#I'll try not to get Too sappy but it's hard when I was so inspired by Things! It had a big impact on me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haitaniapologist · 2 years

Text

A LOVE STORY LIKE OURS.

pairings — king! sano shinichiro x fem!reader.

genre — fluff, lightly angst.

warnings — reader is draken's older half sister, world heavily inspired by medieval europe, c*ckwarming, yn and shinichiro are from different social classes (so thoughts about that), insecurities, mentions of s*x, a hint of br*eding k*nk.

word counting — 9.5k

notes — this is both for shin's birthday, @1900-aria collab REGALITÀ & MAGIA and her birthday too !!!! if you don't want to see me being sappy for my twin, just skip the message i'll left for her at the end of the fic <3 anyways, i hope you guys will enjoy !! likes and comments are appreciated, and this isn't in the same universe of my other royal aus!!!

join the taglist !!!

“i want to be to princess emma what the king is to you, sister.”

you almost choked on the food you were eating when hearing such words leaving your baby brother's mouth. what was ken saying? it couldn't be possible, could it?

“care to explain, kenny?” you asked, trying to remain calm under your younger brother's inquisitor gaze. if kenny knew, other people knew too — and you hoped such things wouldn't reach the ears of the counselors or even of princess emma, or else you would be losing the job you worked so hard to have.

“i can be only thirteen, sister, but i can tell apart when a man looks at a woman he loves and at a woman he doesn't care about.” you almost giggled at his posture, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows raised — as if he was the older sibling, trying to know who was the man who kept you awake during most nights to fight him if he ever hurt his sister.

you hummed, mouth full of food. ken kept looking at you, waiting for you to say something, and you swallowed it quickly. “yes? and how does the king look at me?”

“like you hung all the stars on his sky.”

you met shinichiro sano when you both were young, the prince was fifteen and you were fourteen — life didn't treat you kind, being the daughter of a prostitute and having a younger half brother to care of, since your mother died as soon as ken was born. you were used to having people looking down upon you and your brother, sneering at you for your attempts to not follow into your mother's footsteps — even if you lived inside a brothel — and give your brother the childhood you didn't have. but everything was worth it when a lady from the brothel, one that always treated you and ken as her own children, managed to get a job in the palace and took you and him with her.

the first you noticed when you arrived at the palace was the prince. he was there to welcome the new staff members, and even if you were holding your five-year-old brother close to your chest, he still managed to jump from your arms and run towards the prince to ask if he wanted to play.

you were so embarrassed — ken didn't know yet, but he was the son of a prostitute, someone that wasn't even supposed to touch the crown prince. but shinichiro was kind and held him like you were doing, while you're blushing and panting, saying how sorry you were for your brother's lack of manners. but he only laughed and smiled at ken, asking his name and saying that he and his baby brother would be the bestest of friends.

you could only stand dumbfounded, watching your brother and the prince interacting, before his attention turned to you. you felt your cheeks growing even more hot than they were already, and kenny was looking puzzled between you too — but before any of you could say anything, the head of the staff members called for you, chastising you for bothering the prince and not listening to your superiors. she took you and ken from the prince's presence, and you thought it would be the last time you would see him.

but prince shinichiro sano was already in love with you.

two nights after your first encounter with him, the prince appeared in your room, late at night — with nothing but a few sweets and his favorite drink. you couldn't leave kenny alone, so you two ate what he brought with whispers and rushed laughs surrounding you two. you didn't understand why the prince seemed to like you that much, but after saying goodbye to him with a whisper of your name and a kiss to his cheek, you knew why you liked him that much.

you became princess emma's babysitter two weeks after starting to work in the palace, and you knew it had the prince's fingers on it — but you had always been good with children and the youngest sano was a delight to be around, so you didn't complain. ken also became prince manjiro's companion and best friend, and you knew you could sleep peacefully, knowing that your baby brother would have a different childhood than you did. you were more than grateful to prince shinichiro because of it.

ken and you became honorary members of the royal family, at least to the three siblings and their mother — the king, their grandfather, had always been too unapproachable for you, and you knew the siblings weren't too fond of him too.

alongside being an honorary sano, you became one of the prince's companions when you weren't taking care of his sister. you became friends with takeomi, wakasa and benkei too, to shinichiro's delight — the three of them knew about their friend's hopeless crush for his sister's nanny, and, while they knew such a love could not have a happy end, they encourage the prince to act on his feelings.

and he only did it at twenty, when his grandfather passed away and he was crowned king.

you were there for him throughout the whole day — either taking care of emma or just being near him, trying to lighten his mood a little before the crown was out on top of his head. and shinichiro couldn't help and attack your lips as soon as you two were alone on a balcony on the coronation ball. you were already beautiful in the simple dresses you wore on normal days, but wearing jewels and a tailored dress was a sight that rivalled the moon and the stars.

“be mine.” he whispered against your lips that night, eyes dripping with love and cheeks flushed, making him look even more adorable.

“i've always been, shin.” you whispered back, but, at the deepest part of your heart, you knew that whatever you two had going on, would end soon.

but three years later you were still meeting him every night in his study, back always pressed against a wall while his hands wandered around your body as if you were a poem he was trying to memorize.

“he does not look at me like that, ken.”

“of course he does, sister! when you are going to see that big bro shin loves you?”

you smiled sadly at him. when you are thirteen, everything in life seems easy — you knew that very well. “even if he does love me like you say, kenny, we can not ever be together.” it shattered your heart to say that out loud, but you should take such thoughts from ken's head.

he, too, wasn't the match for princess emma, even though their young love made you feel like a teenager again. “he is a king and i am merely his sister's nanny. we are from different worlds, baby.”

you didn't want your brother to go through the same heartbreak you knew soon you would go through.

but the look in his eyes showed you that he knew that very well. you opened your arms and ken snuggled on them, and you wondered when he had grown so much. he could be heads taller than you, but he would always be a baby to you.

“it will be alright, ken. someday we will know how to deal with this pain.”

—

it was already routine for you to knock on the king's door three times after putting his sister to sleep. if you didn't appear, you should expect a pouty and whiny shinichiro following you around in the next day, and you couldn't let that happen — he was the king now, he was supposed to do his duties instead of chasing your skirts through the castle.

you entered the study as soon as you heard shinichiro's voice, sadness inside your chest. you wished you could protect your brother against all the bad in the world, but even if shinichiro wasn't against a possible relationship and marriage between him and emma, the council was still a hard step to overcome — wakasa, takeomi and benkei would be agreeing with the king, but the older counselors would be against it. and being the majority, they would win.

“what is upsetting my pretty lady?” you didn't even notice that you were standing in front of shinichiro until his hand was cupping your cheek.

you sighed. you couldn't tell him what was plaguing your mind — because he would soothe it with empty promises. “i just noticed how ken is growing up so fast.” it wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either.

shinichiro nodded, his free hand bringing your body close to his, making you fall on his lap so his arms could hold you close to his chest. he would do anything to see a smile on your face again, understanding where you were coming from. manjiro and emma were growing up too quick to his liking too, but such feelings were the curse of older siblings. he kissed your cheek, then your lips — a quick and sweet peck, that left you breathless nonetheless.

it was shinichiro's gift, to make you breathless.

your hands were soon on his hair while his lips traveled to your neck, kissing and biting to make his so beloved whines to escape your lips. “s-shin, stop teasing.”

he smiled on the flesh of your neck, hand skillfully undoing the laces of your corset. “i still have some paperwork to do, y/n/n.” you knew what he meant by that, and your pupils widened with lust.

your hands soon reached the tent on his trousers, unbelting them and springing his cock from the confines of the fabrics. shinichiro groaned at the feeling of your hand around his length, and he didn't waste no time to lift your skirts and put your underwear aside, helping you to sink down on his cock and stay still until he told you to move.

your arms were soon around his neck, face pressed on the sensitive skin, and shinichiro swore he could die like that — having you around his arms and his cock inside your warm walls. he still couldn't believe how lucky he was that his feelings were reciprocated. he always thought takeomi or benkei to be a better fit for you, as they weren't kings and wouldn't pressure you to be something you didn't want. shinichiro knew you would be a perfect queen, far better than all the princesses his council wanted him to marry, but he would never pressure you to be one.

you tried to move your hips a bit, the feeling of being full was a bit overwhelming to you, taking shinichiro from his thoughts. he patted your head, a small smile gracing his lips. “you know you can not move yet, dearest. i am finishing these papers, and when i’m finished i promise to take care of your needs, alright?”

a nod was what you could give him, and shinichiro tried to fight the urge to smile and kiss you — you were too adorable, and such cuteness had enchanted him since the first time you looked at him with big and teary eyes.

he couldn't wait until he would finally call you his for everyone to hear.

—

princess emma was the cutest person that ever graced the earth.

you didn't know if it was because she grew up alongside three loud older brothers, but she was a delight to have around. always trying to make everyone feel better, or even taking care of them — and you were always there to remind herself to take care of her, too. it was a advice that you were supposed to follow too, but you were always forgetting about it.

and the tears on her face made your heart hurt, too. she wasn't your blood sister, but you were the one who raised her — you first started to take care of the princess when she was three, almost four, and you were there for her when she hit every single milestone of a woman's life.

but you weren't ready for her first heartbreak. because you knew you were, indirectly, the cause of it.

