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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 10 months ago

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Come Find Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

I am back back back again! I have missed writing so much, I just don't have nearly the amount of time that I used to. But I'm in my last semester of school! So hopefully I'll be back on a consistent fanfic grind once I'm done :) PS: If you know what the title is referencing, you get a big hug from me.

Word Count: 13,439

Warnings: blood, talk of violence, reader injury

Bucky checked his texts every few minutes. Initially, he lied to himself about the reason behind it. He told himself he must’ve opened his conversation with you accidentally, or that he mistook an email notification for a text from you. Simple, innocent mistakes.

Either way, he always ended up staring at your side of the conversation, hoping for a gray ellipsis to appear.

But after a while, he could no longer deny the truth- and why would he want to? You were coming home.

You hadn’t been gone long, and your mission was projected to be a cake walk. But he couldn’t help it; he missed you. He missed you when you went on missions, when you visited your parents out of state, when you slept in your room down the hall. Missing you was part of him now, woven into the fabric of his being. It matched the material of his soul perfectly, like he was always meant to feel this way.

He fired off a quick “let me know when you land” message and waited, hoping you’d write back soon.

Usually, you texted him when you were headed back to the compound. It gave him a countdown to your return and something to look forward to. It also signaled to him that you were, in fact, coming home alive. Even if a bit banged up, you were well enough to shoot him a message. And that always eased his worries.

Today, however, was different. No text, no call.

It struck him as bizarre and sounded Bucky’s internal alarms. But he silenced them as best he could. He wasn’t going to let himself get worked up, not when you had a perfectly good reason for not messaging him.

This was your first time leading a mission with a new recruit under your wing. Bucky knew you devoted your full attention to your trainee, giving him absolutely everything you had. You took this position- as well as your pupil’s safety and success- very seriously. He knew you were probably busy helping your recruit learn a swath of new things, and who was he to interrupt?

Bucky opened the log and saw your jet had been marked as ‘incoming’ only minutes ago. A sigh of relief left his chest and eased his muscles. Sure, he would’ve rather heard that information from you, but it didn’t matter. Your jet would be here soon; he had no reason to worry.

The moment he saw that your jet was homeward bound, he lost the ability to think about anything else. He counted the minutes, the seconds. You had to be close, right? The log wouldn’t have said ‘Incoming’ if you were still hours away.

To pass the time, he folded laundry, answered emails, reread a few chapters of The Hobbit- but he couldn’t focus. He thought of you, only you. And no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he couldn’t hang around his room any longer. He couldn’t stand it. He needed to be there when the jet landed. He needed to meet you on the steps of the aircraft and wrap you in a bear hug.

And there was no real harm in waiting near the hangar, was there? ‘If anything,’ he told himself, ‘It’s actually more convenient for her if I meet her there. That way, I can carry her bag- she’s probably tired.’

Anything to rationalize his desperate need to be near you.

He knew in his heart of hearts that you didn’t need him to carry your bag or help you off the jet. But this lie was all the convincing he needed. Without hesitation, he ditched his room and set off down the hall, your impending homecoming pulling him forward.

It was in that moment he noticed just how far the elevator was from his room. The walk seemed to stretch on and on, the hallway growing longer with each step. And how had he never noticed how slowly the elevator moved? It slid downward at a glacial pace, toying with his patience. For such an expensive, state of the art building, the elevator moved like an ancient piece of turn of the century machinery. Bucky cursed Tony’s engineering.

Everything seemed to add time, multiplying his moments without you. The universe liked toying with him, teasing him. And this was just another cruel joke.

The moment the doors opened, Bucky sprang free out into the hallway. He knocked into Clint and his group of trainees and called an apology over his shoulder without stopping. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t waste time- not when you could arrive at any moment.

His field of view narrowed into tunnel vision, only allowing for visualization of the path toward the hangar. He didn’t greet his fellow team members or allow for distraction. You were his one-track mind. That is, until something stopped him.

“Shit, sorry, man,” your trainee, Jake, laughed as he bumped into Bucky. He took a step to the side and attempted to continue down the hall, but Bucky blocked his path.

“Jake?” Bucky eyed a bloody gash on Jake’s eyebrow, “when did you guys get back?”

Jake gave a casual shrug and checked his phone, “I don’t know, five minutes ago?”

“Oh, okay…” Bucky reached for his phone, but found his screen void of notifications. If you landed five minutes ago with your trainee safe and sound, why didn’t you send him a message? It was out of character for you.

“Well, where’s your partner in crime? Or crime fighting, I guess,” Bucky tried to joke, but his tone was strained. He eyed each person who came around the corner, hoping to find your face. “Did you see which way she went?”

“Nah, she’s not here,” Jake was scrolling through Instagram, only half paying attention.

Bucky’s disappointed sigh left his chest deflated, empty. “Oh, did she say where she was going? Or when she’d be back?”

Jake pulled his focus from his phone and stared at Bucky with confusion on his face. His brows pulled together, his mouth hung slightly ajar. But finally, he made sense of Bucky’s words. “OHHH, okay, my bad- I think there was a miscommunication just now.”

Bucky sighed again- this time, with relief.

“Yeah, no, she’s not here,” Jake continued, “because she didn’t make it back.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing.

The sharp, piercing sound blocked out voices. Footsteps on the tile. Maybe Jake was trying to speak to him, but Bucky heard only the shrill sound of shock. Seconds later, his nerves fell numb. The utter absence of sensation disconnected him from his body. He was lost in a liminal atmosphere with no stability, no purchase. His entire being was shutting down, one sense at a time.

Bucky told himself to focus, to compute what he’d heard. He did his best to make sense of Jake’s words, but to no avail. His mind simply couldn’t understand the phrase “she didn’t make it back”. The words had shed their meaning entirely and sounded foreign to Bucky as they rattled around his skull. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin, and a cold sweat created a sheen across his face. He feared he might get sick.

“I- I’m sorry,” he forced himself back into his body, back to the present. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Things got pretty hairy- this was not the easy mission they said it would be,” Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not fair, I definitely got a way harder assignment for my first mission than all the other new agents, and I think it’s-”

Bucky’s glare could’ve sliced Jake in half, “get to the point.”

“Right, um,” Jake continued, “I told her over comms that I was leaving. I gave her plenty of time to meet me at the jet, but she didn’t answer. And she never came outside.” He shrugged, “I had to leave for my own safety.”

“So, you just-” Bucky felt himself losing his grip. “You left her there? Alone?” He didn’t realize he was shouting, didn’t realize he’d drawn attention to himself- until Agent Hill showed up.

She placed a light hand on Bucky’s tense shoulder, but instantly withdrew. He was shaking, practically vibrating under her palm. “Is there a problem here, guys? I don’t want-”

“He left her behind,” was all Bucky could manage.

Maria stared at Jake in disbelief, “you did what?”

A strange mixture of rage and heartbreak seethed behind Bucky’s eyes, “You don’t just abandon your partner-”

Jake’s attitude disgusted Bucky. He was detached, irritated. He rolled his eyes like an insolent child. “Relax, man. Jesus Christ, this isn’t the army. I didn’t promise to ‘leave no man behind’ or whatever-”

Bucky had heard enough. He lifted jake by the collar of his shirt, twisting the material in his metal fist. Jake’s head sent a sickening thud resounding through the space as Bucky forced him against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck?” Jake squirmed in Bucky’s grasp, “There are casualties in the field all the time, why am I being punished for-”

Bucky released Jake at once, sending him crashing to the floor.

His voice was quiet, hollow. “Casualties?” He swallowed hard, “Is she-”

Jake shrugged at he rubbed at the bruise forming on his neck. “I don’t know, I assume so. I didn’t stick around to find out.”

And just like that, Bucky was gone.

He took off down the hall, forcing himself forward as a soul-crushing panic swallowed him whole. No matter how many times he blinked, no matter how fervently he shook his head, he couldn’t rid his mind of the picture Jake painted for him. Each time he shut his eyes he saw you- alone. Your bloodied, broken body laying collapsed against a wall of a Hydra base. Your skin slick with blood. Your skin cold. Void of life.

He moved quickly, but not quick enough. He simply couldn’t outrun the familiar feeling closing in on him. His heavy, well-worn cloak of grief wound its way across his shoulders and twisted itself around his neck. He knew the suffocating sensation all too well. It weighed him down but couldn’t dampen his pace, nothing could; not when your life hung in the balance.

He was too well acquainted with loss by now, too familiar with mourning. There’d been a time when he wondered if he’d ever grieve again. He’d lost his family, his friends, himself- what else was there? What more could he possibly lose? But the moment he met you, he knew he’d one day mourn again. He just didn’t realize that time would come so soon.

A startling cold prickled at his skin, his lungs refused to inflate. How much time did you have left? How long would it take him to get to you? Were you even-

Hill’s voice yanked him out of his spiral, “Barnes, hey-” She made a grab at his shoulder, but her feeble attempt was no match for Bucky’s pace. “Where are you going?”

“To get her back.” Bucky’s tone was firm, resolute. He was going to bring you home or die trying.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hill nearly tripped over her own feet as she tried to keep up with Bucky’s long strides. “You heard what Jake said, it’s a dangerous location- more dangerous than we thought. I think it might be best to wait it out for a few days, let things calm down and then-”

Bucky turned suddenly, stopping Maria in her tracks. “I’m not just going to leave her there.”

Maria shrunk away from the fierceness in his eyes, “I know you’re upset, but she might not be-”

“I don’t care.” His gruff tone dissolved, making way for the fear he’d so desperately tried to hide. “Whether she’s alive or-” he couldn’t bring himself to voice the alternative.

Bucky knew what it was like to be assumed dead. He knew what it was like to be left in the field.

“She deserves to come home,” he said.

Maria couldn’t argue with him.

“Round up as many members of the med team as you can and have them meet me in the hangar. We’re leaving in ten minutes- sooner if we can.” Bucky turned and resumed his previous path, “I’ll be in the armory.”

Bucky grabbed as much weaponry as his duffel would carry without splitting at the seams and made his way to the hangar. He hoped to find ten, maybe fifteen members of the medical team waiting for him on the jet. He wasn’t sure of your condition, didn’t know how many breaths you had left. He wanted to give you the best possible chance at surviving the onslaught you endured.

But when he turned the corner into the hangar, he found only three scrub-clad bodies.

“Is this it?” Bucky boarded the jet and dropped his bag to the floor. He eyed the scant amount of medical support, their uncertain expressions. His hopes of bringing you home alive dwindled.

A nurse who’d stitched Bucky up more times than he could count gave him a nervous smile. “The med bay is swamped, the team could barely afford to let us come with you.”

Bucky didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want excuses or rationalizations. All he wanted was to bring you home with your heart still beating. And three medical professionals, he decided, was better than none.

The flight to your location only gave Bucky more time to worry. He obsessively checked his weaponry, hovered over the med team’s supplies. But no amount of double and triple checking could save him from the spiral. He traveled down the path of every possible “what if?”, leading him only to heartache. No matter where he searched, he couldn’t find a positive outcome. And though he didn’t want to acknowledge the odds, he knew yours were slim- impossible, even.

And as the jet grew closer to your location, Bucky steeled himself for what he knew he’d find: you, his best friend, his reason for living, his everything- dead. Cold. Lifeless. None of the horrors he faced in the past could compare; no pain could ever be greater. Bucky knew he’d hurt for the rest of his life.

The clouds parted as the jet began its descent. Slowly, a large stone building appeared out of the fog like a monster in the horror movies you loved so much. It stood in an otherwise empty clearing, its shadow looming over the dying grass. Smoke billowed from holes in the roof, the walls. Whatever happened here was catastrophic. Disastrous.

Bucky’s heart sat lodged in his throat as he imagined you trapped in there. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin as he stared at the looming structure. He had to get you out, even if he died trying.

Just before the jet touched down, an idea popped into Bucky’s head. It scaled the high walls he’d tried to erect to protect himself from thoughts of your demise and grabbed him by the throat. It was smart- brilliant, actually. He was shocked he could even think straight given the circumstances.

“FRIDAY,” Bucky called out, “is comm 1209 working?” He shoved his own comm in his ear and waited for a response.

“Comm 1209 is on and in range,” Friday said. “Would you like me to connect you?”

He couldn’t say yes fast enough.

A few staticky clicks and pops vibrated against Bucky’s eardrum as his comm connected to yours. But he was too scared to speak. What if you didn’t answer? What if he heard you take your dying breaths? Just the thought was enough to make him sick.

He owed it to you, though, to at least try. He’d always said he’d do anything for you, that he’d risk it all for you- and he meant it every time. If reaching out to you over comms exposed him to something horrible, something traumatic and unforgettable, at least he tried. At least he attempted to keep his promise. And after everything he’d been through, what was one more life-shattering, soul-crushing nightmare?

“H- um…” Bucky swallowed the large lump obstructing his throat. “Hello?” He waited a moment, holding his breath the entire time, and tried again. “Hello?”

He waited.

No response.

“Doll? It’s me. It’s Bucky…”

The dead silence on the other end of the line dragged on. It seemed like his words disappeared into the air, unacknowledged. Unheard. Maybe the sound of his voice was reverberating inside your ear as you lay dying. Or maybe he was talking to your corpse.

The thought made him nauseous.

“Please, sweetheart. If you’re there- if you’re able- just say one word. Say anything,” he pled. A long bout of silence followed.

He clenched and released his metal fist again and again, desperate to rid himself of the panic settling into his bones. He was stupid to think you survived, stupid to let himself be optimistic. He made it here as quickly as he could, but he couldn’t save you. He was too late.

He wanted to take one of his many weapons and turn it on himself.

But a small sound stopped him.

“Buck…”

He almost fell to his knees. At the sound of your voice, an overwhelming warmth banished the cold that infiltrated his bones. Against all odds, you were alive.

A deep sigh of relief seeped from Bucky’s lungs, “Sweetheart…”

A hurricane of emotion rattled against the storm doors inside Bucky’s mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘almosts’. How he almost lost you, how you almost died alone in a Hydra base. But he couldn’t allow it to swallow him- not yet. There was no time for a breakdown. He needed to move, he needed to get to you.

He shrugged off the grief that rested heavy on his shoulders and swallowed the impending sob that vibrated inside his throat. “I’m here- I’m gonna come get you. Just tell me where-”

A staunch refusal came from your end of the comm, “No- no…” You took a sharp, rattling breath, “no way.”

Bucky didn’t like the way you had to fight to get your words out. You were clearly struggling, doing everything in your power to stay on this side of consciousness. He wondered how much time you had left.

But still, there was a familiar strength to your voice. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the renewed hope of rescue; something was keeping you alive.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just tell me where you are. The jet just landed. I’m gonna get you out and-”

“I said- I said no,” you breathed. “You can’t c-come in here, it’s too dangerous… we were a-ambushed.”

Even in your condition, even when Bucky was your only hope of rescue, his safety was your first thought. You’d rather die alone than put Bucky’s life at risk; the thought made his cheeks pink and filled his chest with a fuzzy warmth. But he didn’t have time to enjoy the feeling.

“If you don’t tell me where you are, I’ll just sweep the whole building,” Bucky said, using your worry against you. “That means more opportunities for me to run into Hydra operatives. More time inside the base- it’ll be way more dangerous.” He could practically see you rolling your eyes, “so it’s probably better if you just give me a direct route, don’t you think?”

Bucky smiled to himself as he envisioned you on the other end. He was certain you were arguing with yourself, cursing his rationale.

He waited for you to come at him with a sharp retort or a sarcastic quip but heard nothing. The silence on your end of the line dragged on. And on. It lasted far too long for Bucky’s comfort. Surely, you couldn’t still be thinking about his proposition? He’d given you more than enough time to make up your mind, more than enough time to come up with a response. It was time you didn’t have.

What if you’d fallen unconscious? What if, in those quiet moments, your soul vacated this earth?

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He disembarked the jet, resolving to search every inch of the base. But just as he reached the dark, unsettling building, you spoke.

“F-fifteenth floor. Northeast… northeast quadrant,” you sighed, defeated. “There’s a- a room at the end of this hall, I think it’s maybe an office?” Again, you took a long pause. The energy required to think, to speak, was energy you didn’t have. “Just f-follow the trail of blood.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. He shuddered at the thought of your blood leaving a path down the stark white, sterile hallways of the base. But he didn’t have time to focus on anything other than getting you out; this was a rescue. He owed it to you to keep his head level. To focus on getting you out as quickly as he could.

“The power is… it’s out”, you said. “You’re gonna h-have to take-”

Bucky wanted to save you from wasting any extra energy, “The stairs. Got it.”

And while he normally didn’t mind getting a few extra steps in, he knew the time required to climb fifteen flights of stairs would push the limits of your survival.

But he pushed the ever-encroaching sense of doom to the side and put on a brave face for you. For himself. “Okay, I’m coming to get you,” he promised. “Stay awake, and don’t move.”

“As if I h-have a choice,” you laughed a breathy, hollow laugh. A long groan followed.

Your pain radiated through Bucky’s chest. He didn’t want to climb stairs or scour hallways- he just wanted to be there. To instantly materialize at your side. To bring you instantaneous comfort. He lamented the super soldier serum’s lack of teleportation abilities.

“You know what I mean, doll. Just stay awake, okay?” Bucky drew his gun and stepped inside the building. “Don’t fall asleep. Do anything you have to do- just stay awake. Can you keep talking until I get there?”

“W-what am I…” You let out a raspy exhale, “supposed to talk about?”

Bucky cleared a long hallway and found the stairwell, “Anything, just keep talking.”

Another extended silence filled the air; it nearly drove Bucky crazy. Your silences held limitless possibilities, horrifying ‘what ifs’.

“It w-wasn’t supposed to be… to be like this,” you finally said. “It wasn’t supposed to be this dangerous. This was Jake’s first mission- it wasn’t f-fair to him.” Heartache coated your every word. Even after your partner abandoned you, even after Jake forced you to suffer and bleed all alone- you still sympathized with him. Still felt sorry for him.

Bucky felt no such thing.

“I know, doll. Keep talking, okay?”

You sighed. “We s-split up for recon… that’s when they- when they came at me.” Your next few breaths were so shallow, your lungs barely inflated; the lack of oxygen left you dizzy. A thin veil of glittering spots sparkled and danced on the edges of your periphery. “It all h-happened so fast… there were so many of them. I just- I remember pain. And I hoped Jake was okay, w-wherever he was.”

Your heart was too good for this job. For people like Jake. Bucky admired your kindness, your empathy, your selfless nature. Even in the face of pain, of death- you thought about others. You often told Bucky how unfair life had been to him, lamenting his treatment at the hands of fate. Bucky found himself doing the same for you and your kind heart.

“I called out for h-him, I needed backup… I kept asking him to come help me-” A sharp cough rattled out of your throat.

Bucky cringed at the sound. It was the only sound in the building. He hadn’t heard anyone else. Hadn’t seen one Hydra operative- at least, not a live one. He came across their bodies every now and again but didn’t see a single living soul. He was sure they deserted after the explosion. Just like Jake.

The destruction, however, was everywhere. Bullet casings littered the floor. Blood stained the tile floors. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. He had to get you out of here.

“But he n-never answered. And then he told me he was leaving. He said he was- he was outside already. He gave me n-ninety seconds to meet him at the jet…” Your words were tinged with devastation, with hopelessness, with betrayal. “I tried- I did my best to make it down the stairs. But I was- I was dizzy… I was b-bleeding.” The memory stung like your fresh wounds. “I kept slipping on- on my own blood. I just c-couldn’t move fast enough. It hurt too much.”

Wrath burned inside Bucky like a raging forest fire. But his utter heartbreak doused it completely, extinguishing the rageful flames. He found himself unable to think, to breathe. It took everything in him to keep moving forward. Who could ever leave you behind like that? Who could ignore your suffering and sentence you to death without a second thought? The image of you stumbling, struggling to run for your life gutted him.

“And then- and then I heard the jet t-take off,” you sighed. “And I listened as it got farther and farther away… until it was g-gone. And I was- I was alone.”

He thought of you sitting alone in cold silence as the noise from the jet quieted. As your hope dwindled. The entire base must’ve felt like a tomb, like a massive, lonely grave meant just for you.

Bucky almost fell to his knees. Sobs throttled the inside of his chest, begging for release. Tears burned inside his lash line. Jake didn’t just leave you behind, he marooned you without care. And in his departure, he sealed your fate.

“I d-didn’t have a way to call for… for help. My phone was on the j-jet with jake.”

The sorrow that stained your words was all too familiar to Bucky. It was the same hopelessness that accompanied him every day that he was at Hydra. When he laid in the snow for hours upon hours after falling from the train. He never wished that kind of despondency, that kind of misery on anyone. And knowing that you, the person who deserved it the least, experienced it for even a moment shattered him.

“I realized I… I didn’t h-have any options,” you breathed.

A collapsed column blocked Bucky’s path as he tried to make his way from the sixth floor to the seventh. The concrete was too high, too precarious to scale. If he tried to climb it and got hurt, it would only serve to diminish your chances of survival. And he wasn’t willing to risk that. With a huff, Bucky exited the northwest stairwell in search of another route. This was a waste of time- time you didn’t have.

He painstakingly checked every hall until he finally found another stairwell. His breathing came a little easier as he rocketed his way up the stairs, growing ever closer to you.

“So, I found this- this room. It’s quiet. It’s out of the w-way. I needed somewhere to hide. S-somewhere to…” A small crack of emotion cut through your voice, “somewhere to die.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Jake got to return home safe and sound while you struggled to stay alive. It wasn’t fair that you had to seek out your own deathbed. Bucky wanted to scream, to break things, to spill every last drop of Jake’s blood. But he was a soldier, and this was a rescue mission.

“This seemed like as g-good a place as any,” you choked on a weak laugh. “Beats dying in the middle of a h-hallway, I guess.”

Bucky’s automatic response was to swear that you’d make it out. To promise that you weren’t going to die. But he bit his tongue. He couldn’t make those kinds of assurances. He’d do anything to bring you comfort but swearing that you’d return home alive seemed almost cruel.

He pushed himself to move faster. He couldn’t let you die alone, especially not in this godforsaken place. As he sprinted up the last flight of stairs and ripped open the door to the fifteenth floor, he struggled to orient himself. You were in the northeast quadrant, but where was he? He searched for anything to indicate his location- but found no signage. No directory.

Everything inside of him rattled with dread, with anxiety. Any moment now, you were going to die. You were going to take your last breath. All alone. A thick, suffocating wave of panic crashed over Bucky as he realized- you were going to die disappointed. You were going to leave this world knowing that he hadn’t gotten to you in time.

It was then that he noticed a faded arrow painted on the wall, with “NEQ” painted below it in block letters. Northeast quadrant. He was closer than he thought.

“I’m gonna be there in just a second, doll,” he said as he followed the arrows. “I think I’m right around the corner.”

This was just his way of making you feel better, you were sure of it. The hallways were long and winding. Each floor was a maze of its own. Even with your vague instructions, it could take him a while to find you. Still, Bucky’s words brought you comfort in the way that only he could.

“I know, I t-trust…” A metallic taste filled your mouth. A warm ooze trickled down your chin and dripped onto your chest. The warm, fuzzy feeling brought on by Bucky’s assurances faded. Of course, you knew you were in bad shape. But as blood leaked from your mouth, you wondered if these were your last moments.

Instantly, you searched for the words to say goodbye to Bucky. Time was slipping through your fingers, life draining from your body with each passing second. But before you drifted off into a never-ending sleep, you had to tell Bucky what he meant to you. You’d use all your strength, your last few breaths- whatever it took. He just had to know.

But how does one say goodbye to a soulmate? You didn’t have the energy or capacity to make a grandiose speech. And the blood filling your mouth impeded your ability to speak. You wanted to tell bucky everything- how he comforted you, cared for you, made your life worth living. How your life revolved around him as though he were your personal sun. But nothing quite encapsulated the things you felt for him. Every word in the English language, every sonnet fell short. And the lack of oxygen getting to your brain sabotaged your phrasing.

“Buck, I think it’s… I think it’s almost t-time,” you rasped.

But just as you opened your blood-stained mouth to proclaim every feeling you ever had for him, the door flew open. Alarm coursed through your veins at the threat. Surely, a Hydra agent had stumbled upon your hiding place and was here to finish you off. The severe blood loss was no match for your training, thought. And, on instinct, you pulled your gun on the tall, dark silhouette standing in the doorway.

“Woah, hey!” Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “It’s me, it’s just me.”

At the sound of his voice, your arm fell limp. Your gun clattered to the floor. Your head lolled back against the wall. It had taken everything in you to try and protect yourself one last time. And now that your energy reserves were nearly depleted, you allowed your eyes to close.

“S-sorry…” A barely-there smile pulled at your lips. “My… my bad, Buck.”

“No, don’t be sorry, doll.”

Bucky knelt in front of you, taking in your broken, bloodied body. He’d seen carnage before, witnessed more death than anyone should. But this, you- it was different. It hurt in places he didn’t know he had. But he didn’t let it show. Knowing you, you’d spend your last few moments comforting him, trying to make him feel better. And so, he forced a warm smile and tabled his breakdown for the moment.

“I’m actually impressed. I mean, you might be hurt, but you were ready to take me out just now,” he forced a chuckle. “That’s my girl.” His cool metallic hand brushed against your blood-stained cheek.

And in that moment, something within you changed. Your eyes shot open. You blinked a few times before forcing your eyes shut once again. You gave your head a few good shakes. Surely, this wasn’t real- it couldn’t be.

You opened your eyes wide once again, taking him in. “Bucky?”

With one shaking hand, you reached for him in the most pathetic attempt he’d ever seen. You were weak, dangerously so; it scared him to his core. But you were alive.

He leaned in, meeting you in the middle, and let you stroke at his stubble for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he kissed your palm. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“You’re…” you other hand reached for him, but made it only a centimeter or two before falling into your lap. Bucky opted to take it in his. “You’re here?”

He nodded, “I could never leave you behind, sweetheart.”

He may have continued speaking after that, but you didn’t quite hear him. The emotion you’d tried so hard to swallow came bursting forward, crushing your every attempt at remaining levelheaded. Your fingers smoothed over Bucky’s cheek again and again. His name fell from your lips in what resembled a prayer. Tears rolled down your cheeks and mixed with the blood crusting over your skin.

A soft, warm wave of peace rolled in, covering you like a well-loved quilt. The pain disappeared; the sorrow evaporated. All that remained was Bucky. This was the warm spring that followed a dark, bitter winter. The first rays of sun after a vicious storm. The first taste of home after a long time away. You let the familiar warmth of Bucky’s presence drown out the rest of the world until only you two remained.

“Sweetheart, did you hear me?” With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Bucky called you back to the present. “I need to look at your wound, okay?”

A sharp rush of pain nearly blinded you as you lifted your shirt, exposing the bloody mess. But even as Bucky appraised the gunshot wound that turned your abdomen into horror scene, you couldn’t find it in you to worry. Your hands lazily found his shoulder, his chest, his face; you just wanted to touch him. To know, without a doubt, that he was there. That he was real.

“Hey, we… we need to t-talk,” you whispered as Bucky did his best to quickly bandage your wound for transport. “I n-need to talk- to talk to you…”

Bucky nodded, “sure thing, doll. Absolutely. We can talk about whatever you want. But right now…” he returned your shirt to its rightful position and met your gaze. “Right now, I need to get you out to the jet, okay? We can talk later.”

He guided your arms around his neck, lifted you into his arms, and moved as fast as he could through the winding hallways. His quick gait set your nerves alight with pain. Every bump, every jostle had you gasping for breath. And though it was a necessary evil, the guilt still sat in Bucky’s stomach like a rock. His repeated ‘I’m sorrys’ were nearly constant, doubling with your every grimace and groan. But he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t let the time slip away; you didn’t have much left.

Between pained sounds and twisted expressions of discomfort, you said the same thing on a loop. Again and again and again, you pled with him, using energy you didn’t have.

“We need to… to t-talk.”

“I h-have to tell you.”

“Can I talk to y-you about- about something?”

And though Bucky would’ve loved nothing more than to have a long heart to heart with you as you two often did, you weren’t strong enough. He couldn’t let you waste your finite energy on a conversation with him. And so, he responded to each of your requests with an ask of his own, begging you to save your strength. He promised that the two of you could talk tomorrow, that there was plenty of time for a conversation later.

But ‘plenty of time’ almost seemed like an empty promise. And ‘tomorrow’ felt like a lie. Would you have a ‘later’? He didn’t know. But he didn’t want you wasting your oxygen, not when he feared it might be your last breath.

Boarding the jet with you alive in his arms almost felt like a win to Bucky. Almost. Sure, he’d gotten you out with your heart still beating, but your condition worsened by the second. And the grave looks the med team wore as Bucky gently rested you on the treatment table dug a deep pit in his stomach.

They sprang into action, placing IVs and delivering medications. Scissors glided through your shirt and exposed your broken body to the med team. Bucky knew they’d seen their share of gnarly injuries over the years, but he swore that they recoiled at the sight of your wounds.

With a shake of his head, Bucky refocused. He had to get you out of there- to get you home. He headed for the controls and planned to set the jet in motion. But he made it only a step toward the cockpit before a hand caught his.

“S-stay…” you whispered. “Please.”

His heart shattered. “I’m not leaving you, doll, I promise. I just have to get us in the air, okay?” With great care, he placed a kiss to your hand and set it at your side. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Bucky’s body operated on muscle memory alone as he initiated take off. His mind was occupied, completely and totally, by the sound of your weak voice begging him not to leave. The sound played on a loop inside his brain, cutting him deeper each time. You’d already been abandoned once today; he was certain you feared it would happen again.

With a deep breath and a quick reset, Bucky did what he had to do. He needed to be on his A-game for you, needed to be his very best. Only a few hours ago, you’d trusted someone with your life, and they failed you. Bucky wasn’t about to do the same. He worked carefully to chart the fastest route back to the compound, opting to forego FRIDAY’s proposed path. It kept him from your side longer than he would’ve liked, but less time in the air seemed like the best option. The sooner he could get you to the med bay, with its massive, brilliant medical staff and unlimited resources, the better.

Just as he finalized the flight plan and asked FRIDAY to notify the med bay of your impending arrival, an unsettling sound pulled his focus. It was an ominous beeping, alarming your care team of a sudden, life-threatening change.

Gloved hands moved at lightning speed; voices yelled medical jargon back and forth. And you laid there on the table. No heartbeat. No respirations. Deathly still.

