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waywardcrow · 4 months

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Dress.

Summary: After a mission where they crossed a line, Bucky decides to talk about what happened that night with you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader.

WC: Almost 1600.

TW: Avengers kind of things, talk about weapons, sad reader and sad Bucky, misunderstendings, agents talking shit because of jealousy, SMUT (do not interact if you're not +18) some kissing, dancing and boners lol, semi public make out, oral (f recieving) fingering, hint of other things but not so much because I'm so bad a t this, sorry, let me know if I missed something.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

You hated everything that night, the happy people who were eager to get drunk and forget about the ending year, the music too loud that didn’t let you think, the beautiful dress you bought for that very occasion specifically because you wanted to impress a certain super soldier in the New Year's Eve party but that was before last mission, before you messed it all up.

If you closed your eyes, you could see everything playing perfectly in your mind, how unprofessional you were, how much space Bucky put between you two in the quinjet, the tension that followed you the last days and the words of the agents who probably knew about what happen from him. It was a disaster and you wouldn’t escape from it, Tony would never let you go without an explanation if you requested a transfer to another area.

Distracted, drinking your problems you didn’t noticed Bucky’s gaze tearing apart the pretty gold dress you were wearing as if he could feel your skin against his like that night.

It was a simple mission, find the target, watch it until Valkyrie and Wanda could secured the evidence –an arsenal of Asgardian weapons- and then arrested everyone but your cover was necessary and thanks to your powers, the ability to manipulate brain’s perception to make your audience see what you want- make you perfect to blend with him in that shady club pretending to be just a couple looking for a good time.

Easier to say than done, Bucky fought his boner all night with you dancing too close to him, whispering things in his ear, sitting in his lap… sure you could feel how much he wanted to fuck you there in front of everybody, he indulged in his little fantasy when he feel your own arousal, he told himself it was for the mission when he took you to a semi empty corridor to kiss you dumb.

You tasted better than he imagined, like honey and salvation, Bucky was sure that if he kept kissing you he would find heaven.

“Are you ok, terminator? You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm” Sam pulled him out of his mind just in time before he got in trouble righ there in the middle of the party.

“I’m fine” he wasn’t and Sam let out a chuckle.

“Just go and talk to her, you can’t keep avoiding each other forever.”

You were avoiding him, Bucky just gave you space after you walked away from him when the mission was over, like he didn’t almost cum from having you exactly where he wanted you, with your perfect legs around him with just a thin layer of clothes between you.

“I said I’m fine” he said again, not looking at Sam when you made your way to the elevators, going after you.

It was better for you to leave early, too many drinks and you could end up crying or doing something you’ll regret, like talking to Bucky, who jumped in the elevator you called before the doors closed.

“Going to bed already?” he asked and you stared at him like an idiot, how could he look that good all the damn time? A black suit and white shirt shouldn’t make someone that hot, it was cheating “are you alright, honey?”

How have you missed his voice! A simple taste of him and you wanted more, you wanted him to touch you like that night, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like if time was against you both and every second he wasn’t making you feel all of him was a sacrilege.

“Why are you here, Bucky?”

Cornered, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, drawing his attention to your breasts, the memory of his lips pulling softly at your nipple made you want to close your legs to get some sort of friction, trying to calm the need for him.

Like he could read your mind, he licked his lips, wanting to pull your dress and bury himself in your chest but Bucky needed to have a conversation with you first.

“Are you going to avoid me forever, hon?” the super soldier lifted your chin to make you see him when you set your eyes in your heels “I can take a rejection, sweetheart but not you shutting me out completely.”

Bucky had made lots of friends with time but you were his first one, he didn’t want to lose you; you, in the other hand, were more confused than ever.

“What rejection? If anything, you’re the one who is not interested!” boldness coming from the alcohol made you talk before thinking about stopping “and don’t give me that look James Buchanan Barnes, you know perfectly what I’m talking about.”

The elevators door opened and you stormed out, going to you room, the audacity of that man!

“Can you explain to me what are you talking about?” Bucky took your hand and made you face him when you reached your door, all his cocky attitude was replaced by confusion.

“Please don’t pretend you didn’t tell Carla and Ashley what happen that night, I heard them talking the morning after in the gym” Above all the embarrassment there was hurt, you thought he could be trusted but Bucky proved you were an idiot “they were talking how you hated being assigned with me and to pretend to make out with me.”

Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest, what the hell were you talking about? He didn’t say anything, at all but you looked so sure he couldn’t speak.

“You made it very clear putting distance between us in the ride home but you didn’t have to tell them” your voice trembled, still you refused to cry, if that was the kind of man Bucky was, he didn’t deserve your tears.

“I swear I didn’t say anything, honey, I swear” he promised, making himself small to look at your eyes “I don’t know how they know, please believe me.”

You shake your head; you wanted to believe him but…

“I told no one, I really thought you were mad at me for taking advantage of the situation, that I misread it” he mumbled, desperate to prove you he was telling the truth, taking your face in his hands “I should have been more professional, more of a gentleman, ask you properly on a date, not acting like that, no matter how much I wanted it. That’s why I put space between us; Wanda and Val were looking at me like they would spray me with cold water if I breathed near you.”

Bucky wished you could read his mind to see he was honest but you still could, sensing his desperation matching yours.

“Do you really mean that?”

His heart broke at how unsure you sounded, he would spend every day of his life proving to you how much he meant it.

“I do, honey, you’re not only a friend to me, why do you think I requested to be with you in that mission?” with his arms around your waist, you put your hands in his chest to feel his heartbeat “I can’t be apart from you, I needed you close while I was gathering courage to confess my feelings but then I couldn’t hide it and…”

You interrupted him to kiss him, not giving a damn about anything but Bucky’s lips in yours. He opened the door and you took him with you to your room, tossing his jacket to the floor and taking your heels off.

“You should keep them on” he said between kisses, guiding you to your bed.

“Maybe next time” you promised, opening his dress shirt, he gave you a smirk while he took it off, like he couldn’t wait.

“This dress has to go, even if I love it.”

“I only bought it for you to take it off” you confessed, mesmerized by his hands undressing you before he placed you softly in your bed, earning a grin from him.

“Really? Well, you deserve a reward for thinking about me, honey”

Before you could ask, he was with his knees on the floor, ripping your panties to eat you out like he needed it to keep breathing.

It barely gave you time to let out a lewd moan that only encourage him more, putting your legs in his broad shoulders, nipping at your sensitive bud and teasing your entrance with his fingers.

It was real? It was the alcohol? You could think so if it wasn’t very improbable, your imagination couldn’t make this up, not something this good at least.

“Please” you begged and he shove one finger in you, then almost immediately another while licking you and going back to your clit, moaning at the taste of you, humping the mattress to get some relief, especially when you pulled at his short locks, making him groan.

“Bucky! Pleaseplease…” were the only words you could form but then he decided to replace his fingers with his tongue and you were gone, the orgasm hit you like a thousand waves and you could swear you fainted for a second, only coming back to yourself when you tasted your own arousal in his kiss.

Surprised to being this responsive with him, you kissed him back and he looked at you, fire blazing in his eyes.

“Come back to me, honey, we are just getting started” he promised against your lips and dear God, he was a man of his word. Hors later, the fireworks were loud enough outside but you both couldn’t care less, you finally have what you wanted: each other.

So this is my first time writing smut and I wanted to do it for New year's Eve, it was fun! Tell me what you think and happy new year!

Love, Lily.

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes angst

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fifa91world · 7 months

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Another generous follower got some video from this, but figured I could share a little something with everyone here. Ty for over 1600 followers...in just a couple days.... damn

#male feedee.#feedee belly #male feedism

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bby-deerling · 3 months

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girlfriend (zoro x reader nsfw)

part of my 1600 follower event!

prompt is: show him what you do to me/late at night when the wind is free/we're gonna have to tell him/you'll only be a girlfriend/of mine

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 2.6k masterlist

cw: afab!reader, jealousy, established relationship, law is lowkey a freak, unrequited law x reader, voyeurism, jerking off, eavesdropping, unknowing exhibitionism, dirty talk, law considering using his devil fruit for (actually) nefarious purposes

tagging: @eelnoise @ragethebunny @sanjisprincesswifey @willowhaze26 @kaizokuniichan

Lazy clouds roll overhead, making for an easy and uneventful day at sea. The soft rock of the ship is soothing, and the ocean mist turns you ticklish as it sprinkles across your face and into your hair. It was sublimely serene and peaceful—until your crewmates decide to make you the target of their mischief for the afternoon.

“Sanji wants to know what your boyfriend wants for lunch.” Nami asks as she approaches you next to the railing, a wicked grin on her face as Usopp tries his best to suppress a fit of giggles.

Brows knit together as you look at her, perplexed. “Why? He knows Zoro will eat just about anything besides chocolate.” you reply, still unsure as to why Sanji was bothering to ask considering he usually made his menus without even thinking to consider Zoro’s opinion, stating that the mosshead is too crude to have a fully developed sense of taste.

“No, not Zoro, your other boyfriend!” she teases, causing you to let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes as Usopp cackles. Trafalgar Law had made himself quite comfortable around you during his temporary stay on the Sunny; it had started with an interest in a coin he was absentmindedly flicking into the air—you used to grade and collect them, after all—and it had devolved into him sticking close to your side, grumbling under his breath that you were the only person on the crew he could tolerate.

“Why am I the Law expert?” you hiss, frustrated and trying to keep your voice down. Truthfully, at a different, more naïve time in your life, Law’s strange charm and roundabout way of indirectly flirting with you through mumbled half-compliments would have had your wrapped around his finger, but not now; not when you had a support system of people to give you whole, unrestricted, free-flowing love. Not when you were in an idyllic partnership built on respect and growth. There was no room in your heart for Law and his cryptic platitudes beyond friendship—not when you were in love with Zoro.

“Because he sits and talks to you with that dopey look in his eyes as if he’s never seen a pretty girl before in his life! He’s so obvious it’s painful!” Usopp exclaims, causing you to sigh. Law considered himself smooth and sneaky, but the way he showed you preferential treatment was beyond glaringly obvious, and considering that nearly everyone else had picked up on it, it was only a matter of time before it spilled over into something that you weren’t quite prepared to deal with yet.

“Which is why I’ve been trying to ignore it.” you say through gritted teeth. Worry rushes through your veins as you consider the last week or so, replaying each interaction with him in his head to try to decipher if you had been encouraging his budding affections in any way. Unsatisfied with the vagueness of your conclusion, you reach for external validation. “I’m not doing anything to give him the wrong idea, am I?” you ask them, nervously digging your nails into your forearms.

“You’re just being friendly.” Nami says, reassuring you with a squeeze to your shoulder. “It’s just hilarious to watch him follow you around like a lost puppy.” You’d liken him more to a miserable wet cat than a puppy, sulking in corners and stealing you away to demand attention when it suited him, craving affection from you, but only on his own terms. It was a bid for control that was foreign to you and left a bitter distaste in your mouth, especially when you were accustomed to the mutual trust that you and Zoro shared.

“And a bit pathetic.” Usopp adds with a crooked grin.

“You’re one to talk about being pathetic.” Nami chimes in, unable to resist getting in a playful dig at her friend’s expense.

“Hey!” he exclaims, launching the two into a fit of unserious bickering as the sound of heavy boots against the deck approach them.

“Is that moron done with lunch yet?” Zoro asks with a huff, sweaty, fatigued, and irritated after a rough workout.

“Almost! Or at least he better be—I’m starving too.” you tell him with a smile; the look on your face visibly softens his frustration slightly, turning his anger into a gentle rumble.

“Idiot can’t even stick to a regular schedule.” he growls, leaning against the railing next to you. As Nami and Usopp remain engrossed in their sidebar conversation, you take the opportunity to softly ask him how his training went, and eagerly drink up each detail. In return, he wants you to relay him the details of your morning, and you do, with a dreamy smile of your face—a lovestruck look that’s not lost on your fellow crewmates.

“Look at that look in her eyes, it’s probably crushing his poor heart!” Nami whispers to Usopp, gesturing towards Law across the deck, who was slowly strolling towards the kitchen.

“The pain of unrequited love!” Usopp whispers back, tears nearly streaming down his face from both uncontrollable laughter and empathy for the Surgeon of Death’s plight.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Zoro barks out as he snaps his head towards them. They both point towards the doorway to the kitchen, where Law’s hat disappears into the room. “Don’t you two have anything better to do?” he asks with a sigh.

“Nope!” Nami chirps, informing him that their course was securely set, and that the schadenfreude she and Usopp derived from watching Law fight a battle he was doomed to lose from the start was the most fun they’ve had in weeks. Zoro scoffs, appearing indifferent as he rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen, but the tight grip he keeps around your waist betrays his annoyance and uneasiness as Nami’s words rattle around his head; both of you had considered the way the surgeon clung to you a bit odd, but hearing that other people had noticed it too had made the situation tangible, and suddenly makes Law’s presence next to you at the table unbearable—there was something unsettling about the fact that he would rather see the cook on his knees in front of you, pathetically begging for just one chance, than to have Law at the same table as you, let alone sitting beside you.

“Something bugging you, mosshead?” Sanji quips with a knowing smirk upon seeing Zoro’s arm wrapped around you. Frustrated, the swordsman doesn’t dignify him with a response; not in the talking mood, he removes his arm from around your torso in order to shovel food into his mouth and prevent any attempts at small talk. You’re engrossed in your own food, slurping up the wedding soup that Sanji had prepared for your lunch, ignoring the burns the hot broth leaves on the roof of your mouth. It was still far too hot for a reasonable person to eat, but as was often the case with Sanji’s cooking it was too good not to.

“Mmm…” you hum contently; the rest of the crew is used to your penchant to moan in delight when stuffing your face with a particularly good meal, but Law is unable to hide the way he stiffens like a board beside you as the sound that escapes your lips rings in his ears. “Sanji, this is delicious!” you say innocently, with glimmering enthusiasm, causing the cook’s lips to curl up into an appreciative smile and teasingly telling you it would taste even better if you had the patience to wait a while before digging in.