“he said… that w-we can n-not see e-each so m-m-much…” oh, ken. if you knew, you would never have said such things to him. you were only trying to prevent him from the same pain you were feeling, but it seemed as if you brought it earlier to him. your hands stroked the princess' blonde curls, trying to soothe her, while emma's head was resting on your lap.

it was funny, wasn't it? how both you, shinichiro, emma and draken were bound to the same destiny. it seemed as if manjiro was the only one saved from it, and you hoped he would find happiness with someone he could be happy with.

“did i… did i do something wrong, y/n?” the despair in her voice made you flinch, and if you could, you would feel her pain for her. you didn’t mind suffering twice, even thrice, if that meant nor ken or emma would be like that.

“of course not, emma.” your voice was gentle, as you remembered queen sakurako's to be, and you hoped you could ease her heart. “you two are young, but i know ken loves you. and, sometimes, just loving someone is not enough. you do not understand it yet, but carrying such a title like yours, it is necessary to make some sacrifices.”

the sacrifice of one's happiness wasn't supposed to be acceptable, but if you and your brother had to watch both king and princess marry another person and be happy, so the people of the country would be happy, at least you would have each other.

what was the happiness of just one in comparison with a whole kingdom?

“this is why brother does not marry you?”

your hand suddenly stopped its ministrations, and emma rose her head from your lap, a curious glint in her eyes.

“he denied every single one proposition that reached the council, and i think it is because he wants to marry you.” she explained, and you tried to not raise false hopes inside your chest. “i want him to marry you, so you can be my sister i can marry ken.” she pouted, and you chuckled, bringing her smaller body closer to yours.

your head rested on top of hers, mind spiralling with thoughts. as much as you wanted to believe emma's words that shinichiro was denying all proposals because of you, the most realistic thing was to believe that he just hadn't found someone worthy of being his queen. what you two had was bound to end someday, and both of you would move on from this childhood love, have families and be happy.

you kissed her head. “what if i bring some sweets to cheer you up?” you proposed. maybe you couldn't feel her pain for her, but you could try to amenize it.

emma nodded excitedly and you giggled at her reaction, making your way to the kitchens.

you wish you hadn't.

—

“did you hear that the king finally accepted a marriage proposal?” was what you heard when you first put a step inside the kitchens. “he is going to announce it in a week.”

you stopped in your tracks, heart racing. that couldn't be true. he would've told, wouldn't he? you were one of his best friends before being his lover.

“i heard it was from princess akane. she is really beautiful, is not she?” the main cooker commented, unaware of the sound of your heart shattering inside your chest.

“and she is kind, too!” her friend added. “she will be the best queen our kingdom will have. we always knew the king was just waiting for the best bride— oh, y/n, we did not see you there, darling. what the princess want?”

you tried to smile at them, fighting the tears.

princess akane was everything you weren't, and even if the thought of shinichiro loving another was too much for you to bear without wanting to scream from agony, you were happy for him. you only heard good things from princess akane, and you would gladly step away so shinichiro could focus on her — you would never be a mistress, after all.

“i was thinking about some strawberry tarts. the princess woke up a bit sad today.”

—

you were late.

shinichiro tried not to think much about it. he was aware that something transposed between emma and ken in the morning, and you were probably attending to his sister's needs or comforting your brother. he would never make you choose your family over him, but it left him worried, nonetheless — you were quite distant throughout the day, and he was afraid something worse had happened.

he couldn't pinpoint what he was feeling, but it wasn't a good thing. he felt as if he was in the shore, watching as a big wave, with an enormous destructive power, coming, and he couldn't do anything to prevent it from destroying everything he held dear to his heart.

his door opening put his mind at ease, but you were too quiet — not coming to sit on his lap or even hugging him from behind, peppering his face with kisses, like you always did. shinichiro raised his eyes from his paperwork, and the look you were giving him was worrisome. you were determined, but it seemed as if such determination was eating you alive. the agony on your eyes could rival atlas' one, and shinichiro wondered what you were carrying on your shoulders. “y/n, dearest, what happen—”

“we should stop this.”

“what?” he asked, promptly rising from his chair and walking towards you. shinichiro couldn't believe what he was hearing. yesterday you seemed fine, cumming on his cock twice and even leaving him to come inside you and fill you up — whispering how much you loved him and how good he made you feel.

“it is what you heard, your highness.” the politeness of your words was strange, like the first taste of a foreign fruit. but you would grow used to it — he wasn’t your shinichiro anymore. “i no longer love you, therefore i am ending what we have.”

“you are lying.” you never saw shinichiro looking so desperate in his life, and you bit your lower lip in order to keep the tears away. “you love me. what are you saying? what happened, y/n?”

“i only used you, your highness.” you tried again, a lie you rehearsed so many times inside your head before meeting him. “to g-give my brother a better life. now he has o-one and i… i do not need you any more.” you cursed the wobble of your lip and the wet on your cheeks — shinichiro would know you were lying.

and he did.

the feeling of his hands on your face was a cruel reminder that soon they would be doing the same for another woman, that you would never be yours to hold again — princess akane was really a lucky woman, and you wished she could cherish what she was going to have.

you shook your head, getting away from shinichiro's warm fingers. the hurt on his face was too much for you to bear, your feet wanting to take you back to your chambers as soon as you could.

but the king stopped you, a hand holding your wrist as if you were made of glass. “why are you doing this, my love?”

the pet name and the tenderness in his voice brought even more tears to your eyes and you closed them, failing to notice shinichiro's own tears streaming down his face. you were so close to him yet so far — he felt as if he was running eternally, yet he couldn't reach you.

“to prevent us from more heartbreak.” you tried to keep your voice calm, but it was proving to be impossible — not with shinichiro's warmth so close to you. “i love you, shinichiro, but i will never be able to call you mine. i have come to terms with this already, but i will not keep you like an oath while i am nothing but a dirty secret to you.”

shinichiro didn't understand what you were talking about. it didn't make sense on his head, not when he already had a ring and an almost finished speech to proclaim his undying love for you for the whole kingdom to hear in the following week.

“this is over, your highness. please, let me go.” you tried to push your hand back towards you, but shin's hold only tightened around it. you took a deep breath — it would hurt to walk away, but it would be a pain that you would grow used to it.

another scar to your already scarred heart.

“please, shin.” you whispered this time, silent tears wetting your cheeks even more.

“i can not let the love of my life walk away.” he tried to reason with you, because nothing was making sense inside his head. surely something happened that made you think it was better to not act on your feelings for him anymore. “what happened, y/n?” he asked, resting his head in the crook of your neck, arms hugging you by your middle.

a single kiss on your skin was what made you break down, and shinichiro held you while you cried. every tear and every sob that left your body was like the enemy's arrow piercing his skin, and nothing hurt more than seeing you suffer without being able to ease it.

when your sobs became just whimpers, you started to talk — but your mind was already made up. “i do not want to be an obstacle for you to love your future wife, your highness.” you smiled sadly, feeling him stiff on your neck. “i came to terms with the fact that i will see you falling in love with someone, and i am happy for you already.” you turned on his hold, holding his face and brushing your lips against his.

a kiss that would be the last, that tasted of tears and sorrow.

you broke the kiss, and before shinichiro could say or react, you ran from him — hushed steps and a new wave of fresh tears down your face.

the king could only watch as you fled his study, as if you were a criminal. and maybe you were.

you broke his heart like nobody did, after all.

—

“oh, lady y/n! there you are!” you heard the voice of one of emma's maids calling for you and you tried to clean your wet cheeks. you couldn't reach your room before you broke down, crunching down on the ground and trying to disappear.

you nodded, getting up from your place near a window. “does the princess need me?”

the maid nodded, and you took a deep breath, smiling. you could put your suffering aside if your princess needed you — her wellbeing had always come before yours, and you needed to learn how to live with that pain. you followed the maid, your steps not as quickly as they used to be, your body still trembling with a few sobs. the gazes of the maid made you feel even worse than you were feeling, but you thanked her when you reached the princess' room.

emma was sitting on her bed, as if she knew what had happened. “some servants saw you, y/n.” you couldn't believe you were feeling so small under the voice of a twelve-year-old, but you felt like a child being caught by her mother. “why did you choose to suffer alone?” why? you never tried to know why you always preferred to suffer alone. maybe it was because people always needed you to be strong so they could receive your comfort — or maybe it was because you never had someone who would be willing to comfort you.

“i do not know, emma.” you explained. “i am sorry.”

she smiled at you, patting her lap. “you comforted me this morning, so i think it's time for me to return the favor.”

you shouldn't have followed her orders — but emma was your princess, and it would be treason to not do what she said. besides the tears of sadness because of your situation with shinichiro, you were happy. it seemed like you raised emma well, at least.

with your head on her lap and her hand on your hair, you cried for what you lost — a lover, a friend, a future. you always knew you and shinichiro would never be together as a couple. it wasn't possible. you were just a maid, someone that was the daughter of a prostitute. you weren't a match for the king, and you would never be. but you were stubborn and hopeful, and always dreamed of walking down the aisle with ken by your side to meet shin in front of the altar. now, however, you would see another woman doing what you've always dreamed about.

you didn't notice when emma helped you change into sleeping gowns and lay down with you on her bed, just like she used to do when she was younger — her head safely tucked in your chest, her arms hugging you as if you were her personal pillow.

“i don't know what is hurting you, y/n, but i know it'll pass. or i will fight it for you.”

you tried to smile at her, because it wouldn't. it would only pass if you left the castle for good, to not see shinichiro falling in love with someone else.

maybe that was what you were supposed to do.

