#you can visibly SEE in the fic where I completely lost my grip on the story from 'sweet story about cats' to 'oh my god what the fuck'

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

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+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. capturing the sun

A/N: Hello everyone!! I bring to you my very first demon slayer fic!! I've been in the kny fandom for awhile with many fic ideas coming to mind, but this is the first time I've actually written it out. This is also the first story for Inotan Week!! I hosted my own list of prompts for this year, you can find the post here!! I really hope you enjoy this story, I have a lot of plans for this AU, tbh, so I can't wait to write it all out. This is actually a bit shorter than my usual chapters, but it felt right to end it where I did and the other chapters will definitely be longer!! Happy reading!!

Inspiration Post

Pairings: N/A (The romance hasn't started yet, lmao)

Prompt: Day 1 - Fantasy

Summary: The King of Kirauai receives an unexpected visit.

Tag(s): Angst, death threats, death, kingdom customs(?)

Word Count: 886

Song Inspiration: N/A (Me? :0 Not using a song lyric for a title? :0)

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

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[Author Masterlist]

[Series Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

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[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

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King Inosuke, ruler of Kirauai. Also known as “King of the Mountains” or “the Boar King”. A fearsome, ruthless man who took his place upon the throne by force. He’s cruel, cold, he laughs at the pain of others and he’s never apologized a day in his life. That is the reputation he must uphold. Because without such a reputation, no one takes him seriously.

And so, when the Sun Warrior, Kamado Tanjiro, throws open the doors to his throne room and rushes across the royal blue carpet leading right to him, he keeps his face neutral and unsurprised. In truth, he really wasn’t surprised. He was well aware that Tanjiro had been making his way to him. The trail of destruction and bodies he left in his wake was difficult to miss. So many of the King’s Boar Knights lost due to this red-haired man who wields the power of the sun. All of the death left the King sick to his stomach, but so did the thought of destroying the man storming towards him.

Not surprised to see him here, no, but extremely saddened instead. He had been hoping that he’d never have to actually look Kamado Tanjiro directly in the face, but it appears his wishes did not come true. Sighing internally, he narrows his eyes as he looks down at the man intruding in his place. He gives his guards a wave of his hand, telling them to hold off. He’d like to hear what the Warrior has to say.

“Kamado Tanjiro.” King Inosuke calls out, his deep voice echoing throughout the large room. “I was wondering when we’d officially meet.” He says calmly.

“Inosuke Hashibira!!” The Warrior shouts, a fierce, determined expression on his face. “I have come here to kill you!!”

The King can’t help the laughter that bursts from his lips, his amusement surprising himself. “You? Kill me?” He questions, his words filled with a level of arrogance that people never believe he was actually born with. “What makes you so sure you could do such a thing?”

Anger starts to bleed through into the Warrior’s expression. “I refuse to accept anything less. I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do.” The redhead grits out, his arm extending out in front of him in order to point his sword at the King sitting upon his throne.

King Inosuke’s face falls into a cold mask, his voice completely monotone. “Do you truly think that killing me is going to do good for this country? That you’re going to help the people by getting rid of me?”

"Don’t you realize what you’ve done!?” The Warrior exclaims, expression filled with rage, the flame mark on his forehead flaring. “How far you’ve gone!?” His grip on his sword visibly tightens, but it’s also clear that he’s shaking. “How many people have died to achieve this world domination of yours!?" Tears prick at the man’s eyes and the King tries to shake off the quivering of his limbs at such a question. At the reminder.

"769.” He states simply, without hesitation.

"...What?" The man before him falters slightly, though he tries to hide it.

"769 people died to achieve my plans. I counted them, and had each of their names etched on my throne so I never forget what my victory cost the world.” The black-haired man explains. “Now tell me, how many have you killed to see me dead?" He demands.

Tanjiro falters at his words. "I didn't..." He shakes his head, the fierce look in his eyes returning. "The only ones I killed were your men!! Those who were already killing others!!"

King Inosuke, leans forward atop his hand-carved throne, expression unreadable. "Yes, and I'm asking you. How many have you killed, Monjiro?"

For a few minutes, there's nothing but silence. Neither of them move from their positions and it's only the King who can see all the emotions flickering across the Warrior's face. Only the King knows how spooked the man before him is.

"I-I-" With a stuttered gasp, the sword slips from his hands, clattering to the marble floor.

"How many have you killed?" The question whispers through his mind on repeat.

Another gasp and he falls to his knees, chest heaving. "I-I don't-" He clutches his chest, to rip his heart out or attempt to calm it down, no one is certain. "How many have I- What have I- What-I-"

Nothing coherent falls from his lips, as if the man is unable to truly process the question he's been asked. The King watches him with a frown and hard eyes, though if anyone looked closely enough, they would see the shine of tears. But no one realizes their King is on the verge of weeping. He's too far away from them, and none of them dare to get closer.

King Inosuke nods to his guards hovering behind Tanjiro and they immediately grab him under his arms and start dragging him away. The Warrior never even registers what's happening to him, too far into his own head to realize that his body has been captured. The King didn’t realize how easy it would be to break him. He finds himself questioning if doing it was actually a good thing or not long into the rest of the day.

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A/N: What do you all think?? This AU is quite interesting and I LOVE fantasy settings like this, so I'm super excited. One thing, Kirauai, the name of their country/continent, is meant to be pronounced as "Keer-uh-way". But anyways, please, tell me what you think!! Feedback from my readers is always so important to me!!

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Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

[norabrice1701]

Falling - Pt. III

A Sam Neill!Vasily Borodin (The Hunt for Red October) x Fem!Reader Fic

Mini-Series Main List

Pt. III Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including frottage and unprotected sexual intercourse); strong language; infidelity; misogynistic, controlling and abusive (emotional and physical) behavior towards reader; self-worth issues; pregnancy and infertility; heartache and loss; canonical character death

Days later, your skin still crawls from where Mikhail grabbed you in front of Vasily. His guiding touches to steer and navigate you through party crowds are hardly anything new, but the force of his grip held a possessive edge that you’d never seen before. 

Had Mikhail somehow overheard your conversation? Had you truly been so absorbed with Vasily that you lost so much sight of your surroundings? Had every long forgotten emotion for your old love been so visible on your face? 

“Are you happy?”

The question haunts you for days and weeks, as does the memory of Vasily’s face in the question’s aftermath. How would he have answered? Would he have said that yes, he is happy, after a fashion? Or would he have said that yes, he was happy once? Or would he have declared his undying love for you and say that happiness was never an option once you left his life? 

None of the responses you conjure sit well with you, and honestly, what did you expect would happen if he did answer your question in the middle of that party? The most likely scenario probably would have resulted in your tears and admission of regret, admission of how you never stopped loving him and wanted him still…

And the realization upends your life. Every time you glance around your home with Mikhail, every night as you crawl into bed beside him, every night you take dinner in near silence with him - you realize that the happiness you thought you had was simply a cheap veneer to hide what you were powerless to change. That the one thing, the one person you wanted most in this life - and still do - is not yours to be had. 

You become quite adept at hiding silent tears in your pillow during the darkest hours. 

None of it is helped when the farewell reception for the Red October is announced. The final opportunity to wish her esteemed officers all the best for the maiden voyage, hosted at the Admiral’s lavish home. 

Upon arrival, it’s more of a mansion than a home. Upon entry, it’s more of a palace than a mansion. Marble and richly furnished interiors occupy the massive floorplan. Golden light spills from large, elegant chandeliers that glitter and glisten with countless crystals. String music floats from a quartet tucked in a corner, and the parade of black tie party officials, diamond-and-fur draped women, and dapper officers complete the spectacle. 

“Yes, I cannot believe that Anastasia will soon be a university graduate.” Madam Andreyeva laments despite the proud smile on her face. “We cannot be more thrilled about her future prospects. She’s currently seeing the grandson of one of the most senior party members - but I cannot say who, of course.” 

The other two women you’re standing with chuckle their amusement and approval. You match their smiles, offering your congratulations as you finish your glass of cloyingly sweet champagne. 

“I do wish my Inessa would settle down, sooner rather than later,” Madam Belova says, words tight with frustration as she glances around. “She needs to understand that the best role she can serve for our great country is to further its legacy by marrying the right man. If only she were able to attend tonight - there are so many eligible officers here.” 

Madam Andreyeva chuckles teasingly. “I do wonder if Captain Ramius would ever consider remarrying. The death of his wife was heartbreaking, but there’s no reason a man of his stature shouldn’t consider a future proposal.” 

“I think I would consider it myself, were circumstances different.” Madam Alexeeva agrees with a mischievous grin. “Though, if my daughter were old enough, I would set her sights on Ramius’ Executive Officer.” 

Your heart thumps against your rib cage as you try to keep your face pleasantly neutral. 

“Oh, yes.” Madam Belova says with a nod as she sips her champagne. “Not only does Captain Borodin have rising prospects for his future career - he’s also quite handsome!” 

“And charming!” Madam Alexeeva adds with a wink as she leans in closer. “There’s a quiet, almost naive wit about him - a quality that makes one wonder what he is truly like with the doors closed and the lights off!”

The door closed behind you and surely, in the silence of your dormitory room, he could hear the thundering of your heart. It wasn’t just that you snuck a non-student into the building, but you’ve never had a man in your bedroom before. Let alone one that you wanted so completely.

Your heart raced as you turned back around to face him with a suddenly nervous smile. He offered a reassuring smile in return, studying you with that keenly observant gaze of his. You exhaled another eager, anxious breath and looked down to toe off your shoes. “I’m sorry it’s not much,” you said. “But at least my roommate has gone home for the weekend. I guess they think students don’t need much space.” 

“I’d say our barracks are easily the size of your building, but without individual rooms.” He stooped to remove his own shoes. “One learns to live without privacy very quickly.” 

“Is that why you’re so fearless?” You glanced back over at him in the yellow light that filtered through the windows. “You just… have nothing to hide from anyone?” 

His mouth curled with that adorable, bashful edge that you’ve come to love - because, yes, after seven months… you did love this man. “I won’t say that I ever had anything to hide, but… humans are rather adept at exploiting discomfort, unfortunately.” He fixed you with an earnest look that pinned you in place. “And that is not my intention here tonight. Despite what you said outside, nothing more, or less, needs to happen here… if you don’t want to.” 

Your heart warmed with affection and desire, matched by the arousal curling at the base of your spine. Slowly, you shook your head as your heart lodged in your throat. “No…” You breathed as you stepped closer, fixing him with all the honesty you have. “I just… h-haven’t done this before - but don’t mistake that for not wanting to. With you.”   

His eyes softened with tender understanding even as they flashed with ravenous desire. You worked a swallow down your throat as you stepped up to him, resting a hand over his heart. A trembling breath left you to feel its strong, rising beat beneath your palm as you blinked up at him through your lashes. “Have you…? Done this before?” 

He offered a slow half-nod as he raised a hand to cover yours still pressed against his chest. “Some,” his voice dropped to a velvety tone that rippled down your spine, and he leaned his forehead against yours. “Just with hands and mouths, though. Not… not fully.”

You exhaled another heavy breath as the damp ache between your legs continued to heat up, fueled by the puffs of his hot breath against your skin. “Okay…” a smile curved your lips as you nuzzled his nose and felt his strong hand settle on your waist. “At least one of us should know what we’re doing…” 

“I don’t think I would go that far, but hopefully -” 

You didn’t let him finish as you leaned in, sealing your mouth to his. You’ve talked so much and now, finally, you were done talking. You wanted the promise held in each increasingly fervent goodnight kiss. You wanted the feel of his skin on yours and his ragged breathing in your ear. You wanted his fingers to bring you to the brink and to cry his name in ecstasy. 

You sighed into the kiss as you melted beneath the warm, soft press of his lips. The hand at your waist wrapped around to the small of your back, pressing you in close. Sparks shot through you as your bodies connected, and you slid your hand from his chest to curl around the back of his neck. A moan of approval rumbled low in his throat, and your lips parted to swallow it as the kiss deepened. 

The smooth strokes of his tongue took your breath away as you clung to him, wanting only to forget where you ended and he began. You whimpered with growing need as the world narrowed to everything he offered, and you’ve never felt more alive. Parting from the kiss with a gasp, you mouthed along his jawline, teasing the tender skin. The hiss that passed his lips bolted liquid heat straight to your core before his mouth found the column of your neck.

“Oh, Vasya…” You breathed as you tilted your head to grant him better access, rewarded when he groaned his appreciation. His hips rolled teasingly forward, and you went dizzy as the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against where you wanted him most. With your last thought, you rocked your hips into his, loving how he crushed you closer and slipped a hand down to the hem of your shirt. 

With slow movements and careful steps, your shirt and bra ended up somewhere on the floor. His button-up shirt gaped open, and you couldn’t get enough of the broad, bare planes of his chest. As your mouths fused together with heated passion and your bare breasts met his skin, you dissolved to a whimpering puddle in his arms. 

His belt clanked to the floor and you fumbled the clasp of his trousers open before pulling him down to your narrow bed. Your legs spread on instinct to accommodate the fit of his hips as his weight pushed you deliciously into the mattress. Even through the layers of fabric, the hard heat of his erection made your mouth water. But when he shrugged out of his shirt and gave his hips a solid thrust forward, you didn’t recognize the cry that came from your mouth. 

“Off, off…” You panted, reluctantly pulling your hands away from his addicting expanse of skin to paw at your trousers. “Want them both off.” 

He shuddered a deep exhale, as if fighting for a last vestige of control, but he managed to lift up and accommodate the shifting fabric. As you both kicked your trousers away, your hands landed on the rounded curve of his backside to drag him back down. Even through your underwear, the heat of him burned where you so desperately ached, and blind desire clouded your last thread of sanity. 

“Zhizn moya…” He moaned against your mouth as your hips rolled together in a primal rhythm fueled by instinct and need. You arched your back to get closer, to open yourself up more and wrap a leg around his pert backside. 

“Vasya,” you sighed, nibbling his earlobe as your body continued to run away with you. “I-I want you inside me. Want to be yours.”

His answering growl spoke straight to the dripping, needy ache that he could surely feel as his hips thrust sharply against yours. A pleasured cry tore from both of your throats, echoing above your wrecked, tandem breathing in the small room. 

“God, I want that, too… more than anything,” he breathed, mouthing along your earlobe. “But I can’t… won’t risk putting you in that position.” 

And despite every taut nerve that screamed for the release that only he could give, you understood exactly what he meant. You could so easily get pregnant, and unwed mothers were still heavily frowned upon. A wave of tender love rushed through you at his thoughtfulness, and you clutched him ever closer, finding his mouth to pour out your appreciation for everything about him.  

You slid a hand between the tight press of your bellies to trace the hardened outline of him, feeling your cheeks grow hotter to touch him so intimately. His blown-wide, sapphire eyes shone with loving desire as you continued to caress him with inexpert fingers. Tentatively, you squeezed the tip of him and delighted in the answering stutter of his hips. 

Again, you gave him another gentle squeeze before drifting up to the waistline of his underwear and teasing under the elastic with eager anticipation. “Then… tell me what I can do instead.”   

“Are you alright?” A gentle hand on your forearm drags you out of the sudden rush of memory, back to the surrounding women and Madam Andreyeva’s concerned expression. “You look so flushed, as though you might faint.” 

“No, I’m… I’m alright, thank you.” Your cheeks warm with embarrassment as you look down at the empty champagne flute in your hand. “Maybe the champagne has just gone to my head… and yes, I’d say so.” You look among them, offering a hesitant, regretful smile. “If you’ll excuse me, please? I think I should go in search of some water.” 

Offering farewells, you turn from the group and exhale a deep sigh. As if the whole purpose of tonight’s party didn’t involve the one man you really didn’t want to think about, you didn’t need the conversation of gossiping hens to stir up heart-wrenching memories. Let alone to stir up thoughts about the possibility of Vasily marrying. Of Vasily taking a wife into his heart and his home and his bed… 

Your stomach rots with yearning envy even as you know it’s impossible. Divorce tarnishes both parties involved and just isn’t done. It would be far better to take a lover than suffer the shame of divorce, but there’s so much risk for a woman in your position. After all, it’s one thing for a man to take a discrete mistress, but completely another for a woman to take a lover. Even then, the thought of having Vasily in such a manner doesn’t sit well with you. He deserves so much better and so much more than that. He deserves… everything honorable and good and… 

The weight of your thoughts threatens to suffocate you, and maybe you can find Mikhail, feigning a dreadful headache. Yes, that’s exactly what you should do. If you’re able to leave now, then you won’t have to hear any more talk or risk any more heartbreaking encounters. Vasily will go to sea, and you can work to forget about him all over again. It worked once before, so why wouldn’t you be able to do it again? No matter how much the idea leaves a rotten ache in your stomach.

Abandoning your champagne flute, you move among the crowd, searching for the familiar face of your husband. But as you round a corner, you hear a hushed, familiar voice tucked against the wall.

“The chairman must understand my position.” Mikhail’s words hold a rushed, frustrated breath.

“And surely, you must understand the optics of the situation.” An unknown voice responds with caution.

“Don’t patronize me, Yuri.” Mikhail’s tone turns short and tight. “It’s well known that the chairman promotes men of stability and family, and it’s difficult to be a stable family man without a family.”

“If you want this step in your career, then you must act – sooner, rather than later.” Yuri counsels. “Have you considered taking further action?”

Mikhail sighs, heavy with irritation. “Many times. Divorce would put the nail in the coffin of my career faster than not getting this promotion, and taking a mistress is still dismissible –”

“But not unheard of.” Yuri agrees. “If a child were to come of that union, it would still bear your name – and your generosity towards both mother and child, while supporting your wife, would speak greatly to your character.”

Your stomach drops to your feet, horrified at what you’re hearing but unable to move away.

“With the right allies, of course,” Mikhail says, voice tight with the weight of consideration. “Vouching for both me and her, and making the extent of my failed marriage known despite all of my best efforts.”

Yuri hums in gentle agreement. “It does take two to make a marriage work, and if one partner is not committed, then…”

“Then, that settles it.” Mikhail sighs with the weight of a final decision made. “I’ll give her one more year to deliver – and I do mean that literally. The lack of generational legacy has held back my career for far too long now.”

Yuri chuckles salaciously. “Sounds like you’re going to have a busy next three months.”

“I will certainly give it my all even if I have to chain her to the bed and breed her like a mare. Then, even if she still fails to conceive - at least, my conscience will be clear.”

This time, Yuri’s chuckle dissolves into a low hum of agreement. “Then, you’ll know that you’ve done everything that you could.”

Mikhail hums in low agreement. “A tough job when you’re working with undisclosed, damaged goods.” He breaks off with a frustrated sigh. “For all the virtues that her parents extolled, they failed to disclose that she was poisoned – in both womb and heart.”