A few moments pass uneventfully as you scarf down the bread that accompanied your soup, until a sudden sensation running across your outer thigh causes you to nearly leap out of your own skin; peering under the table, the culprit is Law’s leg, pressed against your own. He’s a tall man, so the need for leg room would be a reasonable excuse, and scrutinizing his face reveals no outward trace of unscrupulous intentions; yet, at the same time he’s so transparent, unable to help himself from bouncing his knee alongside yours, as if desperate for the slightest bit of friction. The smallest of sighs escapes his lips as you lean away from the touch, confirming your suspicions; the realization makes you echo the sound, frustrated and disappointed that he was unable to be content with the friendship you were willing to offer and was instead so insistent on meddling in a place where he didn’t belong.

His behavior was starting to eat away at your last nerve, and evidently, Zoro shared your sentiment, becoming more possessive than usual when he makes love to you that night.

“Bet he jerks his pathetic cock to the thought of switching places with me…hah…but he doesn’t have the balls to do it.” Zoro whispers, panting into your ear as he snakes an arm underneath you to pull your waist closer; craving to feel your hot skin melt into his, he needs you trapped and caged between his arms, mewling and whimpering out a soft, pretty song as he pounds you into the floor. “He knows you need something bigger, don’t ya’, pretty girl?” he growls in your ear; it’s gravelly, possessive, and makes you flutter softly around him as you whine out an “Mhm… you feel s’good…” in response.

Lost and drowning in a haze of ecstasy, neither of you notice the soft blue light enveloping the room, nor the muffled, strangled gasps coming from outside the door as Law drags his hand down his cock, imagining burying himself inside you instead. For a brief moment, he does consider switching places with him, picturing the way your eyes would be blown wide with shock—shock that he’d fuck out of you until you’re drooling out the corner of your mouth and whimpering his name like a prayer. But as much as he desires it, burning up for you so much that he barely knows what to do with himself, he knows he can’t—it’s too twisted and dark; however, he can’t bring himself to dispel the room that he’s cast. He bargains with himself to come up with a justification to flick his wrist and take you that wouldn’t make him a monster—that wouldn’t turn you away from him entirely; it’s beyond tempting to give into his urges when one simple movement is all that separates him from the warmth of your core swallowing his cock whole. Choking back a groan as he fists himself, he wonders if, even for the briefest of moments, the mention of him made your mind go dark, fantasizing about having his cock deep inside of you. He wonders if he could get away with just a taste, switching places for just a fraction of a second—neither of you would notice a thing, and he would finally get his fix, and the opportunity to tremble at the tight, wet grip of your walls around him.

But he knows a moment wouldn’t be enough for him—not even close. He knows his length would be able to reach depths of you that Zoro never could, and he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to break you in, scramble your mind, and leave you unable to be dripping and wanting for anyone else but him. His wrist is twitching, wavering in tandem with his resolve; he’s moments away from tipping over the edge, the word shambles at the tip of his tongue, until a soft whining of Zoro’s name vibrates through the door, the word dripping with neediness and devotion. The sound leaves the bitter taste of bile at the back of Law’s tongue and his room falls apart, a crushing reminder that he’s alone, in a dark hallway that leads to the aquarium bar, jerking himself off in the middle of the night while Zoro gets to indulge in the comfort of your flesh.

Zoro’s name is hot on your tongue as he delivers you to burning red ecstasy, his calloused fingers rubbing circles into your aching bud as he ruts into you. “Need you, only need you, Zoro…” you murmur as blood rushes to your face, pooling in your cheeks as you pulse around him, mind shattered and vulnerable, only for him. The flutter of your walls makes him pull you even closer, sinking his teeth into your neck as you bury your face into the throw pillow on the ground in front of you and whimper.

“So good for me—you take it so good for me.” he mumbles; the sight of you falling apart underneath him lights a fire in soul that makes him give it to you harder—Law can hear the smack of his hips against yours through the door as he smears buds of precum across the tip of his cock with his palm. Limp and pliant as tingles of electricity continue to dance through your skin, you’re his, to have and to hold as he sees fit.

He knows your body like the rough, weathered palms of his hand, and in turn you know his; the intoxicating way he ruts into you, filling you until you can’t think straight, along with the tremble in his thighs lets you know he’s close. He holds you tight, the flesh of your back melting into his broad chest as he cums deep inside you, as if you’ll vaporize into thin air if he lets you go. The simple sensation of him wrapped around you is enough to get drunk on, and you silently wish you could stretch this moment out for an eternity.

“I love you.” you murmur to him as he crashes from his high, slowly regaining control of his breathing.

It’s soft and hushed, a raw rasp in your voice as your words blanket the room in an intimate sweetness, the kind that pulls on heartstrings so harshly that the rest of the world slips away. As Zoro echoes your sentiment, whispering a love you too in your ear and burying his head into the crook of your neck to savor the moment, Law selfishly twists your words in his mind, filling in the gaps and imagining them whispered to him instead.

“I love you, Law.”

Though it’s a mangled, manufactured creation of his own mind, he doesn’t care; just the concept of the words rolling off your tongue as you cry out for him is enough to make him spill his seed all over his jeans as he violently fucks his hand.

“I love you, Law...”

The words tumble in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull as he comes down from his high, tormenting him. He needs them to be real, to hear them spoken to him in hushed tones in quiet places hidden away from the world; he needs you to want him, to yearn for him, to crave him, to love him.

But you don’t.

You love Zoro.

At breakfast the next morning, Law stretches his legs underneath the table, lightly grazing his thigh against yours in the process; it’s intentional as it always is, the guilt and shame of his voyeurism doing nothing to dampen his futile attempts to sway you.

You jerk away from his touch, tilting your legs to your left, towards Zoro. So close, but so far, it’s infuriating enough to make him clench his jaw so hard he nearly breaks a tooth.

When you’re still hungry after finishing your plate, he quietly offers you the remnants left on his plate—he can barely stomach food at the moment anyways, not when he’s plagued with visions of you splayed out and spread open underneath another man.

Though he knows he can’t have you, Law can’t help but continue to give you his scraps.

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x you #trafalgar law x you #law x you #zoro x y/n #law x y/n #zoro smut #roronoa zoro smut #trafalgar law smut #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario

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charliemwrites · 2 months

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Part 10! of SpecGru reader. This is a little short, but I was so excited to post because NOVA.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex - oral, female receiving

Nova is your partner for the day – running drills as guest instructors for recruits, working them so hard they don’t have enough air to make any stupid, sexist remarks. The two of you spend all day flirting like a new lovesick couple, your hand drifting low on her back while she teases you with double entendres. Press her up against the wall outside the dining hall after lunch, licking the taste of apple off her lips while she tangles clever fingers in your hair.

Don’t care about who might be watching, or who cares. Not like your captain does. The opposite really, as he sidles up behind you while you’re spotting Nova in the gym. He slaps your ass so hard it damn near echoes, smirking at your scandalized face while she quickly reracks so that she can laugh.

“How are my girls doin’ today?” he chuckles.

“Right as rain, cap,” Nova answers, beaming when he cups her cheek.

“Can’t be anything but good with our star girl around,” you reply, winking at her. Bark a laugh when she smacks you in the thigh.

“Yeah?” he asks, a note of sincerity in his voice now. “Those shitheads leavin’ you alone?”

You blink, realize that there has been a distinct lack of 141 overtures today. No wonder you’re in such a good mood. An orgasm in the morning, your pretty, hyper-competent girlfriend all day, and no shitty former teammates? That’s practically a vacation lately.

“Do I have you to thank for that, sir?” you ask. Remember him saying something about talking to Price yesterday.

“You can thank me later,” he answers with a little smirk.

“Gladly, sir.” He’s getting more than that at this rate.

“Just wanted to check in on you two,” he continues, tweaking your nose, “and there’s an intel brief at 1600.”

“Yessir,” you and Nova reply together.

He chuckles again, gives you both one last fond look, then takes his leave.

“Finish up in here, shower, and get there a bit early?” Nova suggests.

You turn back to her, wipe a bit of sweat off her forehead with your forearm. She huffs in (only half fake) disgust and lays back on the bench again. She’s still got half a set to finish.

“Yeah, I want to steal Price’s usual seat,” you answer.

“You petty little tart,” she chuckles.

You lean your elbows on the bar and lean over her, arching your eyebrows playfully. “I’m your petty little tart.”

“Have always had a sweet tooth,” she muses.

You laugh and get off the bar so that she can continue. Of course, you’re keeping a close eye on her – but lord, she’s distracting. Thick thighs and solid abdomen, her tank-top is even sticking to the flexing muscles. And her arms. You’re not even being subtle, drinking in each deliberate rise and fall of the metal bar. Following droplets of sweat down her biceps…

“You mind?” she huffs, though not without amusement.

You jolt a bit, flushing as you help her rerack again. She sits up, a mischievous curl to her full lips.

“What’s got into you, huh?” she asks, tilting her head.

You shrug as you switch places, trip up a bit when you realize just how nice the view is. Even thoroughly sweaty, she smells a bit like coconut. Damn.

“Not you, unfortunately,” you reply absently.

She chuckles, tapping a finger against your forehead. “Tell ya what, love – you do five extra reps and we can make that happen.”

You’ve never flown through a workout so fast.

You damn near stumble into the shower stall, lips and tongue tangled with Nova’s. The flimsy curtain flutters haphazardly behind her as you reach blindly for the knob. Ice cold water drenches your back, but it does nothing to cool the desire blazing in your gut. Not when she’s peeling herself out of her compression pants, shimmying out of her damp shirt, and wriggling out of her sports bra.

Don’t even care about your own clothes, dropping to your knees in awe. She’s absolutely gorgeous, your girl. Pretty brown skin interrupted by pale patches like scattered clouds, meeting of earth and sky right there in front of you. Something divine about that, you think vaguely. She certainly looks the part, all strength and confidence, dark eyes smoldering like coals. Interrupted only by slashes of scar tissue and the SpecGru tattoo on her forearm.

You’ll never get tired of looking at her.

“C’mere, love,” you murmur, hooking your fingers behind her thigh and gently urging her closer.

She laughs a bit, though there’s a breathless edge to it that makes you perk up like a dog.

“You’re still dressed, daft thing.”

You shake your head. “That can wait.”

Despite your deal in the gym, there’s nothing you want more right now than to take care of her. Just leave her a shaky, whimpering mess, until your shirt is wet with her rather than water or sweat.

“Let me take care of you, baby?” you breathe, hands skimming up her soft thighs. You caress your thumb over her labia, licking your lips at the stickiness already gathered there. “Please, Nila.”

She shudders hard. You groan softly, trailing kisses over the bundle of tissue protecting her lower tummy. Can feel her twitching a bit from the ticklish sensation of your hair brushing her ribs.

“Y-your sure?” she asks. “I haven’t washed off yet…”

“Don’ care,” you mumble, scraping your teeth over the sharp cut of her hip. Tease eager fingertips over her leaking slit, playing in the trim curls. “I gotta taste you. Stay hydrated ‘n all that.”

She tries to scoff, but it’s overtaken by a wobbly moan when you suck a modest mark into her inner thigh. Keegan’s going to pout when he sees it; that’s his favorite spot to claim on all of you.

“Yeah, babes,” she gasps, “g-go ahead.”

It’s probably pathetic, how quickly you faceplant into her pussy. Can’t bring yourself to care when the taste of her bursts across your desperate tongue. A bit of salt, but all her, earthy. You lap at her with the flat of your tongue, starting at her dripping entrance and working slowly up until you curl the tip over her slippery, swollen clit. Again and again. Until all your thoughts whittle down to this, to her. To the helpless clench of her empty cunt and the involuntary buck of her hips. Nothing to calm your thoughts like taking care of your angel.

“Fuck, baby,” she moans, blunt nails scraping over your scalp.

Your eyes roll back as shivers chase down your spine, moaning into her cunt just to return the effect. Love how her head tips back, knees quaking. You scoot in a bit closer, hook her knee over your shoulder to offer some stability. Then focus your attention on that button of nerves, sucking it gently into your hot mouth.

“F-fingers,” she whimpers, “fingers too, love. Please.”

As if you could deny her anything ever. Circle worshipful fingers around her entrance, groaning lustfully when slick begins dripping down your wrist. God, she always gets to fucking wet. When she tilts her hips with a needy whine, you test one finger inside her, rubbing gently against her walls. But she keens, clearly wants more, so you stuff a second finger inside her, curling them as you flick your tongue over her clit.

“Fuck!” she cries. “Yeah, just like that. J-Just there, babe.”

And you’re useless to do anything but acquiesce, setting a steady rhythm that leaves her squirming on your mouth and hands. Feel like you could get off on the noises she’s making alone, your own pussy drenched and aching. But you can’t be bothered to spare a single thought or movement for yourself, hands and mind too full of Nila.

Your dedication is quickly rewarded by the telltale squeezing of her pussy, the increasing pitch and volume to her voice. Don’t dare change a single thing, as desperate for her to cum as she is. Could live forever between her thighs, just like this, listening to that voice break for you.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m… c-cum – fuck!”

You moan as she drenches your chin and neck, quick to support her weak legs so that she can ride out each and every wave of her ecstasy. Suckle at her sensitive clit and circle your fingers around her spongy g-spot until she’s shuddering, gently tugging at your hair. You pull away reluctantly; don’t want to overstimulate her (when she doesn’t want it) but pussy-drunk all the same.

Give her a second to catch her breath, dotting kisses like stars around your pretty Nova.

“That was perfect,” she coos, “come up here for a kiss? I miss you.”

You make sure she’s steady before standing, smiling, stupidly charmed. “I’m right here, sweetheart, nothing to miss.”

“Miss you anytime I’m not kissin’ you,” she replies dreamily, looping her arms around your neck.

You pepper kisses along her jaw until you reach her puffy, bitten lips. Tuts softly at their swollen state before she thoroughly distracts you by licking the taste of herself from your mouth.

“Spoil me,” she sighs against your lips.

“Not spoiling if you deserve it,” you reply, hugging her close.

