#once this image stuck in my head it will not leave
Text
Hot take:
Dick Grayson wears an Aritzia Super Puff.
#dc#dick grayson#superpuff#aritzia#batfamily#winter#christmas#batfamily home videos#batfamily tweets#batfam#once this image stuck in my head it will not leave#he specifically has that cropped blue one#he wears like white earmuffs and black yoga pants with it too#he wears it well
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Been thinking so much about Marigold specifically in the ORP universe so I’m obligated to come make a whole post to explain some of my thoughts.
I don’t knowwww I just think a lot about how Maverick was. Very clearly loved by this woman. Like they still carry that love with them in little ways, they’ve been marked by it forever you know? Like she was not their mother, and their relationship was very non conventional but she was like. As Good As a mother to them. I think she saw herself like a mother even if Mav never saw her that way. It kills me because their relationship in ORP is honestly much less complicated and a lot better than it is in canon. Marigold is like… well tbh I can’t get into it because spoilers but she is very morally questionable and kinda fucked up but like her care for Mav is still very much there.
I wouldn’t be able to say for sure but I honestly don’t think it’s out of the question that in ORP she died getting in the way of The Dread and trying to give Mav the best chance possible at running. But like MAV DOESN’T KNOW THAT and it’s fucked them up so badly. Because they never looked back, man. They just ran immediately and even if it’s what she would’ve wanted them to do they just fully believe they left her for dead.
Like. Ok. Atp Mav is just of the mindset of like. That loss hurt so badly because what do you do when you’ve got nobody else and the one person in the world that loves you like family dies and you think it’s your fault, you know? But they’ve just got this anger about the whole situation. Angry at themself but also angry at her because if she hadn’t died they’d still have somebody. It’s just really soured their whole perception of her isn’t that nuts. As if she did it on purpose. (THE THING IS SHE KINDA DID OUT OF LOVE AND THEY DON’T KNOWWWW THEY DON’T EVEN KNOWWW) and now all of those feelings have just been reinforced x100 being with the Brooks family because they don’t have that. And maybe they would if Marigold were still alive.
#ORP#Maverick Clarke#Marigold#Gripping my head and whatnot you know#Gestures madly#Like do you see do you understand#There are so many issues and diseases stuck in this relationship especially now that Marigold is dead but like#UGH. UGH.#Once I give her a proper redesign and fullbody it’s over#She’s honestly such a good person in ORP because she’s got a lot of love in her heart always but once you take away the [BLEEP] from canon#Like#She’s just very chill#I do find her more interesting in canon though because morally#There’s a lot going on#And her relationship with Maverick and the strained quality to it and like#Maverick’s anger is a lot more understandable and grounded#But ORP still kills me.#IDK MAN YOU EVER THINK ABOUT HOW#THEIR HAT LIKE THAT THING NEVER FUCKING LEAVES THEIR HEAD#THEY’VE BUILT THEIR IMAGE AROUND THAT THING#AND MARIGOLD MADE IT FOR THEM…?#It’s honestly kind of a childish design like who goes around with a beanie with horns on it like it’s intimidating or scary you know#But she made it for them and it’s the one thing they really have.#That shows that.#Spews blood
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
“my wife.”
how they address you. why does it make your heart skip a beat each time?
characters; neuvillette, wriothesley
—female pronouns obvi, aaaa this is so random😭 fluff, tad bit of crack, has suggestive themes/dirty jokes cause that's my humor in general, just tryna get into writing again heehaa don't mind me ʘ‿ʘ
NEUVILETTE always accompanies the term with unmatched affection. it rolls off his tongue perfectly like a match made in heaven, coupled with the serene image of you instantaneously appearing in his mind before he even thinks of the uttering the endearing term. he still finds it surreal that you are both even lawfully married, yet the way he calls you his wife is already on instinct. is it too presumptuous of him?
well, in the end, he can't find any means to worry about it when you seem to equally adore the nickname.
“ooohh, say it again, say it again!”
he can't tell whether he married a child or not, but he still obliges your request and calls you his wife affectionately once more.
meanwhile, furina nearly gags everytime she hears him say it so softly—like using any other tone when referring to you would land him in the hands of the fortress of meropide. sure—she might've been the one who set up both of you—but the drama and thrill akin to watching a romance film has delightfully ended, and she can only meddle so much in marital matters. the iudex just might actually have her head in a platter if she were to do anything mischievous at that point.
but while a happy neuvillette is running around announcing 'my wife' this and 'my wife' that, you are currently stuck on what to call him in return, sadly enough.
“at this point, i think i'm just going to call you daddy.”
it was unfortunate with the way he choked on some of the water he was drinking—well, thank goodness he didn't spill much as before. for this wasn't the first time you said something unprompted while he was in peace with his water—he can only internally sigh.
“and what exactly has influenced you to arrive at such a conclusion, my wife?” he does not miss the tiny shudder of your body that followed the endearment. your face burns a tad bit at that, and he softly chuckles.
“your effect on me is no joke, you know?” you pout at his amused smile, “the way you refer to me so sweetly makes me want to call you my dearest husband everytime.”
“i don't recall voicing any complaints. is something else holding you back from doing so?”
you nod solemnly in agreement at that, which prompts him to raise a brow in mild curiousity.
“thing is, i really like calling you by your first name. same with monsieur neuvilette. there's something mildly erotic within it—you get what i mean, hehehe...” he only stares at you, clearly unimpressed, and a bit concerned at the implication. you clear your throat, apologizing under your breath.
“still—it's such a devastating predicament to be unable to choose between the three.” you sigh defeatedly, moving to slump your entire weight on his lap. you mutter, “my dearest husband monsieur neuvillette...mmm, no, that's too long.”
chuckling at your dramatic antics, he plants a soothing hand on your waist, the other fixing your wrinkled clothing as you practically melt against his hold. “and you thought settling on daddy was the appropriate option?”
“i'm not hearing any objections.” you jest, feeling cheeky.
“please refrain from calling me such a thing in the eyes of the public atleast.”
“...huh? you're actually allowing it??”
WRIOTHESLEY on the other hand, says it as if he's flaunting. it leaves his lips like a taunt each time, indirectly telling the other party 'i have a hot wife and you dont' even though most of the time the people he mentions you to don't even know what you actually look like. it's silly, childish even, but you still love it nonetheless.
sigewinne and the other inmates have collectively told you that ever since you got married, he has never uttered your actual name to anyone else. some find it weird, some find it somehow disrespectful, and some are now convinced he's crazily obsessed with you, and now he's showing it off every chance he gets, much to everyone's dismay.
it's arrived to the point where a small percentage of people have actually forgotten about your name, and now refer to you as the duke's wife, or even duchess, to which you made a face at. that's kind of pushing it by then.
anywho, in the end, it's funny and endearing, maybe even makes you a bit giddy, but there is no way you're telling him that. the situation might escalate even more if possible.
“you know, my wife is very mean to me today.”
as a pair of strong yet gentle arms wrap around your waist, you resist the growing smile on your face, deciding to mess with your husband for a bit.
“is that so?” you continue your chores without a care in the world. he huffs.
“mhm. she won't look me in the eye the whole day, even though she seemed sooo happy last night.” face instantly burning, you hiss as you slap his arm in a fit of embarrassment, pulling a hearty chuckle from the man behind you.
“—and now she's hitting me as well. i can't believe this.” you both know very well he was not fazed in the slightest bit.
“if her husband wasn't such a pervert then maybe—”
his facade cracks as he forces out an awkward laugh, “hey now, baby, you know i'm nothing like that.”
“wriothesley.”
he clears his throat awkwardly, “okay, maybe a little. it's exclusive for you though! my wife doesn't have to be so mean about it, you're making me reallyyy sad here, y'know?”
there it is again, you think. that nickname. that damned word that makes you want to turn around and smash your lips against his and—wait, hold yourself together! don't forget the reason you're being cold to him!
“you deserve to feel remorse. i've been struggling to even move the whole day because of you.”
you go rigid.
you didn't mean for that to come out so bitter...oh no.
“oh. so that's what this is about.” you don't even have to turn around to know that there's a smug look on his stupidly handsome face, his grip on your waist turning into soothing circles as he presses a kiss to your neck.
“if my wife wanted a massage, she could've just said so.” it's husky when it leaves his mouth, leaving you to shiver with the chills he enunciates.
flustered, you completely disregard the way your knees buckle at the endearment laced with that low voice of his, hitting his arm once more, earning a tiny 'ouch' from him.
“pervert. i want rest, not another round!”
“heh, i didn't say anything about another round, my perverted wife.”
“you—” you are abrupt cut off as you yelp in surprise when your feet are raised off the ground, your face now much closer to your husband's as he carries you gently in his arms.
“shhh, just let me take you to bed. if my wife was feeling terrible the whole day, she should've just told me in the first place so she could stay in, don't you think?”
he's right, but you're still angry. “shut up.”
“just letting you know i'm not completely at fault, wife.” you attempt to ignore the furious beating of your heart, face burning at his smug expression. “i'm not the only one who wanted it.”
hsr version...? if i feel like it...🤔🤔
#har❗#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact imagines#neuvillette x reader#wriothesely x reader#genshin drabbles#genshin x you#genshin imagines#genshin headcanons
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I Have Needs Too
Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri
Summary: an old sports superstition claims that abstinence can help maximize athletes’ performance … your boyfriends decide to give it a try, much to your chagrin
Warnings: 18+ content
“I’m going to explode!” You whine dramatically, flopping down on the couch between your boyfriends. They exchange amused glances over your head.
“What’s wrong, love?” Lando asks gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
You huff in frustration. “You know exactly what’s wrong! It’s been weeks since we ...” You trail off meaningfully, raising your eyebrows.
Oscar chuckles, slipping an arm around your shoulders. “Come on now, it’s not been that bad.”
“Easy for you to say!” You retort. “You two have your racing to distract you. I’m stuck here all day, bored out of my mind and craving attention.” You pout at them.
Lando shakes his head in mock exasperation. “We talked about this, darling. The abstinence has really helped our performance lately.”
“I know, I know,” you sigh. “And I’m so proud of how well you both are driving this season. But ...” You bite your lip, gazing up at them beseechingly.
Oscar brushes a thumb over your cheek. “We understand it’s not easy, babe. But just be patient a little longer. We’re doing this for the team.”
You nod reluctantly, nestling into Oscar’s shoulder. His warmth and familiar scent are comforting, even as your body craves more.
“Why don’t we watch a movie to take your mind off it?” Lando suggests brightly, grabbing the remote.
You suppress a grumble. As if anything could distract you from the delicious men on either side of you. But you acquiesce for their sake, snuggling into Oscar’s side as Lando queues up an action comedy.
Twenty minutes in, you’re fidgeting restlessly, acutely aware of Oscar’s fingers trailing idly along your arm. You glance over at Lando to find him watching you, mirth dancing in his eyes. Your breath catches at the heat in his gaze.
Unable to resist, you reach over and trail a finger down his chest suggestively. Lando inhales sharply, his eyes darkening. Beside you, Oscar goes very still.
You bite your lip coyly. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider this whole abstinence thing?”
Lando swallows hard, his eyes raking over you hungrily. For a moment you think he might give in. But then he shakes his head ruefully. “You know we can’t, love. Just try to be patient.”
You huff in frustration, crossing your arms over your chest. Oscar squeezes your shoulder sympathetically. “It’s only a few more weeks till the season ends.”
“A few weeks too many,” you grumble. “I have needs too, you know!”
Lando chuckles, the sound sending a spark down your spine. “Believe me, we know. And we intend to take very good care of those needs once the season’s over.” His heated gaze leaves no doubt as to his meaning.
You bite back a whimper, arousal coiling hot and heavy within you. “Promise?” You breathe.
“Promise,” Oscar murmurs lowly in your ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps on your skin.
You suppress a shiver with effort, knowing you won’t get any further with them today. With a dramatic sigh, you settle back against Oscar, trying your best to focus on the movie.
But as the minutes tick by, you grow increasingly restless. Oscar’s solid warmth against your side only fuels your rising frustration. You shift, crossing and uncrossing your legs in an effort to relieve the building ache between your thighs.
Oscar glances down at you, one brow raised knowingly. “You alright there?”
You bite your lip. “I’m fine,” you reply tersely.
His mouth twitches in a hint of a smile and he resumes watching the movie, his arm a tantalizing weight across your shoulders.
You do your best to keep your eyes on the screen, but your thoughts keep drifting to much more pleasurable images — memories of your boys’ hands and mouths lavishing you with attention. You clench your thighs together, suppressing a whimper.
Gradually you become aware of your hand drifting higher up Oscar’s thigh, seemingly of its own accord. You freeze, snatching it back, your face flaming.
Oscar looks down at you, his brown eyes darkening subtly. “Y/N ...” he begins, a note of warning in his tone.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” you babble, avoiding his heated gaze. “I just … I can’t help it, Oscar, I need ...” You trail off helplessly.
His eyes soften and he brushes a stray lock of hair back from your face. “I understand, love. Just try to hang in there a little longer.”
You bite back a whine of frustration and force yourself to sit on your hands, determined not to let them wander again. But as the minutes pass, you grow more and more antsy and on edge. Your whole body feels like a live wire, hypersensitive and aching for their touch. Unconsciously, you press your thighs together again, seeking some form of relief, but it’s not nearly enough.
Abruptly you get to your feet, ignoring Oscar’s questioning look. “I just … need some air. I’ll be right back.” Before he can respond, you hurry from the room on shaky legs.
In the bedroom, you begin pacing agitatedly, running your hands through your hair. This is torture, plain and simple. You’ve never felt so pent-up and on edge in your life. Surely no one could expect you to hold out much longer under these conditions?
Your gaze falls on the bed and you freeze, a reckless idea taking shape in your mind. No … you couldn’t possibly … could you?
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you shut the door behind you as quietly as you can. Then you begin shedding your clothes hastily until you’re down to your underwear.
You stand there a moment, nibbling your lip uncertainly. But the throbbing ache between your legs wins out over your hesitation. Taking a deep breath, you slide your underwear off and climb onto the bed.
Propping some pillows up against the headboard, you lean back and let your legs fall open. Your fingers trail teasingly up your inner thighs and you have to suppress a needy whimper. Slowly, watching yourself in the mirror across from the bed, you begin to stroke along your slick folds.
A breathy moan escapes you at the exquisite sensation. After weeks of deprivation, your swollen flesh is so sensitive that the lightest touch sends spikes of pleasure through you. As you work yourself higher, you let your eyes slip closed, losing yourself in the building bliss.
You’re so consumed by sensation that you don’t hear the bedroom door open. But Oscar’s sharp intake of breath jolts you back to awareness. Your eyes fly open to see him standing frozen in the doorway, his shocked gaze riveted on where your fingers are buried between your legs.
Heat floods your cheeks but you don’t stop, biting your lip coyly. “I tried … I really did. But I just couldn’t wait any longer.”
Oscar makes a strangled noise low in his throat, his eyes blazing. He takes a step into the room just as Lando comes up behind him.
“Oscar, what ...” Lando begins, then trails off as he peers over Oscar’s shoulder. “Bloody hell,” he breathes, his eyes going wide.
Your flush deepens at their rapt expressions but you hold their heated stares boldly. Oscar takes another step toward you, clenching his jaw.
“Y/N,” he warns in a strained voice. “What did we say about patience?”
You pout up at him beseechingly. “Please … don’t make me stop,” you whimper.
Groaning under his breath, Oscar rakes a hand through his hair. You can see his restraint hanging by a thread. Lando moves up behind him, gripping his shoulders.
“How can we resist when she tempts us so sweetly?” Lando murmurs.
Their hungry eyes devouring you makes moisture flood your aching core. Emboldened, you spread your legs wider, giving them an unobstructed view. Oscar makes a choked noise, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warns through gritted teeth. But his eyes are riveted on your fingers sliding slickly along your slippery folds.
Your strokes increase in urgency as your climax builds, whimpers escaping your lips. “Please,” you gasp pleadingly. “I need you ...”
With a growled curse, Oscar surges forward, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. His body covers yours and you sigh in bliss, finally getting what you crave. His tongue plunges past your lips, tangling fiercely with yours. You can feel his restraint hanging by a thread in the urgency of his kiss.
Lando joins in moments later, his clever hands trailing fire over your sensitized skin. Caught between the two of them, you’re surrounded by hard muscle and greedy mouths. The sweet relief of their touch after so long has you reeling.
You clutch desperately at Oscar’s back, urging him closer between your thighs. But he resists, keeping maddening inches between your bodies.
Pulling back from the kiss, his eyes bore into yours, dark with desire but firm. “Not yet, babe. You’ve been a naughty girl. Don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily.”
You whine in frustration, arching up against him beseechingly. But Oscar grasps your wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of your head.
“Ah ah, patience,” he chides with a smirk.
Lando chuckles, trailing kisses down between your breasts. “Our minx deserves a bit of torment, I’d say.”
You whimper as their hands and mouths worship every inch of you except where you need them most. They lavish attention on your breasts, your neck, your inner thighs — everywhere except for your poor aching and dripping core.
“Please,” you gasp, writhing beneath their exquisite torture.
Lando looks up at you from between your thighs, eyes dancing wickedly. “Tell me, do you regret being a brat yet, darling?”
You shake your head desperately. Oscar tsks, tweaking a stiff nipple to make you arch sharply. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson quite yet.”
They continue driving you right up to the brink only to back off again and again, keeping you suspended in agonizing arousal. You’re a writhing, pleading mess beneath their skillful touches.
Just when you think you can’t take another second, Oscar’s fingers finally find your slick heat. You cry out sharply, cradled between them as he strokes you with knowing skill. Lando’s teeth graze the tender spot on your neck and you shudder, right on the precipice.
“That’s it, let go for us,” Lando rasps in your ear. His voice combined with Oscar’s relentless rhythm pushes you over the edge with a breathless wail.
You’re still trembling through aftershocks when Oscar captures your mouth again, kissing you deeply as his hands fumble at his belt. Understanding dawns through the pleasured fog in your mind and you still his movements with a hand on his chest.
“Wait,” you gasp out. At his bewildered look you offer a coy smile. “You two still have your little abstinence pact to uphold. Can’t have you breaking it on my account.”
Oscar stares at you incredulously for a moment before huffing out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
Lando groans behind you. “Y/N, love, don’t be cruel ...”
You silence him with a finger to his lips, giving them both a mock stern look. “What? You made a commitment. I won’t have you compromising your performance for me.”
They gape at you in sexual frustration and dismay. Taking pity, you lean in and place a placating peck on each of their cheeks.
“There now, that will have to hold you over. Only a few more weeks till the season ends!” You pat their shoulders consolingly before sliding off the bed on shaky legs. Sashaying your hips, you head for the bathroom, their heated stares like a brand on your bare skin.
Pausing in the doorway, you glance back alluringly. “Of course, once the season ends, we can all properly celebrate … if you’re good boys for me.” You shoot them a cheeky wink over your shoulder, “Cold showers might help until then.”
You suspect you’ll pay dearly for such exquisite torture later on. But their reactions were well worth it. And the countdown to the end of the season has never seemed sweeter.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lando norris#oscar piastri#lando norris imagine#oscar piastri imagine#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri x reader#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#lando norris fic#oscar piastri fic#lando norris x you#oscar piastri x you#mclaren#lando norris one shot#oscar piastri one shot#landoscar
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
I thought it was high time that I finally wrote something for this man and this idea was stuck in my head for days. I hope you enjoy! <3
gn reader
2.3k words
cw yandere, obsessive behaviour, hypnotizing siren song, manipulation
Yandere! Siren! Sunday x Sailor! Reader
You weren´t supposed to be anything more than an easy prey. A human led astray by his enchanting tunes like any other, only to be torn apart once within reach.
You were a simple sailor sailing the deep waters of the ocean with your small crew. For what purpose? Sunday wasn´t quite sure and he didn´t really care to know. All he yearned for was sinking his claws into your vulnerable flesh as he dragged you to the bottom of the ocean.
You see, Sunday was a siren, a hunter in the image of a beautiful young man with grey hair and enchanting golden eyes. Were it not for his singing voice, a deep gaze into his radiant eyes would be enough to tempt any poor fool into his waiting arms. Yet his voice, oh his voice, its heavenly sound masking his dark intentions.
Within his lifetime, Sunday has lured many unfortunate sailors to their demise though, in recent times, fewer and fewer boats have delved through the waters he called his home. From what he had witnessed being whispered onboard, tales of cunning and vicious sirens roaming these waters have reached the mainland, causing many to steer clear and avoid this place.
This naturally annoyed Sunday, for the flesh of humans was what he sustained himself with. This fact only increased his determination when after quite a long while of waiting for a sign of life, a boat had finally lost its way into his domain again. Sunday had been hungry for way too long now, he couldn´t let this stroke of luck go to waste.
So certain that he would finally claim his prey again, he decided to first spy on the passengers of the boat before making his move. It was important for him to know the routines and habits of the sailors if he wanted to catch them alone to entice them to run into their doom.
As a siren, Sunday was more powerful than an average human but even he wouldn´t be able to fight off several sailors if he were to try and hypnotize someone in broad daylight. He couldn´t risk the crew becoming aware of his presence and leaving, he couldn´t go on without another meal again.
And so, he secretly started spying on the passengers of the small boat, staring at them from behind a rock and making sure to keep his tail concealed within the water. He watched everyone go along with their days on board the ship when something unexpected happened.
He saw you, stepping away from the rest of the crew to stand near the edge of the boat, a smile on your face as you let the sun shine on your face. Without even realizing it, you had stepped close to where Sunday had gone to hide. You were so close, almost within arm´s reach. For a moment, Sunday deliberated if this was his chance to strike.
With you separated from the rest of the crew like this, it would be a simple thing indeed to lure you into the waters where you would disappear forever.
But just as he thought this, he stopped in his tracks as he watched your carefree smile, suddenly becoming enchanted by the way the light of the sun rained upon your skin. For lack of a better word, your presence at that very moment was mesmerizing and Sunday felt warm inside as if the rays of the sun were descending on him instead.
And then, for a moment, Sunday almost felt his heart stop for then you opened your mouth and started, he almost couldn´t believe it, singing.
There you were, practically within the jaws of a predator, and letting your soul rejoice in song so carelessly. And yet, within your naivety, Sunday couldn´t help but feel at peace. Your song rang out across the lonely waters, unaware that your secret audience was becoming more and more enchanted by you by the second.
Your singing, Sunday couldn´t quite describe it. It sounded nothing like his own singing, which was beautiful and yet felt intrinsically wrong somehow. Your song was nothing like that. It might have not been as pretty or practiced as his own singing, but yet it managed to ring true within his heart. Your song felt earnest and real, untainted and uncorrupted by malice. Within seconds, you had captured his attention and heart, yet you were completely unaware that he was even present.
In an ironic twist of fate, Sunday felt himself being pulled towards you as if touched by magic, an ardent longing for you deep within his chest. It was as if you were the siren calling out to him, beckoning him closer like a lovesick sailor lost at sea, yet Sunday was sure that instead of a sudden demise, he would find true salvation within your arms. With the way you were holding out your arms, he could almost imagine you wrapping them around his body in a lover´s embrace, pulling him so close as if you would never let go of him again.
Because he knows that´s what he would do if he finally had his beloved in his arms. For only a fool would ever let go of the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. It filled him all at once, this desire to have you for his own, to make you his dearest mate.
You were radiant and joyful in a way he had never seen before and he couldn´t bear the thought of letting you slip away from him.
And from the desperate yearning he could so clearly hear in your song dedicated to just him, he knew that you must feel the same way. You were just waiting, begging to be taken away by him. Why else would you walk so close to him, all on your own and profess all of your feelings like this? Sunday now knew that this meeting was fated to happen and he would be sure not to waste it.
He had been watching you closely for the past few days along with the other sailors aboard the ship and he saw how the other crew members acted around you. He had thought nothing of it back then but now boiling jealousy filled his being as he remembered how chummy they had been acting with you. How they had laughed and joked around with you so easily, how they had thrown their arms around you and sang cheery tunes beneath the starry sky.
