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loveindefinitely · 4 months

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

04 — I'M HERE REGARDLESS OF THE PAIN

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

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As it turns out, ‘real men’ fight bloody.

It’s a difficult journey, your escape, and you end up killing more men than you had ever planned to. With comms blaring in your ears, the weight of an assault rifle in your hands, and the windy night brushing against your clammy skin, you find yourself lost in the thrill of battle.

Everything comes to a head, however, when an unfamiliar voice enters your comms, and both Soap and Ghost seem to deflate with relief.

It’s with the roaring of a helicopter overhead, bullets flying by your running body, that a deep, gravelly British voice trickles into your ear – like the eye of a hurricane.

“All stations, this is Bravo Six – Get down!”

You’re not sure who ‘Bravo Six’ is, or why he’s helping you, but the telltale spark that sparks at the base of your spine has your entire being – your soul – ready to put your life in this man’s hands. It’s an all-consuming, threatening need, but one you find yourself clinging to regardless.

Whatever mental dilemma that is starting to form immediately gets put away with the rest of your ongoing ones. Your focus is now entirely set on the figure on top of the wall, firing a rocket at the enemy’s helicopter. As the pilot loses control of the aircraft, you can feel the thrum in your chest as it crashes and burns into the prison’s ground.

“It’s Price!” Ghost cries out, the most… not joyful, but pleased, maybe, that you’ve ever heard the man.

“Hell fuckin’ yeah!” Soap adds, and when you flit your gaze to your left, you see the beaming grin on his blood-speckled face. In the giant, bright lights surrounding the grounds, you can see all of his intricacies, even when running and shooting down Shadows.

Price, you now recognise the voice as belonging to, commands you all through the radio once more. “All Bravo and Vaqueros,” he barks, “Top o’ the wall. Get here and I’ll get you out. How copy?”

He’s a Captain, through and through. From his delivery, requiring no disobedience, to the undertone of compassion for his men. He’s the kind of man you’d be blessed to work alongside with – a true, hard earned leader.

“Loud and clear, Price. Comin’ to ya!” Ghost copies, and it feels as though the air around the lot of you has grown thick with tangible, genuine hope.

Rodolfo, closest to your right, looks to you with raised brows, before calling out to Soap and Ghost to your left, “Who’s he?”

Soap’s returning smirk is hardened, a hint of bloodthirst in it. The wrapping around his arm has, miraculously, remained on, with only a small patch of blood bled through. It’s a relief, and a compliment to your handiwork. “A friend,” he chuckles, and you believe it.

“I like him already,” Alejandro barks a laugh, before tilting his head to call out to his men, “¡Vaqueros, vayan al muro, entre las torres, ya!”

You can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face, amidst the sheer panic inside of you. It’s easy to fall into the heat of the moment, the camaraderie and community.

As the five of you stop mere feet away from the wall, you see ropes get dropped down by the figure on top, allowing for all of you to ascend. Price tells you all as much, before you're clicking your ascender into place, and being shot up the rope.

You’re just behind Soap and Ghost, watching as two men – you’re assuming the one with the boonie hat is Price – grab their hands and pull them up.

They all greet each other, and it hits you what they are. Who they are.

This is the 141 of every soldier’s nightmares. This is the 141 who Soap’s confirmed is closer than anyone will ever know. This is the 141 that takes down enemies by each other’s sides, forever on each other’s six.

It’s odd, being an outlier, someone watching on from outside of their circle. Like a spectator in a real life motion picture, or a cameraman capturing the essence of a love so deep, no one could tell where it started and ended.

They barely pass a few words amongst each other, before each of them move to help the rest of you up.

It’s the other stranger – a man with tight, dark curls, and electrifying brown eyes, that stretches his hand out for you to take. With one breath to decide, you let your hand fall into place against his, your skin heating from the very first touch.

Time seems to stop, just for a moment, as the two of you make eye contact for the first time.

His eyes. They’re such a deep, earnest brown, and the dimples etched into his cheeks look as if they were made to be admired. He, like Soap, has a light dusting of freckles across the highlights of his face, and if one were to tell you he was carved from stone, you’d believe it.

In reality, this assessment lasts less than a few seconds, before he’s pulling you forward.

But he’s too strong, too fast with it, and you quickly find yourself crashing into his chest, your nose hitting against his collarbone, sending a sharp pain through it.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, love,” he rambles out, quickly placing his large hands on your shoulders and keeping you at arms distance, eyes flickering up and down your frame. And, oh, his voice. It’s like honey against velvet, warm and soft and accented.

“It’s alright,” you manage to say, around the stiffness of your jaw.

He, too, seems at a loss for words, his brows pushing together in confusion. Before either of you can continue your conversation in your small bubble, Soap bursts it with easy charisma.

“Ale, Rudy,” he jerks his head towards the two newest additions to the small group, before looking to you, “Sweetheart.” You can feel your cheeks heat, your knuckles whitening against the strain of fisting your hands. “Meet Captain Price and Sergeant Garrick.”

It’s a true insult to be referred to as such a vitriol-lidden endearment, especially when being introduced to the 141’s Captain. And the man who you can’t quite get a feel of – the one still watching you, now.

“Thanks for the assist. My men need cover fire,” Alejandro yells over the sounds of gunfights and firearms, reloading his rifle as he does so.

There’s a collective, exciting thrum to the air, your body coming alive within it. A rooted, organic part of you instinctively forces your attention to Price, who immediately commands his team; “The lot of you! Overwatch – now!”

It’s a good call, and quickly adjusting a scope onto the head of your rifle, you move to kneel and aim over the small stone wall.

Peeking over it, you manage to shoot a few in an arm or a leg – not fatal wounds. If you were at all thinking, you’d realise it was a self-preservation technique; when your body would finally crash from the adrenaline, the pure agony of killing your men would, maybe, lighten. Just a bit.

You jolt when Price barks a warning, “Vehicles incoming, right side!”

Quickly adjusting your stance, you manage to catch a glimpse of the said vehicle, its body covered in the shadows.

“That vehicle’s rigged –” Ghost calls to your left side, but by his dampened tone, you can tell the words aren’t directed to you, “Soap, detonate it!”

Through the scope of your rifle, between one moment and the next, orange and yellow fill your line of sight; nothing visible but the heart of an explosion. You can’t help your deep, surprised exhale, but the sound of Soap’s manic laughter soothes the tension in your shoulders.

“¡Escalen, Vaqueros! ¡Es su oportunidad!” Alejandro shouts through his comms, at the same time that Ghost calls out their status, “Vehicle destroyed!”

Ghost’s voice is such a deep timbre – all dominance and command, guttural and raw and gravelly. You feel almost guilty, how easily you find yourself clinging to their instructions, even if you outrank them all. Like scotch tape over your cracking porcelain brain, a quick fix; a necessary one, if you don’t want to break on this very cement.

“Shadows in the right side tower, watch your backs!” Price calls, and you instantly pivot to direct your gun to the stone tower to your right, hands assuming the most stable position on your rifle without a single tremble.

Your eyes go wide as you watch Soap storm in, efficiently taking down all of the Shadows within with easy shots and a final slice of his knife.

Minutes pass, then, yelling of orders, Soap landing shots of his grenade launcher, Shadows going down without a single KIA caused by your trigger.

It’s when Alejandro calls out to his soldiers, pushing his tactical glasses up and securing his rifle on his back, “Vamos, avancen rapido- mientras está despejado!!” That you let yourself breathe. In, out, the feel of your chest rising and falling with the sound of destruction all around you.

The rest of the previously captive soldiers rush up the ropes, you extending your hand and pulling up a few, just like the rest of the men on top of the wall.

“We’re good to go, coronel,” Rodolfo turns to report to Alejandro, his expression firm, a thin clinging of sweat shining with the fire of explosions below. A few small cuts decorate his face, one just nicking a mole on his upper cheek.

Alejandro nods, allowing himself a smirk to stretch over his face, before looking to you all with a narrowed gaze. “Let’s get out of here, hermanos y hermana.” You will never admit the small, blooming part of you that craves that kind of inclusion – how he adjusts to your presence in such small ways.

“Down the wall,” Price jerks his chin, wiping a hand over the scruff of his beard as he prepares to exfil, looking behind you all. “We are leaving!”

Your heart stutters in your chest – a sudden, all-consuming thought erupting in your brain like wildfire. If you surrendered – turned, and begged for the Shadows to take you to Graves – would they? Was there any hope of return, of normalcy, a way for you to go back to the life you always knew?

A sudden hand around the nape of your neck has you startling out of your wandering thoughts, your eyes fluttering where they meet near-black ones.

Ghost.

“You know how to get down, dontcha?” He tilts his head, the words coming out deadly soft in the gunfire surrounding you both.

With shaky, unsure movements, you nod.

He squeezes his hold on your scruff tighter, studying you like one would study a germ under a microscope. He leans in – his mask brushing the side of your ear as he seethes, “Then get down, Sweetheart.”

If he knew of your inner struggle, or if it was merely a coincidence, you aren’t sure.

All you know is that he’d just saved you. Intentionally or not – he had rescued you from both the Shadows, and yourself. With a firm nod of your own, you shoulder him off of you, and rappel down the wall.

As soon as your feet hit the muddy ground, you focus in on the exfil vehicles up ahead, the lights no longer shining on you all. Hints of sunrise peak over the horizon, the small bits of hazy orange decorating the men near the vehicle.

Two more footfalls echo behind you, and when you look over your shoulder, it’s to find both Soap and Price.

“These are ours,” Price affirms, pointing to the two vehicles in front of you. When his eyes meet yours, his jaw sets minutely, and you're quick to look away and to the rest of the group.

“Check,” Alejandro nods.

Soap, jogging up to the vehicle, gestures to Rodolfo, “Take the truck we came with,” the man quickly agreeing and rushing back to join his Colonel and men.

“¡Vaqueros, siganme...! ¡Rudy, movamos el rancho!” Yells Alejandro, jerking his head towards the other man, Rodolfo quickly responding, “Sale, Coronel, suerte.”

Adrenaline continues to rush through your veins like a second blood, your muscles loose and ready to react to the smallest snap of a twig. Turning your brain off is second nature, at this point, the rush of unneeded thoughts shut off like a faucet.

Directing Price to follow their lead, you find yourself lost on where to go – Rodolfo was the closest thing you had to a supporter, but at the end of the day, the deal had been made with the 141. Not the Los Vaqueros.

“Gaz, drive!” Price directs, before his steely blue eyes find you, frosting over, allowing you no way of reading his emotion. “You’re with us.”

…There’s your answer, you suppose.

The five of you manage your way into the vehicle, Gaz roughly hopping into the driver’s seat and the other three rushing into the back. Soap’s hand finds its way around your wrist as you go to hop in, pulling you forward roughly.

Elbowing him with a somewhat immature huff, you try and get comfortable, but being squished in with three other six-foot-something bulky men makes the act difficult.

It’s the least of your problems, really, because as soon as you stop your fussing around, all eyes are on you.

“You lot have three seconds to tell me what the hell is goin’ on,” Price grits out from under his breath. Somehow, it comes out a hundred times more terrifying than if he had yelled it.

Two nervous seconds pass, and just when you think that this is finally going to be the end of your road, Soap babbles out, “The lass is with us now. Sir.”

Knees spread, Price runs a tired, weathered hand down his face, letting out a long-suffering breath.

“...Where’s she from? A stray?” He asks, looking to the two – so dismissive, you just can’t help yourself. You’d earned your title, you were worthy of respect, even if it was from the Captain of the 141.

“She’s right here,” you retort, voice hard and unbudging – even when six eyes lock onto you once more. “And she is a Colonel. One who just killed her men because she wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to war crimes. Who just saved the lives of your men, for no reason but her humanity. Is that what you wanted to hear, Captain?”

Visceral, tangible silence fills the metal walls of the vehicle once more.

That is, until a low, impressed whistle from the front breaks it. Gaz. You look into the rearview mirror, meeting his smile-crinkled eyes. “Definitely what I wanted to hear,” he says, a grin on his elegant features, the minute lighting of the horizon cascading his skin is silky pastels.

“...Sweetheart ‘nd Johnny got in a scuffle while we were on the run,” Ghost supplies, eyes darting to yours for a second before focusing in on Price. “She gave him mercy. We agreed to enter a… mutually beneficial agreement.”

“Mutually beneficial?” Soap guffaws, then groans when you elbow him against his injured arm, his head hanging between his shoulders.

Staring down Price, you straighten your spine. “I help you all survive Graves and get the job done. You give me the resources necessary to knock some sense into him.”

Price raises an unimpressed brow, looking at the three of you in a strange sense of exasperated disappointment. “By ‘knock some sense into ‘im’,” he uses air quotes, “We help you kill ‘im?”

That is the biggest question of all.

Could you – would you – kill him? The man who was your everything; boss, provider, family, lover. If it meant protecting the greater good, if it meant sacrificing yourself, would you allow yourself to deliver the final bullet to his brain?

“No,” you manage, voice cracking softly when you look down to where your hands fist against the fabric atop your thighs. “This isn’t him. I don’t know what’s going on, but…” You swallow, finally looking at Price in the eye once more. “I just want things to go back to normal. He’ll come around.”

It’s like you’ve rolled over and bared your throat to the four men, allowing vulnerability in such a trapped space.

“And if there is no saving him?” Price asks, leaning his forearms against his thighs, entwining his hands together as he studies you. “We’re taking ‘im down, but…” Rolling his tongue against the back of his teeth, he considers for a moment, before nodding to himself. “We’ll allow ya to speak to ‘im. If anything goes haywire…”

“You’ll kill him,” you fill in the blanks, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears. They taste wrong on your tongue, the syllables like sour milk.

“He tried to kill us both,” Soap spits out, his right leg bouncing as he looks around the van. “Yer lucky we’re giving ye this much.”

“I could’ve killed you,” you state, the words anything but a lie. They seem to shut him up, at least.

“Save the squabbling for later,” Price cuts in, a direct order to you both. You could, if you wanted to, point out that you were both of equal rank, really, but you decide against it. If you had it your way, you’d have the Captain of Task Force 141 liking your company. “What the hell happened to you, MacTavish?”

MacTavish is certainly a new one – if you had to take a guess, it’d be Soap’s last name.

With a roll of his eyes, Soap jerks his chin to his bandaged upper arm. “Got shot. Through and through. Sweetheart bandaged me up.”

“Where’d that one come from?” Gaz asks from the front, watching through the rearview mirror. “Sweetheart. Got a crush, Johnny boy?”

“Oh feck off,” Soap grumbles, casting a soft glare to the man up front. “Hen gave me those sweetheart lollies when aye was bleedin’ out. Had nothin’ else.”

Gaz hums as if to say that he does not believe that story for a second, and you see all four of them seemingly… relax. Easing, like how one would as they stepped through their front door after a long day at work. Familial and comforting and…

Not for you.

You don’t belong, that voice once again echoes through your ears, and this time, it’s harder to shut it out. It doesn’t matter that you don’t belong, not when you’d be finding your own feet after this bullshit gets sorted out. Really, there wouldn’t even be a reason to see the four men, or the Las Vaqueros, again.

For some reason, your stomach feels uneasy with that thought process.

“We found out somethin’ much more important,” Ghost admits, and the mood immediately settles into something much more cold, much more serious. “Shepherd burned us.”

That name.

It’s like a shot to your system, an invasion of your very being.

Shepherd.

“...General Shepherd?” You mutter out, without a single thought behind the words, your mouth directly connected to your mind.

“Ye know ‘im?” Soap blurts out, brows furrowed and torso turning towards you, hand flexing around the rifle in his lap. Your mouth is dry, your palms are clammy, and your head is pounding.

“He trained me,” you manage, breath tightening and words shaky.

“He was my first Captain.”

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧’, 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧’

It was only meant to be a visit — to get to know them better, learn of their dynamic and learn just how you would fit in. They, however, had other ideas.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 5.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ༄ Fluff, aftercare ჻჻჻ SMUT: Oral (F + M receiving), fingering, protected piv, mutiple orgasms, denied orgasm, dom/sub/switch dynamics ჻჻჻ KINKS: Dirty talk, praise, voyeurism, exhibitionism, degredation, dumbification, objectification

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ༄ Look at those warnings, huh? Yeah, have fun folks. ✌ ༄ A very special thank you to my love, @duckybarnes1917's for your help and encouragement when I pitched this idea to you.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ༄ Eat Your Young by Hozier

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ༄ @sgt-seabass

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ༄ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟰 — First Responder AU — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been only a few days since that encounter at the station.

Embers had settled like lead weights in your stomach, lighting up your nerves with a mere spark – more often than not it was their text tone, or the sound of their honeyed voices on a call that was the culprit and soul cause, and the bastards knew it, too.

Very little deliberation was needed to come to your decision. An inane part of you, perhaps closer to the surface than you cared to admit, nor acknowledge, wanted this. You wanted to be a part of what they were, you wanted to feel the warmth of the love they could give, and… many other things.

Before that thought could dig its claws too deep, the open roller doors of the station came into view, and you took a deep breath as you walked up the driveway. Steve and Bucky had asked you to pop in for a visit, and they had offered to take you home when their shift ended – naturally, you had been apprehensive about just whose home you’d be returning to.

“There she is!” Steve called, making his way down the driveway with Bucky peeking around the doorway with a bright smile. “Hey there, sweetheart,” Steve said, glancing you up and down – and the action didn’t leave your skin crawling as you had felt all too many times before with other men, rather, you felt shy. “How’re you doing?”

“Good– I’m good, Stevie,” you replied, happily accepting his hug.

“Hey! Nuh-uh,” Bucky rushed, jogging over, a full pout on his lips. “My turn.” Steve laughed and let you go, only for you to be swept into Bucky’s arms and off your feet. “She’s mine now, punk,” Bucky called, carrying you as he stalked into the station, ignorant of your breathless laugh and pleas to be let down. “Shouldn’t have let her go.”

