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zepskies · 3 days ago

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Lost in Translation

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female POC!Reader

Summary: Living with this man isn’t easy, and you’ve absolutely had it with him. Supe or not, you’re one step shy of kicking him out. Will he try to make it up to you?

AN: So after getting requests for a Soldier Boy x POC!Reader, I’ve had a short series in development called Unravel Me. I’m a bit stalled on the outline right now, so I thought this could be a fun way to introduce their relationship and see if you guys think I should continue with the prequel, kind of like how I did with Checkerboard and the Break Me Down-verse.

This story would take place after Unravel Me, after a fair bit of character development lol. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!”

Song Inspo: “Damage” by H.E.R.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, bit of dirty talk, fingering, edging, some angst, fluff and feels. The reader is a mixed race POC (Afro Latina), with textured hair.

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful.

You were in the kitchen washing the Mt. Everest of dishes piled in the sink, partly because someone hadn’t rinsed off his own plate of carne guisada.

Ben had asked for beef for dinner yesterday, and you’d graciously delivered with your grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It was filled with chunks of tender, fall-off-your-fork beef, garlic, onions, carrots, and more—all marinated to perfection, if you said so yourself. You even added in some little yellow potatoes, both for taste and texture.

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

A bottomless pit and a freakin’ man-child, I swear to God, you inwardly groused as you scrubbed the ceramic a bit too hard with the rough side of the sponge. No matter how many times you asked, nicely, it seemed your boyfriend couldn’t manage to pull his weight around here.

Okay, you knew his job could be demanding, but so was yours.

What the hell is this, Maid in Manhattan? Newsflash: I’ve got shit to do too!

“And I cooked!” you muttered in indignation. That reminder propelled you to scrub a bit harder. The least he could do was clean the kitchen. Or take out the trash. Or toss the laundry into the washing machine once in a while. Like you really wanted to handle his dirty boxers all the damn time.

Did he have no shame? Couldn’t he do anything for you without you having to ask him three million times?

Es que él es bruto, mija, as your Dominican grandma would say about your grandpa, often while swiping a tired hand over her long braids. Es como un animal con ropa.

Just then, you heard his heavy steps creaking on the wood floors in your bedroom. Today was his day off, so he was probably taking his sweet time rolling his ass out of bed.

Meanwhile, you were hustling to get the place at least decently clean before you got yourself together for work. The thought made you simmer as you continued to place dishes on the counter rack. Each one clacking to rest was satisfying, but it also ticked up your internal dial to a fine boil.

You heard him bang the bathroom door open and cringed internally, your teeth grinding. You’d reminded him three times already about the neighbors and the noise.

Sabes que, supe or not, I’m about to—

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

He swiped your slightly wild curls to the side and pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His voice, his touch, the brief scrape of his beard; it all caused a small shiver of delight up your spine.

“Hmm, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” And he teased you with the graze of his teeth, biting gently enough where your neck met your shoulder. You flinched with half a huff, trying not to smile.

Just like that, it took the edge off your irritation…a little. You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could…

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

Your spine tightened once again.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!” you snapped. You moved out of his arms to grab a hand towel to dry your hands with. They were all pruny from washing dishes.

“I’m already running late. Why? Because this place is a fucking mess, and the only one who seems to care is me!” you exclaimed. First, you gestured to the dishes now drying on the rack. “Hmm?”

You then opened up the lid to the full-to-bursting trashcan. “What do you call that, huh? You said you’d take this out last night. After I asked you twice. What, was I not speaking English? Did something get lost in translation, or are you already losing your hearing? Just let me know, ‘cause I can sure as hell crank up the volume for you!”

Ben raised a brow. You read his thoughts in his surly frown. You have some fucking audacity, talking to him like that, but it’s still early. He hasn’t even had his coffee, for Christ’s sake.

If he was more awake, no doubt he’d be barking back at you. Instead, he heaved a sigh, drew closer to you and shut the trashcan lid. At least there was one lid he knew how to close.

“All right, it’s just a little mess. No need to get fucking hysterical,” he said, trying to grasp your arm to placate you. You shrugged out of his hold and crossed your arms in anger.

“Ben, it’s not just a little mess. And what is this, 1945? I’m not hysterical!”

His lips twitched at a smirk, making you even angrier. But he’d caught enough smoke from you in the past to know he didn’t want it at 8:00 in the morning. He grasped your arms and rubbed them up and down, trying to sooth you.

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

Oooh, this man. He knew how to get you mad fucking tight.

Not in a good way.

Instead of exploding like Mount Fuji, you kept it all under your skin. You turned away from him and aimed to continue getting ready for work, but first, you took out a Greek yogurt from the fridge and wholly ignored him taking up space in the kitchen. You wouldn’t answer him when he called your name. In fact, you were going to give him the most frigid of cold shoulders—so cold he’d get hyperthermia through that invulnerable skin.

He waylaid your plans when he grabbed your hand, swinging you back into his arms. You gasped at the suddenness of it, looking up into his cocky, charming smile. You couldn’t stare too long at his green eyes, or the rest of his handsome, bearded face. Not when he knew exactly how to use it against you.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of this,” you warned him. You set your yogurt on the kitchen counter and pushed at his chest, but it was no more effective than pushing at a mountain and expecting it to move.

His hands spanned your waist, his fingers beginning to press into your soft sides. He bowed his head, brushing his lips against your neck and the shell of your ear when he said, “Out of what, baby doll? Looks to me like we can still have a good morning.”

His voice once against trilled heat and tingles through your body, but you managed to lean back, holding the pads of your fingers to his lips.

“Hey, I’m not playing around here. If we’re gonna do this,” you pointed between him and yourself, “then let me make one thing really clear. I’m not la sirvienta around here, okay? I’m not your fucking maid. I’m your girl. Your partner. And since you live here now, I’m gonna need you to do your part.”

Ben almost rolled his eyes, but you grasped his chin. He frowned at you with furrowed brows. There was a time where he would've been inclined to grab your wrist and try to intimidate you with his temper. You saw it lying in wait behind his pursed lips and irritated stare, but you weren't afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Listen to me. I get that you haven’t lived like us commoners for most of your life, but this stuff is important,” you said. You took a deep breath, and you counted to three. You met him with a calmer gaze. “Ben, I love you.”

You let go of his chin and lowered your hand, letting it splay over his chest. He softened, ever so slightly, even though his frown remained.

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.”

"Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?"

You narrowed your eyes right back at him.

"You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

His expression sharpened again at your thinly veiled accusation…but the longer he looked into your eyes, no longer angry, but earnest and imploring, the more he actually listened to what you were saying. His jaw worked for a moment in annoyance. You subtly softened him with your hands soothing up and down his arms, a slow back and forth over solid, warm muscle.

Eventually, he was able to curb his instinct to bark a callous reply. He nodded, expelling a breath through his nose.

“Fine,” he said.

Your brows rose. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

You knew it was the closest you were going to get to an agreement, as well as an apology. You were still working on that last one, but dating this man was a work in progress, for both of you. With a sigh, you patted his arms that were slowly wrapping back around you.

“Okay, I’m really running late now,” you said.

“You should probably get a move on then,” Ben said.

Still, he didn’t release you. He stared down at you with an amused smile while you struggled against his hold. You uttered a laugh.

“Babe, I need to get to work.” You leaned over and spied the oven clock. “Oh, shit! it’s almost 8:30! If I’m not there by 9:00—”

“You sure you want to go now? Tense, body all tight,” he said, his voice deep with sensuous suggestion.

His lips neared yours, but he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His lips veered away to brush against your cheek. He inhaled deeply as he moved, taking in the floral scent of your soap, mixed with the army of products you styled your hair with, and the faint imprint of your perfume from the night before. He skimmed down your neck and along the shell of your ear.

“Wouldn’t you rather I fuck all that tension right out of you?” he offered. “Leave you nice and warm and satisfied, have that pretty pussy coming hard on my cock.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his filthy mouth and the timbre of his voice struck a chord through your body, tinging warm arousal between your legs. Your fingers tightened on his strong arms, digging into the fabric of his loose robe. Ben took that as a wordless confirmation. He bent at the knees and grabbed you up by your plush thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck on instinct, with a small gasp.

But you recovered quickly. Taking his face into your hands, you met his lips roughly with yours in a devouring kiss. He set you down on the kitchen counter hard enough to make the clean dishes rattle. His hands were just as claiming as his mouth, squeezing your hips and thighs as he spread them open to make more room for himself.

While your tongue dueled with his, you shoved the robe off his shoulders, followed by his sleep shirt pooling to the floor. His hand slid under your top as well, and almost ripped it at the hem in his haste to get it up and over your head.

“Ow, ah-ow!” You giggled when the collar got caught on your hair. Ben’s breathy chuckle reached your ears. He was gentler in how he helped get the shirt off the rest of the way. Your mane of hair fell into your face, and you huffed.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.

There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

You smiled up at him, a little wryly. You leaned up and met him for a gentler kiss. Your eyes fell closed at the feeling of him, and the spicy hint of his aftershave. It was a scent that often clung to his pillows. When he was gone on a mission for days on end, you wouldn’t admit to clinging to one of them to help you sleep, and make you feel safe.

“Mmm, you smell good,” you whispered. And it was true. He smelled like mint and spicy aftershave. You plied his lips with deeper kisses, licking into his mouth with a sensuous tongue, before you stole his words. “Good enough to eat.”

He uttered a groan deep in his throat. It satisfied you, enhancing the warm flood between your legs.

Fuck it. You were calling in sick today.

You drew him back into the pull of you, winding your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. It was getting long again, but you liked it. You liked something to hold onto, just as much as he did. Your nails brushed against his scalp, down the back of his neck, earning a hum of pleasure from him. You wound your legs tightly around his hips and invited the press of his hard cock against your throbbing core, even through your panties and pajama pants. A faltering groan caught in his chest.

“Needier that I thought this morning,” he remarked. His warm hands drifted down to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over dark, pebbled nipples. You sighed into his mouth in response.

You heard the cocky grin in his voice, but for once, you didn’t care. You did need him. You wanted him to fuck the stress and chaos out of you.

…Well, he’d caused most of it, but still. He was gonna damn well fix it.

And he aimed to do just that, with his hands sliding farther down your body with purpose, grabbing the waistband of your pajama pants and roughly sliding them down, along with your panties. Your bare ass felt cold against the tile counter, but you didn’t have too much time to think about it with Ben’s thick fingers probing between the wet, glistening folds of your pussy. He soon found what he was searching for, circling firmly over your clit.

Your hips raised off the counter as you whimpered against his lips and ground yourself against his hand. You broke from his kiss to bury your face in his neck. Ben’s free hand grasped your hip and pulled you right to the edge of the counter.

There he held you down, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers sought your entrance and slipped inside you with ease. By now, he knew what angles would have you squirming, writhing, your body arching into him, while your inner walls clenched around his hand.

“Fuck. That’s right, baby doll. I’ve gotcha,” he said roughly, continuing to fuck your pussy with his fingers. His thumb rubbed against your clit between strokes.

The coil in your lower belly began to tighten, the delicious throbbing deep inside beginning to make your thighs shake. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, Ben withdrew his fingers from your sopping channel.

