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sarawritestories · 20 hours

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I Wanna Be Yours Chapter 2

Xaden Riorson X Lydia Aetos

Summary: Lydia Aetos Longs to be a Ballerina, her father has other plans, and has conscripted her to the rider's quadrant with her childhood friend Violet. Reuniting with her brother he only gives her two orders. Do not bring up wanting to dance and stay far away from Xaden Riorson. Both of his orders go ignored.

Chapter Summary: Lydia is drowning in the memories of her past, and trying to get her footing at Basgiath.

A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me this long to get out. I loved chapter 1 so dearly I was struggling to make sure Chapter 2 was just as good!

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I promise it won't be super long like this for every update I was just going through some things and fighting some insecurities!

Word Count: 9,235 (I wasn't going to have you all wait this long just for a short fic

Chapter 1 I Wanna Be Yours Masterlist

My breathing becomes rapid as I wait to go on stage. The anticipation before a performance has always been the reason for my heart racing and my nerves are heighten. The warmth of a larger tanned hand enveloping my own instantly quiets the noise in my mind. “You look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin, Dove.” I smile and look at Lian, my dance partner, my love. His warm brown eyes, twinkling under the mage lights. He smiles and it’s so disarming and causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach. “You are radiant.”

I giggle, and smooth out my dance dress the flowing skirts various shades cobalt that stops at my knees. The bodice having an intricate design of silver swirls against the blue corset like top. “You say that every show.” His free hand plays with one of the lose curls framing my face, the rest of my hair in a tight ornate bun. I take in his form; his outfit matches mine in hue with his pants various levels of blue with a simply white tunic that reveals some of his tone chest the silver pendant you gave him wrapped around his neck. “I have to say, Lian, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Lian chuckles as He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing them to my knuckles specifically where the ring he had given me resides. “I mean it Lydia. I love-

The music swells in the auditorium the melody, the indication I need to appear. “See you out there, Lover Boy.” He releases my hand as I begin to leap onto the stage and into Fourth position. Feeling Lian’s warm gaze upon my body, causing my cheeks to redden. I begin the routine.

My movements are fluid, my turns sharp. Seraphina’s words in the back of my mind, “Keep those feet pointed, arms straight, girl.” Her raspy voice rings in my ears as I correct my feet and my arms. Allowing the music to enter my body once again. I am its puppet, the symphony my puppeteer.

I swirl my skirt whirling around me the shades of blue looking like rippling waves around me. And I begin the movements that lead to my big leap when I notice one of the musicians hit the incorrect note. Seraphina always said to not let the musicians’ mistakes be your downfall on the stage. Heading that advise I push through tampering my annoyance I run and take in the air. My grin big, my legs stretched wide, I feel as though I’m flying, and in this moment one thing rings true, there will never be a more freeing feeling than this.

The other musicians’ notes turn sharp and out of tune, and the disruption despite what I was taught causes me to stumble my landing. I hiss as my ankle rolls, causing my body to collapse to the ground, but I don’t think about the pain as screams erupt from the theater. Tanned Hands are instantly on my waist hoisting me up and the familiar smell of soap and ocean waves crash tells me its Lian. I smell the flames before I see them. “Lian, we have to get out of here.” My voice trembles as fear begins to consume me.

Flames erupt around the theater as the ground shakes before us Lian grabs me closer to me. "I'm sorry dove," he whispers.

"For what?" He presses his forehead to mine. Panic laces my voice as he grips me tighter, his thumb grazing against my hip in a soothing manner. Confusion washes through me at his behavior, we should be trying to leave to get out of here. “Lian, you’re scaring me.”

"I love you more today than I did yesterday." He murmurs in my hair. My chest feels heavy like someone is applying all their weight over my heart at his words. I can’t breathe. He looks at me expectantly and my stomach gets a sinking sensation.

I shake my head as tears pool in my eyes and begin to run down my face, as I cup his cheek, "Why does this feel like a goodbye?" I cry out while he waits patiently waiting for me to finish his statement. The sounds around us muted by the intensity this conversation has become.

"Finish it, dove. Please." The banisters above us crash, and the flames lick my skin as he grips me closer to his chest. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

I tremble, and press his lips to mine quickly, "I'll love you more tomorrow than I did today." He kisses my lips once more, just when the stage collapses, he pushes me out of the way. The warmth of his touch lingering on my skin as I watch him get consumed by the hole where the stage once stood. Arms wrap around me, hoisting me up and dragging me to safety. I begin to thrash and scream, calling out to him, "Lian, LIAN!"

My Screams the only sound in the burning auditorium.

“Wake up, Lydia! Wake! Up!” Dain’s voice breaks through the darkness and my eyes open with a jolt and I sit up. My eyes can’t seem to focus, and I don’t recall where I am, Dain’s hands grip my shoulders, and my gaze quickly moves to my brother. His eyes hold concern in them, his brows furrowed, “You were just having a dream.” His thumbs rubbed my shoulders, “You were out for two days.”

“Two days.” Memories of golden yellow eyes and how the blue daggertail bowed to me. A dragon had bowed to me! I lived to tell the tale of my first interaction with a dragon.

I slowly lift my hands and wrap them around his wrists as though I need proof, he is really with me. His eyes glance at my hand and spot the silver band with a swirls throughout the band and the initials LD engraved in it. “I didn’t think he would let you keep anything after mom left.” His brown eyes meet mine.

I quickly remove my hands with a scoff. “The General doesn’t get to dictate what I keep and what gets thrown away. Even if he thinks he does.” My mind goes back to watching as he destroyed one set of my pointe shoes. I smile, what he didn’t know on that day, that in my bag, the new pair I had bought from the traveling market were there.

Dain releases my shoulders, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Lydia he is only trying to protect you.” He lowers his hands and shoots me a glare, “As am I.” His tone is clipped.

I blink and my lip curls, “What’s that supposed to mean?” I cross my arms.

My brother leans against his chair, also crossing his arms a familiar stance we have taken over the years. One that only led to one of us screaming and the other either with tears, or a broken nose. Dain’s nose has never looked the same since. “Are you aware whose dragon it was that you enticed?”

Rage consumes my body, “You want to ask that again, Brother?” I quirk a brow at him.

“No.” His tone is just like the general’s, too much like him.

“You know I don’t know, so don’t be a condescending prick and just tell me.” I begin to stretch my legs under the blankets my feet naturally pointing. The numb feeling shifting into pins and needles my legs has been in one position for too long. I need to get up…I need to practice.

“That was Xaden Riorson’s dragon, Lydia.” Dain snarls. “And you bowed to it, like it she was some all-powerful being. Do you know how that makes the Aetos family look? Did that even cross your mind?”

I turn to sit at the edge of my bed, my hand gripping the end so tightly my knuckles turn white. “You’re joking, right?” Anger begins to bubble; my face begins to heat up and I can feel the tears beginning to build. “A dragon approached me. In most cultures, bowing between two parties is a sign of respect. I was thinking of how I could come out of that situation alive.” Dain’s lips formed into a tight line shifting in his seat. “I thought about my life. I wasn’t thinking about who that dragon belonged to, how embarrassing it was for you. I sure as fuck did not give a shit about our family reputation.” I rise noting that I am still from my clothes from the parapet. Finally taking in my surroundings I notice the rows of beds someone brought me to the female wing. “What time is it?”

“We have about 2 hours before formation.” Dain says rising from his own scene. “I need you to lay low. Please for the love of the gods, please lay low. Don’t attract any unwanted attention, do not bring up the dancing thing.” He grips my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. “This is the most important one so pay attention. Stay away from Xaden Riorson.”

I snort and yank my arm back, “I have no interest in being near the one person in this place who would probably want to see our heads on a spike, thanks to the action of our father.” Pushing him out of my way I grab my bag that is lying beside my bed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for the day.”

I left the female wing before he could get another word in. I manage to find the showers on my own and wash off the grime that I have been sleeping in. Letting the water cascade down my skin, I rub my face my mind wandering from that interaction with the blue daggertail. To the nightmare I woke up from. Lian. My dance partner, my lover, my best friend. I twist the ring on my finger absentmindedly, it’s been months since I last had a dream about him. Tears well up in my eyes.

The rays of the sun warmed my skin as I began my stretches, Lian lying on the blanket in front of me. The sun is hitting his tan skin, his eyes closed, a smile on his face. As though he didn’t have any care in the world, except to be here with me. Finishing my stretches I rise to my feet and lift my teeth on my tippy toes. My bare feet sink into the plush blades of grass. I raise my leg above my head.

I begin to hum, and the tune shifts me from the prairie we are having a picnic at and morphs to the theater. My hums soon are replaced by the sweet sounds of the orchestra. I move my leg down pointed behind me. My movements fluid as my feet carries me through the stage. Leaps precise arms tight, various faces in the crowd, that I don’t pay close attention to. I begin my pirouette. I’m to do five spins for this routine, the most I have done. Putting myself in position I smile out to the crown and stumble, brown hair the same as my own, a smile that Dain inherited are looking back at me. It’s not that my mother is in the crowd that causes my movements to falter. Her eyes, seeming to glow in the dim lights of the theater and their color, gone were the warmth and comfort of her blue eyes. Her gaze now cold, hard and the vilest shade of red.

Hands gripped my waist pulling me tightly, fingers beginning to dance at my size as laughter begins to bubble up my chest.

“Lian!” I squeal as he spins me around, always knowing exactly when I need to be pulled from my thoughts. “Put me down! I’m rehearsing!”

He presses his lips to my ear, “You’re always rehearsing, Dove. We’re outside let’s enjoy our picnic.”

“I don’t like dealing with the wrath of Seraphina.” I murmur as I lean into his touch.

“I have a gift for though. Don’t you want to know what it is?” I whip around to face him, and he chuckles at my wide-eyed expression.

“My Love, if you want my attention, start with gifts.” He leads me back to the blanket and sits me down. “I have something for you too.”

“Me first,” he tucks what he has behind his back. Lian's curly brown hair becoming wild with the soft summer breeze rolling through. “Close your eyes, Dove, and hold out your right hand.”

I quirk a brow but obey, closing my eyes I stick out my right hand. It feels like hours have gone by though it has only been a minute at most before his soft hand holds mine. The cool bite of metal sliding down my finger until it reaches my knuckle. I open my eyes and gasp. The engraving work on the ring is beautiful, the swirling design reminding me of shadows and in the center where the shadows should my initials reside there. LD.

I look up at my partner and smile, “Lian D- He silences me with a kiss one filled with so much passion it makes me dizzy.

He pulls away, “Do you like it?” He murmurs over my mouth.

“No.” His face falls before I kiss his nose, “I love it.” Lian’s grin takes my breath away. “My turn.” I press a hand to his chest, “Sit back, and close your eyes.” Lian sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. I dig through my bag until my fingers grip the chain, pulling it out revealing the oval pendant with my name in the center. I crawl to him and gently place the chain over his head and place the necklace down gently around his neck.

Lian opens his eyes, and looks down to the pendant. His thumb grazes over the engraving of my name as though he was caressing me. My body responds to the sight of it as if his thumb was grazing me, tenderly. He looks up at me with a smile, “Now you’ll be near my heart forever.” Lian grabs my waist and pulls me on his lap. “Happy Anniversary, Dove.”

I press my forehead to his. “Happy Anniversary, Lian.”

“Lydia?” Violet’s voice rings through the bathing chambers.

“I’m in here,” I call out, her footsteps echoing through the chamber.

“Are you okay? I just ran into Dain.” Her voice is hesitant, she knows my feelings for my brother as well as I know about hers. “He seemed upset.”

“He can get in line.” Shutting off the water and grabbing my towel to dry off. “I don’t need a lecture about how he is a good person. I’m not interested in that.”

“I know what today is.” My hands still, “I’m not here to talk about Dain. He’s being an ass.” I wrap the towel around my body and step out. Violet’s blue eyes with flickers of amber were warm. “I’m sorry.” She engulfs me into a hug as I swallow the tears threatening to fall. “He would be so proud of you, Lydia.”

Today would have been our two-year anniversary. I should be at the dance studio with him rehearsing. Yet here I am in Basgiath and Lian…is gone.

Lian’s absence has hurt me in more ways than one. After our one-year anniversary he vanished. At least when my mother abandoned me, she had the decency to leave me a note. Late nights at the lake, stolen kisses backstage, his arms wrapped around me so tight the colonel’s wrath couldn’t find me there. I long for those moments once more, but clearly, he didn’t. His words the day we exchanged gifts ring in my head, “I’ll get you out, Lydia, you’ll never have to deal with your father. I’m going to set you free.”

He didn’t keep his promise. He left me behind without so much as a second glance. Freedom. My mom longed for it, Lian promised it. I’m growing to detest the idea of freedom if it means the people I care about most fucking abandon me for it, leaving me to a cruel fate.

Confined. Controlled. Caged.

What good is freedom if it means stepping on the backs of the people one loves just to get there?

My feeling of sadness contorts to anger as I slowly pull away from Violet, she has never once abandoned me and is confined in this brick cage as I am. Violet doesn’t deserve my anger, though the sympathy in her eyes told me I could, and she would let me. I refuse to be my father or my brother and take my out-of-control feelings out on people who do not deserve it. Straightening my spine I give Violet’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Hard to be proud of someone, you actively abandoned with no word as to why you left.” I release her hand and swallow once more forcing the lump lodged in my throat back down to the pit of my stomach where it belongs. Where all my unwanted feelings belong. “I’m going to get dressed and we can head to formation.

Violet nods, her eyes still glittering with concern. I quickly moved to change into the leathers that were near my bed this morning. Wrapping my hair in a tight bun I stick the two hair pins in. I link my arms with hers and give her a smile, a performative one, but a smile all the same.

Formation was a blur even as I am currently looking for a seat during breakfast, thinking back I can’t quite remember anything other than the list of names of those that did not make it yesterday, and everyone’s eyes on me. Kind of like they are now, though I have never been a stranger to eyes upon me, I wish it was for my ability to dance and not because I survived an interaction with Xaden Riorson’s dragon. And arm drapes around my shoulder, “Welcome back to the land of the living.” Ridoc’s voice is a welcome joy from the ominous stares burning holes in my skin. “Come, we’ve already scooped up Sorrengail.” Before I can counter, he is brining me to the table with Rhiannon, Violet, and a man who’s skinny, sandy curls lay atop his head.

Sitting at the open seat next to him the handsome man, he held out his hand, “Sawyer Henrick.” There is a twinkle in his green eyes, his freckles a stark contrast with his pale skin.

I grip his hand and give him a warm smile, “Lydia Aetos.”

Sawyer winks, “You know, you’re a lot prettier to look at than your brother.”

Heat creeps up my skin, as I release his hand. “Thanks, I guess.” I take a sip of my drink, “He is an eye sore.” Sawyer spits out his drink all over Ridoc as he chuckles, while the latter groans.

“How are you feeling, Lydia?” Rhiannon changes the subject as Ridoc continues his grumbling.

I think back to Xaden’s onyx eyes boring into my skull, or the heat from the Blue Daggertails nostril’s grazing against my neck as if a gust of warm summer’s wind was caressing me. Her yellow eyes staring at me, assessing me, for what? I’m not sure and I hope I wouldn’t find out considering who her rider is. The fear surges back up but a hand gripping my own brings me to the present. Soft, tiny, Violet, I look over to the youngest Sorrengail, “I’m alright. Nothing a few days rest couldn’t solve.”

“So, that interaction with that dragon…”Ridoc pulls my attention to him, “What was that all about?”

I shrug, beginning to devour my meal, not caring how the food tasted as I discover how hungry I am, “I truly wish I knew. I have never met a dragon before her.”

The table falls silent in contemplation. I shift in my seat and feel the familiar prick in the back of my neck. Glancing up Onyx eyes look at me in cold assessment as he eats his food, his stare never breaking from my own. I give my performance grin, the one that makes the audience fall in love with me the moment I step on the stage. Slowly raising my hand, I lift my middle finger to him. His eyes lower and he tilts his head ever slightly ignoring the person who is chatting away in front of him. I give him a playful wink and break eye contact though I can feel his eyes on me.

“Well, should we call you the Queen of the Dragons?” Ridoc quips as the table chuckles with him and I hunch my shoulders slightly, embarrassment trickling through my body. “I mean I have never heard of a dragon that has bowed to a human in that way before. It must mean she’s destined to rule them all.” Ridoc smiles at me as I ball up my napkin to throw at him.

“Absolutely not, I would much rather you all call me twinkle toes than that.” I sip my water as the entire table, Violet included, give each other playful looks.

Collectively and in the highest decibel above screaming yell, “Twinkle Toes!” Before erupting in laughter and I can’t help but join in. I forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by people that I connect with so well and enjoy their company. Sitting with them wiping my tears from laughter that causes my stomach to ache is a welcome reprieve from the dark corners of my mind where I usually reside.

“Mind if we join?” A man’s voice pulls the group from our bubble and back into reality. I lift my gaze and it feels as though ice has been poured over my head. The man’s eyes the same shade of brown as his, his hair like the curls I ran my fingers through countless times, lips I’ve kissed on numerous occasions. His face has the same shape as Lian’s, they could have been twins. My gaze shifts lower to the relic that peaks through his leathers and that’s where the similarities end, and the sound of my heart shattering thunder in my ears.

“Not at all We have space,” Ridoc scoots down, Lian’s look-a-like allows his handsome friend that had a matching tattoo along, with blonde hair and blue eyes, to sit closer to Ridoc and he sits in front of me. I swallow down my surge of emotions tears threatening to fall as the man smiles at me.

Ridoc takes over with the introductions, saving himself for last. “And who might you two be.”

The blonde-haired male eyes locks on Violets, as he smiles and I notice that her cheeks are red as he holds out his hand to her, “Liam Mairi.” Violet shakes his hand and averts her gaze. Sliding his hand from hers his fingers lingering slightly from her fingertips. Clasping the man’s, in front of me, shoulder, “This right here is Bodhi Durran, a second year.”

Metal clashes as my utensils falls on the plate, “I’m so sorry.” I rise to my feet acutely aware eyes are on me, “I just realize I need to do some things before class starts. Please excuse me.” I smile at Bohdi vision beginning to blur as tears rise, “It was lovely to meet you.” I turn and briskly walk away before anyone can call me back. Running down the hall and into the female wing of the dorms I reach my cot and sob in my pillow. Memories of Lian I have since buried deep rising to the surface:

“Lydia Aetos. My muse.” Lian smiles as my hips grind against his, “My dove.” His tanned hands slide my dress up my thighs they slowly reach my chest palming my cleavage resulting in a moan from me. “Who sings such pretty songs in pleasure.” He sits up and I adjust accordingly as I ride him.

“I love you.” I whisper, my eyes lidded, “I love you Lian Durran.” My fingers slide through his dark curls as his lips find mine and claim me.

A hand clamps over my mouth as I’m hoisted from my cot. My back presses against a hard back a dagger at my neck as hands grip my legs to prevent me from kicking. “Shh, Twinkle Toes. We’re going to take good care of you! I scream resulting in the hand clamping tighter around my mouth.

I lash around as Jack Barlow and his cronies begin to carry me down the empty corridor. “Jack,” the one struggling to keep my feet together groans, “Can’t we at least have some fun with her before we get rid of her?” My body stills at the implication. I know I’m in danger, but fear keeps me frozen in place.

Help

I am incapable of calling out to help as the duo pulls me into the shadows. They pin me to the wall, and I beg my body to move, will it to do anything besides tremble, I think of Dain, and the dream of a better relationship with my brother, of Violet whose kindness has brought me from the brink of insanity by her friendship. I think of Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, Liam and even Bodhi, friendships I’ll never get to see grow because I know one thing is certain.

I am going to die today.

Jack presses the knife to my skin keeping my head in place with his hand. “I’m going to make sure you feel the humiliation I felt on the parapet that day.” He whispers in my ear as he grazes the knife across my neck, hard enough to break skin, though not hard enough to kill. As if he was a predator toying with his food, he lowered the cold steel down to my chest where the leathers we received protected me from taking any reputable damage. “You are such a pretty little thing.” Bile rose in the back of my throat at his words. “You’ll be even prettier drenched in your blood.

“But you sai-

“Even I wouldn’t stoop that low.” And with a quick movement of his hand Jack slit the other cadet’s throat. I screamed his palm muffling the sound. His cold blue eyes meet mine, “Now where were we?”

“What do we have here?” A low voice causes Jack to turn, yanking me to his front. Hazel eyes meet mine and I take a moment to take in the person in front of me. His dark black hair with short curls allows the sharp angles of his face to stand out. His high cheekbones and perfectly set nose this man is handsome and right now his mouth is set in a firm line, “It’s not nice to hand a pretty lady in such a way.”