He especially detested that one scoundrel that had dared to kiss your cheek so invasively. How dare they treat you like this? How dare they lay their filthy hands on you when your beauty was meant for solely him to treasure? But not to worry, Sunday would finally bring you home and keep you safe.
He understood your surprise when he finally emerged from his hiding spot and started swimming towards you. You looked so pitiful with your body shaking and your eyes growing wide when you saw his shimmering white mermaid tail. You poor thing must be frightened out of your mind because of all these stories you were told about his kind but do not be afraid! Sunday would never hurt you like this.
You were special to him, you just needed to allow him to show you that. You backing away from the railing, backing away from him, just wouldn´t do.
"Darling, there is no reason to be afraid, I´m not here to hurt you, do not let their horrid tales corrupt your thoughts. I am here to finally take you home!" He reached out his hands to you, wishing for you to jump into them and accept his love willingly yet he could only click his tongue in disappointment when instead, you took another step back.
"D-don´t come any closer!", you shouted out, breaking the poor siren´s heart in the process. How it hurt him to see you so frightened that you would turn your soulmate away. But no matter, he was prepared to take matters into his own hands and nudge you towards your own happy ending. You just needed a little bit of convincing.
"My darling, please listen to me! You and me, I know we were meant to be! So please don´t resist this, alright?", he hummed gently, his voice almost pitiful while begging you to hear him out.
You would have even felt sympathy for him if you weren´t acutely aware that you were facing a dangerous predator. There was no doubt in your mind that this was a siren and you needed to get away from there fast.
But unfortunately for you, you weren´t quick enough for as soon as you had gathered your resolve, Sunday´s ethereal singing voice had swiftly broken it down.
Suddenly, all your previous thoughts about him being a danger to stay away from evaporated, leaving you confused as to why you ever wanted to run away from him. There was nothing dangerous about him, was there?
Instead, your mind was now being filled with pleasant images of you and the siren spending time together, of him holding you close protectively, of him swearing his eternal love and kissing you. All of a sudden, you felt warm all over as you gazed deep into Sunday´s eyes and you knew that he was the one that was meant for you.
Slowly, one step at a time, you walked closer to the edge of the boat again, where Sunday was happily holding out his hands for you to take, eagerly grasping at air as if to usher you even closer.
And you were all too eager to follow his demands as a sugary sweet melody droned on and on in your ears, overwhelming you with feelings of everlasting love and devotion.
"That´s it, darling. Come closer. It´s only a few more steps.", he urged you on, almost desperately as you almost came into touching range. It was only a few more moments until he could finally have you in his arms. And once he did, he would never allow you to leave him again. Not that you would be able to underwater.
Voices were picking up in the background, quickly getting closer and Sunday realized that your crew must have picked up on what was happening.
"Come here quickly, darling!", he shouted, his voice growing more urgent and desperate the closer the booming voices got.
And you did as he said, quickening your steps towards him with a lovesick smile on your face.
"I´m almost there, my love", you said and Sunday´s heart almost burst at the sweet tone you took with him. He knew you were currently under the influence of his siren song but he strongly wanted to believe that the love you felt for him was real. Why else would you too be looking at him so full of yearning?
"Someone, quick! Grab on to them! That siren is trying to lead them to their death!", a gruff voice yells from the back with several more footsteps scrambling quickly behind. They were advancing on you fast and Sunday knew he was almost out of time as one quickly ran up to you.
"No, no, no! Don´t touch them! They´re mine! Don´t ruin this for me!", he yelled out in anger, his eyes a furious storm as they glared at the person trying to get a hold of you. He couldn´t fail so close to the end. How dare they accuse him of trying to harm you?!
"Please, you need to come to your senses!", the sailors try to reason with you but it´s almost like you can´t even register what they say.
" I need to meet with my love, he´s waiting for me.", you say, still smiling as you step to the very edge of the boat, looking down at a Sunday growing more and more manic by the second.
"Jump into my arms, darling! Accept my love and be mine forever!", the siren calls out to you as a crew member grabs into your arms, trying to pull you back.
"Don´t listen to him! Please, don´t do as he says!"
You struggle violently against the hold, kicking and screaming, demanding to be let go.
"No, you can´t separate me from my love, let me go! I need to be by his side!", you scream and with an especially harsh kick, the sailor lets go of you for a moment, leaving you with enough time to take the final step and jump right into your demise.
Sunday gently catches you in his arms, a lovesick smile on his face as he finally gets to hold you like he wanted to. You´re finally all his and there´s nothing that can be done about it anymore.
"I´m so happy you chose me, darling. We´re going to be so happy together. I´ll take such good care of you. No one else is ever going to touch you again.", he whispers into your ear and you can´t help but giggle joyfully at the prospect, your mind singing with affection, drowning out the growing panic within you.
But what is there to be afraid of? You´re finally united with the love of your life and nothing will ever separate you again.
Sunday holds you firmly as he quickly swims away from the boat, leaving your panicked crewmates behind.
Now that he finally has you, he will make sure that you´ll grow to love him even without his song. He knows that deep down, you love him just as much as he does you, you´ll just need a little bit of time to adjust to your new life underwater. He knows of a very beautiful underwater cave that he can keep you in until you grow more accustomed to your new life with him. Down there, you´ll never be able to escape his grasp again.
You will be his forever, for that is the consequence of putting him under a spell like you has.
And then he takes you with him to the very depths of the sea, never to be seen again.
#sunday x reader#yandere sunday x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#yandere honkai star rail#yandere honkai star rail x reader#hsr sunday#gn reader#yandere#cw yandere#yandere x reader#cw manipulation#cw hypnosis
708 notes
·
View notes
Text
did you miss me?
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: in which you're only going to stay for 'a little longer' (no but seriously this time)
warnings: satoru is still bullying megumi, a bit of angst (nonserious) and fluff (duh)
last part | next part
*
year one.
“did you tell megumi that the monsters wouldn’t want to hide under his bed?”
your head hurts a bit, as the light hits your eyes. you squint to where satoru is sitting on the couch, his hands behind his head, feet propped on the coffee table.
just the very image of him makes you want to roll your eyes (and climb on top of him).
satoru opens an eye, peeking at you. his smile is pompous, and his face is ludicrous. “why would they want to hide under the bed when the closet is right there?" he asks, with an obvious superiority complex. "seriously, spacial awareness.”
you try to stay mad at him--and all of the ridiculous things he says--but his voice almost always makes you want to laugh. it's a secret form of serotonin.
you walk over to him, kicking his feet from the coffee table so you can move past them.
“that’s not what that means,” you tell him, sitting down. “and don’t tell megumi that monsters are hiding in the house. he’s already wary enough.”
his eyes are wide as his face turns toward you. “they’re there.”
“oh, really, mr. honored one? you’ve been too busy to take care of them?”
“why does it have to be me? i’m the honored one, my talents should be used on something other than bedtime monsters. i’ll leave those to you.”
“this isn’t my house, dipshit.”
“it could be,” satoru smiles cheekily at you.
you roll your eyes and sigh into the couch, leaning even further against the pillow. mock satoru all you want, but you will admit that he has good taste.
his house is so much comfier than yours. it lives in an era of relaxation, which isn't that surprising when you consider everything that satoru is. he also probably had one of his servants (assistant supervisors) decorate it.
“didn’t you tell me not to swear?” he nudges you with his foot.
you hum.
“oh, but you can?”
“when you reach a certain age, swearing is a natural privilege you get. sorry, satoru," you smile very innocently at him.
and then you wait for the furrowing of his brows, which happens almost immediately.
“i’m older than you," he claims.
“mental age.”
he scoffs and moves his foot off of you. his eyes close once more, blocking you from a world of seafoam and skies, and he leans back with you. his face is a foot away, and if you concentrate hard enough, you might be able to feel his breath as it fills the room.
but you've never been that great at concentrating when satoru is this close to you.
and you don't live in a world of foolish ideations.
satoru hums, the back of his throat making it seem like a groggy sound. “are they asleep?"
you lip twitches at the memory of saying goodnight.“tsumiki wasn’t even awake when i went to tuck her in," you answer, laughing a bit. and then you glare at satoru, once again. "and megumi probably won't be able to sleep after you scared him.”
satoru's eyes open again, and his relaxed, easygoing smile turns a bit malicious. “i just said that under the bed is a terrible hiding spot.”
“and this topic of conversation came up naturally?”
“i was just wishing him goodnight!" his entire body turns towards you as he pleads his case. "all i said was that the monsters wouldn’t be able to get him if he went to sleep, so he would fall asleep faster.”
you groan, hands flying up in exasperation. “satoru. he knows monsters are real.”
“i’m preparing him.”
“you’re lying.”
“pfft, megumi isn’t scared," he waves you off, hands streaking through his hair, "i showed him a fly head the other day, and the kid didn’t even blink.”
you sit up. “why was there a fly head in the house?”
“uhh… it got stuck? in my hair?”
you blink at him. “things don’t get stuck in your hair, satoru.”
he scoffs, poking your forehead to get you to sit back again. “you think my infinity considers fly heads a threat? please. we might as well eat them.”
“ugh,” your mouth turns in distaste, and you smack his hand away. “don’t even. and i know that's not true! earlier when megumi tried to hit you it was up!”
satoru raises his brows. “um, yeah.”
you give him a blank stare. “you think megumi is more of a threat than a fly head?”
“have you met that kid?”
you look at satoru with a scowl and then remember the topic at hand “no, hey, stop distracting me. don’t tell megumi about monsters before he goes to bed!”
“i said they wouldn’t get him," he rolls his eyes at you. like you're not the one who had to open the closet door to show megumi there was nothing there.
“don’t say anything at all," you tell him. "you’re banned from speaking to either of them.”
satoru smirks at you. “you want me to ignore them when you’re not here?”
“i want you to not try to scare megumi all of the time," you pinch his thigh and lean away from him, irritated and somehow entertained.
satoru's hand rubs at the wound. “i’m just testing the boundaries.”
you stare at him.
“and, i mean, obviously he doesn’t need to be worried," he points to himself. "he knows who i am.”
“who you are?”
his cheeks are a bit flushed, you notice, as he smiles adoringly at you. “you haven’t heard of satoru gojo?”
“yesterday you jumped when there was a spider in the sink.”
“i was caught off guard!” his head rolls to the side, fed up with you.
“and then you begged me to get it out," you add.
“it was a test.”
you roll your eyes but give up. there's no winning with satoru, and you don't feel like bothering him about megumi or the things he tells him. it's probably a good thing that he enjoys messing with the little boy so much.
and, anyway, you don't feel like watching his limbs fail or his smile tease anymore. it's very late, and you're very tired.
so you lay back on the unnaturally comfortable couch, telling yourself that you'll only stay for ten more minutes until you go home.
“hey,” satoru says after the moment passes.
“hmm?”
"c'mere."
you open your eyes. satoru's arms are out, strong as ever, and he's got his head tilted in invitation.
(you almost jump to his side, like a dog waiting at the door).
but you frown. "what? no."
"c'mon, we've cuddled before."
"when there wasn't any room for all of us on the couch in shoko's room without me sitting on your lap," you contradict, trying to subtly move away.
it doesn't work. satoru's hand grabs onto yours. and then it moves, cradling around your leg like a threat. he could pull you to him in one simple motion.
"don't be dramatic. when was the last time you hugged me?"
"literally never."
"well then, we're long overdue."
you try to pry his hand off of your thigh to no avail. "hug that pillow or something."
"i just want to lay here for a bit," he says, "and you look cold."
"i'm not cold," your hand goes to his wrist instead, pulling backward. he doesn't budge.
stupid training and stupid boys with their ridiculous body strength.
and stupid satoru for even trying to suggest this.
"six eyes, remember?" satoru murmurs, teasing, gesturing with his empty hand to his head.
"i know that's not how that works."
"but do you?"
and, finally, as you always knew he would, satoru pulls you towards him with his grip around your leg, and you're suddenly atoms away from him.
you meet his eyes, and this time you can actually feel the air from his breath.
"okay," he whispers, simply. "put your arm here," he moves your arm to lay across his torso, "and wrap your legs around mine," he moves his legs instead of yours, trapping you between his thighs, "and your head," he pulls you in by your neck, "goes here."
and suddenly you're laying on his chest, his arm around your waist, laying languidly with satoru gojo.
and he's honestly pretty comfortable. he must've learned it from the couch.
"this is stupid."
"you're not even trying to get away."
"like you'd let me," you whisper, shaking your head against him.
but he's right. you don't try to move. not even a little.
and sure, it's partly because you know that satoru won't let you--for whatever idiotic reason of his--and partly because you don't really want to. not that you'll ever acknowledge that.
so you listen to his heart instead, and you feel, for just a moment, like it beats differently than everyone else's. maybe faster, maybe stronger.
but that thought passes as quickly as it comes.
satoru is just human like this. with his arms around you.
and he proves it when a couple of seconds later, he whispers, “can i ask you something?”
you open your eyes and turn your head up toward him--only seeing his jaw and the tip of his nose--and wait.
satoru must be smiling, because he always is, but there's something unnatural about his face from this angle. kind of like this cuddling position.
“did you miss me?”
you frown. “what?”
“when i was gone," his fingers tap against your stomach. "we didn’t see each other for a while.”
“what?” you repeat, dumbly.
he pouts. “you didn’t notice?”
you swallow, looking back down, to his chest, or the tiny piece of lint stuck to his shirt, or the air, or anything else. "why are you asking?"
you try to leave the pleading out of the words. it's not like satoru is intentionally ruining this moment by asking. it's not like he's ever meant to hurt you. and it's not like you would tell him if he did.
you just... hadn't realized that he'd even noticed. that he thought of time apart as if it was something, its own thing, just like you.
"i'm curious," he shrugs, and his arm wraps a little bit tighter around you.
your mouth is a bit dry. "you're curious about what i thought during the six months you ghosted me?"
"what?" satoru looks down at you, but you don't move. "i didn't ghost you."
"i think not returning my calls or coming home ever counts as ghosting, satoru. i'm pretty sure that's like the exact definition."
you might be joking. you're trying to do what he always does--deflect or make a joke out of it all. but you're less practiced. but you feel so much more.
"...you called?"
"seriously?"
"i--okay, so i was a bit, eh, distracted. i was doing a lot more missions than i'm doing now. i had to threaten the higher-ups just to get a break."
you hum against him, though there's that emptiness in your chest. the reminiscence of several months alone.
but you're used to that feeling by now. it's an old friend.
so you just sigh. "yeah, i was working a lot too. don't worry about it, i'm not mad, or anything."
"you're not?"
"no. i mean, you graduated. it's not like i expected you to show up to my room in the middle of the night or meet me for breakfast anymore. i get it."
there's a pause where you don't say that you actually did expect him to do all of that. that you'd never thought things could change so significantly in such a short amount of time.
and satoru breathes. "yeah," he whispers, his breath warm on your head.
and you're both lying. you can feel it, in the way he shifts, the way he says it.
the way it feels to just say the words to him. to be here like this and try not to care about him--about where he was and what he was doing all of that time, without you.
but you're tired, and satoru doesn't like to talk about these things.
in a more rational mindset, you might wonder why he started the conversation in the first place.
so you just lay there, feeling it as he swallows, hearing it as the blood pumps through his veins.
and when satoru finally asks, "you missed me, though, right?"
you only answer with a hum.
and fall right to sleep.
*
megumi is staring at the drool on your face. he hasn't ever seen you sleeping, and he should probably be thankful for that. your hair is messed up and you look a lot more childish than he's used to.
he's seen satoru asleep before--when he shakes him awake in the morning to make breakfast--but not like this. megumi didn't think the man could grin any wider, but apparently, it's possible.
tsumiki is trailing after him, her feet quiet against the floor, just a minute behind. they usually wake up at the same time.
"hi," she greets him as he looks on. "are they asleep?"
"yeah."
unlike megumi, tsumiki smiles at the sight of you curled into satoru's chest, hands wrapped around his waist, spit pooling on his shirt.
"should we wake them up?" megumi asks his sister, a bit bothered by the view. he'd just wanted a glass of water.
"no," tsumiki grabs his hand, pulling him away. "let them sleep. c'mon, i'll get the cereal."
and megumi takes one more look--at the two people now responsible for his wellbeing--before he walks away.
and, fine. it's a little cute.
*
next part
#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru gojo fluff#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo saturo#jjk satoru#gojou satoru x reader#satorugojo#jujutsu satoru#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo fluff
867 notes
·
View notes
Note
Your Headcannons and fics are amazing, I love reading them so much. I’m wondering if you could do a HC of them walking in on YOU Naked for Zoro, Law, Ace, Luffy, and Kid? Thx!
YES let's gooo! i only did some of these characters, i hope that's okay! might do a pt. 2 in the future :)
them walking in on you naked (nsfw)
ft. luffy, zoro, law
masterlist
cw: suggestive content, luffy is oblivious and weird, zoro is awkward, law is also awkward
tagging: @willowbelle @eelnoise @fanaticsnail @indydonuts @sanjisprincesswifey
luffy
when luffy catches you in the bathroom, not quite fully dressed, he doesn't really see what the big deal is; in fact, he treats it just as if he had walked in on usopp or zoro, and acts accordingly.
this includes stretching his arms out to playfully tweak your nipple.
"luffy, what's wrong with you!" you squeal, covering up your chest with your towel defensively as he laughs.
"usopp always complains when i do it to him too!" he giggles, a wide grin on his face as he stares at you with his signature wide-eyed stare.
"well you can't do that to girls!" you snap, crossing your arms as you glare at him.
"how come? did it hurt or something?" he asks curiously, tilting his head and letting his head stretch just enough for the angle to become slightly unnerving.
face flushed, you begin to stammer. "no! it's just—it's sensitive, okay?" you admit, averting your eyes from his.
luffy erupts into laughter once more, turning into a snickering mess as he responds to your confession. "that kinda thing really turns you on? you're nuts y'know that?" he says, amused as his arms stretch out once more and he tries to repeat the action, this time with the intention of riling you up.
after all, he might as well get dirty before his shower rather than after.
zoro
zoro knows he shouldn't stare when he walks into the girl's quarters to come grab you for a sparring session, but he just can't help himself; he feels filthy, like that stupid moron cook as his eyes trace along your curves, but he's now been there too long that calling attention to himself or turning and leaving would both somehow make things more awkward.
the squeak you let out when you pull your shirt over your head, turn around, and realize zoro is in the room with you is downright adorable, both of your faces burning bright red with embarrassment. trying to diffuse the situation, the swordsman decides the best way forward was to change the subject and hope that the weirdness would melt away gradually. "hurry up. we're losing daylight." he spits out roughly, cringing at the way his voice cracks a bit as he speaks. silently agreeing to leave this unaddressed, you nod and follow him to the observation tower, color still deeply embedded in your cheeks.
for the first time in a while, you get the upper hand when training with him; you don't win, but you land a bunch of blows that he was incapable of defending himself from, his mind still stuck on the soft, plump flesh of your ass and the curve of your back.
law
he really should have knocked.
law should have known better than to just walk into your room, intending on asking if you were ready to head out to the local bar with the rest of the crew; admittedly, with you and ikkaku being the only girls on the ship, he sometimes forgets to give small little things like that extra thought and consideration. if it was ikkaku, he could've handled a yelp of surprise followed by her making fun of him for the next week or so, but with you he's reeling, apologizing awkwardly as he turns around and waits for you to pull your dress over your head.
"sorry about that, captain. i should've yelled out that i was getting changed. i heard the doorknob and froze up." you say sheepishly, unable to make eye contact with him.
he's equally unable to meet your gaze, the image of your bare chest burned into both his retinas and the back of his mind. "don't worry about it; it was my fault. i was just coming to get you, we're all heading out for the night." he says, swallowing hard as your lips ease into a soft smile.
"i'm ready! do i look alright?" you ask, smoothing out your sundress as you take one last look at the state of your hair. law gives you a terse nod and motions for you to grab your purse and follow him, which you do without complaint.
he's wholly unable to express it verbally, but the thinks you look gorgeous with and without the dress.
#one piece x reader#law x reader#zoro x reader#luffy x reader#trafalgar law x reader#monkey d luffy x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#luffy x you#law x you#zoro x you#law x y/n#luffy x y/n#zoro x y/n#one piece fanfiction#one piece scenario#one piece headcanons#one piece smut
924 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi! I’d love to see johnnie fluff w/ reader just cuddling him and admiring his tattoos?? please and thank you 🙏 🖤
Coloring Book
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ
Summary: In which you treat Johnnie and his tattoos like your own personal coloring book<3
Pairing: Johnnie x gender neutral reader (i don't think there's any fem terms in here, but please let me know if i'm mistaken!)
Warnings: None!
Word Count: 684
A/N: WHEN will i have my own personal johnnie guilbert??
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ
“It’s so wet out,” You groaned, peeking through the blinds of your and Johnnie’s living room. “I’m bored.” You huffed, flopping on the couch beside your boyfriend dramatically.
“You’re like a puppy.” Johnnie mumbled, not taking his eyes off his phone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, playfully raising your eyebrow.
“You can’t stay still.”
“I wanna do something.” You pouted.
You couldn’t stand not having anything to do. Whereas Johnnie was perfectly content to hang out inside all day and engage in his hobbies, you preferred to be out and about, seeking out new experiences. In a rare turn of events, Johnnie had no filming and no editing to get done this weekend, and you didn’t have to work. Unfortunately though, Los Angeles had decided to torment you with a downpour of rain and chilly wind.
“C’mere,” Johnnie put his phone down and opened his arms for you to cuddle. “I love you.” he hummed once you were in his arms, kissing your head.
You snuggled into his chest, whispering back soft words of love. You figured that you might as well try to nap while Johnnie was holding you; maybe it would help pass the time. As you closed your eyes and tried to rest, images of things to do while stuck in the house floated through your mind until you suddenly shot up.
“Be right back.” You giggled, hopping off his lap and padding towards your office.
Johnnie shook his head with a soft laugh, wondering what in the world you were up to. You quickly returned, brandishing a large pack of Crayola markers. Your boyfriend looked at you curiously, seeing as how you weren’t holding any paper.
“Can I color in your tattoos?” You asked, straddling Johnnie’s lap and looking up at him with big puppy eyes.
“So that’s what you wanted to do?” Johnnie chuckled, squeezing your hips with a smile. “Sure baby, why not.” he told you, planting a soft kiss on your lips.
You let out an excited squeal as Johnnie pulled his shirt off. Your boyfriend was literally one big coloring book and your mind raced with possibilities of what you could do. You poked your tongue out in concentration as you selected a pink marker, beginning to decorate his ‘I’m not perfect’ tattoo with flowers and vines designs. Johnnie smiled as the marker glided across his skin, but that wasn’t what he was focusing on. Instead, he was admiring your beautiful face that was etched with concentration as you focused on making your lines neat.
You two stayed like that for quite a while. The rain pattering on the roof and the feeling of you coloring on his skin and leaving soft kisses on him was lulling Johnnie to sleep. Every now and then, you would whisper out how much you admired a certain tattoo. Being a big fan of both The Cure and of nature, your favorites were his Robert Smith tattoo and his tree tattoos. You adored all of Johnnie’s tattoos, though. They made him unique, telling you the story of his life without words. Not only that, but they also offered you quite a bit of entertainment on days like today.
“All done!” You exclaimed about an hour later.
Johnnie was pulled out of his sleepy trance, a smile on his face. “Am I allowed to look?”
You nodded, dragging him to the bathroom and flicking on the light. Your boyfriend stood in front of the mirror, admiring the beautiful colors you had added to his tattoos. Johnnie wasn’t a big fan of tattoos with color, but you had made them beautiful.
“I love it, baby.” he giggled, pecking your lips.
I love you,” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Thank you for being a wonderful coloring book.”