You struggled to catch your breath in shock. Your head raised from Ben’s shoulder to glare at him. When your mouth opened to deliver an indignant protest, he silenced you with his mouth claiming yours. Your nails bit into his shoulder in retaliation, even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. In fact, it only curved his lips into a smirk against yours.

You slapped him on the shoulder, immensely frustrated, but also laughing. “You’re such an assh—”

Before you could even finish cursing him, he gathered you up again and lifted you off the counter. He walked you over to the couch in the living room. He would’ve loved nothing better than to lay you out across the two-seater table in the kitchen, but he thought the shitty old wood might just give out under the strain of him fucking you. So the living room was a close second, and in this tiny-ass apartment, it was barely a few feet more to walk.

He laid you out underneath him on couch, and it groaned and squeaked under both of your weight. You squeaked too, if for a different reason. It had Ben smirking down at you. He freed himself from the confines of his pajama pants and coated his rock-hard arousal with the leftover wetness coating his hand.

“I approve of the scene change,” you said breathlessly, once again stroking his arms. Your fingers slipped over every dip and plain of muscle.

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

He grabbed your hips, lined himself up to your entrance, and his cock breached you smoothly, pushing into you until his hips fit snugly against yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, your thighs squeezing around his frame.

“Feel good, sweetheart? All fuckin' filled up,” Ben teased, a bit breathless himself. You were a tight fucking fit. He slid out of you experimentally, drawing a moan from your lips. You nodded.

“Yeah, baby. So good,” you freely admitted, panting all the while.

Ben’s hot gaze drew over you as he continued moving hard and fast inside you. He took in your every bare curve, the way hot breaths and sexy moans fell from your lips with every thrust, the way your hair fanned out underneath you and hung off the side of the sofa cushion, the way your hands still explored him and touched him, demanding, but still loving.

For that, it was all the more tantalizing against his skin, warming even the darkest places he tried not to show you.

And every drag of his cock inside you stretched your inner walls in the most delicious of ways. It wasn’t just that he was able to fill you to the fucking brim. He also just knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew you, and he knew exactly how to make you come undone. Even quick and dirty on your couch, he made you feel brand new.

He was right, damn him.

The coil deep inside you snapped. Pleasure crested through you and made your inner walls squeeze him tight, fluttering and pulsing with warmth. You came hard on his cock, hard enough to milk his release shortly after for all he was worth.

His forearms fell to the cushion on either side of your head. You were basically being smothered, but for the moment you didn’t mind. You just held his sweat-slick body against yours while you both caught your breath, each of your heartbeats falling back into a steady rhythm.

He was always so damn warm. It was nice, considering how cold it was this winter, but the thought always made you a bit sad. It reminded you of the power housed in his chest, and every memory he caged there as well.

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder. In return, his lips found the side of your head and hesitated there.

“You’re not going to work,” he said. It was more an observation than anything else.

You laughed breathlessly and shook your head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

You could get behind that. Your kitchen was finally clean, which meant your kitchen was closed until further notice.

“Shower first,” you stipulated.

You felt Ben’s smile grow against your dewy skin. “All right.”

You sighed, and he guided you to your feet along with him. You had a feeling “breakfast” was going to be lunch by the time you and Ben finally escaped this apartment.

AN: Lol hope you had fun with this one! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! 💚💚

Spanish Translations:

Es que él es bruto, mija. Es como un animal con ropa.

It’s that he’s stupid, my daughter. He's like an animal with clothes.

However, “bruto” can also mean brutish, crude, and/or like a beast, so it fits in more than one way. 😂

Sabes que, …

You know what, …

La sirvienta

The servant (or maid) (female)

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dayas · 1 day ago

Note

8 + elphaba & fiyero?

8 ⧽. giving them unabashed heart eyes when they do something cute and getting caught

AHHH MY FIRST FIYERABA PROMPT I AM SO EXCITED!!! I’ve been wanting to write for them since I got out of Wicked last week. Hopefully this is okay!

—

Fiyero Tigelaar isn’t exactly known for thinking. In fact, all he’s ever projected to his fellow students is that he doesn’t think, that he simply dances through life and refuses to invite further stresses and woes in with further consideration. And yet. He hasn’t been able to keep her out of his mind. Elphaba Thropp, the spirited, stunning witch he’d nearly trampled on accident in the forest. She’s the very reason he finds himself in the library of all places, a location he actively avoids. Books are mirrors just as much as they are windows into different worlds, and the last thing he wants to do is risk seeing himself reflected within the pages of some myth or legend.

She’s sitting at her favorite table, her head bent, her braids pulled back away from her face. Her finger traces a singular line a few times over before it moves on, winding itself around the ends of a few of her braids. She’s reading (no surprise there), but what catches his eye isn’t what she’s doing. It’s that she’s smiling. Fiyero doesn’t think he has ever seen Elphaba smile, not like the one she wears now. Something soft and secret, wholly hers, belonging to no one else. Unbeknownst to him, his own face mirrors her expression, a soft smile settled upon his lips. He watches her because he can’t help himself, because he’s still intrigued by her even when she’s silent.

“I can see you, you know.”

Elphaba’s eyes flicker up, catching his gaze and holding it hostage. Fiyero doesn’t flinch, only shrugs.

“I wasn’t certain you could. You’re missing your glasses today. I’m glad to know you’re so attuned to my presence, though.” Her eyes roll quickly, and that same fondness appears in his.

“Maybe in your dreams, Tigelaar.”

“So you dream about me, Thropp?”

She shakes her head, and he flashes a charming grin at her.

“What exactly happens in these dreams?”

“What do you want? You were staring rather intensely, so you must want something.”

Fiyero moves closer to her, settling a few steps away from where she is seated.

“Can’t a man admire beauty from afar?”

Elphaba frowns immediately.

“You don’t have to lie.”

He shocks himself by lowering his voice, the softness of his tone matched evenly by its authenticity.

“I’m not lying.”

Something flashes behind Elphaba’s eyes. He can’t tell what it is — she tears her gaze away from his before he is able to determine it.

When she speaks, it is barely audible.

“Why were you looking at me like that?”

Her eyes, so wide, a beautifully deep green, return to seek his out. The prince’s words are barely above a whisper, the blue of his own eyes holding hers steadily.

“You know why.”

Elphaba takes a sharp breath, biting down on her lip. She takes her book and stands abruptly, nearly running into him in her rush to leave.

“Elphaba — ” Fiyero says, confused, laying a gentle hand on her wrist to stop her. He’s thankful she does, and he uses his other hand to brush his fingers beneath her chin, turning her head so he can see her face. He’s shocked to find tears welling up in her eyes.

“You are a lot of things, Fiyero,” she whispers, her voice shaking, “but I never thought you were cruel. Not like this.”

“You don’t have to believe me.”

His own whisper is an impassioned blurt.

“You don’t have to believe me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. That what I feel for you isn’t real.”

“It can’t be real.”

“It is.”

They are locked in a stalemate he never expected, but one he refuses to leave first. He feels it, when she begins to break down. He takes a step closer, cupping her cheek in his hand, his other holding hers.

“Tell me you don’t feel it too.”

He will leave her alone, he will, if she doesn’t. She’s close enough to him that their chests brush together with every breath they take.

“I can’t.”

The sound of heels clicking cuts through their moment.

“Meet me tonight,” Fiyero murmurs into her ear, “the woods. Eight o’clock.” Elphaba nods, and he takes off then, nearly crashing into Galinda as she puts herself in his path.

“There you are!” she chirps, as bright and bubbly as ever, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dearest.”

Fiyero lets her steer him away from the outside of the library and chatter on. He doesn’t hear a word she says; he’s too busy thinking of what will come when the sun sets and he can finally see the woman’s who’s forced him into thinking again.

#fiyeraba #elphaba thropp #fiyero tigelaar #fiyero x elphaba #elphaba x fiyero #wicked #wicked movie #wicked 2024 #otp: as long as you’re mine #k writes #mj (not watson)#i actually really love how this turned out!#i will definitely be writing more for them soon this hit 😭#if y’all wanna see anything don’t be shy hit me up and let me know 🥰#rom com series #also they soooo give me last name trope vibes like you can’t tell me they don’t start out there then go into nicknames and first names #idk it just makes sense to me

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bullet-prooflove · 16 hours ago

Note

Three word prompt for Judd ryder

Betrayal, loss, redemption ❤️

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wnbweasley @runawayxheart @backstreetboysfan @star017

Companion piece to:

Not A Good Time - Judd won't tell you what's really going on.

The end to Judd’s marriage isn’t a tale of betrayal, loss or redemption but rather one of mutual acceptance. You can’t maintain a relationship when you’re 9000 miles part, especially when your wife in a war torn company with no internet or cell reception. So the decision is made to uncouple, to move on and live separate lives.

Three years later Judd falls in love a woman he wants to marry, the only problem is he’s still married to Grace, which is the crux of his current problem.

In Grace’s faith the Bible states there are only four reasons that a marriage can end in divorce and those are adultery, abandonment, abuse or addiction. It’s why the divorce rate amongst Christians in Texas is only 15%.

Judd would argue abandonment if he had to pick one since Grace up and left to do missionary work in Africa but Grace doesn’t view what she did in that light. To her it was God’s calling, she’s doing the Lord’s work. She refuses to sign the divorce papers because she thinks it’ll dishonour the vows they made before God.

The whole thing is driving Judd crazy because all he wants to do is marry the woman he loves, to show her how committed he is to her pleasure and her happiness. The worst part is the stress of this situation it’s causing friction between the two of you because although you’ve known from the very beginning that he was still married to Grace, you don’t know that Judd’s been planning to propose to you. He’d wanted to surprise you, make it all romantic like and now he’s just fucking everything up.

When you’re ready to talk about what’s really going on with you, you know where I am, you’d said to him earlier today and that’s why Judd’s now standing here right outside your door. He’s finally ready to talk, he’s ready to tell you the whole goddamn thing.

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#judd ryder #judd ryder x reader #911 lone star #911 lone star fic

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campingwiththecharmings · 2 days ago

Text

In Your Arms I Feel at Home

AN: Inspired by a prompt from this list. This got a little angstier than I'd intended but the muse wants what it wants. Happy last day of Poevember, besties 🥰

(Un-beta’d)

Poe's favorite part of the day is coming home to you.

Rated: T Words: 698 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Warnings: Mild angst, feelings of hopelessness, emotional hurt/comfort AO3

——————

It’s Poe’s favorite part of the day, coming home to you. He looks forward to it from the moment he wakes, your side of the bed long empty and cold thanks to your obscenely early call time. He thinks about it all day, walking in through the door, seeing you on the couch; the mental image alone brings a smile to his lips. He can already feel the warmth of your gaze, of your smile, the press of your lips against his. He longs for it, for you, wanting nothing more than to be in your presence, to be afforded even a moment of your attention.

Today is especially rough, a combination of the latest recruits not being up to snuff, news of numerous failed missions, and the capture and destruction of, not one, but three Resistance bases in the outer rim territories. Needless to say, morale is low. He tries to stay positive, tries to keep the faith, knows that people are looking to him, but sometimes it’s just so hard, you know?

He’s slow as he trudges down the corridor toward your shared room, the events of the day weighing him down as he tries to keep his head held high. How much longer can he keep this up? How much longer can any of them keep this up? This isn’t sustainable, not at the rate they’re losing allies.

But what else is there to do but keep fighting?

