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nanaslutt · 6 months

Note

Geto def gets off to being called a pervert

I see the vision clear as day anon, i hope you enjoy<3

Geto is so dirty in this holy........

contains: fem reader, roomate!geto, panty thief, teasing, dirty talk, degradation, praise, accidental voyeurism, mating press, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (reader receiving), cum eating, geto is nasttyyyyyy, slight crack at the end, shoko makes an appearance :p

MDNI

°��⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Suguru can I borrow that band tee you were wearing the other day? I’m about to go out with shoko.” you scrolled on some social media site on the sofa while you called out for your roommate in the kitchen.

Head hanging upside down off the armrest, looking at his naked back in your twisted view, waiting for his response.

Geto peeked his head briefly over his shoulder from the counter he faced, letting out a short laugh before he replied, wanting to ask if the ridiculous positions you came up with were actually comfortable.

Saving his smart remark for another day and responding that he didn’t care, followed by the location of the tshirt.

Picking up your body you placed one foot in front of the other, making quick work for his room, voice ringing out in the hall, “thanks!”

“Shoko said she’s heading here soon so I should probably start getting ready.” you shouted from his room, reaching for his second dresser drawer, where he said it would be.

Pulling the nob back and messing up his carefully folded clothes as you pulled out shirt after shirt, unfolding it to get a better view of the piece before shoving it back in when it ultimately wasn’t what you were looking for.

Eyebrows scrunching inwards when your sights landed on a piece of bright pink fabric shoved deep in the bottom of the drawer. Not remembering suguru ever wear anything like it, you pulled it out.

And you really don’t remember him wearing anything like this.

Because what you were holding between your fingers was your panties.

Jaw dropping slightly in disbelief, head turning back towards the doorway you just walked through, before snapping your neck back in front of you and digging deeper.

“Where are you guys going?” he questioned, yelling from the kitchen as he chopped up some vegetables, back facing the direction of his room.

A decent sized pile was forming of the undergarments you thought you had lost the deeper you looked. You were fuming.

Between Suguru and yourself, you divided the chores up evenly the day you moved in together. Him opting to be on laundry duty over trash, both splitting the dishes.

Never once did the thought even cross your mind that they might’ve been kidnapped by your usually sweet roommate; who is in charge of handling those same panties every day; when you were unable to find them anywhere in your space.

You scoffed in disbeleif at his antics, tongue poking the inside of your ckeek, making it bulge.

You heard him say your name from the kitchen when you didnt answer his question.

Wading up the thieved panties in your fist, you stormed out of his room. Stomping down the hall at a much hastier pace than before, his toned back once agains came into your view.

Geto paused his chopping, muscles in his body going rigid, because he swears you just threw something at his back.

Turning his body to face you, he looked down at the underwear at his feet, a smirk creeping onto his face when he drags his sights back up, making eye contact with your furious expression, brain racing with questions only he could answer.

"Whoops," he says, not an ounce of remorse in his tone. He could practically see the steam coming off of the top of your head when your face scrunched up in a scowl.

"What the fuck were you doing with my panties, do you have any idea how long I've been looking for some of those!?", he feels the anger in the air with your every word.

"You sure you want me to answer that?" he giggles, crossing his arms over his bulging pecs, letting the weight off one of his legs as he braced his lower back into the counter.

"Oh my god!" you shook your head, "you're such a fucking pervert!" you shouted.

"Woah, you don't even know what I did with them yet. Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions when you call me that, huh?" he retaliated, faux offense gracing his features before a more smug look took its place.

"There is no non..." throwing your hands up in search of the right word, "freaky explanation as to why you hid my PANTIES suguru!" Lip curled up in frustration again when laughed at your retort, “so I think my choice of words was fitting." you finished, referring to the name you called him.

"Haha! yeahh, you might be right." both hands dropped from his chest and slid into his pockets. "I wrapped them around my cock a couple of times when I was jerkin' off." An amused look sticking to his face when your jaw dropped in speechlessness, face turning completely red at his confession.

"Came all over the crotch of ur pretty panties too, pretended it was ur pussy." his big mouth continued spilling his dirty secrets out into the open air.

"Y-you," stuttering as you felt the air around you shifting into a heavier one, one that you both picked up on, heart racing in your chest matching the throbbing between your legs as you spoke, "pervert."

----

"F-fucking pervert, fuck!" you moaned into the air when his curved cock drilled perfectly into the most sensitive spot inside you for the nth time that evening.

Really hoping Shoko was taking her time as Suguru held your thighs open by your head, pushing your flexability to the limits as he bullied his thick cock inside your gushing pussy.

"Yeah? tell me how fucking nasty I am baby," he groaned with a smile. Eyes not being able to choose their favorite sight as he looked between where the two of you were connected; your cum making a ring form around the base of his cock; and your pretty drooling face that was looking so fucked out.

"S-so f-fucking disgusting for st-ealin' my dirty panties sugu-ru." words getting broken up by your pleasured moans as he brought his hips back till just the tip of his cock was caught on the rim of your little hole, before fucking it back in with such force it made you dizzy.

"C-cant believe you would d-o that." whining loudly when his thick thumb came down to rub circles into your throbbing bud.

Geto felt a tingling sensation of pleasure jolt through his spine at your harsh words, "M' sorry baby," he lied between his teeth, "got tired of seein’ ur cute little ass walk around the house in basically nothing." cooing at you when you squeezed your cunt tightly around his length at his filthy words, "h-had to do something about it,"

The both of you bounced against the bed as you let out loud Ah's and curses in response to his mean thrusts.

"Nothin' compares to this tho," Geto smiled, rubbing your clit faster when he noticed it made you tighten up your pussy, "Fucking ur pretty little pussy like this is so much better than my fist 'n holdin' ur panties against my face."

"S-suguru thats so nas-tyyy." you drawled out when he picked up his pace, fucking into you with such force and speed you thought you were gonna pass out.

Leaning his body into yours, practically crushing you with his weight with your legs dangling over his shoulders, he brought his face just inches from yours, lips grazing each others at his rough thrusts jolting you both around.

"Is it?" he replied to your declaration, opening his mouth and moaning against your lips before he closed the distance, " Felt so fucking good tho," he laughed against you, pushing his tongue into your mouth, his groans mixing with your squeals.

Less of a kiss and more of him just crushing his jaw into your own as he overwhelmed you with his tongue. Greedily inhaling your moans into his lungs as he continued his assult on your sensitive clit.

"Sugu' 'm gonna cum, fuck-" you mumbled against his wet lips. His own high-creeping rapidly up on him, feeling his balls tighten as they slapped against your ass.

"Me too baby m-me too," eyes squeezing together and eyebrows furrowing, thumb against your clit becoming sloppy as he started to lose himself, "gonna let this pervert fill you up, huh?" he babbled, breaking the kiss and buring his head in the crook of your neck while he messily sucked and kissed the skin there.

"Gonna take a-all my fucking cum like a good girl?" his moans raising in pitch, goosebumbs forming on the back of his neck hearing your loud whines and moans go straight into his ear.

"P-please, give it to me, please." you begged, "fu-ck, c-coming," you managed to voice before your cunt constricted around him, squelching noises increasing when your pussy forced your orgasm out around him, "oh m-y go-d" you repeated as he fucked you through it.

Getting thrown into overstimulation as he repeatedly hit your g-spot, not being able to move his thumb off your clit, or even voice him to do so, "cum inside me sugu-ru," you whimpered into his ear, helping him reach his end. Squealing at his rough thrusts losing their once steady pace when he came.

He bit down hard on your neck, groaning and whining into the skin as he fucked his cum into your womb. Timing his heavy thrusts with the ropes of warm seed spurting out of his dick, pressing his balls hard into your ass each time he did, making sure he really filled you up.

Geto’s eyes rolled back in his head feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm spasm around his twitching dick, milking him for all he was worth. "holy shittt." you voiced at how full he was making you feel.

Your overstimulation died down when his brain was no longer able to function well enough to remind him to play with your clit, something you were grateful for.

He silently lifted his head from the crook of your neck and pulled his incredibly sensitive cock out of your warmth. Staring between the two of you to watch his cum drip out of you, his mouth watering.

Your own arm being draped over your face while you tried to catch your breath, blocking you from seeing his next moves.

Holding your legs up and spread by your calves, he leaned down to your pussy and started sucking on your folds.

Caught off gaurd at the simulation you shot your hands down to his head, trying to push him off you at the intense feeling of his fat tongue on your mound.

He forced his tongue into the tight ring of your cunt, greedily drinking up your combined cum and moaning at the taste. Your thighs twitched with the need to shut around his head at the vibration.

Detaching his mouth from your pussy with a 'pop' he sat back on his heels, your calves still in his large palms as he stared at your abused pussy, licking his lips clean.

"So much fucking tastier than your panties." He grinned.

"You really are disgusting Suguru." Shaking your head against the sheets as he finally let your legs drop back down to the mattress.

"Careful, my cock likes when you talk to me like that." He teases, meaning every word as he tucks his drenched cock back into his boxers,

"Whatever, take me to the bathroom please." You said, ignoring his previous comment, "Cant stand and I need to pee." Holding your arms out to him.

He giggled at your dramatics; even tho he really did fuck the strength out of your legs; scooping his palms under your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He raised you from the bed in a princess cradle and started walking you to the bathroom, "You need to learn how to take it easy. Seriously." you chastised, noticing the bruises and bite marks on your neck when you walked past a mirror, "If this is how you're going to treat me when we fuck, you're better off sticking to stealing my panties, at least they won't feel what you do to them." you complained, only partially meaning your words, which he knew.

"Don't act like your pussy doesn't throb when you see how I marked you up." you rolled your eyes at his retort, making it to the bathroom that neighbors a wall with the kitchen. He placed you down on the seat of the toilet before backing up and leaning against the doorway, facing the doorframe parallel to him as he let you do your business.

"I just had to listen to you guys fuck each other like rabbits for ten minutes, please don't make me listen to you dirty talk each other outside of the bedroom too."

You knew that voice.

"Shoko! good to see you, didn't realize you made yourself at home." Geto snarkily remarked.

"Your pretty roomie gave me a key you big oaf, now go hide in your room for awhile kay?" she brushed her hand in the air, signaling him to fuck off, "Was suposed to take her out but its sounding like you broke her legs so.. well just watch a movie here." she sighed.

Geto brought his attention back to you once more. He had to fight back the laugh burning in his lungs when he saw your crimson face buried in your hands, shinji posing on the toilet in embarrassment.

Stupid fucking panty thief.

“pt.2” here

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quizzicalwriter · 6 months

Note

Could u please do a smut where Dallas and the reader are on a late night drive and they end up in the backseat and there’s some fingering leading up to it…thank you!

One of These Nights

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: A date at the river ends with discarded clothes and fogged windows.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Porn with very little plot. Fingering, oral, car sex - all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.3k

What had started as a normal trip to the river wound up being a supervision service Dallas reluctantly found himself holding for you, reluctantly being used loosely. Despite the frown he’d worn when you stripped yourself of your jacket and shoes, he couldn’t help but watch you in awe as you ran at a full sprint into the water. You’d beckoned him closer, calling to him from the water like a siren would an ill-fated sailor. He’d only managed to stave you off by waving his cigarette in front of his face with a crooked smile, earning him an exaggerated huff of air on your part.

God himself could’ve appeared to Dallas at that moment and still wouldn’t have succeeded in peeling his attention away from you. The way you laughed as you ran through the shallows of the river, kicking up water that’d splash back on you and the lip of the shore. The sun covered you, igniting your beauty in a magnitude Dallas hadn’t thought possible. Maybe Johnny was right, sunsets weren’t all too bad.

Before he knew it he’d smoked the entire cigarette, having completely lost himself in you without even having touched you. He tossed the still-smoldering bud to the rocks below, snubbing it out with the heel of his boot before pulling his shirt over his head. He could hear your whoop of cheered laughter from the waterbed, making him smile to himself as he kicked off his boots and jeans.

The water was pleasantly warm, surely having been baked by the summer sun early on in the day. Dallas found himself thankful for it as he waded toward you, returning your smile in fervor before leaping toward you, arms immediately encircling you to pull you underwater with him. Your arms encircled his under the murky depths, fingers subtly digging into the muscle along his forearms as his feet planted along the riverbed, pushing himself upright and above water with you in his arms, boisterous laughter falling from your lips in droves as you wiped the water from your face.

“Warn me next time!” You laughed out, eyes still squeezed shut as you brushed your soaked hair back from your face. His laughter settled in his chest, vibrating against your skin as he held you close. “No fun in that, doll.”

“Could’ve drowned!” You responded before he’d even had a moment to breathe, in jest of course, but the way your eyes peered up at him made him stifle laughter all the same. He’d always done the same thing each time you both found yourself at the river, framing his walk over to you as something calm before pulling you into deeper water to dunk you both, always ensuring you were held close to his body before doing so - but doing it nonetheless.

“Wouldn’t let you drown.” He responded incredulously, rolling his eyes as though your jest had offended him in some manner. “Have some faith in me, doll.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the way his New York accent would flare up in the funniest of ways whenever he found himself frustrated, faux or genuine, it still made itself apparent and you loved it. You tilted your head back, shifting ever so slightly in his hold to rest your back against his warm chest, encircling your arms over his as you looked up to him.

“You sound real northern whenever you talk like that.” You teased, smiling bright up at him, earning you another roll of his eyes as he playfully shoved your head back down with a muffled, “Shut up.”

His hands fumbled with the wet fabric of your dress, finding himself eternally thankful that you both chose an area along the river that rarely had any other visitors given how sheer your dress had gone. He could count the freckles along your shoulders, the tempo at which you breathed, and how your chest would press against the linen. He knew he’d have to give you his jacket when it came time to drop you back off at your place, but for now, he’d savor the look of you draped in translucent clothing.

You raised a hand to cover his, bringing it over your breast, the steady thrum of your heartbeat thumping against the pads of his fingertips as he looked down at you. You met his gaze, eyes focused on his lips and the beads of water that lingered there. He made the first move, hand kneading your breast as he leaned down to connect your lips to his. His thumb brushed over your hardened bud as he nipped at your bottom lip, only pulling away to spin you around to face him fully.

You rested your hands against his chest, savoring the warmth that pooled from his skin in comparison to the chilled water droplets that continued to cascade down both of your bodies. He wasted no time in reconnecting in a kiss, a soft hum resonating in his chest as your tongue moved with his. You’d hardly noticed one of his hands had moved between your thighs until you felt two of his fingers press against your clothed cunt, slowly moving in circular motions as he deepened the kiss.

Whatever words of protest lingered in your mind at the prospect of being touched in a place so public were immediately stunted the moment his fingers circled your clit, pulling a drawn-out moan from your chest that he all but swallowed in your kiss. You could feel his breathing quicken the longer he touched you, his hold on your body tightening, pulling you to be almost flush with his front as he slid his hand underneath your underwear.

Your warmth was enough to pull a grunt from him as he curled his middle and ring finger into you, thumb circling your clit as you pulled away from the kiss, burying your face in his chest as your hips rocked with the movement of his fingers. He rested his cheek against your hair, free arm looping around your back as he plunged his fingers deeper, brushing against your g-spot in the process.

“Dallas-“ You whined, having to rake your mind for any trace of a coherent thought as he hummed in response, not bothering to slow the tempo of his fingers. “Car, please-“

He let out a quiet laugh, nodding as he withdrew his fingers, doing his best to help you from the water with your wobbly legs and into the back of the T-Bird. The setting sun gave way to moonlight that hung heavy over the water, casting a pale hue on everything below it. Dallas followed you into the backseat, both of you laughing at the absurdity of clamoring into a car with soaked clothes.

Good thing you had no intention of staying dressed.

Dallas helped you remove your dress, hands smoothing up your still-damp skin as he lifted the fabric up and over your head, tossing it to the floorboard in haste to get back to what he really wanted to touch - you. You leaned back against the backseat, spreading your thighs before him as he situated himself between your legs, letting his hands trail up your bare thighs before resting against the hem of your underwear. You lifted your hips, silently begging him to remove them for you to which he quickly obliged, sliding the fabric down and off your legs before tossing them down to the floorboard as well.

“Gorgeous.” He whispered, eyes trailing over your bare form as his hands raked up your thighs, thumbs brushing along the soft flesh of your inner thighs. You could feel yourself clench around nothing, on the verge of insanity driven by your pure need to have him in any way he’d have you. He trailed the back of his fingers along your soaked folds, a smug smile upon his lips as he felt your arousal coat his skin. His eyes flickered up to yours, drinking in the pitiful look written across your face the longer he dragged out his teasing.

He pressed his thumb against your clit, slowly circling it as his other hand brushed up your stomach to hold your breast. Before you could beg him to do anything further he sunk between your legs, moving his hand to help lift your leg to drape it over his shoulder, eyes locked on you as he placed a kiss to your cunt. Your hips jutted up at the contact, inadvertently pushing yourself closer to his mouth. He only chuckled, bringing his other hand down from your breast to press against your lower stomach, holding you steady as he swirled his tongue around your clit.

A broken string of curses fell past your lips as you rolled your hips, riding his tongue as he continued to place open-mouthed kisses along your soaked cunt. Your hands found their way to his hair, tugging on the dark strands as your head fell back against the leather interior of the car. He shifted his body ever so slightly, lifting it enough to bring his hand forward to press his middle and ring finger back into your cunt, curling both to press against your g-spot as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

You rode his fingers and tongue, eyes screwed shut from the combination of feelings soaring through your veins. Every so often you’d have to remind yourself to breathe, finding yourself more focused on the feeling of his tongue delving between your folds paired with the pressure of his hand against your lower stomach and how his fingers jutted up into your cunt. You were sure your juices had covered his lips and dripped onto his chin, but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“I’m gonna cum-“ Were the only words you were able to whine as the feeling built to a fever pitch in your lower stomach, the words pulling a moan from Dallas, filling him with a renowned vigor as he pushed himself closer to you. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as your hips jerked, cunt spasming against his tongue as he continued his movements through your orgasm.

He didn’t stop, even as your back arched from the leather and a broken-off moan tore its way from your throat. He looped his arms around your upper thighs, holding your cunt to his mouth until your hands pried at his forearms, wordlessly begging for a moment to breathe. As your chest heaved for breath he placed gentle kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing soft circles along your hips.

Dallas waited until your breathing slowed to move, situating himself over top of you, murmuring hushed words of praise as he kissed along your throat and shoulder. You could only whine in reply, mind still muddled from your recent orgasm. He helped your thigh up, resting it against his hip before pushing his boxers down, kicking them off the rest of the way. He slid his tip along your slick folds, spreading your cum along his shaft before adjusting himself to push into you.