“Let me down, Buck,” you laughed, hitting his shoulder with your hand and holding around the back of his neck for dear life with the other. “Please!”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky soothed, and he set you gently down on your feet. “There you go. Now, we’re cutting our shift short because Nat and Peter were gracious enough to come in an hour early.”

“Bless ‘em,” Steve cut in. “So, we can head home, decompress and relax, y’know.” The not-so-subtle wink and sly smirk gracing Steve’s handsome features only caused the inferno to ignite.

Before you could reply, Bucky shoved him towards the locker room. “Get a move on then.”

Steve left with a salute and that left Bucky and you standing beside a parked fire truck. You went to open your mouth to speak, but a quiet yipping noise stalled the cogs in your mind, and you stared at Bucky with wide eyes. “Was that a dog?”

The sheepish shrug and shy smile that grew on his lips made him look so much younger – a boy caught red handed with his hand in the cookie jar. “Yeah… surprise?”

“You have a dog?”

Bucky went to open his mouth when the door leading to the office opened abruptly, and Peter appeared. “Oh, hey! It’s good to see you- whoa!”

You watched in awe as Peter stumbled, pushed to the side by two fast blurs darting out from behind his feet. They were small, but fast and over excited, the exact embodiment of what a puppy–puppies, would be. “You have puppies!”

“Yeah, yeah- Captain, no! Sit,” Bucky commanded, and you watched as the most excited of the two fell back from scrambling up your knees to his back legs in a perfect, fluid movement. You crouched down to be level with the two black and white – Dalmatian – puppies, cooing at them quietly. The smaller and calmer of the two stared up at you through bright blue eyes curiously, a slight tilt to their head.

“Who are these precious babies?” You asked, offering a hand to them so they could sniff. “They’re adorable.”

Bucky groaned as he kneeled down. “‘M gettin’ too old for this shit,” he joked, and you chuckled.

“You’re ageing like a fine wine, Buck,” you replied before you thought better of it, and your eyes widened. Shit, you silently cursed.

“Why thank you, honey,” Bucky purred. Fuck. “Anyway,” he continued, pointing at the larger of the two puppies. “This is Captain, he’s Stevie’s boy.” You cooed at Captain and he whined quietly, wiggling with excitement. “And this,” Bucky pointed at the smaller puppy, a soft smile on his lips and eyes bright with love, “is Cleo. She’s my little girl.”

“I love them so much,” you gushed, not realising how Bucky’s gaze that held so much adoration and softness for his little Cleo, to you. “How old are they?”

“Old enough to be terrors,” Steve said above you and you jumped. “We goin’ home?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, getting to his feet with a huff. “You ready, doll?”

You nodded and scratched behind Captain and Cleo’s ears. “Do they stay here, or-”

“No,” Steve laughed, smiling fondly down at the two puppies. “C’mon guys, home time.” Like a scene from a Disney movie, the two bounding balls of energy ran after Steve as he walked out of the station, presumably towards their car.

The jingling of keys pulled you from the sight of Steve’s broad back and you looked over at Bucky to see him already staring at you, a brow raised and an arrogant smirk plastered on his lips. “Quit ooglin’ my husband, honey,” he said, his voice low. “A fella might get the idea you want him more.”

You had the sense to roll your eyes at his dramatic ways, and he laughed as he slung an arm over your shoulder. His grin was contagious and you couldn’t help but mimic it as he walked you out the door, pointing the set of keys to a huge pick-up truck. “Let’s go home, hey?”

The drive home was sat in comfortable silence, interrupted by bouts of banter and the barking yips of overexcited puppies. Before long, Bucky pulled the truck into the driveway of a modest home reminiscent of a brownstone flat – the yard was small but tidy, and there was a two-car garage attached to the side.

“Alright,” Steve said around a yawn. The puppies in his lap shifted and whined restlessly. “Welcome to our humble abode, sweetheart.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

Bucky made a small noise of contentment and slid out the driver's seat, while you shifted and followed Steve off the bench seat and out the passenger door. The puppies ran onto the yard and jumped over one another, making you giggle at their antics.

You could hear Bucky moving around the front of the truck and you went to look over your shoulder at him, only to jump and gasp in fright as Steve’s hand – callused and warm, grabbed your own and threaded his fingers through yours. “Easy, sweetheart,” Steve cooed, tightening his grip. “C’mon, come inside.”

With little choice, but with no hesitation, you followed Steve as he followed Bucky to the front door of their home. “Captain, Cleo– here,” Bucky called, and the two puppies ran between the gaps and through the doorway. “Bring our girl in, punk,” Bucky goaded, watching Steve as he stood in the doorway, still holding your hand and staring at you with an unreadable expression – Bucky’s voice seemed to wake him from his trance and he pulled you inside.

The fact that Bucky moved to stand right behind you as soon as you walked through the threshold of their home, sent a chill of something up your spine and that pit of embers to become a sparking heap again.

“D’you want something to drink, darlin’?” Steve asked. The endearment made your eyes widen only slightly and you recovered just in time to ask for some water – just.

Captain and Cleo moved to settle on a giant dog bed in the living room beside the open doorway, and Bucky put a hand on your lower back, urging you forward into the cosy room and towards a couch. “Make yourself at home.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, taking a seat between three giant pillows. Opting for comfort in this new environment and in the presence of these two Gods among men, you grabbed one and leant it on your knees, hugging it to your chest.

You watched as Bucky toed off his boots and slipped the suspenders off his shoulders, only he caught you staring and he smirked. “You’re so adorable, honey,” Bucky cooed and you felt hot, the cinders in your stomach igniting into a dull roar. “‘M gonna go get changed, Stevie will be with you in just a second, alright?”

As if Bucky had summoned him, Steve appeared around the corner, wearing sweats and a white tank top with a glass of water in one hand, a mug filled with a steaming liquid in the other. Steve and Bucky smiled at one another, and you watched with your mouth slightly agape as Bucky cupped the back of Steve’s neck roughly and pulled him into a kiss – holy fucking shit, you cursed.

The visual was burnt into your eyelids and you took a deep breath just as they pulled apart, and Bucky departed – though not before he smacked Steve on the ass, the latter only rolling his eyes in response.

“Here you go,” Steve said, offering you the glass of water before falling onto the couch next to you. He groaned loudly and threw his head back over the back of the couch and shuffled his legs so his thighs were spread, and you couldn’t resist the urge to stare at the way his muscles moved and pulled taut to show off that damned jawline. “You stare any longer, sweetheart, and I won’t be able to control myself.”

Dammit, you swore. So much for subtlety.

More to distract yourself, you took a gulp of water and placed the cup down on a coaster on the coffee table. A low huff and whine came from the dog bed next to the couch and you looked over to see Cleo already staring at you sleepily. “Such an adorable baby girl,” you cooed.

“Nope, that’s you, honey,” Bucky said suddenly and you almost squeaked – thankfully you killed the noise in your throat before you could embarrass yourself further. “I know we talk every day at this point,” he continued, flopping down on your other side, and tucking his knee up under his other thigh so he could face you. “But how are you–how have you been feeling?”

It was difficult to discern just what he was asking – was he asking about how you felt about them? About the risque and teasing texts and calls you had more often than not initiated?

“Don’t stress that pretty head of yours, honey, I meant exactly what I asked,” Bucky said quietly, and you felt Steve shift next to you, his interest obviously piqued. “How are you doing? Work, all that shit.”

“Oh,” you breathed, relieved. “I’ve been good, work has been busy–but I’ve been good.”

“We know,” Steve purred, his breath suddenly very hot against your neck. “Because you’re our good girl, aren’t you?”

You blanched. “What the-”

Their laughter broke the tension – deep belly laughs and wide grins, though when you looked at Steve, his grin had something else teasing, wolfish, and you found you liked it.

“I would say I’m sorry,” Steve tried, grinning and flicking his gaze between Bucky and your deer-in-headlights-esque shock. “But I’m really not.”

“You fuckin’ menace, Stevie,” Bucky chuckled. “Leave ‘er alone!”

“What the hell was that?” You demanded, a grin teasing your own lips. In no way were you mad, though you were shocked with the visceral reaction to those simple words had on you – you knew you liked it, but that much?

You were doomed.

“Nothin’, nothin’,” Steve sighed, still grinning, though he eyed you like a wolf who had cornered his prey. The air became thin and you felt Bucky shifting closer – the tension in the room crescendoed and your breath hitched as they fell silent, the heat of their combined gazes almost too much to bear.

“Sweetheart,” Steve started, his voice low, tentative; an unspoken hesitance. “We brought you home to get to know you, and we are going to get to know you, just as you would get to know us, but,” he leant forward and time stopped – Steve was in your space, unyielding and determined to be heard. “Do you want this?”

“This?” You echoed breathlessly, only to end on a gasp when Bucky’s hand moved to your neck – no pressure exerted, no sense of danger, but a promise and an intention that stole your breath completely. You could feel Bucky’s thumb brushing soothingly against the side of your neck, but it only sent your head spinning.

Damn him for listening when you let slip you had enjoyed the thought of his or Steve’s hand around your throat.

“Listen to Stevie, honey,” Bucky said, his tone firm and insistent.

“You call the shots here,” Steve continued, though his gaze flickered from Bucky’s hand to your face. “But, to be honest, I want this–so does Buck, don’t you?”

“More than you can imagine,” Bucky growled. “What d’you say, doll?”

Blood pounded in your ears and you gulped, the movement against his hand made Bucky exhale heavily. “Yeah–Yeah I want this, I want it-”

“You tell us to stop if you need us to,” Steve commanded, watching only you and you met his gaze. “Understood?”

“Understood,” you answered.

The wolves pounced. Bucky tightened his grip on the sides of your neck while his other hand went to your hair, gripping it and pulling gently so your face was tilted up, where Steve claimed your mouth – his kiss was surprisingly soft, gentle from what you had expected.

“Bedroom, now,” Bucky rasped, and Steve pulled back, running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Fuck,” Steve growled, his voice just as raspy as Bucky’s – like your admission and want for this had turned them feral. They pulled you to your feet and you gasped with the rush. “Jump, darlin’,” Steve demanded, and hazy as you felt, you did as you were told; only for the ground to become suddenly very far away. “Atta girl.”

Steve was carrying you – he was carrying you, and Bucky’s hand was insistently groping at Steve’s ass as he carried you down a hallway. “How are you-”

“Firefighter, honey,” Bucky drawled while he kicked the bedroom door shut with his foot. Steve placed you gently down on the bed and stood up, and when Steve moved to shuck down his sweats, Bucky whined, his hands flying forward and gripping Steve’s shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss – teeth and tongue clashing like they were going to consume one another.

Bucky pulled back only far enough to pull down Steve’s sweats, boxers included. “Mine, don’t do my job, Stevie- Fuck,” Bucky breathed, rushing to literally tear at Steve’s tank top with ease.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, and the two turned their heads to look at you – Steve’s expression heightened with a smug smirk, while Bucky looked at you through hooded eyes and a wolfish grin.

“She’s pretty, ain’t she, Stevie?” Bucky said through his teeth, his gaze flashing dangerously. “I wan’ her.”

“Go to her, baby,” Steve ordered. The tone sent your stomach into a fit and the inferno spread like wildfire through your every last nerve – the intensity sending a rush of vertigo and you found yourself reaching out, desperate to touch. “Go on, you don’t stop until she comes, understood?”

Heaven above, you wondered if you could come alone from those words.

“C’mere,” Bucky said, pulling you to your feet. With just as much ease as he had torn–undressed Steve, Bucky left you standing bare for only a solitary second before he pulled you onto the bed with a low, rumbling growl. The pillows were soft under your head and you sighed happily as Bucky settled his boxer-clad hips between your spread thighs. “You alright, honey?”

“I’m great,” you grinned, and Bucky laughed before he surged forward, marking the column of your throat with expert precision until your eyes fluttered closed. “Bucky, please-”

“Please what, sweetheart?” Steve asked, hovering by the head of the bed before he reached over and fisted Bucky’s hair, pulling back harshly. The moan that left Bucky’s lips made your breath stutter. “What do you want? Tell us.”

Bucky moved and tilted his head down, and whether it was a help or a hindrance, his clothed cock rubbed insistently against your clit and you moaned. “Be a good girl for us, honey,” he whispered, and he dropped to his elbows, caging you against him.

“Please, please, I- I need to-”

“You want to come, is that it, darlin’?” Steve pondered. His gaze suddenly pinned Bucky in place, a realisation behind his flickered aggression. “Buck, baby, you didn’t do as you were told.”

Bucky froze before he lowered his head against your neck, mouthing at it while moving his hips against your heat torturously slow. “‘M gettin’ to it, Stevie,” he replied, his breath hot against your neck and suddenly, he started sucking in earnest – the sharp, intense feeling forcing a choked moan from you.

“Get to it faster, then,” Steve admonished. You could sense the eye roll Bucky hid by the curtain of his hair, but he still moved down your body, mouthing at your skin and leaving a trail of heat that culminated between your hips – unbearably so.

You watched, your breath hitching, while Bucky moved your legs either side of his head so your thighs rested on his broad, muscled, and tattooed shoulders. “Oh, god-” You tried, only for your breath to stutter and falter at the first broad lick of Bucky’s tongue against your clit. “Fuck!”

“Go on, baby,” Steve muttered, watching Bucky as he nestled closer. “Fuck her with your tongue.”

The feeling was indescribable – the pull of Bucky’s mouth and the warmth and pressure of his tongue insistently drawing patterns just as pretty as his tattoos on your clit, only to stop and move his tongue down, paying attention to your weeping cunt. You couldn’t hear his groans and moans over the roaring in your ears, though you were grounded by the soft brush of Steve’s fingers down your neck and over your shoulder.

It was short lived.

As Bucky forced his tongue to do as Steve had ordered, Steve lowered his head to suckle at a breast, his hand coming to cup your other breast and flick the hardened nub until you whimpered.

The bed began to squeak and rock and you lifted your head to see Bucky’s hips thrusting desperately against the edge. “Baby, no, you come when she does,” Steve cut in, his tone snappish and commanding. You could have sworn you felt Bucky’s whine through your entire body with how he had sucked your clit into his mouth.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Steve purred, turning to look at you. A harsh suck from Bucky forced a hiccuped moan from your lips and you whined, fisting your hands in Bucky’s hair. “He’s makin’ you feel good, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, oh, fuck- Ah!”

“Oh, sweetheart, lookatchu,” Steve continued, ignorant of your heaving breaths and inability to hear nor compute a damn thing except for the fact Bucky was swirling and suckling at your clit like a man starved. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

“Bucky! Oh, fuck- Fuck!” You cried, startling at the feeling of Bucky’s fingers burying themselves deep in your cunt. “Please!”

Your pleading only spurred Bucky on, and you watched through blurred vision as Steve grinned wickedly, his gaze focused on Bucky's head shaking side to side. “You’re fuckin’ her real good, baby,” Steve breathed, and his gaze snapped towards your pleading expression. “Oh, you’re close, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah!” You cried. “Steve, Steve please-”

“Bucky, baby,” Steve said, still looking at you and you did your best to stare back, to hold his gaze. “Be a good boy for me and make her come, she wants to be your good girl.”

Fire burst through every nerve and your back arched to the ceiling, your mouth opened in a silent scream, and Bucky still did not stop. “That’s it, good girl, there’s a good girl- Fuck,” Steve breathed. Waves and waves of sensations crashed against you, pulling you under, with every brush of Bucky’s fingers and tongue and every suck of his lips. He followed you as you writhed on the bed, drawing out every last second of your climax.

Bucky finally pulled back from between your thighs for breath, his chest heaving while your slick covered his lips and chin. The impish grin that split his face made you twitch and whine breathlessly, though it didn’t deter him from launching up onto the bed to claim your lips in a heated kiss.

“Baby,” Steve rushed, pulling Bucky off you and ignoring his grunt of protest. “Lie back, baby, I want your dick in my mouth.”

The promise made Bucky move almost comically quick and he rested his back against the bed head, thighs spread. “Catch your breath, honey,” Bucky whispered as Steve moved to settle between Bucky’s thighs. “We’re not done with you.”

You watched in daze as Steve pulled Bucky’s boxers down, and you revelled in the groan of pleasure that escaped Bucky as Steve swallowed him to the hilt with no preamble. “Stevie, fuck,” Bucky gasped, fisting Steve’s blond hair and holding him in place. “‘M not gonna last long, baby, fuck.”

A rush of energy pulsed through you and you got to your knees, wobbling only slightly. Bucky watched you through hooded eyes, reaching a hand out and you took it, falling against his side and pulling him into a heated kiss – swallowing his moans and cries. You hissed against his lips as his hand wandered down your back to cup and grope at the globes of your ass – his hands rough but warm.

Bucky’s hips jerked up violently and he cried out, his stomach flexing and you watched in awe as Steve worked faster. “Baby, ‘m gonna come, don’t you dare stop- Fuck!”

“Bucky,” you simpered and his gaze snapped to you – his once bright eyes blackened and eclipsed, so fucking far gone, you mused silently. “Come for me, handsome, c’mon.”

The loud shout that echoed off the walls made you grin dazedly, triumphant at wrecking the man before you like he did you. You watched as Bucky twitched and moaned, writhing weakly against Steve’s incessant sucking, his cheeks still hollowed. “Stevie- please, I can’t,” Bucky gasped, sagging in relief when Steve finally pulled off, grinning that same wicked smile.

That same smile he turned on you. “My turn.”

“Wha-” You tried, though your attempt at being coherent was marred by the fact Bucky had manhandled you into his lap, locking you in place by trapping your arms by your sides and forcing your legs open and keeping them there with his feet. The heat billowing from Bucky burned against your skin, and you wriggled, whining from the feel of his still hard cock resting against your lower back.

“Shh, honey,” Bucky cooed, resting his chin against your shoulder. Despite the rush you found your breathing slowing at his soothing tone. “I’ve gotchu, and Stevie’s gonna fuck you so good you won’t remember your own fuckin’ name, how ‘bout that?”