His thoughts weigh heavy on him as he keys in the door code, the familiar snick of the door opening satisfying as he knows what lays behind it—

“Hey, you,” you say, smiling softly at him as you glance up at him from your data pad.

The sight of you is like a balm to his soul.

Without a word, he drops his things to the floor, making a beeline to where you sit comfortably on the couch. You know immediately something’s wrong, your brow furrowing in concern. It makes his heart ache to worry you.

“Bad day?” you ask, taking his hands in yours as he pauses before you.

Your hands are steady and sure, your touch warm and comforting. He wants to tell you everything—and he will—but he can’t, not yet. Instead, he just nods, finally allowing the hopelessness he’s kept at bay all day swallow him whole.

Without another word, you pull him down onto the couch with you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. He buries his face in your neck with a shaky sigh, his body going limp and heavy against yours. You shush him softly, running your hands soothingly over his back, shoulders, and neck. He melts into you, his arms encircling your waist as you press gentle kisses against the side of his head. You always catch him when he falls. He’s so grateful for that, for you, that he can be like this with you, that he can let his guard down, that he can be vulnerable.

You hold him like that for Maker knows how long, giving him as much time as he needs to collect his thoughts, to work through everything. When he presses a kiss against the side of your neck and shifts so his head is in your lap, you know he’s ready. You gaze down at him with an encouraging smile, your fingers sinking into his soft curls. He sighs contentedly, eyelashes fluttering closed at your touch. He’s quiet so long, you think he’s fallen asleep, but then he speaks, his voice low and soft as he gives you an account of his day. You listen attentively, twirling your fingers around his silken strands.

He feels lighter by the end of it, a gentle smile on his lips, a small flicker of hope reigniting in his chest. He gazes up at you, capturing one of your hands in his and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss.

“And how was your day?” he asks, lacing your fingers together.

You smile down at him, still playing with his hair, a lightness in your chest that hadn’t been there before he’d walked into the room.

“Better now that you’re here.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

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#poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron reader insert #my fic

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silentheiss · 8 hours ago

Text

Subscription to SHAME Declined!

Shen Qingqiu knows that something is wrong. He doesn’t know what is wrong in particular, but sometimes is definitely off.

He walks just a little slower than usual, Luo Binghe matching his pace at his side easily.

It almost feels like a Without-A-Cure blockage, only it’s not uncomfortable nor does it restrict his wi in any way. Shen Qingqiu also doesn’t think it’s something bad. It doesn’t feel dangerous. So, not like Without-A-Cure at all.

As they approach Qiong Ding Peak, Luo Binghe walks just a little bit closer to him, his warmth familiar and comforting. He smells like spice, incense and crisp winter morning even though it’s summer. Shen Qingqiu feels extremely lucky, for a moment, and as if he could fly without a sword. His husband is the best at easing the tension out of him.

“Binghe smells nice.” He comments quietly.

“Shizun smells the best.” Luo Binghe retorts momentarily.

Shen Qingqiu can’t help but laugh.

“Adorable.” He says. Luo Binghe squeaks, as he often does when Shen Qingqiu compliments him. Not that he manages to do it often, even if he, maybe, would like to.

The Peak Lord Meeting is especially boring this time around. Wei Qingwei is talking about something with a great passion, but Shen Qingqiu can barely hear his account of his new dormitory repair plan. He looks at his husband, who’s feigning interest almost flawlessly. He really is beautiful. His eyelashes are long and thick, fluttering softly every time he blinks. His eyes-

“Shen-shixiong.” Qi Qingqi calls from across the table. “Are we boring you?”

“This one can endure, Qi-shimei.” Shen Qingqiu replies, barely looking away from Luo Binghe.

“Shixiong’s husband just interests him more than this one’s report.” Wei Qingwei laughs mirthfully.

“Certainly.” Shen Qingqiu answers unthinkingly. “Have you seen him?”

Luo Binghe gasps. Everyone in the room goes awkwardly quiet. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t really understand why. He said nothing but plain truth.

“This master didn’t mean to interrupt.” Shen Qingqiu says, even though he didn’t interrupt anything. “Please, continue, Wei-shidi.”

“Shen Qingqiu.” Liu Qingge barks. “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong, shidi. Can’t this one praise his own husband a little?”

“Shixiong!” Liu Qingge snaps.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe cries.

“Shidi?” Yue Qingyuan calls softly.

Why is everyone being so strange?

“Does shizun really hold such a high regard for this one?”

“Wh-! Binghe! Of course I do, you’re a dream come true!”

“Is there a reason we’re talking about Luo Binghe instead of discussing Peak’s performance?” Yue Qingyuan asks, voice carefully neutral.

“Wei Qingwei prompted and this one was bored enough to speak out.” Shen Qingqiu answers, absently patting Luo Binghe’s thigh, hoping to get his shaky breath back under control.

“Does Shen-shixiong always circles back to admiring his husband the moment he loses interest in conversation?” Qi Qingqi sneers. And hey! He thought they were over that already!

“Yes!” Shen Qingqiu says, feeling more and more annoyed. “I thought I said this already!”

“Is shixiong feeling well?”

Aaand, here’s Mu Qungfang. Figures.

“This master feels fine.” Shen Qingqiu says. “But there’s clearly something going on and this one doesn’t think he should stay at the meeting any longer.”

“That may be wise.” My Qingfang nods.

Shen Qingqiu nods and stands up. He’s out of his chair already when he notices Luo Binghe is sitting shock stricken and still in his own chair.

“Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu sighs. “Let’s go home.”

Luo Binghe turns to look at him, eyes glassy and utterly uncomprehending.

“Binghe, let’s go.”

His husband blinks at him, very prettily and very uselessly.

Shen Qingqiu sighs, again, and turns to look at Liu Qingge.

“Liu-shidi, your hair looks very nice today.”

That finally bears fruit. Luo Binghe jumps out of his chair and starts whisking Shen Qingqiu away.

“Sorry, shidi!” Shen Qingqiu laughs, throwing a glance at his red-cheeked martial brother. “I know you hate it, but flirting with you a little is the best way to get my husband’s attention!”

Liu Qingge frowns, mouthing flirting? back at him. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t worry about it.

Once they’re outside, Shen Qingqiu laughs outloud, clinging to Luo Binghe’s arm, even though his husband’s hold is iron-tight as it is.

“Binghe is very hot when he’s jealous.” Shen Qingqiu lets him know.

Luo Binghe whines, quickening his steps.

“In fact-" He starts, but Luo Binghe doesn’t let him finish.

“Shizun, this one is begging you to wait with more confessions till we’re home.”

Shen Qingqiu shrugs, but indulges his husband. Why is his shameless husband is acting so shy all of a sudden is weird, but-

Oh.

Here it is. Shameless. Shame. That’s what’s missing.

Shen Qingqiu has been lacking it severely this last hour at so.

System! What’s goin on?

[Bravo!] System dings cheerfully. [Host successfully uncovered event Subscription to SHAME Declined!]

What?

[Event Subscription to SHAME Declined will finish in 6 hours 23 minutes! Host should enjoy the experience!]

How come I didn’t know about the event? What’s even the objective here? System!

[Host may consider this secret mission is a parting gift! Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye!]

With that, System blinks out of existence. If not for Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu would fall to his knees right then and there, but his glorious husband would never let that happen, would he?

“Shizun?”

“I’m good, love.” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, half delirious from relief. He’s free?

“Shizun!”

Oh, right. Endearments. He doesn’t use them, does he? Now his husband is crying out in the open. Poor protagonist’s pride!

It’s fine. Shen Qingqiu can fix this.

“Binghe is very hot when he cries, too.”

They’re in bamboo house in record time. That’s a good thing. Shen Qingqiu has got to placate his husband and tell him all about the System while the event is still going.

#ding ding ding #sqq loves binghe hours!#my head’s been buzzzzzing with this one #svsss #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #svsss ficlet #svsss fic rec #svsss fanfiction

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midnight-mourning · 4 hours ago

Text

Mistletoe Mishaps

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 1❄️❄️

Hello!

Sorry to post our starting point so late today, had some family things come up that needed taken care of, but all good now! Hope you all enjoy, had a good bit of fun with this ^_^

Prompt: OFF DCA AU Moon finds holiday related items (cough cough mistletoe) and is trying to get the player alone for smooches but UH OH! Sun is not happy. Hijinks ensue

Word Count: 2200 (i know i said 1000-2000 but it be like that sometimes chat what can i say >_<

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You watch as Sun falls the last spectre, turning to you for what to do next.

"Good work, that should be the last few in this area." You check your inventory, and toss him a few luck tickets.

He nods. "Thank you, Friend. Shall we move on to the next then?"

Sun's words have an edge of excitement to them, and while you hate to put a damper on his good mood, you feel exhaustion setting in.

"Let's take a break, all this walking has tired me out,"—you pull out the zone map you'd scribbled out, since even that was beyond your abilities as the Player to see—"Is there anywhere to rest nearby? Like, a hotel or something?"

You know your Batter didn't need sleep. Whatever he was, it was beyond the needs for the task. You however, despite being pulled into this world, were still limited to your basic human needs. That included sleep, and food. Though, you weren't particularly fond of your options regarding that second one so far, but you've made do.

You realize Sun's just staring at you. "A... hotel?"

Right. You forgot that he would have no idea what such a thing was. Your usual method of getting rest was finding a comfortable looking section on the metal ground and laying down. Though, you'd usually wake up and be laying on Sun in some way. He never said anything, and would ignore your thanks when you gave it, but you still said it regardless.

"You know what? We'll just figure it out along the way, come on," you start walking in a random direction, knowing he won't be far behind.

He nods, falling in step with you quickly. "Of course, I'll always follow your lead, Sunshine."

As you're walking, a rare breeze passes by, causing you to shiver and clutch your arms. You'd noticed that the weather here was relatively unclimactic. Neither warm nor cool, save for this very moment.

"Are you alright?"

Glancing up, you see Sun is watching you intently.

You smile, but another breeze passes by and cringe. "I'm alright, just, surprisingly cold,"—you laugh—"It's funny, if I still understand time correctly, this would be around when the weather gets colder and snowy where I'm from."

Your Batter tilts his head, but says nothing.

"Like, you know, snow. White, cold, falls from the sky—okay I can see that I'm losing you here, never mind." You sigh. Sometimes, Sun's lack of knowledge about things was endearing, cute even. A being as powerful and—admittedly—terrifying as him being absolutely clueless to what swan rides were and why you loved the Pedalos so much was a bit hilarious.

As you feel his confused stare stay with you as you continue your journey through Zone 2 however, you could argue that sometimes, sometimes it was not.

You turn the corner and are surprised to see a crudely painted stand set up. It's usual masked owner is standing behind it, head propped up in one hand, unchanging lazy grin ever present.

You smile, "Hi Moon, fancy seeing you here."

"Hello dear, Player. Might I interest you in my wares today? I think they might pique your interest greatly." He chuckles.

Before you can speak up, Sun interrupts, "We don't have time for you. My Player is tired and needs to rest in a,"—he pauses—"Hotle?"

"Good try, bud, but not quite." You turn back to Moon, nodding, "Let's take a quick look."

Moon claps, "Excellent!"

Sun makes a noise beside you but you ignore it, instead stepping closer to take a look.

You're surprised to find Moon's usual supplies missing. Instead replaced by a hat, a scarf, and—

"Mistletoe?" You ask.