You were still sensitive, cunt twitching around his cock as he bottomed out within you. Your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, nails digging into the muscles along his back as he slowly rolled his hips. You tilted your head back, capturing his lips in a needy kiss as he grasped at your waist, each thrust knocking the wind from your lungs. As his tongue moved with yours his hand slunk between your bodies, fingers encircling your clit as he continued fucking you.

The taste of yourself on his tongue was enough to leave you clenching around him, hips cantering with each roll of his own, helping him to reach deeper within you as your legs tightened around his waist. The slick sound of him pushing into you echoed within the car, the only sound rivaling it being the moans that slipped free between your shared kisses.

You could feel that familiar coil tightening in your lower stomach, each thrust and swirl of his fingers around your clit pushing you closer to the edge. You pulled away from the kiss, letting your head fall back against the leather seat as you gave yourself over to the feeling. Dallas could feel your cunt fluttering around him as your second orgasm surged through you, the feeling pulling him to lean down against you, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he chased his own.

As he fucked you through your orgasm your fingers threaded their way through his hair, moans tumbling past your lips and into the humid air that steadily fogged the windows of the car. With a broken grunt of your name, he flooded your cunt with his cum. He held himself there until his cock finished twitching, leaving him overly sensitive as he slowly pulled himself out, only to watch in awe as his cum spilled from you and onto the seats below.

“Fuck.” He gasped, voice nearly incomprehensible over his sharp intake of breath. You looked up at him, expression completely flushed and fucked-out. Your skin felt sticky, whether from the humidity or your shared fluids, you didn’t know, but the moonlight pouring in through the fogged windows cast you both in a hue that wouldn’t leave your mind for years if you could help it.

“Hey.” You nudged his thigh with your foot, soft laughter leaving you as you motioned to your still-wet dress on the floorboard. “Can’t take me home naked, Dal.”

He nodded, laughing himself as he leaned back onto his knees to grab your clothes, a slight grimace flashing across his features when he realized how soaked your clothes truly were.

“Can’t take you back soaked neither.” He huffed out, eyes flitting over to you. “You’ll stay at mine tonight. I’ll carry you inside wrapped up in my jacket if I have to.”

You couldn’t lie, the thought sounded much more intriguing than slinking back into your home dripping in river water. So you relented, not that you needed much persuasion in the first place. You’d explain to your folks where you were in the morning.

“Sounds good to me.”

A/N: I wrote half of this to Hozier and the other half to Lana - what that says about me I don’t know. Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy this, I haven’t written smut in a while, figured you guys deserve a lil treaty treat. As always, thank you for all the love and support you guys show my work! I appreciate it more than words can describe. You can find all my work over on AO3 as well under the user, “Unscriptural!” And if you’re wondering if I received your request, I most certainly did, I have about nine other writings I’m currently finishing up so it should be published soon!

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Note

potential thought that maybe went from fluff to smuty 🥴 but what if ‘as you wish’ eddie one day shares his secret about how he felt that day at the boys birthday pool party and but now they’re together so he finally gets to have some pool/kissy time with reader but she keeps teasing him like maybe she asks him when he first kinda knew he felt something for her and he goes straight to ‘I saw you holding a baby girl and wanted u to have MY baby girl’

You inspired @munson-blurbs and I with this request! I hope you enjoy what we did with it 💛

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), breeding kink, semi-public sex I guess?

Words: 2.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The California night is warm, and the moon is full and bright. Stars twinkle like diamonds in the black sky as Eddie drops two towels down on a chair on the deck of the empty resort pool. The romantic dinner and walk on the beach were a wonderful start to your evening, leading now to you and your husband going for a late night dip. Your husband. The term still fills your tummy with a pleasant tingle and forces a smile on your face. He hasn’t even been your husband for a full week yet, but you’re sure you will never get tired of calling him that. It’s a few days into your honeymoon now, at an upscale resort on a Southern California beach. Luke made the two of you promise that you wouldn’t go to Disneyland without him or his older brother. If it were anyone other than a child, Eddie would have told them he didn’t plan on leaving the room long enough to do much of anything else.

The lights on the pool wall illuminate the refreshing water as you step in, Eddie right behind you. As you submerge up to your waist, you let out a little squeal at the chill water coming up so high on your body. You hear him laugh, until he steps off of the last stair and feels the cold splashing against his lower torso.

His arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest. His guitar pick necklace presses into your shoulder blade as his fingers dig into the plush of your hips. “Body heat,” he casually offers, and you’re certainly not one to avoid sharing personal space with Eddie Munson.

You turn around and kiss him softly but sensually, gently bringing your core to graze his. You giggle at the quiet moan that escapes his lips. “Just trying to keep you warm, baby,” you tease, leaning in to nip at his bicep.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Mrs. Munson,” he growls in your ear, fingers toying with the halter strings of your bikini top. You weren’t the most comfortable in a swimsuit, but something about the way Eddie looked like he wanted to devour you helped your confidence enough to wear one. “Knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Pulling back slightly, you give him an amused grin. “You knew you’d be feeling me up in a pool when I interviewed for a babysitting job?” you ask incredulously.

Eddie shrugs, stealing a kiss before he says, “I knew I wanted to.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Even though you two are the only ones in the pool, you lean in and whisper in his ear. “When I got home that night, all I could think about was the way you called me ‘Sweetheart’ before I left.”

“Sweetheart, Sweetheart, Sweetheart,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll call you that every second of every day, if that’s what gets you going.”

“All you have to do is look at me to get me going, baby,” you mumble against his mouth before securing your lips over his again. Eddie wades deeper into the water and you can’t even bring yourself to disconnect from him when the water creeps up your shoulders, sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just your husband. Eddie chuckles when he feels you shudder in his arms. He pulls away and presses a few kisses along your neck.

“When did you know?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Eddie hums against your throat.

“When did you know how you really felt about me?” you ask, fingers tangling in the wet curls at the base of his neck.

“You mean, when did I know you were the one?” he asks, giving you a wolfish grin as he pulls away from your neck. “Do you remember that school holiday concert Ryan had? The one where he had the solo in ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer?’”

The memory brings a smile to your face, seeing little Ryan out in the middle of the stage, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he sang his part with a shaky voice. “Of course I remember.”

“That’s when I knew it was more than just a crush,” Eddie says, brushing some of your hair out of your face. “Like I said, I felt something instantly the moment I first saw you. But when you came to that concert even when you didn’t have to, just because you wanted to be there? Shit, I knew it was real feelings. Then that first night we slept together? And I didn’t have to hide how badly I wanted you anymore? That’s when I knew I was a goner. Head over heels for you. Disgustingly in love.”

The emotion behind his words sends a warm sensation throughout your body. You cling to him tighter and rest your forehead against his. “I’m disgustingly in love with you as well, just so you know.”

“Then it’s a damn good thing we’re married.”

“Mhmm,” you hum as you take your left hand out of the pool water. The moonlight glints off your engagement and wedding rings, making them look impossibly more beautiful than they already are.

“I gotta be honest with you,” he continues, successfully untying your top and tugging it until it falls off of your body. You barely have time to register the chilly air on your bare breasts before he’s sucking harsh bruises around your nipples. “Seeing you like this reminds me of the first time I saw you in a swimsuit. Only now I actually get to do what I fantasized about.”

You furrow your brow, breath hitching as his clothed erection presses against your thigh. “Wh-When was that?”

“You don’t remember?” Eddie feigns disappointment, and you splash him playfully. “That’s fair. You were actually helping set up Ryan’s birthday party; I was just checking out the hot babysitter.”

Ryan’s birthday party—that was before you and Eddie had ever hooked up. Maybe a flirtatious joke or the exchanging of sweet smiles, but nothing close to sex.

“And just what were you fantasizing about?” You let your fingers dip into the waistband of his navy blue swim trunks.

Eddie’s voice is gravelly, barely above a whisper when he says, “Saw you holding Sinclair and Red’s baby girl and I wanted you to have my baby girl.” He takes your hands and guides you to the pool ledge. “Wanted to bend you over the side of the pool and fuck a baby into you.”

You shoot him a coy smile as you wrap your arms around his neck, draping them over his shoulders. “Better late than never.”

That’s all he needs to hear; he’s tearing off his own swimsuit and tossing it onto a nearby lounge chair. His thick cock lays against his happy trail, all too eager to be inside you. “Need you. Need to be inside you.” You feel his middle finger breach your hole, stretching you comfortably. He pumps it in and out several times before he adds his forefinger, curling both digits and hitting the most sensitive part of your walls again and again.

You’re so close; your warm, wet pussy practically sucking him in as you grip onto the metal ledge. His name is on the tip of your tongue, ready to cry out as that now-familiar pleasure washes over you. But instead of an orgasm, all you feel is emptiness as he withdraws his fingers, popping them in his mouth greedily.

“Wha—why—”

He just chuckles. “Poor baby. You teased me all those years ago in that sexy little swimsuit; now you’re gonna be the one who waits.”

Every part of you wants to protest, to demand that he makes you come right fucking now, but the mischievous gleam in his eye tells you that it’s fruitless.

“Beg for my cock,” he grunts, fist wrapped around his length as he gives it slow, languid strokes. “Beg for me to fill you up till I’m dripping outta you.”

You manage to find enough voice to mumble, “Please, baby. P-Please fill me up a-and put a baby in me.”

“See how easy that was?” With that, he lifts you and positions you so that he’s lined up with your entrance. You moan involuntarily as he pushes inside you, so much bigger than his fingers. Your hands grasp at his shoulders, your nails digging little crescent shapes into his pale skin. “Jesus, Sweetheart. Your pussy was fucking made for me.”

No coherent words are able to form on your tongue, so you just let out breathy whimpers as you rock up and down on his cock. His fingers dig into your hips as he moves with you, low groans slipping from between his lips. The release that he denied you before is building back up.

“Nuh uh,” Eddie stutters out. He knows your body so well that he can tell your impending orgasm is near. “G-Gonna wait until I come first. Think you can do that?” You give the slightest shake of your head as your breathing becomes more labored. “Too bad, because you’re gonna.”

Whimpering, you bury your face in your husband’s neck as you tighten your legs around him. As well as he knows what drives you crazy, you know him just as well. He’s not too far out so as you tighten your legs, you clench your walls around him, knowing that’ll bring him right to the brink.

“Fuck,” Eddie grunts. “Playing dirty, I see. You’re lucky it feels so damn good.” His grip around your hips tightens as well, forcing your clit to rub harshly against the thatch of pubic hair. It’s exactly what you needed, and your whining tells Eddie that you can’t hold it back anymore. As much as he’d love to draw it out and make you wait even longer, he knows he wouldn’t be able to last. “Let go, baby. Come on, cum for me.”

The words aren’t even finished leaving his lips before you feel your release wash over you, your hands sliding up to grip at Eddie’s hair as he spills inside of you. He rocks the both of you through it, holding your body as close as he possibly can. A string of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie and soft moans escape you as your high begins to come down. Both of you are breathing harshly, your naked chests moving as one as you hold onto each other in the quiet night.

“I love you,” you say, voice soft and exhausted as you rest your head on his shoulder. A lazy grin spreads on Eddie’s face as he moves back until he can lean against the pool wall. His muscles are so tired, but he refuses to let go of you.

“I love you, too,” he says. “So fucking much.” He presses a few kisses into your hair before he huffs a laugh, the puff of air tickling your ear. “So, how soon will we know if I really did fuck a baby into you?”

You pick your head up from his shoulder to see his teasing smirk, but there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes as well. Trying to come up with a witty retort, your mouth falls open instead. Eddie watches as your brow creases and you become lost in thought. Usually, when you’re deep in your own head is when he’ll start to fuck you, to try and relax you. He’s not sure what to do when you seem confused for some reason after you’ve finished.

“I, um,” you finally say. Eddie watches you expectantly as you poke your tongue out to lick over your lips. Your eyes are moving back and forth, and Eddie can just picture some sort of calculations going on in your mind. “I’ve just been so busy. There was all the last minute planning for the wedding, making sure everything was good to go for the honeymoon, so much stress over everything. I don’t—Eddie, I can’t remember.”

“What?” Eddie asks, becoming more confused by the second. “What can’t you remember?”

Your eyes finally meet his. “I didn’t get my period last month.”

You watch a myriad of emotions play over Eddie’s face within the matter of a second. There’s confusion, then shock as your words set in. Pure glee sets in before his mind is even able to fully process the words. But you can see he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, so he tries to tamper down the excitement.

“Baby, are you sure?” Eddie asks, voice an octave higher than usual.

“I’m—yeah,” you say. Eddie’s lips are on yours in an instant.

“God, baby,” Eddie says once he pulls away. “I know you might already be, y’know…but I wanna get you back in the room and go a few more rounds just to make sure.”

You look around, seeing that the pool is still empty and relishing in the silence. “Or we could just use one of the lounge chairs?”

Eddie pulls you in for a kiss, smushing your cheeks with his eager hands. “Yup, that seals the deal. You’re the perfect wife.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #request #AYW #AYWS

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judethejudas · 1 year

Text

‘Bath time’ COD Ghost x Male! Top! Reader Smut

Ghost may be in charge anywhere else but with you?

That was strictly your job.

And he had no problem with that.

WARNING: highly sexual themes, swearing.

MINORS AND FEM ALIGNED DNI

Your hand waded in the bath water, testing its temperature and finding it to be just right. It was more on the hot side but you decided tonight was to be your ‘spa’ day. Can’t have a cold bath if you wanted to relax.

You figured your boyfriend needed one too.

Smiling, you grabbed the scented Epsom salts and poured a generous amount into the bath. It was mainly for Simon, since he was certain to have suffered some sort of injury or intense muscle aches that required a good soaking.

He would never tell you himself.

That he was in any sort of pain, big or small.

‘My boyfriend, the most stubborn man alive..’ You laughed a little as you sprinkled flower petals into the bath. May as well take it all the way and make it look pretty.

Speaking of the man, you wondered why you sent him out for wine in the first place. Everything had to be perfect when it came to you so it was no doubt that he was going to take a year to find a good bottle of wine.

The water would get cold.

You made a decision to enjoy a little bit of the warm water yourself. Your hand went to work on sliding the bathrobe off, already having taken off your clothes prior to coming into the bathroom. You dipped one leg into the bath— before fully enveloping your body in the heat.

You let out a big sigh and quickly sunk deeper in, propping your arms up to lay atop the edges of the tub.

Now all you needed was some wine and your handsome man.

You closed your eyes and hummed to yourself, trying your best not to fall asleep in there or else Simon would be quite upset if you drowned.

You chuckled. He was allowed to be worried about you at all times but you couldn’t worry for him even in the slightest? You recalled dropping a knife while you two were cooking one time and he gave you a lecture about being careful and that you could have cut your toe off.

Then he had to make a joke about just tossing any dismemberment into the dinner because you can’t waste good meat.

You’ve never known a man to be so serious and such a goof at the same time.

You heard the bathroom door open and you had to force your eyes open from its sleepy state, turning to look at the entrance.

There was your boyfriend, holding a bottle of wine at his side.

And he was soaking wet from the rain.

“Oh, my poor baby.”

“Be quiet.”

You could hear the pout in his voice and you laughed, beckoning him to the tub with your finger.

To which he graciously obliged.

He put the wine down and began peeling the sopping clothes off. He grunted, struggling with the pants as they seemed to cling to his body the most. He got them off eventually and was soon completely naked. You smiled watching him and held your arms out as he crawled into the tub, laying in between your legs and lying back against your chest.

He let out a sigh as he felt the warm water heating his frigid body up. Your arms wrapped around his waist and you laid your chin atop his dark, wet hair.

“What’s with the flowers?” He mumbled, scooping up a few petals into his hand and dumping them back into the water.

“They’re pretty and they smell good.”

“One is digging in my ass.”

“Good, you could use a few flowers up there.”

You both shared a giggle and you kissed his head, your hands coming up to massage his shoulders.

He let out a relaxed hum and leaned into your touch, his head now laying on the space between your shoulder and neck. You gave him another kiss on his cheek, on his neck, and his collarbone.

“I love coming home to you.” He whispered in your ear, grabbing your face gently and giving you a kiss on the lips.

“I wish you could stay forever.” You said before he kissed you again.

“I promise we have the rest of our lives for this, love.”

You gave him another kiss, deeper this time.

He turned his body so that your chest was against his and he was basically sitting in your lap, with your arms going around to hold his hips.

Then he started grinding.

You groaned into the kiss and quickly pulled away, going for his neck and giving him love bites.

You felt him shudder and cling onto your broad shoulders, moving his hips against you in a rhythm.

“Fuck.. (y/n)..” He almost growled out impatiently.

You chuckled against his skin.

“Be patient, dear. Like you said, we have the rest of our lives for this.”

“Screw that..” He breathed out as you found his sweet spot on his throat that made his dick twitch. “I’d rather have it now than later.”

“What’s this? Is the lieutenant going to beg for me to fuck him?”

“Shut up.” He hissed out.

Your cock was hard and it was poking Simon’s thigh, to which he scoffed and took hold of it in his hand— making you shiver.

“And what’s this, huh? I believe you can’t be very patient either, (y/n).”

Your eyes were misty with lust and you stared up at your boyfriend with a smirk.

“You want it so bad then go ahead.” You said as you leaned back to lay against the tub. What better game than to let him think he has the upper hand?

“Oh I intend to.” Simon said as he started pumping your dick, making you grunt as you stared at him with a very horny look.

Simon was attempting to keep his composure as he positioned the tip to prod his ass.

And suddenly you became worried for him.

“No prep, babe?”

“I’m not waiting anymore.”

And then he slid it in, making him squeeze his brown eyes shut as he put about two inches into him.

“Easy now..” You bit back your moan, forgetting how tight this man was and trying your best to not thrust into him.

Simon was gripping onto your shoulder hard. He had also forgotten how big you were and probably should have prepped like you said.

But he truly couldn’t wait.

He moved down to get you deeper into him and he groaned, soon bottoming out entirely. Thankfully the water made it less painful but it was still a tight squeeze for both of you.

Your boyfriend laid his head on your shoulder and stifled a whimper. No way was he going to start letting out pathetic noises in front of you or he’d never hear the end of it.

He let out a shaky breath and started moving. Slowly. He didn’t want to be torn open and have trouble walking the next time he was on a mission.

God forbid anyone finding out he was bottoming for someone at home.

Soap would have all the fun in making jokes about him.

“Fuck, Simon..” You moaned, taking hold of his neglected cock and began pumping it up and down.