“I’m handling a pest problem.” Jack simply states.

The man smiles and its devastatingly beautiful. “Allow me to correct myself.” His large, calloused hand wraps around my forearm and maneuvers me out of Jack’s grasp with ease. All the while gripping the collar of Jack’s jacket, “You will not touch her or come near her ever again. “Do you understand?” Jack nods a snarl curling at his lips as the man releases him. “Good not run along, you’ll be late for battle brief.” Jack makes sure to level me with a glare as he walks down the corridor. The mystery man turns towards me and smiles, his eyes scanning me, locking in my neck where the warmth of my blood clings to my skin. “You’re hurt.”

“A simple scratch, it will be gone in the morning.” I look to the corpse lying behind him and he glances to where I’m staring, “Better than being that guy at the moment.” The man snorts as his gaze lands on me once more. He nods as though the answer is good enough for him as I reach out my hand, “I’m Lydia.”

His eyes light up in recognition, “Aetos right?” I sheepishly nod my head as he takes my hand and places a soft kiss on my knuckles, “A pleasure. You are much nicer to look at than your brother.” He releases my hand and I laugh.

“I see my brother has made quite the name for himself.” I quip as I fidget as silence fell between the two of us.

“Come on Cadet, we will be late for battle brief.” The man extends his arm for me to loop through and as my hand pressed into his muscled arm, he led me down the hall.

I look back to the body on the ground, “Um shouldn’t we take care of him?”

Garrick chuckles, “Don’t fret, Pretty girl, someone will dispose of him and his things. “Death is pretty commonplace here.” I feel his eyes are on me. I glance back in his direction to see a playful smirk on his face, “I like your eyes. How one is brown, and one is blue. Its about as unique as having a dragon bow to you.” He quirks a brow as I groan looking up at the ornate ceiling above. “Word travels fast here.”

“So much for going through these three years undetected I guess.” He hums in agreement, and I take a moment to study him as we go down the stairs. “So does the pretty boy have a name?”

The man winks at me, “He does.”

“Well, I can’t call you my hero forever,” I smile, the sadness of a former love fluttering away, as I shamelessly flirt with the man in front of me.

He whistles, “You’re good, Aetos.” He releases my arm only playfully nudges me. “My name is Garrick. Feel free to keep calling me your hero though. I won’t mind.”

I laugh, “You’re a shameless flirt.” I counter as we approach a classroom, students from every year begin filing in.

Onyx eyes meet mine, his nostrils flare slightly at the sight of me with Garrick but his lips remain in a tight line as a warmth breath grazes my ear, “Takes one to know one, Pretty Girl.” I whip my head towards him as he stands to his full height and walks into the room without so much as a goodbye. Though he is quick to wrap what I now see as a tattooed arm around Xaden causing the Wingleader to break eye contact with me.

“Hey, are you okay? You ran off pretty quickly at breakfast.” Ridoc’s voice rings out as I find him with the others at the entryway.

“I’m fine, just needed to catch up on work.” Ridoc nodded as we all entered the large classroom with chairs that rose all the way up to the rafters. Every student in Basgiath could be sat here. The ornate look of the room takes my breath away as it reminds me of the theater I once used to frequent with my mother.

“Everyone, take your seats and we will begin.” A woman projects her voice from where she stands, at what can only be described as a stage. I’m once again reminded of the fact that I am no longer a dancer. This is not a theater. I am to become a rider. This is Battle Brief.

Waking up early, I quickly change into my leotard and tights that I sneak past my father’s nose. The last week has been a challenge to say the least. I have been struggling to gain my footing, Dain’s constant quips and critiques, the intense class schedule. Finding reasons to get up and keep moving has been a challenging one for me. Familiar dark thoughts overriding my brain my father’s words ringing in my ears. Somedays I am able to quiet them other time they were yelled in high decibels causing me to curl into a ball in my cot.

Worthless. Pathetic. Disgrace of a child.

Wrapping my pointe shoes around my ankles tying them securely I begin to tiptoe toward the Gym where there are full length mirrors.

Grateful that no one is around, I begin my stretches, my feet pointed outward, I lower my body. I focus on my breathing as I plie I reach one arm out in front of me the other above me and I sink lower once more.

Inhale

Hold 2, 3, 4

Exhale

I rise on my exhale and do this a few more times trying to keep my breathing even and the dark thoughts at bay. To keep from those feelings consuming me entirely as they have in previous years. And I begin to do my routine.

“You need to get up, Lydia.” Lian whispers as I turn over and cover the pillow over my head groaning. “Dove.” His fingers graze up my bare spine.

“Go away.” I grumble pulling the covers over me tightly.

Lian continues his tender strokes, “Is it happening again?” He gently removes the pillow from my head to reveal my tear-stained cheeks. “The dark feelings returning.”

I nod my head, “It feels like my body weighs a ton. I just want to lay in bed.” Lian proceeds to pull the covers off me and before I can begin to scold him, he kisses the bottom of my spine spine and leaves soft pecks all the way up to the base of my neck. “Lian.” I warn.

“I’m not going to do anything, not like that anyway.” He chuckles as his firm hands begin to rub the tension from my shoulders. “Seraphina can rehearse with the others today.”

“You should-

“I would never leave you behind, Dove.” He continues to massage my back and reaches a knot that elicits a groan. “I’m going to set you free, baby. I promise.” A small smile emerges on my face, “There she is.”

My spins become sloppy as memories of Lian bubble up.

I would never leave you behind. But he did.

I am going to set you free. Yet, I’m still in a cage.

I love you, Dove. Then why did he leave?

I lose my footing as I leap, and my ankle rolls before I can fall to the floor calloused hands grip my arms. My body stiffens as I see the rebellion relic, followed by the scent of leather and mint. My eyes gaze up to meet the Gold flecked onyx of Xaden Riorson. “What has you up this early?”

I writhe out of his grasp, “Why do you want to know?”

Xaden quirks his scarred brow, “I’m your Wingleader, Kitten, it’s my job to know why my cadet is not only out of bed but why she is in…whatever it is you’re wearing.”

I look down at my pointe shoes followed by my pink tights and leotard, “I’m a dancer. This is dance attire.”

His eyes graze down my body and a shiver course down my spine at his ogling. “Why are you here?”

“This space is for all cadets, Wingleader.” I begin to continue when he presses a finger to my lips.

“No, no. Why are you here in Basgiath?” His thumb idly swiped my hip the tenderness of the action pulling me from my stupor. As I whack his hand and step out of his grasp. “I mean it is pretty obvious you don’t belong here, Kitten.”

Through gritted teeth, “Well the fuck aware, Riorson. I also recall telling you my name is Lydia.”

He takes a step closer, gripping my chin he forces me to look at him, “Tell me something, Lydia. Why did you bow to Sgaeyl?”

Sgaeyl. That is the name of his dragon. Beautiful. Just like her. “Out of respect.”

“You didn’t have to.” He murmurs getting close enough that I have no choice but to look up at him. “Most people would have ran away.”

“I’m not most people. I prefer keeping my flesh intact not becoming a pile of ash.” I pull one of the hair pins from my hair pressing it to his chest forcing him to take a step back. “Tell me, Xaden, why did she bow in return?”

He hums in contemplation, and I scowl. He bends down at the waist, so our faces are inches apart from one another. My heartbeat quickens at him being so close to me, warmth pooling in my belly as his beautiful face closes in on mine, our nose near touching. “Now where is the fun in answering that, Kitten.” His face contorts into a look of confusion. “You’re crying.”

I press my hand to my cheek to find tears there. The dark thoughts hit me like a wave crashing over a rock, unlike a rock, I get swept up in the current:

Useless, Pathetic, Annoying. Traitor

Traitor

I wrap my arms around myself and take a step away from the Wingleader. The warmth his body provided was now gone. “I have to go, if I want to change and make it to formation in time.” I turn acutely aware I am putting my back to him as I scurry off back from the room. Finding a vacant hallway, I slide my back against the cool brick, rubbing my chest. The words are becoming all-consuming, and I allow myself to succumb to the darkness. The words playing in a loop as though it was playing through a faulty record player.

Worthless

Words are so cruel but have been my constant companion when people I care about were so quick to leave me. Abandon me. Brennan, my mom, Lian, even Dain is guilty of abandoning me. It’s hard to not let the vile words keep me down when the most important people in my life constantly leave me. At some point the words that would pop up as fleeting thought began to take root and seep into my brain as something factual the moment, I found that letter on my bed. The moment I learned that I wasn’t worth fighting for, wasn’t worth defending.

Dain’s betrayal stung the most when he would stop defending me against our father when it came to my dancing and has since tried to snuff out the one good thing in my life with him.

“I highly doubt you’re good enough to make a career out of it. This is a fine hobby sure, but you need to realize that he expects you to train to be a warrior.”

A chunk of my heart deteriorated that day. Dain has never once seen me dance, for him to say that hurt. For him to then reiterate that last week stings more. Nothing has changed and I was hoping that being here away from our father would give us the chance to mend things. The hope now since squandered since I yielded my practice challenge after the first punch. He said I was embarrassing him and making father look like a fool.

Maybe I am a fool. Fool for falling in love with a performer who the moment things became complicated had left without an utterance of goodbye.

Foolish for thinking I could have a career in dance with my father carrying me like a marionette doll. Foolish for thinking him and I would ever have a loving father daughter relationship like I witness Violet have with her father.

Foolish for thinking I’m good enough to fight for, to love, to be cared for.

Foolish

Stray tears turn into stream of sobs as I tuck my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. I don’t care how loud I’m being, or how emotional I am. I just want the ache in my chest to disappear, for the heaviness of my existence to lift from my shoulders. For someone, anyone, to pull me from the depths of my darkness so that I may be able to breathe easier, to feel less burdensome.

My vision blurs as I allow the thoughts to rip me apart, the sounds of footsteps causing me to lift my head. Finding a tall figure hovering over me as my vison gives way to the tears, I don’t register the hands that lift me from the ground only the comforting smell of Leather and mint before falling asleep allowing the exhaustion of my episode to welcome me with open arms.

“Lydia!” Violet squeals jolting me awake, I look to see I’m on my cot. The other women filtering through. “You missed formation, I was so worried about you.” Her frail arms wrap around my neck and I’m quick to embrace her back not only because I needed her comfort but also to keep her from falling. “Were you asleep the whole time?”

I shrug, “I honestly am not sure how I got here. I was practicing in the gym before anyone had woken up. Next thing I know I am waking up to you.” She nods and a pang of guilt hits me like a dagger, I know that someone had brought me back here during my meltdown. Violet has enough to worry about on her own, she doesn’t need to be worried about me as well. “Was Dain mad?”

Violet bit her lip and her cheeks became rosy, “He was,” She looked up as though she was trying to pick the best word from a shelf. “Agitated.”

Shit.

“He was angry. I didn’t mean to miss formation. I just didn’t wake up.” I sit up and grab my leathers. Preparing for the fight I will inevitably have with my brother. “I will be surprised if he doesn’t just kill me before the year is over. That way he doesn’t have to worry about me ruining his image.”

“Well, what if I said that I have something that gives you and I an edge.” I pause and turn to my friend. She holds up a book in her hands the scrawl so familiar.

The Book of Brennan

“How?”

“Mira must have kept it after Brennan died.” Violet shrugs and her eyes shift as if for a moment she was back home, and her brother was still alive. I reach over and grip her shoulder and she physically shake off the memories. She gives me a smile, “We’ll read this after classes. If we are even late to one. I fear Ridoc is going to become lost.”

“Can’t have that. I’ll change quickly and we can go.” She nods with a smile and the vacancy in her eyes dissipating. And I turn to go change, wishing there was something I could do to keep Violet safe from the horrors of this world.

I’m going to murder Violet.

The brisk cold air of the night still reaching my bones even with my cloak on. I cling the material tighter to my chest as I cross the courtyard hoping I blend in with the dark shadows of the night. I shouldn’t even be the one out here tonight. After reading Brennan’s guide to surviving Basgiath, Violet took it upon herself a few days ago to find out who our first challenge partners were. In turn she knew of a flower that grew in a tree near the lake that would give herself an edge next week. She had asked if she should get enough for two people, but I refused. I had no intention of fighting anyone next week but that even if I did I would not need it.

Violet didn’t intend to have a flare up before she set off on her little escapade tonight. These past few weeks have taken a toll on her body even though she would never say anything. Dain and I knew she is suffering in silence, stubborn just like her mother. Though tonight she couldn’t even get out of bed. Her silvery blue eyes pleading as she asked if I would go get the flower for her. Even gave me a rough sketch of what I was looking for. Not being able to deny the minx anything I agreed and now out in the abnormally cold evening for summer my knee flares in pain, something that occurs when weather shifts, I sustained an injury during a performance when I first started dancing and now, I’m acutely aware of when we are getting a storm, or when General Sorrengail is having a fit. The abnormal chill causes another shooting pain to my knee, and I grit my teeth swallowing the pain.

The tree comes into focus and my mind drifts back to simpler times.

“Dain! I can’t its too high.” I scream clinging tightly to a branch closing my eyes to avoid looking at the daunting distance from the branch to the ground.

“Lydia, I promise I’ll catch you.” Dain voice calls out. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

I peak an eye open and his arms only slightly bigger than mine are wide open ready to cling onto me should I decide to jump down. “I’m scared.” I whisper.

“I’m your brother, my job is to protect you. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?” I nod my head and take a steadying breath as I ease my grip on the branch. Shifting in a seated position the skirt of my pale pink dress shifting with me. “That’s it. Now jump!”

I close my eyes and take that leap a shrill scream erupting from my throat as the air whirled around my ears. Arms gripped my shoulders and knees. “See,” Dains voice; a soothing balm over my fears, “You are safe. So long as I breathe, I will always keep you safe, Lydia. I promise.” I latch my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight.

“I love you, Dain.”

Another cold breeze kisses my cheeks as I’m brought to the present, where it’s not warm and sunny, but warm with the looming threat of rain above. Where my brother and I are not close and may as well be strangers. The only person who would protect me from the monsters lurking in the shadows being myself. I shake the looming thoughts reminding myself that I am here for a task.

I lighten my steps to keep them quiet and not draw attention to myself. To further ease my worries of being caught as I loom closer to the tree, I imagine that I’m not a cadet out past curfew in a war college I want nothing to do with, but instead a wraith dancing across the stage, undetected from the royal guards. The orchestra’s melodies were one of short beats that matched with footsteps, a dark undertone to build the tension for the audience, as though I may be caught. My movements highlight my ability to flip and contort my body, in place of my normal languid long movements.

My feet move on their own accord as I dance with a face covering to conceal my identity, for if the guards realized there was an assassin on their grounds, they would likely kill me. In swift movements, as though I’m galloping toward the tower, where my sworn enemy waits for me at the top. I stretch my body as if I was on my tiptoes I would be able to reach the man who was destined to be my enemy. Who became my lover instead. Lovers destined to be apart, who against the odds found moments to be together. The music roars in my ears as the short beats of the music shift to one of longing and passion.

I place my foot in the slot made for my dance shoes and begin my accent my lover waiting for me at the top of the tower. The music rises in tandem with my ascent and dramatically I falter on a step acting as though I lost my footing. The music in tandem with the music building to a climactic moment, the audience gasping thinking I will fall. As gracefully as slid, I pushed my body back against the set piece and continued my ascension.

My forehead collides with a tree trunk, and I yelp in surprise. Reality rearing its hideous form from my beautiful daydream to reveal I am halfway up the tree. How I didn’t hit any other branches takes me by surprise, but I continue, keeping my eyes peeled for the flower Violet needs.

Spotting the delicate looking but also dangerous plant I settle myself on a large branch that supports my weight and I gather a few of the buds and place it in the vile that the youngest Sorrengail sibling provided for me. Once I gather enough for Violet to use, I place the vile in my pocket and set to lower myself from the tree where I hear voices. Lying on my stomach keeping myself flushed against the tree branch as three cloaked figures come into view.

The three lower their cloaks and my heart stops. The pink hair of the marked one that destroyed Violets shoulder at our practice round of challenges. Garrick’s curls appeared from the cloak along with his annoyingly handsome smirk. Finally, Xaden Riorson, and in the moonlight, I can’t deny that his beauty whooshes the breath out of me. I especially try to keep the fact that his body close to mine when I ran into him at the gym plays across my mind periodically and heat pools in my stomach at the though of his hands on me and his lips…

The shuffling of more feet pulls me from stupor as more marked ones approach, I know because most have opted to not wear any coverings and let reveal their relics with pride. I scrunch my brows; this meeting is against the codex. The marked ones are not supposed to congregate in groups larger than three. A ridiculous rule, as these children are paying for the crimes of their parents but regardless a rule they are actively breaking. I pray to whatever gods can hear to keep me hidden. Xaden only needs to look up to see I’m there to expose that I’m listening and because of who I’m related to; he has grounds to kill me for simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I am going to murder Violet.

As the group of Marked one’s settle is when Xaden’s voice booms in the courtyard. “Alright, let’s get started.”

A person in the back of the group perks up, “I am having a difficult time with History.”

Imogen snorts, “Because of the dates, or because of the lies?” I roll my eyes at her, I may agree that I don’t believe what they are teaching is accurate especially after talking to Lian last year but to stupidly question out loud in the open where anyone could hear is foolish and the quickest to get yourself executed for treason.

“Both.” The young man mutters. Movement on my leg causes me to jolt and I clamp a hand over my mouth to prevent me from shrieking as I look at my leg only to find my leg hidden in the shadows, and it almost feels like the shadows are caressing my leg as if in comfort. Feeling my heartrate regulate I lay back down in my position and try to remain quiet as Garrick answers the young boy.

As the hour ticks by I learn that Xaden is helping the marked ones get through their time here. They like me didn’t ask to be here but must make the best of the dangerous situation their parents unknowingly put them in. My eyes constantly find Xaden’s figure through this meeting and how he looks almost fatherly, the way he’s standing, and the words of comfort and advice causes my chest to tighten. Xaden is more of a loving father to these people than my father ever was to me. Once again, I felt movement against my leg only to find darkness and my brows knit in confusion.

“What of Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail?” A girl in front quips up in front and my blood runs cold.

“What of them?” Garrick questions back in a tone that can only be described as a warning as he crosses his arms.

“Their parents are the reason we’re here against our will. When do we get to punish them for their crimes? It’s clear we can’t touch Dain, but surely, we can take out the twinkle toed princess?”

“Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail, are mine to handle.” Xaden says with cool indifference though his tone edged on being scolding. “I will remind you, Cadet, that Violet and Lydia didn’t ask to be here either. Violet was studying to be a scribe and you’ve all seen Aetos dance. Neither of them wanted to be here. They are trapped in the same position as we are by the exact same people.”

“You plan on sparing them?” The girl retorts her voice bordering on shrieking. “My mom and older sister are dead because of them. I think taking their children evens the score.”

“Fall in line, Cadet. The two girls are not your kill. I said I am going to handle it. Believe me no one has more reason to hate those two than me.” A sinking feeling wraps me into a state of paralysis. The memory of his hands on me shatters like glass, of course he has every reason to hate me for what my father did. Of course he would want to settle the score, blinded simply by the fact that he’s attractive, I forgot how lethal he is.

The silence permeates over the courtyard, “If you don’t have any other questions then we’re done here.” Imogen commands her nose in the air. “Make sure you go in groups of three to not raise suspicion.”

The group begins to disband in their merry groups of three murmuring about the happenings of this meeting. Imogen and Xaden left together as Garrick waved them off leaning against the tree, watching them go with ease. Silence falls leaving the creatures of the night to sing their beautiful melodies. It almost lulls me to sleep as Garrick’s voice breaks me from the trance, “Have a good night, Pretty Girl, and good luck.” He pauses as my heart thunders out of my chest, and chuckles pushing himself off the trunk of the tree, “You’re gonna’ need it.” He begins to walk away, and I’m left alone in a state of confusion.

I wait a few minutes to ensure that everyone has left before I make my descent. Landing on the grass with a soft thud, I take a moment to admire the moonlight reflecting the rippling waves, a smile on my face in the beauty of it. Pulling my gaze away from the water I attempt to lift my leg to walk only to find it won’t move. Looking down tendrils of darkness are wrapped snuggly against both ankles keeping my feet planted to ground. I attempt to move again and almost scream out when a low chuckle emerges behind me, whipping around my wavey hair falling over my shoulder as I meet Gold-flecked Onyx eyes and my heart falls into my stomach as Xaden’s figure emerges into the moonlight. A slight tilt of his lips as he crosses his arms.

“You’re not where you’re supposed to be, Kitten.”