Moon tilts his head, "Hm? Oh, it that what it is? I wasn't too sure myself."

Sun scoffs, but you're focused on the fact that Moon just has, copious amounts of mistletoe. No new upgrades, no luck tickets or silver flesh, not even a speck of meat. Which, that last one you're fine with.

"Where did you find all this?" You ask, picking up a bundle and holding it high to examine it further.

"Oh... around."

At this you look up, but Moon's expression obviously gives nothing away. Still, you chuckle lightly at the idea of the shopkeeper stumbling upon a mistletoe bush here of all places.

You twist the small plant in your hands, still very fresh. "Really? That's interesting. I take it you have no clue what it stands for?"

You'd assume that much like Sun, Moon had no knowledge of the world beyond his. Though, he and The Judge had hinted at knowing more in the past, but nothing past that.

"Of course I do, who wouldn't know such a piece of treasured, holiday symbolism?"

Had you been paying attention, you would have noticed the shared glare between your item vendor and your Batter.

"Treasured is a bit of a stretch." You laugh, looking back to him now.

Moon leans in closer, only a few mere inches apart "So, anything catch your eye, my friend? Anything in particular?"

"Well—" Before you can give a proper response, Sun is in front of you, arm up protectively.

His eyes are narrowed, smile strained as he speaks, "We really must be going now, right, Starshine?"

If he's trying to tell you something, you're not sure what it is. This was just Moon after all. Furthermore, your previous talk about the holidays, and the random cold front, were making you eager to remedy your discomfort.

"We'll take the hat and scarf, Moon." You reach into your pocket for your credits, "The mistletoe is pretty, but don't really have a use for it that I can think of. Hopefully you'll find someone that does though!"

Moon eagerly accepts your credits, providing you the scarf and hat moments later. "Yes, perhaps."

The conversation ends there, Sun ushering you away without even a goodbye to the vendor.

You only realize what's happened after the fact, and shoot a look up to your Batter, slightly annoyed, "It's rude to not say anything before leaving, you know."

Sun doesn't respond, gaze forward and face stern. He mutters something you don't quite catch.

After a short rest in a hotel you manage to find, you're back to work. Or well, Sun is. You're just along for the ride really. But still, after every battle, he's always looking to you for your approval.

Usually, you were very good about providing it. However, you've lately been finding yourself to be rather distracted.

Someone, and you could take a guess as to who, had been putting mistletoe up everywhere you went.

Usually in the typical spots you'd find the herb, hung up in doorways or archways all throughout the zone. Other times it was just, around.

Hanging on the sides of buildings, lampposts, littering benches, tables, and so on. It seemed there was no escaping the sea of green and white you'd found yourself in. Which, you were fine with. You found the whole ordeal incredibly amusing to be honest. It also made Zone 2 feel just a little more like home, more alive, for that matter.

One of the other members or your party however, was very, very displeased. You'd find him glaring at the plant, and occasionally snatching it up and tossing it away in some cases.

Your Batter was also not happy about the lack of attention you'd been giving him, sometimes too busy trying to find all the hidden locations of the herb.

What didn't help the matter was the bearer of the decorations was usually close by when you discovered more.

Typically, you would be mid-battle, and since Sun was more than capable on his own without you, your focus would wander. And sure enough, either scouring a doorway or peeking down alleys, there would be Moon.

He would never outright say it was his doing, that would be too easy. Though he certainly enjoyed teasing you about it. Bending down low to your height, voice sly as he declared you "Something of a detective now, aren't you, Dear?"

You would do your best to tease him back, booping his mask when in range, calling this little game of his, "Silly, but fun."

"Game?" He would ask, hand on where you'd touch his face, "I've not a clue what you mean, Friend."

You laugh, "Sure. Whatever you say."

"Though, if this were a game, I'm sure there would be an easy way for you to win."

You still haven't figured out what he meant by that, try as you might. Sun usually would appear in your peripheral, battle over and gaze stern, before you could ask any further questions.

It all came to a head one time when Moon took it a step further.

You'd once again, guilty as charged, been on the hunt for any new secret spots, and came across Moon in a side alley, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. Expecting you, likely.

He waves to you as you approach, pointing out the mistletoe hanging on a clothesline above his head, "You didn't even try with that one."

He shrugs, then leans down to your height.

"Trying would imply this is my doing, and you know me, dear Player. Trying is above my paygrade." You're now eye to eye, inches apart. "And here, I thought we were friends."

Your face heats up then, for reasons you can't explain, "W-we're friends,"—you cough—"We're friends. But I'm also not a fool, do you take me for one, Moon?"

He holds your gaze, eyes flicking down momentarily at something, then back to you. Then, he shakes his head slightly, chuckling quietly.

He stands upright again, "You should stop by my shop again soon. I have fresh wares I think you'd be keenly interested in."

You scoff, along with the mistletoe, there had been mysteriously placed signs, all advertising 'Holiday Wares' in almost as many locations.

"I just might."

And after the battle, you did. Only to find that, his stand, completely and entirely, was just mistletoe. And you don't mean he was just selling it, you mean the stand itself was decorated top to bottom in the stuff.

The ridiculousness of it made you laugh, hand to your mouth as you tried to contain your giggles.

However, before you can even open your mouth, Sun is leading you away, over to a secluded spot.

Cornered in a doorway, you have no choice but to meet his gaze as he stares down at you, smile twitching.

"Now friend, I think this has gotten a bit out of hand, don't you think?" He tilts his head.

You shrink a little further into the doorway, "What um, what do you mean?"

His eyes narrow, "I think you know exactly what I mean."

"The mistletoe?" You ask, shrinking a little further down with an awkward laugh. "It's just a silly game Moon's playing, that's all. No harm in it."

"No harm?" Sun bends down, fully encapsulating your field of view, "He is actively trying to pursue you and distract from our mission! how is that not doing harm?"

It clicks for you then, all at once. All the closeness, the brief touches, the murmured jests and soft laughs. Moon wasn't just trying to mess with you, he'd been trying to—

"Oh." Your face grows warm then. "I see."

Something else occurs to you then. Specifically, why Sun is so vehemently protesting such a notion. Peeking up, you see there is indeed a piece of mistletoe above the two of you. You know what to do.

"Sun, all you had to do was ask,"—you stand a little on your tiptoes, then press a quick kiss to his cheek—"I'm always happy to show my affection for you, my Batter."

He's frozen, eyes wide under the shadow of his cap.

You laugh, "After all, what's a quick kiss among friends, right?"

He's still in a daze as you duck under him, marching over to Moon and his stand with newfound purpose.

His head rests in both hands as he watches you approach.

"Your little game is over, I'm afraid," You say when you arrive.

The masked vendor tsks, "What a shame, and I was doing so well, too."

You roll your eyes, and lean in, "Uh huh, now hold still."

Moon snickers, but obeys. Just as you're about to kiss his cheek, however, he shifts, and you find yourself kissing the mouth of his mask instead.

Unlike the kiss you gave Sun, you find that it's warm. Like, static from a tv, or something.

He pulls away first, chucking at your gaping look.

Before you can react, Sun's hand is on your shoulder, moving you out of the way. You expect him to start leading you somewhere else, color you surprised when he takes a swing at Moon, who quickly dodges the attack.

You can only watch, still shocked, as your Batter chases your vendor around the area, sharing all sorts of threats about what will happen once he catches the other, who merely laughs at his attempts.

Honestly, not the worst possible outcome for this ordeal.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you to @monsteractialuna for the request! I've been going feral about your OFF au for days and this only fed further into my obession lol

If you'd like to request, you have until 12/13 OR until all slots are filled, currently 7 of 31 are taken! See here for more details, thanks for reading!

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

#this was a very fun write #unhinged batter sun my beloved #ZACHARIE MOON MY BELOVED #guhhh #fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #dca fic #dca au #dca OFF au #MM dca december

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belovanat2 · 2 days ago

Text

Our new chance pt.5

warnings: verbal abuse

One Week Later

The three were getting used to their new routine, and the adjustment was easier than they had anticipated. The only challenge was keeping a few secrets hidden. Alice still didn’t know that Agatha and Rio were witches, let alone that Rio was Death herself.

And Alice had her own secrets to keep…

——

“Alice, dear, you haven’t touched your salad today,” Agatha remarked, glancing at the girl’s plate. Alice made a discreet grimace.

“I’m not the biggest fan of salads,” she replied, playing with the broccoli on her fork.

“But it’s important for your health…” Agatha said, raising an eyebrow.

“I know, but could I eat it another day? I’m really not in the mood today,” Alice asked pleadingly. Agatha was about to insist, but Rio interrupted.

“Yes, you can eat it another day, dear,” Rio said, giving Agatha a look to keep quiet. “How about we go out to the garden and enjoy my day off?” she suggested, standing up and collecting the plates. Alice perked up at the idea.

“You’re not working today, honey?” Agatha asked as she helped Rio with the dishes.

“No. I thought today would be a good day to stay home and get to know each other better,” Rio replied, glancing from Agatha to Alice.

Alice shrugged. What did Rio mean by that? Of course, it made sense that they’d want to know her better since she was staying in their home, but the idea still made her stomach churn.

“Okay, I think it’s a great idea,” Agatha agreed with her wife.

“I made a fruit platter for dessert,” Rio said, taking it out of the fridge.

“Like a picnic?” Alice asked, starting to get excited.

“Yes, like a picnic. It’ll be fun,” Rio responded, gesturing for everyone to head to the garden.

“I’ll just grab Mr. Scratch!” Alice said, running off to fetch her rabbit.

Meanwhile, the two women were already in the garden.

“Are you thinking of telling her?” Agatha asked, referring to their secret as witches.

“I’m not sure, my love. What do you think?” Rio asked her wife.

“I just worry she might be scared… but let’s see how the conversation flows,” Agatha replied honestly.

“I’m here!” Alice said, cradling the rabbit. Since moving into their home, she hadn’t let the animal out of her sight.

The three sat on the grass and began chatting about random topics while snacking on the fruit. It was clear that Alice was feeling more comfortable around the women with each passing day.

Agatha, sensing where Rio was steering the conversation, decided to bring up a more delicate topic.

“Alice, we’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay. What do you think?” Agatha asked gently. Alice tensed up, looking down at the rabbit in her arms and stroking it.

“Only if you’re comfortable… but we’d be very happy if you agreed,” Rio added with a kind smile.

“I think it’s okay. It’s time, anyway,” Alice shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, though she was still hesitant.

“Why did you run away from home? Did something happen?” Agatha asked softly, sensing the girl’s tension.

Alice took a deep breath before beginning.

“Because of my mom and her boyfriend…” She paused, breathing slowly in an attempt to calm her nerves. She avoided the women’s gaze, clearly finding it hard to talk. “My mom never wanted kids. I was an accident when she was 19. Apparently, I ruined her life—or so she always says…” Alice laughed bitterly, her way of masking the pain.

Agatha and Rio’s hearts ached. This was not a good start to her story, but they stayed silent, listening intently out of respect.

