#he's happy to have gray hairs growing in in his beard he thinks it looks great | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xxsugarbonesxx · 3 months

Text

this literally took years off my life but please enjoy

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

tags: smut, lots of fluff, domestic life, pregnancy, oral sex (both male and female receiving) and vaginal sex afab!reader

Miguel had officially retired from the role of Spider-Man 2099 as well as acting leader of the Spider Society, he left quietly. Leaving his position to Jess and just disappearing one day, Jess had his contact info but was only to be used in absolute emergencies. He debated shutting LYLA down or she would go on to be Jess’s assistant, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. She had been with him after everything with Gabriela, he couldn’t just shut her down. Sure she was AI but he did care for her.

So Miguel left in search of any kind of normalcy. He found a cozy little dimension with a low crime rate and an acting spider person. There he could relax and settle down, it took awhile to get him out of his old routine. But he did his best, he got an apartment, and a dog. He had houseplants, he cooked and read more books, he stopped caring so much about the little things. Soon enough, he developed a bit of a dad bod.

His arms and legs are thick with muscle, but now he has a pudgy tummy, love handles and thick cakey ass. Thick black hair bloomed over his firm pecs and stomach, snaking down to his member. He doesn’t cut his hair as much now, instead a clean curly cut, he now has a shaggy almost wolf cut with a streak of gray hair in his curls. He doesn’t shave his face, just trims to his neat black beard to keep from getting too long and thick.

He was taking his pet Pomerian, Fox, out for a walk. This dimension is a lot different from the futuristic Earth-928, set in the 2020’s but void of any pandemic. It’s airy and clean, lots of plant life and diverse people with small business shops lining the sidewalks. It felt like he could finally breathe, it’s quaint and quiet. Him and Fox wandered into a library, he was browsing around for a new cookbook to add to his growing collection. That’s when he met you.

You were on the other side of the library, looking through some romance novels while your daughter was sitting with the other kids for story time. Dressed in a light green tank dress with a plunging neckline white lace lining the neckline and under the bust. Oh that caught his attention, he slowly walked over, pretending to look at the same romance books as you were scanning. He nervously made small talk, he complimented your hair and you asked to pet Fox.

You and Miguel got on great, and even better, he was cool with you having a young daughter. He was thrilled when you gave him your number, thinking this was it. He’d finally get to lead a normal life, meet a girl, settle down, become a father again. And luckily, that was exactly what you were looking for too.Miguel loved your daughter, Luella, she reminded him so much of his Gabriela. He’s been working on being more open about his past and not running away when he was uncomfortable.

He adored taking you out, treating you to coffee or just going on a walk with you, Luella and Fox. He took you and Luella to a museum once you’ve been dating for two years. You went off to the bathroom and walked back to see Miguel holding Luella on his hip so she could see the penguins waddling in their exhibit. She asked him all sorts of questions and he answered all of them. He looked so much like dad, in his sweater, sweat shorts, high socks with sneakers and snapback, holding Luella’s hand or carrying her when she got tired. He bought her a little penguin stuffy and cooked you and her dinner when you got home.

You two moved in together after three years of dating. Miguel was so happy to be finally living with other people, he really did love taking care of you and your daughter. Whether it was making Luella’s lunches or making you breakfast in bed after a night shift. He really was a dream to live with, he kept his space clean and organized. He liked shopping with you, he loved following you around with a basket in one hand and your hand in the other. When you’d stop to check the nutrition label on the back of something, he’d rest his head on yours. Sighing loudly with his hands on your shoulders, gently kissing the back of your head.

Your first time with him was heavenly, gently laying you down on the plush bed. Your thighs wrapped around his head, he made sure you came at least once before his pants actually came off. He ate you out like he was a starved man and you a five course meal. Flicking your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue as he pumped his pointer finger into your weeping core, slowly sliding in his middle finger to make you squeal. He lapped up your nectar once you came, licking it up, telling you that it tasted like candy.

He’d whine in your ear how tight you were, begging to not clench too hard as he grunted. He had you in doggy style, your back arched, face buried in pillows with your ass up. He mindlessly pounded into you, it had been too long since he had sex. His big hands squeeze your waist tight, his claws slipping out to graze but not break your soft skin. He whines in the shell of your ear, a ring of cream wrapped around the base of his thick cock as he bullies deeper into you. He would always make you cum first or you’d both cum together.

After round four, you were spent. His fat cock stretched you out, you laid down on your back on the now dirty sheets. Miguel would be pressing kiss after kiss all over your sweaty body, caressing and running his hands all over you. He’s an after care god, if you’re hungry, he’ll order out. He’s already got the water in the tub running, he changes the sheets as you lay in the warm water, he comes back only to wash your hair and rub your back and shoulders. After eating, he’ll cuddle you, his arms wrapped around you with his legs tangled with yours. Telling you how happy you’ve made him and telling you how much he loves you.

You have a small, chapel wedding, nothing too fancy though Miguel could afford it. But you wanted something small, something with only close family and friends. And he gave you that happily, with Luella as the flower girl and a quiet honeymoon in Italy.

Not that you got to see much of Italy, not when you were bouncing on your husband's fat cock for the majority of your visit. Not that you were gonna complain though. Your hips rose and fell back into the heated water of the hot tub, your hips slapping against his pelvis as he watched the fat over your ass ripple. His hand on your neck with your back to him as you whine, him squeezing your throat softly to tell you to slow down every once in a while. Praising you, only calling you ‘Mrs. O’Hara’ since your wedding.

God, how you adored his touch. His other hand is on your clit, teasing your body. Begging for him to let you cum, he’d tsk and shake his head. Telling you not just yet and to be patient, you held off the best you could. But his big strong hands all over your body made you practically vibrate, this big bear of a man finally yours, you couldn’t help but move faster. Your full tits bouncing, he reached in front of you to take one in his hand. He squeezed the meat of it, his fingertips drifting to your nipple and gently tugging. Making you moan louder and finally cum.

Though he did enjoy such a display, and on the balcony overlooking the city of all places, he did have to take you to the room and teach you a quick lesson in obedience. He made you lay down on your back on the bed, your head resting on the edge of the bed, he stood in front of you. Pumping his cock with his hand, his other hand cupping your cheek, his thumb on your lips. He slapped his now fully erect dick on your cheek, making you giggle. He finally pressed his angry red tip to your plump lips, you slowly opened your mouth, letting him in.

Bent over the bed, he rolled his hips gently at first. Feeding you inch after inch, he took great pleasure watching your tight throat bulge from his length. He pushed in all the way, his happy trail tickling your chin. He fucked your throat, his cock twitching inside you after hearing you gag, thrusting his hips harder to watch your tits bounce and jiggle. You had one hand resting on his thigh, your other on your pussy. Your middle and ring finger teasing your weeping core, your new wedding ring was cold on your folds, making you shiver with delight.

Your tongue slithered over his cock, memorizing each inch and vein. Your eyes roll back and toes curl when you feel his hand cup your soaked pussy, gently kneading your folds as he fucked your throat like a fleshlight. He never lasted long with you, even after years of being with you, he never grew tired of your body, always wanting one more round or brushing his teeth a little longer than usual in the bathroom when you showered. He groaned hard, his voice breaking as ropes of his cum slipped down your throat, warming your belly. The rest of your honeymoon was practically spent in that Airbnb, only leaving for a wine tasting and the white sand beaches.

Of course it did take long for you to get pregnant, in fact, you found out the week you came back home from your honeymoon. Miguel was over the moon, doting and spoiling you more than usual. As you sat back on the couch, he knelt down in front of you, kissing all over your eight month baby bump. Cooing and talking to the fetus growing in your womb, telling you how he wanted the baby to recognize his voice once they were born.

Just ‘cause you were having his baby didn’t mean he paid any less attention to Luella. He still adored her, adopting her once he proposed. She was excited to have a dad in her life and now a little sibling, he still took her out for things to do. The look of excitement on his face when Luella expressed an interest in soccer, he’d go to all her games and take her to ice cream whether she lost or won.

The second you went into labor, he dropped everything he was doing at work and rushed to the hospital. He held your hand and kissed your head, telling how strong, brave and beautiful you were as you pushed. No matter how hard you squeezed his hand or yelled or screamed, he didn’t flinch. He held you tight and dried your tears, reassuring you throughout the whole ordeal.

Soon enough the O’Hara unit would be completed. You had given birth to a healthy baby girl, a chubby one too. Miguel was a big man, he’s literally 6 '9 and weighs 310lbs, your baby is gonna be a chub. Not that you were gonna complain, your girl was gorgeous, with soft brown skin and a mess of black hair. She snuggled up to Miguel for some skin on skin time with papa. He cried like a baby seeing her, she was the spitting image of his Gabriela. To her big eyes to her nose. Though, she did have his claws, which made you two order baby mittens so fast.

Miguel was happy. The last six years he wouldn’t trade the world for, no matter if you argued or fought, he wouldn’t be the same man he was if it weren’t for giving everything up as Spider-Man. A job he thought he’d keep forever, he’d imagine dying in the suit before you came along. He couldn’t be happier with his decision though as he put baby Esther down in her crib for a nap.

#atsv miguel #2099<3 #miguel o'hara #domestic miguel #husband miguel #bad body #smut #fluff #writing #fics #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse

235 notes · View notes

fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

Pedro boys facial hair matrix

Happy 2023 ❤️ Starting the year as I intend it to continue - filled with Pedro boys! This one has been in the works for ages - I’m a bit of a compulsive organizer, so this was naturally always going to be a project I would take on.

Paging sideburns anon 🪒 who’s been sending in great asks which I’ve tagged fuckyeahmensgrooming if you’re interested in more posts on this topic!

* click on image for higher resolution

Commentary below the cut (for once):

Barely There

Dave York, Max Lord, Max Phillips, Marcus Pike

This used to be my least favourite Pedro boys look, but Dave York changed my mind. Because it's almost always moustached, there's something almost sensual about being able to see the bare skin above his lips and below the nose. Also, I'm not a Marcus P girl, but dang, he looks good with this look.

Stache Only

Jack Daniels, Javier Pena seasons one to three

This is my favourite Pedro boys look - the clean shaven jaw does things to me, especially with the fluffy sideburns. I know I cheated using Javi’s from all seasons, but this look is so iconically Javier, I guess that's why we don't see often. It's so intrinsically linked to this character.

Half Fuzz

Din Djarin, Pero Tovar, Frankie Morales, Ezra

Trimmed close to the skin and quite low on the jawline, this is the most understated look out of the categories in my opinion.

Fully Bearded

Dieter Bravo, The Thief, Javi Gutierrez, Joel Miller

We are definitely in Pedro's bearded era, with the upper line of the beard sitting higher on the cheek, and he wears it so well. Joel's beard with the grays in particular drives me wild.

Wrap Around

Commandante Veracruz, Oberyn Martell, Marcus Moreno, Pietro Alvarez

Definitely the most transformative look on Pedro since it’s not how he normally grows his facial hair, and personally it's not my favourite look. Having said that, I do think it's a dramatic variation to add to his portfolio of looks.

That was a fun round-up! Thoughts and discourse welcome as always. I also have a hair matrix in the pipeline, stay tuned!

Compilations Masterlist

794 notes · View notes

e-dubbc11 · 1 year

Text

Afternoon Delight

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Dirty talk, a LOT of it. Reader and Billy both have filthy mouths in this one so 18+ please (no minors or I’m telling), some swear words

Word Count: 1.6k-ish

Summary: Reader is reading and waiting for her boyfriend to bring her lunch in the park. A very handsome man takes a seat next to her, the book she’s reading is one of his favorites.

A/N: This is my contribution to May’s writing challenge over on the Thirsty For Cox discord server. This month’s prompt was sundress season and I honestly didn’t mean for it to get dirty but my brain had other ideas. Oh the book I took the quotes from is The Picture of Dorian Gray. I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

A gentle summer breeze rushed across your exposed shoulders as you sat alone on a park bench reading your book on an early Saturday afternoon. The subtle rustling of the trees above your head prompted you to look up and watch the sun highlight the veins in the leaves as the wind moved them in multiple directions.

The warm afternoon sun shone through the leaves on the trees, drawing attention to bright green patches of grass all over the park. It was a beautiful day.

Your boyfriend told you earlier that morning that he would meet you in the park for lunch and you couldn’t wait to surprise him with the new dress you bought.

Black with white polka dots, adjustable spaghetti straps, long with a deep V-neck and a drawstring closure, it was perfect for a day like today and you were sure he would love it on you.

Continuing to turn the pages of your book, you looked up the walkway and noticed a very handsome man walking toward you wearing a gray suit.

He had ebony colored hair, a short well-groomed beard and as he came closer you noticed his eyes. He had beautiful yet very mysterious deep brown eyes, the kind of eyes you could just get lost in while he was talking to you. They looked like two flat black marbles and they were looking directly at you.

There were empty park benches everywhere, so you didn’t think he would take a seat next to you and yet, he did. As he sat down, he smiled at you. You’ve never seen a more perfect smile on top of an already incredibly handsome face.

He said hello, you said hello back and returned the smile he gave you.

A smile like his could get you into some serious trouble but then he doubled down and opened his mouth to which you heard his soft tone, his voice was smooth like warm honey with a slight New York accent.

“I love that book.” He said.

You almost forgot you were holding a book, he was quite the distraction.

“Me too.” You said. “This is my fourth time reading it. Do you have a favorite part?”

You asked him, hoping to throw him off guard to see if he’s actually read it or if it’s some lame pick up line.

“Well…let’s see.” He said. “There are so many.”

Got him.

“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful.” Chapter 2, page 23

“Oh and…”

“When we are happy, we are always good, but when we are good, we are not always happy." Chapter 6, page 106

The fact that he had those passages memorized, shocked you to your core and you felt slightly embarrassed and ashamed that you doubted him, but it turned you on at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I thought that…” You said.

He interrupted you.

“You thought it was a line, didn’t you.” He said with a sly grin.

Very few people surprised you, especially tall, handsome men just strolling through the park.

“I do apologize Mister?” You asked.

“Russo…Billy Russo.” He said extending his hand for you to shake. “I read that book a lot when I was deployed overseas.”

“Deployed? Wait, lemme guess…” You said as you carefully looked him over from head to toe. “You were a marine.” You were biting down on your lower lip, and fighting the desire to draw him in close by his tie.

He continued to stare at you with those intense brown eyes of his, he could not look away and neither could you. He held your gaze and felt yourself start to blush every time he smiled at you.

“How did you know?” He asked.

“Well…actually, my boyfriend was also in the Marines.” You said in a low breathy tone.

His smile disappeared.

“Well your boyfriend is a lucky man, I’ve never seen a more beautiful smile…on anyone.” He said.

He took the words right out of your mouth, you felt the same way about his smile.

Billy moved his head like it was on a swivel, looking all around him. “So…where is this boyfriend of yours? If you were mine, I’d never let you out of my sight.” He stated.

The struggle to keep from smiling was difficult, and you replied. “Actually, I don’t know. He said he would meet me here for lunch and he’s never ever late.”

You weren’t sure if it was the rays from the sun or Billy that was causing the warmth to rise to your cheeks.

There was something you wanted from Billy but maybe you shouldn’t ask. Although, what harm could come from reading a few pages from your book to you?

There was just something about his voice that was captivating. The way the words rolled off of his tongue was musical and hypnotic, like he was meant to read them aloud.

As he read, he’d glance away from the pages for sentences at a time to look over at you. He had memorized a lot of the passages, staring at you as he recited the words.

At one point, he stopped and lost his place because he was too busy staring at you.

“I’m so sorry.” He said. “I have to tell you, I’m very distracted by this beautiful dress you have on. Although I’m not sure if it’s the dress or the woman wearing it, maybe it’s both. I can’t believe your boyfriend let you leave the house without him, lookin’ like that. Every man that walks by this bench is having the same thoughts as I am.”

Trying to swallow the lump in your throat, the ache between your thighs grew hungry for him.

“Oh? And—what sort of thoughts would those be, Mr. Russo?” You whispered.

“Impure ones.” He hissed as he looked you up and down.

Your fingers lightly danced across the glowing skin on your chest and moved up to rub the back of your neck as his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip.

“Thoughts of taking you back to my place, hiking that dress up over your hips and fucking you so hard you can’t walk right tomorrow, pinning you against the wall, and having your legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper into that sweet pussy of yours. I wanna hear you scream my name over and over again until your voice cracks, and I bet you’d look really pretty sitting on my dick.”

Gently, he touched your bare shoulder, and brushed the warm soft skin of your arm with his calloused fingers, those words sent shivers down your spine despite the hot afternoon sun.

Shuddering at those sinful thoughts, you leaned in to him so your face was closer to his yet your bodies remained apart and whispered against his mouth. “Is that right? Anything else?” You asked before sucking on his bottom lip.

“Or just ripping it off of you because it covers that gorgeous body of yours, then using it to tie you to the bed so I can look at you all spread out, ready to take my cock. Those are the kind of thoughts I’m having.”

A bead of sweat had dripped from your neck down your chest and in between your breasts, your panties were soaked from listening to Billy describe what he wanted to do to you, and if he wanted to fuck you right there on that park bench, you would probably let him.

“Maybe I’m having similar thoughts.” You said softly. “Maybe I want to see you on your knees in front of me, your head underneath my dress, and your tongue fucking me until I can’t see straight.”

You were so distracted by him, you forgot why you were sitting on that bench in the first place.

He inched closer to you so his thigh was touching yours, the look in his eyes was primal, his long slender fingers touched the side of your face, his other hand grazed the top of your breast and then he pushed some of your hair back behind your ear so he could whisper to you.

“Role playing is fun, isn’t it sweet girl. I don’t even need to touch you to know how wet you are for me. Love the new dress. I know I was supposed to bring lunch but I didn’t think there would be a snack waiting for me when I got here.” He said with a devilish smirk and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

You reached out to brush his beard with your thumbs and let out a little chuckle. “Wow…And I thought I’ve heard every cheesy pick up line there is, my love. Are you done flirting with me? Where’s my lunch?”

Billy held up one finger. “Number one, I’ll never stop flirting with you, number two, you’re wearin’ MY lunch…and I promise I’ll get you something to eat, but I need to get you home now otherwise we’re both getting arrested for indecent exposure.” He said with a wink. “I held out as long as I could. I’m pretty sure I flatlined when I first saw you. You look fuckin’ hot, baby.”

You leaned in close and gave him a hungry kiss, your tongue twisted with his and your teeth nipped at his lower lip which made him absolutely feral for you.

“Well let’s go home then, Mr. Russo and don’t forget our book.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again

#billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo smut #billy russo #billy russo x you #thirsty for cox may challenge #thirsty for cox writing challenge #tfc challenge

222 notes · View notes

dragonbe-writing · 14 days

Text

Fallen Feathers (Pt. 2)

Fantasy AU ft. Knight! John Price

Summary: Price does his research, trying to find his monster. What he finds instead could change the trajectory of his life...

(Part 1 Here)

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Note: Hello! Sorry it's been over a month since part 1- I am mentally ill and in college. I'm not super happy with this part, but it's necessary to kick this story into high gear. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John walked through the streets of Edriel, smiling at people as he did. He was headed to the eastern side of town, a place he didn’t visit often. He was originally from the east, but his parents had moved him north- towards the castle -when he was a young boy.

He headed over to the square, making friendly conversation with merchants, playing with some of the children. But that’s not why he was here.

Truth be told, this wasn’t even his jurisdiction. He patrolled the west more often than not. But his eyes settled on a frail old woman, selling her pastries. He smiled.

“Mrs. Dresel,” he greeted, tipping his head. “Good to see you again.”

“Oh, Johnny!” she said, her voice crackly and high but oh so sweet. He grimaced at the name, but made no remark- just settling on a polite smile. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Look how big you are!”

“Yes, I have gotten quite big,” he said, looking at her array of pastries. His eyes landed on two rolled buns- stuffed with strawberry jam and drizzled with honey. He fished through the pocket of his trousers. “How much for two?”

“10 Den,” she said, wrapping the two up for him. “I have a feeling you aren’t just here for the pastries, Johnny,” she said, giving him a knowing smirk. He sighed, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

“No, ma’am, I’m not,” he admitted, handing her the Den and taking the pastries. “I was wondering- do you remember a fire in this side of town?” he asked her.

“A fire?” she repeated, looking up as she thought. She scratched her head, getting flakes of pastry in her graying hair.

He pressed further. “One that left a girl badly burned.”

“Oh, heavens no,” she said with a wave of her wrinkly hand. “No, we haven’t had anything like that. Why?”

John smiled politely. “Just Knight business, ma’am. Don’t be concerned. Have a good day, Mrs. Dresel,” he said, tipping his head again before heading off down the street.

He huffed, stuffing the pastries in his pocket. He knew it- there hadn’t been a fire, at least not here. Still, he best check the logs.

