you could’ve done it to my face? Why did you leave me to find out like-”

Bucky’s speech was stopped by your instant attack as you pressed your lips to his, your hands gripping his stubbled cheeks like a lifeline as you pressed kiss after kiss to his mouth, attempting to drown in his taste as you sobbed against him, “I’m so sorry.” You chanted continuously as you kissed, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, “This isn’t your fault, you did nothing wrong, Buck.” Your words were halted by erratic sobs as your scenario finally reached a state of clarity, he reached to wipe the tears from your cheeks instantly; the pads of his fingers picking up the broken shards and piecing them back together perfectly, back where they belonged.

“I don’t under-”

“No, no Bucky. It’s okay.” You pulled away from him, shaking your head and breathing, grinning at him widely, “I- god this is ridiculous, I swear I am going to destroy her. I- well, PR told me that you had signed a contract agreeing for me to engage in a fake public relationship, I mean I saw your signature and instantly assumed the worst of you, I am so sorry Bucky- and I just went along with it because I trust you and what you said in the kitchen only supported that. But then everything happened and I was just so so confused about it all and you weren’t here and I just wanted to see you again-”

Bucky halted your tirade then, placing his own mouth against yours as you resumed your previous feverish kissing; clinging onto him as he intertwined his fingers into the long curls of your hair, the straps of your dress, the span of your hips. Eventually, he pulled back, wholly gripping his face in yours as his toothy grin glistened down at you- his face the perfect display of relief and adoration. “It’s okay,” he smiled, nodding as his eyes remained teary, your own face a mirror image of his, “We’re going to be okay.” He stroked your hair and placed a kiss to your forehead, rocking you and shushing you tentatively as you continued to cry into the comfort of his chest. “Let’s get you into bed and out of this gorgeous dress, yeah?” He mumbled, toying with the straps of your dress as he stared adoringly down at you, “I’ve not had my Doll-time in forever.”

Giggling, you slapped him on the chest, clasping his offered hand and allowing him to lead you down the hallway- towards the comfort of tousled sheets and intertwined legs; secret touches in the darkness of night and the relief that would settle between you as the string was no longer pulled taut.

Part 2- ‘Public Display’

#misunderstandings trope will be torn from my cold dead hands #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky fanfic #wanda maximoff #MCU fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #mcu

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minaturefics · 9 months

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Watching, Wanting

A/N: Hello! (its been awhile) I just wanted to indulge in my love for Boromir (ft some faramir bc i love my brothers). Very vague plot if you squint. It's a bit spicy, but nothing explicit!

Reader gets sent out in a storm by Faramir and turns up at Minas Tirith soaked.

Boromir x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Rated: TEEN

2.3k words

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The low hills of Emyn Arnen at your feet gave way to soft fields and in the distance the Anduin meandered through the landscape. There were dark clouds on the horizon, grey and heavy, and the faint earthy scent of coming rain was in the air. If you rode fast, you could make it to the city in a few hours, but judging by the clouds, you would be riding right into the storm anyway. You sighed and turned to Faramir. “Are you certain this is of such vital importance that I have to risk getting soaked to the bone?”

He nodded. “My brother requires these maps. I would have sent it with the trade carts this morning but it slipped my mind.”

“Rather uncharacteristic of you,” you muttered, raising your eyebrows at him.

He shrugged, an easy smile on his face. “My mind has been occupied of late. It is no easy feat, establishing a settlement.”

You softened at his words. Eowyn and Faramir had been working from dawn to dusk the past few weeks and the spring rains had been slowing construction and delaying the new workers and settlers journeying to Emyn Arnen.

“Very well.” You tucked the long, flat wooden box into your pack and buckled the waxed canvas securely. “I’ll be off now.”

“Safe travels, my friend,” he grinned and waved.

You swung onto your horse and, with a flick of the reins, started off down the road. As the grass and trees sped by, your thoughts drifted to Boromir.

You had become friends with Faramir first and, in the months Boromir had been away from Minas Tirith, you had helped coordinate the Ithilien Rangers from the city. Boromir had been civil to you when he returned, respectful of your battle and logistical strategies, but distant outside of the war rooms and planning councils. But something shifted one evening.

It was one of the many victory dinners, a smaller, more intimate one for The Fellowship and close companions. The hobbits had pulled you into their game of roughhousing and somehow you had ended up sprawled on top of Boromir. He had been large and solid underneath you, his hands heavy on your waist. You looked up into his grey eyes and your breath caught in your throat.

After that, it seemed as though his eyes were always on you. Across dinner tables, across courtyards, even, once, from across the throne room in full view of everyone.

You thought that with the end of the war, there would be no need for much contact between you and him, that all you would ever do is look, but Faramir had unofficially appointed you as a representative between the city and Emyn Arnen.

There had been so many afternoons spent with Boromir, shoulder to shoulder, pouring over maps and trade routes, so many nights spent eating across from each other in the low light of his private dining room. Yes, he was brave and proud and a fantastic tactician, but all that seemed to vanish when you saw him.

Really saw him.

Him with sleeves rolled up, exposing his strong forearms. His hair tied up, the pale column of his throat on full display. And those training breeches, somehow loose and tight at the same time…

What would he look like sprawled on your bed? Eyes glazed and chest heaving, hair mussed and lips parted. His breath hot in your ear, his voice low and raspy.

Thunder clapped overhead and rain started to fall on your overheated skin. The drops were cool and refreshing and you tipped your face to the sky.

How were you to spend another evening, another moment, in his presence? It was maddening, the way his eyes would blaze, the way he would draw close to you but never touch.

Why would he not act? It is true that you did not hold as high a standing as his family, but the brothers never seemed to care about such a thing. Even though that may be true, surely he understood that it was not as if you could do anything — it would be far more impertinent that you, of a lower standing, should be the first to move.

You shook your head and tightened your grip on the reins. You would ride back tonight to Emyn Arnen, even if you had to make the journey in the dark. It would be too much to spend another night near Boromir only separated by a few doors.

Boromir rushed down with the panicked servant who had burst into his study. What was his brother thinking? Sending you to Minas Tirith in the storm? He rounded the corner and found you shivering and dripping onto the polished marble. Someone had already taken your cloak and pack and you stood in your soaked clothes and saturated boots, clutching a wooden box. He swallowed at the sight of the fabric clinging to your form and strode towards you.

“Riding in such a storm is madness. What was so urgent it could not wait until morning?” You shoved the box into his hands and he stared at it for a moment before shaking his head. “Come, let us get you warm and dry first.”

He led you to his rooms and sat you down before the fire. “You cannot stay in those clothes,” he said, handing you some towels and a blanket along with some of his spare clothes. “You will catch your death.”

“But, Boromir, it is not proper —”

“I do not care. I would rather some impropriety if the alternative is illness or death.” He turned around and faced the wall. “I will not look until you are sufficiently… dressed.”

For a moment, he thought you were about to protest some more until he heard the slick swish of your clothes. He could imagine you, peeling off your layers, bare skin tinged orange by the fire. Heat crept up his neck to his ears. By the gods, he needed to control himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew a ragged breath in.

What sort of delightful torture was this? How many days had he spent beside you, close enough to breathe in your scent? How many nights had he spent staring at his bedroom door, willing you to walk through it?

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sound of your wet clothes hitting the floor. He had to be proper. A gentleman. A man of honour. He had to be mindful of his position and standing. Yes, his brother had appointed you various titles and responsibilities, but whatever they were, they were still ranked below his own title of Captain of Gondor.

He had heard too many stories of people being swayed and persuaded by the nobility — he would not allow you to feel obligated to reciprocate his own selfish desires simply because he was ranked higher than you were.

There was the rustle of cloth, the whisper of cotton on skin, and he fought the images of you donning his clothes. Oh, how will he ever wear that tunic ever again and not think of you?

You were wonderful and smart and were filled with endless ideas for new laws and trade. But in his quiet moments, he wondered what you would feel like under his touch, wondered what sort of sounds you would make.

How would you say his name? In a whisper? A gasp?

In a cry of pleasure?

He spied the wooden box you had brought with you on the side table and shook his head. Damn Faramir for putting him in such a position! What could possibly be so important?