—

everyone could notice how the king wasn’t being himself.

the staff was buzzing with news of a marriage, but the king didn’t look as happy as a future groom should be. he didn’t smile at them anymore, always locked inside his study — only his close companions being allowed to be there with him. nobody knew what happened to make the king behave like that, but all the staff could see how the princess’ nanny wasn’t on her best days either.

you tried only to stay with emma, always trying to convince her that you two should have lunch and dinner at the balcony, or having breakfast at the garden — you said it would be better for her to not see ken for a while, but it was because you didn’t want to see shinichiro. you knew that as soon as your eyes landed on him, you would immediately ask for his forgiveness and crawl back to his arms. but you shouldn’t and you couldn’t. everyone only talked about how excited they were with the alliance between the sano and inui dynasties, and you wouldn’t be the one who would end it.

you hadn’t heard from shinichiro since the day you broke things off with him, but you knew how he was because of emma and, especially, draken. it seemed like your little brother was making sure that he would always mention the king when you two were talking about — how swollen his eyes seemed during breakfast, or how he hurt himself during a sparring session with wakasa, saying that he wanted you to patch him up. your heart always broke knowing how your actions were breaking him and his heart, but whenever someone said anything about princess akane and her beauty, you knew you were doing the best thing.

six days had passed, and you dreaded when the seventh would arrive — the day when shinichiro would announce his engagement with the foreign princess.

you reached your room, hoping that ken would be already sleeping, as you always made sure to leave before he was awake and arriving when he was already sleeping to avoid talking about the king — because you knew what he did to you, he did to shinichiro too — but the laugh coming from inside it and the light coming from the crack of the door told you otherwise.

entering it with careful steps, you prayed it wasn’t the king with him, but you doubt shinichiro would be laughing like that.

inside the room were your brother, prince manjiro and takashi — the three musketeers, as you nicknamed them. you smiled warmly at the boys, and ken got up to hug you, kissing your cheeks and holding you against his chest. you didn’t know what could have triggered him to act like that in front of his friends, but you smiled and hugged him back, surprised at how his muscles seemed bigger than before.

“what is this all about, kenny?” you asked after a few moments of him hugging you, and you giggled at the boy’s chuckles coming from the table you two had in the room.

your brother didn’t answer you at first, and you looked up to see a tint of red painting his cheeks. you looked puzzled at him and he turned his head to the side, which earned more chuckles and giggles from you and his friends. “it is just… you will look beautiful as a bride.” that only made you more confused.

“takashi said he’ll make your dress, big sis y/n.” you heard the prince saying, and you tried to give a confused look through ken’s body.

“if she wants, that is.” takashi replied.

“well.” you tried to get away from ken’s hold but he only tightened his grip on your waist, despite your confused whines. “i would love for takashi to make me my wedding dress, but i do not even have a groom to marry.”

“you will have if you say yes, y/n.”

you didn’t hear the sound of the door opening nor the heavy footsteps entering your shared room with your brother, probably muffled by the sounds of boyish laughter from his friends — but now the way ken was holding was making sense. because if he wasn’t, you were sure you would've run from the room as soon as your eyes landed on king shinichiro.

he looked like a broken man, as if when you broke up with him, you had taken away all the good things in his life with you. however, you could still see a glint of hope dancing in his onix eyes — you never saw them so lifeless before, not even when his mother died, and you couldn’t forgive yourself for being the cause of it. you didn’t know how much time you two spent just looking at each other, but you were taken away from your trance when the three boys left your room and you heard the princess’ giggles from the corridor.

“what is this about, your highness?” he looked like a rejected puppy at the sound of his title instead of his name, but he walked towards you, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you didn’t flinch or walked away from him. shinichiro was determined to walk out of your room with a positive answer, because he didn’t know what to do if you didn’t accept his marriage proposal — he would do anything to be yours again, even give up on his title and handover the kingdom to manjiro.

“exactly what it looks like, my love.” he answered calmly, watching as your eyes got glossy at his proximity and the endearment name. you didn’t deserve such treatment, in your opinion, but shinichiro had always been a kind man — but you didn’t deserve to be treated with kindness. he got on one knee and your eyes widened, hands trembling in front of you when he took a beautiful ring from his shirt pocket. it was a simple gold band, but with a clear stone in the middle of it.

was it the ring he was going to propose to princess akane? was he just rehearsing how he would propose to her?

“i love you.” he took your right hand on his free one, bringing it to rest on his chest. you could feel how quick his heartbeat was, and knew its pace only mirrored yours. “these days without you were the worst i had in my life, and to know they only happened because i was a coward only makes me angry at myself.” you looked down at him puzzled, because it had never been his fault. he was just fulfilling his duties, and you would never make him choose between the kingdom and you. “i was supposed to do that months ago, before any weird rumors started to appear.”

he held your hold even more tight against his chest, as if it was the only thing keeping from anchored and not letting him from breaking down. “marry me, y/n, and ease the pain in my heart.”

your first instinct was to refuse. you just shook your head, eyes closed and tears streaming down your cheeks. “i c-can not, shinichiro… w-what about princess a-akane? the whole kingdom expects her, not m-me.” you managed to say through your tears, their flow only growing when you felt his hands tenderly holding your face. his duty was to marry a princess of noble blood and have more noble heirs that would take his place and his siblings’ place, not marry a prostitute's daughter that would taint the sano bloodline with her impure blood.

his warm chuckle reached your ears and you slowly opened your eyes, his fingers wiping the tears that were falling through your eyelashes. “there is no princess akane, my silly girl. i’ve refused her marriage proposal last week.” he reassured you, touching his forehead to yours. “and i do not care about who the kingdom expects me to marry. i am already a good king, and having someone like you as my queen will only make me better.”

you only nodded, lips brushing his, but not fully kissing him. you knew that, if you accepted, your relationship would face a lot of hardships — the older counselors wouldn’t accept the union at first, people would look down at you, because they wanted a princess and not a nanny, and maybe they would never accept you as their queen. but would you be able to let the love of your life walk away again?

“i will ease the pain in your chest, shin. i will marry you and be yours for the rest of my days on this earth.”

—

your life made a 180-degree turn.

shinichiro announced your engagement first to close friends and family. you never saw takeomi and wakasa smiling so brightly, nor did benkei ever hug you so tightly as he did. it was good to be accepted by your lover’s circle of close friends, even though they always knew about your shared feelings — but they were nobles, and nobles with a great influence in the kingdom’s counselors, and having their support would only do good.

emma started to cry when you showed her the ring that once belonged to her stepmother, and even mikey teared up. you hugged them as tightly as you could, and shinichiro soon joined the embrace — they had always been your family, but now it was more real. you would marry their brother, it wasn’t just a daydream that you had while combing through the princess' blonde locks. even after the hug ended, emma still stayed between your arms. you knew what that represented to her, and the first thing you would do as queen was to fight for hers and ken’s happiness.

after them, it was now time for the young knights and companions of the prince to know about it. you and shinichiro left your brother last at his request, and you wondered what your fiance was planning. the cheerful squeals that left the boys mouths were so cute to see, and takashi was already making plans with hakkai about your dress — pah and peh were excited about the party, keisuke, haruchiyo and kazutora already thinking about the beautiful women with beautiful gowns. mana and luna, takashi’s little sisters, and yuzuha, hakkai’s older sister, were already thinking about their dresses, and you couldn't wait until you could put them under your wing.

the last one was ken, of course. shinichiro insisted on having a private dinner with him, and you giggled seeing the flush on your little brother’s face — he knew about the whole engagement thing, and you wondered what shinichiro wanted to do. he didn’t need to try to impress your brother or anything like that, because ken already saw him as a type of hero since he was a small kid.

dinner was pleasant, and you smiled seeing how shin chose all ken’s favorite foods and sweets as the menu. your brother seemed flattered by it, and it was good seeing a happy glint in his eyes — because when you were suffering, he was suffering too. you knew he and emma were still not talking as much as they did before, because he was trying to get rid of his feelings for the princess, but you hoped that now, he wouldn’t feel this hopeless.

shinichiro squeezed your hand under the table, and you looked at his face, puzzled, he just gave you one of his boyish grins. “so, ken.”

“yes, your highness?” you brother replied with his mouth stuffed with chocolate pudding and you almost cringed at his lack of manners.

but shinichiro just smiled. “you know that tomorrow i will announce my engagement to your sister.” ken nodded, a sparkle of excitement shining in his dark eyes. it made you happy, to know what being queen, your brother wouldn’t have to need to worry about anything else in his life — that was what you always wanted, to give him what you hadn’t growing up. “but i also want to announce two more things, but i need your permission to do that.”

shin almost giggled seeing two similar pairs of eyes looking at him with the same expression. you and ken were more alike than you could ever realize. “and what are they, your highness?”

shinichiro only brought your linked hands to rest on top of the table, and you felt your cheeks warm. you had always been affectionate with him, but not in front of others. it was something you would need to grow used to, especially after tomorrow. “i want to make you a duke.” as soon as the words left shin’s mouth you felt tears in your eyes and, before you or ken could protest, the king continued. “and make you my sister’s betrothed.” shinichiro squeezed your hand again, hearing the quiet sniffles that were leaving your mouth. “what do you say, draken?”

you knew it was your brother's decision to make, but you were nodding as soon as he looked at you for guidance — this was more than you ever dreamed of giving him. you just wanted him to have a good and happy life, a life that he didn't need to worry about if he would have food to eat the next day, a life where he would sleep and wake up in warm blankets and a fluffy mattress. being a knight would guarantee that, but shinichiro was transforming your deepest dreams into reality. he was willing to give your brother something that would make life and his offspring's life so much better, and giving a chance of being happy with someone he loved.