Johnnie smiled, picking you up and kissing you again. He loved you with all his heart, and that was definitely shown by the way he paraded around the house shirtless for the rest of the day, showing off the color you had added both to his skin and to his life.
#johnnie guilbert#johnnie guilbert fanfic#johnnie guilbert fic#johnnie guilbert fanfiction#johnnie guilbert smut#johnnie and jake#jake webber#jake webber fanfic#jake webber smut#jake webber imagine#jake webber x reader#jake and johnnie#tara yummy#youtubers#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#tattoo au
597 notes
·
View notes
Note
I feel like I’m really bad at prompts so I’m just gonna go with my “do’s” from costar today…
Stomping. Instant coffee. Cold* shower.
*“Cold” autocorrected to “come” and I almost didn’t fix it, soooo…do with that what you will.
OH MY LOVE.
hoping my slutty choices for this prompt find you well.
18+, no minors, acts of sex, yay.
**peep my little hints at 90s tv and movies—there are 4 🖤
<1k
send me a prompt from this post ! (writers block is killing me !)
Cold beads of water trickle like ice down your body. Making your already pert nipples stand at attention and harden in an instant.
Cursing the boy you’ve been best friends with since diapers, you turn the faucet off in a quickened haste— exiting the tub in an anything but graceful fashion, stubbing your toes on the way out.
“Eddie!” your shrill voice is clouded by the throbbing in your foot and the chatter in your teeth. “Did you pay the water bill?”
One job, the menace had one job— one duty for the small shared apartment, and it was to pay the water bill each month.
Wrapping yourself in a threadbare towel that had once been a swim towel for an uppity family— you stomp down to his bedroom, kicking open the door with enough rage to channel Jackie Chan.
You should have knocked. Fuck, why didn’t you knock?
Eddie was naked.
Pale-moon colored ass on display.
Thigh muscles rippled beneath dark patchwork tattoos, arms that never looked muscly suddenly flexed tight. A veiny hand wrapped tight around a black haired pony tail. Hips, his hips were— fucking, thrusting, pounding.
His mouth was slack, slick like an oil painting, head back and eyes rolled to squinted ivory surrounded with a colossal woodland of thick lashes.
Sweat coated his brow, dribbling down until it collected on his cupids bow, a salty pooled tease. His rougey lips were spit coated, sheer— glossy— begging for your tongue to taste them.
Your heart thumped loudly, heat in your core on its own tempo, hot and deep.
And then you hear it.
A whimper. Softer than silk, low, whiny, almost sweetly pathetic in its delivery from a deep space in his throat.
Your cheeks warm, cunt heated like a fire, sirens going off for extreme temperatures.
Oh—fuck.
His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze for a second. The clouded look of a man being sucked dry took over his normal instant coffee colored irises. Glaucoma esque beauty in the dark swirls, and you wet your lips at the sight of him— at Eddie Munson— resident freak of Hawkins and your best friend.
Jesus.
Both your lips explicitly mutter words with eyes wild doe like. His going from lazy pleasure to shock. Yours were covered with your palm, the other reaching, fumbling for the door knob.
Apologizing profusely you suddenly stammer around clearing your throat and trying to leave ASAP.
The towel around your middle, the only thing keeping you decent, glides to the ground—falling gently like that fucking feather in opening scenes of Forest Gump. Practically in slow motion but still too quick for your blind shut eyes to catch it.
Fuck.
Pulling with both hands on the knob your heart races to shut the door, not registering that the towel is wedged tight between the frame, making it impossible to shut.
Shit shitshitshitshitSHIT
With a last feeble attempt of yanking your arms, the latch clicks into place and you beeline to your room with a slam of your door so hard it ricocheted off the walls, making a framed picture of you and Eddie at a Metallica concert fall to the ground, shattering the glass.
What the fuck? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!
Your heart boomed in your ears, back stuck to the door like you were holding it up. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie naked, pretty sure your entire graduating class saw him naked on more than one occasion. But this?! This was so mouthwatering better than any other time.
Goosebumps spread across your skin at the burned image of Eddie getting head on your retinas. The two of you had never crossed those lines. Each dating, fucking around it never once crossed your mind what he would be like in the sack, or what his sack would be like in your mouth.
You’re pleased when you don’t cringe at the dirty thoughts of him— it felt like second nature, like eve seeing adam —lol okay maybe not, but still! What your mind was conjuring up was biblical.
A giggle surpasses your lips and you wipe a line of drool from the corner of your mouth. Nerves finally settling as your realization hits— who was it?
It wasn’t Sarah, you hadn’t seen her since last fall. Eddie had said she started dating Steve—his comic book “arch nemesis” but in reality another bestie, who spent most of his time wallowing on your couch about Nancy than he did actually going on dates.
Mary ended up being a virgin—preacher’s daughter, one of seven. He stopped seeing Clarissa after she wouldn’t stop over explaining every single minute detail of her day. Could it be the girl with the green leather jacket? Darla? Daria?
The horny ache in your belly soured like curdled milk.
How dare her (whoever she was!) The thought of someone other than you pulling those noises from Eddie suddenly set you on edge. Rage burned through your veins like lightning. Spidering and leeching to your skin.
The pajamas you had taken off before your shower lay in a heap on your floor and you quickly yanked them on. Muttering to yourself about every vile thing you could imagine about whoever the lucky girl was who currently had a mouthful of your roommate.
You needed to leave. The clouds of embarrassment eased overhead, colliding with the lightning making a storm brew deep beneath your surface and you be damned if you were going to let the rain fall whilst still in this apartment.
Keys in your palm you throw open your bedroom door, ready to bolt through your apartment and down to your car— destination unknown.
You nearly knock him over in your attempt to run. But you’re stopped cold by sweaty bangs, a heaving chest, and the same stupid pair of boxers that had small tears along the elastic from years of wear.
“Sweetheart…” he coaxed, voice so sugary and laced with tiny shreds of venom it could ice a wedding cake— then strike you dead.
You had seen plenty of Eddie today, your body screamed for you to leave, but your feet were stuck in the icing, waiting for the bomb to drop.
Warmth from your cheeks from your shame could keep a trailer with broken windows warm in a blizzard—your stomach flipped— dropped like lead as his next words hit like a bullet.
“We need to talk.”
part two
steve tied up
#eddie munson#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie drabble#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson blurb#eddie blurb#eddie munson smut blurb#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst
532 notes
·
View notes
Note
HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit
- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!
Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day
you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝
Yandere playboy x reader
Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior
💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?
💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house
💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times
"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"
💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..
💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can
💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity
💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.
"my love..? Is that you!?"
"..who?"
💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..
💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.
💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them
"...slut."
💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..
💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.
💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register
"thank you, please come again-"
💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love
"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."
💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.
#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#queenie writes#queenie ocs#ocs#yandere#yandere male#yandere male x reader#male yandere#male yandere x reader#Yandere oc x reader#Oc x reader#Oc#Kameron the playboy#yandere headcanons
796 notes
·
View notes
Text
CAT-EYES
PAIRING: Runaway Groom!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Thief!Reader
SYNOPSIS: What begins as a normal day of stalking the back road for wealthy carriages, turns into a walking nightmare spanning three days. Who is this finely-dressed man stumbling about your woods?
WORDCOUNT: 13.3k
WARNINGS: Blood, injury, light gore, pining, intense banter, sarcasm, insults, kind of enemies-to-lovers but eh, angst, protective!John, light hurt/comfort, bittersweet?, etc.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
You were sitting in the branches again.
Lightly swinging your legs from over the sides, the rough bark at your spine shifted as you let out a tiny sigh into the chilled air. In your ears, you’re hearing the bugs fly past, and the large hart about fifteen feet away pushing through the undergrowth—built body just barely there as the puff of his hot breath wafts upwards.
Twirling the arrow between your fingers, your bow sitting carefully in your lap, you close your eyes and listen.
The years had come and gone and yet you remained here in this small corner of nowhere—resting in this old gnarled oak tree with its branches and leaves giving protection from the elements when nothing else would. Sure, you had a small home to call your own in these very woods, but your windows didn’t give a view of the back road to the East. Barely anyone took it now, and you think you’re partially to blame for it, but, well, perhaps those pesky nobles shouldn’t have been too prone to flashing their coin.
So it was their fault, and on your failing honor, the money always went to a good cause anyway. Who wouldn’t want a poor woman to eat?
But, no. There are rules that every thief follows, no matter how unsavory. You never killed anyone; you never harmed them, either. Just the money—a brandished dagger or an arrow to the side of a carriage wouldn’t hurt anything besides pride, and many of those you stole from had enough to last them multiple lifetimes.
“Greedy fellows,” you sigh under your breath before you stretch like a cat, arching your spine and spreading your arms high above your head. The few rays of sun you get through the leaves dance across your face, but still, the thick layer of cold air is present all around.
Shuffling a bit in your shoulder-wrapping, you yawn and fall back once more—licking your lips and thinking of warm stew and fresh bread from the inn down in the town. Shivering, your fingers move to play with your bow, tapping along the bend of wood as the trees are brushed by a soft breeze. The hart below huffs louder still—hooves crushing across the fallen twigs, and you think it’s a bit strange the thing is still here despite your scent clearly in the air, but your eyes are more focused on the road than an animal.
Until it speaks.
“Hells fuckin’ bells, this damn get-up is going to be the death of me,” the words are barked out quickly—laced with heated anger as a branch is slapped by heavy hands.
Startling, your head snaps below you rapidly; heart jerking inside of your chest so suddenly that you nearly send yourself off the side of your perch. Scrambling for your bow to make sure it doesn’t clatter to the dirt of the Earth, you force down a loud gasp at what you see.
“Bastard things,” meets your ears as you stare open-eyed at a bulky man as he stumbles out into the small clearing below your tree, looking behind him as he pants. Your jaw goes slack at the extravagant apparel clothing this sudden stranger—a red, black, and blue tartan thrown over his shoulder, pinned with the silver image of a great boar head, and the kilt has more than one bramble stuck into it as it swishes with his turn.
He has a sporran as well, made of dark furs with three tassels hanging, the metal also silver, as your experienced eyes can tell as they narrow in confusion.
“What in the hell…” You breathe quietly, leaning just a bit more over the edge of your branch slowly.
There were black belts and buckles, rich shoes of leather, and your gaze slowly drags to the hanging body of a sword strapped to his waist, swinging as the man rests his feet and looks down at himself with a deep annoyance. There wasn’t an inch of him not coated in dirt, mud, or sweat—all that deer-ish panting and huffing escaping his mouth in condensed clouds.
“Fuckin’,” he stops himself from continuing the curse, holding up his hands as he glares down at his form. “Jesus, this’ll never come out at this rate.”
This comment made your lips twitch, eyebrow-raising as your sharp vision filtered from one detail to the next—learning the brown shade of his cut hair and the strange way it’s kept long down the center, and short along the sides. He had a strong build to him, and the boar broach, while it may be something to distinguish a family line as he seemed wealthy, perfectly reflected the individual.
He was a being of muscle and stubborn willpower. All tusk and bristled fur.
Your eyes linger a bit longer on the silver of that broach—the thing that glints in the light alluringly. You hum under your breath, tilting your head softly. Yet, your impression was made, and your wits are about you as sharply as they always had been.
This was a formal outfit, for a formal occasion. So, why was this important man trampling through the woods where you were set to ambush the next unassuming noble on the road? Why was he looking over his shoulder so tense-like? Your curiosity had piqued the second you’d figured out the rabid crunching from the bushes wasn’t a deer but instead, a wealthy-looking man who wasn’t, you admitted, too hard on the eyes.
Blinking, you smile, fingers twitching over your bow as the stranger brushes his vest rapidly, growling down at the large mud stains.
“Lost, then?” Your voice makes him startle, skull whipping forward to the tree trunk until you whistle and lean forward; moving your bow to push away the cover of leaves. “Up here, now,” blue eyes immediately lock with yours and you hum, chuckling, at the moment of shock that shines through. “Poor bastard, look at you and all that mud. You’ve been through hell, mate, eh? By the state of you, I’d say you fought a bear and found yourself at the end of an unfortunate outcome.”
Your words are smooth—nearly sly just as they always are. There’s intent leaking out of every one of them until all that remains is a layered purpose, like that of a butcher peeling away flesh from a hide. You have to process that skin: lay it to a rack to let it dry before it can be stretched to the desired firmness, and, finally, softened.
You took as much pleasure in the mental hunt as you did the payoff. Where there’s money to be earned, there’s also knowledge—you were a thief of all.
The man watches you with wide eyes, those blues glinting as they blink, glancing around rapidly to check for any others like you that may be hiding. He steps back, a hand brushing his sword, and you think to yourself slowly, he’s smart.
You breathe down chilled air. Before he responds he checks to make sure it’s not an ambush—the man understands he’s out of his element here. He’s on edge.
The both of you stare at one another, before your face shifts, brow-raising up on your forehead.
“What, did I startle you?” Legs looping to hang off the same side, your body feels lighter than a feather as you send yourself over the edge, knees taking the brunt of the force as your head catches up to your stomach—grunting as you hold your bow heavily in one hand. The jostle moves the limbs of your arrows, kept in a quiver at the small of your back.
Standing fully, you huff and set an easy smile to your lips, all teeth.
“My apologies, Lord.” Your free hand finds your heart, and you bend your spine forward. “I couldn’t help but see you down here below my tree.”
“Best to stay where you are,” the stranger grunts, only giving you enough of a glance to deem you unthreatening, apparently. Your form straightened. He watches you warily on the next go-around, attention always drifting to every snap of a twig off into the trees or the breeze shifting the leaves. “No need to apologize,” is the hurried reply, caught on a rough accent and a hissed gravel huff. “I’ll be on my way once I get my bearings. I don’t have time for conversation—and you should find your way home before long.” Eyes dart. “It isn’t good to be out today...or tonight, I’d say.”
If possible, your intrigue gains strength like a saint in Heaven.
The man’s square face raves in a clench of his jaw, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Are you sure you’re not lost, Lord?” You continue, undeterred, and shift your bow to sling it over your shoulder. “I live in these woods, I’d have no trouble directing you to the road. It isn’t far.”
“It’s John,” he grunts, glancing over, out of sorts. He was tired—his limbs were shaking with exertion even if he didn’t realize it yet. You think that perhaps if he were more focused, he’d ask why a woman had just landed in front of him from the branch of an Oak; dressed in trousers and a tunic, with just a woolen wrap to keep out the chill. Dirt over her face and a cunning edge to her words. Or, maybe he did know, you wondered, and simply didn’t care at the moment.
“Just call me Johnny. And,” he shakes his head firmly. “No. Go home to your husband, Bonnie, this doesn’t involve you.” He blinks, staring with a line across his forehead, stubble pulling along his cheeks. “I know this place—there’s a road just to the…” he turns his head to the direction of your trail, blinking at the coverage of thick foliage. “Fuck,” the dark-haired stranger growls, blues sparking up in a feral display of desperate weight.
You can only see the winding bends if you have a vantage point—that was why you chose your tree in the first place. Your smile grows.
“It’s that way, Lord,” you breathe, pointing in the opposite direction of the road, back to the small path of brambles and bushes that leads closer to your home instead. “We pass my property on the way, I can offer you some drink for your troubles.” A chuckle wafts the air. “You look like you need it.”
There’s a large moment of hesitation, in which you begin to wonder if this prize might be too big to catch, but, then, as there’s a flash of something over John’s face, he grits his teeth and sighs.
“Aye, fine,” he nods, looking to the side as he lowers his tense shoulders and clears his throat. You’re offered a sincere expression that borders on strained guilt. “Thank you, Dearie. I…” John pauses, frowning. “I hope I didn’t scare you too much when I burst through the trees like that—I’m in a bit of a rush if you can’t tell. I need to make for the shore.”
“My,” you huff, shifting your body and motioning him to follow—he does, setting his feet carefully ahead of him with experienced movements; keeping a respectable distance away. Johnny wasn’t new to the woods, then. He knew where to place his feet, at the very least. “The shore? That sounds exciting.” You conclude, hiding your creased brows as you stare forward. “Making for the South? I’ve heard handfuls are leaving for the weather.”
Looking over your shoulder, you make sure he keeps on your trail as you push through the bushes. “More agreeable, they say. Less rain.”
John chuckles, though he’s still visibly aware of everything around him. He spares you a look, a small smirk taking over his slightly chapped lips. “Keep talkin’ like that, and I just might.”
You’re surprised by the genuine laugh that fights in the back of your throat. Humming under your breath, you shrug it off as simply as a dog does a fly. It was painfully obvious neither of you trusted the other.
John’s eyes were stuck on the back of your head, and yours were eager to slide back to his form on the off-chance you had to use the dagger strapped to the meat of your thigh, carefully hidden under your trousers and accessible via a cut in your pocket. He was all muscle, and already you know that any attack coming to you would be unwise to try and retaliate—slash and retreat was a much better escape plan.
You could outrun him.
“So,” your words bleed curiosity, eyes imploring as you glance over your shoulder. “Why are you out in the woods, Johnny? In such a nice outfit as well. Is there something going on around here?”
The dark-haired man tilts his head your way, sighing long. “A wedding, actually. Horrible thing, if I have to comment on it.”
Your lips twitch.
“Oh, aye. I’d heard about it in town not two days ago—something about a marriage of advantage? Who was the unlucky pair, then?”
John clenched his jaw, hand coming up to push at the smear of dried blood on his cheek, which you’d just noticed wasn’t dirt and instead the result of a branch slap. Pale cheeks were wind-bitten. Lungs heavy. You narrow your gaze before stopping the surge of questions in your mouth.
“Some poor bastard, that’s who,” he responds slowly, mostly under his breath, before blinking. “How much further is the road, Dearie? No offense,” he grunts, staring seriously at you “but I'd rather not be here for much longer.”
The boar broach winks at you.
“Not far,” you smile coyly. “Forgive me, Lord John—”
“Just Johnny—”
“—But I do hope you’re not a fugitive.”
Blue eyes widen, sure feet faltering.
“.... Negative, Bonnie, no, I’m not running from the law. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me,” he breathes, and not once does he look away from you. You have to commend the man, he seemed an honest fellow, and those, you knew, were very rare indeed in your time. “I just need to get out of these woods. You’ll never hear from me again after I’m gone.” He takes a breath, looking past you. “You have my word.”
“Is it worth believing?” You push, smirking. “There’s few dressed like you that I can say it is.”
John licks his lips as you both pass a fallen tree, standing more side by side than previously now that the density of bushes had dispersed. He huffs, sending you a side-eye before he seems to study your face, brows pulling jokingly.
“I don’t think my answer would make much of a difference, would it?”
You pause, enjoying this man’s company more by the second. “No, it wouldn’t.” The both of you stare, before you grin and pull your sharp gaze away, chuckling. “Follow me,” you motion a hand. “Before you fall into a mud pit and completely ruin what little is left of your outfit that’s sellable—” You fumble, faking a cough as you clear your throat and finish off with tension now in your spine, “Salvageable.”
“If I’m bein’ honest, Bonnie,” Johnny grumbles, either not noticing the mistake or simply not registering it. “I wouldn’t fuckin’ care if it got covered in horse shit.”
—
You open the door to your home, shifting out of your bow and setting it against the wall with your quiver following to rest beside it as two siblings should.
“You’re lucky,” you hum, “I just went to the well this morning—freshwater is in the basin, cups on the table.”
John’s eyes give a firm once-over, fingers fidgeting above his sword’s hilt. He nods once, moving into the doorway, and immediately goes to where you describe and grabs onto a carved cup, tilting it in his hands.
“Thank you,” he mutters sincerely, hand dipping into the collection of water. “Eh,” John puffs a laugh, “I’d imagine I would still be stumbling along if it wasn’t for you, little Lady. These woods are larger than I remember them.”
“You come from around here?” You ask, brushing down your wool wrapping as you pull at the burs in the fiber. “Don’t recall your face in the town, though I’m not there often.”
“Hm,” he takes down the water, and you watch his Adam’s Apple bob as droplets slip from his lips to drop off his chin. Once he had drunk the entire cup, he removed it and wiped at his mouth with his forearm, blue eyes peeking above it. “I…wasn’t in town usually. Not really my place—the forests outside of my property took most of my attention.” He confesses, head tilting as the strange cut of his hair flops along with his skull. “Those, I could run blind.”
“I’m sure,” you puff a laugh.
While the air was somewhat calm, there was still an underlying hesitancy: Johnny didn’t know who you were, and you didn’t know what he was running from. Both were important questions that needed to be answered. Yet, John seemed the casual type.
“Doubt me?” His eyes narrow, a smile brewing.
“I never said that,” you walk past him, also grabbing a cup before dipping it into the basin. Your finger points. “But it would be interesting to test.”
“Unfortunately,” John breathes, setting down his cup, “I’m occupied at the moment.”
“A groom would be,” you tilt your head, casually sipping at your drink. “Your wife must be fucking fuming right now.”
The room flips on itself, and the man is instantly frozen.
Johnny stares, shocked, and you see his feet instinctually ready a stance to either blot to the door, or to take up his sword. His expression is layered with secrecy.
“...What was that?”
“I said your wife must be fucking fuming,” you say louder, slipping your hand into your pocket and shrugging to make it seem meaningless—your dagger’s hilt is smooth under your flesh. “Or did you not finish the ceremony? Betrothed, then, Johnny Boy?” Your eyes glint. “Hell, the event must have been absolutely laced with wealth. Did you have wine imported? New fabrics for your wedding clothes? I’d almost be disappointed if you didn’t.”
“That’s none of your business, Dearie,” he levels, glare heavy and firm while his face is stoic. You can clearly see his body wound up like a wild dog. “I think we’re done here.”
He backs up quickly, legs taking him to the exit until you’re suddenly right behind him, and the man feels the sharp press of a blade into the back of his spine.
Your lips are at his ear, and you chuckle. “Sorry, but we’re not done until anything valuable is in my hands and not on your body.”
“If you wanted me naked,” he growls, glaring from over his shoulder, as his form is rod-straight. “You could have just asked, Little Thief.”
“I’d call it heavy persuasion,” you chuff. “Sounds better, don’t you think.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Johnny barks, teeth gnashing. “Put the knife down before this gets ugly.”
“I’m not entirely sure I want to,” your answer meets the air. “There’s enough silver and fine fabric on you to feed me for an entire winter, even when the deer move to better grounds.”
John grits his molars, his neck bent as his fingers twitch at his sides, slipping along to his sword slowly.
“Money? That’s why you’ve got a bloody blade on me? Christ, my day just keeps getting better and better.” You glare, anger moving behind your eyes.
“Some people have to work for what they want, you—” Your hand is slapped to the side as John spins, and your dagger is sent along the floor in a loud clatter; a hand finding your upper arm as you gasp, and, suddenly, there’s the chilled edge of a blade at your throat.
Wide-eyed, you gape at John as the man smirks at you, yet his orbs are infected with annoyance.
“When you draw a knife on someone, you best know how to use it.” The edge is slightly pressed deeper and your body refuses to move. “You put it at the neck, Cat-Eyes.” John frowns, glaring. “Knew there was something about you—down to the bow and arrows.”
“What,” you growl out, a low embarrassment stemming in your gut as John’s puffs of breath move along your face. Your face burns, and your fingers jerk with anger. “A woman can’t have hobbies?”
“Not when I find ‘em up trees waiting to ambush any bastard that comes by wearing silver.”
“Mate,” you sneer, eyes glimmering. “At this point, you can keep your damn silver. It’s more of a reward to watch you stumble like a fool through the woods five feet from the road.” Johnny’s face tightens, yet there’s little time to fight like children anymore when the sound of breaking branches is echoing off the windows of the house.
Both of your necks whip to the door, yours a great deal more carefully as you’re slightly nicked by the sword's edge, but the drip of blood is voided. High voices carry over the air.
“Find him!”
“His tracks lead through here—get the hounds on it!”
“Here!”