Bucky stood on the periphery, too horrified to get any closer.

He thought it best, of course, to stay out the med team’s way. But knew deep down it was an excuse. He was simply too terrified to lose you. If he got closer, if he saw you struggling to stay alive, all of this would suddenly become real. And he couldn’t handle that.

“Barnes!” A nurse screamed at him, “did you hear me?”

Bucky forced himself back to the present. “No… I, um-”

“She has no pulse- get over here, we need you to do compressions!”

Bucky’s desperate need to help you, to save you, overpowered his fear. And in an instant, he was at your side. He loomed over you, his hands locked together, preparing to help resuscitate you. But once again, his fear reared its ugly head. You were already so badly injured, so weak. And he was far too strong. What if he made your condition worse? What if he-

“Come on!” The nurse yelled at him, “start compressions- now!”

He did as he was told. He pressed into your body with a measured pressure, careful not to crush your chest. But his cautious compressions didn’t cut it. The nurses instructed him to push harder. To “actually compress” your chest- and Bucky followed instructions.

But as he did so, a sickly snapping sound exploded from your body. Bucky recoiled instantly; his face contorted in horror.

“What are you doing? Keep going!”

“I can’t- I think I broke her ribs,” Bucky shouted at the doctor. “What do I do?”

“Keep going!” The nurse yelled, “It happens- just keep going.”

Bucky broke out into a cold sweat. His stomach turned at the thought of hurting you, of causing you even more pain; you’d been through enough as it was. But he did as he was told. With each round of compressions, he swore he created new fractures. He felt every splinter, every crack as he put pressure on your chest.

He wanted to sever every last nerve-ending in his hand; anything to rid him of the sickening sensation creeping through his palm. But if doing this saved you, it was worth the nightmares.

He watched as the two nurses provided your supplemental breaths and tended to your endlessly bleeding wound. The doctor called ‘clear’ every so often, shocking you with a defibrillator in an attempt to restore your heartbeat.

Round after round of compressions, breathing, and shocks passed by without signs of improvement. You remained lifeless, unresponsive. A syringe of epinephrine delivered straight to your chest did nothing. And Bucky felt what little hope he had slipping through the cracks in your ribs. He couldn’t believe he was about to lose you; couldn’t believe he’d have to watch you die. Hot tears blurred his vision and streaked down his cheeks. His legs went numb. At any second, he knew his knees would give out, knew he’d crumble to the floor under the crushing weight of grief.

The doctor deemed the next shock your last, and Bucky almost doubled over.

“Come on, doll, just-” He swallowed a sob, “just stay. Stay. Do it for me, I’m begging you. Please?”

The doctor called one last “clear” and delivered your final shock, only to be met with the rhythmic beeping of your heart monitor.

“Sinus rhythm restored,” announced the nurse to Bucky’s left. She appraised the waves on your EKG and gave a nod. “She’s stable.”

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky took a breath. He stretched his tense fingers and did his best to relax the rock-hard knots forming in his shoulders. A new crop of hope bloomed cautiously inside his chest, but he couldn’t allow it to blossom and flourish just yet. You weren’t out of the woods; there was a very real possibility that your heart might stop again. And he wasn’t sure how many times the doctor could revive you before throwing in the towel.

Less than a minute after Bucky’s cautious optimism sprouted anew, a soul crushing sight dashed it completely. A sharp gasp filled his lungs, a shudder rocked his frame. Shades of deep, dark blue bloomed under the skin of your chest. Black and purple splotches stained your sternum. Some spots were already starting to swell. He extended a hand in your direction but recoiled in an instant, fearing he’d hurt you yet again.

“Happens all the time,” one of the nurses said with a shrug. “Believe me, broken ribs are the least of her worries.”

Somehow, her words didn’t make him feel any better. He ached to hold your hand, to sweep a gentle caress across your cheek. But he didn’t dare touch you after what he did. Every glimpse of your bruised, swollen chest sent bile rushing into his throat.

The three dedicated members of the med team worked tirelessly for the rest of the flight. They did everything in their power to keep your condition steady, to maintain the life they worked so hard to save. It brought Bucky comfort to see them staying so close, ready to jump into action if need be.

Bucky, like the med team, hovered. He couldn’t bring himself to leave your side. You seemed too fragile, your condition too tenuous. He counted your every breath, took stock of every beat of your heart on the monitor. Stepping away for even a second felt wrong. He needed to be there if you crashed again, if the doctor needed extra hands. He needed to be there to help.

And if you woke up, he wanted to be the first face you saw.

But you didn’t wake. A groan here, a muscle twitch there- that was all you could spare. And though Bucky wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, he thanked the universe for keeping you unconscious. He knew tsunamis of pain rippled in the wings, waiting to overtake you the second you woke.

Bucky held his breath as the jet landed. Every jarring bump, every vibration, forced his heart into his throat. He feared that even the slightest impact would send you into cardiac arrest. He flicked his eyes from the rising and falling of your chest to the rhythmic flashing of your heart monitor and back again. Nothing changed, no alarms sounded. And when the jet finally stilled, Bucky breathed a deep sigh of relief. He just needed to get you to the med bay for treatment, and this whole nightmare would be over.

He didn’t like being optimistic. It felt like a set-up, like false hope. If he told himself you’d survive and you didn’t, the fall would be that much harder, that much more devastating.

But being realistic wasn’t any better. Telling himself that you were too far gone, that you weren’t going to make it, felt wrong. To him, it seemed like he was cursing you. Like willing your death into existence. Like begging the universe to end your life.

And so, he opted for a neutral mantra. “She’s home,” he told himself. “She’s home. She’s home. She’s home.”

The distance to the medbay felt longer than usual. The hallways seemed to stretch on forever, the double doors to the triage center seemed to grow farther and farther away. Bucky followed your gurney closely, only allowing a few inches of space between the two of you. He couldn’t be separated from you again. He wouldn’t. He needed to be with you every second, watching over you.

A dark cloud of impending doom loomed over his psyche. It whispered to him, telling him that if he left your side, if he let you out of his sight, you’d die. You’d be gone forever. And it would be his fault. He knew it was nonsense, that this was just his anxiety operating on overdrive. But he couldn’t shake the fear. And risking it wasn’t an option.

“No visitors past this point,” a security guard placed an arm in front of Bucky as he tried to enter the triage unit.

Bucky tried to go around the man, watching as the medical staff carried you farther out of reach. “I’m not a visitor, I’m an agent-”

“No agents past this point, then,” the guard rolled his eyes. “Only patients and medical staff. You can have a seat over there.”

A small table sat against the wall, flanked by two chairs. It was a sad, makeshift excuse for a waiting room that operated as a device to keep people from hanging around. But bucky couldn’t be discouraged. He took a seat in one of the chairs, determined to wait there as long as he had to. He knew he’d missed a number of important phone calls by now, and probably several meetings. But he didn’t care; all that mattered was you.

Dread circled Bucky like a buzzard as he waited. It was taking too long- why was it taking so long? How much time did the medical staff need? You were stable when the jet landed, the nurse said so. Why were there no updates? All Bucky needed was a nod, a bit of information. But he remained in the dark, wondering if you died on the operating table.

Maria found Bucky slumped in a chair with a zombie-like air about him. He was expressionless, his gaze hollow. His palms traced the same track up and down his thighs in a never-ending cycle. One look and she knew: something was very wrong.

“Hey,” she called softly, hoping not to startle him.

But Bucky didn’t respond- he didn’t even react. He just sat there, his unblinking stare burning a hole in the tile. An uneasiness enveloped Maria. She’d never seen Bucky so empty, so despondent. As she stared at him, she found herself fearing the worst. ‘Maybe he just received terrible news’ she thought. ‘Maybe he’s grieving’.

“Hey,” she tried again, nudging her foot against his.

He came back to life with a start. A sharp inhale filled his chest, his eyes blinked wildly. But his palms never stopped moving in their endless cycle against his tactical pants. And he never actually looked at her.

“Hi…” he breathed.

Hill took the seat opposite him. She conjured the gentlest, warmest tone she could find, “is everything okay?”

Bucky balled his hands into tight fists and stretched them out again. Maria noticed blood- your blood- crusting under his fingernails and staining his skin. But before she could get a good look, he grabbed the arms of the chair. His palms rubbed fervently against the plastic handles for a moment until they moved to his face. He ran his hands along his jaw, his spiky stubble poking into his skin.

“Barnes, what happened? Are you-”

Finally, his head snapped in her direction, “I can still feel it…”

“Feel what?”

Bucky’s head fell into his hands. He pressed his palms against his eyes and dragged them down his face. Maria watched him fall apart in slow motion. He seemed to be unraveling, one cell at a time. And when he finally spoke, shame made his words almost unintelligible.

“She crashed on the jet…”

“Oh...” Maria did her best to keep a calm, even tone. Her concern for you vibrated in her chest, but she didn’t dare let it free- not when Bucky was moments away from a meltdown. “Is she-”

“The med team needed help. There weren’t enough of them- they needed me to do chest compressions,” Bucky said, his voice low. “And I broke- I crushed her ribs.”

A sharp shudder rocked his entire body. Just thinking of that moment, when his too-strong hands destroyed your chest, was enough to make him sick. To scar him for life. To haunt him. Of all the horrible things he’d done in over the years, this was the worst. He gave his hands a quick shake, hoping to rid his nerve endings of the sensation.

“I felt her bones snapping under my hands,” Bucky’s words dripped with shame. “And I can still… I still feel it.”

“Okay,” Maria said gently. “Well, if she-”

“She was already in such bad shape,” Bucky swiped a tear from his cheek. “And I… I hurt her. I made it so much worse.”

His head fell into his hands once again and did not reemerge.

“Hey, look at me,” Maria gave his arm a gentle touch.

Bucky only shook his head.

“Come on, Barnes, just look at me for a second.”

Again, he refused.

Maria abandoned her chair and sat instead on the small table. She never got this close to Bucky. Usually, she preferred to give him his space. He wasn’t the touchy-feely type- unless you were around. But he was lost in a shame spiral, adrift with no hope of return. And he needed rescuing. She placed her hands on his and gently removed them from his face.

“You saved her life,” Maria said. “Twice. You rescued her from the base, and when the med team needed help, you came through.”

“But I-”

“Did it work?” Maria asked, her tine almost stern. “Did the chest compressions work?”

Bucky nodded.

Maria gave him a shrug, “That’s all that matters. She can recover from a few broken ribs, but if you hadn’t been there-”

Bucky averted his gaze as his eyes filled with tears.

“Hey,” Maria grabbed his face, bringing his focus back to her. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead.”

Maria’s words fought hard against the demeaning voice that lived inside Bucky’s head. It screamed at him, telling him that he shouldn’t believe her, that he was a monster, that he almost killed you. Usually, Bucky allowed his inner demons to run free. He listened to them without pause, believing anything and everything they told him, no matter how vile. But Maria was steadfast and unshakable in her sentiments; she truly believed what she was saying. And by some miracle, Bucky did, too.

“Thanks…” He granted her a hollow smile and a small nod.

Hill sat in silence with him for a few hours. She didn’t try to make small talk or ask what was going on inside his head. She simply existed near him, sharing the space so that he didn’t have to be alone. She ignored important texts and sent every call to voicemail. She knew it was exactly what you’d do for him, if you were able. And she did her best to fill your shoes.

Abruptly, Bucky’s head snapped in her direction. His pulse thrummed against his skin as a new wave of anxiety crashed over him. “She kept saying…” he sighed. “She kept saying we needed to talk. She wanted to talk to me about something.”

Maria cocked her head to the side, “About what?”

He shrugged. “I told her we could talk later because there would be plenty of time,” Bucky’s words grew shaky. He found himself near tears for what felt like the millionth time that day. Guilt sucker punched him. “What if… what if there isn’t more time for us? What if that was all we were ever going to get? What if-”

“You’ll get more time,” Maria said with certainty. “The universe has a way of evening things out. You were robbed of time once; it won’t happen again. Plus, you’re deserved some fucking karmic retribution- you’re owed this.”

Bucky wondered how she could be that sure of something so ethereal. But she was steady, solid as a rock. She didn’t waver in her words or add caveats at the end. She, somehow, knew it to be true. And Bucky couldn’t help but believe her.

But when Fury called her for the eighth time, she knew quiet time was over.

“I have to go, okay? Fury can’t do anything without me, he’s hopeless.” She stood from her seat and rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Call if you need anything.”

Bucky thanked her a million times over and, for the first time, gave Maria a hug. She would never know how much her reassurances helped him. She’d pulled him from the ledge and gave him what he desperately needed: perspective.

In the hours that followed, he let her words play on a constant loop inside his mind. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead,” he heard her say. “You’ll get more time.” The sickening feeling of your bones snapping under his strength never faded, and the fear of losing you still had him in a chokehold, but Maria’s words quieted his mind.

In the sad, empty waiting room, time seemed to mutate. Some of the hours dragged, others whizzed by. Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. Was it ten hours? Or twenty? He didn’t really care. He’d wait lifetimes for you.

He saw the security guards change shifts once, twice. It was the only thing alerting him to the passage of time, as part of him believed it was standing still. On the third shift change, they told him to go home.

“They’ll call you if there’s an update”, said one of the guards. “It’d probably be a good idea for you to go get some sleep, or something.”

Bucky knew he looked like hell. Your blood left crimson streaks across his face and neck. And the dark circles he usually wore under his eyes were a deep shade of plum. But he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t sleep. Not when your life hung in the balance. Not when you needed him.

A few more hours passed with no news, and Bucky found himself teetering on the edge of insanity. An angry, desperate voice bellowed inside his head. It told him to bust through the doors and find you, no matter what it took- even if it meant hurting people in the process. The gun secured to his hip and the knife strapped to his ankle became eerily attractive. His hands itched to reach for the weapons, to hold someone at gun point until they allowed him to see you. But he couldn’t to give in to the fear, to the violence. It took him years of therapy and long talks with you to stop seeing himself as a monster- and he refused to destroy the progress you helped him make.

A doctor stepped out of the double doors and looked in Bucky’s direction, “Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky was on his feet before he knew what hit him. This was it. After what felt like an eternity of not knowing whether you lived or died, he was about to have an answer. Sweat dampened his palm, his brow as he stood in front of your doctor.

He didn’t know he was even capable of this kind of fear, this kind of agony. And though he was an impossibly strong physical specimen, Bucky knew he’d never be able to lift the weight of the grief that followed your loss. He knew that, if you died, he’d spend the rest of his life dragging himself from place to place, unable to stand, unable to push back against the overwhelming, oppressive force of losing you.

Your doctor spoke quickly and professionally about your condition, but the words turned to mush the second they reached Bucky’s brain. The combination of medical jargon and pure panic made their meanings imperceptible. But one phrase managed to cut through the fog of Bucky’s anxiety and exhaustion: “you can see her now.”

And just like that, Bucky took off. His fatigued body did its best to carry him through the halls, stumbling every now and then on the smooth tile of the hospital floors. But he didn’t dare slow down. He had to get to you.

By the time he reached the door to your room, he found himself shaking- almost shivering- with anxiety. He knew you were alive, of course. Knew that the doctors had been successful in saving your life. But something in him doubted their handiwork. Something in him swore that if he didn’t get to you in the next half second, you’d flatline. Again.

He could practically feel his brain rattling around inside his skull, his teeth chattered against one another. And the sharp tremors in his hands made it nearly impossible to get a grip on the door handle. Panic and frustration coursed through him as the he tried again and again to gain entry to your room with no luck. A strangled sob forced its way out of his chest and caught the attention of a nurse- one of the nurses who helped keep you alive on the jet.

“Hey…” Her eyes drifted to Bucky’s shaking hands. “Need some help?” Before Bucky could answer, she’d abandoned the medication she was prepping, discarded her gloves, and made her way to his side.

“Here, let me.” Her soft, sympathetic tone was almost too kind; Bucky’s eyes blurred with tears. She turned the door handle and gestured for Bucky to go inside.

His “thank you” was for more than just the door.

Bucky took a few steps inside and drew in a sharp breath; he’d never seen you in such severe condition. Over the many hours that Bucky waited for you outside, all of your bruises grew darker, more menacing. They stained your throat, your face, your arms. He didn’t even want to think about the ones on your chest- the ones he caused. Dried blood crusted in your hair and formed a path down the side of your face. It sat caked under your fingernails and rested in the creases of your palms. Thankfully, your gunshot wound was covered by gauze and concealed by your gown. But knowing it was there was enough to make Bucky sick. He, of course, witnessed and inflicted, his fair share of carnage over the years. But he knew your wound would haunt him for years to come- simply because it was yours.

All he wanted was to be near you. To sit at your bedside and hold your hand. But he didn’t dare to get any closer. Electrodes attached a dozen wires to your chest. IVs sat lodged in the crooks of your elbows, in the backs of your hands. Machines and monitors kept track of your vitals. And who was he to disturb this fragile, vital ecosystem? What if he accidentally pulled out one of your IVs? What if he detached a wire by mistake? He’d already hurt you once today, he wasn’t about to do it again.

He, instead, opted to stand at attention. A few feet away. For your safety. He didn’t touch you, didn’t even say your name. He simply stared at you, counting your every breath.

An hour- or maybe two- passed by with him like this. Nurses checked on you, doctors poked their heads in. And every time, they told him he was permitted to sit by your bedside. But he just shook his head. Sure, slipping his hand into yours, being close to you- it would provide him with incomprehensible comfort. But he couldn’t, not when you were so severely injured.

After the third hour, Bucky feared his sanity was slipping. A wicked voice lodged deep in his psyche suddenly awakened. It whispered to him, taunted him. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he was asleep in the waiting room. Maybe you didn’t survive. Maybe…

And he would’ve believed it, had you not snapped him out of the vicious spiral.

“Buck?” He feared he’d never hear you voice again, but there it was. Hoarse and weak- but yours.

Bucky flew to your side. He cradled your face gingerly in his hands, completely consumed by the need to touch you, to feel you, to know that you were real. His palms laid flush against your cheeks, his thumbs sweeping over your skin. And in an instant, the sickly sensation of your snapping bones vanished.

A hurricane of tangled thoughts and emotions crashed over him. He had so much to he wanted to say, so much he wanted to confess to you. But the words refused to arrange themselves properly. Suddenly, Bucky wished he’d used his ample time in the waiting room to better organize his thoughts. He wished he’d sought out a pen and a scrap of paper and used them to plan and articulate his sentiment. But even if he’d found the supplies he needed, he wouldn’t have been able to jot a single thing down. Not with his shaking, unsteady hands.

Anxious words and broken sobs got stuck in his throat and formed a garbled, unintelligible mess as they left his mouth. But it was the best he could do. He stared at you, waiting for your response.

“I, um…” you looked at him for a long moment. The haze of head trauma, blood loss, and pain killers made you foggy. You did your best to trace your steps back through Bucky’s words, certain that your condition was the cause of your confusion. But after a significant pause, you came up empty. “Sorry, I- what?”

Bucky slid one of his hands into yours and gave a soft laugh. “Sorry. I tried to say-” He sat quiet for a moment. What had he tried to say, exactly? He wasn’t sure. With a small shake of his head, he re-rerouted. “Um, it doesn’t matter. Here, how’s this:” He cleared his throat and spoke with the sharpest pronunciation possible. “How are you feeling?”

Your laugh- Bucky’s favorite laugh- bubbled up to the surface. But regret swallowed you whole as pain shot through your head, your chest, your side. The hurt radiated through your entire being. It rendered you breathless, and left your face twisted in an agonized grimace.

Bucky didn’t like how long it took you to recover from the small chuckle you shot his way. A pang of worry shot through him. “Don’t exert yourself, okay?” He swept a thumb across your cheek, “you don’t wanna tear your stitches or...” He cleared his throat, “aggravate any, um, broken bones.” Bones that he broke.

“No, I’m…” you squeezed your eyes shut for a long moment before opening them again. The pain slowly receded. “I’m good, I’m okay. I just- breathing is hard. I forgot how shitty it feels to have broken ribs.”

Bucky nodded. His teeth sunk into the smooth flesh of his cheek. A metallic taste coated his mouth. He didn’t want to tell you the truth. Didn’t want you to know that he was the cause of your severe pain. But you deserved to know, didn’t you? With a deep sigh, he opened his mouth, intent on telling you what really happened. But you cut him off.

“Thank you, Buck. For coming to get me. I really thought I was…” Hot tears stung your eyes and blurred your vision. “I thought that was it for me, you know? And I just want you to know how-” you sniffed, “how grateful I am.”

Bucky left your side for only a second, retrieving a box of tissues from the counter across the room. He was back in no time and swept a tissue across your cheek to catch your tears.

“I know we always say that we have each other’s backs but you… you meant it,” you said. A small smile pulled at your lips, “thank you for meaning it.”

Bucky nodded. He did his best to keep his breathing steady, to stop himself from falling apart at the seams. He knew exactly what it felt like to be left behind, to wait for your last moments- alone.

“I wasn’t gonna leave you there, doll. I couldn’t.”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah, I- I wish my partner had felt the same way…” The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. It sliced though Bucky’s chest. “I didn’t think he would ever do something like that. I mean, I thought we were friends.”

The mere thought of Jake brought a familiar rage to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. He didn’t understand how anyone could be so callous, so uncaring- so indifferent to the well-being of others. The part of him that swore off unnecessary violence remained quiet as the rest of him imagined Jake’s demise. He wanted your disloyal partner to suffer. To squirm and squeal and regret that he ever left you behind. But that could wait- you were the priority.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect him to be that kind of person,” Bucky sighed, “he seemed like a stand-up guy.”

Silence filled the room as you thought over Jake’s desertion. His abandonment hurt. It stung in places you didn’t expect. You’d taken Jake under your wing and did everything in your power to be the best leader possible. All you wanted was to help him. To set him up for success.

And after working alongside Bucky for so long, you’d forgotten that disloyalty to one’s partner was even an option.

“He probably panicked,” you tried to rationalize. “And then once he realized what he’d done, maybe he…”

There was no rationalizing this.

An ugly realization slithered into your mind. “After he left, I think he probably hoped I’d just die… that way I wouldn’t be able to give my side of the story.” The weight of Jake’s actions hit you like a train. Rivulets of warm tears rolled down your cheeks, only to be swept away by Bucky’s gentle hand. With a small shake of your head, you did your best to banish the feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Wallowing would only make you more miserable. And you didn’t need emotional pain on top of the physical agony that already plagued you.

“Well, joke’s on him,” you shrugged, “cause I’m still alive.” Pain radiated through your chest, bringing a grimace to your face. “Kind of.”

Bucky didn’t understand how you could just dismiss the bad feelings. Couldn’t understand your propensity for levity. Your partner left you for dead without a second thought- and yet, you found a way to joke about it. It was something he’d always admired about you, something he wished he was capable of.

You gave a strained laugh, “I can’t wait to see the look on Jake’s face when he finds out that I didn’t die.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what prompted him to say it. It left his mouth without his brain’s authorization.

“But you did.”

He wished to take the words back, but it was too late. They hung in the air, just out of his reach.

“I…” you struggled to grasp Bucky’s words. “I what?”

This was not the time- or the place, or the way- to tell you the truth. But he didn’t have a choice. His clumsy words made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.

“You, um…” Bucky didn’t want to think about what happened, let alone say it out loud. But he owed it to you to be honest. Especially after Jake had lied to you about being a trustworthy partner. Bucky scratched at the stubble on his face, ran a hand through his hair. Anything to delay the inevitable. But he couldn’t put it off for long. “Your heart stopped- you died. On the jet.”

Only one word fell from your lips, “Oh…”

“And while I’m at it, I might as well tell you that…” Bucky took a deep inhale. He was in too deep now. And keeping this from you any longer felt like lying. “That your ribs are broken because of me.”

A quizzical look crossed your face, “what do you mean?”

“I mean… the med team was short staffed on the jet. There were only three of them. And when you crashed, it was- it was an all hands on deck situation.” He flashed back to the moment when the alarms sounded. When your EKG flatlined. A shudder ran through him. “They needed me to do chest compressions. And I- I didn’t want to hurt you, but the nurse said I wasn’t pushing hard enough to actually help you. And when I pushed harder- I broke your ribs.”

Bucky searched your face for something- anything. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. But he found nothing. Your expression was as neutral as they come. He feared that something lingered just below the surface. That once you fully processed his words, you’d erupt into a perfect storm of disgust and disappointment.

He told himself to wait silently until you made up your mind. But the outburst exploded from his lips before he could stop it. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You know I’d never want to hurt you, I would never do anything to hurt you. But I… they told me I had to push harder. Or it wasn’t going to work. And I just wanted it to work, I wanted you to be okay, and-”

It took almost all of your strength to raise your hand and place a finger to Bucky’s lips. He fell silent.

“Buck, it’s okay.”

He tried to form a rebuttal, but you cut him off.

“You didn’t have to rescue me, but you did. No questions asked, no hesitation. You saved my life by getting me out of there. And you saved me again by helping the med team.” Your hand drifted from Bucky’s face and landed in his palm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bucky didn’t say anything else. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your palm. His eyes fell downward. You could almost see the shame eating him alive from the inside.

“Hey,” you intertwined your fingers with his. “I can handle a few broken ribs.”

“No, I- I know you can. I just…” A sad smiled flickered across his lips. “I feel terrible. You went through a lot. And I just don’t like knowing I made it worse.”

A long silence filled the room. You’d seen this side of Bucky more times than you could count. And you knew him well enough to know what followed. He was going to feel bad- terrible, actually- about this for a while. There was no accelerating the process or absolving him of his guilt. No amount of reassurances could save him from it. He just had to sit with it. One day, the weight would diminish. But it was going to take time. And that was okay.

You gave his hand a squeeze. “I thought your voice was a hallucination, you know.”

Bucky lifted his head.

“And when you came into the room, I actually thought that was a hallucination, too.” A smile stretched across your face, “I mean, I thought I was losing my mind.”

Bucky gave a half-hearted chuckle. He didn’t want to think about you in that room by yourself. About you struggling to tell what was real.

“But then you touched me…” You raised your hand and brushed it across your cheek, mimicking him. “And that’s when I realized that you were real- that you were there.” You fell quiet for a moment, lost in the memory of Bucky’s rescue. “It was like, in that moment, I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t scared of the pain. I wasn’t scared of dying. I was just scared that…”

“What?”

“You have to promise not to laugh,” you told him with an authoritative tone. “Cause I know it’s corny, or cheesy, or whatever.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky drew an X over his heart. “I’m not gonna laugh at you.”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes, sizing up his promise. But, of course, you knew Bucky would never tease or ridicule you about something like this.

“Okay, fine, I um… I was scared that I’d never see you again. If I died, I mean.”

Bucky’s lungs emptied. He couldn’t remember how to breathe, how to speak. A sudden ache ripped through his heart as it splintered and shattered into a million pieces. To know that you thought of him in what you believed were your last moments somehow ripped him apart and put him back together all at once.

Your voice cracked. Tears filled your eyes. “I was afraid that we’d already run out of time. I was afraid that we weren’t going to get any more.” A few soft sobs escaped from your throat, followed by a pained groan. But you pushed passed the throbbing in your chest. “But I was so relieved. Because I got to see you one last time. It was the most intense sense of peace I’ve ever experienced.”

Bucky struggled to hold on to his composure. He felt himself crumbling, weakening under the weight of your words.

“But then I realized- I realized I’d never get to tell you. And you kept saying we could talk later, but I didn’t know if there would be a ‘later’. And when I blacked out, I was so full of…” You shook your head ever so slightly, sending a few tears dripping onto your cheeks. “I had so much regret. Because I needed you to know.”

“To know what?” Bucky leaned in close, searching your face for any inkling, any clue. “Doll, it’s ‘later’. Tell me- whatever it is. You can tell me now, it’s-”

Your lips met his in a soft kiss. In it, everything you’d ever felt for him came rushing forward. Admiration. Longing. Lust. Obsession. Adoration. Love.

A sting of pain jolted through you as your split lip brushed his, but you didn’t care. His hands found your face, your fingers curled into the collar of his shirt. It was always supposed to be this way.

When the two of you finally separated, Bucky simply stared at you. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he knew how.

“I love you, Buck. I’ve loved you- for so long.” A huff left your chest, “So. Long.”

Still, Bucky remained silent. Nerves began crawling through you like vines, twisting their way through every fiber of your being. But you owed it to yourself, and to Bucky, to tell him the truth.

“And I just… I know how you see yourself. And I know you don’t think you’re even worthy of my friendship, let alone love. But I was so anxious, cause I thought you’d never know the truth. I thought I’d die without getting to tell you. And you’d live the rest of your life thinking that you’re not worthy, that no one could ever love you. But I- I love you. I just needed you to know.”

The silence made your ears ring. Bucky’s face still wore a mask of bewilderment. And you feared you’d ruined everything.

“You don’t have to say it back, though,” you said. “I’m not gonna stop being your friend if this is an unrequited thing.”

Finally, Bucky came back to life. He rolled his eyes and let a scoff escape his lips. He leaned in close, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours. “Unrequited? I broke every SWORD rule and policy. Abducted medical staff. Stole a jet. And went on an unauthorized mission. All to get you back. I didn’t even know if you were alive, I just- I had to bring you home.”

He closed the small gap that remained between your face and his and granted you warm, gentle kiss that tasted like home. “I did all that- and you thought there was even a chance that I didn’t love you back?” Bucky gave a playful roll of his eyes, “you don’t know me at all, sweetheart.”

You returned his eye roll. "Well, you're a really great friend to me. And you always have been. So, I didn’t take a rescue as a proclamation of love,” you gave a strained chuckle. “I just thought-”

“I’ve loved you for…” Bucky thought back over the course of your friendship. The day you first met, the first time you helped him through a panic attack, the time he made you the ugliest cake in the world for your birthday. He saw his life in two parts: before he met you and after he met you. And he so preferred the after.

“I don’t even know how long,” he shrugged. It was almost automatic. His feelings for you didn’t need a slow, gradual build up. They descended upon him all at once, like the world’s most beautiful avalanche. “It’s been a long time- an embarrassing amount of time, probably,” he laughed.

“Oh, so we’re both cowards then,” you shot him a wink. “Too afraid to tell the other how we feel.”

Bucky nodded, “It seems that way…”

“But you weren’t too scared to steal a jet and run into possible gun fire?” you quipped.