It didn’t make sense. Why would she lie? Why wouldn’t she want to be seen? He wasn’t there to arrest her- though, maybe he should be.

~~~~~

John rubbed his eyes, strained and tired. He’d been reading old logs for hours, faded handwriting lit only by the candle burning next to him.

This is ridiculous.

He had a monster to catch- one that he had no description for. That’s what he should be searching for- not some woman in the woods.

Perhaps she was mad. That could explain it.

But she didn’t sound mad. She sounded like any other villager. And even she recognized the absurdity of the King’s goose chase.

“Oi!”

Another Knight banged on the table he was at, pulling John from his thoughts. He jumped, color rising to his cheeks as he rolled his eyes.

“What the hell do you want, Smith?” he grumbled, setting the log book down.

Smith grinned, sitting on the table. “Just wanted to see how your monster hunt was going,” he replied with a snicker.

John glared at him. “About as well as you’d think, given no direction.”

“I heard it’s a crow,” Smith started, boyish grin growing larger. “Big, black wings, sharp talons- sharper than your sword. Ugly thing, supposedly.”

“And where’d you hear that?” he asked, voice gruff with annoyance.

“Rumors from when I was just a lad,” he said, hopping off the desk to pace. “Mum used to call it a fallen angel- swore she saw it once, in the dead of night.”

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. She ran a hand through his beard, scratching at the skin. “Right. Well, if I see it, I’ll tell you,” he said in a grumble.

Smith clicked his tongue. “Atta boy. Now- what the hell are you doing with the old logs?”

“You should learn to mind your business,” Price snapped, earning an amused chuckle from Smith.

“Oh, I see.”

“See what?”

Smith just grinned. “Is this for a maiden?”

Price froze. He felt his cheeks warm up- though he chalked it up to annoyance. “…yes. But not in that way-“

“In what way, then?” he asked cheekily.

“None of your concern-“

“Price’s got a little lady!” he exclaimed.

“I do not-“

“Who would’ve ever thought? You finally settling down-“

“Fuck off, Smith,” Price finally growled, slamming the log book shut and looking up at him angrily.

Smith, already halfway out the door, replied, “Night, Price~!”

The door closed, and John was alone again. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. A crow? A fallen angel? Smith was known for his stories, that’s for sure.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, blowing out the candle and heading to his quarters.

~~~~

The next morning, he hopped on Obsidian and headed back out to the woods. He knocked on her door once more. “Miss Adelaide?” he called gruffly.

“Hang on!” she called back. He heard the curtain close. “Come in!”

John opened the door, walking into the dark house once more. It smelled wonderful- whatever stew she had over the fire made him realize he had skipped breakfast.

“What has you out here again?” she asked him, back in her corner.

“You,” he replied, pulling something wrapped in cloth from his pocket. “I-“ he stopped, a sudden sense of nervousness filling him. He cleared his throat. “I brought you some of Mrs. Dresel’s pastries,” he admitted, growing a bit sheepish. His face flooded with warmth.

“…you did?” she asked quietly. He nodded.

“If you don’t want them, I won’t be upset-“

“No, I do want them,” she said, sounding surprised. He realized she wouldn’t come get them, and he set them on her table.

“Well- good.”

A hush fell over them, a bit tense. He looked around her home, and cleared his throat again. “Uh- seen any monsters?” he asked.

She laughed a little. “No, I haven’t,” she replied. He nodded.

“Me either,” he grumbled, shoulders relaxing a bit. She snorted.

“The King’s lost it,” she murmured, and John sighed. He didn’t correct her, or warn her. He just silently agreed.

“I had a fellow knight tell me that he believes it’s a crow,” he said, glancing at her house again.

“A crow?” she asked in a high pitched laugh. He wasn’t quite sure what was funny, but he didn’t comment.

“Yes. Big black wings, talons. Apparently,” he said, looking back to her corner.

“Sounds hideous,” she commented, and he heard her shift.

“It sounds fake,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s ridiculous. I’ve served under the King for fifteen years, and he-“ John’s hands balled up into fist, and he took a breath to calm down. He looked out the door, eyes on the leaves trembling in the wind. “I apologize,” he said softly to her, looking back to her corner.

“It’s alright. You aren’t the first Knight I’ve seen angry,” she said shortly.

John’s brain was swimming. Should he ask? It would be rude- and he really didn’t want to arrest her. But Knights aren’t rude or angry for no reason.

“…what do you mean by that?” he finally asked, hand absentmindedly drifting to the hilt of his sword. He could almost feel the blanket of discomfort wrap around them.

She was silent. He heard her huff- he could just imagine her rolling her eyes. “You people tend to have quite the temper,” she remarked.

“Only if provoked,” he replied.

“Only if afraid-“

“Knights are not afraid.”

“Call it stupidity, then,” she snapped.

“Watch your mouth, Adelaide,” he boomed, stepping towards her dark corner. He heard the rustling of her shifting.

Silence.

He rolled his eyes at himself, moving his hand away from his sword. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “…I apologize, ma’am, I didn’t intend-“

His eyes caught something in the corner of her home. A couple large, black feathers. He froze, heartbeat shooting up to his ears and brain working double time.

“…I found them outside, I thought I could use them to stuff my pillow-“

“Reveal yourself.”

A beat.

“…excuse me?” she asked in a shaking voice.

“I said: Reveal yourself,” he demanded again, hand moving back to the hilt of his sword. He glared into her corner, heart racing.

“…John, you know I am burned-“

“In a fire that never happened?” he snapped, drawing his sword with a haunting ring.

“John-“ she pleaded.

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

She fell silent again. Slowly, she pulled back the curtains.

Light flooded the room, making him blink in surprise. When he finally saw her, his jaw dropped. Piercing black eyes stared back at him, full of sorrow. Two big black wings folded behind her back, sharp talons on the ends of her black fingers, and a beak-like nose adorned her features. Her skin was smoky along the edges of her hairline and small black dots littered her skin.

John staggered backwards, faltering for a moment before putting his sword back up. Adelaide wasn’t a woman- she was a monster. His monster- the one he was sent to kill. His arm shook. He swallowed. Stepping towards her with a hateful look in his eyes.

She looked up at him with those dark eyes, exhausted and knowing. “Can I eat my pastry before you kill me?”

Taglist:

#fallen feathers #knight!johnprice #knight!price #call of duty #captain price #john price #captain john price #cod mw22 #writing #fanfic #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2

28 notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 7 months

Text

Fall Drabbles, Day 9

prompt: cold air in the morning

pairing: Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader

summary: After dealing with his family for far too long, Michael is happy to let you care for him.

warnings: Swearing, fluff

a/n: AHHHH this is my first time writing for Mikey so please let me know what you think! This piece is dedicated to @chvoswxtch, my Kin watch buddy! And a huge thank you to @bellaxgiornata for the advice on writing his accent!

w/c: <1k

Trudging up the street in the dim light, Michael grit his teeth against the weariness growing with each step–exhaustion sitting atop his shoulders like a barbell, slowly driving him into the pavement. A stiff breeze battered his cheeks, irritating his already gritty eyes, but he ignored it. He was no stranger to the numbing cold, and its unmatched ability to clear his head of racing thoughts, but he didn’t welcome it today. Rather than anchoring him, it rubbed at his nerves uncomfortably, leaving an almost acidic sting in its wake.

His breaths were measured, but the tension in his lungs loosened marginally when the familiar structure finally appeared on the horizon. Willing his aching body to move faster, he focused on the dull red of his front door, a shining beacon in the dreary gray morning that promised rest and safety. He was running on fumes, his brain unable to process more than the stench of petrichor in the air and the burning in his lungs.

Though it couldn’t have been more than a five minute trek, the walk felt like an eternity. Fitting the key into the lock sapped all of his remaining strength and he slumped backwards against the door, shutting it more forcefully than intended. Stifling a grimace at the noise, he swallowed hard as he plodded over to the dining room table and collapsed into a chair–his body folding in on itself until he could hold his pounding head between his palms. Every contraction of his heart sent another pound of pressure to his skull, slowly expanding like a balloon about to pop. He was tired and frustrated and hungry and alone and it was all quickly becoming too much.

A creaking floorboard above him startled him out of his stupor. Tensing his legs to dart for his gun, which he’d stupidly left by the door, your voice called down the stairs. “Mikey?”

The question was soft, barely loud enough for him to hear downstairs, and your voice was raspy with sleep–but it sent a current of warmth through his senseless limbs. “Ya, pet. It’s me.” His own voice was hoarse after his restless days spent screaming about the family business.

Padding down the stairs, you smiled when you saw him, dashing right into his open arms and giggling drowsily as he pulled you into his lap. You pressed your lips to his, sending a jolt of energy through him like an exposed wire. He couldn’t fathom why you looked so happy to kiss his noticeably chapped lips, but your sweet smile was melting the icy shell of prolonged displeasure around his gut. “I’m sorry to wake ya. What’re ya doin’ here, love?”

You shrugged, eyes flitting over the myriad of cuts on his face as one of your hands carded through his hair, tenderly untangling the strands. “My place was too quiet so I came here. Did you want me to leave?”

Michael’s hands instinctively clenched, tightening their grip on your waist. “Fuck no.”

Chuckling, you leaned your forehead against his. “How was it?”

“Grand.” He scoffed, averting his eyes as you stroked a thumb over his beard. “Tirin’.”

You hummed, plush lips tilting into a frown. “I’m sorry, love. Did you sleep at all?”

“A bit. Not enough.” Your free hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, icy fingers drawing circles on his stomach. “Christ, yer so cold, pet.” He laughed as you wriggled your other hand up his bare skin as well.

“Come back to bed with me? It’s chilly without you.” Wrapping your arms around him, you nuzzled a kiss against his prickly jawline.

Nodding sluggishly, he gladly let you tug him out of the chair and up the stairs—more than willing to sleep the day away with you.

#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #mikey kinsella #kin amc #kin #kin rte #charlie cox #mk #my writing #fall prompts 2023

53 notes · View notes

last-starry-sky · 5 months

Text

part one part two

part three of my stupid medieval highlander au!Soap/reader

((there is nsfw!!! finally!!!)) warning: dark content ahead (dubcon)

soap helps out our poor sick reader by giving her a bath.

It became a daily ritual for the two of you, these chores. Both of you silently waking in the winter dark before the rest of the patrons. You became attuned to the soft sound of stressing rope and straw above you. John, no - Soap, that’s what he told you to call him, would rake up last night’s coals to start the fire anew as you dressed.

“M’ friends call me Soap, lass. Ye’ can too,” he told you as you stood at the well, two buckets at your feet already, waiting for him to fill and haul up the last two.

Friend. It made you feel warm, protected and happy to know that was how he felt about you. But was it right? Something within you doubted a friend should feel the way you felt about another friend.

You had to concentrate of the gray stones of the well, the snow that swirled across the ground in the cruel wind, your toes wiggling to keep warm in your shoes, anything that wasn’t John, Soap, staring at you. Even in the pressing cold, the wind and snow of the mountains, his blue eyes still send a chill down your spine every time they catch yours. He looks at you like no one has before, like he knows what you’re thinking, and it scares you. You don’t even have words to describe how you feel, how could he?

The bucket lands with a dull thunk on the stone. Soap lets out a huff of white breath as he unhooks the bucket from the rope, a smile creases wide across his face as he catches your eye. The high points of his face: his cheeks, nose, and ears, the parts not protected by his growing beard, are pink from the wind and work. His lips too, are chapped and blood-flushed from the small conversations he keeps trying to pull you into. Snow embedded into his dark hair and clothes.

“Last one, lass,” he says picking it up along with one of the buckets at your feet, leaving you the other two. “Quick now. Get in n’ get warm.”

You nod, pulling both yours and his cloaks - he refused to let you stand outside with him until you took it - closer around you, coughing into your hand before picking your buckets. Soap watched you over his shoulder until you catch up.

“Don’t sound good, lass. Ye’ feelin’ well?” He questions you as you walk back to the inn.

“No. Just a cough,” you say clearing your throat. You don’t want to worry your friend.

You’re too weak to leave your bed the next morning. Your cough had gotten worse and worse over the previous day, finally ending with the innkeeper’s wife shooing you out of the kitchen and into Soap’s arms to finish dinner. Soap had rubbed at your cheeks, commenting on the chill on your skin, and set you in a chair in front of the fire wrapped in a blanket without another word.

Your head was still fuzzy, caught in a loop thinking of the large, warm hands on your face, when a bowl of soup was set in front of you.

“Try t’ eat, lass. Yer lookin’ pale,” he says kneeling next to you, lacing the spoon between your trembling fingers before leaving. There are several patrons that need attending to and you are in no shape to help, so Soap picked up your slack. How would you ever repay him?

You manage a few spoonfuls of broth before exhaustion hits you and your falling back into the wooly warmth of the blanket around you. You only meant to rest your eyes, but when you wake, you’re tucked snugly into your bed. You toss as much as you can to one side with a whine. Warm. You’re too warm. You can feel the sweat pooling at the small of your back, behind your knees, and under your arms. You weekly shuffle the several blankets off your body. You hear them hit the floor as you flop back into place on your mattress, the cool night air relieving you of some of your body’s oppressive heat. Sleep quickly pulls you under once again.

When you wake again it’s morning, and the blankets are tucked back around you. You are thankful for them this time, as your chill is back. You pull yourself down to cover up to your nose as a shiver ripples through you. You’re just closing your eyes when a creak from the corner of the room makes your stomach drop. You strain your eyes to make out a large figure slumped against the wall near the foot of your bed. The figure mumbles and snores as it moves in it’s sleep before falling silent again.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you lay back again. Soap. It’s just Soap watching over you.

It feels like not a second later that a warm hand is stroking over your cheek. Your eyes open weekly. The image is blurry, but you can make out black hair above you.

“Finally awake, lass?” he says softly, smiling and stroking your cheek.

You nod, try to speak, but end up turning away, coughing a fit into your arm.

His face falls into a frown as he crouches down next to you. His hand strokes down your back as your coughing slowly stops.

“Still not soundin’ too well,” he says, his hands still running soothingly over you. “I’ll get ye’ something to eat, yeah?”

He leaves without an answer, but he’s back quickly with a warm bowl of broth. He takes pity on you, sitting you up in bed as you’re too weak to even move on your own. He then stays, insisting on feeding you each spoonful of broth.

“Ye’ve barely eaten a thing in two days, lass,” he says as you try to push away another spoonful, his eyebrows forming together into a thick black line of concern across his forehead. “You’re weak. Be good now and let me take care a’ ye.”

You silently accept the spoon of broth, if just to ease his concern. It earns you a wry smile in return. He tucks you back into bed after. Just as you’ve closed your eyes and start to drift off, you feel a cool peck on your forehead.

“Sleep well, lass,” you hear him say as he steps away, fingers trailing across the top of the blankets.

You fall into a restless sleep. You wake hot and cold, pushing your blankets off only to pull them back on moments later. When you finally fall asleep it’s into a thicket of weird and wicked dreams. Soap is in all of them. It makes your cheeks burn, but not from your fever, to remember them. They start off innocent: him holding your hand, brushing your cheek, smoothing the hair back from your face. Those dreams you didn’t mind, but like a trick, a thief in the night, they steal their way deeper and deeper into your sleeping head, pulling you with them. It’s not long before he’s kissing you, something you’ve been far too afraid to try with anyone in the waking world, but the man in your dreams is all to happy to guide you. Then he begins to touch you: his rough fingers tracing delicately over the bare skin of your neck as he caresses it, then lower to your chest where he spreads his wide hand to smooth down between your breasts.

You whined in your dream then, both scared and eager for his touch. A very real hand on your shoulder shocks you awake. Soap is standing over you, concern graven into his sleepy face. You must have woken him up.

“Any pain?” he asks kneeling down next to your bed. His hands find yours. He rubs your smaller hands between his to warm them.

You shake your head, voice still lost.

“Y’ moanin’ in y’ sleep, lass,” he says with a small smile, trying to keep his voice light. You can feel embarrassment bloom across your face. Soap pulls away to stretch out his arms, his back cracking as he does. A yawn quickly follows as you sit next to him trying to look like you haven’t been having the most depraved, inappropriate dreams a woman can have while he sleeps not five feet from you.

“Feel well enough to bathe?” he asks laying his hand over your leg underneath the blanket.

You nod. It would do you good to wash the sweat and sickness from your body. You try not to think about the slick feeling pooled between your legs, right next to his hand.

“Good,” he says with a pat of his hand and a wicked smile. “I’ll put the water on t’ boil.”

After he leaves, you pull yourself to sit up in bed. You carefully work your joints back and forth one at a time. You’re not used to laying in bed this much, even when sick and you need to get used to moving again. Soap walks back into your room with a candle and a large basin as you’re cracking your back.

He sets the basin on the floor and the candle on the chair he’s been sleeping on.

“Water’s almost boiled,” he says standing over you. God, he looks so large as you look up at him. “Ye’ strong enough t’ stand?”

You aren’t sure, but you try. You weakly pull your legs out from the bed. A chill shoots up your bare feet as they touch the floor. You try to push yourself up, but lose your balance as your hands leave the bed. You would have tumbled to the ground had Soap not been there to catch you.

“Tha’s a ‘no’ then,” he says placing you back on the mattress. “Doan worry. I’ll help ye’. Stay here while I get the water.”

He’s out the door again before you can put together what he said. You hear him rooting around in cabinets, searching for something as he lets the doors slam shut behind him until he finds his prize with a soft “ah!”

When he returns, he shuts the door behind him with his foot, as his hands are full. He has a kettle of steaming water in one hand and a pile of linens in his other hand. He deposits the linen on the arm of the chair, careful to mind the flame of the candle. He drops a ball of soap that had hidden in his fist on top. He poured a small pool of steaming water into the bottom of the basin. The curl of the steam made you shiver. It had been so long since you’d had a proper bath, let alone a warm one.

He set the kettle to his side and then lifted his hand to beckon you forward. You shook your head with wide eyes, crossing your arms across your chest as his intentions hit you. He let his hand drop to his knee, the candlelight catching his smile slipping down in the corners.

“Come oan, lass. Can’t bathe in ye’ underclothes now can’ ye’?” he said cocking his head to the side.

Your cheeks burned furiously. You kept your gaze fixed on your knees. There was not a chance on God’s green earth that you were going to let-

Soap’s rested his hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb back and forth trying to sooth you.

“Nothin’ I ain’ seen before, lass,” he said with a soft sigh. “Jus’ wanna get ye’ clean and well is all.”

You stared at his hand on your knee for another moment before nodding in return. You tried to grip the edge of your shift to take it of yourself, you felt it wouldn’t be so embarrassing if you did most of the undressing yourself, but Soap’s hands over took yours before too long. He let you lean against him as he pulled the cloth from under your legs. You kept your head buried in his shoulder as he skimmed his hands up your back. You could no longer feel the cold of the room from the blush that bloomed over your body. His hands under your arms pushed you away, forcing you to look in his eyes right before he forced your arms up. Your shift covered your vision for a blissful second before Soap pulled it from your body, letting it drop to the bed beside you.

You didn’t fight as he picked you up right after, one muscled arm under your legs, the other across the small of your back. He turned and gently knelt down to deposit you in the basin. You could just barely fit both your butt and feet on the bottom if you squished. You didn’t feel like squishing, even though it would have been more modest, so you let your feet rest on the outside. You half expected Soap to leave, or let you wash yourself, which you could have done, if very very slowly. You did not expect him to pull off his tunic and pull you to lay against him.

“Doan want ye’ t’ get me too wet now,” he commented as he threw his clothes into the corner. You didn’t answer.

You tried not to look either up at him or down at yourself as Soap set to work. He poured more water int to the basin. It was just on the edge of too hot, but it felt amazing. You closed your eyes as you relaxed back against Soap’s chest.

“Feel good?” he asked as you felt the muscles of his chest flexing.

You opened your eyes to watch him lather a washcloth with the soap. He dipped his hand between your legs to wet it. You froze as he did. He didn’t make any motion to touch you, just rang out the cloth and began you clean your neck and face. After lathering you with bubbles, he reached back down into the water to clean the cloth and wipe the suds from you.

“Sorry if I’m rough with ye’,” he said reapplying the soap to the cloth. “Been a long while since ‘ve had to do this,” he said using both his hands to work the soap down your arm. He plunged his hand down into the cooling water of the basin, wringing the cloth out before gently wiping the soap off. “Never with a woman ‘fore, though,” he whispered against the side of your head.

He was halfway through silently cleaning your other arm when you found the ability to ask, “When?”

He continued as if he didn’t hear you, cool water running down your arm as he wiped from shoulder to wrist. He reached for the kettle and poured more steaming water between your legs. You leaned further back against his chest, closed your eyes and whined as the warm water coiled something inside you as it filled the basin enough to cover your sex. Soap’s hand braced on your stomach as he set the kettle beside him. It was a long, silent, moment before he responded.

“Used to help with the injured, when I first joined the army,” he whispered as he wet the cloth in the now warm water.