She giggles brightly, tucking her face against your flushed neck. Stay like that for a moment, gently swaying. Then she nips gently at your collarbone.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #specgru reader #nova cod #Nila “Nova” Brown #Nova x reader #captain daddy cameo

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thirstworldproblemss · 2 years

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littlejuicebox · 5 months

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Drunken nights.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: You've just arrived in BG; this follows the standard romance plot for Astarion after the Shadowlands. Rating/Warnings: PG / all fluff / very mild in game spoilers Word Count: 1600+ Notes: Shadowheart gives me major bi panic. Tried to keep this GN but please let me know if you see something! I loved the ending to @leighsartworks216 post here and I uno-reversed it. :)

-----

You are dancing atop a table. Well, really, you are grinding atop a table. You hold a mug of beer in one hand and the curve of Shadowheart’s hip in the other as the two of you move your bodies in a drunken haze to some drum-heavy tune the band is playing. Everything is fuzzy — your vision, your tongue, the fur on the edges of your jacket as it brushes into the cleric while you two dance to the beat. The bar is in an inebriated riot; several members of your blurry audience are shouting in a cacophony you can barely understand over the music.

“Come on, kiss already!”

“Take your clothes off!”

For a moment you consider ripping your shirt over your head and exposing your chest to the feral crowd. But then Astarion is at the edge of the table, gently grasping the wrists of both you and your dance partner. He gives each of you a little tug, beckoning you both off the table, catalyzing an uproar of boos and jeering. An apple is thrown at the vampire’s head, which he deftly dodges before turning to glare daggers at the offender. Halsin stood from the bar and made his way towards the rogue after that, hoping to avoid further violence. The looming threat of the druid’s large frame caused the crowd’s rage to fizzle out; the tavern’s patrons quickly turned to look for other forms of entertainment.

“Well, would you just look at the time? I do believe the free show is over and you’re both thoroughly drunk. You two had better be off to bed.”

Shadowheart is a flurry of giggles as she steps off the table, practically crumpling to the floor. Halsin narrowly catches her by the back of her shirt, steadying her with one hand. “What, Astarion? You jealous? Didn’t want me to kiss your lover and steal them away from you for the night?”

Your face is tucked into his neck as you drunkenly cling to the rogue, the stability of his frame the only thing keeping you from nearly melting into a pile of bones like the cleric had moments ago. Your breath is tickling against the elf’s ear, causing the pink flush of the pointed pinna to rise.

Astarion chuckles good-naturedly, “Far be it from me to keep my lover from their appetites, Shadowheart. And I’m sure you’re more Tav’s type now, what with the new hair color you have going on, but I’m quite certain neither of you would actually be interested in putting on such a show for the entire tavern… if either of you could be trusted with your current judgment, that is. Let’s circle back tomorrow morning, when everyone is sober.”

Shadowheart takes a step toward Astarion, fully intending to goad him with another quip, but she loses her balance once more and slides to the ground. Halsin is forced to scoop her over his shoulder. A slew of garbled protests comes out of the cleric’s mouth, and the mountain man’s brow crinkles in confusion as he tries to interpret the gibberish. Finally, the druid shakes his head and sighs, turning to the silver-haired elf before gesturing with an open palm. “Lead the way, my friend.”

Astarion grabs you by the waist to guide your clumsy footing as all four of you head upstairs and to the rooms located above the tavern. The vampire rapidly knocks on the first door, which swings open to reveal an irritated Lae’zel.

“Here’s a present for you, darling.” Astarion greets in a sarcastic sing-song voice as Halsin enters the room and plops Shadowheart onto the bed. Lae’zel hisses a “tch” as she slams the door shut upon the druid’s exit. You see Karlach lounging on the floor and greet her with a drunken wave as the entryway shuts. All of you hear something clatter to the ground, followed by Karlach’s muffled laughter and Lae’zel’s complaints on the other side of the wall.

“You’re welcome!” Your lover calls through the closed door before Halsin bids you both a good night in the hallway with a small chuckle. The wild man looks like he wants to say something more while staring at the two of you, but he blinks the thought away before meandering down to the fair end of the hall towards the room he’s sharing with Gale.

Your room is next door to the three female fighters. You and Astarion made the decision to sleep in separate rooms for now, after your talk at Moonrise Towers. Everyone had been so happy to make it out of the Shadowlands and into the city that day; you’d even successfully charmed the inn owner into offering you a heavy discount on the only private room left available for the night.

Earlier, you’d taken a delicious soak in the well-appointed bedchamber’s clawfoot tub while Astarion read beside you. You’d invited him to join the luxurious bath — there was plenty of room for two — but he’d gently refused the offer, opting instead for a quick shower in the room he’d shared with Wyll while you dressed.

Now, Astarion looks through your pockets, patting you down to find anything you’ve stowed away on your person. All he discovers is a few gold coins and your trusty dagger. “Darling, where on earth is your room key?”

“I ‘unno. Had it downstairs… prolly lost it.” You murmur, now practically hugging the wall to keep yourself up. You can’t help but think how cute the vampire is when he’s flustered.

“You can’t be serious, Tav.” He deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose. The rogue heaves a frustrated sigh as you stare at him with glassy eyes and nod.

“As a heart attack… hey, you can’t actually have one of those can you?”

“Sit.” He commands, ignoring your tangent and forcing you into the plush chaise bench pressed along the wall across from your bedroom door.

“Yes, sir.” You respond with an uncoordinated salute, half sitting, half laying on the chaise. Your fingers dance across the velvet, the texture of the fabric absolutely mesmerizing you.

Astarion pulls out his lockpicking tools and sets to work, opening the door with a few rattles of the lock and flicks of the wrist. He quickly hoists you out of the chaise and pulls you into the room, where he begins to strip off your clothing, careful to avoid grazing his hands against your skin. “If you’re potentially going to vomit, my sweet, best to make sure you don’t end up doing it on the nicest things you currently own.”

The vampire unceremoniously tosses your clothes into the armchair nestled in the corner of the room and then pulls back the covers of the queen bed, shoving your unbalanced frame onto the mattress. “Now get some rest.”

“Will you tuck me in?” You’re on your back, limbs starfished out. You think Astarion looks so pretty in the moonlight; you love the way it’s dappling the side of his face and shooting shiny streaks through his silver hair.

The elf stares at you; his white eyebrows furrow as he scrunches his nose. You can tell the rogue is annoyed, but you don’t care. All you can think about is how pretty he is, even when he’s annoyed. You adore the little crinkle between his eyebrows.

“Seriously, Tav?”

You nod slowly. A smile creeps across your face, and the dopey-eyed expression you can’t think to conceal in your drunken state wins him over.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, darling.” The rogue huffs, rolling his eyes in performed annoyance. But truthfully, he was just as enamored by you and the way your beautiful eyes glimmered in the moonlight as you stared at him with unabashed adoration. He’d almost kissed you right there, but he didn’t trust himself to perform such an act while in a potentially triggering situation. He’d spent far too many nights in far too many taverns with far too many drunks for him to feel truly at ease here. Instead, the vampire deftly tucks the blankets around you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth. “There. Happy?”

“Mhmm.” You agree with a nod, already feeling yourself drifting toward sleep as Astarion situates himself on the other side of you. You’d been wrapped in the large, fluffy comforter provided by the inn; the vampire covered himself in your lighter, personal blanket before rolling on his side to stare at you.

“You’re not going to your room?” You ask with a yawn, sneaking your hand out from the cocoon to find the elf’s fingers and coil yours around his.

“And leave you here alone, absolutely sloshed and unable to adequately defend yourself, in a private room, with a key that is probably lost somewhere in the same tavern full of patrons that were asking you to take your clothes off minutes ago? I think not.”

“Mm… my knight in shining armor.”

“More like… rogue with glinting dagger.”

“Mm… my rogue…”

You yawn again. Your eyelids are so heavy, but you want to keep them open to admire the vampire for just a while longer. You try to fight off the pull of sleep, but you’re too inebriated and so so tired. The journey to get here took all day on foot and everything felt unbelievably warm and cozy; the bed seemed like a cloud in comparison to the hard earth you’d been resting on for weeks. You are unable to finish the rest of the phrase as your lids flutter closed for the final time that night, stitched shut by the long curls of your interlaced lashes.

“Your rogue.” Astarion agrees in a soft murmur, lifting the hand that you’d snaked out of the blanket toward his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your callused knuckles. The elf watches you for a few minutes longer, a small, adoring smile crossing his face. He knew then, in the quiet of that random tavern, with your angelic face covered in the beautiful glow of moonlight, that he loved you. If only he had the courage to say it.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #slow burn #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion

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seresinhangmanjake · 22 days

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Stolen Angel

Demon!Jake Seresin x Reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he's a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Descriptions of blood and pain. Obsessive behavior. Eventual fluff and smut. I'm sure there are typos. This is part 1 of a mini-series. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it's fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1600

Part 2, Part 3

You didn’t believe in fate. You didn’t believe your life was predestined or anyone else’s to play with. It was yours alone. Yours to lead, to control, to make choices, good or bad. Only you decided when you did things and where you did them, and no one could have convinced you otherwise. But then you met him. He who showed you how wrong you were.

When you think of the moment you saw him enter the club where you worked, remembering the way your eyes met the minute his body was clear of the door, you could laugh at everything you once believed about controlling your own destiny. The building would’ve been pitch black if not for the blue and purple strobe lights; you could hardly see the patrons in front of you as they shouted their drink orders, and yet, from the opposite side of the massive room, he was in clear view. Your lips had parted to suck in a breath when he smirked, and it was that slight quirk of his lips that had you forgetting yourself. You were instantly drawn to him as if there was a string tied between you that slowly shortened as the night went on.

In hindsight, it should have been so damn obvious, or would have been had you known it was possible for someone to control you the way he did. You weren’t yourself when he approached you. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him without having spoken a single word to him. You took him home without knowing his name. But now that whatever power he had over you has worn off, you see that night for what it really was. A trick. A manipulated encounter. He had his sights set on you, and a one-night stand was never going to be a one-night stand. What it was, was an animal finally claiming the prey he’d been stalking for god knows how long.

—

It’s the third day. Third of eight.

Jake promised the pain would subside as the days passed—that you’ll get used to it; adapt—but to your great and utter shock, he has once again proven to be a liar. Every few hours, the wings rip your skin wider to accommodate their size as they grow and push for freedom from your body. At three days, they’re the span of a couple of feet, a few feathers shining opalescent in a slim ray of the sun.

As you lay on your stomach, your body is still except for the shallow breaths that occasionally cause you to quiver. With the bloodied wings draped over your back, you try to understand the depth of the pain; how it is able to hurt the way it does. The feeling doesn’t compare to anything you’ve experienced. So different, so unnatural and indescribably excruciating. It’s a merciless pain. All-consuming. It swallows you rather than localize where the skin of your back is shredding open.

“Just a few more days,” Jake says.

You flinch at his voice. Each time he speaks you’re shocked he has remained at your side, his massive black wings hanging over the back of the chair he sits in as he watches you. Those monstrosities weren’t attached to his muscled back when you met him; nowhere in sight when he was in your bed.

With a cool cloth, Jake dabs at your broken and bleeding skin, eliciting little whimpers from your chapped lips. “I know it hurts, Angel,” he says.

“Don’t–” you force out despite the fire in your throat and the wave of nausea that follows. “Don’t c-call me that.”

He sighs and continues to wipe the bloody flesh of your naked form. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. When it’s over, you will feel so much better about all of this, and about me. You’re gorgeous already, and the wings will only add to your beauty. You’ll thank me.”

“I di-didn’t want–”

“Don’t talk, Angel,” he tells you. His tone is gentle, but there’s an underlying command to his words. “I know it’s confusing, but anyone who crosses into my world has to grow wings. This has to happen so you can be with me.”

You let out a sudden scream as the wings tear you open a few more centimeters. Jake quickly scoots his chair closer to the bed to brush the damp hair from your face. He softly shushes you before leaning down and placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. You would slap him, push him away if you had the strength, but you can’t move. Your lungs are tightening, body burning as if licked by the sun.

At first, you didn't understand what was happening to you, but now you know exactly what this is. You’re dying, morphing into a horrid creature from fantasies and leaving behind all traces of humanity. In your veins, you feel something foreign coursing and altering your DNA. You’re pretty sure you still look like you, for the most part, but you aren’t you. Not anymore. This man—practically a stranger—is turning you into a beast.

—

It’s five more nights of torture before you’re able to properly inhale and exhale, but even so, the air around you is just as foreign as the pain you had trudged through. It tastes…off, and you find little comfort in it being your source of oxygen.

“You’re awake.”

His smooth voice draws your eyes away from the scenery outside of the one window in the room. Your first true glimpse of this world since he brought you here, and it’s a stunning sight of lush rolling hills and fields of blooming flowers under a plane of blue sky. It reminds you of home before you moved to the city. So much so that you’re convinced it’s an illusion crafted by devilish fingers for your comfort, not unlike his beauty.

You hate how he looks. Golden hair, mossy eyes, and those black-as-night wings that you saw for the first time when they’d suddenly appeared after you’d slept together. Right before he drugged and stole you.

“And you’re standing already,” he continues. “I hoped to come help you, but you’re clearly much stronger than I was after I grew my wings.”

Your irises flash with a burst of anger before you tear them away from his, back to the hills whose grass sways in the breeze. You unintentionally let that breeze, along with the chirp of a bird and the glisten of the sun off of a small lake, distract you from Jake’s approach. You freeze at his breath brushing your ear, and when he slips his rough fingers through the layers of your shimmering feathers, you struggle to contain the shiver that shoots down your spine. You hear the ruffling of his own feathers as he touches his creation.

“So beautiful,” he whispers.

You scoff. “I’m glad you’re proud of your work.”

Jake lets out a puff of air, a weak laugh. “My work? Angel, this was all you. I knew they would be beautiful simply because they are a part of you, but you far surpassed my expectations. You should be proud.”

Whipping around, you meet him chest to chest, eyes burning with an intensity that crashes into his. “I should be proud?” you growl. “You forced this on me.”

“And you survived. Not many can say the same. You’ve come out stronger.” His hand trails through your feathers again. This time, you fight off the tingles.

“I’ve come out of this wanting to kill you even more,” you say, tucking the wing behind you so it’s out of his reach.