“Nope. Didn’t even think about it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I just wanted to find you.”

You’d never experienced a love- a commitment- like that. It sent a rush of warmth into your cheeks and somehow eased the pain plaguing your body. You knew in your heart you would’ve done the same for Bucky without a second thought. But knowing that he was so fiercely determined to bring you home felt almost unbelievable. You had the proof, though, right there in front of you. This man, who you loved, loved you too. And loved you enough to risk his life for you. It wasn’t something you’d ever ask him to do, and you knew you’d never have to. He’d do it without hesitation. Without reservation. He’d walk through fire for you if it meant bringing you home.

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shybluebirdninja · 7 months ago

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Clawsome Dad

Summary: When Logan mistakenly thinks you’re pregnant (you're not), he gets way too excited about baby names and starts building a baby-proof bunker in the backyard.

Pairing : Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader

Note : fluff

It all started with Logan catching you looking at a baby onesie at the store—once. You didn’t even touch the thing, just smiled at it for like, two seconds before moving on to the checkout. But that was enough for Logan. His superhuman reflexes missed nothing. You hadn’t even gotten through the door before he had this weird look on his face—half intense, half like he was about to tear through the drywall with his claws.

“Babe?” he asked, voice low, as if he were interrogating a witness. “Is there somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

You blinked at him, setting down the groceries. “Uh… no?”

Logan stepped closer, sniffing the air around you. You rolled your eyes. This man and his feral senses. “You’re sure? Nothin’... different?” he pressed, like he was waiting for you to drop some major bombshell.

“I’m sure, Logan. What’s with the third degree? Did I do something?” you asked, confused.

Then it hit you. His eyes flickered to your stomach, and you nearly choked.

Oh hell no.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you held up your hand, waving off the insanity that was clearly brewing in his head. “I am not pregnant.”

Logan frowned, not entirely convinced. “But you were lookin’ at that baby crap in the store—”

“I looked at a onesie for two seconds, Logan! It was cute, that’s all! Doesn’t mean I’m knockin’ out kids tomorrow!” you laughed, but the man didn’t seem amused.

“No baby?” he repeated, brows knitting together like he wasn’t entirely sure you knew how your own body worked.

“NO baby, Logan. Geez,” you reiterated, shaking your head, but the damage was already done.

Over the next couple of days, things got weird. He started acting real strange—asking you about baby names out of nowhere while you were brushing your teeth.

“Thoughts on ‘James Jr.’?” he muttered casually, mid-toothbrush stroke.

You spat out toothpaste, staring at him through the mirror. “James Jr.? Are you serious?”

Logan shrugged. “Seems practical. What, you don’t like it?”

“I—Logan, we are not naming a non-existent kid right now. Where’s this comin’ from?” You were barely containing your laughter. The man could take down an entire squad of bad guys without breaking a sweat, but the idea of potential parenthood had him spiraling into this dad mode that was both terrifying and hilarious.

The worst of it came when you caught him in the backyard, shirtless, sweat dripping, hammering away at something… with adamantium claws fully out. It was definitely not a normal Saturday activity, even for Logan.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, hands on your hips as you watched him drive metal sheets into the ground like a crazed man.

“Buildin’ a bunker,” he replied gruffly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“A what?”

“A baby-proof bunker. Ain’t no kid of mine growin’ up in a death trap house,” Logan muttered, slamming another panel into place. “This world’s dangerous, and that’s just the neighbors.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “You—what? Baby-proof… Logan, we don’t even have a baby.”

Logan stopped hammering for a second, looking at you like you were the one missing something here. “But we might, right? Gotta be prepared.”

You slapped your forehead, trying not to lose it. “Prepared for what? An apocalypse where the baby needs a bunker to survive? Babe, seriously, there’s no baby. You don’t need to go full Rambo on the backyard.”

“I’m always prepared,” he grumbled, but there was a glint of uncertainty in his eyes. You could tell he wasn’t ready to back down, though. Logan was never the type to half-ass anything—especially not something he deemed necessary.

By now, the neighbors had definitely noticed. Old Mrs. Jenkins from next door was peeking over the fence with a terrified expression. She whispered something about Logan being a “madman,” which wasn’t entirely untrue in this case.

You sighed, walking up to him and grabbing the hammer from his hand. “Alright, Mr. Clawhammer, we’re done here. Come inside before you scare the rest of the neighborhood.”

Logan hesitated, claws still out. “But—”

“No buts, babe. Unless you’re ready to explain to Mrs. Jenkins why you’re preparing for baby Armageddon, you’re gonna stop now,” you said firmly, dragging him toward the house. “I swear, the last thing we need is for someone to call the cops on your baby-proofing bunker. We’re not even pregnant!”

He let out a gruff noise, retracting his claws with a reluctant snikt. “You sure ‘bout that?” he asked, still looking unconvinced as you pushed him through the door.

You smacked his arm lightly. “Yes, I’m sure. But if I ever do get pregnant, I’m not raising a kid in a damn underground fortress like we’re in some post-apocalyptic wasteland, got it?”

Logan smirked, the edge of his grumpy attitude softening. “Fine, no bunker. But I ain’t changin’ my mind on James Jr.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back with a cocky grin.

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pitlanepeach · 20 days ago

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Radio Silence | Chapter Nineteen

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, teeth-rotting fluff, mentions of minor ptsd, the "do you want kids" talk, therapy, sexual content.

Notes — The queen of fluff strikes again. They're so in love it hurts. Enjoy this intermission from the angst before we get to Spa.

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

2021 (Hungary)

Max was having headaches.

Not debilitating, not anything he would admit needed painkillers. But Amelia noticed the way he squinted at the sim screen, how he blinked a little too often under the harsh lights, how he’d logged fewer hours this week than he had since he was seventeen.

She didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t want to push him.

But it gnawed at her, heavy and sour at the pit of her stomach.

Because she knew Max. Knew how he worked. If he thought for even a second that she might tell Christian or Helmut or, God forbid, the FIA, he'd lock it down even tighter, wrap himself up in barbed wire and throw away the key. Anything to stay in the car. Anything to win.

Still, it scared her. The idea that maybe the crash had done more damage than he was willing to admit. That maybe he was hiding it from her, from everyone, in order to be given the all clear to keep racing.

She leaned against the doorway to the RBR sim room one evening, arms crossed tight over her chest, watching him fight through another lap. He was good at pretending, but she saw the way his hand came up to the back of his neck when he thought no one was looking, how he massaged the side of his head, quick and angry like he could force the ache away.

Her fingers twitched at her side. She wanted to walk over. Put a hand on his shoulder. Make him stop. But she didn't.

Instead, she just said, quiet but steady, "Don’t be stupid, Max."

He flicked his eyes toward her, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, but didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

She already knew what he’d decided. And she already knew it would break her heart trying to change his mind.

—

Amelia sat at the kitchen island, watching her mom buzz around the kitchen, throwing together something that vaguely resembled a pasta salad. She scrunched her nose at the sight of it, half-finished, but already tragic, and fought the urge to say something. She hadn’t been lying to Lando over a year ago, standing in her garage, when she’d told him her mom was really only capable of cooking one thing successfully. And there was definitely no chicken in sight.

Her iPad was open in front of her, specs from the latest floor upgrade zoomed in on the screen, but she wasn’t really looking at them. Not properly. She was too focused on the strange, unsettled feeling curling in her stomach.

This was her first time at home for weeks, maybe even over a month, and she’d missed it, she had. She really had.

But something felt… different. Off, in a way she couldn’t quite pin down.

“I think I should get my own place,” she said eventually, voice quiet but certain.

Her mom spun around, salad tong still in hand, blinking fast. “You— you don’t want to live at home anymore?”

Amelia shrugged, trying to find the right words. “No, it’s not that. It’s not that I don’t like it here. It’s just…” She trailed off for a second, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I feel like a nomad. I’m living out of hotels most of the time. And when I am in England, I’m split between here, Glastonbury with Lando, and Milton Keynes at Max’s flat. I have all these different places that feel half-mine. But nowhere that’s actually mine, you know?”

Her mom set the salad tongs down carefully, a little crease forming between her eyebrows. She didn’t look angry.

Amelia pressed on, rushing a little now in case she’d somehow managed to made her mom sad. “I still love it here. I do. But it feels like… like my childhood home, you know? Not my current home.”

There was a small beat of quiet. Then her mom gave a soft, bittersweet smile. “That’s what’s supposed to happen, honey. You’re supposed to outgrow home. I’m glad you feel ready.”

Amelia relaxed a little, shoulders unclenching. Then her mom added, almost too casually, “Will you and Lando get a place together?”

Amelia blinked. “What? No— I mean—” She stopped herself, brain scrambling to catch up. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I just meant me. Like… by myself.”

Her mom laughed, warm and a little amused. “Well, think about it. You practically live with him already, in hotel rooms, but still… it counts.”

Amelia frowned, thinking it through like it was a math problem. “Oh. Yeah. That would… probably make more sense, wouldn’t it?” She mumbled. “I don’t particularly think I’d want to live alone, anyway. And I have gotten used to all of his stuff taking up my space—“

Her mom just smiled again, all knowing and fond, and went back to massacring the pasta salad.

—

Amelia smiled to herself and kept her head down, pencil scratching steadily across the paper in her lap. The rumble of the jet engine faded into white noise; background to the way her hand moved without much thought, the way it always did when her brain was chewing on something bigger than her.

Lando, sprawled out lazily in the aisle across from her, leaned over, curious. “What are you drawing, baby?”

Immediately, Amelia tilted the sketchbook away from him, tucking it protectively against her chest. Her ears burned hot. “Uh. Nothing. I mean—obviously something, but I don’t want to tell you.”

He stared at her for a long second, like he was trying to decode her, eyes narrowing slightly in that way that meant he wasn’t sure whether to push or leave it alone. Then he grinned, easy and warm. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

He leaned back, stretching his legs out.

Amelia ducked her head again, heart thudding faster than she wanted it to.

She wasn’t lying. She just… wasn’t ready to admit it out loud yet. Not to him, not to herself.

In the sketchpad, dozens of early concepts sprawled across the page; lines and curves and arrows scribbled in shorthand. A McLaren.

Not just any McLaren, either.

One capable of winning championships.

Lightweight rear end. Aerodynamic front wing for better rotation. A reimagined floor, designed with efficiency and flexibility in mind for whatever the regulation changes might throw their way in the next couple of years.

It was stupid, probably.

She didn’t work for McLaren. Never had, in any official capacity.

She was still Red Bull’s weapon — heralded by the press as Max’s saviour. Mini Newey. A hundred nicknames but never just her own, never just Amelia Brown.

But the ideas had crawled into her head after Silverstone and refused to leave. It had started with a little idle thought (If I could build him a car good enough to fight Max…) and now here she was.

She chewed on her pencil, staring at the half-formed shape of the nose, and tried not to think too hard about what it meant that she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything else.

—

They stopped in Belgium before ultimately traveling to Hungary. Lando had family there. Cousins, some distant and some much closer. They’d be too busy to do anything of the sort during the actual Belgium race week, so it was nice to be able to fit them in.

They visited a few over the course of the week; fleeting hellos, shared meals over chipped plates and loud, overlapping conversations. It was nice. Overwhelming, a little, but nice.

Lando introduced her to all of his relatives with a beaming smile and a dozen proud praises—"This is Amelia—yeah, my Amelia"—and she offered polite hellos, dodging kisses on cheeks and handshakes as politely as possible and then doing her best to keep up with the small talk when it was asked of her.

It was a little exhausting, mentally. The swirl of laughter, jokes she didn’t quite catch the punchline of, but Lando never pushed her too far. Never nudged her into the centre of things. He let her stay where she was comfortable, sometimes sliding his hand across her lower back when it got too much, or catching her eye from across a room with a soft, wordless smile.

Mostly, she ended up perched on the carpet with the kids, knees tucked under her, a tiny smile playing on her lips as she held up a toy car and explained, far too seriously, the engine type and manufacturer history. The toddlers listened with wide eyes, clutching their sticky-fingered toys and nodding solemnly as if they understood.

Later, in the car, as they drove back toward their hotel under the pale blue of evening, Amelia sat curled up in the passenger seat, hair pulled over one shoulder, a big blue stain on her blouse that was the product of finger-painting gone wrong.

Lando was quiet, his hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, the other tugging her knuckles gently onto his thigh. "You were really good with them," he said eventually, voice soft enough that she almost thought she'd imagined it.

She made a face. “Kids are easy. All you have to do is keep talking and occasionally shove something colourful at them.”

He laughed under his breath. A minute passed.

Then, casual, like he was asking if she wanted to stop for food, he asked, "Do you want kids?"

Amelia blinked, turning her head to stare at him in the half-light. "I— we don’t even live together," she said, blunt and a little incredulous.

Lando’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. "Well, we can change that."

She stared at him for a long second, watching the way his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. Like he wasn’t nervous. Like he meant it.

"Did you talk to my mom?" she asked suddenly.

He shot her a quick, confused glance. "What? No—why? Did you already—? I mean—"

“Okay. I would like to live with you," she said, cutting him off neatly.

For a second, he just blinked at her. And then he was smiling, wide and ridiculous, so big it looked like it physically hurt to contain it.

She giggled, reaching over to nudge his arm. "Stop making that face. You're going to scare the other drivers."

"I'm happy," he argued, grin stretching impossibly wider. "Let me be happy."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth gave her away. She settled back against her seat, watching the trees whip past the window, her heart full and a little chaotic.

"Who gets the bigger closet?" she asked after a beat.

He laughed, a low, warm sound. "You do. Obviously. I’ll just shove my stuff in a corner somewhere."

She nodded. “I do need a lot of closet room. I have two-hundred pairs of shoes.” A few seconds passed in comfortable silence before she tilted her head, thinking. "Where would we live?"

He didn’t miss a beat. "Monaco."

She wrinkled her nose, instinctively. "That's... a big change."

He glanced over, softer now, like he already knew she'd need a minute with the idea. "Just think about it, baby," he said. "Makes sense for me. Makes sense for you. No taxes. Close to Max if you stay with Red Bull. Close to everything else if you don't."

She chewed on her bottom lip, the weight of it settling on her. A new country. A new chapter. A real home; with him.

He smiled again, smaller this time but just as sure. "We could make it our home."

Amelia nodded slowly, feeling her brain already spinning into overdrive. "I need to make a list. Pros and cons. Things we’ll want in the apartment. Maybe a balcony?"

Lando just grinned, reaching over to squeeze her thigh. "Anything you want, baby."

—

“Do you think I’d be a good mom?”

Max froze mid-step, nearly tripping over his own feet. His eyes went wide, panic flashing across his face. “You—fuck, are you pregnant?”

His alarm might’ve had something to do with the fact that she was halfway under his car, only her legs and a shock of messy hair visible as she fiddled with a stubborn screw.

Amelia blinked, glancing up at him from beneath the chassis. “No. I’m just wondering.”

Max let out a breath so heavy it was basically a groan, dragging a hand down his face like he needed to physically wipe the terror off. “Fuck, don't do that to me, zusje. I nearly had a heart attack.”

She wriggled out from under the car, wiping her greasy hands on a rag as she sat back on her heels. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I’m being serious.”

Max crouched down beside her, arms draped loosely over his knees, studying her with a little more care now. “Okay... why are you thinking about that?” he asked, voice softer.

Amelia shrugged. “I was just thinking—if it ever happened, would I be good at it?”

Max’s face relaxed. “You’d be a great mother.”

She tilted her head, skeptical. “You’re just saying that because it’s what you’re supposed to say.”

He snorted. “No, I'm saying it because it’s true. You love very intensely, you’re honest even when it’s not easy, and you are protective and strong. That's exactly what children need from a parent.”

Amelia chewed on her lip. “Pregnancy is scary. Completely out of my control. Everything, anything, could go wrong.”

Max’s expression shifted, softening. “That’s not something you need to worry about yet.”

She hesitated, then said, almost too quietly, “I think Lando would be a good dad. And I want to give that to him. One day.”

Max nodded. “Then you will. When you’re ready, of course.”

Amelia pursed her lips, staring off to the side. “We... I think we’re going to move in together. Soon. Lando mentioned Monaco.”

Max immediately brightened. “Good! I’m there already. We could be neighbours.”

She blinked, absorbing that new piece of information, slotting it neatly into the mental checklist she was already building. “Oh. Are there any available apartments in your building?”

Max huffed a small laugh, like he hadn’t expected her to take his suggestion seriously. “I’m sure there are.”

She nodded firmly, already halfway down the rabbit hole of logistics. “Okay. That would be efficient.”

Max smiled at her, patient, fond. “I’m sure that you will find the perfect place, zusje. Don’t worry.”

Amelia nodded again, more to herself this time.

—

“We’re not living in Max’s building,” Lando said.

Amelia, perched cross-legged on the bed in his drivers room, immediately pouted. “Why not? It would make life so much simpler, Lan.”

He let out a short laugh, setting his phone down. “Look, I love Max, alright? But living that close to him would be... proper weird.”

Amelia tilted her head, frowning like he was speaking another language. “Why?”

Lando scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Imagine it. Every time we argue, he’s knocking on the door two minutes later—sticking up for you, making me feel like a right dickhead.”

She cracked a tiny smile but stayed stubborn. “But it would be efficient. And Max could help us fix things if something breaks.”

“Baby,” Lando said, laughing, “if something breaks, I’ll fix it. Or we’ll call someone. A professional. Not Max with a wrench and a YouTube tutorial.”

He reached over, tugging her socked foot into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I was thinking somewhere quieter anyway,” he added, softer now. “Away from the main city. Somewhere you can go on your little daily walks without bumping into tourists every five seconds.”

She perked up immediately. “My walks are important for my brain.”

“I know.” He smiled, running his thumb over her ankle. “I even asked Charles where he grew up. There are places, baby; small, quiet. Still close enough if we need to get into town. He said the air’s cleaner too.”

Amelia tapped her fingers against her knee, thoughtful. “Cleaner air is good. Better for respiratory health.”

Lando chuckled and tugged her closer until she half-fell into his side with a tiny yelp. “Exactly. So let’s find somewhere ours, yeah?”

She tucked her head under his chin, breathing him in. “Okay. But if Max gets upset, you have to deal with it.”

Lando grinned against her hair. “I can handle a grumpy Verstappen.”

—

They were curled up in their hotel room, watching the latest episode of Grill the Grid the night before qualifying.

Amelia sat between Lando’s legs, her back pressed against his chest. He had her squished close, big hands sprawled comfortably across her stomach, pressing just enough to ground her, to help her breathe a little easier.

It’d been a rough day for Max, and the stress had bled into her too. Finally being still, finally letting herself relax, felt like a blessing.

She fiddled absently with her golf ball, thumb tracing lazy circles over the surface, half-listening, until the first trivia question came up.

Without hesitation, she rattled off the answer.

By the third question, Lando was laughing, reaching for the remote to pause the video after each one. “Alright, genius,” he teased, chin nudging the top of her head. “You get first go. Beat all of us.”

She answered every time without missing a beat.

He kept pausing, and she kept getting them all right, and after a while Lando wasn’t even pretending to be surprised anymore. He just squeezed her a little tighter and said, “Smarty pants.”

Amelia smiled, small and shy but real.

Lando pressed a kiss into her hair. “I should start taking you to pub quizzes. I’d make a fortune.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she didn’t pull away.

—

She felt... clingy.

Sitting next to Lando in hospitality, she stared at him, hands itching, burning to reach out, to grab him and never let go.

It had started yesterday. A coil of anxiety tightening in her stomach, left over from Silverstone. Aftershocks, she supposed.

She’d googled it, of course. Trauma responses. Hyper-vigilance. Perfectly normal, the internet said.

She didn’t feel normal.

She kissed Lando goodbye before qualifying, smiling as best she could, and ignored the way her hands trembled when she pulled away. She didn’t look back, even though everything inside her screamed to.

If it were up to her, none of them would be taking part in the weekends running.

Not Lando. Not Max. Not Fernando. Not anyone.

She caught herself before the spiral could dig deeper, bracing one palm against the wall of the motorhome and forcing a deep breath.

She couldn’t live like this. Couldn’t let one crash, no matter how terrifying, poison the thing she loved. The thing they all loved.

But reason didn’t quiet the fear.

It didn't steady her hands as she watched Lando climb into his cockpit on the livestream.

It didn’t stop her from hugging Max tighter than usual, long enough that he gave her a puzzled little look before he was called away.

Even GP noticed. He kept glancing over, subtle but persistent. “You okay?” he asked, at least a dozen times throughout the session.

Every time, Amelia just nodded without looking at him, glued to the data, clinging to logic, to numbers, to anything she could control.

It helped. A little.

—

Lando out-qualified Daniel by a mile.

He was cocky and proud, chest puffed out as he peeled her dress off later that night, caught between frantic and careful.

His mouth was hot against her neck, pulling soft, desperate sounds from her lips, her back arching into him. Then his hand tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

He was smirking. Full of adrenaline. Hungry. “You think I deserve a reward for my performance?”

Amelia blinked up at him, sweet and soft and unbearably hot. “Anything you want, Lan.”

—

The next morning, she clung to him, legs tangled with his, her hands wrapped tightly around his wrists. Holding him, having him, needing him close. The warmth of his body against hers felt like the only thing that was grounding her.

He kissed her nose, then her forehead, her cheeks, and chin, finally landing on her lips. The slow, deliberate kiss deepened, but she pulled away just enough to speak.

“I think I need to talk to somebody. A therapist, probably.”

Lando froze, his fingers still brushing against her skin, a soft hesitation in his touch. “You’re... Fuck, I knew something was up. I could feel it, but I didn’t know for sure.”

She gave him a steady, matter-of-fact look, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Yeah, that’s because I hid it from you. Didn’t want you to worry."

His face softened, and the guilt crept in. “You should’ve told me, Amelia.”

She shrugged, her stomach twisting under the weight of his gaze. “I didn’t want you distracted…”

"Don’t be stupid." His words were sharp, but they didn’t make her flinch. His hand found the back of her neck, pulling her gently against him. “You tell me when you’re having a shit time, okay?”

She sighed, pressing her forehead to his. “Sorry.”

His fingers slid through her hair, his voice steady but soft. "No more hiding it. Right?"

She nodded, barely, but it was enough.

“We’ll find someone good for you to talk to,” he said after a beat, his hand moving to stroke her hair.

She rubbed the tip of her nose against his collarbone affectionately. “Okay.”

—

She popped her head into Fernando’s garage, offering him a soft smile. He came over, gave her a quick squeeze, and gestured proudly to his helmet. “Pretty, huh?”

She nodded, indulging him with a grin. “I like it. How are things going with Esteban?”

Fernando sighed. “Ah. He is… complicated. A good driver, but a terrible teammate. He does not see how both things can be true at once.”

She glanced over at Esteban’s side of the garage. “He’s passionate.”

Fernando nodded thoughtfully. “He is. That will be his greatest strength—and his greatest weakness.” He kissed her cheek and shooed her off. “Go, go, before Verstappen finds you here and threatens to keep you chained to his garage.”

She hugged him again, leaning in just close enough to murmur, “Adjust your ride height. Two centimetres higher.”

Before he could say anything, she gave him a sly smile and disappeared down the paddock.

—

She sat next to Checo in the strategy meeting, slouched low in her chair, sneaking cursory glances at him every time he slid his phone under the table toward her. They were playing chess; badly, if she was honest, but that was half the fun.

Checo would make a move, tilt the screen toward her, and wait, barely suppressing a smug grin. She'd frown, tap out a counter, and slide it back without a word.

No one else seemed to notice. Or if they did, they didn’t care.

Checo was a lot of fun. Easygoing. Quick to laugh. And, as it turned out, a little reckless with his queen.

Amelia pinned him in three moves flat.

Checo huffed under his breath, shaking his head at her. She just shrugged, eyes back on the screen at the front of the room like nothing had happened at all.

—

It was raining. Not hard, not anymore, but enough to slick the track and raise every hair on the back of Amelia’s neck.

She stood, stiff-backed, arms folded across her chest in the Red Bull garage, the whole world around her muffled and distant. She could hear the shrill whine of the engines as the formation lap wrapped, but it was like she was underwater. Distant. Fading.

Max was P3. Lando was P6. Fernando was lurking, dangerous as always. The Mercedes were ahead, unpredictable on a damp track.

Amelia flexed her fingers, breathing deep and slow.

The lights blinked above the front of the grid, one, two, three, four, five, and before she could even brace herself, the race started.

Chaos.

Immediate, all-consuming chaos.

Bottas missed his braking point into Turn 1 and plowed into Lando. She didn’t even see it happen, only saw Lando’s car snap sideways, broken, ruined, like a toy in the rain.

She flinched so hard she almost dropped her iPad.

And then Max—Max—

She watched it in horror, too slow to look away, as Max’s Red Bull got collected in the chain reaction, bodywork flying, his car crumpling along the side-pod.

Her knees buckled; she caught herself with a hand on the pitwall.

Someone shouted. Someone else was already running to grab spare front wings. Alarms buzzed in her headset, engineers yelling over one another.

“Max has heavy damage,” GP was saying into her ear through the comms device, voice low and tight. “We’re evaluating. Standby.”

Her hands trembled.

The cars crawled through the carnage, half the grid limping back toward the pitlane. She stared at Max’s car as it crept past, side torn open like a wounded animal, sparks flying out the bottom.

“Still going,” she heard someone say. "He's still going."

Somehow, Max was dragging the car around. Somehow, Lando had pulled off track without getting hit again.

The red flag was thrown. Race temporarily suspended.

Amelia let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding and pressed her forehead against the wall. Cold metal, cold air, cold panic.

She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder — once, solid and grounding. Probably an engineer who hadn’t been briefed, but they were lucky, their touch felt good, and didn’t make her want to tear off her skin.

She nodded, to herself, to anyone watching her, making sure she was good.

Didn't trust herself to speak yet.

—

Lando was out.

Too much damage. Retired on lap two.

Max was luckier. He kept going, dragging a half-broken chassis to the finish line, scraping whatever points he could.

Esteban won. His first victory.

Amelia watched from the back of Lando’s garage as the Frenchman stepped onto the top step of the podium, soaking in the moment.

Lando’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

She didn’t need him to say anything — she could feel it. The bitter edge of jealousy under his skin, the tight set of his jaw.

“It’ll come,” she muttered, more promise than reassurance, her mind flicking to her sketchbook, to the concepts she hadn't shown anyone yet — the ones that could take him all the way.

The chassis she’d created with two particular drivers in mind.

Lando squeezed her tighter.

—

Summer break came just when she needed it.

She and Lando flew back to Monaco with Max, crashing in his guest room while they started apartment hunting.

Well… Lando did most of the hard work. Talking to estate agents, putting out feelers.

Amelia kept herself busy playing with Jimmy and Sassy, who decided almost immediately that she was their new favorite human.

She didn't mind. The cats were easy company, curling up on her lap or following her around the flat as Lando scrolled through listings and Max grumbled about all the overpriced places in the area.

It felt good, normal, even, to slow down. To just exist for a little while, tucked away in the hazy warmth of a Monegasque summer, surrounded by people (and animals) who loved her.

—

They fell in love with the first place they viewed.

If Amelia believed in fate, she might have called it that.

Lando stood back and watched as she wandered through the apartment; past the galley kitchen, onto the balcony, big enough for a table, a chair, maybe even a canopy swing if she wanted.

Two bedrooms, three bathrooms. A master suite and a double. A massive living room, an even bigger office.

She could already see it: herself at a big desk, sketching new concepts as sunlight poured through the wall of windows.

She found Lando in the kitchen, deep in conversation with the property agent.

When he glanced up, she was already beaming at him.

—

They spent two weeks of summer break, the rare stretch when neither of them had to be working full-time, Lando free from training camps, Amelia unchained from the factory, tucked away in the South of France.

It felt like stepping into another life. Long mornings spent tangled up in crisp hotel sheets, slow breakfasts on sun-drenched balconies overlooking sleepy coastal towns. They rented a little convertible and drove with no real destination, winding through golden hills and lavender fields, the radio humming low between them.

Amelia wore tiny sundresses and braided her hair, and Lando kept finding excuses to kiss her bare shoulders. They swam in cold, clear water until their fingers wrinkled, then collapsed on the beach, salt still clinging to their skin.

At night, they fell into bed full of good food and exhausted.

It wasn’t some extravagant, carefully curated holiday. It was just… easy.

And somewhere between the lazy afternoons and the late-night kisses, Amelia stared at him and thought, “I could spend the rest of my life with you.”

—

The evening was warm, a soft breeze rustling the leaves around them. Lando had set up a speaker on the patio, the faint sound of acoustic guitar playing in the background, but they weren’t paying much attention to the music. Amelia was sitting on the edge of a chair, arms loosely draped over her knees, looking out at the stars above. Lando was sitting on the stone steps, watching her.

“So, how was it?” He asked.

Amelia smiled faintly, but her eyes were tired. “It was… fine,” she started, kicking the edge of the chair with her foot, watching the dust float up into the air. “A bit awkward, but that’s probably normal. Online therapy, you know?” She rolled her eyes, but there was a lightness to her tone, as if she was still trying to find the right words. “It felt like… trying to untangle a knot in my brain, but someone else was holding the other end.”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, shifting on the stairs so he was facing her more. “I get that. Did she—” He paused, checking her expression, making sure she was okay. “Did she help at all?”

Amelia shrugged, a soft exhale escaping her. “Not yet. I mean, we talked about a lot of stuff. Things I didn’t realise were connected, you know? I think it’ll take a few sessions for it to click. It’s hard to explain. But I felt… heard, I guess. Which is something.”

Lando nodded again, his gaze softening. “Proud of you, baby.” He looked over at the empty space beside him. “Come here.”

She raised an eyebrow but stood up, moving to join him. As she sat beside him on the steps, she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re really good at this whole comfort thing.”

Lando chuckled, sliding an arm around her waist. “I try my best.” After a beat, he stood up, holding out a hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Amelia looked at him, surprised, but the quiet night seemed to make everything feel a little more possible. She took his hand with a grin. “We’re really doing this?”

Lando smiled, tugging her to her feet. “Why not? It’s a slow song.”

The music played on, soft and gentle, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Just moved together, swaying under the dim glow of the patio lights, with the sound of the wind and distant waves in the background. Amelia closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the moment settle into her chest, her heart still thudding, but in a different way now.