To Be Continued!!

Some I tagged that wouldn't let me link if that happened I'm so sorry!

Story Tags: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @marvelsmylife @sherayuki @misslady246

@thelov3lybookworm @a-frog-with-a-laptop @randomperson1234sblog @garricks4thwingqueen @leastlikelytoachieve

@clayme123 @sweetsformysoul @nickishadow139 @bada-lee-ily @andreperez11

@pit-and-the-pen @demi321win-chester @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover

Enjoy!!

#xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson x lydia aetos

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 10 months

Text

saw some speculation on FranklyDear in relation to the audios and i want to toss my two cents in

so all the thing's i've been seeing have been people talking about how they're a couple, but they're not acting like it, so that must be Playfellow's influence making them put distance between each other

but i immediately interpreted it as - they're not there yet. there might be feelings, but they aren't Together. cause in the 14 bug audios, i feel like it's pretty clear that these are snapshots of the neighborhood outside of the show. cameras aren't rolling, there are no influences, it's the neighbors just Existing on their own dime

'cause the conversations are more natural! the characters seem more nuanced! there aren't any sound effects! so if FranklyDear is already established, wouldn't we have "seen" that in their shared audio 8-14? wouldn't Eddie have just called Frank Frank, without the immediate (and somewhat flustered) correction to Mr. Frankly? and wouldn't Frank call him Eddie instead of Mr. Dear? plus, idk about y'all, but that scene was a lil romantically charged. a little flirty - especially from Frank's side. the kind of tension you get from budding emotions, not fully-realized ones

they just seem to be in a before state. the beginning stages. and anyway, i remember Clown saying that revealing FranklyDear as an endgame couple was sort of an Accident? i think we were meant to watch it evolve and figure it out along with the characters, the way we will with any other relationships (that we Definitely are not aware of / confident about yet).

we're still only in the prologue of the story, so it'd make so much sense if Frank and Eddie are not yet Involved. we're on this journey With them

#in a parallel universe there are people arguing over whether or not frank & eddie are a Thing #im kinda thankful that's not our reality lol #i think it's going to be fun just sitting back Fully Aware and watching these two Go Through It #i just highly highly HIGHLY doubt they're already together #plus how much more fun would it be to watch it Happen?#to see them experience the conflict and feelings and realizations and how their interactions will likely Change Accordingly #homebogging #welcome home theory #welcome home speculation #before the audios i had a feeling that it would be eddie being the more up-front flirty go-getter of the two #based on clown's art of them & such #but then with the audios eddie is a little more... reserved isnt the right word....#polite? restrained? trying to keep things Amicable and Professional?#cause in 8-14 frank was the more relaxed teasing one while eddie was a bit of a flustered mess #which might've been because of the bug #but yk... he Did rush to correct himself on how he addressed frank...#and the way frank spoke... idk it just sounded like a slightly different Tone than what they usually speak with #more of a casual drawl. more forward - there was a Weight to it #and the 'you don’t need to be that familiar with them in order to get to know them better'#imo that line stuck out as a kind of a wink wink nudge nudge thing #like a Hey. We Could Get To Know Each Other.#twas a classic 'talking about one thing while saying another' phrase - again imo #oh and also its just occurring to me #if the bug audios are 'present day' like i suspect #its entirely possible that franklydear can only 'now' develop bc theyre - well theyre not exactly Free #but playfellow is no longer 'ruling' over them. the influence and pressure - no matter how subconcious it was - is no longer there #freeing them up just enough to maybe... just maybe... truly Feel and perhaps Express interest in each other #just a thought!#that would be another tally in the box explaining why their interaction in the 8-14 audio was Different #there isn't anything holding them back anymore beyond their (possible) own internalized biases & fears & expectations etc

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frannyzooey · 9 months

Text

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E

A/N: Thank you to the incomparable @bageldaddy who not only looked this over for me, but who also inspired the entire idea by being such a inspiring, delicious Joel Miller whore. This one is for you ❤

“Stop squirmin’,” he scolds, a hard hand on your hip.

You’re trying not to, but tension builds between your bodies, the solid wall of his chest rising and falling along your spine. So close you can feel heat leeching through his clothes, his warm breath skims along the nape of your neck and a damp throb beats thick and distracting between your legs.

Slow, steady breaths are all you have, and so you take them.

In and out. In and out.

His hips shift when he zips up the sleeping bag along the side and when his lap nudges you from behind, you hold your breath and clench your eyes tight, your thighs squeezing together.

The masculine scent pressed into his clothing fills your senses, the strength in his solid form enveloping you in a protective press when he slings his arm around you in an attempt to get comfortable, and struggling to quell the need building deep between your hips, you squirm.

Waiting a beat, you do it again.

“Come on now,” he scolds, impatience slipping into his tone. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s all we got. You need more room, or somethin’?”

That drawl of his is driving you crazy, just as arousing as the constant frown you know he has on his face right now. His sternness shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, and yet it constantly plagues you: is he always this stern? In every situation?

“No, I’m good,” you reply, letting out a sigh.

You’re really not, but in order for you to be okay, he’d have to be outside the sleeping bag, and so you try to still yourself again, focusing on the sounds of the night.

Weeks spent traveling together, it’s now a familiar background that often lulls you to sleep: the soft chirp of crickets, the rustling of leaves, the creaking of trees as they sway gently in the breeze. Up until now, you’d gotten away with sleeping separately on the ground but tonight marks the first truly cold one of the season and when he rolled out the single sleeping bag, you bit your lip.

“It’s a double,” he said gruffly, kneeling to spread it out. “Plus, it’s all we have.”

You knew it would be a tight fit, but this is unbearable.

His hand twitches, the heavy weight of it brushing just underneath your breasts and your nipples tighten into sensitive peaks underneath your layers. His hand is so close, you can’t help but imagine how it would feel if he slid it up just enough to touch you.

Taking another slow breath, you try not to move.

“You sure we can’t light a fire?” you ask.

“Now why am I gonna tell you no?” He sounds exasperated, a tone he uses more often than not with you.

The closeness of his mouth to your ear has his deep voice sending a shiver through your torso every time he speaks and needing him to be quiet if you’re going to survive this night, you don’t answer.

He lifts his knees, the front of his thighs coming in contact with the back of yours and the brush of his lap against your ass has you biting back a moan that almost crawls out of your throat. You fit the cradle of it perfectly, and if you really focus, you swear you can feel him through your layers of clothing.

With that image filling your mind, you try to press your thighs together in hopes of relieving the ache between them, but not only does the squirming ratchet the heat higher, it earns you another scold.

“You gotta stop.”

A slight plea to his words, his hand settles on your hip again, but this time his fingers accidentally brush the hem of your shirt up in his haste to stop you from moving and you bite your lip at the warm, dry heat of his palm on your bare skin. All sensation centers on that point of contact, and you feel a fresh wave of dampness creep into the crotch of your underwear.

“Sorry,” you apologize quietly.

Restless with want, arousal blooms through your system: starting slick and sticky between your thighs, it spreads low and heavy between your hips, travels with tingling heat through the tips of your breasts, and envelopes your head in a dazed cloud of need. You close your eyes, attempting to will it away, but it only makes all your other senses heighten.

You feel his presence even more: the weight of his arm around you, the damp heat of his mouth near the delicate skin of your neck, the sound of his breathing. Moving on their own accord, your hips shift again, connecting with his and he lets out a sigh.

“You sleepin’ on a rock, or somethin’?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow. Taking the space he’s left, you roll onto your back to face him and instant recognition registers on his face. He frowns, his stern expression causing another wave of sticky wetness to gather between your thighs.

“That why you’re so squirrelly?” The register of his voice has dropped lower, more intimate in the darkness yet no less forgiving. “If so, you’ll just have to deal with it later. You ain’t the only one who’s uncomfortable here.”

Your eyes drop down from his face to where you think his crotch must be, automatically seeking confirmation of his words as if you could actually see anything and his head tilts in silent reprimand at the action, his frown deepening.

“I told you no.”

He did. He said it weeks ago after you kissed him by the fire, again after you took his hands in yours and pressed them along your body in the saddle, again after you kissed him with urgency after a close call in the last town. Every one of those times he responded with his own need: blatant and wanting, all low groans and rough lips and hands and touches, until he pulled himself back.

“Wouldn’t be right,” he said.

“I’d be takin’ advantage of you,” he said.

Like you didn’t know your own body. Like you couldn’t make up your own mind.

He looks down at you for a long moment, the silence heavy between you in your wordless standoff and right when he’s about to lay back down, you speak.

“Please.”

You almost don’t recognize your voice with how helpless it sounds, breathless with need.

Dark eyes searching yours, they study your own for a weighted beat and the thing that’s been growing for weeks between your bodies pulls taut: a string, ready to snap.

You throb and ache, squirming next to him. So, so empty.

“If I do it, you’ll go to sleep?”

“I promise,” you hastily agree.

His jaw shifts under his sparse beard, his expression contemplative and then his eyes scan the darkness around you for a moment, making sure it’s all clear.

“Undo your pants.”

You’ve never obeyed a command faster in your life, already reaching under the covers to fumble with your belt. Your fingers trembling, his dark eyes drag down the parts of you he can see and his hand covers yours, stopping you.

“So needy.” The words are said to himself with a slight shake of his head that has you squirming again, and he pushes your hands out of the way, making room for his own. There is a weighted feel to them against your skin where his knuckles brush against your belly, his fingers working open the button of your jeans and you let out a shuddering breath, the liquid heat between your thighs flaring bright.

Jeans open for his access, he keeps his eyes on your face when he slowly slips his hand down the front of them, pushing beneath the band of your underwear. When his fingers find the damp, warm heat that greets him, a pained look crosses over his features.

“So fuckin’ wet, and I ain’t even hardly touched you yet.”

He is touching you, you want to argue, but the words are caught in your mouth when he slides his hold lower, his broad hand cupping you wholly between your legs. The thick tips of his fingers press heavily against your entrance, and you widen your legs to give him more room.

“Goddamn,” he breathes out, swallowing hard.

His middle finger dips into your slick seam, immediate wetness covering the digit before he drags it through your folds with a testing stroke and your back nearly arches off the ground, needing so much more yet not being able to breathe with what he is doing. He slips it inside you, just down to the second knuckle, and then he’s sliding his soaked finger up to your clit, finding it with ease.

Your hips jerk up to meet it, the calloused pad of his finger providing instant relief. Your head falls back, your throat straining with the effort to be quiet.

“Feels good, huh.”

There is a smugness to his tone that you think faintly should bother you, but it doesn’t. Instead, your body responds in a wholly different way, wanting nothing more to find out what else he seemingly already knows about how to make you feel good.

“Tell me, or I stop.”

The harsher tone of his words brings you back to the present, and you frantically nod, eager to obey.

“Yes. Yes, it feels good.” The roughed pad of his middle finger is swirling firm, neat circles just over your clit, the texture and intensity just right and when you answer him, he rewards you with a second finger. Arching your hips into it, your mouth drops open, a silent cry forming in your throat.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, his hooded eyes looking down at you.

His fingers speed up, quickly slipping down between your thighs to coat his fingers with arousal before bringing them back up again and your hands find his wrist beneath the sleeping bag, holding on while he swirls, swirls, swirls.

So wet you can hear it, you’re sticky and slick underneath his touch, and it’s almost clinical with how quickly he’s going to make you come. Your thighs starting to tremble, his dark eyes never leave your face and chasing his touch, you focus on the centered need he’s building deep within you.

Still so empty you could cry, your breasts tighten under your sweatshirt, and when you imagine how the cold air would feel on them paired with the contrast of his hot, wet mouth, you pull tight with your release, your hand tightening in its hold on his wrist.

“It’s –,” you beg him, “I’m so close.”

Your mouth slack as his thick, calloused fingers work, work, work, he dips his head, his mouth resting just beside your ear.

“Come on, honey. Just give it to me. I know you want to.”

The rough rasp of his voice is deep enough to pierce through the fog he’s built in your brain, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt to hold onto something as you start to tip over the edge. Right when you’re on the cusp, he slides his fingers lower and fills you swifty with three and the startled cry that breaks free from your throat doesn’t even hit the air before he covers your mouth with his.

He swallows every low moan, every hitch in your breathing, every hot puff of air you let out as he pumps his fingers to wring every last drop of release from your trembling body and even when he slides his fingers out, his mouth still doesn’t stop. Coated with your slick, his hand smears damp across your jaw as he presses you into place and takes, his tongue sliding hungrily against yours.

Your own taste is thick on your tongue when he pulls back, and breathless and spent, you’re finally blissfully pliant and loose beside him in the sleeping bag - but not for long.

Slipping his fingers into his mouth, you blink your damp eyelashes up at him as you watch him suck on them with a low, satisfied groan. The lewd action paired with the deep sound, his eyes are still on your face when he pulls them from his mouth to reach back down into the sleeping bag.

“Feel better?” he asks, and though you don’t even know how to begin to answer that question, you find yourself nodding anyway.

As if nothing happened, he grasps your jeans and gives them a perfunctory, swift tug, putting you back together. Lifting your hips in a daze, you let him.

Satisfied, he positions you on your side again, facing away from him and settling down behind you, he drags you tight to his chest with a thick arm banded around your waist.

A thick, solid heft is felt between the two of you, pressed against your ass and his usual gruff voice softens, but only just.

“Good. Now go to sleep.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut

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bunny-yan · 2 months

Note

so for the yandere king, will he ever get married to someone who isn’t reader?

He’ll hold it off for as long as he can, but don’t expect him not to take it out on you if he complains about it and you don’t give him the reaction he was expecting. TW: mentions violence, domestic abuse, mentions somnophilia, power imbalance, minors DNI

—

You’d gotten your hopes up.

It’d been such a long time since you felt anything like it, but with whispers around every corner speaking of the king’s possible marriage, you couldn’t help but entertain thoughts of freedom, of a life without the tyrant you called a king.

He had to produce an heir. It was an unavoidable duty his position demanded. The kingdom needed to be left with a future should anything unfortunate happen to their oh, so beloved king.

Sometimes, you wished that his misfortune would happen by your hands. If only to give him a taste of what you had to endure, but you shoved such thoughts away. It was harder to keep your composure when you entertained ideas you’d never be allowed to act upon. Or if you tried would cause more harm than good.

Others looked smug as you passed them in the long hallways, claiming you’d be thrown away by the king as soon as he married, and you prayed to the goddess that they were right. That he’d marry someone he could love and obsess over. That his violent affection would be directed at someone else for a change. Did it make you cruel, wishing that someone else would take your place? A part of you lacked the ability to care. If they were so desperate to tear you down, not realizing the hell disguised as paradise, you would be more than willing to let them have a taste of it.

The king’s marriage.

When the two of you were younger, he promised to hold the grandest wedding the kingdom had ever seen. He’d spare no expense and it would be remembered as the happiest days of your lives. Remembered as the day of your union, the day you would promise to spend eternity together. You supposed that after killing all of your family members and gaining ownership of you, it didn’t really matter one way or the other how it happened, but you felt a small sense of relief that the monstrous event had been delayed.

The talk you had to endure was bad enough, but you could only imagine what the nobles would have to say if the King were to make your union official. You wouldn’t be the one who achieved every servant’s fairytale, no. You would be the peasant living above their station. The whore who sunk their claws into their sweet prince. The tramp who didn’t know their place.

You would dread every display of affection he would shower you with in public, knowing that despite his insistence of you remaining by his side, others too afraid to show their disdain in front of the King, there would undoubtedly be a moment where they would find you alone and without your shield you were vulnerable to their contempt.

But the idea of him living out that fantasy with another shifted something in you. You felt a slight upturn of your lips at the thought of him standing at the altar with a faceless figure as you packed what little things you truly owned and ran and ran and ran as far as your legs could carry you. The dull ache you’d become familiar with would burst, and you’d cry freely, laugh hysterically, and smile as if you had never forgotten how. That was what paradise sounded like.

Doors slamming open, the strange emotions fled from your body, replaced with instant unease at the sight of the king’s furious face.

You stood quickly to bow and greet the head of your kingdom.

“Leave us,” he said. Two words dismissing everyone from your chambers, holding so much power you feared they didn’t know what monster they were abandoning you to face alone. As you’d always had.

He sat on the plush couch with a heavy sigh, unbuttoning his shirt as he gave the order, “Pour me a drink.”

You didn’t hesitate to meet his demands. You got two glasses, knowing that he’d push you to join him, along with the liquor your Kingdom was famous for and he favored on particularly stressful days. Setting them down on the table, you tried to ignore the set eyes watching you as you filled one glass and left the other, hoping that he wouldn’t notice or at least be too preoccupied to comment on your lack of a desire to drink at this hour.

He said nothing.

You picked up the glass, careful not to spill it as you handed it to your king. He took it from your hands, but his other snatched your wrist as you retreated back, making you tense. The king threw the full glass back as if you poured a shot before slamming the glass on the table. He wiped the dribble of alcohol that escaped from his lips as he pulled you to sit on his lap.

This was dangerous. He was sober now, but you weren’t sure how long that would last after drinking enough to keep him wasted for the rest of the day. How long would it take to kick in? You’d pour him the cup, believing he’d sip it as usual while entangling you in a verbal joust. He would ask impossibly complex questions disguised as basic pleasantries, and you would struggle to find the right thing to say. Because there was always a right thing to say. Something he wanted to hear to stroke the fragile ego drowning in his fear. You had waves of carefully hidden bruises as proof.

“Pour me another,” he demanded, the harsh tone making your hair stand on end. He really must’ve heard something he didn’t like.

“My King,” you began, timidly, as you turned to face him. It wouldn’t bode well for you if he was too drunk to remember what he had done the next day. His memory was truth, and if he didn’t remember putting his hands on you, if he didn’t remember the violence he wrought night after night, it didn’t happen. “May I pour you some water instead?”

The hand on your waist was stroking your side casually. His motions didn’t falter.

Hopefully, he didn’t take offense.

You were clear on your station. You were to serve his every whim and desire. An outright refusal wasn’t wise. Resting a hand on his arm, you knew to keep your gaze down. Keeping contact, unchallenging, all things he preferred in moments like these.

“How considerate,” he said, your body sagging in relief at the concession.

You were almost too eager to pull away from his grip, but he let you go without a word, watching you retrieve the pitcher and another glass before you came to pour him a glass.

You handed it to him and much like before, you were pulled into his lap as he sipped on the small offering you were grateful he accepted. You were afraid to hope that his temperament would be manageable.

Before you learned of the engagement, you wondered if you’d unintentionally done something to make Idris angry.

It was little things at first.

Snapping at you for getting up from dinner without his express permission, grabbing you harshly if you pulled away from any form of affection he so generously offered. When he’d wake you up, it was usually in the form of violent affections, his touch lacking any tenderness or care that he often liked to pretend still existed between the two of you.

He only realized that he was treating you differently when you found the courage to ask him if you’d done something to gain his ire. You couldn’t think of anything you may have done to make him upset. It’d been a while since your last escape attempt. Knowing there was nothing and no one waiting outside of the palace for you, you didn’t really have a desire to escape. Better to remain with the person who’d travel to the ends of the earth to trap you by their side, right?

Regardless, he looked surprised by your question and you discovered he didn’t even realize how harshly he’d been treating you. Projecting his anger on you because you reminded him of the Duke’s daughter and how their intended engagement would ruin everything he planned to build with you.

“I assume you’ve heard by now,” he said carefully, the glass of water resting on his lips as he watched you.

You didn’t know whether to play dumb or openly admit you learned of his vassal’s plan to marry him to someone with a legitimate background. He was obviously unhappy about it, so if you mentioned that you had learned, he might shift the conversation to ask instead why you remained silent. To ask about your feelings on the matter and when you didn’t show the same amount of disdain, he’d mistake your feelings for what they were.

Hope.

A newfound hope that you had found a way to escape from underneath his grip, even if it was temporary. You could only imagine the anger he’d display then.

If you pretended you didn’t know what he was talking about, he’d give a knowing smile as he narrowed his eyes. Calling you his clueless lover, the hand at your waist would squeeze into your side, his fingernails threatening to pierce your skin as he buried his head in your neck. Harsh laughter would brush across your skin and your body would be so tense, waiting for the moment that skin would be met with teeth. Met with pain.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to say anything. He always did love hearing himself speak.

“Have you seen the Duke at the balls I’ve hosted? He’s hoping to gain an alliance with the imperial family by forcing me to marry his daughter in exchange for his backing and the steel his family mines in order to make weapons.”

His fingers drummed against your side as he took a sip of his water.