“yes, of course, your highness, i could not dream of anything better than this!” the smile on both of your faces could rival the sun, and the tears were coming down your eyes freely. oh, how you loved shinichiro — you couldn't put into words your feelings for him, and you doubt you ever could someday. “does that mean my sister will be a duchess? i do not want her to suffer with any bad repercussions about your engagement to her, your highness.”

“you are a smart boy, kenny.” shinichiro said while he wiped the tears away from your cheeks. “this will make both yours and your sister's life easier, and this is the least i can do for you both.”

“stop this, shin, you are making me cry!”

the room was filled with laughter, and you swore you never felt so much happiness inside your chest. ken left the room to find emma, and you found yourself trapped between the king's arms, his hands stroking your hair and his voice almost luring you to sleep. tomorrow would be the hardest day of your life, you were sure of it.

the day shinichiro announced his engagement to you was a difficult one. a happy one, but still difficult.

as expected, no one believed that their king was going to exchange the marriage with a prestigious princess that would bring riches to the kingdom to marry the princess’ nanny. the counselors were furious with shinichiro’s choice and you could see it in their faces — but he held your hand through the whole time, and trying to make you less nervous and anxious. that seemed to work for a while, but then, you started to hear the whispers. the staff in the castle knew what your childhood had been, who your mother was and where did you come from, and they didn’t seem happy to know that someone that was born even below them was going to be their queen.

the people took it better than you thought, especially the lowborns just like yourself. the nobles were quite skeptical about the arrangement, thinking that someday the king would grow tired of you and they could make their daughters a royal mistress, but nobody except you and shinichiro knew how deep your love for each other was. but they grew into their idea, nonetheless. in the end of the day, shinichiro was still the king and, if they wanted to fall into his good graces, they would need to accept you.

the acceptance with the nobles came easier than with the palace’s staff, but you couldn’t do much. they would start to like you in their own terms, and you tried to shield yourself with those who had always liked you — takeomi, benkei, wakasa, princess emma and prince manjiro, your brother and the boys, mana, luna, yuzuha. they made your days better, and you couldn’t be more grateful. emma and the girls were helping you with etiquette lessons, and how you should act as a queen, takeomi taught you the basics of the kingdom, such as its economy and difficulties, while benkei and wakasa — and sometimes the prince, your brother and the boys, too — were helping you with self defense and horse-riding.

shinichiro knew you wouldn’t need any of that to be a good queen, but it was cute to see you so invested in your new duties.

while you were busy with your queenly duties, you were also making the preparations for the wedding. shinichiro let everything in your hands, since it would be your day — both your wedding and coronation would happen in the same afternoon, and he wanted everything to be to your liking. sometimes he would join you, giving his opinion about the decoration or the flowers. emma would always chastise him, saying how both he and draken didn’t know a thing about a woman’s mind, and that you were always more rational than them.

you only giggled every time such a thing happened. shinichiro would playfully roll his eyes, watching with fond eyes how emma and draken would bicker as if they were already married.

as promised, takashi was the one who made your dress. for a knight, he had such kind and talented hands, and he didn’t let anyone but himself work on it or even see your dress. you wanted to see shinichiro’s reaction seeing you for the first time in the aisle, even though you probably knew what was going to be — his boyish grin trying to hide the tears coming from his eyes. you were also excited to see ken’s reaction, since he was the one who was going to walk you down until you met your future husband.

your brother's reaction to you as a bride was everything you expected of him — him fighting back his tears while he tried to smile at you, but sobbing on your shoulders when you hugged him. takashi made sure that the dress was comfortable enough for you to be able to move freely, especially to hug others, but he still kept the fashion aspects the kingdom demanded of you. if his career as a knight wouldn't prevail, you would make him the official royal tailor.

ken's arm intertwined with yours was what kept you away from walking away — the thousand pair of eyes on your figure when the doors of the chapel opened was too much, but you could see shinichiro waiting for you at the end of the aisle. you kept your gaze fixated on him for the most part, watching as his shoulders trembled and takeomi gave them some pats, the crown on top of his black curls shining brighter than anything. sometimes you would steal some glances at your brother, still not believing that he was now a duke, and you were going to be a queen.

your brother offered you to the king, tears streaming down his face. you were glad you had a veil — albeit thin — covering your face, because you were sure you were a worse crying mess than your brother and your future husband. shinichiro kissed your hand, leading you to the designated place. “you look so beautiful.” he whispered in your ear while the priest said his blessings, and you giggled. you just squeezed his hand, that was still intertwined with yours, not knowing if you would be able to say anything without crying.

the priest said his blessings over the rings you two would share as testimony of the alliance being made through your marriage, and shinichiro was finally able to get a glimpse of your face. emma took the veil out of your face with grace, and now everyone could see how bad you were crying — it was a bit embarrassing, just a few minutes from being crowned queen crying in front of such a big crowd like that, but you could only focus on shinichiro and the smile on his face. you two exchanged rings, kissing each other's hands after it, and you knew now it was time.

your brother was the one carrying the crown and the sceptre, and in the place of the priest were now two chairs — yours and shinichiro’s thrones. he sat on his and you kneeled, doing what emma had taught you. the kingdom hasn't had a queen coronation since the day queen sakuraro married king makoto, shin’s and mikey's parents, but you weren’t even born to remember it. you knew all the eyes were on your figure, but you kept yours glued at shinichiro’s hands.

“look at me, my love.” he whispered, hand softly caressing your chin to lift your face. you were looking at your husband now, and the thought made your heart race even more. husband and king.

the act started, a tradition made long before you and shinichiro even thought of existing — you had the words memorialized by heart, and you said them with ease. it started with an oath, of how you were going to dedicate your life to the kingdom and its people, then a profession of your love for your new husband. it ended with shinichiro putting the crown on top of your head, and handling the sceptre. your husband helped you to get up, mana and luna ready to assist you with your dress so you could sit on your throne without any complications. with linked hands, you first looked at shinichiro, who was already looking at you, hearing the crowd cheering for their new queen — just after a wink from him that you had courage enough to look at the crowd, seeing some familiar faces, but all of them seemed eager and overjoyed with your coronation.

—

“i can not believe you are my wife.” shinichiro said as soon as you two arrived in your now shared chambers.

the feast was amazing. the food was, as always, amazing too — you almost cried seeing all the cooks addressing you as their queen, making all your favorite foods and smiling when you praised them. it was still strange to have people bowing at you when you were the one bowing at them once, or hearing how pompous their words were for you. but both you and shinichiro had fun, laughing and dancing with each other or with your friends.

but the night was over, and now you were in your new rooms.

it would be strange not sharing a room with your brother, and you knew you would miss his company — but ken would be just a few floors below you, until he came of age and received his own state. you knew he was excited about that, because then he would be able to marry emma and have his happily ever after.

“wife, wife, wife.” shinichiro chanted while you tried to take the jewels and other ornaments from your body, taking care to not damage any of them, especially your crown.

“and you are my husband.” you replied, getting up from your dressing table and walking to the bed, where your husband was laying comfortably — he had lost his coat in the feast, only wearing his white shirt and trousers. his cheeks were slightly flushed due to alcohol consumption, and his eyes were shining with the purest emotions you ever saw. “then be a good husband and help me take this dress out, will you? i am aware you can not wait to see what is beneath it.”

ever since you were betrothed to him, you two stopped seeing each other in more intimate situations. both because you were too busy and just wanted to sleep peacefully when night arrived, but also because shinichiro didn’t want anyone to think he was marrying you just because you had sex and you were forcing him to do it.

he was on his feet in no time, skillful hands undoing the laces on the back of your corset, doing movements that he knew like the back of his heart. you missed having shinichiro’s fingers on your back — they were always gently, ghosting your skin as if he was afraid of breaking you.

he finished his ministrations with a kiss on the nape of your neck, hands wrapping themselves around your waist and bringing you to rest on his chest. he sighed contently on your neck and you smiled. you would never have thought you would marry him, like your teenage self always dreamed about. it was too good to be true, and you were afraid someone would try to take such happiness from you.

“i can not believe you are finally mine.” he said after a few moments of feeling your skin under his fingertips, lips pressing light kisses in the exposed skin of your neck and shoulder.

you giggled at the feelings of his lips on your warm skin. “i have always been yours, shin. it is just official now.” you turned around on his hold, holding his head between your hands. he kissed your palm and you smiled at him.

“like i have always been yours too, y/n.” he confessed, resting his forehead against yours. you closed your eyes, lips brushing carefully against his. “can i kiss my wife?” he asked playfully and you just squished his cheeks before pressing your lips against his.

you didn’t notice how you arrived in your bed, only focused on the feeling of shinichiro’s hands roaming your body and how good his kisses tasted now that they weren’t prohibited. your back hit the mattress, your dress already on the ground, leaving you only in your undergarments — shinichiro was, too, only with his trousers on, his shirt on the floor alongside your dress. “you are the most beautiful woman of this kingdom.” he whispered against your lips, mouth traveling south to suck on your collarbone, hands cupping your clothed breasts. “the poets will sing of your beauty for years to come, my love.”

he always knew how to make you embarrassed and a blushing mess under him with his sweet words.

“and the girls will dream of having a love story like ours, shin, just as the poets will write.”