“You know, you’ve been pretty great,” she murmured after a while, her hand resting against his chest. “With everything.”

Lando’s smile was barely visible in the dark, but she felt it in the way he pulled her just a little closer. “Always.”

She closed her eyes.

Always sounded pretty good.

NEXT CHAPTER

#radio silence #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x ofc #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 rpf #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #formula one imagine #lando fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando imagine #lando x reader

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galaxy-stardust · 3 months ago

Text

Simon Ghost Riley x you

He takes you on a trip...

The moment you stepped out of the vehicle and into the dense forest, you already knew this was going to be a disaster. The damp earth, the looming trees, the distant sounds of God-knows-what skittering through the underbrush—it all set your nerves on edge.

You crossed your arms, glaring at Simon, who stood beside you, looking completely at ease. His gear was strapped perfectly, his stance relaxed. This was his world. Not yours.

"Tell me again," you grumbled, "why am I here?"

"Team bonding, love," Simon said smoothly, adjusting his backpack. His mask was pulled up just enough for you to see the smirk playing on his lips. "Figured you'd enjoy a little adventure."

"Simon, I hate camping," you reminded him, swatting at a mosquito that dared to get close. "And I hate everything that lives out here. The second I see a spider, I'm done."

He chuckled, clearly entertained by your misery. "Oh, you're adorable when you're grumpy."

You shot him a glare, but it only made his smirk widen. He handed you a small backpack. "C'mon, we’ve got ground to cover before nightfall."

You groaned but followed him, reluctantly weaving through the trees. Every snapped twig made you flinch, every shadow between the trees made your mind conjure up the worst possibilities. Simon, on the other hand, was completely in his element.

After what felt like forever, you finally reached the so-called "campsite"—which, to your horror, was just an empty clearing with no actual shelter.

"Where’s the cabin?" you asked, dread pooling in your stomach.

Simon arched a brow. "Cabin?"

"Yes, cabin. Y'know, four walls, a roof, a door to keep nature outside?"

He shook his head, amused. "You really think I’d bring you all the way out here for that?"

You threw your hands up. "I thought 'survival training' meant, like... learning cool skills. Not suffering in the wilderness overnight!"

Simon laughed, setting down his bag and beginning to set up camp. "This is learning cool skills. And suffering builds character."

You huffed and plopped down onto a nearby log, arms crossed.

"Aw, don’t pout," he teased, coming up behind you. His hands rested on your shoulders, thumbs kneading the tense muscles there. "You’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you."

You wanted to be mad, but damn it, he was warm, solid, and now his lips were brushing the side of your neck.

"That won’t work on me," you muttered, but you didn’t push him away.

"No?" His voice dropped, rough and teasing. "Not even if I do this?"

He nipped at your earlobe, hands slowly sliding down your arms, his breath hot against your skin. Your body betrayed you, a small shiver running down your spine.

You sighed. "You're so annoying."

"But you love it," he murmured, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw.

Your frustration at the whole situation was starting to melt, replaced by a different kind of heat. You turned in his arms, meeting his gaze—dark, knowing, and full of mischief.

"You’re gonna have to make this trip very worth it, Riley," you murmured, gripping the front of his vest and pulling him closer.

He chuckled, his lips hovering just above yours. "Oh, love, you have no idea."

Simon’s lips brushed against yours, teasing, barely touching, making you chase after him. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing—dangling relief in front of you just to pull away at the last second.

“You’re still mad at me?” he murmured, voice low, rumbling in his chest.

You narrowed your eyes. “Furious.”

“Mm.” His hands slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “That’s a shame… Thought you’d be grateful I brought you out here. Just you, me, and all this privacy.”

You huffed, your fingers gripping the straps of his tactical vest. “Privacy for what, exactly? Freezing our asses off in the dirt?”

Simon chuckled, that deep, gravelly sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Well, I was thinking something a little warmer.” His hands slipped lower, fingertips grazing the curve of your hips. “Something to keep your mind off all the creepy crawlies you hate so much.”

Your pulse quickened. Even with the cool evening air settling in, his body was hot against yours, solid, unmovable. He had that look in his eyes—the one that told you he was enjoying every second of this game.

You licked your lips, eyes flicking to his. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

Simon smirked. In a swift motion, he hooked an arm under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, making you squeak in surprise.

“Simon!”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence as he carried you toward the tent he’d just set up. “Can’t have my girl sitting out in the cold, can I?”

He stepped inside, setting you down onto the sleeping bag with an ease that had no right to be that attractive. The tent was just big enough for the two of you, the space close, intimate.

You looked up at him, your breath catching as he shrugged off his vest and unzipped his jacket, revealing the black shirt underneath that clung to his broad chest. His mask was still in place, but his eyes - dark, hungry - never left yours.

Then, slowly, he knelt between your legs.

Your heart pounded. “You’re really trying to make me forget how much I hate camping, aren’t you?”

Simon smirked. “That depends.” His hands slid up your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “Is it working?”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your belly.

“…Maybe.”

His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he leaned in, his mouth hovering over yours, teasing you once more.

“Good,” he murmured, voice rough. “Because I plan on keeping you very occupied all night, love.”

The night had been hot in more ways than one, and despite your initial hatred for camping, Simon had done a damn good job making you forget where you were. His touch, his voice, the way he took his time breaking you down under him - all of it had left you breathless, tangled in each other until exhaustion finally claimed you both.

Now, as morning broke, the tent was bathed in soft, golden light. You stirred first, the crisp morning air slipping through the small opening in the tent, cooling your overheated skin. Simon was still asleep beside you, an arm draped possessively over your waist, his body warm against yours.

Careful not to wake him, you slipped out of the tent, stretching as you took in the view.

And damn, it was beautiful.

The sun was just beginning to rise over the treetops, casting the sky in brilliant shades of orange, pink, and gold. Mist curled along the forest floor, and for the first time since arriving, you actually felt a sense of peace. Maybe - maybe - this whole survival trip wasn’t the worst idea after all.

With a satisfied sigh, you grabbed the small camping stove Simon had packed and started making coffee, the rich scent filling the crisp air. You wrapped your hands around the warm mug, enjoying the view, letting yourself bask in the peaceful aftermath of last night.

And then.

Something moved.

You felt it before you saw it - a slight rustling near your feet. A shadow skittering at the edge of your vision.

You froze.

Slowly, your eyes flicked downward.

There, just inches from your bare feet, was an enormous, hairy-legged spawn of Satan itself - a spider the size of your goddamn palm.

You screamed.

The coffee mug hit the ground with a thud as you launched yourself backward, scrambling toward the tent. “*SIMON!*”

A second later, the tent flap whipped open, and a very bare Simon burst out, looking every bit like a man ready to murder someone. His knife was already in his hand, his sleep-roughened voice sharp. “What?! What is it?!”

You pointed frantically at the eight-legged demon scuttling across the dirt. “*THAT!*”

Simon blinked. Then he looked at you. Then back at the spider.

And the bastard laughed.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He ran a hand down his face, sighing before moving toward the spider with absolutely no urgency. With a swift flick, he nudged it away with the tip of his boot, sending it skittering back into the woods. “Drama queen.”

Your heart was still pounding. “That thing wanted me dead, Simon.”

He smirked, stepping closer, his bare chest distracting you from your fury. “Nah, think it just wanted your coffee.”

You shoved at him weakly, still shaken. “Not funny.”

Simon only chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. He was warm, solid, and far too smug for your liking. “Thought I wore you out too much to be screaming first thing in the morning.” His lips brushed your ear, teasing. “Nice to know you’ve still got energy, love.”

You huffed but melted into his hold anyway, burying your face in his chest. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get you another coffee before you start crying over bugs again.”

You sighed, letting him guide you back to the fire, already regretting every life decision that led you to this moment.

Camping was officially back on your shit list.

But, damn it… he made it worth it.

#cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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skyguytoast · 12 days ago

Text

GENERAL! ANAKIN X SITH!READER: PART TWO (+18)

@hellokittyyloverrrr i said i'd write a part two just for u, so, take me some time, but i finally finish.... hope you enjoy ;)

“This isn't how I imagined a Republic interrogation room to be,” you drawled with mock surprise, lashes fluttering as the black hood was pulled off your head. The dim room came into focus—red-tinted lights, heavy velvet curtains, the scent of cigarettes and sex lingering in the air. Your messy hair fell across your face and you blew it out of your eyes, surveying the space with growing amusement.

Not a cruiser. Not a detention cell. And definitely not Jedi Temple protocol.

Your wrists burned faintly from the coarse rope binding them behind the chair. You shifted slightly, testing your range. You weren’t worried. Not yet.

“I’ve seen cleaner brothels,” you added, lifting a brow.

Across from you, General Anakin Skywalker flinched. Just a fraction. But it was enough. He stiffened like you’d struck a nerve, then coughed as if to cover it, stepping into the pool of moody red light that painted the center of the room. His tunic was slightly undone at the collar, his gloved hands flexing at his sides. Agitated.

Perfect.

“There wasn’t time for proper transport,” he said coolly, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. “You’re too dangerous to be left unsecured.”

“Mmm. Dangerous,” you repeated, tasting the word. “Now that’s a compliment. Especially coming from the Republic’s golden boy.”

You leaned back in the chair, legs crossing slowly, deliberately. The hem of your dark tunic slipped a little higher on your thigh, and Anakin’s gaze dropped before he snapped it back up with a clenched jaw.

Stars, this was fun.

“So,” you continued sweetly, “how long do you plan to keep me tied up in this charming little love shack?”

His mouth opened, then shut. He looked like he’d swallowed a sun. “As long as it takes for you to talk.”

“I am talking,” you teased, flashing a wicked grin. “Though I don’t think that’s what you meant, hmm?”

“Don’t play games.”

“Oh, General—” you leaned forward just enough to make him uncomfortable, voice low and syrupy, “you brought me to a motel and tied me to a chair. Who’s playing games, really?”

His blue eyes darkened. You saw the flash of conflict there—the sharp edge of discipline battling the heat simmering just beneath it. It thrilled you. He was trying so hard to be the Jedi. Calm. Controlled. Unshakable.

But you were already in his head, and you both knew it.

“You think you’ve got control,” he said tightly. “But you’re the one restrained.”

You tilted your head, smiling with dangerous innocence. “Restrained, sure. But not powerless. You didn’t hand me over to the Council. You didn’t even log my capture. That means this is personal.”

That last word hung in the air, electric and heavy.

Anakin’s jaw tensed. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

You slowly shifted your hands behind your back, not to escape—yet—but just to remind yourself that you could, if you really wanted to. “Or maybe,” you whispered, “you didn’t want to let me go.”

A beat of silence passed between you.

Then, you smiled, triumphant.

“See, General? I might be tied to this chair… but I think you’re the one who’s trapped.”

“You don’t know anything,” Anakin snapped, his voice tight, raw—blistering with frustration. His cheeks flushed with color, betraying more than he wanted to admit.

But you only smiled, slow and wicked.

“Oh, maybe not?” you replied, arching a brow in playful mockery. You leaned back against the ropes, eyes glittering as they drank him in. “Because from where I’m sitting… it sure looks like I’m getting under that perfect Jedi skin of yours.”

Your gaze dragged down his body deliberately, then back up, watching how his jaw clenched under the weight of your words. “I mean, come on, darling,” you purred, voice soaked in sinful sweetness. “You’re supposed to be calm, composed, unattached—and here you are, pacing like a man about to detonate. If I touched you right now,” you leaned in, lips parting just slightly, “I think you'd catch fire.”

Anakin turned sharply, his boots thudding against the cheap motel floor as he paced. His cloak flared behind him, the tension coiling through his shoulders like a live wire. The room smelled like heat and dust and temptation—low red lighting throwing shadows across the wall, bottles of untouched liquor still sitting on the bed, remnants of an impulse he wasn’t even sure he could name.

He’d brought you here because you were dangerous. Because he needed control.

But somehow, you were the one in command.

Every shift of your body, every smirk or whisper wound itself around his will like a slow, strangling vine. You were dangerous in ways his lightsaber couldn’t defend against. He had mastered combat, outpaced his master, survived a high skilled combat test —but this? This pull, this maddening, molten craving?

It terrified him. And you knew it.

“Why do you keep fighting it, baby?” you asked softly, your voice like silk, like seduction wrapped in honey and sin. “You don’t have to play the Jedi tonight. No one’s watching. No code. No Council. Just us.”

He didn’t answer.

“Denying yourself?” you continued, voice dropping to a whisper. “It only makes it worse. You’ll break eventually, jedi. So why not just…” you licked your lips, tilting your head, “take what you want?”

Anakin stopped pacing.

The storm behind his eyes was raging now, and you could feel it—like the air before lightning strikes. He was fraying, splitting between duty and desire, between the man he had sworn to be and the one you saw clawing beneath his skin.

He stared at you like you were war and salvation all at once. And still, you smiled.

Anakin stood frozen, chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven breaths. Your words clung to the air like smoke, thick with heat and sin. The way you looked at him—those glittering, dangerous eyes and that wicked curve of your mouth—set his blood on fire in a way no lightsaber ever had.

“You play a dangerous game,” he growled, low and dark, every word roughened by the desire he could no longer bury. His fists clenched at his sides, his cloak twisting between tense fingers.

You just laughed—a slow, sultry sound, honey-sweet and sinful—leaning forward as much as the ropes would allow. They groaned in protest as you shifted, wrists bound behind the chair, the only thing stopping you from closing the distance and lighting the match between you.

“Is it a game, though?” you asked softly, head tilting, voice thick with challenge. “Or are you just... afraid?”

Anakin stepped forward.

Then another.

Until you could feel his presence like a heatwave, wrapping around your skin, licking up your spine. He was so close you could count every pretty detail across his cheekbone, feel the storm rising behind his blue eyes.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” he snapped, but his voice cracked—just slightly. A tremor ran through it like a fault line breaking. You saw it—the flicker of war in him. Between the man raised to follow rules, and the one who burned to break every last one of them for you.

You smiled. Wider. Bolder. Hungrier.

“Then prove it,” you whispered, words laced with heat and promise. “Show me you’re not just some golden boy shackled by Jedi vows. Show me you can feel.”

Your eyes dropped to his lips, then lifted again—slow, deliberate, daring.

“Kiss me, Jedi.”

Anakin’s breath hitched, heart pounding like thunder in a locked room. And in that moment, everything inside him snapped.

He reached out—no hesitation, no mercy—and cupped your face in his hand, his fingers weaving into your hair. The second your breath hitched in response, he leaned in. Close enough that your breaths mingled. That your lips nearly brushed.

And then he kissed you.

He kissed you like a man unraveling. Like a dam finally giving way. His mouth slanted over yours with a raw, ravenous hunger. Like he’d been waiting a lifetime and could wait no longer. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting you—claiming you. You met him with the same wild heat, like you'd been daring him for this from the moment you locked eyes.

The kiss was molten. Fierce. Desperate.

Hands tangled. Teeth grazed. Time fell away.

And at that moment, the galaxy didn’t exist. There was no war. No Jedi Code. No allegiance. Just you, and him, and the ache that pulsed like a second heartbeat between you.

When he finally pulled back, lips swollen, breath ragged, eyes wild—you looked at each other like you had just committed the most beautiful sin.

And Anakin knew, with terrifying clarity, that he was already lost.

But he didn’t care. Because right now, he had exactly what he wanted. What he needed.

You smiled in amusement, a flicker of provocation. “You’re a good kisser, I didn’t expect you to learn about this in Jedi training, I’m surprised, but not disappointed.”

Anakin's eyes flashed with a mix of pride and possessiveness at his words. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "There are many things they don't teach you in Jedi training," he murmured, voice low and rough with lingering desire. "But I've picked up a few skills on my own."

His hand slid down from your face to your neck, his thumb brushing over the racing pulse there. He could feel it fluttering wildly beneath his touch, just like his own heart. The proof of the effect he had on your only spurred on his boldness.

"And I'm not nearly done learning... and teaching," he added with a wicked grin, his eyes glinting with mischief and promise.

Anakin's other hand found your hip, squeezing the soft curve of it as he pulled your flush against him. He could feel every inch of your body now, pressed tight to his own. The swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips... it ignited a fire in his blood that he couldn't ignore. That he didn't want to ignore.

"You're playing with fire, sith," he warned, even as he leaned in to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of her skin. Something floral and sweet, with an underlying musk that makes your head spin. "You keep pushing me, and I might just... burn you."

His lips found your pulse point, and he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss there. He licked and sucked at the sensitive skin, determined to get some reaction out of you.

"You don't know what you're getting into," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I'm not a gentle man. Not when it comes to things... and people... I want."

"oh, no gentle? I suppose I'm not out of the loop on the jedi games" you pondered mischievously.

He punctured his words with a nip to your neck, just shy of painful. Enough to make you gasp, to feel the sharp stinging of his teeth. Enough to make you shudder against him, your body trembling with a need that matched his own.

Anakin pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with hunger and intent. His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, holding you tight. Keeping you pinned to him, trapped in his orbit.

"Tell me to stop," he challenged, voice rough and low. "Tell me you don't want this. That you don't burn for me like I burn for you."

He waited, barely breathing. His heart pounding wildly in his chest as he stared down at you, searching her face for any hint of hesitation or doubt.

But he knew you wouldn't say no. He could see it in your eyes, in the flush coloring your cheeks and the parted swell of your lips. You wanted this as much as he did. Needed it. Craved it.

And he would have you. No matter the cost. No matter the consequences. In this moment, nothing else matters. Not the war, not the Council, not the vows he'd sworn to uphold.

There was only you. Only the fire that burned between you. Only the desperate, aching need to claim you. I own you. And he would. He would have you. No matter what it took.

You spread your legs, allowing Anakin to fit in there to deepen the kisses, you tilted your head back, whimpering in pleasure. “Are you going to keep me tied up the whole time?” you asked, the rope rough against your delicate wrists.

Anakin's hands slid down to grip your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushed your legs further apart. He stepped into the space you'd created, his body now nestling between your spread thighs. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, the hard length of him pressed against you through the fabric of his robes.

"Keep you tied up?" he murmured, a wicked gleam in his eye as he looked down at you. "Yes. I think I will."

His hands slid higher, pushing up the hem of his sith robe. Slowly, teasingly, until his calloused palms were caressing the smooth skin of your inner thighs. Your breath hitched, you back arching slightly off the chair as his touch set your nerves alight with pleasure.

"But don't worry, sweetheart," he purred, voice low and rough with desire. "I'll make sure you enjoy every. Single. Moment."

To punctuate his words, he leaned down and captured your lips in another devastating kiss. This one deeper, more demanding, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you thoroughly. He swallowed your gasps and moans, drinking them down like wine.

As he kissed you, his hands continued their exploration. They slid higher, until his fingers were brushing against the lace of your panties. He could feel the damp heat of you through the silk, evidence of just how much you wanted him. How much you needed his touch.

Anakin broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, his hands pushed your panties aside, and then his fingers were there. Stroking through your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his digits.

"Stars, baby," he groaned against your neck, fingers delving deeper. "You're so wet. So ready for me."

He circled your clit with the pads of his fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you write against him. His other hand slid up to palm your breast, kneading the soft mound and rolling your nipple between his fingers until it pebbled under his touch.

Anakin could feel the need building in you, the desperation in the way you rocked your hips against his hand. He knew you were close, could feel your body tensing and tightening as he worked you higher.

"Come for me, baby," he commanded, voice a low, rough growl. "Come on my fingers like a good girl."

He thrust two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars exploding behind your eyelids. His thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Let go, sweetheart," he urged, voice hot against your ear. "I want to feel you come undone. I want to feel you squeeze my fingers like I make you mine."

And with a sharp cry, you did just that. Your body convulsed around his fingers, your inner walls clenching and fluttering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Anakin worked you through it, fingers pumping and stroking, until the last aftershock faded away.

He pulled his fingers from her, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean. His eyes locked with yours as he did, a smug, satisfied grin on his face.

"Not bad for a Jedi," You gasped out, still trembling from the force of you release. "But I think... I think you're still wearing too many clothes."

Anakin chuckled, a dark, wicked sound. "Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, fingers trailing down your body teasingly. "We're just getting started..."

And with that promise hanging in the air, he leaned down to capture your lips once more. Ready to show you just how thorough his exploration of you body could be. No matter how long it took. No matter how many times he had to make you come undone, Anakin was willing to turn you into a hot, messy mess under his ministrations, wanting to wipe that teasing smile off your face, and make sure that this time he was in control, even if it was in control of your pleasure.

TAGLIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld @speaknow-sw @freudsweetlamb

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars #anakin star wars #star wars anakin #anakin smut #hayden christensen x reader #general anakin

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littlelovelunette · 3 months ago

Note

camgirl reader x viewer/watcher sevika?

"Do As I Say."

Personally am not a fan of this idea, but let's see what I can do for y'all

Contains smut, dildo, pornography, r!pornstar, fingering, cliffhanger ending, mentions of self harm, sado-maso conversation, masterbating

Nervous as you were, despite having done this several times before, you opened the laptop and logged into the website.

Instantly, you started getting comments for you to do this or that, mainly just people sending disgusting comments. But there was one woman who always came online whenever you did.

Sevika.

You didn't know her. Atleast, that's the name she used on her profile. But whatever the case was, you never started touching yourself until she came online.

It started ever since you were only starting out in the porn industry, she'd been possessive over you.

Now, slowly it had become a tradition that you wouldn't touch yourself until she joined your live chat, no matter how many times the other people would comment or tell you to do so.

Yeah, you did lose a few viewers over it but you didn't really care. You made enough money off of this Sevika person.

A long few minutes passed and there was no sign of this woman until suddenly you saw the little message at the corner of your screen that said that she joined.

“Hey, bunny.” The first text she sent was vague but did something to you. “Hi.” You said, stretching the vowel a little.

“Feeling lonely tonight again? Or are we desperate for money this time?” Sevika's words popped into the screen.

“A little bit of both. I like masterbating. And I like money so… I could just earn money while masterbating, no?” You replied, a sly smirk playing on your red painted lips as you tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You like pleasure, I get it.” The text showed up, “But you think you get off on pain, too?”

“I suppose, I never attempted to inflict pain on myself, that sounds depressing.” You said with a little laugh making Sevika on the other end of the screen laugh too.

“I meant sexual pain, love.” She typed out for you to read. “Want a little demonstration?”

“Sure…” although the words were unsure it just escaped your lips because deep down you knew you wanted Sevika to reduce you to a whining, pathetic state even though she couldn't really touch you in real life. At least not right then.

“Bring the pretty glass dildo you have.” Sevika's words shone on the screen. You blushed but nodded, bringing the glass, transparent dildo.

“Now?” You questioned in a soft voice.

“Strip for me, bunny.”

You slowly slipped your lingerie off, smiling at the webcam, a slow seductive smile.

“Such a tease.” Sevika's words popped up.

“Only for you, daddy.”

“Now I want you to kneel facing away, put the dildo on the ground and take it in your ass.” The command was sharp and there was no mistaking that she wasn't playing around.

“W-without lube?” You asked, voice shuddering a little. “Yes, bunny, come on.” You flushed reading the comment, that would sting a little.

But you came so far so you might as well do it. You turned around and knelt down, ass facing the camera as you slowly placed the transparent toy on the ground.

As you slowly lowered yourself on the silicone dick you winced because you knew it wouldn't go in without a long and excruciating stretch.

You sucked in a breath before slowly pushing down causing the toy to slip deeper inside your ass making your eyes close tightly.

“Oh, fuck, Sevika, that hurts.” You whispered as you continued slipping the dildo inside inch by painful inch. The stretch was a burning pain searing through your butt.

That would make a few days of sitting down painful even. As all of the dildo disappeared into your ass, you let out a little sigh of relief. “It's inside, ‘Vika, what do you want me to do now?”

You turned around so you could read the comment section on the screen.

“Geez that's a beautiful ass.” Someone said.

“Sexy as always.” Someone else said but you really didn't care what they thought.

“Check your cunt, slut.” Sevika's comment said to make you look down and use a finger to rub the soft pad of skin down your pussy to feel and goodness were you soaked down there. “I'm so wet…” you confessed aloud.

“That's a good slut.” Sevika said followed by, “Now finger your cunt. Lay down on your lower back, legs up, and show me how much of a whore you are, won't you, bunny?”

You nodded, blushing as you laid back and fingers rubbed your own heat, eliciting a soft moan from you. “S-So good, daddy.” Two fingers spread your pussy out as one of your fingers disappeared into your slit, rubbing against the inner walls making you whimper and moan.

“Wish you were here, “ ‘Vika, o-oh, g-g-gosh…” you stuttered and whined as your fingers worked to pleasure you.

Your clit throbbed as you slipped two more fingers inside and gasped, “Fuck.” You cursed as your fingers moved fast, burying knuckles deep inside your own pussy.

The dildo in your ass was lodged inside dry and the pain mixed with the pleasure was a delicious combination.

Your mind was going hazy and legs a little tired from hovering up, fingers moved faster and faster until you cried out and your body jolted, squirting all over the place.

“Daddy… fuck, that was so good.” You got up, wincing as the dildo pushed deeper due to you sitting up.

“Take the dildo out now, bunny.” You complied letting the dildo slip out of your asshole which gaped for a little after the thick toy moved out.

“You're so hot, bunny.” Sevika's words shone, making you blush and giggle a little. “You're such a fucking tease. Wanna come over and ruin both your holes.”

“You could if you want to…” You said as you fidgeted with your fingers suddenly feeling shy which was ironic considering you were naked in front of a bunch of unknown people.

Just then you received a private message from Sevika that said, “Next time, use a VPN. Open your door now.”

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theundercoversquid · 1 year ago

Text

All night

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles is worried about his car and you

Warnings: Fluff!

A/n: yes I know that it doesn’t work like this! But humour me.

A/N2: This may or may not have been sat in my drafts since Feb 24 2022...

Masterlist

Charles was an idiot. That much everybody could agree on. A lovely idiot. But an idiot nonetheless.

"I'm so sorry." Charles apologised again. His voice was small and sheepish as he looked at your unimpressed face. His arms were resting on the tail of his car.

"I'm not angry at you." You assured him. Your hands were on your hips as you stared at his car.

"Do you think you will be done in time?" Charles asked. His voice small and worried.

"I will." You assured him your voice filled with confidence you didn't feel. But Charles didn't need to know that.

"Really?" Charles asked. His face lit up like a kid on Christmas. And that face was the reason you would be pulling an all-nighter on the off chance it would let you fix his car in time.

"Really." You nodded, determination filling you. "But you should probably go back to the hotel.

"I'll wait for you," Charles told you.

"No, you won't." You told him. "You need to have a good night's sleep for when you race tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Charles asked you unsurely.

"Of course." You assured him. "Now, the sooner you go, the sooner I can get started, and the sooner I can be finished."

"Thank you so much," Charles grinned. Kissing you on the cheek before he whizzed out to tell everybody he could race.

Taking a deep breath, you put your headphones on. Putting your favourite playlist on shuffle, you got to work.

Charles bounded into the Ferrari garage. He hadn't seen you since last night when you promised him you could fix his car.

Charles hadn't seen you at breakfast, so he just assumed that you had headed in early.

But as Charles walked in, he could see his Ferrari looking brand new. And you were nowhere to be seen.

Charles spotted a post-it note stuck to the car, taking a tentative step forward. Gently pulling it off, Charles recognised your handwriting.

'All done! She's ready for your race x.' Charles read. Grinning to himself, he picked the note and searched for you.

But Charles couldn't find you anywhere. And no one had seen you. However, they were singing your praises for fixing his car. Frederic Vasseur had even gone to sing your praises to the rest of the world. Happily dropping the bombshell that Charles would still be racing, much to everybody else’s dismay.

Eventually, Charles had to give up on his search for you and retreated to his driver's room.

Opening the door, Charles swung his bag around to throw it on the sofa. Thankfully he caught himself in time as he spotted your prone figure curled up on his sofa.

Dropping his bag to the floor, Charles pulled his hoodie out. Laying it over your asleep body, he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. Murmuring a quiet thank you.

Charles then left the room to warn everybody where you were. And unsurprisingly, no one suggested waking you up. After all that you had done, people didn't mind. After looking at the timings of some of the data logs, they were glad you were catching up on some sleep.

When Charles told Vasseur, all he did was shrug. Say that you probably needed it, and he would send you back to the hotel to sleep in a proper bed when you woke up.

And you did emerge not five minutes later. The hustle and bustle of the Ferrari garage coming to life, waking you up.

When you appeared at the entrance to the Ferrari garage, everybody burst into applause. You just looked slightly startled. Your hair slightly messed up from sleep and Charles's hoodie dwarfing you.

"Am I late?" You asked, horrified. "I could have sworn I only closed my eyes for five minutes."

"Your not late, mon amour," Charles assured you as he sidled up to you. "We are cheering you on for fixing my car."

"That was nothing," you waved them off. Embarrassed as your cheeks went a shade of red to envy the car you had given your night up for.

"It's not nothing," Charles told you. "It's everything. Because of you, I can compete in the grand prix."

"He's right," Vasseur told you from where he had appeared. "Now go back to the hotel and sleep."

"Yes, sir." You nodded to Vasseur. Knowing better the to argue. Especially as you could feel a yawn clawing its way up your throat.

Turning, you retreated to grab your stuff from Charles's driver's room.

"Sorry for falling asleep in your driver's room." You apologised.

"Don't worry, mon amour." Charles assured you. "I'm sure you needed the sleep." Gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear Charles smiled down at you. "Thank you so much for fixing my car," Charles said. His voice was a reverent whisper as he placed a feather-light kiss on your cheek. "Now go back to your hotel and get some sleep. Charles ordered gently.

Nodding, you bashfully smiled up at him before retreating out of the garage once again, with everybody cheering you and congratulating you as you left.