You throw a hand over your mouth to stifle a gasping sob. Tears burn your eyes and you have to leave, you have to get away immediately. You push through the crowd, desperately trying to hold your distress at bay until you’re alone, until you can breathe under the crushing weight in your chest.

If anyone notices you, you don’t notice them as your heels echo off the marble flooring in the grand entry hall. An opulent staircase curves towards the upper floor and a few partygoers linger along the broad railing, and you don’t hesitate. Gathering your skirt in your hand, your shoes sink into the plush carpeting as you flee upwards – someplace where Mikhail won’t find you, someplace where no one will.

An open door yields to a rich-wood paneled room lined with bookshelves. Plush furniture sits in front of a darkened fireplace and a large desk dominates the other half of the room. Perhaps it’s a study or maybe a small library, but it’s quiet and lit with a soft glow from the collection of ornate table lamps, and you close the door behind you.

The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, and only then you notice the tears that dampen your cheeks. Wiping at them quickly, you feebly hope that your makeup isn’t beyond repair, but at this point, does it really matter? When Mikhail says such cruel things, when his colleagues spur him on, when he discusses your intimate life so… crudely and coldly. When he threatens to devalue everything about you as a person…

You draw another trembling breath, crossing your arms against your chest as you move further into the room. Whatever are you going to do? Do you have any legal recourse? Could you even secure a lawyer? Has life with Mikhail left you completely under his power?

Another tear slides down your cheek and soaks into the carpet. Maybe after so many years of not standing up for yourself or what you want, maybe this is what you deserve. Maybe this is just… the way that life is supposed to be. Your stomach twists with heartbreaking dejection at the thought.

The soft whisper of well-oiled hinges reaches your ears, and you dart wide, fearful eyes towards the door. Your last thread of resolve crumbles when you meet Vasily’s tender, concerned blue eyes, and you hang your head. Your shoulders shake from the force of your sobs as you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting him to see the utter failure that you’ve become. The rush of your breathing masks the sound of his sure stride, and strong, coaxing arms wrap around you. The uniform-clad plane of his chest fills your vision, and you’re powerless not to slump your forehead down to his offered shoulder.

He says nothing as he rocks you gently. No patronizing comments or false promises of a rosy outcome. He simply holds you as your tears continue to fall and your breath comes in hiccupping draws. It’s not elegant, it’s not pretty, and you should probably be humiliated by such a display, but in his arms… it’s the only safe place you’ve ever known to just be yourself.

Exhaustion sets in and your tears subside as your breathing settles out. Even then, he still just holds you comfortingly close as you breathe in his clean scent. Such a refreshing change from your cigar-smoke soaked husband. A stab of anxious unease cuts through you as you blink your eyes open against his shoulder, speaking softly. “You shouldn’t be here.”  

“And why not?” His voice is a low, whispered purr that warms you.

“If my husband finds us here… he would ruin your career.”

“How could I possibly care about that when you’re so upset?” His head shifts, resting against yours supportively as his breath brushes your hair. “I saw you leave with tears in your eyes, and I couldn’t stay away.”

Your heart clenches as you bite your lip. “Don’t… Vasya, please.” The diminutive slips out from memory as you draw your head away from his shoulder and fresh tears threaten. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

His brow creases with sad concern. “How can you say that when each day is already torture? Each day that I see your undimmed beauty and tender heart just as I remember. Each day that I hear him disrespect you so publicly over private matters. Each day that I… know you’ll never be mine to love and cherish as you deserve.”

Tears wet the corners of your eyes and you quickly try to wipe them away. “We had our time together. I just… I don’t know what else to say.”

“I wanted to marry you, zhizn moya.” His mouth curves with a sad, almost sheepish smile that doesn’t fit the brave man in uniform. “And I would have if your parents hadn’t stolen you from me. Assuming you would have had me, that is.”

Your breathing trembles as your heart aches. “Of course, I would have.” You whisper the admission like it’s your last lifeline as you drown in the sea of his eyes. “And if I could today, I still would.”

His eyes brighten as he smiles with unburdened relief. He regards you with all the love that you’ve ever known from him, and if life were simple, you’d melt in his embrace under the bliss of his kiss. But an impossible chasm spans between you, and your wedding band constricts you.

“Don’t be so sad, zhizn moya.” He says softly, free from reproach or judgment. “Just knowing that’s how you still feel is… enough. I can live with that.” He sounds like a weight has lifted from his shoulders, resolved with some secret course of action as his gaze darts cautiously to the window. “Perhaps if we were free to choose our paths,” he whispers with a hint of wild conspiracy. “If this were the land of dreams, we could make it so… but that is not this place.”

It's treacherous, dangerous talk. If anyone overheard him, you would both be arrested and sentenced for treason without question. You shake your head quickly with an uneasy breath. “Don’t even think those things, Vasya.” You caution in a rushed whisper. “I can’t bear the thought of you being imprisoned or worse… I couldn’t live with that.”

“You needn’t waste your worry on me -”

“As you worry about me, so I worry about you.” You implore as he sighs and the corner of his mouth lifts. Your heart beats wildly with reckless abandon as his gaze re-connects with yours. “Isn’t that…,” you whisper, trailing off as your voice trembles. “Isn’t that what love is?”

His smile softens with fond affection. “It didn’t used to be. The first afternoon that I saw you, my only worry was that you would turn me away before I even had a chance. And when you didn’t – nothing seemed impossible.”

“Every day was something to look forward to.” You agree, your smile growing to match his. “I’ll never forget… the afternoon at the cinema, when I caught your eye in a quiet moment and you brought my hand to your lips for a kiss. The first time you kissed me, and you just… you know, I can’t even remember what film it was because I just remember how much I wanted to never stop.” Your cheeks flush – and goodness, you’re a married woman but you’re blushing like a young schoolgirl. “You’ve always been so brave to act, so unashamed to say what you want – but you never once pushed or asked for more than I was ready to give.”

A modest blush dances high on his cheeks. “It is part of the wedding vows to honor my wife, and I wanted… well, to prove that to you.”

That one night you shared with him in your dormitory still burns, and your cheeks flush from the heated memory as you slowly nod. “I remember.” Your voice drops as if anything louder would make the moment less real as heat pools, low and needy in your core. “God, I wanted you so desperately… and then… on my wedding night,” your words whisper through your increasingly heavy breaths. “I wanted it to be you.” A tear falls down your cheek as you blink up at him. “I’ve only ever wanted it to be you.” 

His hand raises to cup your jaw, thumb swiping at the fallen tear before his mouth finds yours. You melt into his kiss, more tears springing to life at the overwhelming relief, at the outpouring of love in the tender embrace. His lips are just as warm and sure as you remember, and your body blooms with long dormant desire. 

You raise a hand to cover his, nuzzling into his embrace as your head tilts. He sighs against your mouth, and your tongue finds his parted lips. Arousal electrifies you as your tongues tangle, lost to everything but the touch and taste of each other. Despite everything at stake - despite the damning evidence of the moment should you both be discovered like this - none of it tears you away from him as you step closer into his embrace. 

You find the edge of his high uniform collar, caressing his tender skin with fingers that have nearly forgotten the feel of him. A whimper pitches high in your throat as his hand slides down the slope of your neck to rest with a heady, tempting promise against the junction of your shoulder. You move to your hand down to his shoulder with an encouraging squeeze, and the breath pushes from your lungs as he sweeps you up. 

The desperate ache in your core ignites tenfold as the back of your knees bump against the cushy couch. You can’t touch him enough as your mouths feverishly reconnect, and the coarse wool of his dress uniform only makes you want bare skin all the more. But if you’re truly going to steal this moment for yourself, then that luxury will have to wait. 

You coax him down with you, spreading your legs and rucking up your dress to accommodate the press of his lean hips. He moans, long and delicious, as his fingers find the soaking wet heat of you, and you tear at the catch of his belt and trousers. Panting heavily against each other’s mouth through sloppy kisses, clothing shuffles out of the way and you brace against the couch cushions. Azure fire burns in his intoxicating gaze as the hard tip of him rests against your dripping entrance for the space between breaths. He eases forward, and the thick, perfect stretch of him brings tears to your eyes as your fingers card through his hair, holding his gaze even as your eyelids flutter from the overwhelming connection. 

He trembles as he settles against you, and you hook a leg around him as you adjust to the full length of him pressed so deep. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted - and God, how can you possibly live without it now? The thought is stolen away as he draws back and rocks forward, filling you to the hilt and coaxing a whimpered cry from your lips. 

“You are heaven, zhizn moya.” He pants against your neck, and you nuzzle what skin you can reach in return - but it’s nowhere near enough. Sliding a hand around to his front, you clumsily tear at the two topmost buttons of his uniform until you can bury your face against the warm, soft skin of his throat. His hand wraps around the small of your back for better leverage, and you gasp as he shifts inside you and sighs. “Absolute heaven…”

His name falls from your lips in a litany of passion as a rhythm builds between you. You muffle your gasping cries against his skin as he touches the deepest places inside you with each strong thrust. Pleasure consumes you, hurtling you towards the blissful abyss as it robs your mind of coherent thought. You clutch the board muscles of his back - still so fit after all the years of naval service - and his quiet, serrated moans are the only sounds you want to hear for the rest of your days. 

Every muscle tenses, desperate for release as the tempo increases. He drives you ever higher, and surely, your heart will explode first. You can’t breathe for the euphoria that strangles you, and your moans pitch higher as you finally just - there. Your nails dig into the fabric of his uniform and a long, wrecked cry wells in your chest as you launch into mindless bliss. His guttural groan of answering relief sounds over the rush of blood in your ears, and you welcome the heavy weight of him as he slumps against you. 

Tears sting your eyes as you hold him close, peppering his skin with lazy kisses. You nuzzle the light mole on his right cheek as your mind floats back down to rejoin your body, along with the crushing weight of reality. Loss and heartbreak consume you as you cling to him in desperation. “D-don’t leave me,” you plead in the vulnerable moment, burying your face in his shoulder. “I don’t want to live without you anymore. Especially now – I just… can’t… I won’t.”

He sighs with weighted conflict as he nuzzles your brow, kissing you softly. “But you can… you will.”

A whimpering sob escapes you, shaking your head as you crumble. “I love you too much to let you go again.”

Another heavy sigh leaves him as he cradles you close for another stolen moment.

You snuggle against him, committing everything about this moment to memory. The contentment humming in your body, the soap-clean scent of his skin tinged with exertion, the toned weight of him, the press of him softening inside you. You never want the moment to end, and you tremble as your hands flatten against his back to crush him imploringly close. “You have to come back – promise me.” You don’t care if it’s a fair request or not as your words continue to pour forth. “He’s going to ruin me, Vasya. One way or another… I heard him plotting tonight – he’s always plotting, and now… now, he's set his sights on me and I don’t know what -” Your voice catches on a hiccupping sob.

“Not if you ruin him first.” His words whisper right in your ear and punch you in the stomach.

You turn towards him with wide eyes, tilting your head back to look at him. His eyes hold a dark, subversive edge tinged with apprehension, and your brow furrows in confusion. “I don’t understand… how could I possibly…?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Let’s call it a parting gift, shall we?”

You shake your head, staring back at him incredulously. “No… Vasya, I still don’t – that doesn’t make sense.”

He leans in again, pressing another kiss to your brow. “It will, zhizn moya. The Red October will sail with the tide, and I must go with her…” Another almost regretful sigh passes his lips. “I cannot stay, and you cannot come with me… however much I wish for it. But if I have a chance at finding freedom, then so should you.”

You shake your head against another tender press of his lips. “I still don’t understand –”

A loud, muffled thump outside the door startles you both, and you’ve pressed your luck for too long. The intimate moment shatters as he withdraws, leaving you empty and bereft in so many ways. He turns to readjust his uniform and you wince at the sticky mess congealing between your legs. You lack anything to truly clean yourself up, and hopefully you can still salvage your underwear on a trip to the toilet. Pushing up from the couch, your muscles twinge with a pleasant ache that you hope will make the memory of this moment last for days.

A sad smile comes to your face as you watch him fasten the topmost button of his smart uniform before smoothing his hair back into place. Or, rather, attempting to. “Here…” you say softly, stepping over to him and reaching up to tame a wild lock. “It’s unfair how good you still look… and I’m not just talking about the years.” You run your eyes over the lines of his face and down the fit of his uniformed chest. “Not one disreputable wrinkle about you.” You raise your other hand, swiping at your cheek, dismayed to come away with a black streak on your fingertip. “I must look like an awful mess… God, there’ll be no hiding it.”

“You’ve been beautiful from the first moment I saw you,” he says softly. “And that hasn’t changed, even now.”

Flattered embarrassment tinges your cheeks. “No matter how charming that sounds, it won’t hide my streaked makeup. Fortunately, I think there’s enough pins and hairspray in my hair that it won’t move for another week.”

He reaches a hand up to gently wipe at your damp cheek. “Anyone who chooses to judge you will only assume that you are upset, which isn’t far from the truth. Given what you’ve told me and how I found you here…”

You sigh, troubled. “That will only put Mikhail in a foul mood. He deplores any display of weakness or vulnerability.”

“You’re only human. He can’t expect any more of you than that.”

“A human, yes, but…” you draw a trembling breath as the painful memory surfaces. “Poisoned, he said. Poisoned in both womb and heart.”

Rage flashes in Vasily’s eyes as he stares back at you in open shock. “He said that… to you?”

“No. He said it to someone else and he… didn’t know that I overhead him.”

He closes the distance, enveloping you in a comfortingly possessive embrace as your arms fold around him on instinct. His lips press against the shell of your ear as he whispers. “Then I will not feel guilty if my child grows within you.” 

A stab of anxiety shoots through you despite the warm security of his embrace. You haven’t even considered the possibility of falling pregnant with his child until now… it just… Well, if it already hasn’t happened with Mikhail, then why would it happen now? And yet... part of your heart bursts with hope.

“Let him see that not only are you not poisoned…” Vasily continues softly. “Let him also see what he will never have.” The conviction in his voice takes your breath away. “A wife who loves him.”

You turn your head to kiss him, full of the enduring love that you’ve always felt for him. He matches you with a passion that takes your breath away and breaks your heart in equal measure. There’s no hope for any sort of future with him, and the longer you stay in his arms, you can’t deny it’s the kiss of farewell. You wish you could freeze time and stay locked in this room with him… but as you part with the need to breathe, you recognize the futility of wishing for what you can never have.

You sigh with a sniffle. “We should go before we’re discovered here… we’ve taken so much time already.”

He smiles full of tender reassurance; always so brave to stay true to himself. “And even if your husband were to come through that door right now, I wouldn’t regret a minute of it.”

“Neither would I.”

He takes a long look at you, as if committing everything about you to memory as his arms fall away. “I love you, zhizn moya. No matter what happens, never doubt that.”

The air sucks out of the room as he steps away, and your stomach sours. You don’t dare let yourself watch him walk away for fear that the last thread of your strength will snap. The door whispers open and closes with a soft thud that brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

Sobs shake your shoulders, and you heave for breath as your chest tightens. The sting of loss strangles you as you wipe away more fallen tears and lose yourself in uncertainty.

Just where the hell do you go from here?

The next day, a letter arrives. You don’t recognize the return address of the thick envelope postmarked two days ago as you turn it over in your hands. Your heart quickens as you glance around your home, confirming that you’re alone before slicing it open.

Dearest zhizn moya,

The days number fewer and fewer until we sail, and your unanswered question stays with me.

Only with you have I ever found true happiness. That first afternoon that you allowed me to join you at your table in the teashop filled me with such fear and hope. Fear that I would misstep at any moment and turn you away; and hope that has only grown into the love I still feel for you today. While eight months was nowhere near long enough, I wouldn’t trade those days together - nor everyday without you since - for the cost of never having met you.

One way or another, I don’t expect to return from this mission. With any luck, I will have found my freedom in the land of dreams, and the thought of leaving you trapped here breaks my heart. Forgive me if this is too bold – but should you wish a chance at freedom for yourself, all you need to do is post the enclosed, sealed letter. For your own safety, the contents of the letter shall remain undisclosed, but posting it should yield some proof about the man deemed more suitable to marry you.

To this day, I still wish I had been given that honor. And while I like to think that at some point I will marry, I know that she will not be you. Life is what we make of it, so they say, and I wish only the best for you, zhizn moya. You deserve all that is good and loving in this world, and I do hope that you find it. If not with me, then whoever you decide is worthy.

All my enduring love,Vasya

Tears fill your eyes as you quickly re-read the words. With the postmark dated before the party, he couldn’t have known what would transpire that night and this… is this meant to be his goodbye in case you didn’t speak that night? Your heart breaks anew and you choke on a gasping sob. The pain of loss still aches like a raw wound in your chest, and you blink away tears as you look at the front of the sealed, mysterious envelope.

Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti

Your eyes widen, snapping out of your heartbreak as the gravity of what you hold sinks in. You don’t have the first clue what Vasily has enclosed in this letter to the KGB but, goodness… are you really ready to get involved with the KGB? Your stomach sours with anxious fear and you quickly refold his letter before taking the stairs up to your bedroom. Reaching to open the bottom drawer of your vanity, you pop the false bottom and hide it all away from the world.

Maybe someday you’ll be ready to send that letter, but too much sadness and uncertainty fills you right now to make a decision.

The corner of Vasily’s mouth lifts. “Let’s call it a parting gift, shall we?”

Is this letter what he meant? Does he have some evidence on your husband or did he uncover something unsavory? As much as your husband presents himself as a party loyalist, you wouldn’t be entirely surprised to learn that he has at least one skeleton in his closet. Don’t all politicians?

The words of Vasily’s letter continue to churn in the back of your mind, but they bring an odd sense of closure. Between everything whispered in the stolen moments of passion and written on paper in ink, you can’t ask any more of Vasily Borodin. As much as you love him and always have, your time together is well and truly over.

That doesn’t give you any further clarity in the passing days about what to do with Mikhail. Now sitting at the dinner table, you cast him a wary glance over your plates of food. He hasn’t made any reference to anything resembling the conversation that you overheard at last weekend’s party, but that doesn’t bring you any relief. If anything, you wait on baited breath for when he will act or give you an ultimatum, but so far… only silence.

“I heard something quite interesting.” He says softly, drawing you attention as he sets his knife and fork down. “The Red October sank today. Or, rather…” he pauses to dab the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “She was destroyed. By the Americans.”

Your fork clatters to your plate as your stomach plummets to your feet. A shocked gasp leaves you as your heart races. “… w-what? Why would they do that?”

“We asked them to help us sink her.” He continues with a calculated, casual air. “Captain Ramius sent a letter to Admiral Padorin, and within minutes of that letter being read, he issued orders to find and sink the Red October.”