“I, um — I’m just going to look at what my brother sent. Do not be alarmed by my movement,” he said and heard you hum in assent.

With slow, measured steps, he made his way to the box and opened it.

“Faramir said you needed maps,” you muttered behind him.

There were maps indeed, but they were just the regular sort that anyone could buy at the market cartographer. He frowned, rifling through the parchment, and pulled out the envelope tucked in between the papers.

Brother,

Forgive my deception, but I hope my interference will be forgiven. Aragorn has written to me saying he is on the verge of tearing his hair out at the sight of you two. Eowyn and I are not faring much better here in Emyn Arnen with the constant pacing and faraway looks my, our, friend has whenever they return from the city.

I pray you spare all of us any more heated longing stares.

Best of luck,

Faramir

The nerve of his brother! To send you out in the storm simply for the purposes of… of… matchmaking! The paper crinkled in his grip and his eyes wandered down to the scrawl at the bottom.

P.S. I am not so foolish as to send them out in anything threatening. Spring storms may be chilly, but hardly dangerous.

That mollified him little and he grumbled.

“Is anything the matter?” you asked. “Were they damaged in the rain?”

“No, not at all. It is nothing. Simply my brother being… my brother.”

He read the letter again. Pacing… faraway looks… heated stares… Was his brother implying…? No, that could not be, could it? But, then again, perhaps he did not imagine the way you would linger in the sitting room after dinner or how he would feel your eyes on him sometimes. Your expression was always unreadable, careful and controlled, that he could hardly be sure of what you felt for him. If you felt anything at all.

And yet, Faramir’s letter…

Your bare feet shuffled on the stone. “You may turn around if you wish.”

He folded the letter away and replaced it along with the maps into the box. He turned and his stomach clenched at the sight of you.

You were bathed in the warm light of the fire, your skin aglow, incandescent in the dim light. His tunic was loose on you and the front ties of the collar were undone, revealing the skin of your chest. His eyes wandered down to the pile of wet clothes on the floor and he spotted, what were unmistakably, underthings, heaped on top.

Heat flared low in his belly and he glanced away.

You. Naked under his clothes. Valar help him.

Boromir had that look in his eyes again, all aflame and intense, except he was directing it at one of the tapestries on the wall. You glanced down at the wet clothes at your feet. Well, he could not have reasonably expected you to keep your underthings on, could he?

He was still staring at the wall. His jaw was tense and his hands were clenched by his sides. You took a step forward and he stood straighter. His eyes cut to yours for a moment, smoldering with want, before they went back to the wall. He took a shuddering breath and you took another step.

Perhaps if you couldn’t act, you could make him act first instead.

You fought a smile and walked to stand before him. You could smell him fully then, his familiar musk mingling with cedar from the scent he favoured.

“Boromir,” you whispered.

His eyes snapped to you and he swallowed.

“Boromir.”

You tipped your head to the side and parted your lips.

“Boromir.”

He crashed his lips against yours, his hands coming up to cradle your face. He deepened the kiss, his chest rumbling in a low moan when your fingers curled into his shirt. He tasted like the bitter tea he favoured after dinner. His hand drifted down, skimming your waist before coming to rest on your hip. Your nails scraped at the nape of his neck and he groaned.

His body was warm, hot even. He pressed himself closer to you and you could feel him, hard, against you. Heat pooled in your stomach and you moaned his name. His hand slipped under the hem of your shirt and he pulled back for a moment. “Is this alright?”

You nodded and tipped your head back. “Don’t stop.”

“I’ve… wanted this… for weeks,” he said, kisses drifting towards your jaw. The delightful scratch of his beard was followed by soft, warm lips as he worked his way down your neck. “Wanted you.”

“You should have done something.”

He smiled against your skin. “I’m doing something now.”

His lips paused at the curve of your neck and shoulder, sucking for a moment, as his hand slid up your side, his touch gentle but demanding. Your fingers fumbled with the ties on his tunic and tugged on the fabric. He pulled it off and tossed it to the side and he stood flushed and grinning before you. You trailed your fingers down his solid chest, past his stomach, following the light dusting of hair down.

“Maddening man, you —”

There was a knock on the door and you yelped, startling away from him.

“Who is it?” he asked, voice low and rough. He cleared his throat. “What is the matter?”

“Should we prepare a hot bath for your friend in the spare room?” The servant’s voice was muffled through the door.

His eyes darted to yours before a smirk spread across his face. “There is no need for that, thank you.”

There was the sound of retreating footsteps and you exhaled. Boromir let out a relieved chuckle and pulled you towards him.

“Sending my warm bath away?” You threw a challenging look at him. “How ever will I get warm?”

“I can think of a great many ways.”

“Will I like any of them?”

“I think you will find that you’ll like all of them.”

He dipped his head, capturing your lips, and tugged you in the direction of his bedroom.

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I never realised just how quick things can head into a mature rating until I wrote this lmao. Not sure if I will ever write smut but well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (maybe)

Tags: @sotwk @ass-deep-in-demons @thetempleofthemasaigoddess @hippodameia

#boromir x reader #boromir x y/n #boromir x you #lotr fic #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #boromir

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 2 months

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1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge: Unleashing the Power of Muscle

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

In 1962, a new era of muscle cars emerged, radiating brilliance and power. Chrysler led the way with their groundbreaking Max Wedge lineup, introducing the world to the fusion of unitized-body construction and the high-performance ram-tuned dual-carbureted 413 CI engine. Among these legends was the Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge, a remarkable vehicle that holds a significant place in automotive history.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

The First Super Stock Max Wedge with Manual Transmission According to the esteemed Chrysler Registry and the meticulous documentation by Darrell Davis, this specific Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge holds a groundbreaking distinction—it was the first Super Stock model equipped with a manual transmission. The car��s odometer displays a mere 6,593 miles and has undergone a meticulous restoration process to return it to its original specifications. Notably, the engine has been upgraded, boasting a dyno-proven power output exceeding 500 HP.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

Unleashing the Power of the 413 CI V-8 Engine The 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge was powered by the formidable 413 CI V-8 engine. This was the first iteration of Chrysler’s renowned ram induction system, featuring a cross-ram intake manifold meticulously designed to optimize engine efficiency. The engine’s performance was further enhanced by the utilization of cast-iron header-style manifolds, which were rarely preserved but featured in this exceptional vehicle. Dale Reed of California refreshed the engine around 300 miles ago, ensuring its optimal performance. The correct Carter AFB carburetors reside beneath dual black air cleaners, accentuated by carefully placed decals.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

A Unique Manual Transmission Experience One of the distinctive aspects of this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge is its manual transmission. Unlike its automatic counterparts, this car delivers a unique driving experience through its floor-mounted shifter, allowing the driver to truly feel the power at their fingertips. Paired with a full aftermarket exhaust equipped with cutouts and the robust 8 ¾ Chrysler differential, this Max Wedge offers an exhilarating ride for those who crave the thrill of the open road.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

Captivating Style and Authenticity The exterior of this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge embodies the spirit of the era. Finished in captivating light blue paint, it exudes a timeless charm. The interior features a complementary blue cloth-and-vinyl combination, while the white-and-blue two-tone trim adds an elegant touch. The front and rear bench seats provide comfort, and the radio delete plate pays homage to the car’s performance-focused nature. Notably, it features a knee-knocker S-W column-mounted tachometer and a beautifully presented trio of rubber pedals. The car’s attention to detail is evident throughout, with the inclusion of circa-1962 chrome fonts, single-lens tail lamps, and OEM steel wheels adorned with poverty-type hubcaps.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

Provenance and Documentation Accompanying this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge is a wealth of provenance and documentation that adds to its allure. It includes the original OEM IBM punch card and build sheet, which serve as a testament to its authenticity. Additionally, the window sticker provides insight into its original specifications, while the dyno sheet confirms its impressive horsepower rating. Vintage photos capture the car’s early years when it was part of a famous drag car collection, showcasing its illustrious past.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

Conclusion The 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge stands as a testament to the golden age of muscle cars. With its groundbreaking manual transmission configuration, powerful 413 CI V-8 engine, and captivating style, it represents the pinnacle of Mopar’s storied performance heritage. Meticulously restored to its original glory, this Max Wedge allows enthusiasts to experience a bygone era’s raw power and timeless charm.