—

you would never grow tired of seeing your husband interacting with your daughter.

you were sure sakurako was conceived on the night of marriage, if your calculations were right — she was such a blessing in both yours and shinichiro’s lives, arriving in a snowy day, with a strong cry and big black eyes and a small tuft of hair inherited from her father too. as soon as he held the baby girl in his arms, his mother’s name came from his mouth. you didn’t care, of course. you knew queen sakuharo just from a couple of years before she died, and she had always been nothing but kind to you, being one of the main reasons why you became emma’s nanny.

naming your daughter after her was the best thing to do.

shinichiro was the best father in the world. you knew he had experience with children due to his younger siblings, but it was different. sakurako was nothing but a daddy’s girl — a mommy’s girl too, but her bond with shinichiro was something else. she always smiled the brightest when he was around, always babbled more excitedly when she was with him than when she was with her uncles and aunt, and always wanted to be in his arms.

but she was still a mommy’s girl, after all.

“i can not believe she did not want to be held by me.” shinichiro pouted from his place on the bed, arms dramatically over his head.

you held sakurako closer to your chest, rocking her while you walked around your chambers. “do not be dramatic, husband. she loves you, but sometimes only mama can comfort her.” you looked down, smiling at her sleeping form. she wasn’t even one year old yet, two months away from her first birthday, but you could tell that despite having shinichiro’s looks, her personality was from you. her small hand was holding tightly the neckline of your dress, her cheeks pressed against your collarbone.

averting your eyes to your husband, you smiled seeing him already looking at you. shinichiro never stopped looking at you as if it was the first time he saw you, always a lovestruck and boyish glint shining on his eyes even after almost two years of marriage. “you are such a good mother for her.” he whispered, getting up from the bed and embracing you gently, to not startle the toddler between your arms. he couldn’t understand how his daughter could find comfort in the fabrics you used as clothing, but maybe it was your smell that calmed her — you always smelled like home to him, and sakurako probably inherited that from him too.

you never thought about your motherly skills, not like your husband seemed to do. you had a previous experience with both your brother, princess emma and prince manjiro, but they weren’t infants when you started to take care of them — well, ken was, but you still had help from the ladies in the brothel until he started to walk and talk. “you think so, shin?” you bounced sakurako a bit before leaning on your husband's chest, head resting on his shoulder while his arms rested in your hips.

he hummed. “sakurako thinks so, too. everyone does, and everyone is amazed how good you are with her.” he praised you, eyes observing his sleeping daughter. “maybe a little prince would be good now, do not you think?” you gasped softly, eyes widened at the thought — but it wasn’t an unpleasant idea. “emma and ken, and mikey are too young to have children, and i doubt my friends are going to marry soon.” he argued, kissing your cheek. “sakurako needs a company.”

mana and luna were already her company, but you understood where your husband was coming from. “well, maybe i could drop her off to her nannies if you want to start now?” you suggested, giggling at the feeling of his lips nibbling the skin of your neck.

“can we stay like this for a little while?” he suggested back and you nodded, closing your eyes and leaning even more on his body. shinichiro kissed your forehead, humming a lullaby you recognized as the same one you used to sing for emma — and sometimes ken — when she had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep.

you were right. shinichiro couldn’t wait until the poets wrote about the everlasting love between the two of you.

for aria — i don't have words how important you are for me, bby. you're my twin, someone that is always here to listen to me ranting about my crushes or here to listen about my heartbreaks, someone that have such a beautiful light that i know brightens all the room you're in. you deserve only the best things the world can offer, okay? happy 21st birthday, my twin!!! i can't believe we're finally the same age ehehe i love you so much, and you know this!!!

taglist — @1900-aria @softbajis @tooweirdforyou @etheralyonn @lonnie19 @rayfuyu @chronic-claire-universe @aqualesha @winterv-black @nanamis-wifey-reye @sureconfused @sanzuhachoo @furiousturtlespyfire @rinsie @sanzu-s

#sano shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro fluff #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano #regalità & magia - collab

452 notes · View notes

boopshoops · 23 days

Note

🥣

🥰

🏘️

For Jojo, Shishi, and Ezzie (The Twst OCs ;w;) for the OC Ask meme)

Similarly to the last post!! This is color coded: me/narrator as default, blue as Jocia, and green as Ezra

🥣what's your favorite food?

"So this is some sort of interview? Alright then," Jocia gruffly responded, slouching over in her seat upon realizing the question was actually rather simple. She grinned, "Bulgogi's a fav. It's something my sister showed me when we were kids. Apparently she was trying to learn more about our family history or somethin', did a damn lot of research too."

"It's not something I looked much into myself, but I'm a complete sucker for anything barbecued or grilled. I think... Oh yeah, we tried it out on a camping trip. I stole some of hers off her plate," Jocia chuckled, scratching at the back of her head as she reminisced, "I gave her hell during that trip. Wouldn't be surprised if that's why we never did something like that again. Made it up to her later, though."

"Ooh! How fun!" The professor exclaimed with a sharp-toothed grin, "Let's see, should I go into detail? I don't see why not. You're supposedly looking into learning more about me after all, little sprout," He cheerfully pondered aloud, politely folding his hands in his lap.

"My favorite dish is Pasta Alla Gricia. It's absolutely divine. With most of the foods I like, they've unfortunately been changing and shifting in ways I'm simply not a fan of with the passage of time. BUT! With this? It's only gotten better since the first time I tried it one hundred years ago! I'll gladly buy you some sometime, little sapling. Oh! Perhaps I can get some for the whole class... Like a day of celebration after one of our competitions! It's important for student's to destress, after all!~" Ezra hummed to himself with a firm nod.

🥰do you think you're attractive?

"Uh..." The woman droned on, crossing her arms over her chest. She offered a casual nod after perusing her own thoughts, "Like, physically? Sure, yeah," She bluntly answered.

"It's not really something I've thought too much of before. I guess looking in the mirror and seeing how far I've come gives me something to be proud of. Especially since I'm... not the best at styling. Everyone else in the family got all that."

"But, hell, I've worked hard on myself. Even if working out and such is more of a chill hobby of mine, I'm still confident in how I'm built. Not to mention I can see little parts of the people around me in myself too, yeah? Like- an old friend of mine regularly helps me dye my hair, and I got my piercings at the same time as my brother. If I didn't like those parts of myself, it feels kinda like a dig on them too. No matter whatcha think anyway, there are gonna be people out there who think you're pretty sick."

"...Eh, I'm not good at getting all sappy."

Ezra blinked, his drawing his lips into a line. His brows furrowed, "This is a difficult question to be modest about, isn't it?" He awkwardly chuckled, bringing a hand up to massage his temple.

"Oh, I don't know. I have a lot of things I have to work on, truly. It's quite an ordeal. Not that I'm not proud of my appearance! After all, a lot of it was greatly inspired by my late father."

"...Ah! I forgot to mention- I'm a changeling fae, of course. I'm not the biggest fan of shapeshifting, however, so I try my best to correlate my appearance to my adoptive human family. In that way, I suppose topics such as 'attractiveness' are a bit more complicated to someone like me, dear," He finished, dodging and weaving around the actual question through his rambles.

🏘️where's your happy place?

Jocia brightened up a bit at this, smirking as the answer came easily, "With my siblings," she replied briefly.

"They're fun as hell to be around. We got each other's backs. They're a bunch of little shits sometimes, but we know each other better than anyone else," She paused, "At least... most of us. More of a reason for me to get home, as if I didn't need any more of one already."

"My classroom, of course! Oh, it's so fun!" The teacher excitedly replied, eccentrically taking the time to pop up out of his seat and lean over the table, "It's where I spend most of my time! Working with students in bloom, watching their talents grow, listening to my favorite stars sing broadway, tending to my adorable potted plants..." He babbled on endlessly, happily explaining to no end.

"...I haven't been here for very long, that is true, but it has very quickly become my favorite place to be. So much so I often get caught up in things and forget to attend meetings. I suppose me and the other fae individuals here have that in common... I'm working on that, however! Got to make sure my memory is in top condition!"

"Is that it? 'Kay. Be seeing ya."

"This was very pleasant! Thank you kindly for inviting me."

Ask Game!

Yuu Shi's responses are here

#boopshoopsramblings #twisted wonderland #boopshoopsoc #twst #twst oc #disney twst #oc #twst wonderland #original character #oc art #jocia gains #ezra goldspire #tcoav #boopshoopswriting

13 notes · View notes

muertawrites · 2 years

Text

Following a Siren (Eddie Munson x Reader) [18+]

Summary: Corroded Coffin desperately needs a singer to help balance out their first ever album. Lucky for them, Eddie shares a hall with a certified siren.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: 18+ only because i went a little crazy with perv!eddie (i just love him ok). i might write a second part where he gets to live his little fantasy... 👀 sappy romcom shit that i hate watching / reading but have no problem writing

Author’s Note: aged everyone up to their mid-late 20s when everybody is out of hawkins and happy. posting this unedited because it’s 4am and i have to at least try to get some sleep. inspired by my own experience singing this song in my high school choir (it’s so much fun the chorus parts are better than the solos) and amber riley’s performance which is the only redeeming quality of the glee version.

"I'm telling you, man, it's not gonna work. We need a chick."

Eddie glances between Gareth and Jeff, arms braced against the back of a chair, lips pursed together in frustration.