The man on top of you grunted and moved with a little more earnest. It was starting to feel very nice and the pain he was feeling was turning into pleasure.

You could sense the change in him when he started moving more confidently on top of you.

Now that just wouldn’t do.

You sat up straight and started bouncing him on your dick and he gasped, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth to stop more noises from leaving.

You grinned, knowing you were turning such

a tough guy into a whiny little mess on the inside.

Your mouth latched onto his nipple and started sucking, with your hand still jerking him off. Simon groaned into his hand and moved his hips faster.

He had to admit, something about you made him want to be a whimpering little slut, but it went against his very nature. Before he met you, he was always the top. Always in charge.

And here he was, on the verge of tears because your cock was hitting his prostate so deliciously it made him want to cry.

“Fuck.. fuck..” He breathed out into his hand, shuddering and shutting his eyes tightly when your tongue flicked against his sensitive bud.

The water from the tub was spilling out onto the floor in large quantities but neither of you could find a care in the world. Only chasing after each other’s release while simultaneously finding your own.

“God, Simon, you feel so good.” You groaned out, giving him more praise as he moved faster and faster on top of you. About how much of a good boy he was and how he was taking your cock so well.

Simon couldn’t take it anymore.

White streams of cum started coming out from his dick and onto your hand and chest. He grunted and moved into your hand desperately, getting every last bit of semen out.

You also started filling his ass with your load from how hot he looked and Simon shivered, feeling some leaking out of him. Jeez, didn’t you jack off at all while he was gone? There was so much.

Both of you were panting when you finished and gave each other exhausted but loving stares.

When you caught your breath you gave the man a kiss, slipping your tongue in gently. He welcomed it and wrapped his arms around your neck, with your own hands coming up to feel his toned, muscled back.

You two stayed like that for a few moments. Holding each other closely and losing yourself in a tongue war. Of course your lover lost that battle quickly.

Then Simon pulled away with a string of saliva connecting to your lips and his.

“Let’s go to the living room and have some of that wine.”

“Right away, lieutenant.”

________

The things I’d do to have Ghost whimpering for me *sigh*

Anyways hope you enjoyed, studs.

#cod #cod ghost #ghost #mw2 #mw2 ghost #ghost x male! reader

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miscelunaaa · 1 year

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the deluge | bts

pairing: unknown/unnamed member x gender neutral!reader (PLATONIC)

genre: angst. weirdness. this might be my most experimental bullshit yet.

summary: someone has to pick up the pieces. it might as well be him.

rating: 18+/mature for weirdness and dark themes

word count: 738

warnings: serious mental health struggles related to creativity. likely heavy-handed figurative language. devastation. unreality. usage of the name “sweetheart” for the reader. husbeard referred to this as intense so take that as you will.

notes: Presented with great feeling and little explanation. Please know that it was excruciating to try to pick a photo between photos from The Astronaut and Indigo for the banner. An enormous thank you to @thatlongspringnight for lending me orbs before posting. Lastly: a playlist. Thank you for reading.

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

When he walks into the room, he can’t help but notice how dark the space feels. The darkness in your heart has spilled over and out into your home. Its capacity has always been great, so that it has become empty again means something. That it has emptied out into your universe means the mess just couldn’t be contained any longer.

You were always so good at sharing the contents of your heart.

You’re in the corner, huddled in the midst of strewn papers and broken porcelain. There are computer keys and glass shards and ripped spines, spilled coffee and ink stains seeping into the floor. Broken dreams in the ruins. The old hardwood creaks beneath his feet as he approaches, but you can’t hear it, not over the shuddering sobs that make the whole room swim and quake.

How long has it been since you were last like this? He can’t remember. Everything’s been so good for so long, but of course, maybe that’s the problem. It takes so much time to fill up that vast heart of yours, and only moments to pour it all out. It’s not boundless, not like you make it seem.

There’s a crack as he steps into the rubble field. Something beneath the soles of his shoes gives, but whatever it was doesn’t matter; it’s already broken. It’s already useless. He’ll sweep it up later.

“What if I can’t do it again?” you’d said to him once, clothed in the velvet of night. “What if that’s all I’ve got?”

And he’d smiled softly, and said, “Then that’s all you have. That you’ve told it at all is more than enough.”

He hadn’t expected this at the time. He hadn’t expected it until suddenly he saw the cracks beginning to form, leaking light and tears and searing anger he couldn’t have ever prepared for. For that matter, neither could you.

Another crack as he steps forward, more rustling as he moves his feet over the detritus. Each step has him wading deeper but he knows how these currents work. He won’t let himself be swept away, not when you need to be pulled from the tide carrying you out to the abyss.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly as he draws near. His voice goes unheard. The way you shake, your fingertips digging into your own skin, has the power to break his heart, but still he holds steady. Undeterred. “Sweetheart, please.”

When you finally lift your head to look at him, your expression could fell giants. “Please what? Go away. You’re not even real.”

The venom in your voice ripples beneath his skin, making each hair on his body raise.

“No,” he says. “I’m staying.”

You rend like sodden paper, any last bit of structural integrity giving as you fall apart beneath his hard gaze. He hates this. He hates this for you. There’s nothing you can do to stop the flood, and there’s nothing he can do but be a wall for new shoots to cling to. New things have to be built on the old.

He stands his ground, anchoring you, even as you dip and bend before him. As you weep, you become smaller, childlike, shrinking into yourself. He steps forward to scoop you up into his arms. With little hands, you reach for him, hiccuping as he wipes the tears from your eyes.

“What if it doesn’t come back?” you ask, your voice strange and stilted as your chest heaves to catch your breath. You watch the floor as he starts taking careful steps over your devastation. You can’t look at him, not yet, but you can see the damage you’ve done with cold new eyes. His hold on you is as steady as ever.

“Then you gave it everything you had,” he says, running a thumb over your round little cheeks to brush the tears away.

“Will you still stay with me?” Your voice this time is small, but your eyes are wide, gazing at him with something bright that he can’t place. As he draws near the door and places his hand on the worn brass knob, he realizes that he knows exactly what’s lighting you from within. Wonder.

It’s been so long since you last showed it in that glittering mind of yours. Even destruction, it seems, can make new things, just like you did, once upon a time.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 12.22.2022

#bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts x gender neutral reader #experimental fic #bts angst #if you read this it means more than I can really say

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mystery-star · 1 year

Text

Whumpril 2023 - Day 30 | Human Shield

Pairing: Ben Wade x fem!reader

Words: 752

Warnings: mentions of murder, attempted rape

A/N: Continuation of Day 27 | Forced to kneel Missed a day? Find all Whumpril entries on my Whumpril Masterlist.

“No. Stop!” you yelled even though you knew it was of no use and had to get away yourself. From behind you heard a suspicious sound but were too occupied with trying to fight the guy on top of you off. He turned when there was a shot from the direction Ben and the other men were. You too froze for a moment. What if Ben had tried to get free and they shot him?

But then you heard your husband grunt and before you knew it you saw him lunging at the man on top of you. Although you were relieved that the weight, and more importantly that man, were gone, you couldn’t relax. Not after what had just happened and while you still weren’t in safety. Feeling tears in your eyes, you pulled your skirt back up and just wanted to go to Ben’s help when you saw one of your attackers approaching him from behind.

“Watch out!” you cried and in an instant Ben removed himself from the guy who was now lying on the ground and whimpering in pain, instead leaping at the one trying to sneak up on him and broke his neck in a practiced movement. He had only let go the other man for a couple of seconds but it was enough that he got back to his feet, or at least his knees and managed to grab you again, hiding behind you with a knife against your throat. By using you as a shield like this it was more difficult for Ben to use the weapon he had just taken from the body on the ground and you could see he didn’t like it. Or he was still pissed from what had been going on earlier. Probably both.

“Put the gun away or she dies” you felt him digging the blade into the skin of your neck and oddly, it was more of a choking feeling than anything else. You wanted to check if there was blood somewhere but were scared that if you moved your hands up he would hurt you even more or accidentally kill you.

“Let her go and I’ll give you a quick end” Ben’s voice was nothing more but a growl. Only now you started to wonder how he had even managed to get free but were glad nonetheless. And you hoped of course that he had managed to at least knock out the rest of the men that you now only had to deal with the one still holding you.

“Well, if I die anyways, why shouldn’t I at least take her with me so you’ll suffer?” he pulled you closer against his chest and also dug the knife deeper into your skin. Now you didn’t need your hands to feel that there was a little trickle of blood running down your cleavage. For a moment the conflict was visible in Ben’s eyes but then he got a grip on himself and raised the gun. Unbothered by it, the man got up with you, still using you to shield himself as he made his way over to the horses slowly, while your husband couldn’t do much but watch. You wondered how he wanted to mount the horse while still hiding behind you and knew that all Ben needed was a split second to plant a bullet in the guy’s head. Finally, you realized that while you couldn’t move forward without being likely to hurt, you could move backwards against him and hope to get him out of balance like that. And this was what you did, making him stumble. There was a shot and you closed your eyes in panic and fear of being hurt but all that happened was that he let go of you and then Ben was already with you, pulling you away from the guy, into his arms.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, brushing some hair from your face and taking off his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders to help you cover up what was revealed due to your destroyed blouse.

“I-I don’t know. Think so” you stuttered and clung to him, taking a couple of deep breaths.

“It’s alright. It’s over, they’re all dead now. They can’t hurt you again” despite the situation you almost smiled. Wasn’t that typical of him? Assuring you that only you were safe now when it applied to him too?

“I know. Thank you” gently, he stroked your hair, burying his nose in it.

“I’m so sorry for all that happened”

“It’s not your fault” you assured him “At least nothing happened”

“But it could have!” he sounded angry and you were pretty sure it was directed at himself

“Don’t be harsh on yourself. You did all you could and prevented the worst” you quickly looked up to place a hand on his cheek, hating the pained expression in his eyes. “It’s alright. I am safe now. We both are”

Taglist: @woman-with-no-name

Return to the Whumpril Masterlist

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yamatocult · 1 year

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bridle

do you ever get what you sought after what you killed yourself for? does the longing subside? what do you get for believing? emptied my hands & broken my fingers, smoldered my heart. is this punishment for a moment of disbelieving? hovering dreaming i awake to tears dried to my face & longing burning me. do i give it all up or do i keep on going? when i don't even know what the truth really is what can i keep believing in? razor sought for skin & bleeding the seething out of me, but i couldn't stave off the hate & contempt long enough. canoe you like a cigarette mislit on the porch lighted by lantern sheen alone in the autumn cold. fingers numbing & drawn into a blanket reminding of coming home after tutoring & stepping in the leaves on the sidewalk to a home that was never mine. fostered then abandoned & spoon feeding me lies in the fast food in the basement on cold winter nights. how could i ever forget child leaving my room at night in mocking, fork ripping wound reopen & unimagined. dear friend meet me in the driveway retrieves his hat to say digging holes in me deeper like potholes that never get fixed & damage half the cars that drive the road wounding cyclists in the cold, in the smoldering weed in a bowl in winters night walking a block from the home that removed itself of me after plunging itself right through me like an arrow, like the ammo from a turret rends the strongest armor to mere dishware on the warfront. blackening battery ice crystals of me in the decomposing "living" body. you will run states away & try to hide, but do you even know what you try to hide from? maybe you should face it, or maybe I was wrong all along. but if i were i was only misguided by your falsehoods & i only burn for believing in lies foster family told me. do you give it all up or do you keep on pedaling keep on paddling & wading through the black water bleeding. what have i been swimming for & is there any meaning in keeping my head above the waves? will you kill on the frontline & come home & settle me? for eight years you've been hiding behind, but i'm still stuck in & blind in the headlights. i miss my mom & dad & the brothers i once believed i had. spoon feeding me lies in the offshoot cult between the christian god & the atrocities of the anthill. should I expect the same lobotomy circlejerked into? i didn't survive anything.

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whirlybirbs · 3 years

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( this chapter’s gif by @august-walker from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 4/?

summary: you formulate a plan, meet steve rogers, and bucky goes on a date.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.8k, mother of pearl

a/n: this ended up being mostly a filler with a lot of romantic growth - i had to break this chapter up from the unce unce unce clubbing that coming up, so please enjoy!

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

MOSCOW, 1975.

In all the years that James Buchanan Barnes has had a heartbeat, he’d come to know the sounds of grief well.

War taught him a lot of things — that they were all just little boys playing with guns, and that no matter how many times you thought you’d be ready for the vomit-inducing pungency of violence, you never were. In the end, you’d do anything to save yourself; you’d crawl through the thick of death and debris a million times over if only to cling to the shredded tatters of your own humanity.

You would kill someone else’s son for the sake of your own mother.

War was disease that devoured every part of you — it was gunpowder snuff and carved flesh. That sickness — inky and desperate — had sunk deep into this heart during the war, and it crescendoed to the sounds of mothers clutching dead sons. The sounds that followed death were like a hollow opera. Waning and wailing.

In the raucous wake left by warborn grief, Bucky drowned everytime.

To the Winter Soldier, the operatic quality to the sounds of grief were as insignificant as a child’s rhyme.

He did not drown. No, he waded through the waves, comfortable in the cold and unphased by the stinging cut of loss. That was not something he could comprehend. After all, there were orders and there were targets, and everything in between was absolute.

He was the disease that devoured all.

He’s holding a gun to Andrei Kuznetzov’s head in a dining room with ornate trim — with silverware as delicate as scalpels that tinker against fine china. The carpets are red, the curtains are red, there’s blood on the table cloth. The guests continue to eat. Kuznetzov’s wife is screaming, red nails dug so deep into the dining chair’s arms it’s carving out the fabric. War dogs, like him, keep her rooted in her seat, and her tears find polished boots. She’s begging and bartering but the man with Kuznetzov’s life in his hands is not listening. He is eating his veal, bloodied meat dancing between his lips. He takes a sip of wine as his medal emblazoned chest glimmers in the light of crystalline chandaliers.

The spoils of war.

His smile is stained red.

There is no deal to be made.

The Winter Soldier pulls the trigger.

NOW.

His eyes are open.

Panic is the first emotion he feels, and it seizes him up quickly in its grasp. He doesn’t know this view, he doesn’t know where he is, not again, not again, not again —

Then:

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you know you snore?”

The relief that the sound of your voice brings is immediate, and just like that he remembers. He’s laying on the bed. You’re sat up across from him at that small desk in the corner. He reaches as he rubs his face to thumb the edge of the pillowcase. He exhales tightly.

He’s fine. His name is James Buchanan Barnes. He is not longer the Winter Soldier. He’s in his Brooklyn apartment. He is fine.

When’s the last fucking time he’s slept in a bed?

He sits up, scratching his neck as he does. You lean back, half rotated in the desk. Before you is a mess of papers and his laptop — and on top of the keyboard sits his notebook. It’s open to the page where all he’d been able to figure out about Innessa was scrawled in his chicken scratch.

Bucky swings his legs over the edge of the bed and immediately his back complains.

“How long was I out?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep. He moves to part the curtains. The room blooms with warm morning light.

You offer an apologetic smile into the vanilla sunshine. “Three hours. I wanted you to get some shut eye. You were starting to look a little overwhelmed last night—”

“You click too fast,” he waves, standing and immediately rolling his neck to the side. You watch as the man, before as peaceful as a sleeping pup, now regains his usual thinning veiled level of threat. Bucky is dangerous — it shows in the way he holds himself. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, and groans. He exhales again, posture sagging a bit, “I couldn’t keep up.”

You’re standing now, socks padding against the hardwood as you eye his cowlick with a budding bloom of affection. With his notebook between your index and middle finger, you offer it out. You cling to your empty coffee cup in the other.

“I didn’t peek,” you say warmly, “Pinky promise.”

His laugh is more like a hot puff of air. Bucky manages a look that feels like an emotional dethaw.

“Thank you.”

You lead the way to the kitchen, stretching your own back as you go. You’d been up all night — this is your third trip out here for yet another cup of coffee. The pot has been on for too long, though, and you know the coffee sitting there is beyond bitter. You’re moving to dump it down the sink when Bucky grumbles.

“Don’t.”

“You want it?”

“No,” he mutters, reaching for a mug, “But I don’t want to waste it.”

“Wow,” you chirp, “The Great Depression just jumped out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, yanking open the fridge to search for something to eat, “It does that.”

“Well, grandpa,” you hand him the steaming cup and set out to make another pot, “You’re also living on Depression Era rations — might I suggest some Dolly’s? Because I’m starving and I’ve been up all night and I think that means I get to decide where we get breakfast.”

Bucky’s look is soft — but you don’t see it. You’re too busy scooping sugar into your cup, too busy nudging him aside to grab the milk. He’s rooted there in the kitchen, watching you move about. You’re comfortable. There isn’t a trace of anxiousness in you, not in this moment, and he tries to remember what it looks like.

Your eyes find his and he clears his throat.

“Earth to Sergeant Barnes?”

“Don’t start,” he groans, albeit playfully, “It’s too early.”

“Oh, what? Too early for me to grill you on why you didn’t tell me that little laptop in there was on loan from the FBI? To one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th?”

His face falls.

“Don’t worry,” you raise a hand quickly, leaning against the counter as you sip your coffee, “I figured that out before I did anything massively illegal.”

Bucky rubs his face as he takes a sip of his coffee — the bitterness is enough to slap him awake. He winces, swallows it back, and remembers the taste of instant coffee made in helmets on the line in Bastogne. He can smell snow, and the acrid sting of mortar smoke. Suddenly, he’s craving a cigarette.

That hasn’t happened in a while.

Bucky clears his throat. “Did you find anything?”

You frown slightly, lips pulled as you hide your inward disappointment — you push off from the counter and shake your head as you brush past him. Like a loyal dog, Bucky follows. Into the bedroom you go, and Bucky’s again surprised he managed to get any sleep at all in that bed. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone else there, or the genuine exhaustion that had finally choked him out after hours of trying to understand what the hell you were even doing on there.

You plop into the desk chair and snatch up a piece of paper littered with notes.

“I couldn’t do much of my usual snooping,” you explain gently as you gesture to the chromebook, “This thing might have been given to you in good faith, but they’re watching you pretty closely. So, I worked a little magic and ended up running a virtual machine. Gave me enough wiggle room to avoid the malware and keystroke trackers. Even still, I wanted to be careful, so I just did a little looking.”

“Looking?”

“I can’t dig deeper on Innessa, I know where to dig, but I can’t,” you frown, “Not on this laptop, and definitely not on my personal machines. I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and the files I need to poke are very much off-limits.”

“So, what? We’re shit out of luck?”

“No, not entirely,” you stand up and motion to the paper in your hands; your tone is tight, “I know a few people who can help, but getting to them is going to be the hardest part.”