Your brow raises, smirk getting larger as you chuckle under your breath. “Better get on your way quickly, then.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Johnny snarls, all at once ripping his sword from your neck yet keeping his ruthless grip on your upper arm. He looks nervous now—his eyes jumping from one place to another, thinking. “Where’s the damn road, you minx.”
You shrug, eyes sharp. “What road, Lord?”
The strong man rages, eyes burning with a thousand suns as the sword is taken from your neck and re-sheathed in one motion—a second hand staples itself to your waist, gripping tightly. You blink, saliva swallowed down thickly at the dig of heavy fingers into flesh as your heart stutters.
“You’re going to tell me,” John levels, shifting the both of you back as the sounds of fast footsteps are echoed by the bay of dogs. “As much as I would enjoy being away from you in any capacity at all,” you smile humorously to him through his dead-tone monologue, “I need a guide out of these woods and across the land. If you won’t help willingly, I’ll just have to make do.”
You blink, confused.
“Make do?” Your body is taken up, and you shout as you’re ruthlessly flung over the man’s shoulder with a hiked toss.
Johnny’s smirk is lost to you, but his chuckle is not as he dashes to the door and slams it open, taking a quick left and looping the house—diving into the foliage as if a fish to water.
“Unhand me, you brute!” You scream, clawing and hitting at the man’s back—kicking even, as your knee speedily finds his ribcage.
“Ow!” John laughs, his grin highly amused as he turns back to look at you. The shouts from the trees get larger, but that doesn’t help you much as you’re both soon going deeper and deeper into the woods. “Jesus, you have a pair of legs, don’t you?”
“If I were marrying you,” you bark down at him, struggling with all of your might as your home disappears from view. “I’d be running instead of the other way around!”
“Well,” Johnny calls, his sword bouncing off of his hip. “It’s a good thing you’re not, then, isn’t it, you bonnie little thief? Your husband would be dead and all of his coin in your dirty pockets!”
“Stop calling me a thief!” You send a closed-fisted slap to the top of his head, and he grunts, balking to the side. “Learn how to handle a fucking lady!”
“Lady?” He breathes heavily, shoving into another bush as leaves get tangled in his hair—twigs stuck in yours as you scowl rabidly. “If you’re a lady, Bonnie, then I’ve got a beast waiting for me back at my ceremony.”
—
He stopped when the light of the sun was low, and your constant attack of his spine left an array of large, fist-shaped bruises on his skin.
“Easy,” John grunts, dropping you with a huff to a down-turned stump.
It isn’t long before you shoot back up, hands clawing for his throat. “Hells Bells!” The man ducks, boyish glint in his eyes as he darts to the side, stepping out of the way as you stumble on tingly legs.
“I’m going to skin you alive,” you yell. “Piece of utter dog shite!”
“Now that’s a bit strong,” John breathes, panting from his mad run for his single life. “Don’t you think?”
You take one step forward, and he takes two back—stuck in a game of cat and mouse. Your eyes are like tiny fires, illuminated with only anger and hatred.
“Give me one reason why I should even attempt to help you,” your screams rise above the trees, hands splayed as John puts his hands to his knees, taking down breaths as sweat dribbles down his neck into his vest. “You-you,” your tongue fumbles, “kidnapper!”
“Technically, it would be an abduction, Dearie.” You slap him across the face and see the man’s cheeks go red from the blow. Shoving your nose nearly right into his, you sneer.
“Correct me again, and it’ll be your balls I hit next.”
He swallows, blinking, before he smirks and pairs it with a chuckle as his eyes spark. “Yes, Ma’am.”
You growl as he holds up his hands, moving one to rub at the back of his neck and itch at the shaved portion of his scalp. That damned smirk—you despised it.
“Get me to the closest port,” John settles, getting to business as his expression mellows out. “And I’ll make it worth your while, I give you my word.”
“What?” You laugh, shaking your head in exasperation the longer the silence falls; realizing how serious the man is. “Oh God in Heaven, this has to be a joke.”
“Anything you ask for, you can have from me when this is over,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his mud-caked shoes. “I don’t need more than the fee to secure a spot on a good ship sailing away from here, and whatever is left I’ll give to you if you want it. You win in this situation, and I’m not trying to hide it from you.”
Your sharp eyes hone in, unwavering in its heat.
“Christ,” Johnny breathes, “I’d even give you my damn socks if that’s what it takes—I need to get out of here. Quickly.”
You stare, sneering. “Is your betrothed a damn witch or what?”
Blue eyes blink, and his words are firm as they meet air. “Are you taking up my offer or not, Cat-Eyes?”
“Of course, I’m taking the offer!” You bark ruthlessly, rolling your eyes as you kick at the dirt. Rocks and grass fly as darkness settles heavier. “I’m not a fool.”
“Well,” he sighs in relief, looking to the shadows along the ground. “I can’t say you’re that, either, but you are certainly something.”
You narrow your eyes at Johnny but don’t waste your time any longer as you turn and study what you can see.
You had grown up here—in this land. The woods knew you just as much as you knew them. Already you could pinpoint a general map of this section based on the large cracked boulder to your right, and the tiny cluster of trees across the way. You knew the way to town, and from there, the port.
“It’s a three-day walk,” you grumble, side-eyeing the man as he moves to lean against a trunk. He wouldn’t be moving through the night—you didn’t complain on that front either. “You grab at me like that again, and I’ll—”
“Let me guess,” Johnny raises a brow. “You’ll hit me in the balls.”
Your thin lips tell him all he needs to know.
Shuffling past him, you frown and pull your wrapping closer, shuffling your chin into it. No fires for warmth, you know—not with people on your trail.
“I want an explanation,” you turn and dig into him, walking closer as John looks to the side. “If I’m sticking my neck out, I want answers as well as coin.” Poking him in his chest, you force your neck to find his gaze. “Why are you running?”
Johnny sighs, licking his lips as he nods with a low, “Fine.”
You tilt your head, and John moves back to sit against the stump, moving out his hands in an honest display.
“I was told I needed to marry and produce heirs if my house was going to survive, aye?” He states, and you know the story well. “My parents are gone, and my sisters are all married, but my estate is barren of anyone besides myself and the staff. To keep the peace, I gave my word that I would join into a union to secure my assets for my bloodline.”
It was all so formal, the talk of a wife and children—you never understood it. Why couldn’t people simply marry who they love and leave it at that? All this bloodline and assets. Don’t they ever get sick of it?
“What’s your last name, then,” you ask. “McDuff? Mackenzie?”
“MacTavish,” John shakes his head, rubbing his hand up and down the back of his neck. Blue eyes stay with yours. “John MacTavish, I have lands to the North.”
Your brows tighten, arms going to cross themselves. “You’re running from your home because of a union you can freely exit?”
“It isn’t free,” he grumbles, shaking his head firmly and setting his jaw. “My father’s wishes for his children were written down and sealed. I was to marry a daughter of Arthur Campbell when I came of age.” John chuckles face going a bit pink. “As you can see, I’m a good few years past that.”
You tilt your head, and while Johnny was certainly passed the normal age of a male in his position to be wed, it struck you as odd as to why he didn’t want to be in the first place. In marriage during these times, a man has little to lose when joined. Almost nothing else changes for them except another title is added to their long line of others already living under him.
John continues, and you stay your snake-like tongue for now.
“Wasn’t until I learned that by now, Mr. Campbell’s second born daughter, who was the only one near my age, had passed nearly an entire year ago—leaving only the oldest behind.”
“And?” You hum, intrigued to see where this goes. Johnny itches at his chin, scratching the stubble that lives there along with the dirt and grime. “What, I’d imagine the head of the Campbell family wanted to uphold the arrangement?”
“Aye, they did,” John grunts, nodding. “Fiona Campbell was the woman I was set to marry today.” He pauses, sighing heavily before looking to the side. Darkness had set, and there was little light by way to see the expression of guilt growing on his face. “I’m not lyin’ when I say I didn’t want to make such a mess of it, but there’s only so much a man can do when he learns his bride is not only twice his age,” John breathes, grunting, “but also just…” He stops himself, sighing.
You frown, gut swirling.
“She was blank, do you understand?” Johnny asks, motioning a hand in a display of unknowing explanation. “All she seemed to care about was children and wealth. A slate waiting to be filled with someone else’s thoughts and ideas. I didn’t want to be the one to fill it—I’ll not be some husband that runs a wife around like a dog. That isn’t right to me; it wasn’t how I was raised.”
Your mind twists on itself with an indefinable feeling—skin tight to your bones as if taken and tied by ropes. Your heart pumps blood a little harder, but just because this man seems less of a bastard doesn’t mean you like him. He’d dragged you into this hunting party of his grand problem, and the sooner you got your payment, the better and easier it would be to disappear.
“How noble,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Yet, your voice is hiding an under-the-breath shock. “So you bolted into the woods?”
Johnny rubs at his nose bridge, growling in annoyance. “Yes—it was the best cover I had. Been going through the trails since sunrise.” He slaps his hands to his knees and stands back up with a grunt and an ache in his thighs. His sarcastic voice peels the shadows. “Are we satisfied, now, Bonnie?”
“I won’t be until you’re out of my sight,” you level, moving forward. “So are you going to bed so I can drag you to the port or not?”
John’s body is heard shifting as you slip down the trunk of a tree, backside hitting grass as you settle in for a restless sleep—pulling your wrap tighter over your shoulders. Here you were: weaponless and in the company of a runaway groom still in all of his finery.
You wanted that damn boar broach.
“Sleep’ll be smart, we need to be up early,” John says seriously, his shoes shifting the leaves. Letting the chill seep in, you burrow into your fabrics and glare ahead. Johnny’s sly voice is so reminiscent of yours, that you have to wonder if the two of you were cut of the same cloth. “I won’t be opposed to a cuddle if you get chilly, Little Lady—”
“I should have stabbed you when I had the chance.”
Johnny’s low chuckles waft over the air, and then the silence settles fully.
Yet, you’re up far later than you anticipated…and you find this honest man’s confession to be bouncing inside of your skull like an enraged bird.
—
“Christ, did I do that?” A finger is pressed under your chin, tilting your head up as you strangle a gasp at the sudden motion.
Johnny looks at the tiny cut along your neck from the edge of his sword—the barely-there irritation of the skin that you’d been itching at as you walked forward through the trees.
He frowns, glancing into your eyes as your body stills at the feeling of warm flesh.
It was the first day of walking, and the silence between the two of you had stayed. Not only were you annoyed at the situation, but also John’s story—you’d been mulling it over since last night.
But below that anger, you might have even felt a little wrong.
“Who else?” You sigh sarcastically to the man, trying to hide the rising flood of heated shock. Thick digits drag along your esophagus slowly in study, and John’s face creases the longer he looks. He’s hunched near you, too—and you can smell the low scent of leather and earth.
Johnny pulls back with a huff and slips a hand into his sporran. Your eyes watch with blatant distrust until a relatively clean rag is taken out by a steady hand.
He motions with it. “Come ‘ere. Let me get the dirt out of it before it gets infected, eh?”
You sigh lowly but decide it’s a good idea at the very least before nodding—John’s fingers return as the light from above leaks through the branches. The morning was cold, but not unreasonable; the woods gave shelter from the otherwise abusive wind of the open country.
“Look at that,” you breathe, “The first nice thing you’ve done for me.”
“Ah,” John lightly glares. “Not quite right—I carried you away instead of making you run with me.”
Your eyes roll, and Johnny’s chuckle echoes off the surroundings.
“Such a gentleman,” you grumble, feeling the rag press into your throat and the soft scrape of it across your scratch.
“So,” the man hums, blue eyes stuck to your flesh as he takes care of it far more nicely than you’d imagined someone to be. “Seeing as I’ve shared my sob story, Cat-Eyes, I think I’d like to ask after yours.” His voice is full of amusement. “As we’ll be keeping one another company.”
“It’s less as in-depth than yours,” your fingers twitch as Johnny moves back after the cleaning is done—returning the rag to his sporran as he blinks.
“I don’t believe that,” he raises a brow, as you ignore the remembrance of his touch and continue, paving the trail as the dark-haired man follows a close distance behind. “Can’t say there’s many times I’ve seen an unwed woman wielding a bow and thieving someone out of their money. I’ve seen a lot of things, Bonnie,” he laughs, “but never that. Scared the hell out of me when you dropped down.”
“You can add me to the top of the list, I suppose,” you puff a teasing breath. After an expecting pause in the conversation, you grow bored of the nothingness.
“I’ve lived out here my entire life—I do what I have to. That’s all there is to it.”
John’s face gradually pulls into itself, only looking away from you to glance at the path to make sure he won’t fall.
“No family?”
“None,” you tilt your head, shimmying under a low branch and pushing leaves off your shoulders. They sway to the ground softly as you brush an arm over your forehead, sensing Johnny’s attention.
The man grunts. “M’sorry.”
Your feet stumble for a moment, pace faltering, until you cover it up easily. You turn to stare, narrowing your eyelids as open blues watch silently. John’s shoulder brushes yours.
“It’s life,” you blankly answer. “Least I wasn’t married off. Where you had to worry about a blank slate, I had to worry about becoming a broodmare for a man who most likely would never love me.”
Johnny licks his lips, eyes darting to the ground. “Can’t imagine you like that,” he mutters, but it isn’t some joke—he’s truthful.
“Perfect,” is what his ears twitch to. “Because I’d sooner act like you and bolt from my wedding as well.”
“Would that make me the thief in your story, then?” Johnny asks, chuffing as he smiles towards you, reaching a hand above him to push another branch out of the way—separating it from your form as you bend under. “I’m tellin’ you, I wouldn’t be very good at it. All that dropping down from trees would have my knees screamin’. Not that they don’t already.”
Your laugh pierces his chest, and the man sends a kind if not a bit startled, show of interest to you. It sounded like a bowstring slapping a wrist—harsh and telling all at once: something to be known and understood even if heard only once.
John blinks at you, and his heart patters along in his chest.
“I think it would be more fun to think about you with a dagger,” you narrow your gaze at him, smiling. “A small thing like that would disappear in your hands, Johnny Boy.”
“Disappear?” He tilts his head, raising his hands to hover in front of him. “Ah, they’re not that big, are they?”
You shift, and, nearly without thinking, you slip your hand to sit above his. Johnny makes a noise in the back of his throat, eyes going wide as you reference the size of his grip under yours, but allows you to regardless. A blue gaze slides to your face, openly imploring, before they dart back down to your shared hands as the roughness of his callouses scraped against your flesh.
“Care to compare?” You smirk, lifting a brow.
Johnny’s lips parted quickly, blinking a few times as he tried to find the words to accompany his running mind. He clears his throat, but the small sheen of red pigment on his cheeks is undeniable.
Laughing, you detach the connection and pull ahead, leaving the man behind as he stutters with a fast pulse.
“You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” is what he decides minutes later, a large grin on his face—he was enjoying this, for whatever twisted and flawed reason, he was. John’s adrenaline was pumping, his heart was pounding, and his feet were passing over the earth, yet, even better, his brain was sparking at a mile a minute for the woman who walked only three feet ahead of him. He watches you take these trails like an expert, not having to look down at your feet as stone and wood are passed as if you were water above them, whispering and nearly silent.
“At least I’m not boring.” Your eyes meet him, and in them, they create some horribly beautiful amalgamation of twin flames—two sparking fires that feed from the same ember. “You would never catch me becoming a housewife, Johnny Boy.” Your gazes never break. “There are far too many things to steal in this country, and so very few men who can keep up.”
John’s chest moves in the beat of his pulse—his attention wholly transfixed upon the sight of this wild-born woman whom he’d only met yesterday. There were leaves in your wrap, and brown-black mud coated up to your ankles, even sweat sitting at your temple, yet you moved with grace befitting a Lady: never seeming to tire of jokes or firm surety. Yet…you weren’t cruel—you weren’t without purpose.
Any accomplished thief would have just stabbed him and taken what they needed in your house. You offered John water, however, you chose to give him a chance to comply. It was such a small thing in the grand scheme, but Johnny was always one to analyze how one feather on a bird can affect the flight pattern, so to speak. One action that speaks volumes.
You liked creating games, and, lucky for him, John loved to solve them.
And that glint in your sharp-slitted eyes was becoming more and more enjoyable every second, he found.
Pushing back the strands of his wayward hair, John keeps up with you for every step, not unfamiliar with how to traverse unsteady terrain. He wasn’t lying in what he told you—he had spent most of his life in the forest beside his home: hunting, fishing, riding. There wasn’t an activity he didn’t enjoy when he was outside, though his mother was always heavy on him about the mess he brought back.
Blue eyes drop back down to your dirt-laced pants, and the man can’t help but give his best, lip-pulling smile.
Hell, if he didn’t know any better, he would say that you were something that made so little, and at the same time so much, sense to him.
“Well, maybe they just aren’t accustomed to hiking, Little Cat-Eyed Thief.”
There was something special in the glances you two would throw one another.
—
Your hands dip into the clear water, fingers open to feel the current drag through them gently.
“If you want a sip,” you say, cupping the liquid and bringing it up to your lips, “it’s safe. This river flows down from the hills—not perfect, but there’s only a small chance it’ll make you sick.”
John comes up and hums as he sits down beside you, folding his legs under him and leaning forward to submerge his arms up to his elbows in water. He sighs, and you hear the river gurgling as the man begins to rub up his flesh, getting rid of all the grime.
“Good to know.” Blue eyes spare you a look as he continues. “What’s this one called?”
“Woodney river,” you answer. “Old Man Jack Woodney ran a water wheel on this river a long walk West. If this place had a name before that, it won’t tell.”
Johnny washes his face, scrubbing at his stubble as the scratch of it plays in the side of your ear. You watch along the opposite shore, eyes going from trees to birds—even to the shadows of fish that quickly swim past. Sighing, you have to admit the beauty of this adventure. There were few times you could say you’d gone this far into the woods with no wealth to trade in with the townspeople.
You side-eye John and study him just as heavily as you do a wild animal.
He wasn’t unattractive, you admitted. Strong—sturdy. Johnny was capable in a way that most Lords wouldn’t be, some, you guessed, would already be complaining about the uncomfortableness of their clothes or the flesh of their blistered feet. But John was bright-eyed; more than once you’d seen him actively watching the stretch of the trees for any sign of his pursuers. He never complained. Not once.
“You’re not as insufferable as I thought you’d be,” you say. Frowning, your hands push back into the water and cup some of the chilled liquid. You let it drip before you extend your hand to your neck and feel your eyes droop in relaxation.
Johnny laughs, staring at you for a minute as he slowly raises a brow. His face shows amusement.
“Am I supposed to be insulted or not?”
“I leave that for you to decide.”
John cracks his knuckles and shakes his head as he stands. “C’mon,” he drags, but the smile in his voice is clear. A hand is set in front of yours. “Sooner I get out the port, the sooner I’m out of your hair.”
Your face softens slightly.
“Am I ever going to get an apology for being tossed like a sack of potatoes?” Skin meets skin as you slip your hand into his, and the man pulls you to your feet as you smile. Calluses brush yours, and yet again, you find you enjoy this game—perhaps more than any other you’d played before.
And you don’t understand why.
Johnny’s fingers are firm over yours, curling as water drips to the ground below in reflective droplets, and you think back to the first time you’d met him—panting breath and rapid eyes. Your eyes glance to that boar broach, and find it attached to a man that is suddenly more of a mystery than a closed book.
“Easy,” John mutters, steadying you by your shoulders as you remember where you are. The dark-haired man squeezes your flesh and looks into you.
Blue eyes glint, and that smirk, you find, is always followed by a tiny tint of his head. “And what’s that look for, Cat-Eyes?”
“You called me strange.”
John’s brows furrow. “Aye. I did.” He looks you up and down slowly. “You are.”
You do the same to him, not wasting more than a moment. “And I find it funny that you haven’t said the same thing about yourself. You’re far more strange than I’ll ever be.”
“Guilty,” Johnny smiles, nodding slightly. His hands are still on you, and he doesn’t seem to even notice. “I don’t think a normal one would fuck off from his own wedding, would he?”
“Or kidnap a woman as a guide,” you state, pulling out of his warm hold even as your stomach flips as you brush past
“Again,” John’s hand motions through the air. “Abduct.”
“You’re just saying that because it sounds slightly better,” you grimace over your shoulder. “Like comparing a dog to a wolf.”
Johnny is hot on your heels, and when the river-eroded stepping stones to the other side of the water are the clear path to take, he’s already on the first and holding out his arm for you as a true gentleman would. You glance at him and hop to the first stone, liquid sloshing at your shoes.
Your smirk is stuck with his like two pieces of a quilt, and neither of you realizes it.
“You put a knife to my back first, Dearie.” John puffs and his face is right next to your ear as you both cross the stones—you lean into him and elbow his side before your arm slips into his. The man grunts, blinking as he chuckles above the slosh of water.
“So? Maybe I only point knives at the men I like.”
“Then I’d say you have every right to put one right at my throat.”
Feet move carefully over rocks and the spray of the water that coats them—a dance of wit in their own right. It was like animals circling one another, all sharp eyes and pulled lips trying to find weaknesses. Deadly flirting and addictive banter.
Where annoyance was such a common emotion, now there was a near expectation of jabs; of tantalizing quips for the glimpse of another's mind.
Neither of you could understand the other, which was exactly why you both reveled in the brush of warm flesh.
“Careful,” your feet meet the hard ground once more on the other side, and John only lets go when he knows that you don’t need him to steady you. “You’re engaged, Johnny Boy.”
Your tease slips in one ear and out the other, and the man watches you turn and begin walking again with sly eyes. John’s wide gaze stays stuck there for a moment—mouth eager to continue any conversation given. Watching you walk, his heart beats speedily.
“I think my, ah, reputation has all but ruined my chances on that front—”
There’s something unique about the sound of an arrow sinking into flesh that can’t really be forgotten. John had heard it many times—even been behind the bow that shot it; the slap of the string across his forearm, the set of his shoulder blades widening until the arrow disappeared.
But there’s something worse knowing that the sudden expulsion of air from lungs, in fact, belongs to you and not some wild animal.
You’re hit in a fraction of a second, down on the ground in less than that—your mind not even understanding above the immediate pressure and the slam of earth. You gasp loudly, and then the pain hits.
Hand snapping to your left bicep, your eyes slash down to stare as grass and mud fly into the air, rabid sounds escaping the back of your throat at the image that strikes you. An arrow was stuck deep into your skin—sticking out as blacked feathers flutter at the end of the shaft. The adrenaline hits rapidly, but the expression of horror still remains.
“Cat-Eyes!” Johnny yells, rushing forward, and unsheathing his sword, the sound of metal on metal harsh, but not as harsh as the sound of blood in the man’s ears.
You see the swelling of crimson, and, from under your fingers, the red of blood slips as your breathing gets hoarse. Biting into your lip, the quick sound of an under-the-breath groan of agony ripples.
But you’re not stupid.
Scrambling to your feet with the arrow still poking out of you, Johnny gets to you and pushes you behind him just as your shaking legs straighten—-your eyes slashing the woods in panic. Pain can wait.
The runaway groom spares you quick glances, pushing you further behind as his raging gaze darts this way and that. He yells into the trees, anger and order infecting his voice, “Show yourself!”
Just as suddenly, there’s a relieved call and a moving shadow. You clench your eyes tight and grit your teeth as a wave of pain rockets through you.
“Fuck,” you grind out, lost under the louder voice. Blood drips to the ground.
“My Lord!” Men burst through the leaves, bows, and swords aloft. “Quickly—to us!”
Johnny’s face is stiff; there isn’t an ounce of care, but the flash of recognition is swift, and in his chest, his heart, once beating so quickly, drops to his stomach.
Knights. His knights. Christ, the two of you hadn’t been fast enough.
“Stand down!” John spits, and cares little now for the thought of robbery or assault on his person—these men wouldn’t hurt him, but they were tasked to bring him back. “Fucking bawbags, the lot of you.”
His sword is sheathed by twitching fingers, and no sooner were those digits around you instead.