“Fuck,” you croaked, shivering in his hold. You could feel your cunt clench around nothing and you began to pant, as desperate to get air as you were to finally be filled with Steve’s cock.

“She’s so pretty like this, Buck, fuckin’ hell,” Steve rambled, rooting through a bedside draw before pulling free a foil packet. “Touch her for me.”

“Oh-” You shuddered, your legs jerking against Bucky’s hold as his hand wandered down your stomach.

“Be good for me, honey, my sweet doll, huh?” Bucky breathed and you whimpered. The feel of his fingers trailing so close caused goosebumps to rise in the wake of his fingers, right until they settled between your folds and circled your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve breathed, stopping his rush to just watch. “Speed it up, I think she can come once more– what d’you think, sweetheart?”

“I can’t-”

“You can,” Bucky replied. “Stevie wants to watch you come undone again, and like the good girl you are-” As he spoke, his fingers picked up their speed and you heaved for breath against the onslaught of sensation. “-You’re gonna put on a show for ‘im, aren’t you?”

“Ye-Yeah, ah! I am, I- oh,” you gasped, and with your arms trapped you could only scramble to hold Bucky’s hips, the pillows, the sheets – something, anything to ground yourself.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Steve called, though he sounded underwater – muffled and so far away. “Let go, let go for us.”

You screamed to the ceiling, shaking violently through your second climax that cleaved you like a whip, and Bucky was the only thing holding you together.

“Fuck, if she looks as pretty as she does without our cocks filling her, Stevie,” Bucky mumbled into your hair, soothing the aftershocks with gentle kisses against your temple. “Imagine how she’d look while you’re gonna fuck her.”

Steve groaned loudly in response. “Move, Buck, I need-”

You whined as Bucky slowly lowered you down his front so your hips were canted forward, and your shoulders rested against his middle, just above his stomach. “There you go, doll, easy,” he soothed, pulling your slumped head back against his chest. “You with us, honey?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice hoarse, but you grinned dopily up at them. “Don’ stop, more-”

They laughed heartily – the rumbling in Bucky’s chest soothing something deep in your mind. It was hard to form any string of thought, coherent or not.

“You’re just so fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, and you whined, chasing his lips. “No, I wanna watch you.”

If Bucky hadn’t kept hold of you, you could have sworn you had started to ascend – the stretch of Steve’s cock burned, the pain exactly what you had wanted, and you moaned loudly. “That’s it, honey,” Bucky cooed, moving a hand to squeeze your breast. “Takin’ Stevie so well, fuck.”

“Oh, god,” Steve groaned, bottoming out in your cunt and stilling. The small twitches against your walls made you whimper, though you grinned wickedly up at him, watching his bowed head until he met your gaze. “Sweetheart, what are- Shit!”

You chuckled weakly and you felt Bucky move behind you, his lips nipping at the side of your neck. “You tryin’ to make him come, huh, kitten?”

The name pulled a moan from your lips and Steve gasped, your cunt squeezing him like a vice – the once steady rhythm you had pulsing around him thrown out.

“Do that again, Buck,” Steve breathed. “She’s fuckin’ squeezing me.”

“Aw,” Bucky cooed, and you groaned when Steve started to move – far too fucking slowly. “You want Stevie to fuck you senseless? You want Steve to squirm?”

“Uh-huh,” you replied quietly.

“She’s too fucked out to form words, baby,” Bucky said to Steve, his tone biting and just the perfect amount of mockery. “I want you to fuck her– fuck her just how you want, go on.”

“Not funny, Buck,” Steve gritted out before he thrusted hard enough to jolt you up Bucky’s chest. It was like you weren’t there – a toy for them to use to rile one another up, and you fucking loved it.

“Oh, it is,” Bucky continued, shifting slightly so he could attack the other side of your neck. Your whimpers and moans were completely ignored while Steve thrusted shallowly. “You better fuck our girl senseless, baby, or I’ll have to do it myself. You don’t want that do you? You want her pussy all to yourself, you don’t want to share, do you?”

The words were a catalyst to something – the cogs of Steve’s mind finally clicking into place to reveal the wolfish greed he had harboured from the beginning. His thrusts turned brutal and every rock of his hips punched a moan from your lungs, the quickfire and brutality of each thrust driving you up Bucky’s chest.

“Please-” You gasped, scrabbling to grab hold of something and Bucky’s hip was the only thing you could find purchase on. “Please, oh, fucking- Stevie!”

“That’s it, kitten, scream for him,” Bucky purred before grabbing the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him into a bruising kiss, throwing off his rhythm. You whined loudly and Bucky pulled back, chuckling darkly. “Fuck her, Stevie, make her come.”

A low growl shook Steve’s chest, and it rattled your last sense of control. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rambled, attaching his lips to your neck, the opposite side of where Bucky was marking you with his teeth and tongue. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You clamped down tighter on his cock and your moans grew in pitch, but Steve didn’t falter. “She’s close, Stevie, good boy,” Bucky purred. Steve only moaned, shifting his knees so he could fuck you harder. You could feel Bucky’s hand moving down your stomach and a loud static filled your ears. “You wanna come for him, don’t you, kitten? You wanna be a good girl for us?”

Words failed you. Your mouth opened and closed uselessly as you felt Bucky reach your hip, though he didn’t stop. A full body shudder tore through your limbs and you keened, curling inwards as Bucky’s fingers found your much too sensitive clit with his fingers – all through Bucky’s deft touches, Steve didn’t stop his thrusts, if anything, they got harder, faster, as he chased his release.

“Come for us, honey,” Bucky whispered, his breath hot on the shell of your ear. Steve nodded desperately and whined as the start of your climax trapped him, your cunt sucking him in and not allowing him to leave. “Come for us, kitten- Good girl! Oh, lookatchu! Fuck, that’s a girl, good girl-”

You were drowning in pleasure, you couldn’t breathe – couldn’t feel anything but the deadly throes and sensations of Steve’s cock grinding against that spot and the feeling of Bucky’s breath, hot on your neck.

Slowly, you came to laying on your side, pressed between two bodies.

“There she is– hey, sweetheart,” Steve whispered in your ear. Somehow, he was holding you to his chest and Bucky was laying facing you, his eyes opening quickly at Steve’s words.

“Stevie fucked you a bit too good, honey,” Bucky chuckled, cupping your jaw and sidling closer so he could kiss your forehead. “Are you alright?” As he spoke, Steve rubbed one hand up and down your side as you shivered, squeezing you close with the other.

“‘M fine,” you said. “Wha’ happened?”

“You blacked out, doll,” Bucky explained. “It was only for a little while.”

“Awesome,” you whispered, and Steve and Bucky laughed. “Are you guys okay?”

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” Steve said – you could hear the grin in his words, and Bucky nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “We can talk serious shit later, alright? We wanna hold you a lil’ longer.”

“I would love that,” you hummed happily and snuggled into Steve’s arms, smiling as Bucky moved even closer.

One thing was for sure, today for sure cemented the fact that you had made the right decision – now all you had to do was buckle in for the ride.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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inbabylontheywept · 10 months

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"The reaper had a scythe. I have a combine harvester."

Arlach tapped his fingers nervously. He’d have gladly given up his life for the liberation of his people. A combine harvester (even a deluxe AI driven model) was a pittance compared to that. Still, he didn’t really understand what he was hearing.

“I uh… heard you’re hooking up my strawberry picker to an air defense cannon?”

The human technician assembling the gun held up a hand, finishing up some last tweaking of the wire harness. He touched two wires together carefully and swore when a shower of sparks shot out of the contact.

Set back, but not defeated, the man paused his task to answer the farmer’s question.

“See, you’re looking at this wrong. It’s an AI harvester, and it works great for strawberries, but machines don’t really see ‘strawberries’. They rate strawberry-ness. There’s a lot of ways to manage that, but it looks for a generally pointed shape, some seeds, and that nice red color. So your run of the mill strawberry generally receives an almost perfect strawberry-ness score, but something like this-”

His hands dug through all the pockets of his work suit before they finally found their target. He fished out what had been a standard ferroslug before it was painted bright red and smattered with a handful of black dots. He took a moment to admire it himself before tossing it to the farmer and continuing.

“Well, it’s not a strawberry, but it scores as one. Well enough that the machine gets positive feedback from its alignment unit every time it puts one of these babies where it's supposed to go.”

Arlach stared at him blankly.

“So what, you’re convincing it to fill a cargo container up with painted bullets?”

The technician grinned.

“There's no a limit to how fast it's allowed to fill that container up. At no point did the alignment protocol even consider that it'd be capable of throwing a 'strawberry' at mach nine. And the cargohold is important, but the rocket its attached to is more so. You know what looks a lot like a surface to orbit rocket?"

Arlach’s brain clicked.

“The hypersonic missiles they've been throwing at us.”

The grin widened. Arlach himself felt slightly awed to have found the connection.

“Will it work?”

The human nodded.

“It’s damn near the only thing that can. To shoot down something going that fast, that low, you either need a dummy missile that can brute force outrun it, or enough computing power to hack a station. The alliance is too chickenshit to send over their actual military AI's, but these myopic-type digibrains are supposed to be safe for civilian use because the idea of convincing your tractor that a bullet is a strawberry and a WMD is a cargo loader was a little too creative for the morons over at John Deere Galactic. And if that digibrain just so happens to function near the exoflop level, they're going to have a hard time sneaking anything larger than a bee through this airspace.”

The alien’s hands went over its crest as its mind reeled.

“They're not the only ones who would never think of this. It's brilliant. I never would've considered it.”

The tech shrugged good naturedly and went back to retrieve the two ends of wire that he’d dropped earlier.

“Eh, it's not coming from nowhere. There’s something of a human tradition about using farm equipment for war. I'm just lucky to be part of the next evolution in this. The reaper himself only used a scythe. Now I get to use a combine harvester.”

#hfy #humanity fuck yeah #humans are space oddities #science fiction #scifi #humans are space orcs #big fucking gun #bfg #AI theory #vaguely war in Ukraine inspired #Never pass on a chance to dunk on John Deere #humans are weird #everything can be a gun

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exhuastedpigeon · 2 months

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Buddie Hiatus Fic Recs - Month 5 Sept 16 - Oct 15

my all time favourite buddie fic is on this list. can you guess which one? 😂

0-5k

Morning After by glorious_spoon / @glorious-spoonTeen | 1k The bed is empty when Buck wakes up.

you’re looking like you fell in love tonight by devirnis / @devirnis Gen | 1.1k Eddie is on top of him, clinging to him like a koala bear, snoring softly into Buck’s collarbone.

Buck’s traitorous heart soars in his chest.

Through The Open Window by inkinmyheartandonthepage / @inkinmyheartandonthepageGen | 2.1k At the reception of Maddie and Chimney wedding, Eddie stumbles across a Buckley sibling moment and overhears something he probably wasn't meant to hear just yet.

and i always will by Maira / @carrierofthepaperclips Mature | 2.3k the one where Eddie answers the wrong phone

The Night Shift by Veronae Teen | 2.3k “I think I’m in love with Eddie.” Heart pounding against his breastbone, Eddie gripped the handrail of the staircase so hard his fingers turned numb. Buck. That was Buck’s voice.

and all of my peaches are ruined for you by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Explicit | 4.1k Buck asks to breed Eddie one morning and, well, Eddie isn't going to say no.

5k-10k

reassure me with your praise by honestlydarkprincess / @honestlydarkprincessExplict | 5.3k the one where Buck is concerned he might be bad in bed and Eddie has a solution.

hope is a sword by jeeyuns / @jeeyuns Teen | 5.4k “Did it nick the femoral artery?” Eddie mutters to Chim, hands gentle as he cuts through the fabric of Buck’s turnout pants to get a better look. Buck has a glimmer in his tired eyes as Eddie looks up and catches his gaze. He can hear the bright laughter in his mind as Buck relays a dirty joke about getting into his pants with a twitch of his lips and a scrunch of his nose.

Make So Much Smoke it Sparks a Fire by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels / @letmetellyouaboutmyfeelsExplicit | 7.2k Incubi and succubi are not about sex. They're about lust. Desire. The build up. Driving you so insane that sex is all you can think about, all you want, all you need. Pushing you right over the edge.

Something Dumb to Do by glorious_spoon / @glorious-spoon Explicit | 8.5k Buck and Eddie try something out together.

Hot and Heavy by 42hrb Explicit | 9.4k Five times Eddie had casual sex with someone who wasn't Buck and the time they finally got their shit together

10k-20k

baby, you drive me wild by wikiangela / @wikiangela Explicit | 10.9k Buck and Eddie have car sex on the side of the road.

it still beats steady (this heart i handed you for free) by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Mature | 12.8k “Have you seen Eddie?”

Albert looks up at him, frowning. “Did they not tell you?” he asks, wrinkling his brow. He wipes the back of his hand over his forehead, smearing soot and sweat and wet ash like watercolor paint. “He’s on his way to the hospital. Jonah’s with him.”

It’s Not the Roaring Dream, It’s the Silent Lightning by giselleslash / @gigi-gigi Mature | 15.2k the one where Buck is married to Eddie in a coma dream and he doesn’t want to let the dream go.

20k - 30k

Four Can Keep a Secret by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Teen | 20.1k When Ravi and Hen accidentally see Buck and Eddie, who are trying hard to keep their new relationship a secret, in the middle of a romantic moment, they try to make them confess without the rest of the station finding out. Shenanigans ensue.

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher / @captain-hen Mature | 28.8k eddie confesses his feelings for buck. buck is absolutely, a hundred percent sure that he does not feel the same way.

the universe has different plans.

30k +

Claim Your Ghost by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briarsTeen | 32.k After a near death experience on a call, Eddie starts having strange hallucinations of people who have died. There’s definitely no way he’s seeing ghosts, right? Because Eddie doesn’t believe in ghosts…

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston / @ebjameston Teen | 40.9k The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind.

Even in Winter There is Eranthis by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels / @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels Explicit | 45.4k Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld.

Pick a Star on the Dark Horizon (Follow the Light) by Bob_loblaws_lawblog / @buddierightsExplicit | 57.4k When Eddie learns that he's getting stationed on the other side of the country, he's faced with a reality where Buck isn't a part of his daily life. Neither of them are prepared for a life without the other. Their solution? To get married.

Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15) Month 4 (August 16 - September 15)

#buddie #buddie hiatus fic recs #buddie fic rec #rec list

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itsfairly · 2 months

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Two Negatives Make a Positive // Nanami Kento x f!reader

word count: 2.4k

cw: f!reader, neighbors to lovers, valentine's inspired (not mentioned but that's the main idea), not proofread

summary: dating can be tricky and nanami has confirmed that fact tonight on his date. but as he gets home and sees his neighbor alone by the stairs, he gets the feeling he isn't the only one with a bad night.

notes: i have no notes other than you can tell when things started to flow for him in this one.

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His date wasn’t going well. Not because his date was rude or not interested, but it didn’t feel like a date. Rather than feeling his cheeks hurt from how much he was smiling, Nanami felt he was just being polite rather than smitten. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions so quickly, he thought, maybe as the date went on things would fall into place to meet again.

But things never seem to fall just right. Conversation was bland and when it seemed like it would get better, the moment didn’t seem to last for longer than a few seconds whether because of an interruption or because that was the end of that thread. They couldn’t seem to find their pace, resulting in multiple occasions when they ended up interrupting each other mid-sentence, maybe her sneaking her phone down the table as if to escape the awkwardness of the situation, which only made it worse in his eyes. It was obvious to know that, despite the kind “we should do this again sometime”, they wouldn’t meet each other for a second date.

After walking his date to their car, Nanami sighs, running his fingers through his hair. This one wasn’t as lucky either. Neither was the last, and the one before that, and the one before that…when did dating become so complicated? Even with this many ways to meet other people, the universe didn’t seem to help him much with his cards. Again, it wasn't like the people he met were horrible, they were always polite and even lovely, but it didn’t seem to click with any of them. Nanami was beginning to think that maybe he was looking for a spark that didn’t exist for many people, that he was having too high of expectations and he had to lower them to his dismay.

For now, he just wanted to be alone, maybe have something to get rid of that sad taste in his mouth once he got home. The drive was nothing noteworthy, simply love songs playing on the radio no matter how much he tried to avoid them by changing stations, almost as if the universe decided that mocking him was much more fun than helping him in his predicament. But eventually he gets home, but he also sees you. His neighbor was all dressed up and sitting by the entrance of the building with your phone in your hand.

Of course he knew you, but he had to admit he had to double check to confirm it was you. He just never caught you looking so…elegant like this, you were always rushing out of the building and coming back so exhausted from work that you always kept your appearance simple to make it easier to maintain. Not tonight. Tonight it was obvious that you took the time to impress someone: flowery dress with heels, blush and glossy lips, string earrings that match your necklace, along with a small purse that kept you company on the side. Another thing that was different was your face, not because of the make up but because of your expression. Rather than the bright and confident look that you always wore, you were looking down with a soured expression, letting out a frown as you put your phone down and buried your face in your hands.

While Nanami did know you, it wasn’t anything beyond neighbors. Hello and good evening accompanied by small talk for the sake of being polite, nothing more. But it wasn’t like he could just walk past you when you were obviously distressed. It might not be his place as a guy that happened to live in the same building as you, but he couldn’t ignore that you were alone outside and all dressed up. His mind made two and two together and decided to walk up ahead to you.

“Seems like I’m not the only one ending the night on a bad note.” Nanami said, trying to sound as casual as possible. He didn’t want to seem as if all he wanted was to downplay what you were going through.

You run your hands up through your hair, looking up at Nanami before you. Just like you, he was dressed quite elegantly, his blazer hanging around his arm and revealing the rest of his white shirt and black vest. He always dressed quite professional, being a businessman and all, as well as always looking quite stressed. Tonight though, he seemed let down, just like you did.