#f1 #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #Imagine #x reader

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

Text

picnic

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

(^^make sure you check since this was a double upload and I posted the last one very recently :D)

dear head of the cullen clan, keep evening plans open – im getting off work early and we’re going on a picnic. coldest regards, the head of the volturi (ps. am expecting a very wholehearted appreciation for the fact that it’s coldest regards and not warmest regards, because they are, in fact, vampires and therefore cold. because they don’t have a heart and such.) (extra ps. this is a link to a shared spotify playlist. i’ll add a song and then you add one. we’ll keep it going.)

you snort.

dear aro of the volturi (does he have a last name???), so much to unpack in one email, yet again. you really know how to keep a girl on her toes. first and foremost, you are SOOOO ran through. so offended that i wasn’t the person who got to put you on to twilight and whoever it was, I HOEP SHE DIES! if you’re team jacob, you’re a freak. second, SO VERY FLATTERED that you think i would be carlisle. a little haunting that you think YOU would be aro…but it’s ok cuz former companions to enemies back to lovers in our case would be kind of crazy??? third. done and done. i just added a song so hurry up bc i have like ten other songs i want to add and i am #impatient see u after work pookie :D, carlisle cullen (very appreciative of the cold regards. you are a king among men.)

his response back is very prompt.

Never call me pookie again. (very offended that you think i’d be stupid enough to be team jacob. and direct your murderous rage towards yuuji and my mom, who forced me to watch it in theaters with them.)

you wait for sukuna at the park two blocks down the apartment complex. the sun is hours away from dipping into the horizon, the chilly wind rustling through the trees. you realize now that the red skirt and white sweater might betray you in a few hours but decide that you’ll simply have to steal his jacket when he gets here.

and you would have already but he’s twenty minutes late.

and while this part of the city is extremely safe, sukuna’s ever constant fear of people attacking you on subway trains and stabbing you in alleyways has instilled an acute fear of strangers in you, which is why you’re gripping the sparkly pink pepper spray he bought you very harshly in your palm right now.

you think it’s sweet that he bought you a pink one.

but of course it’s severely ironic that you almost used it on him.

because he scares the living daylights out of you, by placing his hand around your shoulder from behind.

“hey. i’m sorry i-”

“jesus fuck-”

you instinctively hold the pepper spray up to his face, your hands shaking in front of you.

“i’ll use it, you pervert!”

sukuna leans his head to the side, which is when you’re finally able to log that it’s actually him standing in front of you and not a stranger, and you drop your hands in embarrassment.

“i mean, i’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t doll face but–”

“oh my god, sukuna. i thought you were trying to rob me!”

“i’m smarter than that. the only thing inside your purse is lip gloss, which has very little value to me.” sukuna responds, dropping the little basket at his feet and taking the little stalk of flowers out of the top handle.

“i’ll have you know that it’s actually sold out in every store right now. so you could make bank if you sold it.”

“don’t tempt me. and for your sake, i’ll accept the apology you didn’t give me for just trying to rob me of my eyesight and for calling me a pervert? i’m getting really tired of the age gap jokes, y/n.” sukuna responds, as he lifts your hands at your sides and places the stalk of flowers in your hand.

you give him a big smile as you press your nose to the flowers, the scent fresh in your nose. and sukuna props down, setting a billowing white blanket on the ground before he taps the spot next to him and signals for you to sit next to him.

“who needs eyes?” you joke, as you squeeze his hands and set the flowers down next to the little basket.

“me, dipshit. how else am i supposed to look at you?”

you cover your hands with your cheeks as you watch him place all of the little things inside the basket next to you, laying them out perfectly. it’s albeit a weird assortment – two wine glasses, perfectly wrapped sandwiches, a mini-cake, and strawberry lemonade.

“well, stop perceiving me. this is so weird!” you murmur.

it’s enough to catch his attention and stop him in his tracks.

“what?”

the question makes you pause. and a little embarrassed. it was a little harsh to say while you were joking.

“oh, i mean…i didn’t mean it like that! i was making a joke about perceiving because eyes…vision…and i almost took your vision away! and you perceive with your eyes, because how else would you see…”

sukuna smiles, before shaking his head, and continuing spilling out the last of the contents – a set of gouache paints and two little small canvases. and he drops to his feet, yanking his shoes off, before sitting flat on the blanket and gesturing for you to join him.

“there’s no way in hell that was what you meant. but we’ll ignore that for the time being.” sukuna responds, hiking his legs to his chest and gesturing towards the spread he just put out.

you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“you look very pretty today.” sukuna responds.

“thanks! you too!”

he narrows his eyes.

“uh huh. well, pick what we do first. the paint, the sandwiches, or the weird wine glass cake.”

“the wine glass cake? like from tiktok?” you ask.

“correct. i’m really bad at…cute dates. so…i did some research.”

sukuna refuses to look at you. because after admitting it, he’s suddenly busied himself with reading the back of the box of paints, like it’s the most riveting, intriguing thing he’s ever read in his life.

but the pink flush that’s creeping down his neck betrays him entirely, as you reach forward and push the little box down. and sukuna’s already glaring at you.

you place your chin on the top of his knees, reaching for one of his hands and smiling.

“you did research for a date?”

“you can choke on your spit.”

you grin.

“you really know how to turn a girl on.”

“you’re filthy.”

you grin.

“and you’re actually so precious, i–”

“don’t call me precious, y/n.” he whines, as he reaches forward to flick on your forehead.

you smile as you sit by his side, tucking the folds of your skirt under your leg as you reach for both of the wine glasses and hand him one.

“so how humbling was it to have satoru explain all this to you?” you ask.

he sneers.

“don’t even ask. he’s like the biggest nuisance i’ve ever met in my life. top ten worst moments of my life.” sukuna responds.

“i’m flattered you humbled yourself to him for me.”

“i actually asked suguru. they’re like…two peas in a pod, they can’t do shit without each other. the paints and stuff they gave me and the nice basket too.”

“that’s sweet of them. remind me to send them something later to thank them.”

sukuna scoffs.

“no need. they were more than happy to give it up for you.”

“ah yes. i hear they’re big fans of this camping bag story. the scouts honor and the fake story we had to tell them makes a lot more sense now.” you respond.

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“okay, you know what? sue me. i was like sixteen sleeping next to a girl for the first time. god forbid i enjoyed myself. and i don’t know why they’re all so hyperfixated on that story because it was a very normal thing to assume when you’re asked that question.”

you snort.

“and you say you’re not a pervert…”

sukuna leans forward, his eyes flitting down to his lips before he looks back up at you. and he can tell that you’re in a mood, that you’re trying to push his buttons by annoying him.

“you know i despise you right?” he whispers.

you grin, leaning in.

“is that right?” you whisper back.

“oh yeah. you irritate me.”

there isn’t even a shred of earnestness in the words he’s uttering. you know he doesn’t mean them.

“keep going.” you respond, as he presses a warm kiss to the side of your cheek.

“you’re a nuisance.” – a kiss to your forehead.

“an irritation.” – a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“like a fucking thorn in my side.” – and a kiss to the sweet spot right in your neck and his hand snaking up your thigh, which makes you nearly keel your head back from the sensation.

you place your hands on his cheek and pull him back, face flushed and his eyes nearly glazed over.

“are you crazy?” you whisper.

“what?” he asks.

“we’re in public, dumbass. you can’t just start trying to rile me up.”

sukuna leans back, obliging.

“so you admit it? i was riling you up?”

“oh, shut up.”

you reach for the sandwiches and unpeel one for sukuna. before he takes it, he places a tiny white box in your lap.

you frown. first the fancy date but the jewelry too?

“sukuna. you didn’t–”

“just open it. i’m impatient and i’ve been waiting all day. and i actually think you’ll like it. otherwise, you’re ungrateful and rude and you hate me.” sukuna responds.

you give him a tight lipped smile before you open the little box and actually smile.

it’s a dainty silver chain – the exact same as sukuna’s from the chain-links, but the build is a little thinner. and right at the center, a little charm of a star.

you reach forward for his chain, dangling around his collarbone. and surely enough, in addition to the original charm he had of an interlocked circle, there’s a star charm added right next to it.

“you always reach for it. when you’re talking or when we’re kissing. figured i’d get you your own since you’re such a big fan.”

“you are so…”

“perfect? sexy? the father of your children?”

“i was thinking adorable. can i answer d for all of the above?” you respond.

sukuna grins.

“survey says yes, princess.” he responds.

you yank the chain from the little box and hand it to him, before turning around for him to secure it on you. his fingers tickle against the nape of your neck, accompanied by a warm kiss, before he taps your shoulders to signify that he’s done.

“you know. you really are perceiving me right now.” you respond.

“and how’s that?”

“i know you’re obsessed with me and pay attention to every word i say.”

sukuna smiles.

“obviously.”

you jab at his side.

“i mean, i know you’re doing this because i mentioned picnics yesterday and always feeling left out. sure you could put two and two together that he never really bought me any nice gifts or anything when i said he ruined my birthday.”

“okay, captain obvious. and?”

you shove him once more, before leaning your head against his shoulder.

“well, i appreciate it. i know the whole…cutesy painting date isn’t your thing. we won’t have to do it again. and that you…you’re trying to make this whole thing special for me.”

sukuna scoffs.

“i’m offended. first and foremost, i always like to eat with you. every time i think that there’s no way you can amaze me more, you find another way to spill food on your clothes.”

“hey! that’s not true.”

“you already spilled on the blanket. second, this is a very violent way to eat cake. you literally mess up all the layers by doing that and destroy the piping on the cake which i can admit, i am a fan of. and third, i’m going to paint us as worms, which seems enjoyable to me.”

you curl your nose.

“worms?”

“yeah. what were you going to paint?”

“i don’t know. but it certainly wasn’t going to be worms. like the park or flowers or something.”

“boring. i’m going to paint us as slimy worms. and because we made it on this date, you’ll have to agree to put it up in the apartment, even if it’s ugly.”

“sukuna.” you whine.

“especially if it’s ugly. it’s a testament to our love.” he responds, dramatically placing his hands on his chest.

“you know, you’re so right. worms have been a really defining feature of your relationship.”

sukuna leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your lips and an additional one on your cheek.

“you just get me, princess!”

and he breaks the little joke by lifting one of your hands to his lips, and pressing a kiss on all four of your knuckles before pressing your hand to his cheek.

“and i have to do special things for a special person.”

you return the gesture, lifting his tattooed fingers to your lips and doing the same.

“you know…you’re really good at this type of thing.” you murmur.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean, being a boyfriend. and…and being supportive about everything. sometimes i feel like i’m trying really hard to be the best but…just comes naturally to you.” you respond.

sukuna shrugs.

“don’t know if i’m perfect but…loving you has always come really easy to me. i don’t really have to think twice about it because these are actually just things i want to do for you.”

you groan.

“see! that’s what i’m saying! you always just…say sweet things, do sweet things. sometimes i’m convinced i’m not even half deserving of it, just because sometimes i don’t reciprocate that back.” you respond.

sukuna leans forward.

“you know, you actually do though.”

“as if.” you groan.

sukuna pauses, before leaning his cheek against the tops of his knees and looking out at the expanse of grass in front of you. you follow his line of vision – to the dog running in the distance, the wide, billowing trees, and the little flower truck on the side – which you now realize is where sukuna copped the flowers from earlier.

“i mean, this type of thing. that we have, or…or the way i act around you. it means a lot to you because, you…you’ve never had this before. right?”

“yeah.”

“well, i haven’t had you before. i know you see me as perfect, but…but when you say that i can tell that you don’t mean it the way my mom or…or yuuji think that i’m perfect. in the untouchable way.”

you lean forward, cupping the side of his face.

“sukuna. you’re so touchable.” you joke.

“you’re disgusting.”

“you love it.”

sukuna smiles.

“yeah, i really do. it does actually mean the world to me that you think i’m perfect how i am and don’t think i’m larger than life.”

“if anything, your ego could be smaller.”

sukuna leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“and…and even the other day. i know you were acting squirrely and weird when yuuji was near us and heard us bickering, but i was half convinced that you were going to take his side at the end, when he started saying that stuff about me. because it is true and i have acted a certain way in the past…and, you would have every right to agree with him if you wanted to.”

you frown.

“no, i wouldn’t. you’ve never treated me like that and i know you’re being earnest when you say these things to me. this would be a very elaborate way to get into my pants if that was what you were trying to do. and i know it’s not.”

sukuna smiles.

“that’s what i’m saying. every other person for me has never given me that benefit of the doubt, but you always do. you were the person who thought to tell me that my grandpa died when you all came to get me and you were the one who wasn’t mad at me. the things you do for me are the same, in equal magnitude, as what i do for you. if this makes you feel good, or…or on top of the world, you have to know that’s how you make me feel too. i’m half convinced that you’re basically made for me at this point the way you get everything right on point.”

you lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his lips.

“i really think you’re made for me too, ryomen.”

sukuna groans, dramatically leaning his head back, before nearly pushing you over and peppering kisses to almost every surface on your face.

“quit fucking saying my name. you have no idea what that does to me.”

“i mean, i think i have an idea.”

sukuna clamps his fingers over your mouth, before pressing a few more lingering kisses to your face and pushing off. and subsequently, picks all of the grass out of your hair as you roll your eyes.

and after that sukuna, admittedly, very aggressively uses the wine glasses to portion off little slices of the cake and makes it a point to finish off yours when you can’t stomach the sweetness. and true to his promise – sukuna paints the two of you as worms, but at the park, stargazing.

it’s a little silly, the way he paints it. you were expecting it to be more gory or gross, but it’s so corny that it makes you smile. because he draws the two little worms, but distinguishes between the two of you, by swiping some of your pink paint and adding a little ribbon to the one that’s supposed to be you.

sukuna explains the stars. because before sukuna had dragged you out of that shitty bathroom bar, it’s what megumi and yuuji said in his drunken mess – he had pointed at two little stars and likened them to him and megumi.

and you’re almost positive that at the time, sukuna found it utterly ridiculous. but now, he understood it – the sentiment. that you and sukuna were two little worms, and two stars, and two little flowers too.

and to his promise, the two of you decide to place the little canvases you drew at the end of the kitchen counter.

it’s only then that you realize that you have to go the whole ten miles for sukuna the way he had done for you – countless times again. and that if you were going in blind in trying to make something special, you’d have to take a page out of his book and do some research.

and there was only one person who could really help you, who you’d rather die than humble yourself to than ask for help.

regardless of that, you still call sammy the next morning.

next part linked here

an: they're about to do it. anyways....there is a very real playlist to match the one that they talk about in the fic -- and it matches the way it described in the fic! so it's interleaved, the first song is a song that sukuna would have added, the second one that y/n added, the third sukuna, so on and so forth. it's linked here! happy listening babies

second an: thank you for the love on the last chapter. it makes my heart really warm bc all of that was actually based on a REAL MAN and real things that I have felt/have said to me and just having people comment that they felt seen by it or it made them feel a certain type of way actually made me really happy and so warm. this blog was one of the first things I did after I stopped being really, really sad and i'm glad that i'm able to share a little joy here and there, if that's what this fic is for you. anyways this is long and sappy and gross and actually I just love you all for enduring the ouchies and the sillies with me a little bit 💌

third an: double upload bc yall were so patient with me :D

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani79 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

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likesomeoneinlovee · 7 months ago

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𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐓𝐇

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader.

Edit: Holy hell first fic I ever wrote 😅, (very tempted to delete this.)

Summary: You and Arthur had just got back from a hunting trip in the harsh weather and decided there might just be a better way to warm up than a fire. Warnings: WC: 1k-ish. NSFW, Quickie, PIV sex, pull out, no proof read, rushed lowkey (yea, we can tell) female reader.

Colter felt like hell on earth if hell had froze over.

Even in the run-down houses still left in the old mining camp the cold air was blistering. You and Arthur stood just outside one of the house’s log frame with your backs against it. The two of you kept your cigarettes between your lips, puffing on them as you smoked together. You and Arthur had been hunting for some deer for Pearson so no one would be left hungry as well as cold, those two didn’t mix well.

Your foot tapped against the snow as you took the cigarette between your fingers. “You’d think it’s the dead of winter when it’s meant to be spring.” You spoke so the gusts of wind drove by the blizzard wouldn’t be the only sound against the silence.

“That’s what we get for goin’ up the mountains.��Damnit.” He complained, rightfully so. After Blackwater it was the gang’s only choice I suppose, and finding a place not already swarming with people who we’d have to kill just for a place to live, now that was a damn near blessing. If you could even believe in those anymore. Your thoughts were quickly cut off by his words.

“I’d do anything for some goddamn warmth.”

Oh, now he’d do anything. You’d quickly push the idea out of your head before it could fully form, he was your friend anyway, definitely not your lover.

But then again what’s so wrong with a quick fuck to get warmed up?

Dutch and Hosea were currently inside the cabin you two were leaned against starting a fire. Though it seemed like a simple quick task that could be done quickly by them, your body ached for warmth, you wouldn’t dare to wait that long. Waiting felt like an absurdity to you and you were beginning to realize why, maybe your body didn’t ache for the comfortable warmth of a fire, maybe it was just dying to get it’s hands on Arthur—

He inhaled his cigarette one last time, savoring the tase of burning tobacco before flicking it into the snow onto the ground. His muscles tense from the cold. He could see your eyes burning into the side of his head, tracing his jawline, he huffed before turning to face you. “You ain’t waitin’ for that fire either, are ya?”

He read you like an open book, or maybe that wasn’t it. He could’ve been thinking the same as you this entire time.

That was the truth of it.

“No, I ain’t, Morgan.” You let the words slip out, of course just thinking about the bulk of his muscles against you could warm you up all in itself. The heavy breaths coming from his parted lips told you enough. He pushed himself from the wall to stand in-front of you, his large hands now on your shoulders, guiding you so your back could press tighter against the cabin, leaving no room between. It was too easy to go so unspoken, as if you two had been waiting for any excuse to do this that it only took few words to convince each other. Guess now that turned into a fact. “You’re gonna let me touch you?”

“Am I-“ Your words caught your throat before you could repeat his sentence, you couldn’t act like how you felt before you yelp a quick and excited ‘Yes!’ at his whisper. “For a minute.” Your voice a tad muffled by the cigarette hanging from your plump lips, tinted red from the cold, along with your cheeks. His hands slipped to your forearms, pressing himself against you. He threw his hat off into the snow, frustrated it was getting in the way as he tried to press your foreheads together, discarding just like his cigarette. The tips of your noses brushing against each other. “Christ you’re warm.”

He’d move one of his hands to take the cigarette from your lips before it could burn his chin, he already had enough scars there. Your eyes completely fixed on his lips with no excuse, feeling his breath fan your face, silently praying that no one would come around the corner.

“Shit, y’know I just lit that? You said regarding your cigarette, this was hit with a quick, nearly harsh “I don’t care.” from him. He couldn’t stand the cold anymore. Taking you into a deep, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue quickly pushing into your mouth. It was like a war on your body had now begun; his hips snapped against yours once before ripping his lips from yours with a deep growl ripping from his throat, he quickly grew needy, bunching up your layers of skirt before his hands quickly moved to pick you up. Your thighs instinctively wrapped tight around his waist as he pressed you against that same wall. He moved one of his hands down where his belt would be if his goddamn coat weren’t so long, his face pressed against your shoulder as he tried to work around it.

“Fuck.” He’d grunt, his fingers working at the belt once found, with gloved hands this was even more frustratingly difficult on his part, but as he did always, he managed to undo it, tugging his pants down to his thighs. You on the other hand were less patient, your hand has been under your skirt, and instead of taking off your panties you had ripped them completely, Arthur noticed when you threw the torn piece of lace onto the matching white snow.

He’d guide himself under your skirt, his hand wrapped around his cock as he circled your sopping cunt with his head, surprised to say the least when he felt how soaked you were in such a short amount of time, now he’d wonder what you were thinking about to get you like this. He wouldn’t vocalize what he was thinking, instead focusing on doing this quick and fast. In and out.

He took his first thrust into you, stretching you to fit around his thick shaft. Though it put you into pure ecstasy. You knew better not to be loud, the thudding of your back hitting the log wall with every pound into your pussy was enough to peak someone’s curiosity. Your hand was tight over your mouth to suppress your moans. Arthur not wearing his hat gave you a perfect excuse to tangle your fingers in his sandy locks, tugging at them almost to silently say ‘Hurry up.’

Though you’d prefer this to last, you’d know every single one of his delicious, deep thrusts will only live on in your head for the next century. His pace got even rougher, more sloppy than before as he pumped himself faster. Pulling all the way out just to slam his cock back in.

“Goddamn you’re tight, princess- fuckin’ makin’ me lose control.” He’d rasp right into your ear. His words broke you down into even more of a shaking mess than you were. The combination of his words and his tip hitting your g-spot over, and over, and over again sent you over the edge, your cunt clenched around him, now he didn’t want you to alert nobody, of course. His mouth took yours into — once again — a deep, messy kiss, feeling your moan vibrate down his throat. He’d grip your thigh with one hand, keeping you against the wall as he used his other to help himself out of you, spitting into his palm to add extra slickness to his already cum-covered cock, tightening his grip around it to mimic your pussy, though he couldn’t get it that right. With a few more pumps from his hand he’d cum over his fist, with a low drawn out “Fuccccckkkkk…”

You marveled at the sight, seeing Morgan’s O-face wasn’t something you could ever imagine not even in your sick mind, seeing his eyebrows furrowed together as his jaw slacked, it was something else to say the least. Your words were stolen from you after everything that had happen, somehow now hot even standing in the cold snow with your skirt hitched around your hips.

When you heard the door creek open in the distance you two hastily got yourself out of that position, adjusting your coats as you quickly tugged your layered skirt down to your boots once again. A small pant almost of relief came from you as you saw it was Dutch leaving the cabin, of course he walked straight, if he’d only have turned a bit he could’ve saw the sight of you and Arthur standing there with flushed faces, various things scattered the snow around you — including your panties.

You picked the ripped fabric off of the ground, still a bit shocked it had even come to this. “This might’ve been my only pair.” The silence was broken by your words, at the least you got a weak chuckle from Arthur, your cheeks flushing at the sound. You two were completely spent.

Later into the night you two were actually in the cabin this time; sitting in two separate chairs by the now lit fireplace, Arthur smoked as your hands reached in front of you to feel the warmth. The fire casting a warm light over the both of you in the otherwise dark cabin.

“You know, that was nice.” That may have been the first you had mentioned the events from hours ago since. His eyes flicked towards you, a smirk tugged at his lips.

“You’re a beautiful girl.” He’d reply, flattering, very much. “It’s gettin’ late. ‘Stead of walkin’ to the girl’s cabin why don’t you just stay in my bed.” He offered, and that offer you couldn’t refuse.

“I’d like that.” You’d smile at him, the both of you getting up as his took your hand into his leading you to his small bedroom.

And as you could — probably — imagine, you two didn’t exactly sleep that night. The creeks and whines of Arthur’s cot that could be heard from the other rooms told anyone with ears that.

#Arthur Morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #red dead fandom #john marston #javier escuella #dutch van der linde #short reads #fanfic #ao3 #x reader #one shot

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knight-of-flowerss · 1 month ago

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Hi how are u doing sweetie? God I just read your truckercregan story and I’m OBSESSED. Can you write a Trucker!Cregan x Reader where the reader is trying to keep their distance from Cregan because they’re getting way too attached (I mean who wouldn’t like 🧎‍♀️), but Cregan doesn’t seem to notice or care at all? The reader’s been hanging around the town, but every time Cregan rolls in with his rig, they can’t help but watch. One day, Cregan catches them staring, and instead of making a move or acknowledging their interest, he just smirks and comments on something completely unrelated, like how their truck’s tires are worn down or they should get more coffee. Reader’s frustrated but can’t help but feel drawn to him. Maybe Cregan even teases them, gets a little too close, and throws in a casual touch or comment, making the reader all flustered but still holding back, unsure of whether Cregan’s actually interested or if he’s just being his usual confident, aloof shitty self.

- Anon 🤍

UGH ANON YOU ARE THE BEST THING TO HAPPEN TO ME RIGHT NOW, THIS IDEA IS TO DIEEE FORR!!

Also there will be some suggestive stuff in here like dry humping, grabbing readers breast and Cregan smacking readers ass cus bro is DEFINITELY an ass man and really doesn't give a single fuck about being a 'nice guy'. He sees a nice ass? He's smacking it. Anyways just a bunch of sexual stuff as well lol.

Also, Trucker!Cregan deffo, 100% puts x's on the end of his messages when he's horny.

Well, Trucker!Cregan is an ass man at least. I think hockey player!Cregan is a thigh man icl 🤭 bro appreciates a good pair of thighs. (I have more Cregan AU ideas like firefighter!Cregan, bsf's!dad!Cregan, ex-husband!Cregan, etc.)

Anyways, I'm getting logged on 😅 I hope I've done your idea justice! I haven't sat down and wrote properly for a GOOD WHILE so 🥲🥲

(Also I'm probs just gonna be saying Cregan instead of Trucker!Cregan in this cus I rlly cba to write it out every time and I feel like it's gonna get repetitive 😭)

MDNI 18+!!!

TRUCKER!CREGAN X READER

MASTERLIST

🛻•Cregan was like a drug, something you could never let go of. He's like trying drugs for the first time a party and immediately getting high on the feeling it gives you.

🛻•Trucker!Cregan was something you could never give up, but you're trying, even if you know it's absolutely pointless.

🛻•Meaningless sex was your go to, get addicted to others and soon maybe you'll forget about him. The way he feels- the way he makes you feel.

🛻•Sitting at your local diner, you skim through your phone, staring at all the unanswered texts and missed phone calls from Cregan.

🛻•'Hey darlin x' Wednesday, 5:48 PM.

'Am off work now x' Wednesday, 5:48 PM.

Missed call. Wednesday, 5:49 PM.

'Were r u hun?' Wednesday, 5:49 PM.

'Gonna cum over t the dina n get sum food' Wednesday, 5:51 PM.

Missed call. Wednesday, 5:53 PM.

Missed call. Wednesday, 6:10 PM.

Missed call. Wednesday, 6:12 PM.

'You cummin or what?' Wednesday, 6:13 PM.

Missed call. Wednesday, 6:18 PM.

🛻•'On a 10 hr drive' Thursday, 4:24 AM.

'Be back Friday night' Thursday, 4:25 AM.

🛻•Image attached, 'Luk at that fatass dog haha' Thursday, 11:06 AM.

'Jus got of' Thursday, 4:47 PM.

'At shitty motel' Thursday, 4:47 PM.

Missed call. Thursday, 4:48 PM.

'Pick up.' Thursday, 4:48 PM.

'Darlin a miss u x' Thursday, 4:51 PM.

'Please x' Thursday, 4:52 PM.

'Darlin a need u x' Thursday, 4:52 PM.

Missed call. Thursday, 4:53 PM.

Image attached, 'Luk wot u do t me x' Thursday, 4:57 PM.

Video attached, 'So hard for u x' Thursday, 4:59 PM.

Video attached, 'All this for u hun x' Thursday, 5:07 PM.

🛻•Missed call. Friday 10:34 AM.

'Drivin home now' Friday, 10:47 AM.

Missed call. Friday, 11:40 PM.

'At bar' Friday, 11:41 PM.

'Call me when u can' Friday, 11:41 PM.

🛻•Missed call. Sunday, 2:11 PM.

'Ben jus told me u been out' Sunday, 2:13 PM.

'U hav fun wit ur friends?' Sunday, 2:14 PM.

'Cant wait t see u again hun x' Sunday, 2:17 PM.

'Answer me.' Sunday, 2:20 PM.

🛻•Then, radio silence.

🛻•Wednesday evening, a full week after, you always go to the diner and order a pumpkin pie slice, one that Cregan would treat you with after he fucked you senseless, one of the only nice things he ever did for you.

🛻•Then, before you know it, a body slides into the opposite booth, you don't even have to lift your head to know who it is. His smell, his confidence, the way he's spreading his legs under the table. Cregan.

🛻•He grabs a fork, as your eyes lift up from your phone. The utensil cuts through the pie, taking a big scoop with some whipped cream and shoving it in his mouth.

🛻•He licks the fork clean as you stare at him, his nose, his beard, his eyes. Everything makes you squeeze your thighs shut, the throbbing returning to your core.

🛻•"Your tires are worn darlin'.. gon' need t' get 'em fixed." His gruff voice cuts through the soft hum of a song playing on the jukebox that's on its last leg.

🛻•"They got fixed last week" You mumble, grabbing the coffee mug on your right and taking a sip. "Hm." He hums, staring back at you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

🛻•About ten minutes go by, Cregan just staring at you as he slides the pie towards him, eating it like he paid for it. That's the thing about Cregan, he's greedy. And selfish. If he wants it, he'll take it.

🛻•You quickly slam down five dollars, a tip for the waitress before scooting out of the booth, walking out of the diner as Cregan watches with that shit eating grin on his face.

🛻•He shoves the remaining section of the pie into his mouth and jumps out of the booth, walking out with long strides, confidence looming around him.

🛻•As you're trying to unlocking your car door, Cregan slides behind you, slotting his hips against your ass.

🛻•His large hands grip your hips, pressing himself harder into you as a gasp slips through your lips. A low grumble rattles his large chest as he speaks in your ear, his low, deep voice making your legs tremble with desire, "Yuv been ignorin' me darlin'.."

🛻•One hand moves off your hip, gliding up your torso softly before harshly gripping your tit, massaging it roughly as his hips slowly grind against your ass.

🛻•Your fingers grip the top of your car, eyes fluttering closed as Cregan practically dry humps you against your car in broad daylight.

🛻•Before you know it, he pushes you harshly against the car and steps back, not even bothering to hide his raging hard on.

🛻•A finger gets pointed in your face as you turn your head to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in absolute confusion. "Don't ever fucking ignore me again. Ever."

🛻•He moves the pointed finger from your face, dropping it down before shoving past you, his truck being on the other side, a few spaces down. And you definitely didn't miss the harsh smack he laid on your ass while he shoved past.

🛻•You have zero clue if Cregan actually wants you or sees you as his property, but at this point, you're too cock drunk to even care.

I hope I did it justice! I've been so sick so my writing definitely got worse throughout this 🥲

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

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a-babe-without-a-name · 3 months ago

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Sit Next To Me

Chapter 3: That’s Actually Very Unreasonable.

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Yay! Ch 3 is finally done! I pay Rugby and practice started up this week, which is a big reason this wasn't done a little bit sooner. But thank you to everyone for bearing with me and thank you SO MUCH for the support. I've received so many kind comments and messages, I'm so happy that I decided to actually finish and post this instead of letting it it in my google drive. Chapter 4 is coming, I'm not gonna promise when, but its on the way.

At the request of at least one person, I'm going to start a tag list in the replies of each chapter, lmk if you want to be added to that!