It's been hours and they still can't get any of the harmonies right. They're so close, but the song is just... unmemorable. A song easily and readily skipped, when it has the potential to be a totally amazing, stop-what-you're-doing, turn-the-volume-up, cream-in-your-pants showstopper. And Corroded Coffin needs it to be a showstopper; this is their first album - recorded in an actual studio with professional equipment and a genuine producer -and they can't blow their one chance at glory by having it flop.

But Gareth is right - it isn't going to work. They need vocals in a much higher range to balance out their lower tones. Unfortunately, they know about as many women between them as they did in high school.

"We can't afford to pay anyone," Jeff states. "Why don't we just scrap it?"

"We can't scrap it," Eddie quips. "It's too damn good. It just needs a little push."

"Could we do the harmony with instrumentals?" Gareth suggests. "You could just sing with the guitar."

"Nah, that wouldn't have the right umph," Eddie disagrees. "A vocal harmony would smash way harder."

"So we're stuck."

Eddie sighs, raking a hand through his hair.

"... I'll figure something out," he decides. "Just gimme some time. We're gonna do this if it fucking kills me."

Eddie huffs as he throws himself down onto his couch, snapping the tab on a beer can as he takes a long drag from a freshly rolled joint.

He's totally fucked. There's no way in hell he can find someone on short notice, with no budget, to carry the missing harmony. Nothing he has scrawled in the various notebooks stashed around his studio apartment is anywhere near finished, and even if it were, it wouldn't live up to what they already have.

Nobody will ever hear the song the way it's supposed to be heard. The thought crushes him.

The chime of keys and tread of boots echoes from the hallway, distracting Eddie from his visions of doom; you've returned home for the day. He closes his eyes, letting his mind wander to you - how you smiled sleepily at him this morning when you left for work, how pretty you looked in the dress you wore, how your lips were chapped and split, darkened with dry blood towards the center, how sweet your groggy laughter sounded when he said something stupid in passing. You've lived across the hall from him for the better part of a year - sharing the space above a convenience store, where you run into each other constantly - and his thoughts have been consumed by you since the day you moved in.

His cock twitches in his jeans, perking up at the images of you flitting around in his skull. Shame starts to rise in his stomach, but that doesn't stop him from going completely hard. He sighs.

C'mon man, don't be gross.

But it's too late. He's already relapsed into his favorite fantasy about you; inviting you backstage after one of his gigs and fucking you so hard you can't speak, skirt hiked up, panties pushed aside, makeup smeared and running as he drives you toward a messy, mewling orgasm. Holding you against his chest and kissing your lips, your face, your neck as you ride out the high.

His hand is in his pants before he can think better of it.

He's barely two strokes in when a gorgeous sound breaks him from his sexed-out haze. It starts as a simple chime, floating on the air as effortlessly as dust, before slowly growing louder, more joyous, every note driven with the force of a hurricane.

It's you.

You're singing.

And you're incredible.

Eddie springs to his feet, jeans still completely undone. He rushes across the hall, tapping frantically at the door to your apartment; your singing stops, and he almost regrets interrupting you for the loss.

The door swings open and you give him a once over, smirking amusedly when you clock his open fly, boxers tugged down to reveal the tiniest patch of his pubic hair.

"Eddie, I'm flattered," you tease, "but a date first would be nice."

"Shit, fuck, sorry."

He stuffs himself back into his pants, grinning bashfully before clearing his throat, leaning an arm against the doorframe as casually as he can. You can't help but giggle, having spent enough time with him that you'd developed an ever-growing crush on the eccentric, well-meaning man.

"What's up?" you ask.

"My band," he tells you. "We desperately need a singer and I think you're perfect."

He pauses for a moment, thinking over what he's said.

"As a singer!" he quickly clarifies. "As a singer."

You smile, biting your lip and entirely unable to stop the warmth that creeps across your cheeks. The way you gaze up through your lashes at Eddie makes him weak in the knees.

"I haven't done any serious singing since high school," you admit. "And never anything like you guys do. Plus... aren't you the vocalist?"

Eddie scoffs, waving away your statement with a slender, ring-adorned hand.

" 'Vocalist' is a stretch," he chuckles. "All I do is carry a tune. And it wouldn't be just you, anyway, we'd sing together. We can cover up each other's mistakes."

You sigh, still not entirely convinced.

"... I don't know. Like I said, I've never performed in a band before and I just... I would feel bad if I brought you guys down. I'm really not that good."

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion, craning his neck toward you as if you just told him Ozzy was a mediocre musician. He raises a hand to your forehead.

"Are you feeling okay?" he questions. "Your voice is fucking amazing! Why would I run over here with my pants down if it wasn't?"

He dramatically falls onto his knees, taking one of your hands in both of his as he fixes you with a pleading gaze. His thumbs softly stroke at your knuckles, causing an involuntary chill to run down your spine.

"Fair maiden from across the hall," he laments, "gentle lady with the voice of a siren, do us the honor of gracing us with your divine beauty. For my gratitude, I shall henceforth keep the volume on my stereo at a reasonable level, and shower you with the finest tributes of pizza and iced coffee."

You laugh, far too endeared by his antics for your own good.

"Get up, you goon," you playfully scold. "I'll come to your practice tomorrow for an audition. How about that?"

"Yes!"

Eddie springs to his feet, wrapping you in his arms and spinning you with joy.

"Thank you," he says as he sets you down. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you, you're a fucking life saver. You won't regret it, I promise."

He plants a kiss on your cheek, leaving you brimming with butterflies as he darts back into his apartment. He pops his head back out a moment later, phone in hand.

"What do you want on your pizza?"

At promptly six o’clock the next evening, you climb the steps to the little apartment in downtown Indianapolis that serves as Corroded Coffin’s makeshift studio. It’s an attic space, with slanted ceilings and wood floors padded with dirty, worn-out flea market rugs; posters featuring the likes of Sabbath and Megadeath line the walls, and most of the light is provided by a little circular window and a string of white Christmas bulbs strung along the edge of the room. The air is heavy with the scent of cannabis and incense. You’re reminded of Eddie’s apartment as you step inside, a fact you hate to admit calms your nerves a little bit.

“Alright.”

Eddie claps his hands together, grinning at you with his guitar slung over his shoulder.

“What beautiful sounds will you be blessing us with today, gorgeous?”

You purse your lips, taking a deep breath as you try to remind yourself that you’re good at this - there’s no reason to be so anxious.

“You guys know any Queen?” you ask, sounding meeker than you intend.

“Of course we do!” Gareth chirps from behind the drum set.

“How about you just start singing, yeah?” Jeff chimes in. “We’ll join in. We do better by ear, anyway.”

You nod, stepping up to the microphone as Eddie presses the start button on the tape recorder in the corner of the room. You clear your throat, inhaling slowly, holding the breath for a moment in your stomach before letting it go in a light, tentative note.

“Can... an-y-bo-dy... find me-e-e-e... somebody to-o...”

Eddie strums the last note on his guitar, making you smile.

As you start up the first verse, Jeff and Gareth follow your lead, backing up your low, contemplative words with matching instrumentals. To your surprise, Eddie takes over the choral accompaniment, hitting each note as if he’s listened to the song a million times over; his voice compliments yours so well you sound make a symphony together, the vibration of your harmonies causing chills to rush through your body like an electric shock.

“I get down on my knees and I start to pray ‘til the tears run down from my eyes!”

Your confidence builds with the song, each note you sing becoming a little more soulful, a little more impassioned as the verse presses on. You lose yourself in the music, having always loved this song and how weightless it makes you feel. Your eyes are locked on Eddie, swaying in time with each strum of his pick across the guitar strings, consumed by the starstruck look in his eye and the expert movement of his ringed fingers. It’s like magic, how enchantingly beautiful you sound together.

“I try and I try and I try-y-y! But e-e-e-ev’rybody wants to put me down; they say I’m goin’ crazy! They say I gotta lotta water in my brain; I got no common sense; I got nobody left to believe!”

“YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YE-EAH!”

The final throes of the verse are shouted, Jeff and Gareth playing off your enthusiasm with as much excitement as if they were playing to a packed stadium. You bang your head with each beat, thrashing with their heavy rendition of the song, thoroughly enjoying every second. Your voices fade into the shredding wail of Eddie’s guitar, hammered out into an exquisite solo that leads into the final verse.

You reach your favorite part of the song; when all goes silent, the slow climb up to the huge finale. Jeff starts you off, his powerful bass rumbling over the speakers.

“Find, me, somebody to lo-ove...”

Then comes Gareth’s baritone, picking up the harmony in just the right spot. Eddie follows soon after in his achingly handsome tenor, and you fall in line behind him, uttering out the quiet pieces of the harmony that many miss in the chorus.

“Me somebody, to, lo-ove...”

Eddie’s voice breaks out of the din.

“Somebody!”

You fire back, hitting the high note without flinching.

“Somebody!”

You shoot back and forth at each other, your higher voice countering Eddie’s lower one in playful symmetry, until you reach the end of the short duel.

“Somebody find me somebody to love! Can anybody find me-e-e-e...?”

The men stop playing, pausing with rapt attention on you, anticipating how you’ll drive through the song’s climax. You take a deep breath, entirely unafraid of what you’re about to do.

“Somebody to-o-o... lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-ove!”

The notes soar from your chest, deafening everything else in the room - hell, in the world, probably. Eddie is the first to cheer, bounding up and down in uncontained joy at just how powerful you are; the other men follow suit, picking up where they left off a few beats too late from being so swept up in your tidal wave of sound.