Bucky takes the paper, squinting at the writing as you settle on the edge of the bed next to him. You take a sip of your coffee and watch as his blue eyes dart across the notes; you point to the name scrawled across the top.

“There’s a club in lower Manhattan, but you’ve gotta know the right people to get in,” you mumble, scratching your cheek as a creeping sense of embarrassment bubbles up behind your words, “It’s in the basement of an old computer repair shop. It’s like a blackhat networking event, but with strippers.”

Bucky squints at the paper and reads the name. “The Glass Cannon?”

“Yeah,” you huff, crossing your arms tightly as you stand, “That’s the one.”

Bucky looks up from the paper, attention now rooted on the pacing you’ve begun to do across the room. Back and forth. You’re holding your coffee like a lifeline, gaze far away. That anxiousless way you’d been holding yourself before is gone. Now, he can see the tensing in your shoulders, in your fingers. You’re suddenly nervous.

Bucky stands. His voice is gentle.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you snap almost immediately, “Just, y’know. Worried. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger. Did stupid shit. And now I’m about to waltz in after six years like I haven’t put that part of my life behind me.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he says immediately, moving to stand closer and halt your pacing. The invasion of your space forces you to look at him. His fingers glimmering in the morning light. You follow the line of his figure up to his eyes. The emotion there makes your heart clench. You can’t pin it down, and it’s gone in an instant.

“It’s the only way we’re going to find Innessa.”

“You don’t need to put yourself in situations like this for me,” he says, stressing the for me part in both expression and tone. The depreciation makes you wince and you’re fast to shake your head.

“That’s what friends do, Bucky,” you stand your ground, but you know there’s more to your reasoning than that, “Plus, she’s a bad guy. And I know you said I technically wasn’t the sidekick, but—”

“You’re not the sidekick—”

“I know,” you huff, nudging him gently with your arm, “But, I wanna help. Do some good.”

“You do enough good,” he mutters, “You’re a good person.”

Your words fail you at that — and your mouth parts but nothing comes out. Bucky watches with an expression as solid as rock as you blink and look away. His hand, the one of flesh and bone, finds your wrist as you tighten your grip on your mug.

The touch, though far too tender for you to handle, feels like fire.

Like a slap in the face, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky is.

You slap that thought back, trading volleys, and remain quiet.

His tone is stern. “I mean it.”

“Well,” you finally muster, tone dipping sardonically into a cruel peel of humor, “Just wait until you see me in my natural habitat. Maybe the tequila shots will make you second guess that.”

“I didn’t know we were going out drinking,” he chirps as he raises an eyebrow, “Am I going to need to get you a leash?”

“We’re gonna have to try and blend in as best we can. People are going to know me — if they try to pin me with the GRC or the feds, we aren’t going to get anything on Innessa. They probably won’t even let me in the building if they suspect something’s up, after all not everything that goes down in Glass Cannon is kosher.”

“This is already sounding like a bad idea,” Bucky mumbles as he crosses his arms, “I’m stating that for the record, by the way.”

“Well, I think standing around and working ourselves up about this is even worse of an idea,” you chirp back, moving towards the door to muscle on your shoes, “So I say we feed ourselves and don’t worry about this until Thursday night.”

“Thursday.”

You nod.

All of a sudden, Bucky’s eyes go wide.

“Today is Sunday.”

You freeze, hand on the doorframe. You shoot him a wide-eyed look at the sudden flare of panic that’s shot up through him. “Yea, Bucky, today is Sunday.”

“Shit.”

“What?” you nearly cry as he disappears into the bedroom once more. You hear his closet open, then a clatter as he grabs something like keys — you nearly run directly into his chest when he strides back into the kitchen. He’s shouldered on his usual leather jacket, and in his hands is another.

He’s got keys in his hand.

“C’mon.”

He shoves the jacket into your arms and you frown.

“What the hell?” you cry, doubling back to snag your phone and bag as Bucky moves to the door, “What is this?”

“Put it on,” he says, holding open the door for you as you follow him into the apartment hallway.

You raise a brow and stand there as he locks the door.

“Why?”

“Because,” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face as he widens his strides to the stairwell across the hall; before you know it, you’re desperately trying to keep up as he bounces down the steps — light on his feet like the boxer he is — towards the lower level of the apartment complex, “We’re late.”

You groan, trying to shrug on the jacket that smells like Bucky as you follow — a smell you’d come to know as clean laundry and sandalwood. Must be something for his hair. He never wore cologne, that much was apparent. The jacket is big on you, especially on the shoulders. You were swimming in it, trying not to trip as he held the door open to the garage.

Suddenly, the air is cooler. Immediately you wonder how much his rent is if he had access to a ground level garage. Call it NYC instinct.

“Bucky,” you nearly whine, throwing your head back, “Where are we going?”

Before you get a reply, you run straight into his back. Bucky grunts, moving to grab both of your hands and push you to the front of him.

Sitting in the spot is a motorcycle.

It’s a jet black Harley.

Bucky is handing you the helmet on the back seat as your mouth moves in disbelief. “No way— no, I’m not getting on that thing. I’d rather sell my kidneys. Stop, stop — ow, Bucky — you haven’t even said where we’re going!”

He’s muscling the helmet onto your head and through the flash of the visor you can see a real smile, the sort born out of his never-ending amusement towards your fickle sense of humor. His fingers are nimble against your chin. He takes the time to strap it on, adjust it, and give it a gentle tug. Bucky taps the matte black helmet twice, then flicks the visor down.

“We’re going upstate.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

It takes two hours to get to Elmwood Senior Living.

You spent the first forty-five minutes clinging to Bucky’s waist with your eyes closed — no fault of Bucky’s, really. It was different from riding in a car by miles, and you had your own qualms with driving. You couldn’t be in the passenger’s seat anymore. Not after the accident with Jaimie, when Mom disappeared. Being out of control made you itch; and it’s not until the fifty-minute mark that you ease up on the panic and remember who the man is that’s driving the bike.

You trust Bucky. You trust him with your life.

Once it’s open road, winding up towards the Northern part of the state, it gets easier.

Bucky can feel your grip around his waist loosen just a bit — and it’s enough reassurance that he stops looking back in the mirror every fifteen seconds. It’s enough permission to open up on the throttle, and the bike roars alive. Your immediate reaction is a gobsmacked yelp, the sort that’s pulled from a jolt of shock, but then comes the laugh.

Bucky’s own quiet chuckle rumbles against your chest. You hold on tighter, but this time with open palms against the thrum of his ribs.

Halfway through the trip, he pulls into a McDonald’s.

You drop your ass onto the parking lot’s curb as he leans against the bike and houses a burger. You laugh, eyeing him candidly as you take a large bite from your own lunch. Bucky is a mess with it — cursing quietly when he ends up getting ketchup on his jacket.

“Shit.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” you mutter, “Did you even taste that thing?”

“Barely,” he clears his throat and starts picking at his fries, “These things taste different now. First time I ever had McDonald’s was right before bootcamp.”

“How much was it? Five cents?” you snort, leaning back and dropping a fry into your mouth.

Bucky watches with a half-smirk. “Fifteen, but nice try.”

He spends the next five minutes on his hand with a wet nap, trying hard to get the grease out of the delicate plates along his palm. You watch, as you knock back the rest of your soda, as his eyes crinkle tightly in frustration. His mouth is pulled tightly into a fine line. For the second time today, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky Barnes is — and how fucking stubborn he is, too.

“Want help?”

“No,” he mutters, trying to get a spot between his thumb and index finger, “I got it.”

“I have smaller fingers,” you sing-song, gathering up his trash and your trash and crossing the parking lot to the bin; upon returning, you waggle them in his face, “Good for hard to reach places.”

Bucky absolutely hates that can feel his blush hit the tips of his ears at the comment.

He’s glad you’re too preoccupied with his hand to notice. You’re watching, like you always do, with respectful awe. To you, this part of him is a bit like a treasure — you find it beautiful and intriguing and incredible. It’s clear in the way you watch the mechanisms turn and tighten that you aren’t frightened by it.

It unsettles Bucky every time.

Finally, once he’s finished under your watchful eyes, he leans to muscle that helmet back over your head. You groan, squinting tightly.

“C’mon,” he knocks your helmet with his knuckles, “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the ride is wide open space, farm land and mountainous peaks looming far ahead. It’s warm, and the sun is hot on your back. The wind is howling around you and it sends your jacket collar flapping against your neck. Your chin rests neatly on Bucky’s shoulder, trying to get a view of the road ahead.

Elmwood Senior Living is tucked into the back of a suburb.

The two of you weave through a neighborhood or two, dancing under the shade of age old maple trees. They cast long, scattered shadows across the pavement as kids play on their lawns. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Over the hill, church bells ring. Sunday service has ended.

Bucky rolls into the parking lot, past the large sign with swirling lettering. Suddenly, things make more sense. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sinking feeling of grief. Nostalgia. Mourning. But, happiness.

There are folks sitting outside, basking in the sun, tethered to walkers.

Bucky’s wrists crank back weathered knuckles, and slowly the bike rumbles into an open spot. Extending his legs, Bucky balances the bike with ease. You take that as your cue to swing yourself off the back clumsily, hopping a bit. Bucky leans, kicks the stand down, and with significantly more grace than you, swings his leg over.

You’re shrugging his jacket off when he speaks.

“He’s going to be different than how you imagine him.”

You exhale slowly, draping the jacket over the bike’s seat. You peel the helmet off.

“I’ve sort of pieced that together.”

You can see the slight discomfort hanging in his posture. You reach and touch Bucky’s arm.

“Come on,” you nod to the entrance, covered by a shady overhang where someone is helping a family member out of their car, “We don’t wanna be late, huh?”

His eyes soften. Bucky nods.

You walk side-by-side into the lobby of Elmwood Senior Living and it’s like time slows down. It halts in a warm, sunshine colored still — full of chatter, full of humanity, full of wisdom. The room is framed by big windows, by plants, by a man in a U.S. Navy ball cap. He’s stationed by the door, watching the comings and goings. The main desk, where a young woman watches, sits in the corner. You follow Bucky with a content little look. He notices.

He stands a little closer at the main desk. The girl, who looks like she’s incredibly out of place with her blue hair and piercings, is younger than you thought. Highschool, maybe. She offers Bucky an excited smile.

“Took you long enough,” she chirps, moving to sort through a bin to her side with key fobs.

Your brows raise. You spy calculus homework on the desk.

Bucky snorts. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He notices the same problem set you so, and purposely leans over the desk. Suddenly, you’re seeing flashes of a more boyish version of Bucky — one that reminds you of a man with siblings. Bucky taps the paper, jutting a chin to the girl as she tries to swat his attention away.

“How’d you do on that test?”

“I got a 96,” she chirps pridefully, laughing, “Thanks for the help, nerd.”

You’re watching the entire exchange with a smile, backing up a bit to toss a curious glance over your shoulder. There’s a dining room through open doors — and looks like lunch is just wrapping up. Folks are moving around, back to their rooms or upstairs where you can hear the beginnings of a seated aerobics class begin.

Bucky nudges you with his hand.

“Thanks, Sarah,” he says and waves the key she’d handed over.

The girl with the blue hair scoffs. “Say hi to grandpa for me, Bucket.”

You laugh out loud as Bucky quickly flips her off. She’s quick to do the same.

You follow him around the corner, grinning ear to ear. He spares you a sheepish look, then rolls his eyes.

“What was that?”

“She’s a good kid,” he offers, eyeing the key with the grey little fob attached, “Reminds me of my sister.”

Your face softens. “Sister?”

“Her name was Sarah, too,” he says quietly, boots landing softly on the blue carpet. He’s navigating the residential wing like he’s done it a million times. There are rooms with flowers outside, with holiday garb, with little photos and keepsakes. Each room holds a lifetime of personality — the sound of Jeopardy lulls along in the background.

You hum. Bucky sighs.

He meanders down a long hallway where a different door is — this one heavy and locked by the little keypad. Bucky raises the key fob to the device and the door buzzes.

This side of Elmwood is quieter.

Down the hall, Timmy Dorsey and Sinatra play quietly over someone’s record player.

There aren’t as many folks in the hall in this wing, but doors are open and nurses flit about. Around the corner, there’s a loud conversation going on about lunch — and you watch as Bucky weaves towards the nursing station. It’s a room overlooking the common area with windows. Inside are three women.

One of them immediately jumps when she sees Bucky.

“Oh, good! I was meaning to talk to you—”

“Everything alright?”

“About the same,” she breathes as she stands, moving to grab at a Bucky’s arm with a sense of motherliness that makes you smile, “But, meals have been a bit difficult lately.”

“No kidding,” he mutters, rubbing his chin, “He just doesn’t wanna eat?”

“He thinks Peggy is coming home,” the woman whispers with a pained smile as she begins to lead you both down the hall, “He thinks your grandmother made dinner for him.”

“Right,” Bucky nods, “Doesn’t wanna ruin his appetite.”

“Exactly.”

You take note of the conversation, muddling through your own confusion. You’re quiet, though. This isn’t really your conversation to have. Bucky seems to be relaxed more — even humming slightly to a song that plays across the hall from the room the nurse is knocking on.

“Mr. Carter?” she calls gently, “Your grandson is here to see you, and his…”

She looks expectantly at you. You bawk.

“Friend.”

“Right,” she smiles and pushes open the door.

It’s like a little slice of home.

Sofas, chairs, photos on the walls. There’s a record player in the corner, a television, a coffee table stacked with books on the second world war. There’s a dresser covered in baubles and warm light coming in from the window overlooking the street. It reminds you of your grandparents’ sitting room — everything looks so lived in, so comfortable, so alive.

And then, below the light of the window, is a hospital bed.

In it is Steve Rogers.

Not the one you know — no, this one has lived a full life. This Steve Rogers has fallen in love, owned a home, settled down. This Steve Rogers has years of wisdom settled into his face, years of well-fought fights in his joints. His blonde hair has gone shock white, but his smile is all the same.

“Bucky.”

The way Steve says his name is like the man beside you holds the world.

To Bucky, he can hear a new weakness. A new exhaustion.

“Hi, punk.”

The nurse offers a little wave to you as Bucky ventures into the room, stripping his jacket off and moving to scope out the minifridge in the small kitchenette beside the bathroom. She leaves the door open, and you smile to her softly. Bucky rummages, poking his head up.

“You want a drink, Steve?” he asks, tone almost like he’s feeling out the lucidity of the man across the room, “There’s some of that lemonade I brought last week in here.”

“Sounds good,” he says slowly, “Please.”

You feel out of place — not unwelcome, but… it’s clear that Bucky has come and gone from here a thousand times now. He knows to get the glasses out, to get a straw, to turn down the record player on his way over. Doris Day’s voice lowers to a soft croon. You watch with heavy eyes.

“I brought someone, Steve,” Bucky says, “She’s a big fan.”

“Oh?” Steve asks with a slow look to the corner where you’re standing, “That musta broke your heart.”

Bucky snorts as he moves to swing the hospital bed’s tray over Steve’s lap. He places the lemonade down, then the other glass on the nightstand. He’s quick to move the armchair closer to the nightstand, and gestures for you to come over. Bucky’s hands guide you by the shoulders as he plops you into the chair.

“She’s one of the good ones,” Bucky says, “Reminds me of you.”

“No kidding,” Steve says slowly, offering a hand that shakes, “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure.”

You exchange your name with a shy look, shaking that hand with reverence and gentility. “It’s an honor, Mr. Rogers.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving to slowly take a sip of his lemonade, “Steve is fine.”

Bucky moves to take up a post on the opposite side of Steve, in the sun. “You’re losin’ weight, y’know.”

That earns him a wave of the hand.

Bucky leans back and sips his lemonade. He waggles a finger and you watch the two begin to go back and forth.

“No, no,” he swallows, “No, you don’t get t’ shrug me off—”

“M’fine, Buck,” a sigh, “Really.”

“Mhm,” he narrows his eyes, “You’re startin’ to look like the Steve I knew before the serum.”

You lean back, hiding a quiet smirk behind your hand.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show up an’ pester me,” he says with a tired look, “The only peace I get around here is when Peggy comes home.”

Your eyes jump to Bucky. He’s watching you.

“Peggy?” you ask gently, “Is that your wife?”

A proud smile washes over his face. “Still knocks me for a loop, too.”

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is gentle, “Peggy won’t be coming around for a while. Remember?”

There’s a look that flashes across Steve’s face, then. A mixture of sadness, of confusion, of panic. It’s clouded with a furrow of his brow, hidden by a tilt of the head. He looks at Bucky, mouth pulled in a fine line.

When he finally speaks, his voice is sad.

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“S’alright,” Bucky taps his head, maintaining an air of nonchalance, “That’s why you got me.”

“And why you’ve got her, no doubt,” he turns to you with a winning smile and offers his hand again, “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

You take it, you shake it, and you introduce yourself once more. Your smile is patient and understanding. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Steve.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Steve smiles, tossing Bucky a look that borders on mischievous.

He sips his lemonade and clears his throat. “How is Sam?”

“You ask every time,” Bucky mutters, “And every time I have the same answer.”

“Sam?” you ask slowly.

“Wilson,” Bucky finishes, “Bird man.”

“You mean Falcon,” you correct, shooting him a stern look, “The Falcon. Are you ghosting The Falcon?”

“I don’t know what that even means, so maybe,” Bucky leans back and crosses his legs, “I’ve been busy.”

You roll your eyes. Steve saw. He smiles.

“I’m gettin’ why he keeps you around.”

Your face is smacked with a look of pure joy.

“C’mon on now,” Bucky cries, nearly indignantly, “No flirting—”

“M’ not flirting—”

“I know that look, Steve—”

Steve is laughing.

Bucky has a stern look in his eye. “You always do this—”

“I’m not doin’ a damn thing—”

“And you better keep it that way, old man,” Bucky shirks, voice splintering into a laugh in a way that you’ve never heard before, “I swear, this is how it always goes.”

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, huh, Buck?” you ask gently, leaning your cheek into your hand.

Steve laughs loudly at that.

Bucky spares you a smile — the sort that’s drenched in good humor and sunlight. It makes your lungs flutter, and you ignore the buzz in your fingers at the sight. You hide your laugh into your cup of lemonade, resigning to be a quiet counterpart in the conversation.

The two of them go on to chat about small things, then chat about old things. From the Commandos, to HYDRA, to amends, to therapy, to Peggy, to the itch the starch of their old dress uniforms used to bring. It takes a bit, a few redirections on the way, but it’s clear by the end why Steve Rogers is in Elmwood’s memory unit.

