#...it is TORTURE to push yourself down in order to convince others we are worthy of their love believe me it is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

Reminiscing

Warnings - tooth rotting fluff... And smut. Obvs. Bit of a Daddy Kink thrown in cuz why the hell not?

Taglist (message me to be added!)

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @janelongxox @being-worthy

You sat in the large armchair, in the big bay window of your Dublin home, blanket over your legs, as you immersed yourself in the latest John Grisham novel. Your husband was out, dropping his sons off back at their mum's after spending the weekend with you. You couldn't help but pinch yourself on a regular basis. Gorgeous husband, amazing young stepsons, even Cillians ex-wife, Lisa, was someone you considered a close friend - the split had been amicable, and she'd encouraged her sons with Cillian to welcome you with open arms. You even met her for lunch a few times a month, much to Cillian's surprise. He was more concerned the two of you were comparing notes than anything else!

Hearing the front door open and close, he smiled as he re-entered the room. Leaning over to kiss your lips, he sank down onto the sofa and picked his own book up from the coffee table.

"How was Lisa?" You asked, taking a sip of your coffee.

"Good - she said she'd call you later, something about a girls night out next week."

"Sounds fun - I'm up for that." You nestled down snug in the chair and continued your chapter. You could feel his eyes looking your way, and smiled internally. You loved the way he just watched you when he thought you couldn't see.

The way your legs hung over the chair, blanket covering your lower half. He smiled, remembering the day you met at the aftershow party for his latest play in Dublin. He was hesitate to go, but the director had convinced him. You were the director, Enda Walsh's niece, and you'd gone along to support your uncle's latest stage production. You knew who Cillian was of course, not that it bothered you. Working as a stagehand part time at the theatre in your teens, you'd met plenty of famous people over the years and frankly most of them were arrogant idiots with egos the size of Jupiter. Cillian was different though. Down to earth, sweet, kind, normal. Neither of you particularly looking for love, but sometimes it happens in the most unlikely of places.

Flashback

"Cillian, this my niece y/n. Y/n, this is Cillian, the star of the show!" Enda introduced the two of you and Cillian smiled, leaning forward to embrace you softly and kiss your cheek.

"I've heard so much about you y/n, nice to put a face to the name." You couldn't help but feel butterflies looking into those blue eyes, and without you realising at the time, Cillian felt exactly the same about yours. You'd spent most of the evening from that point talking about the theatre and what you each loved about it - from the lighting and production side to the audience reactions during the live show itself. You'd seen Cillian in the show three times, you'd been mesmerised by his performance, but this was the first time you'd met him.

The music changed as the night was drawing to a close. A slower number, and the other cast members and production team all took their respective partners to the dance floor. You were both now sat pretty much alone - clearly the only single people in the room!

"Would you like to dance?" Cillian asked, sheepishly. It suddenly felt a little awkward. You looked at him surprised, but found yourself nodding as he offered you his hand and led you to the dance floor. You could feel your uncle's stare as Cillian placed one hand on your waist and took your hand with his other, both of you gently swaying to the music. He was a smooth dancer, never missing a step. No toes clashing together, and the awkwardness melted away as you looked into each others eyes. The rest of the room suddenly becoming an afterthought.

"I've really enjoyed talking to you tonight y/n."

"Me too, you're not like the other actors. You're... Normal!" You giggled lightly.

"I'm boring, you mean?" He laughed in response, you could feel his fingers caressing your waist softly as you continued to sway.

"How'd you feel about dinner one night? We can talk more about how boring we both are?" That smile again.

"You're on. He pulled you a little closer, your cheeks inches apart. He desperately wanted to kiss you there and then but with your uncle a mere few feet away he didn't dare. He knew you were 28 to his 40, and he wasn't sure how his friend would react to it.

"You two seemed to be getting on well?" Enda approached you after the party, and he couldn't help but notice the glow around you after your dance with Cillian. He'd gone to the bathroom.

"He's a nice guy Uncle E, we have a lot in common."

"You know he's 40, and has two kids, right?"

"Uncle -"

"Cillian! So you're taking my niece out for dinner are you?" He returned from the men's room and froze.

"Um.. I..."

"I'm kidding... God you're too easy to wind up!! Have fun!!" Both of you audibly sighed in relief.

"He's an ass..." You smiled as Cillian offered you his arm to link into.

"I have a car outside, I'll drop you home?" You nodded, taking his arm.

You both sat in the back, the driver being given your home address as Cillian pushed the visor up between the driver and you. Privacy. He took your hand, leaning back and kissed the back of it gently. You smiled - your first kiss, but not where you wanted it.

"He can't see us, right?" You asked. He nodded and pulled you closer to him. "So..." Leaning toward you slowly, he gently ran a thumb over your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. You returned the kiss. His mouth opening slightly to gain access to yours, your tongues soon met. It quickly became heated before Cillian pulled away.

"You wanna go home?"

"You want me to go home?"

"Nope."

"Then I'm not going home." Cillian pulled the visor down and told him you were both going back to his house instead before pulling you back against his lips.

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

The memories of that first night were as clear as if it had happened only yesterday, not two years ago. It was so good that you both often got yourselves off to the thought of it when Cillian was away working. Two years on and your lives were simply idyllic.

He made his way over to you in the chair and kneeled down next to you, running a hand under your summer dress and squeezing your thigh.

"You know, I've been thinking..." He leaned closer to your ear, making you squirm. He knew the effect his voice had on you and he played on it daily.

"Dangerous..." You smirked, and he responded by tracing kisses up your back, his hand still teasing under your dress, over your now damp underwear.

"All this house.. and just the two of us.. seems a waste, don't you think?" His fingers gently moving your panties aside and slipping between your folds. Instinctively you opened your legs, granting him access.

"Hmmm....." Your hips rising slightly to meet his fingers. "Are you saying you want a dog, Cillian.."

"Funny, y/n... No.." his fingers were torturing you, caressing everywhere except where you needed him to be.

"Wanna fill me with your baby do you daddy?"

"Hmm.. call me that again..." He smiled, his erection now painfully pushing against his jeans as he dipped a finger inside you.

"Do we have a Daddy Kink, Cillian? Does making me full of your baby turn you on?" You tried to retain composure as a second finger entered you, his hand now pushing them in and out slowly.

"Fuck... Stand up." He ordered and he immediately pulled the dress over your head and your underwear down. Swiftly followed by his own clothing, before he lay you down on the sofa.

"Guess we won't be needing a condom for this then... Fuck me daddy - give me a baby..."

"Coming right up..." He kneeled back down next to you and parted your perfect legs, before sinking two fingers back inside, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It wasn't long before you were writhing under his touch, calling his name as you came hard against his hand. He moved over you, quickly turning you over so your pert behind was up in the air and you were gripping the arm of the sofa in hot anticipation. He pushed inside, feeling you for the first time without a barrier - no other contraception had suited you, so you'd stuck with condoms - and he groaned as he filled you completely.

"Jesus... God yes.. right there Daddy...." He picked up the pace at your words, thrusting into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck this is tight baby... I'm not gonna last long like this..."

"Fill me up Daddy.. make me pregnant.. give me your baby..." He couldn't hold back after that, and came hard, filling you and sending you into your second orgasm. Breathing heavy, he stayed in until he was completely spent - not daring to waste a drop.

"Lay on your back y/n... Legs in the air.." you did as he asked, confused. "Helps the whole process apparently."

"So you meant it then?" You smiled as he knelt beside you again, swirling a hand over your belly.

"What, that I want to see the love of my life's body swell with my baby inside? Damn right I meant it y/n.. nothing would make me happier than a baby with you." You were grinning now, as he leaned in to kiss you.

"Love you Cill."

"Love you more mama." The sound of him calling you that made your heart swell. You couldn't wait to hear your baby call it you too.

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x daddy kink

158 notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Sixteen)

Ughhhh Tissues Needed

Also Generic WS-typical warning for mentions of slightly torture-y things

MASTERLIST HERE

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

“Sir, could I remind you that use of this particular suit results in more wear on the arc reactor? With numbers pushing 70%, surely you don’t want to risk it?”

Tony called James from the suit as it blasted towards Washington D.C., ignoring the warning numbers on the screen as the arc reactor surged to maintain the suits demand for power and the projected poison levels in his blood climbed higher.

“Tony?”

Just hearing James’s voice made Tony’s resolve falter, and he was glad he’d programmed in the auto pilot for D.C. as the need to turn around and forget what he’d learned, forget about Project Resurrection and the Ghost Protocol climbed strangling up his throat.

“Hey.” he tried for bright, but was afraid it only came out miserable. “Why don’t you fly out to DC tonight? Have Pepper come with you in the jet. I have to get to a meeting that’s taken about three years to arrange, so I took a suit.”

“I can just wait till you get home again, sugar.” Happy called something in the background and James laughed and the sound almost killed Tony. “What sorta meeting was so important it took three years to set up?”

“Nothing you should worry about.” Tony lied. “But it would be fun to have dinner in D.C. or something, right? I’d like to see you tonight.”

James’s voice got soft, “Dunno how I feel about getting back into D.C. but I’d like to see you tonight too. You feeling better? Last night you were real tired.”

“I’m feeling better.” Tony promised and he’d never lied so much in his life. “Let me know when you guys land and I’ll send a car for you. See you soon?”

“See you real soon, sweet thing.”

********

From Rhodey: Pep says you’re in D.C.? If you aren’t sucking face with soldier boy, let’s get dinner.

From Tony: Only if it’s one of those giant steak eating places.

From Rhodey: Tones, last time we ate at one of those I threw up for three days.

From Tony: And you were gorgeous the entire time.

From Rhodey: I hate you

From Tony: Smooches!

It was so damn easy to lie over text message, maybe that was how Tony should handle every conversation from now until 100%.

It was warm out, but Tony still wore a long sleeve to hide the handcuff on his wrist that attached to the briefcase at his side. Eventually--if he had time-- he was going to tap the tech into a watch that would form into a gauntlet and then a suit from there but for now he had to carry the admittedly stylishly packaged armor at his side.

JARVIS was right, using the suit took more energy than the other ones simply because it assembled in place instead of using robotics to piece together around him, but it had been worth it to get to D.C. so quickly...

...and it would be worth it tonight if everything went right and he needed to leave. If everything fell into place the way it should, but the way Tony kept secretly hoping it wouldn’t, he would leave and not take anyone with him so the suit was perfect.

Perfectly like a prison he kept willingly locking himself into and wasn’t that a piece of poetry worthy of writing down or at the very least making into a tragic movie or maybe he could request it got put in his biography because there should be at least one true thing amidst all the crap they were going to write about Tony Stark.

At least one line should be truth, even if everything else was written by people who had never known him at all.

But he shouldn’t think about that. Not yet. Not at only seventy percent, he had another ten maybe fifteen percent before he had to think about a biography, right?

Right?

Christ, it was getting hard to think.

The SHIELD headquarters were ostentatious and ugly, an eyesore at the banks of the river and a clear warning to anyone who thought to look twice at the city and dare to take a shot. The Pentagon might house the dressed up generals who gave out orders, but SHIELD was the real power behind the United States Government right now.

The ugly building housed all the best minds, all the best weaponry, and spoke of a clearly visible statement Director Fury and Secretary Pierce had been less and less subtle about in the past few years-- Fuck. Off. America is done playing nice.

Not that Tony blamed them for being so blatantly bold. There was no need to be subtle when there was an actual legendary super soldier leading the charge to protect America’s interests both at home and abroad, right?

Tony and Fury met in a little cafe along the river, the eatery quiet and unobtrusive in a way that was meant to be as visibly invisible as possible. There was nothing particularly interesting about the staff or their uniforms, the menu didn’t boast anything that would garner extra attention, there was never a chalkboard out front with a gimmick or sale to draw pedestrians in to try a daily special.

It was the sort of cafe someone either went to as a habit, or never even noticed on their commute and it was exactly the sort of cafe where Nick Fury preferred to get his tuna melt sandwich.

“Well this is quaint and terrible.” Tony sat down across from Fury with suitcase settled between his feet and sunglasses firmly on his face. “What happened to high profile business meetings at steakhouses, or at the very least good greasy pizza? And are you eating a tuna melt? With a fork?”

“Contrary to what you might believe, my Ma didn’t raise a heathen.” Fury was a sight to behold in his trademark trench coat, intimidating eye patch and somehow more intimidating single eye, a napkin tucked neatly at his collar and a knife and fork held daintily to cut his sandwich into bite sized pieces. “And this isn’t as good as hers used to be, but it does just fine for our conversation today.”