You felt inclined to say something to break this silence, to give a show of how upset or angry or disappointed or sad or whatever the hell you were supposed to be feeling so he felt as if you were torn up about this situation and not hoping the Duke would move faster with the marriage arrangements.

“How arrogant,” you said simply.

He smiled, setting down his glass as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Those were my thoughts exactly. I managed to push it off, but I can’t see the Duke giving up any time soon.” He sighed, leaning into your touch when you began to scratch the back of his neck. You were listening. You cared about what he was saying. You sympathized with his plight and offered the reprieve you could. To say you could do more was putting it lightly, but you would get away with doing the bare minimum for as long as you could.

“It makes me think of how unfair this is to you.”

You wanted to laugh.

Unfair was forcing you into the position of his concubine in the first place. Unfair was ignoring your consistent refusals and forcing you to remain by his side. Unfair was the treatment you endured in the position you never asked to be in, the abuse you suffered, the constant torment you faced, the aching loneliness at being able to talk honestly with no one, the grief at the loss of your family—unfair was putting it lightly.

It was hard to hear coming from the culprit.

“It got me thinking that if I’m eventually forced to go through with this wedding despite my lack of enthusiasm, why not have a wedding I’d enjoy first?”

Dread pinched your stomach.

“Do you remember the promise we made when we were younger?”

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Not another shackle. Yet another excuse to be stuck in this place with no way out.

“Your Highness-”

“I promised you that we’d have the grandest wedding the kingdom had ever seen. That you would walk upon a path of flowers that would lead you to my side, and one of the knights can walk you down the aisle since-.”

You felt nauseous.

“Anyways, I think I’ve been putting it off for too long and it’s the perfect event to put my vassals in their place.”

This couldn’t be happening. You shook your head, not wanting to imagine what life would be like after you became… what? What did he intend on calling you if you were no longer his concubine? What did it matter if your treatment would remain spiteful regardless of how many escorts he replaced by your side. Any hope you had about escaping would be snatched away and your every move would be reported back to the King. You supposed he didn’t botherbefore because there really was nowhere for you to go where people didn’t know who you were, but with this new title, this new position, he would shorten your leash to show just how much of a loving couple the two of you were.

“What’s wrong, my love?” he asked, a warning in his voice. “You don’t look happy.”

“No,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. It brought tears to your eyes when the impediment remained, threatening to choke you as you struggled to hold them back. “I’m overjoyed.” you said, burying your head in his shoulder so he couldn’t see that these weren’t happy tears. That you weren’t crying at what you would gain from marrying the King, the most sought after “bachelor” in your kingdom. You were crying at everything that you would lose, that would continue to be taken away from you. Demanded of you. Your peace, your love, happiness, and the joy you were so desperate to convince him you felt in this moment.

Not that he really cared in the first place.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #gn reader #yan!idris #yandere king

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b1rds3ye · 10 months

Text

Mask On

How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)

Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read

A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤

Captain John Price

The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally

But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier

It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141

But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease

Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it

If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes

Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle

“Looking fresh, sergeant.”

You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.

Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).

And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.

“Thanks, Captain.”

He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’ll keep it.”

You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.

“For what?”

“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”

You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done

Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield

However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing

He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin

Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable

It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered

If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort

A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.

When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.

Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.

“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.

“Thanks.”

Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.

Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.

“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.

And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends

Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day

“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”

And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face

When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)

He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter

If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered

Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.

“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”

“You got a mask?”

There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.

“You bet.”

You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.

Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.

“Is that… mine?”

“Was yours.”

You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.

That was your first mistake.

You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.

But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.

“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”

“Wear it.”

You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.

“We’re a team, aye?”

“You bet.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you

Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back

It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now

He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it

Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine

Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared

If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day

After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.

He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.

There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.

With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.

The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.

“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.

“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/

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strangersmunsons · 4 months

Text

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 2 Prompt: Chocolates 🍫 ~ 2,000 words Eddie's grumpy until he sees a familiar face in the candy aisle.

“This is a fake holiday,” mumbles Eddie as he pushes the cart past the pink and red aisle of Bradley’s Big Buy.

His uncle chuckles. “When you have someone to spend it with, you’ll feel differently.”

“Wayne,” Eddie deadpans, “this is just some bullshit that Hallmark made up so they could take more of our money.”

“I’m not sayin’ you need to go all commercial,” Wayne clarifies. “I just mean that when there’s someone special in your life, boy, you might be in a better mood during this month.”

Eddie’s mouth sets bitterly. He’d rather not get the ‘you’ll find someone someday’ talk right now — the last thing he needs is another reminder of how lonely he is.

Wayne senses his nephew’s reluctance to discuss the matter, and so bites his tongue. Instead, he points at a row of cans on the shelf beside them. “Do you need more tomato soup, or are you set for a while?”

Back at home, Eddie lays on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Yeah, okay, maybe Wayne had a point. Maybe he’d hate all this stupid cutesy shit less if he didn’t have to watch everyone around him enjoy it while he spent yet another Valentine’s Day alone in his uncle’s trailer, with no one to keep him company, save for a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

The worst part of it is — and Eddie would rather die than admit this — that deep down, he thinks he really could be…romantic.

Sure, he’s rough around the edges. He tends to be prickly, wary of others’ intentions, but it’s necessary in order for him to survive in Hawkins. The Munson name was already notorious, and his reputation preceded him; the incident with poor Chrissy Cunningham three years prior, despite his innocence, had sealed his fate as the town pariah.

But if someone could just give him a chance, a real chance, he thinks that he could make that person really happy.

He’d help around the house. Cleaning, laundry, anything you — whoever you are — needed a hand with. He’d learn to cook better so he could keep you eatin’ good. He’d plan fun dates. He’d play your favorite songs on guitar, maybe write you new ones, if he was feeling inspired…anytime you needed him, he’d be there. He’d be the most reliable, affectionate, loving —

“Ed?” There’s a light knock on his door.

“Come in,” he calls back.

Wayne pokes his head into the room. “I’ve got to head to the plant in a few,” he says. “While I’m gone, can you do me a favor?”

Eddie sits halfway up, propped on his elbows. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Wayne fidgets, looking apologetic. “I know we were just there, but d’you mind going back to the Big Buy to pick up some candy? It’s Mrs. Johnson’s first Valentine’s Day since her husband passed, and I meant to get her something sweet, but I forgot.”

Eddie hauls himself up off the floor. “No problem. Want anything specific?”

Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t need nothin’ fancy, just get whatever’s cheapest that still looks nice.”

“That’s the Munson way,” Eddie muses, smiling in spite of himself.

Eddie reluctantly makes a turn down the seasonal aisle he had so pointedly avoided earlier, feeling depressed. Cherubs and teddy bears seem to mock him from where they sit, and he heaves a dramatic sigh.

His eyes roam the line of cards, plush toys, endless boxes of chocolates and candies, when they finally land on you, also perusing the rows of heart-shaped packages.

Recognition flickers instantly. Eddie suddenly finds that his heart is beating very quickly in his chest.

You.

You had still been a year behind him when he finally graduated, and though he didn’t really know you-know you, he was friends with people who did. You weren’t bullied like he and the guys were, but you weren’t exactly popular, either — and so more often than not, you ran in similar circles. Gareth and Harry used to swear up and down that you were the nicest girl in Hawkins.

Because of them, he had spent brief moments with you from time to time. He thought you had been very pretty, in your own unique way, but you were also rather shy. Your exchanges were always polite and charming, even if they never broke deeper than surface-level; overall, he’d found you incredibly endearing.

He never kept in touch, but as the years went by, he had often wondered about you.

Back then, it was hard to see past his own preoccupations: he was so focused on not failing his classes, Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, his dealing gig with Rick. But in retrospect, it always seemed to him like he had missed out on something special in not taking the time to properly befriend you.

Now, against all odds, you’re right here in front of him. And he had found you attractive back then, but now? Holy shit. You’re striking to look at.

As he studies your side profile, he thinks, it’s not that your appearance has really changed much, but rather the way you seem to be holding yourself.

You used to walk quickly through the hallways with your shoulders hunched and your head down, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible. But now your posture is relaxed, your stance casual; your head is held high and a slight smile turns up the corners of your lips. And your clothes seem different too, like maybe you’d finally found your personal style, and were dressing in the way that you truly liked.

Is this what they call kismet? Fate, destiny, whatever, maybe Eddie’s fantasy-oriented brain was jumping to conclusions, but he thinks of the floor-misery he’d been wallowing in not even an hour ago — had his internal bitching been an unintentional prayer, which was now being answered?

He takes a few cautious steps forward, trying to act natural.

You glance at him when he comes nearer and offer him a quick smile before turning back to the sweet assortment before you.

Eddie stands next to you awkwardly, pretending to browse, hoping to see you make some gesture of familiarity, any confirmation that you might remember him as well as he remembers you.

But nothing. The seconds tick by.

You reach for a box of chocolates and Eddie’s overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. He starts sweating. Any second now, you would pluck a shiny, ribbon-adorned package and twirl away from him, vanishing into thin air, and the moment would be gone. His opportunity would be over, and he’d never, ever see you again.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. His face turns crimson, but he blunders on anyway. “I don’t wanna bother you, but did you graduate from Hawkins High in ‘87?”

You turn to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, one arm still outstretched. A breathy laugh escapes you. “Yeah, I did.” You give him the tiniest wave. “Hi, Eddie.”

He could almost cry in relief. You do remember him.

“Hi.” He returns your wave, dopey grin unfurling on his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you just now. I didn’t think you would remember me,” you explain apologetically.

Forget you? Absurd. “Of course I remember you. How’ve you been?”

Your voice is bright, cheerful. “I’ve been good! Busy with school.”

College, of course. You had definitely been an honor roll kid. “If you’re in school, then you don’t still live in town, do you?”

“Nah, my university’s too far. I got a place near campus, but I come home every now and then.” You smile, and motion towards yourself. “Obviously.”

“Oh. Nice.” Eddie twiddles his thumbs nervously. “Are your classes going good?”

“For the most part. They’re stressful sometimes, but that’s to be expected, I guess.”

“Yeah, but you’re super smart. I’m sure you’re killin’ it up there.”

“I’m trying my best,” you reply with a modest shrug. “What about you? What have you been up to lately?” You look at him with genuine interest, like you’re truly eager to hear about how he’s doing.

Oh, what to say. He opts for simplicity. “Bartending. At the moment I’m between The Hideout and The Attic. Although, I’m thinkin’ about trying to get a job at the garage instead.”

“You should!” Your voice is sincere, full of warmth. “I bet you’d be great there — I know you did a lot of work on your van.”

A bolt of pleasure runs through him. You didn’t just remember his name and face, but you recalled some minor details about him as well. He stands a little taller. “Thank you. We’ll see if it works out, I suppose.”

There’s a brief pause. Eddie moistens his chapped lips with his tongue. “Listen…”

Do it, you coward. If she says no, she says no, and you’ll get over it. Eventually.

“Um, if you’re ever home for the weekend, would you maybe wanna hang out? Grab a coffee or something?”

You look taken aback, but not displeased. Eddie counts that as a win.

“Sure. That would be really fun.”

He flashes you a grin. “Sick.” Then it occurs to him: you came home for Valentine’s Day weekend. Surely you’re in Hawkins because you have a date lined up with some former classmate who swooped in and asked you out after he had gone, and that’s who you were buying candy for and —

“I’m assuming you’re busy this weekend, though?” You point at the treats in front of you. “‘Cause I see you’re here to pick up the goods,” you tease him cheerfully.

“Oh, n-not really,” he stammers. “Wayne asked me to pick up something for our neighbor. I’m just an errand boy.” He swallows. “Do you have any big plans?”

“Nope,” you reply casually, lips popping the p-sound. You pull the candy you’d be aiming for before he interrupted, a pack of Hershey’s cream-filled chocolate hearts. You nod at him sagely. “I am my own Valentine this year.”

You don’t need to be. I’ll volunteer.

Eddie musters up all his courage, rocking slightly on his feet. “Actually, if you don’t have plans…like, if you’re not seeing anybody…would you wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” Nerves get the better of him and he starts pouring out word-vomit, totally oblivious to the way your expression is getting softer and softer the longer he rambles. “I get that it’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t know if you think that’s really…weird for a first date, or…if you even wanna go on a date with me at all, which if you don’t, that’s totally fine and I understand —”

“I don’t think that would be weird at all,” you cut in, giving him a smile that could melt an iceberg. “Eddie, I would love to go on a date with you.”

He feels like he’s having a fever dream. This can’t be real. Is this what manifesting is?

From now on, when he wants something, he’s gonna go cry on his bedroom floor about it.

Painfully aware of how clumsy his proposition came out, Eddie tries to put at least one suave move on you. “Well, if we really have a date tomorrow,” he says, swiping the Hershey’s from you, “then there’s no reason for you to be buyin’ your own chocolates. Allow me.”

Ten minutes later, both of you armed with candies and a phone number apiece, Eddie escorts you across the icy parking lot to your car. You grip his arm tightly crossing over a slippery patch of asphalt, and his stomach flutters in a way it hasn’t in years.

Okay, okay.

Maybe there is something to be said for this stupid, fake holiday.

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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strawberrysturniolo · 6 months

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jealous // fwb!chris

summary: your friends with benefits, chris, sees you with another guy at a party and takes you somewhere to remind you who you belong to warnings: smutty af so if you don't like that, get lost! semi public sex, fem!receiving

Chris Sturniolo and I made a pact a few months ago.

He helps me get over my ex, and I keep him busy.

This pact was all about us getting something — sex.

When we first met, I was in a long term relationship with a guy who didn’t have his head on straight. Chris was proudly single, but in desperate need of sex.

After a night of crying and confusion, I tried something I never thought I would bother with.

I texted Chris and asked him to come over, both of us knowing damn well what the other wanted.

We had sex all night, sometimes waking the other up with our mouths all over each other, sometimes with his dick lining perfectly with my pussy when we cuddled that it would be a sin for us not to finish the job. The next morning we vowed that we would keep hooking up, only if we promised that it was just sex, and there were absolutely no feelings involved.

I wasn’t too thrilled to hear about some influencer party that Chris was going to. I didn’t care that he had a life around girls, and I didn’t care if he was into them. What I cared about was him putting his dick somewhere without letting me know, and me suffering the consequences of him transferring something to me.

I was even less thrilled when my best friend, Nick, invited me as his plus one. Don’t get me wrong, anywhere Nick goes, I’m usually there too, but the whole LA party scene is not my thing at all. I can last about an hour before I'm tapping out and wanting to be home.

He begged and begged and I caved, leaving me to stand in front of my closet to search for an outfit.

My phone chimed on my bed.

Chris: Why am I only just now hearing that you’re coming tonight?

Me: 🤷🏻‍♀️ Black lingerie or white?

Chris: Come over.

Me: Can’t. Uber is getting here soon.

Chris: Cancel it.

Me: See you at the partyyyy

After Ubering and searching for the way into the building, I pulled out my phone to text Nick in hopes of finding him. Before I realized, a familiar hand slid across my back, finding my waist and turning me around.

Chris’ smirk was the most prominent feature on his face. “Hey pretty.”

I had to stop my stomach from flipping at the compliment, the nickname he has attached to me lately. It’s hard not to fall for him when he says shit like that.

I try to act unbothered for the sake of keeping my sanity. “Where’s Nick?”

Chris’ head dips in a certain direction, pointing to Nick through a crowd of people. “I’m here though.”

I nod once. “I see that.”

“You wearin’ this for me?”

His eyes linger down my chest, focusing on the mesh material that leaves little to the imagination. A black mini skirt hugs my hips, inviting Chris’ hands to my waist. I suck in a breath before pushing his hands away.

“Not here,” I warn him in a whisper.

“Then let’s find somewhere,” he suggests immediately, his urges showing.

It takes everything in me to push his hands away and search further for my friend.

As the minutes pass, I find myself sticking close to Nick, nodding along to any conversation that he is involved in. He makes socializing look so easy, taking control of everyone in the room in the best way. Meanwhile, I look lost next to him.

In hopes of liquid courage and something to hold onto instead of picking at my fingers, I head back to the bar, ordering a vodka red bull - something to keep me feeling comfortable, but hopefully keeping me awake and not yawning in everyone’s faces. The last thing I want is for Nick to feel bad about inviting me, and for everyone else to think I’m a bitch.

Seconds later, I’m trapped in a conversation with someone I really couldn’t care less about. Some model talking about his work, clearly trying to impress me. The sad thing is, I know he’s trying hard to make me swoon, but this is what happens at every one of these parties. He’s not flirting with me because of anything I have to offer. He’s simply trying to make himself look good.

I try to pay attention to his words, but out of the corner of my eye I’m able to spot someone’s glare from a mile away.

Chris stands fifty feet from me, his jaw clenched and his eyes glaring at the man in front of me.

Suddenly, I’m interested in this model.

My hand trails up his arm, earning a satisfied smirk from him before he steps closer, his thighs brushing mine. I don’t even have to be looking at Chris to know his reaction to that action — he’s charging over to us.

Before I have time to suggest us leaving this spot to get away from Chris, he’s already squeezing between us.

His nose is inches from mine, and when they brush, I find myself thinking about last night, his nose rubbing my clit while he ate my pussy.

“Who’s your friend, baby?”

My eyes could burn holes in his. I don’t know if I’m more mad that he’s doing this right now, or embarrassed that I was so zoned out that I don’t even remember this guys name. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t bother telling me.

When Chris doesn’t get a response from me, he turns over his shoulder. “You can go now.”

With one look, the nameless guy I was talking to vanishes. I smack Chris’ chest. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“Me?” He responds with a surprised tone. “You’re the one rubbing all up on guys in front of me. You expect me to just sit back and do nothing?”

“Yes!” I shout, walking away. His hand on my wrist pulls me back to him. “I’m not yours to claim, and you coming up and stopping me from talking to any guy you see is fucking pathetic. You and I fuck. That’s it.”

I watch as Chris’ mouth curves to a grin. What now?

“You’re right, we fuck,” he agrees, but his fingertips tracing my thigh in front of everyone send shivers down my body for more than one reason. “And right now I’m thinking about pulling this little skirt around your hips and bending you over a sink.”

Shit.

I can feel my legs getting tighter, and I struggle to stand up straight.

He dips his head to my ear, whispering to me. “If I pulled your panties aside, how wet would you be for me?”

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“Would you be ready for my cock, or do you need me to stretch your tight cunt out with my fingers?”

My breathing starts to falter before I can bother controlling it.

Chris stands up straight looking at me and noticing every change in expression. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and starts walking me to the bathroom. “I know baby, let’s take care of you.”

I’m unable to form words. He continues to say quick hello’s to everyone he sees while I stand at his hip like a poor puppy. I give in to him so fast every time. It’s embarrassing, but can you blame me?

We make it to the bathroom, and after he locks the door, he turns around and leans on it, his arms crossed as he stares at me.

“You know I don’t like it when you talk to other guys in front of me,” he warns.

“I’m allowed to talk to other guys. We aren’t together.”

“Not when you’re dressed like that.”

“So now you have an issue with how I dress and who I talk to? Anything else I should know of?”

“I have an issue with you dressing in a mesh shirt and a mini skirt when you aren’t mine to claim, yes.”

“Well that’s stupid.”

“Is it?”

This is a losing battle. As much as I try, it’s obvious how bad I want him.

I need him.

He notices the switch flip in me. He knows exactly when I give in without me having to say a word.

His arms uncross and within seconds they’re wrapped around me, lifting me to sit on the bathroom sink, yanking my underwear down to my knees. He ducks his head underneath the fabric, yanking me by my thighs a few inches so he can have easier access to my dripping pussy.

He groans at the sight of me struggling without him touching me. “Such a pretty pussy.” His fingers grip the sides of my thighs, digging so hard I’m sure it’ll leave marks. He places a wet kiss over my dripping cunt. I shudder at his touch, and quickly grip his curls as he starts licking harshly over my throbbing clit.

“Fuck, Chris.” The words come out in a pathetic whimper, but they only encourage him to do more.

His hands spread my legs further before the tip of his tongue fucks me. My moans are uncontainable, and I can feel his smirk growing as I struggle to contain myself.

I can feel Chris trying not to put his hands everywhere on me. The last time we fucked in a public setting, he emphasized that he did not want to put his hands anywhere near my pussy in case there was anything gross lingering on his hands. The animalistic strokes of his tongue on me are a confirmation of his ideas. The harsh movements of his tongue on my clit have me shuddering, gripping his hair as tight as my fingers will let me.

“Tastes so good, baby,” he mumbles against my thigh, staring up at me before licking up my inner thigh, back to my clit. His head starts to move more with every swipe of his tongue until he’s making out with my pussy.