Eddie finishes out the song gazing at you with dreamy, sparkling eyes, his chest fluttering as you look back at him and match his voice in perfect harmony. You really are a siren, and he’ll follow you to the depths of the sea if it means you’re the last sound ringing in his ears.

All is calm as you follow Eddie out onto the street a few hours later, stepping into the late night cold of the bustling city.

He turns to you, staring at you for a moment in giddy silence. Then, he lets out a celebratory shout as he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the pavement and twirling you around. You laugh, your own arms falling around his neck, blushing furiously as he paints your face with kisses.

“You. Are. Amazing!” Eddie cheers as he sets you back onto solid ground. “Oh my fucking god, that was incredible! You saved us! You beautiful, divine, ethereal goddess! My fucking heroine!”

He captures you in another crushing hug, lips planting themselves firmly on your cheek once more.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

At first, you think he’s joking. But the breathless way he says it, the starry look in his wide, childlike eyes, the tender grip of his hand at your waist, all convey the truth. And you can’t lie to yourself - watching him play, hearing his voice entwined with yours, sharing the intimacy of song... you’re pretty certain you’re in love with him, too.

“... Kiss me,” you whisper.

“... What?”

You giggle, his dumbstruck expression the most adorable thing you think you’ve ever seen.

“Kiss me,” you repeat. “Baby, pull the string...”

A smile curls across Eddie’s face, his grip on you tightening.

“Did you... just quote Van Halen at me?”

You nod.

“Oh yeah,” he decides. “Comin’ in hot.”

You giggle, smiling into the kiss as he presses his lips to yours, leaning his whole body into the movement until you’re flush against him. God, his lips are plush, and he tastes deliciously like his last cigarette, and his chest is hard and broad, and he looms above you like some sort of ivory tower, captivating and unmovable. You clutch at the lapels of his leather jacket, never wanting this kiss to end.

Eddie hums softly as you pull apart, his eyes remaining closed for a moment as if he’s still savoring your lips. When he opens them, they’re lidded, lost within yours as he holds you in a lovers’ embrace on the corner of a busy street.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs. “Then we can make some more music together.”

🌹💀 get your eddie fix 💀🌹

#muerta's works #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #perv!eddie #perv!eddie x reader #minors dni

539 notes · View notes

gunophilia · 1 month

Note

Hello, before I get too far into it, I'm just going to give my main point right away:

I get it.

Writing is hard. Art in general is hard, but in my experience, finding the motivation to continue a story is one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. Trying to find the words to explain it is difficult, ironically, how do you really explain the overwhelming want to do only to loss all motivation the second you actually try? It's not that I don't want to write, I absolutely do, and I have all these stories and plots and ideas inside my head but the second I try and put pen to paper it feels impossible.

I guess I'll compare it to something else, albeit in a similar field. When I was younger, I loved to dry. Every moment of freetime I got in elementary school was dedicated to doodling all over my worksheets and notebook paper. And I was terrible at it, absolutely horrendous, but the best part was that I didn't care. I liked drawing, it never mattered to me how good it was. Until someday it did, and I realized that my skill level didn't match my standards, so I stopped. And every time afterward, when I would draw, no matter if it was a doodle in the corner or I tried to sit down and focus, I always gave up because it felt pointless. I'd lost my motivation, and so I gave up for years and I felt disappointed in myself. The same sort of thing happened with writing, one day I realized I wasn't happy with what I was doing because it felt armature.

At some point, about almost a year ago, I decided completely out of the blue that I wanted to try drawing again, so I bought a tablet to make sure I had to commit and couldn't give up like all the other times, I had a sit down with myself, and I asked this question:

What do I want out of my art?

And the answer was simple, to just enjoy doing it. So that was my goal, not to get better, but to just rediscover the joy thay drawing brought me. It definitely took a while, until I was able to look at other pieces of artwork and see things I liked and wanted to do myself rather than to compare myself to them. After a while I was drawing for myself, just to have fun, and I didn't care if it was good or skillful, all that was important was that I liked it and that was enough.

I still struggle with writing, I have a storyline that I want to follow but it's still just so hard to find the motivation, and I've decided that yes, one day it is going to happen, but it doesn't need to be today, so even just writing a silly little side story or even just a couple sentences of notes is enough for now, because it's still something.

Anyways this got away from me and I think the message for lost, so I guess I'll just put it plainly here, art is hard, and even if you love doing it that sometimes actually doing it seems impossible, especially if you feel like it's something you have to do over wanting to do it.

Sorry for the essay, but I'm feeling sappy tonight and a post of yours reminded me of my own journey.

I hope this was helpful, and if not, then I'm so sorry and please feel absolutely free to ignore this.

Have a good one, and I hope writing is something you can enjoy doing just for the sake of doing it. <3

are you me from an alternate universe? (jk) your story is very similar to what I've been going through. sometimes I get a spark of inspiration, but that by itself is not enough to get me to actually sit down and do the work. I sit down, realize how much time/effort will need to be put in, and give up before I start. it really sucks. i feel like i cant/shouldn't work on anything unless it can be finished in one sitting.

#thanks for the ask!

7 notes · View notes

fandomn00blr · 1 year

Note

sappy prompt for you - "a bowl of soup" and "heart eyes" for anders/fenris?

Auggghh...they are just the most sappiest, aren't they?! Thanks for this! I really enjoy any excuse to get these two arguing about food...because yes, that's what this is really about. Just the soup. That's all... ;)

(Oh, and FYI, this is set in my retro-modern-futurish y2k post-apocalyptic zombie Dark Sprawl AU, but all anyone really needs to know is that Link=Mage, Facility=Circle, and uhh, Justice is benevolent malware...yeah, that should clear everything up!)

"Awwww…” Anders fawns over the steaming bowl of soup Fenris has just placed in front of him on the island where he’s currently perched, looking absolutely ragged after another double shift at the clinic. “You cooked…for me?"

"It's soup. I just opened a can and put it in a bowl and microwaved it."

"That's three whole steps more than you're usually willing to take in order to feed yourself!" Anders exclaims. “I’m quite flattered.”

“Don’t be. You look like shit. It literally is the least I could do…”

Anders seems unfazed by this as he takes a big slurping spoonful of the soup. "Ow!” He spits it back into the bowl. “Fuck…too hot still…"

Fenris doesn’t even bother trying to stifle his chuckle. "Try blowing on it next time, maybe?"

"Thanks for the tip.” Anders smirks. “Not sure I fully trust it coming from someone who only eats seeds and berries and other random things gathered from the forest for every meal, though."

"I'll have you know that I can cook."

"Oh?"

"Yes…” Fenris eyes him suspiciously for a moment, then his face softens a little as he explains, “It used to be a hobby of mine. Back when I had half-way decent ingredients available to work with…"

"Back in Tevinter, you mean?"

Fenris nods. But doesn't say any more than that. Which Anders has learned through trial and much error to take as a sign that he's getting dangerously close to poking at something painful. He's trying to be better about not prying too much, though it's hard for him, and for Justice, not to demand to know more about what, or who, made him want to leave such a marvelous-sounding place where Links aren’t all just rounded up and institutionalized and there are apparently enough fresh ingredients available to inspire even Fenris to take up cooking. For fun!

"Well, you've just got to be a little more creative here in perpetually post-apocalyptic Kirkwall," he says, trying to veer around it without completely changing the subject of Fenris’ cooking skills.

"Creative?” Fenris snorts. “You mean like Merrill? Bio-engineering chickens and hacking fruit trees to grow and thrive where they've no business doing so?"

Anders grimaces. "I try not to think about all of that when she gifts me a basket of fresh produce or delicious jumbo eggs. But if you're so dead set against using her stuff, I'm sure there's plenty of ingredients to be scavenged from the pantries of these abandoned estates."

"Years past their expiration dates, I'm sure," Fenris scoffs.

"Oh, c’mon! Most of those dates were just made up to get people to keep buying more!”

"I don't know if that's entirely true…"

"Fine. Continue eating your boring birdseed, then, while I enjoy these supposedly 'expired' canned goods." Anders takes another, more cautious slurp of his soup and finds it to be less scalding, at least.

Fenris watches him swallow it down with a forced smile. "You're not exactly selling it."

"It's not…the worst soup I've ever tasted. The stuff at the Facility was always watered down and flavorless, like they thought we might somehow be able to channel our connectivity through salt or seasoning and escape via our taste buds. This at least tastes like…something…"

Fenris grabs a spoon from the silverware drawer and pulls the bowl of soup across the island to himself with a frustrated huff. He dips into the bowl and tastes it, frowning.

"Needs more acid…" he mutters as he turns and heads back into the pantry.

He returns with a bottle of some dark liquid with a fancy-looking label in Tevene and drizzles it over the top in an effortless spiral, then passes the bowl back to Anders.

"Try it now." He steps back, bracing himself against the sink, and Anders can't help but appreciate the expectant look in his eyes. He seems to have stumbled upon something here. A hidden passion maybe, and the fact that Fenris is willing to share it with him…well, best not get ahead of himself. It's just a bowl of soup, right?

"What is it?" Anders asks, trying to temper the unexpected flood of fondness he’s feeling with a bit of feigned skepticism and his usual sarcasm. “Arsenic? Cyanide? Deadly nightshade?”

"Balsamic vinegar…very well aged," Fenris snorts, exuding so much smugness at his own terrible culinary joke that Anders now fears he may have unwittingly unleashed a monster.