He smoothed the cloth in his hand over your chest, a river of warm drops running hot down your cool skin enough to make you shiver. His motions were slow now, achingly slow.

“Weren’t a pretty sight. Tendin’ to men maimed in battle,” he said stopping to plunge his hand into the basin again.

He was resting his chin against your shoulder. You could feel his nose brush your ear when he moved. When he brought the cloth back to your body, it was to cup over your breast. You sighed as the nubby linen rubbed over your nipple, his fingers squishing the soft flesh as his hand rolled the whole of your breast toward the middle of your chest.

“No’ as pretty as you,” he whispered darkly into your ear, pulling away the cloth.

He quickly repeated his washing on your other breast, holding you as he rubbed his thumb several times over your nipple to watch you shiver against him.

“Soap,” you whined in your weak voice.

“Gettin’ cold, lass?” he said dropping the cloth into the basin. “Doan worry. I’ll have ye’ finished soon.” His breath huffed hot down your chest as he spoke.

His hand on your stomach moved to your thigh, the other hand reaching into the basin to hunt for the cloth. His hand swirled around, bumping against your inner thighs until he found the cloth, plastered to your sex. You shivered as his fingers wiped up your core to pull it away.

“Gotta keep still now,” he chided as he lathered down your stomach. “Be good and let me finish ye’”

You honestly tried to stay still, but you couldn’t help but jump every time his fingers swiped a bit too low, sending a spike of pleasure through you. His fingers bit into your thigh as a warning.

“Goan take all night if ye’ don’t obey, aye lass?” he said letting the cloth slip silently into the water.

He poured the last of the hot water into the basin, filling it near halfway. You sighed as you relaxed against him again as he smoothed the warm water over your thighs with both hands.

“Tha’s a good girl,” he said huskily into your ear.

You suppressed a whine in the back of your throat. He moved one hand to cup over your sex, just barely touching you. The other came up to roll a nipple between his fingers. He groaned as a breathy moan fell from your lips. The fingers on your sex rubbed up and down, testing and teasing, but going no farther.

“Still so dirty,” he growled against your neck. “Goan need t’ take my time with this lil’ thing. Make ye’ feel good,” he said swirling a finger around your slick entrance, causing you to jump.

He shushed you as you trembled against him. He worked his finger up to press at your sex, specifically the little sensitive nub between your folds. He rubbed at it slowly until you started to feel something, the same thing you felt when waking from your forbidden, dirty, dreams. Did he know about them? Is this why he was doing this? You could only trust him now and lay against his strong chest as he worked you faster and faster.

“Such a sensitive little cunt ye’ got,” he said hiking your leg farther open, giving him more room. “Like ye’ve never been touched before.”

“Never,” you whined as his fingers worked you in a delicious spiral. It was like he was pulling you up and up and up. Brain going foggy and distant.

“Never?” he repeated, shuffling against your back. You shook your head. “Ah lass,” he groaned.

You grabbed his hand as you felt something break, like you had reached the peak of the mountain and flown off the edge. A high-pitched gasp broke out of your throat and you felt yourself trembling, falling back to earth. Soap’s hands were there to catch you, wrapping around you to hold you to him as you gasped and writhed.

You panted as you came down, breathing and feeling better than you had in days. Soap was still behind you, leaving light kisses down the side of your face and neck. His hands too, were smoothing down your cool skin, fingers running over every bit of exposed skin until it was committed to memory. You wished you had the energy to do the same, to try and touch him, to show some small bit of gratitude in return.

You were half asleep when he pulled you from the basin, water dripping from your bottom and thighs. You felt him towel off what little water remained before placing you back under your blankets with another kiss. You listened as he gathered the things from around the room: the soft scuffling of the basin and chair, but sleep proved too powerful. You were out before he left the room.

#starry writes #mw2 #soap x reader #soap/reader #medieval au #sorry this is so long and took so long to update #i was actually sick #now to get back to outlining/writing my other thing!!!

29 notes · View notes

ludinusdaleth · 19 days

Note

You got any bear Artagan headcanons 👉👈

of course i do, anon 💚 thanks for the ask

-hes skinny as a twig until post-travelercon days. he never really "watches his figure" (as matt scoffed at the notion he would in a m9 ep), but something about taking in exandria with new eyes, and escaping the stress of being the traveler (and going on mai tai benders it seems), softens him. like a man truly becoming middle aged rather than suspended in youth, his body cues a slower metabolism, i suppose.

-he doesnt really notice it til a random day he doesnt fit into an older outfit of his, and hes surprised as thats never happened before, but it's easy enough to accept with a shrug and relief he didnt split his best party gear just now before he could get it refitted. his good old green cloak is a very oversized thing; he'll never have to change it.

-i like to imagine he and many other fae (barring whatever type ira & sammanar are) have always been relatively furry. he's lionlike. he can canonically grow a shitty chinbeard as of tales of exandria. it makes sense. his body hair is like a fauns fur-pattern, with normal chest hair & a happy trail as well as fur on the elbows and a back stripe. but as i said, when he really just relaxes post-tc, his body thinks, hey, you're kind of a bit older now, in a way, so he gets even hairier. he grows out a bit of a beard, patchy (his mustache is hopeless) but extremely soft. it grows down to about his adams apple. with the beard adding to his lions mane look, he seems like more of a big cat by the day.

-he has incredible love handles & a sloping, wide paunch, and pretty nice man tits too (which hes more than happy to show off in his low cut outfits and i am more than happy to imagine). his frame is predisposed to being skinny & sharp and so he always carries that vague look, but his body fights that a bit and wins in less than a decades time. he still has absolutely 0 ass though. this is important

-jester notices and doesnt really say anything, but she thinks hes so handsome, and is happy for him. when she runs to hug him, it's not just his cloak that pads her embrace. hes always been a good hugger but was bony before. now, it's perfect.

-he has always had irritatingly high charisma & charm. however he lately finds himself courted more than he has been in a long while. when he was a beanpole, it was easy to just look like another tall skinny stereotypical elf, if a striking one. but exandrians & fae alike have become very, very fond of elves of a bearish nature. elves of the dwendallian empire & graying wildlands are especially enraptured by him (i like to think hair on an elf is vital in cold regions and some societies begrudgingly have begun to accept it), and the feygrove which he helped create of course is in love with his new appearance, even influencing many of them to indulge to the point of being bigger. i feel he would not know what to do in a bear bar, nervous with the knowledge he wasn't always like this and nowhere near the size of an orc or bugbear, but any elf unafraid to show their hair & girth is welcomed gladly.

-he in all his ancient wisdom likes to assume being fat & bearded will mean no ex or court official will recognize him. he is recognized by quite literally everyone and is shocked every time (this is coming from the man who disguises himself as a ginger without fail. every. time)

-i dont think the fae ascribe to fatphobia anywhere like we do, and every fae is so unique i think beauty standards are fruitless to uphold, but i do think other archfey who see arti are often disgusted at him for how mortal he seems, and how he accepts aging & body changes without deigning to seem dignified. morrigan however is happy the old boy settled into himself; she'll never say if she plucked a few threads of fate for his body to allow this transformation. he needed it, she thinks, like a grandmother who refuses to let you go til you've eaten 6 meals in 1.

-sprinkle is canonically a bit chunky nowadays. i like to imagine the m9 conjecturing for a surprisingly long time over whether arti & sprinkle are one entity whose bodies change together or not.

-i think all the m9 would agree living to a time in life where you can get old & fat & content is a beautiful achievement. while not everyone thinks arti has exactly earned the right to be content, he seems very happy post travelercon, and the look suits him well. (though beau, veth, & yasha hold private discourse over if he should shave that terrible scruffy beard of his - obviously veth who married yeza sideburns brenatto finds it charming on him, beau finds it disgusting and makes him look half-feral, and yasha oscillates between the two as if in pain, not wanting to hurt either's or arti's feelings)

-in general i think he wouldn't mind this new look at all. he's canonically the type to sigh at his youth and how he peaked then, but when jester nuzzles under his scruffy chin he knows it's all worth it. he knows in some way his skinniest points were his most miserable, pacing around his domain of the feywild like a wild cat in a circus wagon, desperate for enrichment while laughed at under a panopticon of court eyes. now he's a big fat tomcat who rules the lavorre-stone household (especially when only fjord is home and he can terrorize him) and can get all the food & drink & experience all across exandria that he could ever want. life is good. if the man in the mirror is getting shaggier & softer & maybe, he thinks as he sees wrinkles and a gray in his hair, older, he's doing it in the best way possible.

#if everyone asked me nonstop bear arti questions id be in heaven thank you anon #artagan #the bear agenda #the bear artagan agenda #fae #long post #critical role headcanons #critical role #campaign 2 #van speaks #asks #weight gain #bears

13 notes · View notes

goblininawig · 5 months

Text

Life Day on Daiyu

This story is a gift for @imarvelatthestars as part of the @cloneficgiftexchange ! I picked Nax, the Daiyu Veteran, and used these prompts from your list: Reader & clone creating new traditions together || Hand under the chin || Snuggles under a blanket || "Pretty girl"

Summary: Your heart goes out to the begging veteran, so you get him a job at the restaurant you manage. One thing leads to another, and soon he's a fixture of your life, and someone you want to celebrate.

Tags: Nax/f!reader, mild hurt/comfort, family drama, strangers to lovers, sharing a bed, domestic fluff, romantic fluff, Life Day fluff, fix-it of sorts, holiday fic exchange

Words: 4.9k

Rating: T

You saw him there most days, sitting with his painted helmet, empty neck up, hoping for a few credits to be tossed his way. He had long, graying hair and a bushy, grizzled beard to match. He wore the rest of his GAR-issued armor, scratched and scuffed as it was. He sat near the marketplace on your route to and from work. You tried to leave a few credits for him after your shifts, but he was usually gone by then.

“Hey, I was thinking,” you said, casually as possible, to Myndi Emadda, a Chagrian with dark purple horns growing from her elegant head tentacles. She owned the restaurant you managed. “What if we get that veteran from the market in here to wash dishes? Bet he’d be glad of the work.”

“That old bum?” she scoffed, looking briefly up from the datapad where the previous week’s earnings were on display. “What for?”

“I figure he’ll work harder than these other people who barely stick around for a week or two. You know it’s the job with the highest turn-over. A guy like that wouldn’t skip out on his shift,” you shrug.

Myndi rolled her orange eyes. “I guess if it’ll make you happy, let him try. These numbers are worth putting up with my new manager being a secret softie.” She finally made real eye contact with you and smiled. “Just keep the profits up,” she added, sashaying out the office door.

You won’t see her again for another week. But that suits you fine. Having freedom to run things your way is why you left your family’s restaurant business. Also, they never really stopped seeing you as a little kid. Maybe, one day, they’ll come around and actually listen to you, but for now, you’re happy here. Especially since it has given you opportunities to help people like this veteran…assuming he’s interested.

The following rotation, you left for work with plenty of time for a detour to the market. After dropping some credits in the veteran’s helmet, you return his grateful nod with a hesitant smile.

“Any chance you’re looking for work?”

He blinked at you, clearly surprised. Then he shifted uncomfortably on the hard duracrete, stretching his right leg out. He cleared his throat, and said, in a rough voice, “Might be. What’s the work?”

“Nothing much, just dishwashing at Myndi’s Cafe up that way,” you nodded down the street. “But it’s steady work with steady pay, and it’s yours as long as you’d want it.”

He swallows. “I – that’s – I could do that.”

You smiled and held out your hand, kneeling a bit so he wouldn’t have to stand to reach you, introducing yourself as you shook his hand.

“Nax,” he said, completing the introductions.

“I walk this way to work,” you explained. “I can meet you here tomorrow, about this time to walk you there, and talk you through everything. That sound all right, Nax?”

He nods.

“See you then,” you smiled again, then walked away, feeling his eyes on you as you went.

You commed your sometimes overbearing, but favorite cousin during your break, asking him to bring over some of his partner’s old clothes. He showed up with them on the following rotation, shortly before you needed to leave, and you snatched them from him hurriedly.

“Finally,” you complained, shoving them in a bag. “You’re gonna make me late,” you grumbled.

Brenko chuckled and leaned against your doorframe, completely unfazed. “You’re welcome.”

You made a face at him and then let out a reluctant, “Thanks.”

“Anytime, baby cuz,” he smirked. “Who’s the new boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes as you shoved him out of the doorway. “It’s not like that.” You shut and locked the door. Then you turned and give him a hug. “Good to see ya.”

“Yeah, same. Don’t be a stranger, huh?”

“No promises,” you called behind you as you hurried towards the market.

Nax was waiting for you, helmet in hand, looking uncertain. You greeted him and then guided him to the back entrance of Myndi’s Cafe. There was a staff ‘fresher there with a shower, a few sinks, and several lockers. You pulled out the clothes from your cousin, and set them down on the bench.

“You can shower in here, and change. Hopefully something will fit you. But, uh, you can’t wear armor to work,” you explained, with a shy smile. “There’s soap and stuff on that shelf. Use whatever you need. When you’re ready, head out that way,” you point towards the hallway that connects to the back of the kitchen. “Whoever you find there can tell you where I’m at.”

He agrees with a wordless nod, and you leave him to it.

The next time you saw Nax, he was wearing a button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscled, bronze forearms, and a pair of soft, black pants. He’d tied back half of his hair and trimmed his beard; it was still full, but no longer looked wild. You had to work hard to control your reaction. He looked incredible, and suddenly staying professional felt like a challenge. But you powered through the moment, and managed to keep yourself to an approving nod and a friendly (you hoped) smile.

“Okay, so this is Kile,” you said, leading him to the dish-washing area where the young human stood with his hip against the sink, looking bored. “He’ll show you through the basic process, and supervise the first few loads that come through. I’ll check back later,” you promised.

At the end of the night, when you locked up, Nax was waiting for you. He was back in his armor; the other clothes were folded up neatly and tucked into his helmet.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly. “Most folk won’t hire clones.”

You shrugged. “Their loss.”

For the first time ever, you saw a hint of a smile on his face, and warmth flooded your chest.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked.

He nodded. “Mind if I walk with you?” he asked.

“I’d like that,” you replied.

He parted ways with you at the marketplace, and you wondered if he slept there, tucked away in some empty stall. The thought made you sad.

You and Nax easily fell into a routine of walking to and from work together. One rotation, when the weather had turned bitter cold, you knew you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he had to sleep outside.

“Nax,” you said, shivering in the wind, “do you want to sleep on my couch tonight?”

He frowned. “Sure you’d feel safe with me there?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I know I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you in this weather.”

Nax looked genuinely surprised, and touched. His expression softened. “Thank you.”

He followed you to your small rental flat. It was nothing compared to your family’s home, but you’re certain that Nax was the last person who’d judge your simple, and, admittedly, a bit crummy, living space. Your main reasons for staying there were that it had been instantly available and was close to work. Being able to walk to the market and to work was a grounding, simple pleasure you secretly cherished. You had always driven to work in the past.

In the central room, you had a second-hand sofa, a holoprojector, and not much else. Nax looked huge, standing there with his broad shoulders. You offered him a seat, mindful of the limp in his right leg he tried so hard to hide from you. He settled into the sofa, stretching his bad leg out in front of him.

The kitchenette, to the left of the main entry, was sparsely supplied, but clean. Grabbing a glass of water for each of you, you joined him on the sofa. You sipped your water, feeling awkward.

“Are you hungry?” you thought to ask.

He shook his head, staring down at the glass in his hand.

“Well, if you get nibbly later, there’s stuff in the kitchen. Just poke around. Eat whatever,” you offered. “I’m gonna use the ‘fresher and then I’ll get you a blanket and all that.”

Nax looked at you and nodded, “Thank you.”

You nod back, trying to ignore the blush you feel heating your cheeks. “Sure.”

Washing your face and brushing your teeth gave you time to feel more settled. You left an extra toothbrush out for Nax, who was massaging his thigh when you passed through to your bedroom.

You dug through a box you never fully unpacked to find your extra bedding. You put a fresh pillow case on a pillow and take it with the blankets to the empty sofa. Nax exited the ‘fresher just as you finished.

“Well,” you said, “good night. Hope you sleep ok.”

“Thank you,” Nax replied in his deep voice.

You smiled at him, and slipped into your room, closing the door behind you. As you laid in bed, you reflected on how risky and stupid your family would say you’re being, to let a man you barely know into your home. But you don’t feel like you made the wrong decision at all.

The following morning, you stumbled out of your room, yawning and rubbing at your eyes. You were getting caf ready to brew when a rumbling, “Good morning,” from behind shocked you. You screeched and jumped around, heart pounding. Then you saw Nax and remembered why he was there. You sagged against the kitchen counter.

“Kriff,” you managed weakly. “I forgot you were here.”

“I’m sorry,” Nax apologized from where he sat, his right leg stretched across the sofa.

You waved his apology away. “No need. I just wasn’t quite awake yet.”

You smiled sheepishly. Nax looked about as awkward as you felt.

You visited the ‘fresher while the caf brewed, and then poured a cup for yourself and your guest. Nax swung his leg down so you could sit with him, and you silently enjoyed your hot drinks together. When you were more awake, you decided to let yourself pry a little.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You already did,” Nax retorted, face serious, but his dark eyes twinkled with unexpected humor.

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “Okay, can I ask you something else?”

“Go ahead,” he replied. He sipped the last of his caf.

“Where do you usually sleep?”

Nax kept his eyes on his mug. At first you weren’t sure he would answer you, but then he said: “There’s a vendor at the market that lets me stow my extra gear under their booth during the day in exchange for guarding it at night.”

You bit your lower lip to keep yourself from ranting about how the vendor should pay him for guard work, not exploit his desperate situation. You forced yourself to take a few breaths before you reply.

“Well, if you’d rather, you can stay here. I’m not used to living by myself, so you’d be doing me a favor.” That was only a slight exaggeration. You hadn’t been on your own before you moved here, but it wasn’t all that bad. Still, you’d rather have a roommate than force him back out in the weather. The real cold season hadn’t even hit yet.

When you finally looked up, you saw Nax staring at you. “Why would you want that?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Your heart went out to him. “Besides it just being the right thing to do?” you said at first, deflecting a bit. Then you softened at the look in his eyes, and added, “and I enjoy being around you.”

The grizzled ex-warrior didn’t seem to know what to say to that. He stared at you for a long moment, finally murmuring a soft “thank you.”

Once again, you left for work early to stop at the market, this time accompanied by Nax. The bundle he gathered from the muttering Gran vendor was pathetically small, containing as it did, all his worldly goods. It took all your customer service skills to keep from tearing into the three-eyed Gran and giving them a piece of your mind. Nax didn’t need you to fight his battles for him. And you didn’t need to foster ill will for him in the community. So you kept your mouth shut, and let yourself be silently grateful that he wouldn’t need to go back there again.

You and Nax settled into a cozy routine, starting your days with companionable cups of caf on the sofa. Little by little, you drew closer, physically and emotionally, and you would cuddle up to his warm side as you sat together. He was surprisingly handy, and fixed all the little problems with your flat that you’d been meaning to get around to someday: tightening loose screws and fiddly door panels. He didn’t know much about cooking, but that was your forte and it was a delight to share your knowledge with him. Soon he was surprising you with inventive meals of his own making. Living together put no strain on working together, and it was nice to have a companion.

You woke up shivering. The cold season had fully arrived, and the heat in your flat wasn’t working. Grumbling to yourself, you reached for your commlink, and sent a message to the building supervisor. But you only received an automated response: that the power had gone out for the entire block, and would be out until the city repaired the grid. Which meant you were in for a very bitter night.

Getting up, a blanket around yourself, you shuffled into the other room. “Nax?” you whispered, unwilling to disturb him if he was still asleep.

But he answered immediately, “Yes?”

“The power is out, so the heat’s out. Would you..wanna come shar my bed with me? I’m too cold to sleep.”

Nax didn’t hesitate. He stood and brought his blankets along to layer over yours. You smiled to yourself in the darkness and went back to bed. Nax joined you, his body heat instantly warming the little pocket of air trapped beneath the blankets. You gave a little contented sigh, and moved closer to rest your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your back, holding you gently. As you drifted back to sleep, you wondered why you hadn’t done this sooner.

When you woke up again, it was in a much more pleasant way. Nax was curled on his side, and you were spooned up against his broad back and thighs, one arm flung around his waist. The cocoon of blankets was warm with your shared body heat. Nax smelt like musk and shampoo when you nuzzled into the hair at the nape of his neck. He brought a hand up to cover yours, gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Good morning,” came his sleep-roughened voice.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed in agreement. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

He squeezed your hand again, tighter this time, and you squeezed back.

Every day you spent with Nax made you care for him more deeply. But you weren’t quite sure he really let himself acknowledge your affection for him. He seemed to assume others would find him worthless, which you couldn’t blame him, after he’d been discarded by the Galactic Republic-turned-Empire, and treated like a soulless being by the very people he’d spent his life fighting to protect. It was awful. You hoped that one day, he would see himself for the loveable man you knew him to be.