You pant hoarsely, face tight as your vibrating body tells you to run—eyes locked onto Johnny’s, the man in front of you ushers you over to the trunk of a tree hurriedly, uttering, “Just breathe now, Dearie—listen to me. It’s alright, aye?”
“What is this?” You raggedly push out, flinching as your spine meeting the bark jostles your arm painfully.
Your teeth grit, tears collecting in the corner of your vision.
“Knights,” John mutters as if his words are chased by wolves. “They’re after me—probably thought you were either holding me hostage or trying to lead me into an ambush.” The colorful fabric of his pinned tartan is dragged off from over his shoulder and shoved into your weeping flesh, and you lightly moan in agony, head falling back to the tree.
Tears slip from over your cheeks.
“Easy.” John’s concern is palpable. Worried eyes dart from your face to your wound. “Jesus,” he utters under his breath, anger flashing.
“Who is this?” One of the knights asks, taking a step forward as Johnny holds the fabric to your wound and speaks to you lowly, utterly ignoring the people behind him.
“I need to break the shaft off, okay?” Blue eyes try to keep even, and John’s other hand captures your cheek. He levels your face right in front of his, breathing lowly. The man clears his throat as your tight gaze flutters, tightening his grip. “Hey,” Johnny breathes. You grunt, voice a low grind.
“Just make it quick.”
John’s lips thin. “Yes, Ma’am.”
His large hand swiftly moves to the arrow, gripping around it just where flesh meets wood, you hiss loudly, spitting and raging as your vision partially blackens. Pain sparks up and down your spine, racing like a cat after a mouse.
“Lord,” one knight tries again, coming closer and reaching out for Johnny’s shoulder. “We need to get you back to Castle Campbell—we’ve been hoping to find you unharmed for your future wife’s comfort. Everyone is in a panic!”
“I’ll count down to three,” Johnny whispers to you, breathing heavily as he swallows and steady himself, hand lightly clammy. He wished he had his hunting gloves with him, but this was the best he could do. “Eh,” the man grunts, eyes steady, “You listening, Bonnie?”
“I don’t care what you count to,” you nearly bark, orbs flashing. “Just break the damn thing off—!”
The wood snaps with a defining splinter, and your scream afterward has the man having to hold you up with his arms around your waist, muttering into your ear with his lips against the shell.
“It’s alright, you’re alright,” John hears the clatter of the shaft to the grass just as the knight’s hand is heavily placed on his shoulder. “Breathe. M’right ‘ere.”
You sag into Johnny taking in the scent of sweat, blood, and dirt—the musk that stays even as your ears start ringing and the voices start getting louder.
“Best get your hands off o’ me before I break ‘em, Mate” Johnny grunts from deep in his chest, shifting your body to the side and effectively ripping his flesh out of the knight’s hold.
All the others shift nervously—hands on their swords and looking back and forth between the strange scene.
Who were you? A mistress? A bandit luring their Lord away? Why was he with you out here; going in the opposite direction of where the ceremony was supposed to take place? They’d been given orders, and a knight is no good unless he can follow them.
John MacTavish was needed, and their duty was to see it through.
Johnny’s tartan had fallen to the ground behind the two of you, getting kicked by feet as they shuffle and as your blood slips off of your limp fingers. Mind failing, your pain-addled form shakes even as the knowledge of imminent danger is present.
You needed to figure out a way to get out of here.
Pushing your head up from Johnny’s shoulder, your eyes flutter but manage to analyze what little you can see clearly—adrenaline can take care of most of your agony, only leaving a dull ache as your heart continues to rage.
A group of four knights have their hands on their swords, and all of their eyes are on John.
Run, a deep part of you urges. Your legs are still good. Take off—none of them know the terrain like you do. You’ll be free.
You pant, your nostrils flaring with every breath as your sweat trickles off your jawline. Johnny’s grip on you tightens, head shifting back and forth, unknowing where to anchor itself, not understanding which is more important—your state, or your safety.
Free, free, free.
Your mind flashes to an empty house: silent woods. How you would go months without seeing another human face, but that was your own choice.
Wasn’t it?
Your eyes slip to Johnny.
“We’ve been tasked with bringing you back, My Lord,” the first knight says, looking heavily upon the runaway. “We have our orders. Please understand.”
“And I’m telling you your orders are utter shite,” John spits. “So back the fuck up and drag yourself out of this place. Now.” He glares, teeth snapping. “Those are my orders.”
Your arm is numb, and your chest expands as it sits on John’s own. And you think.
You knew you were a selfish person.
There was no debate about it—even when you’d stolen enough coin to feed you for weeks, there was still a part of you that longed for some chase; some challenge to your senses. You liked stealing. You liked the looks on people's faces when they realized they were being swindled for every valuable item they had in their possession. But there was something you liked even more than all of that—a challenge.
Johnny, to you, was that challenge. He was the largest challenge you’d ever faced. A Lord who was running from a bride, a man who held his beliefs higher than praise or standing…a blue-eyed stranger who matches your poking jabs word for word.
“Damn,” your growl, and John takes it as an exclamation of pain.
He grits his teeth and studies you, opening his mouth as his concern grows at the smell of blood.
“We need to tie it off,” he utters. “Bastards made me drop the tartan—I’m sorry, Dearie.”
Your lips are near his ear.
“When I say ‘go,’ run to the left.”
Johnny halts, attention snapping down. His fingers flinch around you, face open until the mask of sudden knowledge flies over it like a curtain. But it’s gone just as quickly—hidden by intelligent eyes that glint.
He doesn’t question you, and, in the crux of your shoulder, you get a near-infinitesimal nod from Johnny’s head.
The guards grow suspicious, all mulling closer by the second the longer you two remain so close—on opposite ends, you feel your heart mirroring John’s in a rapid and ravaging pulse: Thump-thump, thump-pump, thump-pump-thump.
Your attention is split three ways.
One: the rising numbness of your limbs and the heat of your brain. Two: the spread of Johnny’s panting breath across your sweat-slick skin and his hands tightening. Three: knights and the clatter of their armor. How they slide their hands across their weapons like intimate partners—the tension building in a hemp bowstring and the sound of arrows hitting off one another; one taken and played with between fingers so similarly to how you would act.
Your tear-stained eyes glare at the knight who’d shot you, your expression building into an act of hatred.
They take a step forward.
“Cat-Eyes—” Johnny begins to warn slowly.
“Go.” Your words are no shout. They don’t echo off the trees, which all hold their breeze in expectation, they don’t ring in ears except the ones of the man holding you. But they’re like the personification of a sword strike—like the release of an arrow and the impending thump of it hitting home.
The knights dash forward with calls for their Lord to stand down, but John’s already flinched away with a heavy grunt.
You do the same, your plan already formed—you would run the opposite way as Johnny, only slipping off when the cover of bushes had enshrouded the both of you to create two sets of tracks. With any luck, the guards would break off into two groups and pursue the both of you, and you could easily lose yours.
From there, circle back and find John: get your bearings before—
Arms never detach from your waist, and you’re once more tossed into a strong grip.
Eyes bugging, your focus breaks as gravity leaves and your head goes light. Johnny dashes away, and, just as the last time, you’re in his boar-like hold.
“You idiot!” You bark, the only difference to your predicament now is that you’re held in a bridal grip and not slung over his sweaty shoulder. There was only a small sliver of relief before the annoyance overtook you.
Johnny’s body crashes through the leaves, the shouts of the knights following as he gruffly raises his voice to the wind. The trees shake with amusement.
“Thinking you could hand over some directions, Dearie?!”
“Thinking you could put me down?!” You shout back, your arm sparking with pain as your opposite wraps the man’s neck firmly. “Damn.” Your lips twist in response. “My legs work just fine, you know—I wasn’t shot in the arse!”
“Acting like you were,” John grumbles, a branch slapping his cheek before you can. Despite it all, he chuckles wholeheartedly at his own joke.
An arrow whizzes through the air, and you yelp, ducking behind his body even more as your skull fits under his jaw. Your eyes snap to the visible terrain as Johnny’s legs push from one side to the other, running in a zig-zag pattern to avoid any more injuries.
“There,” your brows rise, fighting past the pain to find the familiar slash of a gnarled willow tree that whizzes by in brown and dark green.
Your head rises to see more of the woods, only to be pushed back down by an all-expansive hand as John utters a fast-breathed and firm, “Not the best idea.”
He shoves through brambles, and the sounds of rampaging knights are gaining. The second John sloshes through a low pool with a loud curse, you know instantly where you two are.
“Take a left near the overhang with vines coming down!”
“That one?”
“Yes!”
And so this game continued long after the knights had been lost to the woods, stumbling about without any sense of where they were, and the two of you came to a panting halt an hour later. Deep night was setting in on the second day, and, as your shaky feet hit the ground, John kept a heavy eye on you.
“Steady,” he mutters, sweat pouring off his face; saturating his clothes. He worriedly stares, looking you up and down.
Your vision swirls, the glade around you the exact place you both needed to be. There were hills here—surrounded by thick trenches carved by rivers long dried. The stars were out, and the moon was shining down; one thin trickle of a river was feet away, the sound of water on rocks addictive to your pounding ears.
All of it was null to the way your gut flipped at the humming agony of your arm.
Your hand snaps to the puncture and the flood of blood is enough to leave your fingers dripping with crimson glinting in moonlight.
There’s a heavy ripping sound, and then you find yourself sitting down in the grass as Johnny shoves the torn fabric of his suit into the small river. You hear the splashing as you glance down at your arm before rapidly looking away, biting at your lip as your spine hunches.
“Christ almighty,” you growl, glaring to the side as your fingers quiver. Tears well.
“The arrowhead is keeping pressure,” John hurries to speak, trying to distract you just as his own exhaustion is bare to see. The rung-out fabric is looped around your arm, tying off until you have to strangle down a scream at the tightness on your flesh. “We have to keep it there until there’s enough sterile material to fix it up.”
“Your knights are pieces of work,” you hiss, more from the wound than anything.
John gives a little look, blue eyes darting up until falling.
“Aye, they are.” His strong jaw clenches. “This shouldn’t have happened, Dearie.”
You stare as he finishes up, and you feel his fingertips slipping along your arm. Your eyelids droop, closing as your nostrils suck in shaky air. You take a moment to take in the silence that follows, John’s eyes not straying as your face is illuminated.
He watches the streaks of dirt along your skin, and, in a soft attempt to fix this, he stands and moves to the river once more—cleaning his hands. Johnny takes the rag out of his sporran and wets it, coming back to your body as the grass waves back and forth.
“Let me…” the man says slowly, and your eyes open back up as the chilled item is pushed to your cheek.
Wide orbs staring forward, you swallow as John concentrates on cleaning your skin carefully.
“Infection is my immediate concern,” the man says with a sigh, yet continues as your tongue stays tied; face growing more heated by the second. “But you mentioned it takes three days to the town, aye? That’s not unmanageable with two already under our feet.”
Blood, dirt, and sweat slip away with every drag of the fabric, and, stuck into his suit, that boar broach still sits—crooked now, but still there.
Your attention is momentarily taken by it, and your fingers twitch before you notice how very close John’s face is to yours.
The man focuses, relaying a plan as you’re stuck mute; your arm holding its own heartbeat as the grass shifts.
“I’ll use what I have to get you into a doctor. Make sure there’ll be no problems before I get going.” John blinks, tilting his head. “‘Course, that’ll decrease the amount you’ll get in turn.”
“Fortunately for you,” you breathe, voice strained, and blue eyes stick to yours. John pauses, brows slightly pulling up on his face. “I value my own life too much to complain about a man paying for my care.”
John’s rag stays where he placed it, right on the swell of your cheek as, this close to one another, you can see the scar on his chin—one that curves to the muscle and bone.
He was handsome, make no mistake about it. You knew it; you understood it. A lord with morals and the smarts to go along with the strength—now that was utterly unheard of. You liked that, truthfully. Someone who could think, and plan.
And, of course, follow directions.
“You’ll be fine,” John mutters, glancing to the side, yet his head doesn’t move back. He clears his throat with a sigh.
You roll your eyes, moving out and grabbing his hand with the rag. Johnny’s expression startles, arm tensing as you steal the dripping fabric from him. Water runs down your neck.
“I know I am.” You huff, smiling.
You push the rag onto his own face, and begin your cat-like approval of his character, washing away the grime just as he had your own. A blue gaze stays firmly on your flesh, the man’s shoulders loosening until he’s sitting just in front of you. Verident grass whispers in a language like a soft breeze, and you study Johnny’s skin until everything becomes a mosaic of scars and blemishes—stories woven into sinews holding as much history as the tines on an elk or the chipped tusks of a boar.
Two days and he’d become even more of a mystery than he had been before. Or maybe he always had been, and now your previous contentment had grown into an addictive curiosity.
He’d called you Cat-Eyes.
You couldn’t love a title more—not even if Lady were on the table.
“I settle my scores,” you grunt, tilting your head as you push back mud from his forehead, leaning in. “You wash my face, I wash yours.”
“Literally, then?” A sarcastic eyebrow makes you huff.
“Is that not what I’m doing, Johnny Boy?”
“Seems so, Cat-Eyes.”
Your matching glares hold no venom.
Smirking, you lean back after the last swipe at his forehead, pushing Johnny’s skull back as he chuckles, moon-lit visage something you would see scrawled on the parchment of an old story-teller's sketches. A man not made for this age.
Your face softens slowly, and it is a strange thing sitting atop the sharpness of your eyes.
John’s chuckles fade, and his breath catches in his throat.
“You’re an odd fellow, John MacTavish,” you say, here, with blood from an arrow wound drying to crack along your skin.
Your head tilts, eyes narrowing.
John’s lips slowly pull upwards, and the water on both of your faces drips to the listening earth. This place is alive with possibilities, and all of them stem from the growing draw of twisted human souls.
A just Lord and a cunning thief.
A sharp-eyed cat and a strong-bodied boar.
A future and a past—riddled with arrow marks; long sword slashes.
“Well…then I’m thinking we make quite the pair, Bonnie.”
—
The third day was spent on the latter half of the journey. Re-correcting the course and giving the best directions you could with the numb ache of your arm spreading up your shoulder.
But the town came easily as the midday sun rose to crest your heads.
“Want to lean on me?” Johnny asks, standing close by, but you’re already shaking your head.
“Feels better to keep myself focused,” you mutter, grimacing. You look at the entrance to the town, and as you both walk it, the stares are immediate—shocked residents looking at the haggard appearance of two individuals.
“Alright,” John sighs, side-eyeing you. “Just let me know if you’re goin’ to keel over, yeah?”
“Duly noted,” you tilt your head his way. Your lips smirk like a smug child. “You’ll catch me, won’t you?”
Johnny chuckles, shrugging his wide shoulders as his tattered finery is chock-full of brambles and leaves.
“Can’t say no to that.”
The Lord kept his promise—the doctor took the arrowhead, cleaned, cauterized the wound, and sutured you back up. For payment, as you lightly touch the bandaged section of your arm, you find your eyes freezing as a silver glinting reflects off the light through the window.
Johnny hands over his boar broach to the doctor.
Widely staring at the prize being pawned off for your health, your heart stutters in heavy greed.
No, you rapidly think. No, that was the one thing that I—
Your eyes inexplicably snap to Johnny.
The immediate thought is that he looks angry, but, the next and more accurate one, is that he looks sad.
John’s blues continue to follow the broach as it disappears into the doctor's pocket, and you see the weight fall back to his chest and arms—sitting heavy like a stone. The man’s feet shift along the ground for a moment, and he looks like he’s about to say something before he grits his teeth and shakes his head to himself. John grunts, fixing his nose.
You blink, and then your heart twists in on itself for no reason at all.
Or maybe there was a reason.
“C’mon, Cat-Eyes,” Johnny sighs heavily, tilting his head as his arms cross. “Time to see me off, then.”
He walks out the door, and your eyes follow like a loyal dog.
Standing there for a moment, your lips contort your face into a deep frown, sharp eyes gaining a sheen of light anxiety. Yet, there was no mistaking it—it had been said a million times—if there was one thing you could do, it was play a game.
Maybe you weren’t so bad after all.
“Oh my,” you mutter, putting a hand to your head and stumbling.
The doctor starts forward quickly, grasping at your un-injured arm. “Careful now, Woman. Don’t rip my sutures.”
He tells you, getting you fully up as you chuckle, placing your hands above his thigh, fingers twitching on the fabric.
“Apologies, apologies,” you mutter, retracting your hand and cupping it against your abdomen with a meek smile. “Just a little lightheaded. Thank you, Doctor.”
“Best be off, now,” the man grumbles, and you’re out the door swiftly.
Your shoes meet the cobble as you shift your hands into your pockets, shifting your body to look along after the large form that leans against the home waiting for you.
“Ready?” Johnny asks, though his attention is firmly planted on the ground five feet away, lost in thought.
“Aye,” you sigh, nodding your head to the East. “Port’s that way—let’s get this nightmare over with.”
“Hm,” Johnny agrees, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Quite the adventure for a runaway.”
“You can’t have thought it would be easy?” Your brows furrow. “You’re heir to the MacTavish lands.”
“I never said I thought it would be easy,” John moves at your side, a great hulk of honesty. He hands over his attention at last as you fiddle with the smooth item in your pocket. He huffs. “Just that it was an…experience, to say the least. One I’m not sure I’d want to go through again.”
“You’ll miss me,” you say confidently, meeting eyes with a smirk and a cocky shift to your form despite the lessening pain.
Johnny watches. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “Aye. I will.” You pause, expression stilling. The man hums, and you swear there’s something special in the way you can describe his look as delicate.
“You were the one part that I don’t regret,” he says lastly to you as if the words aren’t spears laced with poison.
Your breath gets caught in a way it never has, and John seems not to notice as he pulls ahead, muttering about him seeing the docks. The smell of salt water slaps your nostrils.
The legs under you slow until they’re stopped, and you look after the man as he begins speaking to workers along the port, asking for a spot on the large ships that sit in the water, rocking with the winds.
Your eyes trail, seeing the way he talks with such confidence—openly offering physical labor as his payment for even the dark quarters with the other laborers.
After what seems like hours of watching, you see him shake another man’s hand, and, just like that, passage is earned. He jogs back over, smiling.
You open your mouth to say something, but find the words null and void. You don’t know what to express. For once in your life, everything seems to be moving horrifically fast.
“Well,” John’s expression slowly sombers. “I suppose this is it then. I said you could ask for anything, and, I suppose,” he shifts the sword on his belt off after a moment, looking down at it. He holds the item, testing its weight. “I suppose this is all I have left.” Blue eyes slowly meet yours. “If you’ll take it.”
Always a thief, never a saint.
“I suppose it’ll have to do, Johnny Boy,” you sigh, the pain in your heart outweighing the one on your arm. “Hand it over.”
The sword is transferred and slipped to your waist. Many a man on the docks gives you strange looks, and, you find you welcome it—none could compare to the admiration in Johnny’s.
You lick your lips.
“Do one thing for me, hm?”
“Anything,” John mutters, not blinking.
You move forward, and place a firm kiss to his lips.
The man freezes, fingers twitching at his sides, before he sags and bends into you—his great hand capturing your cheek until all that remains in the sear of his heat and the scent of the earth.
You softly pull away, though not far enough as to where you can’t feel his breath on yours. Gazing into his eyes, you smile the widest you can remember.
“Don’t go running away from another wedding anytime soon. I can only save so many Lords until my reputation gets slandered.”
“You’re ruthless,” John growls, smirking as his eyes glint, looking you up and down. “Little Thief.”
He leans in for another kiss, but your hands only shift above his sporran before you dart back, chuckling.
“Always,” your hands brush his sword on your hip as you walk backward, grinning behind the strange pressure in your heart. If someone asked, you wouldn’t even know how to describe it.
John takes a step after you, face open and raw—an emotion you feel like mirroring if not for your excellent control.
Not yet.
“I’ll take care of this,” you call, patting the weapon.
“Good,” Johnny calls, taking one more step forward before stopping himself. One of the shipmates calls from the dock, and his eyes snap there with a jaw tense. He looks back at you and blinks, brows pulling in. In the heat of the moment, he exclaimed, “I’ll be back for it one day, Cat-Eyes!”
“Lovely!” You yell, back turning. “I’ll be waiting for you then. I do hope you’ll be able to get through the woods, and, please, don’t keep a woman waiting! You’re much too handsome for any of that.”
And then you’re gone.
Johnny stares at where you were, his smile large and his face heated, and after a louder call from the dock, he’s forced to turn and jog to the ship, hurrying up the board until he can stand on the swaying deck with his two feet.
He looks around, chuckling to himself, and still, his eyes shift back to land without fail; hoping for a glimpse—a small shadow.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, the man reaches into his sporran for his rag, intent to clean and set it to dry when he’s able to get the chance to settle in. It’s one of the last items to his name no matter how pathetic.
Yet, his hands touch something far more precious.
Johnny’s body goes as straight as a tree when his fingers caress smooth metal, and, slowly, his grip pulls out the silver of his broach.
It glints in his palm as he sets it there, and his breath is stolen in one great bound of shock and confusion.
“What in the…” He already knows.
Johnny’s feet take him to the railing gently, and his body stands there—torn wedding clothes and all looking over a town that begins to move as the ship sets sail. He holds the broach carefully, not intending to let it go for an age. He just needs to lay low for a while. He needs time.
John smiles.
“I won’t keep you waiting,” he mutters to the moving homes, and he swears he sees the glint of a sword from between the buildings, and two sharp eyes digging into him.
You’re there, of course. Hidden as always.
You want your trees back, and you think that a day of sitting in your Oak is a good idea.
There’s dirt on your face again—your lips are chapped and your face is bitten by the wind; scars and blemishes that time won't heal but make all the more visible as the ages pass by on bird’s wings and cat purrs. Yet here is an action held immemorial.
A gift given freely by a thief is one to be treasured like pure gold, and the man on the ship knows that more intimately than any other as he clips the broach to himself with a hum.
You both watch the other from opposite, distant points until there’s no sun in the sky left to see with. Just a faint hope lights the way: the hope that your eyes will grace each other's visage, at the very least, just one more time in your life.
There was never a story so willing to be experienced than that of a runaway groom and his cat-eyed Thief.
TAGS:
@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot
#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty#x female reader#call of duty x you#cod mw22#mw2#mw2 2022#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#john mactavish x you#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish#soap mactavish#soap call of duty#soap cod#soap mw2#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap x you#x fem!reader#cod x female reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Signal
Made this using images from Pinterest ^
Word Count: 6.1k
Pairing: Bucky x f!reader
Summary: You and Bucky get separated from the team after an unfortunate mishap, of which Bucky blames you. Except you’re not at fault! You thought… you aren’t too sure anymore.
A/N: Thank you all so much for all of the positivity on my first fic, I am actually BLOWN AWAY. You are all so kind!! I actually started writing this all the way back in February of 2022, but seeing the response gave me the motivation to finally finish it.
Warnings: Nothing absolutely horrible, just a bit of angst and fluff(?), plus a little gaslighting and violence.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
“Everything is going to be okay. We’re fine. Everything is fine. Everything–” She repeated the mantra over and over again, not quite believing it.
“Will you shut up?” Bucky growled.
Only an hour prior had both of them been sneaking through a dense forest and scoping out a running ex-HYDRA base deep in the frozen woods. Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Sam, and Y/N were used to missions like this, except this one required a higher level of subtlety and a successful sneak attack was critical. Their intel informed them that the base was rigged to blow if any unrecognized technology was detected, including any disturbances in the radio waves. Because of this, they all turned off their communications signals once they approached the range of the base. At least, they were supposed to.
“I’m just trying to keep myself from freaking out.” She grumbled, slightly trailing behind Bucky as they crunched through the brittle layer of snow.
“Why? You should be freaking out. You should very much be freaking out right now. Considering we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no connection to anyone who can help, and I’m stuck with you.” He recognized he was being cruel, but he didn’t have the strength to stop.
