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sehtoast · 6 months

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Satisfy Me (Homelander x Reader PowerSwap!AU)

18+ | 3.4k, stalking, masturbation, mostly mutual masturbation, graphic violence, powerswap au, gender neutral reader | Fic Directory

Ask Prompt: Non supe hl x HL reader. Like the reader has his powers, and he's just a regular guy.

You find him by chance. Could've been any of those little ants down on 36 assigned to your old suit's preservation, but it was him.

What an ordinary fellow he was, too, running around in those little blue sweaters over his dress shirts, his soft box-dye-blonde hair, those pretty blue eyes behind dark framed glasses. It drove you nuts, but that was the best part.

John was the best part.

You fixated on him from the moment you saw how he handled a literal part of you, how he touched your suit with care and grace, expressed how much of an honor it was to be picked to take care of you.

And you? You were bigger than life itself! The fucking Homelander, for crying out loud. Of course he should be honored to preserve and maintain your old suit; it's you for fuck’s sake. So why was it that his anxious little demeanor was so endearing to you? What was it that made his promise to keep something of yours in tip-top shape turn him into the center of your attention?

Why did you find yourself lingering on 36 far more often? Going down with the excuse of wanting to see progress on the display, but really just wanting to see him, talk to him, learn about him.

Your gloved hand on his shoulder makes him nervous. You can hear his heart beat as quickly as a hummingbird’s wings as he glances up at you. His cortisone spikes, but not in the wrong way. You rile him up.

It's adorable.

You begin to watch him. You follow him along the route of the subway, trail him from his stop to the school where he picks up his son, then to his apartment. You float up at the same pace that they ascend the stairs until you're lingering outside the window to his bedroom, watching him sleep.

This becomes your routine, and god help anyone who tries to take you away from it.

You sneak in a few times when no one’s home. Roam between rooms, investigating every little piece of his life. You borrow a sip or several from the milk in the fridge, peek at the living room, investigate the bathroom. You learn the boy's name is Ryan from the little wooden letters mounted on the wall above his bed. There's not much of note in the kid's room save for action figures, lego sets, and a few stick figure doodles labeled ‘me and dad.’

John's room is where you have your fun. You start at his desk, sifting through papers and soon-to-be-due bills. You wiggle the mouse at his computer and find his desktop background to be a picture of himself and Ryan. You're almost offended that it's not a picture of you and all your star-spangled glory.

Almost. There's better things to do than care about that.

There's a closet full of clothes to run your fingers over, a drawer of underwear from which you can pick your new favorite keepsake. You settle on a pair of dark red briefs, holding them to your nose to inhale deeply, groaning as the scent of him fills your lungs. You make your way over to the nightstand where you find a drawer with a stroker and lube hidden inside a ball of paper towels. You smirk and toy with it for a time, tongue jutting out to lave over the inside, hoping and praying that there’s even a drop of him left in there.

And then there’s his bed, full of his scent. You lay on it and press your face into his pillow, breathing in his scent in several deep, focused breaths. Underneath a smell that is so uniquely him, you find a hint of something woodsy and herbal. It tickles your nose sweetly but you focus more on his natural scent than that of his products. You want to stay more than anything. You’re surrounded by him in every sense of the word. All of your senses are bombarded by parts of him; the only thing missing is the man himself.

You roll on your back, eyes shut as you picture what it would look like to gaze up at him from that angle. How he’d look leaning above you, sweat on his brow as he drives into you over and over and over again… How he’d pant and gasp, exerting himself just to please you, just to pump you full of his love and devotion.

God, you hadn’t even realized you’d snaked your hand into your pants during the fantasy. You shut your eyes and continue anyway.

Your mind wanders back to the thought of him. You’d touched yourself to the thought of him quite a few times, but doing it in his bed?

Delicious…

You imagine wrapping your legs around him, featherlight lest you crush his pelvis. You roll him, straddling his waist as you come down hard on his cock. Beneath you is where he looks best. Squirming and panting, hips thrusting to meet you in desperate, sloppy motions. You’d be so good to him, too. You’d ride his cock until he saw stars, until the only word that could come out of his mouth is your name…

You’d let him pump you full of however many loads that pitiful, human body of his could muster, until you’re dripping with his come and he’s yours inside and out.

Maybe you’d mark him up, too. Leave some handprints at his hips, some bite marks where he’s soft… Wouldn’t be hard… Wouldn’t take much to mar that perfect skin with your claim of ownership. Some hickeys at his inner thighs, maybe an extra special one right where his cock meets his groin.

Your salacious fantasies come to a head at the same time as your pleasure. You grind against your hand as you picture what it’d be like to milk his cute little cock. Suck him dry, watch him beg and plead, let him squeeze your head with his legs as if he could possibly make you stop. You’d eat up every ounce of him and spit it back in his mouth. Make him go down on you with a mouthful of his own come.

“Oh, fffuck!” You howl, writhing on his bed, fist gripping and pressing his blanket to your nose. Your underwear are soaked, but you couldn’t care less. Not as you pant heavy breaths, your body blissful and surrounded by him.

You linger for quite a while, only breaking away for your regularly scheduled visit with him.

You had asked for a lesson about The Federalist Era - not that you really gave a shit beyond getting to consume his time. John was all too excited at your sudden interest and he offered to stay late just for you. Ryan would be with his mother, as was the case for every Friday to Sunday, and he’d have nothing but time for you.

He meets you in your penthouse with a textbook and it's everything you've got not to devour him whole. He’s so precious. You keep your gloves off, brushing your fingers over his as you point to parts of the text you ‘didn't get.’ You do everything in your power to keep him red and blushing. You scoot closer, hover in his space, lean over his shoulder. You practically eye-fuck him every time you look at him. You toy with him all night until he finishes his lesson.

He stays for another hour just for the hell of it. Just to spend time with you. It's not until he's yawning that he entertains the idea of heading home.

“Why don't you let me fly you?” You offer, smirking at how he deeply he flushes.

“Oh, I mean I don't- I just-” He stammers. “I’m just a little scared of heights, you know?”

You scoff a laugh at his confession, taking him by the hand and leading him to your balcony. He doesn't resist you whatsoever.

“C'mon, Johnny! I won't let anything happen to ya!” You wrap your arms around his waist and begin to hover. You whisper in his ear, “I'll protect you,” and you can feel the way he shivers before nodding.

His arms wrap around your neck, textbook dangling from one hand as he presses himself against you. The higher you rise, the tighter he holds on.

“Good boy.” You breathe soft and low, thumb rubbing circles at his lower back. “I’m a much better ride than the shit they got down there.”

He clings to you the whole way home, only realizing after you've dropped him off that you somehow know where he lives.

You drive him wild. You stir a feeling in him that he hasn't had time to focus on in so long, and it's to your absolute pleasure that you get to linger and peer through his roof that night as he takes care of himself.

John fucks his fist with reckless abandon, then his toy that he just can't help but imagine is your hole. You focus extra hard, trying to make your senses pick up on everything happening in that room. You can smell the salt of his sweat, the pheromones in the air, the scent of his precum. You hear every little gasp and moan, every groan that rattles out of his pretty little mouth. The sound of lube squelching in his stroker riles you up so much more, and you’ve half a mind to burst through the fucking wall and mount him.

You tease yourself in time with him, knelt on the roof so perfectly that no one could catch you. You gaze through matter with hooded eyes to watch him, and it’s the most beautiful, tempting sight you’ve ever seen in your life. You can’t remember a time you’ve been so fucking horny as you are right then.

He comes near violently, shouting, “H-Homelander!” as he does. Your eyes roll back and a quivering moan rips from your throat as you come apart with him. He called your name.

He called your fucking name.

He’s already yours.

He works the next day for some overtime pay. Nothing stressful, just some extra document filing. You're preoccupied with filming away from the tower, much to your heavily expressed ire, and he's bored.

He's bored for the whole day, wishing you'd come by. He stays extra late, hoping beyond hope that you’ll meander in like you don’t actively choose to come down to such an insignificant level.

But you don’t.

He’s thoroughly bummed out as he steps off the train, walking the rest of the way home in the dark. He knows you didn’t forget about him; you’re just busy. Even the world’s greatest superhero’s gotta take care of their commitments, right? He’s deep in thought as he makes his way down the cold street. The yellow glow of the streetlights sets a somber feeling deep in his heart as he shuffles further along, passing the occasional stranger, hands in his pockets. He should’ve worn more than a sweater and a scarf. He had no idea it was gonna be so chilly. Or maybe he’s just so used to running hot after spending time around you.

God, had he really caught the attention of Homelander? Like, really caught it?

He’s heard stories– god knows there’s enough to go around. Was told by more than a few of his coworkers in the archives that it’s dangerous to be around you. That there was a good reason that the loneliest spot was always at the top.

He didn’t like that, though. What he did like, however, was you. The way you look at him as though he’s worth wanting. You give him your full attention and fuck, you always come back. It’s like he matters now. He’s not just some orphan-turned-moderate-success trying to raise his son and keep from drowning under the oppressive cost of New York’s rent. Well, he still is, but he’s all of that and he’s got the attention of The Homelander!

And he finds you sweet. Like a big, scary dog that only likes him. He wants to know more about you. As much as he likes history, he’d love yours even more.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he neither sees nor hears the man sprinting up behind him to grab him by the scarf. John chokes harshly as he’s dragged into an alley, kicking and thrashing to no avail.

He’s thrown on the ground and he wants to get back up, fight for what little good it’d actually do, but there’s a clicking sound directly in front of his face and–

He freezes. Eyes go wide, skin chills far colder than the air alone could ever turn it. A pit forms in his gut and oh god he’s fucking helpless.

“Empty yer fuckin’ pockets,” demands the gunman, motioning down with the barrel of the firearm. He can barely see them as more than fuzzy silhouettes and he realizes that he’s lost his glasses.

He pulls his wallet and phone free shakily, laying them gently on the ground before raising his hands up in surrender. He watches the man who grabbed him go through his wallet, and he hears a scoff.

“Twenn’y bucks?” The man slurs exasperatedly. “Yer life ain’t worth twenn’y, son. Ah shit… we could sell ya! I got a guy needs a good piece’a meat to throw ‘round in his dog fights. Should see the way the mutts fight over fresh food. Y’look like good bait.”

John blinks rapidly, eyes wide and panicked as each word settles in. He tries to shuffle backward, but he’s grabbed by the ankle and yanked back.

“Bet he’d go for a few hundred. He don’t stink. Not a ton of meat on ‘im, but there’s enough,” the gunman muses. “Shit, Gordy, we might as well. Fuckin’ twenty bucks… Ain’t even worth the effort to–”

John hears a sound like fabric flapping, and suddenly everything goes silent.

Silent, until he hears you.

“Howdy ho, boys!” You greet, though your tone couldn’t be further from inviting. “Say, what’s got two idiot fucks like yourselves out tonight, eh?”

John pats at the ground, desperate to find his glasses. His heart pounds in his ears so loudly that he can’t hear what the men say to you, only the sounds of shrill, agonized screaming. Something warm splats against his cheek and a deep, unsettling feeling in his bones tells him that it’s blood.