It makes your heart ache.

And if a super soldier is bed-ridden…

The two of you say goodbye around three in the afternoon after Bucky helps Steve shave.

The walk back to the bike is quiet.

Bucky speaks first.

“He’s dying.”

You chew your lip, eyes on the pavement. You match his slow stride, bumping your elbow with his as you walk. It’s still warm, and the clouds hang high in the sky. When you look up, Bucky’s watching you. You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you finally muster, “I am.”

“Don’t be,” he says, grabbing the jacket from the seat and holding it up, “He’s lived a long life.”

You let Bucky hold out the arm for you, and you press your hand through the sleeve. He helps the other side on, and you zip it up to your chin. When you turn around to face him, there are tears in your eyes.

They snuck up on you. You hadn’t realized it until Bucky’s face fell, until the first one fell along the weathered leather of the jacket. You blink, raising your brows as you swipe them away, and offer an apologetic look.

“I’m happy,” you say, “Y’know. He has you. But, he’s a man out of time. Even now. That makes me sad.”

Bucky’s quiet for a while. He’s leaned up against the bike as you turn and watch Elmwood from the back of the parking lot. There’s a big part of you that feels heavy with guilt — and though Steve was in good spirits when you left, you can’t help but ache to provide him with more company. It’s clear that seeing Bucky means a lot to him, and that in turn it means a lot to the man beside you.

“Come on,” Bucky says then, “Let’s go home.”

You nod, let him muscle that helmet onto your head one more time, and hold on a little tighter back to the city.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

You don’t see Bucky until Tuesday.

In all honesty, it feels weird to not hear from him for two days. At the very least, you expected some sort of phone call — but you remind yourself that you’ve been okay alone for a long time. There’s no need to throw all your work on being comfortable by yourself out the window for Bucky Barnes.

It’s tempting, though. God, it’s really tempting.

You hate the ache in your chest when you finally see him lumbering towards the cafe counter before your appointments. You hate this new feeling — so you shove it down and ignore the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you your latte.

He is ignoring it, too. He’s been ignoring it.

No use in thinking about it though.

“You got plans later?” you ask him in the elevator after your appointment, tilting your head, “Apparently there’s a Lord of the Rings marathon tonight on FX.”

Bucky stiffens — and immediately he can feel the hot sting of anxious regret flood his cheeks. He clears his throat, tucks his hands in his pockets, and toes the ground. You watch with a confused look. Then he speaks tightly.

“...I’ve got a date.”

You could have caught flies the way your jaw fell open.

“Oh. Oh!”

You blink, readjust your expression, and swallow down a sharp stab of rejection.

Bucky clears his throat. “It’s… I wasn’t going to but, Dr. Raynor—”

“No, no,” you wave your hands and shake your head and try to seem genuine, “No, I’m happy for you. Is this one of those Christian Minglers?”

Bucky groans. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” you say, “Okay! Just, uh, be careful. Y’know? And call if you need anything.”

The elevator doors open, and Bucky walks side by side with you through the well-lit lobby. He holds the door open for you, and you pass through with a pained look at the ground. He lingers, though, rubbing the back of his neck as you wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

“Thursday,” he says, “I’ll stop by.”

“Yea,” you say, waving your hand, “Whenever.”

But, that doesn’t end up happening.

No, Bucky Barnes shows up at your apartment doorstep at 10pm.

He’s clutching takeout and a six pack of beer and wearing a horrified expression that screams of guilt and exhaustion. No, Bucky buzzes the door to your apartment and basically croaks that he’s here — he’s asking if the marathon is still on while you buzz him up.

“Third floor,” you say into the buzzer with a smile, “Come on in, old man.”

When you open the door, you have to laugh — because his hair is a mess and there’s still a trace of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Whereas jealousy threatens to flare, his incredibly regretful expression tamps it down. You cock a hip, eye him up and down, and jut your chin out.

“Get laid?”

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised he didn’t break something.

He pushes past you, moving to drop the beer on the counter and place the takeout gently down by the basket of fruit.

“I’m here for the cat,” he grumbles, “Not your witty commentary, sweetheart.”

You’re moving quietly to the sink and gathering a paper towel with a smirk as Bucky looks around, admiring the decor and aliveness of your apartment. When you turn around, he’s already pried a beer from the pack and popped the top off with his vibranium palm.

He winces when you reach up to swipe the coral lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

Then Bucky settles, letting you clean off the mess.

“Mhm,” you hum, “Right. Was it at least fun?”

“She had fun,” he mutters into his first sip, “It was a lotta tongue for my first night out in nearly a century, though.”

You wince. He nods with a sardonic smile that tells you everything about how the date went down — and you’re relieved. “So, I take it you're not calling her in the morning?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Nope. No, and I’ve decided no more dates. That was enough for me.”

You wince and pluck a beer from the pack. Wordlessly, Bucky gestures for you to hand it over. In one smooth motion, he twists the cap off with his hand.

“That bad?” you ask, eyeing him critically.

“I decided halfway through,” he says as he moves to take the takeout from its bag, “I’d rather be watching Lord of the Rings with you.”

That stops you into silence. It’s like someone’s taken your own words and gagged you with them — and you’re left floundering for breath you never even realize you lost. You know he means it. You know it because he won’t look at you, because that sort of confession isn’t easy for people like you two. So you take those words and you glue them in a lonely locket and keep them close to your heart.

Poke’s entrance saves you a mouthful of broken words — he comes in, trots up to Bucky, and hollers.

Bucky laughs.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he mutters, eyeing the cat that’s eagerly rubbing himself along Bucky’s leg.

You wipe your face, sip your beer, and move to the pantry across from the kitchen island. You come back out with a bag of salmon treats — the good ones — and offer Bucky the bag. He takes it, eyes still on the calico, and crinkles it a little.

You lean against the counter and watch Bucky kneel.

“If you keep it up long enough he might even let you hold him.”

He lights up at that.

You laugh.

You move to grab plates and forks and knives and groan when you open up the first box to see Pad Thai — you make a mental note to properly thank Bucky for this. You meager dinner of reheated pasta really hadn’t hit the spot. This will, though. You can tell from the smell alone.

By your knees, Poke chirps.

“He’s cute.”

“I never took you for a cat guy.”

Bucky snorts.

You make a plate and flick his head as you walk by. “You’re missing the start of The Two Towers.”

“I’m going to be confused, aren’t I?” he asks as he stands and begins making himself a plate. He watches as you settle onto the couch and sip your beer, “I was too busy being turned into a cyborg to read the books.”

You laugh out loud. It shocks you.

“Was that a joke? Did Bucky Barnes just make a joke?”

He’s smirking. He rounds the counter with his food and settles next to you. Poke is following him, eager to curl up next to his new friend.

“I can be funny.”

“Funny lookin’.”

He elbows you on purpose. You snort into your beer.

There’s a comfortable moment of quiet between you, and you clear your throat.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, “No problem.”

More quiet, and he’s still watching you. Then, he asks what’s been on his mind for the last three days.

“You got a plan for Thursday?”

“I’ve got anxiety, Buck,” you exhale, swigging your beer and turning the television up, “I always have a plan.”

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #marvel imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #bucky/reader

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cryoaquila · 3 years

Text

beach lovin’

prompt - childe and you spend a day out on one of the beaches at the golden apple archipelago before heading back to your tent for some sleepy nighttime activities.

pairing - childe x gn!reader

tags - nsfw, dom!childe, sub!reader, established relationship, lazy sex, spooning, fluff.

wc - ~2.7k

nsfw content under the cut. +18 only. minors dni.

the setting sun paints the sky and ocean a beautiful pinkish-orange color. you stretch your arms above your head after dozing off for a few minutes. there was an umbrella above you and a thin towel between your body and the hot sand below. seashells that you and your boyfriend had collected earlier in the day sat beside you along with fishing rods and a few sandcastles. now your boyfriend was cooling himself off in the ocean while you soak in the last of the rays before the moon claimed the sky, the first day out at one of the golden apple archipelago beaches winding to an end. suddenly, some seawater splashes onto your bare legs. you glance toward the ocean, seeing childe wading in the water. he winks at you before saying, “you know, the water is almost as fine as you are.”

his compliment causes you to chuckle, “oh, is it?” you playfully ask as you sit up, stretching your arms out above your head for a few seconds.

“yeah, but don’t take my word for it, join me and see for yourself.” he splashes you again, the water cool against your warm skin, “see? doesn’t it feel good?”

you purse your lips, “it does feel nice...” you stand, glancing at the sky, your sun hat blocking the setting sun as you notice stars becoming visible in the evening sky, “ok, i’ll join for a bit, but when it gets dark out let’s head back to our tent for the night.” you were already feeling a bit tired from the fun had earlier, but one last dip in the ocean sounds like a lovely and relaxing way to end the day. you toss your hat onto the beach towel before wading into the water until it reaches your waist, a little shiver running down your spine. childe decides to help you adjust quicker by splashing you, which causes you to yelp in surprise, a mischievous snicker crackling from him upon seeing your reaction. you glare at him before jumping toward him and splashing him with a large wave that soaks his hair, causing it to hang limply into his eyes. the sight of him, with his hair covering his eyes and his deadpan expression, causes you to giggle.

“alright, if that’s how you want to play...” he mutters as he slicks his hair back before jumping toward you, trying to grab a hold of you. barely, you manage to scramble away in glee, wading away from him and further into the deeper water which now reaches up to your shoulders. he follows, still trying to catch you, laughing, “you can run but you can’t hide!” he grabs one of your shoulders and pulls you back into him, “got you!” he picks you up and you gently push against his chest, trying to free yourself from his grasp, a large grin on both your faces. quickly, he leans down to give you a wet, salty peck on the lips before tossing you into the deeper water, your whole body going under, causing your hair to get soaked like his. as you swim back to the surface you see him sticking his tongue out at you in a teasing, annoying manner. little did he know, you had a surprise for him... your cheeks puff out before you spit some seawater from your mouth and into his face which causes him to flinch away and duck into the water for cover. you snicker as his head emerges from the water now that it was safe. “wow, that was low, even for you.” he sneers.

“i know, that’s why you didn’t expect it!” you cheer before he splashes you once more, the rest of your evening spent playing in the water, trying to soak each other to the bone before the sun disappears from the sky. spending the evening trying to catch one another begins to tire both of you out quicker than you imagined and childe pauses his chase of you to yawn as you blink a few times, your eyelids feeling heavier than you recall. “come on,” he says, slowing wading over to you to take your hand in his, “the sun’s almost gone, so let’s head back to the tent to get some shut-eye.” you curtly nod before yawning yourself. together, the two of you head back to shore, hand-in-hand.

while drying yourselves with some towels, you both head back to the camp you two had set up upon arriving at the islands. you throw the used towels beside the smallish tent that you two were sharing before digging through your backpack to retrieve some dry clothing to wear to bed - shorts and a shirt for you and just shorts for him. neither you nor he were shy about changing in the open here, for the islands were abandoned of all people, a perfect little vacation spot for just the two of you. you notice him steal a glance as you slide your swimwear off and you can’t help but tease him a little by ‘accidentally’ dropping your sleepwear into the sand. you bend down to pick them up, shaking your hips a little as you do so, biting your lips to try not to explode in laughter at your own antics. a blush crosses his cheeks before he quickly looks away and, admittedly, you were thankful he was unable to see your naughty grin for then he’d realize you were doing it on purpose and give your mouth something to do other than grin wildly. after picking your clothes up you throw them on before asking, “turn the lantern off when you’re done, please. i’m going to head inside.” he nods before you disappear into the tent. you lay down on your side, the bottom of the tent was lined with multiple blankets and pillows, all of which were as soft as a real mattress. you yank a big quilt over you for the air began to become chillier by the second.

you gently hum upon hearing your boyfriend enter, your eyes half-lidded as you feel him lay on his side behind you, sliding under the same blanket you were under. he wraps an arm around your waist, bringing himself just behind you, curving around your body. you feel an added, very welcome warmth from his presence, and you scoot yourself closer to him, wanting to feel more of his warmth. as you move, you accidentally grind your ass against his groin, a motion that, after a slight pause, he returns, pushing his hips forward a bit. although it was an accident on your end, you feel an interest in continuing the little grind session and you press your hips back into him once more, causing him to clear his throat. he moves even closer to you, his whole body now pressing against your back, and that’s when you feel his hardening cock through his shorts. he presses his groin forward once more, a little reluctantly, seemingly unsure if this was what you really want. you too were beginning to become turned on from the grinding, the feeling of his hardening member pressing against your butt only getting you more excited. you return the motion eagerly, pressing into him without hesitation, and soon the two of you begin grinding in unison - he pushes his hips forward and you press them backward. neither of you spoke, the only sounds interrupting the silence were the waves crashing against the beach, the scuffing of blankets, the slight rock of the tent, and rapid breaths escaping from yours and his lips. you think about pinning him to the ground, ripping his shorts down so his hard cock bounces out for you to suck, but you were so very comfortable, snuggled under the quilt, on the verge of sleep if not for the heat erupting in your nether regions. you knew that he was feeling the same way as you were, otherwise, he would already have your shorts and underwear yanked down to your knees and force your ass up in the air for his viewing pleasure. instead, the two of you continue spooning, grinding against each other.

he grunts as he adjusts himself, his arm that was over you now trailing up and down your body. his movements were slower than usual, lazily tracing his fingers across your clothed top before lifting it up, granting access to your nipples, the excitement, cold air, and his fingers flicking them friskily all causing the small pink nubs to begin hardening, a little murmur of a moan lingering in your throat. he then traces down your body and to your shorts, slipping his hand past them and your underwear. he wastes no time pressing his finger to your hole, prodding it, feeling just how excited you were as it puckers from his touch. even though you were drowsy, your body still reacts with a little shake of anticipation upon feeling his fingers against such a sensitive area, the excitement causing you to begin waking up in increments. you bring your knees up ever-so-slightly, pressing back into his fingers, wanting him to plunge them into you already and quit with the slow-moving teasing for you were quite ready for him. you hear him chuckle which causes you to pout as he finds amusement in your neediness and, disregarding your wants for him to hurry, he slides a thin finger around and across your aching hole in little circles, caressing you and keeping you wondering when he’d finally push them inside. this lasts for a few more minutes before you feel his hot breath against your neck hasten, his finger stopping just inches away from your hole, and as he presses his lips against the back of your neck in a kiss he slides a finger in. you squirm under the blankets, adjusting to the digit within you as he begins to move around instantly. he squeezes your exposed hip with his free hand, sending a little thrill down to the area he was giving plenty of attention to; the thrill causes you to lightly clench around his finger, and you hear one of his beautiful, soft gasps as he thrusts his hips against your ass again, this time out of pure want to stuff you full already. impatience causes him to hurry up his movements, another finger joining the first, both spreading you eagerly with scissoring-like movements, pushing against your walls, wanting them to give so that they’d allow his dick inside with ease. you tightly shut one eye and your cheeks redden from the needy movements of his fingers to the faint squelching sounds that were being produced from his actions.

you let out a frustrated sigh upon feeling his fingers leave you, your hole twitching from the sudden emptiness - but that doesn’t last long. he takes hold of the hem of your shorts and underwear, yanking them down to your thighs, just enough for him to gain access. you then feel something much bigger than a finger pressing against you, looking to enter, a whimper escaping your lips as he smears his tip’s precum against your skin. to help him ease in, you lift your legs up a little further, which allows childe to slide behind your pelvis and inside you, the movement accompanied with a deep groan from him. you were used to his size by now, but the first feeling of him pushing within you, spreading your walls further than fingers would allow, was a feeling you were never quite ready for, a feeling of crazy, dizzying pleasure along with a hint of pain that disappears as soon as he begins to move. the darkness only adds to the feeling since your sight was not a factor due to the pitch-black night. instead, your sense of touch was stronger, every little thrust of his amplified which causes your whole body to spasm around him. he brings a hand from your hip to your chest, rolling a hardened nipple under his forefinger while lazily thrusting into you in long, leisurely strokes. each thrust causes the blanket to move with your movements, the tent to shake a little, and if the two of you weren’t on a vacated island you’d feel quite embarrassed from the noticeable sex the two of you were having. thankfully, no one was nearby to see, nor was anyone around to hear your dirty moans, which began slow and soft and became louder with each thrust. he, too, was beginning to make his own noises - one particularly deep thrust that causes you to cry out makes him moan out your name in a low, raspy voice.

his movements became wilder, quicker, the sleep leaving as lust and want began to take over. he presses his lips against the back of your neck once more, sucking and licking the sensitive area, leaving a small little hickey for his eyes only. his hand moves from your nipple to your stomach, gripping gently for support to keep you in place on your side since his new, quicker pace causes both your bodies to rock at an increased speed, the tent now shaking violently from your conjoined movements. you grab the back of his hand, your nails against his skin, your cries music to his ears, his moans music to yours. the feeling was immaculate; you want more, more of him, taking you and your senses, the chillness of the air didn’t matter anymore as you felt both incredible and incredibly hot, a few droplets of sweat slipping down your chest and between your overstimulated, reddened nipples. hot, hot, hot, as if the summer sun was high in the sky and all you could think about was how good it felt. your mouth was continuously open now, letting plenty of moans escape, your cheek rubbing against the pillow beneath you as he continuously rams inside you, his movements no longer leisurely. your moans are loud, echoing across the bare sands and sea. the hotter it got, the more your body began to tighten around him, the feeling, the heat, all accumulating downward where he was thrusting into you before finally being released in a mind-numbing orgasm. a wave of coolness rushing over you as you flinch and arch your back, curling your body. one hand grips tightly onto his while the other was gripping the blankets below you, your knuckles turning white before letting go. your body rocks with each wave, akin to the ocean outside, and you hear childe whine behind you, knowing he could feel your orgasm around his cock, the heat and tightness squeezing his sensitive member, begging for his own orgasm and begging for his cum.

as he continues to thrust into your tight, orgasming hole, you feel his cock shudder. he grabs your hair, yanking on it, not too hard to hurt you but enough to cause you to throw your head back in correlation to his tugs. you know he’s close, he only ever grabs your hair when he’s close, and now that you were done seeing stars you begin helping him come to his own finale. you dig your hips back against his cock and balls each time he thrusts inside you, your motions causing him to go even deeper than before. the sensation, along with the trail ends of your orgasm, makes his body shake. your breaths become uneven as he releases while buried deep inside you, his own gasp louder than yours was, causing you to half-chuckle, half-sigh lovingly at how glorious he sounds. he rocks his hips into you, his movements slowing significantly, using your walls to help pump his cum out inside you before, finally, he comes to a stop.

as you feel his warm cum fill you up he pulls out, causing you to grit your teeth and squeeze your thighs together as some of the liquid follows his cock out. his head collapses onto the pillow behind you and he pulls you closer to him, his soft dick pressing between your ass cheeks. you hear a relaxed sigh from him and couldn’t deny the pure relaxation you were feeling as well. the sleepiness that was there before has returned tenfold, your eyes barely able to stay open as your body rests into the blankets and pillows below. you hear a few cute little snores echo from your boyfriend behind you and you decide that the two of you can clean yourselves up tomorrow. tonight was just about rest after an amazing bout of lovemaking.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #tartaglia #childe #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #childe x gn!reader #childe x reader smut #genshin impact writing #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin writing #genshin scenarios #written

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everythingfan589 · 2 years

Text

A Work In Progress

Chapter 7: If I’m Not There

Warnings: Fluff fluff fluff

Word Count: 3.1k

Masterlist

Sorgan finally lives up to the beautiful planet Kuiil described. With the raiders gone and the imperial walker destroyed, the farm is now a peaceful place to live.