The letters sitting your vanity upstairs flash in your mind as you work a swallow down your throat. “D-do you know what the letter said?”

Mikhail’s mouth tightens to a grim line. “They say Ramius sailed with every intention of deploying missiles and igniting World War III. But there are also far darker whispers of treason and defection.”

“I cannot stay, and you cannot come with me… however much I wish for it.” Vasily whispers against your brow. “But if I have a chance at finding freedom, then so should you.”

Tears burn your eyes, and a hand flies to your face as you choke on air. Is it true? Was Vasily sailing with his captain to start a life in the new world? Was he turning his back on the nation he so valiantly served? Or was he simply the victim of a madman? Either way, it hardly matters now if his grave is indeed at the bottom of the Atlantic.

With a shaking hand, you reach for your napkin to wipe at fallen tears as your heart rips open. Saying goodbye a second time was hard enough, but this… knowing that there was never even another possibility to see him again…? You sniffle to hide a sob as you turn away from Mikhail’s increasingly judgmental gaze.

“Why are you crying?” He asks pointedly, tone heavy with displeasure. “If that madman – or worse, a traitor – is lying dead at the bottom of the ocean, that’s the best place for him.”

“What about everyone else on board?” You choke out, again wiping at your eyes. “What about all those other innocent souls?”

A tense silence falls in the room as Mikhail’s gaze narrows with cold suspicion. “Wait, this… is this about him? That petty executive officer – what was his name…? Borodin?”

A pang shoots through your chest and you fight to keep your face from betraying your true feelings. “No – yes, just… the newest ship in the fleet and all those souls aboard, just lost so suddenly….”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He spits in plain disgust. “Borodin – what was he to you? Tell me.”

Your heart hammers as you struggle to breathe. “He - he wasn’t… at least, not anymore - ”

A loud slap against the table rattles the dishes and startles your attention. Mikhail’s eyes blaze with rage as he glares at you, hand clenching against the tabletop. “I said. Tell. Me.”

Your spine stiffens even as your voice shrinks. “I… loved him. Before marrying you.” A tear slides down your cheek as you blink. “I-it was 12 years ago, and I haven’t seen him since –”

“Then why does the news of his death upset you so?” He shrugs carelessly. “People die every day. There’s a war happening for fuck’s sake, and he was a goddamn soldier. Expendable.”

Nausea cramps your stomach. “None of the men on that vessel or in any theater of war are expendable! They all have people who love them and care about them!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” He seethes. “After everything I’ve given you – my name, wealth, prominence. What do you think Borodin could have given you, hmm? A sad, small apartment where you just wait for him to make you a destitute widow?”

“Happiness, Mikhail! He may spend more time at sea than on land, but together, there would be happiness. And love! Unconditional love… not just dependent on whether or not he could get me pregnant.”

His nostrils flare with indignation. “So, you’re saying that it’s my fault, hm? My fault that you remain a motherless failure?”

A wave of shame washes over you, crippling you as more tears fall. You’ve never felt like you should be a failure in that regard, but yet… You draw a trembling breath. “That’s all you’ve ever done,” you grit through clenched teeth and sniffles. “You… devalue everything about me, like I’m no better than your plaything, your puppet, who exists just to make you look good!”

“That’s exactly what you are! Don’t you understand how this game works?!” He pushes to his feet, shaking the table from the force of his motion. He drops his face to his hand with deep concern. “How much did you interact with him, hmm? Would anyone have seen you? Would anyone have any reason to suspect a scandal?”

The abrupt shift in conversation stuns you. You gape up at him. “Is that really all that you can think about right now? Is that really all that you can say?!”

“It was obvious from the first moment you two saw each other that something was there.” He waves a dismissive hand as he starts to pace in deep thought. “If I noticed it, then surely others did, too. And I will have to answer for it if anyone asks –”

“And if I told you that he made love to me in the admiral’s upstairs study –”

Mikhail storms across the room, backhanding you across the face before you can finish. Pain blooms across your cheek as you hiss through the momentary disorientation.

“Never lie to me like that again.” He snarls, eyes furious. “Even in jest, it won’t end well for you.”  He draws a deep breath as a tense silence descends.

You refuse to look up at him and you can’t find words. You hadn’t exactly meant to blurt out the truth, but he didn’t believe you anyway. No matter what you say, you come to the sinking realization that you cannot win. You will never win.

Not with Mikhail.

He glowers down at you. “We should each take some time, yes? Time to think and… calm down.” He wipes a hand across his brow. “Once we’ve both done that, we can figure out how to solve this rotten mess that you’ve created.”

His footsteps thunder through the dining room before the door to his office slams shut.

You remain frozen in your chair as your cheek stings, and you sniffle unshed tears.

Vasily’s letters burn in the forefront of your mind, and your course of action is clear.

Two days later, you feel no remorse when you cross the city to deposit the sealed envelope in a postbox.

One week later, you receive word that your husband has been arrested on suspicion of high treason. 

But your world completely upends two weeks afterwards when tender pain forms in your breasts and morning nausea begins to manifest.

Fin

[violettduchess]

Aheeeee!! FIRST OF ALL, I'd love to take this chance to say that I have always been awed and inspired by your writing! You are the third person I followed ever since I joined tumblr and aaaaaa you're so so good! You always inspire me to write!

I will throw my shyness away and hehe wanna request🙈 Can you write about an MC who gushes or cries while reading a book? I really love your Ikevamp works so hehe, maybe 3 ikevamp dudes? SORRY AND THANK YOU!!

Have a nice day!!!

A/N: Thank you for the request anon and for the kind words. Here you go: 3 different vamps, 3 different fic flavors 😉

Theodorus

It’s later than you even know as you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, your eyes never leaving the page they are fixed on. The ticking of the clock, the slow arc the moon is making across the sky just outside the library window, the candle slowly but surely sinking to its waxy knees are all lost to you because you are not there. A book has caught your imagination, sunk its claws deep into it and taken complete control. Nothing exists for you outside the world you are seeing so vividly in your mind.

You are so enchanted by the story you are reading, you don’t notice the door to the library slowly open, nor the man who steps inside, his gaze sweeping the room like a lighthouse scanning the sea for dangerous rocks. He sees the dim candlelight and the top of your head peeking out from the wingback chair and can’t help the clucking noise his tongue makes against the roof of his mouth as he walks towards you. He’s been worried. No one he asked knew where you were.

His steps die the moment he sees your face. Delight has made your eyes bright as stars, your cheeks pink with pleasure and your lips pressed together in anticipation as you read, one hand gripping the book tightly, the other pressed unwittingly against your heart. 

Theo slowly lowers himself into the chair adjacent from yours, quiet so as not to disturb you. Because he recognizes the way your soul is freely showing itself, the way a work of art has loosened it from the shackles of your body and given it fragile, temporary wings. It is a feeling he is intimately acquainted with.

You finish the chapter you were reading and a visible shudder runs through you. It is only then that you look up, startled when you see Theo rising from the chair and heading toward you.

“Theo?” He kneels in front of you, bending his head and takes your hand, the one that was pressed to your heart, and lifts it to his lips, placing a tender kiss to the top. Setting aside your book, you reach out to stroke his sun-kissed hair. “Theo? Is everything ok?” you ask again, your tone soft with affection and pitched in slight concern.

He offers you a smile, one that holds all the love he feels for you in its curves. “Everything is fine, Hondje.” He glances at the book you’ve set aside for him. “Would you like to tell me what you have been reading?”

Leonardo

“Sei pazzo?? Perchè lo hai fatto?!” Are you crazy? Why did you do that?

Lumiere is very displeased as he watches the hallway bop up and down from his prison in Leonardo’s arms. His ears are flat, his tail flicking in annoyance as he has to listen to his vampire scolding him in very rapid Italian. He should be praising him for his daring attempt to tackle the entire flock of geese that had been waddling around so temptingly on the lawn of the mansion.

He also knows his human will likely be cross as well. She is never pleased when he does things she considers “not safe.” Bah. What do they know about the thrill of the hunt?

The door to Leonardo’s room opens. His vampire stops walking when he takes in the sight before him. His human, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her face wet, surrounded by sodden handkerchiefs and a book in her lap. This causes Leonardo’s muscles to go slack in surprise for just a moment. Lumiere seizes his chance and leaps to freedom, dashing around a pile of papers and wiggling himself into a cat-sized darkened corner under the desk where he knows it will take them forever to find him. 

You don’t notice Lumiere’s daring prison break. You’ve been sobbing for almost a quarter of an hour. Leonardo rushes to your side.

“Cara mia? What happened?” He wraps his arms around you, his beautiful sunlight eyes now clouded with concern.

“Oh, Leo,” you managed between stuttered breaths, “It’s-It’s s-s-so sad!” You are lost again to a wave of tears, a veritable monsoon of emotion and your poor boyfriend is wracking his brain while cuddling you close, trying to figure out what on earth could have happened in the twenty minutes he was chasing Lumiere around outside. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” He reaches for the least-used looking handkerchief and hands it to you as you nod, blowing your nose.

“You know the book I’ve been reading? Well the poor but handsome soldier with the heart of gold who fell in love with the wealthy daughter of an evil Baron and won her affection through sweet antics and acts of bravery, including saving her favorite pony from a poisonous snake, has died a very heroic death saving a group of orphan children on his way back from the war, and will now never know that the daughter of the Baron, who he secretly married right before he left and was banished to her grandmother’s estate when her father found out about the marriage but then escaped, was rushing back to find him because she has given birth to his child and was only a few kilometers away from the place where he died and now they will never, ever reunite and it’s just SO SAD.” You burst into a flood of fresh tears, wrapping your arms around Leonardo and burying your wet face in his shoulder.

He has no idea what on earth you are talking about. He understood maybe a third of what you said. But what he does know is how to hold you to him, a hand running up and down your back, comforting and calming as he kisses your temple. “Ah, cara mia. Amore mio. It’s ok. Shhh.” He rocks you in his arms, continuing to murmur sweet words and letting you ride the wave of emotions you are so swept up in.

Lumiere watches the both of you from the dark corner under the desk and feels justified in his opinion that you are both the crazy ones, not him.

Faust

Diligent. Focused. Stubborn. Johann Georg Faust is all these things. But even he is having difficulty concentrating at the moment. Because right now, as he sits at the desk in his room, trying to write down his notes about the day’s experiments, you are already in bed, knees up with a book resting against your thighs and you are sniffling. Loudly.

He glances over his shoulder, his elegant hands splayed across the blank pages of his notebook, and draws a breath as he attempts to assess the situation. You are reading something that is apparently triggering a very emotional response. You’re crying…..and then he turns fully in his chair, thoughts of his experiments dissolving as he focuses entirely on you.

Your eyes are liquid stars, their light clinging in radiant drops to your eyelashes. Your cheeks are pink and wet as rose petals in autumn rain. You are Isolde, leaning over Tristan’s lifeless body, a vision of captivating sorrow.

He stands, moved to action by both your sadness and the beauty connected to it. You are startled by his sudden weight on the bed next to you, blinking as you reach up to wipe away your tears.

“I’m sorry, Johann. I didn’t mean to-” The rest of your words wilt on your lips as his index finger presses against them. His other hand is touching your cheek, cupping it in his hand as if it were made of the finest porcelain. His eyes remind you of the unearthly green of burning copper sulfate. Spellbinding, unsettling, heart-racing. 

He moves faster than shadows when the light is blown out, covering you with his body, his mouth claiming yours. Two flames burn within him, vying for control. The first wants to warm you, to chase away your sadness with a heat that wraps itself around your bones like a bonfire on a cold, autumn night. The other wants to incinerate you, to have you burn in the flames of rapturous pleasure until you are nothing but soft ash between his fingers. 

As you wrap your arms around him, as you hear the soft hiss of his fangs protracting, the book that had so moved you falls to the floor, its spine hitting the wood with a loud thump.

Neither of you notice.

💧

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru

[anordinarymuse]

Hi! Can you write a Sirius x reader fic where his previous relationship was horrible and left him extremely heartbroken and he doesn't believe love is for him and like he tells himself never to date a girl ever again but then he slowly falls in love with reader who's completely opposite to him and gentle like calm and could you make her Hufflepuff please! It could be one shot or multiple parts it's up to you! Thank you

outburst.

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Summary : request

Warnings : angst; ends in fluff; swearing; unedited

Word Count : long

A/N : this took so long to get to it’s embarrassing. It’s kind of intended that he’s starting to like you at the end but idk it might be so brief you could miss it.

navigation.

request here.

“Padfoot? You gotta come out,” Remus said exhausted, returning to the dorm after eating breakfast and going to his first class.

Just yesterday evening Sirius’ girlfriend of three and a half years broke up with him for, it seemed, the millionth time. But strangely enough, this time it felt like the final crack, and it reflected in Sirius’ behavior.

Sirius had locked himself in the bathroom, and he wasn’t opening the door. Remus knew he could easily open it with magic, but after a few minutes of pleading and a few minutes of silence Remus left, giving Sirius some space.

“How is he?” James asked Remus worriedly as he bombarded into the common room.

“Not any better than before,” Remus sighed, rubbing his forehead. This wasn’t the first time Sirius had done this after a breakup with his girlfriend but, for some odd reason, it felt different.

“What if I go up to talk to him?”

“I don’t know, Prongs. . .”

“You’re probably right. . .”

“Is he still upstairs?” Peter asked, entering the room and quietly entering the conversation.

Both Remus and James nodded and Peter’s demeanor dipped just slightly.

“I gotta go, I said I’d meet Mary to help with Potions,” Remus muttered before slowly moving past the other two marauders.

As Remus left for the library a voice called behind him. Instantly recognizing who it was, he reluctantly turned around.

“Where’s Sirius?”

“Why?” Remus glowered, looking Sirius’ ex up and down.

“I want to talk to him,” she said firmly, narrowing her eyes just slightly at Remus’ cold demeanor.

“Are you fucking mental?” Remus snapped, stuffing his hands in his pockets, wringing the inner fabric.

“I-“

“Are you fucking mental?” Remus ignored her and repeated himself,

“Lupin, you’re causing a scene.”

“Are you fucking mental?” Remus barked again, tasting blood in the back of his mouth.

“Will you stop shouting at me?!” The girl exclaimed, doing her best to keep poised, but it was visible her patience was waning.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve done? You think-“ Remus shouted, arms waving wildly, and all composure lost

“You lot love to make me out as the villain but you have no idea what actually goes down,” the girl snapped, her cheeks flush with embarrassment as passing students stopped and stared.

“The only thing that went down is you on your fucking knees sucking Will Benster’s dick,” Remus seethed, in a low growling whisper so only she could hear, leaving the girl aghast. “You’re a fucking cheater and leave my best friend alone.”

Remus watched with satisfaction as the expression on the girl in front of him changed like the racing directions of wind.

“Don’t talk or come near Sirius ever fucking again.”

-

“I feel sick,” Sirius said, rubbing his forehead to rid his migraine.

“We can see Poppy,” Remus suggested, leaning against the wall as Sirius hovered above a sink.

“Not that sick, Remus,” Sirius shook his head, gripping the edge of the sink tightly.

“Then what do you want to do?”

Sirius’ head hurt from all the thoughts spinning endlessly in his mind. He was frustrated at not only his ex for cheating on him and treating him the way she had, but that he yearned for him setting he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

This was probably the eighth time Remus asked what he wanted, and while Sirius knew it was an attempt to make him feel better, it didn’t. Sirius wanted- in a certain way he wanted all the things he’d purposely let go.

He wanted a mom, but not his. He wanted to feel loved, but not the way he’d just experienced. He wanted Regulus, but not the Regulus he passed everyday who barely even gave Sirius so much as a glance.

He yearned and longed for something to fill in the gaps of his life, and every time he managed to draw it all in, it all fell apart.

“I want-“ Sirius mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut, pondering for an answer, but he went blank and was left without one. “Fuck!”

Sirius cursed as he punched his fist against the faucet of the sink, the thin skin on his knuckles grazing the metal and splitting at the contact.

Remus leaned forward from where he stood to asses the cut and handed him a paper towel. Sirius winced as he ran the cut under cold water, biting the inner of his lip.

“Sirius, Remus, what’s going on?” James stumbled in, eyes growing wide at the blood on Sirius’ hand.

“He cut himself,” Remus said, motioning with his head to the obvious.

“Don’t talk for me,” Sirius grumbled, instantly regretting his rash move but sticking with it as he moved forward.

“He wasn’t-“ Peter mumbled, keeping close to the entrance of the bathroom and standing just behind James.

“Shut up, Peter,” Sirius snapped, his head whipping to face Peter and glare him down.

“Hey! Don’t talk to him like that,” James defended, holding an uncertain expression.

“James, always coming to your rescue, isn’t he, Peter?”

“Sirius, I don’t want to fight about this,” Peter muttered, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his robe.

“I do.”

“Sirius, don’t,” Remus warned, suddenly speaking up as the tension in the room thickened.

“Or what? I just know that-“

“Just because you’re angry you’re girlfriend broke up with you doesn’t mean you get to treat us like shit!” James blurted out, in the spur of the moment.

James hadn’t meant it to come out that harsh, to be shouted so loud, to be revealed in an argument. How he said it wasn’t how he meant it at all, but the way he’d worded it could easily be heard as an accusation, and that’s exactly how Sirius heard it.

It was almost instinctive the way Sirius’ arm detached from the side of his body, his bloody knuckle slamming against James’ cheek. It was a a quick and clean cut against the cheek, and the burn flooded the right side of James’ face. Once Sirius realized he’d done it, he drew back.

“That was a low blow, Sirius,” Remus muttered, shaking his head in frustration.

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” Sirius growled, infuriated that Remus had just stood there and watched Sirius punch James. But there was no one to blame other than himself.

“Sirius, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” James said immediately, grimacing as he bit his lip to rid the sting in his cheek.

“I don’t want you shit apology, James,” Sirius scorned before pushing past the Marauders to find refuge somewhere else.

Sirius stomped down the corridor taking sharp turns to wherever his body led him. Finally when he felt far enough he entered an opening within the walls, only to find himself in another bathroom.

Though this time instead of leaning against the sink, he slid down the side of the wall and crumpled up, sitting as meaningless time passed by.

Suddenly, Sirius heard footsteps approaching and instantly his stomach felt hollow. He prayed to whatever god was up there that this person wouldn’t enter where he was, and his breath faltered when he looked up only to meet eyes with the being who entered the room.

Instantly, Sirius saw red, he pushed himself off the floor and in a fit of unfiltered rage he started shouting.

“You know what? I don’t know what your fucking problems are? I said to just leave me the fuck alone and yet here you are continuing to piss me off. At least I had a girlfriend James and I’m not still swooning like idiot over a girl who clearly has no interest. So fuck the lot of you and leave me the fuck-“

Just as he was about to finish his argument with a strong ending, his blurred vision began to clear. It wasn’t the Marauders who’d walked in on Sirius for the second time, it was Y/L/N.