If he heard you, it doesn’t show. Or maybe he refuses to acknowledge what he doesn’t want to hear. Either way, he doesn't respond. Instead, his gaze falls to your lips and he carefully cups your chin between his fingers. His face inches closer and closer, but before his lips can meet yours, you plant your hands firmly on his chest and shove hard.

Jake stumbles back with a chuckle. “Definitely stronger.”

“I’m not going to let you kiss me,” you snap.

“Not today, it would seem.”

“Not ever again!”

Though you’re seething with hatred, those words taste sour on your tongue, each one more so than the last. They feel wrong, like some part of your mind is disappointed in you for speaking them, for denying his kiss and pushing him away, but you tamp it down. You’re just overwhelmed as your brain struggles to adjust to the situation. That explains it.

“You will come around, Angel,” he says, crossing his arms. “You and I have eternity. One day you will wake up and realize that I am all you have. I will be all that you want, and this memory of pain will be long lost. All you will know is me and my touch and our world. We will be happy, I promise.”

As he speaks his eyes hold a delicate sincerity that you wish wasn’t there. You wish the green of them wasn’t so powerfully conveying his feelings.

You shake your head. “You’re a monster.”

Jake calmly steps back into your space, catching you off guard as he looms over you. You keep his stare, even with your back pressed into the wall, wings spread against the stone.

“You may breathe your sweet words all you like, Angel. It changes nothing,” he says, running a knuckle down your cheek. “If I am a monster, I am your monster, and I am not going anywhere.” His lips peel back in a smile. “Luckily for me, neither are you.”

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin au #demon!jake seresin #tgm #tgm fic

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d-targaryenshoe · 4 months

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Frozen Pain - Jackson Avery

Word count: 1600

Summary: Love that's real, doesn't know a distance, does it?

You're holding a cup of coffee, comfortable in the luxurious beige couch in your penthouse apartment in New York. You held a letter in your hand, visibly upset.

Hey y/n

I hope this letter finds you very fast. It has been quite some time since we last saw each other at the hospital, or even had a good talk.

And I wanted to let you know that everyone misses you so bad. The hospital just isn't the same without you, or our after-shift drinks at Joe's.

There have been changes since you left. So stay calm when reading this. But Jackson and Maggie are dating now. It came as a surprise to all of us, and it may seem evil but I miss seeing you happy with him.

I thought you should know since you were...you know what I mean.

I know it's been a while since we last spoke, but I hope you'll find the time to write back when you receive this letter.

Take care, I hope to hear from you soon.

Amelia

"I can't believe this... Jackson and Maggie?" You muttered to yourself placing your cup of coffee on the table and folding the letter closed.

Images of you and Jackson together, happy and in love, flash across the screen. The memories of your past relationship flood your mind.

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You pick up your phone and dial Amelia's number. After a few rings, she answers.

"You have no idea how much I waited to hear you." Amelia sounded emotional about the fact she noticed you calling for the first time after you had left. "Y/n?"

"Amelia, why didn't you tell me about them when I was still there?" Your voice trembled even if you didn't want it to. "I should've known, you know I should've."

" I didn't know how to break it to you. I thought it would be better if you heard it from me." Amelia spoke, sounding apologetic.

"Well, thanks for that. I can't believe he moved on so quickly." You sighed, leaning back into the couch, staring out of your window. "Maybe I left at the right time."

"I know it hurts, but y/n, you decided to leave Seattle. You had to follow your dreams, remember?" Amelia reminded you.

You sighed deeply, nodding your head even if she couldn't see. " I know, but it doesn't make it any easier. I thought what we had was special."

"It was special, and it still is. But sometimes life takes unexpected turns. You deserve happiness too, you know that." She answered on the other side.

" I just wish I didn't have to find out this way." You muttered, wiping away the tears that fell from your teary eyes.

"I understand. But remember, I'm here for you, no matter what." The Shepherd sister spoke. "Just remember, you're strong and capable of creating your happiness."

"I will try to remember that." You hang up the phone and take a moment to collect yourself. Despite the pain, you know deep down that you made the right decision by pursuing your career in New York.

You open your laptop that's on the coffee table and check your emails. You notice a mail from Jo with the subject 'Don't hate me'. You click on the email and start reading.

From: Jo Wilson

Subject: Don't hate me

Hey y/n,

I hope you're all settled and doing great. I wanted to let you know something that happened yesterday.

I bumped into Jackson and Maggie in the parking lot, and it seemed like they were arguing, or breaking up, or anything else that wasn't any good. And yes, sometimes I'm too nosy.

I know your history with Jackson, so I thought I should let you know.

But here's the thing... I accidentally I repeat, accidentally, let it slip that you live in New York.

I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to reveal any of it! Not without your permission. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that there's a big chance he's on his way to you.

You quickly close the laptop, unsure of what to do next.

You grab your cup of coffee and walk over to the sink. You place the cup in the sink and turn on the faucet, letting the warm water flow.

"Might as well do something productive to distract me." You whispered to yourself, looking at the dishes.

You proceed to wash the glasses, rinsing off any soap residue before placing them on a drying rack.

Suddenly you hear a knock on the door. You cautiously make your way to the door and open it, revealing the last person you'd expect standing on the other side.

Not thinking for another second you tried to shut the door.

"Even three seconds is enough...I just need to know that you're okay." He said, placing a hand on the door, making sure you didn't close it. "Wilson told me you took the offer in New York. I just- I had to see it for myself."

"Well, as you can see. I'm in New York not in Seattle." You shrugged at the man you once fell for or still had, but you couldn't show. "Maggie knows you're here?"

"Who told you that..." He furrowed his eyebrows, taking his hand off the door.

"Amelia wrote me, Jackson. I know you've moved on, so I think it's best if you do as well." You gave him a small smile, trying to close the door once again.

"You've been avoiding my calls and messages. Can we at least talk?" Jackson asked, his eyes staring back at yours.

" I guess we can talk, but I'm not sure what there is left to say." You sighed, opening the door wider for him to walk inside. "What do you want to know?"

You closed the door, sitting down on your couch.

"I just want to understand why you left so suddenly without talking to me. I thought we had something special." He folded his hands on top of his knees, looking at you.

You shook your head in denial, staring at the ceiling, feeling the tears pricking in your eyes. "Jackson, it's not that simple. Andrew died, Alex left, Meredith was going to leave, and I needed some time to process everyone leaving me."

"But why didn't you talk to me? We've always been open and honest with each other." Jackson turned his body towards you, leaning an arm on the couch headrest.

" I know, and I'm sorry. I should have talked to you, but I was terrified. Scared of losing you, scared of facing my own emotions." You answered, placing your face in your hands.

"I broke things off with Maggie, she...she doesn't feel as home as you do. We've been through hell and back, we can do it again." He said.

"Jackson, it's not that simple. We both have our baggage and unresolved issues. We can't just start from where everything ended?" You got up from the couch, walking over to the huge window, staring down at the busy city.

"I believe in us. I believe that we can work through our problems together." He spoke as you felt him standing behind you.

"I need time to figure things out. I need to understand my feelings and what I want. It's not fair to either of us to rush into anything." You replied, turning around, your heart quickening as you stared back into his bright eyes.

As Jackson stood in front of you, his eyes filled with determination, you felt your resolve waver.

"I'd do anything if I have to, only to make things work out between us," he said earnestly.

You let out a heavy sigh, "Jackson, you know it's not that simple. You've just left Maggie behind."

"I know, I know," he said, running a hand over his head. "But I've let go of things in the past that I regret now, but y/n, you? You're, you're something I could never regret, ever."

You turned back around, fighting back the emotions swirling inside of you. "I don't know if I can do this again." You whispered.

"Just...just give me a chance to show you." he pleaded, taking a step closer to you.

The memories flooded back, the laughs, the tears, the late-night conversations. Despite your best efforts, you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your lips.

You looked up at him, and he smiled back, a hopeful glint in his eyes, and the city lights twinkled outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of your penthouse.

He leaned in, and your heart skipped a beat as his lips met yours. The kiss was intense, filled with both longing and regret.

"What are we doing?" you whispered, breaking away.

"Right now? I don't know," he confessed. "But I miss this and I miss us."

The ache in his words mirrored your own emotions, but you knew it was dangerous to reopen old wounds. "We can't keep doing this to ourselves," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I know, but I can't walk away." Jackson pleaded, his eyes searching yours.

A surge of conflicting emotions coursed through you, and you let out a frustrated moan. "And you think, I can?" you admitted, feeling the weight of those words hanging in the air.

He pulled you close, and a bittersweet laughter filled the room. "Then let's try," he said, his voice determined.

As you looked into his eyes, the city hummed in the background, and you knew this decision would change everything.

#greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy x reader #request open #jackson avery imagine #jackson avery imagines #jackson avery x reader #greys #jesse x reader #jesse williams x reader #jesse williams imagine #jesse williams imagines #jesse williams #greys x reader #greys anatomy #jackson avery

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blurredcolour · 2 months

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IV. “I Trust You Know What You’re Doing?”

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

Struggling with the forced separation of your transfer and promotion, it does not take long for you and Bucky to plan a trip to London together. But even while you're on leave, the world around you continues to do its best to tear itself apart.

Warnings: Language, Grief, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral - f receiving, implied virginity loss, protected vaginal sex, condoms, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: Welcome to this massive installment. I have no excuses, only apologies. Also I only had the fortitude to proof this once, there may be more errors than normal, but I didn't want to delay it any longer - I will correct things as I find them. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

ETA: The image descriptions for the letters contain the text within to allow for a screen reader or anyone who cannot read cursive. Click the ‘ALT’ button to access.

Word Count: 8497

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Wycombe Abbey could not have been more different than Thorpe Abbotts if it had tried.

The private, or in a most confusing twist ‘public’ as the Brits called such institutions, girls’ school had begun its life in the 17th century as a manor house before being transformed into a much grander residence near the end of the 19th century. The school had opened in 1896 with only forty students, but that number had swelled to over two hundred by the time the building was requisitioned for use as the Headquarters of the 8th Air Force.

Stained glass windows, stonework, archways, and wood panelling now replaced squat concrete buildings and rough-and-ready Nissen huts. Though everything was just as drafty, so at least the temperature provided some familiar consistency to your new surroundings. As you descended from your quarters tucked away in some forgotten corner of the attic, down a set of precarious servants’ stairs, you nearly took a wrong turn – again. To your credit you had only been here three days and the maze of corridors and rooms further divided into offices for USAAF purposes was nearly unnavigable.

Chiding yourself softly under your breath that your office was to the right and not the left, as though the sharpness of your tone might really drive it home this time, you quickened your steps still hoping to beat to postal clerk to the outgoing mail box that sat on the corner of your desk. It had been more of a challenge than you were expecting to write the letter clutched in your hand, but the daily meetings that senior operations officers held at 1015, 1600, and 2200 were your responsibility to attend and record via frantically scribbled notes to be typed up in a more professional format later.

These were the meetings at which mission targets for the entire 8th were chosen. The strategic value of various locations was discussed alongside weather reports and aligning with the RAF’s Bomber Command for maximum impact against Nazi Germany. After the first meeting, it would be decided if a mission would even be conducted the following day, and each Division, Wing, and Base involved would be put on alert to allow them time to begin planning the operation. By the time the last meeting ended, the target and approach would be finalized, and the official field orders would be issued.

It made for a remarkably long day, even with breaks for meals, and though you were guaranteed every other Friday off because of this, by the time you crawled into bed near midnight, you only had enough energy to add a few lines onto the letter you had begun to Bucky as soon as you arrived. It made for a rather disjointed and rambling piece of correspondence, in your opinion, but you could not bear to keep him waiting any longer – not wanting him to assume you had forgotten to write and not knowing how long the thing would take to reach him regardless.

Dashing into the office you shared with Myrtle, a very stoic young woman with dark hair and thick eyelashes from Rhode Island, you exhaled in relief to see the post still waiting to be collected and added your letter to the pile. Unlocking your desk drawers, you began setting up for the day, hoping it would reach him quickly.

His reply arrived in your inbox just over two weeks later, near the end of September. Sliding it into your brown leather utility bag, you did your utmost to ignore its very existence throughout the first daily meeting, and your subsequent production of the official report thereof. Taking your lunch break a little earlier than usual paid off in that the line was much shorter at that time. You inhaled the mystery stew and rolls, hardly tasting them, before taking your letter outside to read in the rare afternoon sunshine.

It was short, and it was unspeakably adorable that Bucky did not write in cursive, but there was no lack of his personality in his response. It was as though the very essence of him had been distilled into the ink itself and you could not help the broad grin that bore its way into the muscles of your cheeks, making them ache as you read it.

Glancing quickly at your watch, you realized there was still time to send a reply before the second post pick-up but based on the length of time it had taken for this exchange of letters, it was unlikely another would reach him with enough time to plan for October 8 – your next Friday off. Worrying your lip between your teeth as you considered your options, you landed on a rather devious idea, one that quite honestly would have never come to you if not for the deep need to reach Bucky immediately. Vi had a telephone on her desk in the weather office, a number that you had access to given the strategic importance of weather to the senior operations officers.

Myrtle would be on her break for another fifteen minutes…you had not even realized you had made up your mind before your feet began to carry you back inside, up the stairs into the mercifully still-empty office. Digging out the directory, you found the number for Thorpe Abbotts’ weather office and took a shaky breath as you sank into your chair.

‘Keep it brief, keep it free of classified information. Worst you’ll get is a reprimand.’

The devious, deceptive voice in your mind was a new one, fostered, perhaps, by the rather carefree man you found yourself deeply entangled with, but it was not one you were about to disobey. Lifting the handset of your phone from its cradle, you cleared your throat as the operator answered.

“Norfolk 7315, please.” You tried your best to sound calm and collected as the line clicked and began to ring.

“Phillips.” An unexpected voice answered, and you gulped, knowing Ruth would be less likely to participate in some romantic scheme.

You greeted her in kind, trying to ignore the ache of loneliness as she gasped softly.

“I was hoping you might pass along a message for me?”

“To a certain Major?” You could hear the grin in her voice and felt the pressure on your chest ease.