“It wasn’t my fault!”
“The sooner you stop lying to yourself, the better.” Bucky responded without even looking over his shoulder. He hadn’t looked at her for the majority of their trek to the nearest safe house since they got separated from the rest of the group by the explosion.
“This is not my damn fault! I turned off my signal, just like Steve told us to.” She struggled to keep up with him, but she wouldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t show him any weakness–he’d just use it against her.
“Except you didn’t!”
“How are you so sure it was me? There were five of us!” She awkwardly jogged to get a bit ahead of him, and turned around to face him as she walked backward. “What makes you think it wasn’t you?”
“Please, like I would ever be so careless.” His gaze remained on the terrain ahead, and it looked like the trees of the woods were starting to thin out, signaling an exit soon.
“And I would?”
“Yes! Yes, you would. I knew from the start it was a bad idea to take you along. You can’t even follow simple instructions like turning off a signal.” He managed to pass her again, leaving her to struggle to stay next to him. He saw out of the corner of his eye her pointing a finger at him.
“I’m trying really hard not to take your attitude personally. You’ve been acting like a dick for the past week, but I’m sick of it.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sweetheart?” He finally glanced at her.
“Yes.”
“Why? Is it reserved for Steve?” Bucky’s eyes quickly returned to the path in front of him.
“What are you on about?” Genuine confusion laced her voice, but her question went unanswered as they reached a block in their path.
“Y’know your genius safe house plan?” Bucky gestured to the map balled up in her hand, the thing they had been using to guide them to safety. “Well, looks like we’re here.”
“This can’t be right,” she shook her head, quickly unfolding the map, “maybe we got turned around.”
“Just look up.”
She followed Bucky’s gaze to the sky, at which she finally realized the ridiculousness of their situation. They were stranded at the bottom of a steep cliff, which looked to stand nearly a hundred feet in the sky.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Because who the fuck puts a safe house on top of a cliff? “There’s got to be an elevator or something, there’s no way we’re expected to climb this.”
They both scanned the base of the cliff, looking for any indication of a secret passage to the top. She ran her hand along the jagged rock and ice, and bit her bottom lip as she concentrated on the wall, eventually spotting a thick rope among a couple vines.
“Shit.”
Her voice gained Bucky’s attention, and he looked over to see her holding not one, but two ropes, each attached to a relatively large weaved basket. It wasn’t quite big enough for the two of them, but one person could definitely fit.
“After you,” he mocked, gesturing to the basket that was meant to work as a (sketchy as hell) pulley system.
Instead of answering, she merely pointed to the inside of the damp basket. Bucky peered his head over to see the bottom had completely fallen apart, leaving a gaping hole where a person would supposedly stand.
“Looks like we’re climbing.” Bucky sighed.
“I can’t–”
“Afraid of heights?” He snapped.
“No, but–”
“Good. Then there shouldn’t be a problem.”
He grabbed a knife from his belt and efficiently cut both sides of the rope from the basket. She watched, dumbfounded, as he took one rope and tied it around his waist. Then, he gave the rope a hard tug, and satisfied by the lack of give, turned to his belt and grabbed three more knives. He grabbed duct tape out of his tac pants, and expertly taped one knife to the bottom of each shoe. Finally, he tossed her the duct tape, knowing she already had her own knives. She watched both impressed and annoyed as he firmly stuck his feet as best he could into the ice and rock of the cliff, and used the other knives in his hands as leverage.
He made it about ten feet up before glancing back down to see she hadn’t moved.
“Are you coming or what?” The impatience of his voice stung almost as much as the cold did her nose.
She looked at him, then the rope, and then the knives attached to her legs, before making a move. Unlike Bucky, her combat boots came equipped with hidden spikes that could be used for climbing (although she had never used them for such activity, and normally used them as a treat when fighting, basking in the pride of catching her enemies off guard with a swift kick and metal spike to the face, groin, etc). She adjusted the spikes to be poking out of the toe of her boots, and tried not to think as she grabbed the second rope and knotted it around her waist.
Ignoring her left hand, she grabbed only one knife opposed to Bucky’s two, and stabbed it into the ice. She cautiously looked down at her feet as she began her climb, and looked back up at her hand as she found purchase a foot above her head. Already exhausted from the fighting and explosion earlier, she winced at the tension in her right arm as she pulled herself up.
At the slow pace she was going, Bucky was already 15 feet in the air by the time she was 3 feet off the ground.
Bucky looked down to see her far behind, and raised an eyebrow when he saw her climbing with only one hand.
“You’re supposed to use both hands, you know?” He mocked.
She rolled her eyes, but said nothing, as she let her left hand join her right hand on the handle of the knife protruding from the rock. Bucky noticed her silent grimace as she successfully pulled herself up to the next level. He continued to watch as she stiffly removed her right foot from the wall and placed it above her left foot, before once again grabbing the single knife with both her hands and pulling for a second before letting out an agonizing cry.
Out of curiosity more than frustration, he called down.
“What’s going on down there?”
She briefly looked up at him before looking back at the ground, “I can’t climb.”
“Missed the training day on it?”
His sarcasm went unappreciated as she growled.
“My wrist is broken, asshole.”
Her wrist is broken, and she’s climbing? What is she thinking?
“And you’re still trying to climb? You should’ve told me.”
“I fucking tried telling you! But everytime I try to say something, you interrupt me! Constantly! Besides, what’s the point in telling you if you’re just going to brush it off?”
Bucky swiftly removed the knives in his hands from the cliff, and held onto his rope, before half-hopping and half-climbing down the wall to the ground.
“Bucky, just go,” she sighed, “I’ll figure something else out. I’m not going to be a burden on you.”
She said it in part because, yes, she didn’t want to burden him, but also because she didn’t want to hear his whiny complaints.
He ignored her protests and gently reached for her left hand, inspecting the incredibly swollen wrist. He winced at her soft whimper. He let go and simply looked at her.
“Hop down.”
She didn’t like that he was ordering her around, but his voice was void of any emotion, and out of curiosity and self preservation skills, she obeyed.
“C’mon.” Bucky turned around so his back faced her.
After a couple moments of silence, he looked over his shoulder to see her face twisted in confusion.
“C’mon now, just get on.” He repeated, squatting down a bit more. “You’re going to have to hold on tight.”
Ignoring the absurdity of the situation, she did her best to climb onto his back, at which point he gently grabbed her non-injured arm and wrapped it around his neck to encourage her to not be afraid to cling to him.
After what likely was about twenty minutes of climbing in utter silence, minus the whipping of the cool wind, Bucky made the mistake of looking down. The good news was that they were almost at the top–probably about a quarter of the climb left. The bad news was that meant that they had already climbed about 75 feet, and despite Bucky’s fearless persona, he was not fearless.
“Fuck.” He whispered.
“What’s wrong?” She rested her chin on his right shoulder.
“Nothing… I just didn’t realize how high up we were.” He grimaced the moment he said it. He’d shown weakness. He’d given her ammo. “Gonna make fun of me now?” He started to shake just a little, and prayed that she would assume it was because of the cold and not his anxiety…even though it had been cold for the entirety of the climb.
“No.” She stated.
His head started to spin from the memories. He tried to push through it, but all he could think about was the first time he was this high up. It was as cold as this too. He felt as his left arm subconsciously twitched.
The first time I was this high up, I still had two human arms.
A sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.
“I think I can see the compound from here.”
It was a stupid joke, but he couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“You know, I’m pretty scared of the ocean.” She continued.
He didn’t respond, unsure of where she was going with this. He continued to pull themselves up.
“Just deep water in general scares me. My brother always made fun of me for it.”
Don’t look down, Bucky. Don’t look–
“One time when I was like–fifteen? I think? My family took a trip to this really big lake. We got on one of those pontoon boats and went out into the water.”
He was glad that she was so close to him, otherwise the whipping of the wind would’ve been too loud to hear her calming voice.
“My brother thought he was really funny, and told me to look over the edge of the boat while we were still in motion.”
He tried to grunt to indicate he was listening, but no noise came out.
“He pushed me right as my dad started speeding up. I fell in, and freaked out. Especially as I watched the boat leave me behind.”
He continued to listen to her and focused on her voice, and the vibrations. Her tone was casual, but he couldn’t help but sense she was telling him a secret.
“Luckily, my mom saw what happened, and got my dad to turn around.” She chuckled. “He claimed he was trying to help me get over my fear. But I got my revenge later that day, so it was fine.”
“What’d you do?” Bucky finally spoke up.
“Well, he’s afraid of peanut butter.” She tried to shrug, despite having one arm around his neck and the other hanging limply.
“Do you mean allergic?”
“No, I mean afraid. The stuff freaks him out. He won’t go near it. He’s weird like that.” She sighed in remembrance, and continued.
“So once we got back to the house I grabbed some peanut butter, and slathered it into his hair when he wasn’t looking.”
Bucky looked up again and was surprised to see how close they were to the top. When did that happen?
“He screamed so loud–it was hilarious.” She smiled. “He ran to take a shower, flailing around and being dramatic. ‘Mom! She put peanut butter in my hair! My hair! Mommy, get it out!’”
Worried that Bucky was judging her, she quickly added,
“He was seventeen at the time, by the way.”
Still no answer.
“I don’t think he’s forgiven me yet.” She whispered more to herself than Bucky, but he still nodded as he grabbed at the top of the cliff.
“We’re here.” Bucky didn’t mean for his voice to come across gruff, but the cold wasn’t helping his throat.
“Thank you for carrying me.” She smiled once she had both feet on the ground. It didn’t reach her eyes, but he could still tell she meant it.
Slightly embarrassed, Bucky attempted to grumble out a ‘Thank you for distracting me,’ but he wasn’t sure she heard it.
Come on, you can do better than that Barnes. Just apologize to her, he thought.
“Listen, I know I’ve been acting like a–”
Bucky’s words were cut off by a mysterious and sudden mangled…shriek?
“Oh my God, Bucky.” She patted his arm to get him to turn around.
He obliged, and his eyes became saucers when he saw what had made the noise.
At the top of the cliff was a partially snowy but also grassy plateau, inhabited by a herd of roaming goats. So, so many goats.
“Look at all the goats!” She gasped.
Right as she had said it, one goat had snuck up to them and started biting at Bucky’s prosthetic.
“Get off,” he quelled his shock and grumbled as he shook the animal off of his hand.
“Aw, it likes you.” She giggled, falling to her knees to pet the goat—more like ‘goats’, plural, because the animals seemed to multiply, and fast.
“Let’s get inside. We need to fix that wrist.”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
Beside the disturbingly large population of goats, and the absurd location of the safe house, the house itself was fine. Well, it was shaped more like a barn, but it was decorated like a house. After coaxing Y/N away from the “adorable” (her words, not Bucky’s) goats, and inside, Bucky led Y/N to the forest green rug where he had started a fire in the fireplace.
When he finished briefly looking around, Bucky grabbed some ice that had frozen outside the barn and wrapped it in a cloth from the kitchen. With her permission, Bucky carefully placed the ice pack where he saw the most bruising around her wrist.
“So,” Bucky had settled himself across from her, so they could face each other as they talked. He couldn’t help the pang of sadness he felt as she stood up and backed away to sit on the couch.
She wouldn’t move away if I were Steve, he thought, staring into the fire. They’d probably cuddle up together like they do on the couch during movie nights at the tower.
Y/N didn’t want to move away from Bucky, especially now that he was being amicable again. But the heat from the flames was melting the ice that cradled her wrist, and she didn’t want to add ‘soggy’ to her list of problems.
“So?” She asked, noticing Bucky never finished his thought.
“I’m just thinking about the logistics of this. There’s a high possibility we could be stuck here anywhere from a week to a month. Your signal was fried in the blast too, right?”
She nodded, and released her right hand from holding the ice, letting it balance on her wrist, as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her signal. Definitely fried.
He pulled out his own signal from where he had kept it in his pants pocket, and showed her how it was crushed. “Well, without our signals, our team can’t track us. We just have to hope that they’ll figure out that we made it to a safe house, and that they don’t check this one last. Because I’m pretty sure there are at least two more safehouses dedicated to the vicinity of the Hydra base, right?”
She nodded. “We got unlucky with this one.”
“First thing we need to worry about,” he raised his eyebrows, trying to gain her attention, “is food. I looked at the kitchen pretty quickly and there’s not that much stuff stocked. A couple cans of beans, and such. Not nearly enough for how long we’re going to be here though. So unless we want to climb back down again, and see if we can find any food anywhere…”
She squinted and tilted her head as if she was a confused puppy.
“We’re going to have to kill a goat.” He finished.
Her eyes went comically wide. “I am not letting you kill Cheetoh!”
Bucky shook his head, exasperated, “You’ve already named them?”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
The longer they were there, the worse the winds got. But that didn’t stop Bucky from hearing the strange overlap of whipping winds, leading him to lean into the noise from his spot on the couch.
“Do you hear that?” Bucky nudged her.
“It sounds like the wind got a lot worse,” She nodded.
“No, something’s off.”
At Bucky’s concern, Y/N got up off the couch and beat him to the doors. She looked at Bucky, who stood directly behind her, before pushing hard to get the sliding door to budge. Instantly the biting cold attacked them again, and she had to place her right arm over her forehead to keep her hair from whipping into her eyes. Everything outside seemed to be an array of grays, until she was able to spot a shadowy figure emerge from the settling fog. A person appeared, as well as a helicopter.
“Sam?” She called, hoping her voice carried far enough to be heard above the wind.
“Y/N! Bucky! Thank god you guys are okay,” Sam called back, and was quickly met by Y/N who had run the rest of the distance to meet him. Bucky was shortly behind.
“I’ve never been so happy to see your face, Sam.” She giggled, setting her right hand appreciatively on his shoulder.
Quickly spotting Steve exiting the chopper, Bucky hid a scowl as he watched Y/N light up and bound over to the bundled up blond, while calling, “Steve!” He wished he had looked away before seeing her pull him in for a hug.
Wanting to distance himself from the interaction, Bucky stood by Sam.
“How did you find us so fast?” Bucky shook his head, and raised his voice, as the wind started to pick up again.
“My signal, man.” Sam yelled back, despite being three feet apart.
“What?” Bucky wondered if he heard him right.
Sam reached into the left pocket of Bucky’s under jacket, and pulled out a small familiar looking device.
Bucky felt a punch to the gut as he suddenly remembered.
The group had just landed the quinjet deep into the forest. They couldn’t land too close to the base and risk setting off alarms, so they settled for a three mile hike away. Bucky and Sam were meant to approach from the north side, while Steve, Natasha, and Y/N planned to approach from the south side, so the group split off after the jet to take opposite round-a-bout paths. It was about two miles left to go when Sam started complaining.
“Dude, does this thing actually fit in your ear?” Sam gestured to the communications device in his hand. “Because it keeps falling out. It’s getting on my nerves.”
Bucky gave a short grunt, which Sam translated to a ‘yes, it does fit in my ear.’
“I can’t,” Sam finally huffed, “I give up. I don’t have any pockets, can you hold this so I don’t lose it?”
Simply wishing for Sam to shut up, he obliged, and shoved the tiny device into his pocket for safe keeping. Neither of them thought to turn it off first, because in their minds, and past experiences, it always stays turned on in the field. Excluding the moments when people turn them off in acts of defiance.
About a mile later, both men heard a small rustling to their right. In hindsight, it was probably just a rabbit, but Sam suggested he go check it out, just in case. That’s what led to the two splitting up, but Bucky wasn’t worried. He knew that if there was a problem, Sam would’ve made it clear immediately. He also knew that Sam knew his way to the base all on his own.
Bucky arrived at his location at the same time that Steve’s voice buzzed in his ear. At this point, the extra signal was long forgotten.
“We’re in position.” Steve’s voice rattled.
“10-4.” Bucky responded.
“Alright, going dark now. Turn off your comms, let’s go.”
Steve’s voice was followed by the soft beep of Bucky’s signal as he turned it off.
He didn’t realize Sam’s signal was still active in his pocket.
“It was just bad luck dude, don’t feel too bad. I should’ve turned it off before I gave it to you, and I shouldn’t have assumed you’d turn it off yourself.” Sam tried to hide his pity with a half-smile.
“I–I was the leak?” Bucky whispered right as the wind started to calm again. He stared at the small device as Sam hid it in the pocket of his own coat. If only Sam had worn that on the way to the base.
“Yeah,” Sam said at a normal level now that the noise had nearly ceased, “but everyone’s safe now, that’s all that matters.” Sam reassuringly pat Bucky’s shoulder twice before looking back at Steve helping Y/N into the chopper.
Bucky let out a short hum, and focused on the ground. He wanted to crush that stupid little signal. He hated the way it made his chest feel tight, and his heart heavy with guilt.
Sam’s voice interrupted Bucky’s thoughts.
“Those are a lot of goats, man.”
Before Bucky could respond, Steve appeared in front of them.
“Hey Buck,” Steve smiled, pulling him in for a quick hug, “I’m glad we found you so fast. Are you injured at all?” Steve pulled back to examine Bucky’s form.
“No, I’m fine,” Bucky swiftly assured, before feeling the throbbing of guilt consume him again, “but Y/N’s wrist is broken.”
“Don’t worry, I know. I already told her I’d take her straight to medical once we get back. Speaking of, we should get going.”
“Right.”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
Three hours later, the group made it back to New York. As the ramp lowered, Bucky quietly pulled Steve aside.
“I can walk Y/N to med.” He nodded to where she was sitting, staring off into space.
“You sure?” Steve struggled to hide the surprise in his voice.
“Yeah.” Bucky nodded.
“Okay.”
Bucky gave his friend a firm pat on the shoulder before sauntering toward Y/N, who remained in her seat.
“Come on, Y/N.” He held out his right hand, offering her to take it.
“Huh?” She blinked twice, and stared up at him, eyebrows scrunched.
“I’m walking you to med.”
“Oh. Okay.” She paused for a moment before standing up. “So much for being stuck for months.”
“Yeah, I guess that calculation was a bit off.”
“I’m just glad we’re back home. And that you didn’t need to kill any goats.”
“I was going to leave Cheetoh alone.”
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
The rest of their walk was relatively short, but silent, until they reached the doors of Dr. Cho. Bucky didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, as Dr. Cho was given a heads up to Y/N’s injury, and already whisked her away.
Bucky rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet for a minute, until he decided it would be uncomfortable for all parties involved if he stayed. He knew she’d be alright, he convinced himself, so there was no need to be in the way.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
A couple of the Avengers found themselves mentally recovering in the lounge, waiting for Y/N to get out of her evaluation.
“She’ll probably be out for two months. Broken wrist and all that.” Steve relayed, taking a seat on the couch.
“Two months?” Sam repeated, looking up from his bag of chips.
“I think she’s pretty bummed, so try not to mention it.”
As if on cue, Y/N entered the room.
“Hey guys,” she smiled, waving with the arm that wasn’t in a cast.
“Hey Hon. How’s the wrist?”
“Really, Tony?” Natasha glared at him.
“What?” He feigned innocence, throwing his hands in the air.
“It’s fine guys. It doesn’t hurt that bad, I’m more embarrassed than anything.”
“Embarrassed by what? I think that cast makes you look tough.” Sam added, doing his best to cheer others up as always. “And hey, you and Bucky can be twins now.”
“Yeah, kinda. Look at that Buck!” She lifted her left arm in the direction of Bucky, who had been silently brooding in the corner. The bulk could be seen under the fabric of her hoodie, but she felt the need to emphasize the point by taking the pullover off.
She first tried tugging the sleeve off her cast, but it was a bit too snug. After a couple more moments of failing, she switched tactics to just pulling off the hoodie from over her head, but that got her stuck in an awkward position too.
After a second too long of borderline uncomfortable silence and shuffling, Steve spoke up.
“Do you want help with that?”
“Nope, I got it. Just gimme- a second…”
Somehow she had gotten the garment twisted around her right arm and upper body.
“Hon, just let us-” Tony started, but was quickly cut off.
“You know what? It’s suddenly cold again. There’s a weird draft over here.” Y/N quickly tugged the hoodie back down and gave a weary smile. “I’m going to go to my room.”
She ran off before anyone could offer an opinion. Unsurprisingly, Steve was the first to speak.
“I’m going to go check on her.”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
A soft knock came to her door.
“Come in.”
“Hey, Y/N.” Steve gave a sympathetic smile as he gently closed the door behind him.
“Hi Steve, what’s up?” She looked fine, but he could hear the strain in her voice.
“Nothing, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” He stood in front of where she sat at the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got a little frustrated, it’s no big deal.” She shrugged it off, avoiding his eye line.
“It’s okay to feel frustrated.”
“I know. I shouldn’t though. It’s my fault, anyways.”
“How so?”
She cast her gaze to the floor and swept a hand through her hair.
“Well, I think the whole reason we were ambushed was because of me.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
She took a deep breath.
“After Bucky and I got stranded after the attack, I was sure it wasn’t my fault. But then he started saying things, and they were mean… but he was also right. I started second guessing myself, and I thought about it. I mean, out of all of us, I’m the newest. And I was so sure that I turned my signal off…but now I don’t know. I can’t remember. And if it really is my fault they found us, then it’s my fault that fight happened, and it’s my own doing that this—” she pointed to her cast, “happened. I just feel stupid.”
“You weren’t the leak, Y/N.”
“What?”
“It was an accident. Bucky was carrying an extra signal, and no one thought to turn it off.”
“Bucky?” She looked bewildered, shaking her head at this fact.
“Yes.”
“Does he know?”
“Um…I’m not sure. I didn’t tell him. We never had a proper briefing after the chaos derailed our schedule when we got back.”
“I have to go find him.” Her shock turned to a quiet determination of which Steve decided not to push her on.
“Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you still want your hoodie off?”
“Yes please.”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
“Buck, wait up!”
Bucky slowed his jog around the track to a stop when he heard her voice.
“Y/N?”
“Hey.” She gave him a sweet smile once she caught up, one he felt undeserving of.
“Is there something you need?”
“No. I just had to tell you something.”
“I’m listening.” He nodded, crossing his arms. He didn’t mean it in a defensive way, it just happened.
“First of all, you should know it’s not your fault.”
“What?”
“I just found out how we got ambushed, and I figured I should tell you.”
“Oh.” He fought the urge to look away.
“Sam gave you his signal, right? But it was never turned off. It was just an accident. But I needed to tell you, because I know you’re going to blame yourself when they tell everyone at the briefing.” Her concerned tone and eyes met him for the briefest second before he wiped his hands down his face.
“I feel like an asshole.”
“No, please don’t.” She softly touched his elbow.
“I’m going to be honest Y/N, I thought you were going to take it a lot worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you found out that it was me. I was worried you were going to get really mad.”
“Wait, you already knew?”
“Yeah? Sam told me right when he found us…I thought you knew I knew, isn’t that why you just told me all that?”
“I thought you didn’t know. I wanted to be the one to tell you before the briefing, to tell you not to worry about it, because I knew you’d take it hard. But–but you already knew?”
Bucky just stared, jaw dropped at a loss for words.
“And–” She scoffed, “—and you didn’t tell me?!”
“Y/N, I-”
“Don’t ‘Y/N’, me! You—you, jerk! I can’t believe you knew all this time that you were the leak, and after belittling me and convincing me it was my fault, you didn’t tell me the truth!” She laughed in disbelief. “You selfish, cold-hearted, dickhead!”
He wasn’t sure what to say, but it didn’t matter, because she kept going.
“I’m stuck off missions for the next two months with a broken wrist, and you let me think it was my own doing! You made me feel like an idiot!”
“I was going to tell you—”
“When? After I was already told at the meeting? I can’t believe you!” She turned around briefly as if she couldn’t even face him, but quickly turned back. “To think I felt bad for you when I found out it was you who got us ambushed!”
With each insult she managed to get a little closer to him. So close, in fact, that Bucky was struggling to even comprehend what she was saying anymore. All he could think of was how close he was to her, how his hands were just itching to grab her waist. His head was nearly empty when he finally did carefully grab her and pull her closer to him. She paused her rampage to look up into his adoring eyes at his sudden movement.