Chris never fails to prove that eating me out is his favorite part of this whole friends with benefits situation. While he loves burying his dick in me, there’s nothing he loves more than tasting me and watching me falter as he pleases me with his mouth.

My back arches and my thighs close around his face, brushing across the light stubble growing on his cheeks. “Chris, I’m gonna cum.”

He yanks my underwear down until it’s completely off, stuffing the pair of lace panties in his pocket and wrapping my legs around his waist. As he unbuttons his pants and rubs over himself through his boxers, he mutters, “Can you cum around my cock for me, baby? Be a good girl and wait for me to tell you, hmm?”

“Uh huh,” I nod. Any sound leaving my mouth sounds like a cry for help.

The outline of his throbbing dick is prominent as he strokes himself over his underwear. “Stop wasting your time with the other guys and you can have me whenever.”

I don’t have a chance to argue back with him. His dick is in his fist, red and throbbing. His tip is leaking like he’s been holding back from fucking me since I walked in this place. He strokes himself a few times, finding pleasure in it by the way his head falls back. Before I get the chance to offer anything to him, he spreads my legs back open with his knee and rubs his tip over my clit.

A weak moan leaves my lips and I’m unable to stop myself from begging for more.

“Please, Chris,” I whine, watching as his lips part as he watches himself tease my entrance.

“You have me baby.”

I almost feel my heart expand, but I’m cut off by the abrupt motion of his dick pushing into me, stretching me out until he’s buried deep and I’m completely wrapped around him.

He stares down at us in awe. “This pussy was made for me.”

I nod, at a loss for words.

He thrusts harshly. “Whose pussy is this?”

I wince. “Yours.”

“Tell me,” he demands with his teeth gritted.

“FUCK – Yours, Chris. It’s yours.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly before slamming his hips back into mine. Every thrust is sharper than the last. His pace is steady, but it all changes when I wrap my legs around his waist with no intention of letting go.

He lifts me off the counter, holding underneath my thighs. His head rests on my right shoulder and I can feel him looking at us in the mirror. He pushes my skirt up further, revealing my entire ass. He slaps it harshly, making me groan.

“You love it, don’t act like you don’t,” he teases.

I nod.

“Tell me,” he says as he slaps my ass again, harder this time.

“Shit, I love it, Chris,” I admit, the words flying out of my mouth. “I love it so much.”

His hands hold underneath my ass, his hips driving up into me. Every thrust has a slapping sound following, and after a few minutes of a steady pace, I can feel him speeding up.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans into my neck. “I can’t hold off anymore. You gonna cum with me?”

I nod, whimpering against him.

“Words, princess.”

“Yes, Chris. I’m almost there.”

As he presses closer to me and fucks me in his arms, I can feel myself going limp. My clit is throbbing and has been all night, and being this close to a release is enough to make me feel like I’m falling.

“Chris.” My hands grip his hair tightly, like I’m going to lose him at any second.

“I got you, baby,” he assures me. “Cum around me. I’m right here with you.”

I feel myself convulse around his cock, earning a string of pornographic moans from him before his pace slows down, his hips burying themselves against me as he pumps his cum inside my pussy.

“Ohhhh god,” he moans. The sound has become my new favorite thing.

He carefully sets me on the ground, letting my feet find the floor before he lets go and kisses me softly, the first kiss we have shared all night. He adjusts my skirt, smirking at the evidence of him on my legs, dripping out of me.

“Do not wipe any of that up,” he tells me, a seriousness in his tone that I’m not used to. “I want you to walk around this party with my cum dripping out of you, and if you even try to let anyone else flirt with you, that’ll be your reminder of who you belong to. Got it?”

I nod, trying to find my balance before leaving the bathroom with him. At this point, most of our friends know what we are, and if they didn’t, they were sure as hell gonna find out now.

I spent the rest of the night with Chris at my side, rubbing my legs subtly or making snide comments about how I was full of him still. I knew what I wanted, but some of him was better than none.

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

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fangirl-dot-com · 1 month

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🍾Track 5 - Don't Blame Me

*sorry for the delay folks! I made this chapter a little bit longer because you all have been so patient with me! I got my paper done and my teacher looked over it before I turned it in and she liked it! so I hope you all like this chapter! for Logan I am using Kimi during Lotus for his body claim and then for reader I am using Nico during Renault. the cars are going to be switching*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“And that is pole mate. Good job!”

Logan was shaking as he took his cooldown lap around the track to get back to the pits. He was wondering if his radio was working correctly.

“Did you say pole?” his voice shakily responded.

“Yep! Great pace and congrats are in order.”

He didn’t respond to that, still in disbelief. As he pulled the yellow and black car into Parc Ferme at the number 1 spot, his head whipped around. He let out a sigh in relief as his eyes landed on your own yellow car pulling into the number 2 spot.

The blond went through his routine of turning off the engine and undoing the steering wheel before standing up and putting it back on. As he was bending down, he felt a slap to his back. Once the wheel had finally been placed in correctly, he turned in the direction of the hand.

He could see your eyes crinkled through the opening of your visor as your hand clasped his. When he felt your glove, he finally recognized that this was not a dream and Logan was on pole for the first time in his career at the Bahrain Grand Prix.

A flash of red also came up beside him and scrunched green eyes followed.

“Mate, you were flying! Your time is so close to almost a one second gap!” he heard Charles say as the three of them took their helmets off so that they could be weighed.

Logan let out a small laugh. “I was just driving.”

You shook your head. “Just driving my ass. Lo, this is unbelievable.”

The American turned his head to look at the other cars slowly pulling in. Max’s car was first in the line, signifying his P4 spot for tomorrow’s race. His face did not look happy as he took his own helmet off and glared at the stewards. Logan shrank in a bit at the sight of the angry Dutchman. When blue eyes met gray, Logan quickly turned his face to the side.

“I think Max might be mad at me,” he muttered to you as you and Charles lined up for pictures. Charles sighed.

“He’s not mad at you mate. He’s mad because they messed up their quali strategies. He was supposed to do three laps but they only let him do one.”

Logan nodded his head and smiled for the flashing cameras. Once they were done and Charles went to be interviewed, Logan looked back at where the Dutchman had been. Only this time, Max was smiling wide as he looked at the two Lamborghini drivers. His hand waved them over. Logan nodded before making his way over to be interviewed after you were done.

You had already found yourself conversing with Charles while Logan went over to Max. Logan was still a bit weary, but his fears melted once he was brought into a giant hug from the Red Bull driver. He sighed a bit and visibly deflated in hug.

Once he pulled away, his eyes landed on some other familiar drivers that made his blood run cold. Alex and Oscar were looking at him like he just ran over their family dog and Lando had a murderous look in his eyes.

Max saw the moment that Logan tensed. His gray eyes followed Logan’s line of sight and he sighed once he saw who he was looking at. He looked back to Logan.

“He, dat is niet nodig. Negeer ze gewoon. Jij staat op pole en zij niet.” (Hey, there’s no need for that. Just ignore them. You’re on pole and they’re not.)

Logan sighed. “Waarschijnlijk eindig ik niet zoals altijd.” (I’ll probably just end up not finishing like always.)

The Dutchman rolled his eyes. “Zeg dat niet. Je heb teen betere auto dan de meeste mensen op de baan. Laat ze niet bij je komen. Je bent een goede chauffeur.” (Don’t say that. You have a better car than most of the people on track. Don’t let them get to you. You’re a good driver.)

Logan felt a bit better at the words being spoken to him. He was glad that he had begun to brush up on his Dutch so he wasn’t as rusty as he thought. He snorted as he looked at the other drivers’ wide eyes as they tried to look like they weren’t listening on their conversation.

He looked over back at you and saw that you were pretending to tap a watch on your wrist. His eyes widened as the noticed the time. He turned to Max.

“I got to go back to the garage. I think Y/n and I were going out to dinner tonight and you’re welcome to join if you want to. George and Lewis are also joining and she was supposed to ask Charles.”

Logan’s head turned back to you as he mentioned your name. Max smiled fondly at how he observed Logan looking at you. Hopefully, for Logan’s sake and mental health, you weren’t as oblivious as someone that was on the receiving end of his own glances.

The American turned back to Max as he waited for the answer. The older man nodded.

“Yeah, just text me the address and I’ll be there.”

Max wished he would have said yes sooner, because the smile on Logan’s face practically rivaled the sun at the acceptance of a dinner invitation.

“Great! I will see you there.”

Logan gave the man a half hug before lightly jogging over to you. You saw the smile on Logan’s face as he got closer.

“Max said he can come to dinner,” Logan mentioned as the two of you began to walk to the garage.

You smiled up at him. “Great because Charles also said that he can come as well. George and Lewis already have the address, and I made sure that the restaurant had vegan options before I gave them the location just in case we needed to change it or something.”

Logan watched as you rattled on about the menu before he suddenly stopped as the two of you were in the hallway. Your brows pinched as you turned to your friend.

“You ok Logs?”

Logan’s face suddenly brightened as he pulled you into a hug. Although you were confused, your arms wrapped around his waist. He dug his face into the top of your head.

“We’re P1 and P2 for tomorrow’s race,” he muttered. You let out a sigh of relief, thankful that his sudden stop wasn’t anything too serious.

You pulled back just a bit to look him in the face. As you studied him a bit, you realized how close the two of you were.

Had he always had those green flecks in his blue eyes?

And had you always had that freckle near your top lip?

Logan’s head was a bit bent as he stared down at you. He glanced around as he lightly licked his lips as they had gotten dry in the desert air. His eyes eventually met yours again. His forehead moved down to rest against yours and you were just enveloped in him.

Logan. Logan. Logan.

He took up too much space in your soul, but you didn’t want him to ever leave.

Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.

You had moved into Logan’s heart years ago and still didn’t pay rent. Good thing Logan wanted to keep you there as long as possible.

“We’re late to debrief.”

A groan escaped his lips as Logan finally let you go. The two of you entered the conference room still wrapped in each other’s arms. Marissa gave Michael a knowing smirk as the two of you sat down next to each other.

The two of you were listening intently at the chosen strategies for tomorrow’s race. It would be a two-stopper with Logan being pitted first to keep the lead. However, if it seemed as though you were faster, you’d be granted the opportunity to race against him.

You truly hope that you were slower. You wanted Logan to show everyone what he could truly do.

Michael knew that the two of you wanted hotel rooms next to each other and that is exactly what he got. However, he warned that Williams was also going to be in the same hotel and to look out for Alex and James. You jokingly said that you probably wouldn’t see them, it was a big hotel.

But now that you were in an awkward elevator ride with Logan, Alex, and James, you weren’t laughing.

Alex had sighed as he pressed a button, keeping his eyes low. He didn’t even want to see what floor the two of you were going to. But, his curiosity got the best of him and his eyes widened when he saw the penthouse buttons pressed. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Once Alex and James stepped off the elevator and the doors closed, you and Logan burst into a fit of giggles. You actually had to hold onto Logan to keep standing up straight.

“Did you see Alex’s eyes when he noticed what floor we were going to?” you could hardly get out with all the giggles.

“James looked like he wanted to die!” Logan helped you out of the elevator since you were still gasping for breath.

“I can’t wait for the press conference when James and Michael are in the same one,” you giggled. “It might not be for a few races though. I think the FIA wants little to no drama.”

Logan sighed as he jumped on the giant bed once he entered the room. It was so nice going from an itchy single bed to a bed that had sheets probably worth more than his first salary. And the smell was so much more fresh. The environment of the room just helped him relax. He’d be lying though if he said he wasn’t nervous about tomorrow.

But that’s why they were going out to dinner tonight, just to get the edge of just a bit before going to bed. It always hurt Logan when he had to go to sleep after a full night of isolation and his own thoughts.

His breath hitched in his throat when you showed him the dress you were wearing for the night. It was tight in all the right places, showing off your strong body. He was glad that you were so comfortable in your own skin, seeing as you were a bit more muscular and wider. But you had to be to do your job. And Logan would pick you any day over anyone.

He let out a low whistle which made you blush under his gaze. You took one of the pillows and threw it at his head.

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get ready now.”

You only got an eye roll in response, but Logan rolled over and got off the bed. You knew he didn’t need a lot of time to get ready, but you wanted to get there early. It was your turn to whistle when Logan walked out in a button up and some slacks.

Logan may have turned a shade of pink as he rolled his sleeves up and sprayed some cologne. He somewhat knew that he was attractive. But, he still couldn’t help but compare himself to people like Lando or Charles.

You grabbed your purse as Logan put his phone and wallet into his pockets. You turned to pout at him.

“Can you drive?”

And how could Logan ever say no to your puppy eyes. He even opened the door for you at the hotel and at the restaurant. You rolled your eyes as you took his hand, slinging your legs over the door frame of the Urus.

“And they say chivalry is dead.”

Logan snorted as he led you to the front of the restaurant. It wasn’t anything fancy, but real wealth was silent, or whatever the filthy rich people said.

The man shot a smile at the hostess, and you could see her visibly swoon. You may have felt some jealousy bubble inside your chest, but it went away when Logan’s hand slithered across your lower waist, pulling you into his side.

If it were just the two of you, you would have molded yourself against him. But this was a public place and the main floor was filled. Logan knew this was a possibility and booked a private room, out of sight from any unwanted eyes. (Mainly, he heard that McLaren might host a dinner here and he did not want Oscar or Lando to ruin anything.)

Funnily enough, the two of you were the first ones there. You took a look at your phone and read the messages from the four different guys that they were almost there.

Logan and you took the liberty to get some wine for the table. He almost wanted to be petty and order the most expensive wine possible, just to flaunt a bit, since now he had a salary that rivaled Charles’s or even George’s. Eight figures would do that to a person. But he knew that you liked a more simpler wine when eating food. You claimed it helped the dishes taste better, since your tongue wouldn’t be doused with thick wine.

The waiter had just come back with the bottle, when the same hostess opened the sliding doors, revealing Max, Charles, Lewis, and George. You smiled at them.

“Did you four all drive together?”

Max looked a bit sheepish. “Apparently we’re staying at the same hotel, so we just carpooled.”

“Ah.”

Since you and Logan were already sitting next to each other (definitely for moral support), the rest filled in the round five seater. Charles took a place by you, followed by George and Lewis. Max sat on the other side of Logan.

Charles immediately looked at the menu. “I’ve never been here, but the dishes look fantastic.”

It also helped that there was a plethora of Italian dishes.

“I’ve been here once, like two years ago,” you said before taking a sip of wine. “We, uh Arrow, came to watch the opener since Pato was wanting to start training to be a reserve. I was told that there was a price limit. The limit they gave me didn’t even cover one dish. To my surprise, everyone was able to get what they wanted.”

Lewis looked at you with a pity smile. You waved your hand.

“It was fine in the end. I eventually left, took one of their new Mercedes, and drove to I think Burger King.”

George almost spit his drink out at the story. Lewis smirked.

“Sounds like something my teammate would do. And it would probably be my car he would steal.”

“Hey!”

It wasn’t long before the same waiter came to take the numerous orders. Knowing that everyone had a race the next morning, the dishes were light and protein packed. Lewis was delighted to see that there were many options for vegan dishes.

Towards the end of the meal, the guys asked for the check, not seeing that Logan had already asked for it ahead. He smirked as he quietly slipped his card into the booklet and handed it back. The hostess was nice as she explained that it had already been paid for.

“Mate,” Charles started before Logan held his hand up.

“It’s fine. Not like it’ll do anything to the checking account you know?”

You smirked behind your cup.

Max also had a grin. “You have big boy money now? How much were they paying you at Williams compared to Lamborghini?”

Logan’s eyes looked up slightly as he mentally did the math.

“So Williams ended my salary at 1 million, so,” he winced a bit, “Andretti upped it to 30 million, give or take.”

You huffed. “At least you made it into the millions with Williams. Arrow was paying me around nine-hundred-thousand dollars.”

George asked, “How much were the other drivers making?”

“O’Ward was paid around 4 million.”

Logan’s head whipped to you. “They were paying you that little?”

You only shrugged, really not wanting to talk about your time with Arrow. “It’s fine. I’m getting paid the same amount at Logan so I’m good.”

Around 9 p.m., Max mentioned that they should head back to the hotel. You and Logan agreed. However, as you walked out, your eyes caught familiar people. You scoffed and kept walking. Everyone looked in the direction that your head had been and also saw the big table full of the McLaren team, including Pato and David.

Seeing your reaction, they just kept on walking.

You’d show them tomorrow at the race how much they fumbled.

Arrow and Williams needed to realize that they lost the best things that they.

The next morning, you and Logan were there bright and early to go over last minute things. Logan also definitely found out that he has a staring problem, because his eyes could not leave you as you talked to one of your mechanics.

It was nice to see you in your environment. Logan was also very happy with mechanics and a team that actually listened to what he said and suggested. Williams never did that.

Logan felt peace as he sat in the car, waiting to get on the track. He had never felt like this at Williams. He always felt on edge, like one mess up and he’d be replaced midseason. Maybe if they didn’t put so much pressure on him, he wouldn’t have messed up so many times.

He knew that he could drive well.

“Just remember Logan, Y/n is going to help create a gap. No pressure, just smooth and clear driving,” his engineer Elio said over the radio. He had been thankful for the older man. He kind of reminded him of kind uncle. Not too old to be a grandpa, but older than Logan by almost 20 years.

“Copy. Are we ready to go?”

“Lights out in 5.”

Logan inhaled deeply as he flexed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the 2024 Bahrain Grand Prix! Logan Sargeant maintains the lead at turn 1, his teammate right behind him. Max Verstappen gets ahead of Charles Leclerc but Leclerc is not going to give up. Oh! What is going on in the back!

It looks like both McLarens have taken each other out at turn 2! Alex Albon has dropped two places and now resides in P17 with teammate Theo in P18.

Sargeant is going into turn 3 and is still ahead with his teammate out of the DRS zone.”

“Ok Logan, it’s a virtual safety car. Keep pace nice and steady.”

“Who was it?”

Elio sighed before responding. “Both McLarens are out, debris is being cleared. Safety car ending in 1 lap.”

Logan wanted to laugh so much on the radio. What were the odds of both McLarens getting out before the first lap of the race.

Karma was Logan’s bitch.

The race remained pretty uneventful after the virtual safety car was lifted. You did an amazing job maintaining pace with Charles gaining and then falling back. It seemed like he was toying with you, but your car was slower on the corners and his car was slower on the straights. It balanced out perfectly.

It was nerve wracking when your engineers decided to call both you and Logan into the pits at the same time for a double stack.

However, people should have never doubted at you and Logan both had pit stops under 2.5 seconds each, letting the two of you keep the lead that you built. You had come out behind some drivers, but they hadn’t pitted at all.

The Lamborghini garage erupted with cheers as you and Logan got closer to the end, still in a respectable 1-2.

“LOGAN SARGEANT WINS THE BAHRAIN GRAND PRIX, FIRST OF HIS CAREER! AND Y/N L/N BRINGS IT HOME WITH A 1-2 FOR THE LAMBORGHINI-ANDRETTI RACING TEAM!

“I know that Michael and Tonino are very happy with this driver set up.

“Charles Leclerc crosses the line with the checker flag in P3 after an intense battle of his own with Verstappen who finishes in P4.”

Logan stood on the nose of his car and just screamed as he hunched over. Every emotion was piling on him and this was the only way of escape. When he was finished, he was pulled down into your waiting arms. The two of you couldn’t help but jump up and down and just congratulate each other.

Charles and Max watched with fond eyes (and maybe cringed when the two of you wouldn’t break eye contact – because they were thinking Is that how we look?).

The smile on Logan’s face could not be wiped off as he stood in the middle of you and Charles for pictures. It never left as he was being interviewed by Nico Rosberg.

“Logan how are you feeling right now?”

He was a bit speechless, but he was able to formulate a sentence.

“Well, it’s just phenomenal, what the team did. I knew I was breaking some hearts of the fans when I couldn’t give them the results that I wanted to give them. Last year, I kind of felt like a play thing for everyone to use, because I just kept being let down.”

Nico put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I certainly hope that is not the case for this year?”

Logan shook his head. “Not at all. Andretti came to me like some paradise in the darkest part of my life. It just took me a minute to realize that I just needed them, a good team. I’d cross the line for them, figuratively and literally. Just hoping that if I do, my lap times won’t be deleted.”

The German through his head back and laughed at the metaphor. Logan was able to chuckle as well. You quickly switched with Logan after he was done.

This year, they did interviews a bit different and let the race winner go first, followed by runner up and P3.

“Y/n, my my my, that was outstanding with how you built the gap. Mind telling us how you did that?”

You brought the microphone to your lips.