FAQs: How many miles does the 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge have? The odometer of the 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge reads 6,593 miles. Who documented the Chrysler Registry for this particular car? The meticulous documentation of the Chrysler Registry for this car was done by Darrell Davis. Has the engine of the 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge been upgraded? Yes, the engine of this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge has been upgraded to a dyno-proven 500-plus HP. What is the significance of the 413 CI V-8 engine in this car? The 413 CI V-8 engine in this car was the first to receive Chrysler’s shortened version of ram induction, known as the cross-ram intake. It maximizes engine efficiency and pairs it with rarely preserved cast-iron header-style manifolds. What documentation and provenance come with this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge? This Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge comes with various documentation, including the OEM IBM punch card, build sheet, window sticker, dyno sheet confirming horsepower rating, and vintage photos of its early years as part of a famous drag car collection.

#Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge #Plymouth Savoy #plymouth #Max Wedge #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #mopar #moparperformance #moparnation #moparworld

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glittermutt · 1 year

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mutt's guide to using dsr on ts4, with pictures!!!

ok so, dsr is a thing available for nvidia gpus that allows you to take veeery high resolution screenshots of games without much trouble, like this

it's an alternative to srwe, as it plays nicer with a lot of reshade shaders and is just, generally more nice to use! let me teach you how to use it - full tutorial with pictures for every step under the cut (im sorry its too long without the cut)

step 1: right click your desktop and open the nvidia control panel

step 2: go here (adjust desktop size and position)

step 3: make sure your settings are set as follows! this is important

step 4: now, go here (change resolution)

step 5: under change resolution, click on this button (highlighted with a red square)

step 6: in the windows that appears, make sure that "enable resolutions not exposed by display" is ticked! this is very important! (again, highlighted in red - it should look like this)

step 7: now, click on "create custom resolution"

step 8: this is where you set your desired resolution, and where i get a bit rambly; so, in my opinion, there is ZERO reason to go above normal 4K for TS4, as it's generally not a really high-poly game and it has rather simple graphics. you can fuck around a lot here, but if you don't feel like it, here are my settings - this will give you 4K screenshots. NOTE: THE REFRESH RATE DOESN'T NEED TO BE 75! SET IT TO WHATEVER THE REFRESH RATE OF YOUR MONITOR IS!

step 9: now, click on test

step 10: let the thing load, and after it's done, a window like this should pop up.. but yknow, in your language. click on "yes" (or accept or ok!! idk mine's in russian; basically, the button highlighted here!)

step 11: click "ok" in the window that pops up! like this! afterwards, close the nvidia panel

step 12: open the sims 4 and go into game options, then into graphics

step 13: set your "display type" as "fullscreen", like this

step 14: under "resolution", select whatever resolution you setup earlier; in my case it's 4K, so if you used the same resolution, your settings should look like this

step 15: click on apply changes!

AND UR DONEE!! WAHOOIEE!! now, take your screenshot using reshade, and then go back into sims settings and set it back to what you usually play at, then apply changes!

every time you need to take an HD screenshot, simply open game settings and use your custom resolution! that's it, have fun :3

#sims 4 tutorial #ts4 tutorial #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 screenshot tutorial #ts4 screenshot tutorial #sims 4 hotsampling #ts4 hotsampling #srwe #nvidia #dsr #tutorials

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felassan · 1 month

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Dragon Age: The Veilguard settings details - Display and Graphics

This post is under a cut due to length.

This information comes directly from the game.

DA:TV menu 'pages': Display, Graphics, Audio, Controls, Gameplay, Interface, Accessibility, Other.

For some of the settings, additional detail on a specific one (the one that was selected at that particular point during the video, e.g. "Window Mode" was set to "Full Screen") is given after the general explanation/definition of the setting itself. These are in italics at the end of an entry.

DISPLAY

Display Mode

Active Monitor: Select the monitor for game display. Window Mode: Switches between full screen, windowed, and borderless windowed modes. You can press ALT+ENTER at any time to switch between full screen and windowed modes. In full screen mode, the game will play on the entire screen. Screen Resolution: Changes the game's display resolution. The game's level of on-screen detail is determined by the number of pixels it contains. Higher resolution increases the number of pixels displayed, which will result in a clearer image. This comes with a potential cost to performance. Refresh Rate: Sets how often your display will refresh game visuals. A higher refresh rate means a smoother picture, depending on your computer's hardware. Frame Rate Limit: Sets the maximum framerate for the game. VSync: Synchronizes the game's framerate with the display's refresh rate to prevent screen tearing.

Calibration

Brightness: Adjusts the intensity of the game's visuals. Makes all visuals lighter or darker. Contrast: Adjusting the contrast will change the difference in color and light between the brightest and darkest parts of the screen. Enable HDR: HDR (High Dynamic Range) mode provides enhanced color and contrast ranges. This option can only be enabled on supported displays. HDR must also be enabled in your operating system. Use the HDR Calibration option below to adjust. HDR Calibration: Launches the HDR calibration tool which adjusts the HDR settings to best match your display. The maximum brightness level should generally be adjusted to match what your HDR display will support. Measured in nits. This is only available when Enable HDR is turned on.

Upscaling

Unsample Method: Improve performance and visuals by rendering the game at a smaller resolution, then "upsampling" to a larger resolution for display. The pixels that make up the difference between the two resolutions are generated using advanced algorithms. Unsample Quality: Select the desired quality level for the upsampling method selected. DLSS Frame Generation: DLSS Frame Generation can generate additional frames that boost your overall frame rate. In order to use Frame Generation, you must have an NVIDIA RTX 40-series graphics card. NVIDIA Reflex: NVIDIA Reflex is a technology that helps reduce input latency while playing the game. In order to take advantage of NVIDIA Reflex's feature, you must have a supported NVIDIA graphics card. Anti-Aliasing: Anti-Aliasing smooths out pixels along the edge of objects that can look sharp or jagged in certain situations. Temporal Anti-Aliasing (TAA) uses information from current and past frames to address aliasing issues. The high setting uses a large range of frames and will result in a higher quality anti-aliasing effect, but with a higher performance cost.

Resolution Scaling

Render Scale: Controls the resolution the game is rendered at relative to your display resolution. Settings below 100% may decrease visual fidelity, but can improve performance. Settings above 100% may increase visual fidelity, but can negatively impact performance. Dynamic Resolution Scaling: Automatically lowers the game's resolution in real-time to maintain the target frame rate. Target Frames Per Second: Determines the target frame rate for dynamic resolution scaling. Minimum Resolution Scale: Determines how low the resolution can be scaled when Dynamic Resolution Scaling is active.

GRAPHICS

Graphics Preset

Graphics Preset: Graphics presets are predefined configurations that simultaneously adjust multiple graphics settings to achieve a balance between visuals and performance. Restart required for setting change. Maximizes visual fidelity by setting most graphics options to their highest values. Recommended for the Ultra hardware specification tier.

Textures

Texture Quality: Selects the level of detail and resolution for textures applied to objects in the game. Higher settings will result in more detailed textures, potentially at the cost of performance. Restart required for setting change. CPU - Moderate. GPU - Moderate. VRAM - Major. Texture Filtering: Adjusts the appearance of textures at varied angles and distances. Higher settings will increase texture quality, though potentially at the cost of performance. CPU - Minor. GPU - Moderate. VRAM - Minor.

Light and Shadow

Lighting Quality: Adjusts the appearance of shadows, reflections, and light-scattering. Higher settings increase the visual fidelity of light effects. CPU - Minor. GPU - Moderate. VRAM - Major. Contact Shadow: Contact Shadows improves the appearance of shadows when objects are close to one another. It fills gaps between objects and shadows that can occur with static lighting. CPU - Minor. GPU - Moderate. VRAM - Minor. Ambient Occlusion: Ambient Occlusion is a technique to simulate soft shadows where objects are close together or where surfaces meet. This makes the scene look more realistic. Disabled when Ray-traced Ambient Occlusion is enabled. CPU - Minor. GPU - Major. VRAM - Minor. Disables Ambient Occlusion. This potentially increases performance at the cost of visual fidelity. Screen Space Reflections: Screen Space Reflections simulate reflections of objects and light on visible surfaces. Enabling this will result in high-quality reflections. Disabled when Ray-traced Reflections are enabled. CPU - Minor. GPU - Moderate. VRAM - Moderate. Volumetric Lighting: Adjusts the appearance of volumetric lighting effects. This simulates how light interacts with atmospheric elements like fog, smoke, dust, and clouds. Higher settings increase the quality of these types of elements. CPU - Minor. GPU - Moderate. VRAM - Minor. Sky Quality: Adjusts the appearance of the sky, clouds, and celestial bodies like the sun and moon. CPU - Minor. GPU - Moderate. VRAM - Minor.