“Indeed. October 8. I will arrange accommodations.”

“Your line should he need to reach you?”

Hesitating a moment, you ultimately decided to provide it as well, wanting to ensure he could in fact contact you if something came up. Or perhaps any of them could – should the worst happen.

‘Don’t think about that.’ You chastised yourself internally.

“You’re well?” Ruth asked and you smiled softly.

“I am, please tell everyone I miss them terribly.”

“Will do, have to go.”

There was a ‘click’ as she hung up and the line went dead but the lightness in your heart could not be extinguished.

Nine days later you found yourself waiting on the platform at Liverpool Street station awaiting the arrival of Bucky’s train from East Anglia. Given the proximity of High Wycombe to London, you had arrived much earlier that morning and checked into the hotel already, dropping off your small bag and come to wait for his train – well you assumed he’d be on the first train of the day, but as the carriages disgorged a sea of humanity and you had yet to spot him, your brows began to furrow in doubt.

You were about to fish the folded schedule you had picked up from the ticket counter to check the next arrival time when he was suddenly wrapping an arm around you, pulling you tight into his chest as you gasped softly in surprise.

“There you are doll.” Bucky sighed, dropping his bag at your feet to slide the other arm around you as he pulled back to nudge your cap out of the way and deliver a breathtakingly thorough kiss that you were not entirely sure was appropriate for the public setting you were in.

Not that you stopped him, you own arms snaking about his midsection to cling to him tightly.

Pulling back, his eyes raked over your features lovingly as you both inhaled deeply to fill your greedy lungs.

“Well, well 1st Lieutenant.” He smirked proudly as he lifted his hand to stroke the chrome insignia you now wore on your lapels courtesy of your promotion, leaving smudges of his thumb print.

“You are leaving my uniform in disarray, Major.” You chided playfully, unable to hold back you grin, even for a moment, to sell the joke.

His forefinger hooked behind the knot in your tie, tugging it out from beneath your jacket and pulling you closer – eliminating the last few inches of space that remained between your bodies.

“Good.” He rumbled against your lips before kissing you deeply, severely undermining the infrastructure of your knees.

The loud racket of the train cars as they shunted into one another jolted the pair of you apart, making you realize you were among the last few remaining on the platform as the now empty train left the station.

“Let’s get you checked in and your bag dropped off.” You murmured, clearing your throat as you unbuttoned your uniform jacket to straighten and re-secure your tie.

His hand slid into yours as the pair of you made your way out of the station and he happily followed you to a hotel you’d found near his station, knowing that he’d be here longer than you and it would be easier for him to find his way back to base this way. Sitting patiently in the lobby as he checked in and ran his bag up, you smiled as he returned to hold his hands out to you.

“C’mon doll, I have a whole plan.”

Taking his hands, you rose to your feet, raising your eyebrows curiously. “A whole plan?”

He leaned in to murmur against your ear, “you’re not the only one involved in planning you know.”

You pulled back quickly, eyes wide with a touch of panic. You were quite certain you had never told him just what your new position entailed, and there was no way he could simply guess it.

“Easy doll, your phone line.” He winked as he maneuvered your arm through his, turning to lead you out the front door.

Slowly exhaling, it clicked into place. Of course. Just as you were able to find Vi’s desk number in a directory, it seemed Bucky had been doing a little research of his own.

“Well, shhh.” You chastened him firmly, laying a finger over your lips, looking very much like an anti-slander campaign poster.

His hearty laugh in response did little to convince you that he took in the message.

“Now, how do we get to Hyde Park…” He murmured, pulling a crumpled leave guide out of his pocket.

“The underground.” You answered easily, leading him back towards the very station he had arrived at but this time down to the tube station entrance where the pair of you purchased your tickets.

His touch rarely left you – even if he was forced to release your hand, you could feel his palm pressed against your lower back as you made your way through the crowded subterranean space. You were glad to have him with you this time, not particularly a fan of this mode of transportation, but it certainly was an efficient way to get around London. Pressed close together on the train, you took the opportunity to simply gaze at him, basking in his presence after nearly a month apart, not missing the way his mouth ticked up at the corner cockily.

“Missed you too, doll.” He winked and ducked a kiss to your ear before guiding you off the train at your stop – once he had confirmed with you it was indeed your stop.

Blinking your way back into the light of day, you pointed at a directional sign guiding the way to Hyde Park.

“Perfect, now apparently there are…sandwiches!” He crowed and tugged you over to a sandwich truck that seemed quite popular based on the line of waiting patrons.

Your face was starting to hurt, driving home how infrequently you had found the opportunity to smile in his absence, making you squeeze his hand fondly. Bucky looked back to you quickly as he joined the queue.

“You really did plan everything.” You gulped quickly and he beamed proudly.

“Anything for my girl. What kind would you like?” He gestured at the menu written on the side of the truck.

By the time you reached the front of the line, Bucky was able to easily place your order, including two bottles of lemonade, insisting on paying. Opening your utility bag, you carefully packed the lunch away, earning a rather damp and enthusiastic kiss on your cheek as he snatched your hand to continue onto the park.

“May I ask what it is about this park in particular?” You inquired as the pair of you dashed across the road.

“You can ask…” His cheeky reply had you scoffing in return as you entered the canopy of trees, following a path further and further away from the traffic of downtown London.

Plenty of men in uniform seemed to be out, enjoying the nice weather with women on their arms. Women who, unlike you, enjoyed the luxury of being allowed to dress as they chose during their leisure time. It had been one of many reasons that nearly twenty-five percent of women had chosen not to remain enlisted during the transition from the WAAC to the WAC, the army requirement to remain in uniform even when off-duty. In all honesty, you had not really missed your civilian clothes until just then.

Watching the sheer femininity of those women as they swirled about in their colorful fabrics only drove home how drably olive and plainly cut your uniform truly was.

“You’re a million miles away, doll.” Bucky’s voice cut through the dark clouds that had gathered in your mind and you looked to him quickly.

“Sorry Bucky, it’s beautiful here. Like another place entirely.” You offered him a smile but by the way his eyebrow lifted slightly he did not seem to be entirely buying it. “Have the leaves started changing around the base yet?” You tried changing the subject.

He shook his head, releasing your hand to slide his arm around your waist instead, pulling you closer. “Seems everything will happen later here than back home.”

You hummed thoughtfully, glancing ahead and gasping a little at the glimpse of a sizeable body of water that seemed to be filled with rowboats.

“That’s why were here.”

You turned back to him to see a broad grin had overtaken his face and laughed in excitement as it was terribly romantic.

“If I had known, Major Egan, I would have brought my parasol.” You grinned and he snorted, squeezing your hip fondly.

“No need to put on airs, 1st Lieutenant,” he smirked, “the ride will be enjoyable all the same.”

“Bucky!” You hissed sharply, slapping his chest as he laughed deeply, ducking your head slightly as more than a few passersby shot glances your way.

“C’mon doll.” He chuckled and led you over to the booth beside the dock, paying the fee for a thirty-minute rental before the pair of you headed down to climb into one of the waiting row boats.

Setting your heavy bag on the floor, you carefully stepped into the rather unstable watercraft, settling on the passenger’s bench – denoted as such by the ornate ironwork arms. Bucky followed, seated across from you at the oars, his knees nearly brushing against yours, legs too long for so small a boat. Unbuttoning and sliding off his jacket, he tossed it and his cap to you before rolling up his sleeves and began to row the pair of you out onto The Serpentine, you now knew the small lake to be called.

“I trust you know what you’re doing?” You asked as he appeared to easily manage the oars, seeming at ease in the small boat.

“Mostly.” He teased with a wink before laughing at your slightly aghast expression. “Grew up on the shore of Lake Michigan, doll. Boats are like planes to me, easily managed.” He soothed.

It was difficult to decide which view to settle your eyes upon, the verdant green of the still-lush trees, the throng of boats around you, or Bucky working up a remarkably attractive sheen of sweat with his forearms on display as he propelled the rowboat through the water. A feathered fan would have been a very useful tool in that moment, to hide behind or cool yourself down, or perhaps both.

Belatedly, you realized that Bucky had been speaking this whole time – about events back at Thorpe Abbotts. Giving you the update about the people you knew, the trouble Meatball had caused with a farmer down the road, but he trailed off when he realized you were staring once more in dumbfounded silence at him.

“Doll, you’re going to give me a big head if you keep looking at me like that.” He winked as he lifted the oars from the water, letting the water sluice from the blades before tucking them into the boat on either side of you.

“Y…you’re good at that.” You replied lamely and shook your head. “Hungry?” Leaning forward for your bag, which was in all honestly a lot closer to his feet in the floor of the boat, you froze as everything tilted precariously in response to your movements.

Bucky lay a gentle hand on your shoulder to steady you. “Allow me.” Bending down slowly, he scooped up your bag and opened the flap to retrieve your sandwich and lemonade. “It’s sure tight in here, how did you even make this all fit?”

He tugged a little harder on the packet containing your lunch and your eyes widened in horror as, while he was triumphant, he also managed to send the three condoms you had tucked into your bag scattering to the floor of the boat. His eyes followed the distinct, square, paper packets and you could see his throat bob as he swallowed viciously.

“Doll…” His voice came out rough as a gravel road as he slowly raised his eyes to meet yours. “…been doing some planning of your own?”

“‘A WAC is always prepared.’” You quoted in a mortified whisper, struggling against the urge to lunge forward and hide the evidence, knowing it would only send both of you over the side and into the lake.

You watched another swallow ripple down Bucky’s throat before he offered your lunch to you, carefully collecting the offending items and returning them to your bag before he retrieved his own food.

“Would you mind,” He spoke after taking a rather ruthless and oversized bite of his sandwich, words muffled between slices of bread and chicken salad before he swallowed to start over. “Would you mind if, instead of following the rest of my plan, after these thirty minutes are up, I take you back to the hotel?”

Taking a thick swallow of your own, you shook your head slowly as you felt your cheeks heat up at the implications of that invitation. “I would not mind, no.” You clarified breathlessly and he nodded sharply, gesturing for your as-yet-unopened bottle of lemonade.

Handing it back to him, you watched silently as he lined the edge of the cap with the metal plate holding the oarlock in place, popping it off the bottle with one sharp blow of the heel of his palm.

“Thank you.” You murmured quietly as he passed you the opened drink, taking a deep sip as he repeated the process with his own, draining nearly half the bottle in one go.

Tilting your head back to take in the feel of the sun on your face, you slid your cap from your hair, adding it to the pile of his neatly folded items on the bench beside you, continuing to enjoy your picnic on the lake.

“You heard about Dye hitting twenty-five?” He broke the silence, sounding much more like himself again and you nodded quickly.

“Big news, everywhere in the 8th. Lucky crew all heading home – how did Lil take it?” You tilted your head curiously, raising your bottle to your lips, his eyes following the motion closely.

“Hm? Oh, she’ll be alright…they’re both good at letters.” He nodded, leaning back a little.

You knocked your knee against his affectionately. “Don’t sell yourself short you sweet man, I thoroughly enjoyed yours.”

His eyes flicked to yours quickly as a small smile curled his lips. “Yeah?”

You nodded firmly. “Yeah. Promise to give you more to reply to soon, phone was just necessary to make this happen.”

His hand landed on your thigh gently and he squeezed the flesh through your skirt. “Worth it. Just how long are your days though, doll?”

Your fingers played along the empty glass bottle, and you shrugged. “As long as they need to be.” You replied evasively.

“Mm, I’m going to get a better answer out of you than that.” He threatened playfully as he leaned forward to grasp the oar handles, swinging the blades back into the water and taking the pair of you on a loop around the corner of the lake before returning you to the dock.

Bucky climbed out first, taking his cap and jacket before helping you out easily, kissing you firmly as soon as you were on solid ground. “Let’s take a cab…” He breathed impatiently and you laughed, shaking your head.

“The cost would be astronomical, come on.” You affixed your cap on your head as he rolled down his sleeves and slid his jacket back on before the pair of you made your way back to the Underground.

Bucky’s body was practically pressed against yours the entire trip back to Liverpool Street station, seemingly unable to tolerate any form of separation. As you neared the hotel though, you looked to him slowly. “We should go in as colleagues…I booked us that way.”

He looked at you utterly confused, and you swallowed.

“We’re unwed, there was no way I could book us here together, and they will be none to please if they realize I’ve tricked them. I’ll get my key, you get yours, I’ll come to your room…”

He nodded slowly, arm reluctantly unwinding from around your waist before holding the door open for you to step inside.

“Thank you, Major.” You nodded, sliding your cap from your head as you stepped inside, heading to the counter to fetch your room key as he did the same, the pair of you walking up the stairs to the fifth floor together before parting ways so you could fetch your small overnight bag.

It was rather a waste of money, to book a room knowing you would most likely never sleep in it, but such things were necessary for women like you. Women who chose to go to bed with a man they were not married to in the long light of the afternoon. Taking a steadying breath, you left the perfectly made bed behind, walking down the hall to Bucky’s room and knocking on the door softly.

It promptly swung open to reveal a smiling Bucky, his jacket and cap long gone, along with his necktie, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He stepped back and gestured for you to enter his much larger room with a small brown paper wrapped packet clasped in his hand. Once the door was closed behind you, you let out the laugh you had been holding.

“I did book this under Major John Egan, I suppose they felt the need to give you a nicer room than a Lieutenant.”

He smirked and kissed your cheek, taking your cap and bag from your hand, then pressing the package into it. “Before I forget, again.”

“Bucky you didn’t have to get me anything, you came to see me…”

“Open it.” His eyes danced with anticipation, and you began to pull at the piece of twine holding the package closed, unfolding the utilitarian paper to reveal a brand-new pair of stockings.

You let out an audible gasp as your jaw fairly fell to the floor.

“To replace the pair that got wrecked when you fell.” He smiled, obviously pleased by your reaction.

“How on earth did you…?!” You trailed off, staring up at him in wonderment.

“A man never reveals his secrets, doll.” He grinned and let out a grunt as you launched yourself into his arms, kissing him fiercely at the thoughtfulness of his gift and in recognition of the sheer determination it must have taken to achieve such a feat in rationed England.