He mixes it into the soup and tries another spoonful.

"Better?" Fenris asks, looking downright impatient now for his opinion.

"It's good," Anders drawls. But he can’t seem to resist the opportunity to needle him a little. "I think you could balance it out with something creamy…got any powdered milk?"

Fenris makes a disgusted face. "Powdered milk?!" He throws his hands up in dismay. "Are you deranged?"

"Creative…not deranged." Anders laughs. Maybe he is deranged. Or perhaps it’s the exhaustion hitting him now, or the relief he feels here, in Fenris’ ridiculous mansion, of all the places he could’ve ended up tonight…but seeing Fenris, who is normally so measured and stoic about everything, react so dramatically to a bad recipe idea makes him finally just lose it.

“What is so funny, Link?” He hears Fenris catch himself saying it, and he hears the hesitation in the softness of it. He hears him try to sharpen it awkwardly just at the end, too, but it's too late. Anders already knows it’s become a sort of pet name to him.

"It’s just…” He won’t mention the slip up. Not yet. It’s a bit too new and precious to him still. But Fenris is watching him with such heavy expectation again, so surely the situation calls for some kind of teasing? “Fenris…” he breathes, trying to draw it out a little bit longer.

“What is it?”

“I guess...I just didn't realize..." Fenris leans a bit closer, his eyes growing even wider with anticipation. "I had no idea you were such a foodie!”

Anders grins cheekily. And he’s pretty sure Fenris knows exactly what he's doing judging by the annoyed face he makes. But spite is a heck of a motivator…

“If Merrill has any interest in raising goats and making cheese from their milk, I may be persuaded to change my stance on her methods,” he tells him.

Anders can't help looking at him now with all the affection he's been trying to keep in check. “I’ll…be sure to let her know."

😍<- Anders (ok, me), at the thought of having Fenris and Merrill collaborate on a rotating dinner party schedule...

#birthentine's prompts #dragon age #anders #fenris #fenders #dark sprawl #soup #heart eyes #my writing

14 notes · View notes

lavenoon · 1 year

Note

Specialty as a fanfic writer, let's go!

(Here I am taking that post very literally, so I'm gonna choose a specialty that is relevant specifically to it being fanfic, because I think it's an interesting way to think about it instead of just general writing, and I hope to explain myself well kfdjhgskñjgh)

I am assigning you "never forgets the fun! "

(And here I'll say, I really need to learn from your example on this one fjkhgkjsh)

Because Luce, literally following what you come up with is so much fun!

And that's what fanfic is! Fun! A hobby! Something that can be frustrating at times, but also is supposed to make us happy! And I just love that about what you make, because it's so clear how much you enjoy it. And just for the sake of clarity, you are an awesome writer! These are not mutually exclusive, of course, and in fact I think these aspects work so well together for what you do! You have so much fun creating your story, you know your characters so well, that placing them in a dozen variations of the same premise is absolutely no problem and I would (and have) read each and every one of them! You care so much about the connections between characters and the themes you explore and you have a blast while doing it too! And I have a blast witnessing it!

When someone makes an offhand comment and you suddenly go "Oh?", I just can perceive the little lightbulb turning on above your head and I just know we are in for a treat! Because what you make is just so genuine and heartfelt that the enthusiasm is just contagious! All the things you explore, be it by drabbles, or multi-chapter arcs, or your comics (comics are literature too and no one can change my mind on that XD), and the way you just opened a gate for other people to have fun with your AU too, it's just all so wonderful! The possibilities are endless and they're all there waiting for you to choose which ones inspire you the most!

What you make just represents the spirit of fanfic so terrifically and I am all for it, all day every day!

(and... if I'm being a little sappy for a moment here, I've always been just a bit too selfconscious about truly indulging and having fun so freely and trying stuff like this at all and I have some trouble coming out of my shell sometimes, so following along with AU and all the discord shenanigans has just made me feel the tiniest bit better about joining in on the fun, so you get a very heartfelt thank you from me for that <3)

I was gonna say the post said "on anon" but yknow, if you had sent this in on anon that would not have been anonymous anyway GFHDJS <3 That being said...

I'm blaming the fact that it's early but I really am just a little weepy and it took me like three times of reading to finally formulate some thoughts but most of them are just blubbering and or happy keysmash

Wanted to say that I just can't not explore things - but I realize I could. But where would be the fun in that? Fun has me in a chokehold and I'm never even considering not to indulge!

It makes things hard to follow and I'm self-conscious about that at times, which may make the weepiness partly out of relief/ reassurance. Always happy to hear that it's fun to follow along wherever my adhd brain takes me, and it is fun to explore - I love doing it!

I write fanfic for my fanfic, and apart from those bouts of "oh god no one's gonna be able to follow this mess of an AU" I'm so so happy to do it! There are so many different ways things could have gone, and I'm a huge sucker for the "soulmates in the 'in every universe, I'd choose you' way" trope - they choose each other, again and again and no matter how they meet, it turns out okay! Even the (discord exclusive (so far) because I wasn't confident enough to post Glamrock stuff before) version of AU where Robin works for Abra Fez with the Glamrocks - they still get to have fun with their boys! There's a happy ending! (and lots of shenanigans on the way gfhdsj)

The dynamics change and that's a lot of fun, and yeah I really just. Have to agree with your judgement - except I think fun would never let me dare forget it gfhdjsk

I love seeing what other people come up with - fanart and fanfic and the agentsona shenanigans, I always intended for this AU to be a sandbox to play in! I do it at any given moment, and it's so much more fun with other people enjoying themselves too! It can be silly, it can rely on so much suspension of disbelief, as long as it is fun! That is the most important part, and I'm glad to deliver!

(Also very glad to coax you out of your shell - it can be scary to be self indulgent when you feel so observed! Cringe culture is dead but its effect lingers! But I'm always gonna be very vocal about my support for self-indulgence because it is so much fun, that's even more dynamics to explore! It's nice, it's fun, and hurts no one - so I wish you heaps of self-indulgence in your future <3)

#answer let luce #chaotikanvas #ask game #technically still fghdjs #also yes this took me an hour because of distraction and also just. the above mentioned mental blubbering and keysmash #tbh I think. I think that whatever break I took from writing publicly helped immensely #The only thing I wrote during that time was many many self insert fanfics #sometimes with the same character but different premises #so many dynamics #so I just got used to that and now refuse to rein myself in #and why would I if it gets me asks like this?#feel good #;v; <3

7 notes · View notes

kaibette · 1 year

Note

i'm so sorry the sonic fandom is being a shitfest but i'm really glad that i at least got to find your work through it bc it's honestly inspiring. i love seeing how hard you push your lighting and rendering and how cool your designs are. even if you stop doing sonic entirely i'd still want to follow your work bc i imagine it'll be just as cool seeing you branch out into different styles.

also you've consistently been one of the more level-headed people i've followed so it's really annoying to see people lashing out at you like that. really hope you'll be able to get some peace from it soon

hope this isn't overly sappy from someone you don't really know

Thank you! I'm gonna respond to this one under the cut because I can be longwinded.

The sonic fandom has always been a shitfest. When I first joined like... 4 years ago? There was a huge call-out situation that was all over my timeline that directly connects to the harassment that others and myself still receive today.

When people say "oh all of this is due to friend drama" it's honestly true. I've been roped into several conflicts between friends which honestly didn't need to be public. And because I publicly voiced my opinion (oftentimes in favor of one side or another from a bystanders perspective) people have drawn circles around me to group me with people.

I try really hard to be level-headed about things, but I'm not perfect and I slip up sometimes. Recently, though, because people have drawn these circles around me, there are random people who are being told I'm 'in' with these groups that they hate. And any time I push back or call out people doing this, it feels like people see me as the problem.

This has gone so far as someone leaking my personal discord blacklist (wherein I specifically state that it's a private document and do not contact or harass the people listed) to someone on that blacklist. And, somehow, I'm the issue?

I think the sonic community has a real issue with letting terrible people stay in the space. People are consistently scared of speaking out in the way that I always do because every time someone like me does speak, people try to silence them. Instead of it being "this person is doing a shitty thing, they are the problem" it has become "this person is talking about someone having done a shitty thing, they are the problem."

And, in a way, I cannot blame them. There have been so many back and forth call-out documents where it boiled down to "this person isn't a good friend" that I get why there's a disdain for calling out anyone for anything.

However, there's a specific group that never talks, but they continuously stalk people that have blocked them and rip their shit off. Their friends have dozens of alternate accounts and they have massive followings. And they're free to just do whatever they want while stoking hatred on the backend because their art is decent I guess. If you ever speak up about them, you'll get your shit ripped off too and slip into my position where people are attacking me because I'm associated with the people they don't like. And it sucks. They suck. But nothing will change because this place values art quality over originality and common decency.

This fandom has issues, and I'm just tired of cleaning them up. I don't get anything but enemies out of trying to be a good person. I'll still draw my ship but I can't and won't be supporting the vast majority of creatives here because there's no way to know if they're planning to stab me in the back or not.

Sorry this is so long but it's but a snippet of me feelings at the moment. Thank you, truly, for your support. It really means a lot.

#kaibette.ask #ty for the nice ask!!

6 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now. So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together. Is he doing alright? You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people. “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted. “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again. “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger. “I mean, sapphires? Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented.

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked. “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too. She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder. “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat. Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it. "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen. But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard. "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide. "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really. I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up. "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

#bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes bodyguard au

745 notes · View notes