“You’re a man, right?” You asked, sounding gloomy. Before he could express his confusion to the question, you continued with, “explain to me why a guy would cancel a date five minutes before it.”

So it was as he thought, he got much luckier than you by not getting stood up by his date like you were. Offering a sympathetic chuckle, he sits down one the stairs with you. Not by your side but on the opposite side of the stairs to you. It was one thing for a date to not work like this, but it was another one to get canceled at the last minute, practically to be denied the chance to know whether or not it would lead to something more. It was a quite immature move to cancel so quickly and out of nowhere, especially when it seemed like you really put a lot of consideration into tonight if you looked like that.

“Do you want a polite answer or my answer?” He asks, bringing his hands together as he rests his elbows on his legs.

“Whichever is more real.” You mumbled.

Nanami sighs, looking up at the night sky as he searches for an answer. He didn’t want to make you feel worse, especially considering that your date’s actions are nowhere near your responsibility, but he knew how it could be so easy to beat yourself up over it if you looked distressed over it.

“Maybe he got cold feet at the last minute, realized that dating isn’t his thing or found someone else. Regardless, if he canceled minutes before your date, they are not worth your time if they disrespect you so quickly.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around your legs and resting your head on your knees, looking straight ahead. Nanami could only hope that his words weren’t too harsh on you, so he decides to add onto his answer to soften whatever blow he might have landed.

“Besides, a man doesn't cancel a date so close to it. Maybe you got lucky avoiding such an immature guy just now.”

You chuckled, the corner of your lips lifting for a second in appreciation. You turn to look at him, your back resting against the stairs rail with a sigh.

“I know it has nothing to do with me or that I did something wrong, it’s just that I was excited for tonight. You know, that giddiness that comes on a date, getting to know each other, and…just hoping for more…”

As your words trail off, the two of you sit in silence, letting those feelings of disappointment come back up for Nanami. Those experiences you described were the ones he felt he was left out of tonight, instead getting brushed to the side at times by getting interrupted or his date focusing on something else other than their date together, as well as hoping for the date to either end or get better rather than wishing more of it. Of course, you probably felt the same as him, deprived of what so many people call the purpose of life. What a joke, he thought. If the purpose of life was to find someone you loved, then why was it so hard for some over others.

It felt weird for this to be his first conversation with you outside of small talk and other neighborly matters, but at the same time there was this odd comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only one feeling robbed of some romance for tonight, someone to share his misery with, even if you two were yet to know each other better.

“Being on the date isn’t easier either,” Nanami broke the silence with a light scoff.

You raise your brow at him, taking a good look up and down before asking, “Is that why you're all dressed up? I mean, you’re always looking very fancy and elegant. It’s just that tonight you looked like you were headed to somewhere nice.”

He chuckled, surprised at the subtle compliment, he doesn't comet much about it. “I did. It just wasn’t the date I was hoping for.”

You softened, your brows pinching together as your shoulders relaxed. “Was it that bad?”

“It wasn’t bad. She didn't do anything outrageous, but it was just uncomfortable. Not because of first date nerves, but because we didn't really click.” Nanami explained, shrugging his shoulders to show that it wasn’t that big of a deal. It wasn’t that things didn’t work out on this particular date that bothered him anyways, it was that things weren't working out for quite some time and it was growing frustrating for him.

You nodded, taking in his words as well as his frustration. It was a different kind of frustration to yours at the moment, but it was the same feeling. You two were still looking for that romance that simply didn’t seem to come to either of you just yet, no matter how hard you tried to find it.

“Seems like dating is hard for the both of us.” You chuckled, resting your head against the railing. “It’s too tricky. Maybe we should start a support group for the romantically challenged."

Nanami chuckles, no, he laughs. It was enough to lift up his spirits after bringing them down. He shrugs, looking at you with a sympathetic smile, “That would mean we would have to find other people to join in.”

“I think people would be embarrassed to even join. You know, between dating apps and all, they would feel like there’s no excuse to complain about being single.”

“Then it can be just the two of us. It seems like we understand each other right now.”

You smile, making Nanami’s mood improve when he sees that smile that you always wear. That smile simply pulls your look together, brighter than the jewelry you’re wearing and softer than the dress around your body. It was strange. He just came out of a nice restaurant, the kind that has a nice dinner with dim lights, and he was having much more fun at the stairs of his building with his neighbor. One moment frustrated that his date didn’t click and the next feeling his lips curl up because of your smile, a smile that was because of him.

It took a second for him to realize that he was smiling much more sincerely before you than he did before his date tonight, a smile that not only reached his cheeks but also his eyes. That his chest was warming up with that feeling he has been seeking for longer than just this evening. That things were clicking.

After a few seconds of silence, he speaks up, his voice softer and tender, “I should’ve said this before, but you look really pretty tonight.”

Your smile softens as your head tilts downwards to look down at your clothes, as if you had forgotten that you had gotten ready for tonight, before looking back up to him, “oh, thank you…you look very nice yourself. Well, you always do, considering that this…” you signal to his clothes up and down with your hand, “...is what you wear on a daily basis. It’s a really good look on you.”

He chuckles, looking downwards for a second as he thinks on what to respond before he realizes he has a blazer on his lap. He looks up at the sky, the moon high on the night with the stars shining all around it, making him remember your smile and the earrings that frame your face nicely. He thinks that sight of you looks just as beautiful as the sky right now…

“Thank you. I wasn’t saying it to be nice though. I meant it and it’s a shame that they canceled and missed out on such a lovely person.” He reaffirms, scooting a bit closer to you.

You hummed, not scooting away from him or pushing him away. In fact, it seemed like your eyes couldn’t drift away from him. Whether it was the moon shining on them or something else, there was a shine to them now. He liked it. He really really liked it.

“Say,” Nanami clears his throat, swallowing his nerves as he looks at you with a hint of shyness now that he realized how much of a reaction he was having at the moment, “since we’re both so dressed up, what if we go out for a drink? To end the night on a better note.”

You chuckled, nodding at his proposal as you extended your hand for him to grab. “Thought you never ask.” You say playfully, your smile reaching your eyes as they squinted slightly.

Nanami chuckles as well, getting up from the stairs and standing in front of you to take your hand. As he lifts you up the stairs, he wraps his blazer around you, meeting a soft “oh” from your lips. When you try to take it off, insisting that he doesn't need to, he shakes his head.

“Please, it’s already late out here and cold. At least until we reach my car.” He insists, tilting his head down towards you to meet your eyes.

You keep your hands on his blazer, pulling it closer to you by the edges of it as you thank him. It was a nice feeling, maybe this is what he meant earlier when he called the guy that stood you up as immature because here he was as his contrast. Nanami wasn’t even your date until a few seconds ago and he was already making you feel all those butterflies in your stomach, that giddiness, that excitement of getting to know him…maybe this was what it meant to go out with a man that knew the kind of relationship he wanted. Secure and upfront, but also tender and considerate.

Opening the door of the car for you, Nanami helps you into the seat and then walks around the car on his own, a genuine smile on his face as he drives off to a café you recommended just now. As he drove, those same love songs from earlier keep playing on the radio, making him thank the universe for letting things play out the way they were supposed to. Now, not only did he know you two would do this again soon, but he also got that spark he has been looking for with you.

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thornedrose44 · 8 months

Text

Lena Luthor: Random Crap Generator

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She liked to think it was a gift from her mother - her final wish or a blessing.

Or maybe even a bizarre recompense from a universe that believed the smallest smidge of magic made up for depriving a girl of her mother. (It was the equivalent of the sun going out and being given a match with the propensity to sputter and die or generate a light unable to cast further than three feet ahead.)

It was still magic - something tangible, individual and beyond understanding - and even in her childish heart, that was so overwhelmed with grief and loneliness, it provided a spark of giddiness and excitement. It made her feel special.

What would it be today?

A lily so she had something to lay on her mother’s coffin.

An umbrella to shield her when she was caught in an unforecasted shower, sat on the curb by the police station waiting for the strange man in fancy clothes to pick her up and take her to her new home.

A chess piece - white knight - to replace the one that Lex had lost when they had moved the board from the living room to the garden for the day, it meant they could play and pretend to ignore the raised voices of Lionel and Lillian.

A pencil to replace the one that snapped in her first lesson on her first day at school.

It was impressive until Lena grew used to it. Learned that there were limitations.

It was never anything substantive or of high value, it had to fit in her hand, had to be small and low value as if whatever this ability was could only pull items from a ninety-nine cent store. She got one item a day. It would be there in her hand when she woke up and then it would vanish when she fell asleep.

(She tested it out, working out what it was linked to - a time or the actual act of sleeping. She stayed up all night, holding tight to the sleep mask she’d had awoken that morning with to see when it would disappear. It remained resolute and real. It wasn’t until she fell asleep in the late morning, eye mask pulled on to block out the bright sunlight that it vanished at some point during her exhaustion-induced nap.)

It was during her teen years - particularly the angsty goth phase she leaned into - that she dubbed her power ‘The Random Crap Generator’ (unsurprisingly the name stuck).

The item didn’t tell her the future but gave some decent hints which, as Lena grew older, was more appreciated than the actual cheap item itself.

The earplugs she woke up to in her hand on her first day at college let her know that the girl next door did not understand that the walls were thin, her moans were loud and pretending that her boyfriend was an effective lover did not actually make it so.

The roll of quarters pre-warned of the washing machine in the shared college house was broken before Jack and Sam yelled for her help in fixing it.

(The condom was particularly embarrassing and made her acutely aware of the most likely outcome of the fancy date that Jack had planned for that evening).

The cuddly brown bear told Lena that Sam’s water would break two weeks earlier than expected.

Most of the time it was harmless or a helpful nudge.

Other times, though, it was a gut punch or an omen that left her on tenterhooks for the whole day.

Lena remembered waking to find bandages in her hand and small alcohol wipes. She’d had injuries before - fencing could get brutal and every engineer has their personal soldering story that keeps them vigilant for all future interactions. But this was different. It was different because she was set to wear a wire that day. It was different because she now knew what her brother was capable of. She couldn’t take the bandages with her, it would have undermined her role - the doting sister who could never imagine her brother causing her harm. She tucked them into her nightstand and later when she made her way home after hours at the police station - the officers already starting to sneer at her despite her crucial help - she’d come home and retrieved the morning supplied medical items and tended to the damage on her wrists from Lex’s too tight handcuffs.

Then there was the day she woke to something small and cold in her hand. She’d rolled it on her fingertips under the quilt, hoping that when she finally pulled it free and studied it that it wouldn’t be what she suspected it was. She kept the bullet with her, tucked into a hidden pocket of her suit. A single bullet without a gun doesn’t attract much attention. When she picked up the gun and found the chamber empty, she didn’t even bother to check that the bullet was the right type. She knew it would be. One shot was all she needed, and then Lex was bleeding out in front of her.

The days following that she awoke to a box of tissues and she worked away her way through them diligently - until she had no tears left to shed and her heart couldn’t break any further.

She ignored the small compact mirror that was in the palm of her hand every morning as she sought revenge and retribution. She threw it in the trash, out a window, ran over it with her car and even destroyed it with a controlled explosive. Regardless, the exact same mirror (cheesy pink casing and slightly chipped in the corner) would appear and Lena belligerently refused to study herself in it - aware of the unfamiliar darkness she would see brewing in her eyes.

(The day after she had reached out to Kara to repair their damaged relationship and return to the light, she awoke to a simple gold star sticker stuck to the palm of her hand - the exact gold star stickers her Mom had given for completing little chores and tasks. She had cried into the pillows until they were damp and her cheeks red and flushed.)

A red, blue and yellow friendship bracelet - fraying on the ends but clearly made with love and care - was clasped tight in a fist when she awoke every morning during Kara’s absence as if to serve as tether or connection until her return.

Xxx

Despite her Random Crap Generator (trademark pending), Lena had still struggled to believe in magic.

(Mostly because if magic was real, what was the point of her entire career and scientific pursuits? If magic was real and could do so many amazing things, why did her mother walk into the sea? Why if there was so much wonder and things beyond what they could merely see, why wasn’t it enough for her mother? Why? Why? Why?)

She didn’t understand her power but she believed that there was an explanation that was simply yet to reveal itself - her main working theory was time travel. A version of herself in the future - who for some reason only had a bucket of bargain items on hand indicating a rather dramatic change in her financial circumstances - sent back ‘useful’ items for each day of her life in the hope to aid her without causing some dramatic paradox.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to say that all again…” Kara requested, crease between her brows so deep it almost looked endless.

“Which part exactly?” Lena frowned as they sat down for breakfast in Kara’s apartment.

“The part where you’ve been magical since a little girl and yet belligerently refused to believe in magic? Or the part where you're only telling me this now?” Kara spluttered, resisting even starting the stack of pancakes in front of her to instead question Lena, which told her this was a ‘serious’ matter.

“I just…” Lena waved a hand and shrugged, “didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“Wha- I- you- Argh!” Kara aggressively stabbed her pancakes and shoved a chunk into her mouth chewing angrily.

Lena sighed, “Look it’s not like it’s…” She hesitated wondering if they were at a stage in their renewed friendship (post-reveal, post-revenge, post-apology, post-Lex, post-sharing-your-super-secret-with-the-whole-world) to nod back to it in a gentle way. “Cool superpowers. It’s a hairband when my one snapped the day before. It’s a chocolate bar when I have low blood sugar. It’s… it’s crap.”

Kara gasped in outrage at the descriptor. “It’s not crap!”

“Kara… Come on.” Lena rolled her eyes.

“My best friend’s magical abilities are not crap.” Kara declared, chin lifted with determination, reaching out with her free hand to squeeze Lena’s forearm - hand remaining there even once the comforting touch had been provided.

(They were doing that more often, reaching out and maintaining contact. It was simple and affectionate, and from afar it would be considered merely friendly but up close? Up close you could see how Lena’s cheeks became rose-tinted, how Kara’s breath caught and how they both snuck glances at one another, their smiles small yet greedy.)

“Regardless,” Lena continued clearing her throat, and trying to ignore the swoop in her stomach, as her voice softened to something apologetic and deeply sincere. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

She hadn’t even really told Kara either, her ability outed itself. She and Kara had had their twice weekly sleepover (Lena didn’t study the ramifications of them having their own drawer and closet space at each other’s places), and upon waking to Kara’s arm slung over her waist and face pressed to her back, Lena found a full pack of pancake mix in her hand which Kara had immediately queried.

It sort of all came tumbling out from there.

“I appreciate that.” Kara acknowledged, lips shiny with syrup as she smiled at Lena.

“Thank you.” Lena nodded.

“But seriously how could you not believe in magic with all that going on?”

Xxx

They started sleeping over at each other’s places more and more. Kara was curious about Lena’s power and had the child-like wonder with each new day’s offering that Lena had lost over the years. Even if Lena couldn’t help but indulge in Kara’s joy, there were other benefits to incentivise her.

Kara would hold her close in bed, pulling her back against her chest, nose sneaking through the locks of her hair to trace the nape of her neck. Lena would press yesterday’s item into Kara’s hand, who always held onto it with the vain hope that if she held it just right it wouldn’t vanish, whilst Lena would keep her right hand held out across the mattress so upon waking whatever had appeared would be instantly visible.

The first morning there was a bright red box with a handle; Lena had handed it over to Kara immediately who giddily turned the handle producing the shrill childish music before popping loudly to reveal a jack-in-the-box.

Lena had never loved her ability more than she did in that moment.

xxx

“Ugh…” Alex groaned, sniffling loudly as she collapsed onto the stool next to Lena.

“Everything okay?” Lena queried, flinching away when Alex sneezed violently into the crook of her arm.

“Sorry,” Alex mumbled, voice nasally, “Esme picked up a cold from school and it's taken me and Kelly out. I’m at least somewhat mobile so I took Tower duty.”

“Sounds like this is for you, then.” Lena said, without really thinking about it, handing over the cold and flu medicine she’d been granted that morning.

“Huh?” Alex frowned, accepting the medicine, “Thanks… did you just have this on you?”

Lena hesitated for a second, “You could say that.”

Alex’s gaze narrowed, “Did Kelly message you to pick this up for me?”

“No, I just had it to hand.”

Alex blinked, “Wait is this… like yours?”

“Mine?” Lena repeated.

“You know…” Alex held out her hand and opened and closed it repeatedly. “Creation magic.”

“Temporary Random Crap Generator.” Lena corrected and confirmed.

“So, if I take this medicine and you go to sleep, would the drug just disappear from my bloodstream?” Alex questioned.

“Not sure, I think it would if I was given a different item upon waking but if I generated the same item, I don’t think so. That’s what happens when I’m ill, I keep getting the medicine until I’m better.” Lena explained.

“Hmph…” Alex replied, eyes watery and cheeks flushed enough to stop her from interrogating further, she shrugged and took her medicine as Lena returned to her work. “Hey… what… what is this branding?”

“Hmm?”

“This look like it's from the nineties?” Alex said, looking utterly perplexed, “Is it like retro or something?”

Lena glanced at the bright colours and blocky design that marked it as older than the sleeker and simpler designs of today. “Uhh… yeah, it must be.”

She’d never really considered the design, whenever she got sick she didn’t go to the pharmacy for over the counter medication, she always awoke with the simple medication she required - anything requiring a prescription was beyond her crap generator abilities. It had never really clicked that the medicine she received was exactly the brands her mother used to stock their medicine cabinet with.

“Hey, I’m tired and for once there is no crime…” Alex began, glancing furtively around - it was just them and Brainy at the tower since Kara was training Nia to help her take point on missions, meaning Kara could step away from the cape for longer periods as required, and J’onn was having a much earned day off.

Lena raised an eyebrow waiting for the follow-up.

“Want to design some experiments for your RCG?” Alex suggested, a sparkle appearing in her eyes - scientific curiosity that wasn’t indulged as often anymore.

“RCG?” Lena questioned as Brainy popped his head into the room, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Did someone say design an experiment?”