He stumbled and stuttered over filler words, watching in horror as you just stood there in shock, “Wait- you’re- you’re not- I- I thought- No this- this isn’t-“

“I think that, uhm, I should go,” You said after a moment, quietly taking your leave, and hurriedly escaping down the corridors. You weren’t totally sure of what you witnessed but it certainly wasn’t your place to find out.

As you left, Sirius stood perfectly still in the middle of the bathroom, the sound of heartbeat messing with his head as he tried to grasp what he’d just done.

-

Sirius wandered the corridors aimlessly trying to blow off the steam. It’s been three days since his fight with the Marauders and it’d been a painful three days of silence, self-pity, and guilt.

He found himself in the library, strangely enough, sitting lazily in a lounge chair contemplating all his recent misfortunes. One thing he knew for sure though, Sirius Black would never ever fall back in love. He didn’t care how cheesy or cynical it sounded, he never wanted to feel this lowly of himself ever again.

As Sirius sat slouched in his chair, he saw a familiar face pass. Blinking, he focused his view to find the same girl he’d accidentally lashed out on. He still wasn’t entirely sure who he’d thought she was, but he hadn’t meant for those words to fall upon her.

Slowly, he rose from the chair and approached her. You sat peacefully by the window, reviewing materials for your test tomorrow. As you looked up to switch books, you were surprised to see Sirius Black sitting in front of you.

“Hi,” he said with a hoarse voice, immediately turning and cough after his greeting.

You’d never seen Sirius Black so uncomfortable in your life. To be fair, you barely spent too much of your time ogling at him like some girls did, but you were used to him being overly confident.

“Hi,” you replied, setting aside your books and giving him your full attention.

“I just wanted to, uh, apologize for screaming at you the other day,” Sirius leaned back with his arms draped over his chest, and his hands holding his elbows. “It was way out of line.”

“That’s ok,” you nodded understandingly, moving aside your books and clutter, giving Sirius your full attention. To Sirius the gesture felt reassuring so he continued speaking in his apologetics.

“I didn’t expect anyway to walk in and I thought- this sounds mad- but I thought you were someone else and-“ Sirius stopped mid-sentence afraid to bother you with his tangent. “Uhm. . . yeah.”

A wave of painful silence passed and Sirius awkwardly brushed his hair with his fingers. You on the other hand didn’t mind the silence and simply allowed it to pass.

“You can talk about it if you want, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t- I don’t want to bother you.”

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” you shrugged with a smile.

“Oh- ok. . .” Sirius paused, he didn’t want to burden you with his problems, but there were a few things that he wanted to get off his chest that were to embarrassing for the Marauders, and you seemed so- so welcoming? “Well, then I guess. . .”

As Sirius began to unravel he became more and more comfortable in your presence. It was a strange thing, he didn’t know you very well personally and yet he felt so secure.

He couldn’t decide whether it was because you were a hufflepuff, or the way the sun shone through the window perfectly onto your pretty face, or if it was the way you nodded and seemed actually engaged in the words he was saying.

But whatever it was it made his heart beat faster and his words move faster. He didn’t know what this feeling was, but around you it was all he could feel.

**********

reblogging is appreciated <3

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[peachyaone]

saviour

Pairings: Rengoku Kyojurou x gn! hashira! reader

Warnings: Kimetsu no Yaiba the Movie: Mugen Train spoilers!

A/N: I saw the new KNY movie, so I wrote this fic to cope with the pain.

plot: what if you were there just in time to save him?

You knew something was off from the moment Oyakata-sama gave Rengoku the mission of slaying the demons on board the train, not that you disagree on his judgment, but your intuition tells you that something bad would happen.

And some of your intuitions were never wrong.

So you requested to go in disguise, in case anything goes sideways. You have explained the situation to Oyakata-sama, who actually agreed with your proposal, after all those years you had your "predictions", most of them actually came true.

So you sent your crow after them, obscured from the eyes of civilians, but still visible to you. You waited. But then the incident happened, as the ticket inspector punched your card. Your head felt dizzy and you fell asleep.

You dreamt of a life with your family again.

It was warm and happy.

*timeskip*

By the time you woke up, it was chaos. You sluggishly stood up, everyone was still asleep. The train was shaky and the walls had seemed to turn into a flesh-like substance. You heard explosions and the train turned sideways. You unsheathed your blade and stabbed it into the floor to maintain your footing. You could hear your crow pecking at the windows.

"Attention! Upper Rank Three Demon has been spotted! Rengoku and the younger slayers are battling him as we speak." It squawked. You groaned as you pulled out your blade and sheathed it into your scabbard. "Where are they now, Hideyoshi?" you asked it. "Few kilometers west from here!" It squawked again. You thanked it before dashing off to where they were.

*3rd person*

Tanjiro and Inosuke were watching the fight with awe and also fear. In awe, because they have never seen a hashira in battle like this before and in fear because Rengoku was heavily injured and was still fighting. They were both afraid to join in because Tanjiro was injured and they were moving at a speed that the two of them can keep up.

They could see that Rengoku's movement was getting more powerful at every strike he made, Tanjiro gulped. "Goddamn it!" He thought, if only he could do something, anything but to watch the person he looked up to get destroyed like this. He prayed to the skies above that someone could help them.

And the skies answered him, like a flash of light passed by him and Inosuke. The person seemed to be glowing with light. He recognized you, you were one of the hashira's, you were sitting on the tree with the serpent hashira, Obanai.

He thanked the skies for answering his prayers.

*Back to your POV*

In the distance, you could see the flames coming off Rengoku's breathing styles and you could smell the blood in the air. You pushed yourself to move faster. You sped through the two younger slayers and attacked the demon.

"Y/N! What are you doing here?!" You heard Rengoku said as he dodged another attack from the demon. "Ah? Another Hashira I see, you're as strong as Kyojuro! Maybe even stronger!" The demon said as he shifted his attention toward you. You were his target now. "Now is not the time, Kyojuro!" You said, moving into position.

"Breath of Light, First Form: Aureate." You said, your sword turned a bright golden color as you swung your attack at him. It sliced through his arm, the demon yelped. You saw that he was struggling to regenerate. He looked at you, burning in fury and wonder. "So you ARE stronger than him, wow, I have never seen anything like this! I'm Akaza." He laughed.

After a few moments, his arms regenerated. You stood beside Rengoku. "He's badly injured." You noted. "His eye is crushed, broken ribs, internal bleeding." You thought. It amazed you how he still managed to move right now. "Kyojuro, take it easy okay? I got this." You assured him, giving him a small smile.

"Join me, Y/N! Become a demon and let us fight with each other forever!" You heard Akaza say. You growled. "As if I become a filthy demon like you!" You shouted at him. "You are incredibly strong, you would be perfect among our ranks, join us." He said. "Never." You said. "So be it!" He said, charging towards you. "Breath of Light-" "Breath of Flames-" The both of you said. "Combined attack: Blazing Light!" A light that could rival the sun shone from both of your attacks.

He tried to dodge it, but it was too powerful. The lower part of his torso was wiped clean. You smirked and walked towards Rengoku and the two children.

Your eyes widened.

You felt pain shot up your spine. You coughed up blood. "Y/N!" Rengoku screamed. You looked down to see Akaza had punched you.

Hard.

"You ass-" You spitted blood on his face. Making him take a few steps back to regain his senses, you distanced yourself from him. You gripped on your sword tightly. Blood streamed out from your lips and dripped into the ground. You could see Rengoku came running toward you. You held out your hand to stop him. "No." you thought. You can finish him, and you will.

You sprinted, sword beside you, with an intent to kill. "Breath of Light, Third Form: Fluorescence." Your sword glowed again, even brighter. You slowly take in your breath, successfully maintaining your breathing technique. You could feel your internal bleeding stop.

Akaza didn't have any time to react when your blade met his neck. It pierced halfway through, before getting stuck. "It's stuck!" You turned your head, to look at Rengoku. "Kyojuro!" You called out. He looked at you knowingly. He took his sword. "Breath of Flames, Ninth Form: Rengoku!" He dashed to where you're standing. Akaza laughed and gave you another punch.

CRACK!

It was your ribs.

You coughed out more blood. Rengoku looked at you worriedly. "Don't stop! Keep going, Kyo!" You said to him.

"Breath of Light, Fifth form: Dawn." You said. You gave your sword a push, as Rengoku's met yours. Akaza screamed in pain. "Die!" you shouted. You watched as his body start to disintegrate. "It was a pleasure, batting with you both." You heard him say before he dissolved into the air.

You staggered. Dropping your sword before collapsing to the ground. You looked up to the sky. You could hear the footsteps of the two slayers. "Hang in there!" said the burgundy-haired boy. You felt arms helping you up, it was Rengoku. "You scared me a little. I thought you were gonna die," he whispered. You chuckled. "You think I would be defeated that easily? Dream on." You said, breathlessly.

"Are you kids okay?" You asked. "Kamado-boy over here is injured," Rengoku said. "And boar boy?" You asked again. "I'm perfectly fine." He said cockily.

"Let go home, okay?" you said.

*timeskip*

You and Rengoku reached the Butterfly Estate after getting the civilians somewhere safe. Lying down on the bed, Shinobu came in with bandages and medicine. "Well, the both of you look like you went through hell and back." She said. "We technically did." You groaned as she wrapped the bandages around you.

"How's Rengoku, is he okay?" You asked. "He's fine. Like you said, crushed eye, three broken ribs, and internal bleeding." She said. "And the Kamado boy?" "He'll make it, he's lucky that he stopped the bleeding in time." She said.

"How bad is mine?" You asked her. "Two broken ribs, bruised torso, and a fractured ankle." She said. "It surprises me, how your body could withstand those punches." "Try training with Sanemi. It's hell." You chuckled.

"You and Rengoku will be off duty until your injuries healed completely. No sneaking around." She warned. "Yes, ma'am," You said before drinking the medicine she brought earlier. A knock came from outside. "Come in." You said.

Rengoku came in. "Hey, Shinobu!" He said, brightly. "Rengoku, your not suppose to move, you'll strain your injuries." She said. "But I wanted to see my Y/NNNN~" He whined. "Fine, fine. I'll leave you two lovebirds be," she said, leaving the room.

"So..." You said. He turned around, cupped your face, and gave a passionate kiss. "Wow, what was that for?" You whispered.

"I almost lost you today."

"Kyo, I'm not going anywhere, I'm not leaving you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

[bchanslvr]

☁️ Hi I love your writing! Especially your Harry fics, I read them all most every night. So I was wondering if you can do nswf blurb of the reader having a crying kink with sub!harry. Thank you so much!

Ty! ☁️ - Nswf Blurb:

word count - 2k

warnings - mommy kink, sub!harry, anal fingering, pegging, dacryphilia and i think that’s it.

-

Harry Potter. Never in your life did you think that you’d have Harry Potter on your bed. Let alone crying.

You had told him that you wanted to try something new during sex. He agreed of course, ever the brave Gryffindor. Though he wasn’t expecting you to turn up to his dorm with a strap? Is that what it was? He’d heard about it before but he didn’t know much. It was shaped like a dick, but pink. He was curious on what this thing was but didn’t say anything because he wasn’t allowed to.

You started off gently by kissing him, taking control by pining his hands on both the sides of his head as your tongue invaded his mouth, trying to get him into the mood. And soon enough his dick was rock hard, and he was squirming underneath you.

You smirked as you finally broke the kiss for air. Conjuring some lube wandlessly. You put it to the side and started undressing, ordering him to do the same.

You were both completely nude by the time you were on him again, a wolfish grin adoring your face sending shivers down Harry’s spine. You pecked his lips once more and began uncapping the bottle, pouring a generous amount on your fingers.

You’ve done this once before when Harry had suggested it. He’d seen the way your fingers moved in and out of your cunt, your back arching as your fingers found your g-spot. And he wondered how it felt. Seeing the way that your were completely in pleasure as you bucked your hips.

He was kneeing in anticipation, waiting for you to fuck him with your fingers. You saw that and decided to play with him a little. Show him who’s the superior. You took your slicked up index finger, placing it hear his jawline and proceeding to drag the cold lube down his nipples.

Circling the bud with the lube covered finger as you watched with satisfaction at the way it hardened, and the tiny wimper that fell from his lips. Other hand pinching and pulling the other bud as you looked down at him. He was squirming again, panting and desperately trying not to reach your finger and shove it up his ass where he wanted it.

You decided you’ve teased him enough, your own arousal threatening to overcome you. You slicked up your fingers once more, moving yourself down to where he wanted you to be.

You lifted one of his legs and put it on your shoulder, admiring the view of Harry’s pink pucker. You kissed his inner thigh, gently sucking on the soft skin as you rubbed against his hole. He tensed up immediately, but soon relaxed at your gentle motions, and your mouth sucking a hickey on him.

You pushed merely a fingertip into his tight heat, hand on his hips rubbing soothing circles. You pushed more of the finger, stopping at the first joint. He moved sightly edging more of the finger inside. He let out a sharp inhale as you pushed the remainder of the finger. Remembering to be gentle as you pumped your finger in him slowly, in and out, in and out. Over and over till he was begging for another.

You complied, sticking another long digit in him slowly. Thrusting them into his hole. You added another as he begged for more. Thrusting three digits in his slick pucker. Over and over, your fingertips occasionally grazing his prostate driving him mad.

“Oh please, oh please. PLEASE,“ he begged as your fingers never stopping plunged into him. His hips bucking forward for more friction.

“What do you want mhm?,“ you questioned as you watched with heated eyes at how his hole sucked you fingers in greedily.

“Need you please, please mommy need you, nee-AHH,“ he nearly screamed as your fingers slammed straight into his prostate, and once you found the right angle, you found yourself fucking him with your fingers, constantly abusing his prostate. And by now he was writhing and begging for you.

Your own wetness was running down your thighs, mind fogged in lust for the man below you. You couldn’t keep dragging this on forever. You knew that it would only be matter of minutes before Harry would cum. But you would have none of that.

You suddenly pulled your fingers from his hole. He whined as he felt the cold air, the emptiness in his ass making him squirm, trying to get the fingers back inside him.

“Hush now. You’ll get what you get,“ you said quite sternly. He stopped almost instantly, not wanting to get on your bad side tonight.

You smirked before reaching over to were you put the strap and fastened it around you. It was a good 7 and a half inches. You would have done a 5 or a 6 but today you weren’t having it and decided instead to start off my big, even though this was his first time. You lubed it up with the reminder of the container and tossed it aside.

You watched as Harry’s eyes widened slightly, taking in the sight of you wearing something like this. He unconsciously licked his lips at the thought of the monster fake cock going into him, stretching him wide, filling him to the brim.

You noticed of course, smirking at him as you positioned the tip near his entrance. You rubbed it teasingly around his hole and watched in delight as it twitched in excited.

You sneaked a look at him; he was biting his bottom lips, eyes shut tightly and hands clutching onto the bed sheets like a life-line.

You grinned at the scene before you placed your hands on his hip, one leg still on top of your shoulder the other pushed up to his chest. You pushed in the head of the cock, pleased in the gasp that escaped his red lips.

You pushed a bit more, staying still for a few minutes for him to adjust. You pushed in more when you realized he was warming up and could take it.

About an inch into him and he's already moaning out like a bitch in heat. Merlin you couldn't wait to fully be submerged in him and to see how good he'd look stretched around your cock.

You pushed another quarter of the cock into him before you heard him let out a strangled cry.

You pushed on the spot again, electing another loud moan from his spit-licked lips. Oh, there it was. You purposely pushed on the spot again, another centimeter of the cock entering his body. The pressure on his sweet spot making his eyes roll back into his skull.

You let a smirk form on your face. Getting impatient to be gentle and slow. And so you pushed the rest of the cock into him without a warning.

He let out a high pitched scream as the rest of the cock pushed into his tight heat, the fullness of it all, and the tip brushing on his prostate so lightly, so teasingly, almost making him cry. Almost.

Your impatience was getting low, really low. You'd taken far too long to get into him, and now that you have, the feeling was overwhelming. And all you wanted to do was pound into him mercilessly and just take what you want from him.

And as much as you needed wanted that, you had to go slow in the beginning as to not overwhelm him too much.

"Good baby? Feel nice?," you asked. Rubbing soft circles on his hips once more.

"Mhmm, feels so nice mommy," his eyes were still closed, but a small smile appeared on his face at the feeling of it all and how you were making him feel even though you had just started.

"Yeah? My good boy feels so nice? How does he feel?," you questioned, beginning to gently rock your hips back and forth.

"Feel so full, so big, so nice," he murmured as he too began pushing against the rocking.

"Yeah? My baby feels so full of 'm cock? Mhm?," your pace seemed to increase of its own, the sense of going slow for his needs seeming to disappear into the back of your mind.

"Yes mommy, yes," he cried out as your rockings' turned into full-blown thrusts within seconds.

You lost all self-control the minute his hands came up to claw on your back, his nails leaving angry red crescent moons visible for days to come.

You started fucking him with long short thrust for him to get used to the pace and now that he had, you lost all sense and started pounding into him mercilessly. Hand tightly gripped on his hip, sure to leave bruises, the other free hand coming up to hold onto Harry's leg on your shoulder tighter.

He was crying out for every thrust, mouth open in a perfect 'O', eyes screwed shut, and hands clutching onto the crinkled sheets for dear life.

You found that spot again. Pleased in his cried-out sob as you aimed your strap on the bundle of nerves over and over again. Cock abusing his prostate.

You were so gone, mind only fogged in lust, and greed that you hadn't noticed that Harry had started outright crying. Not of pain, but pure pleasure. Well you noticed as soon as you heard him sniff.

Your eyes immediately darting to his face and oh merlin was it a sight for sore eyes.

You could have swore you would have been able to come from that image alone; glazed emerald green eyes are wet with unhushed tears, the thick black lashes clumped and glossy, his nose adorably red and leaking, knuckles turned white at the tight grip of them on his blankets, glasses askew, panting and moaning with each thrust and his face scrunched-up as you continued to molest his hole.

Fuck. He looks stunning. You wished you brought a camera to capture this moment forever.

His nails tug harder into your back as he sobbed from the pleasure. He makes these little irresistible little hurt sounds that you're pretty sure are the soundtrack to heaven. His hands coming up to your gorgeous y/h/c and tugging on them as he nearly breaks.

“Look at you,” you whisper, “So pretty for me when you cry.”

Oh but he was, face wet with tears and puffy from crying, so red and open, and still he wants more. You can't resist him like this and keep your steady thrusting. Faster and Faster as your climax started enveloping you.

Harry's own cock, red and leaking pre-come was ready to spill his seeds.