“Want to go somewhere we can take hot showers?” you asked.

“Stars, yes,” he sighed.

You hired a transport to get to your cousin’s place. Brenko had eagerly agreed when you’d invited yourself and Nax over. You knew he’d be a pain about it, but the amenities, you hoped, would be worth the trouble.

“Come in! Come in!” he waved you and Nax through the doorway of the home he shared with his partner. Brenko pushed you towards the bedroom, “you can take the master ‘fresher. And I’ll show your friend here,” he paused to look over Nax’s impressive form, “to the guest ‘fresher.”

“Don’t tell him any stories about our childhood,” you called out to their retreating backs.

“No promises,” Brenko sing-songed, making you roll your eyes.

You found Brenko in the kitchen later, after you’d cleaned up and changed. He was making a huge breakfast. “Where’s the hubs?” you asked, tossing some chopped fruit into your mouth.

“He’s been at work for hours, dear cuz,” Brenko replied, stirring something on the stove. “He manages all the before-open prep these days.”

“Oh yeah? Uncle Brice finally let him take that on?”

“Well, he had too. He threw his back out and finally admitted he can’t keep up anymore. Honestly, it was a relief.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Think you and your friend will be at the Life Day party this year?”

You grimaced, but were saved from answering by Nax entering the room. Your cousin must’ve loaned him more of his partner’s clothes, because he was wearing a green asymmetric v-neck sweater that showed off his neck and as well as a glimpse of his impressive pectorals. You tried not to stare at all the exposed brown skin. Nax was looking down at himself in consternation.

“You’re sure your husband won’t mind me taking these?” he asked, apparently not for the first time by the way Brenko waved it off.

“I told you, it’s fine. I’ve been trying to get him to clear out his closet for cycles. You’re doing me a favor.”

He turned and winked at you. You pursed your lips into a frown to hide your smile. You really shouldn’t encourage him to dress up your roommate in ways he knows will pique your interest, should you?

Nax sat down at the large kitchen island beside you, and Brenko slid a couple of steaming cups over. You inhaled the caf scent deeply, appreciative of the excellent blend your cousin used.

“Almost ready with this food here,” Brenko noted. “Go set the table, will you?”

You grumbled, just because, but set out the necessary objects. Nax moved to help, but you pushed him back down to the stool. “Rest,” you asserted gently. “You have to stand at work all day, I don’t.”

Nax sat back down without protest, which meant his leg was probably hurting him, because of the cold. You really needed to find some salve or something that would help take the edge off for him, you mused as you readied the table.

Brenko sat down and ate with you. It was nice to see how well he and Nax took to each other. They bonded easily over work stories of kitchen drama and talking about you like you weren’t there. It would’ve been annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. You left feeling full from more than just a meal.

The power had been restored by the time you and Nax walked home from work that evening. When it was time to sleep, Nax came into your room to retrieve his bedding. Before he laid a hand on anything, you blurted out, “You don’t have to sleep on the sofa, if you don’t want to.”

Feeling hopeful, but also shy and a bit embarrassed by your lack of finesse, you bit your lip and looked down at the floor. You could feel Nax looking at you. Then you heard him step closer to you, saw his feet and legs appear in your line of sight, and then one large, strong hand was lifting your chin up.

You looked into his deep soulful eyes as he rumbled, “Are you sure?”

You swallowed, shifted closer to put your hands on his waist. “Yes.”

His hand left your chin to caress your cheek, and you leaned into the touch. “Alright.”

That night you fell asleep in his arms for the second time.

You stared at the invitation in your hand, hot tears burning your eyes. Every year, your family threw a lavish Life Day celebration to which they’d invite anyone they wanted to impress, or do business with, as well as the entire extended family and close personal friends. The event was scheduled so that the least important guests were asked to come midday, the more important ones towards evening, with family and friends ending the night together at whatever late hour they chose. This year, since you’d decided to strike out on your own, you’d been relegated to the midday crowd. You had been dreading this event, thinking you’d be obliged to go, but now you’ve changed your mind. If they don’t want you around, you’ll just stay away.

“Nax, have you ever celebrated Life Day?”

The clone shook his long hair back as he answered, “No. The Kamanoans would’ve seen that as a meaningless distraction and expense. Besides, what’s the use of celebrating something with life in its name when you were created to be droid fodder?” he continued darkly.

You frowned slightly, saddened by what Nax has suffered in his short, accelerated life. But then you shrugged. “Well, you’re not a soldier now. Wanna celebrate it with me this cycle?”

Nax stroked a hand through his gray-streaked beard, “Like how..?”

You shrugged again. “Like whatever we want.”

Myndi’s Cafe was closed on Life Day since it was an unofficial planet-wide celebration. Which left you and Nax free to sleep in. You woke up in his arms and snuggled closer, resting your head over his chest to listen to his solid heartbeat. You couldn’t think of a better way to start any day, especially this one.

“I’m looking forward to spending the day with you,” you murmured once you knew he was awake by the way he squeezed you softly to say good morning.

He chuckled. The sound of it rumbled under you as you lay against him. “We spend every day together.”

“Hmm.. lucky me,” you purred.

Nax reached a large, calloused hand to your cheek. You blinked up at his dark-eyed countenance. “I’m the lucky one,” he declared solemnly.

His hand moved to your nape, and you leaned forward, bracing yourself against his broad chest. You pressed your lips to his. Nax held you and kissed you softly. You thrilled at the feel of his lips on yours. You’d kissed him before, on the cheek or forehead, but this was so much better. You smiled and curled back into his chest.

“That’s my new favorite way to begin Life Day,” you declared.

Nax’s chuckle rumbled beneath your ear. “Is that a new tradition then?”

“I think it must be,” you sighed happily.

“Hmm.. then may I suggest we get our traditional cup of caf and sit on the traditional sofa?”

You snorted out a laugh. “Sure, Nax. Sounds perfect.”

He snuggled beneath a blanket with you as you sipped steaming cups of caf, watching reports about Life Day celebrations across the galaxy on the HoloNet News. You sighed contentedly. Not even all the glittering displays of lights and decorations in glamorous places you’d never go could compare to the simple pleasure of being with Nax.

But the peaceful moment was broken by a knock at the door.

“Are you expecting someone?” Nax asked.

“No,” you said, standing and pulling your coat over your sleep clothes. You peek through the peephole. “It’s my cousin!”

You hit the control panel and the door swooshed open. You stepped back and let in Brenko and Corr, who wrestled a pine tree through the too-small doorway.

“What’s this?” you asked in amazement, looking from Brenko to Corr for an explanation.

“Well, you told me you didn’t have a tree for Life Day,” Brenko said, as if it should be obvious. “And we decided that was not okay.”

“Plus, I brought homemade puffcake and hot cider,” his husband added, going to the door to retrieve the box of pastries, a thermos, and a large cloth bag.

You smiled at him. “Well, you do make the best puffcake in the galaxy.”

“I do,” Corr affirmed with a broad grin. “Now, I believe you’ve yet to introduce me to your man.”

You blushed furiously at his phrasing.

Nax saved you from answering by stepping over to shake hands with Corr. “Nax,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Corr smiled. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

“Love the outfit,” Brenko snarked gently, propping the tree against the sofa.

You rolled your eyes at him, but then gave him a hug. “Thanks for this. It’s sweet of you. Intrusive and obnoxious, but sweet.”

He just laughed and hugged you back. “Anytime, dear cousin. You know you’re my favorite. I wasn’t about to let this day go without seeing you.”

“Kriff, guess I’m stuck with you,” you smiled, feeling like the day couldn’t possibly get any better.

But it did. Brenko, Corr, and Nax got along splendidly as you all decorated the tree with the bag of supplies your cousin had brought along. It wasn’t anything particularly fancy: just lights and some old home-made decorations from when you were children that Brenko had pulled out of storage. To you it was the most perfect Life Day tree ever.

When they left, both of them hugged you fiercely and whispered how much they would miss you at the family party later. Whether or not it was true, it did your heart good to hear it.

Nax began to gather the dirty cups and plates, and you watched his easy movements, heart warmed by how comfortable he was here with you. It reminded you, with a jolt, of the surprise you’d planned for him, and you slipped into the bedroom.

You pulled out a box from the corner of the closet, and caught up Nax’s trooper helmet from where it sat on a table. Then you took it all into the other room and sat beneath the glowing Life Day tree. While Nax was busy in the kitchen, you started with the turquoise-accented helmet, centering it under the tree. Then you pulled a wide satin ribbon, also turquoise, from the box. You’d carefully lettered ‘Brothers fall but are never forgotten’ on the ribbon in Aurebesh. You draped it artfully over the helmet. Then you pulled out the little electric candles you’d bought, switched each of them on, and arranged them in a semi-circle around the helmet. Finally, you pulled the soft, gift-wrapped package from the box and set it beneath the tree branches to one side.

Stepping back to admire your work, you were joined by Nax, who had finished cleaning up. He wrapped his arms around you from behind as you leaned against his strong, broad chest. “Is this for me?” he asked, voice gruff with emotion.

You nodded and hugged his arms to you. “Life Day is for celebrating the people we love,” you said softly, “even if they’re not with us.”

Nax bent to place a kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you for always thinking of me.”

You twisted in his arms, looking up into his dark brown eyes. “I really care about you, you know.”

Nax lifted a hand to your chin, and pulled you into a gentle kiss. One led to another, and you pressed against him hungrily as his hand slipped around to the back of your neck to thread through your hair. You pulled him close, holding onto his shoulders, returning his kisses with eager affection. Nax pulled back to brush his thumbs over your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours.

When you’d caught your breath, you said, “That’s not your only surprise, you know.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raised slightly and his smile grew. “That so?”

Rather than answer, you smiled mysteriously and stepped backwards, tugging him along with you. You bent down, and lifted up the package you’d wrapped for him.

Nax’s eyes grew wide. “This is for me, pretty girl?” he asked.

“Of course, silly,” you grinned. “Who else? Open it up.”

He made quick work of the wrapping, tearing through it with ease. Then he unfolded a sweater. To the untrained eye, the design might look abstract. But it was made to resemble his armor, and Nax immediately recognized it. “My – my armor. You made this?”

You shook your head. “No, I had to commission it. I’m not good at that sort of thing. Do you like it?”

He crushed you to his chest, the sweater pressed between you. “I love it,” he said in your ear.

You gripped him tightly in return. “I’m glad.”

“I have something for you too,” he added.

“Really!” Your heart leapt. You hadn’t expected anything.

Nax smiled, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and then went into the kitchen. From a high cupboard you never used (because you couldn’t easily reach it), he pulled something wrapped in a towel. Looking sheepish, he handed it to you.

You took it with two hands, and pulled the towel away. It was a plate from Myndi’s Cafe – one of the chipped ones that were always thrown out. On it was painted the evening sky as the sunset faded into true night, and the stars were coming out. In the center were deep violet silhouettes of yourself and Nax, walking hand in hand. Tears pricked your eyes at the love and effort he’d put into the gift.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, voice hoarse with emotion. “Thank you.”

“Happy Life Day, pretty girl,” Nax said, lifting your chin with his hand.

You blinked away happy tears and replied, “Happy Life Day, Nax.”

He captured your lips in a warm kiss, and you melted into him.

Hope you enjoyed the story! (You can also find it on a03 here.)

Happy Holidays! 💚❤️💙

#LDE23 #star wars #obi wan kenobi series #clone trooper nax #daiyu #life day #strangers to lovers #fluff fluff fluff #clone troopers #f!reader #goblininawig

23 notes · View notes

wormstacheangel · 1 year

Text

a late birthday boy fic

His birthday wasn’t a surprise to anyone he knew and loved but it was something they all decided was worth celebrating. Everything was celebrated now that peace fell upon their kingdom—Maybe not fell. Fought with blood, sweat, and tears is more like it but potatoes. Tomatoes.

They made sure to get together for any big or small event. Dean’s birthday was one of those big events.

Growing old was never a problem for him. He never thought he would live long enough to grow old anyways so he never thought of a future and whenever he did, hellfire was always waiting for him. This time though, this time it was different.

With Jack blessing him with great health and lower cholesterol every chance he gets—which is all the time considering they live together—Dean was starting to go gray. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he would be brushing his beard and see gray little hairs tangled up in there. It always pulled at his heartstrings just a little.

Instead of seeing a 26-year-old kid with a death wish, he can look in the mirror and see a 44-year-old man with an exciting plan to go grocery shopping tomorrow at Costco. Best of all, when he looked in the mirror he didn’t see John.

Once upon a time, he didn’t see anything else but John, and maybe a few times that's exactly who he was but now he saw only himself. He knew, now that Chuck was finally gone, that he couldn’t let grief drown him. This time he was going to grieve alongside his family and not let everything come out in a fit of rage.

It wasn’t fair for them.

He just wished he figured that out sooner.

“Happy birthday, Dean!” Jack barged into the room holding a stack of partially burnt pancakes and a candle on top. His pajamas were covered in pancake batter and his hair looked like he raked butter into it but he was still smiling from ear to ear. “I made chocolate chip!”

“I knew I smelt something burning.” Dean joked as he sat up in bed and took the stack of pancakes. “Do I make a wish now or should I save it for the birthday cake?”

“You can make all the wishes you want!” Jack took his phone out and was probably recording it for the family chat. “It’s your birthday!”

“Okay well, I wish-.”

“No! You can’t say it out loud!”

Dean chuckled and then blew out the candle. “There! Secret wish number one has been made.”

Jack put the phone down and went to give Dean an awkward side hug. “I hope it comes true.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.”

The house soon started to fill up with people and decorations.

“Any excuse to use your new grill?” Sam patted his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

Dean hugged back just as strongly before pulling back to look at his new cut. “Eileen is right, this was the best present ever.”

“Shut up.” Sam chuckled, running his hand awkwardly through his new short hair. “I’m gonna let it grow out again.”

“Just shave it all off next time and save us all the trouble.” Dean reached up to pat his head but Sam pushed his hand away with an embarrassed groan and roll of the eyes. “Whatever, bitch. Where’s my real gift? You said it was a huge surprise.”

“Stop using air quotes like that. And yeah Eileen has it.”

“Well bring her over!”

Sam walked away in search of his wife while Dean looked around to see his growing family having a fun time. He loved having his busy family all in one place and doing normal, not hunting things for a while. Everyone was safe and here.

Well, almost everyone but he won’t think about that right now.

Eileen walked over, pulling Sam around with a big grin. Everyone started to gather in close and Dean raised a brow at them. “I don’t see any gift bags.”

“Let me fix that.” Sam pulled a big bow from behind him and placed it on Eileen’s stomach.

“Ta-da!” Eileen did the spirit hands. “You’re gonna be an uncle!”

An uncle. “Me?” Dean felt his throat tighten and his vision blur as the crowd around them roared in excitement. “A baby?”

Sam nodded and Eileen reached over to pull Dean into a tight hug. Whispering to him, “It’s okay. You can be happy.”

Dean hugged her back. Kissing her hair as he let the tears fall because she was right. Fear was the first thing that took over him. He should feel happy.

“Couldn’t be any happier.”

As the day became night and people started to go their separate ways, Dean couldn’t help but think about his age again. He’s 44. How or when that happened he couldn’t tell you but he knew it was only possible because of the one person he kept wishing for.

It was all bittersweet. Another year flew by without getting his angel back and yet he was the happiest he’s been in such a long time.

“Wish you were here.” Dean whispered out to the moon.

“Dean!” Claire called out from the second-floor guestroom. “We’re gonna start the movie! Come on!”

Dean yelled back that he was coming and looked back at the moon one final time.

“Hm.” He walked back inside with a sigh. “Who knows, maybe this year my wish will come true.”

He closed the backyard door and headed upstairs. Unaware of a falling star just a few miles away.

#i know im so late but i kept getting distracted #happy birthday dean winchester #wormstachewrites #dean #fic #ficlet #i just need to post something to get out of this damn rut I'm in

21 notes · View notes

sunlitmcgee · 2 years

Note

Ayo how do you imagine older ! c!bench look (and by old I mean 5 years in the future, not 20)

happy

okay but really. I think they look very light and are all very well-fed. Their faces are still round but their eyes have sharpened. Their faces are clear, and they've got a few slight bags that have already started to fade, and their scales are all still there. Especially in Ranboo's case :( the tear tracts begin to turn a clammy blue-white on either of his cheeks once the blood finally gets cleaned.

Tubbo starts to decorate his horns. He adorns them with metal rings that have thin, jewel-strung chains. At one point he asks Puffy to show him how to apply a bit of paint, but he can't do it himself since his hands are too shaky, so he asks alliumduo to do it, and they put some pretty, simplistic flowers or sometimes a few thin, sky-colored swirls. He also grows some facial hair! But not a full beard. Just a lil scruff of a goatee.

Heh

Goat.

Ranboo also decorates his horns. The one he has left, anyway. The one on his left side was broken when he came back, so now his right one has a few silver bands that match his new wedding ring. They could never find the old one. Maybe it was stolen, either by someone on the SMP or by the ocean when his body was.........left.

There's a bunch of markings all over his scales. Streaks of off-color gray, sickly white blotches, a few speckles around his chest that form a ragged shape where the blood is still stained. The scar that killed him is the biggest one. He has one from Ho16, but its just a streak on his back that comes up from the edge of his tail. It's nothing compared to the splatterwork of burns that's ruined his once near perfect black and white split.

His eyes are still shiny. He wears bows and bells on his tail and has a favorite pair of silvery hoop earrings. The bows are from Tommy, who insists on keeping the bell because he doesn't want him "wandering off and getting lost 'again'". and tubbo got him the hoops.

"It's because you're my pretty moon."

Tommy is Tommy. He's really just the same. Same blue-gray eyes, like diamonds covered in grimy dust. Same messy hair that gets longer as he grows and grows until its a tangled mane of golden fleece. Same white streak, but he dyes it at some point, sometimes Ghostbur Blue or pale peony. One time he did it red and gave Tubbo a heart because he thought he'd murdered someone when he walked in to see Tommy hunched over the sink with streaks of red running down all over it. Ranboo once suggested he try and do it purple.

He wears soft clothes. He's had to basically Ship of Theseus his favorite blue cardigan. His pants are always covered in dirt. Every week he goes out to buy some thrift-store cloth to use for another dozen patches.

He's grown by half an inch. His laugh still cracks a little. He's gotten more dirt under his nails and sun onto his skin.

#tw implied death #ask to tag #ask #dream smp #character design talks #c!benchtrio #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #tw blood mention

11 notes · View notes

dent-de-leon · 2 years

Note

You’re hyper activating my Widomauk cell again (Despite me forever sighing SO LOVEY DOVEY about them all the damn time) and I want to ask you an IDEA I have because I love the idea of older people finally getting to be with that one person that was always on their radar romantically.

Since SPOILER ALERT….

Caleb is single since him and Essek broke up after getting together later on down the road (mutually and on good terms!) because Essek doesn’t age at all the same rate humans do and it sounds like an issue that probably occurred when Caleb was starting to show AGE and Essek looks the same. And therefore became friends once more and King is riding the tides being a (Potential pirate king? C3 reveal the tief secrets. OR DO A SEQUEL ONE SHOT PLEASE-).

But imagine Caleb in his early 40s, being a well known professor and wizard, hero, adventurer, voice a tad bit more deeper and with some grays/whites growing along the beard and near his temples and having crows feet. A good and kind, patient and silly but stern professor. The kind to encourage his students to be outrageous in class but making sure no harmful lines are crossed.

Kingsley, having a neat streak of white hair (To match his charm’s white hair) (Totally not a near death experience nope, whistling a little too forcefully), crows feat and smile lines, one of the well known/rumored pirate captains of the sea known to discover many hidden treasures and come across islands, magic of all kinds within or above the sea, looting but giving said loot out to those who deserve it, known to be affiliated with the mighty nein and other particular events.

And Caleb and Kingsley seeing each other, in a far off region at some port somewhere and smiling at one another and approaching each other. “Hello Magician” “Hello Circus man. What are you doing all the way over here in Marquet?” “Why, Mister Caleb I could ask you the same thing.” Then BOOM SLOW BURN FRIENDS TO LOVERS with “Let’s get ADVENTURING” while Caleb is praying to whatever god to give his knees strength for it all.

Like THAT?

YEAH….it’s been HAUNTING ME

Hi! Oh I’m always going to have a soft spot for widomauk, and it always makes me happy to hear that other people aren’t over them either. They really are disasters and I love watching them dance around their feelings for each other.

I just want to say first that I know the possibility of Essek and Caleb not staying together is upsetting for a lot of people, so it's not something I really dwell on. Even if they do end up growing apart, I imagine that their relationship in a few decades is pretty similar to the way things are now. I honestly don't think much between them will change.