“Well, Nico, it felt like I was wasting my time a bit, and losing my mind, just because it was just me in my little space. Charles and Max really kept me on my toes for the first half, but after the pit stop the gap just kept increasing.”

The blond man smiled at your confession. “You definitely look like you had a good race though.”

You nodded. “Of course. I’ve been told that I get this wild look in my eyes, but racing is just fun for me to do and I love it. I think with some of my initial moves, they were a bit more defensive than what I would like. I know some people are going to be like ‘she’s gone too far this time.’ But in the end, it’s just racing. Charles and I had a great time and Max at the beginning. It was perfect.”

The podium was also the symbol of perfection. For the first time in decades, you got to hear the Star Spangled Banner play before the Italian anthem followed. You saw as Charles swayed back and forth and sang with it, a big smile on his face.

Who doesn’t like the Italian national anthem?

When the champagne came, it was a mess. Charles decided to go after you, and you went after Logan, who tried his best to spray the two of you back. While Charles went to spray his team below, Logan stopped right next to you.

His blue eyes met yours and quickly darted to your lips that were sticky with the bubbly.

He leaned down and whispered, “Don’t blame me, I’m about to do something crazy.”

Logan didn’t wait for your reply and cut the distance between the two of you. You were shocked but quickly registered the feeling of his lips on yours. Your eyes immediately closed as you kissed back.

Michael, who had gone up to receive the constructor’s trophy, quickly leaned over the rail.

“Marissa, you owe me!” he shouted, making the Lamborghini team laugh. Many of them knew of the bet between the two siblings.

Everyone else was shocked as the two of you were lost in your own little world. Well, you were lost until Charles came back over and dumped the rest of his champagne bottle on your heads. You quickly parted to spray him back. This time, the Ferrari driver was soaked as you and Logan attacked him.

When the three of you stood for the picture, you on Logan’s left, Michael on his right, with Charles the other side of Michael. Your head got closer to Logan’s ear as you all smiled.

“You’re crazy Logan Sargeant,” you whispered.

Logan turned to face you, his bright smile back on his lips.

“I’m not doing love right if it doesn’t make me crazy.”

At the top, Logan missed the dark and pained looks of three drivers. Two in orange and one in blue. They all looked lonely in the sea of yellow and black.

At the top, however, it wasn’t lonely. Logan had all that he needed.

lamborghini_racing has posted

lamborghini_racing happy drivers, happy boss, happy 1-2 🥳

liked by dior, lewishamilton, logangirlie, and 5,204,295 others

lambo_duo AYO THAT'S MY TEAM

papa_tonino grazie a tutti! grande gara! 💛🖤

venus2 grazie mr. tonino! glad we could bring it home first for you!

logangirlie when I say slay, I mean SLAYYYYY 💅

lambo&co GUYS ARE WE JUST GOING TO SKIP THE PODIUM KISS???????

y/n_95 I think I cried a bit when I watched it - they really said childhood friends to lovers

formulala_delulu ngl that 1-2 was sexy. Logan leading by 15+ seconds with y/n in her own untouchable little world

lestappenlove Charles looked like he was going through a crisis when y/n and long wouldn't stop looking at each other in Parc Ferme

verstappenleclerc ikr - he was probably wondering if that's what he and Max look like

bee_lamborghini I just need every race to be like this one

venus2 has posted

venus2 if you aren't crazy then you ain't doin it right 🖤🍾

liked by charles_leclerc, logangirlie, logang2, and 2,048,175 others

American_f1 IT HAD BEEN TOO LONG SINCE THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER WAS PLAYED 🇺🇸

Logan.nation guys, I'm so proud of him. he really defied all the odds and showed them what they gave away! happy driver of the day as well Logan!

lambo_duo the pics go hard 🔥

phoenix95 proud of youuuuuuu 🥳❤️

venus2 i see you've taken Charles's class on instagram comments

charles_leclerc I taught my child well ☺️

lewishamilton your child 🤨

charles_leclerc *our child

loscar_no_more this was amazing (especially after you know who dnf-ed)

my_goat_logan the group picture on the podium was so wholesome

bennys_back DID ANYONE NOTICE BENNY CRYING WHILE HE WATCHED LOGAN?????

phoenix95 has posted

phoenix95 I'll be usin for the rest of my lifeeeee 🐝

liked by armani, georgerussell63, y/n.nation, and 2,105,893 others

y/ns_world the helmet is peak (the inverted) >>>>>

charlie&y/n she really is Charles's daughter

leclerc_line so we have y/n, the oldest, ollie the middle brother, and Leo as the youngest

shark_leclerk except y/n is also Lewis's kid, Ollie and Leo are Max's

venus2 again with the caption?

phoenix95 yes, and?

venus2 ☹️

maxverstappen1 @.charles_leclerc and @.lewishamilton - your kid made mine and George's kid sad

georgerussell63 put her in timeout 🫵

phoenix95 we're good now (I gave him another kiss)

maxverstappen1 DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW

y/n.nation expert masterclass from y/n today!

lambo_duo her driving is a symbol of perfection!

venus&phoenix the duo we didn't know we needed

landonorris has posted

landonorris definitely not what we wanted today, but we'll keep pushing 👊

liked by oscarpiastri, lando4norris, lannoLN4, and 1,204,295 others

lando_no_rizz you'll get back to it in Jeddah

loscar_no_more hmmmm maybe you're just not fit for f1?

logan2sargeant BYE 💀

ln4 next race is where it's at 👊

logangirlie karma at its finest

mclarengoldenboy head up lando, that win is coming!! 🏆

verstappen33 don't worry about lambo, they'll fall apart soon

bee_lamborghini make sure your drivers finish the race before you say something ☺️

norris4ever let's go lando!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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honeydjarin · 6 months

Text

MOUSE IN THE KITCHEN

OPLA SANJI X SHORT!READER

Luffy isn’t the only one with a penchant for sneaking into the kitchen.

request: Hiii, if you want to I'd like to request a Sanji x short reader, where they try and help him out in the kitchen but can't reach anything. No pressure, just wondering

genre: fluff

word count: 2,000

a/n: normally I avoid any sort of specific physical features in my fics in order to make them as inclusive as possible, but as someone who must climb the shelves at the grocery store in order to reach anything, this request spoke to me. This one is a little silly and nothing but fluff. I hope you enjoy!

It’s late. The sun sank below the horizon long ago, leaving no trace of the adventures and games that took place during the daylight hours. Everyone else on the Going Merry is asleep. You really should be sleeping too, and you had been, not too long ago.

You don’t know what it is that stirred you from your slumber. Perhaps some noise as the ship rocks on lazy waves, or a crew mate talking just a bit too loud in their sleep. It doesn’t matter, really. What does matter is the thoughts that worm their way into your mind the longer you lie awake. Thoughts of something light, something sweet, something to satiate a craving, your body convinced it’s time for breakfast despite your mind knowing dawn is hours away. It doesn’t take long for the hollow ache in your stomach to drive you from the comfort of your hammock and up towards the galley.

You know the kitchen on the ship well. You know which floorboards creak and which are safe to step on, where the chef hides traps for Luffy and how to circumvent them, where all of the ingredients to satiate your sweet tooth are hiding.

Just thinking about the reason for your intimate knowledge of the ship’s kitchen is enough to send heat racing up your neck and settling beneath your cheeks. You press your fingers to the skin where your burning blood pools beneath the surface, taking a moment to relish in the sugar sweet feeling of a simple crush—a single name swirling through your brain is all it takes to leave you giggling quietly in the night.

Sanji, the newest member of the Straw Hat Crew. Sanji, the one who will never let another go hungry, not even a stranger. Sanji, the man with sun soaked hair and a honey dipped tongue.

Sanji.

When the chef first joined the crew, you admired him. He was caring and steady, he knew what he believed in. With his handsome looks, quick wit, and open flirtations, it didn’t take long for that admiration to slip into something that felt sweetly like affection. You couldn’t help but want to spend more time with the cook, hoping to join him in the activities that bring him the most joy so that you might better understand him. It didn’t take long for you to become nearly as familiar with the galley as he is.

You step into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind you. You leave the lights off, not wanting to risk anyone else catching you in the galley (or getting the idea to grab a snack themselves). Instead, you stand in the dark, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Moonlight spills through the windows of the room, bright enough to see by, if you’re patient.

It isn’t long before you’re able to move again, walking along a familiar path towards where Sanji stores all things sugary.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Like if you have to sneak around then you’re in a place you don’t belong. This is Sanji’s space, cataloged and organized to best suit his needs and ensure the crew has enough supplies to last between islands. It feels strange to be in the kitchen without the sound of his laughter or the smell of something delicious cooking on the stove top.

Sanji’s presence is the piece that makes this space feel so comfortable. Without him, it feels too large, hollow. The galley has no life without its chef. You never really thought about how the kitchen would feel without him in it, and can’t help but hope it isn’t a feeling you become used to.

You know if you wake up the cook he will make something for you. He would rub the sleep from his eyes, only half succeeding, before asking what he could make to help satiate your craving with a smile. You would feel guilty the whole time.

It’s better to sneak through the galley for something you can find on your own than to disturb Sanji’s sleep.

The first thing you search for is chocolate. You crawl onto the countertop, balancing on your knees as your feet dangle over the edge, before opening the cabinet in front of you. You eye the chocolate chips, the miniature sweets sitting at a level seemingly so easy for the rest of the crew to grab. You doubt any of the others would have to climb to reach them.

Unfortunately, the only chocolate on the shelf is unsweetened. The lack of added sugar may be perfect for baking, but they won’t be sweet enough for your taste on their own.

You begin to drop down from the countertop, fully intending to continue your search for the perfect treat. Your feet drop to the ground quietly, and you land in an almost crouch. Perfect, the ship is silent, as it should be. You straighten up, intending to continue your search, but your knees, still tight from your recent slumber, crack as you stand. The sound rings out in the otherwise silent kitchen like a gunshot.

Maybe your creaking joints wouldn’t be a problem in a normal kitchen, but Sanji, who has ears attuned to any slight sound coming from the Galley (thanks to Luffy’s many attempts to raid the space at odd hours for food), surely heard the pop in his sleep. You may as well have knocked down all of the pots and shattered all of the dishes.

It isn’t long before the sound of hurried footsteps and frustrated grumbling reaches your ears. The door to the galley slams open, lights flickering on just a moment after, leaving you squinting as your eyes adjust to the room once more.

“Luffy, I swear if you touched any of the food I’ll—oh.” Sanji’s voice carries through the kitchen, his accent thicker than normal, sleep still clinging to his words. Your name rolls off his tongue, and you think it sounds sweeter in his sleep-addled voice than any chocolate could taste.

“Sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just a little hungry,” you confess.

“You could have woken me up,” he says, just like you knew he would. “I’d have been happy to cook something for you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You deserve to rest. Especially when you already wake up so early each morning to make breakfast.”

Sanji hums, stepping farther into the kitchen. He looks more awake now than he did when he first arrived. His eyes don’t stray from your own as he speaks, no longer concerned about the state of the galley.

“For you, love, it’s never a bother.” The smile he offers you sends your heart fluttering in your chest. “Anyway, I’m awake now. What would you like to eat?”

He’s too good to you, too gentle. How could your heart ever stand a chance?

“I was just planning on eating a little chocolate, but it seems like there's only the unsweetened kind right now.”

“Ah, of course. Only something sweet would be fitting for my sweetheart.”

Your breath catches in your throat. His. He called you his.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, trying to hide the growing grin that spreads on your lips as you nearly melt from his words. The warmth blossoming in your chest will surely turn you into a puddle on the floor, and then Sanji will know just how much his words affect you (if he doesn’t know already).

“Can we make something with chocolate in it?” you ask.

“We?” Sanji repeats, as if he didn’t expect you to help him in this task. His gaze softens, eyes gleaming with something like affection, before adding. “Of course we can. How do strawberry and chocolate hand pies sound? I picked up some fresh jam at the last port.”

“It sounds perfect,” you say. It’s far more than you hoped to find during your late night search. When you got out of bed, you never would have guessed what kind of sweet you would find in the kitchen. You definitely didn’t expect to spend time baking with Sanji.

The two of you work comfortably together, only speaking when Sanji provides specific instructions or when you need clarification. The hazy fog of sleep still hovers over the both of you, even if you’re both awake enough now to function.

“Could you grab the chocolate chips for me?” Sanji asks.

It’s a simple request, one you can easily complete. You know where he keeps the chocolate chips, the unsweetened treat seeming much more appealing now that they’re going to be baked into something.

You make your way back over to the counter, situating yourself below the cabinet where the chocolate is stored. Then, you place your hands on the cool surface, preparing to make the climb. You’re certain Sanji knew this was the path necessary for you to take to reach the ingredient too. There’s no way for you to reach the chocolate chips without being higher up.

As you jump, using the force of your arms to help pull yourself up towards the counter just like you’ve done in other kitchens many times before, an unexpected force settles on your shoulders, pushing your feet back towards the ground.

“None of that, sweetheart. There will be no climbing on the countertops in my kitchen,” Sanji reprimands. He’s gentle in his scolding, the uptick of his lips and gleam in his eye letting you know he’s not really mad. “Sorry, I thought they were a bit lower.”

He doesn’t seem sorry.

You open your mouth to protest against what could only be meant as a jab about your height, but only a squeak comes out. Sanji’s warmth seeps into your back as he presses close, the shape of his hand burning into your hip as it settles there. You can feel the way his body stretches as he reaches up, leaning further into you, before easily grabbing the bag that seemed so far out of your reach. Any words you might have had to tell off the man for doing something for you when you could easily do the task yourself (as long as you could climb on the counter) fizzle out.

Sanji doesn’t look at you as he reaches for the chocolate, but the easy smile on his lips morphs into a lazy smirk. His thumb rubs slow, intentional circles where his hand remains steady on your hip, as if he was soothing a startled animal, coaxing you to stay close instead of running away, something you just might have done if he wasn’t purposefully grounding you while your thoughts soared.

Oh no, you think. He knows.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Sanji was already aware of your feelings for him—you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve—but you had tried not to make your feelings for the chef too obvious.

Sanji pulls the chocolate chips down, but he doesn’t step away. He still holds you close as he bends, his face lowering until it’s right beside yours. Then, without warning, his lips are pressed to the curve of your cheek.

The kiss is quick, feather-light, but you’re certain he can feel the way your blood burns just beneath the surface of your skin, his quiet mumble of so warm the only confirmation you need, even if you weren’t meant to hear.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I just couldn’t help myself.” Before you can react, Sanji steps away from you, taking you in for only a moment longer before turning back to the task at hand. With how smoothly he acted, there’s no way he hadn’t planned that little stunt he pulled.

He definitely knows.

Sanji is already placing the hand pies in the oven by the time you’re finally able to move again, and you can’t help but feel almost frustrated that the chef didn’t give you a chance to return his affection.

You’re left waiting impatiently as he sets the timer, the miniature pies now the last thing on your mind. Sanji doesn’t seem to understand—you’re craving something sweet, and as far as you’re concerned, the sweetest thing on this ship is him.

a/n: thank you for reading〜♡

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla sanji x you #opla x you #opla #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action

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strangererotica · 1 month

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Eddie Munson x Reader • Eddie is stressed out and hasn’t been able to make himself come while jerking off. Luckily, his best friend (you!) is there to help ♥️

If your friendship with Eddie hadn’t been so…comfortable…then maybe the question you asked him would have come across as strange. But the two of you had known each other forever, and felt safe discussing anything and everything. So when Eddie confided in you that he was feeling completely burned out and stressed from drama with one of his band mates, you naturally wanted to help.

“It’s just-.” Eddie stretched his arms over his head, lying back on the sofa beside you. “-It’s really got me down, (y/n). I hate conflict, you know? And especially with someone who’s a part of the band.”

You nodded understandingly as Eddie continued. “I don’t think I’ve been this stressed-ever. I can’t even jerk off anymore, which is just absolutely unfair.” Eddie laughed, but you could tell he was trying to play off something that was genuinely troubling him.

“So, you can’t come?” you asked, and Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I get hard and everything, but when I get close, it just-.” He blew a little raspberry. “Gone.”

“Well maybe I can help?” you offered. Eddie’s eyebrows raised. “You mean like…help?” He waved a hand below his waist. “With this?”

“Mm-hmm,” you replied. “If you’d be okay with it. And, if you’re not, that’s cool-.” You shook your head. “I realize this is something we’ve never done before, so if the idea is gross, just forget I ever-.”

“-No,” Eddie interrupted, his voice softer. “It’s not gross. Not at all. Actually…” Eddie shrugged, his lips turning upward. “It sounds kind of nice...”

A silence settled between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Eddie scooted just a little closer, till his knee was touching yours. “So, how would we do this?” he asked. You could tell he was nervous, and you were, too. But the nervousness held a kind of sweetness, an innocence that only friends as close as you and Eddie could share. Maybe this situation would have been dirty, or taboo in any context other than the bond you and Eddie shared. But as it was, all things considered, the idea of helping your best friend get off didn’t seem weird at all…

“I guess we could start with a kiss?” you suggested, before breaking into a giggle. Eddie did as well, because the whole situation was a little surreal. “Um, okay,” he grinned, leaning in and placing his hand on your cheek. There was a brief moment of awkwardness, of giggly hesitation and noses bumping…but then, when Eddie’s lips pressed soft and warm to yours, the giggles and hesitation ended immediately.

Clumsy movements were replaced with delicate gestures, tongues gently exploring a world that felt both familiar, and brand new. Eddie’s fingers curled inside your hair, a nod of dominance that was so subtle, you would have missed it if it hadn’t stirred a heat between your legs. Eddie shifted his weight on the couch, his knee against yours nudging your legs apart slightly. His thumb massaged soft circles along your cheek, fingers coiled in your hair, his tongue gently wrestling with yours.

You took Eddie by the wrist and guided his hand lower, till he was palming your breast. He groped your soft skin with an intensity that had your nipple poking through the fabric of your shirt to meet Eddie’s palm. He groaned into your kiss as he felt your nipple hardening under his touch. The heat between your legs had shifted to an ache, a bittersweet pain that you tried to soothe by clenching your thighs together. The pressure wasn’t enough; you knew you’d need to come in order for the ache to go away.

As if proving just how in sync the two of you were, Eddie asked “can I touch you?” And you nodded your consent as Eddie’s fingers left your tit in exchange for the warm space between your thighs. He cupped his fingers together and slid them beneath your pussy, cradling your sex in his palm. He was massaging you through your clothes, but it felt so good you’d swear Eddie was touching your skin. His kiss moved to your neck, softly sucking between his lips as his mouth traveled over your shoulder.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you breathed, your voice like a prayer. He grinned against your shoulder, his mouth open and teeth lightly pressed to your skin. Eddie’s tongue swept a long and languid stroke up your neck and around the curve of your chin, his hand continuing to work between your thighs. You bucked your hips upward, humping against the heel of Eddie’s palm. The friction through your jeans added to the intensity. “That’s right, (y/n),” Eddie purred against your cheek. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”

And Eddie was right. The aching tension between your legs reached its peak, your climax shattering through you in waves. Eddie never stopped massaging your cunt throughout your orgasm, letting you rut into the base of his palm. You came down softly from your high, your skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat. Eddie was smiling at you warmly as he removed his hand from between your legs. “Feel better?” he asked, but you didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pushed Eddie back against the couch, making him chuckle in surprise. As before, his laughter died quickly the instant your hand closed over the outline of his erection bulging in his jeans.

Eddie drew in a sharp breath as you groped his cock through his pants. It had been awhile since anyone had touched him; Eddie needed this. His toes were curling in his socks as you massaged him, pretty little grunts spilling from his lips. You curved your palm around the outline of Eddie’s cock, rubbing from his base to his tip with a firm, steady pressure. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the back of the couch as you worked him.

Eddie lifted his hips so he could rub upward into the curve of your hand. You knew Eddie was close when his eyebrows pulled together, and the sounds he was making rapidly changed from grunts to a string of curses. Eddie’s cock pulsed against your palm, a wet patch blooming in the crotch of his jeans. You watched Eddie’s cum darken the fabric, his hands balled into fists by his sides, the veins in his neck strained.

When his cock stopped twitching and his body relaxed, Eddie was panting and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Feel better?” you asked playfully, echoing his words from before. Eddie tugged you in for a kiss, grinning against your lips. “Shut up,” he chuckled, before pulling you back onto the couch for cuddles…

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ponderingmoonlight · 8 months

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Gojo's little sister seducing Choso at Shibuya

Pairing: Choso x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,6k

Synopsis: When Gojo's little sister is at Shibuya in order to find her brother, she meets none other than Choso - a man that seems to have everything she has ever dreamed about. Is she able to seduce him?