“C’mon, boys! It’s not that bad!” He hears you chuckle, followed by a flash of red and more howls of pain. “You guys! It’s not like I’m, oh, I dunno, feeding you to a pack of dogs?”

As he scrambles, he feels the cracked lenses of his glasses and puts them on in time to see just what you’d done.

His assailants kneel on the ground, their arms laying next to them. He swears he sees bones jutting out of their legs.

You’re elbow deep in one’s chest, smiling sadistically with every crunch and squelch as you rip free a blood drenched length of bone and shreds of muscle.

His stomach should churn at the sight of you shoving the gunman’s body to the ground. It folds in half without a spine to support it, and it’s objectively the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen. The other man whispers to himself, which must really piss you off. He sees it in your eyes. Yet, he’s not scared. Not of you.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t ya?” You muse as you stare down at the man.

John can hear him reciting a prayer.

“God? No.” You kneel down to pat his cheek, staining his skin a deep red. “No god. The only one in the sky is me.”

He watches you wedge your hands into the man’s mouth, effortlessly ripping his jaw and head apart, splitting him down the length of his neck.

John watches in a mix of awe and horror as you continue tearing all the way down through the chest cavity. There’s a sick look in your eyes. Like you’d done this before.

Like you were comfortable doing this.

So why the fuck wasn’t he afraid when your gaze flickered up to him? Why did the shakes of his body quell the minute your blood stained hands reached down to loosen the scarf still tight from when he’d been dragged?

You’re drenched in blood. The pungent liquid soaks you, drips down your collar and into your suit. It’s all over your face, coating your hair, resting thick on your eyelashes.

His hands come to rest at your cheeks, thumbs smoothing through the viscera as he gazes up at you in awe. Your grip on his arms is featherlight at most, and he’s amazed.

You are a creature of unfathomable violence. You have ripped and torn through an incalculable amount of flesh, committed sins far greater than even his mind full of historical horrors could imagine, and yet…

You hold him as though you’re afraid to break him.

Even as you gather him in your arms and fly away, you’re so gentle with him. Considerate and kind, courteous and caring as you bring him home. Your boots leave bloody prints across the hardwood floor of his bedroom as you walk him to the bathroom. You’re on autopilot and that nagging voice in your mind berates you for prioritizing some simple mud person over yourself, over the thrill of the kill.

“Are you hurt?” You hear him ask, and it leaves you deeply confused. Are you, The fucking Homelander, hurt? Are you, indestructible force that you are, in pain?

He forces you to sit on the edge of the bathtub as he scrambles around for supplies. You’re not sure why you let him move you around. Hell, you’re not even sure why you let him wash the blood from you.

Worse yet, you let him strip your upper body bare.

You let him see the truth of your suit and what you lack beneath. You’ve got the power of a god, certainly, but you’re so regular underneath the facade. But you can’t find it in yourself to care as he wipes you clean with a warm, wet cloth. Not with the way he holds the back of your head and removes the evidence of just how far your love for him will push you.

At some point your eyes lock and his hands stop moving.

Time stills, but he does not. He leans forward and takes you in a kiss so soft that you wonder if it even counts. Just a peck at first, barely even a graze of his flesh against yours. When you don’t pull away, he comes back, this time brushing his lips to yours with the slightest bit of pressure. His lips are soft, his kisses unsure until you finally reciprocate.

Then?

Oh, then he devours you with a need fit to rival your own. His arm wraps around your upper body and pulls you against him, all while your own hands scramble to grab at him. Your breaths mingle together, fanning hot and heavy against each other. He tastes blood on your lips, and you taste the remnants of his afternoon coffee. The scent of iron mixed with him surrounds you, and god it is the most exquisite aroma.

His taste, his scent, his touch, his sweet little gasps…

You want it all.

He pulls away once he, fragile human that he is, gets dizzy. John giggles breathlessly against your mouth, tongue sliding over his lower lip to lap at your lingering taste. You smile in return, indulging in something you’ve never quite felt before. His hands still roam, and you’ve a pretty good idea of exactly where this night will end up once he’s got the rest of that pesky blood wiped from you. For now, though, you’re satisfied even if you’re not entirely satiated.

After all, you’ve truly proven yourself to be–

“My hero…”

#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #antony starr #the boys #this is hands down my most fav x reader to have written #this prompt was so fun

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year

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[squints at the MCU] Tony Stark has displayed more ability to weather interrogation and torture than Steve Rogers.

This is "(displayed more)(ability)," not "(displayed)(more ability)," to be clear.

(I know fiction’s depiction of torture is famously propagandafied, but in this case, it’s not about torture for information so much as physical traumas shown on screen.)

(Anyway, have a rant I did on discord the other day.)

It's not really so much about "resisted the urge to hand over information" as "survived a truly harrowing experience and still came out of it trying to do good."

Tony's very first movie involves getting repeatedly drowned while in constant pain from bomb injuries as a civilian contractor, and I… don't think I can remember anything even a little similar with Steve

I don't think he's ever been captured for long before breaking out? All his injuries are in active battle, not torture.

Like... Steve went through something horrible with the ice and losing Bucky, nobody can argue that. But I think it's very telling, sometimes, that movie Steve, especially 2012 movie Steve, is completely unaware of the absolute nightmare that Tony experienced in his solo movies.

I have so many feelings about Tony Stark being the epitome of "guy who was raised and manipulated into being a bad person by someone he trusted, and (after a horrible experience) attempts to be a better person, constantly and consistently, even if he sometimes fucks up in the execution."

And the way that some fics elide his experiences in cleaning up other people's messes (first Obadiah's, then Howard's) and how that doubtlessly compounded his many neuroses from fixing messes that he did actually create himself is just

I have a lot of feelings

And am also feeling a little bitter and salty about how Tony Stark's MCU incarnation reportedly took some inspo from Elon Musk... and a little petty and satisfied about just how drastically we've all be shown that Musk can never live up to the idea of 'billionaire with inherited wealth who actually, without hesitation, risks his own life to save millions' that he tried to use PR to achieve in the media with 'my electric cars are gonna save the world' stunts about things he didn't actually have a hand in inventing

I'm just reading some fics I really enjoyed when I was still in the YA fandom, and there was a reference to a line Steve said in the movies and I started thinking (again) about how frequently fans take lines from Steve or Sam about Tony as gospel, because they haven't seen Tony's movies, and the lines from the star spangled boys are contextually meant to show that they don't know jackshit about Tony or his life, because they are directly contradicted by multiple prior films.

Also like... how often Steve's traumas get explored (in fic) in a way that Tony's just... don't? At most, his issues about Howard get explored, but that's it.

There's this moment in CACW that people take as Accurate and it infuriates me.

Tony Stark: [Back in the cell.] Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. [He shows a holographic image of Doctor Broussard.] Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong. Sam Wilson: That's a first.

Which, like... it's a bad movie. Obviously. But also

That line is immediately followed by Tony revealing that he's here to help the others and is sabotaging the security to make sure Ross can't take advantage, and yet fanfic still uses Sam's quote to promote anti-Tony agendas!

And 'Tony admits he fucked up' is. Like. Listen to me

Tony's first solo movie is fixing Obadiah's machinations. *

His second solo movie is fixing his Dad's fuckup.

His first team movie is fixing Thor's mistakes.

His third solo movie is fixing something that is only tangentially his fault.

It's not until AoU that the fuck-up is really his and his alone (well, not counting Bruce), and even then, even then, a massive portion of the blame is narratively laid at Wanda's feet!

And only then do we get this man, who has spent five movies seeing what happens when people don't take responsibility for their actions, or have anyone riding them to be ethical, who has criticized himself for neither having that oversight nor providing that oversight for people who snuck shit under his nose, that is when we get Tony weighing in on the side of "most countries on the planet are agreeing with this and it's for a reason, please work with me here, maybe we can get some of it rolled back to be less authoritarian and more reasonable."

* and removing himself from the military industrial complex he was raised and groomed to be in, but that's a system and not an individual act or a set 'villain'

Or as @firebirdeternal put it:

I would say that his first solo movie does have a large element of fixing his own mistakes too, it's just that his "mistake" was Trusting the Wrong Person and not taking personal responsibility for how his actions are affecting the world. (Which, he immediately does upon coming back from being captured? "We're going to immediately stop making weapons, because it's making the world worse" and then when Obadiah cuts him out of the company he goes "Oh. Okay no that didn't work, have to personally fix all this then.") and yeah it's just Tony have plenty of reasons to be on the side of "Someone needs to have oversight over this"

IM1 is such a good exploration of someone in privilege saying "this stops now" in a situation where they do have control because they have been confronted with their mistakes in a way that's unavoidable

It's also like, a great example of the fantasy of the Super Hero. Because Tony Stark, the businessman, even with all his wealth and knowledge, isn't able to stop the systemic harm being caused by His Own Company. One person isn't able to do that, even with the best of intentions. It isn't until he becomes something else, something more, a Super Hero, that he's able to make any kind of meaningful change on his own. Like IM1 is just a phenomenal movie. It understood it's subject material so incredibly well.

And people skip it and then take Steve and Sam at their word about Tony's strength of character and moral convictions and I scream.

THIS MAN FLEW A NUKE INTO A WORMHOLE WITH THE FULL EXPECTATION THAT HE WAS GOING TO DIE

Yeah, like, that Jump on the Grenade mentality is something that he and Steve actually literally share.

They both had 'jump on the explosive to save people' moments in their introductory movies.

I find so much more strength and inspiration in stories like Thor and Tony, where they are inherently fuck-ups and were shitty people and they are trying so damn hard to be better, which is more Tony than Thor really, but both of them and their first movies are just. I find that more inspiring than Steve or T'Challa or any other hero who was already a good person and just Became Great.

Tell me about the person who has to struggle to find that moral choice. Tell me about Natasha dragging herself from her oceans of blood and Tony fighting the government over whether they have the rights to use weapons he's created and about Thor having to reckon with his family's power being born of imperialistic ravaging of other cultures.

I want to hear about the people for whom being good is hard and a choice they don't have to make, but then they make it anyway.

Also I stand by "I am Iron Man. [infinity snap]" being the most amazing bookend the MCU could have done and probably the best part of the Endgame.

#Tony Stark #character analysis #phoenix talks #MCU #Iron Man Movies #Iron Man #Avengers #AoU #CACW #AEG #torture mention

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whore-for-chris-evans · 1 month

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I lack the wisdom required to write this fic, but I hope someone skilled enough takes the initiative to.

Have any of you ever thought about Steve Rogers waking up from the ice and not going back to fighting?

He wakes up, Fury tells him he needs him, and Steve makes a choice for himself and says no, at least for now. Fury respects that choice, Steve gets a therapist (a good one, not Dr. Christina Passive-Aggressive Raynor) and uses his second chance in life to do the things he actually wanted to. Art. History. Maybe he goes to college again.

On top of all this, he figures out the internet (come on, he's a smart man. He's not gonna be clueless forever) and you know golden boy Steve would jump at the chance of using social media for a good cause.