The three of you have been living on the farm for nearly three weeks now一after Mando saved them, no one in the village had a problem with you all staying there free of charge.

The three of you, the kid especially, had become members of the community. You had taken up helping around the farm, not wanting to be dead weight on the farmers shoulders一and you were really enjoying yourself.

The child spent his days with the children, allowed to act like a kid probably for the first time in decades. Even Mando was taking to life on the farm一allowing himself to let his guard down and enjoy the peaceful ambiance. While it might be an overstatement to admit outloud一you felt like a little...family.

The weeks felt like a beautiful eternity, the bond between you and the child growing一you can’t imagine life without him anymore. The same could be said for the Mandalorian who found comfort in the presence of you and the child一the two of you finding the same solace in him.

You don’t mind getting your hands dirty and feet wet so you volunteered to help dig a new water bed in some extra land on the farm. The blazing hot direct sun makes the task less enjoyable than you originally thought, but you continue to dig.

By the time Mando walks over to the water bed, your bottom half is drenched and you have dirt一now mud一all over your arms.

Not exactly the most endearing sight, but Mando doesn't seem fazed一in fact, he seems to admire that you’re enjoying yourself.

“You should really eat something.” He says once at the edge of the water bed, looking down at you as you work alone一you didn’t even realize the others had left.

“I still have at least two hours before lunch.” The shovel hits the dirt beneath the water and you use your heel on the back of it to push it deeper into the ground.

“It’s mid-afternoon.” The realization makes you freeze, finally looking up at him to see his helmet tilted to the side一amused.

“Oh.” You can’t seem to say much else一the time flew by faster than you thought. Now that you think about it, you’re actually really hungry.

With a shrug, you pull up the shovel and throw it off to the side on solid ground before wading through the water. Once at the edge, you hold your hand up to him.

“You gonna help me out or what?”

You can hear the low chuckle through the modulator that he tries to cover up as he leans forward. He wraps his hand around your wrist一you doing the same to his with both of your hands.

Without even bracing for it, he pulls up一yanking you out of the water and on the grass in front of him. Water runs down your legs, dark green pants drenched and instead looking black.

“You should get cleaned up. There’s food waiting for you outside our hut.”

Our hut一something about that simple word creates a flutter in your chest, allowing you to only nod in response as the two of you turn to walk back.

“What have you been doing all day?” The curiosity in your voice isn't clouded from the casual conversation as you squeeze the water out of the bottom of your shirt.

“Brought all the weapons back to the ship.” He surprises you with that一even with the peaceful new world, you didn't expect him to be so willing to pack everything up. “Won’t be needing them out here.”

“I’m impressed.” You say, turning to him with a raised brow as you walk and the helmet turns slightly to look at you.

“I...” He starts, but when his words become lost in his throat he comes to a halt and you do the same, turning to face him. “I haven't...asked you wh一you haven't made it clear…”

He seems to be struggling to find the words一it’s out of character and you notice this, tilting your head with a gentle smile before putting an end to his suffering.

“What’s wrong?” With that he silences, taking a deep breath and collecting himself.

“You wanted to see the galaxy.” The words make you freeze. That was not what you were expecting but as you roll it over in your head, it makes sense.

The whole reason you joined the Mandalorian was to do a job一look after the ship while he goes on bounty hunts一a job you can’t exactly do when there are no bounties and the ship never leaves the ground.

That is...if you’re staying.

“And I did.” You assure him, the knowledge that he remembered and considered you telling him that you wanted to see the galaxy is charming. “This planet is beautiful and I’d be lucky to stay here.”

“I’ve been thinking...” It’s unusual for him to be this tentative一you’ve always known him to be assertive and confident. “You and the kid一you seem at home here.”

“We do.”

“And I...invite violence wherever I go.” You frown as he starts explaining his thought process一ever vague with his word choice.

“What are you saying一”

“I think I should go一”

The words leaving both your mouths at the same time jumble together in the air, becoming almost impossible to understand一but you hear him.

“What?” If you could see his face一maker, you wish you could see his face一he would probably be wearing a concerned frown as he sighs, not sure how to answer.

“You both could have a very happy life here. You deserve it.” His words are painfully sincere and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch his wrist.

“You deserve it.” Consequence of him always being so still, you don’t notice him freeze at the touch一and the words. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I一” You don’t even let him finish.

“Stay.” Your words stir something in him. Something unfamiliar and warm that urges every instinct in him to fight back一but the visor continues to stare at you silently. “Please. Stay.”

“Okay.” He finally says after a moment too long. The words sound physically painful to release, like he had to fight back everything inside of him to reveal what he truly desires.

With that, you give him a soft smile, turning to continue your trek back to the hut with him close beside you.

It’s silent after that, comfortably so, enjoying each others company while you eat一after changing into dry clothes of course. He still hasn't eaten with you一not that you expected he ever would一always waiting to eat inside while no one is around.

A week ago, he would always disappear without notice, and you would be left alone with the kid一but lately, he’s stayed to indulge in company while you and the kid eat, only leaving to eat himself when the two of you move on to do other daily activities. You still haven't told him how much you appreciate it, but you think he knows.

As you wipe your hands on a cloth, finishing up your late lunch, Mando finally speaks.

“I’ll teach you to use a blaster.” His words make your head snap up to look at him.

“Wh一really?” You nearly choke on the last piece of food in your mouth, but manage to compose yourself.

Mando has been extremely against you using a blaster since you got to Sorgan一for reasons you have yet to fathom一and it surprises you that he’s so blatantly willing.

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You only use it for emergencies.” While it partly confuses you to why the Mandalorian bounty hunter would be so against you using a blaster when it’s such a normalized part of his life一you don’t question it, just wanting to take advantage of his willingness to teach.

“Fine.”

“I’m serious.”

“You always are.” You can’t help but snicker slightly, the unamused tilt of his head making you laugh even more.

“I can change my mind.”

“Sorry.” It’s not genuine一your inability to wipe the grin from your face exposes this to him, but he just sighs in response.

The weeks shared together have regularly worked like this一you making a joke and him just barely dealing with it一something tells you he actually sometimes finds them funny, but refuses to make a sound resembling an actual laugh.

You wonder what his laugh sounds like.

You’re sure that it’s the most comforting, smooth sound in the galaxy.

BANG.

The kickback from the hand-held blaster sends a shock wave up your arm and into your shoulder but you ignore it一too frustrated with yourself to care. You haven't been able to hit the target even once since you started.

“You’re thinking too much.” Mando’s heavy voice hasn't failed to add to the frustration, stating facts you’re excruciatingly aware of. “You aim一then lose it while you shift your focus to pulling the trigger.”

“I’m trying.” You mumble, aiming yet again, both your arms holding the heavy blaster that Mando usually uses one hand for.

Once confident with your aim, your finger pulls the trigger, the blaster kicking back and the plasma shooting right past the metal pan hanging from a tree with some rope.

“Kriffing mud scu一”

“Try again.” He cuts off your curse with a monotone voice and you sigh, picking your sore arms up again and aiming.

Being in the middle of the forest helps shield you from the extra humiliation you would be bound to face were you doing this in front of the entire village一instead, only Mando has the honour of bearing witness to your shame.

Before you can pull the trigger, hands quickly come up behind you and hold your upper arms steady. You’re confused at first, but as his body presses into yours, one hand travelling down to your elbow to hold it firm, you realize he’s trying to keep your aim in tact.

It’s now that you can take in the fact that he’s not wearing half as much armour as he usually is. His chest and shoulder plates were removed earlier一it surprises you how much more comfortable he is here, able to indulge in being human and not a warrior.

It’s because of this that you can feel his chest, covered in nothing but fabric, pressing against your back一his breathing pushing a soft chest into you instead of hard beskar. It nearly takes the wind out of you.

“Now.” He says from behind you一if there wasn't still a helmet between you two, air would be rushing past your ear.

You do as your told, pulling the trigger and shooting a ray of plasma from the end of the blaster一it hits the target.

“There you go. Good.” He praises you, stepping back slightly and you shrug.

“That was basically your shot.”

“It was all your aim. I just held you in place.” He reassures you, making you look up at him hopefully. “Your problem isn't aim一it’s the recoil.”

“Great.” You mutter, looking down as you kick dirt, upset with yourself for not being able to get this right.

“Hey.” His finger gently tucks under your chin, lifting your head up to look at him again. “You’ll get it.”

Unable to do anything but nod, you take a breath, holding up the blaster again and aiming it at the target.

“Don’t think about the trigger as something you have to pull. It’s instinctual一the moment you lock your aim一” Listening to every word, you cut him off, following his direction and shooting.

The plasma is so close to hitting the target that the pressure of it flying through the air makes the pan spin. Closest you’ve been so far without his assistance.

“Not bad.”

“So, uh, what would qualify as an emergency?” You ask, trying to diffuse what your own frustrated mood created.

“If you need to protect yourself or the kid. If I’m not there.” He says before sighing. “I was planning on teaching you anyway一it’s something you should know how to do.”

“Well, I’m going to need a lot of practice.” You mumble sarcastically, turning back to the target just as Mando releases a low chuckle.

BANG.

You’re not sure how you convinced him.

Though, there wasn't much you needed to say on this particular night to persuade him to use the rather hilariously large cot in your shared hut. Maybe it’s because he’s finally sick of sleeping upright on wooden crates and fishing net一whatever the reason一he’s on the cot next to you.

Of course you offered to sleep somewhere other than the cot when he agreed to use it一actually, you almost insisted一but he was just as firm in making you stay put.

So...here you are一sleeping only a couple feet away from the fiercest bounty hunter in the galaxy一a Mandalorian.

Your back is turned to him, huddled up in the fetal position on the far end of the cot while he lies facing up, still fully armoured and clothed on the other end. He’s not even using the blanket, it only covers you. You can’t hear him breathing一usually you can一so it concerns you.

Maybe he’s awake. Maybe he’s trying to listen to you breathing which has, in turn, reduced his breathing. The thoughts keep you awake, until finally, you can’t take the unbearable silence and consider turning to check on him.

Before you can move, you hear a soft unfamiliar hiss followed by unmodulated breathing.

Maker, did he一

Gulping.

You listen desperately, unable to use any other sense to understand what's happening behind you as you hear, for the first time, the sound of Mando drinking water. It’s so simple and yet you are absolutely bewildered一in awe.

He must’ve been trying to check if you were sleeping, otherwise, you can’t imagine he would have taken the helmet off this close to you.

So, you pretend to be asleep一even indulging in closing your eyes to that effect, allowing him to sit in the comfortable night with his shield put to bed一perfectly vulnerable.

You’re not sure how long he kept his helmet off last night. The last thing you remember is listening to his unfiltered breathing next to you. You must’ve fallen asleep to it because the next thing you know一you’re waking up to sunlight in the hut.

Unsurprisingly, he has his helmet back on and is already up for the day. He has a habit of leaving the hut just as the sun is rising, leaving you the room to get ready, but this morning you catch him. Across the room from you, he sits on one of the crates, pulling on his boots as if he’s just getting ready now.

“Morning.” His deep morning voice cracks through the modulator as you yawn.

“Good morning.” You greet him, rubbing your eyes and pulling the blanket off your legs.

It’s only as your feet touch the ground do you start to feel embarrassed. You’re usually able to get yourself ready before he sees you一now he’s looking at you right at the butt-crack of dawn with bed head.

Why do you care?

You push the thought out of your mind as quickly as it appeared, walking over to the little wooden crib where the child lies sleeping.

“And good morning to you.” Your voice is soft, giving him a gentle awakening. The little green bean rolls over in the crib, opening his big black eyes to look up at you sleepily. “You’ve got a full day of playing ahead of you, little one.”

“Are you working again today?” He asks while you gently lift the child from his bed, rocking him slightly.

“I don’t see why not.” You say without looking up from the nearly asleep child, walking him over to the sitting Mandalorian. “Here. Take him.”

“Wh一” He stutters as you push the small bundle into his large arms.

“You two can wait outside while I change.” As you speak he stands, your hands prodding him over to the door.

“I need my一”

“Go.” You nearly laugh as he glares at you for a half second before walking out of the hut with the child in his arms.

The rest of the morning was pleasant. Business as usual, working the farm while the children played. You had recruited Mando一much to his dissatisfaction一to help with the new water bed. Instead of subjecting him to digging in the water which would no doubt drag down his already heavy attire一you assigned him to wagon duty.

Stoic and uncomplaining, he pulls the cart where it needs to be, full of dirt and falling apart at the hinges. You conceal your amusement at him performing the task一it really is the perfect job for someone of his build一maybe not of his skill set though.

“You okay over there一” You call out to him from the edge of the water bed, but before he can even turn to acknowledge you, a short deafening blast has pierced the air, rattling through your eardrums.

Everything happens so fast一Mando jumps to action, turning toward the forest where the shot came from as you pull yourself from the water.

“The kid一” You don’t even give him time to finish before you’re sprinting toward where you left him with the other children一your heartbeat throbbing in your ears as the thought of what could await you fills your head.

“Please, no. Maker, please一” You mumble to yourself as you run into the middle of the farm, looking around desperately for the little green head. A tiny little familiar gurgle makes you spin on your heel一there he is.

You rush over to him, scooping him up into your arms protectively, before finally looking around at the chaotic farm. Everyone is grasping their own children, not sure where the shot was fired from or if anyone was hit. You can’t see Mando anymore一he must’ve gone to find the culprit, leaving you to protect the child.

Not even a minute later, you see shiny beskar walking back into the farm, his strides long and purposeful and he makes his way over to you.

“What happened? Who一”

“We have to leave.” His words catch you off guard, reality finally creeping into your perfect little homemade world only to slap you across the face.

“Who fired that shot?”

“Bounty hunter.”

An unwelcome shiver runs down your spine as you realize what this means. He’s not safe here. He won’t be safe anywhere as long as they’re looking for him.

You look down at his big eyes, clearly confused at the fuss created only moments before.

“Collect your things. We’ll leave tonight.”

You can’t give him anything more than a single nod for an answer, the life you had only just become used to being ripped away from you without trial. What’s worse is that Mando was getting used to it to一and you wanted it for him一you so badly wanted this for him.

But, you do as requested. You pack up your things一not that you had much to begin with一and, with a heavy heart, say goodbye to the second home you’ve ever known.

#din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #pedro pascal

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luvnami · 3 years

Text

𝗦𝘂𝗻 🌤 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 - Food mention

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 - 895

“He- llo!”

You have to hold in a giggle when Ushijima greets you. It’s the summer where you’re both thirteen when his voice begins to crack as he talks. He’s more quiet than usual, and understandably so. You struggle to hide your laughs with a wriggly grin on your face, pressing your lips together into a straight line.

Summer assignments change from daily journals to practice worksheets and group projects. You’re not able to spend as much time as you used to with Ushijima, burying yourself in piles of papers and eraser dust.

“Wakatoshi, do you prefer 0.5mm or 0.7mm pencil lead?” you ask one day.

He looks at you, then back down at the Kurutoga pencil in his hand.

“0.3mm,” he replies.

You scrunch your face up in confusion and Ushijima laughs.

You return to school occasionally to attend club activities. You wish you could bring Ushijima along — show him where the bathrooms are, run your finger over the mark you and your friends carved into a tree behind the school field, point out your favourite stall in the canteen.

When Ushijima asks you if you want to go play in the Hirose river, you’re more than eager to drop your assignments and grab a bottle of sunscreen along the way to protect yourself against the sun.

You toss your sandals by the bank and dip your toes in at first. A shiver runs through your body. The water is clear and cool, lapping at your hips as you move towards the deeper end of the river. Ushijima lays his socks and sneakers out neatly on some dry gravel before joining you. He keeps his arms precariously above the glassy water, taking small steps over the slick stones that line the river bed.

“Wakatoshi!” you cry out, sweeping an arc of water that rains down on Ushijima. “Watch this!”

A rainbow forms in the air as he raises his hands to block his face from your attack. His defence is useless, however, as his hair and shirt become damp.

“That was underhanded,” he complains.

Ushijima is quick to use his hands and arms to fling water at you. Your laughter fills the air and the both of you soon become soaked from playing in the river. The summer heat seems to be nonexistent as you float on your back, cracking open ice cold sodas that you had left in the water earlier to be cooled.

“Here,” you tell Ushijima. “Take this one. You prefer the apple flavour, right?”

He nods, smiling as he receives the soda from you.

Obaa-san had even given you some slices of watermelon kept in a Tupperware for safekeeping. The sweet juice runs down the corners of your mouth, crisp and fresh against your tongue.

“We should go back soon,” Ushijima says, when his shirt begins to dry out and stick to his skin.

You’re quick to clamber out of the river. Your toes dig into the soil and grass by the banks, giving you enough grip to leave Ushijima in the middle of the running water. He wades through it over to you.

Hot wind licks at your cheeks and the cries of cicadas echo your gasps for air, while sparrows chirp in the branches of swaying zelkova trees. Ushijima’s eyes never leave your face. Water laps at his waist as he sticks his hand out towards you.

“Pull me up,” he says.

The sun scorches his back. Its light reflects off of the water’s glimmering surface and you have to squint your eyes to see somewhat clearly. You extend your hand towards him, and he wraps his hand around your forearm. You do the same. His touch feels warmer than sunlight itself.

“Hold on, I- Ah!”

You dig into your heels in an attempt to counter the force that Ushijima exerts as he pulls himself up. In a split second, he tugs you back into the water with him.

Cold water meets your face as bubbles escape from your nose and mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut on reflex. The noise around you descends into a pit of gurgling and the rushing of the river that overwhelms everything else, drowning out even your shout of surprise.