ALSO. Someone sent in a request and I am very excited about this. I wasn't planning on asking for requests, but I think it would be good for me to use those as a brain break from the main long form story. So if anyone is interested, feel free to send one shot or head canon requests my way! NSFW or SFW is fine! If you have questions, send an ask :) Anyways, I'll shut up now. Enjoy <3

Read on AO3

Waking up on Saturday was…difficult, to say the least. After spending the summer mostly sober, save for the occasional drink with your dad or joint by yourself, your body was not prepared for the previous night's substance intake. You felt grimy when you came to in your bed. Your skin sticky from sweat, your mouth dryer than all hell, and your brain felt like it had been shaken in a jar. Laying there, face in your pillow, the pros and cons of climbing out of bed tumbled around your head.

You decided that if it was before noon, you’d allow yourself a few more hours of sleep, otherwise you had to get up. Blindly you stuck a hand onto the counter at the head of your bed, knocking things left out from last night around until you found your phone. The bright screen made your temple pulse when you clicked it on.

12:01.

You dropped your head and groaned into the pillow. A deal was a deal, though, even with yourself. You gave yourself grace as you sat up in bed, looking around your tiny double dorm room. Bright light shone around the edge of the blinds, making you squint. Clothes were still scattered around your side, your hightops dropped haphazardly on the floor, not far from your shorts. You had barely managed to piss, brush your teeth, and put on clean underwear before knocking out last night. You could still feel what little makeup you had on last night smeared around your eyes. All of your pre-made plans to hydrate and clean up before going to bed were abandoned as soon as you set foot into your room.

Lest on the other hand, looked like a princess in her bed. Washed hair in two braids, fresh pjs on, and her trusty sleep mask covering her eyes. She even layed like a princess, flat on her back with her hands folded on her stomach. You envied her discipline for hygiene even when drunk.

You slid out of bed. Bracing yourself on the frame with a groan when your stomach flipped. Lest didn’t even flinch, she slept both like a princess and a log. You left on the clothes you slept in, wrapped a towel around your waist, and gathered your shower bag. First order of business was to clean up, because even one more minute of feeling like you were covered in a film of alcohol and smoke and you were gonna peel your skin off.

The shared hallway was aggressively bright, but fortunately empty. You were sure you couldn’t handle an awkward ‘on the way to the shower’ run in with a hallmate right now. You’d probably throw up on the carpet. Luckily on a well weathered first Saturday of the semester, the hall was virtually abandoned. Which also meant that the only single user bathroom on your side of the building was free.

You leaned heavily against the closed door, eyes screwed shut as you fought back the wave of nausea that came with your short walk. With your eyes closed you found the automatic light switch, pushing the button to shut the lights down. The frosted window let in just enough light to see without burning your eyes out. You hung up your things and started the shower, knowing it would take a while for it to warm up.

You took that time to brush your teeth, sick of the grit that lined your mouth. When you saw yourself in the mirror you couldn't help but to cringe. You were a wreck. The makeup around your eyes was worse than you imagined, smeared completely around your eyes in an intense racoon mask. Your hair was half out of the scrunchie you had pulled it into on the way home, hanging awkwardly on your neck. As you brushed your teeth, you tilted your head at the borrowed shirt realizing something off about it. You frowned at it in the mirror, trying to make out what the writing said. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Metallica. You spit in the sink and set your toothbrush to the side before pulling the shirt over your head. It didn’t say Metallica, it said Mozart in the Metallica font.

You snorted a laugh, “Jayce, what the fuck?” Folding the shirt up, you shoved it into your bag, hoping you'd remember to wash it with your laundry. When you caught a glimpse of your bare torso in the mirror, you froze.

Memories of last night came flooding back as you stared at the red marks scattered across your body. An unsteady line of hickeys connected one hip bone to the other, a few were splayed up across your stomach and in a cluster across your chest. There was even one framed by a perfect bite mark on the top of your shoulder.

“God damn…” You muttered, turning in the mirror in search of more. While you didn’t find any more hickeys sucked into your skin, you did find thin bruises on the sides of both your thighs from his fingers digging into your flesh.

You stepped closer to the mirror, ghosting your fingertips over the marks. You couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of his hands on you. You could still feel him against you, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. You gripped the edge of the sink, willing the thoughts away. It was a hookup with a stranger who’s name wasn’t even known to you. It wasn’t going to happen again.

Despite that fact, you thought of him in the shower until the water ran cold.

-----

Lest was awake when you made it back to your room. In the time it took you to shower she had managed to get dressed, make both herself and you coffee and frozen breakfast sandwiches, clean up your side of the room, and get the first season of Love Island up on your TV. She was stirring creamer into her coffee when you came in.

“Goodmorning,” You said, locking your door behind you, “How long have you been up?”

“Like, 45 minutes,” She said, setting the creamer to the side for you, “Were you in the shower that whole time?”

“Er, yeah, sorry. I wanted to shave,” You lied, a little surprised at how long you had actually been gone. You hoped Lest wouldn’t notice that you definitely had not shaved.

You dressed quickly. You and Lest had never been shy about changing in front of each other, but right now you had yourself angled awkwardly against your closet, praying to god she didn’t catch a glimpse of the love bites you were sporting. Luckily you managed to pull on a tshirt and sweats without her noticing. It’s not like you needed to hide from her, you usually told her everything as soon as it happened, but this time you wanted to keep it to yourself. At least for a little bit. You knew she’d have something, probably valid, to say about the complete unknown of the man you had sex with. She’d scold you on how dangerous it was and drag you to the health center to get tested for an STD.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked as you made up your coffee.

“A little like I was hit by a truck,” You shrugged, putting the cream away in your tiny fridge, “But I’ve definitely felt worse. You?”

“Better than I thought I would,” Lest told you, starting the show, “I didn’t drink much towards the end, and I didn’t smoke at all so I guess it makes sense.”

“You’re lucky,” You joked, climbing into bed with your coffee and breakfast, “We’re still doing nothing today right?”

“Oh, for sure.” Lest said nodding with wide eyes, “This is probably the last weekend we’ll be able to actually push homework off. Everything can wait until tomorrow.”

“Works for me,” You nodded, sipping your coffee and tuning into the trashy reality show you and Lest were hooked on.

You realized pretty quickly that all the gorgeous men and women and unhealthy relationships in the world wouldn’t distract you enough. You had figured post your incredibly long shower you’d be free of Pretty Boy, that the memory of him would ebb away. No luck.

By the time Micheal had been cast out of the Villa, you had managed to replay last night's events a hundred times in your head. It wasn’t just the sex that you were hyper focused on, it was every second you were near him. You kept thinking about how he looked in the kitchen, the way the lights moved over his skin and hair. The fact that even in the dark his eyes were still so bright and warm. You could hear the lilt of his accent in your head, all the words he said to you, all the things he called you.

What really stuck with you was how soft it all had been. How gentle and kind he had been with you. The way his voice sounded when he asked if you were leaving. How much you wished you had said no. This was going to haunt you for at least a week, you knew it would. You were preparing for it to be a very hard and very unfocused week.

Lest called you out a few times during the lazy afternoon, questioning your mental absence from the shared room. You brushed her off with excuses of exhaustion and nausea. You could tell she was worried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. Eventually, not many hours after waking up, you let yourself fall asleep to the thought of his lips on yours.

-------

On Sunday you woke up well before the sun, thanks to your early bedtime. You stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself back to sleep, but as your room slowly turned from pitch black into grey tones you knew it wasn’t going to happen. Quietly you pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. It was barely even six by the time you were finished getting ready, but you were restless. Scribbling a note for Lest, you left your dorm.

There was a time when you’d go on a walk before the sun was fully up every morning. It was when you enjoyed campus the most. The cold and quiet of it was comforting, it felt like home. Almost completely deserted at this hour. The only souls you ever saw this early were the landscapers, perfecting the small campus before the day began, and the occasional early rising professor walking a beloved campus dog. On a Sunday, though, it was truly empty.

You wandered without really knowing where you were going, you let your feet remember the familiar path they once took so frequently. The sun barely peeked over the line of trees and brick buildings, casting long shadows over the quad. Dew grayed the grass, evaporating where the sun touched it. Eventually you reached the flower garden nestled between the two original buildings of the campus. You settled on a cold stone bench, the dedication plaque so worn it was nearly unreadable.

You looked around the garden. The variety of flowers were in full bloom as the summer came to a close, each one tended to with great care. It was a sacred place on campus, for everyone. It was where most students had been introduced to the school, the garden being the meeting spot for all campus tours. During both matriculation and graduation, students paraded through it. The flowers were both a beautiful welcome and a bittersweet goodbye to those who chose Piltover for their education. It was impossible not to love it.

You sighed and picked at a patch of lichen on the edge of the bench. Remembering what else you used to do on these early walks, another habit you regretfully fell out of. You dragged your knees up to your chest and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket. Your fingers were on autopilot as they navigated to your contacts.

It rang only once.

“Good morning Buddy,” Your dad’s voice was warming even through the phone.

“Good morning,” You said, leaning your cheek against your knee, “How are you?”

“I’m good, just getting ready to head out on the boat,” You could hear him shuffling around as he spoke. You could picture him, preparing for the day in the kitchen, “How are you? You’re up pretty early.”

“Working on a Sunday? That’s unlike you,” You joked, it was actually very like him, “I fell asleep early last night, couldn't go back to bed.”

“No, actually, not working today,” You heard the front door of your house open and close, “I’m headed out with the guys. The weathers going to be good for some deep fishing, today.”

“Oh good, that’ll be nice. I hope the catch is good,” You were glad he was taking time for himself, “Send me pictures if you get anything cool.”

“Of course buddy,” He laughed, you heard his truck start up, “Wait, so you went to bed early on a Saturday night? When did you become so boring?”

You scoffed, “Excuse me, are you mad that I am a responsible adult?”

“That’s not what I said!” He assured you.

“Yeah sure,” You rolled your eyes but smiled anyways, “Besides, it was friday night that I was out until three in the morning, rest assured I am certainly not boring.”

“Hm, okay,” He was quiet for a moment, “You’re making good decisions, I hope? Staying safe.”

You groaned at the implications of his words, embarrassed that they weren't actually that far off. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“Yes Dad, I am making perfectly fine decisions,” You half lied to him.

“Good to know. I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

“Ew,” You fake gagged, “Don’t say stuff like that.”

He laughed on the other end. It had been a week and a half since you saw him last, but you already missed the sound of him laughing, “How was your first week of classes?”

“Good,” You told him, “So far at least. I mean, it's the first week and I already have a good amount of homework to do, which sucks, but I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, you’ve got this, though,” He assured you, never not confident in your abilities, “You always do. What classes are you taking again?”

“I have two envi-sci classes right now, one with a lab, a chemistry class with a lab, and I’m taking an Asian American Lit class, to keep myself from going crazy in the science building.” You told him, thinking about your particularly heavy science schedule, “I’m trying to switch chemistry classes, though. There's a smaller class with a…better professor. Not that my current professor is bad, it’s just that Heimerdinger is, like, the best professor here. I’d like to take at least one class with him. I’m on the waiting list.”

“Sounds like a good schedule. I’m glad you're taking a non-science class, it’ll be good for your brain,” He told you, “And I’ll cross my fingers you get into that class you want.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You laughed, at this point you didn’t have much hope for getting in, but you could always try next semester.

“Hey, has your mom talked to you?” The question made you groan.

“No, why?” You didn’t particularly want to talk to her, not since her 2nd remarriage last summer.

“She called the other day and asked if she could have you for Christmas this year?” He was treading carefully, “I think you should.”

‘What? No way,” You answered immediately, offended at the idea that you would want to do that, “First of all, I’m not 15 anymore, neither of you get to have me, I can decide where I want to go for breaks. And second, Why would I want to spend break in Arizona with her child groom and his infant children?”

He was, clearly, not a child groom. Paul was 35, but in comparison to your mother’s age- 45- he might as well be a teenager. His kids weren’t infants either, 9 & 14, but, again, they might as well have been.

“Hey, I know, I trust you to make your own decisions, but I also know that you’ve developed a lot of anger recently with your mom,” He sighed, “I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with her your whole life, it’s not healthy.”

“Really milking those two years of psychology undergrad, huh,” You joked bitterly. Your dad would have been the best therapist in the world if he had finished school. Your surprise arrival put an end to that half dream instantly. He never resented you for it.

“I’m serious, buddy,” His voice was calm, urging you to be open, “It wouldn’t have to be for the whole break, just a couple days around Christmas. If you want to spend the rest of the time here with me you can, obviously. Just think about it?”

“Fine…I’ll think about it,” You pouted, he could convince you of anything, “But no promises.”

“Thank you, sorry for springing this on you right now.” You could hear chatter somewhere behind him, he was probably at the docks by now.

“It’s okay, sorry for being a brat about it,” You laughed softly.

“You’d be nothing without your attitude,” He teased, in the background you could hear someone calling his name.

“I get it from you,” That wasn’t entirely true, you and him both knew it, “But hey, I’ll let you go, sounds like you’re needed.”

“Yeah, the guys just showed up,” He admitted, “I can tell them to wait for a bit though if you want to keep talking?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” You insisted, checking the time, “I should probably go, anyways. Me and Lest are gonna go work on homework in a bit.”

“Okay, no problem,” He told you, you wished you could talk to him all day, you wished you were going fishing with him, “I’m proud of you, buddy, and I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Dad,” You said, trying to hold back tears, “Have fun out there, be safe.”

“Always am. Tell Lest I say hello for me, Love you.” He let you hang up the phone.

You wrapped your arms around your legs and buried your head in your knees, unable to hold back the sobs. You let yourself cry. You didn’t think this was how you’d start your morning, but it was fine. Almost cathartic in a way, to let yourself be sad about something as childish as missing your dad who was only a day. You knew it was fine and very normal, but it still felt immature. Regardless, you let yourself cry until Lest finally texted you.

-------

The rest of the day was just as unexpected. When you headed back to your dorm Lest had just started to get ready. You laid in your bed, scrolling through your phone until she was ready. In the hour or so it took her to shower, get dressed, and gather her school work, the weather took a drastic change. You had wanted to lay out on the quad and do work, but the soft sunny sky was full of clouds now, all threatening rain. Instead, you and Lest headed to the small coffee shop on campus. Here it was much harder to focus. You camped out at a table in the corner, despite this everyone who knew you or her came over to chat. Meaning the amount of work you finished was…disappointing, to say the least.

Then, due to the cafe's short Sunday hours, you had to relocate once again. At the overly polite requests of the baristas, you packed up and hauled off to the library. You wished you had come here in the first place. It was pretty much vacant this time of day and you and Lest set up in the quiet section, assuring no one would bother you even if they wanted to. Workflow was steady now, you managed to knock out one assignment after another. In the quiet of the library you were even able to focus on your textbook readings enough to take notes.

As the afternoon began to turn to evening and the library began to fill up, you were finally in the home stretch. Lest was on her last set of practice questions for her math class and you had one more reading and a chemistry practice test to do. You’d probably be back to your room within the hour. You opened up the practice test, determined to get everything done.

It was harder than you had expected. Some of the questions were fairly basic, things you knew from level one and even highschool chemistry, and there were a few that took a little effort but were fresh in your head from last semester. Almost half the questions, though, were questions that were completely foreign to you. You could make out bits and pieces of it in your brain. Some questions gently touched by your previous professors and others that you could make shaky assumptions on. You tried to remind yourself that this was a practice test for a reason, but the shitty score you knew would show at the end still bothered you. In the end you got 65%.

You opened up your email to check for submission confirmation before moving on to the reading. A recent message at the top of the box made you pause. You read it quickly once, twice, three times.

“I’m off the waitlist,” You told Lest, flinching when someone at a nearby table shushed you.

“What?” She whispered, leaning closer to see your laptop.

“I’m off the waitlist for chem,” You whispered back, opening up the class portal and accepting the offer.

“I thought you were in a chem class already?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, but I got into the class with the professor I actually want,” You explained, wishing you could be more excited than the setting allowed.

“Oh, that's…good,” You could tell she didn’t quite get it, but wanted to be happy for you anyways.

“Yes, it’s very good,” You laughed, pushing your chair away from the table, “and as a reward, I’m gonna go piss.”

“Babe, please don’t give yourself a UTI because you only pee after academic success,” Lest jokingly begged, rubbing the space between her eyebrows.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you walked away from the table, ignoring the dirty looks from other tables. You were thrilled, a class with Heimerdinger genuinely opened up a world of connections. He knew scientists in every field all over the world. Of course, as the dean of the science department, he was willing to help any student make connections, but it was definitely easier if you were in his class. You were so happy about this, you didn’t mind that the practice test you just spent an hour on was for a class you were about to drop.

You pulled out your phone, shooting off a text to your dad.

Got into the class I wanted! Thx 4 crossing ur fingers

He responded immediately.

Yay… that’s great, happy for you… wanna see the catch today?

You shook your head at the ellipses habit he refused to break. Such an old man.

TY!!! Yes obvi. Fish Now.

He sent back a photo of himself and one of the older guys he fished with holding an impressively sized mahi mahi.

Omg mahi this late in the szn is craaazzyyy, very jealous

You couldn’t help the pang of sadness that bloomed in your chest. Missing your dad intensely for the second time that day.

Yeah, me and the guys were surprised for sure…I got go, talk to you later?

Oki!

Love you Buddy

Love u toooo

You slammed into someone in your distraction as you hit send. The apology coming out of your mouth only made it halfway, your mind and body freezing up at the flash of chestnut hair and pale skin above you.

“Woah, watch it.” The guy, who you realized a second later was not in fact Pretty Boy, snapped at you.

“Sorry,” Your voice came out like a squeak, you cleared your throat, speaking louder, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s…uh it’s fine,” Not Pretty Boy said, looking down at you oddly, “Are you okay?”

You realized you were staring at him, studying all the ways in which he wasn’t Pretty Boy. Too stocky, face too round, hair too long, eyes a dull green.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine, sorry,” You shook your head, stepping past him as you apologized again.

You hurried off to the restroom, face burning as you locked yourself into a stall. You had managed to keep him out of your head all day. You dressed without looking at the marks he left behind, you kept your mind busy with work and thoughts of your family situation, you barely even acknowledged the fact that you had a body.

And now after all that work, here you were, unable to think about anything besides him. You groaned and thumped your head against the stall door, knowing he’d be inescapable for the rest of the night.

You stared at your hand on your leg, fingers digging into the bruises under your jeans. You had set your book down for the hundredth time, barely halfway through the reading, distracted again. Every time you tried to read the words on the page, you wouldn’t get far. Unable to process any of the information you were looking at. It all felt like a different language. You could feel his hands pressing into your legs, his lips on your neck, accent in your ears.

Something hitting your forehead made you jump, startling you out of the daydream.

“Earth to struggling student,” Lest whispered, crumpling another sticky note and launching it at you.

You swatted the yellow paper away, frowning at her, “What?”

“Girl, where have you been this weekend?” Lest hissed, leaning across the table, eyebrows furrowed, “You’ve been weird ever since Jayce’s party. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You shrugged.

“Okay, liar,” She deadpanned, rolling her eyes, “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” You insisted, rifling the pages of your book.

She stared at you, blink her big eyes expectantly. At this point, she wasn’t going to give up.

“I hooked up with someone at the party” You muttered, not looking at her.

“What?” She gasped, ignoring the looks from other tables. She stood and took the seat next to you, pulling her chair close and leaning in, “When?”

“When I went to wash my top in the garage,” You told her, chewing on your lip, “I wasn’t exactly smoking alone,”

“Oh my god!” She squeaked, eyes wide, “You fucked someone in Jayce and Cait’s garage??”

“Shhh,” You placed a palm over her mouth, worried about wandering ears, “Be quiet, I don’t need the whole student body to know.”

She just blinked at you over the top of your hand, waiting.

“Yeah, in the garage,” You could feel your face getting hot.

“Did you guys… like, get a home run? Or only make it to 3rd base?” She raised an eyebrow.

“What are you? 12?” You scoffed, glancing sideways as you told her, “...home run.”

“Good girl!” She punched you lightly on the arm, “Wait, that’s why you’ve been so spacy? You’ve been thinking about your little garage escapade all weekend?”

“Lest, you don't get it,” You insisted, “It was, like, amazing. Quite possibly the best sex I have ever had in my entire life. Like, honeymoon waited until marriage but somehow still perfect at it kind of sex.”

“No way,”

“Yes way, bitch,” You said, raising your eyebrows at her, “yes fucking way.”

“Damn…” She stared down at the table, then quirked her head to the side, “Who?”

There it was, the reason you hadn’t told her as soon as it happened.

“Um, well…” You hesitated. Lest narrowed her eyes at you, you could see her mind scrolling the list of possibilities. You cringed, “I don’t exactly know.”

Lest gaped at you, “What?”

“We were both high,” You admitted sheepishly, “And kind of caught up with other things. Names didn’t come up.”

“Are you crazy?”

“He was nice!” You defended, “Like, so fucking nice.”

“That is so dangerous!” She scolded, more concerned than mad, “Did you use a condom?”

“Christ, Lest, of course,” You rolled your eyes, “I’m not dumb.”

“I know, but you said you were high,” She shrugged, “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t need to find a way to squeeze a crib into our dorm.”

“Twenties pregnancy is no joke,” You told Lest, trying to hold your face straight as long as you could before the corners of your mouth cracked upwards.

“Damn, so great sex guy is anonymous,” She sighed, “That’s kind of a bummer. He goes here right?”

“He said he did,” You told her, “That’d be an odd thing to lie about, right?”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll see him at another party?” She said, hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe,” You sighed, “I don’t know, it was so good I almost don’t want to do it again.”

“That makes zero sense,” she scrunched her nose.

“I mean, I fucked this guy once for, like, an hour.” You explained, “And he is all I’ve been able to think about for the past two days. Do I really want to do this again?”

“Well, if you make it a habit,” She offered.

“I don’t know,” You sighed, shaking your head, “It sucks, but I think it’s better if it doesn't happen again. I don’t think my grades could handle it.” You waved the book you had tried and failed to read for the past hour.

“Skill issue.” She shrugged, shutting her laptop, “Do you have to finish that reading tonight? I wanna get dinner.”

“Uh, thanks Lest, very cool,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at her joke, “And I’m not going to be able to anyways. I’ll finish it before class tomorrow.”

“Okay good,” Lest said, standing and stretching her arms over her head, “I’ll get us Thai if you promise details.”

“Hm, you know, I’m not against trading my secrets for pad thai and mango rice,” You laughed, packing your stuff up.

Clasping her hands together she determined, “This is, like, better than Love Island.”

You just scoffed, shaking your head at her.

-------

As thrilled as you were to be taking Heimerdinger's class, there was one tiny drawback. It was your first and only seven am. You had managed four whole semesters of not having to be in a class until at least nine. That was very much on purpose, because dragging yourself out of bed at five in the morning was not your idea of a good start to the day.

As much as you wanted to skip past your first alarm and show up to class unshowered and in sweatpants, you figured that wasn’t the most professional first impression to make on the dean. So you got up like a good student. You took your time getting ready and double checking that you had everything you’d need for your two classes of the day, preferring to not haul back to the dorm between them. You had correctly calculated enough time to stop at the cafe on the way to grab coffee with a higher caffeine content than what you could make in your room.

There were quite a few seven am classes available, but given that you were over 30 minutes early, the halls of the science building were still fairly deserted. A few offices were lit up and some classrooms had TAs setting up for the day, but not much student presence yet. When you found the room the schedule had directed you to, you were pleased to see it was empty. It’d be easier to talk to who you considered the most intimidating professor on campus without an audience.

The classroom was small, but you knew the lab attached through a door at the back would be much bigger. Professor Heimerdinger was sitting behind the desk at the front, fidgeting with the desktop computer. You knocked on the doorframe to get his attention.

“Good morning Professor Heimerdinger,” You greeted, stepping partially into the room as you told him your name, “I was on the waitlist until last night, I wasn’t sure if they told you I had moved off of it.”

“Oh! Good morning, dear,” He beamed from under his impressively large mustache, moving away from the computer, “Yes, it was mentioned that there may be a change in the roster. I’m glad you were able to move up from the waitlist. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, you had never been in the same room as the esteemed man, only ever seen him give speeches or in passing around campus, you walked over to his desk, “I’m also glad to be here, I’ve been looking forward to taking one of your classes. I’ve heard great things.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” He walked around his desk and extended a hand up towards you. Due to his short stature you had to bend just slightly at the waist to return the gesture, “I’m glad to have you in class, your name is familiar. Are you acquaintances with Mr. Jayce Talis, by chance?”

You knew Jayce had been lucky enough to score Heimerdinger as his advisor and close mentor, you were surprised he had mentioned you, though.

“Yes, actually, Jayce is a very close friend of mine,” You told him, trying to hide a nervous laugh, “Has he been speaking of me?”

“Only good things, my dear,” He said, picking up on your anxiety, “I assure you.”

“Good to know,” You laugh, hoping it wasn’t too loud in the small space, “Thank you, again, I am really grateful for the opportunity to be in your class.”

“Well of course,” He told you, moving back around his desk as he spoke, “Have you been able to acquire the reading materials for the class?”

“I ordered the textbook last night,” You explained, “I should have it by the end of the week. I’m sure I can borrow a copy from a classmate for the time being.”

“No need, I have an extra copy you are welcome to use until yours arrives,” He pulled a dense book from under his desk, “It’s an earlier edition, though, so just be sure that you read the correct sections.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” You took the worn book, he also handed you a printed syllabus, “Was there reading for today? I could try to get some of it done before class starts.”

“Last week’s schedule became a little jumbled due to my being under the weather, so the first reading is due next class, if you would like to review the syllabus and schedule before class, you will be all caught up,” He explained. You couldn’t describe the relief this gave you, “We only met for one class last week, so you aren’t behind, but the class has already been divided into groups for the semester. I apologize that you were not here for the grouping. I allow students to choose who they work with, so if you see someone you know feel free to join their group.”

“Okay, thank you.” You nodded and turned to find a seat.

As Heimerdinger returned back to his computer, you set up in the corner of the room. The syllabus was fairly basic, but gave a good explanation of the Professor’s expectations. You were sure this wasn’t going to be an easy class, but you were also sure you’d enjoy the challenge. The only thing that was making you anxious was the fact that none of the students that showed up were familiar to you. You watched as the clock ticked closer and closer to seven, your knee bouncing under the table. You tried to distract yourself by skimming through the borrowed textbook, settling on a random section to pass the time with.

You were halfway through the chapter about asymmetric oxidation and reduction when a newer copy of the book was dropped on the table in front of you with a bang. You jumped, looking up in surprise.

“Hey stranger,” Jinx smirked down at you, nodding at your book,“Pretty impressive reading pace you’ve got there.”

“Jinx!” You stood, wrapping your arms around her, “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Ekko is too, he’ll be here in a minute,” She told you as you settled into your seats, the room was busy now, “Were you on the waitlist?”

“Yeah, this class was a bitch to get into,” You frowned, then realized something, “Wait, how did you get in? You’re a sophomore this year right? This is an upperclassmen class.”

She laughed sheepishly, shrugging, “Ha, well you know, nepotism isn't always bad.”

“No way, Silco got you in? You lucky bitch,” You gasped, but were not surprised that her dad, who happened to be a well respected professor in the business program, had managed to get her into a higher level class.

“Yeah, and Ekko,” She pulled the rest of her things from her bag, blowing a strand of freshly dyed blue hair out of her face, “You should have told me, I could have gotten you in, too.”

“Sorry, friend nepotism didn’t cross my mind,” You laughed, waving at Ekko as he walked into the room, “I’ll keep it in mind for next time, though.”

“Always got your back, babe,” Jinx gave an over exaggerated smile, all teeth.

Ekko slid into the seat next to Jinx, setting a coffee cup down in front of her, “Hey, where were you last week?” He laughed, extended a fist out for you to bump.

“Still on the waitlist,” You laughed, pulling out your things as other students began to settle into their seats.

“Glad you're here,” He told you, “You wanna be part of our group right?”

“Yes please,” You said with exaggerated begging,“I was worried I’d have to join people I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason I drag him into every class I take,” Jinx laughed, jerking her thumb over to Ekko.

“Yeah, I’m sure the fact that I always give you my notes has nothing to do with it,” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She stuck her nose up in the air, giving him a side eye.

You couldn’t help but to laugh at them, their large personalities combined to make one big ball of loud and colorful and smart. You had spent a lot of your free time during your summer research with them. Jinx had convinced you to join their little band and you three terrorized the others with very loud and not so great music playing. You were excited to be in class with them. Looking around, though, you noticed that all the other groups consisted of at least three people, some of them even holding five.

“Are you guys a group of two?” You tilted your head, it would be odd for the Professor to let them do that in a class that seemed to be very group focused.

“What? Oh, no there’s three of us,” Ekko told you, “I don’t know if you’ve met him yet. It’s Jayce’s new roommate, Viktor. I don’t know why he isn’t here yet.”

You laughed, part of you still wondering if this was some insane joke that everyone was really really dedicated to, “Haven't met him, yet, but I’ve heard of him plenty of times.”

“Wasn’t he at the party on Friday?” Jinx asked, “He said Jayce had convinced him to go.”

“Jayce kept saying he was there, but I never ran into him,” You shrugged, “I’m still not convinced he’s real.”

“Yeah, you got us,” Jinx said, dead serious, “He isn’t real.”

“Wait what?” You side eyed her.

“Also we wrote gullible on the ceiling,” She rolled her eyes, you resisted the urge to look up, “Viktor is very real, I promise. He’s super smart too, like, almost as smart as me.”

“Always humble, babe,” Ekko said, patting Jinx on the arm, “Always humble.”

Class began then, Heimerdinger calling everyone's attention to the front of the room. You settled into the flow of it pretty quickly. You weren’t surprised that he managed to be an engaging professor. You’d sat through plenty of his speeches and presentations over the past two years, and never for a second did you find yourself bored during them. He gave a quick overview of what the next couple of weeks were going to look like and then passed around paper practice tests. You were a little disappointed to have to do another one.

This test ended up being somewhat easier than the one you had taken last night, only a few of the questions really escaped you. You could tell this was a test meant to gauge how much the class knew as opposed to how much they didn’t. You had just flipped to the last page when the door to the classroom opened. As much as you wanted to keep your eyes down and not contribute to the awkward stares you were sure everyone was already giving, instinct kicked in and you couldn't help but to glance up.

You froze.

There was no way.

This was not happening.