“Bucky?” She whispered, a swirl of confusion and intrigue.
He replied by placing his lips gently on hers, feeling the warmth of her touch. She reciprocated, kissing him back for a couple seconds before bringing her hands to his chest to furiously push him away, followed by a swift slap to the face.
“Jeez-” The sudden change from bliss to reality was shocking.
“I can’t believe you James!” She yelled, her flustered look from both the kiss and her rage. “I can’t believe you just kissed me! I have a right to be angry, fuck you for thinking you can shut me up by locking my lips!”
‘Shit, I messed up,” he starts to think, about to spew apologies, when he gets cut off by her grasping his hoodie in her hand and pulling him back in for another kiss. The moment his shock subsides and he sinks back into the waves of her kiss, he’s just as abruptly taken from it, head dizzy as she parts from him just to slap him across the cheek again.
“Ow! What was that for?” He brings his hand to the sting. He’s so dazed and confused, a hurricane of thoughts and emotions all fighting for his attention.
“You make me so mad! I’m fuming right now! You are so selfish—”
She cuts herself off, pulling him in for another kiss, one that he’s still not prepared for. His frustration rising at her antics, he brings both hands to either side of her face and holds her steadily against him, resulting in their first kiss that lasted longer than five seconds. When he finally feels her about to let go for breath, he lets his lips leave hers, and continues to cradle her head, their foreheads resting against each other as they both gasp for breath.
“You’re not going to slap me again, are you?” He carefully asks, looking into her eyes.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
He laughs and slowly lets go of her.
“You okay?”
After a few seconds of silence, she responds with hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’ve already given you enough reason to hate me, I was sure that if you found out I was the leak, you’d finally hate me for good.”
“I don’t hate you Bucky. I always figured you kind of hated me. Lately you’ve been acting kind of like-”
“A dick, I know,” he nods. “And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. It’s just-” Bucky’s voice seizes as she sees him look intensely at her mouth.
“It’s what?”
“Can I please kiss you again?”
She slowly nods, and allows Bucky to kiss her for the fourth time. It was fucking heaven to him. Regardless, he abruptly pulls back when a thought crosses his mind.
“Shit, what about Steve?”
“What about Steve?”
“Don’t you like each other?”
She couldn’t help but think his concern was cute, the way he acted like he was talking about middle school crushes.
“Bucky, no,” she laughs, “Steve and I have just always been really good friends. You know, when people are nice to each other, and they like to hang around each other?”
“I just always thought that-”
“Never. He’s my friend. And I can guarantee you he feels the same as me.”
She lets him process the information, watching him nod to himself as if taking it in.
“Oh.”
“Are you jealous?” She smirks, giving him a flirty shove.
His cheeks go pink as he starts to stutter.
“Jea- jealous? No, not jealous. Just-”
Was he jealous? Was it emasculating to admit it? It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care, he’s sick of lying.
“Okay, maybe I was a little bit jealous.” He mumbled, drawing his attention to a pebble on the ground that he was toeing. “So, you do like me, right?”
She lifts his chin upwards and gives him the softest, sweetest, slowest peck.
“Does that answer your question?” She flutters.
“I think so. But the slapping earlier was a bit confusing.” He teased.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s alright, it was well deserved.”
“No, I still shouldn’t have hit you.” She said with certainty. “But I am still a little bit upset that you didn’t tell me.”
“Doll, I know I should’ve told you that you weren’t the leak. I wish–”
“No,” she shakes her head, “I’m upset you never told me how you felt about me. Instead you acted-”
“Like a dick, I know–”
“No, I was going to say like a child. But yeah, a dick, too.”
They just stood together for that moment, appreciating the start of something new. New, and beautiful, with a lot less animosity, and a lot more kisses.
A/N: If you’ve made it this far, thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope you liked it. If you feel like it, please lemme know your thoughts! I hope you have a peaceful day/night 💕
#bucky x f!reader#bucky barnes x reader#Bucky fic#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky angst#bucky barnes fanfiction
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Thought of You Leaves Me Weak 🎰
Chapter 2 of That's What You Get
Prev Chapter || Next Chapter
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Genre: Fluff, suggestive.
Word count: 4.8k
Summary: Pushing through your hangovers, you and Spencer retrace your steps from the night before to see if your shotgun Vegas marriage is legal - and find out some extra personal things along the way.
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, author has a pronounced disinterest in the reality of getting an annulment for a Vegas wedding.
A/N: We're here! Part two! We're still stuck in Vegas for now, but they'll be back to their new normal soon, and now they have a time limit~ Thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented on and signed up for the series taglist from my first post, I hope you all enjoy part two just as much!! Let me know what you think in the comments or over an ask, I'll be replying all weekend :) Here's the taglist link for anyone else who wants to sign up!
Requests are open as well, and you can find some more of my work in my masterlist.
After the initial shock wore off, and the hangover was left to permeate a bit, you and Spencer remembered you were actually FBI agents and had the ability to do something about your predicament.
“I should probably head off to my own room now,” you said pulling yourself out of Spencer’s arms. “Freshen up a bit before we head out to see what’s going on.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” He nodded, then continued. “You know our first stop should probably be the Marriage License Bureau of Las Vegas. If we are legally married, we’d have had to have obtained a marriage licence between 8am and 12am yesterday, they don’t open later than that.”
“Sounds like a plan.” You nodded to him, “Would they even have served us the marriage licence if we were as intoxicated as I think we were?”
“This is Vegas, Y/N. All we’d need is a valid form of ID and to be willing, and we’d have to have been carrying the ID to get into the bars.” You raked a hand through your hair. Of course you had to get married in a shotgun ceremony in the only state where it probably didn’t matter what your alcohol intake had been.
“Well, we were obviously both willing.” You say, gesturing to the bed, and then curse yourself inwardly as you see the downturned look on Reid’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“No, it’s okay. You’re right, I wouldn’t have handcuffed you without at least verbal consent.” He replied, pulling a shirt on finally.
“Right,” you let that revelation sit between the two of you, as he turns his back, continuing to get himself ready for the rest of the day. If you were honest with yourself, you’d have admitted to always having an attraction to your coworker, but nothing you’d solidly act on. Yeah, he was beautiful, and you’d enjoyed joining in the teasing everytime Morgan had called him a pretty boy, because he was. But you’d never let your thoughts drift to what he might be like in bed, and now you were regretting that because you had nothing to base your theories of the last night on except that you’d woken up in handcuffs.
Really, if someone had asked you the question about what you could possibly expect from Spencer Reid in the bedroom, the furthest you’d be able to imagine was some incredibly professional, missionary sex. If you thought a little harder, you’d remember that the man had once highlighted his distinct lack of “alpha-male” qualities on a case once, so, really, if anyone was going to be locked up in handcuffs, surely it would’ve been him.
You try to shake that mental picture from your head, but doing so just aggravates your headache, so you have to sit with the image of Spencer Reid tying you up and making you beg.
“You okay, Y/N? You look a bit pale,” he looks a little bit concerned for you when he finally turns back, and you can only imagine the look on your face if you’re eliciting that much concern.
“Yeah, yeah, totally fine, nothing’s wrong. Why are you asking?” you stutter out.
“Because you said you were going to shower five minutes ago, and you haven’t really moved all that much in that time.” You curse yourself again, and you force yourself out of your head.
“Oh! Yeah!” you move off towards the door, grabbing everything you’ve left in a trail to the door, retracing your steps from the night before. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in like twenty minutes?” You didn’t even wait for his reply before pushing the door open and sprinting to your room, not even caring that you hadn’t put your shoes on.
–X–
If you couldn’t be trusted to make simple choices when drunk, such as the choice to not be married to your coworker, you probably also couldn’t be trusted to make simple choices when hungover, such as a place to meet your now husband where the rest of your friends wouldn’t see you in your post-sex haze from the night before.
Which is how you found yourself cowering behind a plant in the lobby desperate to avoid being spotted by Agents Rossi and Hotchner who apparently were up and in suits for some godforsaken reason. You tried to get Reid on the phone, but he wasn’t picking up, and you had a flash of him asking you how to put his phone on silent mode from the night before hit you like a tonne of bricks.
“Shit, shit.” Nothing else useful came out of you though, so behind the plant you were waiting for them to approach the elevators so you could continue as planned. While you were in the bathroom, you’d finally noticed the blooming bruises running up the length of your neck, and you found yourself slightly impressed by Reid once again.
He’d managed to tie you up but still pay that much attention to you, and you were equal parts cursing him and desperately hoping the memories would come back to see just what other secrets he was hiding behind that unassuming frame. With the lack of contraception, you really couldn’t be sure that the two of you had had sex in the traditional sense, but you certainly seemed to have had some fun last night, and not being able to remember drove you insane.
Thankfully, the two agents made their way to the elevator without noticing you, and you let out a breath of relief as soon as the elevator dinged, ready to take them as far away from you as you needed. Unfortunately, once again, anytime fate dealt you one good hand, it followed it up with the worst ever, and as the elevator doors opened, there was Reid. You made a mental note to check your bank balance after this, sure that if you had ended up gambling with Reid, you’d most likely bankrupted yourself with this luck.
“Reid, good morning,” Hotch greeted him, and even from your unconventional perch, you could hear the panic in the younger man's voice as he began struggling for excuses to answer questions that hadn’t even been asked yet.
“Hotchner, Rossi, what are you doing here? Well I know what you’re doing here, you’re waiting for an elevator, and I know what you’re doing in the hotel because we’re all here in the hotel, but I mean what are you doing? In general?” It was almost as if he were asking himself that question at the end, trying to work out why the words were even leaving his mouth.
You couldn’t swoop in and save him without the others seeing your new necklace of hickeys and handprints, so you just had to watch him combust adorably in front of the two seasoned FBI Agents.
“Calm down, kid, don’t pull a muscle in that brain of yours, it’s a highly valuable FBI asset.” Rossi joked with him as they switched places, Rossi and Hotch going into the elevator and Reid slinking out.
“Dave and I just finished breakfast. I’m afraid you may have just missed it, Spencer, but there’s a buffet on the third floor that’s supposedly open all day.” Hotch said.
“Actually, I think food isn’t a great idea for me right now.”
“Oh, wild night, kid? No, wait, let me guess, you tracked down a Star Wars convention?”
“I’m more of a fan of Star Trek myself, you know the technology they appeared to have on screen in the show is really fascinating in that it’s-”
“Oh, how unfortunate, door’s closing. See you later, kid.” You breathed a sigh of relief as you watched the elevator climb up to the higher floors of the accommodation and left your perching spot.
“Spencer, over here.” You waved to him a little, and he turned to the sound of your voice, visually relaxing the moment he set his eyes on you.
“You don’t think they noticed I’m acting weird, right?”
“Reid, everytime you mention anything remotely pop-culture-y to Rossi he does his best to erase the conversation from his brain, okay? And Hotch looks like he hasn't slept in a decade. I’m sure they didn’t notice anything.”
“What? I thought Rossi loved our talks, he always says that I’m a riveting conversationalist.”
You just nodded along with him and patted his arm pitifully, leading him out of the lobby and into the waiting streets of Las Vegas, Nevada.
–X–
Twenty minutes later, you were sitting outside of the Marriage License Bureau, waiting to see if your fate was sealed.
“Okay, so what’s our strategy?” you asked, removing your seatbelt and moved to open your door, jumping out of the SUV you’d commandeered from the parking garage.
“Strategy? Why do we need a strategy?” Reid joined you quickly, exiting from the passenger side, satchel in hand.
“Well, I mean, what are we going to ask them, what are we going to do when we’ve found out if this is real or a hoax or not.”
“Y/N, I think you’re overthinking this. This is Nevada, I’m sure they’re used to any questions we might have.” You took a deep breath looking at the doors of the building and tried to rationalise your thoughts. You were going to be fine, it’s just a marriage, nothing too big.
Pushing the doors open, you were floored by the sheer amount of couples on the premises.
“Shit.” You’d cursed more in the last four hours than you had in the last year, almost beginning to worry that it was becoming a habit.
“Please take a number and wait for your turn to be called, our current waiting time is three and a half hours. If you leave the premises at any point, your place will be forfeited,” a bored looking worker with a small microphone called over the crowd as you entered.
“Hi, sorry, is there a help desk of some kind?” you approached and asked her, a sinking feeling growing in your gut. “We just need to see if our wedding licence is valid.”
“Then please take a ticket, and we’ll see you soon.” The other woman replied, frustratingly monotone.
“No, you don’t understand, we’re leaving the state in three hours, we can’t just sit around, we need answers now, legal advice, something.”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but if you continue to speak to our staff members in that aggressive way, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” another member of staff now joined the first.
“Aggressive? I am not aggressive,” you said but you could hear the agitation in your own voice, and the tightness in your shoulders.
“What she means to say,” said Reid from behind you, dropping a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Is that we are FBI agents, leaving town on another case soon, and we would really appreciate your cooperation? I have our marriage licence here. If you could just look over it, it’d only take a few seconds of your time.” The tension rolled off of you in waves, and you melted into his touch as he gladly stepped up to continue your communication.
“Okay, yeah, that definitely seems like a legit licence. You FBI agents, you say?” the first woman questions you, and not trusting yourself not to reply passive aggressively and ruin her cooperative mood, you bite your tongue and just nod.
“My coworker who worked the graveyard shift yesterday mentioned we had a few of you come through. Congratulations on your marriage.” She handed the licence back to you and the pit in the bottom of your stomach grew.
“Is your colleague still here? We just had a few questions about some logistics. We’re out of state, you know?” Reid smiled and you were so thankful for him, for the comforting hand he’d trailed down your shoulder and rested at the small of your back as you stood fidgeting next to him. It took you a minute to realise you were playing with your new wedding ring, already so used to it being there on your finger that you hardly noticed its presence.
“Her next shift starts at 12, but if you’re as desperate for information as I think you are, I’ll have her come see you when she comes in. She’s usually five minutes early anyways.” Reid thanked the woman, and fifteen minutes later, a younger woman with a bright smile was greeting you in the lobby and leading you to a private room in the back.
“Doctor and Mrs. Reid, welcome back! Sandy said you had some follow up questions after yesterday?” she greeted you, and your head started pounding again.
“You remember us?” Reid asked, the confusion knitting his brow as he walked ahead of you.
“I don’t tend to forget husbands as handsome and romantic as you, Doctor.” Something flared in your gut then, anger or protectiveness, but it felt green and red, and you pulled Reid’s hand into your own as she guided you to sit at the table at the far side of the room.
“We’re looking to fill in some gaps in our memory from last night,” you spoke, now not caring to hold back any annoyance in your voice. This woman had written out your marriage licence and yet here she was flirting with your husband. With your Reid. With Reid. Again, the curses jumped to your tongue.
“Ah, I see. One of those.” She shot a smile at Reid, and you shot a look at him as well, but he looked oblivious at her interest and you caught yourself letting out a sigh of relief before turning back to the woman.
“You didn’t realise we were drunk?” you asked her.
“Oh no, we realised. We just assumed you were finally taking the plunge after everything you said. And everything you did, too.”
“Everything we did?” you pushed out, your voice ten times higher than usual. You coughed to make it seem like your throat was just dry, not also housing your entire heart.
“You don’t remember? You two looked so in love. You were all over each other, kissing, touching, whispering and giggling. Honestly, it was just nice to have a couple in love here at 11pm that weren’t trying to have sex in the waiting area.” The blush crept up your neck, and you tried your best to force it back down. Obviously, it didn’t work.
You were about to ask another question, probably about how you would go about getting an annulment, when she finally continued.
“And then when you got the licence you were so happy and you called your friends to come and celebrate with you. You asked for the nearest chapel and we have all that information out in the hall and you said your friends were going to come meet you, so you took off.” She shrugged a little, taking a swig from her coffee. You couldn’t help but feel that even after all of that, she was still eyeing up Spencer, so you squeezed his hand a little bit harder at that, your other hand gravitating to his bicep too, your entire body leaning into his.
“Friends?” Spencer was the first one to wake up to that statement, and your agitation reached its peak.
“Yeah, the two teammates you mentioned. You told everyone they were meeting you at the chapel, that you’d all been here working a case and they were the two that responded to your calls that night.”
“Did we mention any names?” you asked.
“No, just that they were FBI Agents. Is there something wrong?”
–X–
You threw the doors of the building open as you gasped for air, the panic fully setting in now.
“Y/N, wait,” Spencer yelled after you, following you onto the pavement. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you tugged on your hair, mindlessly fretting with it, unconscious to the pain. He finally reached you and pulled your hands into his, forcing you to look up into his eyes.
“Y/N, it’s fine. We’re going to be fine.” He soothed you quickly, and you hiccuped through the small sobs you were now letting out.
“Spencer, two of our friends know that we got married last night, and we don’t know who or how much they know, and now we know that our marriage is legal and you’re stuck with me and I got us into all this mess because I’m an adult who doesn’t want to tell her mom to back off.” By the end of your speech he was cradling your head in his hands, as your tears flowed down your face in messy trails.
“Hey, look at me. You told me this morning that this was not my fault, and I’m telling you now that that doesn't mean it's yours. We’re in this together, okay?” he waited for you to nod before continuing. “Besides, no matter who it was, our team mates love us. They’ll understand.”
“What if we get reassigned? This is a conflict of interests, right, me and you working together like this?” You’d worked so hard to be accepted into the BAU, you didn’t want to let this be your exit, and you sure as hell weren’t letting them fire Spencer for it.
“We’ll talk to Hotch and Rossi, they don't want to lose either of us, and if we get this dealt with quick enough, maybe we won't even have to report it. We could keep it quiet for a while, right?” You knew all of his words made sense, they were the best course of action for the two of you. He’d probably run all of the scenarios through his head while you showered this morning, which is why he was so level-headed. But there was a discomfort that you just couldn’t shake.
“You mean we could get this…annulled?” you asked cautiously, looking into his eyes to gauge his reaction.
“If you want, we can walk right back in there and have it done soon, I’m sure that employee would help us, she seemed friendly-”
“No.” You practically shouted, not wanting to come face to face with that woman again, and watch her flirt with Reid as he signed the annulment paperwork. “I mean, there’s no time, right? We should probably head to the chapel to figure out who our witnesses are and then we’re heading back to Quantico.” You did to rationalise your decision, praying that the jealousy (jealousy?) that you felt didn’t show in your voice or face.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Well, we have 21 days from now to file, before the annulment period passes and we’re looking at divorce, which is not favourable for either of us, but we can file from out of state.” You nodded along with his words, glad for the lack of questioning, and that he didn’t clock the hopeful glint to your eye.
“Okay, great. Yeah.” You had calmed down enough now for your proximity to become awkward, and Reid noticed as soon as you did, pulling his hands away from you and taking a step back. Maybe it was the hangover, or just the overwhelming series of emotions you’d been through successively, but it felt wrong suddenly having him so far from you. Shaking it off, you grabbed your keys out of your pocket.
“She said we picked up the information about the chapel from the lobby, right? Can we narrow down which one it is with the photo?” You suggested, suddenly not able to meet his eyes.
“Oh, right, yeah. We’d have had to have been able to get there on foot, too. I’ll go and ask them if they recognise which one it is,” he made to move back in, but you shouted a resounding ‘no’ before he could take another step.
“I’ll do it! I should probably apologise for earlier anyway, right?” you chuckled awkwardly, pushing the doors open and leaving him behind with that confused look set against his skin once again.
–X–
“I’m telling you, we delete the footage from the previous day at noon, I can’t help you.” You’d tracked down the chapel pretty quickly despite all of your options, and now found yourself arguing with a pretty lackluster Elvis impersonator, desperate to figure out any more details about the night before.
“What about staff members that could verify? We just need a vague description.”
“Everyone’s a part-timer here, lady. The people on shift today won't be back for another two days or so. Come back then, okay?” He showed you to the door then, and if you hadn’t gotten drunk and married in Vegas the night before, this would certainly have been your lowest moment.
“Nothing?” Reid asked from his perch on the car.
“They delete the security footage.” You signed in frustration, and he showed a sympathetic smile on his face.
“How do you want to play it, then?” he asked. “Two of them are already going to know, should we just come clean to the entire team, see if they could help?”
“No, god no. As much as it’s my current reality, I don’t really want to have to respond to Mrs. Reid until Morgan gets new material, and no one’s going to be this easy of a target any time soon.”
“Technically speaking, you’d have to apply for a legal name change to become Mrs. Reid, usually couples do it a few days either side of the wedding and start the process of updating all their legal IDs so they can travel internationally for honeymoons without anyone asking questions.”
“Not the point, Reid.”
“And I knew that. Sorry.” It was hard to stay annoyed at him with that small smile stretched across his lips, and you suddenly found yourself wondering just exactly how he'd felt against you.
You’d kissed at the chapel, at the wedding licence office, in his hotel room, and you couldn’t for the life of you remember if you’d been the one to lean in first, or if it’d been him, or if it’d been both of you and what that meant. Did he like you, did you subconsciously want him in this way? Did this even mean anything? And what had those handcuffs been about?
He couldn’t answer most of those questions, and honestly, you weren’t sure you wanted the answers, but it’d been a day of awkward conversations, so you thought you might as well let your curiosity rule you for a few more minutes.
“Spencer, would you mind me asking a personal question?”
“Sure, we are married now. Don’t they say that the number one thing to remember in marriage is communication?” He tried to joke, but you couldn’t laugh as you got ready to spit some of the most horrific words you’d ever strung together out.
“Spencer, do you…do you often use handcuffs? In bed, I mean?” you were bright red, stood outside a 24 hour wedding chapel in the heart of Vegas and you couldn’t believe this was your life.
“Oh.” He was the same shade of red as you, and he stuttered through his next few incoherent words before you found his reply.
“I’ve not done it with the handcuffs before, but I guess I’ve…thought about it? It’s definitely in line with my… Do we have to do this here?”
“Would you rather talk about this on the jet?”
“Do we have to do this at all?” He groaned, shutting his eyes and you could feel the horror at his own actions spreading through his body.
“We are married now. Communication is key, remember?” He sighed and acquiesced, running a hand through his hair before turning back to you and forcing the words out.
“I know you probably didn’t think this about me before, but I am pretty controlling in bed. I don’t like feeling… hopeless, and it just manifests as dominance, okay? It’s been a while since I had a partner though, so the handcuffs were new to me, but I’ve tied girls up before. Now can we stop this conversation here before someone on this very public street hears us?”
“Okay, yeah sure. That actually makes a lot of sense really.” You said, nodding and moving to get into the car. You tried to keep your thoughts to yourself, knowing that the knowledge of his preferences was going to plague your dreams for the next few nights.
“You don’t have to lie, Y/N, I know I don’t seem like the type.” He got into the passenger side next to you, and you ignored looking at him in the mirrors desperately as you started the engine and made your way back to the hotel.
“No, I mean it makes sense that it happened to us. I don’t think we would’ve ended up in bed together if we weren’t so… compatible.” You let the silence sit between you as you let him take in your words, driving to the orchestra of midday strip traffic.
“Oh.” He said. “Oooh.” He finally caught on, and you felt your head turning in his direction, but you forced it back towards the road, convincing yourself that you really didn’t need to see his reaction, to study his expressions.
“Well, at least we know that we both enjoyed it then.” You weren’t sure if he was just oblivious, or trying to get a reaction from you, but nonetheless, your heart clenched at that, excitement rising in your stomach.
You convinced yourself that it was probably just the alcohol, and drove in silence back to the hotel, ready for your departure.
--X--
🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @kapeyama @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @sharkcat1928 @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @zada-quinn @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @kspencer34 @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid series#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds smut#criminal minds spencer reid#spencer reid drabble#Series: That's What You Get#maturereiding
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
We've got you | Arsenal WFC
Pairing: Arsenal x Teen!Reader
Request: Arsenal teen reader fic where they have an eating disorder and the team helps them through it.