The sparkling water makes you look ethereal. You dare to crack your eyes open and find Ushijima’s eyes trained on you. His hands ghost your sides, having tried to grab you before you fell earlier. It’s as if the both of you are frozen in time.

Your feet find the river bed. You plant them firmly and push yourself above water, wheezing for air. Hair sticks to your forehead, water sluicing down your body and slipping back to its home silently. Ushijima shakes his hair dry of water and unintentionally gives you a second shower.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have pulled so hard.”

“It’s okay.”

You use your hands to push the water and wet hair out of your face, doing your best to dry it as much as you possibly can. Ushijima looks as if he had just swallowed a stone. You turn your back to him and pull yourself out of the river once more, trying to ignore the look he was giving you just moments earlier.

Bits of gravel and soil rub against your toes uncomfortably as you hobble back home, and blisters adorn your feet for days after.

#haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi fluff #ushijima wakatoshi drabble #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #hq x reader #hq ushijima #hq fluff #hq drabble #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima fluff #ushijima drabble

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years

Text

The Darkest Timeline, Part 9

Living with Andrea feels like slipping into a second skin. It's familiar, yet entirely foreign to Lena after the coziness of Kara's apartment. Andrea's condo is all bright lights and sharp lines, aesthetic over material comfort. Lena keeps her sunglasses on, swallowing against the onset of a migraine.

"Make yourself at home," Andrea offers. She peels off her coat and hangs it on the stand beside the door.

Lena hugs her bag of belongings to her chest. "I'm actually pretty tired..."

"Oh, of course. Sorry. Here, I'll show you the bedroom."

Lena follows her deeper into the condo, and breathes a sigh of relief when the bedroom proves to be dimmer. The second thing she notices is that the bed is unmade, a fact Andrea immediately tries to rectify by twitching the covers back into place.

"Yes, I'm still a slob," Andrea jokes. "I've got an extra pillow somewhere around here..."

Lena meets Andrea's gaze. "I can take the couch--"

"What? No! This bed is huge-- we'll both fit no problem." Andrea smiles. "It'll be fun. Like a sleepover."

Lena remembers their sleepovers, all giggles and limbs beneath the sheets. Lena remembers feeling carefree with Andrea in her corner. She remembers how deeply it had cut her to see her best friend wearing the medallion that bore the symbol of Acrata.

"I lost my memory," Lena blurts.

Andrea falls still, surprised by the revelation. When she stares, Lena rushes to fill the silence.

"Five years of it, roughly. So if there's anything I need to know, please-- tell me now."

In an instant, Andrea's features crease in concern. "So you don't... you don't remember selling me CatCo? Or-- Acrata?"

Lena's scowl deepens. "I remember you stealing the medallion and letting me believe that I had lost the last remnant of my mother, of that's what you mean."

"No, I mean..." Andrea trails off. In the end, she sighs. "Okay-- maybe you should sit down."

Lena sits on the edge of the bed and listens as Andrea tells her everything. From the deal she made in the temple to the powers granted to her by the medallion itself, how Leviathan said they would one day call on her, but never did.

Lena doesn't believe it at first, not until Andrea demonstrates by walking into one shadow and coming out of another on the far side of the room.

"You told me that if Leviathan ever did reach out to me, you would help me," Andrea finishes. She comes to sit next to Lena, hands folding in her lap.

Lena looks at her, then reaches out to take Andrea's hand in hers. "I don't remember making that promise," she says quietly. "But I will honor it."

Andrea looks at her with tear-filled eyes. Lena smiles. "You jump, I jump, remember?"

Laughing wetly, Andrea turns and wraps Lena in a long hug. "I've missed you, Lena," she whispers. "So much."

Later that night, Lena lies awake next to her best friend, fighting tears of her own. She doesn't carry the anger that she used to, for Andrea. But that doesn't keep her from wishing it was someone else sleeping next to her.

---

In the days that follow, Lena loses herself in learning everything she's forgotten. She digs into old news feeds, charting her move from Metropolis to National City at the behest of her brother. Though the information is tainted by the fact she knows this reality isn't how her story started, it does give her an unbiased glimpse into her own life. She watches any televised interview with herself that she can get her hands on, and with Andrea's ties to CatCo, there's a shocking amount of footage to wade through.

The version of herself on the screen is charming, quick-witted, and engaging-- everything Lena feels she is not. She learns of the charity and outreach initiatives she's helmed, the profits earned by LuthorCorp's expansion to the West Coast. Everything is clean and good, but Lena can't help but wonder how much of the truth she's still missing, how much of her life was kept from the public eye like Lex's has been.

"It doesn't feel real," Lena says to Andrea one night. They're folded up on their respective ends of Andrea's couch, each sipping on a glass of expensive Malbec. "It feels like someone else's life. Not mine."

"What would help it feel more like yours?" Andrea asks.

Lena doesn't expect the question, and doesn't have an answer to give. She shrugs. "I don't know."

"Well, what does feel real?"

"My memories. What I remember from Metropolis. My brother going insane."

She vividly remembers the light of that red sun, the bite of the plastic ties binding her to the chair as she watched the world descend into chaos. She remembers the thundering of her heart in the courtroom after, confessing to wearing a wire. She remembers the way Lex's head had finally lifted; he had expected her to cooperate with the authorities after his arrest-- he hadn't imagined she would take the initiative to work against him beforehand.

But none of that mattered. Not anymore. None of that had happened here, and not even Andrea could fathom the loss she felt, knowing she was adrift in a reality completely different from the one she remembered.

"It sounds like you need to make your own memories," Andrea comments, sipping her wine.

Lena scoffs. "Fat chance of that while Lex is gunning for me."

"Then we take the fight to him." Andrea's features are hard, solemn-- though she has no reason to suspect Lex's villainy, she takes Lena at her word. She always has.

Lena nods.

"I think I have an idea."

---

A plan starts to build. Andrea's dining table soon becomes Lena's workbench as she cobbles together anything she thinks could help. Within a few weeks, Lena has the how: all she needs is the when and where. Luring Lex to a secluded place would prove difficult without allowing him the chance to outleverage her.

Their timetable is forced to the forefront when Andrea comes barreling in the front door, her hair windswept and harried.

"We have a problem," Andrea says, shoving her phone in front of Lena.

Lena takes the phone and struggles to focus on the text window. It's a new contact channel, consisting of an image and a single text message.

"Time for us to have a chat, ace."

Enlarging the image, Lena can just make out the red and blue shape of Supergirl sprawled on a cement floor, unconscious.

Lena's heart starts to pound, making her vision pulse with every beat. As she stares at Kara's unmoving form, the phone buzzes in her hand. A new text message pops up, containing a set of coordinates.

Taking a deep breath, Lena sets the phone down. She swallows thickly against the bile in her throat.

"It's trap," Andrea tells her point blank.

Lena nods. A trap it certainly is, but that doesn't change the fact that Kara is in danger. Danger she helped create. She lifts her head, meeting Andrea's wide eyes with a steady gaze.

"I'm going."

#supercorp #darkest timeline #now whos in peril #dun dun dun!!#lena still needs a hug #dont matter who its from at this point

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poptod · 3 years

Note

Would u be up to writing a crack fic where Ahk eats some dodgy food and gets violently ill from it and in his food poisoning induced delirium starts to like hallucinate and think that gods are against him and hanging out with him and stuff. so yeah. (also omfg never noticed the ostrich part in NATM!!!)

notes: YEA that fucking ostrich is hilarious and YES this sounds fun. u didn’t say if this was xreader or if this was in egypt or in the museum so i took some liberties, hope that’s alright! i also really ran with this so apologies for the length WC: 2,222

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Now, now, that’s no way to refer to your husband,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You are not - we’re not married,” you hissed.

“Not yet,” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. Ahkmen wasn’t King yet, but you still held the position as his advisor, placed there by both Ahkmen’s choice and his father’s insistence.

Now, however, you were focused on a different, more pertinent issue. An entire bag of almond date rolls had been thrown away for Ahk to find, opening the sack to find them untouched. Since he had little to no self control—which was why you were there to begin with—he immediately began eating them.

“There isn’t anything wrong with them,” he said through a mouthful.

“You don’t know that,” you said, still glaring up at him.

He swallowed before promptly stuffing another whole roll in his mouth.

“Stop that!” You said, and batted the sack out of his hand.

The cinch released and the rolls went flying down a sandy hill, reaching the river outcrop at the bottom. Ahk watched, miserably, as they disappeared.

“You have access to date rolls anytime you like in the palace,” you reminded him.

“But it’s such a long walk back, and I like it here,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the forested hill overlooking the Nile. Shade stretched over your bodies and the reed blanket beneath you, allowing the wind to cool your sun-beaten skin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you said, leaning back to lie down.

“How funny, then, that you are my life,” he said with a grin, following you till he propped himself up on his elbow, his free hand resting on your chest.

He stared at you, scanning you as you half-glared at him.

“What do you want?” You asked, looking up unimpressed.

“A kiss,” he said, puckering his lips.

“Shut up!”

You shoved him onto his back, laughter wracking his body.

A little while later you found yourself once more obeying Ahk’s whim, though his father had warned against that, and followed him in short steps down the tall dune. Solidified, plant-filled earth gave way for free falling sand that drifted off the slope and towards the riverbank.

The water during this time of year was at a steady but slow pace, flowing from south to north as the sun’s rising and setting indicated. Wind that once cooled you now brought hot air, exacerbated by the overzealous sun, who you imagined could burn even your ink-black skin. Sand avalanched around your still feet, landing you at Ahk’s side.

“Luncheon will be soon,” you reminded.

“I’m aware,” he said flatly. “Can’t I simply enjoy myself for once?”

“No.”

He waded out into the water, his shoulders tensing at the chill and only releasing as he went deeper. Once the red water reached his knees, just barely soaking the edge of his skirt, he called to you.

“Come join me,” he said, offering you his hand.

“We should go back to the palace,” you said.

“Come now, it’ll be hours before lunch,” he whined.

“It’s one hour. And you can’t be wearing that,” you said, gesturing to his outfit that consisted of no more than a skirt, partially torn and covered in dirt.

“Then take it off me,” he said with a sly grin.

You scowled at him, going over your options for a moment before you acted.

Once you decided, you waltzed into the river, soaking your sandals as you approached him. Satisfaction filled his gaze as you came closer, his hand still outstretched to you.

At last you took his hand, tugging him forcefully towards you. He let out a grunt, but before he could say anything, you reached forward and released the clasp keeping his skirt on him, allowing it to fall in the running water and drift away.

“Hey!” He cried, attempting to go after it, but stopped by your hand still in his. He turned back to you, a shocked look on his face as he said, “what was that for?!”

“Dawdling. Let’s go back to the palace.”

“Like this?!” He yelled, gesturing to his naked body. You snorted.

“You don’t mind. I know you don’t. You just want to be mad at me,” you said in a definitive voice.

“I don’t-“

“Come on, Prince,” you said, tugging him past you so he stumbled towards the shoreline. As he just barely got his standing you slapped his butt, pushing him forward further.

Ahkmen fell silent—as he rarely did—after he’d been dressed and was on the way to the garden, where the Pharaoh had arranged a feast he made and placed for himself, his family, and the ambassadors visiting from Punt. You were not invited, but you watched from above alongside the youngest Prince’s manservant. Ahk’s room was placed right above the western gardens, large arches within allowing a plenty good sight out, which you and Naguib took advantage of.

“He’s squirming an awful lot,” Naguib noted after several minutes of silence.

Naguib laid on his stomach, his chin propped up on his palms, in turn resting on his elbows on the stone floor. You sat nearby, leant against one of the arch pillars with a tablet of baked limestone on your lap.

At his comment you looked over the ledge, easily finding the trademark golden crown Ahk bore.

“How so?” You asked.

“Look at his legs,” Naguib said, and your eyes turned to his fidgeting crossed legs, “and his hands.”

His fists were clenching and unclenching.

“Should we check in on him?” He asked gingerly.

“.... nah,” you said after a moment. “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s probably just upset I slapped him on the arse.”

Naguib choked on his own spit, bursting into manic laughter.

“You slapped the prince’s ass??” He asked incredulously through gasps of laughter. “How’d he react to that?”

“He stripped me,” you answered, returning to your tablet with little waver in your voice.

“What -“

“That might’ve been because I took away his skirt, though. In that case, he just looked at me really strangely,” you said.

“How so?”

You twisted your expression to reflect what you remembered, a strange mix of confused, angered, and one feeling that was almost always at the forefront of Ahk’s mind—horny. Naguib burst into another round of laughter.

Several minutes later, after your conversation died down, Naguib looked back over the ledge and frowned.

“He’s gone,” he said.

“Who what?”

“Ahk, he isn’t there anymore,” he said, pointing to the empty cushion where Ahk had been sitting. You shifted to see.

“Huh. What do you think happened?”

Bursts of metal latches and swinging hinges interrupted you before either of you could think of an answer, followed by the wooden frame of the door slamming against the other wall. Both of you darted to look behind you, finding several different servants entering, a limp Prince in their arms.

Instantly you jumped to your feet. Naguib joined you, though much slower, and you both made your way to his bedside once the servants set him down.

“What happened?” Naguib asked, a hand on the bed as he looked up to one of the servants.

You set your hand over his forehead, testing his temperature, and using your sense of magic to reach into his veins, searching for a perpetrator.

“He hasn’t got a fever,” you noted, earning a nod from the servant tending him.

You made to search again before Ahk moved, groaning softly as he curled into himself, clutching his stomach.

“Ahk? Are you alright?” You asked—probably too quickly—as you knelt at his side, panic pounding its way into your heart.

“Ugh,” he grumbled, just barely wheezing out his breaths. “Alive. Right now.”

“What are your symptoms?”

“Stomach,” he breathed, halting as he flinched, his hands moving to slap over his mouth.

“Bucket!” You said to the servant, who nodded and rushed for one of the buckets in the nearest closet. “You’re going to throw up, its alright. Get it out.”

“Ughhh...” he mumbled, convulsing forward again as he attempted to hold it in.

In a flash the servant returned, rushing to set the bucket down beside the bed. You held it up, helping him scoot dizzily forward before he hurled.

Things continued in a similar fashion until the setting of the sun, the western rays finally sinking beneath the distant mountain horizon. Crickets and firebugs chirped, bringing in the cool breeze of evening, sending shivers down Ahk’s sweat-sheeted shoulders and back.

You ran your fingers through his hair, hoping to raise the curls off his heated forehead, but he raised his hand to stop you.

“No,” he slurred, “too sick... repetitive.”

“Alright,” you said softly.

His dizziness persevered from the evening into the night, but his vomitting had luckily stopped, though he did try to retch on an empty stomach twice. By then he was passed out from exhaustion, still shivering in his sleep. You stayed at his side without fail, raising his sheets up to cover him, and removing them when he broke out into another sweat.

At midnight, his eyes fluttered open.

The first thing he saw was you—surrounded by a halo of brightly glowing stars, colored in red, yellow, and purple. His sickness had faded but the delirium remained, and he reached out blindly for your face.

His fingers dragging across your eyes and cheeks brought you back from your meditation, shocked at his consciousness.

“You’re awake,” you said with a relieved sigh, your knees digging into the cold stone beneath you.

“Hathor?” He mumbled weakly, his eyes still half-closed.

“No, no,” you said, taking his hand down from your face and clasping it in your own hold. “Piye. Remember? How do you feel?”

“Am I dead?”

“Not as far as I know. You exhibit all the tell-tale signs of being alive,” you said, chuckling.

“... Bastet?”

“Also no. Piye.”

“Peets....” he mumbled before promptly falling back asleep.

The next time he awoke was a little later on, towards the very, very early morning. He once again broke you out of your meditation, this time with words rather than smothering your face. His state of aberration had yet to improve.

“Piye?” He asked softly, a husk of a voice.

“Yes,” you said, smiling. He remembered your name. “How do you feel?”

“When d.. you’re... you’re glowing,” he murmured.

“I what?”

He reached forward, and you flinched away, stiffened by a soft touch that traced down your jawline.

“You’re... glowing,” he said, louder, drawing in a deep breath as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“Calm down, Ahk,” you warned him, pushing the hair off his forehead. “You’re going to work yourself up.”

“No,” he said with a strange sense of urgency, holding your face in the palm of his hand. You subconsciously leaned your cheek into his touch. “No, I need to see you.”

“I’m right here, with you.”

“Not in my dreams,” he breathed out, the words brushing his parted lips, now paler than ever.

Fever.

Vomitting.

Fatigue.

Gagging. Weakness. Dizziness. Chills. Sweating.

What would your father say?

He didn’t need to consult the numerous stacks of books shoved into his office to know what Ahk suffered from, but he was far away in Thebes, and you wouldn’t dare leave the Prince’s side, in fear of his condition and the wrath of his father should he suffer grievously.

“I told you not to eat those date rolls,” you chided, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. That must’ve been the cause—sickness carried through infirm food. You could think of nothing else.

He didn’t say anything. Not for a little while, at least. He continued to blink, albeit slow, and stared unceasingly into you.

“He is in your eyes,” he whispered, his own eyes flickering between yours. “And... speaking.”

“Who do you see?” You asked softly, suddenly reluctant to blink.

“Heka.”

Not a God of magic, but the personification of it. The genuine representation of healing and enchantments. His fertile, black skin made of the Nile’s silt was reflected in your own complexion—darker than night, flanked by eyes that appeared to glow against the midnight of you.

“What is he saying?” You said, readjusting yourself beside his hand, a seriousness edging your tone. Claims of Heka were not to be taken lightly.

“Pledging.. love.”

“For who?”

“... me,” he whispered.

“Beloved of...”

“Beloved of you,” he interrupted before you could finish your thought, a smile creeping at the edges of his pale lips.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to stroke your thumb over the back of his hand. He was returning to a saner state of mind.

“Perhaps so,” you murmured.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Night at the Museum #Ahkmenrah

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 3 years

Text

Rafael Barba / I Want You to Touch Me

Summary: the Beard Barba Fic™ (again) - Rafael returns from Iowa and makes good on his promises (no need to read part 1)

Prompts: “who said it had to be a bed?”

Warnings: E (minors DNI), smut, desk sex, semi-public sex, no pronouns (reader has a v), oral (f!/gn! receiving), beard kink, exhibitionism (a little),

Word Count: 2,699

"Motherfuck—" you bite back your words, not allowing the phantom of Buchanan savor your frustration, as you waded your way through his discovery. It was more avalanche than discovery — a cheap ploy to get you to deal, but you weren't having it.

1 Hogan Place had grown silent as the evening approached — the bustling hallways now quiet, the low energy fluorescents buzzing, and the only office light on was your own.