You blinked a few times, mouth hanging open as you watched Pretty Boy lean over Heimerdinger's desk, speaking too quiet for you to hear with an apology written all over his face. Your heart dropped all the way down to the center of the earth, your lungs dried out and you felt like your head was under waves.

When Pretty Boy turned around, his perfect amber eyes immediately landed on yours. Freezing, his eyes widened slightly in an expression you were sure was identical to yours. Poorly hidden horror. You looked away, eyes dropping to your paper, the grip around your pencil was tight enough to turn your knuckles white. You could hear him walking straight for your table, cane tapping along with his footsteps.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the table. Why was he coming this way? There were plenty of other seats. Was now the time to confront you? In the quietest classroom imaginable. He slid into the seat next to you.

“Hey Viktor,” Jinx whispered, glancing up before going back to her test.

Viktor. He was Viktor. Pretty Boy was the roommate you were convinced didn’t exist. The one you had just told Jinx you had never met. The reality that you had, in fact, met him very intimately was crashing down around you. You raced back through your memory, all the little dots that you should have connected immediately snapped together. The music he was listening to, the smoking, that he was even in the garage in the first place, the reason you hadn’t recognized him despite being in your year, the fact that you never saw him leave the house.

He fucking lived there. He was Jayce’s roommate. You had fucked Jayce’s roommate.

You could feel his eyes on the side of your face as these thoughts ran through your head. You looked up at him, his closeness making you dizzy, but not in a pleasant way like last time. His face was nearly blank, only the slightest pull to his eyebrows that didn’t give away any of his thoughts. You had never felt the desire to know what someone else was thinking, not really, not until this very moment.

Not knowing what to do, you let out a shaky breath and went back to your paper. The room was too quiet to speak to him, you could do nothing but endure the remaining time it took for everyone to finish their tests and hope you didn’t faint.

You were keenly aware of his presence next to you. Everything was taken up by Pretty Boy. By Viktor. You could feel the heat of his leg close to yours, you could smell the cologne he was wearing. The scratching of his pen as he started the test was the only sound you could hear. You felt like you were going crazy. At this moment you were sure you could have been committed to a state hospital. The words on the page blurred in front of you. You scribbled out incorrect equations a dozen times before Hiemerdinger finally concluded that everyone was done.

“I will review these and adjust our scheduled content accordingly,” He told the class as the tests were passed forward, “As an unplanned reward for enduring my data collection, please talk amongst yourselves while I battle with technology. I will begin today’s lesson as soon as possible.”

“Nice,” Jinx said to herself as chatter started up in the classroom, she turned to Pret- to Viktor, “Dude, where were you?”

“Sorry, I was stuck behind a school bus,” He told her, his accent was less thick than you remember, “it wasn’t a problem last week, I wasn’t prepared.”

“Oh, yeah, school just started this week for little kids,” She nodded, she was lost in thought for a moment, no doubt thinking about picking up Isha from school later. She snapped back to the present and told him your name, “She’s part of the larger group, I’m surprised you haven't met yet.”

His eyes met yours and when he said your name, you could have melted all the way to the ground floor, “It’s nice to meet you, are you…joining our group?”

It took you a moment to realize he was holding a hand out to you. You shook it, trying to be as firm as you could, but you knew your hands were shaking.

“Nice to meet you, too, ” You said, “Um, I can find another group if you-”

“No,” He said, too quickly, “No, that’s not necessary, I’m glad to have you work with us.”

You did your best not to read into that, “Glad to be here.”

“Heimerdinger wanted us to schedule an out of class work time,” Ekko told you, drawing your attention away from Viktor’s face, “We were thinking Friday’s right after class, since we won’t have lab.”

“That works for me,” You nodded, trying to settle into your chair and be casual.

“Cool, I’ll send a calendar invite,” He said, always the proactive one.

“You are friends with Jayce?” Viktor asked, tilting his head at you.

“Yep,” You nodded awkwardly, unsure how to talk to him, “Since freshman year,”

“Hm, interesting.” He mused.

You hated this. It was so uncomfortable and not at all like the last time you had spoken to him. Even aside from the fact that you weren’t fucking, the few words said were clunky and awkward. You were realizing that the drugs and alcohol you had consumed might have had something to do with the ease of conversation. It made you sad. You knew this was stupid. You knew you were being childish. You were an adult, sex shouldn’t be the cause of this unbearable awkwardness. You should be able to talk to someone you hooked up with, without being on the verge of a panic attack. Luckily, Heimerdinger’s technical difficulties came to an end. He drew back everyone's attention and put a halt to your terrible conversation. You turned away from Viktor, facing the front as the intro to advanced ochem lecture began.

The rest of class, thankfully, went smoother than you expected. Your group fell into a good rhythm, working together between bouts of notes to work on practice problems. Viktor was less tense, which let you relax a degree. He was more than willing to help you navigate your textbook, looking over your shoulder to check that you were on the right section. He even helped you find the reading for next class, tearing a piece of paper from his notebook and placing it in the pages. There wasn’t a lab planned for the day, so Heimerdinger continued his lecture well into the scheduled lab time. By the end of the four hours, you had written down almost ten pages of notes. Your hands ached.

“Apologies for the lecture heavy class, everyone. Having to cancel our first class last week meant I needed to catch everyone up” Heimerdinger said as he closed out the presentation, “I promise from here on we will utilize the last two hours as lab time. Have a good rest of your day everyone, I will see you on Wednesday.”

You scooped your things into your bag and slung it over your shoulder, “I’ve gotta get to another class, see ya around.”

You darted out of the door before anyone could reply. Your head was filled with too many thoughts. You took the stairs down, doing your best to organize the mess in your brain. You created a list. First, the things you needed to do, right now. Finish the reading for Asian American Lit, number one. Number two, go to your Asian American Lit class. Then, the things that could wait until after. Telling Lest about Viktor/Pretty Boy dilemma. Though, she would be mad that you didn’t call her at that very moment. Asking Jinx to add you to the group chat, meaning you'd have his number. Yeah, that you could wait on. Then the things you decided could wait forever. Number one, talking to Viktor. It’s all you wanted to do. And at the same time you’d rather spontaneously combust than confront that awkward conversation.

You were free of the overpowering AC of the science building for less than a minute before the task you decided never needed to happen, happened. Against your will, of course.

“Wait up!” Your steps faltered for a second at the sound of Viktor’s voice calling after you. You ignored him, continuing as if you hadn’t heard. He shouted your name, “I know you can hear me!”

You stopped staring at the hot sidewalk for a moment. No. You had somewhere to be, things to do. You shook your head without turning around and kept walking.

“If you take one more step, you’re ableist!” He shouted, out of breath.

You froze and turned slowly to look at him, jaw hanging open, “That is not funny.”

“Got you to stop didn’t it,” He panted, closing the distance between you, he knocked his cane against the side of your calf, “And, I do believe running from a man with a cane can be considered ableist.”

“First of all, I am not running from you,” You lied, looking up at him. You stepped a half inch to the side, using his shadow to block your eyes from the sun, “And second, if I happened to be running from you, it certainly is not because you use a mobility aid.”

“Okay Miss PC,” He rolled his eyes, “Doesn’t matter why, if I deem it ableist, it is.”

You opened your mouth to argue, floundering for what to say. You don’t remember him being this infuriating at the party.

“Exactly,” He said as you snapped your jaw closed.

“Viktor,” You sighed, “What do you want?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head at you. He gave a soft laugh, “I have been waiting all weekend to hear you say my name.”

Breathing would have been easier if he punched you. You blinked up at him, watching him watch you.

“I’m sorry, can I…” He looked around, noticing that other students were leaving the building as their classes ended. You two were standing in the dead center of the sidewalk and in the late summer heat his pale cheeks were already turning pink, “Can we just talk for a second, please?”

He didn’t wait for you to respond before he stepped off the main path and began walking into the flower garden. The dry gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked, the sound amplified in your brain as you followed after him. He settled under a latticed arch, the honeysuckle vines that snaked around it shading you both from the midday sun.

“I’m sorry,” You said, frowning at him.

“For what?” He asked, face confused.

For running away. For not asking your name. For leaving. For joining your class.

“I don’t know.” Was all you could manage.

“You know, apologies lose a lot of their value if you don’t know what you're apologizing for,” He narrowed his eyes, voice almost scolding.

“I..I know, I’m sorry.”

“You say sorry too much,” He laughed, shaking his head, he didn’t look upset, “It’s very American of you.”

“Well, I am American,” You pointed out, letting yourself laugh softly with him, “I’m sorry for that too,” You joked.

“Well, let me apologize?” He asked, “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable in class, it truly was not my intention.”

That was an apology. A real and true apology.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” You shook your head, “Fuck, if anyone had a right to feel weird, it was you.”

He tilted his head in question.

“I mean, it was your class first,” You told him, “I just kinda…showed up.”

“Did you join the class because I was in it?”

“Well, no,” You laughed softly, “How could I have, I didn't even know your name.”

“That’s true,” He scoffed, “I regret that, by the way, I should have asked your name. Not very polite to ask after having sex with someone.”

“Eh, it happens to the best of us,” You shrugged, liking the laugh he gave you in response.

“Well, I am glad I know now,” He told you, eyes moving across his face, he smirked, “It’s a pretty name.”

“Hm, thanks, I like yours quite a lot as well,” You smiled up at him, the step closer he took didn’t go unnoticed, “It suits you, almost as much as Pretty Boy.”

“Thank you,” He smiled down at you, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“What?” You could tell there was something else he wanted to say.

“Can I take you out?” He asked, taking a nervous breath, “I know we kinda did this in a backwards manner, but I…you are very interesting to me, I would like to take you out properly.”

Your stomach twisted. Your chest felt like it was caving in.

“No,” You said, head shaking slightly as you offered a sad smile. The unexpected hurt that flashed in his eyes killed you.

“Oh, um,” He stumbled over his words, clearly taken aback by your refusal, he tried to step away, “Okay.”

“Hey wait,” You reached out, grabbing his wrist before you could escape, “Listen, it’s not you.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, begging you not to embarrass him any further with a cliche line.

“Really, I swear,” You urged, not letting go until he stepped back towards you, “I just… I don’t date classmates. I don’t sleep with classmates. Even if I want to. It causes problems, it makes class awkward, and I can’t risk my GPA just because I find someone attractive.”

He hummed to himself, nodding as he took in your words.

“So…” He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the same way he did when you were straddling his lap, “You’re saying you find me attractive?”

You resisted the urge to lean into his palm, instead you grabbed his wrist and pulled his lingering hand away from your face, “Don’t do that.”

“I’m confused, you’ve already slept with me? So what does it matter?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. He was so fucking handsome you wanted to scream.

“Because, at the time, we weren’t classmates.” You explained like it was obvious.

“Okay, so let me get this straight, you will be in a relationship - sexual or romantic - with someone as long as they aren't an active classmate?” He asked, lip curling up in confusion, “But if they were a past classmate, or in our case, a future classmate, it's fine?”

“Exactly,” You shrugged, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“That’s actually very unreasonable.” He told you, “And also does not make much sense to me.”

“Well, good thing it’s a rule for myself.” You huffed, “You don’t have to understand, you just have to respect it.”

“So, if we were in separate classes, would you go out with me?” He asked.

“Probably, yes.” You admitted.

“But not now, because we are in the same class.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“So, if I ask you when the class is over, you’d say yes?” He leaned towards you, probing.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “Who’s to say you won’t hate me by the end of the semester?”

“Well, considering you seem to be friends with the only people I know at this school, that would be rather unfortunate.” His voice lowered at the end, he was closer to you know. Very much within kissing distance. Right now there was nothing more you wanted than to feel his lips against yours. You know they’d be cool in comparison to the stagnant summer air.

You didn’t. Instead, you took a step back, and shoved your hand out into the distance between you, “Friends and classmates? Can you do that?” You asked, he studied your hand like the offer was written on it, then sighed.

“Fine, I can respect your rules,” He took your hand in his, firm and strong and cold, “Friends and classmates…for now.”

He moved his index finger softly across the inside of your wrist as he held your hand, goosebumps sprinting up your arm. You carried that feeling with you for the rest of the day.

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sapphire-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Running On Sunshine (hospital AU)

Do No Harm part 3 || masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: doctor!Aemond Targaryen x doctor!Reader

summary: You haven't spoken to Aemond. Tensions rise between the two of you and come to a head at the arrival of a disruptive patient.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: NSFW mdni medical terminology, use of needles, discussion around addiction (specifically alcohol, rehab, recovery), fighting, blood, punching, explicit sex (p in v) fingering, oral (fem receiving), creampie, praise, dirty talk, spanking, language

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

note: here it is! long-awaited, thank you for being so patient as my brain jumps around 😂 hope you enjoy it!!

disclaimer: yall, I am not a doctor, I am simply a Grey's Anatomy stan. If something is off or incorrect please just suspend your disbelief! I am trying my best to make it as accurate as possible but its just for fun!!

It’s been a few days since your ultimatum with Aemond.

No texts.

No calls.

You pass each other in the halls and avoid eye contact, brushing past him close enough that if you extended your little finger you’d be sure to brush against the back of his hand.

You weren’t going to chase him.

You’d told him what you wanted. Told him you’d wanted him. And he had stayed silent. If that was the end of you and him, so be it.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t killing you inside. Watching him day in and day out walking through the halls of Citadel General in those stupid blue scrubs that he somehow wore like he was strutting down a runway not the hallway of a hospital.

It didn’t help that observations often included surgeries he was a part of. Aemond was a model resident, often asked to assist the attendants. And he was hard to miss, always wearing his signature scrub cap with little dragons peppered all over it, mid-flight. You’d catch him glancing up at the viewing gallery, peering up over his mask every now and then. You never caught his eye, he was much too quick for that.

“Switch with me,” you’d begged that afternoon after Baratheon had informed you of the plan to observe Dr. Cole’s surgery. There was no way Aemond wouldn't be there, Dr. Cole had chosen him as an obvious favorite.

You’d been catching up on notes with Cory for the past ten minutes, the pair of you both trying to shove food in your mouths before your pagers inevitably went off.

Labs. Observation. Notes. Scut work.

The never-ending revolving schedule of your internship.

Cory reaches into her bag of salt and vinegar chips, clicking her mouse furiously, her brows pinched together in concentration.

“I can’t,” she says through a mouthful, “Besides, you’ve already done this lab. If I don’t get these hours by the end of the week I’m about to take Jace’s place as Baratheon’s least favorite.”

You groan in frustration, letting your head rest against the keyboard of your computer. Nettles pops her head into the room, frowning at you both, “What’s wrong with her?”

Cory shrugs and you turn your head to face Nettles.

Beep beep!

Cory groans, checking her pager, “Shit, I gotta go,” she says, crushing her chip bag and logging out of the computer before heading out of the room, “Sorry again, Y/N!”

You mumble something along the lines of don’t worry about it just as she disappears from sight. Nettles raises her eyebrows.

“McDreamy?” she asks, and you continue to pout, “Damn. Dick is so good we should change his name to McDick.”

“You suck,” you tell her, but you can’t stop your smile, “Definitely not your best work.”

“McOrgasm? I’m still thinking of one that truly encompasses the distress he’s causing you. Dr. Cum?” she makes a face, “Okay ew. Definitely not Dr. Cum.”

You groan, putting your face in your hands, “What am I going to do?”

Nettles walks towards you, slapping the back of your head. You lift your head, mouth open in shock, palming the place she slapped.

“Hey! I was recently concussed!”

“And apparently it scrambled your brains more than we thought!” she snaps, “See what you’re not going to do is spend your days moping over Dr. Sexy. I don’t care how good his dick was. You are a doctor. You are an insanely smart woman and you are in your internship.”

Nettles lowers herself to your height, taking your hands in hers.

“He is very dreamy,” she says, her brown eyes empathetic, “But this is your time to shine. Not his. He’s not this important.”

It hurts---gods does it hurt---but she’s right. And you know it. You’ve been through situations like this before. You’ve gotten through things like this, and worse. Smiling at Nettles you squeeze her hands.

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm,” she says, smiling, “Always here for a reality check. You’re the sun, babe.”

You smile back at her, “I’m the sun.”

“Damn right,” she says, chuckling, “How’s Cece doing?”

“She was discharged this morning,” you tell her, beaming with pride, “Just finished her last round of antibiotics and her labs are clear. I’m working on her note now.”

Nettles plops down in Cory’s seat, reaching into the chip bag she left behind. Her hand comes out empty and she frowns.

Jace opens the door, looking rather sweaty and discombobulated. He’s been running around the most, trying to get on Barartheon’s good side.

“Hey,” he says, out of breath, “Can you guys help me in the pit?”

“No can do,” Nettles says, “We’ve got observation soon.”

You nod agreeing, but become curious noticing Jace’s panicked expression.

“Why what’s wrong?” you ask.

“Just…five minutes,” Jace says, “Please, I need someone. And I can’t find Sara and Cory--I just need someone, please.”

You turn to Nettles.

“The pit?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you, “Really?”

“Tell Baratheon I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you tell her, “Besides, maybe it’s a good case.”

“Girl,” Nettles says, sighing and shaking her head.

“I just really need your help,” Jace says, leading you through the emergency room, weaving between nurses and patients, “It’s just that…I mean I didn’t know the other day but now…”

“Didn’t know what?” you ask as he stops outside a curtain.

“-- he’s back again and family members--,” Jace says, brown eyes wide, “We’re not supposed to work on family members.”

Your eyebrows concave together in confusion when suddenly the curtain pulls back. A man is lying in the hospital bed, a halo of platinum hair cascading onto the pillow he lays on. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, a lazy grin appearing on his face as he gives you a once-over.

“Nephew,” he sing-songs, giggling, “You brought me a present!”

Jace sighs, pulling the curtain from his grasp. Wait a minute. Nephew? Your eyes scan the giggling man as Jace snaps something at him. The silvery hair, the violet eyes. Seven hells.

How many Targaryens are there?

“Excuse me?”

“He’s kidding,” Jace says, forcing a smile and turning to his uncle, “You’re kidding.”

His uncle shakes his head, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “I’ve never told a joke in my life. She’s pretty Jacey, well done.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, at the way his eyes cascade down your body. You’ve never felt more exposed in simple scrubs.

“Stop calling me that,” Jace snaps, cheeks reddening.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Jacey boy,” he croons, “Thought Baela had taken your balls when she dumped your ass--”

“Funnier every time I see you, Aegon,” Jace interrupts, closing the curtain once more.

Aegon’s mouth drops open in surprise before he’s hidden from sight. You raise an eyebrow at Jace, folding your arms across your chest.

“He’s harmless,” Jace assures you, “Please, please just help get him out of here as soon as possible.”

“Well, that’s sort of difficult when we don’t know what’s wrong--”

“I know what’s wrong.”

You frown, raising an eyebrow at him, “You know?”

“Yeah, he’s fucking drunk. He’s always drunk. Just give him a banana bag, let him sober up, and get him out of here,” Jace instructs.

“How do you know he’s drunk?”

“Considering the fact he hasn’t been sober since I was eight years old, it’s not hard to guess,” Jace tells you, “He’s been to more rehab programs than I can count. Trust me on this.”

“I’m still going to have to do some labs,” you tell him, not willing to go against protocol.

“That’s fine, do what you have to do just…keep him out of the way,” Jace pleads, eyes widening as though he’d just remembered something very important, “And don’t let Aemond know he’s here.”

Your gut tightens at the mention of Aemond.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t. It’s better for everyone if no one knows Aegon is here,” Jace finishes, “Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“Yeah you do,” you confirm, and then Jace hurries out of sight, eager to escape the pit.

The curtain opens once more and you turn, meeting the curious gaze of Aegon Targaryen. You try to stop the scowl that threatens to overtake your face as he grins widely, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Ow!”

“Will you hold still!”

“You’re killing me!”

“Stop being so dramatic!”

“It hurts!”

“It won’t hurt if you stay still, Aegon!”

Aegon throws his opposite arm over his eyes as you attempt to find a vein for the third time. He’s too squirmy, too anxious that as soon as the needle pierces his ivory skin he’s flinching away and howling.

“I’ve seen children do better than you,” you grumble, and he gasps in feigned shock.

“They let you torture children?”

“Hush!” you insist, and to your relief, he’s able to stay still as you start the IV, “There you go. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Aegon peaks over his arm, glancing down at the tubes as you assemble them properly, making sure the drip is even. He frowns as you release the tourniquet.

“I bruise like a peach,” he mumbles.

“Sounds like you need more iron in your diet,” you tell him, walking to the other side of his bed. You need to take his blood pressure and begin wrapping the band around his arm.

“Can I have something for the pain?” he asks.

“No, you may not.”

“Not even Tylenol?”

“No.”

“Hells,” he mumbles, “You should know, I enjoy it when women are mean to me, it turns it on.”

“Of course it does.”

“Mhmm. I eat that shit up.”

You’ve been trying not to look at his face for too long. If you look at Aegon, you’ll start thinking about Aemond.

You’ve been trying very hard not to think about Aemond.

They don’t really look alike, despite the matching hair and eye color. Though he’s sitting down you can tell Aegon has none of Aemond’s height. He’s soft whereas Aemond is sharp. Their mouths may be the most similar thing about them, both awarded beautifully pouty lips made to be kissed.

“What’s on your mind, doc?” Aegon says, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying, I’m very perceptive,” Aegon insists, “Come on tell me. What is it? Doctor drama? Boyfriend drama?” Your face must give something away when he asks, because his eyes light up, “Boyfriend drama.”

It’s no use, you can feel your face heating up, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Fuck off.”

Your head snaps up at him, and you remove the blood pressure sleeve. Discarding it in favor of your stethoscope you place the end against his chest.

“Breathe in.”

“D’you have a girlfriend then?” he relentlessly continues.

“No.”

“A fuck buddy?”

“Hells,” you mumble in frustration, trying to listen to his heartbeat.

“Please tell me it isn’t my nephew,” Aegon says, making a face.

“What?” you answer, far too quickly, “No! Seven hells, Jace and I are friends! And I do not sleep with colleagues.”

“Everyone sleeps with colleagues,” Aegon argues, “How else do you meet people?”

“That working well for you?”

“Oh I don’t work,” he answers, “That’s boring.”

You choke back a laugh. The man truly is ridiculous.

“Alright then. Well, you’re all set once you’re done with your fluids we’ll check your vitals again and send you on your way,” you tell him, making a note in his chart, “I can have the nurses reach out to some detox programs if you’re interested.”

“I’m not.”

“Look, I understand a bit of your history from what Jace shared. But you should know, recovery isn’t linear, and relapse is completely normal-”

“I haven’t relapsed.”

You blink.

“Your BAC was 1.06,” you inform him, “That’s more than a little buzzed.”

“I haven’t had a drink since Nyra birthed her last gremlin,” he insists, not elaborating on who Nyra was, “I’m just like this.”

Your eyebrows knit together. He could be lying, you know that. Addiction is one hell of a disease.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groans.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me.”

You’re silent for a moment, just staring into his violet eyes.

“Your blood--”

“Fuck the labs,” he groans, “They always come back like that. I haven’t taken anything. I haven’t drank anything. Believe me, I’d be much more obvious.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, a pretty little thing like you wouldn’t be so far away,” he comments, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, “I don’t know why this happens. I think my body got so used to being fucked up, it just does it on its own now.”

“You’re being serious,” you comment, and he nods.

It goes against everything you’ve learned in med school, and in residency thus far. Your pager beeps and you glance at it. It’s Nettles. You’re supposed to be joining her soon.

When you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras.

You chew your bottom lip. Aegon raises a brow, already looking better with the intake of fluids.

Fuck it.

You quickly page Nettles, and let her know you’re needed longer in the pit. Hopefully, Baratheon doesn’t kill you for this.

We’re going with the zebras.

“Okay so I’m going to send the sample to the lab and see what comes back,” you inform Aegon, “And if you’re being honest with me, we should have some answers for you.”

Aegon swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Why would I lie?”

You want to roll your eyes, but you’re sure if you do in his presence once more they’ll fall out of your skull. He gives you a cheeky grin as he notices your exasperation.

“People lie all the time,” you tell him.

“To you?” Aegon asks, snatching your hand is his, “Never, princess.”

You hear Nettles suddenly, her voice flowing through the ER and your stomach turns. Surely, it's Dr. Baratheon coming to reprimand you for missing observation to spend time in the pit ‘trolling for surgeries.’ The curtain opens then, and to your horror, it’s Aemond who has discovered you rather than Dr. Baratheon.

His eyes fall to your face first before he turns to Aegon. His gaze drops to your interlocked hands. Something washes over him, his expression cold and calculating.

“Out,” he says, voice quiet as death.

Aegon chuckles, but you can hear the nervousness he’s trying to hide. You can see it in the way he wets his lips, the way he pulls his hand from yours.

“Bro…”

“Out, now,” Aemond repeats, “Don’t make me drag you out in front of all these people.”

“Careful now,” Aegon says, standing, “you know how mummy feels about you getting your hands dirty--”

Aemond steps forward, hands fisting Aegon’s shirt and dragging him forward. Your eyes widen in shock and Nettles yelps as Aemond pushes past her, dragging Aegon with him.

The display has gathered the attention of several nurses and patients as Aemond continues to drag him through the ambulance entrance and out the automatic doors. You and Nettles remain closely on their heels as they exit the hospital.

Aemond releases his hold, sending Aegon stumbling into the road.

“Seven hells!” Nettles says, a shocked expression on her face.

Aegon laughs maniacally, bending over with his hands on his knees. He shakes his head several times, like a dog before looking up.

“Go home,” Aemond says, flexing his hand.

“Where’s that?”

“Wherever you’ve been staying I suppose,” Aemond quips.

Aegon is panting, staring at his brother.

“I’d like to see Helaena.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Helaena!” he yells at the sky, “She’s my sister, I know she wants to see me.”

“You’re not shaking her down for any more fucking money,” Aemond says, his voice louder this time, making you flinch, “Go home, Aegon.”

Aegon wets his lips, running a hand through his hair. His eyes meet yours.

“You’ll call me? With the results?” he asks, and Aemond snorts.

“Another STI screening?” Aemond snarks.

Aegon’s tongue pokes his cheek, an angry smile on his face.

“Gotta make sure I’m all clear before saddling up with a fit bird,” he taunts, eyes falling on you as he says it, grabbing his crotch for emphasis.

Aemond lurches forward his hand connecting with Aegon’s cheek. Nettles and you both scream as Aemond jumps back, Aegon spitting a mix of blood and saliva on the ground. He laughs again, smiling with bloody teeth.

“Get him cleaned up and get him out of here,” Aemond instructs Nettles, before heading back inside and leaving the three of you standing there.

Aegon’s lip is split, along with a cut on his cheekbone. He spits again, wiping his face and nodding at you.

“No boyfriend eh?” he says, grinning. Your face flushes.

“I wasn’t lying.”

His grin widens.

“One of us is,” he says, referencing your earlier conversation, “Guess we’ll find out who.”

Nettles approaches him, and he winces. She turns to you.

“You should go see if he’s okay,” she says, nodding to the doors.

You run back inside leaving Nettles and Aegon, your eyes searching for Aemond. Hurrying to the nurses' station, they inform you which direction he took off in. A nervous sweat breaks out on the back of your neck as you hurry down the hallway. You spot him then, taller than everyone else, watching as he ducks into an on-call room.

Quickening your pace you follow him inside. It’s quiet as you close the door, besides the sound of a noise machine echoing white noise in the dimly lit space. There are two beds in this room; truly the on-call rooms are in such sorry states. Small twin mattresses with paper-thin sheets and pillows that may as well be pieces of foam.

Aemond sits on the bed to the left, his head resting in his hands. You close the blinds on the door, flipping the sign that says “Both Beds Occupied” along with flicking the lock. You don’t think he’ll want to be disturbed.

“Aemond,” you say softly. He doesn’t move. The knuckles of his right hand are bloody.

Taking a step closer, you watch his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breaths he’s taking. Anxiety churns in your stomach, and you take a step back, placing your hand on the handle of the door.

“I’ll just leave you--”

“Don’t,” Aemond speaks quietly for the first time, raising his head. His gaze softens, his eyes somewhat glassy. “Please don’t go.”

Your heart starts to race, but you nod, stepping back toward him. Sitting beside him the bed creaks; you cross your ankles and place your hands on the edge of the bed. Aemond rests his chin on his hands, arms propped on his knees. The pair of you sit in silence for several moments. It begins to rain outside, fat droplets of water beating against the window.

“You should get that looked at,” you finally say, nodding at his hand.

Aemond merely hums in response, flexing his fingers.

“Seriously, you’re a surgeon,” you continue, “What are you thinking, throwing punches like that?”

Aemond glances at his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers, “He brings out the worst in me.”

“Your brother.”

“Mhmm,” he answers, shaking his hand. It’s not as bad as it looks, thankfully. He could have done some serious damage.

“I’m sorry. Jace told me…well I’m just sorry.”

“It’s alright. Someone has to treat him. I’m sorry if he was inappropriate to you.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, “We don’t get to choose how patients behave.”

“Aegon can be a lot. Take it from someone who knows him rather well.”

“Noted.”

You sit in silence some more. The sky outside has begun to turn dark as clouds roll in, the sound of thunder audible in the distance. A storm is looming.

“I’ve missed you,” he says so softly you almost don’t catch it.

Your hands dig into the side of the bed, your heart pounding against your ribs making your chest feel painfully tight.

“Don’t-”

“Y/N..”

“Please Aemond,” you cut him off, eyes watery, “Please. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” he insists, turning his head toward you, “It’s just…Y/N that day I didn’t give you an answer. And you deserve one. I like you. I like you so much. You’re an incredibly intelligent person, funny, adorable, and…” he trails off, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself.

“And what?”

“And that scares the shit out of me. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I wasn’t expecting you. When I moved here I just planned on keeping my head down and then….then there was you,” he looked away, his eyes lit up in wonder, “I saw you in that bar, and it was like the sun came out.”

Your lips part, your stomach flutters pleasantly at his words, and goosebumps erupt on your skin. He glances at you shyly, the tips of his ears tinged pink.

“And then I saw you here and you’re an intern, at the beginning of your residency I just….I mess things up. I don’t want to mess things up for you. Or with you.”

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his, “Okay.”

“But…I miss you. I miss talking to you, kissing you,” Aemond continues, the top of his cheeks turning pink, matching his ears, “You asked me if I’m in or out. I didn’t answer, and I should have. I’m all in.”