And I also think Steve would be great at debates. The fucker (affectionate) has a way with words. He's also a nerd. He's well informed and has quick thinking skills. He gets into online fights a lot. Tweets and retweets a hell lot.

Gets Tumblr. (Steve would love tumblr don't lie to me) Reblogs things like it's his last day on earth. (But somehow makes sure to utilise the tag feature perfectly so everything is organised).

Some dudebro makes a misogynistic comment and he's there to verbally drop kick Dudebro into the next week.

Somebody makes an offhand comment regarding something historical and Steve gets his trusty motorcycle and drives his star spangled fine ass to the library and the next day there's a video circulating the internet of him citing sources (down the page number, paragraph number and line number) to prove why the offhand comment was grossly incorrect.

Someone angrily reposts his tweet saying "THAT IS NOT THE AMERICA OF MY DREAMS TALKING" and Steve proceeds to respond with "I'm a person. I can't be a country. What I can try to be is a good human being." and then absolutely demolishes the other person. (Yes to Steve reclaiming himself as Steve Rogers and not Captain America)

He also posts art. Like, everyday. But it gets slightly overshadowed by everything else he does and says.

He has a separate Instagram. For more personal stuff. Pictures of himself? Rarely. Pictures of birds and animals and trees and sunrises and sunsets? Absolutely. Pictures of the cat and the dog he rescued and now is a proud dad to? Everyday. (He's definitely a both person.) Maybe someday he'll step out of his comfort zone and start going live. Everyone loves him. Everyone rational, that is.

He stays away from tiktok.

2014. Fury shows up at his apartment and gets shot. Something stirs in Steve's brain as the masked assassin catches his shield. Those eyes seem familiar. Despite his reservations, he jumps back into the fray. The whole CATWS thing happens.

He finds Bucky. Brings him home. Fights tooth and nail for the charges against him to be dropped. He's got 70 years of military back-pay, he's got no problem getting the best lawyers (Matt Murdock is definitely among them) for the love of his life.

Anyways Bucky is set free. Moves in with Steve. People start gushing over him too. He stays out of Steve's internet life at first, but then the old Bucky comes back little by little. Maybe he'll join the livestreams. Maybe he'll make an Instagram of his own to post more of Steve.

People, being people, start shipping them. The two of them have a good laugh over it.

One day, out of nowhere, Steve shows up on one of his livestreams wearing a wedding ring. Comments go crazy. Bucky joins him on the couch, throws an arm around his shoulder, flashing his own matching band, smirking lazily.

The rest is mayhem. But they don't care. For Steve, life is perfect.

[I'd love to see Steve Rogers vs internet troll he'd eat that up]

I hope the good Steve Rogers authors see this. This has potential I think.

#steve rogers #steve and bucky #bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers and bucky barnes #captain america #marvel #avengers #chris evans #sebastian stan

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raccoonfallsharder · 2 months

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rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day four family✷.⁺⋆˚₊

semi-romantic fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | minific | word count: 1,274.

The artificial daylight of Knowhere has gone from bright and pearly to bronze and slanted, and now it’s finally sunk low in velvet purples. The Star Kids don’t really have bedtimes because every adult here is a frickin’ pushover, so they’re dancing under the sleep-shift sky, all spangled and studded with tiny plasma orbs jingling on strings over the streets, glowing like warm white moons.

It’s not an uncommon part of life on Knowhere — not anymore. Neither is the heartwrenchingly light laughter ringing out from the streets, from the rooftop bars, and from the second level of Mantlo’s, where the usual poker players have meandered out to the mezzanine in order to watch the celebration.

Rocket leans back against the step where he’s slouched: tail flicking peacefully, ears swiveling to follow the sounds, nose twitching. The Star Kids smell like Indigarran peaches and moonlight, and there are lingering curls of Contraxian tobacco and Ssssaralami’s moonshine. The spiced fragrance of grilled orloni and yaro-stuffed pastries fill the streets. It’s all overlaid by a sugary scent: the bastardized Luphomoid honeycakes that you’d helped Nebula resurrect from her childhood, just especially for today.

Nobody knows when the Star Kids were born — if they were born at all — but you’d insisted there needed to be something to mark a birthday of sorts.

Children need celebrations, you’d told him and Nebs one night over drinks, and Drax the Dad had enthusiastically concurred. And so this — the anniversary of the liberation of the Arête, of the children’s arrival on Knowhere — has suddenly become some sort of festival, some sort of revelry. Nearly every citizen of Knowhere is out on the streets: eating, dancing, singing, chattering. Ruffling the childrens’ hair. Steemie Blueliver has come down from the mezzanine, and the Star Kids take turns flipping themselves over his tree-trunk arms or letting him spin them over his head. Mantis had come back to visit — just for this, from the frickin’ ass-end of the universe — and she’d picked up Pete while she was at it. Both of them are laughing with Nebs and Kraglin, while Cosmo barks and prances in the center of a bright ring of giggling kids. A cluster of raccoons from the Arête watch from the rooftop of the laundromat: still young, but no longer babies. Their fur is glossy and their bodies are soft and round, and they keep an eye out for dropped street-food.

And the music — the music is alive. It floats down the insides of Rocket’s bones: sweet and sparkling with little bubbles, like carbonated wine.

Rocket takes another mouthful of his fruit-flavored milky-fizz — spiked with something you’d sneaked him before the festivities; you’d told him it was strawberry schnapps — and he watches.

He catches it: the moment you clock him there on the steps. Your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, and it looks like you’ve got stardust in your lashes. You’re talking to Hoobtoe and Phloko, but you’ve only got eyes for him — warm, and inviting. He tilts his plastic carton toward you in a mockery of a toast, then clamps his teeth onto the straw and takes another sip. The skull’s ventilation systems kick on and a breeze sweeps delicately through the streets, teasing the scents of food and booze, and playing with the fibrous platinum strands of the Star Kids’ hair. Each child’s head is gleaming: pale and reflecting back dapples of radiance. Rocket swears that everywhere he looks — the tiny candles on the honeycakes, the plasma-orb string-lights, the wide eyes of the kids, and you — he can see halos and rays of light. Soft starbursts, and luminous, hazy hexagons. Little motes of crushed-up bone-dust, dancing in and out of the shadows like antigravity glitter.

A little curl of concern shows between your brows as you toss him another glance — he’d guess it’s hard for you to read him right now, because his eyeshine is probably throwing all that gorgeous light back at you. Like rubies, you’d told him once, which had probably been when he’d first started falling in love with you, if he’s being honest. Now, dazzling in the gold and shadow, you laugh at something Hoobtoe says, and you pat Phloko’s shoulder before weaving away from them — smiling at Xlomo Smeth and Ssssaralami, nodding your greetings while you walk past. You pause at the little table still stacked high with honeycakes.

And then make your way toward Rocket.

You tuck yourself next to him on the step, even when he doesn’t move — content to stay half-sprawled next to you, his arm draped casually across the stair behind your back. He looks up at you with his ruby-eyes, and then down at the honeycake in your hands. It’s got one of those teeny candles in it, lit up like a piece of amber held to the sun. You’re glowing in the gold of it, warm and apple-cheeked — eyes all glimmery, just for him.

“You okay?” you ask carefully.

He turns his eyes back to the streets so his heart doesn’t fall apart like the overblown petals of an autumn flower in his chest. The scene there doesn’t help though: everything is as warm as fresh-baked bread. Groot’s joined Steemie, tossing the kids in the air. Even Howard’s come down from the mezzanine, awkwardly patting the head of a child who’s taller than he is, while he tries to protect his cocktail from the jumble of bodies. Rocket eyes him, then snorts and shakes his head. A soft huff leaves his mouth: too short to be a chuckle, too affectionate to be a scoff.

“I’m good,” he rasps out. “Just thinkin’.”

“About what?”

The corner of his mouth curves in a perplexed, uncertain little smile, like his head hasn’t caught up with the rest of reality. “‘Bout how I used to think I wanted to be alone.”

He sips his milky-fizz. The strawberry schnapps warm his belly. Howard would love this shit, Rocket thinks.

He reminds himself not to let the guy near it.

“Why’d you bring that over?” he asks, nodding at the candlelit honeycake cupped in your palms.

You reach toward him with it, lifting it for him: a sugar-sweet little offering. “Today is your day, too, you know.”

He blinks up at you, a protest filling his mouth before he pauses and tilts his head consideringly.

He supposes you’re right. He supposes he had been trapped on the Arête, for far longer than he’d realized.

“Okay,” he says mildly, and he can see the way you startle at how agreeable he sounds right now. He shrugs, sets down the milky-fizz on the step between his feet, and takes the cake in his hand. “What’s with the candle?”

“Pete brought them,” you tell him. “It’s a birthday tradition on Terra. A candle for every year.” You smile at him. “When you blow it out, you make a wish.”

He looks up at you, and then out at the wide glimmering lake of people, all shadow and shimmer. He turns the golden cake in his hand like he’s studying it: trying to read something in the fruit-infused icing and the amber-glow flame. Then he turns his eyes out again to the people of Knowhere: music and mirth and the joy of belonging. And from this angle — up close, and unhidden by eyeshine — you can see the moment when ironic amusement turns into something just a shade off of wonder.

His fingers are usually so quick you can barely follow them — but now he reaches up with his other hand, almost lazily, and casually pinches out the wisp of candleflame.

“I think I’m good on wishes, actually.”

there's that critical mass word-count. i personally think it is very cool of me that i took till thursday to break a thousand.

day three. emotionalistic ✷ day five. machinery rocket prompt week masterlist ✷ main masterlist rocket raccoon prompt week list

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

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mylittleredgirl · 2 months

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finally, m*a*s*h update!

season four disc two! ("quo vadis, captain chandler" to "dear ma")

there is a LOT going on in the frank and margaret department

i kind of tipped my hand here when i posted about my new obsession, but even if you are not circling the drain on this doomed ship... the Unresolved Breakup Tension is fuckin WILD in this disc

she literally punches him in the face!!! how was that not a breakup!

but then he buys her something or does something to charm or impress her, and it works! then he blows it again!! rinse and repeat!!!! i am 👀🍿

sam and diane from cheers are still theeee platonic ideal of slap-slap-kiss but these clowns definitely walked so they could run

i literally jumped off the couch when his wife found out, aaaaa it's so juicy

I'M SORRY i realize this doesn't speak well of me as a person, but those long close-ups on her face as she voluntarily eavesdrops on him dismissing their relationship (twice!!) and her heart gets fully crushed??? i could eat popcorn to this all day.

this is the kind of dysfunctional relationship that my artist friends would choose in our youth so that we could Suffer and Make Art, so i really hope margaret is writing terrible poetry about it

anyway, we're peroxide-roots deep into GIRL WHY??!??

and then bj very gently explains to radar that well, see, frank and margaret both kinda suck and we're in the middle of nowhere, so they're all they've got

and i had to spend three or four days staring at the ceiling about it, because YEAH. it's not just that they're each other's only rank-appropriate source of star-spangled orgasms

(and they both care far more about military hierarchy than they do about marital fidelity)

but they are so consistently unkind to everyone around them that they have no other choice for any human connection full stop.