“She never liked me, never loved me. She always said I was the worst thing that ever happened to her. She just never cared about her own daughter.” A tear slid down her face, and Agatha gently took her hand to show she was there for her. “It got worse when she started dating Jackson.” Alice grimaced in disgust. “She began ignoring me completely. The only words she spoke to me were insults, and he felt comfortable doing the same…” Alice was now crying harder, prompting Agatha and Rio to step in.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry they did that to you,” Agatha said, stroking Alice’s hand. She was boiling with anger inside, as was her wife. Rio tenderly wiped the tears from Alice’s face.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault…” Alice tried to pull herself together. “I think it’s my fault my mom never loved me…”

“No, it’s not your fault!” Rio said indignantly. “Never think that, dear. None of this was your fault!” Alice gave her a sad smile.

“Well, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take the insults and humiliation, so I decided to run away. And when I did, I knew I’d come to Westview…” Alice finished her story, tears still streaming down her face. She finally met the women’s gaze, which was filled with compassion and sadness. But they had a feeling there was more to her story.

“I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. You didn’t deserve any of it,” Agatha said, trying to hold back her tears. “But why Westview? Why choose to come here?”

The moment she asked, Alice grew visibly more tense, which didn’t go unnoticed by the women.

“You can trust us, dear,” Rio reassured her.

“It’s complicated…” Alice lowered her head, avoiding their gaze again.

“We’re good with complicated things,” Agatha encouraged gently.

“It’s one of the reasons I ran away. I’ve always been… an aberration to my mom,” Alice said, choking on the word that had haunted her for years, tears streaming again.

Agatha and Rio grew more worried. What did she mean by that?

“I know it’s strange, but… do you know the Scarlet Witch?” Alice asked, looking up at the women. This time, it was their turn to tense up. Agatha glanced at Rio in shock, and they exchanged silent communication through their eyes.

“Yes, we know her. Why?” Rio replied for Agatha, knowing her wife had less-than-pleasant memories of the Scarlet Witch.

“Well… she’s a witch…” Alice began hesitantly. But her story was starting to make less sense to the older women.

“Yes, she is,” Rio confirmed, waiting to see where Alice was going with this.

“And she lives here. People respect her…” Alice looked up, seemingly drawing strength to finish her thought. “Even though she’s different… they respect her. That’s why I came here.” She finally finished, looking at the women with insecurity.

The two seemed tense and remained silent. “Did… did I say something wrong?” Alice asked, beginning to panic.

“No, no, it’s not that,” Rio tried to calm her.

“What do you mean by ‘different’?” Agatha pressed gently.

“Are you a witch, dear?” Rio asked, though she could tell Alice wasn’t. There was no trace of magic in the girl.

“No, I’m not a witch… that’s not why I came here.”

“Then why?” Agatha asked again.

“You’ll hate me…” Alice said, clutching the rabbit tightly and hiding her face in its fur. The women moved closer to her. Rio gently took Mr. Scratch from Alice’s arms and began stroking her back.

“We won’t hate you.”

“Promise?” Alice asked, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at them in desperation.

“We promise,” Agatha said with an encouraging smile, while Rio nodded.

“Something happens to me… with my mind… and I can’t control it…” Alice’s heart raced as she whispered. “Sometimes I’m 17-year-old Alice… but sometimes I’m also 3-year-old Alice.” She rushed through the last part and curled up, hiding her face in her knees.

Agatha and Rio exchanged a look, their minds racing. But they understood what Alice was trying to say.

“Dear, look at me,” Agatha said, gently lifting Alice’s chin to meet her eyes. She tenderly wiped away the girl’s lingering tears. “You regress? Is that it?” she asked softly, and Alice nodded, feeling less inclined to speak. “And that’s why you chose to come here? Because people here accept those who are different?” she asked again, and Alice nodded once more.

“Then you came to the perfect place, my dear,” Rio said, cupping Alice’s face and smiling at her. “Agatha and I don’t mind at all that you regress,” she added reassuringly.

“Really?” Alice asked softly, her voice tinged with innocence.

“Really,” Rio said with a sincere smile. “In fact… we’d be delighted if you’d let Agatha and me take care of you,” Rio suggested, and Alice couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “To take care of both 17-year-old Alice and little Alice.”

Alice was stunned, unable to process it.

“What do you think, dear? Will you let us take care of you?” Agatha asked, stroking the girl’s hair.

Nicky had been right from the start: he was going to have a younger sister.

“I’d love that,” says Alice, resting her head on Agatha’s shoulder as Agatha wraps her in a hug.

Rio joins in, making the youngest end up sandwiched between them.

“Don’t you think it’s strange? Not even a little?” the girl musters the courage to ask.

“Not even a little,” Rio says with a laugh, pinching the girl’s cheek.

“Would you feel better if Rio and I told you a secret?” Agatha asks, and Rio gives his wife an incredulous smile.

“A secret?” Alice asks, curiosity lighting up her face.

“Are you afraid of the Scarlet Witch?” Agatha asks, before getting to the actual secret. “Because she’s a witch?”

The girl seems to ponder for a moment, leaving the older women anxious in the silence.

“No, I’m not afraid of witches,” the girl answers, and the women are surprised by the confidence in her reply.

“Even if people say they’re bad?” Rio presses further.

“Yes… because anyone can be bad, no matter who they are, so I don’t believe all witches are evil…”

Rio smiles, pleased with her response.

“And what if we told you that she isn’t the only witch in town?” Agatha begins to reveal the secret.

“She’s not? Who else? Are there more witches here?” the girl asks with an enthusiasm they hadn’t expected. The two women laugh, especially because Alice clearly hadn’t understood who they were talking about, even though it was becoming obvious.

“Us! Agatha and I are witches,” Rio reveals, eager for the girl’s reaction. At first, Alice doesn’t seem to react, but after a second, her face lights up with a huge smile.

“No way, that’s so cool!” she exclaims, thrilled, and the two women feel relieved.

The secret among the three was revealed and respected. It was clear this would be the beginning of a strong bond.

#agatha x rio #agatha all along #agathario #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agathario x reader #little!reader #sfw agere #mommy!agatha #mommy!rio

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queers-gambit · 3 hours ago

Text

Regular Cream and Sugar

prompt: ( requested ) being cast as the opposite lead to your bane in the next hottest romcom blockbuster comes with unforeseen outcums.

pairing: actor!Bucky Barnes x female!actress!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 8.2k+

note: you know what? this is fire. i don't care for other opinions (a lie, i absolutely do).

warnings: poor references to different real shows / movies / media as pertains to acting for a living. imagination required. explicit language, angst, Lord's name in vain, hurt and comfort, dickhead behavior, explicit content, NSFW, barely edited, depiction of mental health: anxiety, anxiety attacks.

featured fic movie: Anyone But You (2023) -> watch on Netflix featured fic show: Once Upon A Time (2011) -> watch on Disney+

Lights from what felt like a thousand paparazzi cameras flashed in a blinding mirage, a hundred different voices all shouting your name - begging you look this way, that way, to give a smile; show the back of your dress, now the front; to smolder, pout, wink for them. You were mostly immune to the wave of attention, but it still jostled you, even scared you sometimes; posed as more of a looming threat than anything. Yet this was the life you chose, the media you 'invited' no matter how public you were or not online and in person.

Didn't make it any less easy.

You sighed and smiled prettily for the flashing cameras on the sentimental red carpet, feeling a hand glide around your waist; leaning into the affection.

"James," you greeted your costar stiffly.

"Oh, back to James, are we?" He chuckled, hand splayed warmly through the material of your designer dress. "C'mon, honey, I thought we were past all that hostility?" He pointed at a group of cameras, both perfectly peacocked for them; his hand lowering to his suit pants pocket.

You scoffed, "Why would you think that?"

"Just thought we were getting along pretty well, is all."

You sighed and pulled away from him, but let your hand drop into his metal prothetic to guide him along the carpet; dodging people still milling around. The two of you took new poses on the carpet markers.

"Oh, please," you smiled brightly, "that's just good acting. Don't worry, you'll recognize it one day."

Bucky chuckled, "Ooooh, someone's a bit icy today. C'mon, toots, what's got your panties in a twist? You can tell me - "

"Can we just get through the next few hours without mentioning or thinking about my panties, you horndog?" You asked him through clenched teeth, still smiling as if sharing a few inside jokes.

Bucky laughed to himself, "After you, doll."

You sighed and took his offered arm, letting Bucky lead the way up to the designated area your managers were pointing you towards. Bucky charismatically greeted the interviewer, an obvious pompous show to mask the anxiety coursing through his veins. You saddled up to where your team was stationed before the platform, kissing your publicist, Regina, on the cheek in greeting while asking, "You seriously had to fucking match us?"

"It's a good PR look, babe, and blue's both your colors. Just keep smiling," she hushed, offering her hand to help you up the two-step platform. Bucky was instantly doing the same, reaching for his hand as you smiled at the camera set up - reminding yourself it was all for the pursuit of good PR.

"Wow, you two look stunning!" The interviewer squealed slightly, gesturing at the two of you standing with your manicured hand curled around Bucky's meaty bicep. "I love a good matching set, and you two look so gorgeous - very chic, very demure!"

"You think this look is demure?" Bucky teased, picking the lapel of his blazer. "You see these diamonds?"

"Swarovski is pretty loud, draws the eye in," you purred, keeping the conversation going, desperate to step away and watch the premier of the bloody film already so you could leave the event all together. Your diamond-ringed fingers pet your neck and collarbones, bringing to attention the expensive gemstones set in a fashionable web.

"Oh, they look stunning on you!" The woman from E! complimented. "So, obviously - we have the whole matching look down pat. Is this look an homage to the film? Your characters?"

"No, no, just what was thought we looked best in, you know?" Bucky smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist and by far enjoying the forced proximity. "But you've kinda got a whole, you know," he motioned at her all black look, "monochrome look goin' for yah - it's nice! I dig it!"

"Oh, wow, th-thank you," she flushed under his baby blues that your matching fits made pop with an unbearable glimmer. "It's vintage Chanel."

"Totally gorgeous," you complimented, starting to feel the first tendrils of discomfort. "Who're we wearing?" You asked Bucky, "Do you know?"

"I'm pretty sure we're both in Louis," Bucky glanced down at himself before opening his suit to check the label. "I know the shoes are."

You smiled at the interviewer as she continued, "So, I've gotta say, I'm crazy excited for this film, it's the hottest thing anyone can talk about!" You and Bucky offered generic murmurs of thanks, her continuing, "It's all over social medias, there's even some fan edits already out using what they could from the trailers! Fans are really digging the modern-Shakespeare take and the chemistry between the cast. I wanna ask, being the two leads playing into this romantic relationship, how has the whole experience been for the two of you? You haven't worked together, since, what? Some ten years ago or so? When the two of you costarred in Once Upon A Time, right?"

You cleared your throat, "Woah, what a throwback."

"I know," Bucky mused, looking down at you. "We played a couple on that one, too, right?"

You nodded, trying to beat off the brewing chaos in your stomach by answering, "Yeah, however short lived."

"Which, can I say, always confused me - why your character was killed off!" She directed at you. "I loved Alice!"

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you explained, "Oh, I know, I remember reading all these comments after that episode aired, just about how upset fans were. I mean, it was a really quirky take on Alice in Wonderland - so it was kinda jarring to kill off Alice, right? But it was a creative decision I was really excited to undertake, it was my first reoccurring role in a show, first time I got to play a parent, and it was my first big, dramatic death scene."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, "I remember talking with the writers and asking them if we could do it big. They were very okay with it. I honestly miss that show - the cast and crew, everyone was just a pleasure to work with. I'd love to do it again."