Ray Tracing

Ray-traced Reflections: Enables the use of Ray-Tracing to simulate realistic reflections of objects and light on reflective surfaces. This is a more advanced technique and requires specialized Ray Tracing compatible hardware. CPU - Major. GPU - Major. VRAM - Moderate. In selective mode, the game will only enable Ray-traced Reflections in specific areas that can best take advantage of the feature. Ray-traced Ambient Occlusion: Enables the use of Ray Tracing to simulate soft shadows where objects are close together or where surfaces meet. This makes the scene look more realistic. This is a more advanced technique and requires specialized Ray Tracing compatible hardware. CPU - Major. GPU - Major. VRAM - Moderate. Ray-Traced Ambient Occlusion is always on. Ultra Ray Tracing: Enables the highest level of ray tracing effects, which provide better quality visuals at the cost of performance. This setting is available on the Ultra and Custom graphics presets and is only recommended for high-end graphics cards.

Geometry

Level Of Detail: Adjusts the distance at which objects are visible and the level of detail as they get father away from the camera. Higher settings increase the visual quality of objects at distance. Restart required for setting change. CPU - Major. GPU - Major. VRAM - Moderate. Strand Hair: Strand hair simulates the appearance and movement of individual strands of hair. Enabling this will result in more realistic and natural-looking hair. CPU - Major. GPU - Major. VRAM - Moderate. Terrain Quality: Terrain is the natural landscape and ground surfaces. Higher settings will increase the detail and overall quality. CPU - Moderate. GPU - Major. VRAM - Moderate. Terrain Decoration Quality: Adjusts the appearance and detail of terrain elements like rocks, vegetation, and other environmental objects. Higher settings will increase the quality and density of the terrain elements. CPU - Moderate. GPU - Major. VRAM - Moderate. Visual Effects Quality: Adjusts the quality and detail of visual effects throughout the game. This includes particle effects, decals, and screen effects. Higher settings will result in higher quality effects. CPU - Minor. GPU - Moderate. VRAM - Moderate.

Camera Effects

Depth of Field: The Depth of Field effect causes some elements of the scene to be in focus, and others to be out of focus. This effect is generally only used in cutscenes and conversations. CPU - Minor. GPU - Minor. VRAM - Minor. Depth of Field is only enabled in cinematic sequences. Vignette: The vignette creates a subtle darkening of the image towards the edges of the screen during cinematics and gameplay. This is generally used to enhance the atmosphere of scenes. CPU - Minor. GPU - Minor. VRAM - Minor. Motion Blur: Motion Blur slightly blurs fast-moving objects. This helps make motion appear smoother and more natural. CPU - Minor. GPU - Minor. VRAM - Minor. Post Processing Quality: Adjusts the overall quality of the post process effects above like depth of field, bloom and motion blur. Higher settings will result in higher quality effects. CPU - Minor. GPU - Moderate. VRAM - Minor. Field of View: Adjusts the field of view, which changes how much of the game world is visible during gameplay. A higher field of view allows you to see more of the game world. CPU - Major. GPU - Major. VRAM - Moderate.

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #if you're thinking #fel. why did u type this out #sometimes i search my own blog for info or the answers to things and it will only show up if its written as text :D

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usafphantom2 · 2 months

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B-2 Gets Big Upgrade with New Open Mission Systems Capability

July 18, 2024 | By John A. Tirpak

The B-2 Spirit stealth bomber has been upgraded with a new open missions systems (OMS) software capability and other improvements to keep it relevant and credible until it’s succeeded by the B-21 Raider, Northrop Grumman announced. The changes accelerate the rate at which new weapons can be added to the B-2; allow it to accept constant software updates, and adapt it to changing conditions.

“The B-2 program recently achieved a major milestone by providing the bomber with its first fieldable, agile integrated functional capability called Spirit Realm 1 (SR 1),” the company said in a release. It announced the upgrade going operational on July 17, the 35th anniversary of the B-2’s first flight.

SR 1 was developed inside the Spirit Realm software factory codeveloped by the Air Force and Northrop to facilitate software improvements for the B-2. “Open mission systems” means that the aircraft has a non-proprietary software architecture that simplifies software refresh and enhances interoperability with other systems.

“SR 1 provides mission-critical capability upgrades to the communications and weapons systems via an open mission systems architecture, directly enhancing combat capability and allowing the fleet to initiate a new phase of agile software releases,” Northrop said in its release.

The system is intended to deliver problem-free software on the first go—but should they arise, correct software issues much earlier in the process.

The SR 1 was “fully developed inside the B-2 Spirit Realm software factory that was established through a partnership with Air Force Global Strike Command and the B-2 Systems Program Office,” Northrop said.

The Spirit Realm software factory came into being less than two years ago, with four goals: to reduce flight test risk and testing time through high-fidelity ground testing; to capture more data test points through targeted upgrades; to improve the B-2’s functional capabilities through more frequent, automated testing; and to facilitate more capability upgrades to the jet.

The Air Force said B-2 software updates which used to take two years can now be implemented in less than three months.

In addition to B61 or B83 nuclear weapons, the B-2 can carry a large number of precision-guided conventional munitions. However, the Air Force is preparing to introduce a slate of new weapons that will require near-constant target updates and the ability to integrate with USAF’s evolving long-range kill chain. A quicker process for integrating these new weapons with the B-2’s onboard communications, navigation, and sensor systems was needed.

The upgrade also includes improved displays, flight hardware and other enhancements to the B-2’s survivability, Northrop said.

“We are rapidly fielding capabilities with zero software defects through the software factory development ecosystem and further enhancing the B-2 fleet’s mission effectiveness,” said Jerry McBrearty, Northrop’s acting B-2 program manager.

The upgrade makes the B-2 the first legacy nuclear weapons platform “to utilize the Department of Defense’s DevSecOps [development, security, and operations] processes and digital toolsets,” it added.

The software factory approach accelerates adding new and future weapons to the stealth bomber, and thus improve deterrence, said Air Force Col. Frank Marino, senior materiel leader for the B-2.

The B-2 was not designed using digital methods—the way its younger stablemate, the B-21 Raider was—but the SR 1 leverages digital technology “to design, manage, build and test B-2 software more efficiently than ever before,” the company said.

The digital tools can also link with those developed for other legacy systems to accomplish “more rapid testing and fielding and help identify and fix potential risks earlier in the software development process.”

Following two crashes in recent years, the stealthy B-2 fleet comprises 19 aircraft, which are the only penetrating aircraft in the Air Force’s bomber fleet until the first B-21s are declared to have achieved initial operational capability at Ellsworth Air Force Base, S.D. A timeline for IOC has not been disclosed.

The B-2 is a stealthy, long-range, penetrating nuclear and conventional strike bomber. It is based on a flying wing design combining LO with high aerodynamic efficiency. The aircraft’s blended fuselage/wing holds two weapons bays capable of carrying nearly 60,000 lb in various combinations.

Spirit entered combat during Allied Force on March 24, 1999, striking Serbian targets. Production was completed in three blocks, and all aircraft were upgraded to Block 30 standard with AESA radar. Production was limited to 21 aircraft due to cost, and a single B-2 was subsequently lost in a crash at Andersen, Feb. 23, 2008.

Modernization is focused on safeguarding the B-2A’s penetrating strike capability in high-end threat environments and integrating advanced weapons.