i'm not even talking about their ongoing bullying war with hawkeye and trapper or bj, because that's dirty pool on both sides, but i could count on one hand the number of times either of them have interacted with a subordinate nurse or enlisted man without threatening them. like they literally would not have anyone else to talk to.

but the reveal that she still wants to MARRY HIM? oh god. ohhhh honey. noooo.

that fake proposal prank was so genuinely mean. mostly because they ruined her hot date! 👏 let 👏 margaret 👏 fuck 👏 random 👏 dudes 👏

"isn't general barker the one who wanted you to spank him?" lmaoooo

OKAY i swear i can talk about other things:

hawkeye continues to just NOT pull without trapper here. the nurses are fully dismissing or ignoring his efforts, and honestly is he even trying that hard?? have we seen him get even one date?

i've been trying to come up with an "intricate rituals" joke about hawkeye and trapper but where the rituals are... girls. you get me.

i re-watched the pilot and the desk ep (for frank/margaret reasons DON'T JUDGE ME), and hawkeye and trapper LITERALLY end the pilot handcuffed together, and in the next episode talk about sharing a nurse. how am i supposed to take this???

speaking of nurses, you know that little 🙄 you have to ignore in 2024 whenever the women on m*a*s*h get called honey and sweetheart and baby on the job (though tbh i worked on a construction site and an ad sales office in the 2010's and got the same treatment -- but in the modern day it's done ironically babe)

BUT when potter calls margaret "good girl" after he gets shot??? total opposite feeling. i literally had to pause and take a moment. he's her dad now.

also when he tucks radar in???? everyone's dad actually

in loving memory of radar's other dad though, two important points:

how proud would henry have been of drunk & disorderly radar??

and henry's "i've always wondered if i might be radar's dad" bit is genuinely 900% funnier now that we know radar's mom looks EXACTLY like him.

i don't think i have ever circled back to talk about klinger, who became so so so awesome

it's so funny that in klinger's very first appearance and 30 times since then, he has been told straight up that wearing women's clothes will never work to get him out of the army. there's no explanation for his commitment to this particular form of passive resistance except that he genuinely loves it

the swamp rats built a still and klinger got a sewing machine and learned a craft. he's so good at it!! his looks are 🔥

i feel uncomfortable when i see him in fatigues tbh. it happened a few times in this disc and i would like it to Stop actually

also precious baby father mulcahey... Protect Him.

i LOVE that everyone showed up for his church service when the grand poobah chaplain was in town. they love each other!!! (also the life magazine jeep shoot!!!)

"quo vadis, captain chandler" was really good. i'm still over colonel flagg's whole deal but i now understand why everyone loves sidney freedman, and the guest actor they had playing not-jesus was incredible

bj continues to be the best little brother hawkeye could have asked for

also he maybe invented cpr?

i didn't say much about him here but I LOVE HIM and also his off-screen wife

forward and onward!!!

#it's about time i watched m*a*s*h #mashblogging #if anyone wants me to @ them in the notes when i do these let me know <3

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turbo-overkill · 9 months

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#yeetdraws #tfp #transformers prime #transformers #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime #agent fowler #star spangled dads #optimus/fowler

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valarianflood · 1 year

Note

will you continue/update the 'Smug bastard' / game of chance fic on Ao3? I like it a lot and would appreciate it if you considered updating :)

There is a complete plot line that will add likely 5 or so more works to the series. BUT I have lost steam for this ship. Encouraging comments like this are what give me motication. This is the second nag I’ve gotten this week which has me back to work as this posts. Could see a new chapter within the day.

Getting more people to comment on one or more fics will get y'alls more chapters and works. (so nag the fandom)

#transformers #tfp #optimus prime #star spangled dads #thank you for the ask!#fanfic #ao3

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deusvervewrites · 6 months

Note

Escaping Gravity X Star Spangled: Ochako knows her dad is afraid of Star and Stripe.

Well time to cross the ocean then

#asks #escaping gravity au #star spangled au

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missvelvetsstuff · 2 months

Text

With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies

Steve Rogers x Reader, Natasha x Bruce, Steve x Natasha, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Chapter 5

Warnings: swearing, angst, unintentional(?) bodily harm, descriptions of sex acts

In the great hall, right after Y/N left, Steve was hearing it from his friends. Bucky was the worst.

"What happened to the guy I grew up with? He wouldn't have cheated on his girl. What were you thinking" Bucky questioned.

Steve clenched his teeth "Why are you so concerned about her? You think you're so sly but I noticed. I see how you look at my girl. I know you want her and are just mad at me because you can't have her. What happened with you two in Wakanda?"

Bucky worked to rein in his temper and remind himself that this is Steve, practically his brother, and keep his response measured "You mean when you sent her to babysit me so you could be free to fuck Nat whenever you wanted? It doesn't matter how I feel about her because she was your girl and I would never cross that line. You have a lot of nerve throwing accusations at me, considering what you've done."

Steve was losing his temper and taunted "Maybe you're just jealous. I have Y/N and your old girlfriend, Nat, while you have nothing. No sane woman would want you anymore."

Bucky clenched his fists and went to reply when he was interrupted by Tony.

"Jesus Cap, I wish you could hear yourself. Where's the star spangled man who always does what's right? I'm glad my dad never saw you like this, selfish and entitled, insulting your bff because you were caught cheating. Talk about the mighty falling." He glanced over at Bruce, seeing green blotches on his skin "Yeah, Cap, You might want to leave before the big guy shows up."

Steve looked at Bruce who was trying to hold it in, his eyes widened and he decided to take Tony's advice and leave "I'll see you all back at the compound"

Before he made it out of the tent there was a bright light and what sounded like an explosion.

Steve looked back to the rest of the team but they were already out of their seats.

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

Y/N quickly left the hall, needing to be alone without Steve staring at her like that. She started off crying, feeling the ache in her chest over Steve and Nats actions, the sting of Nat's betrayal. Nat was the first friend Y/N had ever made, she trusted and confided in her but the whole time Nat resented her and was sleeping with Steve. And Steve, how could he try to claim that he loved her and did it to protect her.

After she had passed a few buildings and headed into a wooded area she heard someone clearing their throat. She stopped and turned around to see Nat behind her.

Y/N growled "What the fuck do you want, Romanoff?"

Nat laughed "Aaww, Little princess got so mad she said a swear. Stevie will be so disappointed."

"Fuck you and fuck Steve. You can have each other. I don't want anything to do with either of you."

She tried to leave but Nat grabbed her arm "Don't walk away from me you prissy little bitch! I didn't get to tell you how good your Stevies fat cock felt when he was balls deep inside me or how he ate my pussy until I soaked his face. How he fucked me in the supply closet while you were in the hall, right there. Or how fucking hard he got inside me when you were so close but too dumb to figure it out. You should be thanking me, your dear Stevie is a freak and your naive ass wouldn't be able to keep up with him."

Y/N shook her head "Stop it! Stop!! I get it I'm a dumb kid and you took my man. He's yours. Now leave me alone." She tried to twist out of Nats grip but Nat just squeezed harder.

"Stop fighting me. You'll stay here and listen to what I have to say or I'll break your fucking wrist."

Y/N pulled again and when she still couldn't get free, felt a panic attack creeping up on her. "No Nat let me go!!! Let me go! Letmegoletmegoletmego."

There was a snap as Nat broke her wrist. Y/N screamed in pain and dropped to her knees, a blinding white light flashed around her and she just sat on her knees in the mud sobbing until darkness took her.

Tony got there first, saw Y/N unconscious in the middle of a huge circle of trees that had been blown back as though a bomb had hit. Under a couple of the downed trees was Nat, laying very still. Tony was speechless, they had been working on controlling her powers but he had no idea she could cause such destruction.

"Friday? Notify the team that we have a situation over here. Romanoff is down and I don't know what's up with Y/N."

"Of course, Boss."

"Can you get vitals on either of them? Or any other info on what happened?"

"They are both alive but Agent Romanoffs heartbeat is thready, she needs medical attention. That's all I can tell from here."

Tony slowly started moving towards Nat since she was in worse shape. He was working out how to move the trees without causing any more damage when Steve, Bruce and Bucky came running up.

Steve looked at the collapsed figure in the middle of the blast area and headed towards Y/N when Bucky stopped him. "I don't think so asshole, go take care of your girlfriend. Help Tony get those trees off her."

Steve looked like he was going to argue when he heard Bucky's vibranium arm whirring and decided another fight wouldn't help things any.

By the time they got Nat out from under the trees a stretcher had been brought out and they took her to the medical building that was still under construction.

Bucky went to help Y/N, walking up slowly and speaking gently to her.

"Hey Doll. It's just me, your Bucky. I'm gonna come over there and make sure you're ok."

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when her eyes opened only to quickly close until her hand reached up to cover them. When he reached her he kneeled down next to her.

"I saw you open your eyes. It's ok doll. I just wanna help."

And started stroking her hair, smiling when she leaned into his hand.

Y/N pushed herself up until she was sitting. She looked around "What happened?"

Bucky smiled "I was hoping you could tell me. Looks like a bomb was dropped here."

She laughed wryly "Are you saying I'm da bomb?" The effort making her cough.

Bucky chuckled "No I mean yes you are but that's not-"

"It's ok, I was teasing." She rasped out "Uh, Bucky, I think my wrist is broken but I can't feel anything. I must have drained myself." She struggled to sit up and looked around to see the mess

"Oh. No. Did I cause this? I didn't mean to hurt anyone but Nat wouldn't let me go. She kept taunting me and it just pushed out." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Bucky, please believe me I never meant to hurt anyone. Please don't let them lock me up again."

Bucky rubbed her back, trying to soothe her "Hey, hey, it's ok. No one is gonna lock you up. Not on my watch."

Y/N collapsed against him and he held her tight "Can I pick you up, doll? I want to have you looked at."

She looked up at him "I think I can walk myself" and tried to stand but her legs gave out. She chuckled "Ok, maybe not." And sighed "Sure, you can carry me."

Bucky gently picked her up and carried her to the medical building. As soon as he entered an Asgardian quickly brought a gurney over for Bucky to set her down on. They nodded at him and rolled her away while Bucky sat down to wait.

As she was rolled away the woman pushing her spoke up "I'm Eir. We need to do some tests to make sure you're alright. That was quite a display of power you made."

Y/N cringed "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, she just...." She paused

Eir smiled "It's alright child, we have seen what the Widow has done to you. She pushed you too far and overwhelmed you. You would think she would be smarter dealing with enhanced individuals."

"I didn't even know I could do anything like that" she said shyly "I've only been learning to focus the light, like a laser, recently."

Eir looked at her sadly "Such is often the way with powers like yours. They don't manifest until puberty and strong emotions can intensify them. If the Queen allows it you should stay here for awhile to work on them. You would be safe from other countries governments who would prefer to cage or experiment on you and surrounded by people who understand and want to help."

Y/N smiled "It sounds lovely but the team-"

Eir shook her head "Some members of your team want to help but others are frightened of your abilities, more so now. I'm sure the queen would allow your Winter soldier to stay with you." And smiled knowingly.