"Go on baby, touch yourself," you panted, as you watched him let out a cry as he began pumping his cock back and forth.

Your own climax fast approaching, thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier till you let out a loud moan as you came.

Hips stuttering and head thrown back as your cum spilled down your thighs. Body trembling and out of breath as you came to your senses.

Harry rapidly wanked himself, the image of you being undone on top you bringing him to his own orgasm.

He all but let out a whine as hot white cum spurted in between your chests. Breath stolen and body numb.

He let out a wince as you pulled out of his abused and over sensitive hole. Throwing the strap aside to clean tomorrow and flopping onto the bed next to him.

You both stayed there, catching your breaths and raveling in the mind-blowing experience in a comfortable silence.

Harry was the first to move, pushing himself closer to your sides. He was always cuddly and soft in the aftermaths of sex so you gently turned on your side. Hands enveloping him in your arms, his head resting in the junction where your shoulder and neck meet. His soft breath tickling you.

"You okay baby?," you murmured breaking the silence. He simply hummed, voice soft from all the screaming and moaning.

You felt the soft-sated smile on his lips beginning to form, and felt a one of your beginning to grow.

You let out a chuckle, "Someone enjoyed that huh?", he simply hummed again but asked "Can we do it again?".

It was your turn to hum as you snuggled your head in his soft black hair. His legs tossed on top of you as you wandlessly pulled the blanket over you two and tucked the both of you in.

You decided you both could take a shower tomorrow, and let yourself completely relax in his arms.

And that's how the night ended. Limbs tangled, the smell of sweat, tears and sex in the air, and pure bliss

tags: @hey-there-angels @dracomalfoys-wh0re

[eurynome827]

A Whiskey & A Dance

A/N: see this post for the picture that inspired this story. This story is a standalone oneshot and is not connected with my other 1940s Bucky stories.

1940s preserum Steve x Bucky x reader (female)

Word Count: 3,033

Warnings: 18+ ONLY for m x m x f (taking turns), protected sex (this is the 40s so I used the word 'rubbers'), loss of virginity (Steve), oral (m receiving), smoking and alcohol, masturbation, language and dirty talk, cumplay, Steve is having thoughts about Bucky that he's trying to understand but there are no overt acts of Stucky in this fic.

By clicking the Read More below, you affirm that you are 18+ as this fic contains adult content!

"Slow down already, punk!" Steve struggled to keep up with Bucky's quick footsteps on the sidewalk, sidestepping the other pedestrians, out of breath and wheezing. "What's the big rush? Afraid you'll miss out on your doll?"

Bucky stopped suddenly on the pavement and Steve ran right into his back, damn near bouncing off. "First off, jerk, she's not a doll. She's a dame." Bucky emphasized the word, drawing it out with a raised eyebrow. "And tonight's not for me. It's for you."

Bucky whirled and took off down the sidewalk again as Steve shook his head, dazed. "For - for me? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you - dancing. Smooching. Maybe more." The mischief on Bucky's face made Steve swallow, hard. He pulls on Bucky's arm to stop him again.

"Buck...you didn't...pay her, did you?"

"Will you listen to yourself?" Bucky pulled his arm from Steve's grip. "No, I didn't pay her. She's not like that. She just likes to have fun. Lots of fun."

Steve can't help himself. "Have you...had fun with her?"

Bucky nods, but it's written all over his face anyway. "Oh yeah."

"What's she like?"

Bucky looks up towards the two stars visible in the Brooklyn sky. "Like heaven, Stevie. Like walking through the gates to heaven."

*

The dance hall is loud and crowded when they arrive, and Steve's heart is hammering in his chest. He stares listlessly at the bodies moving on the dance floor until Bucky elbows him.

"There she is..."

You're not like any other girl Steve has seen.

You're definitely older than the other girls they know, and Steve doesn't recognize you from when they were in school. Your heels are a little higher, your dress is tighter and your smile is knowing, worldly. Bucky mentioned that you have your own apartment and you work in Manhattan, someone's secretary or something. You're drinking whiskey in a glass stained with the red of your lipstick and Steve's mesmerized by the column of your neck as you lean back to swallow. Bucky's right - you're not a doll, you're a dame. A woman.

"C'mon, Steve, let's dance."

You hand your glass to Bucky and grab Steve's hand and he's afraid for a moment that his palms are too sweaty or that you can hear how hard it is for him to breathe. The music changes from a fast song to a slow one, and you take Steve's hands and put them on your waist, drawing him in close. You're looking at him like he's the only guy in Brooklyn and in that moment nothing else matters - just you and your red lips and your perfume in his nose tickling the back of his throat.

"Bucky said maybe we could go back to my place and have a few drinks." You're whispering in Steve's ear, and you giggle when a shiver runs down his spine, his hands trembling on your waist. "Would you like that, Steve?"

"Y-yeah. Let's go."

*

You sneak the boys in through a side door, you tell them it's to avoid the nosy landlady. Bucky and Steve tiptoe up the stairs behind you and wait while you unlock the door and then you grab them both by the lapels of their jackets and pull them inside, your giggles floating out into the hallway. Bucky is laughing softly and he ducks his head to kiss the back of your neck while you're locking the door from the inside and Steve wonders again what am I doing here? What's going on?

"Let's have a drink, gentlemen," you kick off your shoes and grab the bottle of whiskey off the counter in the kitchenette. Bucky's taking three glasses out of the cabinet and it's clear he's been here more than once. You take a cigarette from your pack and offer one to Bucky, who takes it but opens a window before lighting yours, and then his.

"Oh," you look over at Steve, "will you be alright with the smoke?"

"He's fine with the window open," Bucky answers, sitting on the couch and leaning his head back, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

You pour out the whiskey, three glasses neat. The cigarette is perched between your pouting lips and Steve's mesmerized. He's never been in a place like this with a woman like you. You catch him staring and smile, soft and knowing.

"I'm going to get comfortable. Is that alright, Steve?" You ask, voice low as you hand him a glass. Bucky smirks at you when you hand him the other glass.

"Um, sure," Steve answers, taking a tiny sip and wincing at the burn. "I don't mind."

You drink, and Steve's watching your neck as you swallow again, everything about you soft but sophisticated, in Steve's eyes anyway. Putting down your glass and the cigarette in the ashtray, you unbutton your dress with your eyes on Steve the whole time. His mouth goes dry, his body feels numb, and he knows he's staring as your skin is revealed to him but he can't stop himself. You toss your dress on a chair, pick up your cigarette and lounge on the couch, next to Bucky in only your undergarments and stockings.

Steve can't breathe and it has nothing to do with the smoke. Bucky draws lazy circles on the inside of your thigh with his fingertips, and you open your legs wider for him but your eyes are fixed on Steve. You sigh before drawing more smoke into your lungs, exhaling a cloud around you and Bucky that looks like a magic spell hanging in the room.

"Do you want to touch me too?" You ask, quietly, like you're trying not to frighten him off. "I want you to. I like to play." Your lips curl up in a smile, and you put the cigarette in the ashtray again to beckon him forward, crooking your finger with a mischievous giggle. "Come here, Steve. Come and play with us."

Steve's mouth and throat go dry, and he takes a drink but starts coughing when the whiskey burns down his throat. You shake off Bucky's hand and stand up from the couch, walking to Steve and cooing, "oh, sweet baby boy, are you alright?" Steve's eyes nearly pop out of his head when you kneel in front of him, rubbing your hands up his thighs closer to where he's suddenly hard in his pants at the sight and presence of you. One of your hands rubs over his clothed cock and his head falls back, his eyes closed as he struggles to control himself.

"Steve," you're whispering, your hands unbuttoning his pants, "I know you want me, and I want you too. Will you let me make you feel good, baby?" A strangled moan escapes from Steve's throat as your hands grasp him and pull him free and he opens his eyes in time to see you lick the head, humming at the taste.

It's too much, and he has no experience and he knows he'll embarrass himself. "I can't - I won't be able to -"

"Yes, you will. Let me take care of you." Your red lips smile at him once more before you take Steve in your mouth, lipstick smearing on his skin and he raises his hips before he can stop himself, completely lost in the warmth of your mouth. You hum again, swirling your tongue and holding his hips, pushing him back down to sit and looking up to catch his eye, looking filthy and beautiful with your mouth full of him. Steve thinks he may have to close his eyes again but then he looks over and sees Bucky.

Bucky - he's unbuttoned his shirt, dog tags laying on his chest. His hair's a mess from how many times he's pushed his fingers through it, his lips are bitten swollen and pink from how aroused he is and his hand is slowly fisting his hard cock, watching you suck Steve further down your throat.

Steve's pretty sure this sinning will be worth a lot more than ten Hail Mary's, but he's in for whatever reckoning is coming his way. He gasps, feeling himself getting too close, but you know too and you pull off, tightening your hand at the base of his cock and holding him off. "I told you," you say breathlessly, "I'd take care of you." You surge up to capture his lips, rubbing off what's left of your lipstick on his mouth. You lick along his bottom lip, and Steve opens his mouth, letting you tangle your tongue with his and tasting himself in your mouth.

Steve's still painfully hard, but he could kiss you all night long. He wants to touch you but he's not sure where to put his hands, finally resting them on your shoulders and pulling you closer. Steve thinks you're about to straddle his lap and he's wondering how he'll control himself with that when you suddenly giggle and pull away from Steve's mouth and he opens his eyes.

Bucky's behind you, his hands smoothing over your skin, his mouth pressing open, wet kisses along the skin on your back and shoulders. "Sorry, sugar," he murmurs into your skin, his nimble fingers pulling the straps down your arms, "I couldn't wait to touch you."

"Bucky," you try to scold, but your voice is light and amused, "you have to be patient. Steve's first, remember?"

Steve watches as Bucky strips you, his eyes following Bucky's hands and breathing hard at every curve revealed to him. Bucky cups your breasts and teases your nipples with his thumbs as you lean your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes in pleasure. "Bucky," you whine, "you're being bad."

"You love it," he chuckles in your ear, and Steve watches as Bucky slides a hand down to feel you between your legs. "Stevie, she's so wet for us," Bucky licks his lips and winks at his best friend. "Told ya you'd have a good time tonight."

Steve laughs, nervously. Part of him still can't believe he's here, that Bucky would share you with him and give him this experience. But then you're slapping Bucky's hands away with a soft, "behave," and pulling on his dog tags to bring him in for a rough kiss that has Bucky's hands wandering again. "Patience," you breathe out when you break away again. Bucky grins and kisses your forehead before helping you to your feet and extending a hand to Steve as well.

"The lady says you're first, pal," Bucky teases, and you pull Steve to your bed as Bucky follows.

"Why don't you lay down on your back," you tell Steve, pushing him back gently. "I'll take care of you, remember?"

Steve nods, his heart racing. He lays back on the mattress and watches you rummage in the drawer by your bed. You pull out rubbers - you're a real woman - and you straddle Steve with one in your hand. "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes, ma'am."

You smile, and lean over to kiss him, and Steve shivers at the feeling of your bare skin against his. You're so warm and wet between your legs and Steve can't believe this is really happening. "Do you trust me?" You ask, whispering into his ear.

"Yes!" Steve answers quickly, nodding when you sit up and take him in hand, rolling the rubber on and soothing him when he hisses at how sensitive he is. Then you're hovering over him, lining him up and sinking down - and oh shit Bucky was right.

Heaven. Like walking into heaven.

Steve lets his hands slide up your body as you roll your hips, touching all those valleys and curves he watched Bucky touch. He's drinking in your sounds and moans and he's loud too, he can't help it with how good you're making him feel. He fights to keep his eyes open and watch you above him, but he's falling fast and he can't stop himself. "I'm - I can't stop -" he stutters out, biting his lip, and you lean down to hold his hands and rock against him harder.

"You don't have to stop," you tell him, breathing hard, "I want you to feel good, Steve."

You're squeezing him inside you and he can't hold back, filling the rubber with a loud shout. You slow your movements, riding out his orgasm, and you kiss him hard before rolling off to lay on the bed next to him.

Steve's quiet, staring at the ceiling with a grin on his face, and you giggle and curl into his side. He's almost forgotten about Bucky - until he appears at the foot of the bed, rubber already rolled on and pulling at your ankle impatiently.

"Hope you had fun, punk, but now it's my turn."

You laugh, and move to your hands and knees, winking at Bucky over your shoulder before turning your gaze back to Steve.

"Should I go?" Steve asks, unsure, and you shake your head, balancing yourself to reach for his hand.

"No, sweet boy, you stay right there, and if you want to play more we can, but -" your voice is cut off by your moan as Bucky's pushes inside you, his hands gripping your hips. He leans over to brush a kiss to your shoulder before starting a quick and rough pace.

"But it's my turn now," Bucky groans out the words, jaw clenched and lips bitten. His dog tags bounce as he thrusts into you, and you - you're a vision, fists clutching the blanket, back arched, breasts bouncing and when you open your eyes you smile at Steve.

Steve's eyes are wide and he can't stop watching. He can't believe it but he feels himself starting to stir again, and he hurriedly removes and ties off the rubber, tossing it on the floor in a daze. Not like you care where he throws it, because the headboard's banging against the wall now with how hard and fast Bucky is fucking you.

"Can't get enough of you, you know that," Bucky's muttering, and your head falls to the mattress, moaning in response. "Dreaming about you, about fucking you everywhere, getting my head up your skirt and not caring who sees."

Steve can't believe the words coming out of Bucky's mouth, and the wild look in his eyes. Then those eyes drift to him, and Bucky grins, letting go of your hips for a moment to push his hair out of his eyes.

"You like this, Stevie? You like sharing a girl?"

Steve nods, too stunned to speak, and wraps his hand around his cock, stroking as he watches. He's not sure what he wants, but he wants more and he can't stop watching you, or Bucky.

You wail, something's happened and Steve's not sure what. Bucky pulls out of you and rolls you over and your head lands close to Steve's shoulder. You look up at Steve and smile, your eyes glassy and unfocused. Bucky crawls over you and licks a drop of sweat from between your breasts and you whimper. "Gonna cum for me again, baby?" Bucky asks you, softer now.

"Yeah, want more, Buck. Need more." Your voice is rough, and the slight begging tone shoots straight to Steve's cock.

Bucky grins, charming and roguish, and leans down to kiss you before sitting up and positioning himself between your legs again. Steve is mesmerized as he watches Bucky slide inside you again, watches the way Bucky's eyes roll back at the feel of you and watches how your chest rises and falls with the effort to breathe. Steve syncs his strokes with Bucky's thrusts into you, steady but longer this time, dragging in and out of you and making you moan.

You look up at Steve and then back at Bucky, and he understands what you want.

"Touch our girl, Stevie," Bucky says, nodding to him. "Let's make her feel good, huh?"

Steve nods, rolling on his side and figuring as long as he has permission he'll do what he's wanted to all night long. He lowers his head to your breast and sucks your nipple into his mouth, his hand keeping a steady pace over his hardening cock as your whimpers drive him faster and faster. His tongue flicks around you and Bucky suddenly groans.

"She's squeezing me, Stevie, she likes that," he encourages, and Steve lifts his head before moving to the other breast and sees Bucky wet his thumb in his mouth and then start rubbing you on a spot between your legs. You lurch up, back arched, and Steve files that away to ask Bucky about later.

"Bucky! Steve!" You're crying their names, and Bucky speeds up.

"Cum for us, darlin'," he demands, low and husky. "I'm right there with you. Look at Steve, he's gonna paint you up all pretty."

Steve looks at Bucky, and then down at his own hand flying over his cock, and he realizes what Bucky's saying. Is he - is that what he's supposed to do? You're wailing again, eyes closed and mouth open, and Steve shouts, his mess covering your breasts.

"Fuck..." Bucky swears, and thrusts into you twice more before he cums into rubber, pulling out of you slowly and collapsing onto the bed on your other side.

Steve watches you and Bucky, stunned silent. Your eyes open slowly and you look up at Steve, and you start giggling.

"You should see your face right now, Steve. Are you okay?"

Bucky looks over, and snorts. "Punk can't believe his good luck."

Steve smiles at you, sheepish. "Yeah, something like that, I guess."

You lift your hand, cupping Steve's cheek. "Was it a good first time, baby?"

Steve holds his hand on yours, moving to press a kiss to your palm. "Yes."

Bucky removes and ties off his rubber and looks over at Steve. "Do me a favor, grab a cloth from over there," he points, "and help me clean up our girl. She takes care of us, and we take care of her."

You move your other hand to Bucky's cheek, smiling up at him. "You were right. This was a really good idea."

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Safe With Me (Yandere!Plat!C!Ranboo x F!Reader) 1/???

Before we start this fic, I am stating that this is a completely fictitious version of CHARACTER Ranboo, and does not involve the streamer. If this is overstepping boundaries (which I don't think it is..?) This story will be removed.

NOTE: IRL I’M A TECHNO APOLOGIST DON'T GUT ME FOR THIS STORY

ALSO THE SCREWED UP FONT IS RANBOO'S CHAT

TW: canon lives lost, blood, yandere

He was always there for you...

Without a single doubt it your mind, you knew you could turn to the Enderman hybrid and... Be safe.

He would do anything for you..

Even if it put himself in danger..

He would rather himself be covered in scars and on his last canon life than for you to have a single wound on your (s/t) coloured skin...

But even he knows that isn't possible...

You had been walking for quite awhile, but in your eyes, it was worth it. Ranboo had invited you to the Tundra to get away from life for a bit and it was perfect honestly! You had started becoming stressed out from figuring out where the other nuke was, and Ranboo had practically appeared at your side, suggesting you get away from the situation for your own well-being.

He invited you to the Tundra where he, Phil and Techno lived, telling you to disregard his neighbours and just have a sleep over with him there as the mansion wasn't finished. But... You were quite afraid of Technoblade..

While he wasn't completely wrong in his lectures before he.. You know.. destroyed everything everyone worked for... He didn't have to go about it via bloodshed, withers and taking one of yours and Tubbo's canon lives! Plus... He most likely would hate you for having a seat on the council when both Schlatt and Tubbo were in control of L'manberg...

"(Y/n)!" A happy voice rung out through the trees, causing you to shake your head to free yourself from you thoughts. Running at you though the snow was the tall and forgetful hybrid known as Ranboo.

Once he got close enough, you could hear him making soft 'brrrr'ing sounds, like a happy enderman, which caused you to smile, "Ranboo, my beloved!" You joked which caused a small laugh to escape from him, "It's been so long!"

The two of you began to chat happily as he led you to his home that was buried in the cliffs of the snowy biome. Both of you were so caught up in your conversation that you hardly realized when a gruff and deep voice called the name of your platonic husband.

If he had colour to his face, Ranboo's features would've drained completely of any hue. You both looked over to see the tall pink haired piglin hybrid standing proudly in his cape and crown, with an enchanted netherite axe in his dominant hand.