Warnings: Eating disorders, passing out, talk of negative body image.
A/n: Thank you @catasha for proof-reading and your feedback & thank you @lessi-lover and @greynatomy as well for your help 💗
Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2k
-----
As the youngest player on the team a lot of your teammates kept a close eye on you. They made sure you did your homework, helped you pack your bag, and in general were there for you for whatever you needed. There was one thing they hadn’t noticed though, and it was that you had started eating less and less. You were actively trying to hide it from them, so you didn't blame them for not noticing.
You had been diagnosed with an eating disorder when you were fourteen years old, and though you had been doing better the past year, your old habits started to reappear. Of course, something like that doesn’t really go away, but the voices in your head telling you that you shouldn’t eat have been quiet.
None of your teammates knew about your diagnosis, as you hadn;t struggled with it during your time with Arsenal. Well, not until now. In your plan to hide it from your teammates, you hadn’t counted on someone knowing the symptoms of an eating disorder, but one of them did. Alessia Russo, one of the more recent signings was keeping an eye on your food intake, unbeknownst to you. She had noticed you barely touching your breakfast. At first she didn’t think anything of it, but when she saw you only eating a few bites of your lunch, until you excused yourself, her mind started to wonder. She recognized patterns she had been stuck on in her highschool years, and hoped that she was wrong, but she couldn’t just let the thoughts go.
After training that afternoon, Alessia walked with you back to your bags, having placed hers conveniently next to yours at the start. The two of you are talking, when she grabs a protein bar from her bag. “Man, I’m full. Can I interest you in the other half? I would hate for it to go to waste.” You hesitated, but took the bar from her, not fully confident in denying food one on one. Alessia continued talking, but you didn’t hear a word she was saying as you were trying to convince the voices in your head you should eat the bar she offered. You don’t deserve to eat. You’ve gained weight, eating the bar will make it go up more. You tried to fight it. I already took the bar, I have to at least take a bite to show my appreciation. After fighting with the voices in your head for what felt like half an hour, you managed to move the bar up to your mouth with a shaky hand. Luckily Alessia was busy untying her boots, and didn’t see your hands shaking. One small bite is all you were able to eat before the voices in your head started to get loud again. You smiled to Alessia, “Thank you for this.” and head back to the locker rooms. Once you were out of sight from the rest of the team, you threw the bar in a nearby trash can.
You were currently training in Portugal, so you didn’t have much time where you weren’t surrounded by your teammates. Each meal time was taken together, so you diverted to making it seem like you were eating by tactically moving around the food on your plate, putting a bite on your fork and moving it around while you were conversing with the people surrounding you. Trying to keep their focus on your words, rather than the lack of food actually entering your mouth.
Alessia stuck around until most of the room had cleared out, leaving just the two of you in the room. She moved over to your table, “Hey y/n, how are you doing?” You look up from your plate, “Oh hi Lessi, I’m doing alright. How are you?” She smiled at you softly, “I’m doing alright as well. I wanted to check in with you, to see if everything was okay, since I noticed you hadn’t really touched your food.” Your cheeks turned red, had she noticed? You quickly shake off the thought and shrug your shoulders, “Oh, yes, I’m okay. Just not very hungry, that’s all.” Alessia didn’t want to push you, knowing that that could make it worse, so she settled on talking about football instead, to bond with you, and not let you be on your own.
The next day you were running around during practice, you loved drills where you got to show your speed. The team was split into two lines, as you would be competing against each other. One person from each team would go at the same time, sprinting to the finish line, the one that reached it first would earn the cone for their team. The team that got to ten cones first would win the exercise.
Your team was currently at nine cones, while the other team was at eight. It was you running against Lotte, and if you were the fastest, you would get the victory for your team. “You’re going down, grandma.” The team knew you as a joker, so Lotte was used to your antics. “Yeah yeah, you just focus on not tripping over your own feet, kiddo.” You roll your eyes at her, “That was one time!”
The two of you get ready on the line and wait for the countdown and the whistle to blow. You were running neck and neck, until about three quarters of the way, it was then that you got a step ahead of Lotte, but your lead didn’t last long, as suddenly you found yourself getting weak and dizzy. You divert from the straight line that you were running, and slow down your run. Lotte immediately noticed that something was wrong, and stopped her run to help you. “Hey kid, what’s wrong?’ She grabs your shoulders to keep you in place. “Dizzy.” Is all you get out before you collapse in her arms.
You passed out for a moment, but luckily the medics were quick by your side. “What happened?” You ask when you see all your teammates standing around you with worried looks on their faces. “You passed out, kid. Do you know what happened?” Leah had your head laying in her lap. “Don’t know.” You say groggily, still not feeling well. “Let’s get you to one of the physio rooms to get you checked out.” One of the medics reached down their hands to help you up.
Everyone was in the hallway, waiting to hear what was going on, a few of them pacing the hallway, and others sitting along the wall. “She was joking around just moments before, how could this happen out of nowhere?” Leah voiced the thought that most of the girls shared. “I might have an idea.” Alessia said softly.
The medics walk out of the physio room once they are done examining you, “She seems alright now. We don’t know what happened yet, so we will have to keep a close eye on her. We advised her to stay in the room for at least another hour, just until she feels a bit stronger again. You can see her though.”
After what Alessia had just shared with the group, just Alessia, Leah, and Kim go into the room first. “Hey kiddo, how are you doing?” Leah sits down on the bed with you, and wraps her arm around you. “I still feel a bit weak, but otherwise okay. You all look very serious though, what’s going on?” Leah looks up to Kim with tears welling in her eyes, not being able to do the talking without breaking. You were like a little sister to her, and it hurt seeing you like this. “It came under our attention that you haven’t really been eating, and we wanted to check in with you. You really scared us out there kid, you need to take care of your body. Can you please tell us how long this has been going on?”
They knew now, so hiding was no longer an option. “I was diagnosed with an eating disorder when I was fourteen.” You could feel Leah tense beside you, as she came to the realisation just how serious this was. “I never mentioned it because it’s not been a problem since I’ve joined the team. It started playing up again a few weeks ago, I can handle it.” You were downplaying your wording, trying not to scare your teammates. Leah shook her head, “You’re not handling it though, you literally passed out!” You were shocked with the emotion behind her voice. “Leah, I’m fine.” Leah felt herself getting angry, “No, y/n, you’re not.” She said before she left the room, not wanting to get angry with you while she knew you were struggling.
It stays quiet for a moment, before Alessia speaks up. “I struggled with my weight and my body a lot growing up. I wanted to be skinny, but it ended up making me too weak to play. I learned that for football being strong was more important than my body fitting this image in my mind that society had created.” Kim continued where Alessia left off, “It’s important to give your body the right nutritions, it is for all of us, but especially for a growing body like yours. Skipping meals can harm your body, more than it will do good. We understand that this is a lot, but we really do not want anything like today to happen to you again.” Tears started to form in your eyes. Kim stands up and goes in to hug you, “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”
Once you calmed down a bit, Kim continued the conversation. They wanted to do everything in their power to help you, because they understood how mentally challenging an eating disorder could be. “We’re going to set up a meeting with the dietitian and nutrition team tomorrow, and get you on a plan that will help you eat in a healthy way, that is based on your body specifically. Alessia is going with you, because her experience will help make sure your best interest is at heart. We are going to be there with you every step of the way. You’re a part of a team, and that means we don’t let anyone go through something alone, okay?” You nodded, “Okay.”
In the hallway Leah is crying into Lia’s arms, after she asked the rest of the team to give you some space today. “She’s acting like nothing is wrong, Wally.” The older girl rubs her hands over her best friend’s back in soothing motions. “I understand, but she needs you Lee. I know you’re angry with her for not telling anyone she’s been struggling, and with yourself for not noticing she was, but let’s focus on the fact that it’s out in the open now, and you can help her.”
Lia’s words were convincing, so much so that Leah headed back into the room, and asked for a moment alone with you. “Hey kiddo, I’m sorry I ran out. I couldn’t handle my emotions in a way that would be fair to you, so I needed a moment.” You smile at her softly, “It’s fine Lee. I understand, it was big news, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.” Leah steps forward and hugs you to her chest. “Let’s get you home, okay?” You had been living with Leah since you moved to London, probably the reason that you were closest with her. “Okay.”
The next morning Leah drove you to London Colney for your appointment with the dietitian and nutrition team. Alessia was already waiting when you arrived, she greeted you with a hug. “It’s good to see you, kiddo. Are you ready?” You returned the hug. “As I’ll ever be.”
It was very helpful having the both of them there. Leah for reassuring you, and Alessia to make sure you answered all their questions properly. After an hour of talking with the team, they had set up the basics of the plan for you. In the next couple of days they would get back to you with a more elaborate plan, including meal options and recipes.
You know that your journey with food and your body weren’t going to be easy, but you knew that you weren’t going to be alone. The team had always been like family to you, and yesterday showed you again that they would love you unconditionally, and that they would be there for you, no matter what.
-----
💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗
#arsenal wfc x reader#arsenal wfc imagine#arsenal women#arsenal wfc#awfc imagine#awfc x reader#awfc#woso imagines#woso imagine#woso x reader#alessia russo#alessia russo x reader#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader#kim little#kim little x reader
420 notes
·
View notes
Note
Omg I just saw a tiktok and it was the cutest thing ever! Okay so this girl goes up to her fiancé after his game (the like meet n greet or whatever) and acts like his fangirl! Could I get something like that for Atsumu please? (You don’t have to but thank you if you do <33333)
well hello, pretty stranger.
after atsumu signed yet another one of his fan's merchandise of him, he took in a deep breath and tried to brace himself for another round of smiling nonstop and acting all charming, like how his fans think of him as. it does get suffocating after a while of this, all he can imagine of to keep himself sane and from teetering at his wits' end is by dreaming of coming home in a few hours, laying down on your lap, and being treated to a night long full of loving between you two.
as he's stuck day dreaming about you, the next person in line comes up; with her excusing herself to him to catch his attention as he sat there, in a bit of a daze, imaging how soft your lap would be and how much he just wants to get this over with already so he can smother you with his affection.
he soon snaps out of his gaze when she waves her hand in front of his face a little, catching his attention. he quite literally snaps out of it, his back jolting in surprise as he gains sobriety once more and realizes just where he is and what he was doing before dreaming of you and your embrace. he chuckles and rubs the back of his head, an embarrassed smile on his face as he apologizes for not noticing her earlier.
he doesn't look at her face yet, but he politely takes the jersey she handed to him to sign, but for some reason, the feel of the jersey was... familiar. the smile fades from his lips as he looks over the clothing she handed him, seeing the number on the jersey was the same as his, but on the back, the words, "mrs. miya" were printed on them. it was then that atsumu realized... you came to his signing, you came to his meet and greet today.
all his wishes came true much earlier than he thought, and when atsumu looked up, his suspicions were confirmed. "um... are you okay, mr. miya?" you ask him with a shy, yet awfully knowing, smile; making atsumu do a double take and pause for a minute to collect his thoughts. he nodded and gave you a beaming smile. "yep! ...never been better." he muttered as he signed your jersey, taking all his time to let this moment with the woman he'd spend the rest of his life with in a few months linger for just a split second longer.
when you thank him and take the jersey back from him, he sneakily wraps his calloused hands around your wrist, gently pulling you close to him as he whispers in your ear, "thanks for saving my ass and sanity, babe. i love ya." and when he relinquished his grip on your wrists, leaving you flustered and unable to return his 'i love you', he looked to you from the side as you were about to leave and wait for him somewhere in the building, sending you a genuine smile of gratitude, and a wink your way. he couldn't wait to officially make you his mrs. miya in the future... you gave him enough energy and excitement to last 50 more of these meet and greets for one whole sitting!
#atsumu miya#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x fem!reader#haikyuu x female reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu atsumu#hq atsumu#msby atsumu#hq#hq x reader#hq fanfiction#hq imagines#hq x fem!reader#hq x female reader
668 notes
·
View notes
Text
— BRAT TAMING 101!
Kento Nanami x Male Y/N || Content Warnings: minor writing smut, nsfw, idea/request from my old account (@ballsinyojaws2000), anal, blowjob, nudes, sending nudes while at work, semi-semi-public(??), rough, creampie, cum swallowing, throatfucking, married y/n + kento, subbot y/n & domtop kento, rest of writing under cut || Word Count: 2,212 || Followers When Posted: 95 ||Author's Note: told you guys a fic would be posted tonight || property of ©wyuovvia . all rights reserved . do not plagiarize , repost , or translate any of my work without my permission .
ALBUM ENTRY!: Being home alone without your husband is boring, so why not spice things up by sending him nudes while he's at work? Who knows what'll happen! You'll only find out if you try it!
Kento is busy at work, stuck doing what seems like an endless amount of paperwork because his co-workers couldn’t finish it. It was currently 11:56 PM. He better be getting paid more for this. Kento is on the verge of just leaving the building right here, right now, but of course, he can’t do that because then he would probably fired. The job has adequate pay anyway. It’s enough for him to get good money if he works enough. When Kento is about to start yet another portion of work he had, his phone buzzes on the desktop near him.
He checks his phone, and it was [Y/N]. But out of all things, he didn't expect [Y/N] to send him nudes while he was working at all. In the picture, [Y/N] was laid out on the bed with a dildo in his ass and a vibrator pressed against his cock. The message that [Y/N] sent after that was "Miss you Kento <3"
Kento's heart skipped a beat as he gazed at the explicit image of [Y/N] lying seductively on the bed, the dildo firmly planted inside him and the vibrator teasingly touching his erect member. A mix of shock and excitement coursed through him. Without thinking twice, he quickly locked his office door, pulled his phone closer, and replied to the message, "You're such a bad boy, playing with yourself while I'm stuck here." He closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself in the dildo’s place, feeling the sensations of [Y/N] squeezing around him and begging him for more.
After a few seconds, Kento continued, "But you know what they say - bad boys deserve even better punishment. Once I get home, I'm going to spank that cute little ass of yours until it turns bright red. And then, I'll slide into you nice and slow, reminding you who owns you, you horny brat." With each word, his grip tightened around his phone, and his jaw clenched as thoughts of dominating [Y/N] consumed his mind.
A few seconds later, [Y/N] sends a picture of his cock dripping cum. The message [Y/N] sends after says "you should come home soon" Kento nearly dropped his phone as he saw the fresh wave of explicit content from [Y/N]. His husband's cock glistening with cum against the soft sheets, the messy aftermath of self-indulgence. His pulse quickened, and he swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure amidst the carnal images. Taking a deep breath, he texted back, "You naughty little thing, already cumming without me? Fine, I'll see how much more you can handle when I get home. You'd better clean up before I arrive, or I might show you just how much worse it could get."
With a final, smug grin, Kento shot one last message before shoving his phone back into his pocket. "And don't think you're off the hook yet. I'm bringing a surprise for you tonight - something to remind you of our little arrangement. Get ready to feel every inch of it, my dear husband.", he whispered to himself, a wicked smile spreading across his lips. He couldn't wait any longer; he grabbed his jacket and headed towards their apartment, eager to claim his prize.
As he walks to his car and turns on the engine, his cock starts to throb in his pants. He can barely focus fully on the road due to his mind thinking of all the things he's going to do to [Y/N] as punishment. Kento's grip on the steering wheel tightened as his throbbing cock strained against his pants, an unwelcome distraction as he focused on navigating the busy streets back home. The thought of punishing [Y/N] for his impudence was both enticing and arousing, filling him with a primal sense of dominance. He knew [Y/N] was enjoying this game, and so was he. But he couldn't let it affect his driving.
With a deep breath, Kento tried to redirect his thoughts to the road ahead, his mind racing between visions of [Y/N]'s eager body and the need to safely transport himself to their apartment. Though his heart pounded in anticipation, he managed to keep his focus and eventually pulled into the parking lot of their building. As he exited the car, he took one last deep breath and reminded himself that he was the one in control. Once inside, he would show [Y/N] just who wore the pants in their marriage, and he couldn't wait to sink into his husband's tight warmth.
Kento quickly made his way up to their room as fast as he could. He pulls out his keys, unlocks the door, and immediately rushes to the bedroom where he finds [Y/N] teasing his cock with the vibrator still, and the dildo that was in him before was next to him on the bed. In between [Y/N]'s legs, there was still cum on his cock and the bedsheets below. [Y/N] only had one of Kento's shirts on and he looks up when Kento enters the room as he blushes and smirks at him.
Kento's blood ran hot as he caught sight of [Y/N], still teasing himself with the vibrator, the dildo lying beside him on the bed. His eyes immediately locked onto the residue of his husband's earlier climax, a testament to his naughty behavior. His heart raced, and his cock twitched at the thought of taking [Y/N] right then and there.
Stepping into the room, Kento's eyes never left [Y/N]'S smirking face. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood, otherwise, you'd be punished already," he hissed, his voice thick with desire. "Get up, and get the rest of your clothes off. We have a lot to cover tonight."
As he spoke, Kento's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning it and shrugging it off his shoulders. He made quick work of his tie and unzipped his pants, revealing his hardened member. "I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget, my naughty husband."
[Y/N] takes Kento's shirt off of himself and after that, Kento lays on the bed and [Y/N] lays across him with his head laying on Kento's lower abdomen. [Y/N]'s bold move caught Kento off guard, but he found himself liking the initiative his husband had shown. With a smirk, he patted the spot on his abdomen, beckoning [Y/N] to settle in comfortably. As [Y/N] lay across him, Kento felt a surge of power, his gaze lingering on the curve of his husband's ass. Kento grabs one of the pillows and places it so [Y/N] laying on it, and it's under [Y/N]'s waist.
"Spread your legs, boy," Kento commanded, his voice stern as he adjusted the pillow beneath [Y/N]. "You're going to get exactly what you deserve, so be ready." As his husband complied, he couldn't help but admire the view before him. He reached for one of [Y/N]'s plump cheeks, giving it a sharp smack. "Keep your legs open, or I'll make sure your ass is red by the time I'm done with you."
With that, Kento's eyes locked onto [Y/N]'s eager mouth as it engulfed his cock. He groaned, his hand tightening on the sheet as [Y/N]'s skilled tongue and lips worked their way down Kento's cock.
Nanami puts his hand on the back of [Y/N]'s head and slowly moves him up and down his cock. As Nanami starts to make [Y/N] go lower onto his cock, [Y/N] gags a bit and moans around his dick each time his head moves back down. While Nanami's one hand moves [Y/N]'s head up and down, the other is reaching over and spanking [Y/N]'s ass.
As [Y/N]'s gagging moans echoed in the room, Nanami couldn't help but smile. The sight of his husband's face contorted around his cock, the feeling of [Y/N]'s throat muscles pulsating around him - it was all too much. He leaned back, his hand tightening on the back of [Y/N]'s head as he guided him to the tip, letting him catch his breath before plunging back down.
The spankings continued, his palm meeting [Y/N]'s ass with a satisfying slap. He felt the sting, the heat, the mixture of pain and pleasure that only he could provide. "That's right, take it all, you little brat. I'll decide when you can breathe." Nanami's voice was firm, his control over this situation absolute.
[Y/N]'s moans grew louder, his body bucking with each spank, his cheeks flushing a deep red. Nanami continued to thrust into [Y/N]'s mouth, the sensation of his husband's warm throat surrounding him almost too much to bear. He was close, his release building with each thrust; but he wasn't done yet.
[Y/N]'s moans washed over Nanami like a tidal wave, each one pushing him closer to the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he felt his orgasm approaching. "That's it, my boy, make me cum. Make me spill my seed down your throat," he growled, his grip on [Y/N]'s hair tightening.
His orgasm hit him like a freight train, his hips bucking involuntarily as he filled [Y/N]'s mouth with his seed. [Y/N] gags as his eyes widen and he tries to swallow the cum, but some of it drips down his chin. He gazed down at his husband, his chest heaving, his breaths ragged. "That's for teasing yourself without me," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction.
Once he had caught his breath, Nanami pulled out of [Y/N]'s mouth, his cock still dripping with cum. He leaned down, brushing his lips against [Y/N]'s ear. "Now, it's your turn," he murmured, his voice laced with promise and desire. Nanami's fingers traced the curve of [Y/N]'s ass, lingering on the red marks he'd left behind. "Turn over, and get ready for me."
[Y/N] whimpered and then turned away from Nanami, and then he got into a position where his ass was up, and his head was pressed into the pillows. [Y/N]'s hole was practically clenching around nothing, begging to be stuffed.
Nanami's heart swelled with pride at the sight of [Y/N], eager and ready for what was to come. His husband's neediness was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of dominance. He reached for a bottle of lube on the nightstand, slicking his fingers before slowly sliding one inside [Y/N]'s eager hole.
[Y/N] gasped, his body trembling as Nanami prepared him for what was to come. "You're so ready for me, aren't you?" he purred, his voice thick with desire. With a second finger joining the first, he felt [Y/N]'s muscles clench around him, a testament to his arousal. "I bet you can't wait to feel my cock inside you, can you?"
Nanami gently stretched [Y/N]'s hole, knowing he had to be careful. He didn't want to cause any pain, only pleasure. When he was satisfied with the preparation, he removed his fingers, slicking his cock with more lube. He was already hard again. Lining himself up at [Y/N]'s entrance, he paused, looking into his husband's eyes. "Ready?"
"M-mhm... p-please Kento.. 'need your cock..." Nanami couldn't resist the pleading look in [Y/N]'s eyes. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed into [Y/N]'s tight heat, groaning as his husband's muscles clenched around him. He hesitated, allowing [Y/N] to adjust, then began to thrust, setting a slow, deep rhythm.
Each thrust brought a moan from [Y/N], his hips bucking to meet Nanami's advances. "Fuck, you're tight," he growled, his hands gripping [Y/N]'s hips, guiding their movements. "Even after getting yourself off while I was at work you aren't prepped enough for my cock?~" The feel of [Y/N]'s ass wrapped around his cock, the way [Y/N]'s body responded to his every touch, it was pure ecstasy.
Nanami's grip tightened, his thrusts becoming more forceful as his arousal climbed. "You like this, don't you? Being taken by me, like this?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. Sweat dripped down their intertwined bodies, the scent of sex thick in the air. He leaned down, his lips brushing against [Y/N]'s ear. "Soon, I'm going to fill you up with my cum, my good boy."
"Ah!~ Ngh- Kento!~ Slow- Ah~ Slow downngh!!~" [Y/N] clenched around him as he desperately tried to adjust to the speed and roughness of his thrusts. Nanami couldn't help but laugh at the sight of [Y/N]'s struggles. "Not tonight, my pet. Tonight, you're going to take it however I give it to you." He continued his intense pace, watching as [Y/N]'s body began to adjust, the clenching becoming more rhythmic.
[Y/N]'s moans grew louder, mingling with the slap of their bodies connecting. Nanami felt the familiar build-up, his release nearing. "You're doing good, [Y/N]. Keep taking it." He leaned down, his teeth grazing [Y/N]'s neck as he whispered, "Soon, my dear, you'll be mine completely."
With a final, powerful thrust, Nanami's orgasm tore through him. He groaned, his seed filling [Y/N] as he held onto his husband's hips, not wanting to let go. They stayed that way for a moment, Nanami's breath ragged, his heart pounding. "Are you satisfied now?" he asked, his voice thick with aftershocks. He slowly pulled out, watching as [Y/N]'s hole slowly closed around the absence of his cock and how his semen slowly dripped out of his twitching hole. Maybe [Y/N] would send him more nudes if it always ended like this.
#wyuovvia's posts .ᐟ ★#writing/fics .ᐟ ★#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x male reader#nanami x reader#nanami x male reader#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x male reader#kento nanami smut#nanami smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#kento x reader#kento x male reader#kento smut
225 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
yanderesimp2000
Cesspit of pure degneracy
leviathans-watching
obey me: shall we date?
snasmeup
Snas Me Up
snasmeup
Snas Me Up