The B-2 achieved a major milestone in 2022 with the integration of a Radar Aided Targeting System (RATS), enabling delivery of the modernized B61-12 precision-guided thermonuclear freefall weapon. RATS uses the aircraft’s radar to guide the weapon in GPS-denied conditions, while additional Flex Strike upgrades feed GPS data to weapons prerelease to thwart jamming. A B-2A successfully dropped an inert B61-12 using RATS on June 14, 2022, and successfully employed the longer-range JASSM-ER cruise missile in a test launch last December.

Ongoing upgrades include replacing the primary cockpit displays, the Adaptable Communications Suite (ACS) to provide Link 16-based jam-resistant in-flight retasking, advanced IFF, crash-survivable data recorders, and weapons integration. USAF is also working to enhance the fleet’s maintainability with LO signature improvements to coatings, materials, and radar-absorptive structures such as the radome and engine inlets/exhausts.

Two B-2s were damaged in separate landing accidents at Whiteman on Sept. 14, 2021, and Dec. 10, 2022, the latter prompting an indefinite fleetwide stand-down until May 18, 2023. USAF plans to retire the fleet once the B-21 Raider enters service in sufficient numbers around 2032.

Contractors: Northrop Grumman; Boeing; Vought.

First Flight: July 17, 1989.

Delivered: December 1993-December 1997.

IOC: April 1997, Whiteman AFB, Mo.

Production: 21.

Inventory: 20.

Operator: AFGSC, AFMC, ANG (associate).

Aircraft Location: Edwards AFB, Calif.; Whiteman AFB, Mo.

Active Variant: •B-2A. Production aircraft upgraded to Block 30 standards.

Dimensions: Span 172 ft, length 69 ft, height 17 ft.

Weight: Max T-O 336,500 lb.

Power Plant: Four GE Aviation F118-GE-100 turbofans, each 17,300 lb thrust.

Performance: Speed high subsonic, range 6,900 miles (further with air refueling).

Ceiling: 50,000 ft.

Armament: Nuclear: 16 B61-7, B61-12, B83, or eight B61-11 bombs (on rotary launchers). Conventional: 80 Mk 62 (500-lb) sea mines, 80 Mk 82 (500-lb) bombs, 80 GBU-38 JDAMs, or 34 CBU-87/89 munitions (on rack assemblies); or 16 GBU-31 JDAMs, 16 Mk 84 (2,000-lb) bombs, 16 AGM-154 JSOWs, 16 AGM-158 JASSMs, or eight GBU-28 LGBs.

Accommodation: Two pilots on ACES II zero/zero ejection seats.

#b-2a spirit #usaf #aircraft #aviation

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blissfulstarsfics · 19 days

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Black and White Chapter 7

Read on AO3

Chapter Rating: E

Pairing: A!A X Female Tav (Non-abusive fic.)

Summary: Tav mulls over her night with Astarion, what it means. Meanwhile, he prepares to host another of his grand parties.

Tags: Astarion hosts an orgy. PIV, anal sex, cunnilingus, fellatio

The sun began rising over the horizon, bathing the master bedroom in a soft glow. Tav stirred under the sheets, a bit disoriented upon waking in unfamiliar surroundings. The ascendant rested peacefully next to her. There was no trace of last night’s nightmare on his relaxed and tranquil visage. Wanting to let him trance undisturbed, Tav thought it best to return to her room, but a strong grip pulled her back.

“Where do you think you’re going, darling?” he groggily asked. His eyes displayed a new possessiveness to them that sent a chill down her spine.

“I was going to go back to my room.” A meek reply. Astarion’s mouth curved into a commanding smile as he held her tight.

“You’ll get up when I say you can get up,” he kissed her brow, “and right now you’re not going anywhere.”

It was futile to struggle against him. Not only was his might far superior to hers, but her own body sought to undermine her interests. Nestled against him, feeling his skin on hers, she contemplated if all those nights she allowed him to feed on her gave him a measure of control over her. If it did, she wasn��t minding it.

Tav watched over Astarion as he fell back into his reverie for a few more hours. It amused her at how this apex predator could look so dovish and serene in his slumber. Finally, his eyes fluttered awake when the sun rose high enough to shine its light menacingly onto his face. He sat up, groaning bitterly.

“I suppose we should start the day.” He smiled half-heartedly. Tav had wanted to talk with him, but she knew he was needed elsewhere. Most of the preparations should be finished, but there were always last minute flubs that inevitably happened. He would need to take care of those.

The walk back to her chamber felt different than usual. She felt a myriad of emotions, some good, some bad. What did last night mean? What happens next? Tibbi was already in the room, setting up the wash basin and humming a cheery tune. The spawn was practically skipping from one corner to the next whilst performing her duties.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Tav crossed her arms, smiling lightheartedly. Tibbi jovially nodded.

“The master gave us permission to enjoy ourselves tonight and I intend to enjoy myself fully!” The maid’s titter took her by surprise. Knowing Astarion, there may be ulterior motives for allowing his spawn to be present. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for him to use them to gather intelligence on his guests.

At the same time, she was considering if this was dangerous. So many red eyed and fanged individuals could raise suspicions. More importantly, Tav never thought Tibbi, the woman who was afraid of her own shadow, to be the type to so boldly attend this type of party.

She sat Tav in front of the vanity to brush her hair, wearing a bright grin. The bard stared blankly at her reflection, as well as the disembodied brush going through her hair. Her plan for the day was to learn the guest list, put faces to names, but she was far too distracted. Last night was, as he would say, an awful lot of fun. Too much fun, perhaps. Now she was left with a painful yearning to be left screaming as he has his way with her.