“For Lena’s Random Crap Generator powers - RCG.” Alex explained.

Lena rolled her eyes but she couldn’t help but smile, “Sure, why not?”

“YES!” Brainy and Alex both yelled in excitement.

Xxx

They were all from home.

As in her mother’s home. Or more generally from her childhood.

The tissues, the medicine, the sweet treats, the gold stars, even the bullet. (Her mother had kept a gun in the back of her closet, she didn’t think Lena knew but Lena had seen her cleaning it when she couldn’t sleep one night). All of it.

It explained the low cost nature of it all, they’d lived very simply and shopped at the local stores which were always plentiful with their random items and knick-knacks.

They’d spent the day tracing the items, looking up each one to confirm the hypothesis. Kara had come in and stuck close to Lena’s side, hand on the small of her back throughout it all. It wasn’t until they returned home (together as always) that Lena broke.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Kara soothed, effortlessly picking her up and taking her straight to bed to lie down.

“I’m sorry, I don't know why I’m crying.” Lena sobbed, curling into Kara’s chest.

Kara kissed her forehead, “You don’t need to know why. You can just cry.”

Lena took the advice to heart and sobbed until her chest ached and her face felt puffy. She fell asleep cradled in Kara’s arms and when she awoke it was to the teddy she’d had when she was a child held close to her chest.

“You knew I wasn’t okay before I did.” Lena breathed into the still morning air. She knew Kara was already awake - her breathing was an edge to light and her thumb was stroking back and forth on Lena’s stomach to soothe her. Lena turned around to face Kara, the teddy bear held tight in her arms as she met gentle blue eyes.

“Yes.” Kara confirmed, gaze flickering over Lena’s features.

“How?”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t miss it the next time.” Kara replied, volume low as if to create a private bubble that was just their own.

“Miss what?” Lena asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Your sadness. Your hurt.” Kara whispered, “I don’t want you to ever face those things alone again.”

Lena inhaled a shaky breath, hand shyly reaching out to cup Kara’s face, “Kara…”

Kara turned her head and pressed a kiss to the palm of Lena’s hand, her eyes slipping closed as if to fully concentrate on absorbing the contact.

“I didn’t have anything from Krypton for so long.” Kara revealed slowly, head turning back to look at Lena who took the opportunity to trace Kara’s features tenderly with her fingertips - keeping them linked and bound. “My Mother’s necklace was pretty much all I had. Kal-El kept the fortress to himself for a long time as he wanted me to assimilate and the DEO took my pod.

“I had nothing left but memories and they were shaky, and I would weep for every detail lost over time. A rhyme my friends would sing. The ingredient quantities for my Father’s favourite treat. The exact shade of my Mother’s favourite dress. I know material objects aren’t as important as the memories but they can provide comfort. Give solidity to the events. Evidence that they really happened and don’t just live in your head but were real and tangible too.”

“How could they have taken so much from you?” Lena murmured desperately - she was referring to the DEO, to Kal, to the universe. Why did it take, take, take and leave so little in return? Especially from someone like Kara who would give and give and give without thought for herself.

“They took from you too, Lena.” Kara soothed, reaching out to run a hand over the fuzzy fur of Lena’s bear (a bear that Lillian had snatched away from her a week after arriving at the mansion). “When I found my pod in the DEO…” Kara glanced away, jaw working, “I curled up inside it and cried myself to sleep. I never told anyone.”

Lena shuffled closer, noses near touching and air shared. “I didn’t recognise them, I didn’t… make the connection.”

“It was all you knew as a kid, it was normal, it’s only as time has gone by and the items have remained the same that… you could see it.” Kara explained patiently.

“I feel like I forgot her.” Lena admitted, choking back a sob.

“You didn’t.” Kara said.

Lena sniffled, “Do you think…”

“Do I think?” Kara encouraged when Lena broke off.

“Do you think it's my magic or my mother’s?” Lena asked, wanting Kara to make her believe in the impossible once more. To believe that love was more potent than anything in the universe.

“Does it matter?” Kara replied, “Your mother gave you a safe and happy childhood with the smallest of things, and whether she cast the spell or you did… she was the one that showed you how the tiniest of items can provide the greatest of joy. She did that and you’ve carried it on.”

xxx

“Lena, are you alright?” J’onn inquired kindly, slowly approaching her worktop.

Lena looked up, shoulders slumped and a slight shake to her hands that prevented her from assisting with the sensitive work that she had been working on with Brainy to handle their villain of the week - an alien that secreted a burning chemical preventing Kara from getting close without receiving burns that took her an entire day to heal. Lena had been relegated to a computer supporting Alex in tracking the aliens movements.

“I…” Lena began, hands frozen over the keyboard before faltering.

“You need not tell me what is bothering you, I merely wish to make you aware that I am here if you require anything.” J’onn murmured. “Nia is looking out for Kara as well.”

“Is she okay?” Lena queried panickedly, remembering how tightly Kara had hugged her that morning and how she promised everything would work out.

“Of course.” J’onn reassured, “She was noted to be more withdrawn than usual and Nia is keeping watch on her demeanour.”

“Oh… good.” Lena sighed.

J’onn waited a beat, clearly allowing Lena to decide if his presence was still wanted.

“It was a box of tissues.” Lena confessed.

“Your gift?” J’onn checked, moving to take the seat next to Lena - correctly identifying the revelation as an invitation.

Lena nodded.

“Does it always herald something bad?”

Lena bit her lip and nodded once more.

“I see.” J’onn hummed.

“What if something happens to Kara?” Lena asked, feeling small and so childish for even voicing the question.

But J’onn didn’t tsk or even reject the possibility, he merely considered this for a long moment.

“Then we handle it. Together.” J’onn said. It was the simplicity and definitiveness of it that helped, Alex had tried too hard to say everything would be okay, but J’onn accepted the possible future and didn’t turn away from it.

“I feel like I’m waiting for the end of the world.”

“Would you like to hold my hand?” J’onn offered, hand moving to rest on the worktop between them. “Until Kara comes back?”

Lena swallowed thickly before reaching out and clinging tightly to J’onn’s hand.

Later, when Brainy had stabilised the neutralising agent and the alien was safely locked away, not a single scratch on Kara in the fight, Lena was nervously waiting on the balcony for her return - J’onn squeezing her hand once more before leaving her to await Kara’s return.

There was a flash - a flicker in her vision - her hair sent wildly off in every direction and loose bits of clothing (her untucked blouse) billowing in the rush of wind.

“Are you okay? Has anything happened?” Kara questioned, warm hands cradling Lena’s face, blue eyes wide and frantic.

“I-”

“I kept safe, I promise.” Kara rushed on, “I wasn’t stupid, I wouldn’t risk- I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”

“I know, Kara, I know.” Lena replied, hands reaching for Kara’s hips - needing to feel that she was really there with her own hands.

“I won’t let anything terrible happen, okay?” Kara promised desperately.

“It’s okay, it’s okay if it does.” Lena said; Kara blinked jolting in place slightly. Lena’s hands slipped round Kara’s hips to the small of her back, pulling them closer together until there was no space between them. “Because we’ll face it together. El mayarah.”

“El mayarah.” Kara repeated, gaze dropped to Lena’s lips, studying how she said the words of her family intently. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Lena inhaled and then Kara’s lips were pressed to her own, warm and welcome in the cold night air. Kara’s hands moved from Lena’s face, one twisting through her hair guiding her this way and that, and the other to her waist pushing her against the nearest wall. Locking them in.

Kara kissed her with a level of confidence and certainty that revealed how deeply she’d thought about this, had choreographed it for nearly every scenario, adapting it to suit every little bit of knowledge Lena had given her about how she liked to be touched and treated. Her grip was strong but her lips gentle, and Lena couldn’t help but melt.

Every wall and emotional barrier swept away like melted ice with a single sweep of Kara’s tongue.

“Kara,” Lena choked out, needing air.

Kara pulled back immediately, her own lips red and wet, her golden curls tangled and practically debauched. “Lena.. you’re…”

Lena reached up to her cheeks and felt the tracks of the silent, jubilant tears. “Oh.”

“Happy tears?” Kara grinned.

“The happiest.” Lena beamed, arms wrapping around Kara’s neck to pull her back in.

xxx

“Darling, is everything okay?”

“Swell!” Kara replied overly chirpy, her smile that edge too stiff to be one hundred percent true.

“Swell?” Lena giggled, grabbing Kara’s hand on the table and squeezing comfortingly.

“I mean… Great! Good! Fantastic!” Kara corrected enthusiastically. “Does the food taste good?”

“Excellent.” Lena complimented, savouring the taste of the meal Kara had been working on and stressing over all afternoon for their one year anniversary.

“Yeah?” Kara breathed out, the relief obvious in how her shoulders dropped a couple of inches from around her ears.

“Yes.” Lena confirmed leaning over the corner of the table to kiss her girlfriend sweetly. “Thank you so much for cooking. I love how much effort you put into this.” She paused before gathering her courage to add, “It makes me feel special.”

“You are special.” Kara affirmed immediately before sucking in a deep breath - chest expanding. “I was going to wait until dessert but I don’t think I can.”

Lena tilted her head to the side curiously, only to let out a gasp of delight as Kara slipped off her chair and kneeled next to Lena’s, holding Lena’s hand between both of her own.

“Lena,” Kara began, voice warming as she went on, “you are my best friend but you are also so much more than that. You help me to hope and believe when the days are darkest. You inspire me to never give up. You bring me laughter and happiness in thousands of ways I never thought possible for myself. You make everyday feel like a gift with endless possibilities. Best Friend and Girlfriend feel inadequate terms for how much of myself belongs to you, how much of myself wants to be yours. So, Lena Kieran Luthor, will you do me the greatest honour of my entire existence? Will you marry me?”

Lena was already nodding at the start of the speech and the second the question was asked, Lena pushed herself off her chair and into Kara’s arms.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Kara got to her feet, lifting Lena up in the process and twirling them round and round their shared home. She gently placed Lena back onto her own feet and reached into the pocket of the blazer she was wearing.

“Oh no…” Kara muttered, expression turning horror struck, “Oh Rao, no.”

“Kara? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find the ring.” Kara said, shucking off her jacket and turning it upside down as if it was merely tucked away somewhere inside it. “I was so sure it was in my pocket, it must be somewhere.” She dropped the item to the ground, head rotating left and right, x-ray vision inevitably sweeping the area in order to find it, “I’ll be right back, I-”

“Kara, it’s okay.” Lena interjected, laying a hand on her arm, keeping her (hopefully) fiancee in place with the lightest of touches.

Kara wrung her hands, looking utterly disheartened, “No, you should have a ring-”

“I do have one.” Lena replied, pulling a large mood ring off the index finger of her right hand. “I think this is for you. It appeared this morning.”

Kara took it, brow furrowing in amazement, “You had this since this morning?”

“Mmhmm…” Lena hummed, holding out her left hand.

Kara carefully cradled her proffered hand and smoothly slipped the mood ring onto her ring finger. “Have I ever told you how useful your power is?”

Lena beamed, “Everyday.”

#supercorp #supercorp fic

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gardens-light · 9 months

Text

Finding Peace

Taking shelter in an abandoned petrol station, tension builds between you and your family. As blame and arguments raise- not like you didn't feel guilty enough already. You didn't ask for this- any of this! You just wanted to help Optimus. And it's not like the Autobot leader didn't have problems of his own. Being hunted down by humans for reasons yet unknown was bad enough- but ignoring the yearning of his Spark has slowly become problematic. Occasionally shaking his helm attempting to get you out of his processors, trying to convince himself that a 'Sparkmate' was nothing but a romancide idea that the younger bots came up with. Or is it?...

Content: Minor coarse language. Event's take part in Transformers- Age of Extinction. (Leading to major spoilers in Part 4.) Optimus x Human F/Reader. Fluff. (Reader insert.)

Sparkmate Series- Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

"Well... on the bright side." Tessa's voice lowly spoke, while sitting upon a dusty bar. Playing with some fairy lights. "You two have finally met.."

"Where's he from?"

"I told you. He's a driver from Texas."

"Texas?" Cade scoffed at Tessa's words. "Where? Dublin, Texas? Shamrock, Texas? So why does he sound like a leprechaun?"

Shane's brows knitted together, as he leaned against the bar. "You'd get your ass kicked in Ireland for saying that."

"Well we're not in Ireland, Lucky Charms. We're in Texas." Cade's attention turned back onto Tessa. "So he drives? What's that supposed to mean? Like he drives for a living?"

"Yeah... at least he makes a living."

Tessa's words caused Cade to fall silent. His eyes flickering up to you, frowning as you tried to avoid him.

"How old are you?" Cade challenged, approaching Shane.

"Twenty."

"And my daughter is seventeen. So as far as I'm concerned, this can go two ways." Cade leaned on the other side of the bar, glaring at Shane. "One, I punch you in the mouth right here, right now. And you call the police on me."

"Dad!-"

"Or two. I just call the cops on you because this is illegal. She's a minor!"

Steady... Steady... your thoughts wandered, while trying to focus on making a 'house of cards' out of beer coasters.

"We're protected by the 'Romeo and Juliet laws'-"

"We dated for a little while." Tessa explained, cutting Shane off. "I was a sophomore, and he was a senior. It's fine."

"We've got a pre-existing juvenile foundational relationship. Statute 2705-3." Shane took out his wallet, showing Cade the small card stating the law. "We're above board."

Cade sighed, "Romeo and Juliet, huh? Do you know how they ended up?"

Just... one more coaster...

"In love-"

"Dead." Cade turned to you. "And you, Y/N?"

Shit...

An unamused expression fell across your features as the coasters came tumbling down.

"Don't look at me like that, young lady. How long have you known about this?"

Cade rubbed his temples as you silently responded with a small shrug. "Well tell me. Days? Weeks?-"

"Months."

"Months...? And you didn't think that I would of wanted to know about this?-"

"Dad. Tessa is a full grown ass adult." You groaned. "She's capable of learning from a mistake or two."

"I trusted you. Both of you-"

"To what?" Tessa butted in. "Never have fun. Take a risk. Be a normal teenager like you?"

"I am your father, okay!" Cade firmly spoke, turning his attention onto Tessa. "And I've been busting my ass to take care of you and your sister!-"

"Oh so is that why I'm busting a gut trying to juggle two jobs?" You scoffed. "And here I thought, I'm the one who took care of this family."

"Is that what you were doing when you continued working on that damn truck?" Tessa spoke to you. A frown forming upon her lips, "all you had to do was report it.-"

"You know I couldn't do that-"

"And now we're forced into hiding. And my life is over! So 'thank you', Sis. You've taken 'real good' care us-"

"None of this would of happened! If you just kept your fucking mouth shut!-"

"Don't talk to your sister like that!" Cade stepped in.

"Sure Dad. Take her side... you always do."

"Y/N-"

"Look! I get it!" you raised onto your feet. "I know I'm 'the disappointment', 'the let down'-"

"Sweetie, I've never said that-"

Your eyes wandered over your dad's disappointed expression. "You didn't had to..."

---

Sitting upon the petrol stations' roof, the gentle breeze of the cool night air felt refreshing against your skin. Soft chirping of crickets eased your headache, your eyes gazing out into the dark empty road. The sound of small grunts and sighs caught your attention, briefly gazing over your shoulder. Rolling your eyes, once seeing Tessa struggling to climb the ladder with a mug in hand.

"What do you want?" you sighed, turning your attention back onto the road ahead.

"I thought- ouch!- that you could do with a hot drink."

The sound of the metal roofing warping and creaking, under Tessa's feet suddenly felt loud. As she approached you, taking a sit upon the roof's edge, leaving a small gap between you.

"I made your favourite." She kindly spoke, handing you the hot beverage. "I couldn't make it exactly to your liking, but it's the thought that counts. Right?"

Her weak smile faded as you remained silent. Speechlessly accepting the mug from her and holding it in your hands.

"You're not a disappointment." Tessa spoke after a brief hesitation. "For if it wasn't for you, we would of lost our home ages ago."

Tessa bit her lip before continuing, "I... did tell a friend about the truck. B-But I honestly didn't think he would believe me! If I knew- I wouldn't of..."

Your side glance caused her voice to trail off into silence.

"Well... what I'm trying to say... is that I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Sipping the hot beverage, feeling the gentle warmth fill you inside. Tessa followed your gaze, a small smile returning to her lips.

"You're worried about him. Aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yes." Tessa teased. "Like a lovesick girl."

You returned her smile, playfully pushing her away. "Oh shut up. You're talking nonsense, I'm just concerned about him. That's all."

"Uh-huh?" Tessa raised an eyebrow. Seeing a glimpse of you trying to hide a shy smile behind the mug.

"So... What's Dad doing?" you asked, trying to change the subject.

"Playing with some drone that he stole from the one of the guys. Dad's convinced that they would of truly killed us."

Tessa's heart sank as she watched you pull your legs close to your chest, hugging your knees a little while resting your mug against them.

"B-But that's just Dad's crazy thought." Tessa's guilt weighed on her heart a little more. Starting to wish she never said anything.

"Everything would of been fine, if only I watched what I was saying." You buried your head, resting your forehead against your knees and hiding your face. "I-If I didn't panic..."

"Shhh. Shhh." Tessa cooed, closing the gap between you. Placing her arm around your shoulders and resting her head against yours. "It's not your fault. You have a big heart, Y/N. Never be ashamed of that."

She gently pulled away, cupping your tearstained face and making you face her. "You are a rare treasure, and that Transformer better know that."

Finally smiling through your tears, Tessa rested her forehead against yours. The sound of a horn blaring in the distance broke the silence, while bright headlights burned the darkness away. You quickly raised onto your feet, causing Tessa to catch the falling mug while the hot beverage spilled onto the ground below.

You placed both hands against your chest, while gazing at the oncoming truck. Feeling it flutter with joy, as the sound of a faminular engine came to your ears.