Well... At least he was given you a chance to speak.

"Why have you brought... Her... Here?" The man wearing the monarch outfit growled lowly, saying 'her' with such hesitation that he made you realize what he wanted to say.

"You wanted to say 'Why have you brought the government here,' didn't you?" A hiss escaped past your lips before you could even stop it. Even Ranboo turned to you with a petrified expression, "I'll have you know, I am a person."

"Ranboo! This is betrayal!" Techno snarled, almost completely ignoring your words as he reinstated his grip on his weapon.

The monochrome coloured man stuttered for words for a moment before clearing his throat, "She isn't a part of the government anymore. She has been working with Captain Puffy to take down the Eggpire and I invited her out here to relax." He stated calmly, trying to diffuse the situation before it turned into something that could put you in danger.

Glancing over at him in a bit of confusion, you had to stop yourself from tilting your head. You... were part of Snowchester? Both of you were! Did Techno not.. Know about the fact that you both were (platonically) married to each other and Tubbo?

After a moment, you gave a sigh and held up your hands before reaching into the duffel bag you had brought with you. This action, albeit harmless in your eyes, seemed to threaten Techno greatly as he visibly shifted into a fighting stance. You pulled out a netherite ingot and held it out, raising your eye brow. "Here, have a piece offering from me- Oh wait. I'm not me. I'm just a government in your eyes." You huffed and tossed the ingot lazily into the snow a few feet in front of you before dragging the tall male towards his own house, grumbling angrily the entire way there.

The rest of the night turned out decent after Ranboo explained his reasoning behind being a practical double agent, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You just wanted to relax for God's sake.

Once you had gone to sleep in his spare room, that's when Ranboo's smile fell and he began pacing around in his basement area, murmuring to himself in enderman while his particles buzzed around him. While they weren't actually speaking, Ranboo's mind thought they were.

"I can't keep her safe."

"̵T̵e̷c̸h̷n̵o̸ ̷w̴i̴l̴l̶ ̴v̷i̸s̷i̷t̷ ̸S̴n̴o̶w̸c̵h̷e̸s̷t̸e̷r̴ ̸a̵n̶d̴ ̶s̴e̷e̵ ̸h̶e̶r̴ ̴t̴h̴e̴r̶e̸.̸.̷"̶ (”Techno will visit Snowchester and see her there”)

 ̸ ̷"̴H̴e̸'̴l̴l̶ ̴h̸u̶r̸t̸ ̵h̵e̴r̵.̵"̷ (”He’ll hurt her”)

̶ ̸"̴K̶e̸e̶p̷ ̶h̵e̶r̵ ̴s̸a̸f̶e̵.̷"̸ (”Keep her safe”)

"Me and Tubbo can keep her safe. She can be safe with us. We can protect her."

"̷͚̼̎ͅB̵̝͂̓ṙ̴͍î̵̧͕͖̈͝n̸̟̓̈́g̸̤̟͑̿ ̴̯̟̈́̇̓h̷͚̾ͅę̸̣̀̉̋ŗ̶̪̗̈́ ̸͖̎͠ȟ̴̙͎ô̵̫͈̠̌͠m̷̧̈́̒ẻ̸͔̈́.̵̞̥̞̀̓"̵̺̺̗͗͐  (”Bring her home.”)

His purple particles began to buzz more and more at the thought of you being safe in their protection... At least that what he thought...

[major-trouble]

For the fic title thing:

Home for the season

Hello friend!!! Thank-you for your patience pls enjoy

Home for the Season

The airport had been so crowded when they landed. It had taken nearly an hour to get through customs, and another to get their luggage, fighting through throngs of hyperactive children and exhausted parents.

At least finding their car had been relatively easy. Long term parking was a conveniently short complimentary bus ride away from the main terminal. It was quiet. The night had crept up and extinguished the lingering evening, the stars just starting to become visible against the velvet blackness.

Valdo pulled the keys from his pocket, unlocking their car and releasing the latch on the trunk before stowing his bags inside. He waited as Jaskier did the same, though slower and with a great deal more sighing.

At least he wasn't complaining anymore. The younger man had moved past tired into deep exhaustion, and he barely grumbled as he pointed all the available heat vents directly at his face as he settled into the passenger seat.

The tour had been draining for both of them, but Jaskier - the lead singer and therefore face of their band - had spent so much time smiling and shaking hands and hugging people and talking that Valdo didn't entirely blame him for his silence now. It made him a little jealous, though, that their fans got so much of him and he was left with this quiet, tired version of the normally gregarious character.

Not that he minded a little quiet, now and then, but they were home for the winter break now. And he'd been hoping, maybe a little selfishly, that they could spend time together as friends, instead of band mates.

"You're sulking," Jaskier’s voice startled Valdo out of his thoughts.

"I am not," he retorted, squeezing the steering wheel and desperately wishing the car would hurry up and defog enough for him to see out the windows. "You're confusing me with you."

Jaskier made a derogatory snorting noise. "No, I can tell you're sulking because your forehead is all wrinkly and your lips look like a pursed asshole."

"I - ! What the fu - ?" Valdo sputtered. Jaskier just huffed a laugh. "Oh shut up, you complete and utter tit." He rubbed his hands together, hoping against hope that the air would warm up faster. "I'm tired and I want to go home," he added, sounding petulant even to his own ears.

"Me too," Jaskier sighed, looking out the condensation-clouded window. He smiled suddenly. "Do you think it'll be like last time? That Lambert and Eskel will have tried to stay up and have fallen asleep on top of each other again?"

Valdo couldn't help but grin at the memory. He shook his head. "No - I don't think they'll let themselves be caught in such a compromising situation a second time."

Jaskier barked a laugh. "True. I guess I should have used a washable marker instead of sharpy."

Finally, the fog on the windows had lifted enough for Valdo to see where he was driving without killing anyone and he put the car into gear, pulling out of the lot and making his way towards the highway.

They drove in companionable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, before Jaskier spoke again.

"I want you to come to my parents' place for Yuletide this year."

The statement was said with such nonchalance it took Valdo off guard and he nearly drove them into a ditch. He gripped the wheel a little tighter as his brain came back online.

"You what?" he squeaked.

"Come with me. To me parents'. For Yuletide." Jaskier spoke slowly, like that would help Valdo parse the words better.

"But your parents don't like me! They think I'm the whole reason you got into this whole band thing in the first place! They said - and I quote - 'That Valdo is a bad influence and will never amount to anything. Musicians are a plague.' And you want me to what exactly? Make nice with them?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" Jaskier trailed off. "I don't think they actually hate you." He paused and Valdo glanced over to see him smiling wickedly. "Besides, Lambert will be there too. It's not like he's going to let them get away with insulting his boyfriend."

Valdo took a moment to think about what that would look like and started laughing.

"Okay. Okay! Fine. I suppose I could join you and your family on their country estate for the holidays." He said it in the most snooty tone he could conjure. "But," he swallowed, not entirely sure how to phrase his next question. "But - "

"Why now?" Jaskier supplied. "Because you're my friend. And I - I regret that I don't get to be that for you enough." He sat up a little higher in his seat so he could look at Valdo more fully. "Touring is great and I'd never give it up - fuck knows Essi and Pris would hate me forever if I did and don't even get me started on Yen - "

Valdo nodded at the mention of their other bandmates and terrifying manager.

"But we've been friends since grade school and I miss just being, I don't know. Just being us, I guess."

Silence descended again as Valdo mulled over his words. It would have been easy to dismiss them out of hand, and he would have if it had been broad daylight and not the murky depths of deepest night, but they struck a chord with his own thoughts.

Still. "You're a huge sap, you know that?" he grinned. Before Jaskier could protest, he added, "And yeah. Me too."

Jaskier drew breath to speak again and Valdo slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Don't ruin it."

He glared at Valdo but subsided, and they drove the rest of the way back to their shared flat in the quiet, no sound but the hum of the tires on pavement.

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All (dark!Loki x reader)

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping.

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: I wrote another one! No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write. Still working on improving my smut, huge thanks to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for some tips and editing the shit out of it. 😘 also I know there is a creepy clown in the pic but I feel like I have to say there aren’t any clowns in the fic. I hate clowns.

Chapter 1:

It was the kind of summer night you dream about, warm enough to keep you comfortable in your shorts and peasant top, but with a light breeze that keeps you cool enough to fight the flush of alcohol in your veins. You look forward to these moments when you are able to go out with your girlfriends and let loose, forgetting about all life’s responsibilities, if just for a single night.

“Come on!” Ash calls over her shoulder, her hand tight around your wrist pulling you impatiently.

“Aww but that looks so good” you groan as you press your face longingly against the glass barrier of the hand dipped corn dog cart.

The sweet scent of the frying corn dough wafts tantalizingly through the air making your mouth water. You friends laugh at your theatrics, having just helped you scarf down a large sugary funnel cake and a platter of nachos, the evidence of which still stains the corner of your mouth. Really, it was their fault for getting you tipsy before taking you to the county fair, everything just smelled heavenly and if you could you would try one of everything.

“Just a slushee?!” You beg as Jen steps behind you and pushes you out of the food court, giggling the entire time.

“Come on, fight the drunchies! You promised you would try that new funhouse,” Jen whines, looping her arm through yours, Ash doing the same on the other side.

“Oh yeah,” you grumble.

“Oh stop it” Ash scolds playfully. “Everyone at work keeps talking about it - it’s like a mini escape room! And I’ve always wanted to do one, please.” She rants excitedly before giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh that’s cheating. No one can resist those big brown eyes” you pout, but yield as easily as they knew you would.

“I know” Ash smirks, tossing back her long silky black hair over her slender shoulder.

“This is gonna be so much fun, I promise” Jen bumps your hip, giving you a wide encouraging smile.

You manage a strained grin as you let them lead you through the crowd. It’s not that you don’t like funhouses or the idea of doing an escape room, having always loved solving riddles and doing puzzles. It’s just you don’t like clowns, and every funhouse in your experience has at least one.

“Oh damn there’s a line!” Jen moans as you all stop in front of a large structure covered in flashing lights, the ominous ‘Tricksters Trap’ bathing your face in a violent red glow.

Garish contrasting colors somehow both attract your eye and make it hard to look at. Your pupils dilate with the lines of fluorescent bulbs burning into your retinas. The stereotypical circus music blares through the cheap speakers, reminding you of one of those old Jack in the box toys. And of course, without fail, was the obligatory clown statue hanging over the entrance, like some creepy sentinel there to guide you to your inevitable demise.

“Ugh fucking clowns” you grimace as you pass by the entrance, heading toward the end of the line.

“Yeah they definitely nailed the creep factor,” Jen agrees, her eyes shining with nervous excitement.

“I know isn’t it great?!” Ash squeals.

You stand there taking in the horrific detailing painted on the side of the metal structure. You are thankful when Ash explains there is a time limit, only ten minutes to complete the puzzle or else they kick you out and you have to try again. If you figure out the puzzle you get to leave through the mirror maze and you earn the coveted “I tricked the Trickster” sticker.

“Gotta get that sticker, or else that bitch Katie at work will never let me forget that she got one and I didn’t” Ash complains, causing you and Jen to share a look and snicker.

“Hey! Don’t laugh, this is serious! We gotta be smart and figure this out, failure is not an option” she urges dramatically before collapsing into drunken giggles with you and Jen.

“You ladies seem eager to prove yourselves,” slithers a low voice.

Startled you gasp and spin around quickly. The three of you look up at the tall lean figure standing behind you. He wears a perfectly tailored black ensemble, that matches the color of his slicked back hair. His eyes practically glow green against his alabaster complexion. His sharp cheekbones and angular jaw make your breath hitch, causing his thin lips to curve into a sinister smirk. He is stunning.

“Um, yeah. Well this place has the whole town buzzin’. Seems like everyone is talking about it” Jen is the first to speak.

“Ah I see. Wouldn’t want to miss your chance to take a stab at it” the mysterious man surmised, eyes focused on you.

“We got this shit. Right guys?” Ash assures him as she playfully smacks you and Jen.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. Good luck,” he challenges with a raise of a brow.

You stare after him as he saunters away without another word. His hips and shoulders sway smoothly, his soft footsteps giving him a dangerous almost feline vibe, like he could rival even the most deadly of predators. As he turns to round the corner of the ride he takes one last look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes lock for only a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

“That was weird, right?” You mutter, eyes still transfixed where he disappeared.

“Eh, just another creepy dude. If I had a nickel for every weirdo who tries to chat me up…” Jen jokes.

“You’d have like a whole 50 cents,” sasses Ash.

You are finally broken from your daze when Ash is pushed into you. You laugh and try to brush off the lingering effect of the handsome stranger, shifting your focus back to your friends. The line goes by quicker than expected, with only one group out of the three ahead of you making it out with stickers. The losing groups return to the line from a back door, bickering about where they went wrong.

Finally it is your turn. Ash claps her hands excitedly, dancing up the metal stairs to the costumed man at the entrance. His red and white stripped suit is expertly torn and painted with fake blood to make him look as intimidating as possible. With a tip of his top hat he welcomes the three of you and begins to explain the rules in his well practiced accent.

“Come one come all to the Tricksters Trap, if you’re feeling lost, just go find the map.” He sings with flair and a perfectly timed bow, directing you to the inauspicious black door.

Taking a deep breath you follow your squealing friends into the darkened hallway. Pausing to look back as the door creaks shut, cutting off the jovial sounds of laughter and chatter with a sudden slam. You flinch at the loud noise and turn back to the dim hallway. The short corridor is lined with wall to wall green velvet curtains barely visible with the green rope lights running along the ceiling.

“Guys?” You whisper when you don’t see them next to you, causing your heart rate to quicken

You call for them again, this time louder, your feet unwilling to move from the spot. It has only been thirty seconds and you are already about to call it quits. Get a grip. You take a hesitant step forward.

“You guys?!” You call shakily.

“Hey! Come on we found the map!” Jen pokes her head from around the corner at the end of the hall.

She disappears just as quickly, waving her arm for you to follow. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush after her. You enter a large room filled with all sorts of random objects. It’s as if it is designed to overload your senses. The green from the hall carried on into the room, more velvet green curtains hung on the walls that were not obstructed by shelves of books or other oddities. You saw everything from perfectly aligned glass jars filled with alien looking creatures, grandfather clocks, to treasure chests overflowing with grizzled toys.

Jen and Ash are hunched over a table with a map spread out smoothly. It was easy enough to see it was a map of the room and hallway, with what appeared to be three small rooms hidden along the wall behind the heavy green drapery. You go over and pull back a curtain and find a locked door, the other two also hiding a locked door.

“Ok so it looks like we gotta find a way to open these doors” you offer, your anxiety calming a bit as you focus on the mystery at hand.

“Hey look there is some sort of code over here by the lock on the door.” Ash hollers excitedly.

You each pick a door code and frantically search the room. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out you need to use the books on the large shelf along one wall. The first number tells you the book the second refers to a specific page. You find a slip of paper in the book with a riddle written in a blood red ink.

“I make two people out of one” You read aloud.

“You can hold me in one hand, but I’m used to fill the room” Ash reads hers, her face twisting in concentration.

You both look to Jen, “I have two hands, but I can’t clap.”

“Damn no wonder so many people failed, definitely wish I wasn’t drunk right now” Ash laughs.

“No no we can do this, it’s probably items in the room so let’s just focus. We’ll do one at a time.” You assert, pacing the room and trying to take in all the random objects.

“Two hands…” you mutter as you stop in front of a large grandfather clock. “Clocks have hands!” You yell excitedly and open the narrow door.

The heavy pendulums swing inside and you see a shining silver glint off the rounded golden end. You pull off the small silver key, stuck on by a tiny magnet, and jump in excitement.

“Holy crap! You’re a genius!” Jen exclaims running over to take the key and try it in the door.

The key slides in smoothly and the door opens with a gratifying click.

“Woo! Keep going, you are on a roll!” Ash claps as she cheers you on.

“Ok, ok” you giggle before taking a deep breath. “Two people out of one… maybe a camera? Or wait…” you realize as you stare at Ash currently checking her makeup in an antique mirror hung between two curtains.

“Ash! Try pulling on that mirror!” You yell pointing frantically at the mirror in front of her.

Her brows knit together briefly before understanding, grabbing the frame and tugging gently until it swings open, revealing a key hung on the wall.

“Yes!” You all shriek together.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and a loud maniacal cackle reverberates through the surround sound speaker, turning your elation into yelps of surprise.

“Two minutes left” a familiar polished voice echoes forebodingly throughout the room.

“Shit, that scared the crap out of me” Jen laughs clutching at her chest.

The warning gives you pause, managing to shift the spirit of the whole room. Ash giggles nervously as she watches the lights of the room transition from their previous dim yellow light to a menacing red hue. The mood lighting in addition to the increasing volume of the horror soundtrack playing over the speaker helps to put you back into your initial anxious state.

“Seriously? Is this fucking necessary?” You curse, shaking your head.

“Ok let’s get the last one guys! We can still do this!” Jen yells through the cacophony of sound effects.

“Yeah what can we fit in our hand but somehow also fills the room?” Ash reiterated the final riddle.

“These red lights make it so much harder to see” Jen complains bitterly as she rummages through the items inside a large chest.

“Lights… Jen that’s it! A lightbulb!” A smile breaks out on your face as you figure out the final clue.

“Look up there!” Ash points to a solitary darkened light bulb screwed into the ceiling.

“I got it.” Jen jumps onto the table and reaches up, unscrewing it quickly. “There is a key inside!” She shouts.

She unscrews the bottom of the fake lightbulb and received the key before handing it to Ash. Each of you run over to the corresponding doors and turn the key, squealing in delight when they all slide open.

“Is that it?” Jen asks looking into the cramped dark space behind the door.

It was little more than a closet. Barely enough room for each of you to stand in. You were at a loss. You could have sworn that would be the end.

“Guys there is a lever here on the back wall of mine, how about yours?” Ash’s muffled voice calls from inside her closet.

“Oh yeah mine too!” Jen replies.

“Do you think we have to pull them at the same time? ‘Cus mine did nothing when I tried it” Ash says poking her head out to look at you.

“Thirty seconds!” That haunting voice booms again as a tick clock sounds through the speakers, counting down your final moments.

“Ok let’s try it together!” You nod at both of them, before stepping into the tight dark space.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You shout, mirroring your friends calls, pulling down your lever with a snap.

There is a moment of silence as the lights of the room behind you suddenly go dark, the music and sound effects cutting off instantly.

“Did we get it?!” You yell.