His fingers gently plied the items from your grasp, setting them on the bedside table, freeing your hands to latch onto his arms as he cupped your face gently.

“You sure about this, my beautiful girl?” He whispered and your breath hitched in your throat at the tender look on his face just inches from yours.

“Yes.” You nodded quickly, sliding your fingers into his hair to pull his lips back to yours greedily.

A pleased noise rolled from his throat and across your tongue as he coaxed your mouth open, his fingers shifting to make steady work at the buttons on your jacket before he unwound your hands from his dark curls to slide the garment off, tossing it in the general direction of the chair that held his. You could not help the giggle that bubbled up from your chest at that as you moved to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one.

The tug of his teeth on your lower lip quickly transformed your laughter to shuddering breath as you held tightly to the open sides of his shirt, feeling him tug your tie free from your collar before it joined the pile of clothes somewhere on the plush blue carpet of the hotel room floor. Your shirt and skirt were quick to join it, leaving you in your brassiere and slip, garter belt and underwear still hidden from view.

“You have a remarkable number of layers on, doll.” He huffed as his mouth descended along your throat to suck at the crook of your shoulder, installing a dramatic curve in your spine as you arched against him wantonly with a half-swallowed cry of pleasure.

“Y…you have almost as many…” You protested, tugging the ends of his shirt from his trousers before pushing it from his shoulders only to be met with his undershirt.

The sheer broadness of him had never quite been so very apparent and had you licking your lips as you struggled with the last barrier between you and his torso, your ID tags rasping metallically against his.

“Not nearly as complicated though.” He muttered as his fingers worked at the hook and eye closure of your bra until you felt the band go slack and he leaned back to slide the straps down your arms, making you shiver as your breasts were revealed to his hungry gaze.

Bucky’s heavy exhale fluttered against your collarbone, grown cool by the time it traversed the distance between you, and you shuddered slightly, looking to the side shyly. He leaned in to brush his nose against yours tenderly, pecking your lips.

“Whatcha hiding for, gorgeous?” His tone was gentle and had your eyes slowly sliding to meet his, an action he rewarded with a deep kiss.

He continued to distract you with repeated meetings your lips, each time with growing intensity as his palms slid upwards along your sides to cup your breasts. The meeting of flesh had you inhaling sharply through your nose, hands seeking anchor as your fingers twisted into his beltloops where his trousers hung open around his hips – yet again delaying you in your purpose of undressing him. As his thumbs honed in on your sensitive peaks, Bucky elicited all manner of noises from your throat only to eagerly devour them.

“D’ya have any idea how soft you are doll?” He sighed against your lips as he kneaded your tender flesh. “’Cept right here.” He smirked as he tugged at your nipples and you whined his name, pressing impossibly close against him, realizing he was anything but soft.

Your shimmies and writhes against him seemed to serve as a reminder of the greater purpose at hand and Bucky’s fingers ceased their torment, sliding down to your hips to divest you of your slip before beginning to work at your stockings. Toeing off your shoes, you pushed his trousers from his hips, letting gravity do the rest.

“So many hooks and straps and loops…” He muttered as his mouth dipped to the hollow of your throat, though his fingers seemed more than capable of stripping you down to only your underwear.

Seizing your hips, Bucky guided you back onto the bed, and you could not help the sigh at that flew from your mouth at the feel of a real mattress with springs and a duvet, drawing a broad grin across his face as he crawled over you, coaxing you to lay back.

“Precious women like you should always have luxurious beds like these. None of those stinking Army cots…” His hands slid beneath your spine to half guide, half drag you up to rest on the obnoxious mountain of pillows.

Staring up at him in awe, at a complete loss for words, you settled on pressing up onto your elbows to kiss him firmly, hoping to convey your appreciation physically rather than trying to summon speech. As his lips parted from yours to begin sliding down your body, you let out a slight huff of annoyance, earning a chuckle against your collarbone which rumbled through his chest and into your body. He lifted his head slightly as his fingers wove through the ball chain of your ID tags as he seemed to notice them for the first time.

“I always wondered if you ladies had these.”

You bit your lip to smother your grin as he never hesitated to say what was on his mind, a constant stream of commentary on the world around him, and rather than annoying, you found it utterly adorable.

“Are you laughin’ at me, doll?” He smirked and gave a gentle tug, pulling a genuine laugh from you, to which he responded with a brilliant grin. “Alright then, I’ll give you something to laugh about.” He bowed his head to drag the flat of his tongue across your nipple, your resulting whimper bouncing off the walls as he resumed his teasing of your opposite breast.

“B…Bucky…” Your eyes shot wide as his plush lips sealed around that tender peak, applying a positively euphoric suction that had you burying your fingers in his hair and pressing your body closer to his mouth in silent demand.

With careful precision, his knee slid its way between your thighs, applying coaxing pressure to each in turn until you provided enough room for him to settle between them. The feeling of his hard length slotting against your core with only the thin barrier of your underwear separating your intimate flesh had your jaw dropping open in a silent ‘oh’ – a revelation unto itself despite all the experiences you had enjoyed with him thus far. Undulating your hips against his experimentally, you shuddered at the ragged, abbreviated groan he pressed against your sternum, caught in the midst of traversing your chest. Thoroughly encouraged, you repeated the action, savagely gnawing on your lip as he bit off a curse before his mouth reached its destination and laved at your neglected nipple.

Nestling tighter against you, Bucky began to roll his hips against you in earnest, obliterating your ability to think and scheme against him at the blinding pleasure his combined actions induced. You could feel the smug angle of his lips against your abdomen as his mouth was trailing lower on your body, his fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear to peel it from your body. Shifting back to free the interfering item from your legs, he gazed down at you with almost black eyes, his pupils having nearly devoured his irises in his arousal, before stretching forward onto his stomach.

Blinking rapidly, you raised up on your elbows to watch him hoist one of your legs over a strong shoulder and then the other, shuffling embarrassingly close to the apex of your thighs.

“Bucky?” You squeaked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow up at you, his pink tongue darting out the wet his lips, nearly matching the flush that had painted its way across his cheeks and down his neck. “Yes, doll?”

“What…” You swallowed thickly as your throat clenched erratically.

“Making good on a promise.” He replied seriously before stretching forward to deliver a thorough kiss to your folds that fairly sucked the air from your lungs, an odd whistling sound echoing through you as you savagely burrowed your fingers into the bedding.

When his tongue narrowed in on that sensitive bundle of nerves, it was your turn to bite off a curse, slumping back onto the pillows as he hummed against you in what was surely mock sympathy as he most certainly did not let up, his efforts only doubling. As your hips began to jerk and writhe, he slung a heavy forearm across your pelvis to pin you in place, only shifting closer and tracing his forefinger around your entrance teasingly. It was all you could do not to kick and wail as you felt yourself becoming embarrassingly slick, the noises he was making growing ever so obscene and filling the hotel room.

“Fuck!” You whined against your palm as his finger finally sunk into your wet heat, its passage remarkably eased by your arousal, hips bucking hard enough to jar his arm slightly.

“Damn you’re delicious, doll.” He growled against you, lips smacking loudly as he began to suck at your pearl, finger working you open enough to add a second before beginning a demanding rhythm.

“Oh…oh...god…” You cried out in agony, too far gone to remember your desire to be quiet, feeling the tension of pending release growing ever closer under his amorous onslaught.

“I know, I know…” He soothed, only quickening his pace, hooking his fingers towards the front of your body, sending your back into a dramatic curve from the mattress, a tortured moan ripping from your throat. “Oh, I have to see that again.” He rasped and sought that precise spot with a ruthless single-minded precision until he was rewarded with not only the same reaction, but your strangled cry as your orgasm slammed into you with breath-taking force.

As you returned to earth from your visit to the celestial plane, the first sensation you became aware of was tender, damp kisses being pressed to your inner thigh as Bucky murmured soft words of encouragement to you.

“There’s my gorgeous girl, holy hell that was incredible, did you enjoy that half as much as I did?”

You managed a wordless noise in the affirmative that summoned him to your side, his lips feathering kisses up your jaw to your ear, the tickle of his moustache making you laugh breathlessly.

“Good?” He murmured and you nodded quickly, turning to look at his still-expectant face.

“Yes.” You cobbled together a verbal response, and he blessed you with a warm smile which you leaned in to press your lips against in gratitude.

“Good.” He swiped his tongue along your lips before suddenly slipping from the bed, making you raise your head in confusion.

Stalking over to find your utility bag amongst the sea of discard items and clothing, he proudly retrieved the three condoms that had announced your hopes and intentions for you by appearing in the rowboat, unceremoniously shucking off his boxers as he made his way back to you. You had held his length before, stroked it to completion, but that paled in comparison to seeing the full expanse of him in the light of day.

“My gorgeous doll, you might not say a lot, but you sure don’t mind looking at what you like.” He smirked unabashedly as he set two of the paper packets on the night table beside you, unwrapping the third to unroll the protective latex onto his cock.

Rather than letting his teasing words dissuade you, though they did cause your teeth to sink into your lower lip, you chose to allow your eyes to linger on his actions, rather fascinated by the whole process. By the male anatomy as well. Task managed, he was climbing over you once more, blocking the golden light of afternoon that was filtering in through the windows with his body, warmth radiating from his skin. He settled easily between your legs once more, still parted from his early activities as you really had not summoned the wherewithal to move yet, and stroked his length through the lingering slick gathered along your folds.

A broken sigh fell from his lips before they clashed with yours, not quite aligned, but the sentiment was still there, body shuddering as you slid your arms around him to cling to his shoulders. It was difficult to tell just whom Bucky was teasing as he continued to rut against you, the tip of his cock brushing against your overly-sensitive bundle of nerves, both of you huffing through your nostrils until at last he began to sink into you.

Tearing your lips from his, you sucked in gasping breaths at the feel of the foreign intrusion, appreciating the fact that his pace seemed to slow in response to that. Appreciating the pause he afforded you when his pelvis slotted snuggly against yours once he was seated fully inside you. Cracking open your clenched eyes, you gulped tightly as they were immediately met by Bucky’s, crowned by a furrowed brow, but flicking over your features studiously as if awaiting your instruction.

“I’m ok.” You breathed and he nodded, immediately seizing your lips in a kiss once more as he rocked forward, earning a ragged moan as your fingertips dug into the skin of his back.

His familiarity with this sort of activity had always been apparent, but was exceptionally obvious now as he slowly began the rhythmic push and pull to drive you both towards climax. The sheer intimacy of it was too much and yet it was not nearly enough, your body craving ever more, ever faster, with increasing desperation. The rare moments that Bucky’s lips were not on yours, they were filling the room with choked-off moans or statements of the filthiest order.

“God doll, you feel so fucking good around me.”

“So tight. I can feel how wet you are too, even with this rubber on.”

“You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t ya? You’re gripping on me like a…fuck I can’t think when you do that…”

His ability to even speak while experiencing such mind-numbing pleasure, rambling though it was, was fairly awe-inspiring. Your responses were limited to moans and whimpers and cries of his name as his supposition was correct – your orgasm was indeed imminent. All it took was the solicitous stroking of his forefinger against the apex of your pleasure to send you flying over the cliff into paradise, clinging to his body as you cried out in ecstasy.

A string of rasped curses mixed in with several sighs of your name heralded his release as Bucky finished not long after, rocking against you sloppily before sinking down onto your chest with a comforting heaviness. Stroking his back tenderly as he nestled into your neck, you grinned stupidly at the ceiling as you felt quite pleased with your choices.

The pair of you made good use of the rest of the condoms you had brought, with a short break for a meal Bucky procured while you took a bath. He returned with a bottle of brandy as well, finding you still in the bathtub. A lot of water ended up on the floor, a pile of water-logged towels your testament to the attempted clean-up. Eating in bed, you shared stories of your childhoods – Bucky’s about growing up on the shores of Lake Michigan, yours of the small two-storey house with its screen door and front porch from which you had watched your brother play with the neighbourhood boys.

You fell asleep in one another’s arms after the final condom was disposed of, the sun long set, but awoke sometime in the night to the unsettling sound of an air raid siren. Not as common in 1943, yet being as close as you were to Canary Wharves, the Luftwaffe still made the occasional bomb run. Startled to find the bed empty, you sat up sharply to see Bucky sitting in front of the window, completely naked, intermittently illuminated by the flashes of distant explosions and anti-aircraft fire.

“Sorry doll, didn’t mean to wake ya.” He muttered and you shook your head, sliding to the end of the bed.

“You ok?” You tilted your head, blinking into a particularly bright flash.

“Hmmm…” He replied noncommittally, turning back to the scene before him with a frown. “I’ve dropped a lot of those. Done a lot of killing.”

Swallowing tightly, you slid to your feet despite the way your heart was pounding in your throat, padding across the carpet towards him.

“Done your job, Bucky. Done what was asked of you.” You assured him, coming to stand behind him, setting your hands on his shoulders.

“If there’s any balance to all this, my ticket was punched a long time ago.” He muttered sullenly and it was your turn to frown.

Bending down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, you stepped in front of him to block his view, perhaps, hopefully, to block his darker thoughts as you shifted to sit on his thighs.

“Whatcha doin’ doll?” He quirked an eyebrow, mouth falling open in a silent moan as your fingers slid between your bodies to gently stroke his length.

“Lightening up.” You replied, invoking the words of your dead brother’s inscription.

It was impossible to think of a more important piece of advice or a more importance source in that moment. A young man who would never get the chance to spend one more time in his lover’s arms, who knew you better than anyone in the entire world. And you were most certainly going to follow it. You had to be up in less than three hours, to catch the first train to High Wycombe, and you would not pass up this moment with Bucky. The future was unknowable, your brother’s death had certainly taught you that.

Bucky’s fingers curled into your hips as his mouth descended onto yours greedily, clearly in agreement with your plan, despite the lack of remaining condoms. Shuffling closer, you guided his now fully hard cock into your body, your soft noises of pleasure colliding with his in the space between your parted lips. Working together, with plenty of guidance from his firm grip, you began to rocking your hips, using his shoulders for leverage. His head fell back to stare up at you in awe, jaw slack, adam’s apple bobbing viciously.