Servants brought in the bath just as Tav’s hair was finished being secured in a bun. Watching the tub fill with steaming water made her melancholy, knowing she would soon be washing his scent away.

~~~~~

Chairs were covered, the ballroom floor was cushioned, refreshments were being prepared, and oils were being gathered. Astarion nodded in satisfaction during his inspection. He prided himself on being a gracious host, one who left no guest disappointed. Tonight would be no exception.

Right as he was about to check that the back rooms were locked (hospitable he may be, that didn’t permit attendees to snoop), a courier arrived with a rectangular velvet box. He traipsed over to the lad, who was being generously tipped by Matteo, and took the package. A quick look inside confirmed he had received what he ordered.

Astarion headed straight for Tav’s room. He knocked on the door and let himself in. She was about to step out of the bath and into an outstretched towel being held by her maid. The women were taken aback at the ascendant’s brashness; coming into a lady’s room with barely any warning. After he set the box down, he took the towel from Tibbi and dismissed her.

“My lord, your timing is,” Tav trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“Perfect? Yes, I know.” Astarion sensuously ran the cotton fabric over her body, over her breasts, the curve of her buttocks, between her thighs. Once she was sufficiently dry, he let the towel drop to the floor. “Sit,” he instructed, pointing to the vanity. Raising an eyebrow, she complied, curiosity piqued.

He opened the box and revealed a masterfully crafted choker of three rows of diamonds set in white gold. The gems sparkled as he placed it on her neck, the clasp making a tiny clink as it fastened. Tav raised a hand to touch the piece, mouth agape.

“Astarion, it’s beautiful! Thank you! What shall I wear with it tonight?” She moved her neck about to catch the jewels in the light.draw

“I think what you’re wearing right now is perfect, but that might draw unwanted attention.” Whether her receiving attention was unwanted for him or her, he did not say. He stared at the two of them in the mirror. Gods, he loved how they looked together! “You should wear red, darling.”

“Red it is,” she agreed. Later, she would wear red. For now, her robe would do. Astarion sat on the bed across from her and leaned forward with a stern look. There was another reason for his sudden visit; he needed to iron out certain details.

“Tav, I need to tell you my new background. For all my ranting about not knowing your past, I failed to mention my fabricated history. The official story is that Cazador Szarr died unexpectedly in the skirmish with the Absolute without heir. His next of kin was an occasionally seen nephew,” he pointed to himself, “from a distant elvish town who permanently moved to the Gate to continue his work. Poor, poor Uncle Cazador. I’m still in mourning,” he giggled.

“Poor Uncle indeed. So, no one looked into your story? Into Cazador’s family history? Do they know you helped save the city?” Tav rolled her hand, beckoning more information from him. Astarion got up in a huff and moved next to her.

“Please, darling. It was little effort to have documents forged to corroborate everything. As for your other question, they know. I was in the city for a visit when I was abducted by the cult.” Astarion thrusted his chin, his nose stuck in the air.

“I must say, I’m impressed,” she nodded, “For once you remembered that details matter.” Her mocking smile wiped the conceit off his face.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“Anyway, does this make me the dear friend you made along the way?” She shifted in the chair, one arm draped over the back with her weight resting on one hip.

“Precisely,” he bowed. Astarion stared at the seated woman, wondering if she knew what that pose was doing to him. The panels of her robe had peeled back, exposing the sides of her impeccable breasts.

Grinning wolfishly, he spun the chair toward him. Tav made no effort to deter him when he tore the robe open and massaged her thighs. Her warm crevice didn’t seem quite ready for him.

That would need to change.

Astarion knelt down, threw her legs onto his shoulders, then buried his face between her legs. A few short licks and she was already flowing down his chin, begging for him not to stop, pleading to the gods.

Luckily for her, he was feeling generous. Assenting to her request, he flicked the tip of her clit with his tongue, sending her squirming under his grasp. Try as she may, she wasn’t getting away from him. She ran her hands through his hair, shuddering from his touch until she arched her back in climax. Astarion mildly bit her inner thigh, losing himself in the titillating flavor of her blood commingled with the scent of her arousal.

“Tell me, pet, do you want me to fuck you?” he growled in short breaths, freeing his cock from the confines of his trousers. Tav’s lips coiled upward. She slid off the chair to straddle him, but he wouldn’t let her have him just yet. Oh no. She would have to be polite.

“Ah, ah, ah. I asked you a question. You need to answer. Or will I have to teach you some manners?” Of course, manners weren’t the only thing he was going to teach her. The ascendant poked and prodded her opening with his tip, encouraging her to give in to his demands.

“I want you to fuck me, my lord.” Hearing her say it like that sent a shiver through him. He pulled her onto him, moaning as every inch of him was devoured by her cleft. Astarion gripped her hips, rocking them in unison with his. It didn’t take long for her to move in sync with him. She was catching on quickly, his little lust filled pupil.

“Good,” he quickened their pace when she tightened around him, “now come for your lord.” Astarion wanted to hear it again; the sound she made when she pulsated all around his erection. Her whole body reacted to him. He held her steady on his lap until she finally obeyed his command. Such a sweet, sweet sound she made. He decided to reward her compliance with his seed inside her hot, dripping cavity.

Amidst the heavy breathing and dizzying rush of dopamine, Tav managed to quip, “I’ll need another bath.” That, he couldn’t deny. He certainly made a mess of her, covered her in sweat, hair disheveled, his seed spilling from her. It made him protective, greedy.

“Tav,” he stroked her face, “Tonight, I want you to lock yourself in here.” Astarion was beyond caring about being a hypocrite. She was his and he did not want to share. “Oh?” she tilted her head, “Is everything all right?”

“I won’t have anyone see you like this,” he traced his hand over her body, “No one,” he held her tight, “You’re mine. Now, swear to me. Swear you’ll retreat here before events get going.”

“You have my word, I’ll stay safe.” Tav sealed her promise with a kiss.

~~~~~

Eight o’clock came and it was time for the vampire lord and his…Tav didn’t know what to call herself, to receive their visitors. She descended the stairs in a red and silver gown, wearing the gifted choker. Her lips slightly parted when she saw Astarion awaiting her at the bottom in a matching doublet that he left unbuttoned his naval. That’s why he wanted her to wear red.

One by one people poured into the foyer. This was the first time in decades that Tav had played host to a soiree. To say she was nervous was an understatement. She spent the better part of the afternoon refreshing her memory on protocols while getting ready.

“Soldier!” Karlach was grinning from ear to ear. Neither of them were sure if she would actually come. Either way, they wouldn’t have been surprised. Tav looked to Astarion, who genuinely seemed pleased that she showed up.

“Ah, my fiery friend. Or should I say ‘not so fiery’ friend,” he laughed, “I do hope you enjoy yourself tonight.”

"Listen, Fangs, I spent ten years unable to touch people and I intend to make up for that,” she jabbed his shoulder, “I’ll have most these fuckers worn out before midnight!” She rubbed her hands together, eagerly.

As they went back and forth, Tav observed the stream of people flowing in, particularly the female attendees. She had no doubt that the majority of them had been conquested by Astarion; that much didn’t surprise her. What did make her heart sink was the fact that the women bore similar features to her. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. Was she one of Astarion’s many? The thought crushed her.

“Is that so? Don’t be too-” Astarion trailed off. He cocked his head, looking in the direction of the doorway. Tav snapped out of her thoughts, put her feelings under lock and key, then glanced over to see Lord and Lady Foxworth with Mariana Nightshade.

She leaned over and whispered, “Why did you invite them ?”

“It’s best to keep one’s enemies close, darling. I plan on uncovering the most delicious dirt on him however I can. What I don’t understand is why his wife is here. She’s never attended in the past.” The woman looked uneasy. It was clear she would rather be anywhere than this den of debauchery. Even Astarion seemed uncomfortable.

“Let me handle her,” she patted his arm.

He gave an approving bow, “Thank you.”

Guests were ushered into the ballroom, Karlach practically skipped inside, and just before she followed her husband inside, Analee was pulled away by Tav. The poorly masked awkwardness dissolved into relief when she saw her new acquaintance had come to her rescue.

“Miss Tav!” She gripped the bard's hands tightly, “Oh, I hope I’m not keeping you.” While Analee was outwardly being polite, her face vociferated, “Help me!” Tav squeezed her hands gently. Inside the ballroom incense had been lit. Smoke and scent billowed over the disrobing crowd, drifting into the hallway.

“Worry not. I’m not much for, well, this,” Tav waved her hand at the ballroom, “and if I’m judging correctly, neither are you.” The bluntness of her statement made Analee’s mouth quiver. She shook her head, dabbing tears from her eyes.

“Carlo wanted me to come and watch. To watch him-” The wafting smoke caused her to start coughing uncontrollably. Tav put an arm around her, quickly guiding her to the courtyard.

The night was dry and pleasant. Much easier on the lungs. Tav sat the lady on a stone bench to catch her breath, while she grabbed nearby refreshments.

“This wretched cough!” Analee’s disposition began returning to its sunny nature, “A few tendays ago I was fine and now my lungs just don’t want to fill with air.”

“You said Lord Foxworth wanted you to sit there and watch him romp from person to person? Why would he be so cruel?” Tav may have felt a kindred spirit in Analee, and a sincere desire to help this woman, but she couldn’t deny an opportunity to get that “delicious dirt” Astarion wanted.

“Well, I may have made him angry,” she shrugged, “I’m sure you know that he and Lord Astarion are in a bidding war and he’s upset that I don’t support his ideas for the Lower City,” Analee became quite serious, “It’s just wrong! Building housing units in order to drain the pockets of the less fortunate? It’s immoral and unsustainable! He’s lost his sense of noblesse oblige.”

Something about this was key, Tav was sure of it. It may have been that her disapproval stirred basic ire in her husband, causing him to lash out in a power play, as many did, but her intuition told her there was more to this.

Anyway, dear, I’m fine now,” Analee grimaced, “I’m sure you have better things to do than sit and listen to me ramble about my woes.”

“Nonsense,” Tav puffed up, uncorking a bottle of wine, “Lord Astarion wishes for all attendees to be jubilant and if you ‘rambling about your woes’ increases your mood, then we shall do just that. You aren’t getting rid of me whether you like it or not.”

“He’s lucky to have you.” The lady smiled thoughtfully, “I haven’t known Lord Astarion for long, him being new to the Gate and all, and I know you even less, but he is different around you than he is with those other women.” Tav closed her eyes, remembering the similarities between her and the other ladies.