You don’t get the chance to hear your friends response as the wood door slams behind you, locking you into the small space.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[itsallyscorner]

okay so I love littlemix!reader x Tom holland??? the best pairing ever??? Anyways could you do something based of Holiday, like it’s obviously based off their lovers and maybe his reaction to the song & mv? Pls I’m in love with Baby Mix btw 😌❤️

Glad you’re enjoying the Little Mix member!reader x Tom Holland fics, I’m enjoying them too🥰 Thank you for the support on Baby Mix, btw, I appreciate it! Sorry for taking so long! Much love and happy reading💖

💌.

Holiday

I completely forgot when the girls dropped the video so I’m making up a time. Enjoy:)

Counting down the minutes to midnight, Tom continuously refreshed the YouTube app on your smart tv. The two of your were in his shared home with Harry, Harrison, and Tuwaine. You’ve been staying with the lot since the beginning of quarantine; London’s travel ban prevented you from catching a flight back home to your family, resulting in your boyfriend, Tom, begging you to stay with him and his mates. You didn’t have a problem with it in all honesty, the boys were great and respectful roommates. Though you were the only woman in the house, they provided you with entertainment and respected your alone time. They were a nice group of lads, letting you in on inside jokes and making you feel like you were part of the gang. By now, you probably were part of the gang. Harrison even considered on replacing Tom with you.

“Bubs, the video’s not gonna be up yet.” You glance at the screen that showed the previous videos the band’s channel posted. Tom huffed, nudging your arms apart so he can squeeze through them to lay on your chest. The two of you were currently in his room waiting for the release of Holiday’s music video. Tom had been anticipating the video all day, asking for hints about the music video’s concept and wondering how it looked.

With his body snuggled up against yours, he rested his head on your chest and wrapped his arm around your torso. His other hand reached towards the tv with the remote as he clicked the video for Break Up Song.

“I know it’s not gonna be up yet, but what if they accidentally uploaded it early? I wanna see the video already.” He whined. His fingers began to drum to the beat of Break Up Song on your stomach.

You laughed, fingers carding through his brown curls that have grown for the past months. He hums along to the song while you text the girls. He lets out a chuckle once he sees you on the screen doing the dance that he’s been helping you learn for the video. You had been struggling to get the choreography down and doing the moves on time. Noticing your desperate attempts at the moves, Tom offered to help you. Obviously in the end you perfected the choreography, seeing as it made the video, thanks to Tom.

“You are so cute.” He mused watching you dance around in the video. “Look at you dance, I don’t know what you were so worried about. You look so adorable when you dance and look at your face! Just wanna squish those cheeks together.” He began to tease you. You whine his name out as he reached up to squish your cheeks together with his hand. Your phone began to rang causing him to stop. He glances at the sceeen, “It’s my best friend, lemme answer it.”

“Go ahead.” You giggled handing him your phone. His head remains on your chest as he answers the FaceTime call. Jesy pops up on the screen with a giant smile but it drops once she sees Tom, changing into a playful scowl.

“Hi best friend!” Tom greets her loudly, a playful grin on his face. Jesy rolls her eyes at the boy.

“Hi Tom.” She greeted him sarcastically. “Give the phone to (y/n).”

“She’s right here, see,” Tom moved the phone further away so you were both in the frame. You waved at her, “Jess I miss you!” You cried.

“I miss you too darling—Tom give her the bloody phone!” Jesy scolded him through the phone. He let out a dramatic sigh before handing you your phone and snuggling into your stomach, mumbling something about “not being able to catch a break from the constant bullying of Jesy Nelson.”

“Right just a few minutes left, I’m trying to get the other girls on here.” Jesy explained as she tapped around her phone. Sooner or later. The two of you were joined by Perrie, Jade, and Leigh-Anne.

Perrie let out a squeal as she saw everyone on the screen, “You guys I miss you so much!”

“Didn’t we all see each other just a few weeks ago?” Jade asked sipping on a glass of wine as per usual.

“Yeah, on the set, but it’s a few weeks too long.” You pouted. You noticed that everyone was drinking except for you, “Wait, has everyone got a drink except for me?”

Leigh-Anne’s eyes scanned everyone on the screen, “You are, are you in bed already? It’s so early babe.”

“Leigh-Anne’s it’s literally about to be midnight, it’s late.” Jesy chimes. Jade makes a sound of disagreement, “I mean does time even matter anymore?”

“What day is it anyway? I’ve lost track.” Perrie thought out loud. You moved to get up from the bed but Tom stopped you. “Where are you going?” He whispered.

“I’m getting a drink, I’ll be back.” You patted his cheek before sitting up. He stops you once again and stands from the bed, “I’ll get you one.” He kisses your temple and leaves the room.

“Aww, was that Tom?” Jade asked leaning closer to her camera. You hummed, “Yup, being the amazing boyfriend he is and getting me a drink.”

Perrie smirked at you, “Gosh, there’s that smile again. She’s whipped for ‘im ladies!” The girls began “ooo-ing” like a bunch of elementary school girls. “Guys, stop.” You whine.

“Have you told him the part you wrote was inspired by him?” Leigh-Anne asked, chin in her palm.

“No, I’ll tell him while he’s watching. He’s been so excited the whole day, probably more than me.” You chuckle. As if on cue, Tom comes back in with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“Tom’s going to be so nerdy about it, like a cute nerdy, you know what I mean? All mushy gushy. Like how he gets whenever (y/n) kisses his cheeks.” Jesy said as the girls cooed. Tom peeks from beside you.

“Did I hear that correctly? Did Jesy just compliment me?” He asked everyone, looking back at you for confirmation. You shrugged as you looked at Jesy. Jade stifled a laugh at Jesy’s annoyed expression.

“Oh fuck off you div. It’s an observation. You could barely compose yourself whenever you’re around (y/n).” Jesy playfully jabs at him. You adored their friendship, it was like a brother/sister bond. Jesy being the older sibling and Tom being the annoying little brother.

“Jes, leave the poor boy alone, he makes our baby happy.” Perrie defended Tom. Tom smiles thankfully at her, “Thank you Perrie, at least I know some of you like me.”

Tom pops open the champagne and takes one of the glasses to pour the beverage in, “But I’ll take it as a compliment Jes. Cheers to that.” He raises his glass and clinks it with your phone screen. You and the girls continue to talk until midnight. When the video was finally released you all celebrated and took some screenshots of each other to post later.

When your FaceTime call with the girls ended, you turned to Tom, who already had the video up on the screen. He made grabby hands at you and pulled you to sit in between his legs. With his back against the headboard he made sure the two of you were comfy before asking you, “Can I click play now?”

You chuckled at him as his leg bounced, “Yup.” He pressed play, placing the remote down and wrapping his arm around your front to pull you closer to him. The intro to the video starts, the title of the song appearing on the screen in a water type font. Jesy pops up on the screen singing her part, Tom cheers yelling “It’s my best friend!”

Tom hypes each of the girls up while they appear on the screen, cheering their names. When the chorus comes, his brows furrow as he looks down at you. “Wait where are you? Why—why didn’t they show you yet?” He questioned you, visibly upset. You were about to answer but instead pointed to the screen when you realized your part was coming up.

Boy, have I told ya?

You give it to me like no other guy

We got that heat, yeah, like the summer (summer)

And that's why I'm so glad I made you mine

You appeared on the screen, body cladded in a white bikini that had gold straps for both the bra and thong. You bursted out laughing when you saw Tom’s reaction. His eyes look like they were about to bulge out his head while his jaw was slacked.

“Holy...shit.” He mumbled eyes glued to the screen as you sang. The scene was you in that blue hallway type set. You looked at the camera, bedroom eyes fully activated as your back slid down the wall. You felt his grip around you tighten, his breathing getting deeper.

The scene changed to the one with the planets, sculptures, and lounging chairs. You were seen walking towards a Chaise lounge, giving the camera a perfect view of your bum. While you sat sideways on the couch in the video, Tom couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous you looked in the video. You looked like a goddess, confident as you strutted around in that little number of yours in the video.

You turned to look at him once your part was done and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You know my whole part was about you right?” His head snaps to look at you, “You wrote something about me in a song?”

“Tommy, I always do. Who else would I be singing about?” You asked him amused. He took a second to think before shaking his head, “I thought it was in general, like it was based on how you would feel if you were with someone that made you feel that way.”

You nod at his explanation, “Well yeah, the fans could see it that way. But when I sing it, it’s about you.”

A goofy grin made its way to his face before he giggled, “It’s about me.” He pulled you into a hug from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. He turned back to the tv to see you all dressed as mermaids while you sang your part in the chorus.

“Wait what—you’re mermaids?” The look of confusion appeared on his face again as he tried to figure out the video. He looked at you then back to the screen, repeating the action a few times.

“I never thought I’d say this, but if you were a mermaid, I’d still fuck you.” He confessed with a shrug. You bursted out laughing at his confession, “How do you even fuck a mermaid, Tom?”

His hands gripped your sides, voice going down an octave, “You tell me, (y/n). Get the mermaid tail back and we’ll find out.” You looked at him shocked, “Thomas!”

He laughed dropping the act and went back to watching the music video. “Wait, I’m still cofused. I thought you guys were in space cause of the planets and stuff. Why are you guys also underwater? And mermaids?” You tilted your head trying to come up with an answer for him.

“Um—it’s a spa, on a another planet, which also has an ocean I’m guessing, and that’s why we’re also mermaids?” You explained, also questioning yourself.

“I like the concept, probably the most random video you guys have had, but it’s sick.” He approved of the video with an impressed look on his face. When the video ended, he immediately pressed replay. Though when your part came up this time he let out a “GOD DAMN” before his eyes scanned you up and down. When he finally felt like he’s processed the music video, he let it play in the background and paid attention to you.

He leaned down to kiss your lips sweetly, “Love, that was amazing. I’m proud of you.” He was quick to add on, “And thank you for writing a part of the song about me, I never thought someone would write a song about me, not even a part. But thank you, I love you so much.”

You giggled shoving your face into his neck as you both moved to cuddling. Suddenly you remembered something you and the boys promised to do.

“Tom! We were supposed to watch the video with the other boys! Remember we promised to not watch it without them?” You leaned back to look at Tom who was already shaking his head.

“Oh they’re not allowed to watch the video.” He muttered. Your brows furrow at him. Tom motions to the tv, the part where your bum was facing the camera on the screen.

“Because of that, I don’t need them seeing that, that’s mine.” One of his hands trail down the length of your back to grip your ass. He rolled over so he was on top of you, dipping his head into your neck, his lips ghosted fluttery kisses along your skin. You let out a content sigh, running your hands through his soft hair. When his lips reached your ear, he whispered, “But seriously though, you should think about investing in a mermaid tail.”

[stardust-kenobi]

Sunlight

Obi Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Obi Wan is stressed about the war, and you offer him some relief in more ways than one.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, smut, riding 

A/N: I feel like this is kinda similar to the mando fic I wrote with the whole “oh you’re stressed, wanna fuck?” scenario but it sure is a good scenario so let’s go with it 🥰

I have been so MIA, but I hope this was worth the wait!!

Requested by anon; hope you love it ❤️

gif cred: @coredrive​

His chin rested in the crevice between his index finger and thumb. He was absent for his words. The foggy rays of light that beamed onto his face illuminated the crystal blue in his eyes. His brows were furrowed, pressing against one another with intense thought and pondering. His body leaned forward with his mind racing faster now. You couldn’t read his thoughts, of course, but his body told you everything you needed to know.

Sitting on the sofa next to Obi Wan provided you with a view to observe his position and the way he so clearly was lost in his mind. You wanted to speak up, but you needed to read him further. Your sight traced the curve of his lips and the golden glow of his hair in the suns light. A stray lock of hair rested on his forehead, so delicate and light. He must have known you were staring at it, as he quickly ran his fingers through his hair, taking the loose lock with it.

“Obi Wan” you called to him gently.

He was unphased and still, refusing your call unintentionally. You speak up again, with no reciprocation.

“Obi Wan” you said firmer this time, and placed your hand on his knee, hoping your touch would snap his attention away from himself.

His body jolted slightly, and he blinked himself right out of the funk inside his head. He shook his head before turning to you, visibly traveling back to reality.

“Darling, I’m so sorry” he sighed, looking into your gaze.

“Are you alright?”

“Just have a lot on my mind. Nothing you should worry yourself about” he smiled, playing off his obvious distress. His smile said more to you than most people would recognize. To you, it meant that no matter the mood he was in, looking to you brought him instant happiness.

“You can talk to me. You know that right?” You consoled him.

Obi Wan’s expression changed. He appeared confused.

“Oh no, it’s nothing serious, I promise you” he assured you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. You care too much for me” he tried to hide a flustered smile at how much you worried.

“Of course I care for you, Obi Wan” you said, displeased at his doubt. “I care quite a lot about you”

“And what did I do to deserve compassion from such a wonderful woman?” His voice grew softer while he placed his palm on top of yours that still laid on his knee.

You tried to hide your smile but you were unsuccessful in your attempt. You were without words but your expression said it all. Obi Wan looked into you for a moment before releasing a deep sigh and turning his attention to your hands.

“If you truly wanted to know what’s on my mind, I’ll tell you, but it would only bore you”

“Of course I want to know, hush” you scoffed.

“Well alright...” he began. “Anakin and I have been instructed to think of more effective strategies for our battles in the war. The council told us we need to direct our troopers better. Really, I don’t...I don’t even know what that means. We’ve been incredibly successful, especially recently. We aren’t sure where this is coming from.” He paused to think “Anyhow, its been plaguing my mind to create new plans but I’m just lost with it. Anakin is, as well” he rambled, but you listened to every word he said. Even if you didn’t fully understand what your boyfriend was saying, you were there to support him.

“That doesn’t make sense, Obi Wan. You’re the best general that they have” you praised him. He raised his eyebrows, indicating that he wasn’t so sure of that.

“I hardly think so. But thank you”

“Maybe you should rest. It may help you clear your mind” you suggested warmly. He smiled at you with affection.

“Oh no that’s alright darling. I’ve been doing plenty of resting and meditation. It hasn’t helped much” he began, sounding defeated. “Don’t you worry”

“Okay”

“I’ve been quite distracted as well. That’s only made it harder to relax” he blurted almost hesitantly.

“What’s distracting you?” You pried.

“Just...certain things.” He sounded as if he hinted at something.

“What kind of things?”

“You.”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking of you, a lot, and...its becoming...very distracting” he spat out quickly, hoping that the faster it left his lips, the faster he could pretend he never said it.

Butterflies danced in your tummy and your cheeks were flushed red. He thought of you. To think he thought of you with the extent of being a distraction made your heart skip a beat or two.

“I distract you? What kind of thoughts of me could possibly distract you to this extent, Obi Wan?” You subtly teased him, and hoped he provided the answer you wanted.

“You’re just so...breathtaking. Just watching you walk in a room drives me crazy” he danced around what he wanted. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I see” you purred.

“I just, stars, y/n, I need you” he pleaded softly. A warmth grew inside of you. It had been a while since you two had any intimate time together, you’d both been so busy. It was still a new relationship, and his affection was still very unfamiliar to you, which is why you were so nervous.

You responded without words, but simply a repositioning of your hips into his lap. Straddling his his thighs spread widely on the couch, you pressed yourself into him firmly. His slight arousal was already apparent through the thin of his robes’ fabric.

“I’m all yours, Obi Wan” you whispered against his lips before locking them with his mouth. He vibration transferred from his lips into yours, so eager for your touch.

“Show me that you’re mine now, my love” he breathed into you. You shivered at the seduction of his gruff voice. You grinded into him instantaneously, feeling him grow against you while you did so.

“I can relieve your stress, Obi Wan. If you’ll let me”

“Maker...do as you please with me” he begged of you, his fingers digging into the curves of your waist and pulling you into him. Obi Wan’s words of encouragement turned you on immediately and you noticed the bulge that continued to grow against your heat.

“Just relax my love” you gently breathed as you wrapped your hands over his tensed shoulders and he rolled them back into your grip.

Your hips shifted backward to allow yourself access to his desperate and sensitive core. Your fingers pulled at the hem of his pants in order to release him. Obi Wan gladly lifted his body to shimmy his trousers down slightly. You watched in eager anticipation as his cock was revealed to you. You bit your bottom lip, and you could feel Obi Wan looked intently at you, observing how you watched him and admired his most private region.

“Please...” he whimpered. Impatient for your hands on him, starved of touch beyond comprehension.

“Whatever you wish, Master Kenobi” you whispered against his lips, before pressing them into his again, and slipping your tongue into his mouth. With your eyes closed, your hand navigated to his cock, completely stiff and awaiting your caress.

His body jolted as you wrapped your fingers around his length, applying only slight pressure. As you stroked him gently, Obi Wan pulled away from your lips to release pleasurable sounds from his throat. His head laid back against the sofa and his took in the sensation of your touch. You continued to pump him firmly, responding to how his body leaned into you and the moans he produced.

“Stars, y/n, let me have you, now” he pleaded for the warmth inside you. You could feel the pooled wetness already formed within you, knowing you needed no foreplay to continue with this. Nothing out of the ordinary with him, it never took much to arouse you with Obi Wan, sometimes you questioned if he was subtly using the force on you.

You lifted your gown to your thighs and pulled the thin lace of your panties to the side. He watched you, mentally preparing himself for you and eyeing you like you were his next meal. Inching forward and hovering yourself over his cock, you breathed deeply, heart racing as if you’d never loved him in this way before.

You lowered yourself slowly, never breaking your gaze into his eyes. He whimpered for you to continue and bury him within you. The walls inside you wrapped around him gracefully and a blissful sound escaped you, throwing your head back at this first feeling of being filled for the first time in so long.

“Wait a moment” he requested, pulling your attention from pleasing him. “I just want to look at you” He says before swallowing hard in attempts to continue his patience while your hips are sewn together. “I want to feel you--just like this”. You felt the gentle twitch of his cock within you, as he cherished being warmed and comforted by your body.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered as if there was anyone else in the vicinity. 

Man he knows how to make you putty in his hands, doesn’t he?

Obi Wan nudged you with his fingertips to indicate he wished for you to carry on with your intentions. It was heaven for both of you while your bodies rolled together with unity you formed. Obi Wan breathed out tenderly and his hands trembled against your hips as you guided your sex up his length, adding motion to your effort.

“Oh, darling” he groaned. The sunlight moved into position to highlight his features. Stars, you thought, he looks like an angel. The soft illumination of the evening sun peeking through the windows painted a vivid picture of his facial features, and the expression he displayed as a result of your touch. His eyes shut gently to take in the sensations you provided him. Your palm explored the texture of his robes, still clung to his skin on his chest, never given to chance to be removed.

“Obi Wan” you vocalized sweetly. His eyes peered open to meet yours. He was melting for you while you overtook him. You always made sure to be vocal and responsive in bed with Obi Wan. He often showed you how much he adored your whimpering by pulling you into him or fucking you harder. Today was different. It was your turn to take care of him. Nonetheless, his cock pressed against your most delicate and sensitive spots inside you while you rode him, your moans would be anything but quiet.