Y/N felt her face heat up and hoped Eir couldn't tell "What do you mean? Bucky and I are just friends. He's not my anything."

Eir laughed softly "Dear child, that man is in love with you. I don't know how you could miss it. He has almost come to blows with his closest friend over his treatment of you. Take your time to heal from the captain but don't overlook the sargent."

Y/N laid quietly while Eir did a scan and physical exam, thinking about all of it. When the scan was done Eir helped her sit up.

"Everything looks fine, I believe the large output of emotions enhanced your ability to allow you to cause the damage you did and also drained you. I want you to stay here until tomorrow and get some rest. If you choose to stay here for an extended visit, I'm sure we can find someone to help you work with your powers.

He can be shifty but Prince Loki might be able and willing to help."

Y/N nodded "It's something I'll definitely, consider." She looked down "Is Natasha ok? I might hate her but I didn't really mean to hurt her."

Eir looked at her "The Widow has multiple broken bones, scrapes and a concussion. She hasn't woken up yet.

Y/N woke up that evening when she smelled food. Her mouth was watering before she even opened her eyes. When she looked around the surroundings were unfamiliar and it took her a moment to figure out where she was.

Then the memories hit and she had to hold back a sob.

"Hello my dear. I've been hearing so much about you I had to come speak with you myself." Loki smiled at her

She tried to smile back "We have met before, you know. Thor brought you to the compound once but you didn't seem to like it much"

Loki nodded "Yes, well I was a bit of a war criminal at the time and being around my former captors wasn't exactly my idea of a pleasant time. So much has changed since then.

I know you are still tired so eat and get more rest. I would like to speak to you tomorrow when you're well rested."

Y/N heard a scream, she could tell it was Nat. Then she heard noise like a struggle and more yelling. The door to her room was slammed open to Nat breathing heavily, gauze wrapped around her head, covering her eyes.

Someone came up behind her "Miss, you shouldn't be out of bed, you'll hurt yourself."

Nat screeched "I don't care. I need the little bitch to see what she's done." She moved her head like she was looking for something "She's in here isn't she? Y/N!!! You stupid little brat, you blinded me. I can't see because you can't control your emotions or powers. I'm going to have Fury lock you up and when my sight comes back I'm going to-"

Nat dropped and they could see the orderly behind her with an empty syringe

"I'm so sorry Eir, Miss. She's very strong and took a higher dose of sedative than I expected."

Y/N looked at Eir "I blinded her? Maybe I should leave before Fury finds out and causes trouble here."

Eir shook her head "Fury has no authority here, he can't cause us any trouble. Her blindness is probably temporary."

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold back the feeling that everyone would be better off if she were gone.

She slept that night but it was plagued with dreams of Steve and Nat.

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

The next morning, after breakfast and the ok from Eir, Y/N went for a walk to work through everything that had happened the last couple of days. Her life had been turned upside down.

After walking for a while she saw a pasture with horses and a barn at the other end. She remembered reading books about horses and imagining the freedom to climb up onto a horses back and run away when she was a kid. She leaned against the fence and watched the horses playing, trying to appreciate their beauty and push the painful thoughts away.

As she shook her head and groaned she heard someone approaching. It was Val with a beautiful white horse.

"I know we've just met but you seem like you could use a friend. This is Calliope but you can call her Calli. She is the gentlest horse in my stable and an incredible listener. She understands commands in English walk stop etc and I've packed a water bag and some snacks. She will take you on a nice ride and bring you home when you are ready. Nature is good for what ails you." She smiled gently.

Y/N shook her head "It sounds like you were getting ready to ride out, I don't want to take your horse"

Val laughed "No, I was in the hall when Rogers and Romanoff showed up. After everything that's happened, I figured you would need to get some air and perspective. When Eir told me you had left her care to go on a walk I thought you might like a ride. It always helps calm my mind, allowing me to think clearly."

Y/N gave her a small smile and fought the tears "Thank you" she whispered.

Val nodded and gave her a leg up and some basic riding instruction then sent her off with a walkie talkie in case she needed help.

Y/N sat astride Calli and looked around her. Norway is so beautiful it brought her to tears but to be fair she was right there anyhow. For hours she let Calli take the lead while she contemplated her situation.

How could Steve think she would just take him back? Even though he seemed sorry she didn't know how she could ever trust him again. 2 years this had been going on and he never tried to talk to her about any of it. He was the one who always pulled back when their making out became too heated.

Now that her head was a bit more clear she was able to see other things in her relationship with Steve that didn't sit well. The way he often spoke to her like she was a child or an idiot. And how he reacted to her using her powers outside of missions, like she should be ashamed of them. Y/N knew she was somewhat immature after so many years of her life were spent imprisoned and experimented on. Maybe she was too needy, maybe if she had.....NO! She wouldn't let herself follow that line of thinking. Nothing she did or didn't do excused what Steve did. Whatever she thought they had was over, she knew that she could never completely trust him again. She would always wonder where he really was and who he was with.

She knew this was the only way it could go now.

Y/N lost track of time on her ride until the sun started setting. She asked Calli to take her home and the horse turned back towards where they came from and picked up her steps a bit.

"I'm sorry for keeping you out so late, Calli. You must be getting hungry" she laughed as her stomach made her own hunger known.

When they returned to the stable Val was gone but Loki was also returning from a ride and helped her put Calli up while the horses were being fed.

She turned to look at Loki "Thank you for your help, this is the first time I've ever ridden a horse. I was a little scared but Calli is so sweet it went away pretty quickly."

Loki smirked and took her hand "I never would have guessed, you looked completely natural astride, like you've ridden all your life." He paused for a moment "You should stay here for awhile, to help you heal, your beauty brightens this dull world. Your lights rival the aurora borealis" He kissed her hand, smiled at her with a glimmer in his eyes and left.

Y/N headed towards her quarters to change before going to the hall for dinner. Once she arrived she saw Bucky, Tony and Bruce sitting huddled together in an intense conversation. She grabbed a plate of food and headed towards them.

"Hello boys" she smiled. "This seat taken?"

Bucky startled "You're back, we were getting worried. Please sit."

She looked down "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I just needed some time to clear my head and think."

"It's ok doll, I hope you're feeling better."

She nodded "I'm still hurting but I know it will get better."

Bucky smiled at her and Y/N felt butterflies for a moment, which made her think of what Eir had said about Bucky being in love with her. She smiled back at him and knew she would be alright.

Chapter 6

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #angst with a happy ending #james bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader

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minefield-of-a-ninja · 9 months

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Summary: He’s been alive for more than a hundred years. After everything he’s seen and done, what he really wants is to dream.

Characters: Soldier Boy/Benjamin Grace x multiple readers/characters

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, dream sequences, bondage, dirty talk, name-calling, this will eventually get dark and each posted part will have its own warnings

Words: in progress

Author’s notes: SB's full name is the product of too much research on my behalf and a dash of star-spangled fuckery. I also tweaked his dad's middle name, so I'm not writing fanfiction about a real-life steel tycoon.

Eugene Grace was the president of Bethlehem Steel Corporation (in Philadelphia) from 1916 to 1945 and chairman of the board from 1945 until his retirement in 1957.

A libertine is a person devoid of most moral principles, a sense of responsibility, or sexual restraints, which they see as unnecessary or undesirable, and is especially someone who ignores or even spurns accepted morals and forms of behavior observed by the larger society. Libertinism is described as an extreme form of hedonism. Libertines put value on physical pleasures, meaning those experienced through the senses. As a philosophy, libertinism gained new-found adherents in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, particularly in France and Great Britain. Notable among these were John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, and the Marquis de Sade.

SUSPENSE | FEAR | VIOLENCE | GORE | SUPERNATURAL

#soldier boy smut

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tieronecrush · 8 months

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hot & heavy

chapter eleven: star-spangled eyes

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 7.9k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), polite southern manners, feeling familial and self-pressure, ESTABLISHED relationship FINALLY, spanish cause joel is latino, unprotected p in v, dirty talkkk king joel miller, soft (and soft dom) joel, possessive joel, mentions of depression and symptoms, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, angst, MAJOR doubt! and displays of nationalism! yay!

a/n: thank you as always to the bestie/cousin/sister wife/sweet, sweet gf @northernbluess for beta-reading this chapter, seriously i can't write without you so don't ever leave me pls. also thank you all for being so patient with this chapter while i was away! enjoy xxx

“Morning, Millers! Happy Fourth!” Your dad’s voice booms in your ear from where he stands behind you at the garage door, waving to the three Millers as they walk over to your driveway. “Y’all ready for a day on the lake?”

“Sure are. Thanks again for invitin’ us, can we pack up the cooler and everything in my truck? Might make it easier to access since you’ve got the boat hitched up here.” Joel glances your way, the slightest curve of his mouth when you catch his stare, turning toward your dad.

“Well, that’d be just great! We’ve got a couple more bags inside, but think you can take care of these things for now?” Your dad gestures to the things behind you both, clapping his hands when Joel confirms and steps forward to grab the supplies. Slipping back into the house to help your mom with last-minute prep, your dad leaves you with the Miller crew outside.

“Long time, no see, Posey.” Tommy teases as he grabs a tote from his older brother as Joel gives him a glare, earning a smile and shrug from you. “Definitely didn’t hear you sneaking out the kitchen door this mornin’ from my place sleeping on the couch.”

“Get all of that out now before we’re constantly around my parents all day, Thomas.” Joel straightens up at the slightest edge of your voice, masked with teasing as he walks away from you standing with Tommy, grumbling to himself as he goes to load everything for the festivities into his truck.

“Yeesh, somebody’s in a mood. Sometimes he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, but you probably know that.” Tommy hikes the bag onto his shoulder further, grimacing slightly with a familiar furrowed brow — you can see even more of the resemblance with that.

“I’ve seen him crabby, but it’s honestly been pretty rare. He was fine this morning.” Watching from your driveway, Joel’s shoulders move underneath the navy t-shirt he’s got on, lifting everything into the bed of his truck. Tommy follows over there, loading up the rest of the things that your dad brings out from the house. You pick up one tote, Joel approaching behind you and skimming a hand over your lower back.

“I can take that, sweetheart.” He holds a hand out at your side, giving you a tight lip smile as you nod and stutter out an agreement, handing the bag over to him. Your parents walk outside at that moment, your mom rifling through her purse while your dad calls into the house for your brother, Chris, before shutting the door.

“Everyone ready to go?” Your mom looks up, meeting your eyes as Joel gives her a nod and a smile, walking over to his truck to get Sarah in. “Oh gosh, we really overpacked, didn’t we?”

“You always pack for the boat as if we’re going on a sailing trip out to the Gulf. But at least we’ll be prepared,” you say with a laugh, adjusting the strap of your swimsuit underneath your cover-up dress, turning around, and exchanging another look with Joel as he climbs into his car.

There’s the smallest flash of those ‘what ifs’ that plagued your mind a few nights ago, tamped down for the last few days. You clear your throat of the acidic burn, climbing into the back of your dad’s truck and watching Chris shuffle out of the house still half asleep, climbing in next to you with a mumbled greeting.