Warnings: the end is spicy as hell so read at own risk, Choso being a lil slow but straightforward in the end, this has no real plot so be aware of brainrot

Tags: @96jnie @shebibtedmypepnis @chososwhoresblog @sanicsmut (you didn't ask for that but I tagged you anyway) @curlynoodle937565 @ifuckfictionalmen (thought you might like that) @nyahctrl @khaleesihavilliard

„Let’s see where you are…”, you mumble to yourself.

Satoru has some nerves, letting himself get sealed when the whole country needs him and his stupid six eyes and hollow purple. You’ll definitely make fun of him for the rest of his life for that. What else should you do? After all, you are his little sister. It’s your job to get on his nerves.

Your heels klick against the hard floor beneath almost therapeutically while your eyes scan the area. Seems like none of these fuckers are here. Who the hell is responsible for this whole mess? Surely not that volcano and flower guy from before, right? If Satoru is smart, he already exorcised both of them.

Something inside you makes you stop in your tracks. There is someone, without any doubt.

“Don’t be shy, you don’t have to hide from me. I promise I won’t bite. Just beating the shit out of you”, you announce into the darkness, the only thing lighting up the hallways being the colorful signs.

This definitely isn’t one of Satoru’s students, that’s for sure. None of them is already skilled enough to hide from your sharp senses. Fuck, even Nanami can’t escape you.

So, who the hell is this?

Your nerves begin to tickle just the way you like it, a bright grin plastered on your face. Finally some action, finally someone you can fight eye to eye. How long has it been since you’ve experienced that? Too long, that’s for sure.

Despite being Satoru’s little sister, you aren’t gifted with six eyes or unlimited cursed energy. No, even though being a member of the Gojo-clan you were never able to meet his standards, always a shadow by his side. Gifted with the same blue eyes but without the glow, gifted with a few strands of white hair but your head isn’t fully snow-colored. That didn’t stop you from becoming a grade 1 sorcerer, one of the bests under the special ranks. Yes, you are an exceptional jujutsu sorcerer all by yourself, without being gifted since birth.

But regardless of your big brother always came first, he loves you with all his heart. Protected you when you didn’t want to be protected, trained you even though you hated getting beaten by him, comforted you when all you could do was cry. To be honest, Satoru is the best big brother you could have asked for and it’s your responsibility to save him. What do you have siblings for?

“You’re starting to get on my nerves. Come out or get out of the way.”

Foreign steps start to echo through the hallway, making your heart hammer against your ribcage in an instant. These footsteps don’t sound familiar to you, you haven’t met whoever this is yet.

Your vibrant blue eyes dart towards the figure of what seems like a man, coming closer and closer to you. He’s tall, dark hair hanging into his face. Oh, his face…he’s really handsome with that tattoo over his nose. Since being Satoru’s sister comes with meeting many good-looking man, this is nothing new to you. But something about him is special, more your type. A look into his brown violet eyes is enough to get lost in them.

“You’re hot”, you coo out, heels clicking while you approach him.

“Who are you?”, his deep but bored voice questions.

Choso hates to admit it, but you’re easy on his eyes. Something about your appearance seems familiar while he’s sure he has never seen you before. That ocean eyes…

“You look like Satoru Gojo.”

“Yeah, I hate to admit it but I’m his little sister. Are we really that similar? I don’t want to look like him”, you remark, face twisted.

That means you’re his enemy, that means he has to kill you. Instinctively, he shoots slicing exorcism your way, attempting to pierce right through your heart at horrendous speed.

“Watch out, that is dangerous!”, you warn him, flying through the air with ease to avoid his attack.

Damn, you’re fast. Your speed is exceptional for a human being, almost as fast as Satoru Gojo himself.

“Let me come closer”, you hush.

Before he’s able to react any further, you stand right in front of him, fists flying his direction.

“You’re so quiet, what’s on your mind?”, you insist, careful to not get sliced open by his blood manipulation.

“I wish you were too”, he hisses before catching your fist mid-air and slamming your body into the ground.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”, you purr, hands grabbing his strong shoulders tightly.

Satoru would kill you right here on the spot if he’d hear you, always disliking your taste in men like nothing else.

“I think he’s kinda hot”, you admitted while eyeing the dark-haired boy from Kyoto named Kamo.

Satoru almost choked on his coke, eyes and face screaming in disgust.

Are you serious, (y/n)? What the fuck is wrong with your taste in men, why always the bad ones? Maybe you should get them checked.”

He roughly smacked the back of your head, making you almost lose it completely.

“Are you out of your mind, idiot? I heard your eyes can freeze if someone hits you in the head while you’re squinting!”

“Your eyes aren’t functioning properly anyway. How about someone like Yuta or somethin’, a nice guy with good intentions. Or even better, just do this world a favor and stay single.”

“Can you just shut the fuck up? You have nothing to say to me!”

“I AM YOUR BIG BROTHER-“

“CAN YOU TWO SHUT UP ALREADY!?”

Hehe. You smile to yourself while shaking your head, focus back on the man in front of you. Oh, you can tell by the way he moves that he’s absolutely buff underneath that cloak. And his eyes…They look even more stunning up close. What a gorgeous man. Yes, he’s definitely more than your type. Who is he?

“Tell me your name.”

With a swift motion, you’re back on your feet, curse-loaded fists aiming for him.

“Choso Kamo”, he presses out.

What’s wrong with you? Are you really trying to seduce him while battling? He’s your enemy, he’s on his way to kill your comrade, he…you…

Why are you so good-looking? And why does your confident smile make his usual calm heart flutter? You don’t seem scared at all, let alone determined to kill him.

“Oh, that explains the blood manipulation.”

“I’m here to kill Yuji Itadori.”

“Yuji, huh? What did that poor boy do to deserve your hate?”, you question, letting yourself fall into a split to avoid his blood.

“He killed my brothers”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You stop in your tracks for a second, gaze fixed upon his. Oh. This certainly wasn’t the answer you were expecting. In your mind, all of these curses and the people working with them are cold-hearted monsters, walking on this earth to kill every human that gets in their way. But Choso…

You can feel his pain.

“I’m sorry to hear that”, you breathe out.

And you mean it. You’d be devastated too if someone killed Satoru, seeking for revenge with every fiber of your being.

Your glistening eyes and words make it hard for Choso to raise his hand against you. The eyes that look like those of Satoru Gojo, those eyes that are partly responsible for the death of his beloved brothers. No, he can’t let you get away, you are a part of the problem, you have to die, you…

You are grabbing his hand.

“If someone killed my brother, I would do exactly the same thing. But let me tell you this wasn’t easy for Yuji, he had no other choice-“

“I don’t want to hear it”, Choso yells, slapping your hand away, trying to slash you open again.

“Good for you I like my man feisty and strong. You’re a great catch”, you shout, entangling him in close combat again.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you understand that we are on different sides?”, he questions.

“Why though? We’d be a perfect match. I bet those fingers look good around my neck.”

The way Choso’s face instantly twists in disbelief and that little blush that creeps up his face are the best things you’ve seen for a long time while suddenly water rains down on him, fire alarms going off around both of you.

“Opsie, might have hit something important”, you comment, white uniform now soaked in water.

Did you really just say that? Are you too dumb to realize that he is your enemy, that romance has no place in his world, that he is fucking reincarnated? No, you are way too smart to not be aware of the fact who he is. You simply decide to ignore it.

But not only that, are you really flirting with him? Choso never really thought much about his appearance, it was never his goal to be ‘attractive’. But at the moment, when seeing your wet skin, your eyes lingering over him…

Something about your words and looks make him wonder.

“Do you…really mean that?”, he mumbles while blocking your attack.

“Huh, that you’re hotter than hell? Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m lying.”

Choso feels like fainting when your dripping face comes so close that it’s only inches away from his own, your mesmerizing orbs locking with his through wet lashes while your hands rest against his chest. Can you feel his heart hammer, can you tell that this the first time a women ever touched him? Oh god, what is he supposed to do? He has a mission, he needs to kill Yuji Itadori, he-

Your fingers start to draw small circles over the fabric of his soaked cloak, making something twitch inside his pants. Fuck, why do you have to look so absolutely stunning when your hair is completely wet, light up by purple light that makes you look almost angelic?

“Oh god”, he breathes out.

This feels so good. No, this is so wrong.

“You…you shouldn’t be flirting with me. I am party responsible for your brother getting sealed and killed. I am your enemy.”

“Urgh, stop talking about my damn brother, he’s fine anyway. He doesn’t let himself get killed by some idiots. And you don’t have to me my enemy. Let’s be…friends”, you suggest.

“Friends”, he repeats.

“Maybe more, who knows…I’m not mad about the things you’ve done. I fully understand why you’re outraged and what your mission is, I respect your motives”, you reply.

God, why does he have to be so breathtaking beautiful and relatable? Under all the men you’ve met, why is it exactly him you fell the hardest for? Why can’t it be someone like Ino or Todo? Why does it have to be him? Oh, Satoru will definitely kill you when he finds out about it.

But you don’t care. No, Choso has something you were looking for in every man you’ve met before. He is strong, outstanding smart, has clear goals, is straight up stunning and a little dangerous. You couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re standing on opposite sides.

You want him.

“You won’t stop me from killing Yuji Itadori.”

“I will have to try. But until then, there is absolutely no reason for us to fight, right? I’m into bad guys anyway.”

Choso looks at you completely lost at words. You, a breathtaking fine-looking and skilled jujutsu sorcerer, are really interested in getting to know him? This has to be a dream he didn’t know about until now, a deep desire that comes to life.

But he can’t resist. Despite all the things that speak against it, he can’t.

“Fine”, he grumbles.

“Great! Would you mind taking off that cloak so I can see your abs?”, you ask, eyes sparkling in excitement.

But why is this not enough? Why is a simple ‘fine’ not enough to fulfill that desire? Something inside him begs him to pull you closer, to hold your body firmly against his, kiss you and-

He swallows heavy. What has gotten into him?

“I won’t do that”, he automatically replies, gaze fixed on your pretty little mouth.

Oh, the things he wants to do right now, things he never thought about before. Is it because of the human body he reincarnated him? No, he never felt the desire to be close to a woman before. It’s because of you and the way you tilt your head, how you seem to know which words you have to use in order to drive him insane.

“Oh, was it too early for that? Fine, I’ll wait then… ”

Fuck it.

It happens faster than you’re able to react. With a swift motion, Choso pins you against a nearby wall, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“What do you have that other women haven’t had before?”, he hisses.

“Beauty, brain, power…”

You aren’t able to finish your ramblings. With rough hands, he grabs your waist and neck before pressing his lips against yours. You melt into his touch in an instant, too stunned by this sudden reaction. Instinctively, your very own hands begin to roam around his body, muscles now perfectly emphasized by the stream of water that pours down on both of you through the dim purple neon lights. Fuck, you’re melting like butter in his hands, your shared sloppy kiss being the only thing apart from the dripping water that fills the empty hallway.

“Fuck”, you moan into his lips, fingertips tracing through his wet hair.

This is straight out of your dreams. Making out with a man you didn’t even know an hour ago, a man that seems to have everything you want, a man who’s your enemy. But since when are enemies this good at kissing, since when is it allowed that they are so damn fine?

Why the hell are you so turned on?

He let’s go of you as suddenly as he grabbed you before, panting hard while looking down at you with glimmering eyes.

“I will search for Yuji Itadori now”, he proclaims, licking over his lips and closing his eyes for a second.

Slowly but surely, Choso returns back into reality, mind sorting itself. That felt good, way too good for his liking. If he didn’t let go, he’d probably stay here with you until the night ends. But he still has a mission to fulfill.

“You sure about that? Y’know, we could stay here a little longer, that fire alarm with all that water pouring down and the neon lights are kinda romantic…”, you begin.

“I’ll meet you again. Until then, don’t get in the way.”

One last touch. He allows his fingertips to brush over your cheek and mouth one last time before turning around and disappearing.

He’s gone, leaving you sinking down the wall as your knees give in. Mindlessly, your fingertips trace over your lips.

This really happened. Did you really just seduce the enemy? Your heart still hammers roughly against your chest, hands trembling in sensation while the water from above keeps pouring down on you. No man ever touched you like that, no man ever gave you that kind of feeling. Fuck, what did you get yourself into?

You chuckle into yourself, eyes fixed on the pouring water.

“If Satoru finds out about that…”

Click here for Part ll

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imtryingbuck · 2 months

Text

Timeless Love.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky might have met the love of his life in the middle of a war, he just wished he was able to live a life with her.

Word count: 6,598

Warnings: angst. kidnapping. fluff. Hydra. forced breeding. forced miscarriage.

A/N: enjoyed writing this!! Thank you for the request. Also thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me when I needed it!🤍

Part 2

Masterlist

“Y/n L/n. 107th.”

She nodded smiling at her friend who had also been given the same unit. All the nurses - professional and volunteers alike were waiting for their names to be called to hear what unit they would be stationed with.

Then she was given the news that she was going to be the matron. And at twenty four years old that was a massive accomplishment, herself and her parents were beyond proud.

“Hey doc” she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at hearing the familiar voice that she began hearing everyday. “I’m injured doll, need your help to patch me back up”

Looking up for the clipboard she carried around she saw the Sergeant who had captured all the attention from all the nurses. Though he never paid any mind to them, just her.

James Buchanan Barnes.

“Firstly I’m not a doctor, just a nurse and secondly this is your seventh time coming here this week”

“Firstly you should be a doctor, better than the one we’ve got and secondly I keep getting hurt”

“Bucky… it’s only Wednesday.”

“You love me. Aren’t you going to ask me what my very serious injury is?”

“I don’t love you. Okay, what seems to be the problem Sergeant?”

“Y-you don’t love me? I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight thanks to you!”

“What’s your injury Sergeant?”

“My heart” he places his hand on his chest and looks up at her sympathetically. “My heart hurts doll”

“James… you do realise that your heart is on the left side not the right…”

Moving his hand to the left side “Oh… are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure” chuckling at his facial expression, he winks causing her to laugh.

“The truth is that I just wanted to see you, I like you even though you’re being mean to me” he pouts and bats his eyelashes as he kicked his legs back and forth.

“How am I being mean to you?” She asks whilst counting stock, trying her hardest to ignore the intense gaze of his ocean blue eyes on her back.

“Because you won’t let me take you dancing”

“You should go with one of the other nurses James”

“I don’t want any of the other nurses, just you”

“You-“

“Y/n! Y/n quick we need you!” Mary’s panic scream interrupted her. Jumping up and rushing out of the tent with Bucky right behind her, a group of men carrying a stretcher with a man lying on it. His right leg gone as well as his left arm.

“Get him in here” Bucky opens the flaps of the tent, his eyes trained on the young soldier as they passed him. “Help me transfer him on to the bed, carefully.”

Bucky watched on as Y/n took control, ordering the nurses around and trying to get the soldiers to move away so she could work. When one of the men wouldn’t move Bucky stepped in.

It wasn’t long before Y/n made everyone get out except for the nurses.

“Go” Bucky’s head snapped from the medical tent to Dum Dum sitting next to him, giving the man a questioning look, Dum Dum laughed. “The doc”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about” he mumbled before downing the rest of his drink.

“You’ve been turning down women all night and I’m honestly surprised that you haven’t burnt a hole into the tent with how intense you’ve been looking at it. Oh and let’s not forget that you’ve been obsessed from the second you laid eyes on her”

“I-no I haven’t.”

“You have, and don’t bother trying to argue with me. Go and talk to her”

“And say what?”

“That’s on you” Bucky contemplated on whether or not to take his friend’s advice, it didn’t take too long before he was getting up and heading over to the medical tent. “Shes in her own tent” he heard from behind him so he changed course.

Standing outside the small tent he fixed his hair before pushing the flap aside, he found her sitting hunched over the small table one hand in her hair and the other scribbling away as she filled in paperwork.

“I can feel your eyes on me” her whispered voice snapped him out of his head.

“Are you alright doll?”

“I’m fine don’t worry, go and enjoy your night”

Moving closer to her he saw the tears falling freely down her cheeks. “Hey, hey why are you crying doll?”

“He… he didn’t make it. I tried everything bu-but it wasn’t enough, he was only seventeen Bucky.”

“Oh doll. You did everything you could-“

“But it wasn’t enough! And within the week his parents are going to know I failed, I failed to save their son”

Bucky pulled her into his arms, holding her close to his chest ignoring the feeling of her tears wetting his shirt. “It’s not your fault” he whispered over and over again as she fell apart in his arms.

“I failed”

“No you didn’t! Nobody would have been able to have saved him Y/n and you know that.”

“He was only seventeen Bucky. A child!”

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

As the laughing and music continued outside Bucky kept Y/n close to his chest, rocking them both from side to side slowly. Sleep began to overtake them, being the gentleman that he was he turned his back on her waiting for her to change into her nightwear.

“Goodnight doll”

“Stay… please”

“Of course” he was slightly shocked by seeing her shifting over in the small cot then patting the space she had created.

Climbing in next to her, wrapping her up and pulling her into his chest. Pressing his lips to her forehead “goodnight my love”

It became an unspoken routine between the two of them that Bucky would sleep in her bed, they ignored the teasing from all those around them - as if the nurses weren’t warming the soldiers beds themselves. There was nothing sexual about what they were doing, it was just two lost souls finding themselves seeking shelter within one another.

That however changed one night when Bucky went into their now shared tent finding her once again hunched over the table. “Hi doll”

“Hi Sergeant”

“Me and the guys move out tomorrow”

“I heard. How are you feeling?” She asked looking up from the papers in front of her.

“Nervous I won’t lie, but I’m going to miss you”

“I’m going to miss you too but you shouldn’t be gone long, right?”

“Two weeks, three at the most” he shrugged. “Doll, come and dance with me”

“There’s no music…”

“So? Come on” he held his hand out for her to take, his heart fluttering with the look she gave him as she puts her hand in his. “You are so pretty” he whispers as they swayed together.

“‘M not.”

“Yes you are. From the second I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most prettiest dame I had ever laid eyes on.”

“You’re lying!” She chuckled.

“I am not!”

“If you say so”

Bucky gently raises her head up by her chin, “I have never lied to you.”

“Bucky… kiss me please” she asked softly. Their lips met slowly at first before growing heatedly and passionately.

The next morning with only a thick blanket covering their naked bodies they basked in the silence of the camp, Bucky running his fingers through her hair and Y/n drawing invisible circles on his chest.

“When this war comes to an end me and you are going to get married” Bucky declared as he broke the silence.

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Nope” he chuckled. “Why, don’t you want to marry me?”

“And put up with you for the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, why what’s wrong with that?”

“You’re annoying”.

“And?” He drawls with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ll probably smoother you in your sleep?”

“And? Doll you aren’t giving me a good reason for why we shouldn’t get married”

“You honestly want to marry me?”

“More than anything, and I promise I’ll be an amazing husband and we’ll have so much fun together an-“

“Yes”

“-d we’ll make so many memories-“

“Yes”

“-and we’ll grow old toge-wait… yes?”

“Yes Bucky, I’ll marry you when the war is ov-“ her words get cut off from him pressing his lips to hers.

“I can’t wait to annoy you for the rest of our lives together”

Later that morning, before Dum Dum led his unit out of the camp heading to only where they knew they were going Bucky ran over to Y/n giving her a kiss and promised her that he would come back to her.

Since the only people left there was the nurses, injured men and some of the officials the camp was excruciatingly quiet. And since it was only just them… well the camp had become very boring.

Two weeks passed quicker than she thought, waiting to hear the loud chatter from the men to fill in the silence yet it never came. Another week went by and again there was no sight of them. Y/n was helping Private Smith sit up in more of a comfortable position when Mary came rushing in, slightly out of breath.

“Th-they’ve been captured!”

“What? How do you know?”

“Word just come in, I overheard it but apparently Captain America is going to rescue them because he knows someone in the unit”

“I-okay. Okay erm… we’ll need to get things set up for when they come back just incase they are hurt” Y/n rambled off, unaware that she was squeezing Smiths hand - not like he minded.

“He’ll be fine darling” Smith squeezed her hand back.

“I-I know. You need to eat-“

“I will don’t worry but you need to eat too darling as well”

Sitting down next to him they enjoyed a nice meal together, Smith doing everything to help get her mind off of Bucky and the others by talking to her about his life before the war, his wife and children, telling her all the plans he had planned when he got home. It worked. Until it was time to go to bed, being alone with her thoughts made her mind come up with all kinds of scenarios and most of them weren’t good.

It was another two weeks before word got to them that they were coming back. Captain America had saved them.