“Alright then.” Tony motioned to the waiter, and pointed towards Fury’s plate. “Could I have the same thing please? Make mine with pickles.”

“You’re pushing it.” Fury warned. “You don’t disrespect a sandwich by putting pickles on it.”

“Ma’am, would you make that extra pickles please?”

“Damn you, Stark.”

“Don’t tell me how to eat a sandwich and I won’t tell you to not do all of--” Tony made a vague motion to encompass all of Fury’s look. “--all of this. You look like the Grim Reaper.”

“And you look like a man the Grim Reaper isn’t too far from visiting.” Fury stabbed his fork at Tony bluntly. “Lookin’ like chicken shit these days, Stark. What’s going on?”

“Nothing that matters.” Tony waved off the Director’s sarcastic concern. “I need to talk to you about two things and then we can move on.”

The Director made a ‘go ahead’ motion and went back to eating. Tony watched the knife and fork dissection of a perfectly respectable tuna melt for a moment and then stated, “I don’t trust Pierce. I went to his party a few weeks ago and got a real sketchy vibe from him.”

“Uh-huh.” Fury nodded. “And?”

“And since you have the whole all seeing eye thing going on, I thought you’d want to know.” Tony smiled up at the waitress when she brought him the sandwich, and with eyes firmly on Fury, took a huge bite and crunched deliberately through the pickles. “How do you feel about him lately?”

“I feel like the world’s most reckless billionaire should be more concerned about the effects all that poisoning is having on your complexion and less about what those of us in trench coats are doing.” Fury wiped his mouth and pointed over his shoulder to someone Tony couldn’t see. “Brace yourself, Stark.”

“Brace myself for wha---OW!” Tony jumped when a needle jammed into his neck, delivered courtesy of one rather spandexy clad Natalie Rushman. “Christ! Natalie, what the fuck!?”

“I forgot you still think her name is Natalie.” Fury pushed his plate away and then dragged a chair over for the redhead. “Tony Stark, meet Natasha Romanov. Former KGB agent, former Russian Foreign Intelligence Service, former traitor to that particular country and defector to this one, and currently my favorite agent at SHIELD.”

Tony rubbed at his neck a few times and scowled at Fury, then over at Natalie/Natasha. “Former KGB? That was dismantled in ‘91, and you’re only twenty four. Nice try.”

“You do pass for a very convincing twenty four, Tasha.” Fury took a sip of his water. “In fact Mr. Stark, Natasha here is an absolute beauty at the ripe old age of--”

“--you tell him I’m a day over thirty and I’ll cut your tongue out.” Natasha said coolly, and Tony blanched but Fury didn’t so much as blink. “Tony, I just gave you a shot of lithium dioxide. It’s not going to solve anything with the palladium, but it’s going to temporarily slow down the effects so you can focus. I know you’ve been struggling with it for a while, there’s no other way to explain how scattered you’ve been.”

“First you stab me, then you insult me? You are fired.” Tony breathed in slow and purposeful, then out again when his headache started to ease thanks to the hypodermic hit to the neck. “Warn a fella before you shank him, is this foreplay to you scary spandex types?”

Natasha gave him one of those always consistently enigmatic smirks and Tony accused, “How’d you get here so fast? Pretty sure Pepper told me you two were shopping today. In fact, I’m pretty sure she took the jet to Vegas just to spend a gross amount of money.”

“The moment you hung up with Director Fury I excused myself from Ms. Potts and headed towards D.C from Vegas.” Natasha held up her hand to stop the next words from Tony. “And yes, I know there’s no civilian aircraft that could possibly get me to D.C. faster than your suit would, but you left an hour or so after me and also, as everyone is now aware, I am not a civilian.”

Still literally and figuratively wounded from the jab to the neck, Tony only huffed at the redhead and went back to eating because honestly, a new secretary turning out to be a secret spy wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened. At least she was on their side, right? Later Tony could get a little hysterical about having a former KGB agent helping him pick out ties, but for right now, he had other things on his mind.

“Alright then. Ms. Romanov. How do you feel about Secretary Pierce?”

“I don’t think that’s the question you’ve come to ask.” Natasha deflected, green eyes glittering curiously. “So ask the other one.”

“Okay I will.” Tony put his sandwich down and pleated the napkin between his fingers until it tore. “How long have the two of you known the hundred year old prisoner of war Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was camping out in my house in Malibu?”

“If it makes you feel any better?” Director Fury shrugged. “We just thought he was the Winter Soldier. Wasn’t one hundred percent on the Barnes angle until recently.”

“The Winter Soldier.” Tony repeated, and this time his mind snapped into place with out the stuttered click click click of trying to process. It was almost like being him again and even though Tony knew the lithium oxide was a poison all in itself, he was already wondering how many shots of it he could take to remain lucid up until the end. “Ghost assassin from the sixties and seventies, silver arm, once thought to be Steve Rogers risen from the ice and back to seek revenge. It was James, instead. Product of Hydra experimentation, amiright?”

“And then some.” Fury nodded. “When Project Resurrection came to be and the Captain woke up, he asked for his best pal Bucky and then his best gal Peggy in exactly that order. SHIELD had been aware of the Winter Soldier for decades, but we couldn’t have imagined the connection to the missing Sergeant Barnes. The Captain saw a surveillance photo, said he’d recognize that scowl anywhere, and went off half feral trying to track him down.”

“Half-feral.” Tony glanced between the two of them. “Captain America. Are you serious?”

“I spent almost two years at his side.” Natasha spoke up. “Half feral is an understatement. I’ve never seen a man so determined to burn the world down if it meant finding his friend.”

“Two years.” Fury echoed. “And then just over a year ago, a few months before Stane engineered your trip to Afghanistan, the Winter Soldier dropped off the map. Guess Hydra got tired of having their spots blown to shit or something like that, decided to cut their losses and run.”

Tony only blinked and Fury explained, “Turns out the Captain isn’t exactly the aw shucks good ol boy those posters made him out to be. Anything that stood in the way of finding his Bucky went up in flames, and the man didn’t care if anyone was left inside. On more than one occassion, Romanov went into the rubble herself because the Captain wouldn’t do it. It was a wasted effort though, there were never any survivors.”

Tony looked around and then lowered his voice. “Captain America let people die like that?”

“Not the aw shucks good ol boy we all thought.” The Director repeated. “Never seen a man so angry in my life when we lost the Soldier. Definitely never could have predicted you’d show up with him as your date at a few high profile event. I see a lot.” Fury pointed to his one good eye. “But even I didn’t see that coming.”

“Does the Captain know about James?”

“We thought it was best to feel out the situation and see if we were dealing with the Winter Soldier or if we were actually seeing Sergeant Barnes.” Fury hedged. “Wanted to be sure we weren’t going to walk into a situation with a still activated super assassin when from all appearances, he’s just a nice kid with some memory loss situations. Captain Rogers isn’t the sort to knock and ask to come in, he would have brought that fancy Malibu house of yours down into the ocean trying to get his friend.”

“That seems a little over the top, but--”

“--but you’ve never been seventy years out of your own time looking for the one person in the world who can understand what you’ve been through.” Natasha interrupted. “I’m telling you, there isn’t anything that would stop the Captain from trying to get to his Bucky.”

“His Bucky.” Tony echoed faintly. “Is that so?”

“I’ve been watching James for several weeks now.” Natasha’s voice dipped in sympathy when Tony’s face flickered with misery. I don’t think he remembers anything about his time as the Winter Soldier, but you’re closer to him. What do you think? Do you think he knows who he was?”

“No way.” Tony denied tiredly. “James doesn’t know anything. Not his last name, nothing about technology or recent history. He panicked about using too many eggs the other day and now that I know what I still can’t fucking believe I know... it makes sense. In some weird way, everything I know about James makes perfect sense now.”

“So Sergeant Barnes doesn’t remember anything before he showed up in D.C.?”

“Nothing at all.” Tony said adamantly. “He remembers waking up beneath a bridge and then everything’s a blur for a while and he’s not sure how much time passed. He thinks he lived a year in D.C. before meeting me, but he doesn’t know anything beyond that.”

“That could be for the best.” Natasha muttered, and Fury nodded.

“Well you can be sure we will be keeping an eye on the situation.” the waitress came by for the plates and Fury waited until she was gone before mentioning oh so casually, “I have something that belongs to you, by the way. Your dad left it in storage along with instructions to give it to you when you were ready.”

“I have everything I want of Howard’s and none of it’s worth anything at all.” Tony shook his head. “Forget about it, I want to meet the Captain.”

“You’re going to want this.” Fury countered, and pulled up a photo on his phone. “The real thing is about ten times heavier than anything I’d ever want to life, but take a look at it anyway.”

“I’ve seen this.” Tony barely glanced at the picture. “It’s Dad’s diorama model of the Stark Expo. I used to race my cars up and down the roads until he screamed at me to stop. Why would I want a giant piece of cardboard that holds so many shitty memories for me?”

“I don’t know why you want it.” Fury put his phone away again. “And I don’t know why Howard wanted you to have it. Something about how you’d see the design when no one else could, and how he wouldn’t ever have access to the tools necessary to make it a reality, but you’d probably be the one to invent the technology to make it happen.”

“That’s nice.” Tony pulled out a couple twenties and dropped them on the table to cover the bill. “Put it in the mail and I’ll open it when I get back to Malibu. I’m feeling normal for the first time since Afghanistan and I’m not going to waste it on some homework from beyond the grave. Take me to see the Captain.”

“He’s going to be cranky.” Fury tried one last time to stall the stubborn billionaire. “He doesn’t really sleep much, and since losing track of the Soldier, I don’t think he sleeps more than a few hours a week. Maybe you don’t show up as your patented brand of asshole, huh?”

“I do what I want.” Tony stood up and patted the Director on the shoulder. “I’ll see you and Mrs. Super Spy later on. We should talk about Pierce.”

“I know what you’re doing Stark.” Fury said then, and Tony paused. “You’re getting everything set up so when that poison kills you off, your boytoy is set with someone he knows and loves.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“I’d say it’s admirable, but really I think it’s cowardly.” Fury shrugged. “You’re doing all this without even trying to fight, without figuring out a way to beat it. Gonna sign ye olde master assassin over to the Man with a Plan and then jet off somewhere dramatic to die. Cowardly way out.”

“I’ve exhausted all my options.” Tony said flatly. “I’ve tried everything over and over and nothing works. Now my option is to make sure the people I care about can keep on going with out me. How is that cowardly?”

“This might shock you, but the world will keep turning without Tony Stark in it.” the Director retorted, and Tony shot back, “Yeah well, at least this way it keeps turning with my loved ones well taken care of. Send the address to my phone please, I’ve got a star spangled super soldier to meet.”

Natasha sent a text with directions to Tony’s phone, and after Tony had stalked out and hailed a cab, she turned to ask Fury, “Why does he want to talk about Pierce?”

“Don’t you worry about Pierce.”

“Director--”

“Ms. Romanoff, I am already dealing with Secretary Pierce. Don’t you worry.”

“Do you really think he’s being cowardly?”

“I think if Tony Stark wasn’t so tired of living in pain, he’d realize he could just invent something new to cure himself.” Fury stated. “I watched his dad create scientific miracles out of every day things. Watched his Auntie Peggy create unbreakable codes based on her knitting patterns. He’s been so obsessed with being Iron Man that he’s forgotten he’s Tony Stark. If anyone can fix what is literally killing them, its a Stark. Hell, he did it once in a cave with a box of scraps. He should damn well be able to do it in a state of the art lab.”

Natasha’s lips tipped up at the corner. “You like him.”

“I think he’s a spoiled brat with a small man complex.” Fury picked up the dessert menu. “But I think our world is a lot better off with him in it, so yeah. I’d appreciate if he didn't keel over and die.”

“You like him.”

“You’re pushing it, Romanov.”

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

It was fifteen minutes to a low rise apartment building, three flights up stairs and then down a long hallway until Tony could raise his hand and knock at the door of a piece of American history

Two knocks and then three more just because Tony was impatient even on his best days and today was not one of his best days.

Besides, when else would he have the chance annoy an actual living Smithsonian relic by knocking too many times at their--

“Can I help you?” The door swung open to Big and Blond and Patriotic, deep blue eyes and a square jaw, ruggedly handsome in a way that the old posters and pictures had never come close to capturing, and the sort of bulging All American Muscles that belonged on a Lumberjack’s Weekly pin up calendar.