Tessa rose onto her feet, giving you one last soft glance before leaving. A knowing smile forming upon her lips. You've got it bad...

Optimus carefully reduced his speed, as he walked out of his altmode. Trying to slow the pulsing rhythm of his spark as he approached you. Being mindful of each step he took, so it didn't appear like he was in a rush to be beside you again.

"Optimus..." your voice was low. Trying to hide the excitement within your tone.

"My deepest sympathies for your home." His soothing tone washed away the doubt and worries, that had been building up inside you. "And for leaving you so promptly. But I had to confirm we weren't followed."

You speechlessly nodded, trying to hold a relaxed expression as your eyes took in the sight of him.

Oh my...

Rust and dirt no longer coated his exterior, instead deep blue metal plates framed his chrome fisque, like pieces of armour. Your heart skipping a beat as your eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail of his broad shoulders and strong biceps.

Red flames danced across the gauntlets, but it was his torso you couldn't look away from. Your cheeks matched the warmth of Optimus' spark, as you gazed at his chest plate. Hands clutching onto your shirt, stopping the urge to reach out and run your fingertips over his toned form. Knowing that your touch wouldn't just stopped at that chromed waist of his.

"Loving the upgrade." Forcing the words out of your mouth, after swallowing your nerves.

Optimus got down on one knee, as you edged a little closer to the side of the roof. His blue optics studied you for a moment.

"You've been crying..."

Something inside him ached a little, as you temporarily turned away from him.

"It's nothing." You assured, brushing the dried tears off your cheeks. "I've just been... a little worried that's all."

"And I admittedly have been concerned about you."

That little sentence erupted butterflies in your stomach. Simply gazing up at him with wondering eyes.

How the stars sparkled in your eyes almost caused Optimus to choke on his own breath. Warmth begun to build beneath his metal plates, as his yearning spark called out for you.

His head tilted slightly as his scanners picked up something. Your body froze as he slightly hesitated before reaching out to you. Optimus' servo curled into a relaxed fist, your eyes peering down at it as he gently placed the knuckle of his index digit under your chin. While his thumb rested against your cheek.

His spark skipped a beat as a loving sigh slipped out of your mouth. Enjoying the cool touch of his metal against your soft skin.

Optimus carefully turned your head from side to side, studying your features. His scanners picking up the bruise that begun to form upon the bridge of your nose.

"That bastard hurt you." The small underlying anger within his tone caught you off guard. "I promise... I'll make him pay for what he's done to you."

"Optimus." You cooed, placing your hand on the back of his servo. Bringing it to the side of your face, resting your head against his digits.

His fans tried to push the warm air out of Optimus' vents, as the heat beneath his plates begun to build. His spark aching with a yearn he could no longer deny.

Closer... The word played on his processors. Causing him to fully kneel against the concrete ground, leaning in a little more.

Your loving eyes met the soft glow of his optics, as his servo slowly trailed down towards your waist. His thumb tracing the curves of your thighs, hips and waist.

The butterflies in your stomach tangled your nerves, your heart fluttering against your chest as a small gasp slipped from your lips. Eyes lingering over his features before closing, as you rested a hand against his chest plate.

As your heart matched the beat of Optimus' spark, syncing in harmony. A beautiful glow enveloped the pair of you, creating a warmth that made you almost forget about the world, as your lips ghosted over one another.

"Mr. Leader of the Free Galaxy is back!" an unknown mechanical voice caused you to quickly jump away from Optimus. "I knew you'd make it! I never doubted."

Crosshairs... Optimus' processors sighed. Trying to hide his disappointed expression as the leader faced his joyful Autobots. The sound of their roaring engines calming, before stepping out of their altmodes.

"We've got your warning." Drift greeted, "we've been waiting."

"Hell yeah! Boom time!" Hound cheered. "We've got the gang back together."

Drift tilted his head to the side, as his blue optics switched between you and Optimus. Smiling to himself as his processors picked up, the afterglow that slowly faded from the pair of you.

Optimus cleared his throat before speaking, "Autobots. The humans have asked us to play by their rules. Well... those rules have just changed."

"Humans, bunch of backstabbing weasels." Hound groaned, causing the ground to shake as he disarmed. Throwing heavy weaponries onto the floor.

"Hound, find your inner compass. Loyalty is nothing but a flower in the winds of fear and temptation."

Hound raised a brow at Drift's wise tone, "what the hell are you saying?"

The blue Autobot smiled, "it's a haiku-"

"Cut the crap! Before I drop a grenade down your throat."

You backed away from the edge of the roof, as Drift unsheathed his swords. "Try it" he challenged, "you'll be dead."

"Oh please do it." Hound taunted. "I wanna see you do it."

"You know what?" Bumblebee's radio buzzed, "it save us so much time."

Optimus gave you an unimpressed expression, as you gazed up at him, raising an eyebrow. A small chuckle left you as he speechlessly gestured to his Autobots. As to say, 'look what I have to put up with.'

"Well raise your hand, if you're thoroughly disenchanted with our little 'Earth vacation.'" Crosshairs spoke, while circling the petrol station. His green optics studying you, "so who's the spy?"

"Whoa! Whoa! Put those things away!" you yelped as Hound and Crosshairs immediately withdraw their guns, and pointing them at you.

"Stop, Hound! Both of you!" Optimus commanded, stepping in front of the building.

Both Autobots gave their leader a puzzled expression, as he continued. "Y/N, risked her life for mine. We owe her..."

Drift gave Bumblebee a playful nudge, discreetly pointing at you and Optimus. While Hound and Crosshairs briefly looked at one another, and turning their attention back onto their leader. Watching him stepping aside, and silently encouraging you to return to the roof's edge.

"Has there been... any sign of the others?" Optimus asked.

"No..." Hound sighed, withdrawing his weapon and settling himself upon the ground. "We're all that's left."

"They're picking us off, one by one!" Crosshairs explained.

"We're the pathetic, dirty foursome." Hound joked, "and you make five."

"Is this our best-case scenario?" Shane's teasing voice questioned you. Your eyes gazed at him, watching the Irishman climb onto the roof. "Autobot witness protection?"

"Hey Lucky Charms." you spoke, placing a hand upon your hips. "You're welcome to leave at anytime."

"Well, for the record, Super Sister. I'm not hiding with you." Shane gestured towards Optimus, "I'm hiding out with that big guy."

Tessa and Cade followed Shane's lead, as the three of them approached your side. All looking at the Autobots and they chatted among themselves.

"Sensei, with your fate unknown Bumblebee has held command." Drift's optics gazed at the yellow scout.

Bee fist bumped the air, while Drift rolled his optics. "Despite his complete and total lack of anything resembling warrior discipline."

An annoyed whirl weeze out of Bumblebee, as his optics narrowed on his comrade.

"He's like a child-"

"This 'child' is about to kick your ass!" Bee's radio buzzed. Landing the first hit against Drift's helm.

"Cage fight." Hound whispered to you, slightly leaning against the petrol stations' roof.

"What's the matter with them?" Tessa lowly asked, reaching out for your hand.

"They're on edge." You briefly explained, allowing her hand to slip into yours. "Who could blame them? They're being hunted."

"Am I the only one who sees through this puppy-dog act of yours?" Drift taunted Bee, while holding him in a headlock. "It's beneath you."

"Yes, I've been waiting for them all to dispatch each other." Crosshairs cheered. His servos gently clapping, "so I could take charge with no trouble at all. Just me. Reporting to me."

"Well, it sure looks like you've been missed." You said to Optimus.

"Autobots, humans are hunting us down. We need to know why."

"Listen..." Cade spoke, stepping towards Optimus. "I don't know why, but I might have an idea about who..."

---

"This drone I stole recorded footage of an Autobot raid." Cade explained.

You placed an affectionate hand upon Optimus' knee, as he sat cross-legged upon the floor. His servo clenching into a fist, as the dragonfly-like drone projected the video footage.

"It's in pieces, but watch what happens here." Cade pointed out, "they ripping them apart."

"That's Leadfoot." Hound spoke, as he placed a part of his helm over his spark. Feeling the saddened energy sink within his chest plates. "Savages."

"And later, this truck comes to haul him off to K.S.I. Kinetic Solutions." Cade continued. "They're creating defenses, aerospace, government contracts. They designed this drone."

"So these government guys are hunting you down, and then passing you of to this K.S.I?" Shane questioned.

"Do you know anything else?" Optimus asked.

"Only that their company headquarters is in Chicago." Cade spoke.

Perhaps... There's a chance of the Autobots being taken there. You thought.

"No way to get inside without a battle." Hound thought out loud.

"What if you had some human help?" everyone looked at you.

"Sweetie, no." Cade protested. "Besides, what are you two partners now?"

"Dad, we're targets now too." You spoke, feeling his worried stare on you. "We need to know why, or we'll never get our lives back."

"Y/N. You have done more than any of us could've asked for." Optimus kindly spoke. "I do not-"

"I'm coming." You gently argued. Seeing Tessa's encouraging smile from the corner of your eye.

"It's going to be dangerous." Drift warned, as he lend towards you.

The blue Autobot stiffed as you placed a comforting hand upon his knee. Giving him a warm smile, "you're important Optimus. Therefore, you're important to me.

A suttle warmth radiated from underneath Drift's metal plates.

"Autobots." Optimus spoke, as he raised onto his feet. "I have sworn to never kill humans."

"Big mistake." Hound mumbled

"But when I find out who's behind this. He's going to die..."

Tag List

@ursamajor17

@crowleysthings

#x reader #fanfic writing #bayverse x reader #transformers x reader #optimus prime x you #optimus prime x reader #f!reader #bayverse transformers #transformers fanfiction #optimus x reader #optimus prime #fanfiction #gardens light

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rawmeknockout · 4 months

Note

pls can I get a lonely cassette!reader being taken in by soundwave???? i need that man carnally and i need to be inside his boobs even more 💥💥💥

The city is burning. It's been on fire for days, the skyline you loved nothing but smoke and ash, and there is no relief in sight. Metal melting into itself and the surroundings, buildings merged together, until it looks like a great beast crying in agony. Fighting to pull itself out from it's own destruction. Your cassette-player is among those trapped under the rubble, squeezed beneath concrete and metal. Perhaps it's fortunate, then, that you know he's dead. You were his only companion, and now you're alone. It gives you comfort knowing he's not the one in your place.

There is no one coming to save you. The Decepticons and Autobots have torn Cybertron apart, your home just collateral among the list of casualties. It had filled you with rage when you saw the way they would cast anything in the way to achieve victory, but your anger is hollow now. You're not even sure you can feel anything at all. All you can think about is where you will find energon next.

There are no more relief stations near you, no more safe encampments that can take you in. All neutral parties, all crisis servants, have been pushed to the very edges of Cybertron where there is still just a bit of energon to mine. It wouldn't matter if you could get to them, anyway. Most have picked their side and will push recruitment if you come looking for aid, ensuring you will be safe if only you will be their fodder.

And you can't leave your home. Even when it is unrecognizable, the bright city lights long since blown out. This is where you want to be, the only place for you. You slowly duck and trudge between buildings, dirt settling in your joints and making the ache of your frame worse. You scan for any sign of energy, a leak of oil even, but it is bare here.

So lost in your HUD, you don't hear the clink of pedes on concrete, the glitching of your processor getting worse and more obstructive by the cycle. You try tapping at settings on your helm, but the static clears minimally. A giant blue mech stands in front of you when your vision clears of errors. You jump back, stumbling over your pedes to stay upright, and lean back to take in the intimidating bot before you.

His face is covered and his visor is red. So red against the white and blue of his paintjob. The blue gleams beautifully under the muffled sunlight, just barely able to break through the ash covering the sky. He must be important, or was. You could have never afforded a polish so uniform and bright. His chest is a window into a docked and rather comfortable looking cassette. You could laugh from how fortuitous this oasis is.

The purple of his insignia almost misses your awareness, but it is an ugly symbol and it hurts your optics to look upon it. You should be angry, but there is nothing. Perhaps this meeting is Primus' mercy, no matter how cold.

The large mech kneels in front of you, his helm still looming above your own, as his servo comes to rub dirt away from your faceplate. You don't shy away, despite the true dirtiness being in his allegiance. It's nice to feel a friendly touch. You eye his tapedeck enviously, like you want to rip the mech out of there and settle in its place. It's a horrible feeling that leaves a pit of shame in your tank. The fear and grief has turned you into an animal hungry for any sign of salvation.

The intimidating mech pulls from his subspace a wrapped packet: energon rations. Meager and half-eaten, it wouldn't be the best you've ever tasted, but you're grateful for the pity. It's hardly two bites before you're done. Despite the quality, it's the sweetest energon that's ever touched your glossa. Lubricant tracks down your cheekplates.

And despite it all, you want to live. A feeling that builds in your chassis and sings in your spark. You want to live, you want to leave this place. You don't care what you have to do. All you want is to tear free of the rubble and rip yourself from the metal melting down around you.

"Inquiry: Free to dock?" You grasp the opportunity with firm servos.

#asks #txt #reader insert #transformers #reader imagine #transformers idw #tf idw #transformers mtmte #tf mtmte #soundwave #tf soundwave #idw soundwave #mtmte soundwave

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capseycartwright · 1 year

Note

If the prompt sparks joy: buddie and where does it hurt?

thank you amy my dear! some vague finale spec because i couldn't help myself

“Where does it hurt?” Buck’s mouth was twisted into a hard line, his brow furrowed as he crouched in front of Eddie. They were waiting for another ambulance – other people were more seriously injured than Eddie, and so he had to wait his turn: that was how it worked at major incidents. Eddie was fine with it, really – Bobby was in an ambulance on his way to LA General, Chimney not far behind, and so he’d patiently wait his turn.

“You know where,” Eddie chided gently. “I told you – I broke a few ribs.”

Buck glared up at him. “When did you get your medical degree?” he snarked.

“When did you?” Eddie couldn’t help but bite back. It had been a long – and terrifying – day and so he couldn’t help it – he was tired, and as much as he appreciated Buck’s fussing, he was in pain, and Buck’s gentle prodding wasn’t helping.

He took one look at Buck’s forlorn face, and immediately felt bad. “Give me a once over,” he offered, and though Buck hesitated, the relief he clearly felt at having been given permission was clear. “See for yourself,” Eddie nudged, and Buck didn’t need more encouragement than that.

Eddie’s turnout coat had long since been discarded, the heavy material weighing down on his already tender body, so Buck didn’t have too many layers to bypass to get to Eddie’s ribs. Gently – so gently, Eddie noted, Buck’s hands feather-light as they skimmed the hem of his t-shirt, gently moving it upwards to give a better view of Eddie’s ribs.

“Definitely broken,” Buck sighed, and Eddie swallowed his ‘I told you so’ – it wasn’t the time. “Where is that ambulance? You could – you could be bleeding internally, you need to get to a hospital.”

“Buck,” Eddie tried, Buck’s attention firmly fixed on Eddie’s ribs. “Buck,” he repeated, his voice gentle, pleading, almost. “Can you look at me please?”

Buck didn’t move.

“Please?” Eddie repeated, and Buck finally moved, lifting his head to look at Eddie, his eyes shining bright with unshed tears. “I’m okay,” he reassured, reaching out with his good arm, his left holding tight to his side in the hopes of holding his broken ribs together. With shaking fingers, Eddie pushed Buck’s matted hair back off his forehead, stomach churning as he realised Buck’s hair was matted with more than just sweat: blood and dust lingering as a reminder of the altogether too close a call they’d just experienced.

“You almost weren’t,” Buck’s lip wobbled, the other man biting the corner of his mouth in an attempt to stop himself from crying. Eddie had never seen Buck like this – not at a scene, at least. Buck was an emotional person, but he was usually stoic until they got in the doors of the hospital, but not today. Today, despite the fact they were surrounded by police, and rescue teams, and far too many people craning to see what disaster was unfolding – staring, as though Eddie’s family hadn’t just faced death all over again and barely survived it.

“But I am,” Eddie rubbed his thumb against Buck’s cheekbone, wishing he had the strength to just pull him closer. He needed Buck close. He’d been far too close to being pancaked in that van, the weight of a fridge crushing against his back. Eddie had wondered if this was it, for a second – that despite how many insane things he’d survived in his thirty-something years on the planet, he’d go getting crushed by a fridge in a bridge collapse – and then Buck was there, sweat pouring down his face as he’d moved the fridge, determined as he and Hen had dragged Eddie free of the van, right before it had been crushed into nothingness.

“I can’t keep almost losing you,” Buck admitted, his voice quiet – as though he didn’t want anyone else to overhear. Eddie understood that – he didn’t want anyone else to overhear either. Ideally, he supposed, this would happen in a private moment – in Eddie’s apartment, maybe, or in a secluded corner of the station – but it was happening now.

That was okay too.

Eddie didn’t mind.

“I can’t promise you that it won’t happen again,” Eddie admitted – because he wasn’t going to lie to Buck, was he? They were past that – past lying to each other, no secrets left between them anymore, not when Buck’s admission hung heavy in the air. “But I’ll always fight to come home to you.”

Buck let out a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against Eddie’s, the gesture a promise of what was to come later – later, after an ambulance ride, and a hospital visit, and a quiet car journey home. “You can’t leave me,” Buck said, eyes squeezed shut. “I wouldn’t survive losing you.”

“You have me,” Eddie promised – because it was the truth of it, really. Buck had always had him – even before Eddie had realised it, even before he had been ready to admit it, Buck had him.

Buck looked at him, eyes shining with words neither of them had said yet. They would come, though. Eddie knew that. “I’m going to find you an ambulance,” he said, pressing a brief kiss to Eddie’s cheek, the gesture feeling juvenile, almost, in light of the seismic shift that had just happened in their relationship.

Or maybe it wasn’t seismic after all, Eddie realised – it was inevitable, actually, their friendship trundling toward love long before either of them had realised the path they had set themselves on.