After you ignore it, he asks, “What the hell has you in a mood?”

If only you could say something.

You climb out of the back of your dad’s truck once you reach the docks, making your way over to Joel’s truck parked in the lot to help unload while your dad and Chris drop the boat in. Sidling up to him at the back of the cab, you reach for your personal bag that you packed with your things like a book and extra sunscreen and a change of clothes. His hand intercepts yours, looking at you with one side of his mouth lifted.

“I got it for you, Mari. D’you mind walkin’ with Sarah?” He nods to where she’s stood on the sidewalk nearby, observing all of the boats in the small lakeside harbor. Glancing back at Joel, you give him a gentle smile, reaching to give his arm a squeeze.

“Thanks, J. I’ll take Sarah down there. You sure you and Tommy don’t need any help?” You suspiciously eye the amount of stuff occupying the truck bed, quirking a brow at him.

“Positive, darlin’. Y’all head down there, we’ll be right behind you both.” He leans in a few inches as if he’s going to kiss you, halting in his movements and letting out a barely audible sigh before straightening up again and looping a few more bags onto his arms. Your stomach flips around with the need to complete his motions, to close the gap that was there between you, but you respect the boundaries he wants to keep around your family, instead walking over to Sarah and taking her hand.

Guiding her down the winding path, she tells you all about how excited she is to go swimming and to see the fireworks later, swinging your joined hands. You stop at the end of the dock, waiting as your dad and Chris pull around to where you and your mom are; Joel and Tommy come up behind you with all the goods, loading them onto the boat with your dad and Chris when they come around. Tommy hops on after swinging the cooler over the side, Joel stepping down after. Your dad offers your mom a hand while Joel picks up Sarah easily and sets her down, reaching a hand out to you afterward.

Gingerly taking it, you swing one foot onto the seat, bringing the other over and tripping a bit. You sway back and forth, a heavy hand tightly gripping your side to steady you.

“Y’alright? Nearly fell in there, sweetheart.”

Nodding and taking a breath, Joel drops his hand from you and helps you the rest of the way down and onto the seat. Your mom digs out a child’s life jacket from one of the storage compartments, passing it to you.

“D’you mind getting that on Sarah, honey? She’s gotta wear it to stay safe. Too many nutcases out on the water today.”

You call Sarah over, smiling as she stands in front of you and explaining that she has to keep this on while everyone’s on the boat. Easily slipping her arms in, you close it in front of her chest, clipping and securing the clips one at a time. Joel sits next to you, a few more inches apart than normal, patting Sarah’s curls and giving you a sideways glance.

“You wanna sit here between us, mija?” Joel pats the spot, helping Sarah scoot back onto the bench. He stretches his arm behind her, grazing your arm and brushing his fingers against the knit material of your cover-up. Joel relaxes for the first time all morning, content to stay like this all day if it was his choice. Both of his girls next to him, as close as he can get to you without breaking the boundaries he set himself.

With everyone seated, your dad at the helm, the boat lurches to life when the engines turnover and it idly cruises out of the harbor area before picking up speed to drive around the lake for a bit. The wind blows against all of you, Sarah giggling at the excitement of the ride. You turn to look at her, beaming a smile as she holds onto your arm. Joel watches the small interaction, his heart pumping the subtlest bit harder in his chest.

You’re so patient with Sarah, so kind, compassionate, silly, and serious — you’re exactly what she needs right now, what she’s missing that Joel can’t quite ever be no matter how hard he tries.

The words burn into his mind, sitting in his throat where he holds it back on his tongue. Later. He can say it later. At some point.

After a few laps and weaves around the lake, your dad idles the boat up to a cluster of fellow lake-goers, dropping the anchor and turning off the engines. Everyone shuffled around, Sarah popping up and asking to go in the water straight away.

“Gotta put some sunscreen on ya first, Bug. How about we do that, wait a few minutes for it to dry and you can drink some water and then go swimming?” Joel stands up, glancing around for their own bag they packed. You’re still seated, sorting through your own tote and pulling out your sunscreen.

“Here, use mine. Sure we’ll find your bag in a minute but don’t think Sare-Bear here wants to wait any longer than she has to for swimming.” You smile at her before handing the tube off to Joel, a quiet “thanks” in response. He gets some on Sarah, asking her to sit and wait for it to dry before handing the lotion back to you. Joel steps around you to find their bag on the other end of the boat, walking back over with spray sunscreen and stripping off his shirt to apply some himself.

Stealing glances at you, his mouth dries out when he watches you peel off the cover-up, setting it aside and leaving you clad in your bikini. The sight of you applying the sunscreen sends him back to that first summer, the view from his window into yours of you naked and applying body lotion — a show only for him. He swallows hard and shakes himself out of his thoughts, ignoring you off to his side until he hears you speak up.

“Hey, Tommy, d’you mind gettin’ my back for me since you’re waitin’ on the sunscreen from Joel?” He watches you cross over to Tommy before he can call out a protest, the words dying in his throat when he knows he doesn’t have any claim over you today. Tommy shrugs at Joel, helping you out while he watches on enviously.

Huffing out a sigh, he finishes his own application, throwing the bottle back in the bag and sitting back down in the sun. He slips his sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose from the top of his head, closing his eyes and basking in some of the warmth before Sarah begs to get into the water.

Joel hears you mumble a curse under your breath, feeling your presence next to him. Tilting his head down and opening his eyes again, he glances at you sideways and questions, “Something wrong?”

“I stupidly left my sunglasses in the car. I set them down next to my bag instead of putting them inside of it,” you sigh and look around the boat in hopes that some sort of idea pops into your head. Joel reaches up, takes off his own pair of glasses, and hands them to you.

“Here, y’can borrow mine. Won’t need them in the water with Sarah anyway, just gonna lose ‘em if I wear them in the lake.” He gives you a shrug and a thoughtful smile, your fingers brushing his when you exchange the sunglasses. Your own smile that you give him flips his insides, a knowing look shared that says ‘I’d kiss you right now if I could’.

And he desperately wants to.

“Thanks, J—oel. Joel,” you catch yourself with the affectionate nickname, stuttering out the rest of his name and making him chuckle as he stands up.

“Anytime.” A flash of a wink nearly makes you stutter again, slipping the glasses on as Joel, Sarah, Tommy, and Chris all get in the water to cool off from the already blazing heat.

About a half hour later, Joel and Tommy rumble up the ladder back onto the boat, leaving Chris in charge of entertaining Sarah by spinning her in the inner tube that’s been inflated. The Millers measly dry off before Tommy wanders over to the cooler. Joel steps over to where you’re lying out on the bench, shaking his curls out over you with your eyes closed behind his sunglasses. The cool water drips over you, opening your eyes in a flash and sitting up.

“Rude,” you mumble as you wipe the drips of water and Joel sits next to you where your thighs once were. He chuckles and shrugs casually, leaning back against the side of the boat and propping his elbows up behind him. He’s sitting only a few inches away, and with your parents sitting and chatting at the other end, they don’t hear as he leans in and speaks low to you.

“Y’looked hot. I was only tryin’ to cool you down.” He winks and smirks smugly, dragging his eyes up and down your body when you stand and patter over to the cooler where Tommy’s retrieved a beer from.

“You want a drink, Joel?” you ask over your shoulder, nodding in confirmation when he says yes.

“Probably should get some water as well. You, too. Gotta stay hydrated in the heat.”

“Hm, guess so.” You grab a plastic bottle and turn around, lobbing it to him to catch. You pick up another for yourself, grabbing a can of beer for Joel and a popsicle for you. As you turn around with your pickings, you take the beer can in one hand, heading straight on for Joel and press it into your skin against your sternum, sighing a bit extra as the icy cold aluminum sits against your sun-warmed body.

Dragging it across, the condensation drips across your body, dropping the can down in between your breasts as you stand with your back to your parents. Another sigh breathed directly towards Joel, the slightest pitch change up at the end indetectable to Tommy across the boat but unignorable for Joel.

He clears his throat, taking the can from you gingerly as you hold it out for him, equally as smug of a smirk on your face. You take your seat next to him again, setting your water bottle to the side of you and unwrapping the popsicle as Joel cracks his beer and takes a sip.

“Lucky it’s still cold,” he grumbles under his breath, making you laugh quietly and a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

Between your thumb and index, you grip the wooden stick of the red, white, and blue rocket pop, bringing it up to your lips and starting to lick it as you make conservation with Tommy, a thought popping into your head as ‘Fortunate Son’ by Creedence Clearwater Revival starts playing over the boat’s speakers.

“D’you get a lot of people thanking you for your service when they find out you were in the army, Tommy?”

“Eh, some really. Fellow veterans really don’t, and I don’t care to mention it that much to people. Most they notice is the sticker on my car in like the grocery store parking lots and they’ll say it quickly or give me a nod,” he shrugs and waves the question off, “Plus, you definitely don’t get people saying it to me on the Fourth. People gettin’ too drunk outta their minds in the name of their freedom.”

“Well, if no one else says it today, then thanks, Tommy. War is the stupidest thing man invented, but m’glad you made it home safe.”

Tommy holds up his can of beer and tips it toward you while you pop the icy, sugary treat out of your lips and hold it up with a laugh.

“Cheers,” he says with a smile.

Joel merely listened to you two the whole time, chatting back and forth while Tommy pounds his beer and tossed it into the recycling bag before jumping back into the lake. You’ve still got your popsicle, sliding it between your lips absentmindedly next to Joel, who keeps glancing to the side as you.

At the next, admittedly overdramatized, suck of popsicle between your lips, slurping the sugary juice before a drip slips out of the corner of your mouth. You wipe it up with your thumb, about to turn to Joel to ask if you’ve got food coloring on your face when he shifts next to you, one hand attempting to adjust himself before he grumbles a few curses and stands up. The water and beer are left ignored in cup holders, the small, subtle bulge in his trunks giving you a smirk that you bite back as he stomps over to the side of the boat and jumps in to cool off.

Throwing out the popsicle stick, you drink some of your water before meandering over to the side of the boat and climbing down the ladder and into the lake water. An instant chill is spread across your body, relaxing your muscles and washing off the slight sweat that built up under the blazing sun. Paddling over to the rest of the group in the water, you exchange a quick look with Joel before Sarah and Chris pull you into some sort of game. Twenty minutes go by before Sarah gets bored of the water, hungry and thirsty, and when Joel moves to help her out of the water and onto the boat, Tommy offers to get out with her to have another beer and some snacks himself. Chris gets out along with them, leaving you and Joel alone in the water.

He swims over to where you’re treading water, a soft, friendly smile on his face. “Hi, Mari.”

“Hey, J.”

A wider grin spreads across his lips, swimming away for a moment to fetch the inner tube that Sarah was using bringing it over and slipping it over your head. A laugh leaves your lips when you can’t see over it for a moment, pushing the tube down and climbing onto the side to lean on it. You float above Joel’s eyeline, his neck slightly tilted to look into your eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

“You look nice today, darlin’,” he hums and treads water in front of you, reaching out a hand underwater and toying with the material of your swimsuit at your hip.