Y/n was in the medical tent filling out paperwork when applause erupted in the air as Captain America approached with the 107th behind him, hearing the cheers she jumped up and began getting things ready, as the first person was brought in her sole attention was on the solider and not the other one she had been worrying about in the five weeks since she had seen him.

“Hey! Let’s hear it for Captain America!” She smiled at hearing his voice as she concentrated on the patient in front of her.

“He’s already asked about you” Ann says as she put pressure on the solider’s wound.

“Ah, your the famous doc that he wouldn’t shut up talking about”

“Excuse me?”

“Barnes? Yeah he wouldn’t stop talking about you, if you ask me he’s in love with you” the guy winked.

It wasn’t until everything in the medical tent had calmed down that she had heard his voice again. “I’m injured doll”

Spinning around she sees him standing there with a grin on his dirt covered face. “Who are you?”

“Your future husband, silly. Missed you doll”

“I missed you too” hearing her words he crossed over to where she stood and placed his hands on her face, cupping her face before placing his lips against hers. Both sighing in content at the feeling they had both been missing for weeks.

“Are you hurt? Where?”

“‘M not hurt my love, just messing with you”

“Are you not going to introduce me Buck?” A new voice cut through making them take a step apart from each other.

“Y/n this is Steve, Steve this is my doll” Y/n smiled at the blond who happily returned the expression.

“It’s nice to meet the woman who this one wouldn’t stop talking about”

“I didn’t talk about her once” Bucky rushed out. “I didn’t doll” shaking his head whilst looking at her.

“He’s actually not the first person to tell me that” Y/n winked at Steve making the man laugh.

“I hate the both of you.”

A celebration was held that night when they came back, the men sharing the tale of how they were captured - all teasing each other when they said they weren’t scared. Telling the women how Captain America had told them to leave but they refused, Dum Dum said that they arrived together and were going to be leaving together. Everyone including Y/n hanging on to every word that was spoken of their rescue and how they defeated the enemy.

Bucky never spoke a word, no, he was too lost in watching the flames of the fire-pit flickering off Y/n’s face. Mesmerised by the way her eyes shined so brightly in the darkness, audibly groaning as he watched her bite her lip - his mind going straight to the gutters.

Much later that night Bucky took his time in making love to her.

The 107th Infantry Regiment had been teamed up with Steve to take down an organisation, Bucky promised her that he would contact her whenever they set up camp for the night. Every night they spoke even if it was just for a few minutes, he told her where they were and asked how everything back at camp was going, before ending their call he would tell her that he was coming back to her.

The last time she spoke to him he informed her that they were in Austria, he made her giggle when he complained that they had to go up the alps, telling her how cold it was. He then shocked her by telling her that he was in love with her. Before she could even respond the connection cut off.

She knew there was something wrong when she never received another call from him, Mary and Ann told her that he was just busy and that he would come back and everything was going to be fine. Every time she tried to speak with the General about the update of where they were he just walked away from her.

For two months she didn’t hear anything from him or from anyone, for two months she spent her time trying to take her mind off of the brunette who had wormed himself into her heart.

Mary came running over to the river where Y/n was sitting watching as the ducks swam past her. “Y/n… they’re back.”

Jumping up and running to where the men were, she looked around for the man who she had been missing more than anything, her eyes moved frantically from man to man who all seemed to have a problem with making eye contact with her. Her heart settled when a hand rested itself on her shoulder.

“Darlin’ I-I need to talk to you” it was Dum Dum.

“W-where is he? Dum…”

“Come with me love” he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and moved them to her tent. “I’m sorry darling, he… he didn’t make it”

“W-where is he though?”

“He fell off the train in the alps, we couldn’t find his body”

“No… no we need to fi-find him so his family can bury him… Dum please” his heart ached for the woman in front of him, all he could do was hold her in his arms as she broke down crying. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Bucky’s last words to Steve was him begging the blond to make sure he looked after Y/n.

After crying for a good solid ten minutes she removed herself from his arms, wiped her tears before nodding and walking out - leaving Dum Dum standing there dumbfounded.

She knew herself that she wasn’t going to be able to be aloud time away to mourn, they weren’t dating or married, while they had feelings for each other and they spent every waking moment together it didn’t mean anything to the higher ups. Walking into the medical tent everyone went quiet at seeing her, Mary tried telling her that she could go and rest but Y/n just shook her head and got to work. She needed the distraction to take her mind away from the pain in her chest.

For months after she became a shell of herself, no longer laughing or smiling, no longer holding conversations with anyone, always working and taking little care for herself. And finally that day came when the war ended, everyone around her celebrated whilst she was packing up her things ready to head back home.

It had been two years since the war ended and people were still picking up their lives. Y/n was on her way to home after finishing her shift at the local hospital when a black car pulled up alongside her.

“Excuse me Miss, are you Y/n L/n?” A man asked as he got out of the car.

“I am, who are you?”

“Ah, we have a friend in common”

“We do? Wait what are you do-“

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be Miss L/n, wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Her eyes were wide as his hand tightened around her neck, her whole body trembling with fear. “Nighty night” he smirks as he presses a needle into her left arm.

Y/n woke up disoriented and dazed with her hands and ankles tied painfully tight, trying to speak but her words came out as slurred. “Ah little lambs awake. Go back to sleep little lamb” the same guy from side of the road spoke, but instead of a needle being pushed into her arm he raised his leg and kicked her straight in the face. Knocking her out instantly.

The second time she awoke was when a bucket of stale water was thrown into her face, both arms tied to arms of the chair she was uncomfortably sat in. A man infront of her smiled as she was trying to blink away the water droplets off her eyelashes.

“So you’re the precious little one that our Soldat keeps muttering about, no matter how many times we wipe his memories he always mutters your name”

“I-I don’t know who you are talking about”

“Soldat! You know him” the unnamed man shouts as if it was the most obvious thing. “Get her ready. Miss… I won’t lie to you, what’s going to happen next is going to hurt… well have fun” the man sighs dramatically and then chuckles making his way to the door, leaving her alone with four men holding guns.

Everything that happened next happened in a blur from two of the men grabbing her roughly and dragging her down the corridor, to being strapped down on a cold metal table - a meek looking man muttering something to her that she couldn’t quite understand before a large needle was injected into her arm.

When she woke the next time she was in a small room - on the floor, that only had a chipped white framed bed with a thin mattress on top of it, she grimaced at seeing the blotches of stains. Her nose crunched upward at the nasty aroma lingering the room. Y/n flinched at hearing noises just outside, she could hear clearly that a man was laughing which caused her to back away and put her hands over her ears trying desperately to block out the sound. Not understanding why everything was amplified.

“Ah, little lamb you’re awake. I’m pleased to tell you that it’s worked, your going to be our new little asset-“

“W-what have you done to me?”

“We’ve made you stronger than any man could wish to be! We’ve made you fast-“

“What have you done!”

“Right, we’ve injected you with a special serum that’s enhanced you. Your lucky little lamb, those before you never made it past the thirty minute mark after injection. Now you’re ready for your second phase of becoming our little asset, boys… be careful with her.” The second he finished his sentence the same four men from before came in and grabbed her roughly once again.

Being dragged down a corridor and into a room she tried to beg the men to let her go, pleading with them that she had a family and they’d be looking for her, she even tried bribing them. Her begs and cries fell on deaf ears.

“Now little lamb, from what I can gather is that this chair here, a beauty in her own right isn’t actually nice to those that sit in her. She’s not exactly been kind to your little boyfriend but that’s because he tries to fight it, I’m going to be kind to you and suggest that you don’t do the same as him otherwise it will hurt more.” He waved his hand in the air lazily and the two agents that had ahold of her shoved her towards the chair, once sat they strapped her legs down and placed a strap across her chest.

“P-please stop ple-“

“None of that little lamb, it’s not going to hurt… much” he chuckles. “Try not to scream, it’ll will only annoy me”

She goes to reply when a loud buzzing sound came from both sides to her, frozen and strapped into place as two metal plates places themselves onto her face. Y/n could hear the man in a white coat start to count down from five, squeezing her eyes shut tightly she saw a blinding white light as her whole body spasmed and withered in pain. The agents all flinched as the glass behind them started to crack. Once it finished and the plates were moved away from her head, her head started to roll to the side as drool began seeping from her mouth.

“Little lamb, do you remember me?”

“W-w-where am I?” Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool, and her tongue felt heavy.

“What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/n”

“Do it again”

By the eighth time of having her mind wiped the window was gone, she had blood seeping from her ears and nose, her bottom half was wet. After they were done with her she was dragged back to her cell and tossed on the ground as if she was nothing.

Y/n had forgotten everything. She didn’t know who she was or where she was. They kept calling her little lamb. Crawling into the corner of the room she pulled her knees up to her chest and began mumbling incoherently to herself.

Every time she closed her eyes all she saw was a blacked out face with the brightest blue eyes.

For years she moved and breathed when they told her too, she spoke when they said, she ate when they told her to eat - not like it was much mind you.

Throughout those years she didn’t understand her purpose of why she was there, she never got to leave the place she was kept at, all she did was train and fight with those who were a lot bigger then her in height and weight.

What she didn’t realise is that she did have a purpose for those she worked for, and that she was leaving the base to do their bidding. Completely unaware that she had taken so many lives.

She didn’t know what they were injecting into her every few months was the sperm belonging to the Winter Soldier in hopes that they could create an army of pure bred super soldiers that they could use to fight and take down their enemies without themselves having to do anything. Or that the nurse who seemed to take pity on her would give her a tablet to force the innocent little foetus to never grow up in a world that it would only be used for pain and suffering.

She didn’t understand what she had done wrong, one minute she was training with the other super soldiers and then she was being hit and shocked by the batons and then dragged to the room that kept the cryostasis chambers, she pleaded with the agents that she would be good, begging them not to put her in there again but they didn’t listen. Her whole body stiffened when they gave her the option - chamber or chair.

She hated the chamber.

But she hated the chair even more.

“See you in a little while little lamb.”

Fury had told them that SHIELD had discovered a new Hydra base and that they needed to go and take it down, not even an hour later they were fifteen minutes away from touching down at the location of the base.

“Cap, it looks deserted…” Natasha said as she slid her gun into her holster.

“We still need to be cautious” Steve told them. He tapped his foot against Bucky’s to gain his attention. “You okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. Seriously punk I’m fine”

“Alright. Everyone be careful.”

They moved quietly and slowly towards the base - that had seen better days - without any trouble, getting inside they all stole quick glances at Bucky making him sigh. “No I’ve never been here before”

“Didn’t say anything Barnes”

“You didn’t need too”

As they moved further inside it became obvious that they were the only ones there, apart from a few rats running around. Steve gave the orders out, him and Wanda going together down one hallway, Bucky and Sam - which he did mainly to annoy his best friend, Natasha and Tony going off to find the computers to see if they can get anything off them.

“How long do you think this place has been empty for?” Wanda asked.

“Not sure… it looks like awhile.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are they all open?” Wanda points at cryo chambers, looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know? But let’s keep looking there has to be something here for us to ta-“ Wanda cuts him off with a gasp. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a woman, she’s pretty…”

“What are you- Y/n?” Wanda’s head snapped from the woman in the chamber to the blond standing next to her.

“Do-do you know her? Wait… Y/n?”

Pressing his comms button Steve tells Bucky to come to where he was, told him to hurry up, hearing the distress tone of their captain Nat and Tony also went along too.

“Steve is this the same Y/n that Bucky calls out for in his sleep?” Wanda asked, watching him nodding slowly she looked down sadly.

The team had slowly grown use to Bucky screaming and hearing him thrash around in his sleep and had even witnessed him trashing him room trying to escape, thinking and believing he was still at the Hydra base he was kept at. One night it had actually taken all of them to try and pin him down on the ground after a horrific nightmare, it took Thor to grab Mjölnir to place it on Bucky’s naked chest to pin him down and for Wanda to use her magic to clear his mind just so they could get him to calm down. She apologised profusely for it the next day but he just smiled, placed his hand on hers gently and thanked her. But every night without fail they all heard him mumbling or crying out for Y/n and none of them wanted to overstep that boundary by asking him directly so they asked Steve who this person was and all he told them was that it wasn’t his place to say anything but that she meant the world to Bucky. And after that they let it be though they were all curious.

And now Wanda was staring up at the woman who had been on her friends mind for so long, she didn’t know how Bucky was going to react to seeing her here.

“Steve?” Bucky stood at the doorway with Sam, Natasha and Tony behind him. “What’s up?”

“Buck… she-she’s here”

“Who?”

Steve watched as Bucky paled and his eyes got shinier with tears filling them. “Y/n.”

“N-no no you’re lying Steve.” His eyes moved to Wanda when he noticed her shifting from foot to foot. He knew by the look on her face that what Steve was saying wasn’t a lie.

He moved slowly to where Wanda stood, never taking his eyes off her until he stood in front of her, it wasn’t until she gave him a sad smile that he finally looked to his right. A choked sob was the only sound in the whole building. Wanda tried to grab him before he fell but it was no use, Bucky landed with a loud thud on his knees as he looked up at the woman he had fallen madly in love with in the forties. The woman he had made a promise too. A promise he couldn’t keep.

“St-Steve we need-I need to get her out of here”

“I know Buck, I know but we need to be careful, we don’t know how long she’s been in there for”

“We can’t leave her!”

“We aren’t going to leave her Barnes, just give me a few minutes to try and figure out how we’re going to get sleeping beauty out of here, okay?” Tony says before looking around the room to find a way to get her out.

As everyone moved around the room trying to find a way to get her out of the chamber Bucky stayed on his knees looking helplessly up at her. “That’s why you couldn’t find her, she’s been here”

“I tried Buck-“

“No, I know you did. H-how long do you think she’s been here for?”

“I… I don’t know”

Not long after, Tony managed to find a way to open up the door to the chamber without causing any damage to Y/n. They all shivered as the cold air hits them, Bucky took the straps off her and took her gently into his arms. His body tensed when Tony injected something into her arm. “It’s just to keep her asleep until we get back to the tower”.

Steve told him to take Y/n onto the jet so they could finish off clearing the base, they all watched as he carried her as if she was the most delicate thing in the world.

“Steve, she’s a super solider” Nat looked over at him from the computer.

“Have you found anything else about her?”

“She’s got way more kills under her belt than I do, they call her little lamb” saying that nickname made her nose scrunch up. “And… oh Steve, they’ve been injecting her with Bucky’s sperm, it never worked” Steve’s eyes burned a hole into the computer screen angry at everything that he was hearing.

“Sh-she was a nurse you know? A great one, all the men said they loved going to her because she was just the kindest of them all. She deserved so much better than this.”

“Steve she’s been in cryo for twelve years… they wrote down when they were put in and taken out, she was never taken out twelve years ago”

“Jesus. Right, gather everything you can on Y/n and I’ll meet you on the jet”

Leaving Natasha to do what she did best he went to the jet, he stood there watching as Bucky stroke his fingers through the top of her head, not taking his eyes off her face.

“I-I’ve put blankets on her from the back, she’s still freezing Stevie.”

“Buck, there’s something I need to tell you about her.”

“What is it?”

“She’s like us, she’s got the serum too. T-they were trying to impregnate her with-with your… you know, and Nat found out that she’s been in cryo for twelve years”

“T-they don’t care do they? They don’t care who they hurt or the pain they inflict, they-they’ve hurt the sweetest, big hearted person and for what? Just to leave her in there for all those years? It’s my fault isn’t it?”

“No Buck, it’s not your fault-“

“It has to be, I kept saying her name when they first got me. I didn’t want to forget her so I kept saying her name and look what happened!”

“Bucky it’s not- don’t try and interrupt me- it’s not your fault. But we’ve found her and she’s going to come home with us and we can help her”

“Did she do bad things too?” His voice was so small and quiet that it was lucky that Steve had enhanced hearing otherwise he wouldn’t have heard what his friend said.

“Yes but Buck we know her, we know she’s a good person just like you she’s been made to do bad but we can help her, I promise you”

“We’ll all defend her tin-man” Tony says, when both men look over they see the four of them nodding in agreement.

Two weeks after finding his only love and brining her back to the compound Bucky refused to move away from her hospital bed, on the fourth day Steve had to beg him to come with him to get some food - it wasn’t until his stomach growled in hunger that he finally accepted Steve’s offer, he left her with a kiss on her forehead and made Natasha and Wanda watch over her, made them both promise to ring him the second Y/n started to stir awake.

Steve then tried to get him to leave just so he could get a good night sleep or to have a shower but the brunette shrugged him off - it wasn’t until Dr Cho came in and told him to get a shower, told him that he should be clean and smell nice for when Y/n woke up. That had him running to his room and showering quickly before running back down to her.

It was better than nothing.

“Steve?”

“Mhm”

“What’s Fury going to do when Y/n wakes up?”

“Nothing, him and Tony have already pleaded her case and all she’s got to do when she wakes is give all the information she can remember. Fury is positive that she’ll be be fully pardoned and he thinks that she could be an asset to the team, that is if she wants to stay”

“W-why-do you think she’ll want to leave?”

“I don’t know Bucky”

“Would you be mad at me if I left with her?”

“No. I would be mad though if you didn’t invite me over for dinner” Bucky let out a laugh whilst he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

Steve and Wanda had left after spending a couple of hours keeping Bucky company as he watched over Y/n, he was just starting to drift off to sleep when he felt her hand twitch.

“Y/n? Doll?” Another twitch. “Doll, come on wake up”

Bucky shot straight up knocking the chair backwards when Y/n jumped up out of the bed, falling down instantly, he watched as she pulled herself to the wall bringing her knees to her chest, her eyes moving around the room frantically. Her voice hoarse as she mumbles softly to herself, Bucky slowly moved around the bed.

“Doll? Y/n it-its me Bucky”

“Bucky?”

“Yes, yes it’s me” she says his name again, her teared filled eyes looking straight at him. “You’re safe.”

“W-where are we?”

“Somewhere safe, I promise.”

“They will be here for me” slowly standing up, ignoring the blood seeping down her arm she moved over to Bucky. “I-I need to leave, I need to go back home, they-they’ll be mad at me”

“Y/n hey, hey stop, doll look at me, they aren’t looking for you okay? You’re safe here, I’m not letting anyone hurt you again. I promise”

“You promise?”

“I promise” Bucky moved closer as soon as she was in reach he pulled her in his chest, squeezing her tightly, repeatedly pressing his lips to her hair.

Helen came in a little later to run some checks, talking to Y/n like she was an actual person and not like she was a nobody like she was use to, when she said thank you it meant more than just a simple gesture. The next day Steve, Sam and Wanda walked into the hospital room shocked to seeing Y/n sitting up and talking to Bucky, though they had slowly gotten use to seeing Bucky coming out of his shell even after all these years of knowing him Sam and Wanda stood there watching Bucky be a whole new person, the only person that didn’t find it weird was Steve who had a huge smile on his face, happy to see his best friend finally happy and at peace now that he had Y/n with him.

When Fury got word that she was awake he came down to see her, she answered all of the questions he had as best as she could. Fury reassured both her and Bucky that nothing would happen to her.

A month after waking up Y/n hand in hand with Bucky sat in a room with the team standing behind them, Fury at the end of the table and members of the government in front of them. She was nervous to hear what punishment she was going to receive, yes Fury promised that she wouldn’t be but when Bucky finally caved and told her all of the crimes she was connected to - not only did her heart break at hearing the things that she did but she feared what kind of punishment she was going to receive, she felt like she needed to be.

“Y/n L/n you are granted a full pardon, but you will need to be a part of the Avengers-“

“That’s not what we agreed on!” Fury interrupted the man.

“It’s the best thing-“

“I’ll do it. I-I need to do it” Y/n nodded.

Bucky and Steve had to beg Tony not to throw a party to celebrate Y/n’s freedom and her new role in the team of superheroes, he reluctantly agreed but told them they needed to do something as a team for her. Bucky told him a nice meal would do, it wouldn’t push her out of the comfort zone she had created for herself, so that’s what they did. Their laughter throughout the meal bounced off the walls as Y/n was retelling her memories of the antics Bucky would get up to during camp, told them how she managed to push Steve in to the river when he refused to go into the water.

In that month Bucky had been sleeping in bed with Y/n after she begged him to stay with her, and that night was no different. The team no longer heard Bucky’s screams because he no longer had nightmares.

“Y/n”

“Yeah?”

“I never stopped loving you, you know?”

“I’ve never stopped loving you either.” She smiled up at him. Slowly their lips met, both sighing at the familiar feeling that they had been deprived of feeling for nearly eighty years.

Just as Bucky closed his eyes to get some sleep he began chuckling when he heard Y/n’s question.

“Are you still going to marry me so I can put up with you for the rest of my life?”

“I made a promise didn’t I?”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama

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