“Aemond…”

“If you’ll have me,” he adds, “If you…if you want to give this a try.”

You smile at him softly.

“It’s all I wanted from the start.”

Aemond smiles, leaning toward you and connecting his lips to yours. You sigh against his mouth, as his hand snakes around the back of your neck, keeping you from going anywhere. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips, and you part them eagerly accepting the warm muscle into your mouth.

Your hands bury themselves in his scrubs as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. His opposite hand reaches for your waist, sliding down to rest on the meat of your thigh. He rubs soothing circles there for a moment, before gripping you hard and pulling you on top of him.

You straddle his waist as he scoots backward, pressing his back flat against the wall. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, tugging your blue scrub top over your head, before desperately chasing your lips once more. Shivering in the cool air, your nipples harden in your bra. You almost wish you’d worn something a little sexier, the plain black bra making you feel underdressed.

Aemond eyes your tits like a madman as his skilled hands eagerly unclasp your bra, pulling it from your torso.

“Should we be doing this--” you gasp, grinding against the hardness between his thighs.

“Yes, yes we should,” he says, kissing you once more before pausing, his eyebrows knitting together, “Unless you don’t want..”

“No! I mean--fuck, yes, yes we should and I want to,” you whimper as his teeth graze against your neck, “But I mean, here…” Aemond continues his attention to your neck, his perfect mouth nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“No one’s coming,” he murmurs, “You locked the door, yes?”

You nod, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, groaning as you clench your fists, tugging at his hair.

He catches your lips once more and you arch your back, pressing yourself against him trying to get as close as humanly possible. Moaning against his mouth he chuckles softly, the sound reverberating against you.

“Shh,” he croons, brushing some hair from your face, “You have to be quiet.” He nips your lower lip as he says it, smoothing his tongue along where he bit, “Something you have trouble with, I recall.”

Your cheeks warm at the memory of your first night together, the puddle he’d turned you into with such little effort. Lashes fluttering, you look up at him as he admires you.

“You’ll have to remind me,” you tease, earning a growl from him as he flips you onto your back beginning to pull your scrub pants from your body.

Eager to assist, you kick wildly trying to get the soft material off. Aemond catches your right calf in his large hand, trying to avoid being kicked.

“Careful,” he chuckles, pressing a hot kiss to your calf, helping you out of your scrubs, shoes, and underwear.

“Sorry,” you manage to say through your giggles as he tosses the ball of clothes toward the opposite bed, “We’re a bit uneven now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Grinning, Aemond pulls his scrub top from his body as thunder crashes outside. The sky has darkened considerably and lightning flashes, illuminating the room. Aemond’s hands travel up your calves, hooking against your knees as he cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Better?”

Your eyes trace down his exposed front following the planes of his chest, the chiseled outline of his abdominal muscles. You swallow, feeling yourself clench as your gaze rests on the outline of his hard bulge.

Nodding, you take your lower lip between your teeth, dragging your gaze back to his face. Aemond’s breathing is heavy as he sits on his haunches, eyes raking down your naked body.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he breathes appreciatively, “Gods…” He lets one hand move up your body, fingers dancing against the skin of your waist, up the side of your ribs to your breast. He explores higher and higher until with a desperate whine you reach up pulling him toward you.

You could kiss him forever.

You want to kiss him forever.

The hand that rests on your leg curls inward, stroking the soft flesh of your inner thigh before inching higher. Your breathing has started to turn to pants as Aemond lets one of his long fingers part through your silky folds, spreading your arousal.

“Seven hells,” he groans, swirling his finger against your clit, “All this for me?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, biting your lip and trembling against him already.

Aemond only smirks, that familiar look of confidence in his eye, “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you tell him, as the tip of his finger sinks inside of you, “Fuck-- just for you.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, pushing further inside of you, stretching you out on his forefinger. A second finger soon joins and he scissors the digits against your fluttering walls.

You’re trying to be quiet---really you are trying--- but it feels too good. He’s too precise with his movements, too insistent on bullying that sensitive rough patch that causes your eyes to roll back in your head. “Aemond…I can’t--”

“Shhh baby, I know, it feels too good to be quiet, huh?” he says, voice full of mock sympathy, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum really quick, let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nod furiously, a choked moan escaping you as Aemond presses a tender kiss to your forehead. Moving away from you, he keeps up his relentless pace with his fingers as he slides onto his stomach on the bed. Your eyes widen as Aemond glances up at you from between your legs, a cheeky smile on his handsome face.

“Aem----oh fuck!” your concern is short-lived as Aemond presses his mouth against you.

His tongue traces lazy circles over your clit, groaning, “Hells, I missed this sweet little pussy,” he mumbles, taking the sensitive button between his lips and suctioning around it.

Throwing your head back against the pillows, your back arches, and your mouth opens in a silent scream. The rain continues to pour outside, the drumming against the window matching that of your racing heart.

“Oh yeah, I know that’s so good, huh?” Aemond mumbles between licks of your clit, his free hand snaking upwards to grope at your breasts, “Fuck you look so pretty…all whiny and desperate.”

He curls his fingers as he says it, massaging the tender spot inside of you causing your pussy to spasm against his fingers. His tongue traces nonsensical patterns around your clit, his lips sucking and releasing causing lewd wet noises to echo through the room.

“Next time,” he murmurs a quiet promise, “Next time, when I’ve got lots of time…we’ll see how long I can keep you like this.” His fingers pinch your right nipple, tweaking it harshly.

Your belly tenses, muscles constricting against his fingers as he returns his sweet torture on your clit, and you finish with a muffled sob as you turn your head, pressing your mouth against your shoulder. Aemond murmurs soft praises, talking you through your orgasm as your legs shake around him.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” you hiss through your teeth as he slowly pulls his fingers from your fluttering pussy, bringing them to his mouth.

You watch, wide-eyed as he sucks the lengthy digits, moaning at the taste of you.

“Turn around baby,” he says, sitting up, “Put your face in the pillow.”

Shakily, you turn on your hands and knees, before letting yourself fall to your forearms. Aemond slides his hand down your back, admiring the curve of your spine, spreading your cheeks wide.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs, slapping your cheeks, causing you to yelp, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re an ass man?” you tease, looking back over your shoulder.

“I’m a ‘you’ man,” he argues, grabbing his length and sliding it against your folds, “Now be a good girl, and let me take care of you.” The fat head of his cock pokes at your entrance.

“Please,” you breathe as he starts to slide in. Aemond pauses, groaning slightly.

“Fuck baby, you can’t say that all sweet right now,” he growls, “We don’t have time.”

“Please, put it in,” you whimper, cheek pressed against the pillow, drool forming a wet patch under your cheek.

Aemond’s hand cracks down on your ass once more, “Be a good girl you little brat.”

You whimper, your begging ceasing as he slides fully inside your tight, wet heat. The stretch of his fingers was nothing compared to his thick cock. Your walls tense around him, pulsating around his thick length as he bottoms out. Rocking backward, he slides nearly all the way out before thrusting back in.

Electricity bursts through your veins, pleasure crackling through your limbs like the lightning outside of the window. The force of his thrusts sends your face deep into the pillow, muffling the sharp cries of pleasure you emit. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, it feels too fucking good, the head of his cock rubbing ceaselessly against your g-spot as he ruts against you; he’s grunting softly, muttering praises all the while, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Fuck,” he gasps as your knees slide down, legs shaking so bad you’re unable to keep them upright, “It’s okay baby, just relax I got you.”

Your legs bend against the mattress, thighs splayed, hip flexors burning with the deep stretch it awards you. Aemond never relents, just continues to slap his hips against the softness of your ass, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out, in and out.

“Aemond,” you moan, “Fuck it feels--”

“Yeah?” he groans, “How’s it feel baby?”

“S-s’good, Aem, fuck, it’s so good,” you whimper, hands fisting the sheets, the bed shaking with every harsh thrust.

The bed grinds against your sensitive nipples and clit sending sparks of pleasure burning through you.

“Gonna make this pussy feel so good,” he says, leaning some of his weight on top of you, his face next to yours, “Gonna take you home after our shifts, you’d like that, yeah?” His arms hold him up, propped on either side of your head.

“Yes, fuck please,” you agree, turning your face, and feeling him press a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Gonna have you ride my face,” he promises, dragging his nose between your shoulder blades, “Wanna make that pussy feel so good, till you can’t fucking take it anymore.”

“Fuck Aemond,” you shiver with delight at his filthy words, at the promise of a repeat of the first night you’d been together. A promise of more.

“Missed you too much,” he murmurs against your shoulder, sending warmth pooling in your belly, “Need you close to me.”

“I missed you,” you whimper, “Fuck, need you so bad.”

“I’m all yours,” he says, nearly whimpering himself, “Fuck baby, you’re so tight, feel so good clenching around my cock.”

“Yeah?” you ask, lifting your head slightly, and glancing back through hooded eyes.

Aemond maneuvers himself, leaning to capture your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss as he continues to pound into you.

“Fuck….c’mon baby, one more time,” Aemond encourages as heat winds a tight coil of pleasure in your belly, “Can’t have my baby only cumming once, now can I? Come on, that’s a good girl.”

The pitch of your cries increases and you slam your face against the pillow to muffle your strangled cry as your whole body tense, pussy constricting like a vice around his cock as you come. It’s intense, it burns with a brutal passion that paints stars behind your eyelids.

Aemond’s thrusts become sloppier and with a few more slaps of his hips, you feel his cock pulsate inside of you and the warmth release of his cum filling you up. You turn your cheek from the pillow, your body tingling with the remnants of your orgasm as you suck in a breath. Gently, Aemond pulls out of you, peppering kisses down the length of your spine as he does so.

You hum happily as he slides out, placing his hands under your thighs and maneuvering you out of the frog-like position you were previously in. Your hip flexors ache, but it’s a good pain--well worth being fucked into the mattress. Aemond turns you on your back, brushing some hair from your sweaty forehead.

“Hey there,” he says softly. The room is quiet, the rain has stopped. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever walk right again,” you tell him with a content sigh, “but that aside, I’d say I’m more than alright.”

Aemond chuckles, thumb smoothing your cheekbone, making you lean into his gentle touch.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, standing up, walking to the adjacent bathroom, and flicking on the light.

You watch him walk away, admiring his ass. He’s got a rather nice one. You hear him turn the water on and a moment later he returns with a washcloth. Not trusting yourself to stand, you simply spread your legs and let him clean up the remains of your combined releases. Your hips jerk as he carefully brushes against your swollen clit causing him to release a breathy laugh.

Beep beep!

The noise snaps you both out of your post-coital bliss bubble and you hurry to find your clothes. Aemond reaches for his pager, desperate to get his scrubs on.

Beep beep!

It’s your pager this time. Shit, Baratheon must be pissed.

Both of you scramble, switching scrub tops as Aemond accidentally tries to put on yours, causing you to erupt into a fit of laughter that is only stopped when he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a heated kiss.

“Stop, stop,” you beg, pushing against his hard chest, “Shit we have to go.”

“One more--”

“You’re insatiable--”

“Oh I’ll show you insatiable,” he says, lips tugging upwards in a smirk, “You just wait until tonight.”

Your cheeks burn as you yank on your bottoms, fixing your hair. Sex hair is not an option, not when Baratheon will be up in arms about your disappearance. Glancing at your pager, you read what it says before clipping it to your waist.

“Okay, I gotta go,” you tell him, shoving your feet into your sneakers.

“Meet me in the lobby? When you’re done?” he asks, unable to hide his smile as you walk to the door on trembling legs.

“Okay,” you tell him, leaning forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “And we could get dinner?”

“Anything you want,” he says, cupping your cheeks and kissing you again, “Anything” another kiss, “At” and another one, “all.”

You hum happily, placing your hand over his, your entire body warming with his affection.

“I’ll see you then,” you tell him, unwillingly pulling away and unlocking the door.

You leave first, Aemond leaving a few moments later. Watching as he fixes the collar of his scrubs, you find yourself beaming. Aemond turns, catching your eye before turning down the hall, a small smile playing on his lips.

Gods, this is going to be a long shift.

note: hope you liked it!! LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!

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slxtarchive · 10 months ago

Text

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐦𝐞. ᥫ᭡ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. you and matt had recently separated and it’s been a couple weeks. you decided to keep off social media for a while but this one particular day you didn’t. part two <-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. I AM CRAVING A MATT STURNIOLO X READER INSPIRED BY THE SONG DRUNK TEXT ME BY LEXI JAYDE. - hearteyes4chris <-

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. lots of angst!!!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. i really hope this met your expectations and im sorry if it’s short! i went straight based off the song so hopefully you see the relations between! lmk if u want a matt x reader make up like a part 2 where they get back tg idk but enjoy!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 700+

it’s been almost a month since you and matt both decided you needed to separate. you hated using the words break up because it would make it real; although it felt real now.

things didn’t end on the best of terms and because that you decided you wanted to stay off social media. you knew people would begin to speculate and try to predict what happened and knowing you, you wouldn’t be able to stop reading comments once you started.

you woke up one day feeling better than usual. you had a spurt of energy so you decided you should get out of the house for real and not just to get food.

you decided to go to the gym and get brunch by yourself. you then went on a walk, something you had never done before.

unfortunately the walk wasn’t as pleasant as brunch. everything reminded you of matt. the way you’d hear someone laugh and think if you were ever going to hear his laugh again. how there are some things he’d point out and you’d both have a good laugh at them.

those thoughts brought your mood down so you decided it was time to go home.

you got home and took a long hot everything shower trying to get yourself together.

once you got out, you continue your normal routine until finally you felt nice and clean and settled in your bed.

you put a movie on trying to distract yourself for the rest of the day.

evening came along and you were officially bored of the tv.

you stared at your phone contemplating your future actions. you felt it was time to log back onto social media. you had to mentally prepare yourself for the backlash, the comments, the pictures and photos. anything that could potentially trigger you.

you took a deep breath before logging back into instagram, twitter, and tiktok.

you opened instagram and the first thing you saw was a video of a party. you continued watching until the video showed a guy and a girl full on making out in front of the camera for a few seconds. then, the video ended and started over.

you gulped, looking closer and seeing the familiar locks of hair and earring. all of a sudden you felt sick to your stomach.

while you were here, trying to heal…matt was…

you looked at the caption.

sturnioloteam | 📸 matt with a girl at a local club in LA!

via @/anonymous on instagram

you clicked on the comments. terrible mistake.

view all 178 comments

@/sturnbabyyy: that does not look like y/n

reply to @/sturnbabyyy from @/stunagirl91: what im sayin 👀

@/mattloverzzz: THAT SHOULD BE ME!! but get it i guess y/n.

reply to @/mattloverzzz from @/colbyjackcnm: I don’t think that’s y/n 😭

@/youdontknowme: this is crazy…

you stopped reading. your eyes started to sting as you scrolled further into your feed seeing more and more photos and videos.

after your separation breakup, matt was hooking up instead of healing…

you thought hard about how what he did. no matter how much he hurt you, you would never had done something like this to him.

you hated how much you were in love with him and because of that his actions pierced right through your heart.

the fact that when he got drunk his initiative wasn’t to drunk call or text you and spill his feelings out. his initiative was to hook up with a random girl. seeing those videos and photos was like getting hit in the stomach and getting the wind knocked out of you.

you couldn’t help but wish that he was thinking of you while he was with her. you wanted him to crawl back to you and tell you that she was nothing. that every second he was with her was a second he wishes he was with you. that no matter if she brought a smile to his face, the smiles you brought to him were bigger. that he can’t live without you. that he’s still in love with you. that he needs you.

that’s what you wished for.

instead, you were granted with more pictures and videos, this time tweets as you scoured the internet on twitter x.

tears were cascading down your face, blurring your vision. you stared at the pictures. your heart aching. you told yourself you’d never put yourself in this position but here you were.

fully and uncontrollably sobbing.

you hated that after all he’s done, after the hurt he’s caused; that you still want him. that if he called you right now you’d take him back…

instantly.

#𖦹°‧★ 𝑺𝑳𝑿𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑽𝑬 #𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶 ᝰ.ᐟ #matt sturniolo one shot #matt sturniolo angst #matthew sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x y/n #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo au #Spotify

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otakubimbo · 2 years ago

Text

BAD COMMUNICATION SKILLS

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Profanity, Angst, Anal (f!receiving), Aggressive Sex, Verbal Fighting, Miscommunication DID NOT PROOFREAD

summary: You broke up with your boyfriend Gojo Satoru out of what he thought was no where. He hasn’t heard from you since you took all of your stuff out of his house while he was at work. But now here you were, soaking wet at his house in the middle of the night. Let’s just say, he wasn’t that happy to see your face.

Day 3: Hate Sex

A/n: I’m actually really enjoying making these so I hope y’all are liking them too <3

masterlist

You didn’t even know how you got to his door. Your feet just led you there as if they knew the way. So, here you were knocking on your ex’s door in the middle of the night. Well 1:00 am to be more specific. It was pathetic in a sort of way, especially since you were the one that broke up with him and also because you got caught in the rain. Your freshly done silk press now ruined.

“I know that fucker is awake. Answer the damn door.” You go to bang on the door again when it’s yanked open. Now you’re just standing there like a dumb ass with your fist raised. Gojo Satoru wasn’t wearing his blindfold, shades sitting on the point of his nose. When his face met yours, immediately a scowl fell upon his beautiful lips.

“What the fuck do you —“He paused taking in your appearance. You knew you looked like a drowned rat in running attire. You were even wearing the running shoes he got you for your birthday last year. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just come in.”

He steps out of your way and you carefully make your way past him to get inside. Immediately you remove your water logged shoes, standing with your arms around yourself now in the coolness of his apartment. He left you standing there in the cold until he came back throwing a towel in your direction. You could it, attempting to dry yourself off but you were soaked to the bone.

“I just need to charge my phone and I’ll call an Uber and be out your way.” You mumble attempting to gently squeeze some of the moisture out of your ruined hair.

“What have I told you about going on runs without charging your phone?! Especially in the middle of the night are you crazy?! I’ve told you how dangerous that is.” He scolds you and you simply roll your eyes.

He always thought he knew better.

“I would have been fine if I didn’t get caught in the rain” You spit back avoiding his eye contact trying your best not to freeze. Why the fuck was it so cold in here?

“You think that makes it better?! It’s the middle of the fucking night Y/N! Your house is 10 miles from here! Do you not understand how dangerous that is?! How many times have I told you?!”

You finally met his angry gaze, your face reflecting the same “I can take care of myself! If I didn’t get caught in the rain I wouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

Your arms are crosse in front of you, rage was starting to warm the cold out of your bones. You could tell your response pissed him off even more by the glare he had and the way he was aggressively moving toward you.

“Cut the bullshit. It started raining 40 minutes ago which gave you plenty of time to go home. And don’t even try to tell me you were going to run 20 miles in the rain on a fucking Tuesday.”

Yall are face to face at this point as he stands over your. His face is red with annoyance, he always looked so damn hot when he was mad. Yall ended up having a lot of angry sex that way. Not today though because for once you didn’t have any bite back. He was right and you had no idea why you were here. Your face still hardened as you sniffle, your nose trying to run. At that, his face softens and he sighs taking a step back. He didn’t have it in him to be mad at you when you looked like that. His broken heart breaking even more with every sniffle.

“Go take a shower before you get sick”

“I’ll be—“ You start but he cuts you off before you could finish your rebuttal.

“No you won’t, don’t argue with me and just go.”

He always thought he could tell you what to do.

You clamp your mouth shut. There was no point in arguing because you in fact did always get sick this way, then he used to have to take care of you for a week everyday reminding you of how maybe you should listen to him sometimes because he was right. With no further arguing, you made your way to the bathroom. You turn the shower on and strip while you wait for the shower to heat you. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked terrible. Only part of your hair had reverted, the bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep made you look ill, overall you looked dreadful.

“What the fuck are you doing here” You question your reflection. You hadn’t seen Satoru’s face since the break-up and it wasn’t a good breakup either. That was mainly your fault though, you just up and left no explanation. Yeah, you had your own place but most of all your things were at his place. You packed your shit, said nothing to him and blocked him. Even though, he only tried coming to your place once. Just once. And that confirmed to yourself that you made the right decision by breaking up with him the way you did. That didn’t stop you from missing the man you hated so much.

You sigh at your reflection before snorting, “You’re so stupid”

The shower was finally hot enough to slide yourself in. Once the hot water hit your skin, you immediately melted into the feeling. The tension from the argument melting away with the heat along with the cold in your bones. You decided to just go ahead and wet the rest of your hair, there was no saving it. Putting your head under the steaming water made you feel even better. You almost forgot that you couldn’t get too comfortable in there, so you quickly finished up your shower using his conditioner to make sure your hair didn’t get knocked putting it into two plats.

Once you step out the shower you see clothes laid out for you on the sink. He must have slipped in when your head was under the water. It was your favorite shirt of his and some shorts you guess you forgot, almost bringing a smile to your face.

You slipped out of the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you. He wasn’t in his room, thankfully, so you made your way back to the living room. His back was to you as he lounged on the couch. Oh how many times you’ve come out to this sight. The smell of ginger filled your nostrils and you noticed his favorite mug filled with a hot ginger tea, a bottle of whiskey next to it.

He doesn’t turn to you, but acknowledges your presence “That’s for you if you want it. I know you like it when you’re cold.”

It was your favorite., you gladly picked it up placing more than a shot into the warm cup.

He was only thoughtful when he felt like it.

“Thanks.” You say barley above a whisper but you knew he heard you because the room was completely silent besides your soft sniffles.

“No problem. I tried to charge your phone but there’s water in the port so it’s drying out.” He finally turns to you. His eyes always held secrets. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as you nod at his comment going to sit on the opposite side of the couch. You tuck your legs into you to bring yourself some comfort as you sip on your hot tea.

Gojo didn’t know what to say to you. You broke his heart and blocked him. He had no clue why you were here. He had no clue why you even left him. All the sudden he came home, expecting to see the love his life except he came home to an empty cold apartment. You and all your things just up and gone. He tried going to your house but when you didn’t answer knowing that you were home, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was now just alone, again.

You could never read him.

The silence between you hung in the air. It seemed like time was stopped and moving too fast at the same time. Gojo was the one to finally break the silence.

“Why?”

A simple question.

Your head slowly raised to meet his gaze. His eyes were sad, the blue sparkling in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Why what?” You knew what he meant but you didn’t want to just come out and say it. He should fucking know why.

“Don’t piss me off more than you already have.” He scoffs at you, unamused.

“You literally have no reason to be mad” now that really pissed him off. He pushed himself off the couch and stormed over to you, looking you into between his arms on either side of you. You try and sink further into the couch, casually taking a huge swig out of your cup as if you weren’t fazed by his behavior. His eyes looked wild, you hadn’t even noticed he didn’t have his shades on until right then.

“I have no reason to be mad? Me? You took all of your shit out the house and fucking blocked me, Y/N. And now here you are showing up at my door in the middle of the fucking night to play fucking mind games with me”

“I told you –“ You begin getting cut off yet again by him. He usually let you speak your mind but not tonight it seemed.

“I don’t give a fuck what you have to say. I fucking hate you, you broke my heart and then just show up like its not a fucking deal. Why the fuck are you here?! To torture me?!” His grip is tighter on the couch.

Your voice is small, “ I don’t know why I’m here. I just went on a run and before I knew it I was here.”

You avoid his gaze as he leans back aggressively running his fingers through his hair. He laughs almost defeatedly.

“Maybe I’m the cursed one instead of the honored one.” He says as he paces in front of you.

“Satoru” You say softly, reaching out to him, your hand moving on its own. He looks at your hand, snorting.

“No. You don’t get to do that.” He finally stopped pacing, standing in front of you. “Just tell me why you left” His voice and eyes pleaded at you. As much as you can see you broke his heart, yours was shattered as well too.

“I heard you”

“What” He says confused as to what the fuck you were talking about.

“With your parents. I heard you on the phone with your parents.” You say as you finally look up to meet his gaze. He still looks confused at you as if there’s no way he knows what’s going on. “Stop acting like youre confused.”

“Because I am confused!”

“You literally agreed when your dad said that you should break up with me! That you were too good for me!” You yell standing up, getting in his face.

You remember it like it was yesterday. You had fell asleep on the couch as you were watching a movie, but were woken up when you heard him talking quietly on the phone in the kitchen. His dad was yelling at him about how he needed to break up with you and that you were no good for him. His response: okay. You had never heard him not argue back with his father but this time? The time that it came to y’all’s relationship he was silent. He had no fight in him for you and you were crushed, you didn’t even know how you didn’t burst into tears right then. So you did what you thought was best and just left the next morning.

“You didn’t even defend me. You just said okay and that was that.” Your voice was cracking, tears threatening to spill out at any second. He looked at you as if you were a fucking idiot.

“For someone so smart you are so fucking stupid. I hate how fucking hardheaded you are.”

Before you could ask what he was talking about his lips crash into yours. Your bodies came together like missing puzzle pieces. You missed him so fucking much. His mouth moved harshly against yours, pushing your further into the couch.

“You never listen to me” He rasps as his mouth moves to your jaw trailing kisses to your ear. His tongue licks around your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You’re panting at this point, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist trying to pull him closer. He bites on your ear making your back arch into him, moaning into his shoulder.

“Fuck ‘toru.” You moan as your hands get tangled into his hair. His mouth licks and sucks on your neck, pulling the most delicious moans out of you. You can feel him growing between your legs as he presses himself into your now wet shorts. Your wetness is seeping through even his own layers of clothes which gets a deep throaty groan out of him.

“At least your pussy missed me, you heartless slut.” He scoffs, grinding more into you grabbing you by your throat. “Broke my heart for no fucking reason because you didn’t want to communicate.”

His grip tightens on your neck and you squirm under him as you feel yourself getting even more spurred on. The hand not occupied around your throat sinks straight into your shorts. His long thick fingers forcing their way into soaked cunt.

“Yeah your pussy really missed me. She wouldn’t have to be so needy for me now if you would of just fucking talked to me. I hate how you always just shut down.” He scolds as he’s aggressively finger fucking you, his thumb just as aggressively circling your clit. You could barely even register all that he was saying, his fingers were hitting the best parts within you. You moan his name over and over again. Your body was so close to reaching it’s climax, it was making you dizzy. Right before you were tipped over the edge, he yanked his fingers out. Before you could even complain about the emptiness in you, he shoves his slick coated fingers in your mouth. You suck on them greedily, loving the taste of yourself on his fingers. He looks darkly down at you as he yanks your shorts off, causing a gasp from you which makes him shove his fingers further down your throat gagging you.

“You know what I hate the most about you?” He asks pulling his dick free from his pants. It was as pretty as you remember, it wasn’t super thick but it was long and had the prettiest curve to it. “That you would think that of me. That you would think I didn’t love you.” He strokes his dick looking down at you, your eyes hooded and filled with love.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to fuck you like I hate you.” He says as he yanks you up, throwing you over the side of the couch so that your back is arched perfectly for him. Satoru doesn’t even give you time to think as he thrusts himself completely inside of you causing you to groan deeply from the sudden and harsh intrusion. He pounded into your relentlessly, hands placed firmly on your hips holding you in place. You didn’t know if you could take much more. He was so deep, ramming into your cervix with every thrust and every so often making your ass which you knew would make it hard for you to sit for days after. Your pussy was squeezing him tightly with every smack.

“Oh, you’re enjoying this huh? You didn’t have to break my fucking heart to get me to fuck you like this.” He growls smugly behind you as one of his hands moves from your hips to your front rubbing your combined juices on his fingers. With his, now wet, thumb he sticks it straight into your asshole that was puckering at him. You throw your head back at the intrusion now feeling overwhelmingly full. He matches the thrust of his fingers with the thrusts of his dick.

“Yes! Satoru! Yes fuck yes. Oh you’re going to make me cum baby.” You babble unable to control any feeling in your body anymore.

“Then come for me.”He commands, using his other hand to grab the back of your neck pulling you back. At that point, your mind was empty except for the feeling of him inside of you. After a few more thrusts, you cum, and you cum hard, harder than you ever had. Your eyes roll in the back of your head and you think they may get stuck like that with the way feel right now. The noises you made were so lewd and the death grip you pussy had on Satorus dick as he was trying to fuck you through your high had him cuming deeply in you.

Once both of your bodies stopped shaking, he let you both fall over the side of the couch, his back pressed against you panting hard. He catches his breath and gently pulls out of you, gaining a whimper from you. With a sigh, he picks you up and brings y’all to the bedroom, laying you down gently pulling the covers over your spent body. He slides in on the other side, turning your face to him.

“Are you ready to listen?”He asks gently, cupping your face. Your eyelids were heavy but you nod.

“The reason I didn’t argue with my dad was because I had planned on never talking to him again after we got off the phone, on top of the fact I thought you were sleeping.” Maybe he was more thoughtful than you gave him credit for, but you were still confused. Him and his father argued all of the time, but he wouldn’t ever just cut off contact with him.

“What happened?” You ask softly, now seeing how big you overreacted.

Satoru sighs before placing a kiss on your forehead, deciding on if he wanted to tell you or not. You reach out, stroking his cheek lovingly allowing him to open up on his own time, showing you were listening.

“I told him I wanted to marry you.” He says finally. Your movements immediately still and your eyes widen.

“Huh” You question, blinking several times to make sure you were awake and registering everything properly.

“I let him know I was thinking about proposing to you and when he gave me that reaction, I decided that there was no longer a point in talking to him. I couldn’t have anyone in my life who didn’t see how special you were.”

You felt like you couldn’t breath and you just said the first thing that came to your mind, “I’m an idiot”

You’re trying to hold back tears and he pulls you into an embrace.

“So it seems. But you’re my idiot. Yeah?” He asks rubbing circles into your back. You nod into his chest.

“Next time you think about pulling a disappearing act. Can you just talk to me first?” He asks and you nod again getting a chuckle out of him.

“Still hate you for breaking my heart but I can think of a few ways you can repay me” He says as he pulls you back, capturing your mouth once more. The rest of the night, you did your best to repay him for your lack of communication skills.

The next morning, you woke up wrapped up in your loving man, his head in your chest and your legs thrown over him. Unfortunately for you, you felt like shit. You, indeed, did get sick. Another incident you weren’t going to hear the end of until you got better.

#smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jjk gojo #angst #hate sex #break up to make up #miscommunication #gojonsfwweek2023

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