“Only nice?” you tease, leaning over the side of the inner tube a bit more, biting your bottom lip.

“Well, I could say more but probably don’t want my thoughts overheard,” he mirrors your smirk and snaps the elastic of the swimsuit against your skin, fingertips trailing down your thighs, “You do look more than nice though. You look beautiful. S’a pretty swimsuit and, uh, that dress thing—”

“My cover-up?”

“Yeah, yeah. I like your cover-up. It’s nice. A shame it covers up all this, but y’know you still look gorgeous either way.” He gives you a wink and squeezes one of your thighs.

“Thanks, J. You look pretty, too. But you always look pretty — got your curls and your tanned skin and broad shoulders and big brown eyes,” you giggle quietly as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head bashfully.

“You’re always pretty, too, Mari. You always look beautiful. La mujer más hermosa del mundo (The most beautiful woman in the world).”

It’s quiet for a moment as the two of you look at each other, silently admiring before you break first, your voice covered by all the commotion of the lake around you but audible to Joel right in front of you. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

His shoulders sag underwater and his brow creases subtly, bottom lip pouting, “M’sorry.”

“It’s okay, J. Wasn’t a good time to tell them. Later, right?” You give a sad smile that he returns, squeezing his hands against your thighs with a short nod.

“Later.”

After floating around and chatting with Joel until you were turning pruney and nearly falling asleep in the water, he pushes the inner tube toward the boat and follows behind you to get back.

“Y’need to get some water and somethin’ to eat, sweetheart. Probably dehydrated at this rate cause you look like you’re about to pass out.” Joel pats the tube with his hand to silently ask you to get out to go up the ladder.

“M’just sleepy, the sun feels warm. Like a cat, jus’ wanna nap in the sunlight,” you mumble out, stretching your arms up and your legs toward Joel underwater, pointed toes hitting his thighs. He grabs you by the ankles, tugging a bit to move you closer before he nods to the blown-up floaty.

“Maybe so, but you still haven’t had any water for at least an hour and you haven’t had anything to eat besides the popsicle. Let’s go up, Mariposa.” His voice is decided — filled with care and not control. It compels you to follow what he says, slipping the tube over your head and wading over to the ladder. Joel follows you out, dripping on the boat and grabbing his towel as your brother tosses yours from the bench.

Drying off and wrapping your towel around you, drops of water trail off of you all the way to the seat where you plop down next to Tommy. Joel heads to the cooler, grabbing out water for both of you. He asks around if anyone else wants one, getting a few hollered answers as he throws them all around. When he returns to sit down again, he hands you yours along with a snack — one of the Tupperware filled with some chopped fruit. Sarah wanders over when you open it, standing in front of you to share. Joel throws the bottle of sunscreen over to you, asking to reapply for Sarah and reminding you to do it for yourself.

“Alright, everybody, heads up. The plan right now is to move the boat and park up by a friend of ours’ house on the lake here. And there we’ll grill out and have some dinner and then come back onto the boat for fireworks before headin’ home,” your dad explains as he moves back into the driving seat, “Sound alright for y’all?”

Everyone’s in agreement, kicking it into gear as you let Sarah next to you to continue sharing the snack while your dad lifts the anchor. Holding onto her while you ride over, Joel takes in the sight of you two across from him, a steady flap of butterfly wings smack dab in the middle of his chest.

Su Mariposa y su mariposita. His butterfly and his little butterfly — his Bug. His girls.

He finds himself thanking the universe for leading him to someone as nurturing and patient and kind as you to love. A lonely road ending with you.

It’s a thought he continues to have throughout the rest of the evening, small moments that he sees of you with his daughter, his brother, your own family and friends. Effortless. You make it all seem so effortless and natural, but Joel knows how much energy a day like today will take from you; from your spirit. He can’t claim to know exactly what’s on your mind, but all he can do is fight the urge to blurt out a loud ‘thank you’ in the middle of the lawn.

Even through everything, you have a smile on your face for him and your loved ones. You’re strong, perseverant. Someone he looks up to, and hopes that you can be that type of role model for his daughter. Not perfect, not idolized. Real.

“She’s just completely enamored with Sarah, isn’t she?” your mom’s voice pulls Joel out of his thoughts, realizing his eyes were trained in you and Sarah as you help her make a plate for dinner from the large spread on the deck tables. Joel looks up to his left, a gentle and sheepish smile on his face as he nods slowly.

“She’s great with Sarah. Has been since that first summer. I think Sarah has way more fun with her and listens to her way more than she does me,” Joel chuckles softly and your mom laughs with a nod.

“That’s how it always is. The kids always loved their babysitters and looked up to them in a different sort of way. We were lucky to have the sitters we did to help raise the kids right, y’know?”

“I do know. Feel the same way since we moved in next door. The whole family’s been a real help—“

“But there’s just something about her, isn’t there?”

“Exactly. Can’t quite put my finger on it. But there’s something special there. Maybe she should consider it for a career, nannying I mean. Always seemed to be happy with Sarah during the summer.” Both sets of eyes are still on you across the way, focused on Sarah and guiding her through the muck of people to keep her from getting overwhelmed.

“I think there might be something just special there. In all of her babysitting and nannying years, can’t say she’s had as much fun as she did with Sarah.”

“Guess I should thank you for volunteering her that first summer. Probably the best recommendation I’ve gotten from a neighbor,” Joel laughs to himself, shaking his head subtly as he thinks of all the time you two have had together over the years.

“Thank me later, how about that? End of this summer, you can thank me for getting her to do what she was too chicken to do,” your mom laughs quietly, “Talking to the new neighbor and getting a job.”

“Uh, yeah, alright.” Your mom shares a smile with Joel before walking off to chat to some friends, leaving Joel to wonder what she meant by that exactly.

Back onto the boat after dinner with the larger party, your family and the Millers caravanned into the middle of the lake with a bunch of other boaters, dropping anchor in the cluster.

There is a platform in the middle of the lake, installed there with taut chains to the bottom where the same family lights off an impressive fireworks display every year. Helping your mom hand around the last bit of drink and some cookies for dessert, you finally are able to snag a spot by Sarah and Joel on the other side of her. Once you get settled, Sarah looks over at you with her sun-kissed face and big brown eyes just like her dad’s. Wordlessly, she scoots closer to you before deciding to simply climb onto your lap, you accepting her company with open arms.

“You comfy?” you wrap your arms around to hug her to your chest and keep her on your thighs, smiling as she nods with a quiet yawn. Her head leans back on your shoulder, one of your hands coming up to run your fingers through her curls.

Joel slides over a few inches, a hand’s width away from you, relaxing with you close by. The sight of Sarah so comfortable with you, and you her, brings back those butterfly wings stronger than before. What he would give to be able to put his arm around you and give you a kiss — to have his little unit of three together.

Damn, maybe he should have said something to your parents…

No, no. This was the smart choice. It’s the smart choice to keep it this way around them until things are certain. He’s all in for you, but there is still a small whispering of doubt that he feels every once in a while.

Are you going to resent him at any point? Will you want to leave again at the end of summer, to leave him behind and continue your life somewhere else? He knows you care about him, he knows how much you care about Sarah. But does he rely too much on you? Is it too much to sign up to be with him and also sign up to have a daughter along with it all?

Every time he thinks about telling your family, all he can imagine is the worst scenario. Disowning, no contact, moving. Joel’s insecurities fester in these imaginings, finding out how to make every new thought worse than the last.

It’s not fair to you, he knows that. But he needs time. Time to find the right words, to make the right promises.

A small, pathetic pop of a firecracker grabs everyone’s attention, the fizzle of the main display filling the air. Sarah sits up in your lap, eyes turned up along with yours as the fireworks start to go, drowning out whatever you’re saying to her as you point and smile widely. The reflection of the lights dissipates in your eyes each time, short explosions fading out to the night sky again.

Joel seems to be the only one with his gaze turned away from the opening in the clouds, a thought flashing into his head like one of the fireworks before he acts on it. Fingers brush your hip, catching on the open-knit and your head turns to face him, the same smile you had with Sarah still on your face. He leans in behind her head, his nose brushes against yours before he kisses you — soft and delicate and not nearly enough for what he needs in the moment but it satiates something for him.

You’re smiling against his lips, stealing one last quick peck before pulling back, the same wide grin from before spread across your cheeks as you whisper to him.

“Naughty.”

“Yeah, well, you’re to blame for it with the teasing all day. Better be coming over tonight after all of that,” Joel responds back, the noise drowned to everyone else on the boat by the repeated launches of large fireworks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, J. I thought I was being peaceful and relaxed all day.”

At that you turn your head up again, listening to Sarah as she talks about the bursting lights and starts pointing at all of the cool moments again. Joel continues to watch you fall back into the moment with her, he content with being an observer — and for giving you a tiny token of all that he’s been feeling today.

But damn is he eager to get you alone.

It was a long while to get home and get everything unpacked from the car and into the garage, but you’ve finally managed to shower and change; behind you, you slowly pull the sliding glass door closed to your basement studio, wandering across your backyard and into Joel’s to his backdoor.

Knocking lightly, it isn’t long before the door opens, and Joel’s hands find your waist to tug you inside, tripping over your feet across the threshold.

“Hey, J—” Your words are cut off by his lips on yours, a heavy kiss enveloping your breath while your hands search across his arms and up to his chest. Returning his kiss gives more energy behind his movements, fingers digging into your hips and directing you backward until your lower back hits the edge of the kitchen counter. There’s a split second that he pulls away to help you up onto the surface, his large frame leaning in again to catch your lips with his.

Pressure at his chest from your palms keeps him a few inches away from your face, eyes meeting his as your breaths recover shallowly.

“What a greeting,” you laugh, voice hoarse as you keep your volume low.

“Missed bein’ able to kiss you, Mari. Holdin’ you. And you were such a fucking tease all day, darlin’,” he rasps out, brow creased as he holds your gaze.

“Was not.”

“Was too, Mari.” Joel slips his hands into the bend of your legs, spreading them apart to step between them. He pulls you further to the edge pressing his bulge into your thigh as he sighs, letting his breath fan over your face, “Feel what you do to me, pretty girl? Been wanting you all day. Need you so bad, Mariposa.”

Your own sigh matches his, eyes closing for a moment as he starts to grind against your clothed center, stuttering out a response, “Cou—Could’ve touched me today. Maybe we should’ve snuck off at the barbecue…”

Both of you chuckle, Joel’s much darker than yours, “Don’t tell me that now, baby. You’ve got no idea what I would’ve done to you if we had a second alone.”

“We’re alone now. Show me what you would’ve done.”

“Yeah? You wanna know?” His parted mouth trails warm breath against your skin, his nose ghosting against your cheek before he presses kisses into your jawline.

“Please, J,” you whine, mouth right against his ear as he leans over to kiss your neck. One hand tangles into the curls at the nape of his neck, damp from the shower that you can smell on him — the sandalwood musk scent of his body wash. A deep breath of the scent races your heart along with his wandering hands, him standing fully in front of you again.

“Gonna have to be quiet, baby. Have a full house tonight. Silent, got it?”