“Christ, I love you…” His face betrayed such vulnerability, lips trembling slightly, that you quickly lifted your hands to cradle his cheeks, even as your lashes grew suddenly damp.

“I love you too, John. So much.” You replied thickly, rather resenting the dramatic wobble in your voice.

The tiniest of smiles pulled at his lips before his face grew serious once more and he lunged forward to kiss you hungrily, hands anchoring your shoulders so he might thrust up into your body with a sudden need. It was all you could do to hang on, though pleasure itself still managed to sweep you away, leaving you only with the vague recognition of him half pulling out mid-release.

It was terribly difficult to leave him in that comfortable, if messy, bed a few hours later. He did not make it easy either, impossible to untangle from your body like an unwieldy piece of seaweed. Yet somehow you managed to make your trains and arrive at your desk at the appointed hour. Focusing on the task at hand with the pleasurable ache between your legs was altogether another challenge, forcing you to sit on first one hip and then the other.

You had just returned after the lunch break when your phone rang, your greeting barely out of your mouth before Bucky’s question came down the line.

“Did you know you know where they played yesterday’s match?” He asked flatly and it took you several seconds to comprehend that he was speaking in code and just what he was getting at.

You swallowed painfully. “Yes, I did sir.”

Of course you did, you were in the room on Thursday night when they had chosen Bremen as the target for yesterday’s mission.

“A lot of our best players struck out, you know. Buck included.”

He sounded utterly unlike himself, cold and distant, not the man you had left just hours ago in that hotel room in London. All the same, your heart broke for him, and for yourself too. You liked Major Cleven – this war was nothing but cruel.

“I’m so sorry B-Major Egan.” You corrected yourself quickly, eyeing Myrtle across the room.

“Well I hope you all pick a better field for tomorrow’s match because I’m pitching.”

You opened your mouth to reply as your heart dropped through the floor, but the sound of the handset slamming into the cradle resounded over the line before it went dead, giving you no opportunity to speak. To wish him luck or, heaven forfend, goodbye. You hung up your phone with a slightly shaking hand as a deep sense of dread threaded its way through your stomach.

-------------------------

Read Part Five - "I Trusted You!"

"Trust" Series Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @precious-little-scoundrel, @rubyfruitjungle, @storysimp, @mads-weasley, @xxanaduwrites, @bcon24, @fxxiva, @slowsweetlove, @hockeyboysarehot, @darylas

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan imagine #john egan fic #john egan #john bucky egan #mota fic #masters of the air fanfic

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ddejavvu · 7 months

Note

Okay so with october coming up we all know its spooky season and spencer reid loves spooky season... HEAR ME OUT WHAT IF HE FINDS OUT THE REASON WHY HIS PARTNERS SO EXCITED FOR OCTOBER WAS KINKTOBER LIKE YES BABY I LOVE SPOOKY SEASON TOO BUT KINKTOBER IS UPON US (this can probably be changed to flufftober if you arent comfy with kinktober) 😭😭😭

There's not much that Spencer doesn't know. But when a question hits him, and Spencer Reid's Magical Mind Palace proves ineffective to answer it, he relies on the internet.

You don't think twice before letting Spencer borrow your phone to google the half life of radium-226, but the question that he asks only seconds later makes you want to decay.

"What's 'kinktober'?"

All at once your internet history comes back to you, and you snatch your phone away, eyes falling upon the tag you'd been perusing. Kinktober isn't the only incriminating tag, among the list you'd been browsing there's wax play, edging, bukkake, gangbang- mechanophilia!

"Radium-226 has a half life of 1600 years," Your fingers hurt at the force you put behind them typing in Spencer's question, "You're not allowed to use my phone until November first."

"Why not?" Damn Spencer and his eternal curiosity, "What website was that?"

"Google," You insist, but he's not stupid.

"The one that I saw before you answered my question," He raises a brow, "Are you watching porn?"

"No!" You squeal, but the truth is barely less incriminating, "I'm... reading it."

"Kinktober..." Spencer recalls.

"Is an online writing event," You admit with a weary sigh, "Authors will write about one, uh- kink, every day, and- and, well, some people started early."

Spencer lets you stew in humiliated silence, a smirk on his lips that's usually reserved for when he recites a fact to prove Morgan or Prentiss wrong. When he's sure you'll gnaw right through your lip if you bite it any longer, he speaks in a voice that's fraught with false indifference.

"Y'know, if you're interested, I could give you some facts on the kinks listed there. For example, mechanophilia-"

"No! Spencer, no!" You cry, scrambling off of the couch and throwing your shared blanket over his lap like it would hold him down and stop him from following you as you make a mad dash for the bedroom, "Don't even talk to me until November first!"

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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welcometomyoasis · 7 months

Text

How seventeen would take care of their sick s/o

Pairings: svt x gn! reader Genre: fluff, established relationship Word count: approx. 1600 words Warnings: none A/n: i know this trope has been used 1000 times but literally everyone is getting sick now? Dedicating this to all of you rn. I hope you all feel better soon.

🍒 Seungcheol

Overdramatic (1). He would literally cry. You’re his baby and he cannot stand seeing you suffer. He will take care of everything, don't you worry. Just stay in bed and rest. He will be so so attentive and will pander to (almost) all your wants/ needs. You want soup? He’s ordering it right now. You want an extra pillow? Here take the one he was leaning on. You want cuddles? Who cares if he gets sick right, his baby needs him. But god forbid you try to move or do anything else other than rest. He will scream and is not above locking you in the bedroom when you try to go to the living room just for a change of environment. He probably forgets to open a window so he is definitely going to get sick after this. You will then need to take care of a whiny whiny baby Cheollie.

😇 Jeonghan

Partner privilege has its perks. Although Jeonghan doesn’t enjoy movement and is kind of lazy, he will always make an effort for you. He will run all over the house and run out to the store to get you literally everything you need. You will see him run in and out of the room to get you food, water, medication, cold packs for your fever, sweets for your sore throat etc. He gets tired easily though so he will likely just bring everything into the room at some point and make you both a little nest in the bed. You can just spend the time snuggling together and sleeping the rest of the day away. Jeonghan’s presence alone will make you feel better.

🦌 Joshua

Joshua will literally drop everything to take care of you. When you are sick, he is the perfect balance of worried and calm. Obviously, he worries because he loves you. But, he also knows how to deal with it with a level head. He takes all the necessary steps to find out what illness you are plagued with so that he can specially prepare a care package for you. In it, you will find everything you need and it comes with a bonus! Him! He is like your personal nurse and will stick to a regimented care plan to help you get better soon. Medication every 6 hours, small portions of food every 4 hours, forehead towel changes every 5 minutes. He doesn’t expect anything in return too because he is that selfless and he knows you would do the same for him. He does take kisses as a form of payment though.

🐱 Junhui

Jumps around the house in happiness? To your amusement, even if he is worried, Junhui is very very excited to be able to take care of you. He has fantasied about this before. You are always taking such good care of him and he wants to be able to repay you for all that you do. He probably has a checklist of what he should be doing for you. He goes through it diligently at first before throwing it aside and just doing what he feels is right. He might go a bit overboard with the care? You might wake up to a thermometer being shoved in your mouth or yet another wet towel being put on your forehead. Still, he’s making an effort and you really appreciate it.

🐯 Soonyoung

Overdramatic (2). Soonyoung will scream his head off about how his precious baby is sick. How can you get sick? Which evil germs got you sick? He will scream about wanting to fight the germs that are in your body. Will 100% make you laugh until you cough your lungs out. He will sober up after a while to actually take good care of you. He can’t cook to save his life so he might call his mother and ask her to send a list of food that would be good for you. He will also ask her for advice on what to do to make you feel better. Soonyoung will follow all her advice really diligently because it’s your health at stake here. And if there was one thing he was extremely passionate about, it’s your wellbeing.

🐈‍⬛ Wonwoo

Wonwoo will ask if you want to go see a doctor. He will respect your choice either way but in his opinion, if you aren't feeling well, it's better to let the professionals handle it immediately. He definitely attends to your every need and makes sure to put on the humidifier in your room to help you feel more comfortable. He also makes sure that he is always reachable or contactable if he is out of your sight. That means that he will not play video games that require him to use headphones. Wonwoo will be quite happy to read silently next to you (or in the living room) so he can listen out for you. And he would certainly be happy to read to you if you wish.

🍚 Jihoon

While Jihoon won’t make a big fuss when he gets sick, he will be a little frazzled when you do. He is at a loss as to what to do? I feel like when he gets sick, he just pops some medication in his mouth and sleeps it off. But he knows your needs are different from his. He is ready to help though so just take a bit of time to explain to him what you need. After that, he will be more than capable of taking care of the rest. He’s really intuitive as well so he might be able to detect when you need something before you do. That said, he is scared of getting sick too so maybe don’t expect as many cuddles?

⚔️ Dokyeom

Overdramatic (3). Similar to Junhui, he has been waiting for this day. Dokyeom will dress up like a nurse, complete with a surgical mask and gloves. He kind of looks like a real nurse? He will take this really seriously and try to emulate everything he has watched in medical dramas. Actually does a great job? All the questions he asks are similar to what a real doctor or nurse would ask you. He “prescribes” you the correct medication too. Ibuprofen for your fever, sore throat, and headaches, and extra cuddles from your adorable boyfriend. It’s really endearing to see Dokyeom act this way and it makes him so happy when he learns you really enjoyed his little act.

🐸 Minghao

Minghao would know you are getting sick even before you do. He’s so observant and attentive towards you that he knows all the telltale signs. In the days leading up to you getting sick, he’s already taking preventive measures. Giving you warm tea, telling you to rest more, giving you more nutritious food and vitamins. It definitely helps because when you do get sick, you don’t feel like death. Minghao is also so prepared that he has already stocked up on all the necessities. He knows all the little hacks and tricks to help you feel better too. In a way, he’s kind of like your walking home remedy.

🐶 Mingyu

Perfect househusband. Kind of freaks out at first but then immediately springs into caregiver mode. He might not be the most knowledgeable about medication? So you just need to guide him there. Other than that, he’s busying himself in the kitchen to cook all sorts of comfort food for you. Like soups and porridge. He will come into the room constantly to check in on you, and will bring things like water or tea with him. Checks your temperature constantly. He does go overboard with the cuddles and kisses. Combine that with him running all over the house, he probably will get sick too. Whines and sulks when he does because then who will take care of you?

🍊 Seungkwan

Flutters between worried boyfriend and mothering hen. Seungkwan would be so concerned for you and will constantly check in with you about what you need. At the same time, most things he says will be punctuated with things like “i told you to take care of yourself”, “how can you get sick”, “don’t overwork yourself please”. You eventually grab his hands to tell him he doesn’t need to worry so much and he can take a breather to just rest with you. He will sigh and probably talk about what else needs to be done as he is climbing into bed. It’s just his coping mechanism and the way he shows his cares towards you. And you wouldn’t change anything about it.

🐻‍❄️ Vernon

Vernon isn’t the type to make a big deal or fuss over anything (ahem Seungcheol, Soonyoung and Dokyeom). He will take you getting sick within his stride. He knows that everyone deals with getting sick differently. So, he will ask you what you would like him to do. If you say you need medication or food, he’s already out the door. If you say you want him to stay with you, he’s getting in the bed next to you. Or if you say you just want to be left alone to sleep, he’s giving your forehead a kiss and dimming the lights to your room on the way out. He tailors his actions to what you want. He’s just so sensitive to your needs in that way.

🦦 Chan

I feel like with Chan, it could go one of two ways. The first is that he doesn't really know what to do. Not that he doesn’t know what to do when someone gets sick, it’s more like he doesn’t know how to help you. So, he just tries his best to observe and ask what you need as you get over your sickness. The second way is that he is fully prepared. He is very independent so he knows all the steps he should take to help you. He gets you medication, forces you to rest. He also knows that he should avoid getting sick so he opens the windows for air circulation. The fresh air ends up helping you as well and you recover faster than you thought. Regardless of whichever way it goes, you can bet you can depend on Chan.

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tumbleweed-run · 7 months

Text

A Perfect Date With Gale

@arachnethebard perhaps not what you intended but this is what happened

Since you got to Waterdeep with Gale he's been insistent that the two of you go on a 'perfect' first day... despite the fact that the two of you are already engaged.

Perfection is such a difficult thing to achieve.

1600 words because I'm physically incapable of brevity.

PG (for once)

Gale has been talking about giving you a “proper first date” for entire month you two have been in Waterdeep. Never mind the fact that you two are engaged. He’s been focusing on it near daily. Every time he brings it up you smile and nod. It’s not that you wouldn’t enjoy a nice night out exploring the city, but it’s not about that.

“Tomorrow night,” he announces one night as he enters the study. You’re petting Tara, tactfully ignoring a light smear of blood around her mouth… the tower is always miraculously free of rodents.

You find new clothes draped over a bench in the bedroom the following afternoon. You admire them for a moment, almost hesitant to touch them. They’re finer than anything you’ve worn in years, possibly ever. But despite your mild apprehension over the likelihood of destroying them before you step foot out of the tower, you don them. Gale did go through the trouble, and expense, procuring them for you.

Gale greets you outside the room, looking as though he’s been waiting the entire time you’ve been inside. You chuckle to yourself at the thought, given that it was once just his room.

He’s wearing almost traditional wizard’s robes but these are new, a deep maroon with gold accents. He’s begun to stray from the purple he wore almost exclusively when you first met him. There might be something deeper behind that if you dared to think about it for a moment. You know there’s some meaning behind the gold and emerald earring he has in. Your hand instinctively goes to it’s other half, resting around your neck.

“Shall we?” He offers you his arm, eyes sweeping over your form. His smile tells you he’s pleased with the way you look in what he’s selected.

You spend much of the walk taking in the city at dusk. Waterdeep is so different from Baldur’s Gate, and yet so very similar. Gale happily talks for the both of you.

The building you stopped in front of was beautiful to say the least, all the street facing windows were stained glass in the shape of the city’s crest. The two large heavy doors were opened and a rather bored looking man in fine clothes stood just inside them. The braziers over the steps was brightly polished brass throwing the light far into the road as if beckoning people in.