Holy Spangles, Batman. Tony thought, and then grinned internally because that hit to the neck might have hurt but at least it had given him back Grade-A witty one liners. Thank you, Ms. Rushman-Romanov.

“Captain Steven Rogers.” he finally dragged his eyes away from the muscles and up to the piercing gaze. “It's nice to officially meet you. Name’s Tony Stark, long time fan, first time fanboy. How are you?”

“Tony Stark.” Captain Rogers extended a hand big enough to cover Tony’s entire face. “Howard’s boy, isn’t that right? Director Fury has mentioned you a few times. Figures you’d know about me being awake, though I’m a little surprised it took you this long to track me down. Howard wasn’t exactly the patient, subtle type and Fury made it seem like you inherited all those qualities as well.”

Tony blinked, and Captain Rogers grimaced. “Ah. Sorry. That came out worse than I intended. I’ve never been quite as charming as those old movies like to pretend I was.”

“No that’s--” Tony blinked again. “It’s fine. It’s actually a little hilarious-- um--”

“I was real sorry to hear about your parents passing.” The Captain’s blue eyes dimmed in sympathy. “I didn’t know your Ma, but despite me and Howard’s differences, we worked together for several years. He was a good man.”

“He was an asshole even on his best days.” Tony finally found his words, and offered a smile to his childhood nemesis hero. “But that doesn’t change the good work he did, so thanks. And yes, I inherited all of his less than charming traits and created a few more of my own which is why I’ve known about you and Project Resurrection for a few years now but just couldn't muster the interest to give a damn.”

“Any by the way, if you were a brunette, I’d be charming your pants off.” Tony winked because he couldn’t stop himself from flirting with an American icon. “But you’re blond, so consider yourself safe from my efforts. That and it’s hard to think sexy thoughts about the literal embodiment of the American flag.”

Good God, even the Captain’s laugh was patriotic, head thrown back and a hand over his heart like he was pledging allegiance to hilarity and Tony looked away to hide an answering grin. Shit, he didn’t want to like Steve Rogers, he had spent his entire life trying to measure up to the bastard, he didn’t want to be making friends when they had more important things to talk about.

“If it makes you feel any better?” Captain Rogers was still cheesing a grin. “Under all that patriotism I’m just a loudmouth Brooklyn kid with a big mouth and not a single shred of self preservation.”

“Eh.” Tony made a show of shrugging. “You’re still blond. I tend to prefer them brunette--”

--he hesitated, then pulled out the picture of he and James together at the redwoods. “--And smolderingly intense in a scary ex soldier sort of way. You know the type?”

All laughter fell away in an instant, the surprisingly easy conversation Tony hadn’t expected to find with Captain Rogers ground to a halt, the smile on the big blond’s face wiped away as quickly as it had appeared.

“I took that in the redwoods last week.” Tony actually took a step backwards when powerful shoulders squared up and one of those massive hands closed into a fist. “Me and James-- we’ve been living together the last couple months. Figured it’s high time you and he got together again, you know?”

“James.” The Captain’s throat jerked when he swallowed. “Not Bucky. He goes by James now?”

“James is the only name he knows.” Tony watched him carefully for any sign of what might be rage, but there was only heartbreak on the rugged features. “We’ve been looking for answers into his past, but it wasn’t until early this morning I came across a family link and traced it backwards. You can bet I was surprised as hell to find myself looking at a picture of you two when the facial recognition software finally pinged him.”

“I see.” The picture shook in the Captain’s fingers and nearly tore between his grip. “Mr. Stark--”

“Call me Tony.”

“Tony. I think you’d better come inside.”

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

The apartment housing the Greatest American Soldier was sparse to the point of being bare, clean to the point of being sterile, and warm enough that Tony broke into a sweat just walking through the door.

“Sheesh, Captain.” Tony undid a few buttons at his collar. “Tropical, much?”

“Sorry, I’ll turn it down.” The Captain really was massive, had to turn sideways to get down the narrow hall and to the thermometer. “I uh-- I’m always cold, you know?”

Tony waited with a raised eyebrow and Captain Rogers pursed his lips, shoved both hands into his pockets self consciously. “I did seventy years in the ice, Tony. That’s the sort of chill that gets into your bones. Into your soul. I’m always cold. Can’t seem to shake it.”

“I can fix that.” Tony spoke before thinking, the words eerily similar to his very first thought about James. Was it the super soldier thing that drove him to offer help? Or just the countdown and toxicity monitor and desperately tallying marks on the good karma side so maybe it would get him into heaven?

“I can fix that.” he said again. “I’d think a super soldier would run hot because of your metabolism, so the cold is probably psychosomatic and a weighted blanket or even a sweater with heavier threads might take care of it. People equate weight with warmth, and being covered with being safe so if you let me get some sizes I could have my AI run some programs and figure out a material that could--”

He stopped when the big blond just looked at him. “Sorry, Captain. I tend to ramble. Alot.”

“Call me Steve.” the Captain went for some water and handed a bottle to Tony, then sat down in a nearby chair and clasped his hands between his knees. “And you know, your Dad did that too? He’d get an idea and talk for an hour and you’d start the conversation not even knowing you needed the thing he ended up handing you when he was finished.”

“Sounds like Dad.” Tony agreed. “Guess I did inherit all his annoying habits.”

“You must get your looks from your Ma, then.” Steve said casually, and when Tony about fell out of his chair in surprise, he grinned. “Oh no, not for me. I mean sure, I can appreciate a good lookin’ fella just as much as the next guy, but I used to tell Buck if he got together with Howard--”

“I might actually throw up if you finish that sentence.”

“--then we could double date, but he said he’d sooner kiss Dugan.” he finished and Tony breathed out noisily in relief. “If he likes you, you must look like your Ma. Buck couldn’t hardly stand to be in the same room as Howard.”

And then almost awkwardly, “No offense meant.”

“None taken, most days I couldn’t handle it either.” Tony rolled the water bottle between his palms. “So um, how are you adjusting to life in the twenty first--”

“Tell me about Bucky.” Steve interrupted and Tony’s mouth clicked shut. “I wanna know everything. Where did you find him? How did you find him? Does he know who he is? Who I am? Does he know about--”

He clenched his jaw. “--does he remember being the Winter Soldier?”

“Captain.” Tony began slowly, but Steve cut him off again, “It’s just Steve, Tony. Captain Rogers, Captain America, that’s not who I am. I’m Steve. Call me Steve.”

“Steve.” he started again. “James--er, Bucky-- and I met a few months ago in a diner right here in D.C. I don’t know if you watch the news at all, but I was mid Senate meeting and mid nervous break down, apparently he was just there having breakfast. I saw he was missing an arm--”

“--his left arm?”

“--his left arm.” Tony nodded. “And since I have a weird assortment of various robotic arm pieces laying around the house, I told him I could build him a new one. I gave him a whole spiel about wanting to do some good and that he didn’t have to take me up on the offer but he told me--”

“--that you got a pretty smile.” Steve interjected. “Yeah, you’re just his type. Dark hair, pretty eyes, big smile. Just his type.”

The simple statement from the soldier warmed Tony clear down to his heart, and he ducked his head to hide a barely there flush. “Uh, anyway. He came home to Malibu with me and we’ve been there ever since. He’s getting better. No more panic attacks and his Brooklyn accent comes out more every day and um--”

It felt awkward talking to a total stranger about his boyfriend--partner? He was too old to call someone a boyfriend, right?

It felt more awkward talking to a total stranger that wasn’t really a total stranger considering how Tony knew everything everything about Steve Rogers and Howard had literally helped create the soldier. More awkward talking to a not-total stranger who actually knew James Bucky better than Tony could ever hope to. More awkward talking to a not-total stranger who knew Bucky better than Tony did and would be around at Bucky’s side after Tony--

--after Tony--

“--sometimes I think he’s remembering things, but then I don’t really know.” he finished lamely. “Captain, er Steve. I’ll be honest, it seems weird to tell you about your best friend. I can tell you that he doesn’t have nightmares anymore and that he hasn’t had a panic attack in weeks. He likes Rocky Road ice cream and looks great in the color red and when he calls me sweet thing I actually melt a little bit inside. What else do you want to know?”

“I just want to know if he’s okay.” Steve said softly, softly, spread his hands helplessly and made those All American baby blues as heartbreakingly earnest as possible. “Tony, I woke up from the ice and found a picture of the Winter Soldier and spent the next two years trying to figure out what the hell had happened to my best pal. How did he survive the fall? Who captured him? What have they been doing with him? To him?”

The Captain’s throat jerked when he swallowed. “Does he-- does he smile? Do you make him smile? Or is he real quiet now? Did they ruin him? Break him?”

Steve got to his feet to pace, rubbing his hands down his thighs in agitation. “I’ve read all the Winter Soldier files, Tony. I know what they did to him. You know they-- they didn’t do that stuff to me. Howard juiced me up and sent me out the door but Bucky? He was always a good soldier but there’s a lot of steps between a good soldier and a master assassin. What they did to him to make him into the Soldier…”

His steps stuttered, faltered, and when Steve turned around to pin Tony with a look, his jaw was set stubbornly. “Tell me how he really is. Did they break him? Is he even Bucky anymore?”

“I don’t know if he’s Bucky anymore.” Tony said slowly, honestly. “But I know he’s James, and he’s a good man. Not broken. Definitely hurt, but not broken. He’s-- I think he’s okay, Captain. Or at least he’s getting better.”

“Okay.” Steve dropped back down onto the chair and the springs groaned under his weight. “Okay okay okay. Have you done any research on the Winter Soldier? About what he did?”

“No.”

“Don’t.” That super soldier strength showed up when the arms of the chair splintered beneath Steve’s fingers. “Tony, for your own sake. Don’t. I haven’t read the mission files because it makes me sick to my stomach but I saw enough of what they did to him to know there can’t be anything good in the other ones.”

Tony’s whole body went cold, horror stricken and wanting to scream thinking about his soldier, his Brooklyn being hurt for however long he’d been captive as the Winter Soldier. “What they did to him?”

“Experiments.” Steve muttered hoarsely. “Testing his strength, his healing factor. Whatever super juice they gave him, they had to make sure it worked so they experimented. Broke major bones to time how long it took to heal up again. Put bullets close to major arteries wondering if he’d bleed out. Made him run until he was vomiting and couldn’t take another step to check his endurance.”

“Shit.”

“They wiped his mind after every mission.” the Captain continued miserably. “Got him to the point where all he could do was carry out orders. That’s not even human, they took his soul Tony. My best friend and they took his soul. Wiped it away every time they hooked him up to that damn chair--”

“Chair?”

“--it had straps.” Steve made a motion and Tony’s heart sank, then sank further still when he added, “I crashed a set up once and it was this monstrous chair. Straps and hooks and this helmet thing that went down over his head to fry his brain.”

“What--” Tony wet his lips, flashes of that first awful panic attack hitting him like a punch to the stomach. “-- What did you do to the chair?”

“Broke it apart with my bare hands and then snapped some bad guy’s femur just because I wasn’t done breaking things.” Steve said coldly, calmly. “I can’t read the mission files, not after seeing that. I don’t think you should read them either. Buck deserves to have people who look at him and don’t see everything he did as the Soldier. He deserves to be loved by people who just see him.”

“Yeah, I--” Tony dug his fingers into his knees and bit back a heartbroken noise. “Yeah, he does. So what did you do with the data? It can’t just be out there, that’s not--”

Even now, his brain was shifting into gear, trying to figure out the next step, trying to figure out what he could do to fix what had happened with James or how he could make sure it never came back to ruin his soldier’s new life. “--it can’t be out there for someone else to find. What did you do with it?”

“Natasha dumped it all.” The Captain informed him. “Burned it, erased it, whatever she does. I’m not really up on all the tech of this century yet. But she swore it was gone, and that’s all I care about.”

“You trust her?”

“...I do.” Steve’s smile was almost… melancholy. Almost lonely. “Most people wouldn’t, but she hasn’t lied to me once so I have no reason to think she would about this.”

“Alright.” It was a relief to know the Winter Soldier’s actions weren’t out there for anyone to find, a relief to know someone else was looking out for James the same way Tony wanted to. “That’s-- that’s good. If Captain America can trust her with that, I can trust her too.”

“Yeah.” Steve screwed his eyes shut tight and pushed out a long breath. “Tony um-- can I see him? Feels weird to ask permission to see my own best friend, but I think you know him better than I do at this point. Can I see him? Will you bring him back to D.C., or could I come with you to Malibu? I searched for him for so long, Tony. The canyon below the train-- I spent days there. Days in the snow trying to find him, and I spent the first years waking up trying to find him… can I see him?”