In truth, your character, Alice, the lost lover of Bucky's Mad Hatter, was written off the show after a particularly nasty argument with Bucky had you ready to quit and walk off set that very moment. This was a common enough theme: arguments on set between you and Buck, a stark opposite to your scenes together on camera. You're not even sure how it started, just that you and Bucky could never get along after the chemistry read. He was pompous and arrogant and borderline narcissistic; all characteristics that rubbed you the wrong way, hence the inability to get along. So, after brief deliberation and considering you were the one ready to move on, you were to be written off (first).

Of course, you couldn't admit to any of this - it was a horrible look to the public. Especially since it was Bucky you couldn't get along with for the sake of a job, who you now had to convince the world that you didn't despise for the sake of this movie.

"Well," Bucky looked back at the interviewer with a smile, "never say never, we had some good times - "

"On the set of the show or movie?" She asked eagerly. You felt like you could practically smell your companion's desire to change the subject. Neither of you were keen on talking about your time on the show together, not after all the conflict and turmoil that boiled over into today's circumstances.

"Oh, for sure both," Bucky nodded, "but we got to film this movie in LA first for about a month. Then we spent three months in Australia for this movie and it was - yeah, no, it was a lot of fun. The location definitely helped romanticize things. Lot of laughs shared, good memories, fond friendships; lot of really great food, Down Under, too."

You gave a fake chuckle, stomach lurching as your mind screamed that he was lying. Filming this movie wasn't really fun by any circumstance; not when you and Buck couldn't be in a room together without some comment being hurled with malicious intent. Bucky was lying - you knew it, the pretty girl in all black knew it; surely, fans on the internet would know it the moment they saw this interview - or at least, your face.

He was lying. He was lying. He was lying, and it fucking bothered you.

You weren't bothered by the act of lying, per se, but the fact that the pair of you had to lie; the fact that even after a decade, old wounds were still festering; the fact that you knew your feelings for him to be authentic while his were feigned, forced, being effortlessly lied about.

You glanced at Regina, seeing her talking with animation to Bucky's publicist, Gale, and his manager, Toby; as well as your own manager, Darcy, who appeared enraptured with their phone. In a moment, you felt the flood of panic, unable to meet Regina's usually kind eyes; suddenly scanning around the red carpet in distraction as your ears whined a piercing noise. The lights flashed brighter, you suddenly felt hot and clammy; like anxiety's icy hand was creeping up your esophagus, stomach to throat. Your heart hammered, headache brewed, eyes glassy from a sudden wave of panic - and unknowingly, tightened your grip on Bucky's waist. He glanced down at you in concern.

"Uh, but you know, I think my favorite part of the whole experience was just, uh, you know - getting to spend time with this girl right here," Bucky answered the interviewer's question charmingly, hugging you tighter to his side. You were jolted back into reality, smiling and awh'ing at him sweetly as if listening; evident he had purposefully roped you back in. Your heart clenched at his kindness.

"What about you, Y/N?" The interviewer asked with a bright smile. "Any favorite moments from filming?"

"Oh, um, favorite? No, there's too many - well," you paused, relenting, "yeah, probably any scene I got to do with Jeremy, who plays my ex in the film. He's not entirely who you'd think fits in a romcom, so he pleasantly surprises you in this role. He was a blast to film with, just real easy going."

"Woah, hey," Bucky joked, looking offended but still petting his fleshy hand on your waist for comfort, "how could I not be your favorite part of filming?"

"Jeremy actually learned my coffee order," you reminded with a soft wince, watching Buck pause and then nod dramatically.

"No, no, she's got me there - I could never get it right," Bucky shrugged at the interviewer. "One day, though, I'll surprise her," he squeezed where he held you, his metal finger pointing into the camera, "and that's a promise."

"Oh, please," you chuckled, patting his chest. "I'd like to first see you get my breakfast order right - then we can move onto the more complicated coffee order."

"Okay, first, that's slanderous!" Bucky laughed, shifting his weight on the platform and making the woman interviewer perk up.

"Well, it seems the two of you had a great time on set, and so far from previews, it really shows! I can't wait to see it."

"Have fun tonight," you smiled, Bucky shifting towards the steps and offering both his hands to guide you down. He thanked her repeatedly as you stepped carefully in your heels, approaching Regina and Darcy the moment you were on the carpet again. "I can't - I can't fucking do this," you muttered to them inconspicuously; unaware of Bucky several yards away, listening to his team talk, but his gaze was locked worriedly on you.

"What? What? Can't do what?" Darcy asked, looking mildly alarmed; only then lowering their dinging iPhone.

"It's a lot right now, okay? I'm - I feel - there's just a lot," you tried to explain, voice warbling.

"What? You're, what, feeling anxious? Use your words."

"Yes, Darcy, fucking yes, I feel fucking anxious," you snapped, sighing through your nose; hand tight on Regina's wrist. She readjusted so you were both gripping each other's forearms. "Okay? There's a lot of fucking people and the interviews? Jesus, we're lying straight through our teeth - "

"So, just lie!"

"Darcy," Regina scolded, "let her speak."

"You two know James and I don't exactly get along. So you'll excuse me if lying about how much fun we had playing two idiots in love is giving me the fucking heebie-jeebies."

"Babe," Regina frowned when tears gathered in your eyes, fully aware of your feelings for the amputee, "just breathe, it's okay - "

"You literally lie for your job," Darcy scoffed with a shake of their head. "I don't get why now, all of a sudden, it's bothering you? You and Hugh Grant literally didn't speak a single word to each other outside of scenes when filming for Bridget Jones! Y'all went on to say you were best buds on set! But this is where the truth is gonna trip you up?"

"Oh, my fucking God."

"Yeah, 'oh, my fucking God', is right," Darcy sneered. "I need you to do at least three more interviews - then you can fuck off for all I care."

"There a reason you took extra bitchy pills this morning?" Regina scoffed, looking Darcy up and down with distain.

"No, fuck that, she's been difficult this entire film - "

"Oh, for the love of Christ, Darcy," Regina snarled, "she's not been difficult - she's human. Just because you're an emotionless cunt doesn't mean you get to shame and bully your client."

"Doubt I'm even their client after this," your head shook, finally locating a distant entrance. "Excuse me," you stepped around them and made an immediate beeline for the theater.

You heard shouts of your name, but didn't stop - instead, quickening your step to reach the theater sooner. The door was held open for you, letting you pass swiftly; ignoring the bewildered looks of employees and premier attendants as you hustled down the hall to the gender neutral restroom.

Shoving the door open, you gasped while stumbling onto the linoleum floors in towering heels and swirls of blue fabric feeling tangled around your legs. Your hands blindly and forcefully slapped to the marble countertop of the sink, holding your weight in either hand, pressure caught in your collarbones, trying to regulate your breath from the irregular pattern it developed during your hustle.

"Oh, this is - this is so stupid!" You scolded yourself, huffing and sniffling. "C'mon, girl... You're fine, this is nothing, you can handle it, you're not no bitch. Get your shit together, God, you're seriously this upset over a guy? Fuck's sake... Why?" You asked yourself in the mirror with a glare. "Huh? Why? Why're you so upset? Why're you so hung up on him? It's not like he-he-he lead you on! He's been clear from the beginning! And the sex wasn't even all that good!" But the deadpanned expression that stared back at you made you sigh and roll your eyes, "Yeah, okay, so it was mind blowing, whatever - point is, it's not worth getting this upset over."

You had to pause to take a breath, shaking your head as you continued talking to yourself in a dejected whisper, "Okay, so... You caught feelings. Big deal. You've been rejected by guys before, why is this one so different? Why does this hurt so much more?" The quake to your voice matched the tremble of your bottom lip. So, you answered yourself as a barrage of memories shot to the front of your mind and physically assaulted your brain like a bunch of bullies in an alleyway, "Because it felt real..."

You were the first on set.

Today's punctuality wasn't just good ethics but a direct result of your anxiety. You weren't worried about being late, you wanted to get there early to suss out the set, get a lay of the land, establish exit routes - or any means of privacy - should you need it, as well as privately meet with the intimacy coordinator, Maria, before anyone else got to set.

The director was next to arrive as you finished hair and make-up, wrapped in a robe with a pair of slippers warming your feet; sat beside you to go over a few ideas and logistics of the scene. It was all about being this bright, active, explosive, fiery, hot, passionate, borderline hateful cultivation of your character and Bucky's feud; where after a fight scene, you storm off to your room and he follows, the pair of you giving into your feelings and finally sleeping together.

The camera crew and lighting techs showed up next, ensuring everything was in place and ready to use.

The entire production had been rearranged due to the animosity, tension, and turmoil between you and Bucky the entire filming schedule. After months of bickering and irritation, this was the last piece of the movie puzzle, only reshoots thereafter, if necessary. Which made today all or nothing, where if you did this right, you'd only have to do it once. The resort you were shooting at provided a gigantic, gorgeously picturesque suite; which, in itself, was a blessing as it meant limited personnel in the room with you. So, after getting ready in a neighboring suite, where you were zipped into the same dress your character wore to a dramatic dinner scene, and waiting on the set-suite for Bucky to finish his primping. The techs showed you where the mics were and how the cameras would be angled.

Typically, shooting could be pretty go-go-go, but tonight was supposed to be easy, unrushed. First, you filmed the original fight scene to warm up - where Bucky chases after you and instigates the intimate scene. However, when the sun was lowering into position to sink, the director decided he wanted a couple of shots with the setting sun behind you; his artistic vision something you were meant to follow and not question.

"You good, doll?" Bucky checked as costumes were fixed and you both took your places. The idea was to meet in the middle of the sun shining into the camera; silhouettes taking form as the light was meant to disappear behind you, then reappear when you and Bucky fell into bed behind you.

"Yeah, uh, all good. You?"

"Perfect," he smirked, glancing at the crew. "We're moving at the same time, right?"

"Yep."

"Oh, so, uh, I'm thinking when we go back to the intro scene, we kinda lead into the bedroom? You know? Like, you come in, I follow, but you try to walk away and it leads us naturally towards the bed. That way, when we get to fuckin', it's a little more natural than before."

You just huffed, "You just have a way with words, don't you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you someone that prefers 'making love'?" He mocked with fluttering lashes.

"Fuck no, God, fucking gag me - that's such a cringy term," you scoffed quietly, looking towards the camera crew making their final readjustments.

Bucky eyed you for a moment, thinking those were his exact thoughts and feelings on the term, too. He sighed to himself as the director reminded, "This is just the kiss, then falling into bed - okay? - then we'll reset for the other bits. Yeah? Good? Everyone got it?"

"Good," Bucky agreed easily, you just nodding.

The director squinted to watch on his monitor as the sun hovered, calling action, and watching the two of you meet in frame from either side of the camera. You reached for each other and let your lips meet in an chaotic, highly-anticipated open-mouth kiss; his prosthetic arm curling around your waist as his fleshy one came up in view of the camera to slide from your jaw to the back of your head. Your hands fisted the front of his shirt in a show of desperation; one creeping up to hold his neck for balance as you felt his weight shift. You held on and gave a soft moan while toppling backwards onto the bed, out of frame; but held the position as Camera Two worked the angle from above. "And cut!"