Eddie watched, as Buck wandered toward the incident commander, his face set back to serious, ‘I’m working’ Buck, determined as he went about finding an ambulance for Eddie.

No.

It wasn’t seismic at all.

It was the sort of inevitability that Eddie hadn’t realised he craved – and maybe he didn’t crave it, and he just craved Buck, and the steady love he so willingly gave Eddie every day.

send me a concern for others prompt

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #prompt fill #mellaithwen

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clockwork-ashes · 1 month

Text

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part VI

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole

Part VII >>

Elain held tightly to Lucien’s arm, her fingers linked with his, her other hand clutching at his wrist. An anchor, his heartbeat a comfort as they were led down the winding halls of the ancient Forest House.

Lucien looked entirely unbothered, hardly troubled now that he was no longer in the presence of his family. Elain asked herself how, considering she very much felt as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her thoughts were foggy, her knees shaking in relief with every one of her steps. Elain wanted to sob.

Lucien’s thumb traced the curve of her knuckle and Elain breathed in deeply to calm her nerves.

It was almost humiliating, being paraded past the Autumn guards stationed at every corner as she clung to Lucien. She had to remind herself that it was expected of mated couples to behave so attached, that she was not amongst human nobles that would judge her for any open affection that was displayed.

Elain briefly wondered what Cora had done in her absence, and whether the other woman had been made aware of the change in their plans. Elain’s thoughts turned quickly, though, to what her sisters would say. Elain was sure that Nesta, more than Feyre, would be furious.

Elain assumed she would have the Inner Circle’s complete support, but she could only guess at their displeasure with how the night had unfolded.

Elain had told a High Lord that she was marrying his son, and she was only just beginning to realise the weight of such a promise. Elain felt her stomach flip, panic starting to creep along her spine.

Just when Elain’s anxiety started to take root, Lucien’s hand gripped hers more tightly. Elain felt as he tried to reassure her through the bond, and her annoyance was enough to redirect her thoughts.

The Forest House was strange and unlike any place she had ever been to. The rough stone walls were a warm grey, closer to the colour of sheep’s wool than to the cool toned rock she had become used to in Night.

Elain was surprised to see all the wooden furniture considering all the torches, flames dancing and sparks falling but never setting anything alight. She walked by a couple elegant fireplaces set into the walls, but she saw no chimneys, no soot or ashes.

Like the roots of an ancient tree, hallways connected and split off into different directions, an unnavigable maze. Elain wondered how anyone was able to find their way around.

One of the guards shoved Lucien towards a flight of stone steps, urging him to turn. Elain frowned when she felt him tense, thinking perhaps he had been offended by the gesture. It was only as a voice rang out beside them that Elain guessed Lucien had scented someone’s presence.

“Your services are no longer needed,” the words were rough, a demand. “I can take the prince and his lady to their shared suite from here.”

Much to Elain’s surprise, the guards obeyed. In the time it took for them to leave, Elain had turned her attention to the new arrival.

The man was handsome, Elain could admit. His short hair a more copper shade of red, his eyes a bright hazel. He was pale, like most of the people she had seen in Autumn, and he looked battle-worn. A slashing scar cut across his throat, just visible above the fabric of his jacket.

Even if Elain had not just been in a room with Beron Vanserra, she would have still been able to see the resemblance between the High Lord and the man who so obviously was another one of his sons. She took a step beck, knocking into Lucien’s side.

The man raised a brow, but other than a passing glance, he paid her no mind. His focus was on Lucien, the torches on the wall flared. Elain wondered if that always happened, if flames simply responded to those in Autumn, a reflection of their emotions.

“Where’s Eris?” He snapped, like he had no patience for either her or Lucien.

Her mate’s shoulders were stiff. “Is the loyal dog looking for its master?” Lucien’s drawl was taunting, as though he was expecting a reaction from his brother. His words were obviously meant to offend.

Elain could feel Lucien’s shock flooding the bond between them when his brother merely shook his head.

“You always did cause so much trouble, Lucien,” he frowned, looking very much like Eris. With a sigh, he angled his chin to the flight of stairs in front of them. “Follow me.”

Not like they had a choice, Elain thought. She could feel as Lucien turned to look at her, to check in, but she stared at his brother as he led them to a pair of thick oak doors. His attempt to comfort her was appreciated, but Elain truly thought she could not look at him without her anxiety once more taking hold. With a wave of his brother’s beringed hand, the doors opened to reveal a cosy space.

The fireplace was already lit, comfortable carpets covered the stone floor, and by the arched window on the room’s other side was a large bed, fit for two. Elain blushed, forgetting for a moment that Lucien and her were to be married, of course their shared suite would have only one bed.

Elain watched as Lucien’s brother waved his hand once again, this time lighting the candles littered on some of the wooden tables and nightstands. “I hope the rooms have been set to your liking. Should you need anything, let one of the guards know.”

Elain spoke for the first time since having left the throne room, “My lady’s maid was with me, I was wondering…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

“I’ll let Eris know,” the Autumn prince offered. “I’m sure he’s thought of everything.” There was no bitterness to his words, only an acknowledgement of his eldest brother’s very thorough planning.

Elain dipped her head in thanks, but he had already begun to leave. Elain looked to Lucien as he watched his brother warily, and he hardly seemed surprised when the other man paused at the room’s threshold.

“Congratulations to the both of you on your engagement,” he said flippantly, over his shoulder. Elain could hear a flicker of doubt in his tone, perhaps a suggestion that he was not entirely convinced by their act. She wondered if Eris had mentioned it to him, if they were close enough to have shared such information.

Elain noticed the irritation that flashed in Lucien’s eye, how the other one whirred. “Thank you, Callum.”

It was clear to Elain that there was bad blood between the brothers, and while she was curious, Elain also knew that it would probably be very rude to ask Lucien about it. She watched as Callum left, glad that she no longer needed to play the role she had given herself.

The doors slammed shut behind the Autumn prince, and Elain promptly let go of Lucien’s hand. She already missed the feeling, but to reach for him would be like an admission of how she so often longed for his touch when he was near. She put distance between them, almost tripping on the edge of the carpet in her rush.

“Gods,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her curls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Lucien’s scent, apples and summer mornings, lingered in the air.

What have I done?

Elain decided that she was a fool for coming to Autumn. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, had been so desperate to save Lucien’s life that she had doomed them both.

When Elain opened her eyes, she saw Lucien flexing his fingers, like the memory of her hand in his was enough to unsettle him. He had dark bruises along his jaw, clenched in what she thought was concern. There were blood stains, brown and aged, along the collar of his white shirt. A smear of dirt was on his temple and Elain could tell he had been treated poorly until she had come.

Lucien was still the loveliest man Elain had ever seen, and she hated herself for believing it.

“How in the hell did Feyre convince you to come for me?” Lucien asked, voice tired, like his own thoughts were weighing him down.

Elain furrowed her brow, frowning at him. “Feyre?” She echoed, incredulous.

At her question Lucien seemed to anger, only for a moment, before he spoke once more. “Rhysand, then, made you do this?”

“No one made me do anything,” Elain hissed, keeping her voice down, remembering how careful Eris was with his words even when they had been alone. “I came for you because I chose to.” She was frustrated, angry that everyone assumed she could not make decisions for herself. It was with great effort that she kept her hands at her sides, that she did not begin pointing at Lucien with an accusing finger.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Confusion and disbelief lingering in his words.

“Because I felt like it,” she snapped, feeling very much like a child. Elain did not share with him that after so much death, so much change in the last few years, she did not think she could bear more. “And you should be thanking me, not questioning my motives.”

Elain watched as he bent ever so slightly at the waist, the smallest of bows. He did not take his eyes off her as he said, “You have my thanks, Elain.”

At the sound of her name falling from Lucien’s lips, Elain took a step towards him, the movement almost involuntary. “You shouldn’t call me that,” the impropriety of it all had Elain blushing, she attempted to tell herself that was why she could feel her heartbeat quicken. “You don’t have the right—”

“I think I do,” Lucien said with a shrug, “considering we’re about to be married.”

It looked like he wanted to say more, but Elain interrupted. “It means nothing,” she was shocked at how snarled the last word was. “Nothing has changed between us,” her words held a finality to them.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, “Not for one moment did I believe otherwise.” He sounded exhausted, Elain noticed.

Briefly, Elain felt guilty for being upset with him.

Lucien shook his head, and as he spoke he did not look at her. “You shouldn’t have come to Autumn.” Elain could not say it with certainty, but she could have sworn fear leaked slowly down their shared bond.

“Next time I’ll let you be killed,” Elain waved her hand dismissively. “What’s done is done, I can hardly tell your father I’ve changed my mind.”

“I think we’re well past that,” Lucien confirmed. The silence between them was awkward, and Elain wished they had separate rooms, despite knowing it was for the best that they were together.

She could feel Lucien’s gaze on her, but Elain was looking at the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. She cleared her throat, “You take the bed.”

Lucien did not argue with her, a testament to how utterly drained he must have been, Elain concluded.

“Thank you, Elain,” he said softly, sincerely.

Elain was left with the impression that Lucien was thanking her for more than just the bed.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #autumn court #vanserra brothers #they finally talk to each other alone #ashes writes sometimes #all you have is your fire

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incorrectmarvelquotesss · 2 months

Text

— flufftober (day 18) —

Warnings: fluff, slight angst

Prompt: Soothing Touch

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

@flufftober || flufftober masterlist

A/N: These are still sitting in my drafts! I will get them out pretty soon. Enjoy!

Bucky’s touch was warm and light, but no one else knew that.

His first reaction to meeting the whole team was to take a large step back and then another, flinching, when Clint tried to shake his hand. Bucky merely shook his head and gave him a polite smile instead. Everyone else nodded in greeting at him, seemingly coming to a silent agreement.

No one was going to come close to him if he didn’t want them to. It was a simple unspoken rule that the team had agreed upon and followed through the next few months. The team kept their distance, including Steve. Even though he was Bucky’s best friend, Bucky still had a tough time letting him get close.

All of this went down the rabbit hole when he met you.

Instant regret had started to fill him when he stepped into that bookstore and noticed that it was not empty. Instead a large crowd of people surrounded the seating area, kids scattered on the floor while listening to the story you were reading. If, maybe, he had looked up at the bright neon sign hung on the display, he would have known about the story time that was being hosted.

He swallowed down the urge to run out and started making his way through the crowds to the back of the store. Later, once the crowd had dissipated and the children had left, you found him sitting in the armchair stationed in the corner of the store, engrossed in the first book of Lord of the Rings. Not wanting to disturb him just then, you went about minding your own business.

Then, when the clock struck nine, you trailed back to the corner and saw that he was almost finished the book. You bit down your sigh and cleared your throat. The conversation flowed easily after the first few words. Bucky found himself going back to the store and soon he was helping you put the books on the shelves.

Fingers grazed each other, his skin sparking with every little touch. His hand would dart away, only for him to soon feel like he was missing something. Something vitally important to him. If he thought about it for too long, he would catch himself staring at you, as if you were the answer. And so his hand would carefully move back to yours, letting your fingers caress every now and then.

Warm and light touches.

“Y/N,” he would tell Steve when he got back at half past one in the late nights or at three in the early mornings. Steve would merely shake his head with a little smile and sigh, pat his shoulder.

When he walked past Bucky, he would whispered, “Tell her soon.”

Bucky would tell you soon. Sooner than he would mean too, but, for now, he let your touch soothe his nerves.

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nayziiz · 3 days

Text

Speed | CS55

Summary: In a chance encounter at a gas station, a mysterious woman on a Yamaha YZF R6 catches the attention of Carlos, a charming Ferrari driver. Little did they know the journey they would both go on.

Warning: Smut, fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Lola)

Masterlist

Chapter 6

As Lola stood in the dimly lit garage, the memories of their journey back home seemed hazy and distant, lost in the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed her from the moment they arrived. She couldn't recall the details of their ride back or how they had ended up in the garage, but one thing was clear: she loved every moment of it.

The rush of adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Lola felt a sense of exhilaration as Carlos pressed her against the shelves, his lips meeting hers with a fervour that set her heart ablaze. In that moment, all thoughts of restraint and caution melted away, replaced by an overwhelming desire to lose herself in the passion of the moment.

Their kisses were hungry and urgent, fueled by a raw intensity that left Lola breathless with anticipation. She tangled her fingers in Carlos's hair, pulling him closer as she surrendered to the heady rush of desire that coursed through her veins.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

With the lingering taste of passion still on their lips, Lola broke the kiss and intertwined her fingers with Carlos's, a silent invitation passing between them. Without a word, she led him through the familiar halls of her house, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the windows casting a gentle glow over their path.

As they ascended the staircase to the first floor, Lola's heart raced with anticipation, her pulse quickening with each step they took. In the quiet stillness of the night, the air was charged with electricity, every touch and glance between them sparking a fire that burned hot and bright.

Finally, they reached Lola's bedroom, the door standing open like a beacon of possibility. With a small smile, Lola stepped inside, pulling Carlos along behind her. The room was bathed in darkness, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon peeking through the curtains.

In the quiet intimacy of the space, Lola turned to face Carlos, her eyes shining with desire as she reached out to trace the contours of his face. Without a word, she drew him closer, her lips meeting his in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of the passion that burned between them.

Despite Lola's usual cautious nature, there was something undeniably alluring about Carlos that stirred a fire within her. His charm, his passion, his genuine warmth—it was as if he had cast a spell over her, drawing her in with an irresistible magnetism that she found impossible to resist.

And Carlos, too, was not one to easily succumb to the allure of physical intimacy. He was a man of honour and integrity, a man who valued connection and intimacy above all else. But there was something about Lola that captivated him from the moment they met, something that stirred a longing deep within him that he could not ignore.

As they stood together in the quiet intimacy of Lola's bedroom, their hearts pounding with desire, they both knew that this moment was different. It was not just about physical attraction or fleeting passion—it was about connection, about the deep and profound bond that had formed between them in such a short amount of time.

With a shared glance and a silent understanding, Lola and Carlos surrendered to the irresistible pull of their desire, their bodies moving together in a dance of passion and longing. In that moment, there were no doubts or fears, no hesitations or reservations.

With a tender touch, Carlos guided Lola to the bed, his movements gentle and reverent as he laid her down with care. As she settled onto the soft mattress, he hovered over her, his eyes filled with adoration as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

Leaning down, Carlos pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, his touch gentle yet passionate. There was a tenderness in his actions, a deep sense of affection and respect that spoke volumes of his feelings for her.

As their lips parted, Carlos's gaze lingered on Lola's rose-tinted face. With a soft smile, he reached down to help her remove her boots, his touch light and careful as he untied the laces and slipped them off her feet.

With a determined resolve, Carlos knew he needed to take his time. This moment was not just about physical pleasure; it was about savouring every precious second with Lola, about exploring the depths of their connection and revelling in the beauty of their shared intimacy.

As Lola rested on her elbows, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of desire and anticipation, Carlos felt a surge of warmth flood his chest. With each step he took towards her, he felt the weight of responsibility and reverence for the moment they were about to share.

Gently, he pulled Lola's shirt over her head, his fingers moving with deliberate care as he revealed the soft curves of her body beneath the fabric. He revelled in the sight of her, his heart swelling with admiration for the woman before him.

As he slid the shirt from her arms, Carlos couldn't help but marvel at the sight of her, her skin glowing in the soft light of the room. With each article of clothing he removed, he felt himself falling deeper and deeper under her spell, his desire for her burning hotter with each passing moment.

With a tender touch, he reached for the button of her jeans, his fingers lingering over the fabric as he savoured the moment. Slowly, he began to slide the article of clothing down her legs, his movements careful and deliberate as he revealed the beauty of her body to him.

In that moment, as he stood before her, Lola laid bare and vulnerable beneath his gaze, Carlos felt a sense of awe wash over him.

With a tender gaze, Carlos hovered over Lola, his weight supported on his forearm as he drank in the sight of her beneath him. The soft glow of the moonlight bathed her in an ethereal radiance, casting a halo around her that made her look like a goddess.

Leaning down, Carlos pressed his lips to hers once more, the kiss tender and sweet as he poured his desire into each caress. His heart swelled with affection as he felt the warmth of her hands trailing up his sides, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

As Lola's hands found their way into his hair, Carlos felt a surge of electricity shoot through him, igniting a fire in his veins that burned hotter with each passing moment. With a soft groan of pleasure, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against hers with a hunger that mirrored her own.

Feeling the delicious anticipation building between them, Lola began to unbutton his shirt with deliberate slowness, her movements tantalising and teasing as she revealed the strong lines of his chest beneath the fabric. With each button undone, Carlos felt a jolt of desire shoot through him, his breath catching in his throat as he surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure of her touch.

As Lola's fingers danced over his skin, Carlos let out a low growl of satisfaction, his hands moving to caress her body with a reverence that bordered on worship. With a sense of urgency tinged with reverence, Carlos perched himself up on his knees, his gaze locked on Lola with a hunger that mirrored her own. As she reached for his belt, her fingers trembled with anticipation.

With trembling hands, Lola helped him unbuckle his belt, her touch sending sparks of electricity shooting through him as she slowly loosened the fabric that held his chinos in place. With a soft groan of pleasure, Carlos leaned into her touch, his heart pounding in his chest as he surrendered himself completely to the intoxicating pleasure of her touch.

As the chinos fell from his hips, pooling at his feet, Carlos felt a rush of heat flood through him, his skin flushed with desire as he stood before her completely exposed. With a hungry gaze, Lola drank in the sight of him, her eyes roaming over his body with a hunger that matched his own.

With a hunger that could not be quenched, Carlos pulled Lola against him, their bodies melding together in a tangle of limbs and desire as they sank to their knees. Skin-to-skin, they pressed against each other, their hearts beating in perfect synchrony as they surrendered themselves completely to the intoxicating pleasure of their love.

With tender care, Carlos gently laid Lola back on the soft sheets, his movements slow and deliberate as he traced delicate kisses across her body. With each caress of his lips, Lola felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, her fingers tangling in his jet black hair as she surrendered herself completely to the sweet ecstasy of his touch.