Quieter, almost afraid, “Do you think he’ll know me?”

“I don’t know.” Tony said honestly, and Steve’s shoulders hunched in like the words physically hurt. “But they should be landing here in D.C. in a few hours and I already sent him this address.”

“Seriously?” Steve’s head snapped up. “You would-- you didn’t even know me. You told him to come here when you hadn’t met me yet?”

“You’re Captain America.” Tony shrugged carelessly, shrugged like his heart wasn’t tearing in two right there in his chest as everything he’d feared started falling into place. This was the right decision but it hurt and his heart could have collapsed under the strain. “And he’s Sergeant Barnes. There’s no question you two should be spending time together, in fact, I’m probably just in the way. I’ll bring him in and as soon as I know James is okay, I’ll leave you in peace and let you get reacquainted.

“That’s amazing.” Steve lit up with a mega watt grin. “Tony, thank you. Thank you. You’re giving me a piece of my life back, I swear. I don’t even know where to begin to thank you.”

“Just...take care of him.”

“I promise I will.” the Captain swore. “I promise. I’ll help him readjust to life and we’ll figure out… I dunno. Netflix together? I’ll help him Tony, I will.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Tony tried for a smile that didn’t feel like it was crumbling at the edges. “Now. Are you a enough of a rebel to have a beer in this place while we wait? Or still too good ol’ boy for that?”

“Are you kidding?” Steve laughed again, and yep, Tony would have been seeing stars and stripes if he hadn’t been blinking back tears. “Good beer is the best part of this century! And I don’t get drunk, so I’ve been trying them all! Come on and pick one out!”

“Picking out a beer with Captain America.” Tony struggled to his feet with a hand over his chest and followed the blond to the tiny kitchen. “How could anyone pass that up?”

“Tony!” Steve sounded immeasurably lighter, the smile on his face evident in his voice as he called, “Does Bucky ever listen to music anymore? Have you ever heard of the Andrews Sisters? We heard them sing the night he shipped out for the war, this was his favorite song!”

Before Tony could object or protest or fall to his knees and beg for mercy because he didn’t think he could take another second of this self inflicted torture, the all too familiar beginning notes of ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’ floated through the apartment and everything got worse.

“Me and Pegs used to dance to this.” Steve tossed Tony a beer he could only barely catch. “She made Buck dance too even though he didn’t have any interest in the other dames. She always said one day he’d find a fella to dance with too, have you guys danced together yet?”

“Once.” Tony said faintly. “Just uh-- just the once.”

He closed his eyes when the song got to the chorus, when the beat changed and he could almost feel James pulling him in closer like he’d done that night in the lab when everything changed between them.

“...just the once.”

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

“Hey babydoll.” James was confused when he finally made it up to the apartment door, confused and stiff when he bent to give Tony a kiss hello. “This is uh--” he cleared his throat. “Don’t like being back here, Tony. D.C. doesn’t have any good memories for me. I didn’t want to come.”

“I know.” Tony stood on his toes to chase one more kiss, gratified when James automatically wound an arm at his waist to hold him. “And I’m sorry but this is important, alright? What we’re doing here is important.”

“Important like the way Pepper’s fancy parties are important?” James teased halfheartedly, and tugged at Tony’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s get out of here. I’m a real big fan of the way you’ve blown off work the last few weeks to spend time with me, we should keep doing that.”

“James.” Tony tried for words and failed, squeezed at James’s fingers and tried again, “I’ve got someone you should meet. Re-meet. Someone you used to know and I think it’s important you see him again. I think he can fill in a lot more blanks, help you out a lot more than I can, alright?”

“I don’t want anyone helping me but you.” James glanced around the hallway, glanced at the door and out the far window, then back down at Tony, shoulders set uncomfortably tense and jaw clenched. “Tony, can we go? Something feels weird here, I don’t like it.”

“It will feel better in a few minutes.” Tony promised. “Just um-- be brave, Brooklyn. Okay?”

“Brave? Tony, I’m telling you this don’t feel right, I don’t want to be--”

Tony turned the knob and shoved the door open before James could finish the sentence, pushed the soldier through into the living room and then hung back to just watch.

Be brave, Brooklyn.

“Bucky.” Steve stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets and chin ducked like he was trying to look small, the unmistakable shield sat prominently on one of the chairs, that old picture of he and James from the Smithsonian propped up on the table.

“Holy shit.” The Captain choked out a strangled sort of laugh and freed his hands to run them both through his hair, tugging at the strands and then rubbing at his eyes as they filled with tears. “Bucky. It’s really you.”

James narrowed his eyes at the big blond, at the picture and at the shield, then looked back at Tony in confusion.

“Bucky? Who the hell is--”

Click click click.

“I had ‘em on the ropes.”

“Yeah Stevie, sure you did.”

Click click click.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Click click click.

“You’re keeping the suit, right?

Click Click Click

“I’m with you to the end of the line.”

Click click click.

I know him.

Stevie.

“...Stevie?”

The Captain covered the room in two big steps and James met him in the middle for a bone crushing, desperate hug. James’s legs crumpled and Steve caught him halfway down, Captain America crying unashamed tears and swearing under his breath as he smoothed Jame’s hair back from his face to get a good look at him.

“Stevie?”

“Christ, Bucky I can’t believe I finally found you. I finally found you and I’m never gonna let anything happen to you again, I swear it. I swear it.” ----

--- Tony closed the door to the apartment and walked alone down the hallway, took the stairs up to the roof and stood for a long time looking over the city, over the monuments in the distance and the barest glimmer of blue from the river.

His phone rang and it was James but Tony ignored it so he could undo the latches on the briefcase suit and step into the boots, shivering as the armor climbed his body and encased him in cold metal before it warmed to his temperature.

His phone rang and it was James, and the picture on the screen was of them at the redwoods, the name beneath “Sergeant Barnes” because already James wasn’t James anymore, he was Sergeant Barnes, he was Bucky.

His phone rang and it was James and JARVIS intoned, “Sir, it’s Sergeant Barnes calling.”

“Send it to voicemail.” Tony whispered and the call shut down as the suit powered up.

“May I remind you sir that extended use of this suit specifically strains--”

“I remember.” Tony closed his eyes for a minute. “Send a message to Rhodey? Tell him I won’t make dinner tonight. He won’t be surprised, I’ve missed at least a hundred dinners. Call Pep and remind her that I owe her something expensive and sparkly and to pick out whatever she’d like.”

“...Yes sir.”

“JARVIS.” Tony’s chest tightened until he couldn’t breathe. “Enable Ghost Protocol.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just like we talked about.” Tony was shaking inside the suit, grateful for the exoskeleton that kept him on his feet. “I won’t let this be catastrophic and I-- I can’t watch while James realizes he doesn’t need me anymore. Start the process now.”

In the lab in Malibu, lights in the lab started to dim and the myriad of suits Tony had worked on for months drew back into the walls. The lock codes blinking on each panel changed from Tony’s preferences to ones coded to Honeybear, to Rhodey, to Sourpatch and Platypus, on and on the list went.

Computer screens flickered as dozens of letters went out to various charities and foundations, notifications of soon-to-be-arriving checks meant for specific projects that desperately needed funded. Signed paperwork irrevocably keeping Pepper as CEO and turning over any stock held by Tony Stark to her after a death certificate was produced was sent off to the proper compliance departments to make sure everything was legal.

A program was uploaded into Dum-E’s limited software that would allow the robot to function a bit safer and up it’s interaction levels to ones that would make the kiddos in the Children’s Wing at the Cancer Center smile and laugh whenever it rolled through the halls.

Back in Washington, JARVIS’s comforting monotone listed off each point of Ghost Protocol as it was engaged and completed, and the phone rang as Sergeant Barnes tried again and again and again.

“Send it to voicemail.” Tony whispered through a sheen of tears, and the call went silent as the Iron Man armor took off from the roof and soared into the darkening sky, punching through the atmosphere and heading for the stars.

This was the right decision.

Send it to voicemail.

73%

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

Chapter Notes:

Did you cry? I cried.

I love Steve in this verse. The “First Winteriron, then Steve comes Along” dynamic is something I’ve never written, and I’ve also never written Fresh from the Freezer Steve and I sort of love him??

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

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

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche @actual-demon-belial

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers #natasha romanov #nick fury

83 notes · View notes

themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years

Text

The Moon The Stars and a Woman Like Her

Request from RitaSousaSantos

Prompt:

Bella! I sooooo want a fic with Bella paired up with Dean. She was such a great character but suffered from that terminal disease that infests the world of supernatural: having a probably know by now that sometimes the characters of the show drive me crazy with their stubbornness and I love seeing other characters calling them on it.

I would love to see Bella coming back from hell and calling Dean out on everyI'm not worthy of salvation" bullshit he pulls.

Maybe they even crossed paths there. She probably knows everything that went down.

The scene that plays in my head is Dean going on about how she was there longer than him and she didn't turn into a torture master because of it and she rolling her eyes and telling him something along the lineshonestly, yeah, he'll was ... hell. It was bad. But it was not Dean Winchester bad. And truth be told: they didn't offer me that sort of deal. You know me... I probably would have taken it the very first time."

Which in turn also would prompt Dean to make her see that he knows she is not the selfish person she likes to let other believe she is.

The Moon The Stars and a Woman Like Her

"Dean Winchester, as I live and breathe."

Dean stood up a little straighter at the sound of a familiar voice. One he hadn't heard in awhile. One he couldn't quite place. His eyebrows came together as he sat down the beer he'd been nursing at the bar top. He swiveled on the bar stool to face the sound of the voice.

"This isn't happening." He said slowly as his eyes lingered on the woman in front of him. She batted her eyelashes, causing the gold flecks in her sea green eyes to sparkle in the neon lights from behind the bar. Her hair cascaded down her back on dirty blonde curls. "Bela?"

"Aw you remembered me."

"You're dead." He said, narrowing his eyes.

Bela flipped her hair over her shoulder before she shrugged out of her leather jacket. "That's not how your greet an old friend." She purred walking toward him, her heeled ankle boots clicking on the floor of the bar.

"I wouldn't call you a friend."

She walked closer to him, resting her hands on his thighs. "And what would you call me?"

His eyes went from her face to her hands on his thighs. "Do ya mind?"

"No." She smirked.

He stood up, shaking her off him. "How are you here right now? What was your deal?"

"Why does there have to be a deal?"

"You're never hear without a cost." Dean said stepping closer to her. "Never."

Bela rolled her eyes. "Oh, sweet Dean. Maybe I just missed you."

"Not likely. I'm out of here." He said, tossing some cash on the bar.

"And after I've come all this way?"

He pushed past her and walked out of the bar into the night.

"You're seriously not happy to see me?" She asked, chasing him into the parking lot.

"Why would I be happy to see you?" Dean asked, turning toward her. He looked dumbfounded with his mouth hanging open. "What in the Hell have you ever done that would make you worth missing?"

Bela winced, and pushed her hair behind her ear. "Ouch."

"Oh, fuck, did I hurt your feelings? I'm sorry." He said patronizing her.

"I get it. You hate me."

"In order to hate someone I'd have to care about them."

"But that's the thing, Dean." She said, putting her hands on his chest. "You care so much. That's your Achilles heel."

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes... no... maybe." She shrugged.

"How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How'd you get out of Hell?"

"How did you?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Angel pulled me out. Guessin you weren't so lucky?"

Bela snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "You'd guess right." She said slowly with a frown.

"So how'd you do it?" Dean pressed. "Why are you back?"

"Why don't we have a drink?"

"I'm out of here." Dean said, not sure why he was continually letting her reel him back in. He walked to the Impala, sliding into the drivers seat, turning on the ignition.

The passenger door swung open before he could pull away.

"God, can't you take a hint? What do you want?" He groaned looking at her.

"Just drive." Bela said smoothly.

Dean rolled his eyes and put the Impala into gear. "Need me to drop you somewhere?"

"I'm going wherever you are." She said examining her nails.

"No." Dean said, glancing at her. "You're not."

"What? You don't want Sam to see me? Don't want him to find out?"

"Find out what?" He groaned.

"That some of your feelings are... feeling." She touched his thigh with her spare hand.

"Yup, I'm done." He said pulling over the car. He leaned over her and opened the passenger door. "Out."

"Oh come on."

He shook his head and got out of the car. He turned out toward the river.

"Dean." She said walking after him.

"What are you doin here, Bela? We weren't exactly friends. I know how you run. You always want something. So what do you want? Just cut out the middle man."