Also, I just really like that Caleb is polyamorous, so I personally think of King Molly being with him post campaign and shadowgast as not being mutually exclusive. Essek is more withdrawn and carefully guarded with his heart (similar to Caleb), whereas Molly is warm, tactile, and gives his affection so freely--so I think the two of them could have a very interesting dynamic, especially given that they both have feelings for Caleb. They could probably learn a lot from each other.

But yes I just love the thought of King Molly and Caleb building a life with each other eventually! And there’s just something so sweet about the thought that, no matter how much time has passed, they’d still be just as excited about running into each other again and act like nothing’s changed. The way King and Caleb parted leaves me with the impression that they’ll always be able to fall right back into step with each other.

I can see King playfully teasing Caleb about his age, but also making it clear that he thinks he’s still just as handsome. Loving every laugh line and the way Caleb is no longer bone thin with dirt streaked across his face--all the little signs that his Magician is healthier and happier; that he’s learned to be kinder to himself.

And Caleb is definitely a professor that everyone adores. His eyes light up when he’s teaching a new spell, and he just cares so much about his students. King thinks it’s really sweet that Caleb’s good with kids and tells him he’d make a good parent.

King Molly getting white hair from stress and trying to act maybe a little happier than he is...that’s how I imagine him too later on, once his memories start coming back. Especially if those nightmares about the battle in Cognouza and Tharizdun’s chains continue through the years. Taliesin said King threw himself into a life of piracy as an escape from those chains, so I think a part of him is still a bit restless and haunted, yearning for a way to just leave all his pain behind. Taking to the sea because it feels like freedom. The kind of thing Caleb would see right through.

They both have such tragic pasts. And while Caleb is healing, I think King is someone who always ran away, who never even let himself process his trauma. But Caleb knows all about nightmares and scars and stolen memories; the clawing pain of feeling empty. I can see him wanting to be there to comfort King Molly, to let him know he’s not alone and he deserves this new chance at life.

The thought of Kingsley whisking Caleb away for another adventure is just so sweet--and Caleb might protest at first, but he’s missed the Mighty Nein’s exploits for so long, he’s absolutely dying to go. Maybe they even rope some of the others into coming along (would Essek do well as a pirate??). It’s as fun as it is a disaster, and King absolutely keeps asking Caleb to stay. The two of them can just run away and forget all their troubles at sea.

I can see Essek and Kingsley both being people that maybe Caleb isn’t with all the time, that they’re often apart because of various circumstances and different paths in life--but whenever they’re with him, they always make the most of it. And when they go, a part of his heart stays with them.

But yeah, my very self indulgent dream is Caleb eventually being in a relationship with Kingsley as well as Essek post campaign. When he sails back to the empire--after he’s ready to read Beau’s journal and see all of the Nein again--I think there will still be something between him and Caleb. And maybe it’s coming back from the dead again, or just wanting to make sure he never has a single regret, but I can see him just kissing Caleb one day and asking him to stay.

#thank you for the widomauk headcanons this warms my heart #caleb can hold both his wizard boyfriend and tiefling boyfriend's hands. as a treat #i just really love the thought of king and caleb finding their way back to each other eventually and just. being happy #mollymauk

4 notes · View notes

moralesispunk · 2 years

Note

❛ this is a good look for you. ❜ - Super, happy, fluffy one with Frankie's lady complimenting Frankie's fluffy hair, please. ^^

This is pure fluff and lightheartedness with a bit of emotion at the end - I hope you enjoy! Part of my 1000 follower celebration!

Frankie Morales x Wife! Reader

Summary: Frankie is starting to feel a bit insecure with his gray hairs but you are always there to make him feel better

Warnings: this is pure fluff, Frankie and reader in established relationship (married with child), kissing

Frankie was going longer and longer in the breaks between his visit to the barber, a new development since his retirement when he didn’t have to follow rules about how long his hair could be or in what ways it could be styled.

You liked it; it was yet another sign that he was becoming more comfortable back home, knowing that there wasn’t another deployment looming around the corner where he would have to leave you for months on end with only letters and the occasional pixelated facetime.

His hair was now curling around his ears and the back of his neck, poking out from beneath his many caps and demanding him to brush the hair from his eyes every so often. It was paired with his patchy beard, one you loved to scratch your nails through as you watched mindless TV after dinner or while laying on his chest in bed - an action that would have him falling asleep in a matter of minutes.

Something you also loved was the new gray hairs that were starting to show up through his hair, patches along his jaw and strands scattered throughout his dark locks. You were admiring it now as you lay on the couch, his head on your chest and hand rubbing up and down your side as you carded through his hair. Frankie was obviously thinking the same, his voice cutting through the movie you had put on after Sofía had gone to bed.

“I need a haircut,” he mumbled against your chest and you stopped the movement.

“Why?”

There wasn’t an answer but you felt his cheeks go warm as they pressed against you and you reached around to take his chin between your thumb and finger, tilting him up to look at you. He avoided your gaze for a moment and you prompted him again, a gentle squeeze of his chin.

“The grays,” he muttered, “there are… a lot now.”

“And?”

“And I look old.”

“What?” You bit down on your lip to hide a fond smile, sitting up and making him sit up with you.

“I look old,” he repeated louder this time.

“Frankie, baby, you are getting old,” you nodded and he rolled his eyes. “But,” you spoke quickly, shuffling closer to him on the couch, “but you just keep getting more handsome.”

“Stop,” he groaned, his body flopping backwards on the couch and you laughed, crawling over him to straddle his waist.

“Never,” you smiled wickedly down at him and you could see the pull of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “I have always thought you were the most handsome man but this,” you gestured to his whole body, “just keeps getting more handsome and honestly, it’s a bit frustrating.”

He finally smiled fully up at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he jerked his chin up at you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you groaned dramatically. “All the other Mom’s at school stare at you when we take Sofía in the morning, I can see them whisper about you.” You leaned your hands on his chest and his own came to wrap around your wrists. “Ever since retiring you just look- you just look so good. It’s hard to get anything done around here when you’re walking about like this. I just think about your strong arms,” you tilted your head, watching as you dragged your fingertips down his biceps and dropped your voice lower, “and your face, the lines you’ve earned from smiling so much,” you trace up along his jaw, “and these lips,” you lean down and kiss them, “I think about kissing them all the time. And the gray hairs,” you reached up and ran your fingers through the curls, “I love them too. I think about how you’ve loved me so long that we’re both starting to grow old together.”

His face softened and those words, his hands settling on your waist as you leaned in again and pressed your lips against his once more. One of his hands moved around to your back, pressing you tighter against him and as you gasped he pressed his tongue into your mouth and you moaned. It was soft and it was gentle; hands lightly exploring each other until you finally pulled back.

“This is a good look for you. You suit-” you felt a lump in your throat as you nodded at him, “you suit being home, Frankie. You suit being here, with us, a husband and a father.”

The air in the room changed, what had started as light teasing turned into a moment of pure love. It was true that the man you were looking at now looked different than he did all those years ago you met him in a bar - his face etched with more lines and wrinkles, his body changing with age and no longer running around carrying a 50 kilo backpack, his hair now lightened with gray streaks - but you loved him more every day.

You fell in love with him a little bit more every time he pulled you closer to him as you both lay asleep in bed, or when he played with your daughter, a life you had created together, or when you heard his laugh, or saw his smile…

“I love you, Francisco Morales. I loved you when we were younger, I love you now, and I will love you when we are old.”

His hand found one of yours, bringing it to his lips as he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to your ring - fighting back his own emotion that was making it difficult to find the words now.

“I love you, always and forever,” he spoke back.

“Even with my gray hairs,” you teased and he laughed, shaking his head.

“Even then.”

tags (part one)

@phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday @tintinn16 @pilothusband @voteforpedro09 @dihra-vesa @frankiecatfish @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @transias @peoniarose @pjkimrn @fangirl-316 @niki-xie @potted–ivy @phandoz @janebby @athalien @xocalliexo @amneris21 @lavenderluna10 @iamskyereads @spacenerdpascal @mswarriorbabe80 @dumplinshee @jitterbugs927 @gracie7209 @lovesbiggerthanpride @lowlights @notabotiswear

#Frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x y/n #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales

228 notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 4) - Safety Nets

Summary: The reader has her first date with Jensen, a simple dinner at home with him and the kids, but when they get a moment alone, he shares some information about the accident hardly anyone knows. Just as things start to get moving with the pair, Jensen has to head to Canada for filming ahead of schedule but he’s not so sure he can go back to whole weeks away from his family right now...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,200ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, mention of injury, depression, anxiety, self-worth problems

A/N: Shopping buddies are the best ;) Please enjoy!

________

“Can I help set the table?” you asked the next evening, Jensen shaking his head at you.

“JJ, can you set the table for me?” asked Jensen. She jumped up from the couch and got out silverware, setting an extra spot for you.

“Y/N, are you and dad on a date?” she asked when she finished up. You looked down from where you leaned back against the counter, Jensen chuckling.

“Yes we are sweetie. If this goes well I’d like to take Y/N out on Friday, maybe you guys can go to Uncle Jared and Aunt Gen’s,” he said.

“You should go out with dad,” said JJ.

“Oh I should?” you said, crossing your arms. “Why’s that?”

“Cause he’s strong and handsome and smart and funny and…” she said, holding up her hand and counting on her hand.

“The hair,” he whispered, a smirk crossing your face.

“Oh and he’s only got a few gray hairs!” she said.

“Oh. Well that is interesting,” you laughed, Jensen smacking himself in the face.

“Great hair, JJ. Not gray. Great,” he said.

“You do have gray whiskers,” she said.

“Like...barely,” he said. “See what I put up with? A few teensy tiny little patches in my beard if it grows out.”

“I don’t know if I can date a man of such frail age,” you said. He cocked his head and you laughed, JJ giggling as she went to get the plates.

“Keep it up you two,” he said. You walked over to him, JJ going past with the plates. “Come to tease some more?”

“I was told you’re quite handsome, thought I’d get a closer look,” you said.

“You can have as close a look as you want,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Calm yourself, Casanova,” you said, reaching up to the cupboard to get another plate for JJ. “Here sweetie.”

“Thanks,” she said. She set it ran back over, hugging you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

“Good,” she said. You bent down and picked her up, resting her on your hip.

“Where’d you think I was going?” you asked. She shrugged and Jensen stopped stirring the pot.

“I don’t know. Wherever you were before. Dad’s a lot happier since you live with us now,” she said.

“Well taking care of you three is hard all by yourself,” you said. You set her down and patted her head. “Go get your brother and sister for dinner.”

“You’re good with them,” he said, stirring the pot again.

“They’re people. Small people that don’t know half of what adults do but still people. Sometimes you gotta treat ‘em like it. Most of the time actually,” you said.

“I talked to her earlier about this whole situation,” he said.

“Besides listing off all your selling points what’d she think?”

“Well apparently she’s in favor of me asking if you’d marry me tonight,” he said.

“Oh. Shotgun wedding. Simple. I like it,” you laughed. He turned his head and smiled, glancing down for a long moment, slowly returning.

“Why doesn’t this situation scare you? The kids, me who has been all over the place lately, not to mention my job, long distance, the shit you get just for-” he said, your hand covering his mouth.

“I didn’t say it’s not a lot, Jensen. It’s scary. Of course it is. Every single one of my relationships has ended badly for one reason or another. Friendships. Family ones. Romantic ones. You’re handsome and you’re so successful and I’m literally a nanny but you said you wouldn’t hurt me. So I’ll trust that you won’t and you trust I won’t hurt you and it’ll work itself out.”

“That simple huh.”

“I’m easy going. Let’s keep it simple,” you said.

“Simple works,” he said as you pulled the pot off the burner before it bubbled over. “Simple definitely works.”

“This is not a good idea,” you said two hours later, the kids in bed, you and Jensen jumping up and down on the trampoline in the yard.

“Oh most certainly not,” he said, landing near you and sending you up. You yelped and landed back down on your bottom, Jensen bouncing again, sending you up again and laughing this time. “Well that’s a cute sound.”

“Boys. Is it taught somewhere that you gotta tease a girl when you like her?” you asked, Jensen pulling you to your feet and bouncing around lightly.

“Right after manly man class, duh,” he said.

“You would have failed, I can tell you right now,” you said. He scoffed and you shrugged. “That’s kinda a really good thing.”

“That your ex? Tough guy all the time?” he asked.

“Not like, to that extent or anything. I had a bad day and I really needed someone and he let me down. He got mad at me for it actually. He called depression a phase I needed to get over with,” you said. He stopped bouncing and you did the same, glancing down. Next thing you knew he playfully tackled you onto the trampoline, rolling to his side and smiling at you.

“Some of my friends have it. One of my best friends does. Jared. If he ever knocks on the door late at night or whatever, let him in.”

“You take care of everyone in your life it seems,” you said.

“You take care of the people you care about, not insult them. Hopefully the ex figures that out someday.”

“How’d you figure it out?”

“I don’t do anything anyone else shouldn’t,” he said.

“Maybe that’s it,” you said. “You’re unapologetically good and you don’t even know how rare that is.”

“It takes up too much energy to be angry or mean or cruel. I’d just rather be happy,” he said.

“You got a lot of friends, don’t you.”

“My fair share,” he said.

“How many would you call close?”

“Maybe ten or so.”

“How many real close?”

“Two or three.”

“How many know what really happened that day? Your wife…” you said. He stared at you and swallowed.

“How do you know?” he asked quietly.

“Because when we met you said she died in an accident but then you said it was her head. You’re holding onto something, something you don’t talk about.”

“She was driving when the aneurysm happened. I was in the car with her. I almost died. It’s seemed easier to lie about that.”

“Who knows?”

“My parents and Jared. They’re the only ones.”

“You ever talk to anyone about it?”

“I went to talk to someone a few times. I’m better now,” he said with a smile. “I don’t share a lot if you may have guessed already. Not to too many people. But you it feels so easy to.”

“Must be special,” you said. He smiled and reached a hand over, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. “That why you like me?”

“There’s a lot of stereotypical reasons to like someone and part of that is true in why you choose someone I suppose. But there’s this other part that when you meet someone that you can’t really explain.”

“I get that. I get all of it. My brain always seems to want to go to the bad scenario first I suppose,” you said. You looked up at the black sky, Jensen toying with another strand between two fingers. “I wish it didn’t do that so much.”

“You’re just trying to protect yourself is all,” he said.

“But I come off as pushy and distant,” you said, turning your head. “Like I’m that person that’s cool with everything being casual.”

“Well think of it like this trampoline. It’s the only thing holding us up right now right?” he asked and you hummed. “Well my life, I’ve had thousands of safety nets below me to catch me when I fall so even if I tore through one, there was more to hold me up while the others got fixed. You never had as many to start and I think more of yours broke and there was no way to fix them in time so you kept tumbling through until you got to the ground.”

“Your point?”

“Maybe some people hit the ground and others never do. But the people who hit the ground, as they go back up they can make the best most solid nets in the world to hold them up. One good net beats a thousand flimsy ones.”

“So at what age do I get the wisdom?” you asked, turning your head and smiling over at him.

“You don’t. My job has made me fall through more nets than I wanted to and this year made me realize I might not have a thousand strong nets at the bottom but I just needed one to get by and now I’m working back up. You’re not even close to being down low either. You’ve already had the hardest part of your life. It’s all up from here.”

You leaned over and he lay back on the trampoline, gazing up at you. You lowered your head as he cupped your cheek, pulling you in close until your lips were touching. Part of your mind was reeling from that in itself but the other half knew that was his first kiss since his wife. You inched back but stayed close, Jensen peeling open his eyes.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Very,” he said. You lay back beside him, Jensen letting you go. His hand reached out for yours though and laced your fingers together. “Why’d you kiss me?”

“Wanted to,” you said.

“Cool. I wanted to kiss you too,” he said.

“Alright then.” You stared upwards, the trampoline shifting again. He popped into view propped up on one arm, your head turning slightly. He was flush, even in the dim light. He moved slowly but you let him come to you, a barely there gentle kiss that lingered, a thousand gears going in your head, likely a thousand more going off in his.

“I’m okay,” he said quietly as he pulled back a few inches. Your fingers carded through his hair and he smiled. “I’ll get the hang of this again. I promise.”

“That was more than enough for one night,” you said. “We said slow and we’ll go slow, okay?”

“Sounds good with me.”

Two Days Later

“Y/N, can I have a word with you in my office?” asked Jensen as you were picking up after dinner. You hummed and put the last fork in the dishwasher before following him down to a quieter part of the house. He shut the door behind you and he ran his hand over his face. “This is about work, my work, but it’s going to involve you. Heavily.”

“What’s up?” you asked, taking a seat in a chair. He sat in his by his desk, scrunching up his face.

“My job with that TV show, The Boys, it films in Canada. I’m gonna need to be up there four, maybe five months. The way things used to work with my wife was I would fly back home every weekend or every other weekend. I never went more than 2 weeks seeing the kids. I don’t have to film every day but it’s easier to stay there for the week. But it’s...it’s difficult for me. It’s difficult for them and...they lost one parent this year. I can’t stay away that long for months. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” you said.

“I’d like to temporarily move to Canada while I film. No flying back and forth. The kids can see me everyday and I can see them. JJ’s school still offers remote learning and I’m homeschool certified in a pinch. Twins can do daycare easy. The only issue I have is the same one I originally did. I still need a nanny. Only now in a different country...and it’s gonna be more late nights on the regular.”

“I see,” you said.

“This isn’t what you signed up for so if you don’t want it, that’s okay. I can find a nanny up there and we can try long distance and-” he said before you stood and walked in front of him.

“I’m in.”

“Really? I mean it’s gonna be awhile before we’re back in the states,” he said.

“It sounds like fun.”

“Awesome. I was really hoping you’d say that,” he said.

“So where are we going?” you asked.

“Toronto. Well, near there. I gotta start filming start of February but there’s promo stuff to do in late January,” he said.

“It’s already late January,” you laughed. “When do we have to move?”

“Uh, tomorrow,” he said. “Just got the call a few hours ago. I got a house to rent lined up already.”

“Oh wow. Alright. Uh, what do I need to do exactly?” you asked.

“Keep stuff normal. Don’t worry about cleaning or anything. Maybe box up anything you want to bring and some of the kids stuff. Toys, books, that stuff. I’ll handle their bags. We’ll ship it all up tomorrow and take a flight up at night,” he said.

“Okay, cool,” you said. “Wait I need like, a snow jacket right?”

“We’ll get you set up there with coat and boots and all that,” he said.

“Gotcha,” you said, starting to leave before you spun around and walked smack into his chest. “Wait. I have a lot more questions actually. Like...I don’t have a passport?”

“I know which is why tomorrow morning first thing you’re gonna go down to the post office, get your passport done up and when it comes in, we’ll get it shipped up to Canada,” he said.

“How do I get into Canada though?”

“We share a border with them so we bring your license and birth certificate, you can go right on in no problem,” he said.

“Oh. Okay,” you said. “Wait. I’ve never been on an airplane before. What-”

“Okay,” he laughed. “Take a hot second and breathe and we’ll go from there. I know it’s last minute but it’ll work out. I promise.”

“Y/N,” said Jensen, tapping your shoulder two days later. You hummed and reluctantly turned your head away from staring out the back sliding doors to the snow covered yard and trees around you. “Have you ever seen snow before?”

“No. Not like this,” you said, head going back to staring outside. “It’s something out of a movie.”

“You had that same look on your face when we took off last night in the plane.”

“What’s that?”

“Those little moments where the years fall off and you get that childish joy, like nothing bad has ever happened,” he said.

“I suppose there’s hope for me yet,” you said with a smile.

“Oh there was always that,” he chuckled. He threw an arm over your shoulders and you leaned into him. “Can I still take you out Friday?”

“Who’s gonna watch the kids?” you asked.

“My buddy.”

“Does he exist?” you said, grinning at him.

“Cute,” he said, ruffling your bedhead. “Yes he does exist. How’s Friday night sound?”

“Do I need a dress?” you asked.

“Probably. It’s a nice place,” he said. “My favorite place in Toronto actually. Jeans are perfectly acceptable there though.”

“I’ll pick out a dress today too,” you said. You kissed his cheek and watched them turn an ever so light pink. “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” he chuckled. “Put your boots and coat on the card I gave you alright? That’s a business expense.”

“Whatever you say boss,” you said. “I’m gonna duck out before the little ones get up. I’ll try not to be gone too long.”

“Take your time. Drive slow in the snow until you get the hang of it, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

“What the fuck’s the difference between therma heat and therma wear…” you mumbled to yourself, gawking at the glove rack at the store an hour later.

“I think it’s just marketing,” said the guy on the other side. You jumped and managed to knock about five pairs off the hangers. He laughed quietly and peeked his head around. “Didn’t mean to spoke ya.”

“It’s alright. I’m…” you said, the man smiling as you shook your head out. “Um...I…”

“You okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded and he smiled. “You sure cause you were just having a life crisis over gloves a second ago and now you can’t seem to form a sentence.”