You were busy, once again, marvelling at the building you at first missed Gale’s eyebrows knitting together. He was speaking to the man in the door way, both in hushed tones. The man seemed simply uninterested in whatever Gale was telling him.

“Now I’m positive I’ve reserved a table,” Gale’s voice had pitched upwards giving away his apparent distress. “I came down myself a tenday ago and booked it.”

You saw a light go on in the bored man’s eyes. “Ah,” he said nodding, “I see the error. The table you booked is for next year. All our bookings are.”

Gale’s mouth simply hands open, a light red brushing just above his beard on his cheeks.

“Gale,” you say softly, hand going to his arm, “It’s fine we’ll find something else for tonight and come back… next year.”

You resolutely, do not laugh.

Gale, still flabbergasted into silence, looks between you and the other man. For a moment he looks like he wants to argue with one of you but wisely, wisely, nods to you instead. You lead this time as you turn away from the lovely building.

Gale seems over his shock sometime later and sighs heavily. “It’s unlikely we’ll find something worthy of our first date tonight.”

He sounds so put down your heart breaks for a moment. You don’t give into the feeling and instead hook your arm through his. “Whatever we find will be perfect,” you assure him.

He offers you a small, but doubtful smile.

You two wander, arm in arm, in the cool evening air. Gale doesn’t really seem to be looking for a new option but you are. And it appears down a dirt-packed road, you grasp his arm and point.

Gale sputters again, “The Yawning Portal?”

He seems incredulous that you would even suggest it.

“Well they’re not likely to turn us away,” you risk a tease, “and besides you’ve spoken if it dozens of times. Let’s go!”

Gale relents almost immediately when you turn to him with pleading eyes, and as soon as he does you nearly drag him down the road. You laugh, out loud this time, when Gale shuffles his coin purse further beneath his robes.

The proprietor barely spares you an eye roll as you two enter in your finery, he’s too busy to care. You run directly up to the dry well first and peer down, you can’t see anything but darkness. Gale gently redirects you to a table in the corner with an exasperated smile. Once he deems you safely secured into a relatively unoccupied corner he disappears towards the bar. Immediately you love this tavern with its rowdy clientele and atmosphere similar to many you had frequented in Baldur’s Gate.

Gale returns with two mugs full of ale. “Food will be out in a moment,” he assures you, near shouting to be heard over the noise.

You beam at him and reluctantly, he grins widely back.

One thing for Waterdeep is even in it’s most questionable of places the food is mouthwatering, a testament to Waterdeep’s reputation for the finest food on the coast. The two of you huddle together to hear each other without yelling as you eat. Gale surreptitiously points out some of the notable patrons that are there tonight. He lets you watch in rapt interest as a few bold adventurers lower themselves into the dry well, making for the Undermountain. Only once they disappeared did he launch into an explanation of the dungeon they were entering.

Seemingly too soon the food is gone and your mugs empty. You don’t want the evening out to end just yet, you realize you miss your own little adventure (perhaps not the constant near-death aspect) and this place helps easy some of the sadness. Besides, as Gale’s mugs drained he leaned closer to you, words breathed against your ear and neck as he filled you in on everything he knew.

You offer to get another round, immediately missing the warmth of his body pressed to yours as you stand.

As you return you spot him watching you. The look on his face is openly dreamy, even when he realizes your watching him.

The widening of his eyes is the only warning you receive before you trip into a rather stout dwarf you had somehow missed in your path. Your stumble sends the ale spilling down your front and most unfortunately directly over the dwarf’s head.

In an instant he’s got both hands wrapped around your arms, the mugs falling to the floor. “Now, what in the hell is wrong with you,” he snarls yanking you forward nearly bending you in half so you’re closer to his level.

You haven’t even fully registered what’s happened when just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, the dwarf is gone.

Not gone, you realize. Instead, he’s now pinned against a table by Gale. He’s got one hand on the dwarf’s collar holding him and in the other he has a small spark of flame dancing in his palm. His face is dark, both literally and figuratively. Hair loosed by his sudden movements, falling forward and shielding his eyes from you.

This…

is new.

“... made a mistake, no need to get rough,” Gale is speaking and you suddenly realize the room’s gone quiet enough that you can hear him perfectly well despite the distance between you.

In opposition to what he’s saying, the flame grows against his palm.

The smell of beer hits you first, your front completely soaked in it. Then the realization that the dwarf is similarly covered sinks in. Gale is more likely to accidentally set the man ablaze than he is to diffuse the situation.

That is what he’s trying to do, you hope.

“Gale,” you speak just above a whisper, hand coming to rest on his back gently.

You don’t want to cause the flame to catch.

“It’s alright,” You assure him, hand rubbing in a soothing pattern, “We’re alright. Right?” The last is aimed at the dwarf who is glancing nervously between the flame and you now.

“Yeah,” He nods almost imperceptibly, “no harm done.”

Whatever had come over him abruptly left Gale, in one movement he both released the dwarf and extinguished the flame.

“Well then,” you nod with an over-enthusiastic smile, “a round for everyone!” The coin pouch you hold up is Gale’s.

Everyone is instantly merry, the volume once again rising so you can no longer hear those around you.

“That’s not how I wanted our first date to go,” Gale says much later in the evening as you two are in the bath.

You’re seated between his legs, leaning back against his chest, hand lazily drawing patterns on his knee in the water. Your ruined clothes are discarded on the floor somewhere near. The scent of rosewater is diluted only slightly by the smell of a tavern

The laughter that bursts out of you is unexpected but after a beat even Gale joins in, head dipping back against the edge as he does.

“It was perfect,” you insist turning your head to look at him.

Both of his eyebrows go up. “For us,” you amend. You twist just far enough to press a kiss to his lips.

He hums against your mouth. “You still smell like you bathed in ale,” he teases, nose wrinkling.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 #gale x tav #gale x reader #izzy writes #fun fact this was almost longer #help how do i do short #incapable #also the earring thing is little idea for Gale and my one tav #so now all of you must suffer it as well #also is gale's use of magic a little less wizardy and more sorcerer?#perhaps but Tav is an unreliable narrator #or there's also evidence gale might be a wizard studied sorcerer #also dm rolls plot device

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bingwriterxo · 1 year

Text

drunk

pairing: tara carpenter x freeman!reader

summary: in which you've turned to drinking as a coping mechanism

warnings: talks of stabbing, mentions of throwing up

word count: 1600+

scream 5 spoilers! read at your own risk!

Heavy and rushed knocks on the front door of the apartment drew Tara from sleep. She sat up in her bed with bated breath and turned on her beside lamp as she heard Sam flick her own light on in the bedroom next to hers. There was the sound of shuffling footsteps, her sister's voice as she called out, "Who is it?", muffled noise as whoever was standing out in the hall answered, and then the clinking of locks being undone and the squeak of the door opening.

Tara waited for a few moments, released the breath she was holding, and wondered if she'd have to get out of bed next. Her question was answered when Sam yelled, "Tara! Can you come in here?"

She slipped out of bed quickly, feet soft against the wood floor, and padded out into the living room. She was greeted by the sight of Sam, who was standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, and Mindy and Chad, who were looking at her with worried eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Tara!" The voice startled her as it came from none of the three people she was staring at, and she ventured farther into the room until she could see over the back of the couch. You were lying there, a wide grin on your face at the sight of the brunette and your arms wide open, like you were expecting her to just lay down right on top of you. "Hi, baby!" you greeted.

She smiled. "Hi, Y/N."

"She's, like, really fucked up right now," Chad said, and Tara whipped her head up, staring at him with wide eyes.

"What do you mean 'she's fucked up right now'?"

"He means," Mindy began, causing Tara's attention to fall on her instead, "that she showed up at my dorm like half an hour ago looking for you. She was blubbering like an idiot because she missed you but forgot how to get to your apartment." The girl shrugged. "I went to get Chad and we brought her over here."

"That's the fourth time this week, Tar," Sam interjected carefully, watching her younger sister. "She's been drinking a lot."

Tara glanced down at you, who was staring at her with big, dreamy eyes and clearly not listening to the conversation at hand, and sighed. "I know." She glanced at her friends and sister. "She's...she's still coping with...you know." The brunette didn't have to say the words for them all to understand what she meant: Woodsboro.

Of them all, you had probably experienced the worst betrayal--Amber was your twin sister, and you had had no idea what she was planning until it happened. The raven-haired girl had stabbed you mercilessly with the idea of leaving no survivors behind, and you nearly died.

Tara had experienced far too many times the nightmares that you would wake up from, in which your sister was hovering over you again, that same horrible smirk on her face as she dug the knife into you repeatedly. She'd tried to get you to talk about it, but you always refused and instead turned to partying as much as possible, which always resulted in this same ending--you, on her couch, plastered to the point of no return, and her taking care of you.

Sam sighed. "I'll grab some Advil and water." She turned to Mindy and Chad. "You two can go now, if you want. Or stay." She shrugged. "Either way. Doesn't matter to me." She made her way to the kitchen, and the twins decided to follow her, leaving you and Tara alone in the living room.

"Oh, Y/N," Tara sighed as she rounded the couch. She kneeled beside you and placed her hands on your cheeks gently. You simply watched, leaning into her touch a bit.

"Hi, pretty girl," you slurred, and, even after having been with you for the past three years, Tara could feel herself blush at the compliment. "Can we go cuddle?"

"Soon, my love." She rubbed her thumb against your skin and leaned closer. Your eyes flitted down to her lips, and she chuckled. "You can't keep doing this to yourself," she whispered. "It's not good for you."

You sucked in a breath. "Yeah."

Tara knew she wasn't going to get a real conversation out of you, not when you were that drunk, but she took that word as a sign that you at least knew that what you were doing wasn't right. She sighed and decided to table the conversation for the morning.

Sam returned then, with the twins in tow, and said, "I left two pills and a glass of water on your nightstand for her when she wakes up."

"Thanks, Sam," Tara said gratefully. She stood up and glanced at you before looking to Chad. "Could you...?"

He nodded and crossed the room, slipping one hand beneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees. He picked you up gingerly and carefully carried you to Tara's room, lying you down on her bed.

"Be good, champ," he said to you, squeezing your shoulder lightly before telling Tara, "We'll come by tomorrow."

"Okay," the brunette said with a nod, and then he disappeared, shutting the door behind him. She could hear the twins and Sam talking softly in the living room, most likely about the situation at hand, but her attention was focused on you.

"Can we cuddle now?" you asked.

"Soon," she repeated. "Let me get you out of those clothes." She was gentle as she helped you out of your jeans and top, and then just as gentle as she slipped you into a pair of her pajama shorts and an old soccer t-shirt of hers. "Doesn't that feel better?"

You only hummed in response, and she knew that the alcohol was starting to put you to sleep. She nodded to herself and then climbed into bed beside you, reaching over your body to shut off her lamp. Once the two of you were encased in darkness--save for the small night light Tara had glowing in the corner; she couldn't find it in herself to sleep in the complete dark anymore, and neither could you--she wrapped an arm around your waist and buried her face between your shoulder blades, legs intertwining with your own.

"I wish you'd stop doing this to yourself," she whispered to ears that weren't listening. She held you close and tried to ignore the tears that pricked at her eyes.

* * *

When she woke up, you were no longer in bed with her, but she could hear you in the bathroom throwing up, and she ran a hand down her face. The noise only lasted for a moment before the flush of the toilet came, and then the sound of the faucet, and then you were standing in her doorway, your palm pressed to your forehead.

"I feel like shit," you mumbled.

Tara chuckled softly. "Well, you were really drunk last night, so I'm not surprised."

You groaned as you sauntered toward her bed, throwing yourself down on the edge of it. She sat up, rubbing a slow hand down your spine as you sat there, praying for your head to stop pounding.

"Could you hand me the stuff on your nightstand?" you asked, referring to the pills and water Sam had left there the night before. Tara nodded, shuffling a bit before returning to you, placing the items in your hands.

You took the pills quickly and gulped down the glass of water after them, sighing with relief as the liquid quenched your parched throat.

Silence blanketed the two of you for a moment before Tara decided to speak up. "That was the fourth time this week that that's happened, Y/N," she said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

You clenched your eyes shut at the thought, releasing a shaky breath. "I know." You turned to her. "And I'm sorry that you keep having to take care of me."

She shook her head. "That's not what I care about. I'm more than happy to take care of you when you need it." She inhaled deeply. "But you can't keep doing this. It's not healthy."

You glanced down, staring at the bedsheets. "I know that, too, but...the only time I can't hear her is when I'm drinking." You swallowed. "Any time else, she's in my head. I don't...I don't know what else to do," you confessed quietly. Tara could see tears brim your eyes. "She won't go away."

"Is it just...that night?" she asked carefully. She didn't want to push, or that would cause you to end the conversation completely, and this was the most she had gotten out of you since the attack happened.

"No," you said with a shake of your head. "No, sometimes it's just...memories, of growing up. I mean, with our parents gone all the time, we were basically the only family each other had. She...she wasn't great, obviously, but she was still my sister, and I just--" You were trembling, thoughts of Amber swirling around in your head and tears unable to be kept at bay. "I miss her, Tara."

"Y/N..." Tara wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you in, your face burrowing into her neck. She felt as your tears soaked her skin, and she held you tighter. "You're allowed to miss her. It's normal."

"But with everything she did, I feel like I shouldn't," you sobbed. "It's just...it's so much. And I--God, Tara, I just want things back to the way they were."

She ran her hands through your hair. "I know, baby. I know."

"How do I get it to stop? H--how do I stop feeling like this?"

Tara sighed. "It's gonna take time, sweetheart. And talking, too, you know. That'll help."

You pushed yourself further into her. "I'm sorry," you cried.

She shushed you. "What're you apologizing for? You don't have to apologize."

"I've been such a mess recently, and...and you've had to take care of me, and--"

"It's okay. It's okay." She tightened her grip. "You're okay. We'll just...we'll find you a better outlet, okay? That sound good?"

You nodded against her, your sobs quieting a bit. "Thank you. For being here. For sticking with me, after everything."

Tara pulled away just enough to place a kiss against your temple. "I'll always be here. I'm not going anywhere."

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream 5 #scream 6

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