"I heard, you know... what you did in Hell."

"Fuckin great. This is exactly what I wanted to talk about." Dean groaned, rubbing his face.

"Getting out hasn't been a cake walk..." she admitted, walking around him. "Not like I expected."

"You can say that again. What does that have to do with me?"

"Demons talk. You were something else entirely."

"Let me guess... you jumped on the deal. You tortured souls too. Now you think I'm this dark wounded soul that you can take advantage of. Well you're wrong."

"No, actually." Bela said, sitting on the rivers edge. "I didn't torture anyone."

Dean lowered himself down next to her. "Better than I was, maybe Cas shoulda pulled you out of the pit."

"You're wrong." She said, pulling her knees up to her chest. "When I say demons talk I mean they talk." She turned to look at him, her expression soft. "I didn't get offered the deal. There's nothing righteous about me, but you know me. If I would've been offered the deal I would have taken it. Without a second thought."

Dean reached into his pocket and took out his flask, taking a swig. "Guess some things never change."

She pursed her lips, examining him in the moonlight. She remembered that night they went to the party together. How good he looked in the tux. How she betrayed him over and over again. Maybe in a different life.

"Hell was... Hell." She smiled lamely. "But it wasn't Dean level. Guess I wasn't as big of a player as you were. Consider me offended."

"Trust me. You don't want to be on this level. It blows." He took another swig.

"You sharing?"

He glanced at her with a grunt and passed her the flask. "Can't believe I'm sharing my good booze with you."

She smirked, taking a swig. "You call this good?"

"Eh, hunting doesn't exactly pay well, so I take what I can get."

"That's why you I never took a liking to it."

"So instead you just took a liking to messin with Sam and I instead?"

"You were easy targets."

"Can we be real for a second? Since we are doing the whole Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants girl bonding thing?"

She glanced at him and shrugged. "What the hell, fine."

"You spent all your time tryin to make money while you were tryin to escape hour ten year ticket? Why?"

"The money was an added bonus." Bela said simply. "Working with all the occult objects... I was looking for a way out."

"There isn't a way out... not out of any of this. Not that I've been able to find."

"You know for a big strong man, you're a pretty big martyr."

"Excuse me?"

Bela turned to him. "You heard me. What? After everything are you still feeling like you don't deserve to be saved? Honey, I don't deserve to be saved, but you? You're practically a Boy Scout."

"I am not a Boy Scout." Dean huffed.

"I've seen you tie a knot, Boy Scout."

"Why is saving people a bad thing to you?"

"It isn't." Bela said simply turning her attention back to the water. "It's honorable. I'm just not honorable. The way to survive is looking out for yourself."

"And how'd that work out for you?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Dean pursed his lips. "I don't know how you got out of Hell, but maybe this is a chance for you to not be so selfish."

Bela shook her head, standing up. "Don't you judge me, Dean Winchester. You do what you do for what? The glory, revenge, obsession? You're selfish too. It's just not as obvious."

Dean stood up, and looked down at her. "I do it to help people. Especially after what happened in Hell. I'll spend a life time making up for that."

Bela walked to him, grabbing his chin in her hand. "Dean Winchester, I said it before, and I'll say it again. The legend is so much more than the man. I was hoping after all this time you'd changed."

"I could say the same thing about you." He said leaning down, staring at her.

"Maybe I have changed." She said inching even closer to him.

"Why you tryin so hard to convince me?" His eyes met hers in an intense gaze.

"I'd like to just forget, for five minutes, what it was like to be in that place. All the pain, the darkness." She reached up, draping her arms around his neck. She tugged on the hair that was growing toward his neck. "Don't you?"

Dean examined her face, and before he could think too hard about it his eyes landed on her mouth. Her lips were slightly apart, letting warm breath escape.

He let his mouth crash into hers in an urgent kiss. A need to erase the sight that haunted his nightmares. Especially when he was between cases. When he was alone. He could still feel the weight of the blade in his hands, and the heat from the blood that ran along silver on the tip of the knife.

He put his arms around her, yearning for the escape she promised. She reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head, not caring that they were by the river. She pulled away for a second to take in his chest in the moonlight. She smirked and pulled her own shirt off, shoving him down.

He fell into the grass with a thump, the hard ground almost knocking the wind out of him. Bela leaned down, hovering over him. She ran her fingers down his chest and kissed him again. She kissed down his chin, neck, chest, stomach, leaving little purple marks in her wake. She pulled him out of his jeans, he lifted his hips to help.

She smirked. "Maybe I was wrong about the man and the legend."

Dean rolled his eyes, but she could see the heat trickling over his cheekbones. "Get up here."

"Bossy." She purred, as a curl fell into her eye. "I like it."

He flipped them over and pulled her own jeans away. He looked down at her. She was dark, and damaged, but fuck was she beautiful in the moonlight. Her lips swollen from kissing and her chest rising with heavy, ragged breaths. Her hair spilled out into the grass, and Dean felt like maybe she was right. Maybe he could really drown in her.

Maybe they both weren't who they thought they were. Maybe they didn't have to be.

They moved together under the moon lit sky, to the sounds of the crickets, and the water trickling downstream. He drank her in. The smell of jasmine on her skin, and the small beads of sweat glowing in the silver light of the moon.

She let out a gasp as he pushed deeper within her, and she ran her nails down his back, drawing blood, reminding them that it was real. They were alive.

"So," She said, looking up at him.

Dean had gotten a blanket out of the back of the Impala and they were laid out together. He was in his underwear and she wore hers, with his flannel over her bare skin. She laid on his chest on her stomach, her fingers drawing circles on his skin.

"So?"

"It was much more than what was bargained for." She teased, nipping at the skin on his chest.

"Yeah." He chuckled. "You too."

"So how is everyone else. Sam? Castiel?" She pressed her lips to his chest. "Kevin?"

Dean sat up a bit, frowning. "Kevin? Why would you ask me about Kevin?"

Bela shrugged. "Just curious."

Deans upper lip twitched as he put two and two together. As he came down from the high he had been riding from the sex. As he began to realize that people never change. As he realized that he still didn't know how she got out of Hell.

"Christo."

Bela winced, just like he knew she would. Just like he hoped she wouldn't.

Her eyes flashed black, and Dean scurried back, knocking her off of him.

"We were having fun, weren't we?"

"You came for the tablet. Just another ruse."

She sat in front of him on her knees, running her fingers through her hair. "Not everything is about that. I could've found it without the sex."

"Great." Dean said, standing and gathering up his clothes. "Now I have to take a Germ X bath."

"I had to do what I had to do." Bela said, standing. Her eyes flickered to his. "Being with you, even for a minute, I did forget. I forgot what it was like to be a monster."

"And I remembered what it was like to be one." Dean said, putting his shirt on. He walked toward her. "You have a choice in this world, Bela. You can keep pretending you're as bad as you want everyone to believe you are, or you can finally be real. You can fight for the right side. Maybe you can sleep with someone without a motive or a con involved." He shook his head. "Keep the flannel. God knows I've got enough." He stepped into his jeans and walked to the Impala, opening the door. "But I swear, you come after Kevin or my brother, you try to fuck me over again, I'll send you back to Hell, and this time I'll make sure that you never get out again."

Dean got into the car and pulled away into the night, leaving Bela standing in the darkness, gripping the sleeves of his abandoned flannel, her black eyes reflecting a perfect imagine of the moon.

#BELA #BELAXDEAN #dean winchester #request #fanfiction #mine #writing #prompts

2 notes · View notes

lykaonimagines · 6 years

Text

Almost Lover - Loki x Reader (Part 2 Request)

I wavered a little bit from your comment request, but hopefully you still like it :$

Part 3 will be in two parts, and I’ll post both at the same time for alternative endings based on whether you’d like to see Y/N’s future with Loki or Thor. I’ve also picked songs that go with each part, hoping that’s something you guys like! Thank you for reading 💚

Paring: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2,315

Part 2 Request Description: “Loki regrets and maybe blaming Thor at first but then the other Avengers talk (or beat) some senses into him.”

Requested by: @islaylivesinshire 💚

Lyrics Used: Let Her Go - Passenger

Part One

Loki Ending

Thor Ending

(gif doesn’t belong to me)

Flinging the torn undergarment from his bed, Loki huffs and takes another swig from the bottle in his hand. It’d been a week since Y/N left, and a week that his bedroom had been a revolving door to a parade of Midgardian women and alcohol.

Settling back into his bed his mind races, and he curses the alcohol not being strong enough. He had spent as little time as possible thinking about Y/N and the tightening in his chest every time he passed her room, found something of hers, or let his mind wander a moment too long.

He’d convinced himself the various women would solve his problem, after all he could do what he wanted without repercussion. No sad looks, no arguments, no hidden guilt. He was free to do as he pleased.

Pulling out his phone he brings up the music app she had put on there and taught him to use in their time at Stark tower. Something about Stark having a family-plan. She’d set up several playlist of various instrumental music he usually listened to, but it was the one song left sitting in their shared playlist that had him listening over and over. Almost Lover. Those damn lines from her letter. Each note and word of the song pulled at his heartstrings in a way he didn’t want to admit.

Flicking over to the browse tab he scrolls until he lands on a playlist labeled ‘Heartbreak’. He hesitates for a moment before taking another drink and hitting shuffle.

His mind wanders as the instrumental starts. Is this heartbreak? How can it be? Did I love her? Do I love her? What have I done?

“Only know you love her when you let her go.”

The lyrics make his chest tighten further, his eyes snapping shut. All he can see is her beautiful bright Y/E/C eyes in front of his face. Her smile from ear to ear. Her melodious laugh ringing through his ears. His eyes fly open, and his hand goes to his chest where his heart is beating rapidly, and he curses once again. Damn her. Damn her for leaving. Damn her for making him feel this way. Damn himself for not realizing sooner. And damn himself for treating her like she’d always just be there.

“Staring at the bottom of your glass

Hoping one day you'll make a dream last

But dreams come slow and they go so fast

You see her when you close your eyes

Maybe one day you'll understand why

Everything you touch surely dies”

Thinking back he can't even remember a time Y/N wasn’t at his side. Pulling pranks as children, learning to fight, several battles, the fateful battle in Jotunheim. He’d run to her arms after finding out the full truth from Odin. Tear-streaked cheeks, and heart bursting he had gone to her chambers, and thrown himself into her arms. And she’d held him as he sobbed and promised she’d always be at his side, that she cared about him no matter what he was or wasn’t.

She went off the Bifrost after him when he’d given up and let go. Her arms wrapped around him, head tucked into his neck as they both hurtled toward the dark abyss. He remembers asking her what in the gods did she thought she was doing, and she’d simply answered she wouldn’t let him die alone feeling unloved. That should have been when he realized it. He knew her feelings, but still not his own.

The months that followed found them traveling through dark places neither wanted to discuss ever again. Being found by Thanos was what set everything to follow in motion. The mental and physical torture they’d endured, and the way she would scream hideous insults at Thanos whenever he approach him for his turn. She’d taken more than her share of the punishment, she’d taken so much of it there were days he thought she’d moved on. Her head lulled to the side as blood dripped from every patch of skin he could see.

Once again, “I should have realized then,” he muttered taking another drink.

When they’d arrived on Midgard with Thanos’ orders, despite her own injuries she immediately helped him get through the SHIELD compound, barking more orders at the lackeys he’d procured already. Fighting against Thor for him. Losing to the Avengers at his side. Prisoner of Asgard next to his own cell. Her sympathetic looks and soft words, her hand against the surge wall between them when they found out Frigga’s fate. Then they nearly left her in her cell when leaving, forgetting her in the moment before Thor released her. And the first thing she’d done when she was released? Pull him into strongest embrace she could manage at the time.

Every event in his life, there she was. Providing support and affection no matter how much he ruined it. And what had he done in turn? Slept with her several times, only to kick her from his bed when someone else that caught his eye came along. Because she’d always be there.

Thinking back to their argument, he realizes she was right. Each memory, he realizes the brightness in her eyes grew dimmer and dimmer. Until days before she left, they looked empty. She just followed him, and tried to suggest things. Only for him to shut her down. A quick fuck in the back room. Before being out on town, and shamelessly flirting with women right in front of her.

“Staring at the ceiling in the dark

Same old empty feeling in your heart

Love comes slow and it goes so fast”

Feelings his eyes burn, he proceeds to drink further, the room starting to sway in his vision as the song changes.