“You’re Home…” you said, shutting your eyes. “You’re the actor that plays...I’m having a fucking day.”

“Looks like it,” he said, bending down and picking up some of the gloves. He laughed again and you got the ones closest to you, putting them back. “You know it’s like ten degrees outside right? Not exactly sneaker weather.”

“I know. This place looks pretty but it’s worse than a Texas summer almost with how cold it is.”

“I thought you sounded not from here,” he said with a smile. “I’m not from around here either. I do better with the heat myself.”

“Okay um, listen...uh, what’s your name, not Homelander?” you asked.

“Antony,” he chuckled again.

“I’m Y/N. I’m just gonna get the weird stuff out of the way cause…” you said as he smiled but stepped back a foot. “Yeah. Um I’m a fan but like...do you know Jensen Ackles?”

“Why?” he asked.

“He’s my boss...and my boyfriend but that’s another story. We might run into each other at some point, probably very likely. Just wanted to throw that out there.”

“Your boss?” he asked.

“I nanny his kids. I wouldn’t believe me if I were you either. I should go,” you said. You groaned when you were past him, hearing a pair of feet jog to catch up with you.

“I know you. You were on his instagram last week right? Yeah okay, that makes sense why a clueless Texas girl is stressing over gloves.”

“Excuse me?” He shook his head and smiled.

“Get a pair of thick gloves, thinner ones but not too thin, a warm hat, good boots for traction along with some boot spray and go with a longer hooded parka. It’ll be warmer. Throw in a few pairs of wool socks to be sure,” he said.

“Oh. Thank you,” you said. You looked back at the store and then to him. “There’s like five hundred coats in here.”

“How about you buy me a cup of coffee and I’ll help you out. Deal?”

“Why would you help me?” you asked.

“Well I’m gonna be working with Jensen quite a bit and he’s your boyfriend too apparently plus it’s just nice,” he said.

“You’re so not like your character.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. We’ll be out of here in an hour tops.”

Antony turned out to be very helpful since apparently you had an uncanny ability to be attracted to the least warmth rated items in the whole store. But you had your parka and boots on now, other items tucked away in the bags as you browsed through a rack of black dresses at a different store.

“We dress shopping now?” said Antony, sipping on his coffee cup.

“Dude,” you said, jumping again. “You gotta learn to make noise.”

“It’s my natural stealth,” he said. “That one.”

“What?”

“That one,” he said, nodding to a dress on the wall.

“I can’t pull that one off,” you said.

“Try it. I’ll watch your stuff,” he said.

“You’re oddly nice,” you said. “To a stranger.”

“Well this beats my plans of walking around the mall buying crap I don’t need. Besides, I like you.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“I’m taken,” he laughed. “Come on. Everybody needs a shopping buddy.”

“Okay but if you’re a weirdo Jensen will kick your ass,” you said, finding your size and taking it off the rack. “Just sayin’.”

“I like the guy more already,” he said. “It’s not like it’s your first date or anything.”

“...Second date.” He stared and looked away. “It’s…complicated.”

“I heard about...you know…the accident,” he said.

“Let him bring that up,” you said and he nodded. You took the dress into the changing room and smirked at the mirror. “Alright, maybe we give this one a shot.”

You changed back and found Antony on a bench outside.

“I should take you shopping more often,” you said. “You have good taste.”

“Sounds like a winner,” he said, handing you back your bags. “I gotta head out for work but it was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’m sure I’ll see you around very soon.”

“Me too. Thanks for the help today, really.”

“Not a problem at all. See ya later,” he said as he headed out. You gave him a wave and picked out a pair of black heels to go with the dress before you were heading home.

“Hey Jensen,” you said late that night. He’d had to go in for some photos in the afternoon and had taken quite a bit longer than he’d anticipated. “Leftovers are in the container on the top shelf.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and padded into the kitchen before tossing the container in the microwave.

“Um, Jensen? Can I talk to you about work?” you asked. His ears perked up and he nodded while he looked around for a spoon. “Second drawer to the left.”

“Thanks,” he said. “So what’s up? Something wrong?”

“Not exactly. I was thinking earlier though about a backup plan,” you said. He took out the container and grabbed his spoon sitting across from you at the table.

“What’s a backup plan?” he asked, shoveling a spoonful of too hot pasta into his mouth.

“Well down in Austin, say I was suddenly unable to perform my job duties cause I’m sick or hurt or I’m off on vacation or whatever. Down there I have a network of other nannies that could step in temporarily, they can do a pick up or drop off in a bind, that sort of thing. It’s kind of a support group in way. It’s good for me and for you.”

“They must have one of those things up here?” he asked, taking a slower bite this time. You spun your computer around and he nodded. “Tornanny. That’s cute. You gotta sign up or something?”

“I need to take a four hour class. They have one on Saturday morning. Is it okay if I sign up?” you asked. He chuckled and took another bite of food.

“Weekends are still yours to do as you please. I need a bit more help during weeknights or mornings but weekends are still yours. I’m also compensating your pay for the additional time and no you’re not winning that argument so don’t even try.”

“Okay. I’m gonna sign up,” you said, turning the computer back.

“What was that thing on the side?” he asked.

“Hm?” you said as you started filling in the form.

“Some happy hour thing on the side,” he said. You flicked your eyes over to the side of the page and saw the group posting. “That could be fun.”

“Do I look like the kind of person that goes to happy hours?” you said.

“Well maybe you could meet a nanny friend in this group, one you could maybe get to cover for you if you ever needed it. I did steal you away from everything you know to a different country with a days notice after all. I’d go with you if you want,” he said.

“What about the kids?”

“Hm?”

“Jensen. I’m starting to see a fatal flaw in me being the nanny and us dating. I’m the person that should be watching the kids when you go out,” you said.

“Hm,” he said, eating for a few moments. “You do have a point. I think we need to renegotiate your contract.”

“Wait you’re firing me?” you said, Jensen shaking his head and laughing. “Okay cause you were about to lose a girlfriend for a second there.”

He smiled to himself and looked down, playing with his dinner.

“So what are you talking about?” you asked.

“Well, girlfriend,” he chuckled. “How about this? Weekends you don’t work, at all, for any reason. If you watch the kids for an hour while I duck to the store, it’s cause you’re doing it cause of us, not as part of your job. If we want to go out or on a date on the weekend, we’ll get a sitter. I had a go to in Vancouver when I lived there. I’ll give her a call, see if she knows anyone out here that would work. That sound good?”

“I guess that’s alright,” you said. He raised and eyebrow and you shrugged. “I enjoy our alone time, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to take away from them though.”

“I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not saying…” he said before he trailed off and ate the last bites of his food. “I moved us so they could see me everyday which is far more than they ever did when I filmed my show. I will still make them breakfast. I will still put them to bed. I will still have lunch with them and play with them and all of it. They’ll always by my first priority. But a relationship with kids doesn’t always mean the kids are around. Sometimes they come with, sometimes they stay home. I’m not talking about ditching them for days on end. A few hours on a Saturday night, most of which they’ll be in bed asleep is all I’m talking about. We have a right to a little bit of time for ourselves. It’s not as easy with them than it was the first time around but we just have to try harder is all.”

“Okay,” you said. “I’m good with that. How was your first day?”

“Good. We did a lot of promotional stuff. I won’t start acting until next week. I heard you met Antony shopping today.”

“Yeah. I didn’t get a chance to tell you when I got home earlier. He seems like a nice guy.”

“He does. He invited us to dinner once we settle into a routine,” he said. “Apparently you two are shopping buddies now.”

“The man does know how to choose a dress.”

“Good thing I packed my lucky suit up here,” he said.

“Speaking of suits...you wouldn’t happen to have any of you in your Soldier Boy suit from today?”

“No spoilers,” he said with a smirk. You jutted out your lip and he rolled his eyes, taking out his phone. He tapped and slid it over to you, your eyes wide. You must have stared for a solid minute before you looked over at him, Jensen leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and a huge grin on his face. “You think I’m hot, don’t you.”

“Pft, no,” you said, biting your bottom lip before you licked it. He was still grinning out of the corner of your eye and you gave him the phone back. “Maybe...you’re kinda hot. But it’s totally the suit. Like right now, ugh, horrendous.”

“Nah, I’m hot,” he said, sticking out his stomach and rubbing it.

“I’m impressed you can actually do that,” you said.

“Everybody’s got a tummy,” he said. “Seriously though, you think the suit is cool?”

“It looks awesome. I’d love to see it in person,” you said.

“Oh you guys will be on set at some point,” he said. “I’m kinda nervous about next week.”

“Really? Why? You’re a great actor.”

“Have you ever seen a single thing I’ve done,” he chuckled.

“I did in fact see that horror movie on a date years ago. Something with like mining?” you asked.

“That’s what you saw? Like that movie? I hope the date worked out at least,” he said with a big smirk.

“Actually it was the crappy ex,” you said.

“Oh. You guys must have dated for a long time then.”

“Since we were seventeen,” you said. He stared and you shrugged. “I kept waiting for him to grow up and change. Eventually I realized he never would.”

“Did you love him?”

“I loved the idea of him. I liked him. I was with him for close to 12 years so I obviously liked him. But it wasn’t love. I could never be myself all the way around him and that’s not a way to live. There was none of that feeling when you first meet someone, you know?”

“Would I be pushing to ask if you ever thought about marrying the guy?”

“He did propose actually. A few times,” you said. “I turned him down. Things really went downhill from there though.”

“Why’d you say no?”

“I didn’t want to marry someone that made me feel bad about being me. Got tired of him telling me to get over everything that happened as a kid, dress a certain way, should I really have dessert, that kind of crap.”

“It’s part of who you are. I wouldn’t exactly call your past something to get over,” said Jensen. “Why would he even make you feel bad about it? You’re so normal.”

“I don’t think his daddy hugged him enough,” you said.

“No need to be a dick to other people for it,” he said. You smiled as you finished filling out the rest of the form for the class before sending it off. “Hey on the plus side I did get a good recommendation for daycare today. I was gonna check it out tomorrow morning, maybe get the twins in next week. Apparently they’re also hooked up with a school so JJ can go to school with some other American kids too instead of being stuck behind a screen here all day.”

“That’s great news. She can make some new friends that way. You know I was thinking maybe she could get signed up for indoor soccer. When I played the new season normally started right at the beginning of February.”

“Is it safe?” he asked. “I thought that could get pretty dangerous.”

“Adult leagues can be but kids her age it’s just running back and forth mostly. She could make some new friends, give her something fun to look forward to.”

“It’s not a bad idea. I would like her to be involved in something since she’s out of dance and soccer back home right now. I’ll talk it over with her in the morning,” he said. “She say something to you about it?”

“No. I just know what it’s like to be the new kid,” you said. “Soccer helped me make friends at school.”

“You and your mom move after your dad passed?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. I was little so I don’t remember so much,” you said, an email coming in that your spot in the class was reserved. “Alright. Looks like I’m all set for eight on Saturday.”

“I’ll try not to keep you out too late on Friday night then,” he said.

“I never said that.”

“I like flirty you,” he said, both of you looking up at the ceiling when you heard a loud pair of giggles. “Duty calls. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#spn #supernatural #Jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

562 notes · View notes

echo-of-sounds · 3 years

Text

who cares if it’s cliche?

-Aizawa x gn!reader-

cute gif

This was a commission for @seraphicghost! They asked for a fluffy/sweet scenario with the reader confessing in the rain plus a kiss. Thank you so much for the commission! This was super cute to write!

“Here’s your beer, boys!” Nemuri set the bottles down for Hizashi and Aizawa. She scooted in beside you, chirping, “And here’s your Sex in the Driveway.”

“Thanks,” you droned, choosing to ignore her suggestive eyebrow wiggle. She wasn’t one to let anyone live anything down, and now that she noticed, it has only gotten worse.

Hizashi chugged his beer, then slammed it rather loudly. “Alright! Sho, I’ve shown up at work high, I’ve had a one-night stand with Nemuri, and I’ve never been on a rollercoaster.”

“The former.”

“What? How’d you figure that out so quickly?!”

“Hizashi,” both you and Aizawa said, telling him to control his volume. Aizawa finished flatly, “You can’t not talk about everything you do. You’d tell me something like that. Not to mention how useless you are high. The entire school would’ve noticed.”

You hid your smile behind your drink. The faint smirk that lifted Aizawa’s lips fluttered your chest, spinning into your stomach. If only he let himself smile more, experience happiness more, then you could see his handsome smile more. Dark eyes flicked to yours, flustering your heated heart further.

You had to look away and drink some water. You were an adult. He shouldn’t be making you flashback to high school crushes and wistful, young romance.

The game continued for a few more rounds, eventually petering out. Nemuri leaned against you. Alcohol swarmed from her sigh. Pink flushed her cheeks, sticking hair to skin. She mumbled into her glass before finishing it, “I think it’s time to head home.”

“I’ll get a ride.” You clicked on your phone, and it wasn’t long till it beeped: “Car’s here.”

Sooner than you could even move a leg, Hizashi jumped up, swooping an arm around Nemuri’s waist. “I’ll bring her home. You two have fun.”

“Hizashi,” you called after him. He didn’t acknowledge you as he escorted her outside.

They just abandoned you with Aizawa, who was already looking at you when you glanced over. You went to take a drink. The empty glass prevented that. Lemon slices and ice taunted you, laughing that your last barrier between you two was gone. You set the cup down with a sigh.

Shouta nodded at it, “Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

You were once again beaten to your feet; He stood and took the glass. “Same thing?”

“Yeah, another Sex-” Your voice flatlined upon meeting his eyes. Despite the shadow under them, the red in them, and the heavy brow above, their sudden sharpness took your breath, completely unlike their usual dull and dry tone. The change nailed your brain useless.

“More sex?” His lips lifted ever so slightly. When no sound escaped your hanging mouth, he goaded, “More sex then.”

You slumped in the chair, holding your too-fast heart, replaying the bumbling. Saying ‘sex’ while being within two feet of his face, able to discern the bristles of his beard, a crack in his bottom lip, how attractive- Stop. If you couldn’t grow up and say something to him, then don’t bother thinking it.

A blue drink was placed in front of you. It was only your second, yet combined with the tickling in your neck and the bite in your chest, it felt like you were four or five in.

Shouta retook his seat across from you. Whatever you were feeling, anxiety or infatuation, that weighed your heart, lightened with his soft smile. It reached up to a soar when he asked about your most recent patrol.

Thankfully, the conversation from there flowed smoothly. You could keep up with no fumbling and simply enjoy your time with him. And you even got to see a couple more smiles, though they were faint. Every single one made thoughts echo inside: Just ask. It’s not that hard. Just ask! It made it difficult to focus on his words.

Once you finished your drink, your body, while light, lagged tired. You spoke through a yawn, “I’m gonna head out, Sho.”

“Need a cab?”

“No. I actually think I’m going to walk. It’s a pleasant night.” You stood and zipped up your sweatshirt.

He mirrored you and fixed his scarf. It wasn’t his Hero one, just a simple dark gray one, still allowing him ample room to nuzzle into it. Plus, it made him look reasonably fashionable compared to how he typically dressed. He grabbed your wallet from the table, holding it out for you, “I paid for the drink upfront.”

“Shouta, you didn’t need to do that.”

“No big deal,” he shrugged it off.

Yes, it was. If the others were here, you doubted- No. You knew he wouldn’t have done that.

You accepted your wallet and his kindness, muttering on the way out, “Thank you.”

The stroll home started quietly. Gusts blew your hood around. Shouta maneuvered to the outside of the sidewalk, so he was between you and traffic. Your elbows bumped every few steps. Neither of you commented or changed positions, letting it keep happening. If anything, you wanted to step closer to feel the emitting from his body.

Water dripped down the back of your sweatshirt, startling you. The single droplet increased to a steady rain in seconds. You hugged your hood and yourself. He nudged your arm and nodded to a nearby drugstore. It wasn’t much. But it was shelter.

Inside, Shouta slicked his hair back. Pale fingers combed through thick black, unveiling a sharp jaw and lovely scruff; too stunning to always hide under a mess of hair. The wet strands struggled to fit into an elastic. With enough finagling, they finally pulled into place, leaving room for the darkened line on his cheekbone to stick out. Just like his eyes did…

Which were staring at you. Dammit. You turned into an aisle, searching for anything interesting that wasn’t him. All it would take was a handful of sentences then he would know. If he reciprocated, all would be grand; your worry was for naught. However, if he didn’t, the plague of dread that’s accompanied the crush would crash. Never knowing felt like the better option.

You walked the main aisle. There were pool toys, makeup, hygiene, sex toys that you vehemently avoided, fearing Shouta would see the smallest glance towards them. A pair of fleece socks got your attention. The inside was incredibly fluffy and thick. The outside had kitty pawprints designed all over them.

“These are cute,” you smiled and showed them to the approaching Shouta.

He grunted and continued. It didn’t hide the fact you knew he thought them cute as well. Cats were the only things he gave into.

You combed the rest of the rows of items. Not one thing piqued your interest enough to buy. You searched for Shouta, finding him at the checkout, buying a pack of gum and some migraine relief pills. He lifted his brow.

You answered the silent question, “Didn’t see anything special.”

“Not even the cat socks?”

“If I’m still thinking about them in a few days, I’ll come back for them,” you smiled.

After thanking the cashier, your walk home resumed. The rain had stopped, leaving everything glossy and smelling of the earth. It lifted the air between yours and his shoulders.

Thick fingers extended a piece of gum. His eyes remained on the sidewalk when you took it and thanked him. The fresh mint sent a little chill down your back, frosting your mouth as you watched him, thinking, ‘Now was a perfect time. No one’s around. You just need to say it. A few sentences and you’re done.’

The instant your mouth opened, rain poured, loud and heavy. Your hood provided sparse protection.

Shouta grumbled into his scarf, “So much for a nice night.”

“Sorry… But you didn’t have to walk with me, you know? You could’ve called for a ride.”

His eyebrows scrunched with a groan.

“Here’s your turn, anyway. Get home fast,” you called over the pattering, nodding towards the left turnoff. The top of his apartment peaked out over the smaller buildings.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you home,” he grumbled again. His voice carried much less complaint this time and more concern.

Both of you picked up the pace, fast-walking down the sidewalks and hustling across the streets.

Only at your door did you face Shouta, not caring about being soaking wet anymore. He was closer than you expected, nearly bumping into his chest. You looked to his mouth, unable to make it to his eyes, unsure if you wanted to see them this close. You surprised yourself with how steady your voice sounded, “Do you want to come inside? Drink something warm?”

“I’m alright. Just wanted to make sure you got home alright.”

“I did. Thank you.” Your legs didn’t move. It’d be a whole lot warmer, calmer, dryer inside. “I know Hizashi drags you out to these things, but I still hope you had fun tonight.”

“I did.” His flat face gave you no emotional indicators.

“Good, I’m glad.” You said your goodbyes, yet your feet stayed put. Water soaked through all of your clothing. Goosebumps pricked down your arms. The rain vaguely obscured the handsome features you’ve been ogling at, wishing to call them yours.

He spun and took five steps away before you mustered, “Shouta?”

He faced you, waiting, half scowling, probably, hopefully, due to the rain.

“There’s something I’d like- There’s something I want- I want you to know. It’s okay if you don’t- If you’re not on the same page as me. I just- just…” Just say it. It was only a few words. You sucked in, preparing yourself mentally, emotionally, and physically for the absolute worst outcome, then spoke as confident as you could, “I just think you’re- I wanted to tell you that I’m-” Your heart heated as you finished, “I’m interested in you… more than a friend.”

The downpour built. You could no longer see his face. His mouth mumbled something. Unable to hear, you shuffled close, wiped water from your face, and asked him to repeat himself.

Shouta closed the tiny gap between your chests. You could only look at his mouth. This time though, you wanted to meet his eyes. It was the damn rain preventing that.

A finger lifted your chin. Instinct lowered your eyelids. The rain ceased on your face as lips connected to yours. They pressed unexpectedly sweetly, only to curl into a smirk and pull away.

You matched his smile, struggling to hold in the laugh, “A kiss in the rain, Shouta? Don’t you think it’s kinda cliche?”

“Who cares?” The hold on your chin tightened a bit and guided you back to him. All the anxiety bubbled up, popping and releasing as a giggle. Weight freed from your shoulders. You cupped his cheeks, kissing back with new excitement.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #commission #seraphicghost

291 notes · View notes

chrisevansgoodgirl · 3 years

Text

killing peggy carter

summary: you want revenge bc steve’s a bitch. (happy times, save for steve’s disappearance. everyone’s alive tho)

warnings: a darker steve. rough smut, a little questionable at times. a lot of angst bc i was in a mood.

pairing: steve rogers x reader, peggy carter x reader for a sec, and some steve x peggy ( 🤢 )

word count: about 9,800

a/n: not tagging anyone bc no one asked for this, i literally just wrote it like forever ago and decided to post it bc i haven’t posted in forever. also, if you go back far enough on my blog, you will see that i watch riverdale and honestly, i came up with this title before jughead wrote his emo story in the finale.