“He certainly has a type, doesn’t he? It may not be so different,” she sighed. When she opened her eyes, Analee was glaring incredulously at her. Suddenly, she flicked Tav between the eyes.

~~~~~

Revelries were well underway in the ballroom. Skirts and jackets and pants and tops were all strewn about the hardwood floor. Astarion sat on his throne, stroking the hair of a man whose mouth was firmly around his cock. Everyone partaking of the experience seemed to be enjoying themselves, but Karlach was the one who amused him the most. He observed with glee at her handling of a fellow tiefling under her, being ridden into oblivion, and a halfling on her lap. It was heartwarming, in a way. After being denied for so long, she was able to fully unleash herself. Good for her, he thought.

Three of his spawn indulged in his kindness. Tibbi was on her hands and knees, servicing a man in front and in back. The mage, Zeuril, had Mariana pinned down on the satin cushions. As he was rutting her, he briefly looked up at his master, taking Astarion by surprise. The spawn were never permitted to look upon him directly, not unless they discovered something. He slightly raised his hand in acknowledgement.

Astarion clutched the man’s hair as he came down his throat. He wasn’t very good at what he was doing, but it gave the vampire time to assess the situation. So far, everything was in order. All gathered before him were filled with reckless abandon, satiating their most base desires as intended.

Two ladies bounced over to him, each tugging at an arm. They began fighting over who was there first, over who would get to fuck him and who would have to wait.

“Ladies, ladies, no need to fight. There’s enough of me to go around.” He sat them on his lap, a hand in each, relishing in the power he held over them. One finished, then the other. Astarion let them slump into a heap at his feet.

“Only two, Astarion?” Karlach taunted, pointing at her own pile, “You’ll need three more to catch up to me!”

“I didn’t realize we were keeping score. Very well, if it’s a challenge you want, I accept.” He got up and grabbed the nearest willing participant. Leave it to Karlach to add some extra spice into an already hot scene. Astarion bent the man over and plunged into his backside, torrid and raw. A pair of hands groped him from behind.

“I’m next!” Nurah nibbled on his ear as she made her declaration. Astarion finished his current partner and tossed him aside. He laughed in the young woman’s face, pushing her to the floor. Her mouth flopped around in disbelief.

“I no longer have use for cheap imitations. Find someone else.” He could hear Karlach laughing as he stepped over the humiliated girl. Astarion took two more, a man and a woman, and threw them down.

“Only two?” Karlach shouted. This time she had two halflings, one in each arm, with Tibbi. Astarion pointed at his spawn.

“No,” he ordered. Astarion, true to his nature, wasn’t above using trickery to win.

“Cheater!” She stuck her tongue out. Fortunately for her, with her domineering physique, she had become quite sought after. Once Tibbi left, she soon had a replacement. The rest of the evening proceeded in friendly competition, until incense ran out, signaling the end of the evening. True to her word, Karlach had half the guests worn out and just before midnight.

Bodies rose from the now sticky floor, going through the equally wet clothing to figure out which garment belonged to whom. They crawled out of the ballroom, leaving Astarion alone with Karlach. He reclined against the wall, satisfied with the night’s outcome.

“Well, Fangs, I think it was a draw.”

“A draw. Yes, we’ll call it that.” He would never admit defeat.

She tugged at his shirt, “I noticed you kept this on.”

“I don't let just anyone see the infernal contract carved on my back.” He picked up her clothes, “Too many questions and all that.” She took her clothes with a smile. Karlach wasn’t without sympathy. Those scars were a painful reminder of a time when he felt he was at his lowest.

“Guess that makes me one of the privileged few,” she pounded her chest, “Ugh, I’m beat. The walk home won’t be fun.” There was an implication in her comment, one which Astarion picked up on.

“You can stay here tonight, Karlach.”

“Yes!” She jumped for joy. Astarion shook his head, shrugging. Exiting the ballroom, he saw a sight he wasn’t expecting, or wanting, to see. Tav was busy seeing the Foxworths off when she should have been safely locked away. She and Lady Foxworth were cackling like hens as her infuriated husband dragged her away. He came up next to her, waving the final stragglers off.

“You swore to me you would lock yourself in your room. Why are you out here?” Astarion maintained a demeanor that was pleasant to the crowd, but also let her know he was displeased. Tav clasped her hands behind her back and gave him a mollifying smile.

“We were locked in the courtyard. Just the two of us and some wine.”

“As long as you were safe.” This was permissible. She was secure, she was within his reach, and that’s all that mattered. Astarion cupped her face in his hands, admiring her elegance. Tav’s fingers lovingly wove with his as he drew her in for a long, tender kiss.

He yawned loudly, “Tonight was a smashing success, if I do say so myself. We will be having an overnight guest, by the way. Poor Karlach is far too exhausted to make the trip home.”

“Says the one who can barely keep his eyes open. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Darling, I couldn’t agree more.”

Feel free to reblog, like, or comment. I love interacting with everyone. :)

#astarion fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x female tav #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion ascended #ascended astarion fic #ascended astarion romance #ascended astarion #ascended astarion smut

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dystopicjumpsuit · 8 months

Text

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 21

The Emotion and the Response

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings and tags: language; blood and injury; a panic attack; sensuality.

Suggested Listening:

Summary: A reunion.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings, "Double, Double Boil and Trouble" (part 2 here) and "Do It Again," but all the fics can be read as stand-alones.

Between the emotion and the response falls the Shadow

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

The coordinates Gregor sent dropped Cerra quite literally in the middle of nowhere, parsecs away from the nearest star system, inhabited or otherwise. As the shuttle shifted into realspace, she saw the reason he’d chosen this place. Instead of the black emptiness of space she expected, the Archeon Nebula stretched out before her: a luminous, golden cloud of gas and cosmic dust. It was an incredible view, but that wasn’t why the commando had sent her there.

The electromagnetic radiation of the nebula interfered with long-range communications, including any signals from tracking beacons that she might have missed on the shuttle. Short-range comms would still work if she boosted the signal as high as it would go, but she was invisible to the Empire and everyone else in the galaxy so long as she stayed put.

She navigated away from the hyperspace lane and powered down all systems except life support and comms to avoid detection by passing vessels, then she increased the range and sensitivity of the shuttle’s proximity sensor to maximum. With the tiniest shred of luck, the next ship that arrived would be Gregor, not smugglers, pirates, or worse. Of course, her luck hadn’t been particularly stellar lately.

While she waited, she raided the shuttle’s supply cabinet and was disgusted to find that it didn’t even have a basic medkit. Supply officer on that Venator ought to be busted down to private, she fumed with a disgruntled, unintelligible mutter.

On the plus side, there were a few expired ration bars, which she ate, because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a meal, and a few bottles of water, which she drank, because she had no idea how long she’d be waiting for Gregor. That karking mudscuffer Yularen had split her lip badly when he hit her, and she winced as she chewed the desiccated rations, hoping that she wouldn’t reopen the wound.

She stripped off the plastoid TK armor and the compression bodysuit and headed to the refresher. The shuttle didn’t have a shower—not even a sonic—but she scrubbed off as much of Daivik’s dried blood as she could in the tiny sink, washing until the red swirls that circled the drain disappeared and the water ran clear.

The familiar harsh, medicinal scent of the soap stung her nose and transported her instantly to her time in the GAR, filling her with an odd sense of nostalgia. She examined the swelling bruise on her shoulder where Daivik had struck her. It hurt like a sonofabitch. She rolled her shoulder gingerly, testing her range of motion. It wasn’t terrible, but she wouldn’t exactly call it great, either. She’d had worse injuries, but that didn’t make her current ones any more fun.

Should’ve killed that scughole before he beat the shit out of me, she mused. I’ll have to remember that next time I get my ass captured.

She sighed and stepped back into the compression suit, and then headed to the cockpit, where she curled up in the pilot’s seat to wait, stretching and shifting in the cramped seat to try to get more comfortable. Her eyes felt gritty and dry. Her body ached. Without the sublight engine running, the only sounds were the quiet hum of the life support system and the faint clangs of the ship itself as it drifted in the emptiness. The displays and buttons of the ship’s navigation panel were barely bright enough to see anything, but nebula cast a faint glow through the viewport, subtly illuminating the cockpit in soft, golden light.

She gazed out the viewport as her eyes grew heavy. There was something strangely comforting about the nebula—knowing that it continued to create new stars even as others flickered and died throughout the galaxy. The darkness hadn’t won. Not yet. There was still light. There was still hope. And even the stars that died continued to shine long after they’d burnt out.