He waves his hand half heartedly, an illusion of Y/N standing in the center of the room looking at him. Her bright smile and eyes, looking at him with love. From their happy moments. When he didn’t ruin everything. Dancing in the moonlight, reading cozied up in the library, endless movies and music as she looked at him like he was worth something. “I love you,” the illusion says with a smile at him as his door open.

Thor lifts an eyebrow at the illusion of Y/N, and pushes his way into the room walking through to dissipate it.

“So this is what you’re going to do brother?” He demands.

“What in Odin’s name do you want?” Loki responds with a sigh.

“I want to know what you plan on doing about all this,” he states. “She’s been gone a week, and that’s the tenth crying Midgardian woman someone has had to escort out of the tower. And Tony’s bar has been restocked three times this week he’s informed me. So this is what you intend on doing? Bedding as many women as you can whilst staying in a constant stupor?”

“Well that is really none of your business is it brother?” Loki snaps back, taking another chug before chucking the bottle over Thor’s head, the glass exploding on contact. “Besides, their alcohol is weaker than Asgardian juice. It does nothing.”

“Oh really?” Thor responds crossing his arms. “And that’s why you can’t even focus your eyes on me right in front of you?”

“Thor, fuck off,” Loki growls threateningly.

“No, we need to speak Loki. You can’t continue on like this. Then I come in here and you have an illusion of Y/N saying sweet nothings to you.”

“Well it wouldn’t be an illusion and this wouldn’t be a problem if you’d minded your own business in the first place!” He yells clumsily climbing to his feet, poking a finger into his brother’s chest.

“I care for Y/N Loki,” Thor states. “I couldn’t watch you take advantage of her love any longer. I couldn’t watch the light In her eyes die out further. The poor girl doesn’t even know who she is anymore.”

“And you think I don’t care for her?” His lip curling back in a snarl.

“No brother, I don’t think you truly do,” Thor shouts back. “You care about your fucking self, you’re trying to make yourself feel better. You’re only thinking about how you feel!”

“I’ve spent the last week in here thinking about how I fucked up Thor!” He shoves Thor’s chest. “Everything I’ve done wrong. Every moment she was by my side. And realizing I love her! Is that what you wanted to hear!?”

Thor’s mouth snapped shut as he looked at his brother’s distraught face for a moment, “And why couldn’t you tell her that? Or treat her like that Loki?”

“I don’t know!” Loki yells crossing his arms and turning away from his gaze. “I don’t know.”

“She needed to do what was best for her,” Thor continues.

“No!” Loki spins back around encroaching on his brother. “You needed to stay the fuck out of it.”

“No,” Thor mutters puffing out his chest as they now stood chest to chest.

Within in seconds Loki’s fist connects with his jaw, and sends him stumbling back, before swinging his own fist. Loki runs at him, slamming into his ribcage, as they both topple out of his room, a frenzy of fists and curses.

“What is going on here!?” Steve yelling running down the hall to the source of the commotion. “Break it up you two!”

The two slam into one of the walls, leaving a large hole, before Thor tosses Loki at a nearby end-table, it shattering as he lands.

Thor’s on him again within moments, Loki kicking him in the gut as he struggles to push him off.

As more of the Avengers gather, they look frantically for a way to get between the two gods wrestling up and down the hallway.

“I don’t want to fight you brother!” Thor announces shoving Loki away from him. “You need to grow up!”

“Oh so now you don’t want to fight, when all you little friends are watching,” Loki responds spitting blood from his mouth. “Thor the fucking honorable man. Thor the worthy. Thor the needs to stop ruining my fucking life!” He launches himself once again at the blonde man in front of him, colliding into him sending them both to the ground again.

Loki wails at his face, before Thor grabs his wrists and head butts him with all his might. The already intoxicated Loki falls backwards, getting to his hands and knees and frantically shaking his head trying to clear his vision.

“You’re better than this!” Thor yelling, kicking him in the ribs, a loud explosion of breath leaving Loki as he collapses. “Instead of blaming me, maybe you should try being a better man!” He grabs his brother’s hair, yanking his head up to look into his eyes. “Be better than this!”

Loki’s vision still swims before him as he tries to concentrate on the blob before him resembling his brother. “Go to Hel,” he mutters, spitting on him.

Thor curses once again, and slams his face into the carpet releasing him, “Do you never learn!?”

Loki quickly tries to scramble to his feet, once again throwing himself at the shape he believes to be Thor, however finding himself taking a metal arm to the face as Bucky deflects the oncoming attack.

Finally rushing up to the scene, Tony slaps his own version of Asgardian handcuffs on the trickster, and Steve hoists him to his unsteady feet.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Tony growls glaring at him.

“Teaching my dear brother a lesson in meddling in my life,” he remarks struggling against the handcuffs and hold on him.

“Loki had a bit much to drink is all,” Thor insists grabbing Loki by the collar. “Y/N has only been gone a week, he doesn’t know how to properly handle himself again yet.”

“Don’t touch me,” Loki snarls as Thor tries to lead him back to his room.

“Let me handle it,” Wanda announces walking over to the pair. Her hands immediately go to Loki’s head, and within seconds he collapses into Thor’s arms.

“Thank you Lady Wanda,” he nods lifting his brother’s unconscious form into his arms. “He’ll be over this when he awakens from a much needed rest.”

The other Avengers look skeptical, but allow the God to carry his brother off.

Carefully tucking Loki into his bed, Thor removes the handcuffs, and begins to pick up the destruction they’d caused in his room. Finding a facedown frame on the ground, he picks it up gently shaking the broken glass from it to see a photo of Loki, Y/N, and himself as teenagers looking back at him. Y/N in the middle, Loki on the left with an arm around her midsection, and Thor on the right with an arm over her shoulders, all three smiling happily back at whoever had taken the photo. His fingertips brush against the photo sadly.

His attention is ripped away from the photo then by the feeling of subtle vibrating in his pocket. Knowing he didn’t have the phone Stark had given him on him, he quickly thrusts his hand into his jeans pocket, and comes back with a neatly folded square of paper.

Taking care not to rip it, he unfolds it to find it’s a note.

“T,

Thank you for your help, and your friendship. I’m sorry I wasn’t always as true a friend to you as you have been to me. If you ever need me, I’ll be there.

-Y/N”

And with that an address sits at the bottom of the page below her signature. He smile softly to himself, before looking to Loki again and standing. “I believe you can be better than this brother, we both do,” he mutters before patting his head and leaving.

---------

Part One

Loki Ending

Thor Ending

What I’m Working On/Upcoming Masterlist

AL Tags:

@smashley8244 @arielletheavenger @twiling-lady

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #thor #thor odinson #marvel #almost lover

109 notes · View notes

everlarkbirthdaydrabbles · 7 years

Note

Hello, everlarkbirthdaygoddesses! 😘 My birthday is April 1 (no foolin’!) ☺️ and I would love a gift to share with everyone in the fandom. If it were rated M/E, that would be purrrfect, but I'd be happy with anything. Thank you for sharing the love. xo

Happy Birthday, @katamount! The birthday ‘goddessess’ (your words not ours ;)) have decreed your special day a very worthy one, indeed. Thank you to @katnissdoesnotfollowback for the incredible part 2 of All’s Fair. You can find part one here.

“We’re graduating in a year, Gale. Going into different branches with different bases and little chance of being assigned together,” Katniss says.

Unless we’re married. Even then, we’d maybe get one or two assignments together if we’re lucky, and there’s not even a guarantee of that.

But I can’t say any of that to her, because this is the first time she's even mentioned what happens after, and while my battered heart lurches at the knowledge that she's actually thinking about us in the long term...if she’s already thinking of dumping my ass over this, then mentioning marriage now would just be the nail in my coffin.

R.I.P. Gale Hawthorne. He opened his mouth too wide and choked on wanting too much.

“We can find a way to make it work,” I hear myself say, and the words sound useless even to me. A hundred million pleas sit on the tip of my tongue, all the things that won’t mean a damn without her, all the ways I want to fight for us, but I can’t stop my brain from jumbling them all together and she doesn’t need me to be a pathetic mess right now so I choke them back.

“Gale,” she says and it already sounds like ‘good-bye.’

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists, feeling the bite of the plastic cuffs into my wrists and hoping the physical pain will keep me grounded through the pain of her leaving.

“Just...do it fast, okay?” I whisper, hoping it'll be like ripping off a band aid and knowing it won't. “You don’t even have to say anything. Just...go.”

“That’s the problem,” she whispers back. “I can’t. It’s always been you, Gale.”

LOL! How many of you vomited? Don’t lie! We just couldn’t resist since this day only comes around once a year. @katamount you are a fan to all and a fabulous person in this fandom. We wish you the best birthday EVER! Your REAL story is below the cut. *hugs*

All’s Fair

WARNINGS: RATED E for mild language, immature pranks, and smut. Everlark college/military cadets AU. ;-)

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

I’ve been on edge almost all day. Waiting for her to pounce.

It doesn’t help that I’ve been awake for twenty-two hours and only got about three hours of sleep before that. I’m just so tired and every corner I’ve turned today has been a moment of anxiety, waiting for gray eyes flashing in anger.

I jump when a stray cat darts out from the bushes next to my apartment building and then order my pulse to slow down. Maybe I’m overreacting, but I haven’t seen her or talked to her since she left me tied up and hard as fuck for her, the taste of her still lingering on my tongue. By the time Mason was done cutting my bonds and giving me shit, Katniss and her squad had already left, probably to report back on their pseudo-success. I was left to trudge through my day, waiting, wondering what she was thinking and feeling.

At first, I wasn’t worried. I’d thought we were flirting, pushing each other to see just how far we’d go to get what we wanted. I expected her to stop us at every turn, but she didn't, and those thirty minutes or so that we’d spent in my office had felt so...exhilarating, sexy. Even if we’d caught her squad, they still managed to complete their prank. And she’d easily gotten the upper hand on me, even when I knew what she was up to.

When my text messages to her went unanswered, though, I slowly came to realize how wrong I was. During my last class of the day, I began to accept that I had really fucked it up and started working on a suitable apology. It didn’t help that Finnick kept ribbing me all through our shared classes, despite my insistence to him that Katniss and I aren't more than friends.

She wanted to keep things low key. Just for us, but we've ruined that in spectacular fashion. I've ruined it. I didn’t meant to. Now, everyone seems to think they know, or always knew, what Katniss and I are to each other. I thought I knew, but I’m not so sure after what happened this morning.

Around dinner time, I stopped by all her usual places, since she hadn’t answered my calls either. But to no avail. I couldn’t apologize to her if she wouldn’t even see me. So I changed into jeans and a t-shirt, something more comfortable than my uniform, and hid myself in the library to work on my psyc paper. I really wasn’t lying to her about that, and I still have every intention of finishing it early, even if I spend my weekend groveling to her instead of taking her out to the lake for a relaxing weekend away from campus like I’d originally planned.

Now, it’s close to midnight, and still no word from her, although my paper is drafted at least. I’m not looking forward to a night spent alone. Even though she still doesn’t want to advertise our relationship, I’ve gotten used to sleeping beside her every night. Holding her in the dark. Because I’m beyond a goner for Katniss, and I'm not sure I can survive losing her.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I smack my forehead into my apartment’s front door frame. I didn’t think she’d take it this hard. But the longer the silence has stretched between us today, the more I’m convinced that I’ve finally messed up enough to lose her.

I let my arm go limp, keys dangling from my fingertips as I torture myself with the memory of her legs wrapped around my head, so tight that I could feel every spasm as she came on my tongue, but also so tight that I couldn’t hear a thing. I knew she did that on purpose, but it didn’t stop me from being turned on by it. By the thrill of playing that game with her. Of getting her to shatter when she knew she shouldn’t and was trying so hard not to. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hates me now.

Standing out here won’t fix anything, though, so I force myself to unlock my door and enter my pitch dark apartment. I flip the light switch and curse when nothing happens. Just one more thing to add to my list of why this day fucking sucks. I lock my front door and drop my book bag, pull my phone from my pocket to use the flashlight on it.

The light in the kitchen is blown, too, and I stand perfectly still, waiting for a sound or a noise. Pushing down the hope in my chest that this is her vengeance. An attack in my apartment in the dark? I can deal with that. It means I’ve got a chance to talk to her before she decides to publicly skewer me.

A creak in the bedroom draws me in there and I sweep the space with the flashlight to provide more illumination than what the street lamp outside provides. The lights in my bedroom don’t work either. Damn, she’s not playing around tonight. Only, there’s nothing. Katniss isn’t in here. I can feel my shoulders sagging with the realization.