When Steve left, it was nothing short of devastating.

Your world had stopped. How could it not? You had been under the impression that someone was in love with you as much as you were in love with them. And god, you were so damn in love with Steve Rogers.

It had been a year and it still hurt just like it had that first day. You were better at hiding it now, using that as the only entertainment in your life. Being an Avenger wasn’t the same as it used to be. The world was good, you weren’t needed. Especially not while all these feelings of anger and resentment were growing inside you.

When Steve left, he took a lot. He took your heart, your soul, your fucking will to love and let yourself be loved, and he took your ability to be a hero. No hero had the darkness you had. No hero stayed out most nights dancing in sweaty and noisy clubs, being groped by strangers she couldn’t even take home because she was the definition of damaged. You had trust issues for days, and they weren’t going anywhere any time soon, if ever.

Bucky tried to help and sometimes, you had the energy to fake it. It always made him so happy to see you smiling or just talking to other men who clearly were attracted to you. But nothing would come of it. You couldn’t believe a word that any one of them said.

Steve used to look at you, tell you he loved you, tell he needed you, that he couldn’t do any of this without you. Then he had the chance to go back to Peggy Carter and he took it in a second, no hesitation. He didn’t even say goodbye.

You stayed out on the lake for three months, figuring he’d just gotten tied up. He would come back, you told yourself that every night. What finally broke you was when Nat and Bucky sat you down and told you it wasn’t going to happen. You’d always known but with confirmation from the two people that knew him best, you had to face reality. He’d left you and he wasn’t coming back.

It was a huge hit to your self-esteem. Maybe if you had been prettier. Smarter. Stronger. Better. But you were just you. Petty, small, aching. Ironically, that was how he had found you as well. The Avengers liked to bring in team members who had already been through too much. You hadn’t realized how vulnerable your past trauma made you to their type of coercion. You would do anything any of them asked. With Steve, it was different. More. And he had always known.

There was this pain in your chest that never went away. Sometimes you woke up gasping in the middle of the night, usually after a nightmare. It was as if there had been a hand around your neck. But there wasn’t because you were as alone as anyone could possibly be.

You didn’t mind it anymore. Hell, it was the only thing that you still had left of Steve. You burned everything else and not even that made you feel better. This was all much to Bucky’s dismay.

You would never tell a soul that you couldn’t part with his sketchbooks, that you had them hidden in a box underneath your bed. It was no one’s right to know. This pain was your own, the only thing you still had possession of.

You hadn’t been touched in his absence, even by yourself. It reminded you of all those times he would kiss along your skin and sing praises to your beauty. Sometimes, you wished you were ugly. Sometimes, you wished you could just get so ugly that no one would even want to look at you.

But that was not the case. You were that beautiful, strong, and caring woman Steve had fallen in love with, so they claimed. You were their responsibility. Their project. They would get you through this if it was the last thing they did. Nat, Bucky, and Sam tried merely out of their loyalty to Steve. Tony followed that lead and that meant Peter tried as well as he could. Wanda, still consumed by her own lost love, attempted, but she was probably the only person who could see you for what you were.

Thrown out trash. Abandoned, sharp pieces that could and would cut anyone who tried to help. You hated all the rest of them for not seeing it. You hated all the rest of them because in their eyes, you were still Steve’s girl.

You no longer had a boyfriend, a family, or friends. He took all of that away from you. And one day, when you were so sick of having nothing to do but feel sorry for yourself, you decided that you were going to return that favor.

Steve Rogers deserved to be just as heartbroken and empty as you. It drove you crazy. He had been the one to pursue you. He had been the one to insist that you were his, even said you were the best thing to ever happen to him.

Talking Bruce into helping was laughably easy. You claimed to need closure. You claimed you just wanted to know that Steve was happy. You wanted to tell him you forgave him. Bruce hadn’t seen you look this happy in a long while so he did what anyone would and said yes.

You wanted to wait. Steve was always so sentimental, the anniversary of the day he met Peggy was probably a day of extreme affection in their house. He probably made her breakfast, bought her some piece of jewelry that she wouldn’t even like, and spent all day telling her how much he loved her. You wanted to crash the party.

Part of you wished there was another way to do this, but there just wasn’t. Killing Peggy was the only way to take anything from him, and you had these dark fantasies that he would then kill you in retaliation. What a beautiful way to go, you hoped he would strangle you. You hoped he would set you on his lap one final time, wrap his hands around your neck, and stare into your eyes until you were gone.

Peggy was a great person, that much you felt bad about. But hadn’t Steve practically murdered you? And you were a great person before all of this. An eye for an eye. Did he think you were just going to disappear? No, he wasn’t going to get away with this any longer. He wasn’t going to get his happiness after he had ruined your whole life.

You wanted some years on them, you told Bruce ten years. Steve would be just shy of 50. You wondered what he’d look like. When he left, he had just started to get some gray hairs. You could remember that morning vividly. You wouldn’t have noticed if the sun hadn’t been shining in through the blinds perfectly onto his blonde hair. He blushed about 7 shades of red, but you promised him you didn’t mind. Because you loved him. He said he loved you back. Like an idiot, you believed him.

You arrived in his time with little care to how you looked. You weren’t here for anyone but him. You didn’t mind that everyone was staring at you oddly because instead of some huge, ugly dress, you were wearing black pants, a low-cut t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

You did need a weapon, however. Guns were cowardly. Poison could be fun. A knife, though. A knife would certainly get the point across. You tucked it into your boot and then you were on your way.

You found Peggy’s house easily. Bruce had made sure you knew where you were going and what to do if they had moved or anything like that. You’d known they would be in the same place. You’d known Steve would want to live in this domestic, pathetic lie.

There was a window that looked into the living room. It was mid-day, you figured Peggy was at work. What did Steve even do? Was there a specific activity he liked pairing with all the pure nothingness he was doing while his best friend suffered in Hydra’s hands?

You saw him sitting in a recliner in what you assumed was the living room. His hair was almost all gray, he’d cut it much shorter. Like how he used to have it, before everything with Tony and Bucky. Like how he had it when you met him. His beard was just as light and he had a few prominent wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth. But that was as far as his aging went. His arms were still huge, his shoulders so broad, and you had the strongest feeling that that ass had held up.

You were about to go in, make your presence known when you realized he was reading a book. Your favorite book. He must have taken it with him because that looked distinctly like one of your many copies you hadn’t seen for quite some time.

You were furious, shaking and seeing red. No matter how hard you tried to breathe, you just couldn’t. You were going to cut Peggy’s heart about and show it to him. You were going to cover that ugly house with her blood. You were going to wreck him just as much as he wrecked you.

You watched Steve for three months and came to the harrowing conclusion that he was severely unhappy. Peggy would come home and they wouldn’t speak. They would sit down for dinner and say maybe five sentences to one another. They went to bed together, sometimes they had sex. You never stuck around for that because not only was that a major violation of her privacy, but damn, they were fucking boring.

When she woke up in the morning, he wouldn’t get up until she was gone. Then he would go for his run, you followed a couple of times as best you could to see if there was a piece of this puzzle you were missing. When he returned home, he would read or watch television, he went for a second run a few hours later, and returned home to do absolutely nothing but await her return.

Should this have made you happy? It didn’t. He would rather be unhappy with her than happy with you. But that was for one reason: his pride. He didn’t want to crawl back to you and admit that he made a mistake.

Your goals changed. You wanted to make him admit it. Not with words, he would never do that. But Steve was a faithful man. If you got him to stray, it would be indisputable.

You waited one morning until he was out on his run, then snuck into the house. You went through their kitchen, sometimes you moved things just to be a bitch. You went through their bedroom and discovered that Peggy had a terrible contraption that had the audacity to call itself a sex toy. That would be nice to throw in Steve’s face.

You tossed it onto the bed and got undressed as you made your way to the shower. Steve wouldn’t be gone much longer. And he would know something was very wrong when he saw your clothes.

You washed your hair, used Peggy’s soap, and only had to wait a couple of minutes after that. You heard him call out her name a few times. But then he got to the bedroom and you heard his steps hesitating.

“Peggy?”

He wouldn’t say your name, not ever. Because he could be wrong, he could be delusional. And to admit that he was still thinking about you after all this time, that was his idea of a loss.

You didn’t grab a towel as you pulled the shower curtain back and shut off the water. Dripping wet, you carefully padded across the tile floor and then out to the bedroom.

His eyes widened and he dropped to his knees. “What...what are you doing here?”

You shrugged, glancing around. “Thought I deserved a vacation.”

“Y/N, I am so—”

“Pathetic? Weak? Yeah, don’t worry, I know.” You moved closer to him, eyeing him pitifully. You were glad that you hadn’t crumbled. Months ago, you would have given anything just to hear his voice, just to see his fucking eyes. God, you hated him now.

“You’re angry, I understand.”

“Angry?” you scoffed. “Add dumb to the list.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you—”

“You didn’t hurt me, you piece of shit. You destroyed me, you ruined my life. For all intents and purposes, you killed me. And I’m here to get my revenge.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “Revenge?”

You reached out to touch his face, trailed your fingers along his bottom lip. “Yeah, payback. I’m going to make sure I make you feel what you made me feel.”

He glared up at you. “Are you threatening me?”

“Yes.”

He finally stood, towering over you.

“Mmm, how I’ve missed this body.” You pressed yourself against him and as much as he acted like he didn’t like it, he never pulled away or tried to push you back. You were getting him wet and his shirt was starting to cling to his abs. You let your hands wander for a moment before they dropped down to his pants.

“Stop,” he said quietly.

And you did because you were never going to allow him to lie. Your turned up to him and stepped back.

He looked torn apart, confused. “Why are you here?”

You shrugged. “Why not?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well, it’s all you’re getting. You don’t need any other answer.”

“So, what’s the plan? How are you going to get your revenge?”

“I know you, Steve, I know that you believe in being a good and faithful man. I just want you to fuck me. That’s all.”

“Well, you know that’s not going to happen. You know I would never—”

“Cheat? So, then you’ve never fucked Peggy?”

“What?”

“You never left me, you never told me we were done. You, like the coward you are, just didn’t come back. Every time you’ve been with her is a lie, a cheat. You are a cheater.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?! You keep acting like there was just one thing! There were a million things, Steve. You ruined everything that we were building. And you can apologize all you want, but until I return at least half of it, I’m stuck here with you.”

“I won’t fuck you.”

“Yet,” you pointed out. “Well, I should be going.”

He grabbed your arm. “Go home.”

“I am home, baby. You’re here and you’re my home.”

He frowned.

You yanked yourself out of his hold, bending over to grab your clothing all over the room. He wasn’t going to fuck you but that did not mean he wasn’t going to look at you. So, you gave him quite the show, just like you had in the past upon his request.

You disappeared into the bathroom as if it was so natural, as if it was your own. He made no moves to follow and said nothing. As you dried yourself off, you decided now was as good a time as any. “See that terrible thing on your bed?”

You heard him step a few times, then nothing.

You scoffed. “Maybe it has to do with your age.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Still. Pretty creepy you came back to a much younger Peggy.”

“I came back to the one I left.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” You sauntered out and sent him one last smile before exiting the bedroom.

Peggy and Steve had a fight, so Peggy ducked out to some small diner. If you couldn’t get to him, you decided you were going to get to her. Peggy was sweet from the second you began speaking to her, feigning concern for her situation.

The first night you guys went out together, you wanted her to talk shit about Steve. She didn’t, she just got drunk and tried to get you much the same. You were taking her home because you truly were fearful of what would become of her without your help. And she kissed you. At first, you were startled, you pulled away out of fear and shock. She wasn’t Steve. In all your life since you’d met him, you never thought someone else was going to kiss you.

But then she looked terrified. Had she been reading you wrong? Had she messed everything up? Nah, you were adaptable. You kissed her back, explained you’d been hurt by some loser and it had been a while. She understood, or said she did, and then she was disappearing inside.

You were left wondering if Steve heard you, but not many lights in the house were on. He probably wasn’t home. Confirmed by your unlocked hotel door when you returned home just a couple of hours before sunrise.

Knowing it was him didn’t mean you weren’t going to pull your gun as you entered. He was sitting in one of the chairs at the tiny table near the tiny kitchen.

He arched an eyebrow. “That necessary?”

“I should have shot you the second I got here.” But you still tossed it onto the bed. “You know...this paints quite a scene, doesn’t it? You’re here, angry at me for being out late.” You let your purse fall to the floor, then your hideous cardigan. You had only shown up with one outfit, so shopping was necessary to keep up appearances. You didn’t know a lot about the 40s, but you didn’t want them to start burning women at the stake again because of you.

You made your way to him, straddling his lap as you took his face in your hands. “Are you upset that I broke curfew, daddy?”

He didn’t even bat an eye, but you knew that would get to him. “Where were you?”

“Out with your future wife.” One of many kickers, they had yet to get married. Peggy said it was because she wanted to wait. “Thought she would be willing to talk shit about you...thought it would make me feel better.”

“And? Did she give you anything you can use against me in the future?”

“Nah. She didn’t want to talk about you at all.”

He glared. “When are you going home?”

She shrugged. “Whenever I feel like it.” Your eyes moved over his face as you felt the deeply etched lines on his skin. “You don’t look 50 but I never thought... You remember when I found your gray hair?”

“Yeah... Thought you would leave me...that you’d want someone your age.”

“I like you like this, you know. Twice my age.”

“Have there been others?”

And just like that, the end of your friendly conversation. You pulled your hands away from him but stayed on top of him. “Others?”

“People...men you’ve let close.”

You scoffed. “Why would I do that?”

“I wanted...I thought you would move on.”

“People lie,” you pointed out. “You told me you loved me every day and then you just left. I can’t adequately explain to you how tired I am. I can’t do it again, I can’t even let myself try. I can’t get close to people the way I was close to you. I can’t move on. I can’t love someone else. I can’t do anything but hate you as much as I loved you.”

“I wasn’t lying—”

“You left. If you loved me as much as you said you did, you wouldn’t have been able to.”

“I do love you—”

You immediately pulled off him, rushing to get your feet back on the floor. No, no fucking way, he was not going to lie to you again. He was simply not allowed to anymore. You would not tolerate it.

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my hotel!” You pointed to the door. “Now, Steve, or I swear I will shoot you.”

He scoffed. “For what? Loving you?”

“You piece of shit.” You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You stormed to the bathroom and locked the door before he could intrude yet again.

He knew you wouldn’t come back out, not while he was still there. All he could do was leave. For safe measure, he at least unloaded your gun and set it on the bedside table. Maybe if you had to find it and load again, you would lose some of your anger and not ended up taking a shot at him.

How dare he? He had no right to say that to you, no right to use that word. It meant nothing coming from him because there was the implied ‘but’ along with it. Before, he just loved you. Period. Now? He loved you. But what? He loved Peggy more? He loved this time more?

You thought you had been angry before. Even though the time you were spending with Peggy was diffusing that somewhat. Still, you never lost sight of what you wanted. Needed. The idea of Steve’s heartbreak was the only thing that could get you up in the morning.

He threw you off for a few days. Every time you tried to leave the hotel room just to do something a tad evil, you would end up in bed crying. Steve thankfully didn’t try to come back, you hated the thought of him seeing you like this, letting him know that he could still do this to you.

Peggy called. You gave her the number, just in case, and she used it to express her concern for you. It wasn’t like you not to want to hang out or to just be around and bump into her “randomly”. She invited you out for breakfast the first day, then lunch the next. You said you weren’t feeling well.

An excuse she stopped taking the third night. She wanted to go dancing with you, all while her asshole boyfriend stayed at home. How could you say no? You shouldn’t, this was the entire reason you were here.

You would kill her tonight. This time was a drag and you wanted to get home. To a place where you could wear pants or a t-shirt. A place where there weren’t so many preppy men in pastels or college sweaters.

Peggy picked you up, she wouldn’t stop staring. Had it been any other day, you might have even questioned why. But you weren’t going to enjoy this as much as you thought you would. It sucked, and honestly, it made you hate Steve even more. He was your downfall, he was also her downfall, but at least he would soon be utterly alone.

It had been hours. You were just trying to dance and let the music fill your mind, but this music was shit. If you had to hear one more man sing about wanting to hold a woman’s hand… Truly, you missed the filth of your time.

Peggy was the one that wanted to leave. Peggy was the one that wanted to walk away from all the noise of the city. Peggy was the one that took you to some sleazy motel, where she gave you the briefest of looks when she’d stopped you both on the sidewalk. She was also the one that kissed you when you didn’t say anything because what did you have to actually say?

Nothing. Not one thing. You had no idea how this plan had spiraled so terribly. You were meant to come here, kill her, throw it in Steve’s face, then bolt back home like none of it ever happened.

But you couldn’t kill her, not anymore, not after seeing what a miserable life she had with Steve. You hoped she would leave him, and not just to hurt him, but to help herself. You remembered the life she had in your world, the one she had created with your husband. It was so much better than the hell she was living in here.

So, you let her take you to a room. You let her kiss you, you let her tear your dress off, push you onto the bed, and crawl on top of you. Her lips moved everywhere over your legs, arms, and stomach, and they felt like fire because they belonged to someone who wasn’t Steve.

You hated how guilty you felt. You hated that your mind was seriously considering this a betrayal, cheating. But you were trying to be kinder to yourself. It wasn’t your fault that you had fallen so hard for someone and that you had made plans because someone had promised you forever.

She knew you were thinking about him. Not Steve, of course, but the someone you had once mentioned. She didn’t mind, she just promised she would try to make you forget. You forced yourself to be present, you turned off your mind when you could. She didn’t ask a lot of you, in reality.

She wanted to be on top, she wanted you to say her name and wouldn’t let you come until you asked nicely. It was probably around the third orgasm that you stopped feeling so awful, that all of those familiar sensations weren’t triggering memories and bitter resentment. That was what she gave you with her mouth alone and didn’t move until it was evident that your thoughts had simply melted away.

When she crawled back up to kiss you, she buried her fingers inside you. At that point, who the hell even was Steve Rogers? A distant, dull pain. Peggy was here, on top of you, biting your lip, telling you to come one more time, because she knew you had it in you.

She told you that you were beautiful, that she’d never seen a body like yours. She told you that you made her feel things Steve couldn’t, that you were fun and warm and kind, and she loved spending time with you.

You were covered in sweat, your skin painted with her lipstick and bites and other marks she left all over your skin. She hadn’t come yet and refused any offers you made her, she claimed she just wanted to focus on you for a moment.

When she finally pressed her soaking center against yours, you were in an odd amount of pain. You longed for something, so much, but you had no idea what. She pulled your hair, began kissing your neck, and rolled her hips hard. You pulled her hair back, pressed your hips up when she pressed down, whimpered her name, and told her she felt so good. It was when she started fucking you harder and faster, and you were getting really close once again, that you got the sick idea to rake your nails down her back. Hard enough to leave marks.

After her finish, she collapsed onto her side next to you. The way she looked at you was kind of scary, like you were worth a lot more than you knew you were. She also looked satisfied and you hadn’t seen that look since you’d shown up. And what a fucking crime that was. Yes, Steve was a dick, but fuck, that man could seriously fuck. Why was he denying her that?

You shoved her onto her back and sat on her face because you didn’t want to be thinking about him. She kept you there until you were shaking and so fuzzy you couldn’t even sit up on your own. A tad haphazardly, you insisted on getting your mouth on her. After some convincing on your part and a few pitying laughs from her as you nearly fell over the edge of the mattress because you were still dizzy, your tongue was sliding against her skin and her hands were locked in your hair.

She needed to get home, back to her boyfriend before he started to worry. You stuck around for a bit, reluctant to return to your apartment. Maybe this was it, maybe this was all you needed. Maybe it was just time to fucking go home.

You truly worried about all of the Bucky lectures you were going to get, all of those Natasha looks, those small ‘tsk’ sounds when Thor was not only upset but disappointed in you, the judgmental eyebrows Tony would be sending your way, and those puppy dog eyes from Peter. Goodness, you were sure Peter missed you. Bruce would never trust you again, no surprise there, you had lied to him. You hadn’t thought about the consequences of your actions when you first did this. You hated, at the time, that you didn’t care if you hurt anyone.

Game over. You weren’t going home not without having scored some points, but to win, you would just end up losing more. More, you now understood that you had taken all of it for granted. Yes, your friends were constant reminders of Steve and they had been acting like you were some mission they needed to complete, but at least they loved you. That was more than a lot of people had and you would let them know about all these epiphanies if they didn’t kill you as soon as you returned.

When you made it back to your apartment, it was only to get the necklace Wanda had given you a few years back for your birthday. It was this huge stone you never remembered the name of, something you rarely took off regardless of that.