“Yes, my love, don’t stop. You make me feel so good, y/n” his hands glided up and down your curves. An array of chills shot down your spine at his caress and you grinded your hips in the same motions that you lifted up and down onto him. You switched to a rotation of your hips that you knew drove him crazy every single time. It was simple, really, but you always used this technique on occasion. You’d raise your hips swiftly, and lower yourself slowly at an angle while grinding down onto him.  His breath hitched suddenly and he grabbed you firmly, pulling you forward and pressing you against his chest. Obi Wan was never great at letting you take over, even when he wanted you to. He liked to take you as his.

Next, Obi Wan made a quick motion that you were unable to process before it was already happening. He lifted you and placed you down onto the sofa, and hovered above you.

“I’m sorry, darling but-” He started “In order to relieve my stress, I want to have you like this...is that alright?” He checked with you, always, never to leave you uncomfortable during your intimate moments. You smirked and nodded your head in approval. Returning his cock to bury inside your pussy, he began to thrust quickly. A moan created by the sensation of this new angle became trapped in your throat finally released with a blissful sigh.

“Obi Wan, I love y-...you” you whispered, piercing your gaze into his eyes. His thrusts halted at your sentiment.

You’d never said that to him before.

But you did. You really did love him.

“Y/n...” his voice broke. His eyes were hopeful.

You wondered if now was the best time to tell him that, but you couldn’t take it back now. You didn’t want to.

He cupped your face with his hand that wasn't supporting himself above you.

“I love you” he smiled through his words. You smiled back, your face pressed against his palm. “More than you know, my darling”

He resumed his thrusting, jolting you both back into a different mindset. Obi Wan’s hips slapped the inside of your thighs repeatedly, putting himself as deep into you as possible, but still barely fitting. You let him set the pace he desired, after all, you still wanted this to be about him.

His moans were so rough and breathy as they crept from his throat. Something about your body causing him to sound so beautiful aroused you tremendously.

You felt the pit of your belly tense while Obi Wan curled his hips into you faster. You were so close to your orgasm.

“Mm, Obi...yes, right there” you pleaded for him to keep his pace.

“Does that feel good, my love?”

“Y-yes it feels so good. I’m gonna cum” you whimpered, desperate for your release.

“Not yet, darling. I want us to cum together”

It would be a challenge to hold it back, but you did, for him. Thankfully for you, it was only seconds later that you heard his moans and whimpering grow louder and choppier, indicating that he was close to his release.

“Stars, y/n, I’m so close”

“Cum inside me, Obi Wan” you purred.

“Are you sure?” He barely managed to say.

With your nod of approval, Obi Wan spilled himself into you followed by his unmuffled sounds that released his sexual buildup as well as his stress buildup. Your close peak reached your core, and washed over you, contracting your walls around him while he came inside you.

“Fuck yes!” You cried, seeing stars with your head thrown back against the sofa.

Obi Wan gripped the back of your neck firmly, but was careful not to hurt you. He was trembling softly as he floated back down. He smirked at you while the two of you attempted to catch your breath. A small chuckle escaped you.

“What is it?” Obi Wan curiously pried into what humored you so suddenly.

“I just...maker, I..I really do love you Obi Wan” you felt the need to repeat these words to him. He needed to know, and you never wanted to stop saying it. He smiled in the way he did before, so warm and inviting.

He sat next to you and placed your head on his lap.

“I love you, too. I always will” 

“Let me know the next time you’re feeling...what was it that you said? ‘Distracted’? or ‘Stressed’?” You teased him.

“Believe me, I will” He giggled with you, before you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother��s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

[icefire149]

30! Deancas, its cold so cas insists on a scarf instead of his tie

Char I'm so sorry this took a million years to write. Work and life kept me extremely busy, and then this lovely fic kept going in a different direction (which seems like a theme in every prompt I tackled). I really hope you enjoy this one, and have a lovely day :D

#30 - I love you mumbled into a scarf

Dean had his head buried so deep in thought about the impala’s winter maintenance that he almost missed the familiar foot steps breezing past in the garage. His eyebrows pressed together as he pulled his head out of the car. “Cas, buddy, where are you going?”

Cas stopped dead in his tracks, and turned on his heels. “Oh, Dean.” His gaze nervously glanced around the garage. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you okay?” Dean leaned against the side of the impala now, and crossed his arms. “You look kinda spooked.”

Cas’ gaze flitted around the car. “Do you happen to have Jack with you?”

“Nah,” Dean answered, scratching the back of his neck. “He went on a grocery run with Sam about a half hour ago.”

“Oh,” Cas exhaled, and visibly relaxed some. “That’s good. He’ll enjoy that greatly.”

“Did you need him?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

Dean walked around the car and stopped closer to Cas. “I’m gonna need more than that. What’s up?”

“I need to go Christmas shopping.”

Shaking his head slowly, Dean blinked. “Are….are we celebrating Christmas this year?”

“I’d like to,” Castiel confessed. “I know you and Sam have your own traditions and this is your home, but I’d like to give Jack his first Christmas since….last year he wasn’t here.”

“Oh.” The word tumbled out of Dean’s mouth. He was going to need time to process every verbal hit Cas pummeled him with. In a daze, he pointed at the impala with his thumb. “Do you want a ride?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Cas answered genuinely surprised. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He was still sorting Cas’ words when he found himself opening the impala’s door.

The angel slid into the front passenger seat, and they were off in the direction of the nearest shopping mall. It wasn’t until they hit their second red light that something finally clicked into place in his brain. “Is that why you tend to disappear around the holidays?” Turning, he kept his eyes on Cas long enough to see the twist in his expression.

“Maintaining customs, holiday traditions in this case are incredibly important to humans. I didn’t want to overstep or interfere.”

“You do realize I leave probably a dozen voice mails the closer it gets to Christmas, right?”

“Yeah, it’s quite irritating having my phone going off so often when I’m trying not to take from your time with Sam.”

“Cas,” Dean said exasperatedly. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but the blaring honk of the car behind him momentarily cut off his train of thought. When traffic settled so did Dean, “I already get enough of Sammy, and I’m sure he’s more than sick of me too, especially around the holidays.”

“Oh.”

“And yeah, I’ve been wanting you to join us….since forever. Seriously.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pained tone in his voice that startled Dean down to his core. He shivered involuntarily. Glancing over at Cas, he saw that the angel had his eyes glued out the window. It bothered Dean not being able to pin down what was bothering Cas. It felt like so much more was hidden in that apology.

Turning back to the road, Dean reached a hand out blindly until it connected with the sleeve of Cas’ coat. “There’s nothing to be that upset about, your heart was in the right place.”

Cas didn’t respond, and Dean didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened it, but spoke with a note of levity. “And how many times do I gotta tell you that the bunker is your home too?”

“Once more, perhaps?”

Dean could feel the constriction in his chest loosen at the faint smile he could hear in Cas’ voice. He shook his head. “Giving Jack a real first Christmas is a great idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it months ago.”

“I think we’ve all been a bit too preoccupied.”

“Yeah.” Dean withdrew his hand and turned the car down the nearest exit. “You’re not wrong.” Basically since Jack was born they’ve been non-stop busy. The past few months in particular were miserable, for all of them.

“I know things aren’t one hundred percent safe with Michael still out there,” Cas started. “But I’m glad that you’ll be home for Christmas. I fear I would’ve ruined Jack’s holiday if you weren’t here.”

“Nah,” Dean argued, feeling his eyebrows pinch together. “My presence shouldn’t make that much of a difference.”

“Dean.” He could feel the angel’s stare sliding under his skin. “I left Jack with Sam so I could chase every whisper, blade, bullet, and trap that might lead to you. And from what I’ve gathered, Sam did much of the same passing Jack off on whoever was willing to keep an eye on him. That wasn’t fair to him, and I’m not proud of my behavior.”

“Hey,” Dean tried cutting through Cas’ frustration with himself. “You had no idea what Sam was gonna do.”

“Jack was never meant to be Sam’s responsibility. I-”

“You did the best you could at the time.” Cas didn’t answer, and Dean couldn’t risk taking his eyes off of traffic in that moment. “I mean it, and besides we’re well past that tunnel now. And we’re gonna give Jack a real Christmas.”

“Thank you.”

Dean hummed in response, and spotted what he was looking for: the sign for the mall. “Don’t tell Sammy, but-” He glanced at Cas’ curious expression. “since we found the bunker, I’ve always wanted to make it look like Christmas threw up all over the place.”

And to Dean’s genuine surprise, Cas laughed. It was happy and light, and when Dean turned for a heartbeat, the image of Cas with his head tilted back was branded into his memory. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “After growing up watching every Christmas special imaginable as a replacement for actually celebrating the holiday normally...I think it’s like making up for lost time if we go overboard.”

Another hearty laugh rocked Cas. “Makes logical sense to me.”

“Besides the kid will get a massive kick out of it.”

“I hope so,” Cas muttered, as the car came to a stop in the parking space.

“Oh trust me, he will,” Dean said throwing an arm behind the back of his seat and turning to face the angel. “Soooo….where to first?”

Cas observed their surroundings before letting his stare rest on Dean. “I’m not sure.”

“Well we can just check out whichever store is closest and work our way around. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Cas smiled softly.

Dean’s hand rested on the door handle, but the movement next to him made him pause. He watched Cas dig a hand into his jacket pockets until he pulled out a long, dark blue scarf. “Traded the tie out for a new accessory?”

The angel snapped his hands to his chest in order to hold the scarf tightly. “It’s new,” he said defensively.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Dean grinned. “Did you go out of your way to buy something the same exact shade as your favorite tie?”

Cas’ eyes trailed down to the fabric between his fingers. “Maybe,” he answered after a short, meditative pause.

“It’s nice,” Dean said pushing his door open. “I was wondering where the tie was today.” He got out of the car and Cas quickly followed him on the other side.

Cas hooked the scarf behind his neck. “It felt redundant.” His expression quickly twisted in frustration as his hands failed to wrap the scarf in a way that would be comfortable.

“Need some help, buddy?”

The angel’s gaze pierced him like a knife, but that didn’t stop Dean from circling around the impala to stop directly in front of Cas. He held his hands out. “Just let….”

Cas’ hands fell to his sides, and the frustration slowly smoothed out of his face. His gaze locked onto Dean’s.

“-me help.” Dean started wrapping the scarf properly so Cas could duck the lower half of his face out of the chilly, winter air whenever he wanted.

There was something magnetic in Cas’ demeanor. As it circled and grew in his eyes, it filled Dean with a soft warmth that drew him a step closer. His skin burned, but on his brother’s life he couldn’t remember in that moment why he would normally never let himself get this close.

Dean could feel the puffs of Cas’ breath caressing his face, sending goosebumps across every inch of his skin. Despite this, he reached forward and finished laying and puffing the scarf up.

The apples of the angel’s cheek’s appeared pinker when Dean’s gaze slid up from the blue fabric that was still caught between his fingers. Cas’ bottom lip twitched for a second, and then he sunk his face into the scarf.

Thoughts slid back into Dean’s head. Louder than ever. The tips of his fingers clung a little tighter to the scarf. This feeling wasn’t new. Everything that had to do with Castiel, it was like a Gordian Knot. There was too much to sort and untangle. The fragile thing they had was too important to him to destroy completely. The solution was simple and staring him in the face, but he’d been teetering on that decision for a decade now.

Before he could move, a simple vibration resounded up his fingertips. And before Dean could ask what the angel had said, Cas broke the moment.

His hands slowly and shakily unhooked Dean’s grip, lowering them. The scarf slid down Cas’ face as he momentarily glanced around the parking lot. Dean quickly forgot about the brief indescribable look in the angel’s stare, when a glimpse of Cas’ teeth caught his eye.

The tension eased in Cas’ shoulders. He released Dean’s hands with a widening smile. “Let’s go. I’m not sure what would be suitable for a Christmas tree. Any ideas?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, losing himself in this new moment. “We’ll have to go elsewhere and grab your truck, but I have several ideas.”

The prompt was from this list. I'm not expecting any more prompts from this one, but if there's one you really want me to try please ask! (and specify the prompt list).

[midgardianweasley]

Teach me

Teach me. 

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: After multiple failures at making breakfast, Natasha decides to teach her girlfriend one of the basics.

Word Count: 1.3k

Have a 3am fic that’s not been proofread at all<3

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

beep! beep! beep! 

The fire alarm sounded. Again. 

This was the third morning in a row that the irritating high pitched alarm went off, alerting everyone in the compound, and most likely the next town over, that yet again, you were cooking breakfast.

Well, ‘cooking’ was a generous term. It was probably more accurate to say that you were simply attempting to heat food without burning down the entire building where it stands. That said, you quickly grabbed the metal lid abandoned on the side of the counter and threw it onto the pan, containing the flames that were rapidly getting out of hand. 

You were only trying to cook some bacon. 

“Y/L/NNNN!” You cringed at the all too familiar voice of a certain Stark making his way down the hall. 

“I swear to God if you’ve broken my toaster again!” He appeared in the doorway within seconds, still in his pyjamas and his hair tousled. He raised his eyebrows, pointing at the pan you were so innocently standing in front of, expecting an explanation for why he was being woken up yet again by your antics. 

“Your toaster is perfectly fine!” 

“Well then what have you broken?” 

“I haven’t broken anything! It was just a little fire.” 

His eyes visibly widened, if his face moved an inch, they would’ve popped out. “A fire?!” 

“Well, yeah, but look! it’s fine! I covered it!” 

More footsteps jogged up behind a stressed Tony, revealing themselves to be Steve and Natasha, your girlfriend, who knew fine well the reason behind yet another heated discussion. Literally.

“What’s going on?” The supersoldier kitted out in his gym gear asked, completely unknowing of the scene unfolding in front of him.

“What happened, Cap, is that someone is disturbing my beauty sleep.” He glared at you, only partly serious.

“Now c’mon Tony, we all know you’re a beautiful man.” the redhead piped up, giving him a famous Romanoff smirk while giving you a subtle side-eyed wink. 

Tony rolled his eyes, looking between you, the pan, Steve and Natasha, and back to you again. You tried to give him the most guilt-free smile you could muster, eyes pleading for him to not throw you into next week.

Your prayers must’ve been answered, a defeated sigh left his lips, turning towards the door to walk out. “Natasha.” 

“Yes?” 

“Please help your girlfriend and make sure she doesn’t blow herself up.” 

She looked amused, clearly using every ounce of her strength to not laugh at the situation at hand as a grown man slumped away back down the hall like an exhausted toddler. 

Steve placed a steady hand on Nats shoulder. “I’m going to try and get some more training in before my run with Sam, you got this?” 

“I’m sure I can handle this” she turned to see you looking at all the different buttons and dials on the oven, turning and pressing them with a furrowed brow. “I hope.” 

Steve chuckled lightly before returning to his gym session, leaving the pair of you alone in the now slightly clouded kitchen. 

Natasha walked towards you, you were still completely oblivious to her as you were messing with the oven. You jumped a little as her hands fell to your waist, surprised at the sudden yet firm grip on your body. 

Resting her head in the crook of your neck and tugging your body back into hers, moulding perfectly together, she placed small, delicate kisses to your sensitive skin, causing you to quietly giggle at her actions. 

“Hi baby” She whispered in between her pecks, a sly smile plastered on her face. 

“Hi ‘Tasha” 

“Would you care to explain why my darling girl is setting fire to-“ she moved to pull the lid off of the pan, only being met with some form of charred..something. “Uhm, help me out, what is this?” 

“It was bacon” You mumbled, embarrassed a little at your failed attempt at breakfast.

Trying to hide her laughter, her head fell back into your neck. She thought she was being clever, but you could feel her body vibrating with suppressed snorts and chuckles, the reaction being contagious as you started to laugh too, your head falling to the side to rest on hers. 

After calming down a little, she tapped your waist and pulled back, a frown appearing on your face instantly from the lack of body heat from your girlfriend. Turning to face her, you were ready to protest about how you wanted more hugs, but instead a green fabric was shoved into your hands. 

“That’s an apron, darling.” 

“I know! but why are you handing me it?” She tied the knot behind her back with ease, hands landing straight on her hips afterwards.

“because the day has finally come.”

“Oh no.” 

“Yep. We’re making eggs, i’m teaching you. Apron up.” 

_____________________

It had 30 minutes, and you were still attempting to get one omelette served onto the very empty plate beside you. Timing it was one thing, but flipping it was another. To be completely honest, you were surprised you even managed to get to this stage considering the amount of eggs you had to crack to have enough to form an omelette. Or something resembling one. 

“Right, just a few more seconds and then we’re going to flip this, okay?” 

“Can’t you do it? I’m hopeless.” You huffed, getting frustrated with the repetitiveness of cracking eggs, whisking them, frying them, flipping them and you’d say serving them, but you had no experience of that yet. 

“You’re not hopeless, Y/N. You’ve got this, It’s just a flick of the wrist, not a twist of the arm, like this” Natasha stood behind you once more, her fingertips tracing your bare arms lightly before stilling over yours, her back pressed against you and her arms pressed tightly on either side of you. 

“I feel like you’re teaching me golf.” 

“I mean, yeah, same teaching technique, but don’t swing the spatula.” She gave you a knowing look, warning you to not get any eggs stuck on the ceiling, leaving there no chance in hell to get it back down. 

She guided you to move the utensil under the half cooked omelette, shuffling it slightly so there was no part of it stuck to the pan. 

“You ready?” 

“Nope.”

“Great” 

And with one movement, she lifted both of your hands, and nudged them to turn over, ultimately flipping the egg so that you could see how instead of it being black and crumbly, it was a nice toasted brown with some patches of yellow still. 

“See? you did it! Not a burnt egg in sight!” She threw her hands up in celebration, the gesture would’ve made you feel silly if you weren’t focusing on her upturned lips and the pride sparkling in her eyes. 

“Well, the night is still young.” 

“it’s morning my love” 

“..You know what I meant.” You slapped her arm teasingly, both of you unable to keep the smiles off of your faces. Within a minute, Natasha had pulled your face to hers, lips dancing against yours in a loving kiss that eventually turned into a makeout when she slipped her tongue past your lips and tangling with yours. 

Neither of you had any idea how long you both stood there for, completely entranced by one another, lost in your own little world. Fortunately, you had a lovely indication of how long you’d been kissing for. 

beep! beep! beep! 

“Y/L/N! ROMANOFF!” 

You both hung your heads, foreheads not breaking apart as you did so, bracing yourselves for the famous Tony Stark lecture storming your way.

“You’re taking the fall for this one, Romanoff.” 

“If I go down, you’re coming with me.” 

“Yeah, right”

She wasn’t lying. 

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