I’ve just decided that she must have removed all my bulbs as the opening move of her retaliation and that I’m alone, turning to return to the kitchen and see if I’ve got any extra bulbs under the sink, when my bedroom door slams shut and I jump back, dropping my phone as she stalks towards me, still dressed in her camo pants and black shirt that make her almost one with the shadows.

“You,” she says, jabbing a finger in my chest. I hold my hands up in surrender and back away from her.

“Katniss, I--”

“Shut up. You don’t talk unless I ask a question,” she snarls and I guess I deserve it, so I clamp my mouth shut. My feet tangle in something on the floor and I go down hard, wincing at the blow to my pride and my backside as Katniss bends over me. I am so focused on the pain in my tailbone and trying to figure out what it is that I tripped over that my mind doesn’t register her moving my arms until the distinct zip-click noise fills my bedroom.

I look up at her in astonishment and try to tug my arms down from over my head. No give. She’s chained me to the leg of my own bed.

“Are you kidding me right now?” I say as she stands up with a smirk and crosses her arms over her chest. That’s twice in one damn day.

“Do I need to put tape over that pretty mouth, too?” she asks, and while part of me wakes right the fuck up at that idea, there’s just enough bite in her voice to tell me she doesn’t mean it as some kind of pleasant game.

“You think my mouth is pretty?” I stupidly ask instead.

“Shut it, Mellark.” I snap my mouth closed again and press my lips together.

“You caused me a lot of trouble today, you know that?” I nod and try to look contrite. Her scowl deepens and she sets one booted foot on my chest but doesn’t push down on me. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t know for sure it’d be your squad,” I blurt out and she lifts an eyebrow at me, telling me that she’s not convinced. “Look, there’s always at least one prank you guys pull on us around this time of year and Finnick and I have been trying to figure out how to prevent it or get you back for it this time. Then you started acting all weird and jumpy around me this week. I figured you might at least know what the plan was, even if you weren’t involved. When you told me you had a drill from two to four in the morning, I took a gamble that that must be it.”

“You could’ve asked me, rather than playing games, Peeta,” she says.

“Would you have told me?” I ask and can’t help the grin that lifts my lips, because I already know the answer.

“That’s beside the point!” she insists and presses her boot down on my sternum, although not enough to hurt.

“You’re right. I still would’ve figured it out. You’re not a very good liar, Katniss,” I say and enjoy the flush that blooms across her cheeks and the challenge that blazes to life in her eyes.

“And yet, you’re the one who keeps getting tied up,” she says and I flounder for a response. She preens a little when she realizes I don’t have much.

“Just a second, let me think,” I say and tug on the cuffs. How do I tell her that she keeps getting the best of me because I don’t guard myself against her?

“Something wrong, Peeta?” she coos and my pulse trips at her sensual tone. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I wish,” I say with a smile and her smirk falters. “So am I forgiven?”

“I was embarrassed today, Peeta” she says, her voice breaking a little and I hate myself enough in that moment for the both of us. “We had to report a failure and now I have to pick, plan, organize, and lead another raid.”

“It’s not required for graduation,” I remind her. “They can’t make you do that.”

“No, but it’s a tradition, Peeta. I lost a lot of respect today because of this.” She drops her boot to the floor and to my astonishment, she lays down on top of me, curls up on my chest, gripping my shirt in her hands and sniffling slightly.

“Hey,” I try to soothe her, difficult with my hands restrained, but I manage a kiss on the top of her head. I don’t know how to fix this mess, how to balance our loyalties to each other and to our respective corps. “Will it help if you take pictures of this? I mean, getting the jump on the Vice Wing Commander twice in one day’s gotta count for something, right? Maybe draw an army star on my face before you do it. In permanent marker.”

Her shoulders shake a little, but she doesn’t move to document my captivity. I lick my lips and swallow the pain balling up in my throat. Eventually, Katniss sets her chin on my chest and looks up at me, her gaze softer this time.

“They lectured me on breaches in security. Like the fact that I can't lie to my boyfriend means that I’d spill national secrets to a spy or something,” she murmurs.

“That’s a bit of an overreaction,” I say and she sighs.

“Yeah, but it’s the way they think. To them, I’m now just a silly school girl with a crush.”

I feel her words like a stab in the heart. We’re supposed to be on the same side, but these ridiculous inter-service rivalries make me a threat to her. To her success. And I hate myself for proving them and their backwards ideas true.

“Katniss, I’m so sorry,” I whisper. She looks down at my chest and traces her short nails over the writing on my shirt.

“At first, I thought they knew about us and maybe rigged the drawing as punishment,” she says and I swallow heavily. “But now it’s so much worse. My whole squad is paying the price. Gale won’t even speak to me.”

And I thought I couldn’t hate myself any more. I’ve managed to embarrass her and destroy her relationship with her squad and her best friend. Okay, maybe there’s a tiny part of me that’s not as upset about that last one as I should be. The piece of me that’s always been a little jealous that she’s so open about her friendship with Gale when she’s oblivious to how he looks at her. Like they’re inevitable and he doesn't even have to try. But she won’t so much as hold my hand in public. Not even when we’re both out of uniform.

“He’ll forgive you, especially if your next raid is a success. He cares about you too much,” I try to soothe. She looks completely unconvinced, and I know I have to give her the out she needs. As much as it will pain me to do it.

“Maybe we should, I don’t know... If you want t-to take a break...or e-end th-things,” my voice is shaking pathetically and the words nearly choke the life from me, but I shove them out anyways, “I’ll understand.”

And all I can do is chant in my head.

Please say that’s not what you want. Please say THAT’S not what you want. Please say that’s NOT what you want. PLEASE say that’s not what you want.

“It’d be easier,” she says and my heart breaks right then and there. The pain of her words blinding me to everything else. Even though I considered the possibility several times throughout the day, I never allowed myself to do more than think it in passing and then shove it away before it could destroy me.

“We’re graduating in a year, Peeta. Going into different branches with different bases and little chance of being assigned together.”

Unless we’re married. Even then, we’d maybe get one or two assignments together if we’re lucky, and there’s not even a guarantee of that.

R.I.P. Peeta Mellark. He opened his mouth too wide and choked on wanting too much.

“Peeta,” she says and it already sounds like ‘good-bye.’

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists, feeling the bite of the plastic cuffs into my wrists and hoping the physical pain will keep me grounded through the pain of her leaving.

“Just...do it fast, okay?” I whisper, hoping it'll be like ripping off a band aid and knowing it won't. “You don’t even have to say anything. Just...go.”

“That’s the problem,” she whispers back. “I can’t.”

My brain barely has time to register her words before her lips crash into mine and my eyes fly back open to watch her kiss me. She’s kissing me?!

I’m confused. But her eyes are closed and her fists are pulling on my shirt and her lips move over mine with firm determination. I try to talk, to ask what she meant, but her tongue takes my open mouth as an invite. I give up on talking as light sparks inside me, warming as it spreads from my chest outward. And I kiss her back, as best I can without touching her.

She moans in my mouth and shifts her body so she’s cradling my jaw in her hands and rocking her hips over mine, her knees pressing into my sides so her legs almost embrace me. My mind goes all hazy when she grinds her hips down, pressing my zipper onto my cock. I’m already half hard and if she keeps this up, I’ll be desperate in about two seconds flat.

I yank my arms down in an attempt to break the thick plastic ties binding me, but nothing gives. All I manage to do is drag my bed across the floor and hurt my wrists. Katniss sits up and smiles down at me, her hands slowly skimming down my chest then back up, over my shoulders and up the length of my arms towards the cuffs as she lowers herself back over me.

“Do you want something?” she asks in a sing song voice that tells me I won’t be getting what I want.

“Can we take these off now?” I ask anyways and tug on the cuffs again. She stretches out over me, her hands caressing over my skin, just below the cuffs, but just when I think she’s going to free me and let me touch her, she pulls back slightly and shakes her head. A desperate whine escapes my throat as I squirm beneath her, my hands flexing with the need to feel her.

“Who can’t lie, Peeta?” she asks, and fuck me if I don’t get harder at her taunt. I groan as she bites my earlobe and pushes down into me with her hips. Again and again. “I'm still upset with you.”

Her motions and her whispers in my ear feel so damn good, they distract me from trying to get free. Instead, I brace my feet on the floor and thrust up into her. It’s her turn to gasp and I bite back a smile as her nails dig into my forearms. My jeans are too tight, tighter with each press of our bodies together and the resulting burst of pleasure that burns through me.

Without warning, she stops and I whimper, fucking whimper like a dog denied a biscuit. But she moves down my body and her hands yank violently at my belt, the button and zipper on my jeans. She grabs fistfuls of denim and pulls, taking my shorts too. I lift my hips to help, sighing in relief when my dick is free of the restriction, but she’s moving so fast that I lose my footing and fall back to the floor with my jeans and my shorts halfway down my legs.

She growls in frustration and moves again, tugging my shoes off before throwing them across the room and then tearing my clothes the rest of the way off. She moves around the bed and I listen to her pull the nightstand drawer open. She doesn’t bother closing it, but returns with the short strip of condoms I have left, dropping them on the floor next to me and standing over me, one foot on either side of my hips.

“Don’t I get a cuddle or something first?” I tease and she scowls at me. But I think maybe I understand now. She's had a rough day, faced failure and ridicule, and now she wants to feel like she can control SOMETHING, even if that something is us.

Katniss whips her shirt and sports bra off over her head and drops them to the floor before placing one booted foot on my chest. My palms ache for the weight of her breasts, my thumbs for the pebbled nipples already taut with desire.

“Unlace me, Mellark,” she orders.

“Can’t,” I remind her, jerking my wrists to prove it to her. Undeterred, she moves to set her boot next to my bound hands.

“Unlace me,” she repeats. Somehow, I manage to shift my wrists up the leg I’m attached to and blindly unlace first one boot and then the other. She sits on the corner of the bed, legs splayed on either side of me to finish removing them herself. They drop to the floor with resounding thuds. When she stands, she turns to face the bed and shoves her pants down her legs. I groan in agony at the view of her black boy shorts right above me and the damp patch between her legs. I am dizzy with the need to touch her and taste her, and I try once more to break free as she looks down at me with a sly smile.

“Katniss, please,” I beg. She tucks her thumbs into the waist of her panties and shimmies, slowly lowering them until they land on my face. She steps out of them and kicks them aside. I blink as she sits on my mouth.

“Fuck,” I say, but the word is garbled.

“What was that, Peeta?” she asks coyly, my name a squeak as I tilt my chin and suck on her lips. I fucking love eating her out. All the breathy little sounds she makes, the way she swivels her hips to get my tongue right where she wants it. Her taste like nectar, her scent a perfume. I could do this all day and die happy.

This is the first time she’s sat on my face and my hands are tied...literally. So I can’t guide her hips and she bumps into my nose and drops too low once or twice. She’s still enjoying it, though. Panting my name here and there in a beautiful song. Her legs shaking. Before I can get her close, she tears herself away from me.

I’m recovering from the sudden change and hardly notice her rip open a condom until her hand grips me and I buck into her touch. Before I can ask her to slow down a little, she’s got it on me and she’s lowering herself onto my cock.

“Oh fuck, Katniss!” I say as my spine bends and my head drags on the floor, my wrists aching as I strain against the cuffs and my cock throbs eagerly inside her wet heat. I don’t even try to control the sounds I make when her hands push my shirt up enough for her nails to burrow in my skin, hands clenched on my abs as she rolls her hips over me. But I want to watch and force myself to at least lay flat again so I can see her.

Eyes closed, braid swaying over her chest with her movements, arms straight and strong, holding me to the floor, mouth parted, tongue and teeth glistening, cheeks flushed. Radiant. Powerful, if a little vulnerable. Gorgeous.

As she speeds up, I once more bend my knees and brace my feet on the floor to rock myself up into her. Her hands move up to my chest as she groans my name and her walls squeeze once. I bite my lip, concentrating on keeping the pace as her eyes flutter open and her gaze locks with mine. Fire tickles down my spine and I try to stave it off by talking.

“Katniss, fucking take it from me. You know you want it. Your pussy wants it so fucking bad. You can’t lie to me. I can feel it. Feel you squeezing me. Right there?”

She keens wordlessly at the slight shift in angle, and the sounds alone are enough to get me right to the edge. Her hips thrash and I bite my lip hard as she comes all around me, her walls clenching and her juices coating me. She remains rigid above me as she rides it to the end and then her elbows buckle and I grunt as her weight lands squarely on my chest.