The last thing you expected was to find Steve. He looked furious and maybe, just maybe, you were going to get the satisfaction of seeing that you hurt him before you left. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He was at the table again, jaw set, glaring at the wall straight ahead of him. You were trying to think if you’d ever seen him this angry, if you’d ever even heard stories of it. Probably not. He liked to act like you were so damn delicate. Though, maybe he had been onto something.

“Hey,” you snapped after receiving no response, “Why the fuck are you in my hotel room?”

Finally, he turned to you and for the first time ever, you were scared of him.

You kept your distance, you even began moving toward your bedside table where you had your gun stashed.

“I hope you’re not looking for this.” He reached down for a moment then tossed it onto the table noisily.

Shit. “Steve…”

“You fucked her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stood quickly, storming over to you. For a moment, you had been stunned, and it was enough for him to get several upper hands. It wasn’t as if he needed them to begin with, but with your delayed scattering back, he was able to grab you and pin you to the wall. You were completely defenseless in stupid, impractical heels and an ugly, impractical dress.

“Tell me you didn’t fuck her.”

You said nothing.

He scoffed harshly. “I fucking smelled you all over her…and now I smell her on you. You left those scratches on her back because you wanted me to know.”

“Honestly, I thought I would be gone by the time you found out or by the time you decided to confront me. In fact, if you leave now, I’ll be gone and you’ll never have to see me again.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“What? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He didn’t say anything, instead, he grabbed the neckline of your dress and tore it open. He paid no mind to your startled shoving at his chest. His eyes moved over your skin quickly, you could tell he was getting angrier with every bruise he found.

You were going to play this off, bat away at his feelings just long enough for you to escape. “Steve, I—”

He grabbed your jaw and you immediately shut up. “Go take a shower.”

Your eyebrows pulled together.

“Now.”

“No, you fucking—”

“You can do it on your own or I can do it for you. But to be clear, I will not ask again, and I’m gonna count to ten before I really lose my patience. One, two, three—”

“Steve,” you tried softly. He was still holding you there, so tight that the idea of moving was laughable.

“Four, five—”

“Steve,” you were a tad more frantic, pushing at his forearm.

“Six, seven.” He finally pulled away from you and you bolted to the bathroom without a second thought. He told you to leave the door open and you listened because you no longer had the desire to push him.

You came out in a towel several minutes later. Most of your shower was spent just trying to calm down, the rest was using any product you had to try to get rid of her scent. You didn’t want to risk further angering him with any lingering mentions of Peggy.

He was just feet away from the door when you stepped out and once again, he showed no hesitation in ripping away what covered your body. He looked you over again, briefer this time, obviously displeased with what he saw. He’d hoped most of it was just the lipstick Peggy always wore.

“Are you wet?”

“What?”

“Your pussy. Are you wet?” He was condescendingly slow with every single word and your hand suddenly itched with the need to smack him.

“No.”

“Well, you’re a liar, so I don’t believe you,” he countered. “Check.”

“What?”

“Check,” he repeated. “Now. And if I have to keep repeating myself, you’re not going to like the way this night plays out.”

You averted your gaze as you brought your hand to your center. Your breath caught audibly as you ran your fingers through. Yes, he was an ass, but your body would never stop craving his touch.

“Show me.”

Begrudgingly, you brought your hand back to him.

“Wow, how did I know you were lying? Touch yourself. Keep touching yourself until you come.”

You snorted. “Eww, no—”

He slammed his hand against the wall behind you and you fell silent again. “The same rules apply. Do it or I will do it for you.”

He had never spoken to you like this. Sure, there were the bad missions. There were the times when he just needed to fuck you to forget all the shit he had to deal with. But there was never a moment where you wondered if he would lose control, if he would hurt you unintentionally. Right now, maybe it wasn’t so much that you thought he would. You had known him long enough, loved him long enough, that you knew exactly what kind of man he was. Maybe, right now, it was that you wanted him to hurt you.

Nothing could be worse than when he left you. Nothing he did was going to hurt more than when you went back home and you were, once more, without him. Meaning that you wanted to take everything that you possibly could from this moment. All the pain, all the bruises, all those emotional scars that would add to the ones from before that you had idiotically convinced yourself you could ever get rid of.

He knew you were considering your next move and arched an eyebrow at your continuing silence.

You shook your head. “No.”

One of his hands shot up to wrap around your neck, the other hand went to your cunt where he slid two fingers into you with embarrassing ease.

You brought your hands up to his forearm and dug your nails into his skin. The harder you scratched him, the harder he would choke you—it was something established early on in your relationship. And if he was choking you, you couldn’t moan or whine like he wanted you to.

For a moment, you both stayed still. For an entire second, it wasn’t that he had left you, that you had to track him down, that you fucked his girlfriend and he was fucking furious about it. For a second, it was just you and him, like it was all the times before.

The problem was pride. It wasn’t like before and neither one of you wanted to let the other pretend. He hurt you. You hurt him. Before no longer mattered. So, you shut your eyes and turned your face away from him.

He thrust his fingers just slightly harder than you would have liked, slightly harder than he would have liked. It would sting in the morning, but you wouldn’t hate it. Crescent-shaped cuts would be found everywhere on his skin and he would mourn that they were healing too fast. Both of you knew that this was it. The end.

You were wet, that obscene sound drowning out your choked noises. He absolutely loved this, loved you. He had thought being with Peggy again would make him feel like he was finally home. It took him so long to figure out that he was wrong, to realize that you were one of the few people that actually felt like home. You and Bucky, Nat, Sam, Tony, Wanda, Thor. Not Peggy.

And he could no longer pretend when he felt you tighten around his fingers. He was fucked up and he ruined things a lot of the time. It was just in his DNA, even the fucking serum couldn’t fix that. But prior to leaving, he’d never ruined anything with you. He hadn’t realized how much he missed fucking you because he always did that right.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered.

Instead, you pushed harder at his arm and turned further away from him. Your hips started to buck against his hand, and he knew you wanted this, but he knew you were not going to give in without some fight.

“Open your fucking eyes, Y/N.”

You were not going to. After all the hell he’d put you through? Fuck that, fuck him. You were never going to give him anything he wanted ever again.

He yanked his hand away from your pussy and grabbed your jaw to turn your face to him. He knew that wouldn’t work alone and in a move of desperation, kissed you. A move to get you to let your guard down—a weak move that would not work. As his knee came up to your cunt and you began grinding against it, he started biting your lip.

You buried one hand in his hair and started pulling harder than you should have. He released your jaw to do the same to you. This was much different than how he usually touched you. He’d always been rough, but this hurt, actually hurt.

You rode his thigh with no assistance from him. He let your face go and dropped your hair in search of another tactic. You were no longer kissing, you instead rested your head on his shoulder, eyes still squeezed shut. Even when he grabbed your ass painfully, and when he smacked you after all you did was scream. Even when he grabbed your breasts and pulled on your nipples.

You kept your eyes shut the entire time and he was growing furious. He wasn’t going to let you feel anything even resembling pleasure if you weren’t going to give into him. He pulled away and grabbed your hips.

You opened your eyes then, concerned about what he was doing to you next. He grabbed your shoulder and shoved you onto the bed before you could say a word. You were on your stomach, facing away from him, busy lamenting the loss of your finish. You heard him undressing as you attempted to regain your breath and composure.

He was on top of you before that happened, yanking your legs open before he crawled up, hands stopping on either side of your head. He wasn’t going to tease, he was going to fuck you like the brat you were—hard, mean, unforgiving. He lowered his hips until his cock was lined up with your entrance and then thrust in.

Your scream must have scared the hell out of the neighbors. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cops were being called right then. It wasn’t a pleasurable scream, you certainly liked that he was inside you, but that was just your body. Your heart ached in a way that it never had. You’d thought you were never going to feel him again, but it wasn’t some beautiful feeling of reconnection. You were at square one, you would have to crave his body all over again once this was over. You would go through those same agonizing withdrawals that had truly destroyed you those first few months.

Steve grabbed your hair again and shoved your face into the mattress. He didn’t care about taking it slow, making sure that you, his precious, sweet girlfriend, were okay. He felt just as torn up as you and he couldn’t afford emotional consideration when he was so fucked up. He only knew what he wanted, for you to look at him like you used to. He would do whatever he had to do to get it. Part of him didn’t care how low he would have to go. He wasn’t Captain America here, he didn’t have to live up to the same standards.

You blindly reached back to try to catch his arm, but your attempts never even touched him. He didn’t seem to care about what you were attempting, he just fucked you. He held you down as his hips slammed against your ass and he moaned loudly, shamelessly, selfishly. You finally caught a hold of his arm and used the heel of your palm to push, but since you were out of breath and had been for quite some time, you doubted that there was any real force behind it.

“Can’t breathe, baby?” he wondered, hips still snapping, the head of his cock reaching that delicious spot inside you.

You dug your nails into his skin even though it was an uncomfortable stretch and your muscles were screaming. You were screaming, too, despite everything, despite the lack of strategy in that, but this felt too good not to. You hadn’t been fucked like this in so long, this was what you knew you would never get from someone else. This deep, soul-level connection was a one-time deal. No one else was ever going to be able to give you this.

“If I let you up, you better fucking look at me. I’m not kidding, Y/N. I’ll fucking hold you down again until I fucking come.”

Once his hand lifted from your head, you turned up and gasped for air. It was a short-lived relief as soon as his hand pressed into your neck and angled your head back. It wasn’t that you were scared, and you should have been because you wholeheartedly believed his threat, it was that you were happy to have an excuse to give in. He was stronger than you, right? No one could blame you for giving in, hell, you were just trying to save yourself. Right?

Your eyes met his and his hips stuttered. A ragged breath fell from his lips, you felt it on your hair. That hard look in his eyes softened, he looked a lot like that man that had promised you he would come back to you.

“I love you,” he breathed.

Your eyes instantly filled with tears and you clamped your mouth shut. Both hands were buried in the bedsheets because you needed something to hold, something to tear at, something to destroy to cope with the burning anger that was consuming you.

“I’m sorry, I love you.” His body moved erratically against yours, desperate for all the things he’d longed for since he’d left you. The two of you were sick together, desperate, twisted people that proved it in bed. Peggy wasn’t like that and he was drowning trying to act like he was normal, like he was that same man that she had been with what felt like centuries ago.

He collapsed, chin pressing into the bend of your neck, and you felt his cum spilling into you. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as he rode out his finish. He didn’t stop, however, now he wanted to get you off. He wanted to feel those same pathetic, proud things he experienced whenever he played your body like an instrument.

You didn’t resist, what would be the point? You fucking deserved an orgasm, at the very least. You were ashamed to admit that you wanted it, needed it. You hadn’t honestly felt alive since he left you, but this reminded you what that was like.

He groaned when he felt you tightening around him, his hand wedging between you and the mattress to get to your clit. When he did, it was over and you crashed like a wave against the shore, and you saw stars, and you felt all those things you felt when you were happily in love with a man you thought loved you back.

So, in conclusion, you felt lies.

If he thought he could fuck reality out of your mind, he was sadly mistaken. You were coming down when your hand started sliding across the mattress. Your gun was not the only precaution you took—you’d known Natasha for years and she would strangle you if that was your only form of protection.

He was kissing down your spine when you located your knife, and he had just started to speak when you turned back and just stabbed. You had a general awareness of where he was, you knew you weren’t going to kill him, and you didn’t want to. You just needed to get away, before he started talking, apologizing, making more promises.

You didn’t wait to see where you stabbed, you simply clawed away from him until you could jump from the bed. He cried out and you heard him grabbing for you, but you couldn’t stop for anything. On your bedstand was the necklace you had shown up for, you grabbed it, along with your long coat and then you were on your way out the door.

Running around completely naked in the 40s, clutching a trench coat you knew you weren’t going to leave without, shoeless, dripping sweat and cum—you’d never thought your beautiful life with Steve Rogers would take you here.

A Bucky Barnes lecture was the last thing you wanted, but it was the only thing you would be receiving for probably several months. Well, when he was done with his silent treatment. He was furious when you returned, he didn’t say a word to you. Everyone else had completely fawned over you. They hugged you, pet your hair, told you how proud they were that you came home.

Bucky just stared at you and when they all parted so he could speak to you, he simply stormed out of Bruce’s lab. But yes, Bruce was a tad betrayed, your expectation on that had been correct. You apologized profusely and brought him coffee every day, several times a day until he stopped looking at you like a kicked baby animal.

Tony was disappointed, but not to Bucky’s extent. He simply could not fathom the hold Steve had on you still, told you as much. You admitted that you were wrong, and well, with Tony, that was really all he needed. He wanted to be right and he wanted you to tell him that you learned your lesson. To the untrained eye, he would look like a narcissist. But you knew him better, you knew he was just scared of losing you. Again. He merely wanted to know that you were sticking around and that was what you conveyed when you told him you had made a mistake going in the first place. He dropped it, like it never happened.

Natasha didn’t let you out of her sight for almost two complete weeks. She watched you and you felt her watching you, but she wasn’t going to pry. She was angry, but she was still handling you with gloves on. She wasn’t going to push you emotionally no matter how badly she wanted to. She also wasn’t going to ask questions, scared that prying would move you further away. You told her you saw Steve and that you got what you needed, she nodded, and that was the end of it. She still watched you, but she was slyer about it. She made sure you were in your room when she woke up and went to bed, but she took up Tony’s pretending routine as well.

Wanda didn’t need to ask anything; she knew because she read your thoughts. She knew because she had been outraged that you left without a goodbye, so she felt entitled to those thoughts. Not because she needed to know what happened but because she needed to know if you were going to try anything else again. She stopped being mad at you one day when you were making Bruce coffee. You hadn’t heard her, you were there in the kitchen, stuck in your own thoughts. She hugged you tight, didn’t say a word, but just like that, it was over.

Almost everyone had gotten over it in record time. You knew you were an asshole and you apologized, and you meant it, but even if you hadn’t, it wasn’t like they were ever going to hold it against you. Sometimes, knowing that, it made you feel worse because these people loved you and just like Steve had done to you, you hurt them. In the exact same way. You left.

Sam was in a much more difficult position. He felt a duty to you as one of Steve’s closest friends, but he also felt for Bucky. You’d really hurt Bucky and Sam could forgive you for being reckless, psychotic almost, even selfish. But the look on Bucky’s face when they discovered that you were gone was a hard thing to shake.

He stopped ignoring you after a couple of days, but the conversations were short, shallow. He didn’t ask about your time there and he didn’t ask about your feelings after. It was all small talk and polite conversation, it seemed like you barely knew each other at all. But sometimes, you would catch him watching you, like he was looking for signs of something that he couldn’t ask you. He wanted to know if you were still torn up by this Steve thing.

You were. You cried a lot, as if it happened all over again. Technically, in a way, it did. But you didn’t show them that, it was no longer their burden to bear. You had caused them pain when they tried to take yours away. You waited until you were alone or out of the tower, you cried quietly and quickly. You did not allow yourself those days where you would just hole up in your room. You were always awake early, asleep late, and you took care of yourself because you owed them all at least that.

You knew when Bucky was less angry, but you weren’t going to approach him. You were totally fine just waiting for him to let you know when he wanted to speak to you, which was one random morning after you’d finished sparring with Nat.

He was waiting outside the gym, muttered that he wanted to speak to you, and even Natasha had the good sense to get lost. It wasn’t going to be pretty, that much was clear. It was in his tone, his eyes, his tense posture.

He took you back to your room and ordered you to sit on the foot of your bed. He paced for a long time and you didn’t say a word or make a sound. When he finally looked at you, you seriously worried he might kill you. He was angry all over again, had worked himself up with his thoughts but you weren’t sure why entirely.

“Did you see him?”

You nodded.

“You talked to him.”

“About…everything? Um, no, not really.” There hadn’t been that conversation. Any attempts on Steve’s part were expertly diverted by you, with all your ill intentions and knowledge of how to get under Steve’s skin.

He nodded curtly. “So, this was for nothing then? You put me through all of this shit for nothing?”

“Bucky, I’m really so—”

He was storming out of the room before you finished your sentence.

You didn’t see him for two days, and when you did, it was clear again, you would be getting more silence. You told yourself you couldn’t be that hurt. You’d hurt him first, that meant he had the right to express his feelings even if that resulted in him not speaking to you.

Several days later, Bucky dropped his Winter Solider persona and became a worried, bitter mother hen. You were sick, it wasn’t something that you thought was a big deal. He’d come to speak to you again and with his enhanced hearing, heard you puking in the bathroom.

When you were done, he forced you back into bed and got Bruce. Bruce did the usual, it wasn’t as if anyone was worried, he was just too scared not to indulge Bucky. Speaking of, he was off in the corner of the room, claiming that you’d probably gotten some kind of time-traveling bug. He was being dramatic, and you became aware of what exactly had drawn him and Steve together all those years ago. Extra bitches.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Bruce assured. “Her temperature is fine.”

“Take her blood, test it for time-traveling bugs.”

You rolled your eyes, and because Bruce had heard of the Winter Soldier, he did as was directed. Even though you were pretty sure that Bucky wasn’t serious. Not completely. Once Bruce had the excuse of focusing on your blood, that left you and Bucky alone.

“Why did you even go?”

This was not going to go over well. “Um…I had a plan…”

“A plan,” he repeated. “To do what?”

“I was sort of…kind of, just a little bit, going to kill Peggy.”

His mouth dropped.

You rolled your eyes. “I know that was stupid—”

“You’re insane!”

You glared. “Bucky.”

“You didn’t do it, right?!”

“No,” you huffed. “I should have, would have been putting her out of her misery. He’s such a fucking tool.”

He dragged his hand down his face, holding his jaw as he leaned over in his chair and pressed his elbows to the tops of his thighs. He was silent for a very long time before saying, “Yeah…he is. Did he hurt you?”

The bruises had been painfully obvious, there was no way to hide them, and you knew they could all guess what they came from. You felt your skin getting hot as you shook your head. “No. He wouldn’t do that, Bucky.”

He scoffed. “I thought that…but he did leave you and I never thought he could do that.”

“He’s…not different,” you claimed. “Just…”

“A fucking tool.” He nodded. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“No, I’m really sorry, Bucky. I’m not just sorry for leaving and upsetting you. I’m sorry for everything, I’m sorry that you wasted months trying to make me feel better and then I just left. I’m sorry that I took you guys for granted, I’m sorry that I didn’t know how fortunate I was to have people who love me as much as you guys do. I know I betrayed your trust so it’s not going to mean much, but I will never do anything like that again.”

His eyes flit up from the floor to your face. “I do love you. So fucking much. You’re my only connection to him. And you left and I didn’t have that, I didn’t have you and I didn’t have him, and I was just…lost.”

You felt those familiar pricks in the back of your eyes, but you told yourself not to cry, you didn’t have the right. But just as soon as his eyes filled with tears, you couldn’t hold back your own anymore. He practically flung himself off the chair to rush to you, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders.

You weren’t sure how long you both stayed there, just clinging to each other. This felt like the end of all the tension, though. This felt like a fresh start and you and Bucky were just going to have to move on without Steve. You pondered that for a while. You would have to try to find him a girlfriend or a boyfriend so he wouldn’t try to find you someone. It was going to be a little give and take, probably a major power-struggle every now and then, but it was going to be good.

The only reason you two pulled away was because both a frantic Bruce and Natasha ran into the room. They’d made all the noise two people could possibly make as they did so, crashing into each other because the doorway wasn’t big enough for the both of them.

They were wide-eyed, out of breath, both looking like they had just seen a ghost. But a much different ghost since they both regarded one another with a look of confusion.

“What is it?” Bucky demanded. “Wait, she doesn’t really have a time-traveling bug, does she?”

“Oh!” Bruce scoffed awkwardly, “I’d say so!”

You narrowed your eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

“That can wait!” Natasha declared.

“No, it certainly cannot!” Bruce insisted.

These were two people who were normally soft-spoken, not because they were meek or soft in any general sense—hello, Black Widow and the Hulk—but in that they didn’t like drawing so much attention to themselves.

As they both started hissing arguments back at each other, Bucky sighed.

You glanced at him and he shrugged at you in response. Things were all better one second, but the very next, the world was ending.

Both Bruce and Natasha turned back to you with resolute looks on their faces. Natasha only spoke loudly this time because she was hoping to yell over Bruce, “Steve is back!” And Bruce yelled in a completely indelicate manner because he was shocked, horrified, extremely concerned, “You’re pregnant!”

Oh, shit.

Natasha and Bruce took a second to process what the other said and then gasped, turning to one another to share a look. They faced you again and decided to repeat the news only, Bruce screamed about Steve being back and Natasha more so framed it as a shrieking question you’re pregnant?!

You glanced at Bucky.

His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed just slightly. He merely nodded once then stood, throwing his hands up in the air. “Well, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

Yep, the world was most certainly ending.

#steve rogers x reader #why write what you requested when i can just be a moody water sign and write angst?#i don't even remember when i wrote this and i barely edited it honestly bc i'm just kinda over it #i wouldn't have even posted it bc it's been THAT long but i spent time on this so #my writing

803 notes · View notes