When he pulled back, Bucky's eyes were alight with something you couldn't decipher; breathing the same air for several moments before he was sitting up and helping you do the same. You reset with dampening tear-away panties, tingling lips, and heavy lungs.

You did that kiss twice more to make the most of the sun's position before it was gone; using the authentic change of colors to curate a more romantic aesthetic. You and Bucky agreed the colors of the sunset was a much better look... So, you did the kiss another three times. When satisfied, the techs rest to film the whole of the scene, sending your heart catapulting from chest to throat. Bucky appeared easy, even excited, which for some unspoken reason, really irritated you.

How dare he enjoy this when he was usually an unbearable jackass that made your life more difficult for sport.

First, you were to storm into your room alone, a look of furious defeat marring your expression. Bucky's catches your door, follows you in to defend himself, "Hey! You don't get to insult my character and just walk away! What the hell's going on with you, why're you so upset? We had a deal, we agreed to act like we're together for the sake of this wedding. Now, you've been at my throat this whole time, you refuse to have a civil conversation unless in front of others - it's almost like you're repulsed by my very being here. I'm sorry if that's what's going on, but my best mate is marrying the love of his life this weekend and I'm going to stand at his side! You're going to have to find a way to be okay with that."

He stood in the foyer of your suite as you whipped around to snarl, "I'm okay with you being my brother-in-law's best man, I really am. I'm okay with us being at this wedding, I can fake getting along, being a couple, whatever, that's no problem. But I'm not the one who's been outright malicious! I'm not the one throwing thinly-veiled insults in front of your family!" You let tears fill your eyes, Bucky appearing genuinely disarmed as he took a step forward. Your character was notorious for being something akin to a shrew; but now, in this moment, proving to still be 'just a girl', who had feelings and would cry if she wanted to. "You know what? I wouldn't expect you to understand - so just - just get out of here, go back to dinner, there's nothing left to say - "

"You really piss me off, you know that?"

"Oh, my God! Did you seriously follow me back to my room to continue a fight I already walked away from?" You snarled, tossing your shoes from your feet. "Take a hint and go away. Please. You've done enough for the night."

"You know, you always do this. When shit gets real, you'd rather run away than deal with it!" He followed you closer to the living quarters of the suite, as planned.

"You don't get to say that when you don't even know me!"

"That's where you're wrong! I do know you!" Bucky barked, reaching for your arm to turn you around to face him; releasing his hold when you yanked your arm back with a brewing look of betrayal. "I know you're stubborn and insolent, defensive and reactive. I know you don't give second chances because one is enough, I know you're passionate and criminally independent, that you don't take direction too well because you have issue with authority." His voice softened an octave and the words felt all too real; like it was truly Bucky speaking, "I know you love your family and would do anything to protective them, including agreeing to be my date to this wedding just to give your sister peace of mind for her big day. I know that even when I think I've found a way to cope with admiring the hell out of a woman who despises me, I fuck up and say something I shouldn't. Which I also know, can rightfully set you off. I also know I had one of the best times on our date, before things imploded, and that I've finally met my match - if even just for this week."

"Think that means you know everything about me, then?" You breathed, locked onto his baby blues like a bear trap had hold of your soul.

"I only know one thing for certain."

"What?"

"That I really want to kiss you right now."

There was supposed to be no hesitation in your surge into his chest - so, there wasn't. Knowing you had this shot already and much was to be edited, you and Bucky rushed for one another; clashing in the middle; all teeth, tongue, and spit before toppling into bed. From there, it was a frenzy.

Clothes were ripped off - sending buttons and fabric all around the room. Mics picked up every single sound, no matter how soft or gruff. Soft linen sheets were rumpled and mused, pillows flattened. Hands slapped skin in the search for purchase, lips grazed sensitive flesh not regularly touched, hair stuck to tacky skin, and hips ground into one another like a couple of horny teens. Maria called encouragement, the two of you taking the cues to roll over so you were on top, but still in Bucky's cradle. Every position assumed, Bucky was all consuming; warm, safe, embracing, supportive, glorious.

It went on for several hours; the rutting and kissing and moaning and feigning. It was exactly what they wanted: bright, active, explosive, fiery, hot, passionate. Bucky's body was impressive and it was hard to ignore, causing your skin to flush with ecstasy, mouth to water, and fingers to linger. Your moans turned authentic. Sweat beaded from legit exertion. Everything felt magnified and doubled; legs spread to hold his bare hips against yours, breathing harsher when all you could focus on was the feel of Bucky's bulging cock rubbing into your soaking slit. You swore his own stuttered breathing and moans were as real as yours - but who could tell.

When the director called cut, Maria told you to stay put. You kept the sheet around your chest and dropped back to the pillows, Bucky sitting forward with the sheet around his lap in an attempt to give you both a little room.

"You all right?" He mumbled, shuffling over a little before leaning back himself. You tried not to notice how he didn't deflate, never relaxed; as if cautious to invade your space all of a sudden.

"Yeah, still good. You?"

"I'm good, doll," he smirked. "Kinda warm, no?"

"I'll say," you mumbled, swiping the moisture from your hairline, missing his grin - as if he had caught you in a confession. And perhaps he did, since the air conditioning was on and blasting like in most hotel suites; the pair of you heated from the obvious horniness you were flushed with.

The director wanted a few extra shots of you two in bed; naked, revealing tantalizing skin in provocative poses. You were to look soft, content, in love, docile and blissed; so, you gave it to them Goddamnit. You loathed to admit how easy it was to look at Bucky in such a manner; he was funny, making you grin and crack a few jokes in return, the camera eating it up. You spoke of past jobs and vacations while lounging against one another; discussed fears during a game of Thumb War; compared hand sizes and workout routines; then had more lighthearted familial conversations, such as holiday traditions, while you were balanced bare on top of his equally naked body.

From each position, you were encouraged to nuzzle the other; to kiss; share delicate touches that some how felt more intimate than filming any sex scene.

The director wanted two new camera angles of your intimacy after watching the playback; you and Bucky shuffling into new positions as the cameras were mounted. This provided ample view of your faces whilst rolling around in your romp; looking into one another's eyes as Bucky mimicked thrusting, your hands in his hair, of the concentrated expressions you were both to don. There were better shots of your tangled hands, of the way two individuals melded into one secular entity; of slippery lips forming varying levels and pitches of gasps, moans, and groans that the mics soaked up.

It all looked so real. It all felt so real.

For a moment, the director praised himself on his decision to hold off filming these intimate scenes until the end; watching an authentic cultivation of your real and faked hatred coming together on camera.

It was over with several hours to spare until dawn when few reshoots would begin filming, thankfully being mostly family scenes that didn't involve you and Bucky. If there were any, it was truly because it was necessary - the crew having been overly cautious about getting the scenes they needed the first time to spare everyone the annoyance of enduring another day on set with you and Bucky. The director and Maria watched the footage several times to make sure they had enough footage, granting approval that everything was in good shape and you were free to go.

While Bucky hesitated a moment, you accepted your robe from Maria and scurried to the neighboring suite you had dressed in. You were overwhelmed, confused, annoyed, and horny - so very horny that your immediate first action was to unlace your robe to use the lapels to fan yourself. You sought out the bathroom and grabbed several towels, yelping in shock when the front door slammed shut. Yanking the fluffy material closed, you called, "What is it, Maria? What do you need? What's wrong?"

"It's me," Bucky's voice answered, making your head pop out of the bathroom - only to rear back when Bucky was striding inward.

"Do they need us for something else?" You asked cautiously, holding your robe closed with tight hands.

"No. No, I just... Tell me to leave and I'll leave," he breathed, taking a slow step into your space, "but I really hope you don't because I can't stop thinking about you and tonight - tonight was exactly what I had thought would happen between us."

"Gave the writers your dream journal, did'jah?" You couldn't help but tease. His lips spread.

"More like my actual journal," he shot back, catching you off guard, "'cause I can't get you out of my head, it's fucking with me, doll."

"If you're here to charge me rent for living in your head, you've got another thing comin' 'cause that's a personal problem. Now I need a shower, why're you here, Bucky - what do you want? Use your big boy words."

"I want to fuck you."

"There it is," you seethed, reaching for his own robe to yank him closer until his lips were on yours. And his hands, they didn't know where to touch you - be it your face, arms, ribs, waist, hips, thighs, ass, he was everywhere. Bucky's cock was still hot and heavy against his stomach, snugly between you as he backed you into the counter. But you pushed him back upon feeling him trying to untie his robe, rushing, "Wait, wait, hang on a second, Buck - "

"Shit, I'm sorry," he immediately stepped back, now tugging the tie tighter, "I-I got a little, uh, y-you know..."

"It's okay," you assured, stepping into his chest, taking hold of his wrists in both hands, "hey, you're okay. I was just gonna say wait because I'm not fucking you here where anyone can interrupt us." Before he could answer, you offered, "Give me twenty minutes and meet back at my place?"

He nodded with a softer smirk, hands confidently holding your waist to keep you pressed against him. "Yeah, doll, 'course. I didn't mean to rush you."

"You didn't, Bucky, you aren't. It's okay."

Bucky smirked and kissed you sweetly, holding you by the waist with one hand, the smoothing over the back of your head. After letting you go, he watched you change into whatever you wore to set and grab your belongings, drop a wink, and head for the door. He couldn't help but call after you, "Twenty minutes, doll, I'm setting a timer!"

You laughed before the door shut.

One of the perks of filming at destination resorts was staying there, too. You took the first elevator to the lobby and dialed your best friend as you hustled towards your resident building. When they answered, you instantly unloaded instead of a standard greeting, "Bucky and I are about to fuck and I'm kinda freaking out!"

"Oh, thank fucking God, it's about time!"

"You can gloat later, help me now."

Twenty exact minutes passed in a flurry of reminders to use mouthwash now so it didn't taste like you were trying too hard, advice on what to wear (being just panties and a hotel robe), topped off with your best mate telling you their secrets to irresistible blowjobs. When Bucky knocked at the door, your friend screamed in a rush, "Good luck - have fun - put that emergency Plan B I packed for you to work - oh, oh, protect your cervix - and call me after - I want details! Remember to spit - "

You hung up and left your phone on the side table, scurrying for the door before you could overthink it; Bucky swooping in with the opening door, reaching his hands for both your cheeks to kiss you feverishly. He paused you to let the door slam and blindly set the bolt before crowding you into the wall. You never had time to let your anxiety set, Bucky was all you could comprehend - and my, oh, my - what a delicious infection to take over your mind, body, and soul.

Distracted by the tickle to your palms from dragging them down his cheeks, in shock, you gasped sharply into his mouth when his hands seized behind either thigh to hoist you up his body. You were able to bask in his strength, feeling his arms bulge from strain just as much as you felt his cock bulge from arousal in his jeans. Wet tongues slid against each other to dance a sinful tango as your hands seared into any flushed flesh you could grab, legs locked around his waist to keep balance as he walked to the bed. He playfully dropped you on the mattress, holding himself upright and eyeing the peak of material covering your cunt when your bent legs shifted. Bucky grinned and glanced down at himself, starting to work on the buttons of his shirt from top-to-bottom.

"You changed?" You smiled, sitting up to reach out and maneuver him to the bed so you could take over his state of undress.

"I thought I might take you out first," he admitted, "but then I remembered it's the middle of the night and nowhere's open."