Her head throbbed, and her lids drifted closed, only for a moment. Just a few seconds, really. No more than that. She needed to stay awake while she waited for Gregor. She… She needed…

She slept.

She had no idea how long she’d been out when she jerked awake, startled into consciousness by the blaring proximity alert. She cursed silently as she lunged forward and toggled the switch so the alarm would stop screeching. The comms crackled to life.

“Code tango-two-one-eight. Watchman to Scrapper, I’ve reached the rendezvous coordinates. What’s your status?”

Cerra’s heart lurched at the sound of Gregor’s voice.

“All good here, Watchman,” she replied. “Send me a ping, and I’ll dock with your ship.”

“Copy that. See you soon.”

Within minutes, she docked with the freighter, and before she boarded, she programmed the shuttle’s hyperdrive to overload. She hurried across to the freighter and sealed the hatch, signaling Gregor to release the docking clamps. By the time she made it to the cockpit, they were already at a safe distance from the shuttle, and within seconds, a blinding flash confirmed the shuttle was destroyed.

Gregor sprang out of his seat and rushed toward Cerra. His eyes widened when he saw her bruised, bloodied face, and he pulled her into a crushing embrace. Cerra let out a tiny whimper of pain, and he loosened his grip immediately.

“Are you all right?” he asked, checking her frantically for injuries.

“I’m all right, Gregor,” she said as relief flooded her. She was safe. She was home. “There was no medkit on the shuttle, otherwise I would have taken care of it already.”

He pushed her gently into the copilot’s chair and reached across her to grab the small emergency medkit they kept in the cockpit. He knelt between her knees as he pulled out a tube of bacta, biting down on the finger of his glove and yanking it off with his teeth. As he leaned close to dab the gel on the bruises and lacerations that marred her face, his dark eyes filled with such distress that her heart twisted inside her to see it. His touch was incredibly gentle, and Cerra took a moment to simply enjoy the way his skin felt against her, his fingers were warm and comforting in contrast to the cold bacta.

“Is there more under the suit?” he asked.

She nodded and reached for the autofastener, but Gregor found it first and tugged it down, careful not to pinch her skin as he unzipped the tight-fitting garment. As he slid the pressure suit cautiously down over her shoulders to puddle around her waist, his breath caught when he saw the extent of the bruises that mottled her skin.

“Those fucking bastards,” he growled. “I’ll kill them.”

“Sorry, buddy, I beat you to it,” she said with a pained smile.

He grunted. “As long as they’re dead.”

He smoothed the bacta onto her shoulder with the lightest touches, easing her bra strap out of the way as he worked. The soft, warm glow of the nebula caught on the planes of his face, throwing the angles and lines into stark relief. He knelt so close to her that she could see the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the subtle pulse in his neck with each heartbeat. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, at once so familiar and so unique, and a memory flashed in her mind: strong arms wrapped securely around her; a thick, solid thigh slotted between her legs; the firm press of a body against her hip as she drifted on the edge of consciousness.

“Gregor?” she whispered, then swallowed thickly.

“Hm?” He raised his eyes to hers inquisitively, and he was so close that she could see the golden flecks in his irises.

“I don’t want to fight any more,” she said. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

His eyes softened. “I know you didn’t.”

He was so, so close. Her gaze drifted down to his mouth, and when she looked back up, he was staring at hers, too. His hand stilled and rested against her shoulder, and she knew he could feel the way her breathing became rapid and shallow. Almost without realizing she was moving, she raised her hand to his face and traced her thumb across the chiseled line of his cheekbone. How had she never noticed how sharp it was? Maker, he was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him, like staring directly into a star. No wonder she’d spent the last several months avoiding looking too closely. She trailed her fingertips along his jawline, feeling the scratch of his stubble, and he leaned imperceptibly closer.

He looked so much like Fives, and yet so different at the same time. When did his face become so incredibly important to her? When had his voice become as vital as the air that she breathed? When had he gone from being her dearest friend to being the one person in the galaxy that she could not imagine living without?

She brushed the pad of her thumb over his lips, and his eyes drifted closed.

“Cerra,” he whispered, and his warm breath washed across her skin, sending prickles of awareness through her body. “Don’t do this.”

She froze, and hurt flashed through her, worse than anything Yularen and his thugs could ever inflict. She withdrew her hand immediately and looked away, unable to meet his eyes. She was such a fool.

“S—sorry,” she stammered. “I shouldn’t have—I’m so sorry.”

Gregor pulled his hand away from her shoulder, and she steeled herself for his rejection, swallowing down the tightness in her throat. But instead of moving away, he cupped her chin softly and turned her head to face him.

“Don’t do it unless you mean it,” he said.

Her eyes darted to his, and she saw the truth there, written plainly as it always had been, if only she hadn’t been too stubborn to read it. Something deep inside her chest snapped, and she pitched forward, closing the short distance between them as their lips collided. Pain lanced through her bruised mouth, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that she couldn’t exist for another second without kissing Gregor. She needed him more than her next breath, more than the blood coursing through her veins, more than life itself.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, sliding her whole body forward in the seat. Her thighs pressed open to accommodate him, and it seemed the most natural thing in the galaxy to wrap her legs around his body. She flattened her hands against his back, then dragged them up his shoulders, up his neck, to caress the velvety shorn hair at the base of his skull, and then further, to tangle her fingers in the longer curls at the crown of his head.

His tongue slid against hers, and he let out a short, urgent sound and clutched her body tightly against himself. He tasted like everything she had ever wanted. His hands roamed across the bare skin of her back, one of them settling low to press her hips closer, and the other gliding up to clasp the back of her neck. He pinned her against his body as his lips moved away from hers and he began to work his way down her jaw and neck.

She dropped her head back, her body lighting with arousal beneath his lovely, talented mouth. The light abrasion of his stubble made a delicious contrast with the soft, gentle warmth of his lips and tongue. He reached a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat, and she gasped, unconsciously grinding her hips against him. He rewarded her by sinking his teeth lightly into her skin, raking them across her until she writhed and moaned, clutching his head closely to herself.

The moment felt surreal, as though her brain couldn’t quite process what was happening. She’d spent so long denying the truth that it felt as though her entire universe had been inverted—and yet at the same time, the touch of his lips, the grip of his hands, the press of his body against hers seemed so incredibly right that she could no longer imagine going without them.

“Shit,” he said suddenly, breaking away from her.

“What?” she asked, dazed.

“You’re bleeding.”

Startled, she raised a hand to her chin and was horrified to feel a slick of blood on her skin. “Kriff!”

Gregor extracted a square of gauze from the medkit and pressed it against her lip, holding it gently but firmly in place until the bleeding stopped. While he waited, he dropped tiny, feather-light kisses across her face, over and over, until she began to giggle.

“Stop smiling,” he said sternly, kissing the tip of her nose. “You’re going to make your lip start bleeding again.”

“Then stop being so perfect,” she retorted.

He paused to consider. “Best I can offer is ten percent off.”

“Well, that hardly seems like a bargain at all,” she said.

“Take it or leave it.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, and she caught her breath.

“I love you,” she blurted.

His eyes widened with shock.

“I mean—” she stammered, panic threading in her voice. “I—I mean—”

She laughed nervously, and then the laughter turned to shallow, gasping breaths as the edges of her vision began to darken and black spots swam before her eyes. Her lungs heaved, but there seemed to be no oxygen in the cockpit. She scrambled backward in her chair, trying to put some distance between herself and Gregor.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Gregor said. “All the way out, come on, Cerra. You know what to do. Breathe all the way out. One, two, three, four, five. Now breathe in through your nose, sweetheart. One, two, three, four, five.”

He held her hands in his warm, reassuring grasp, and as she brought her breathing back under control, she suddenly remembered what he’d told her that awful night at 79’s.

“Easy, love. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

---

A/N: I know nebulae don't cast light like that IRL, but this is Star Wars, where they totally do! If you want to see the nebula in question, check out Rebels Season 3 Episode 18, "Secret Cargo."

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Next chapter

#echo tbb #captain gregor #captain rex #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #clone trooper nemec #clone trooper fireball #star wars #the bad batch #star wars fanfic #tbb fanfic #stars beyond number #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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