And the clatter of pens and a mug hitting the floor was your own doing.

Honestly it only made you more spiteful, gritting your teeth and sat back down — burying your face in your hands, as your phone buzzed on your desk, and you spotted a missed call— shit— and then a text message:

Don’t tell me you’re still at the office.

And a smile plays on your lips, Isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black?

Oh, this kettle has changed his ways, and you snort, rolling your eyes, leaning back in your seat, as you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

I’m sorry, who’s still in Iowa?

“Who said anything about Iowa?” and your head snaps up, as you see him leaning against your doorframe, arms crossed in his coat, as he smirks at you, lips still engulfed in his beard.

“Raf—” you gasp, as he steps forward, his head tilted, “What are you—”

“Thought I’d surprise you,” and he’s nonchalantly glancing at the files piled on the perimeter of your desk like a moat wall, “although it seems like Buchanan already did that—”

“Please do not mention Buchanan right now,” you say and he laughs, as you round your desk, finding your way to his side, “I can’t believe you’re here—”

And he’s pulling you into his arms, flush against his chest, lips curling when he hears the small gasp in your throat, as his hands slide down your sides, squeezing lightly, before murmuring, “believe it,”

And your fingers are running through his beard, the bristles nearly tickling your skin, a shiver leaving his throat, “And you didn’t shave,” you note, lips curling.

“Thought you’d like that,” his voice rumbles in his chest, as your hands can’t settle on where you want to touch him first, but you didn’t need to decide — you had time now, didn’t you? “was I right—”

And you’re kissing him, warmth blooming in your chest as you finally taste him — and he’s just as you remember, his tongue brushing against your lips. His beard drags against your skin as his hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, and you can’t help but imagine how his beard would feel against your thighs, your clit, your pussy— “This is better than any video call, huh?”

“Fuck yes,” he’s muttered, his voice already debauched and breathless as he’s walking you backwards, until your ass is pressed against the rim of your own desk, and he’s shrugging off his jacket, his fingers prying at your suit coat, “God, I missed this,” he’s muttering against your lips, before he’s kissing his way down your jaw, pressing a kiss to your neck, right above your jumping pulse, “and you.”

And your heart stirs at his words, softening ever so slightly, “You did?” and he’s leaning away a moment, a soft smile on his lips, and then you’re pulling him back to you, lips pressed together as your teeth graze his bottom lip, your fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt, “prove it.”

He raises an eyebrow, “And how should I do that?” and you bite your lip, as he’s pulling you closer -- not letting you get away without an answer, “Tell me what you want me to do,” as his bristles drag over your sensitive skin again.

And warmth blooms in your stomach, “I want you to touch me,” he smiles.

And he’s only too eager to do so.

He presses into you, just as you undo the last button on his shirt and he’s shrugging it off, your palms sliding across his chest. And then his mouth is on you again —- all teeth and lips down the column of your throat, and his hands are pulling at your tucked shirt, slipping underneath and you nearly shiver at his palms — still cold from the winter air — against your warm skin.

“Raf, I—” and he steals your breath, scraping his teeth against your collarbone, before pressing kisses to soothe it, grinning, as he kisses his way back up to your lips, as your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I told you it wouldn’t be a bed,” and he’s urging you up the side of your desk, only hesitating when he sees the towers of files beginning to teeter precariously beside you — but you don’t care, you need him — and you’re sweeping them off, files and papers alike clattering to the floor, as you sit on the desk, pulling him between your legs.

And you feel him press against you, the hard line of his cock aching against your pussy, and you can’t help the moan of his name that leaves your lips, desperate — but so is he, his member twitching at the sound of his name.

But now he slows, his fingers are toying with the button on your dress pants, and a whine parts your lips, “Raf—”

“I want to enjoy this, mi amor,” and he’s kissing you again slowly, open mouthed and sloppy, as his tongue slips into your mouth, and his thick fingers digging into your thigh as he hooks it around his waist, “I want to take my time with you — it’s been too long — far too long.”

“And whose fault was that?” and he frowns only a moment, before beginning to undo the buttons on your shirt.

“All the more reason to make it up to you,” and he’s helping you out of your shirt and you’re only more than happy to accommodate — stripping away clothes until your chest is bared to him. And he presses a kiss between your nipples, and you nearly shake under his steady gaze, “so beautiful,” and he’s leaning up to press a lazy kiss to one nipple and then the other, before he’s laving at one, rolling the other between his fingers.

But then his hand slipping down, undoing the button he had toyed with, fingers slipping past your underwear, a gasp stuck in his throat as your wetness gathers on his fingers, “All this for me, carino?” he’s murmuring, as his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling your head back, “I’ve barely started.”

And he’s pulling his hand away, as you whimper at the absence of his touch, but not before he’s pressing his fingers into his mouth, "how are you still the sweetest thing I've ever tasted?" Your pussy twitches at his words, and now he's kissing you, tasting yourself on his tongue, "I can't wait to fuck you, to feel you cum around my cock,"

"Then why wait?" And his hand settles around your neck, thumb brushing against the front of your throat.

"Because I intend to make this last — to make you last," and he's kissing his way down your body, his beard dragging across your skin, "and you wanted to feel this beard against your pussy didn't you?"

"Please—” and his beard scratches against your far too warm skin, burning as it does. And you’re writhing against him, your thighs only steadied under his grasp, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He kisses his way up your leg, a soft kiss pressed to your knee, and then higher and higher until his lips nearly brushed your underwear, “Raf—”

“I need you to say it,” his eyes are as dark as his tone, silky as dark chocolate, as he punctuates his words with a snap of the waistband of your underwear, “or I can leave you like this,” and he’s leaning to press an openmouthed kiss against your soaked underwear, “and neither of us want that, do we?”

And you swallow thickly, the words slipping from your lips, “Please, make me cum with your mouth,”

And he’s pulling your underwear down, his mouth pressing a kiss right to your clit, making you gasp, “Watch me,” he orders you, pulling away, a small whine in the back of your throat, “I want you to watch me make you cum,” and your pussy clenches at the thought, “you like that, don’t you?” he presses another kiss to your aching lips, tongue darting out briefly, “you can’t lie to me, mi amor— not when you’re dripping for me now,” but he waits, waits until you push yourself up on your elbows, wood harsh against your elbows, your eyes watching him, knelt between your thighs, “good.”

The word rumbles from his chest, deep, sending a shiver up your spine, just as he begins to part your folds, his nose bumping against your warmth, his beard rubbing against your thighs, a delicious friction that was going to send you over the edge too fast and too far — “Fuck,” you murmur, nails digging into the grain of your desk.

“That was the idea,” he replies with a wicked grin, lips shiny, as you roll your eyes, retort dying on your lips as he licks a thick stripe up your cunt. And your hips roll against his touch, even his tongue moves in slow circles, “Look at this,” your cum drips against your desk, his breath warming your pussy, “I wonder if anyone will know that I’ve made you cum on this desk,” and you gasp as his lips wrap around your clit and sucked, his beard scratching against your skin, “or if they walked in right now, see how how I’ve had you spread out on your desk, just for me,” you can’t stop yourself from moaning, watching his tongue delve past your pussy, sliding deeper into you, his eyes glancing at you as he did, groaning when you squeezed around him.

“Raf, please I—” sweat slipped down your forehead, your head thrown back, “I—” and he only hums, as you’re close, so close, your fingers now reaching for his head, burying your fingers into his curls, hips rocking against him, as his tongue flickers over your clit again, faster — and the coil snaps, his name on your lips as you cum. And he groans in turn, as your thighs squeeze around him, riding out your high as he swallows your orgasm.

Your eyes are hooded as you stare down at him, mussed hair and shiny lips, tongue licking up what remained dripping from his chin, “Much better than a phone call,” and he’s pulling himself back, as you lay back on the desk, chest rising and falling, and he’s kissing up your body again, slowly, before he finds your lips. A sloppy kiss, and you taste yourself on him, making your pussy twitch as his bulge presses into you.

“Rafael,” you murmur, reaching for the buckle of his belt, “I need you,”

“Do you?” and he’s cupping your chin, peering down at you, “need me for what?” and you whimper, as he kisses your cheek, “To kiss you?” and his lips are at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse, “to mark you?” and then your fingers are undoing his belt, the button on his slacks, “to fuck you?”

“Raf, fuck me,” you’re shaking your head, tugging down his pants and boxers at once, “I want you to make good on your promise — I want you to fuck me until I can’t forget what it feels without you—”

And he’s parting your folds, sinking inside you, “Fuck,” he growls, a gutteral noise that makes you melt into the hard surface of your desk, “so fucking tight for me,” your walls contracted around as he sunk into you fully, fluttering as you take him deeper.

You’re so full from him — your fingers paling in comparison to his cock, twitching inside of you, as your warmth swallows him eagerly. Moans slip from your lips of his name, as his hand settles over your throat, forcing your gaze to his own, and your aching at this point, the anticipation clawing at your nerves, “Raf—”

And he begins to thrust into you, pleasure blooming as the desk creaks below you, fucking you in the same place you worked — the same place you brought colleagues, clients, and friends — and now all that you’ll be able think about is how good he made you feel — how his hand lifted your leg higher to sink into you deeper.

“Fuck,” he spits out, ripped from his chest, as he squeezes your throat, thick fingers digging into you, as his cock split you open, “so good for me,”

“I’m—” and you can’t get the words out because he only is moving faster and squeezing harder — and you only need him, his name on your lips is the only word you know, “Rafael—”

“Cum,” he groans, his fingers rubbing against your clit, and you do — squeezing around him, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, moaning your name as he cums too, deep inside you.

And his hips are slowing, resting against yours — sticky, sweaty, and all too hot — but content. His lips trace kisses up your neck, his fingers tracing up and down your body, as he eases out of you, a small whine leaving your throat as he did.

And you look up at him, his lips curled into an easy smile — the very same you fell in love with —

Love?

You bite your lip, was that what this was? You missed when he was gone, and you wanted him beside you when he was here? It always was casual when it had come to the two of you, but now — his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, pulling at it — did you want more?

Did you want him?

All of him?

He pulls you from your thoughts with a kiss, “I told you the next time wouldn’t be in a bed,” and you snort, wrapping your arms around him, “I’ve been looking forward to this — to you — for a long time,”

“Really?” you push, push yourself further to the edge of this cliff, one of which you were starting to teeter at the cliffside, wondering if he would catch you, “How much?”

“Too much,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips, as he eases off of you, starting to gather your clothes for you, sparing another glance at you, “I don’t know how I had stayed away so long.”

You reach around your desk into your drawer, pulling out tissues and sanitizing wipes, beginning to clean yourself and the desk up, still dripping with your fluids. The words lodged in your throat

“Then maybe don’t,” the words slip past your lips before you know it, as your chest squeezes as he pauses, his head slowly turning to you, “I missed you a lot, Raf — not just this,” as he rises, to his feet, “everything — just us,” and your gaze drops to your feet, “I don’t want to go this long without you again,” and the silent pause feels endless to you, “and I get if you don’t feel the same way I just—”

And he’s pulling both of your clothes down, the clank of his belt against the desk, as he cuts you off with a finger pressed to your lip, “I do feel the same way,” And you’re blinking, as he smiles at your expression, “you think I’d come straight from an airport for just anyone?”

And you can’t help but beam, “Well I didn’t want to be presumptuous but—”

“But, you—” and his hand is wrapping around your waist, “you’re important to me—” his voice is soft, “and I’m just sorry it took a stint in Iowa to make me realize just how important.”

“And how important is that?” and he’s tilting his head, a chuckle on his lips, as he cups your cheek again.

“Let me show you.”

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #rafael barba imagines #rafael barba x you #rafael barba fanfiction #law and order: svu #svu imagines #svu fanfiction #rafael barba smut #Law & Order SVU #svu

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mystery-star · 1 year

Text

Rulers – Ben Wade

Pairing: Ben Wade x reader (gender neutral)

Words: 1512

Warnings: death and violence

A/N: Just something I had in my story ideas too and it fit today’s prompt :))

With a sigh you left your daughter’s bedroom after she had deemed it necessary to dash out of her bed again. At least you know where to look for her because the reason she left was to get a goodnight kiss from her father, despite having gotten one earlier as Ben went to work. By the time you entered the saloon, your husband already held her in his arms and was peppering little kisses all over her face, making her squeal in delight. It was still early so there wasn’t too much going on in the saloon yet.

“And now off to bed with you” he decided when you approached them

“No” she declared, clinging to his shirt “I stay with you”

“Hmm, how am I supposed to work then?” she tilted her head then whispered something in his ear, making him laugh. He whispered something back that upset her and made her hit his chest “Oi, we don’t hit people. That ain’t nice” the words made you chuckle because what the girl or the rest of the townspeople didn’t know was who Ben used to be before settling down with you to raise your daughter. She gave him an unamused glance and then got tickled before he put her back to the ground, telling her to go back home and to bed with you. With a little pout she walked over to you and held out her little hand for you to take. A few of the guests wished her a good night, most of them were regulars that knew Ben and the family well. She waved back at them and as you wanted to leave you heard shots from outside on the streets. Gasping in shock, she clung to your leg and you placed a hand on her back, glancing towards your husband. He seemed calm but you knew the shots unnerved him too. It was a quiet little town and nothing much ever happened here. Whoever was shooting there was an outsider. For most patrons the issue seemed alright after a couple of seconds but Ben remained on high alert.

“Maybe we better take the backdoor” you muttered, more to yourself and then tried to lead your daughter outside when someone smashed the glass of the saloon doors. Now everyone turned around and Ben was with you with a big step, pulling you with him until you were behind the counter where you could easily hide if something happened. Meanwhile a couple of guys entered and just by the looks of them you could tell they were looking for trouble. Ben seemed to have noticed too and you saw his eyes flicker to the hidden gun under the counter.

“Listen up folks” one of the newcomers said “Tonight you’ll have grand company here, so we’ll expect everyone to be on their best behavior” he fired a shot into the air and three guests ran out of the saloon, probably scared shitless. They didn’t make it far because two of the men gunned them down. Your daughter took a shocked breath and hid her face against your leg, digging her fingers deeper into the fabric. “Now, our king will need some subjects to rule over, doesn’t he? So, I suggest the rest of you stay right where you are”

“Who are they?” you whispered to Ben when the men that had just entered, you were pretty sure they were outlaws, started stealing people’s beers and drinking them themselves.

“Dunno”

“And where is this king?” someone asked and got hit with a gun handle

“His majesty, King Charles, will be here shortly” Ben raised an eyebrow

“Got a problem, barkeep?”

“Just wondering if Britany’s wanting their colony back. ‘Sides hasn’t there been a King Charles before? Think I read he got killed even. And as far as I know there’s a lady on the throne right now.” you gave your husband a doubting look. Why was he provoking them? Sure, it’s what he used to do in his outlaw days and often brought him more trouble than necessary. But ever since you lived here he had held back, for your and your daughter’s sake, to not get you in trouble as well. Why was it different now? Because he was back among outlaws for the first time in years? The one who seemed to be leading the men in the saloon stepped closer, giving him a hard glare but at least didn’t shoot him. However, Ben got socked in the jaw but he didn’t seem to mind. Another man entered the saloon and it seemed he was with the outlaws too, giving a nod. So this was the leader, you guessed.

“All of you to your knees. Show some respect” some patrons were quick to listen while others hesitated and got one by one forced down on their knees. The newcomer helped too and it led you to believe that he obviously just was another one from the gang and not the boss. As the one in front of you stepped closer you just decided to listen as well and pulled your daughter, who was still clinging to you down as well. “You got a problem with hearing or something, huh?” the outlaw then barked at Ben who was still standing. Soon a second one came and grabbed a fistful of Ben’s hair, kicking the back of his knees to try and force him down. Somehow you were glad when Ben just complied and you tried to move a little closer to him. He held out his hand and took yours, giving it a squeeze. It wasn’t just one to cheer you up, it was reassuring as if he knew that nothing bad was going to happen. “Keep an eye on that one” the leader said as he returned to the door. Half a minute later, the door opened and a man in white trousers and black boot entered. From what you could judge he was wearing a red coat and bright hat. Then the man behind you knocked you against the back of your head, telling you to keep your eyes down. The outlaw boss stepped through the saloon as if he owned the place and you just hoped they only were here for a drink and then would leave again without causing too much trouble. Finally, he had reached the bar and the man behind you hit the back of Ben’s head again.

“What are you waiting for? Serve your king something” Ben let out a deep growl. Oh he was definitely pissed. He had never really liked people that made themselves too important and this one obviously did. After all, his men played along the stupid ‘king’ part.

“I thought you wanted me to kneel” Ben replied instead of getting up. Again he got hit in the head and your daughter cuddled up more to your side.

“Problem?” someone asked and you saw the boss stepping towards you. Ben’s eyes flickered over to you and then he tried getting to his feet, which was of course prevented by the guy still holding him down.

“This one’s causing loads of troubles” suddenly he had a knife out and held it against Ben’s throat, lifting his head “Shall I?” you let out a shocked gasp and wanted to protest but were scared they’d hurt you or your daughter too.

“No” the boss said to your surprise and you breathed out in relief “Let him go” luckily the outlaw listened and once he was free, Ben got up, pulling you with him.

“Daddy” your daughter cried now clinging to Ben’s trousers instead. Now you dared to have a closer look at the outlaw boss and now that he stood so close you had to admit he looked familiar. Maybe you had met him once during the time Ben had still been living as an outlaw too?

“Ben” he gave a nod towards your husband “Good to see you” Ben, however didn’t look pleased and was throwing the other man a glance that seemed to be a plea. And you understood. This man could most likely expose him in front of everyone and get him in even bigger danger. The outlaw looked at you “(Y/N)” now you suddenly recognized the man. Charlie Prince, Ben’s former second in command. You almost chuckled because suddenly the whole ‘King Charles’ circus made sense – it was just a play with his name. And yes, Charlie had always been way too assured of himself and it seemed like he had a new gang now and not the men who had also been riding under Ben before.

“Not here, Charlie. You don’t know me here” Ben said under his breath.

“Get everyone out of here” Charlie commanded and so his men got to work, throwing all the guests out. As the last one was trying to leave the room, Charlie pulled out a pistol and shot him. “Make sure we don’t get visitors” he told two of the remaining men “We got a lot to talk about, Ben”

#ben wade #3:10 to yuma #russell crowe #ben wade x reader #ben wade x you #ben wade imagine #no i swear i had this idea before this thing happened and made it almost accurate #like I could include a statement that makes it even funnier #since i could not use the 'original' statement

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