Your heart might've thawed slightly at his endearing effort, yet choose not to comment. You revealed his abs and chest at long last, dipping down to press your mouth in a trail of wet and sloppy kisses from his neck, over his pectorals, and the ridges of his ripped stomach - relishing in the feeling of their contraction when your kisses turned more deliberate and sensual. Fingers nimbly began working on the button and zipper of his jeans, hearing his feet kick off his shoes in time for you to begin wrestling the garments down his hips.

Bucky sat up, crooning, "Hey, hey, hold on." This time, you froze, fearing you did something wrong, but his smile was soft and his hand warm on your jaw. He held you still to bring his lips to yours, controlling the tempo into something slow, easy, and delicately emotional. You matched his energy, just enjoying the feeling of kissing him without the added frenzy of the impending intimacy. He paused, lips hovering over yours, whispering, "As much as I need to fuck you, doll, we got time... I plan on taking my time with you."

It was sentimental. Raw. Pure. Unexpected and intimidating.

Fucking Bucky was nothing short of pornographic; the man built like a mountain, cut like a boulder, and hung like a horse, yet still so fluid that everything he did felt intimate and emotional. Like it was truly to the two of you finding home in the other; two lost pieces of a puzzle, reunited, fitting together to create an image of euphoria. He was dedicated to your comfort, insistent on your pleasure, adamant about your orgasms; able to take direction, but not needing it, motivated by evidence of your bodily pleasure; emboldened, driven, invigorated by any inkling of your enjoyment. It was all you wanted and exactly what you needed, encouraging the pair of you through multiple rounds, positions, and orgasms.

To your shock and astute pleasure, Bucky was the kind to engage in pillow talk. He laid on his back, hand behind his head, other idly toying with your hair or tracing patterns on your skin as he asked questions or answered yours. It was easy. It was simple. It was effortless and disarming. Arguably, it had been one of the best sessions of your life due to Bucky taking his time in discovering the way your body ticked instead of just chasing his own nut like plenty of other lovers. He seemed satisfied. Content. Even cozy in your bed. You thought you could grow accustomed the sight of his bare chest and stubbly smile from this angle, curled against his hairy leg with your mouth dangerously close access to his perpetually stiff member.

Like a fool, you thought this was a break through in your relationship - be it professional or personal, you didn't care. You just felt the tides shift, for the wind to change; something warming your heart and pleasantly churning your stomach. Dawn broke and you had dozed into a nap on your costar's chest; not due on set for your shoots until early afternoon, able to get a couple hours under your belt after not getting a wink all night. Bucky laid under you, soothingly letting his fingernails scratch into the slope of your spine, both content to just exist in your bubble for a while longer. However, when you awoke to your alarm, it was to an empty bed, chilly sheets, no note, no evidence another person had even been there.

You should've known better...

"Because it felt real," you trailed off in a broken whisper, laughing cruelly at yourself as a manicured finger lifted to swipe under your nose and remove the first traces of snot. "Because I thought it was real for him as it was me..." A scoff coughed from your lungs, "I thought we had a breakthrough of sorts, like-like-like an understanding. I thought he saw me, finally... But it was all a lie, wasn't it?" You sniffled, bending at the waist to rest your elbows on the counter and hold your face in hands.

Behind you, the door suddenly burst open, ricocheting into the wall - causing you to gasp shrilly and whip around in shock. Bucky stood there panting, looking bewildered and confused, soon wincing when he clocked your state of shock he caused. "Shit, sorry, sorry, doll, I was - I didn't mean - I was worried and thought something was wrong - "

"So, you came barging into the bathroom like a madman!?" You snapped, hand to your chest - clutching methaporicnhal pearls.

"Yeah, you know, not my best moment, but I was worried," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I really didn't mean to frighten you, I was a little hopped up after talking to Regina - "

"Okay, okay, James! Just - for fuck's sake, please, please, can you just leave, leave me alone - can you please just go!? Get outta here, please. I'll be out in a minute, just leave me alone. Please." You were trying too hard to stop this - to stop the way your heart fluttered and stomach sank, to stop your emotions from being real, to stop your mind from conjuring his all too perfect face at inopportune times - so, of course, the universe had to send the very bane of your existence after you during an anxiety attack.

You needed to be alone.

"No," Bucky answered fiercely.

"'No'?"

"No. You're obviously not okay and I can't just leave knowing you're upset. Look, hate me later, but I'm not leaving you alone right now."

Your head shook, a sardonic smile blooming brightly; giving a sort of disbelieving chuckle. "Seriously? Of all people? You? Fucking you? You don't even like me, so why're you really here, James? The fuck do you want?"

"All right, down girl, I come in peace," he couldn't help but snap; defensive that his act of kindness was under such scrutiny.

"Yeah? If that's the truth, then remove yourself, please. You don't need to be here, interrupting my search for said peace."

"Why is it so hard to believe I'm here out of legitimate concern?"

"Because you don't think about anyone but yourself."

"Okay, ouch - "

"You know what? I'm not tryna fight, James, I don't want to do this, okay?" You cried without letting any tears fall down your cheeks, beyond frazzled in that moment. "I don't want to do any of this, actually - this whole bloody premier, the interviews, all the pictures! People lying, people yelling!"

"Okay, okay, just take a breath, sweetheart, hey, hey." He took a step towards you, "Why's tonight making you feel this way? Huh? What's going on? You've done premiers before, what's different about tonight?" He asked softly, seeing the tears surface again, how your hands couldn't stay still anymore. You began to pace in front of the sink; cracking, threading, unthreading, twiddling, and twirling your fingers.

"You! It's fucking you, James!"

"Bucky," he corrected stiffly with a sigh of disappointment, keeping himself still to watch you pace with words caught in your throat. He didn't push you, somewhat afraid of getting his head bitten off again.

"It's just you," you continued as if he hadn't spoke. "I honestly don't know what I did to make you hate me to this extent, but I can't stand it - especially after everything! I mean, I know, I get it, sleeping together shouldn't have meant anything - but I guess you're just a better actor than I am! There, okay? I said it, you're so much better than me because I-I can't just pretend and lie about what happened between us - not us, not this time! And I hate that it's fucking with me this bad, but it's everything right now, okay? It's the matching outfits and the touching - so much fucking touching, James, for fuck's sake! I know we're supposed to be posing for photos and playing this role of two people who actually like one another, but holy fuck, it's so much touching - so many photos, so many questions, so many recollections and memories, and so much lying - I fucking hate that we're lying about us - "

"Hey, hey, hey," Bucky soothed, suddenly materializing in front of you and holding both your arms, but let go when you reared back, "woah there, I don't hate you. It's quite the opposite, doll, but you need to take a breath, please, try to-to-to calm down and I know you're not supposed to tell women that, but I don't know what else to say right now. Listen, it's not lying for me, all right? It's not lying, it's me using wishful thinking as a coping mechanism."

"W-What?" You put some distance between you again by stepping back into the furthest corner of where marble counter met wall. Exhaustion pitted your bones, hollowing them; adrenaline flooding your system after your anxiety made you feel defenseless. Tears fell without thought or realization.

Bucky's eyes were soft, his brows crinkled in concern, lips gently twitching before speaking, "I just, I realized how fucking rude I've been to you - I mean, it shouldn't matter that you never called, I could've! You know? Phone's work both ways, so, I just started thinking how much of a dick I've been - "

"What're you talking about?" You asked, tears slowing but still dribbling. "J-James, what're you talking about, I didn't call? Why would I have called you? You left me! You left. That was a pretty clear message to send."

His brows now hooked towards his nose in confusion, "What do you mean, I left?"

"After we slept together."

"Oh, baby, you think I skipped out on you? I went to get us breakfast and coffee..." he purred, taking a slow step towards you, "But when I got back, you were already gone, on set. I thought you'd leave a note, but you didn't, so I didn't really think to linger in your hotel suite. I thought maybe you'd call or text me when you got back, but when you didn't, I figured you were busy and waited, then figured you regretted us being together."

"Wait... Wait, wait, wait, what? Hold on, y-you went to get us...? Hold on, what? I'm still playing catch up."

Bucky stood in front of you, gently pulling you from the corner just to lean in the middle of the marble with his hands warm on your waist and ribs.

"Yeah," Bucky grins, "I went to get us breakfast. Toasted plain bagel with eggs - scrambled, of course - extra cheese, and you prefer bacon to pork sausage, but only if it's extra crispy and if they don't offer turkey sausage. You like either maple syrup or Sriracha," Bucky's hands flexed to a sudden bruising grip, hoisting you onto the counter, "depending on your mood." You were stunned into silence, heart pounding; allowing him to hike your dress skirt over your thighs, then spread them only so he could stand between them, "And of course, you like both hot and iced mocha lattes equally with regular cream and sugar. Because you don't trust all baristas to get your portions right, you like keeping additional cream and sugar on hand in case it's not enough - which is why you think your coffee is complicated, because you go based on taste instead of color or measurement."

Your smile was genuine, curling your hand under his jaw to caress tantalizing stubble; holding around his neck and shoulders to remain close. You hushed, "I know that shouldn't impress me, but it does..."

"As long as you stop crying, baby, c'mon," he whined gently, "I can't stand the sight."

You nodded and sniffled, looking down as your foreheads met; gently fiddling with his diamond-crusted lapels. "For the record?" You whispered, noses nuzzling, "I don't regret it..."

"Good," he matched your tone, "'cause I don't either. But I do regret how I've treated you... I'm really sorry, doll. Maybe if I wasn't such a dickhead, we could've had these last 6 months together, huh?"

"Probably not, weren't you on location?" You snickered, caressing his cheek and keeping his forehead on yours as your tears dried and reality came back into hand.

"Oh, like you weren't?" He smirked. "Hey, I gotta question for you."

"Hm?"

"Can I take you to dinner? Please? You know, do this properly? We kinda skipped some steps."

You pulled back to look at him, laughing, "Could I clean the mascara off my face before you ask me out?"

"What mascara?"

"Oh, please - "

"Nah, seriously, baby, you look perfect, I promise, whatever Jessie used 's gotta be waterproof," he grinned, hand reaching up to hold your cheek sweetly, thumb sweeping away your tear tracks.

"How do you know my make-up artist?"

"I might follow them on Instagram," he shrugged casually, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, I know this great pizza place, right?"

"Uh-huh...?"

"And I think you'll love it. C'mon, baby, lemme take you there."

"Where is it?"

"Not... That... Far..."

"What does that mean? Bucky, what're you plotting?"

"So, the pizza place, right? It's technically in Rome - but - "

"Bucky! Hell no - "

"Hear me out!"

"We're not going to Rome!"

"Hang on, just listen to me, baby, okay?" He purred, gripping your hips in a bruising grip to drag you to the edge, "Let's get this premier done, right? And after, you and me go to the airport - I'll have my people get us tickets, Regina can grab your passport, you know? And let's just get away for a little bit, said you've never been to the Amalfi Coast."

You laughed sarcastically, "Yeah, okay, sure."

"You think I'm joking?"

"A little bit."

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you to suppress his own grin; lapping his tongue against yours. "Just say yes, doll, c'mon, lemme make up for my dickhead behavior, huh?" He pleaded quietly.

You hummed, kissing him again, answering against his lips, "Yes, to all of it."

"Yes?"

"Yes - " You squealed in laughter when Bucky surged forward to kiss you again, this time, out of sheer relief, pure joy, and unrestricted excitement.

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