With feather-light kisses, Carlos trailed his lips along the curve of Lola's neck, his breath warm against her skin as he revelled in the intoxicating scent of her. With each tender press of his lips, he elicited soft sighs of pleasure from her lips, sending shivers of delight coursing through her veins. Moving lower, Carlos pressed his lips to Lola's collarbone, his touch gentle and reverent as he worshipped every inch of her.

Carlos released himself from his briefs and pushed aside Lola's panties. There were no words, no thoughts—only the overwhelming rush of passion and longing that consumed them completely. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each touch and caress sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through them. With each kiss, each stroke, they surrendered themselves to the sweet ecstasy, lost in a haze of lust and desire that left them breathless.

With their fingers intertwined, Carlos and Lola moved together in perfect synchrony, their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace that sent waves of pleasure crashing over them. With each thrust, Carlos felt a surge of ecstasy coursing through him, his breath catching in his throat as he lost himself in the intoxicating rhythm of their lovemaking.

Lola's eyes were shut, a blissful smile playing at the corners of her lips as she surrendered herself completely to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed her. Her hips moved in perfect harmony with Carlos's, matching his every stroke with a hunger and passion that left them both gasping for breath.

And as they finally succumbed to the sweet release of their passion, their cries of ecstasy echoing through the room, they knew that they had found something truly special.

After their bodies were spent from the intensity of their lovemaking, Carlos didn't leave. Instead, he collapsed beside Lola, pulling her into his warm embrace as they lay entwined in each other's arms. With a contented sigh, Lola nestled against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder as they drifted off to sleep together.

In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, they lay wrapped in each other's warmth, the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests synchronised in perfect harmony. With each breath, they seemed to draw closer together, as if their souls were merging into one.

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

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @notyouraveragemochii @heyheyheyggg

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stxr-slut · 1 month

Note

Hi!! I saw your post about Finnick reqs so here I am :)

Could you do one where Finnick’s girl gives him a sweater she made for him? Like so casually lol (my oc is from district 8 teehee) and he’s just like so sweet and happy about it and maybe even ;)

lol sorry if this is dumb

My best friend is also a district 8 girlie so I'm happy to provide representation !! (although she isn't as much of a fan of finnick, sigh)

With you and finnick living in different districts, you didn't see each other much. You guys mostly just met up when you were both in the capitol, but finnicks schedule was so packed most days thar you barely got any time together.

So when he told you he'd landed a modeling gig that would take him on a tour of panem you were thrilled.

When he got to District 8, you couldn't meet him at the train station. It would spark rumours, and neither of you really wanted to go public. So you decided to meet up at a hotel later that night.

"Oh! I forgot, I made you something." You remember, pulling a box out of your luggage. You passed it to him and he excitedly unwrapped the pretty bow tied around it, lifting the lid. A bright smile lit up his already angelic features.

You two spent the rest of the night curled up in bed, enjoying each other company and bodies- and by the time you woke up in the morning he was gone. It hurt but you knew why he had to do it. Plus the fact that he ordered your favourite breakfast as room service for you was sweet.

You went to watch his show that day, just wanting to see him one last time before he went to the next district. You wanted to scream when he walked out onto the runway, looking so so pretty.

You were busy admiring his face, that was until you noticed that the jumper he was wearing with his look was the one that you made him. It made your stomach do flips..

Hope this is alright, enjoy lovlies !! ☆▪︎☆

#finnick #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #thg #district 8 #fluff

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seokjinsonlyone · 1 year

Text

build a bridge

pairing: yoongi x f! reader

summary: “God, sometimes I’m happy when you go off on me because at least then I know what you’re thinking.”

genre: co-parents to lovers; angst; fluff

rating: pg

warnings: brief mention of general/postpartum depression other than that it’s just the fact that yoongi’s a DAD!!!! CERTIFIED DILF!!!!!!

wc: 3.2k

You heard a muffled, “Guess who’s here?” then the sound of small footsteps pattering towards the door. After a few more seconds of shuffling it opened and your daughter all but flung herself on you.

“Mama!”

“Luna!” You opened your arms wide, expecting the tackle she always greets you with when you pick her up from her father’s. You pepper kisses all across her cheeks, heart melting at the way she giggles in your embrace. “Hey, baby. Did you have a good time with daddy?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around your neck, snuggling into you further.

“I missed you.”

She pulled back, lightly grasping your cheeks and pressing her own mildly slobbery kisses to your face. “I missed you.”

Before you could get overly emotional, her father cleared his throat reminding you two that you weren’t alone. You plastered a fake smile on your lips. “Hey Yoongi.”

He nodded back at you, lips pressed in a straight line.

“Do you have her stuff ready to go?”

“Uhhh… just about. Time got away from us a little bit. You want to step inside while I finish packing her up?” he asked, gesturing for you to come in.

You couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips as you entered his house. You don’t understand why he couldn’t just have her things ready to go. Whenever it was his turn to pick her up, you always had everything ready and waiting for him. Your goodbyes may have been a little long and drawn out, but once he was able to pry you two apart it was quick and easy. “Luna, baby, why don’t you show me some of your toys while daddy gets the rest of your stuff?” you suggested, setting her down and letting her guide you into the living room.

Her eyes lit up at the request, light bulb going off in her little toddler brain, rushing to the corner to find whatever item your statement sparked.

It was then that you noticed her outfit. You rolled your eyes at the shirt he donned your daughter in—bright pink, with sparkly gold lettering reading “Daddy’s Little Girl.” It was gaudy and definitely not something you bought for her, but she looked cute anyway. She always did. She had half of your DNA, why wouldn’t she? You shook it off. You know he only did things like that to get under your skin, as if he needed to put in any extra effort for that.

Your eyes roamed around the room, inspecting the interior. A nice sleek, modern yet homey design only interrupted by the sight of dolls and cars spread over the floor. He had good taste. You paused looking over the mantle where he had a few photos displayed. Your eyebrows shot to your forehead, realizing that the one stationed in the very middle was of you and your daughter from when she was about two months old and just started smiling. Your lips were pressed to her cheek and she had a big, toothless baby grin that was nearly identical to your own spread across her face. You knew the photo well seeing as it’d been your lockscreen pretty much ever since he snapped it.

Your inspection was cut short by your daughter calling out to you. “Look at my tabby, mama!”

“Huh?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. Your daughter’s speech was pretty good. And what she lacked in vocabulary and pronunciation you usually made up for on account of you being fluent in Luna, but you’d never heard her speak of a ‘tabby’ before. All confusion was cleared up, however, when you turned around and saw the tablet in her hands. You were already irritated, but now you were pissed.

“My tabby.”

“Oh wow,” you said, feigning enthusiasm. “When’d you get this?”

“Daddy got it for me,” she replied. That didn’t really answer the question, but you didn’t think she would. As a three year old, her concept of time was all but nonexistent. He must’ve just gotten it for her, though or you would’ve heard about it long ago. One thing your child did was talk. She began flipping through the apps, showing you each one, and you wanted to give her your full attention. You really did, but inside you were seething.

Yoongi came out holding both of her bags just in time to feel your wrath. You stood abruptly cutting Luna off. “Really, Yoongi? A tablet?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You know I didn’t want her having one of these. Not at this age.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” you snapped back. “You know what? Never mind,” You snatched her bags from his hand ready to just leave. You could feel yourself getting worked up by the second and you did not want to traumatize your child by having her watch her parents argue in front of her. “Come on, Luna. Put that down, it's time to go.”

“I bring my tabby with me.”

You stooped down to her level. “No. You’re leaving it here. Go put it back. It’s time to go home.”

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes as hers filled with tears and soon after she burst into sobs. You counted to five in your head, willing yourself to exercise the last bit of patience you had. “Miss Luna,” you said sternly, forcing her attention to you. “We’ve talked about this. Babies cry because they don’t know how to talk. But, you know how to talk. Are you a baby or a big girl?”

“A- a big girl,” she sniffled, sobs dying down a bit.

“Okay. So you need to calm down. Come on. Take some deep breaths with me. In,” you inhaled deeply, “and out,” you exhaled. You did it a few more times, Luna following suit until she was calm again. You wiped the tears from under her eyes. “Now talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I want my tabby,” she pouted, looking like she was about to get teary again.

“You know that you have some toys that stay at mama’s house and some toys that stay at daddy’s house. The tablet stays at daddy’s house. You can’t bring it with you.”

“It’s fine. Just let her take it,” Yoongi piped up.

You turned to him with fire in your eyes. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” He sighed, slumping his way to the area, while you brought your attention back to your child. “Luna. Go put your dolls and your cars back where they belong, then you can play with the tablet until mama finishes talking to daddy, okay?”

She nodded, happy to have reached some sort of middle ground, and did as you said, and you all but stomped into the kitchen. “I hate it when you do that,” you fired immediately.

He rubbed his hand down his face, looking like he was already over it. “What did I do now?”

“Yoongi,” you stressed, “I’m sitting over here telling her that she can’t bring it with her, and then you telling her that she can. How does that make me look? Who is she supposed to decide who to listen to? What are you gonna do when she doesn’t listen to either one of us? Stop undermining my authority.”

“I’m not trying to undermine your authority, but you’re making a big deal out of nothing. I don’t see why you’re so against the tablet in the first place.”

“She’s only three, Yoongi! What does she need to be on the internet for? There is so much out there that she absolutely does not need to be exposed to. And on top of that she doesn’t need the constant stimulation. You know she already has a predisposition to ADHD. Do you even monitor her when she’s using it?”

“She’s only three, __! Of course I monitor her. And for the record. I hate when you do that.”

“Me?” You pointed back at yourself, raising your eyebrows incredulously. “What did I do?”

He leaned back against the cabinets and ran his hand through his hair, trying to maintain his calm exterior but you’ve obviously ticked him off. “You bottle everything up! I know that in your head Luna is just your daughter, but I’m sorry she’s not! She’s mine, too. I’ve mentioned getting her one of those things several times, and the only thing you’ve ever said was ‘I don’t think that’s a great idea,’ and then you would switch subjects. I respect you as her mother, but I’m not just going to blindly accept everything you say. How was I supposed to know you felt this way about it if you never told me? I can’t read your mind, __. And, you always do this. God, sometimes I’m happy when you go off on me because at least then I know what you’re thinking.”

The anger dissipated from your body with every sentence he spoke and by the time he finished speaking, your lips began to wobble. Yoongi watched as your eyes slowly filled with tears and the only thing he could think of before they broke loose was how eerily similar to your daughter you looked. The same expression having crossed her face not ten minutes ago. He sighed, pulling you into his chest much in the same manner that he would do her as well.

You allowed yourself the comfort of his touch for all of thirty seconds before stepping back and wiping at your eyes, ridding them of the few tears that slipped out. You turned around peeking past the wall, making sure your daughter was still occupied. She was. Dolls successfully put away as you told her, while she sat tapping away on the tablet.

Unfortunately there weren’t many other things you could do to stall for time. You had no other option but to turn around and face the truth. “You’re right,” you conceded, ripping the band aid off. You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t want to argue with him, but you were just so passionate about anything concerning your daughter that you let your emotions get the best of you more often than not.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, and I’m not just trying to win an argument, you know?”

You nodded, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, even though you didn’t know, not really.

“Can we sit?”

You nodded again, taking the seat adjacent to him.

“___, you know I don’t do things to intentionally piss you off, right?”

“Except when you put her in shirts that say ‘Daddy’s Little Girl,’” you pointed out, trying to lighten the mood. You hadn’t had a heart to heart with him in god knows how long. Hadn’t been in this proximity to him in even longer.

He rolled his eyes in return. “Well, yeah. That’s like the one thing. I like the way your eye twitches whenever you notice it.”

You breathed out a laugh. “My eye does not twitch.”

“It does. Your eye twitches, you stare for like two minutes, then give me one of those exasperated sighs. But, that’s not what we’re talking about. I’m being serious.”

“Look,” you exhaled shakily, “I’m sorry for snapping at you and for not communicating effectively. I–“

“I already told you I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I just– I really hate the way our relationship is now. When Luna was first born, we agreed that we would do this together. Now I feel like I can’t even talk to you anymore. The only reason I even got her the thing was because I felt bad for her.”

“Why?”

“She was, like, inconsolable a couple days ago because she wanted you so bad. Poor thing cried herself to sleep and everything. The next day she was still sad, so I took her to the store, and we picked it out. That was the only thing that got her to stop crying over you.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve came and gotten her.”

“I didn’t want my time cut short, and I didn’t want you to think that I couldn’t handle her,” he admitted softly. “I want you to trust me with her.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Yoongi,” you called with your stern voice and waited until he made eye contact with you. “You’re her father. Of course I trust you with her. If I didn’t, I would’ve taken you to court and you’d be seeing her every other weekend at best. I know I can be overbearing, but it’s only because I’m scared,” you replied, slipping out a confession of your own.

He reached out, covering your hand with his own. “Scared of what?”

“Everything? I’ve spent the last three years terrified. She’s my whole world. I don’t know what I would do without her. I wish you would’ve called me when she was throwing her tantrum because all I do when she’s away from me is worry and wonder and wait until I can see her again.”

He tutted. “See. This is what I mean. Luna wanted you. You wanted her. I wanted to call you, but I didn’t. Because of what?”

“Because of me.” You felt yourself getting worked up again, tear ducts beginning to well up. “You said it yourself. I bottle everything up. I push people away. I pushed you away, and we were supposed to be in this together. All I want for our daughter is for her to have the best life possible, yet I’m the one ruining it.”

“Hey, now. Cut the crap,” he deadpanned, cutting your spiral session short and scooting closer to you. “You’re not ruining anything. You’re the best mother that–“

“Mama?” you hear a little voice call, followed by small footsteps pitter pattering, and a few seconds later your daughter came rounding around the corner.

You quickly swiped at your eyes. “Yeah, baby?”

She handed her tablet to Yoongi, before turning back to you, lifting her hands up so you could hold her. She gripped your face in her little hands. “You sad?”

“Yeah, mommy’s a little sad,” you answered honestly. You always tried to treat her like a human. You wanted her to know it was okay to show emotions, and that you were human just like everyone else. You weren’t a superhero, just someone who loved her very very much.

She pressed big, sloppy kisses on each of your cheeks then laid her head down on you, putting you in a position very similar to when you first entered the door, except then you wanted nothing more than to leave and now you found your brain cycling through reasons you should stay. “Feel better now?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you very much.”

At your confirmation, she wriggled out of your lap and into Yoongi’s reclaiming the device and continuing her game. Your heart melted as you looked at them, really looked at them together for the first time in a while. She really was a good mixture of you both. Your face shape and lips, curl pattern at least a standard deviation looser than your own but flowing wild and free nonetheless, his cute button nose and crescent shaped eyes. She was absolutely adorable, they were adorable together. You sighed heavily, suddenly nostalgic over all the time you missed together. “I’m sorry. It really is all my fault.”

“I told you to cut it out,” he said seriously, eyes focused on whatever your daughter was doing.

“No, really, Yoongi. I wasn’t okay for a long time after she was born.” He grimaced, likely remembering the time period after your daughter was born. Postpartum depression transitioned into general depression and for a while you found yourself just floating through life, unable to find a balance between being a human and being a mother. It was rough. He tried to help you so many times but more often than not he just bore the brunt of your emotional instability. “By the time I finally got some help, there was so much time and space between us. I just… I had to go.”

He squeezed Luna a little tighter. “I wished you didn’t. I hope you know that.”

You bit your lip. “I do. You tried to get me to stay, but my mind was already made up.” You weren’t quite sure if it was the right decision, but you know that you definitely feel more stable now than you did then. Although today had been proving that your road to recovery had not been fully traveled.

“What about now?”

“What do you mean?”

He locked his eyes on yours. “Is your mind still made up? Because I love you.” Your breath hitched. “I’ve loved you for a really long time, and I think my biggest regret out of everything was not telling you that sooner.”

“Yoongi I-I…” You were at a complete loss for words.

“I know there’s a ton of time and space between us, but I’ll build a bridge and we can walk across it together.”

You wished Luna was in your arms at that moment. She was your excuse, your scapegoat. Whenever you felt uncomfortable or vulnerable you’d just hug her to you and give her all your attention until whatever it was went away. You suppose it’s a good thing she’s not seeing as it was that mentality that got you here in the first place. You had to stand on your own two feet now. Easier said than done. Your mouth opened and closed a few more times, still no words being formed.

“Baby, go play in your room for a bit,” Yoongi told your daughter, then placed her on the ground, keeping hold of the tablet. She reached for it, but he held it at bay.

“Daddy,” she whined.

“Nuh-uh. I think we’ve had enough playtime on this today. Room. Now.”

He ticked his head to the side and she stomped away, rolling her little eyes, which would be a topic of discussion sooner rather than later. For now though, you focused on trying to process the fact that Yoongi was in love with you.

“C’mere.”

You stood wide-eyed and allowed him to pull you into his lap. You were stock still as he wrapped his arms around your middle and pressed his face into your neck simply breathing you in. “Yoongi…”

“Shhh… Just let me hold you for a little.” And he did. Until you completely relaxed into his embrace. It was a lot. It’d been nearly two years since you were this intimate with him and anybody else for that matter. “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want to take more than you’re willing to give.”

You sighed. “You’re a good man, Yoongi. A great father. I care about you, but you deserve more than I have to offer.”

“I don’t want any more than that. The only thing I want is a chance. Let me be there for you. Not just because you’re the mother of my daughter but because you’re you, and I love you.” You inhaled sharply at his admission once again. He smiled into your neck. “Will you let me be there for you? Can you do that?”

It was nerve wracking to open your heart up again, but honestly you weren’t sure if you ever took it back from him in the first place; so, you shakily brought your hands up to cover his that were around your waist, interlocking your fingers together. “I can do that.”

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