All you do is nod in response, holding his head as you close the gap between you two with fervor. Joel rumbles out a moan into your mouth, tugging you close and off the counter, his impatience reeling after the day.

Fumbling around with cheeky grabs and gropes over each other, you get turned to face the counter and Joel’s hands hook into your waistband — sleep short and panties — to tug them down just enough to drop them down your legs and let you step one foot out. He pulls himself free from his shorts and boxers, a handful of your ass in his palm as he quietly moans to himself. One swipe of his fingers through your folds tells him exactly how much you want him, devilish smirk crossing his face.

“Felt like this the whole day, pretty girl? Must’ve been so needy, Mari. Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. Déjame cuidarte, cariño. Déjame sentirte. (Let me take care of you, darling. Let me feel you.)”

“Please, please, J—“

“Shh. S’alright, sweet Mari. Think you can take me, want to take my cock like the good girl you are?” He questions you in a raspy whisper, taking himself in one hand and guiding the head of his cock through your wetness.

“Fuck…” you draw out quietly, nodding quickly as you look over your shoulder at him, “I can take it, please give it to me.”

“Pretty girl jus’ begging for me, yeah? Got to be quiet,” Joel reminds you before he lines himself up, slowly opening you up with his cock. The stretch is painful at first, whimpers echoing in your closed mouth while you grip the counter’s edge and bite the inside of your cheek.

With slow, shallow thrusts at first, Joel works you to relax around him, nodding to himself when he sees your shoulder relax and your head fall forward out of pleasure when he starts to pick up the pace behind you.

“That’s it, baby, such a good girl. Mi buena chica. Sabes cómo tomarlo, Mari. (My good girl. You know how to take it.)”

A moan slips from your lips and cuts through the relative silence, your head snapping over your shoulder to Joel. He shakes his head, sliding one hand up your side to hold around your mouth, covering up any more noises and giving him leverage to arch your back for him as he fucks you harder.

“Shit, pretty girl, not gonna last—Fuck, muy apretado y mojado. (Fuck, so tight and wet.)” You nod behind Joel’s hand, gripping his wrist when his free hand reaches for your clit, rubbing hurried circles that push you to the edge further, teetering there while his hips hit into you harder and brush your g-spot. Feeling yourself clench around his cock, you move your own hips to meet his thrusts, eyes rolling back as the top of him hits your g-spot square on.

“That’s right, my girl, can feel how close you are. Give it to me, baby, please—“ A vibrating moan interrupts his rambling thoughts when you come, walls gripping around him and fluttering inside. Your own noises are stifled by his palm, body limping in his hold while he rocks his hips as deep as possible and ropes of his come fill you up. “Such a good girl, goddamn…”

Breathless, he holds you up and presses you against the counter as he hunches over your body from behind. Using whatever energy is left in him, Joel peppers your neck and profile in lazy kisses, lingering around your ear.

“Love you, Mari.”

Once you’ve both recovered enough from the quick, hasty fuck, limbs regaining their abilities to move, Joel leads you up to bed and drags you under the covers. The two of you chat about the day and plans for the rest of summer while he lays his head on your chest, eyes closing while you run your fingers through his hair. Index twirls some of the rare ringlets, nails scratching his scalp soothingly.

In a few moments of you talking to him about bringing Sarah to the aquarium, his breaths have leveled out and his lips have parted, a large muscular build curled around you sleeping. It’s a few moments that you steal while continuing to play with his hair, admiring how young and boyish he looks. The perpetually creased brow of his has relaxed, his parted lips giving him the slightest of pouts.

Joel, your strong, independent, capable, protective, caring, loving man, is still a boy at times. When you feel young around him, you know you’ll think back to this moment — when you realized he’s just as much in the ‘figuring how all this shit works out’ stage. Permanently.

The last two or so years have been filled with moments that it seems that you took what Joel had to think or say as written in stone; his confidence and decisiveness was something you were envious of at times. But it also meant that all those times, even if he knew what he was doing, he was still a young boy, a teenager, a man, all the ones in between — figuring it out. Wondering if the choices were right. If it would all work out in the end.

That first summer, when you fell completely in love and let him know before you were leaving for nearly a year. It was genuine, of course, but it was naive. Thinking about long distance, a single father trying to make that work. It probably scared him at the time, and was too much to attempt to work with.

And the next summer, when he had his time to figure out what he was feeling. His confession of love that had your heart in your throat, terrified to admit anything close to the feeling before you were thousands of miles away. The feeling was there, it was always there. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it back, to open up for the pain you felt the year prior.

His denial of you, yours of him — looking back, you can’t blame Joel for these hiccups, just like you can’t blame yourself. He was only trying to figure it out. It was all new to him, navigating a life with you in it was something he hadn’t had to do before, hadn’t imagined before.

You’re in the exact same state, each and every day. And it made you so afraid to be all in, the uncertainty of life blinding you to actually opening up.

Fingers have paused their movements in his hair, Joel stirring awake against your chest when your touch leaves him completely. His head is tilted to face you, masked in an expression that you can’t quite read. Comfortable, drowsy, affectionate. Half asleep, droopy eyes find your own, holding your gaze as he breaks the quiet and stillness of the bedroom with a gravelly voice.

“Was thinking about you in my sleep just now.”

“Oh yeah? What were you thinking about, baby?”

“How you’re my best friend.” The arm slung around your middle tightens as a goofy smile finds its way to his lips. “D’you know that, Mari?”

Looking at him, in that simple moment, a realization dawned on you as if it was the most obvious discovery.

He’s the only one you want to be figuring it out with.

“I love you, Joel.”

It comes out meeker than you wanted for this first-second time around, almost inaudible if it weren’t for the complete and utter quiet of the early morning hours.

A dreamy but wide grin stretches across his face, waking him up a bit more in the moment. He picks up his head from your chest, sitting up a few inches to look you properly in the eyes as he asks, “Yeah?”

“Mhm, I love you,” you can barely get it out without a happy giggle tagging on the end, barely squeaking the last syllable out before Joel’s skittering kisses all over your face, that same wide grin on his lips.

“Say it again, please, Mari.”

“I love you, J. I’m so in love with you.”

His attack on your face and neck continues, his own chuckles mixing with your giggles, his arm tightening around you and fingers tickling your sides.

“Am I still asleep? Am I dreaming right now?” he questions, pausing his peppered kisses to give you a tender one on your lips, that same goofy grin knocking your teeth together.

Before you respond, or he asks for you to say it again, Joel takes a pause to look into your eyes head on. Silence overcomes the room again, goofy grin morphing into a sweet, softened smile of his. Disbelief painted across his face as he took you in, shaking his head.

“Te amo, mi Mariposa. Siempre. I love you, Mari. Always.”

“I love you, Joel.”

Holding your eyes for a moment longer, there’s a shift in the air from the giddy confession. Joel inches down, connecting your lips in a ghosting kiss, your lips following his to feel more. After a beat, the kiss heats up, slow and sensual. His hands roam your sides, hiking up the material of your sleep shirt and pressing his palm against your exposed skin.

There’s no break in the embrace, only pushing further to feel each other closer and constant. The slight lack of oxygen, the breathlessness of it all, is making your head airy and dizzy, limbs tingling with electricity when you slip your fingers under the collar of his t-shirt. In the moment, you could drown in the feeling of Joel’s lips against yours.

The only breaths you get are when he separates from your lips to pull your shirt over your head and then follows it with his own, easily sipping your elastic waistbands down your legs again. You kick off the material from your ankles while he strips out of his own shorts and boxers, messy kisses shared while your hands skate over his bare skin. Fingertips work to memorize the dips and peaks, the trail of hair from his belly button down. Joel’s own hands explore your curves, relishing in the softness of your skin.

He pulls away from your mouth, breathless and blown pupils before he rasps out, “I love you so much, Mariposa. Got no clue who I’d be if I didn’t meet you…You’re it for me.”

Your voice is thick with emotion, one hand tangling your fingers with the hair at the back of his head, “I love you, J. It’s only you, s’always been you.”

Joel’s hand lifts one of your legs to bend next to his hip, lining himself at your entrance before he slowly thrusts in, savoring the feeling of you around him, body pressed against his skin in every place possible. Airy moans muffle into and against each other’s lips as he fills you up, the rhythm of his movements languid and steady. The pace is reeling your brain into a building of pleasure, whispers from Joel adding to the euphoric adoration between the two of you.

“My beautiful girl, so perfect. Love everything about you, sweet girl. M’so lucky to have you…Mine forever, right Mari baby? Mi hermosa, mi amor. I love you, fuck, I love you so much, Mari. Always got me feeling like m’floating around you, like I got a butterfly flapping it’s wings in my chest with how giddy you make me feel with just one look. Mi mariposa. My butterfly. Mine…”

The words are absorbing with each shallow breath you take, nodding along to his ramblings and feeling tears well against your waterline. Hands grip hard onto his shoulders, folding yourself around him tighter as you leave lingering kisses along his profile.

“Yours, J, yours always. I love you so fucking much—Oh my god, you’re everything to me, baby.”

“Never letting you go again. My girl, my fucking beautiful girl. Gonna make you mine forever, gonna make you my wife, mi esposa, one day, sweet, perfect girl. You’re made for me, Mari. Mi media naranja. (My other half.)”

His thrusts pick up only slightly, but enough to spill the tears waiting at the brink of your eyes, Joel’s mouth catching each one with featherlight kisses. Sitting right at the edge, your eyes lock with his, vision slightly blurred from the tears continuing to fall. Joel’s features fill the vignette, hooked nose, pillowy lips, soft brown eyes, olive skin sprinkled with crinkles around his eyes, subtle lines at his forehead. Nothing more beautiful to you than those parts making up the whole of him.

“Te amo, te amo, J. I love you, baby…”

His breath catches in his throat, smile spreading as his nose nudges against yours to speak against your lips.

“Te amo, mi Mariposa. Los amo a todos, cada poco. Eres todo lo que podría haber soñado y más (I love all of you, every bit. You're everything I could have ever dreamed of and more). I will spend every day earning your love and giving you all of mine.”

The words you understood have your frayed edges pulled taut, snapping one at a time as your brain floods with pleasure. Your walls flutter around his cock, your leg hooks into his ass to drive him further inside to fill you up. It is only a moment longer before he’s spilling into you, your name falling from his lips over and over as he searches for your lips in his state of ecstasy.

One last heavy kiss is shared before he slumps onto you, similar position to the start of all this; his head on your chest, strong form curled around you and his eyes closed. It last for a moment, your fingers playing with his hair, before he’s pushing himself up to hang over your torso, tender eyes studying your messy hair and blissed out face.

A smile crosses your lips, eyes sparkling even with the lights out in the room and the curtains only cracked apart to let moonlight stream in.

“Gonna make me your wife one day, huh?” you tease as you look up at him from your spot laying back on the mattress, crumpled sheet pulled over top of your naked body.

Joel rolls his eyes playfully, leaning over you and smiling, “As if you didn’t know that from the first time I spoke to you. Knew you were trouble from the start, just turned out to be the best kind of trouble.”

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