Her fingers trace over my shirt and her hot breath paints over my neck, tickling and arousing me further. With a deep sigh, she slides her hands up my arms and fiddles with something. There’s a slight release of pressure and she holds up a carabiner for me to see before tossing it aside. My wrists are still bound, but I’m no longer attached to the bed.

I bring my arms down to trap her to me and shove one foot against the floor to flip us over. Katniss gasps, wrapping her arms and legs around me, clinging to me as I twist my hands enough to get my palms flat on the floor. It’s fucking uncomfortable with her weight pressing down on my wrists and the cuffs, and my arms bent at this angle, but the pain is not as bad as the desire to plunge into her until I come.

She smiles and tilts her head back as I try to move, exposing her throat to me. I lick up the column of smooth skin, tasting the salt of her sweat and the musk that’s all Katniss. When I reach her chin, she rolls her head up and holds my face close to hers, so our noses and foreheads brush and her breaths float warm and inviting over my lips while we stare at one another. Then her heels dig into my ass, and I lose it. I buck like a fucking madman and can’t seem to stop. It’s fast and harsh and all too soon the fire races back through me, leaving my skull buzzing and my body flaming as I shout and slam into her before my body is seized in release, going rigid and still as it rocks through me. The cuffs finally snap as I stop coming and my arms give out.

I barely manage to catch myself before I crush her, my face pressed into the floor as I gasp and blink and try to figure out which way is up. It’s her fingers, tenderly caressing my neck and shoulders that guide me back to reality. Her legs still wrapped around me tightly, holding us together.

When I can breathe normally again, I gather her in my arms and move us onto the bed, discarding the condom and the broken cuffs, and removing my shirt before I join her beneath the covers.

“I still can't believe you went down on me with my whole squad down the hallway.”

I laugh and wrap my arms around her, relieved when she curls into me the way she always does.

“May I remind you that you kissed me, and you're the one who went for my belt first?”

“You may not.”

“I would've stopped if you'd told me to,” I whisper. “I still can't believe you let me go that far with your whole squad down the hallway.”

I grin and trail my fingers over her hair. She yawns and presses a handful of soft kisses to my chest, sending up a wave of fluttering from my middle. When I turn to kiss her cheek, though, she stiffens in my embrace.

“The navy,” she whispers.

“What are you talking about?” I ask and manage to lift my head to look down at her. She’s wide eyed and flushed, her gaze is excited and eager.

“That’s my target. The Navy midshipmen,” she explains. Then she bites her lip and lifts an eyebrow. “Since you kind of owe me, Zoomie, you think you might be willing to spare a few cadets to help out and earn some bragging rights?”

“I might be able to help. We've always talked about turning that gigantic, tacky as fuck brass anchor in their entry way into a clothes line. Put a sign on it that says ‘Salute Your Shorts,’” I tell her and she wriggles with glee.

“I knew there was a reason I put up with you,” she teases and I laugh, just happy that she’s not angry and leaving.

“Anytime you need to loosen an idea from your mind, I’m more than willing to put my body at your service. And I’d like to remind you that we in the Air Force pride ourselves on Service Before Self,” I tease right back and nibble on her neck until she’s squealing in laughter and clawing at my shoulders. I fling the sheets up in the air and crawl beneath them. “It's a dangerous task, but I am completely willing to sacrifice myself to get it done right.”

Her laughter stops when I settle in the cradle of her legs and tilt her hips to taste her again. There will be other obstacles to face in the future. The most glaring one is what we’ll do after graduation. But for now, I just want to focus on helping her regain that respect I cost her. To spend every possible minute with her that she’ll allow me.

160 notes · View notes

samingtonwilson · 7 years

Text

Acquainted - Jim Kirk

Title: Acquainted

Pairing: Jim Kirk x reader

Prompt: acquainted by the weeknd

Word count: 1,724 (im not sure what it is without the lyrics, sorry)

Warnings: language

Author’s note: first song in the bbtm series i’m gonna do! it’s not the first in the album track listing but since i’m only doing my favorite songs, i figured the order didn’t matter. this turned out a lot more sweet than i wanted but the song is kind of sweet (or at least. sweet for the weeknd) so i guess it’s justified. i also REALLY didn’t want to use the word acquaintance in the story BUT I COULDN’T THINK OF ANOTHER WORD. whatevs, ENJOY N TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! i actually really like this one.

Baby you’re no good Cause they warned me ‘bout your type girl, I’ve been ducking left and right Baby you’re no good Think I fell for you, I fell for you, I fell for you

Jim took a seat across from you— he didn’t ask, he didn’t wait for you to acknowledge his presence. He looked relaxed with his worn grey leather jacket and simple t-shirt underneath. He was clutching his scotch glass with an unbelievably tough grip, though, like he was using it for stability.

He had been told by Leonard not to bother you: “Leave her be,” he said, muttering into his glass. He knew how long Jim had been stopping himself— for weeks, actually— so Leonard’s half-hearted scoldings and warnings were done without confidence of being paid heed. Jim wasn’t the strongest proponent of self control, nor was he the strongest follower of its path— weeks were long enough. Weeks made it worth the risk.

He was tracing your features with his glossy blue eyes. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen beauty before, he was surrounded by beauty. But something about the unbothered way with which you looked back at him and the little attention you paid him kept him planted there. He couldn’t move.

You got me puttin’ time in, time in Nobody got me feeling this way You probably think I’m lying, lying I’m used to bitches comin’ right ‘way

“Can I help you with something, Captain?”

Your voice was monotonous, uninterested. Though his eyes narrowed in reaction, he stayed put.

“We’re on shore leave,” he said with a small smile. “You can call me Jim.”

You nodded once. You didn’t look at him. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He watched you a little while longer. He sat in silence and was thinking of what to say next. He wasn't accustomed to needing to do that. He prided himself on his wit— he could speak his way out of any situation, he could strike and maintain a conversation with a wall if need be.

“It seems like you want to be left alone.”

Your eyes flashed. You tilted your head and wrinkled your nose, more expression in your face now than he’d ever seen. “What makes you think that?”

He leaned forward. His elbows sat against the sticky table and his leather jacket was nearly glued to the surface. He watched your eyes and slowly watched parts of you unravel— slowly, almost achingly slowly. “It’s like every word out of my mouth is a punishment.”

You clicked your tongue softly. Your smile had shrunk to allow an expression of very faux sadness. You laughed through your nose a moment later. “Now don’t think that. I quite like this— I’m just waiting.”

“Waiting? For?” His thick eyebrows were raised.

“Your routine, of course. Surely I’m worthy of experiencing the great James T. Kirk routine the ship’s perpetually abuzz about.”

When you continued to look at him directly in the eyes— your irises alive from Jim’s off-guard demeanor— Jim had to stop himself from lunging across the table and claiming your pursed lips with his.

You bit down on your bottom lip then and leaned your chin onto your hand, propped up by your elbow against the table. “Unless, of course, I’m not worthy. Or you’ve got a new routine for me.”

“I’m surprised you reduced yourself to my routine, let alone consider yourself unworthy.” He took a sip of his drink and watched you as you watched him. “Maybe you’re too good for a routine.”

“You don’t have to flatter me to convince me. I’m already wondering if we’re going to your place or mine.”

You got me touchin’ on your body You got me touchin’ on your body To say that we’re in love is dangerous But girl I’m so glad we’re acquainted, oh

I get you touchin’ on your body I get you touchin’ on your body I know I’d rather be complacent But girl I’m so glad we’re acquainted We’re acquainted

None of it was allowed. Not fraternizing with a crewmember on board, not booking unnecessary appointments in the medbay, not choosing a physician with which there is a personal relationship, and especially not having sex in an empty exam room.

Yet you and Jim, just moments after being tangled in one another, did your best to slip your uniforms back on and into place. He stood near the far wall and you sat on the countertop, careful not to knock your respective communicators to the ground. Your hair was tangled and was missing Jim’s fingers that were only just combed through the strands. Your lips, now not moving in sync and against his, felt cold. You crossed your legs then, attempting to seem casual when your limbs still felt gelatinous and unsteady. You regulated your breathing. You told yourself to focus on something.

As Jim zipped his trousers and redid his belt, he spared you more than enough glances. He wanted to look as unaffected, unfazed as you did. So he didn’t smile, didn’t frown— no emotional indications, he would repeat to himself no matter how badly his lips twitched.

The both of you were only a few weeks into your routine that Jim could only deem self-destructive— at least when referring to himself. Self-destructive because your simultaneous lack and overload of emotional indications tortured his every thought— how could you kiss him the way you did, look at him the way you did, only to return to the silent, uninterested corner you frequented? Self-destructive because he made himself believe the only antidote to such torture lied in you— that he needed to return to you each time you frustratingly confused him, that there was no other way to find a moment of peace. Self-destructive because all of this, save for the Starfleet regulation-breaking, was unlike him— weeks spending nights with the same person, weeks thinking about the same person, weeks unable to focus on anything else.

He was a firm believer that all sources of contentment, of happiness, of smug confidence resided in him. It was safer that way— less messy. But, for some reason, this mess, this utter obliteration of every ego-bricked wall he sat behind brought him happiness, contentment, smugness he’d never found within himself. Unfortunately, it also brought along an unmatched level of irritation, of frustration, of total teeth-gritting aggravation when your walls, bricked with an ego similar to that which lied scattered in front of him, came down and rebuilt themselves upon your whim.

Words came spilling from his mouth before he could help it. “What is this?”

You looked up from your fingernails. “An exam room.”

“Yeah?” he said with a laugh. He shook his head. “I meant you and I. What the fuck are we even doing?”

“Right now, we’re talking. In general, I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t bother you? The not knowing.”

You bit down on your swollen bottom lip. Your gaze remained in his unwaveringly. “Does it bother you?”

“Kind of.” He groaned internally. He gave you a mile, and you still couldn’t be bothered to give him a centimeter.

“Okay. Do you have feelings for me?”

He gave you another mile. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes, no— both.” He sighed. His blue eyes were tired and his blonde hair messy. “Maybe.”

“I don’t know what to do about maybe.” You extended your hand and wiggled your fingers until he stepped forward and took it. You looked directly into his eyes. “Friends or acquaintances? It’s your choice.”

‘Cause every time I try to, try to, try to run The fast life keeps gaining on me (the fast life keeps gaining on me,) shit But ever since I met you (ever since I met you) I couldn’t believe what you did So comfort me babe, ain’t no rush from me babe

Blue, yellow, and black fabric sat in individual piles on the floor. Old music— something a younger Jim would listen to when the noises of his home, of the world outside his bedroom were unpleasant— played and was forgotten. Coffee was filled in two mugs also forgotten under the replicator.

Jim stared down at you. You stared up at Jim. He found your eyes more and more astonishing each day, and he could only think how boring and unexciting you found the blue of his. You didn’t look away, though— no matter how many times you told yourself to, you couldn’t look away. He found that odd.

The gradual unraveling was unnerving, yet satisfying. The brightness of your eyes took longer to fade now and the humor, sadness, happiness, anger, disgust, elation in your voice was now ever-present. You had spent the night the last five nights— on your own accord. The first two nights you pushed his arm away when you thought he was asleep, but the following three you scooted in closer to him.

You moved slowly— much slower than he would’ve liked but much faster than he thought he would’ve liked. But with you, with the mix of emotions the sight of you inspired, he modified his thinking. He adjusted, he slowed, he paced.

It surprised him. He’d always known himself to be headstrong— just not in these matters. He never gave himself the time he needed and, when he was able to, he didn’t need it. He didn’t need time at all, he only needed the reassurance that the time he spent waiting wouldn’t be wasted.

“You’re really good,” you said softly, reaching up to brush your cold fingertips over his cheekbone. “As a person, you’re really, really good.”

He kissed your palm when you held the side of his face. He kept his eyes on you. “So are you.”

You shook your head. “You’re honest. And you’re present, and open, and I don’t know why you’re even here.”

“Because I want to be,” he said even though he thought it would’ve been obvious. He lowered himself a little to press his lips from your forehead, to your cheek, to your jaw, and to your neck.

“Even if I need time? To feel the way you do.”

He could feel the comforting vibrations of your voice against his lips but didn’t feel any hesitation meeting your eyes again. Before kissing you again, he simply told you, “I can wait.”

I’m not tryna talk at all Tryna love you crazy

#jim kirk #jim kirk x reader #kirk imagine #jim kirk imagine #star trek #star trek imagine #acquainted #ok that's enough #hopefully this is up in the morning

111 notes · View notes